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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year

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Romance is (not) Dead

➪the one where ethan is your boyfriend and you’re his alibi.

Warning: spoilers for scream vi, blood, swearing, making out, mentions of blood, mentions of death, character death, you're literally dating a killer, mentions of smut, possessive ethan, lowkey yandere ethan

Word Count: 4.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Man, did you hate frat parties. Especially the one you were at now.

These ones were the worst; the loud music, the smell of booze and smoke, the overly confident (and unbelievably unattractive) men, the horrid dancing.

No fucking thanks.

Maybe you weren’t like most college students as you didn’t enjoy partying all that much and would rather stay in studying or watching whatever movie you felt like that night, but what can you do?

This was definitely not your scene.

And it was definitely not your boyfriend’s scene, either.

You slouched against the uncomfortable cushion of the couch, your arm pressed to Mindy’s as the space was limited. Anika’s legs were draped over both yours and her girlfriend’s as they talked between themselves, effectively cutting you out of the conversation you didn’t want to take part in to begin with.

Looking around the room, you tried to locate Ethan and came to the conclusion that he was no longer in it. He and Chad must’ve wandered off in search of alcohol or something else to keep them entertained.

You tip the cup in your hand, seeing that it was still half full, and reach over to put it on the table beside the couch. Standing up, you push Anika’s legs off yours and wince at the cracking sound that came from your knee.

Had you really been sitting for that long?

“Hey,” Anika called out to you once she felt the push you gave her legs. “Where are you going?”

Mindy answered for you, “Probably to go find her boyfriend,”

You shrugged, paying no mind to the teasing wiggle of her brows. “What if I am?” You ask, matching her tone. “What, you’re the only one allowed to get any action tonight?”

Mindy raised her hands in defense. “Hey, I’m not judging,” she said. “And TMI, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your jacket from off the couch. “I had to sit next to you two making out every five minutes and I’m the one who is giving out too much information?”

Mindy looked at Anika then back at you. “Point taken,” she agreed and wrapped her arm around Anika’s shoulders. “Go on, then.”

Shaking your head, you bid them both a goodbye and take off in search of your boyfriend. You find him in another room with Chad, and already you could see that his roommate was trying to boost his confidence.

You lean against the doorframe and watch as Chad pushes Ethan forward and towards a group of girls. A heat burns in your bones as Ethan shakes his head and turns away, only to be pushed back by Chad, this time with his arm around his shoulders as he did the talking for him.

It was as if Chad didn’t care that Ethan had a girlfriend, you, and wanted him to talk, and probably flirt, with as many girls as he could without you being in the room.

Fucking Chad.

The girls laughed at whatever Chad said to them before turning away from the guys, no longer engaging in a conversation with them.

You smirk to yourself at that. Ethan really didn’t know how to flirt, and it was a miracle he somehow worked up the courage to ask you out a year and some ago.

Ethan went to the same high school as you, and in your senior year he built up enough confidence to ask you out on a date. Well, sort of. He saw you rummaging around your locker and walked up to you, a folded piece of paper in his hand. When you noticed the cute boy from your English class leaning on the locker next to yours, you offered him a smile. He smiled back before handing you the note and you took it from him, a quirk in your brow as you read the messy handwriting.

It was one of those cheesy I like you, will you go out on a date with me? questions, completed with two boxes, one for yes and one for no.

You shook your head and reached up, grabbing a pen off the top shelf of your locker. Scribbling a quick check mark onto the box next to the yes, you hand the paper back to him and watch as a smile forms on his face and from then on it was history.

You were brought back to reality when your eyes met his and you can see the excitement swimming in the brown irises, his roommate quickly forgotten about as he walked away from him and towards you.

He took off the cheap head piece of his costume and held it in one hand, using his other to make a mess of his flattened out hair.

Once it was a perfect mess of curls, he stood before you in all his glory. “Hey, hotness,” you greet him, crossing your arms as you continue to lean against the door frame. It was as if the whole house had quieted down just for the sake of you starting a conversation with your lover, and you nodded at the group of girls that had obviously turned down his unwanted advances. “New girlfriends?”

Ethan shook his head, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “Yeah, right,” he answered, towering over you and looking you up and down. He was with you when you dressed yourself in the angel costume that included a white dress, wings and a halo, as you got ready at his place and walked to the party together, but that didn’t change the fact that you looked unbelievably hot, even more than usual. You had long since ditched the accessories, now only being left in the dress, fishnet stockings and your black ankle boots. “You know, I think Chad does a better job at embarrassing me rather than boosting my confidence.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you tug him closer by the waistline of his pants. “Poor you,” you murmur, tilting your head up so you can look him in the eye. “Guess you’ll just have to settle for me.”

Ethan gave you a sly smirk, leaning down to reduce the gap between the two of you. “Who’s settling for who?”

You shake your head with a grin, draping your arms around his shoulders and leaning up on the tips of your toes. Pressing your lips to his, you kiss him slowly, unknowingly taking his breath away and he drops the headpiece to grip your waist, pushing you closer to the frame.

Space became limited between the two of you and you had no room to arch your back like you normally did, so you settled on pressing flat up against the wood, your hands tugging Ethan closer by his biceps.

If there was one thing you loved most about him, it was the confidence he gained whenever he was with you. He was his true self when he was alone, or in this case, ignored with you. No one paid any attention to you, continuing their conversations or just walking past one of the many couples making out. It was like the world became just the two of yours and everyone else didn’t matter anymore.

With that being said, you would much rather be doing this somewhere more private, preferably in the comfort of his apartment as you knew Chad wouldn’t be there, but that still didn’t stop you from deepening the kiss by gripping the sides of Ethan’s face and tilting your head for better access.

In the midst of it all, you don’t notice the quiet, hardly audible thud of your green jacket falling to the floor as Ethan twists the fabric of your white dress in his hands. His tongue runs along the length of your lower lip, and before you could part it from your top one, Ethan is tugged away slightly by Chad.

He muttered something about Tara and then he was gone, disappearing further into the house.

Ethan sighed out of annoyance and lifted his hand to wipe away the smeared lipstick from your chin, his thumb lingering on your bottom lip before he took your hand in his, following the path that Chad cleared. You couldn’t wipe the giddy smile from your face as you place your free hand on your boyfriend’s forearm, allowing him to guide you in whatever direction he believed Chad took off in.

That wasn’t your first heated make out at a party, and it wouldn’t be your last, but it still left you breathless and with an ache that you only wanted Ethan to relieve.

However, when you see the concerned look that both Anika and Mindy wore, you quickly forget about your own needs and instead ask, “What is going on?”

“We’re trying to stop Tara from going upstairs with this loser,” Mindy told you, her eyes never leaving the man beside your friend. Chad was on the first step while Tara and the guy were a few above him, and she was doing a really bad job at acting like she wanted to go anywhere with this guy.

“I’m fine, guys,” Tara insisted, though you could still hear the doubtfulness in her voice. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Tara, don’t go with him,” Chad said, daring to move onto the second step.

“Yeah, just come back to the party,” you add, lacing your fingers with Ethan’s. “It is downstairs, after all.”

What happened next happened in a blur. Tara was tugged back on the steps, causing her to fall over, Chad pulled the guy away from her, Sam showed up out of nowhere and tased him in his…well, let’s just say that the area she tased him in had him on the floor within seconds. Tara yelled at her older sister and fled the house and everyone followed them outside.

Before you could leave the house, Ethan told you to stay by the door while he went to go grab something. When he returned with your jacket in his hands, you didn’t bother holding back the smile that took over your face as he threw it over your shoulders before taking your hand again.

You probably would’ve forgotten it had he not gone back for it, and you couldn’t be more grateful as the temperature you were met with once you stepped outside wasn’t exactly warm. At this point, you didn’t care about the whereabouts of the rest of your costume as they were cheap accessories that could easily be replaced, so you didn’t mind leaving them behind.

You met back up with the group just as Sam got a drink thrown at her and been called a murderer by a group of girls. After yet another bicker between the sisters, Tara walks off with the others following behind her, leaving Sam to stand by herself.

As you begin to tug Ethan in the direction of the others, he stops beside Sam, fumbling around in his pocket for something. “Here,” he said, holding the white fabric up. “Sorry, I only have, like, three tissues.”

You held back a laugh as Sam grabbed them from him, glaring at the two of you as she uselessly wiped at her soaked chest. Tugging on his hand again, you leave her behind as you walk the short distance back to his apartment.

When you were in the privacy of Ethan’s room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on his bed, leaning against the headboard and stretching your legs out in front of you. “Chad’s not home,” you point out the obvious and make sure to have a sultry tone to your voice.

“No, he’s not,” Ethan replied, taking off the rest of the knight costume and dropping it by the growing laundry pile by the desk. “He probably went to check on Tara at her place.”

You nod as he sat next to you, his fingers trailing down your legs until they reached the zipper of your boots. “So, what I’m hearing is,” you trial off as he unzipped your boots and slid them off of you. He had his eyes on your legs, focusing on his task of ridding you of as many articles as he could, but the curve in his brow told you he was listening. “We’re all alone?”

Ethan dropped your boots to the floor, the thud sounding throughout the quiet room as he nodded, meeting your eyes. “Mhmm,”

You lean back on your elbows, watching as he moved so he was hovering over you. “We should really go see if she’s okay,” you say but make no move to stop what is bound to happen if one of you doesn’t pull away within the next few seconds. “You know, just to be sure.”

Ethan hums in agreement, situating himself between your legs, his hand sliding up your dress to tug at the hem of the stockings. “Yeah, we probably should go check on her,” he mumbled as he ghosted his lips over yours. “And the others.”

“Agreed,” you nearly whisper as your hands tug at his shirt, your hips bucking up into his just slightly. It was enough to soothe the ache you both were beginning to feel, much like how you felt earlier with him at the party. “But we’re not going to, are we?”

He hummed, shaking his head before connecting your lips.

You were sitting with your back pressed against the headboard, a blanket covering your naked body and your phone in your hands. You scrolled through one of the articles posted about the killings that happened earlier in the night, which something you had no clue even happened.

Ethan was at the end of the bed, half dressed as he couldn’t be bothered to put his shirt back on at the moment.

Just as you were about to inform him of the two students that were killed, Chad bursted into the room. “Tara and Sam were just attacked,” he said. “Where the hell were you and where the hell is-” he cut himself off when he saw your bare shoulders peeking out from under the blanket and the annoyed face you gave him.

Ethan cursed him out as he moved back to block your body from Chad’s view. “Jesus, don’t you know how to knock?” He asked angrily, grabbing a grey shirt from off the floor and giving it to you.

“Um, yes, I do,” Chad mumbled, embarrassed at what he just walked into. “To be honest, I was coming in here to accuse you of being the one who attacked them, but I see you’ve been…busy with something else.”

“Yeah?” Ethan asked as he pulled a grey henley over his head. “What gave you that idea?”

“Yeah, heh,” Chad trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess you don’t need me to be your wingman afterall, huh?”

When neither you or Ethan laughed, Chad cleared his throat and shook his head, pointing behind him with his thumb.

“Um, Mindy wants us all to go to Tara and Sam’s place,” he said. “So we’re all together and no one becomes suspicious of one another.”

“Really?” You scoff as you put the shirt on and throw the blanket off you. “Is this what our life has become?” You ask no one in particular and take the pair of sweatpants Ethan held out to you.

He shrugged and covered your body with his as best as he could as Chad let out an awkward laugh. “Yeah, you know what?” He slowly backed out of the room, making both you and Ethan look over at him. “I’ll just see you guys over there, okay?”

You rolled your eyes when he closed the door again, sitting up straight once you were dressed. “I seriously can’t stand your roommate, you know that?”

While you began moving various blankets and pillows on the bed in search for your phone, you become too distracted to hear the way Ethan agreed with you, mumbling a quiet, “Yeah, me either,”

You had nearly dozed off multiple times during Mindy’s rant about the rules of horror movies and how to narrow down the suspects. You had your chin pressed to your hand that was resting on Ethan’s shoulder, your eyes feeling heavier as she continued to ramble. When she mentioned that newcomers, aka new friends, are most likely the killer, you lifted your head and furrowed your brows. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how I could be the killer,” you say and gesture over to where Sam was sitting. “I don’t even know her.”

“All the more reason you could be out to get her. You have no connection, but you’re friends with Tara, who was also attacked,” Mindy said, her eyes cold and accusing. “Now that I think of it, where were you when Sam and Tara were attacked? Everyone was at their place except for you.”

Before Chad could interrupt his sister’s interrogation and come to your defense, Ethan grabbed your hand. “She was with me last night,”

Mindy glared at him. “And where were you?”

“At home,” Ethan answered. “In my room.”

“TMI,” Mindy shook her head, taking her eyes off the two of you.

“It is true, though,” Chad said after a few seconds, raising his hand as if he were answering a question. “I might have accidentally walked in on them.”

You give him a sarcastic smile and stand up. “There, it wasn’t either of us,” you say and tug on your boyfriend’s hand. “Can we go now? This is boring.”

Mindy squinted her eyes at you before shrugging. “Fine,” she said. “But I’ve got my eye on both of you.”

“Maybe you should have your eye on your girlfriend, too,” you point out and hear Anika scoff. “She’s also a newcomer.”

“Yeah, okay,” Anika muttered. “And maybe you should care more about your so-called friends rather than slutting it up with your boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes at that, the words hardly affecting you and you pulled on Ethan’s hand, not noticing how his eyes were cold and hard. He glared at Anika, her harsh words about you playing on repeat in his head, before he let you lead him away from the group.

At the sound of Quinn and her boyfriend going at it, you regret not asking Ethan if you could go with him to econ. Earlier you were sitting next to him on the Carpenter couch and were prepared to fall asleep with your head on his shoulder when he got a text.

You were too distracted by his phone wallpaper, which was a picture of the two of you on your third date, to see what the text he had received said. He gave you a chaste kiss, mumbling something about needing to go and the word econ before he was gone.

Now, still on the couch, you were sitting next to Anika as she flipped through the channels on the TV. At the sound of four distinct phones going off, you sat up and watched as Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad stood up from their chairs at the table and ran towards Quinn’s room.

This made both you and Anika stand up as well and follow after them, all six of you pausing outside the closed door. “What is going on?” As soon as you asked that, the door was pulled open and Quinn’s bloodied body was thrown at Anika. The force of the body took her to the floor and chaos erupted as the killer, dressed in a black robe and mask, stepped out of the room.

They sliced up Mindy’s arm as Chad and Tara ran out of the apartment completely, leaving the four of you behind. The killer turned to you and you let out a small scream as they grabbed onto your arms and threw you into Quinn’s room.

You landed on the floor with a harsh thud, a jolt of pain shooting down your arm. You watched in horror as they picked up Anika and plunged the knife into her stomach, twisting it and sliding it upwards. Sam came running out of the kitchen with a knife block in her hands and she slammed it against the head of the killer, making them fall to the floor with a grunt.

“Guys, in here,” you yelled out and got up quickly, pulling them into the room with you. Sam slammed and locked the door, telling Mindy to do the same to the bathroom door. When she came face to face with ghostface, she tried closing the door before they got in, but failed to do so. She instead opted for the other door and slammed that one, but everyone knew it wouldn’t be long until it was broken through.

It was then that Sam opened the window and secured the end of a ladder to the frame, successfully creating an escape route into the apartment next to hers. “You go first,” you say as you help Mindy hold the dresser against the door. After a quick debate, Sam finally gave in and began crawling across the ladder, yelling at the three of you once she was on the other side.

“You next,” Mindy said to you and you shook your head, nearly losing your balance when the killer gave a particularly hard shove to the door. “Yes, go. I got Anika. Go.”

At this point, ghostface had his arm in the room and began swinging it around. As you gave Mindy a nod, the blade sliced against your back, cutting the shirt you were wearing as well as a layer or two of skin.

You cry out in pain and rush towards the window. You avoided looking down as best as you could, listening to Danny and Sam’s words of encouragement as you crawled as fast as you could across the ladder. Danny easily pulled you into his apartment once you were in reaching distance, and the three of you began yelling for Mindy and Anika.

Mindy made it across and Anika would’ve, too, had her wound not worsened and had she not wasted too much time crying over how high up she was. She was about half way when the killer finally broke into the room and walked to the window. They dropped the knife and grabbed onto the ladder, swaying it in a mocking manner. Anika cried out once she was about half way, giving up on trying to crawl the rest of the way.

What none of you knew, at that moment, was how the degrading words Anika had spit at you earlier played through Ethan’s mind, making his hold on the ladder tighten. He stopped moving it for just a second before gathering the strength he needed and flipping it onto its side, sending Anika falling several stories down. Her head slammed off a dumpster before her body fell limp a few seconds later, her lifeless face staring up at the four of you.

The sun was glaring down at you as you sat in the back of the ambulance. The paramedic examines your arm after she places a large bandage on your back, successfully stopping the blood flow from the cut. She came to the conclusion that your elbow was sprained and after she finished wrapping it in a sling, your eyes met a familiar pair of brown ones.

Ethan ducks under the caution tape as you quickly stand up and take off in his direction. He drops his bag to the ground as you throw yourself at him, not caring about the pain that shoots up your arm at the force of your body hitting his. You wrap your free arm around his shoulders, pulling him down into as you cry, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he said, guilt evident in his voice. “Are you okay?” He asked quickly, hearing you whimper in response.

You shake your head and he wraps his arms around you protectively, eyeing the body bag in the alley way with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Chad makes his way over to the two of you, his defensive side coming out. “Where the hell were you last night?”

“Back off, man,” Ethan muttered, standing up straight and keeping his arm around your shoulders. “I had econ. Ask anyone I was with last night.”

Chad scoffed. “You were the only one who wasn’t here last night,”

You had grown tired of the countless accusations thrown around and lifted your head to glare at Chad through teary eyes. “Would you give it a rest?” You ask angrily. “I think I would know if my boyfriend of almost two years is going around killing people.”

“I thought the same thing,” Sam mumbled as she stood next to Chad. “But I was wrong.”

“Guys, come on,” Ethan sighed, feeling like he was being backed into a corner but not letting his defensive side come out. It would give everything away. “I already told you where I was. Ask one of the hundred people who I was with.”

At that Chad and Sam backed off, walking away with heavy shoulders.

You press your head against his chest once they leave, small whimpers still escaping your lips. Ethan holds you tightly, his eyes narrowing at the cut in your shirt and the glimpse of the white bandage he could see under it.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he stares at the Carpenter sisters and the twins, his eyes holding a deadly glare.

It’ll all be over soon. He thinks to himself.

And when it is, it’ll just be you and him - just like how it always had and always will be.

Thank you all SO MUCH for the love and support I received on the teaser. It blew my mind as I truly wasn't expecting it :') I hope you all enjoyed this <3 (ps. I tried to make it as accurate as possible to the movie, but I have a terrible memory heha.)

I don't normally tag people, but since you asked ;) @anonoussy

#ethan landry #ethan scream 6 #scream 6 ethan #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #scream 6 imagines #scream 6 x reader

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stevebabey · 6 months

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this is pure stupid hell crack that took more time than it should’ve to finish BUT i’m ready 2 release it from my drafts <3 this is actually technically written partially w @corrodedcoughin in mind bcos i think u will mighty enjoy it! for cockney eddie!

It comes with the territory, the accents.

Drama kid or dungeon-master, either one could be credited with contributing heavily to his affinity for all of Eddie’s little voices.

There was the deep, low raspy one reserved for trolls in campaigns — and a nasally high one he used for goblins to pair. Wise wizards giving out crucial advice sometimes had a strong Scottish drawl to their words. And Dwarfs? Always English.

So, yeah, Eddie has a couple different accents in his different repertoire. Pulls them out as he needs — a regal tone when referring to Hawkin’s very own royalty or a buried Southern twang used when he’s in trouble with Wayne. The most common is a shoddy Cockney accent for when any conversation dips too far towards awkward or boring.

It's why it's not so surprising anymore when they just... slip out sometimes.

He's learned more now, when specifically not to do it (Mrs. Donnell had not found his plea for a re-sit, in a heavy Irish accent, endearing in the slightest). But with friends who know Eddie, they know the accents come along too.

Steve fucking loves them.

The first time one had taken over his voice, some New Yorker twang to carry a joke, Steve had laughed so hard he’d snorted. And god, had Eddie lit up at the noise— loved knowing that, deep down Steve Harrington had a delicious wonderful ugly laugh that he only showed to people he trusted.

Basically, it’s hardly news to Steve then, all of Eddie’s little voices.

But well, even Eddie didn’t expect… okay, the truth is he never expected to be in this situation at all.

It’s a Wednesday evening when it happens. Steve is over round the trailer like he is every Wednesday, keeping Eddie company while Wayne is out on the double night shift.

It originally had started out as ensuring wounds were checked and dressed properly — considering half of them had scaled up his back, where Eddie couldn’t reach — for the both of them. Then, when technically Eddie could manage the worst of his words, Steve was still coming around. Dustin’s insistence, he’d said.

Then it was… because Eddie asked Steve to come around, to stay a little longer.

So, Steve Harrington is in his kitchen and it’s a Wednesday ritual that they have together and that’s not even the weird part of the evening.

(And somehow, neither is the fact that Steve is, as of a few months ago, his boyfriend.)

Steve’s cooking. Something simmers low on the scarlet glowing hob, bubbling quietly and releasing aromas of spices that percolate into the Autumn evening air.

Eddie feels his stomach growl in its own twist of hunger as he follows his nose. With one hand still scrubbing a towel against his wet hair, he ambles down the hall, fresh out the shower, ready for love — be it the form of food or, he thinks giddily, kisses.

Steve’s not watching the food as Eddie enters, his eyes fixed somewhere across the room. There’s a crease between his eyebrows, an indication of his deep thought.

Eddie grins, approaching without any attempt of being sneaky, (Steve’s as good as comatose when he’s distracted as he’d found) and jabs his boyfriend’s calf with his toe.

“Thinking mighty hard there, Stevie. That’s dangerous.”

Steve jolts, snapping out of his thoughts. He straightens up automatically, then seems to recall the company he’s keeping, and relaxes back down.

He scowls affectionately at Eddie’s barefoot, still jabbing into his leg, and reaches out to flick it with his finger.

“Dickhead.”

Eddie’s faster. He dances away and laughs at the instinctual pout that forms on Steve’s lips.

“What ponders thy mind, hm?” Eddie drawls, a lilt of a Regency style accent in his voice. He sinks into one of the kitchen chairs and drops his task. The towel hangs over his neck, his damp curls resting against it.

Steve seems to jolt again at that, his shoulders rising for a moment. He spins, picking up the wooden spoon beside the stove to swirl the contents of their dinner around. Eddie admires him, broad shoulders and long back, ripe for his taking. Silently, he sighs dreamily on the inside.

“Just… what movie we’re gonna watch tonight.” Steve says unconvincingly. “I’m not doing another re-watch of the Fly.” He adds lamely, an attempt at his usual bitch.

Eddie lets him have it. With one final squeeze of the towel, trying to wring out all the droplets in his hair, Eddie abandons it on the chair as he stands. He waltzes forward, into Steve’s space, and hooks his chin over the other's shoulder.

“You know, that’s what you said last time.”

Steve side-eyes him, his eyes narrowing into a minuscule glare; bitch personified. Eddie grins. Then bats his eyelashes.

It makes Steve laugh, shrugging Eddie’s weight off politely as he gives their dinner another stir. There’s still this tenseness to his frame. Though, maybe it's one Eddie can only notice because he’s paying such close attention.

“Alrightttttt,” He pretends to relent dramatically, his hands coming up to give Steve’s shoulders a quick squeeze. “I’ll let you pick the movie tonight.”

He drops his hands back to his sides, smarmy grin already plastered on as Steve turns to face him, the wooden spoon placed down on the bench.

“Oh, you’ll let me, will you?” He gives this incredulous look, even if there is this playfulness toying at the corners at his lips.

“Uh huh,” Eddie affirms with a severe nod, then begins counting on his fingers as he lists off. “No badgering, wailing, complaining, of any sorts I—“

Suddenly, Steve’s reaching out, his deft hands reaching out to snag the waistband of Eddie’s pyjama pants. It supposed to be a smooth move he’s used countless times before; fingers looped through belt loops to pull a girl in for a kiss. It usually works like a charm.

Except, there’s no belt loops— and when Steve tucks his fingers beneath the waistband and tugs him forward, Eddie shrieks.

“Fucking christ, Steve!” He bats Steve’s hands back without thinking. Steve holds them up defensively.

“Sorry! I was just—”

“What are you doing sticking your hands in my pants?!”

“It was a move!” Steve insists, voice a little whiney. “God, you’re dramatic- I was trying to pull you closer, numb-nuts.”

“Oooh,” Eddie switches up in an instant, hands shooting out to grab Steve’s own. He pulls them forward and settles them on his own waist, shuffling in closer like he hadn’t just shrieked a minute earlier. “Continue.”

Steve chuckles, delight peeking through on his face. His hands, large and slender, curl around the skin of Eddie’s waist and Christ, he’s still not used to that. Eddie’s too focused on repressing his shiver to see the shadow of nervousness cross Steve’s face.

“I was actually thinkin’ about,” Steve starts lowly, eyes skirting off Eddie’s face, over his shoulder. His fingers tighten their grip. “How—”

He sucks in a breath, like drawing in courage, and meets Eddie’s gaze. “About how much I love you.”

There’s the smallest tremble to his voice, giving away the immense emotion behind the words.

And here’s the situation that Eddie never expected to be in, ever. His breath catches, his eyes widen — his heartstrings tangle and knot themselves as he soaks in Steve’s admittance. Love, love, love — he loves me.

His lips part, a raspy noise escaping as he tries to compute, tries to think of anything to say because the longer he stays silent, the more crushed Steve’s expression becomes. And then—

“Well, I luv ya too.”

The words fall out, thick in that godawful Cockney accent.

Steve's face doesn't change but Eddie's does, contorting in an amalgamation of pure cringe and panic as embarrassment crawls beneath his skin. He slaps his hand over his own mouth as if it can take back his awful reply to being told he's loved by Steve.

"I—" He starts, speaking through his fingers, except it still comes out in a funny accent. Eddie squeaks, his grip over his mouth tightening, brown eyes wide in his panic. Oh God, never in stupid silly life has his accents come back to bite him in the ass so magnificently.

"I'm so sorry," Eddie whispers-yells in his regular voice, finally dragging his hands off his face sluggishly. "Jesus H Christ, I didn't— that wasn't making fun of you, I— oh god, you know that happens when I'm nervous sometimes. Shit. Shit, I'm so sorry, Steve."

Steve hasn't moved, his hands still resting on the small of Eddie's waist. His expression is guarded, nothing betrayed. His dark eyes scan across Eddie's face and just before he speaks, the smallest glimmer of amusement glitters across his face.

"Well," Steve begins, heaving a faux large sigh. His hands squeeze comfortingly at Eddie's waist again. Eddie who is still frozen, still cursing himself internally, still echoing around the apparently true fact that Steve loves him— well, maybe not anymore with how awfully Eddie responded.

And then Steve opens his mouth and the most appalling attempt at some accent comes out. It makes his words all garbled and Steve's pink in the face, obviously embarrassed but trying to commit to some shoddy Scottish when he says, "Aye, that's al'right."

Eddie stares at him. Steve stares back.

The moment of silence is broken as laughter seizes him, a guffaw bursting from his lips and holy fuck, Eddie loves him so much. Steve laughs too, the two of them relaxing and sinking into one another. Eddie's hands, previously fluttering and unsure, find their natural place curled in underneath Steve's jaw and when he leans in, he's fighting off his laughter. His grin is unbearably wide, cheeks aching.

Steve's got this shine in his eye, his hands sliding further around to pull Eddie in closer, his pink lips quirked in delight. Eddie practically purrs, so close to kissing him but not quite closing the gap.

"Yep," He says, eyes bright as they bounce over Steve's face to drink in his boyfriend's love-soaked expression. He loves him. Steve loves him. Eddie sounds as lovesick as he feels when he whispers, "It's decided. I think you're it for me, Stevie-baby."

He presses forward, lets his mouth find their home in the curve of Steve's lips. It's warm like nothing he's ever felt before, softened by their gooey-grins of love. It's an in love kiss.

"Even if you're terrible at accents." He murmurs against Steve's mouth.

"Shut up."

Steve hisses, but he’s still grinning. The dinner bubbles behind them, still cooking away behind them. "Like I'm ever going to let you live that down."

Eddie finds he doesn't really mind all that much — God forbid his boyfriend ever remind him they're in love.

"Shut up," He still says, then sticks out his tongue, like he's ten years old. "You love me."

"I do." Steve admits easily, his fingertips dancing along the small of Eddie's back. Eddie has to tuck his bottom lip behind his teeth to restrain his wild grin.

"And I love you." He says, properly this time, jabbing his finger into Steve's chest — so there's no absolutely mistaking it.

#watch me edit this over the next couple of days…..#cos it’s like a first draft #😚✌️#it’s ok i just wanna post something before i go back offline for a bit while i do finals + get a JOB #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie crack fic #it honestly it but also isn’t lol #steddie fluff #[shrugs] enjoy i guess

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octuscle · 1 month

Text

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age reduction #jock tf #nerd to jock #football jock #ai image

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neil-gaiman · 11 months

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Hi Neil!

I don't want to sound like a killjoy, but I'm concerned about David Tennant's family being involved in the second season of Good Omens (or Michael Sheen's partner Anna Lundberg in a future season three). I absolutely have nothing against them, I loved Staged just like everyone else, but this is exactly the matter for me: casting them in the series would automatically make me think about Staged or something else while I'm watching GO, and it would distract me from the plot and the magic of it. It would feel somehow like a family reunion, no matter how talented they are as actors (not to mention that there would be nepotism accusations, above all against David. I hope this won't affect the popularity rating, since season three is still hypothetical). I'm not the only one who thinks this might be an issue, from what I read on blogs here on Tumblr (and on the Internet in general) but I feel like there's a sort of tension, like people are scared to say it out loud, because some fans get the wrong idea and accuse them of hating Georgia or Anna or Ty (and that's why I'm asking this anonymously, I don't want to start a fight). I hope you get what I'm saying, it only felt fair to me to let you know whatever concerns some fans might have, and maybe even give you a perspective you weren't considering? Of course you have the last word on this, and if you think this is not a big deal, I trust your judgement.

I wish you a fantastic day! (And sorry for my English, I'm not native, I tried my best!)

Yeah. So, I find that a little creepy, not very creepy, but definitely a bit.

I thought we were lucky to get Peter Davison in Good Omens 2. (He didn't audition. We offered him the part, as I've been a fan of his since 1978, and All Creatures Great and Small. He crushes it, and is heartbreaking, funny, and still somehow the moral compass of the episode he's in.) Ty Tennant auditioned, along with a number of other actors, and got the part because he did it best. (I didn't know who his family was when we cast him. I just liked the audition tape.)

If you're hunting down family connections, David's mother-in-law, Ty's grandmother, Sandra Dickinson, is in the Audible Sandman, too, as one of the Three Witches/Fates/Eumenides etc. And she was cast in it two years before David Tennant (although probably around the same time Michael Sheen was asked to be Lucifer). (I've been a fan of Sandra's since she was Trillian in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in 1981.)

Anyway, I'm sorry you're worried about Peter and Ty's performances, although I promise you have nothing to worry about, and I'm sorry that you worry that our possibly casting Georgia and Anna in a hypothetical and not-yet actually a real thing Season 3 might make people think of Staged and make them not able to enjoy Good Omens any longer. (Had I known people were this easily shaken I wouldn't have appeared in Staged either, in case my name at the front of Good Omens shattered the fragile illusion and revealed to people that the David Tennant and Michael Sheen who play Crowley and Aziraphale are actors.)

Starting in 2017 I was the recipient of mind-mangling quantities of Tumblr abuse for casting David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Aziraphale and Crowley, which was, many people made very clear to me, the worst casting in the whole entire utter history of casting, and something that Good Omens would never recover from, because for a start neither of them looked like the versions in people's heads, and I'd also miscast them badly because everyone knew that if you had to cast Sheen and Tennant, Michael had to play Crowley and David had to put on some weight and play Aziraphale. (It wasn't until May 2019 that people stopped grumbling.) So people worrying I'm going to cast Anna and Georgia in a season that hasn't even been commissioned in parts that haven't been written just makes me smile.

I hope this helps.

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adoregojo · 5 months

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖ conversations on the lap ₊˚⊹

characters ➤ bachira, reo, isagi, nagi warning ➤ disgustingly fluffy,

bachira.m

"so today the couch made us do extra exercise today." the brown-yellow haired male explained co-speech his hands to emphasis his words while you listened carefully.

"mhm."

"then shidou stepped on rin's foot, i don't think it was an accident," he kept looking back at you every second to make sure you were still interested, so you run your fingers through his slick brown locks while nodding for him to continue, both to assure him you were listening and because he loved when you did that, said it made him feel fuzzy and soft.

"than a huugee fight began and me and otoya were like 'fight, fight, fight!'" he raised his fists to the air in intense for you to laugh, which he always succeeded at because you were letting out a light chuckle that made his chest huff proudly.

"aha." you hummed.

"then they were pulling each other's hair like a girls fight, i almost got bald from laughing!" bachira couldn't help but snort at the memory while holding his chest, he was actually rolling on the ground laughing his ass off at that time.

"i'm really glad you didn't." you said softly, as you bent down pushing his hair out of the way to press your lips on his forehead which made him bashfully giggle kicking his feet a little, his carefree smile turned into a sheepish one, somehow all the exhaustion from practice flow out the window when he was with you.

"would you think i still look handsome if i was bald tho?" suddenly he said with a serious face.

"meg.."

reo.m

"would you love me if i was worm?" the heir asked you, this was a Poverty of the week where reo would question you about how much you love him, it's not like he doubts your feelings for him however there was days where he just didn't needs extra love to feel alive breath into him again, yes this is how much your words affect him.

"i'd sure do." you assured him with a gentle smile.

"if i die would you get with another man?" the thoughts of another guy stealing you away for him will haunt him for eternity since he had that one nightmare, he had to sped his next week crying in your arms while you held him like a baby, and him begging you not to get bored of him. definitely his worst nightmare of all time.

"don't think i will."

the purple head took your hand and suffocated it between his palm, like he was begging you to be honest, "do you still love me?" reo pouted at you, you swore you almost saw tears run down his face as if you were gonna actually reject him.

you felt bad for almost laughing at his childish behaviour, but at the same time lucky because you were the only one who gets to see the reo mikage like this. "we're engaged, but sure yes i still love you very dearly." you made sure your tone was confident enough to wipe that expression out of his handsome face.

you caressed his cheek with your hand, rubbing your thumb across his skin in comfort. reo couldn't help but lean forward your loving touch that made him feel he was in the safest place he could ask for. you gave him a kiss on the tip of his nose and he chuckled sheepishly at the action.

"i feel very loved right now." he says as a little blush crossed his face with his usual grin back on it place.

"m glad."

isagi.y

"why do people call it building when it's already built." if you got money on every time your boyfriend would ask stupid questions like that you would've beaten the mikage themselves.

"english rules i guess." you said as you let a sigh, it's not that you hated it but something his questions are so unrelated that it gave you headaches. but you never persuaded him to stop it, letting him ask whatever came to his mind like you were the divining goddess with all the answers.

"do you think ants have a life like us?"

"guess so."

"did you know that noel noa is the best world player right now?" he pointed his finger out with a goody smile as if he was saying something unusual, missing the glasses he looked like a damn nerd and you loved it. he stared confused at you as you laughed a bit at his words, at least he made you laugh?

"i do, i hope one day you'll be even better than him." your words were genuine enough for his beep ocean eyes to glee at you and to caught some bug stomach, he would never get use to flicker you always gave him with such simple words.

a lovesick smile spread on his face as he ask the next question unintentionally, "can i have a kiss?"

before he could catch up on his words, your soft lips smacked his own into a gentle kiss. he kissed you back but not enough before you backed away. he was awestruck as his face turned red before mirroring your smile.

"thank you."

nagi.s

"im dead."

"sei, you're not dead." you called him out with a pinch he barely reacted to, ever since he stepped in the apartment all he has been able to do is jump on you like he hadn't seen you in years taking all the space on the couch with his massive build, not patting an eye at your cries for him to get up because you couldn't feel your legs anymore.

"careful what you say, it might be the last thing i hear." he muffled while his cheek was resting on your thigh, felt it was like his one and only pillow. he was like a fat lazy cat especially when he kept rubbing his face against your thighs skin.

"you're so dramatic." you complained as you stroked his back which nagi let out a quiet sound at almost like a purr.

"you love me though." he said softly, his voice low and his words meant for your ears only.

"unfortunately." you teased back,

"hmph." nagi pouted at your words.

"was your day that bad? you want me to give you kisses to ease it?" you mostly meant it as a joke until you never seen someone mood change so fast, even for nagi. his was half closed eyes were now more opened in excitement that flowers would float around him.

he pointed his finger at his forehead, "i want one here." as you gave him a kiss where he pointed you couldn't help but let a smile slip on your face, nagi didn't seem to mind as long as he felt your affection.

this time it was each finger pointing at one of his cheek, "here too." you don't know if it consider cheating but he looked so eager you simply obeyed and gave him a pack each cheek.

"and here." finally he pointed at his lips for a final request, the cherry on top. your lips against his were always heavenly, like you two were kissing for the first time and it still made him light-headed when you two parted. the tip of his ears getting red as you spared him a shining smile that was to him the brightest light in the merciless cold night that he was begging to warm his iced heart to make his heart beat again.

"how about now?"

"I'm on the verge of dying, you should give me more kisses so i could survive."

have a nice day everyone!!

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #bachira x reader #isagi x reader #nagi x reader #reo x reader

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earthtooz · 2 years

Text

𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘼𝙉 𝘼𝙍𝙂𝙐𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏...

in which: you sleep on the couch after an argument !

ft: gojo, geto, choso, itadori, megumi

warnings: food in geto’s, (minimal) angst to fluff, hurt/comfort

a/n: this is my coping mechanism. i’m sorry if any characters are ooc / NOT EDITED

˚ ༘彡 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢: arguments with gojo are so very draining. he's uncooperative and it's like talking to a wall that isn't afraid to insult you and aggravate you further. you bail out without communicating what you were trying to say, tired with the white-haired sorcerer's behaviour. you fall asleep that evening on the couch with a scratchy throat, swollen eyes and a singular blanket that only just barely covers your whole body. regardless, you managed to fall asleep somehow, dreading the morning to come.

...only to question why there was an overgrown grandpa dangling off the couch- oh, that's your overgrown grandpa. gojo's arm is wrapped tightly around you, his head buried into your chest. it seems like gojo was the only thing preventing you from falling off the couch in your sleep.

but his harsh words from last night still float around in your mind; so with a shove, you roughly push your boyfriend off the bed, unimpressed. he wakes up with a grunt, probably because of how cold your floor is.

gojo notices your pointed stare and wants to start whining.

"why are you here, satoru?"

"i couldn't sleep without you cause i missed you... a lot."

you see the yearning and tiredness in his eyes and it’s enough for you to cave. although, he had yet to offer an apology, but it's nothing a 'little' scolding can't solve.

˚ ༘彡 𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢: geto is mature, so arguments with him don’t occur often, nor are they a pain in the ass. in fact, geto’s always willing to apologise and talk it out, never hesitating to put his pride aside. that’s exactly what happens. after a (somewhat) peaceful night on the couch, you’re awoken by the feeling of someone shaking you.

opening one eye, you notice the tall, overpowering figure of your partner bent down to be eye-level with you. he has a gentle smile on his pretty, flawless face. a hand reaches up to tuck the strands of hair away from your face, but lingers at your cheek, holding it gently.

“good morning,” he greets.

there’s the sound of sizzling in the background, “mornin’. are you making breakfast?”

“yeah. it’s an english breakfast kind of morning. that okay?”

“perfectly fine. i’ll make your tea.”

you get out from under the blankets with the help of geto, who you collapse onto while stretching the sleep out of your limbs.

the rest of the morning is spent in silence. you hand geto his mug whilst nursing your own, bumping your hips with his as he cooked breakfast, your smiles widening with every little moment of intimacy shared. this is the best way to re-discuss whatever you both were trying to say last night, except calmer, and over a nice, filling plate of breakfast that was made with the ingredient of the love you share.

˚ ༘彡 𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗢: arguments with choso are the worst :( nor do they happen very often. neither of you let your pride get in the way of proper communication, but on the rare instance it does, you're storming out the room and choso misses you immediately. he's sitting on the edge of your shared bed pouting, head in hands, missing your presence.

then his inner-self slaps him with the 'y/n could be cold! there aren't many blankets in the living room!', so he scrambles to get blankets upon blankets for you.

choso discovers that you're fast asleep in the living room so he takes his time laying the blankets over your figure, tucking them snugly around you, fluffing the pillows as best as possible, ensuring your comfort. he doesn't like that you're separated from him, but he understands that you need space and the last thing choso wants is to bother you.

so, he reluctantly bids goodnight with a gentle kiss to the forehead, but just as the cursed spirit was about to walk off, he feels your hand reach out to grab his wrist, effectively stopping choso in his tracks.

"i'm sorry," you whispered.

"it's okay," he bends down to your level, hands smoothing down your hair, "wanna come back to bed?"

a small nod from you was all he needed.

˚ ༘彡 𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜: arguments with itadori are... one-sided? almost? yuji is trying to understand, he really is, but it's been a really long day and he just wants to rest; something you eventually come to understand midway into a 'discussion' that's starting to become a little too heated.

so, to calm down, you decide to talk about it later, telling your lover that you'll be on the couch.

"wait, what do you mean you'll be on the couch?"

"it means i'll be... on the couch?"

"wait but why don't you wanna sleep beside me? i'm sorry for disturbing you, let me take the couch instead!"

"yuji, no, it's fine-"

"the couch is so uncomfortable, i can't put you through that!"

meeting his eyes, you're immensely touched by his devotion and selflessness, even when you were giving him such a hard time before. you feel terrible for jumping on him when he obviously needed to sleep, so you give in.

placing a fleeting kiss on the back of his hand, you pull him towards the comfort of your bed, "c'mon yuji, let's go to bed, you must be tired."

˚ ༘彡 𝗠𝗘𝗚𝗨𝗠𝗜: it hurts to say this, but arguments with megumi are… intense and they leave a mark, scarring if not cared for properly. but that said, he’s always careful with you afterwards, never failing to slip a delicate 'sorry' past his lips and spending time with you in reassurance that what he said in the heat of the moment was not what he meant at all.

regardless, you always back out the argument first by claiming a spot in the living room couch. it's an unspoken sign to let megumi know you've had enough for the night.

but a grumpy, dark-haired, ten shadows user isn’t too far behind you, watching apprehensively and disapprovingly as you set up for a night on the couch- away from him.

at this point, you already know what to expect, so the little ‘tsk’ megumi mutters isn’t surprising. the way he stalks over to you isn’t surprising and the way he picks you up and carries you back to the bedroom isn’t surprising either.

“i don’t wanna talk to you,” you half-heartedly murmur, refusing to make eye contact despite clinging to him tightly.

megumi sighs, “yeah, yeah, cry about it.”

the little chuckle that slips past your lips can’t be helped as your lover gently places you on your side of the bed, not leaving without placing a gentle kiss to your temple.

there’s still a lot to talk about, but as of right now, you’re content.

hey hey hey! hope you enjoyed! pls consider reblogging <3 i spend a lot of time making fics i hope ppl will enjoy so if you’re looking for a button to press, choose the ‘follow’ or the ‘reblog’ button!

cya!

- earth

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cerise-on-top · 4 months

Note

Hi!!

I really love your works and writing on cod! I really enjoy reading it! ❤

Can I request Konig, Nikolai, Rudy and Alejandro reacting to reader speaking to their native tongue?

Take all the time you need! ❤🐱

Hello, I'm glad I can write something people can enjoy! And of course you can, even if I'm not sure I understood this ask perfectly! I wrote it as reader speaking the native language of the lads with them, so I hope that's okay! If you wanted reader simply speaking their own native language, please let me know! Thank you for the request, this one was very fun to write for!

Alejandro, Rodolfo, Nikolai and König with an S/O who Speaks Their Language with Them

Alejandro: He’d definitely be surprised if it comes out of nowhere, but he’s anything but mad. He can speak English fluently, has no problems whatsoever with it, but if he can speak Spanish then he definitely won’t mind either. If you’re a beginner and it’s evident by how you stutter in Spanish, then he’ll be patient with you. He’ll speak slowly and clearly so you can follow while also getting a good feel for the intonations the language has. However, when he just wants to tease you a bit then he’ll speak the way he’d usually speak while also not shutting up either. Alejandro can be eloquent in Spanish if he tries, but he barely ever does, only when he wants to confuse you with words you’d likely only hear from people who are 100 years old. The more you look like you’re in despair, the more it cracks him up. He will apologize afterwards, though, and give you a kiss on the cheek. If your Spanish is already pretty good, however, and you just wanted to surprise him, then congratulations, he’s likely going to speak a whole lot more Spanish with you than before. Just because it’s a popular language doesn’t mean everyone speaks it, so when he wants to tell you something for your ears only while there are people around, he’ll say it in Spanish. It’s comfortable for him, getting to speak his mother tongue with you. He thinks in Spanish, so it’s a whole lot easier for him as well. Tells a lot more jokes in Spanish too, even though they’re some of the worst ones the language has to offer. While they may not be Ghost-level lame, they’re something else still. Come up with your own and he’ll be so proud of you, rewarding you with more awful puns he came up with. He’s just happy he gets to share his language with you.

Rodolfo: As soon as you come up to him somewhat timidly and strike up a conversation in Spanish he’ll be a bit surprised, but absolutely smitten. Since it’s obvious you’re still learning he’ll try to use “nicer” Spanish on you, so more words that aren’t just exclusive to his dialect, or Las Almas in general. Very supportive, he would never judge you for making grammar mistakes while speaking, taking a while to remember a word or mispronouncing something, it’s part of learning a language, after all. Might nudge you in the right direction or correct you gently, but he’d never mean it in a bad way, he just wants to help you. He’ll speak clearly to you, slowly as well, so you can learn from him. It’s not often he gets carried away, but sometimes hearing you speak Spanish is just so cute that he might chuckle a bit or be a bit more excited than usual. A very patient teacher, who can appreciate you trying to learn something new. Now, if your Spanish is already pretty good then he does like holding a conversation with you in Spanish every once in a while. It’s just nice to turn your brain off without having to translate every other word into another language since he, too, thinks in his native tongue. Soft petnames from time to time, or maybe just mixing English and Spanish together when he can’t think of the word immediately as well. Somehow, as soon as he knows you speak Spanish, he’ll believe you’ve taken an interest in the corresponding culture, so he’ll teach you more about Mexico if he can. Teaches you how to cook the food, the customs, what the people are like in general. While he may not be as connected to his culture as Alejandro, he does like talking about it from time to time.

Nikolai: The second you greet him with a cheerful privet he knows you’re in for something. You should have expected such from him as well, though. It’s a gamble with him, he’ll either speak more quickly than he usually does just to mess with you or he’ll hold a prim and proper conversation with you and it all depends on how playful he’s feeling that day. Overall, he’s pretty chill about it, though. You wanna know how to pronounce something? You wanna know what gender a noun has? What his neighbor was yelling about again? He’s got your back. You can ask him the most embarrassing questions a million times, he won’t mind. Besides, if you want to then you can come to Russia and experience everything there first hand. Nikolai knows all the good places in Russia that are suitable for someone who’s not usually there, so you won’t have to worry about anything either. If you want to hold a whole conversation about how tortoises have survived for millions of years, then you can. Besides, hearing you botch the pronunciation from time to time is just the most precious thing there is. Will smile a bit when you pronounce something incorrectly, but won’t ever outright mock you for it. As mentioned before, he just thinks it’s cute. And when you know Russian very well, then he still won’t speak it too often. Nikolai knows eight languages, he doesn’t always think in Russian, usually in English since that’s what most of his closest friends speak with him. If you really insist on speaking Russian with him, he will, but won’t think too much of it. Many people know the language, Russia is a big country, after all. If you want to, then you can spend some holidays there and he’ll show you around since there likely isn’t a better guide in the whole country than him. But he will not make a big fuss out of it.

König: German isn’t a very popular language due to its grammar, so you can imagine his surprise when you walked up to him with the most adorable Grüß Gott he’s ever heard. He could just squish you then and there, but he refrains from doing so and instead focuses on trying to have a meaningful conversation with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s good, doesn’t matter if you’re just asking him how he’s doing, a conversation is a conversation and you’re learning. Besides, you learning German, especially if it’s just because of him, does move him just a bit. Might not always initiate a conversation in German with you because what if you’re not in the mood? But you can always just talk to him in German, he doesn’t mind it at all. Though, he might not be the best person to learn German from since he uses regional words that people his age use. While he does try to speak high German with you, he does not really care much for it, so his dialect slips in every once in a while. But hey, at the very least you get to learn his dialect. As soon as he hears you call someone Hawara he becomes oddly proud of himself, thinking he’s doing well as a teacher even if he barely does anything. He loves Austria, so if you really want to see it, he’s more than happy to take you home, show you Vienna, Styria and Lower Austria and make you try some good old Brettljause. If you already know German, then chances are you’ll only know high German, which is alright too, but please know that from time to time, König will speak his dialect with you, which you might not always understand. He barks quite a bit when he speaks too, making it a bit harder to understand him as well. However, he’s always more than happy to play translator for you and teach you words no one uses anymore, such as hal. Austrian words are a must know for you, therefore you’ll learn fairly early on what a Seidl or an Erdapfl is.

#cod #cod x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #cod nikolai #cod nikolai x reader #konig #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #I go just a bit feral whenever I get to talk about König's culture and I think it sort of shows haha #not my fault though! I'm just really glad people like him! Even if he may not have too much to him as a character!#give me an opportunity to talk about Austria and I will talk your ear off #anyway thank you for the lovely request this one was really good and fun to write for!#something short and sweet since I had a rough and long day at work today!#tomorrow likely too but tomorrow is Friday so there's that!

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osaemu · 9 months

Text

ミ★ quick learner 🜸

pairing: student! gojo x reader

summary: to you, chemistry means two things – the worst subject on earth and the best feeling ever. satoru somehow teaches you both.

word count: ~2.0k

notes: suggestive. modern au. mentions of organic chemistry. making out. guest appearance by geto. gojo calls you 'smart girl' at one point. rushed. barely proofread. written while i was half asleep. like always, reblogs are very very appreciated.

a/n: i genuinely don't know how i feel about this one... there are parts i like and parts i don't like (that i was too lazy to fix) and it's kinda just stitched together ... lmk what you think in the comments pretty pls 💞

"question four – what's the difference between molarity and molality?"

"wait, those are two different things?"

since you and satoru had both procrastinated studying for your impending chemistry test, you found yourselves at the library long past midnight.

it was an accident – when you had decided to study in the library instead of at home, you hadn't anticipated running into anyone you knew. but of course, satoru gojo, the charismatic guy in your english class, was here too.

you wouldn't say that the two of you were close – acquaintances was a better word. satoru and you knew of each other and were on friendly terms, but until now you had never really taken the time to talk alone.

but hey, just because you didn't know the guy that well didn't mean you were about to turn down a free study partner. especially one as attractive as satoru, although it was admittedly a bit distracting when you were trying to focus on your work.

it wasn't his fault – his long, white lashes were just naturally mesmerizing. and his eyes? breathtaking. even in the dim light of the library, his eyes shone like crystals. you didn't even want to start thinking about his hands, his jawline, and certainly not his body, otherwise you'd be studying something else the whole night – him and his stupidly attractive self.

after a ton of mental self-chiding, you finally manage to get your priorities straight and actually try to study, but what started as a study session gradually turned into a tutoring session when you two realized that one of you needed a lot more help than the other.

and to your dismay, that was you.

"you really thought molarity and molality were the same thing?" satoru scoffs, shamelessly grinning. "y'know, it's really a miracle you have an A in the class. you don't deserve it."

"shut up," you reply, knowing only too well that he was right. the only reason you were able to maintain a good grade in this stupid chemistry class was because the teacher offered a ridiculous amount of extra credit.

but unfortunately, you couldn't float on that boat for much longer. your grade was still slowly slipping, from a 95 to a 93 to what was now a flat 90, and your pride wouldn't let that number fall any further.

satoru laughs and shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair. "c'mon, at least tell me what molarity is."

"uhh, that's moles per liter, right?"

he nods and twirls a pen in between his fingers. "yeah, that's right. now what's molality?"

"how should i know? i don't pay attention in class," you groan, resting your head in your palm.

satoru rolls his eyes, and you take a moment to appreciate how gorgeous they are. they were a color somewhere in between cerulean and ocean blue, further enhanced by his long white lashes.

your admiration quickly fades to indignation when satoru clicks his tongue and starts rattling off some dictionary definition of molality.

"y'know, you'd know more if you weren't on your phone the whole time in class," he says dryly.

you groan again and lean back in your chair. "it's just so boringgg," you whine, pushing the chemistry worksheet away. "forget it, i'll just guess on the test tomorrow. it usually works."

as you start to sweep your pencils and papers into your bag, satoru grabs your wrist and gets you to meet his ocean-blue eyes. "i'll feel bad if you do badly because i didn't help you enough."

his grip on your wrist is firm but gentle as he leans a millimeter closer. "let me help you, yeah?"

after a beat of silence, you nod and look away. his glacial eyes are piercing in the kind of way that makes you think he can see right through you, and you don't like the feeling of being readable.

"so, am i gonna have to force you to pay attention or will you do it yourself?"

the question catches you off guard. something about the way he asks it makes it very clear that it's a genuine question – either you can try and make yourself focus or he can make you.

you don't quite know what the latter means, but it sounds more fun, so that's what you pick.

and that's how you ended up on his lap, hair wrapped around his fingers as he quizzed you from behind.

satoru had somehow motivated you to actually try and study by rewarding you with a kiss for every question you got right. had the offer come from anyone else, you would've called them a creep, but satoru was attractive and he knew it. on top of that, he wasn't afraid to use his good looks to get what he wanted, which, in this case, was for you to do good on tomorrow's test.

"avogadro's number?"

"umm, 6.022 x 10 to the 23rd?"

satoru nods and kisses the side of your face, lips trailing over your jawline as his eyes flick back to where he'd scribbled a couple practice questions.

"how many bonds can hydrogen form?"

"one."

this time, his lips touch your neck, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint in your body to hold back the embarrassing sound you can feel at the bottom of your throat.

"last question, how many bonds can carbon form?"

this time, your voice comes out breathier than you expected. "four, right?"

"smart girl."

and now, for the first time this night, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips. he doesn't linger and he doesn't give you any chance to savor the taste of his lips – one second his mouth is pressed to yours, the next it's moving with words you don't quite absorb.

he rifles through a couple papers and makes a face. "actually, my bad, there's more. not much," he quickly adds when he sees you groan. "just some stuff we didn't cover completely at the beginning."

"you're the worst."

"you'd fail without me."

"maybe, but at least i'd be happier."

despite your playful jabs, the truth that studying with satoru was a lot more bearable than studying by yourself, and it was also a lot easier to stay awake. before you knew it, two hours came and went, and you were practically an expert on everything that could possibly be on the test tomorrow.

and when you're finally able to confidently tell satoru the difference between molarity and molality, that's when he turns you around on his lap to face him and presses his lips to yours again, and this time, he doesn't pull away.

"you're a quick learner, aren't you?" satoru mumbles against your lips. he pulls back for a second to get some air before grabbing your chin and leaning in for more. "yeah, i wonder what else i could teach you. you wanna find out, pretty?"

you're not entirely sure when the studying ended and the making out started, but you certianly do know when the making out ended.

before you could reply to satoru's rather suggestive question, a message blared from the speakers around the library and interrupted whatever you two had going on.

" it is now closing time. all remaining students, please return to your residential places immediately."

satoru chuckles and nudges you off of his lap before standing up and stretching. "well, it's almost 3, we should get some rest."

"yeah, that's probably smart."

"of course it is. i'm smart."

"yeah yeah," you mumble after a second when no better retort comes to mind. probably because he was telling the truth – satoru was smart, and he knew it.

"well, i'll see you tomorrow," he says, sweeping the remainder of his stuff into his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder. "good luck on the test, you'll do great."

you smile and zip up your own backpack before heading towards the exit on the other side of the library, his words buzzing around your head and the memory of his mouth fresh on your lips the whole way home.

"satoru, satoru! guess what i got on my test!"

after you made your way home from the library last night, you slept like a rock. barely a minute after you tiredly stumbled into your oh-so welcoming bed, you were out.

despite only getting around five or six hours of sleep, you felt pretty damn good the next morning as you sat down to take your chemistry exam. and that good feeling stayed with you the whole test, and when you finished, you were able to confidently set your paper on your teacher's desk.

well, as confidently as anyone could set a piece of paper down anyways.

but now it was lunchtime, and a soft chiming sound from your phone signaled that the test was score and put into your grade. your hands shook slightly as you tapped the notification, but to your delight, a 97 lit up your screen.

and of course, who else could you credit with this besides satoru? so you walked over to where you'd seen him hang around during lunch and called out his name, but you really hadn't anticipated company.

"ah, satoru, who's this?" the dark-haired boy beside satoru asked, voice light with interest. "have you been seeing someone and not telling me about it?"

satoru laughs and shoves the guy's shoulder before turning to you and grinning. "sorry 'bout him. yeah, what was your score?"

he has a lollipop in his mouth, and as he raises an eyebrow at you, you feel yourself grin as you proudly say "a ninety seven! my grade went up to the mid-ninties, too!"

"smart girl. knew you could do it," satoru says, a lopsided smile spreading across his face.

"it's only 'cause of you," you say, a bit sheepishly. "without your help, i wouldn't've been able to do that."

satoru exhales a laugh and reaches out to ruffle your hair. he looks like he's about to say something before the other guy clears his throat.

"sorry to interrupt your... moment, but the lunch line is starting to grow and my patience is starting to shrink. satoru, you coming?"

"yeah, give me a sec, suguru."

satoru looks back down at you, sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose and cerulean eyes flashing in the sunlight. "looks like i gotta go."

you nod and wave him off. "yeah, i'll see you around, i guess. thanks so much for the help, really. i owe you one."

satoru grins and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth. still looking at you intently, he runs his tongue over the lollipop one last time before sticking in your mouth.

"you wanna pay me back for tutoring you last night?" satoru asks, smirking at the surprised look on your face. "drop by my place tonight. i'll teach you something else this time."

he leans in and gives you a quick, sugary kiss before turning away and walking in the direction geto left in, leaving you with nothing but a tingling sensation in your lips and a promise to see you soon.

satoru laughs to himself as he walks away, waving one hand back at you without bothering to turn around. when he catches up to suguru, the latter notices the wide smirk satoru dons and asks about it.

"oh, it's nothing. just looking forward to tonight."

you were, too.

a/n: if i wrote smut i'd write a pt 2 to this. maybe one day idk

i'm probably going to get back to writing some more angst after i finish the last of my requests. i miss writing fics that make people cry /hj

if you haven't already, check out some of my other jjk fics in my masterlist (below!)

anyways thank u vvv much for reading, reblogs are always very appreciated 💞

masterlist

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supernovafics · 11 months

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐍

pairing: professor!steve harrington x professor!fem!reader

word count: 6.8k words

summary: in which it had been twelve years since you last saw steve harrington. and you never thought about him, mainly because you’d forced yourself not to. but, suddenly, it was hard to avoid thoughts or reminders of him when after all of those years, you finally saw him again. it was an abrupt moment that oh so quickly brought back memories and old feelings that managed to do a number of things; confuse, scare, and worry you. after everything that happened between you two, you fully believed that you would never want to talk to him again. but maybe that was the exact thing that needed to happen.

warnings: explicit language, mentions of cheating, a bit of fluff, implied smut, a shit ton of angst but with a happy ending

author’s note: this took forever and it's insanely long but i love the way it turned out<33 the rest of the trilogy will be out next, so "august" and then "betty" coming (very) soon!! (full "folklore" album series masterlist here!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Fall Semester 1996

You rarely ever thought about your life pre-Rhode Island. Mainly because you never wanted to, but also because it felt so far in the past that there was never any reason to focus on what used to be.

You segmented your life into two phases. One, before you left your hometown, and, two, the moment you drove past the “Leaving Hawkins” sign and never looked back, refraining to listen to the part of the sign that told you to “Come Again Soon.”

It had been nearly twelve years since you left the small Indiana town, and there wasn’t one moment where you ran into anyone that you once knew from that “before” life, which, in turn, meant that you never had any reason to think about Hawkins.

Until you did run into someone. And it was probably the worst possible person you could’ve ever run into.

Steve fucking Harrington.

You would’ve rather seen Simon Gardener— your crush from sixth grade who you’d thrown up in front of when the two of you got paired up on a Science project— than Steve.

But, now here he was, standing barely twenty feet away from you. You’d nearly dropped the coffee you’d waited almost twenty minutes for from your favorite coffee shop. Instead, you spilled some on your hand and only inwardly winced at the feeling because you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself.

You almost turned around and walked out of the building you just walked into, but your office was right down the hallway that Steve was currently standing in the middle of along with the head of the English Department, Dan. And now that there was spilled coffee on your hand you really needed to go in there and rummage through the drawer of your desk that contained a bunch of leftover napkins from random nights when you’d order takeout to your office.

Before you could contemplate further about what your next course of action should be, Dan spotted you and called your name, waving you over to where he and Steve were standing.

“Hi, good morning,” You greeted him, expertly avoiding eye contact with Steve because you didn’t want to see his reaction to seeing you for the first time in what pretty much felt like forever.

“Let me introduce you to the new addition to the History department upstairs,” Dan said and then gestured to Steve, which forced you to finally look at him. “Steve Harrington.”

You could tell he was surprised to see you, but he hid that surprise by smiling at you, and you hated that even after all of these years, his smile still managed to do something to you.

Now that you were closer to him, you could see some minor differences about him. His hair was a bit shorter, nothing too crazy or dramatic, but you noticed how his “iconic” hair was a bit more tame compared to how it used to be. And somehow he managed to get a little taller, only a couple of inches, but still you noticed that too.

He overall looked older, which obviously made sense because twelve years would do that to a person. However, there was still something all too familiar about him. That same boyish presence that you had gotten so used to seeing still lingered on him. Behind his eyes, you saw exactly that boy you fell in love with that one summer.

The summer that you never really thought about; in fact, you’d forced yourself not to think about it. But, now with him right in front of you, random flashbacks to moments from that July and August, especially August, were the only things circling your mind.

Your loud laughs and wide smiles as you swam in his pool and let your body wrap around his underneath the water, your drunken talks until the sun came up, the makeout sessions in his car that almost always led to doing other things in his bed since his parents were never home.

You pushed those memories far away, just as quickly as they resurfaced.

“Hi,” You said to him and forced a small smile.

You could tell that he was studying you just as you had been studying him, taking note of what you looked like now and comparing that to the version of you that he used to know. Whatever differences you had, you felt like they were subtle like his were, and just came with the territory of aging twelve years, but maybe he saw something else. He was the only person who you felt was able to actually look inside of you; he had known the ins and outs of who you were.

“She’s a Professor in the English department,” Dan told Steve, and you were insanely grateful for Dan’s presence at that moment because you knew that it would be hell if you had been alone with Steve right then. “Oh, what happened to your hand?”

You looked down at your hand, somehow you had actually forgotten about the spill that happened only moments ago.

“Little coffee mishap,” You said with a small, awkward laugh. “I have some napkins in my office, though, so I’m just going to head in there.” You looked at Steve and directed another forced smile at him, you had a feeling you’d be doing that a lot now. “Nice to meet you.”

You mentioned something to Dan about seeing him at a faculty meeting later and then headed to your office, which was only about ten feet away.

When it was just you alone behind the shut door of your office, your brain could finally process everything that had just happened.

Steve was here. Not Hawkins, not Indiana, Rhode Island. And not only was he simply in Rhode Island, but he now worked at the college you had been working at for the past two and a half years.

The only word you could think of at that moment was “Fuck,” and then you couldn’t help but mutter it under your breath. You took a sip of your coffee and let the familiar sweet and slightly bitter taste soothe your nerves.

Barely thirty minutes later— after trying your hardest to finish up the planning for a lecture you had been working on for the past few days but failing miserably because your mind couldn’t help but wonder why Steve was here of all places— you were stepping out of your office and almost crashed right into him.

“Jesus Christ,” You yelped; once again so surprised to see him.

“I swear I was about to knock and this is just freakishly weird timing,” He quickly told you. “I wasn’t being a creep and waiting for you to come out.”

“Okay,” You said with a small nod. Somehow his nervousness at that moment made you feel less nervous. “Um, what’s up?”

“Can we talk, maybe?”

“I have a class in fifteen minutes, so I can’t now,” You told him as you glanced down at the watch on your wrist. “But, um, maybe soon, yeah?”

You were completely lying, there was no way you were going to talk to him soon; at least not about what you assumed he wanted to talk about. You refused to do that.

Luckily Steve couldn’t see through your lie, or if he did, he didn’t call you out on it. Instead, he nodded at your words before you walked away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“'cause i knew you. steppin' on the last train marked me like a bloodstain. i knew you. tried to change the ending peter losing wendy.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Somehow, and much to your grateful surprise, you rarely ever saw Steve. And when you did, because he was only just upstairs so it was sort of inevitable, there were only quick passing glances shared between you two along with tight-lipped smiles and small waves; both of you too busy to have any kind of actual conversation with one another.

However, you did manage to learn a few things about him over the past month he’d been there. You heard through the grapevine— said grapevine being various faculty members that seemed to grow a quick liking to Steve— that he was taking over Tamara Wilson’s two Early European History classes for the rest of the Fall semester because she went on maternity leave, and in the Spring he’d be teaching it again along with a U.S. history course.

None of that information answered the one question constantly running through your mind, though.

What the hell was he doing here?

Because you had to admit, you were so curious to know about all of it. How he was here, why he was here, how this coincidence could’ve happened.

But, you also really didn’t want to talk to him because you had the strongest feeling that the conversation would also involve the past, that summer, and how much you didn’t want that to happen outweighed your curiosity.

Therefore, on the night of the college’s annual Winter Gala, the first instance that could actually allow you two to talk to one another, you still tried your hardest to avoid him.

You had always hated these kinds of events because they were solely used to schmooze alumni and other donors to get them to give the school money, and even though you understood the need for that, you still didn’t enjoy attending. However, you knew that you always had to show face, at least for an hour or two.

And you made it nearly an hour and a half without having to see Steve and you were almost certain that you actually wouldn’t see him. But, moments before you were about to make your final rounds and say goodbye to people, mainly Dan so you could prove to him that you’d shown up, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

It was almost too easy to know that it was Steve because it was only his touch that ever managed to send something equivalent to an electric shock through your body. And with the strapless black dress you were wearing, his hand making contact with your bare shoulder immediately made surprised goosebumps rise to your skin.

“Hi,” He said, offering a small smile. Somehow the first thing you noticed about him was the bow tie he was wearing. He was also wearing a black suit with a white button-up shirt, but the bow tie caught your eye first. You were immediately reminded of a memory of him saying how much he hated bow ties, but you had told him how great he looked in one. In this moment, you hated how right you still were.

“Hey,” You responded with a smile of your own, and you sincerely hoped he couldn’t see your nervousness through it. He opened his mouth to say something but you jumped in before he could. “How’s your first month here been so far?”

“Good,” Steve answered with a nod. “A little weird just jumping in at the middle of the semester and trying to go along with what Wilson already set on the syllabus. A weekly quiz was on there, and I immediately told the students that we wouldn’t be doing that anymore.”

“They probably love you for that.”

“Yeah, I got a round of applause on my first day.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, you were only fifty percent sure that he was joking, but either way, the thought amused you.

You wanted to ask when he got into history and into teaching, but maybe that question would open a can of worms that would lead to other topics of conversation you wanted to stay away from.

“I can guarantee that at least half of them will want to be in your class next semester,” You said instead of asking what you really wanted. “You’re gonna be doing U.S. History, right?”

“Yeah, and I’ll still be taking over for Wilson, so I’ll have three courses next semester, which should be interesting,” Steve nodded, and then a look crossed his face as if he just remembered something. “But, that probably sounds like nothing to you because I heard that you’re currently doing four American Lit courses and one British Lit course. Oh, and you’re the only person in the English department teaching that many courses, which sounds insane but that’s also pretty cool.”

You pretended as if now knowing that he had asked about you didn’t affect you at least a tiny bit. And you also pretended that hearing the admiration in his voice didn’t affect you at all either.

“Yeah, I’ve only been teaching here for a little over two years, so I still get stuck with most of the basic courses. Which isn’t horrible, but it’s pretty boring and easy, so I always do a lot,” You told him with a small shrug. All of the work that had been on your plate for the past few years sounded like a lot— maybe even too much— but in your mind, it actually wasn’t as crazy as it seemed. Because you liked drowning yourself in your job, it made you feel useful, and you’d spent so much time before and right after you left Hawkins feeling the exact opposite that you’d do almost anything to make sure you never felt that way again. “But, next semester I’m doing an advanced Creative Writing course for the first time, in addition to only two American Lit courses, so I’m pretty excited about that.”

Steve smiled at you. “That’s nice.”

This small talk felt okay to you, it was bearable. It was also mundane and a little trivial, but you’d rather that than talk about the past. Apparently, Steve had other plans, though.

“I had no idea you moved here.”

You pulled your eyes away from his and focused on your half-empty flute of champagne that you’d gotten when you arrived at the event and was probably disgustingly warm by now. You contemplated for a few moments whether or not you should avoid Steve’s question or allow the conversation to go in the direction that it was inevitably meant to go in. Maybe it was stupid to think that you’d be able to pretend as if your past, which Steve was quite involved in, never existed.

“Yeah… I went to college in Massachusetts and then I went to grad school here in Rhode Island but in a different part of the state, a little more north. And I always just stayed here, always finding a reason to stay around, some small internship or job, and then I ended up at this college because a friend who was already working here recommended me. I had never done any teaching before, but I actually like it.”

You didn’t tell him that the main reason why you always found a reason— more so desperately searched for reasons— to stay in Rhode Island was so that you never had to go back to Hawkins. But, maybe that was obvious, at least to him, because he was a huge factor as to why you knew that you needed to leave that town and never look back.

You silently wondered if he had been gone from Hawkins for a long time too, and then you realized that with the turn the conversation had taken, you could actually ask that question.

“When did you leave Hawkins?”

“Almost ten years ago now,” Steve said, and you had to admit, you were kind of surprised by that answer. To you, he always seemed like the type of person that would want to stay in the small town. “Decided it was time for a scenery change and my parents, especially my dad, were more than happy to send me anywhere.” He let out a dry and slightly sad chuckle, and you were all too quickly reminded of why you had always despised his parents. “He pulled some strings at this small college in Ohio, so I went there and actually liked it a lot, and I haven’t been back to Hawkins since.”

You two were sitting at an empty table now, somehow silently agreeing to migrate to that spot as you continued your conversation. You placed the glass in your hand on the white tablecloth and turned to look at Steve.

“When did you get into history?”

“My first semester I had this professor for a World History class and he was really great; Richard James. It was probably the first class ever that I actually cared about what was going on because of how he was teaching everything and I became pretty interested in history. I took a couple more history classes with him and some other professors too, and still really liked it so I changed my major to it. And after I graduated I started TA-ing for some of the advanced classes he was teaching.”

There was a smile on your face that you wanted to get rid of but couldn’t because it was just so nice to hear how happy Steve was as he talked about the past almost ten years of his life. You hated to admit it, and you’d probably never do so out loud, but there was still a part of you that cared about him so much, and you were glad that he was happy.

“And then I ended up here because last month Richard was supposed to do a talk here, but he got sick last second and asked me to fill in for him. And for some reason, the head of the History department really liked me and offered me a job.”

You had never been the biggest fan of history so it wasn’t that surprising that you had missed the first time that Steve had been here, but your mind couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if your paths had accidentally crossed then.

“I want you to know, though, that if I would’ve known that you also worked here, I wouldn’t have taken the job,” Steve told you, somehow pretty much reading your mind and answering your unasked question. “Because I know you left Hawkins because of me. Because you never wanted to see me again, which I completely understand.”

His words right then surprised you and you had no idea what to say in response to that; your thoughts started running a million miles a second and you could only look down at your hands in your lap. But then you didn’t have to say anything because Steve kept talking.

“I’m still really sorry about everything that happened.”

You were so close to telling him to stop talking about it. You were fully ready to make up some lie about how the past was in the past, and how you were over everything that happened twelve years ago.

But, right then you actually didn’t want to lie and pretend that none of it mattered. You didn’t want to avoid the past like a plague, as you’d been doing for the past decade, and like you especially had been doing for the past month since Steve showed up in Rhode Island.

However, it couldn’t happen here. In the school’s basketball court that had been transformed for the evening into a ballroom-type of elegant space. No one was paying attention to either of you, but the potential for someone to come up at any moment while you were finally having this conversation with Steve worried you.

You finally let your eyes meet his again. “Can we talk about this outside?”

Steve nodded as you stood up and he followed you out the nearest door.

It was dark outside, the time now nearing on ten o’clock, but the many lamp posts brightened up the emptiness of the quad. You found a bench and sat down, the cool metal against your back calmed your nerves a bit.

You were suddenly reminded of the last time you and Steve talked to each other before you left Hawkins, which was about a month into Senior year at a random party at Rachel McKenna’s house. It was barely even a conversation because you refused to listen to him and his slew of apologies back then. And then you also refused to talk to him for the entirety of the school year.

You were still unsure if you had any regrets about that.

“I really don’t even know where to start,” You said now with a small sigh. “I always forced myself to never think about us; about that summer and the aftermath of it too. For the longest time I pretended as if none of it really mattered. Because I knew that we no longer mattered to each other.”

“You always mattered to me,” Steve told you and it was almost too easy to hear the honesty in his tone.

Still, you were quick to shake your head at him. “Stop, you can’t say stuff like that.”

“But, it’s the truth.”

You bypassed that softly spoken statement because even though you could hear that he was being honest, you didn’t want to acknowledge it right then. So, instead, you focused on something else that he previously said.

“You’re right. You were the main reason that I left Hawkins, not the only reason but definitely one of the big ones. But, it’s also funny because you were one of the reasons why I almost wanted to stay.” Your next words sat right on the tip of your tongue, but they were almost too hard to get out. You cleared your throat and took a quick breath before speaking. “Because I loved you, I literally loved you. So much. But, I knew that I couldn’t, or that I shouldn’t, because nothing could actually happen between us. That summer we were living in a dumb fairytale that could never become a reality. And it was so fucking stupid of me to ever think that we could actually be something real.”

“I wanted us to be something real,” Steve said and you had to bite back the scoff you wanted to let out in response.

“Yeah, weeks after you told me that what we were doing would have to be over because it was the end of summer and Nancy was coming back to town,” You said, trying hard not to let yourself get thrust back into that memory because the exact words he had said to you that day were still etched in your mind. “But, when we abruptly ended, it finally put everything into perspective for me. I felt like such a shitty person because of what we did and how it was a fucked up thing to do. And then immediately having to pretend as if none of it ever happened made it all feel so much worse. I hated you, but I hated myself so much more for everything that happened. That’s why I never wanted to see you or talk to you again, especially at that stupid party.”

You hadn’t realized you were crying until a soft look took over Steve’s face and you suddenly felt the wetness on your cheeks. You haphazardly wiped them away and averted your eyes from his, feeling immensely embarrassed because you hated that talking about all of that, things from years and years ago, still made you cry like you were that seventeen-year-old girl all over again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry you felt that way,” Steve told you. “But, it was all so much more my fault than it was yours. I was the one that cheated on her.”

“But, I knew. I knew about Nancy, and I knew that what we were doing was wrong.” But, I still did it because I wanted you so bad, and I loved that you wanted me too. You didn’t say that part because you hated the way it would make you sound.

“Still, it will always be more my fault. I was such an asshole back then. All of that ‘King Steve’ stuff really got to my head and I did a lot of shitty things,” He said, and you could tell that he wasn’t proud of that part of his past and he really did feel bad about it. “But, I don’t regret you, or us, or that summer, though. And maybe that still makes me somewhat of an asshole, but that’s okay because it’s true. I don’t regret you. Not at all.”

Somehow hearing him say those words made you realize that you didn’t regret any of it either, which was a thought that actually made you want to cry harder. Because even though you should’ve regretted everything because of every single thing that happened after— the hurt and shame you felt so strongly for months after— you knew that you’d let yourself do it all over again.

You’d still stupidly talk to him for the first time ever outside “Ralph’s Sandwich Shop” after he mocked you on the fact that you liked to put potato chips inside your sandwich and then praised you once he tried it and realized how good it was. And you’d definitely still let him kiss you for the first while swimming in his pool in the middle of the night after whispering to him, “Are you sure?” and his answer being a small nod and his lips pressing against yours that led to the chain of events that brought you both to where you were now.

You wholeheartedly knew that you’d do it all over again. And because of that, it made you say your next statement.

“I don’t want to be angry and upset with you anymore, or pretend you don't exist. I want us to be okay with each other.”

“I want that too. I want us to be friends,” Steve said, and although being friends was a lot different from simply being okay with one another, it actually didn’t sound like too crazy of an idea to you.

You nodded at him. “Okay. Yeah, me too.”

You held out your hand for Steve to take, which he did, and the two of you shook hands to seal this “deal.”

Your gaze broke from his and you glanced down a bit. “Nice bow tie, by the way.”

“I remember someone told me that I looked good in them and I believed her.”

“She’s still right.”

“Good to know.”

You both smiled at each other and then laughed, and it may have taken twelve years, but it finally felt like the past was really in the past.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“but i knew you. dancin' in your levi's, drunk under a streetlight. i knew you. hand under my sweatshirt, baby, kiss it better.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 1997

It was during the most random of moments that you were startled by how close you were able to become with Steve again, and how almost too easily it was able to happen.

Joking around with one another actually felt normal to do, and even talking to each other about anything and everything somehow felt like second nature all over again.

Steve was the one person from your “before” life that you had wholeheartedly believed you never wanted to see again, and now you were glad that he was in your life again. Those stark lines between “before” and “after” that you had drawn twelve years ago were now completely smudged.

Sometimes when the two of you were in your or his office late at night simultaneously working on whatever you needed to while eating takeout from random places, you were hit with the thought, “Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m here with Steve fucking Harrington right now,” and when you would tell him that random thought, he’d laugh a bit and agree that this sudden turn of events did feel at least a little unexpected.

But, he liked how things changed these past few months, and you really did too.

Now it was you asking to use the shower in his hotel room that once again made you feel surprised by how comfortable you were with him.

“Can I use your shower? The one in my room doesn’t get hot for some reason,” You had said and then immediately laughed because of how insane the request was, but of course, Steve didn’t mind.

“Yeah, sure,” He answered with a nod of his head, opening his door further to fully let you in the room.

“Thank you,” You said, smiling at him as you walked in, a towel from your hotel room next door in hand along with a change of clothes. “I’m gonna tell the front desk about it tomorrow. I would do it now, but after the four-hour drive today, I actually feel disgusting and am in dire need of a shower.”

The two of you along with a handful of other faculty from the English, History, and Theology departments were in upstate New York for a small weekend-long conference. Things like that were definitely one of your favorite parts of your job. Hearing talks from the authors of books that you loved, and then being able to pick their brains afterward. It felt like you were a student all over again, but in a better way because you were only listening to the stuff you cared about.

It was also pretty endearing seeing how excited Steve was about everything too. He’d gone on and on about a lecture on World War II that was scheduled for tomorrow for at least an hour during your car ride together, and his happy rambling somehow made you want to go to it too.

“I haven’t taken a shower yet, so I actually don’t know if mine works either,” Steve told you as you headed toward the bathroom.

“Oh God, please don’t say that,” You responded and went to turn on the shower. You sighed in relief when you felt the water get warm on your hand. “Okay, we’re good!”

After your shower, you joined Steve where he was sitting at the foot of his bed. It probably would’ve made sense to head back to your room, both of you had to be up fairly early in the morning, but you didn’t necessarily want to leave just yet; even though the two of you had just spent the past four hours holed up in a car together.

He was clicking through channels on the small television placed atop the dresser, trying to decide on something to put on, before settling on a movie that looked quite familiar to you; Footloose. It was the movie that the two of you watched the first time you went over to his house that summer.

“Do you remember this movie?” He smiled at you and it was hard not to laugh at his question.

You met his gaze. “I definitely remember, but do you? Because you fell asleep during it.”

“I eventually got around to watching it,” He responded and you smiled at that.

“Good,” You told him as you pulled your eyes away from his and turned your attention back toward the television, the movie was close to the end.

When the credits started rolling ten minutes later, you were about to say goodnight to Steve and finally head back next door to your room, but he started speaking before you said anything.

“Do you ever wonder how different things would be now if we had ended up together back then?” He asked, and the vulnerability and genuine curiosity laced within the question made your heart constrict. “If I hadn’t been an idiot and gone back to Nancy at the end of the summer. If I realized earlier that I really wanted to be with you.”

His words actually managed to surprise you because, over the last few months of you and Steve becoming friends again, that part of your deeply intertwined past was something that neither of you talked about. What the two of you used to be to each other, so deeply and utterly in love, hadn’t once come up in your conversations. Maybe it was the elephant in the room that had yet to be addressed. However, a part of you also felt that it was unnecessary to talk about it because, just like everything else, that was also in the past.

“Things would’ve definitely been different,” You ultimately said, words feeling unsure because you now felt so confused. Your next statements came out rushed as you leaned back on the bed, your back hitting the comforter and your hands covering your face because you were purposefully avoiding eye contact with him. “Sorry, I don’t really know what to say right now. I didn’t expect you to say that, and now my mind is kinda spiraling a bit.”

The question became a broken record in your mind.

Do you ever wonder how different things would be now if we had ended up together back then?

You actually had never wondered about that because, for the longest time, you had forced yourself not to think about Steve, or that summer, or even Hawkins in general. But now your brain was spiraling in a thousand different directions with potential answers to the simply stated but insanely loaded question.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. I don’t even know why I asked it, honestly,” Steve responded, words coming out rushed just as yours had. Something about his current sudden nervousness reminded you of the first encounter you two had in the hallway when you learned that he lived in Rhode Island. “Please forget I said anything.”

You didn’t want to forget, though.

“It would’ve been good, I think,” You said softly. You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you still didn’t want to meet his gaze. “I think we would’ve been really good together. I wouldn’t have spent almost every day working at the library, and instead, I would’ve gone to your basketball games and swim meets, and I’d actually enjoy it all because I was watching you. And we would’ve gotten drunk at parties on the weekends, and then the next morning you’d still drive me to my shift at the library and stay the entire time because there was nothing else that you wanted to spend your Sunday morning and afternoon doing. Maybe after graduating, we would’ve chosen colleges somewhere close to Hawkins, or even somewhere so far away from the small town. Probably someplace far away. But that part of it doesn’t really matter because we would’ve been together, and that’s all that would have mattered.”

There was really no doubt in your mind that that would’ve happened, or a different but similar version occurring that also included you and Steve simply being happy and in love with one another.

You felt the bed shift a bit after a few moments of your previous words lingering in the air of the hotel room and settling heavily over Steve, and you finally pulled your hands away from your face to look at him. He was now also leaning back against the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“God, I was such a dumbass,” He muttered, and you could hear the sadness in his voice.

You turned on your side to face him. “We both were. I wish I let myself forgive you at that party.”

“I didn’t deserve your forgiveness then,” He responded as he turned on his side as well and met your eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I barely deserve it now.”

There was so much you could’ve said in response to that but words didn’t feel right in that moment. So, instead of saying something along the lines of, “Please stop beating yourself up about it. You’re a good person,” you shimmied yourself closer to him, closing the small gap of space between you two, and pulled him in for a hug.

The position was awkward, one of your arms was sandwiched underneath him and you knew that it would almost immediately fall asleep and cause some discomfort. However, any and all awkwardness faded away when you felt Steve reciprocate and his arms circled around you.

“It’s okay, okay? I promise everything is okay between us,” You whispered, almost certain that your words got lost in his neck, but when you felt him squeeze you tighter you knew that he was able to hear you clearly. And not only that, but he believed you.

And then it felt like almost second nature for you to make a joke to make things feel light again. “Actually, I’m still offended that you fell asleep during Footloose the first time we ever hung out. I don’t forgive you for that.”

You felt his body shake with laughter which made you smile, and after a few moments, you pulled back from the hug to find him smiling softly at you.

“I’ll redeem myself when the sequel comes out,” He said.

“It’s been twelve years, I think the sequel ship has sailed.”

He laughed again. “Okay, yeah, that’s true.”

You should’ve taken the newfound silence as your opportunity to say goodnight to him and head next door to your room. However, you couldn’t find the will to fully pull yourself away from him. His arms were still around you, like yours were, and your faces were dangerously close. But, the current proximity didn’t feel dangerous or worrisome to you. Instead, it simply felt right; which was an abrupt feeling that should’ve confused you, but somehow it didn’t.

“I really missed you,” He told you, breaking the silence with a statement that only cemented that “rightness” you were feeling at that moment.

“I missed you too.” Your four words somehow felt so effortlessly honest. Even though you had pretended that he and that summer never mattered by forcing your thoughts away from it all, Steve always still held a place in your heart. Deep down inside of you, something that resembled a yearning for him almost always lingered. “I constantly tried to tell myself that that wasn’t true, but I really did miss you… And I’m so glad we’re here right now.”

“Me too.” He looked at you so softly that you felt yourself slowly melting under his gaze.

In your mind, which now suddenly felt so clear and the farthest thing from confused, the next thing you wanted to do seemed like the best thing to do. In fact, it was something that you felt like you needed to do.

Your hand that was resting at the nape of Steve’s neck moved to his cheek as you dipped your head just a tiny bit closer to him.

Steve closed the small gap some more and his lips ghosted over yours for what felt like a fraction of a second before he pulled back a little and looked at you. “Are you sure?”

“Now that sounds awfully familiar,” You joked, referring to that moment in his pool all those years ago, and although he cracked a smile at your statement, you knew his question was serious.

You weren’t kids anymore. The two of you couldn’t just kiss and let it mean nothing in the end.

But, you truly didn’t want it to mean nothing.

You couldn’t have a good ending back then, but did that mean that you still couldn’t have one now?

“I’m so sure about this,” You told him and before he could potentially respond with anything, you let your lips find his, and how quickly Steve kissed you back nonverbally told you how he felt about it all too.

You were completely done for, you knew that for certain. There was nothing that could compare to this and there would never be anything that could compare to this— Steve’s lips on yours for the first time in years, but it feeling like the last time it happened was only yesterday. It was all so innate and easy, probably the easiest thing you’d ever done.

The way his hand found your waist to pull you even closer to him, which made you inwardly smile, and the way you let your fingers settle in his hair and lightly tug on the brown locks, which elicited a soft sigh in contentment from him— you still knew every part of each other so well.

Two people that had been apart for so long finally coming back together. It was a statement that technically summed up you and Steve, but in your eyes, that felt too simple and didn’t accurately summarize the hurt, pain, and turmoil that had accompanied the past twelve years. And it especially didn’t correctly encompass the current part of it all, the “coming back together” part.

Because that part felt indescribable.

A part of it felt similar to watching a movie that ended just the way you wanted it to, or having someone right there to help you get back up and patch up your wounds after you’d fallen off your bike. A feeling that said that even though everything had once felt so uncertain and the complete opposite of perfect, it wasn’t that way anymore.

Things quickly felt so good and right, and both of you were already making internal promises— promises that you’d later whisper to one another while wrapped up in the sheets of Steve’s bed— to never let each other go so easily again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“and i knew you'd come back to me. you’d come back.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know ur thoughts<333

(read “august” here!)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington one shot #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff

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flowerandblood · 7 months

Text

Rip my heart, heal my soul (2)

[ Jack the Ripper • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, stalking, mention of murder and body mutilation, control obsession, trauma ]

[ description: Trying to find happiness in a relationship with the girl who has taken over his heart and mind, Aemond must face problems and a disease that poisons his head. Additionally, nothing sinks forever and one of his crimes is discovered by the police. Murder, mutilation of his victims, obsessive, poetic, dark!Aemond. ]

This chapter was created at the request of fans as a continuation of the oneshot of the same title, which you can read here: Rip my heart, heal my soul

Aemond Inside Alphabet

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He wasn't sure if any holiday had ever passed for him so quickly. Ever since he'd met her, ever since he'd come to her room, ever since he'd promised himself that it was over, that he was going to change, it had felt like the night of his life had finally dawned.

They saw each other practically every day.

Even though he felt like not letting her out of his arms when he woke up by her side in the morning, that he felt like just lingering in the embrace and entwining of their naked bodies, looking endlessly at her peaceful sleeping face, playing with her hair, mussing the skin of her arm with his fingertips, he knew he had to do it.

Every day was like a battle with himself, with his weaknesses, breaking out of his habits, out of his worst nightmares.

Every day when they got dressed, when he had to go to work and she had to run her errands, he felt trepidation in his heart, thought only of the fact that he would never see her again.

That somehow she would find out about what he had been doing for years.

That she would meet someone else, someone better on her path, someone she could fall in love with.

That he would do something to hurt her or discourage her, try to control her too much and ruin everything.

For a few hours after their separation, he thought he was just dying.

And then the afternoon would come, and she would walk into the café where he worked, smiling and happy, telling him at the counter about what she had done and where she had been, about the new article she was writing, about what they needed to read or watch this time, and he was unable to concentrate.

She had come back.

She still loved him.

He wanted to cry.

He was afraid to tell her about his fears, afraid that then she would realise how fucked up he was, what chaos was in his head, how dangerous he was, and then exactly what he feared would happen.

He looped himself in the prison of his thoughts, catching himself looking at her when she spoke to him, when they sat in her room with the wine they drank from the bottle, talking about literature, about films, about people, about life, watching her facial expressions, how interestingly upturned her slender nose was, how soft her lips were.

He knew that when she disagreed with him, her eyebrows crinkled slightly, the corner of her mouth twitched and her eyes narrowed, when she was excited or happy a sudden flash passed through her gaze, her pupils dilated and watched him expectantly, a wide, sweet smile crept onto her cheeks that she couldn't contain.

When he was sad or worried she would lower her gaze, often playing with some material lying beside her, glancing at him surreptitiously, warmth and boundless understanding in her eyes.

She would tell him about her imperfections, about what she thought she had done wrong in her life, about her conflict with her grandfather and her intimate relationship with her brother, about the fact that her parents did not want her to study literature but medicine.

She told him about how, as a child, she was afraid to sleep alone, imagining from a young age that she would open her eyes and some stranger would stand over her and hurt her, that she would be terrified and afraid, but no one would hear her.

As she told him this he would look at her with his lips clenched on the verge of crying, almost falling to his knees in front of her, confessing to her that he could not be with her.

Instead, she ended up in his arms, naked, and he sucked and licked her lips, caressed her beautiful body with his mouth, whispering to her that she was safe, that she would never spend any night alone again, that if anyone tried to hurt her, he would protect her.

And then he slid into her, into her hot, throbbing body, always so incredibly moist and ready to take him inside her.

They made love to each other painfully slowly, stretching their fulfilment to the limit, to the edge of pain, and came at last violently, completely, looking at each other with lips parted and foreheads pressed together, panting hard, stroking each other's faces.

"So kind. So warm." He whispered to her, placing light kisses full of devotion and tenderness on her cheeks warm from the exertion. "So wise. So beautiful."

The natural progression of things after that was that he couldn't pull away from her body, their skin as if clinging to each other, his arms embracing her, snuggling her face into his chest, and she huddled in his embrace as if in the safest place on earth, full of confidence, his cheek nestling against the top of her head, his hand weaving into her hair, the other trailing down her bare back, putting her to sleep with the calm, repetitive motion of his fingers.

In that moment, as they fell asleep in each other's embrace, he was at his happiest.

He was at peace.

She was in his arms, safe.

When she twisted or wanted to change position he would open his embrace only to close it again, adjusting to her, snuggling into her from behind, non-committally, almost anointingly placing his hand on her soft breast, focusing on the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

She was alive.

Since he'd been around her, since he'd spent every night with her, he hadn't killed anyone.

She was the first girl he had had sex with more than once. What's more, he'd never done it before in such a way, so tenderly, with such care, a need for comfort for himself and for her.

It had gone from something dirty, filthy and disgusting to a form of his greatest devotion and desire, a sense of wanting to be just inside her, just with her.

Her moans were not in his ears an animal howl, but the sweetest, most innocent sound he had ever heard, as if she was almost suffering from the pleasure he was giving her, and he had to comfort her with his lips, whispering between kisses down her throat that just a little longer, that he would let her come soon, that she knew he would never leave her unsatisfied.

He would then give her what she needed and she would melt beneath him, her lips parted in a gesture of total surrender to the heat that was rippling through her body in waves, she would turn her face away, unable to look at him in such an intimate, private moment, helpless.

He would catch her cheeks and thrust his tongue between her lips again, kissing and licking her with a loud click as he finally filled her with his seed, hearing her sigh of relief.

He had fallen in love with her.

When he realised this one evening, looking at her, he became frightened and stopped listening to her, staring at his hands, playing nervously with his fingers, sitting next to her on her bed, leaning against the windowsill.

She was just telling him about her professor, whom she liked very much. She fell silent at some point, seeing that he had closed in his mind again, and touched uncertainly his arm.

He felt goosebumps as her fingers ran over his bare skin, his body involuntarily reacting to her closeness with desire.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly, her hand trailing up and down his arm slowly, reassuringly.

He was unable to look at her.

"I need to tell you something."

He felt her freeze at the tone of his voice, heard her swallow hard, knowing for some time that something had been bothering him, asking him about it several times without getting any meaningful answer. His heart was pounding like mad.

"I'm not a good person." He muttered, quickly burying his face in his hands for some reason bursting into sobs, terrified, feeling that he was shaking all over, that he was about to lose her, that he was about to go mad again. "God, I've done terrible things."

He felt her looking at him, hushing him, stroking his hair soothingly, embracing him, kissing his ear, pressing her nose to the side of his face, he could smell her wonderful, pleasant scent.

"Do you think I can bear what you want to tell me?" She asked quietly, in a whisper, as if she was afraid someone would hear them. He felt himself freeze all over, his heart pounding in his chest like mad. He opened and closed his mouth, hesitant, terrified.

"No."

He was answered by a long silence that seemed to last an eternity, her fingers stroking his hair thoughtfully.

"Then I don't want to know."

He swallowed loudly, lowering his hands, looking at her shocked, not believing she had said that. They looked at each other for a long moment, in her eyes warmth, pain and some kind of certainty he didn't understand.

"You don't understand. I did something very, very bad." He mumbled in a trembling voice, as if trying to make her realise that he wasn't talking about owing rent, breaking someone's arm or robbing someone.

He was killing women and gouging out their eyes.

He sliced them with a cleaver and packed them in black bags.

He would take them far out of town and throw them into lakes.

It had to come out sooner or later, someone would fall on the trail, find the trace and the rest would fall apart like dominoes.

"I don't want to know. You promised me you would protect me. How will you protect me from the consequences of what you want to say?" She asked, and he covered his mouth with his hand, running it over his skin, his eyebrows arched in an agony he'd never felt before, he felt like his whole body was twitching.

"I knew from the beginning. I felt it when I saw you for the first time. Just like when I read the Black Cat I went back to continue reading the book knowing that I would be scared, knowing that the darkness was waiting for me there. When I met you I knew, I knew from the beginning that something had happened in your life, something terrible that I don't want to know about." She muttered on the verge of crying, touching her fingers to his cheek as if he was made of fragile glass about to shatter in front of her, her eyes red from the tears, warm, filled with affection and pain, her lips trembling as she spoke the words.

He stared at her in disbelief, breathing hard, and after a moment they both threw themselves into each other's arms bursting into loud, helpless sobs.

She knew.

She felt who he was.

She felt who he was and she let him into her life anyway.

Into her heart.

He had sworn not to tell her and that if there was any danger of her finding out from another source, he would make sure it never reached her ears.

If up to now he had thought he loved her, if he had been crazy about her, she had now become in his eyes some kind of goddess.

That night it was she who cuddled him close, stroking his head, his hair, his shivering body, whispering that it was all right now, that he was brave, that she knew he wanted to tell her, because he really loved her, that he was afraid of losing her, that everything would be all right.

Knowing that she understood him, that she knew what he was afraid of made him suddenly feel some kind of intoxicating relief.

As the end of the summer holidays and her return to university approached, they both began to contemplate what to do. He was ready to drop everything for her and go after her, knowing that he would find a job easily and that working in a coffee shop was no great feat.

They decided to give it a try.

They searched the internet for a bedsit together deciding that they would settle for anything for the time being, so they lay on her bed with his laptop, searching the classifieds.

He made sure he thoroughly cleaned his laptop of all remnants of his past, as well as his flat. He checked it several times, remembering his promise to her, and left his phone and his laptop with her without fear.

He trusted her.

He trusted her like no one else.

Never in his life had he felt such satisfaction, such fulfilment as when they spent their first evening in their new home together.

They arranged their clothes in the wardrobe, their books on the shelves, their plates, their mugs, hung pictures and photographs, everything was shared, everything was theirs.

They made love that night panting loudly, finally not having to hold back in front of her other roommates living next door, and caressed each other completely naked as she sat on top of him, rising slowly up and down, filling herself with him, looking down at him with parted lips, stroking his scarred cheek, once in a while placing a kiss on the eyelid beneath which was his artificial eye.

"So beautiful." She whispered tenderly, and he felt his cock pulsing hard inside her at her words, desperate, so in need of fulfilment. "I desire you so much."

He kissed her greedily, locking his lips with hers, moving inside her more aggressively, feeling that if she kept talking he would just cum inside her, and he wanted her to come on top of him, to feel her orgasm on his cock, the pleasure flowing through her body.

"− c'mon − my little girl wants to come with my cock inside her, hm? −" He gasped and she nodded quickly, looking up at him in despair, rising and falling on him faster and faster with the loud, sticky click of wet skin hitting skin.

"− I know − I know, baby − c'mon, your boyfriend needs to fill ya −" He breathed out, pressing his thumb to where their bodies met, finding between her folds the place of her hidden delight, she moaned helplessly as he began to massage her with circular, sure motions, pressing her forehead against his, her walls began to tighten on him.

"− yes − God, please − please − please −" She cried out loudly and came with a sweet sigh of relief, tilting her head back only to snuggle her face against his cheek again.

She squealed when he changed position suddenly, throwing her onto her back, grabbing her thighs in his hands and starting to fuck her furiously, panting loudly with her, ignoring her pathetic whimpering from overstimulation, her hands trying to push him away to no avail.

"− shhh − I know, baby − just a little longer − m' close −" He growled out and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, breathing deeply, feeling his seed fill her hot insides. He leaned over her with difficulty, feeling that his body was soft and numb, and placed a messy, light kiss on her lips, to which she responded with a sigh of delight.

He felt like he was in a constant state of panic when he had to leave for work and she was going to class. All he could think about during this time was her, what they were going to watch or read when they got home, what he was going to make for dinner to make her happy, remembering to pop into the shop on the way to the flat to buy her favourite rolls so she could have them for breakfast in the morning.

Nothing made him feel better than messages from her. She asked him not to text her during class so she could concentrate and he respected that, albeit with great pain and suffering, all the time checking his phone to see if she had had a break yet.

He smiled under his breath as he saw her message, recalling the situation from the day before when one of the female customers didn't understand the intent of the espresso.

If he had been a person before he met her, before he was with her, perhaps he would have done something to her, but now he was surprised to find that he was indifferent.

The opinion of strangers no longer mattered to him.

He thought sometimes with regret that perhaps if he had met her in high school, if she had been there for him during that difficult time, he would never have killed anyone.

That he would have been a completely different person.

He tried to make up for what he had done, what was weighing down on him and her like a black storm cloud with his commitment and understanding, his struggle with his possessiveness, jealousy and fear.

When one evening, which in his mind they were supposed to spend together as usual, she told him that her friends had invited her to go out on the town with them and she really wanted to go, he felt a powerful pang of disappointment, an immediate desire to keep her.

He needed her and she wanted to leave him.

She proposed to him straight away to go with her, but he didn't want to go anywhere.

He wanted to have dinner with her, watch something together, talk to her, make love to her and fall asleep beside her, as he had every day for the many wonderful weeks in which she had filled his life.

But he said nothing, only tightening his lips, unable to hide the expression of displeasure on his face, and looked away, sitting at the table, rubbing his fingers stretched out in front of him. She saw at once how tense he had become and some of her own sensitive intuition told her what was bothering him.

He could not explain how she guessed with such ease what he was afraid of.

She approached him with a tender sigh, grasping his hand in hers, and he swallowed loudly, stroking her soft palm with his thumb.

"Stay." He said quietly, pleadingly, not even daring to look at her, embarrassed by his weakness, his begging.

"It's been a very long time since I went anywhere with them." She said, neither agreeing nor refusing him, and he let the air in quietly, looking intently at their entwined hands.

"Why do you care so much?" He asked with some kind of resentment, a sense that his presence was not enough for her, though he wanted only her, loved only her, needed only her.

She, however, looked at him with understanding and serenity, as if she had anticipated the question.

"Because I like them. The same way I like to eat rolls for breakfast in the morning, and you buy them from the shop to make me happy. I change our bedding every few days because I know you like the smell of it fresh and washed. You make me tea in my doggie-shaped mug because it's my favourite - because I like it. There's no greater reason for that." She explained softly, her voice enveloping him like a blanket, her words somehow strangely calming him even though he still didn't want her to leave.

He swallowed loudly, licking his lips with his tongue, feeling them become all dry with emotion.

"If I let you go there, will it make you happy?" He asked quietly, and she nodded.

"Yes. And out of gratitude that you sacrificed for me, I will make you happy when I return." She whispered and he felt heat in his lower abdomen, his manhood pulsed hard in his trousers at her words, his body went through goosebumps. He finally lifted his gaze to her, breathing deeply.

"And when are you coming back?" He asked uncertainly, and she mused for a moment.

"I'll be back by 10 p.m. Okay? We'll still have time to watch something together then." She said with a smile and he nodded, recognising that, indeed, it was not a very late hour.

"Okay." He whispered, and she grasped his cheeks in her hands, leaned over him and kissed him tenderly.

His manhood aggressively pulsed in his trousers, demanding her closeness, his hands tightened on the material of her jumper, but she pulled away from him.

"When I get back, you're going to come inside me as many times as you want. Okay?" She asked lightly, as if she were talking about the weather, and he felt a shiver run down his cheeks and just nodded, swallowing hard.

He watched her put on her shoes, watched her put on her jacket and backpack and waved at him saying they would see each other in a few hours.

She left.

He felt the urge to cry like a baby.

She had left him, and he needed her.

He sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, and thought he needed to pull himself together.

She had already told him about the friends she was going to meet and described them to him in detail.

He couldn't help himself and, during a break from work, he found every single one of them on Facebook, paying the most attention to the boy she was studying with for the year. According to what she said, he had a status set up for a relationship with some other girl, which reassured him.

Occasionally he would check what she said about her schedule, where she was going or who she was texting with, casting a quick glance at her phone.

She never lied.

She always told the truth and answered all his questions with commitment, even the ones that could be considered already too far-fetched.

"If your friend has a girlfriend, why is he meeting you?" He asked frustratedly, pouring hot water over her tea and his coffee, he heard her humming along behind, sitting in a chair in just his black Tshirt, eating her favourite lettuce and tomato rolls.

He loved it when she wore his T-shirts.

There was no more intimate sight for him, a confirmation that she was his.

"His girlfriend doesn't know that much about literature, he can't talk to her about our exams or the assignments we have to do. For the rest, he often brings her with him, she's a nice girl and she's very fond of us. I was once alone with her at lunch when they were having a crisis and she needed my advice." She said calmly and he furrowed his brow, placing her cup in front of her, sitting down next to her at the table.

"Why yours exactly?" He asked concerned that she might have been close to this boy and for some reason knew him better than his own girlfriend. She took a sip of tea and went on with her answer, undaunted by the tone of his voice.

"She said I was a good listener and that she knew I wouldn't judge her. She told me that she sometimes feels silly in his presence because she doesn't know what he's talking about. That it makes her think they are not meant for each other. But I told her that in front of us he is always talking about how smart she is, that she does so many difficult things in her classes that he feels dumb around her. She was relieved when it turned out they were both afraid of the same thing, and since then I think they've gotten along very well." She said lightly, and he hummed under his breath, taking a sip of coffee, feeling some kind of relief and not continuing the subject.

Although he had never trusted anyone in his life, except perhaps his own mother, with whom he had sporadic, telephone contact, he tried with all his might to trust her and fight the tormenting thoughts in his head.

That's why, when she left, he was lying in their bed, trying to read the book she had recommended to him, but he was unable to concentrate.

He glanced at his watch and phone display once in a while, wondering if she was okay, if she was safe. Suddenly he realised that she would be coming back at night and he felt apprehensive, so he thought it was a good reason to text her and ask if he should pick her up.

That way he could also get a glimpse of the people she had come with and be sure she would get home safely.

She wrote back to him after a few minutes.

He sighed heavily, pressing his lips together, accepting that he had to wait patiently for her return and wrote her back quickly.

He shuddered when she answered him almost immediately, feeling warm in his heart at the thought that she had a phone close at hand in case he wanted to contact her, if he needed her.

He felt her message in his trousers and was now completely hard. Desperate, he even thought about relieving himself quickly with his hand, imagining her riding him, but decided with difficulty that he would restrain himself.

The closer it got to the agreed time, the more stress and anxiety he felt.

What if she was late? If she doesn't keep her word?

He felt a burning sensation under his eyelids and a fear, a fear of disappointment, of the thought that he couldn't trust her after all.

He jumped up when he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock couple minutes later. He glanced quickly at his phone and saw that she had returned fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, some kind of heat wave dousing his body.

She walked inside with a smile, greeting him loudly, pulling off her shoes and jacket as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't left him for so many hours and he hadn't performed the heroic feat of waiting for her.

He literally threw himself at her, pressing her against the wall, clinging desperately to her lips, shoving his tongue deep down her throat, unzipping and ripping her trousers from her, her breathing ragged, rapid, her hands entwined in his hair.

"How could you leave me?" He gasped between one messy, wet kiss and the next, a loud, drawn-out click accompanied the chaotic movements of their mouths, he didn't even know when he'd pulled her panties off or when her fingers quickly undid his belt and trousers, releasing what was underneath.

"Hm? I've been waiting for you. I've been waiting for you and fucking dying of longing." He growled grabbing her hips and lifting her up, her legs entwined at his back in a natural reflex. Her body arched like a string as he entered her suddenly, brutally, deeply, filling her to the very end with a loud groan of relief.

"I know, baby. I know, you've been so brave for me." She mewled into his mouth with difficulty, clamping her hands around his neck and hair, running them up and down his nape, over his cheek, getting out sentences between their lustful, passionate kisses and the brutal, sure thrusts of his hips, smacking again and again against her buttocks with a wet slap.

"So good to me. So patient. So understanding. I'm here now. Ah, God, I'm here, baby." She cried out innocently, sweetly, and he moaned low at her words, sinking his face into the hollow of her neck, licking her sweat and biting her, gripping her hips tightly, fucking her furiously, wanting to punish her at the same time as he wanted to reward her because she was back, she was back, she was back.

"I love you." He mumbled, and she sobbed loudly at his words, her core pulsed hard against his length, trying to keep him inside. "God, I love you so fucking much."

She came with his name on her lips, and he cum inside her soon after, panting hard, it felt like they were both almost screaming for a moment, and he sank to his knees with her, shuddering, her fingers trailing over his head, his back, cuddling him tenderly, both of them pulsing inside her, breathing anxiously, bliss in her voice.

"− my beloved − so good to me − waited for me so patiently − so good −" She praised him, kissing his face again and again, and he looked at her dreamily, recognising that he would never be able to refuse her anything, running his fingertips down her soft cheek.

"− I love you −" He whispered, as if he wanted her to understand, to comprehend the enormity of his feelings, the enormity of his struggle, the enormity of his devotion.

She grasped his hand in hers and kissed it tenderly, then pressed her soft lips to each of his fingers, his hand that had done so many bad things in the past, that had hurt with such great ease.

"− I love you too − I'm here −" She whispered soothingly, kissing his fingers anew with the unhurried, tender movement of her lips. "− I'm here, only yours −"

He thought, looking at her with tenderness, that perhaps with her he would calm down.

The voices in his head would quieten, calmed by her whispering, until they finally disappeared.

He fell asleep that night in her embrace, full of hope, his face snuggled between her naked breasts, listening to her breathing, feeling the beat of her heart under his cheek.

She was alive.

The next day, however, he felt like dying.

Browsing through the news portals, he came across a picture of a black sack pulled from a lake, the article left him with no illusions.

MACABRE DISCOVERY Alice Moore's family did not give up in their search and sadly finally found their daughter, who had been missing for a year. Unfortunately, she has not been found alive and the details of this crime are shocking. The quartered parts of her body were found in a black bag at the bottom of a lake near the village of Hanoverth, thirty kilometres from where she lived. It was known that Alice had gone missing on the night of 11 over 12 October last year, the last time she was seen on the surveillance cameras of the Moon Vibe club. She had left her friends, possibly feeling unwell and left the club. She can be seen walking down the street just outside the premises and then disappearing around the corner to vanish without a trace for a whole 12 months. The motives for this crime are unknown, although it is suspected that the girl's previous sexual partners, who may have been jealous of her and murdered her in an act of revenge, may have been involved. Most gruesome, however, is the fact that her head was stripped of her eyeballs, which were not found in the bag. The police have launched an investigation into the case.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes and even though a customer was standing in front of him, asking him if he would finally serve him, he couldn't look away from the phone and what he had read.

He knew it would come out at some point.

Some part of him may have even hoped for it before he met her.

But not now.

He apologised to his client, called out to his colleague to change him for a moment, left, locked himself in the toilet and crouched down leaning his back against the wall, starting to sob, clasping his hands over his face.

He remembered this girl, remembered her chatting him up in the club, asking him about his eye, telling him he was handsome, well built. She'd laughed and put her arm around him, and he'd felt a growing frustration, anger and this recurring, disgusting thought.

Whore.

He waited for her in the distance, in the other street, where he knew the cameras didn't reach. When she saw him smoking a cigarette she herself approached him, she herself suggested they go to the hotel, to have some fun.

So they went.

He never left his fingerprints or any traces behind.

He was a pedant.

He used condoms so he wouldn't leave a drop of his seed in those sluts.

He ran his hands through his hair, trembling all over, regretting everything he had done, but not because he felt sympathy for the victims, but because he was a threat to her now, that if this came out and she was at the centre of it, her academic career, her place at the university would be lost.

It would destroy her life.

He thought that in the state he was in now he might kill her in an act of despair, strangle her at the thought that she would not be his, that he could not have her.

He left work even though he hadn't finished his shift, drove to their flat and packed, tears dripping down his cheeks as he wrote a message to her on a piece of paper, the pen in his hand trembling with each letter.

My past caught up with me. I won't drag you down with me, baby.

She wrote him messages as she did every day, but he didn't answer her, and when the hour came when she usually went home his phone rang.

It rang and rang and rang, and he wept and wept and wept, already being several hours away from their town, from their home, from their happiness.

He promised her that he would protect her.

That he would protect her from the world

That he would protect her from himself.

It wasn't until the next day, lying in his hotel room, in an act of despair and longing, that he dared to open her messages on his phone.

He regretted reading it, as he burst into helpless sobs again, powerless and without hope, feeling like an empty vessel, an empty shell, exactly like the bodies of the women he threw into the lake.

He quickly found a job at another café, explaining to his boss that he had to leave his town suddenly and return to care for a sick parent.

He was surprised at how easy it was for him to lie.

She was the only one he never lied to.

She wrote to him every day.

She told him about her day at university, what she was eating, what she was reading. She also sent him her new articles, and he read it all several times a day, recognising that it was only because of the information from her that he wasn't going mad yet.

He didn't write her back.

He didn't want to give her hope.

After what he had done, there was no happy ending for them.

Even so, he hadn't killed anyone since he met her. He didn't want to sleep with any other women, touch any other women. He abhorred them.

He wanted only her.

One day, although she was in the habit of writing to him around noon when she had her lunch break between classes, he had not received any message from her. He felt anxious, but thought that perhaps something important had happened and he would hear from her later.

He did not hear from her all day.

He despaired and when he returned to his newly rented flat he simply stared at the ceiling.

She gave up.

She didn't speak to him for the next few days and doubts began to creep up inside him.

What if something happened to her?

He pressed his lips together at the thought, feeling the cold sweat on the back of his neck.

What if she was in hospital?

What if someone had hurt her?

He remembered her words about how scared she was that one day she would wake up in the night and someone would be standing over her.

How scared must she have been at night now that he wasn't there for her, that she couldn't find refuge in his arms?

He felt a tightening in his throat at the thought and struggled to stop himself from crying in front of the customer he had just poured coffee for.

He told his boss the next day that he needed a few days off and would work it off later and returned to their town, heading to her University. He didn't spot her anywhere, he knew what time her classes were and he recognised her friends from Facebook, so he easily spotted Hannah in the crowd of students.

"Hi. I'm sorry −" He started and she flinched, surprised, glancing at him with big eyes, looking at his scar.

He figured he didn't give a shit if she was disgusted with him or not. He explained to her quickly who he was looking for and that he was very worried because she wasn't taking calls from him even though she always did.

Lie.

Hannah blinked, looking at him uncertainly. She grunted quietly, correcting her bag which had started to slip off her shoulder.

"− well − actually, we're all worried about her − she hasn't come to class for a few days, she's not answering our calls −" She said hesitantly, and he felt the cold spread through his chest, his heart started pounding like crazy.

He thought that if she did something to herself because of him, he would gouge out his healthy eye himself and throw himself into the lake.

An empty shell.

He still had his keys to their flat and went there in the evening, not wanting to arouse the suspicions of the neighbours. He swallowed loudly and pressed on the door handle, stepping slowly inside, seeing only darkness.

He felt relieved at the thought of not smelling musty and decaying.

He turned on the light and then he saw her, lying on their bed in his black shirt. She raised herself to sit up, looking at him in shock, her lips slightly parted.

She was alive.

He stared at her in disbelief, his throat tightening when he realised he could smell her again. Her trembling hands reached for the buttons of his shirt and began to unbutton it slowly, he felt what he saw in his trousers, his manhood pulsed so painfully hard that a shudder went through him.

She parted her lips and whispered just one sentence before he threw himself on top of her and began to fuck her.

"I knew you'd come."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

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weird-an · 2 months

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Neil took all the air away and Billy can't breathe.

Susan is driving the Camaro and Billy sits in Neil's truck, on the passenger's side. The radio isn't working and Billy's fingernails dig into the ball of his hand whenever he sees the Camaro in the rearview mirror taking a bump in the road a little too hard.

It's a chance, Neil told him, when they crossed the border to Indiana. Billy chews on his cheek, because a chance doesn't mean a choice.

Welcome to Hawkins the sign says. Hell just has another name.

It smells like pine trees and prejudices and all wrong. No salty breezes, no waves crashing into the shore in the distance.

Cherry Lane doesn't have any cherries, only a messy backyard and room that's way too close to Neil's. Max puts seashells in a glass and Billy wants to crush them, because they don't belong here.

He doesn't belong here.

Highschool is all the same in the worst ways, full of demons and a hierarchy Billy climbs up with ease. The first circle of hell holds its advantages. Boys are still pretty and Billy has to pretend not to see it, steps up his act, fucks all the girls that think California is something out of a fairytale and don't know the meaning behind his ear ring.

He lies through his teeth, no matter how much his tongue is bleeding.

It's torture. Doesn't help that his not- a- sister Max hangs out with a bunch of nerds, of boys and somehow Billy ends up driving her to Steve fucking Harrington's place one day.

Steve Harrington with his dangerous pretty face, who doesn't seem to care for Billy's bullshit. Billy wants to punch him, because otherwise he might kiss him.

Harrington waves at him from the door, after Max is already inside.

He smiles, cutting Billy wide and open. The sun doesn't shine in hell, but it sure feels like it.

Billy stays in the car. He can't breathe and now his heart stops, too.

He drives away.

Steve smiles at him at school, too. Billy turns around whenever he sees him. Maybe angels exist and they wear polo shirts and designer shoes and bitch about English class.

Billy wonders if there might be a chance here that Neil doesn't know about.

It's the first day of spring and Steve smiles at him in the parking lot.

Billy smiles back.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #billy hargrove deserves better #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy

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otakuworks · 1 year

Text

❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. reborn au

feat. Zhongli x Reincarnated!GN!Reader | PART II | wc. 5.4K

Based on 'See You In My 19th Life' webtoon | overview. This Webtoon follows the story of a woman who somehow can remember all her past lives.

sum. You were running too fast in life, so fast that no one could catch up, not even Morax who left you to fend off with your curse. Just when you thought you'll slip and fall, a certain consultant came behind and caught you.

cw. mentions of extreme emotion breakdown. cttro 双niarss on Twitter for the art below.

main m.list genshin m.mlist

PART I < PART II

THEME SONG; Slump by Stray Kids (English Version)

There are five stages of grief; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. All in order.

In your case, it was the other way around. You have long accepted Morax will lay on his deathbed one day, every living thing will eventually cease to exist, mortal and immortal alike

You, out of all people know the in-depth concept of death.

And yet, no amount of tutelage or experience can prepare you for the real thing.

Now you understood what Morax felt when you died.

Your chest feels raw like there's a sudden gash wound that has manifested in your heart. It was painful, too painful that you wouldn't wish it upon anyone, even on your worst enemy.

Scratch that. It's not just pain. It feels something more destructive, demanding and insatiable, crueler than sorrow. Not even death can appease this feeling.

It was agony.

Impale your abdomen with a spear hundred times. Sever your limbs every lifetime. Suffer for all eternity hiding behind Morax and watch him love with someone else over and over again— you'd take them all and say thank you.

You'd be grateful and endure each of them just to trade whatever horrible feeling that's tearing you apart.

Confusion, terror and fright blanketed your mind as you slumped on the floorboards, desperately gasping for breath.

The acrid smell of snarling lightning crackles in the stale midnight air, sharp enough to singe every nerve of your body, rendering you cowering in overwhelming emotions— agony, pain and grief.

Inazuma was bustling with the news of the Geo Archon passing away recently. You could only imagine how Liyue is digesting the cruel twists of events.

The news spreads fast enough for foreign people to sympathize to Liyue citizens, some even offered prayers to the Raiden Shogun, some pay their respects by wishing the late Archon to rest in peace, some never bothered to care.

But none of them mourned in the confinements of their four walls as you did, the Celestia above knows the quiet sobs that wrecked the very core of your existence. The horrors of every shitty lives you went through cannot be compared to this day.

Rex Lapis, who is— was widely known for many names, mostly as the Geo Archon, God of War, God of Contracts, Former Prime Adepti, the Stonebreaker, God of History is now reduced by dust with his people carrying the legacy he has passed on.

To you, all this time, he's still... Morax the petulant child who leans on you for comfort, who politely demands you to sing a lullaby as kids. You're already sold to the idea no one would ever believe you if you told them what embodiment of mischief he was in the ancient times, the exact opposite of the Archon they knew about.

Nostalgia hits you in particular days you can't find traces of the young Morax, but Pride would caress your heart every achievement he succeeds as you watch the people love him.

Similar to a lone planet, you desperately search for a star to orbit around, to give you a source of energy and strength. Once you find one, it'll be difficult to rearrange your position after you have settled down, you're attached until the star loses its amber glow.

And now the star is gone. Gone with the cosmos after a supernova.

Destroying the neighboring planets, including you.

You were the closest in its orbit, you're the one who had to endure the scorching flames morphing you into ashes until you're reduced into cosmos particles for no one to remember.

Morax left you to fend off with your curse and face adversities alone.

Mortals would succumb to these adversities and would choose to sever their connection to the living to escape from everything. You've seen a handful of them and can't ever get enough of it.

If there's anything you long to have other than having Morax beside you is a swift escape.

Every mortal is capable of such thing, you are too, but it's pointless if the pain will cling to you in your next life. It's fruitless to cry when you know every affliction won't be forgotten even if you tried.

Just why?! Why do I have this perpetual curse of reincarnation? I abhor you, Celestia! Not only you cursed me, you even took away Morax from this land!

You shake your head as the anger surge took over your sanity. You thought you can just go live your merry life, unbeknownst how dependent you were to Morax.

Your will to live is solely operated by the fact you have someone you want to protect. But now he's gone? What's the back up plan? Clearly you can't just follow him in his death knowing you can die, but your memories will remain with you.

Was it out of selfishness to protect him to have someone accompany your lonely soul? Because he's the only one who actually remembers the real you?

Rain began to pour from the desolute atmosphere as you heard disembodied voices theorizing Morax's death. The muffled thundering of the storm only growing louder, reminding you of today's unsavory news. How convenient, the sky is sympathizing.

No, make it stop! I don't want fo hear any of it! Morax is dead, that's how nature works. I'm griefing because it hurts, not because I have nothing to live for.

You lived in that illusion for minutes until. . .

*drip* *drip*

. . . the dam broke.

Hot tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut in the hope the pain would stop, just numbing it would be fine too. Your choppy breathing and watery eyes remained for quite some time, and sat there unmoving.

There's no see you later's anymore, for Morax has left you. Today has marked your first Goodbye to him.

For an indiscernible amount of time, there was only a black void and it could have been as if you didn’t exist and you had never existed.

And then you felt each of your cells that had been ripped apart within seconds be sewed back together just as quickly, and your eyes met nothing but a blinding white light.

Have I reborn again? You're not aware which is which anymore. You lift your numb hand and reality crashed over your head, you haven't died out of grief, yet.

Your mind is in havoc, you don't know what you want, not that you have any choice.

Dying won't help you escape, forgetting is not an option, loving. . . can't heal an open wound.

No words can equate the absolute devastation you feel.

❖ ── ✦ ── 『 6000 YRS AGO 』 ── ✦ ── ❖

This is stupid. Utterly ridiculous!

What kind of mortal would go in the mines in the middle of the night where monsters lurk in the shadows to hunt for preys? Yeah, that's a question he would like for you to answer!

He flies twice the speed he usually exerts, his mind running rampant of all worst possible scenarios.

He doesn't know what compelled you to do such ridiculous act, but all he knows is he has get to you before any monsters do.

Landing unceremoniously, he gulps at the sight before him. He was never a fan of darkness, it never fails to instill fear in him, the fear of the unknown.

The only time he feels comfortable in the night is whenever you're around him. You don't fear the night, and it somehow influenced him in a way that there's nothing that should be afraid of as long as you're with him— as his human shield.

Young Morax finds himself slowly withdrawing, the fear overpowering his will to come and save you.

"Morax? What are you doing out here?" Saved by the gracious voice of yours, young Morax nearly broke his neck with how fast he looked at your direction.

Your face is contorted out of concern for him, he's sweating profusely and his breathing is ragged.

Just seeing you all in one piece with no signs of injuries made hin slumped on the ground, sighing in relief.

You were at his side seconds later, subconsciously caressing his cheeks. Celestia above! He's shaking like a leaf!

"It's alright, let's get you out of here." Your soothing voice appeased his troubled mind as you helped him get back on his feet. He clutches the fabric of your shirt and wordlessly launches himself on you, arms and tiny tail entrapping you in an embrace.

You waste no second reciprocating the gesture, you've known him for months to be comfortable with physical sentiments. Though you can't say the same to him as he would always flinch away when you initiate it, but has no problem when he does it.

And it seems like he needs your comfort to even give a damn.

"Whatever it is, it can't hurt you now okay?"

From that angle, he peered from below you as if confirming the validity of your words, amber eyes looking like someone has kicked an innocent puppy, it's no wonder you have a soft spot for him.

Both of you strayed away from the caves leading to mines, "I-I thought you l-left me." He meekly mumbled, almost incoherent.

That baffles you as he continues, "I overheard f-from your village that m-monsters are increasing in the area and you're probably..."

"Shh... I'm here now, aren't I? I'm sorry you have to hear that, I can assure you I haven't encountered any marauding monsters during my little excursion." You sighed, guilt pooling your conscience.

He sniffled, "So, you're not going to leave me?"

"Can I even go anywhere when you have a sharp sense of smell?"

"I'm a dragon, not a wolf." He whined, though you could still see the glint of dubious in his eyes, "Can I trust your word?"

Words never served him better than actions, you ought to show him you honor your word by affirming it through gestures.

Smiling, you offered your hand to him.

"How about you hold my hand on our way home? Will that help?" He stares at you and literally contemplated before he relented.

It's warm, much similar to your hug, but like a form of hug that has been reduced to a smaller fraction. It's still a paragon of comfort.

Surely enough, it did help his mind to be at ease. If you ever feel like he's cutting off your circulation, he is cutting your circulation by intertwining your fingers as if trying to tangle it so it won't loose.

"I'm sorry, you must think I'm stupid for cowering away just because of some stupid dark cave." He lowered his head in shame.

He's a Dragon who has greater strength than most beings, and yet he lets his fear consume him as if they can hurt him like how—

"Nonsense! Don't ever think like that or I will personally be the reason why you should fear humans." As stern as you sound, your eyes tell a different story.

Young Morax deduced this as concern, which resulted a flustered and heartwarming reaction from the boy. You were worried for him.

It shouldn't be something he's supposed to feel happy about, but your fretful intentions warranted warmth and security in his mind.

"I didn't know how oddly. . . pleasant it is to hold hands." He mused, and you responded with an amused giggle, "Here I thought only couples do this stuff, but it's really reassuring."

"It does, doesn't it? Sometimes the solution to your conflicts is in a form of validation."

Too wise for a kid, he inwardly complained, ". . .Meaning?"

You hold his other hand and stood to face him with a sequined smile, "No matter how minuscule or massive your fears are, you'll still find comfort when someone validates your feelings; to let you know that they care. It may not be the solution in some cases, but it's better than being alone in times of your vulnerability."

You leaned slightly closer, "Can I ask you a favor?" Your gaze pierced right through his soul and he can only nod absently which resulted for you to grin.

"If you see someone, friend and stranger even enemies, looking so vulnerable that they actually might cry. . ." You lifted your intertwined hands with his, ". . .Make them feel significant."

A cold midnight wind whisked past the both of you, your eyes shone brighter than jewels and stars alike as you spoke those words that made a huge impact in his life.

". . .Even if my enemies are about to cry because I'm about to end their miserable lives?"

What a way to ruin the moment.

"You know what I mean, Mora." You deadpan, preparing to let go of his hand, but his grip is much stronger and it only tightens once he feels you're trying to detach.

"I'm afraid you have to elaborate further, Y/N. And please, I only have two syllables in my name. What's so hard in including the X?" In contrast to his words, he quite enjoys hearing his nickname.

"The X is not even a syllable, Mora."

That time, young Morax found peace.

He's always on the hunt for something new, something glimmering, something incredible, something undiscovered and something bedazzling. That's how his childlike brain thinks and he seizes anything outwardly beautiful.

But he never knew how amazing it was to see something— or rather, to see someone's beauty on the inside.

Perhaps that's what draws him to you, because of your voice, patience and understanding. He would never admit it though

To him, you're beautiful inside and out, almost perfect, even your flaws are easy to love.

He can't deny he wasted a few immortal years just mourning your death, you'd probably scold him.

Within those years, he's only reliving the memories and wise words you have with him. He wanted to come out as a better person after your death, take it as an honour of your passing.

You made him for what he is.

If he hadn't met you he'd still be the intolerable, impatient and disrespectful person as he grows up.

He'd still fear the unknown, never having the courage to take risks and accept whatever outcomes.

Everything he does always brings him back to you, his actions always correlates to something that's relevant about you. It had always been you.

He prays the Celestia to let you know you will always be apart of his person. Yes, you died, but every lingering piece of you still remains intact in the deep recesses of his mind.

He has moved on, but you remain the person he loved the most. Not even the sands of time has the capability to change that.

"How disastrous. People can be really simple-minded." Morax rubbed both of his temples once he heard the speculation of him and Guizhong plausible relationship.

"I apologize on their behalf, it never crossed my mind they'll be quick to make assumptions." The fair Goddess bowed in shame.

"You have done nothing wrong to spark such rumors, Guizhong. If anything, it is I who should seek forgiveness for I have tied you down with such unpleasant gossips."

She meekly chuckles, "If we're going to paint ourselves as the culprit then we might as well work together to quell the rumors."

His perfectly lined eyebrows knitted, which didn't go unnoticed by Guizhong, "What seems to be troubling your mind?"

A few seconds ticked by before he let out a whisper that only Barbatos can only hear thanks to his wind. For Guizhong who has keen sense of hearing, "If Y/N was here I'll gear up for another war just to extinguish this spreading rumors." She stifled a laugh.

Oh, she knows alright. She knows you. She knows the person who captivated Morax's heart, it's all about he talks to her in their leisure time and you're not a secret between their comrades.

Most people would find it dull to listen about someone's life unless it held any merit to pass onto the other mouth, she would too. But Morax describes you like a protagonist of a fairy tale, like some mythical being, caught between two worlds, a miracle of existence that racked his existence— which makes you an interesting person

She was so eager to meet you, it was rather unfortunate that you've already passed on uncountable years ago.

"Where are you going?" She inquired as the Geo Archon whisk passed her, "Out to visit an old friend. I won't be returning until tomorrow dawn."

She sighed, a corresponding smile soon follows as she took over his job for the meantime.

Morax walked through the barren areas in Mt. Tianheng, it became part of his leisure activities during the day when his mind needs to detach itself from reality and let himself be swayed by the memories he tucked in the deep recesses of his mind.

Memories of his late comrades who perished in the horrors of war and the most painful but nostalgic one; Y/N.

He ruefully sighed at the thought of you. Even in death, you have full grasp of his heart and shroud his head with your image.

Filtered beams of light accented the spaces between the ancient trees that twisted like spires from the undergrowth. Golden leaves littered the forest floor as Morax appraised the trail of mycelium path, one leading to a particular tree.

His expression remains unchanging, at least that's what he thought, any stranger sees him they'll stop to ponder what made this godly man smile so fondly.

A single maple leaf flow with the breeze, swaying in inconsistent direction until it falls in his gloved hand. The rich color of autumn and texture brings him back in his youthful days.

[ cttro papercider on Twitter ]

"Ah! All I do is reminisce to pass time." He muttered to himself as he let the leaf get carried away by the zither winds once again.

"It certainly has been awhile, Y/N. I was but a petulant child since I've visited you. I now stand here as the Geo Archon." It has been a habit to come back to this specific tree and treats it as his home.

It's a sacred place he's closely attached to, he can perfectly picture his young self failing to spy on you. He grimaced at the memory when he was caught in the act.

"I still have no idea why you let me trail your shadows, you weren't least afraid that I'm a dragon. You told me you're fascinated, but. . . was that the only reason?"

Only the breeze answered for him with nothing, "If you hadn't allowed me to do so I do not know what kind of person I would be as of today." He steps closer and pulled off his hood.

He let the silence hang for minutes, maybe even hours. Just standing there as he appreciates what nature has to offer in the place where his story began with you.

"Are you proud of me? My comrades claimed they were more than proud to stand alongside with me, but I doubt the veracity of their words when I led them to their demise. Is it that prideful to have me as a friend when I bring nothing but misfortune?"

He finally sat down between the roots of the tree, relishing the blissful comfort as the sunlight accentuates his godly features.

"I met a boy who was being manipulated by an evil god who only desires power and selfish gains." He began.

"He was a fierce warrior, strong and capable, the manipulation only fuels him to be at his strongest form. I was thinking of eradicating him, but his eyes already looked so dead. It reminded me of. . ."

He holds his tongue and shuts his eyes as he's in pain, "It would be one of my greatest regrets if I had impaled my spear into him."

"I thought of you that time. Hadn't it been to my promise to you, I wouldn't have gained a new ally. Xiao is his name."

The wind blew stronger, ". . . I forgot you can summon him just by calling out his name." He chuckles to himself.

Green statics cracked into the air and quickly revealed a masked man with his polearm readied for any danger.

"Settle down now. I apologize, your name slipped in my mouth." The young Yaksha visibly looked confused even under the layers of his mask.

"I was narrating a story to my old friend Y/N."

Guizhong couldn't have been more right.

By the end of the day, Xiao now knows every detail there is to know about the person called Y/N. It's what Morax ever talk to him.

"Mr. Zhongli is in a very elated mood ever since you told him Archon knows what, Traveler." Hu Tao, the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor finds the situation quite absurd to look at, but never impossible. His mood just feels out of place.

Who looks at mournful families with an eccentric smile on their face as they consult them about their loved one's death?

"Why does Paimon feel like you're pointing finger at the traveler?" She puts her tiny hands on tiny her hips like a mother hen.

The Traveler let out a nervous laugh, "I wonder what exactly brought him in such high spirit with my words."

"Ooh... Paimon thinks it's about Y/N. Isn't it obvious by now?" Hu Tao furrowed her eyebrows, "Y/N? You mean the Adventurer?" Both heads snapped at her direction, "You know them?"

She reluctantly shrugged, "Only at acquaintance level. They showed interest in business and I taught them a few things." She smiled at the epilogue of her statement.

"If they ever come back, my hunch tells me you'd find them in Wangshu Inn, they frequented there before." She added before turning her attention to a new customer.

Zhongli, who's been eavesdropping, perked up at the claims. Perhaps he should visit Xiao tonight and totally won't inquire if he ever met you before.

Midnight falls and Zhongli bid his farewell to the traveler before heading towards the Wangshu Inn.

For some unknown reason, Zhongli could sense the foreboding feeling that's nagging his instincts as he gets closer to his desired destination, yet he doesn't stop. What's worse is that he doesn't know if it's for the good or bad.

All of a sudden, a harsh breeze blew past his face as if the winds attempting to convey a message that's only for his intuition to decipher, for him to meander.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his statue glowing bright blue, but that wasn't what caught his attention. A hand reached out to touch the stone statue.

A mop of [H/C] facing him backward bowed down in respect of the late Rex Lapis, but Zhongli could feel a much more intense feeling.

Something stirs inside him, he remembers this situation— when he watched Y/N with such fascination from above the tree, not knowing what they look like, yet they never fail to express their feelings through threaded words he finds so wondrous to hear.

In contrary to that, the person appears to be. . . forlorn. He stepped closer until he's only less than five meters away from them.

All of a sudden, he feels skittish around the person. It's as if he doesn't want to leave a bad first impression, he's suddenly self-conscious of his looks, and Zhongli never cared about his outer appearance.

Then they spoke, in a solemn voice.

"See you later, Mora. I hope you found your eternal peace."

There are times when you wish you'd forget Morax, some that you don't. But still, in the birth of new beings, you will find Morax in his next life. The prospect of being alone is a phobia you can't ever overcome unless you have Morax.

What a joke. It should've been a farewell. Your final goodbye to your old friend. Not a hopeless see you later.

It took you months to come with that mindset, only to end up saying what's the exact opposite.

It was difficult to come back in Liyue, every step adds a new pile of memory that drags you further into the depths of agony. Every where you look reminds you of the late Geo Archon. Each encouraging word in your mind gets trampled on by his image.

You consider it as an achievement to stand tall in front of his statue after his death, and a failure that you didn't get to bid your final words to him before you depart from Liyue.

You're still clinging to a nonexistent hope that you'll actually get to see him even after your death. Old habits die hard they say. It couldn't have been more relatable than now.

Sighing in disappointment, you retracted your hand from the statue and briskly turn around when you felt the disturbance behind you.

A gloved hand suspended in the air seems to be trying to reach out to you. As you raise your eyes to meet the oh-so-familiar glowing amber eyes that you grew to love. . .

You offered the stranger a faux smile, seemingly naive to the person standing in front of you with an aghast expression.

You failed to realize Morax as Zhongli just as Morax failed to realize you in your different lives.

"Hello. How may I help you?"

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Time has stopped, both hands of the clock moved counterclockwise, bringing him back to the time he first laid his eyes on you— so unsuspecting from what's about to unravel after a sweet hello.

His broadened eyes are solely fixated on you, it ingnited a feeling he couldn’t immediately identify, a sense of a certain and long-forgotten familiarity fogged his memory.

From the color of your eyes, skin and hair. The subtle furrow of your eyebrows and the upturn of your lips. The gentle facade that compelled him to indulge his curiosity towards you.

Y/N. . . Are you the Y/N the traveler was talking about?

But you bare no resemblance to the Y/N he knew, yet he can tell how it is your soul residing in the mortal's body. It is you. Your eyes aren't the ones that welcomed him as new friend. It feels different.

You're smiling while your eyes are grieving.

Your eyes failed to conceal your weeping soul and could only hope the last bits of its strength will keep it standing until someone reach a hand to put back the shattered pieces.

Behind that gleeful stare was a mountain of pain and extracting it would bring instability to the person who would dare to climb. Yet come what may, you're always worth any risk.

He lowered his hand to shake yours, his lips upturned into an enigmatic smile.

Your heart went erratic and the usually dormant butterflies imploded in your stomach. You haven't felt like a teenager since. . .

You felt your breath hitch in your throat when suddenly, with a mere handful of strides, the beautiful man was standing right in front of you, his amber eyes searching your face intently, trying to find whatever it was he was seeking.

"My name is Zhongli, I'm a consultant in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor." Your [E/C] eyes blinked surreptitiously before accepting it. What a beautiful name, you thought almost immediately.

Under normal circumstances you would've strictly reprimanded the man with his incongruous advances, but you felt something else, something so powerful it overshadowed your senses.

It was a need, an unyielding need to be close to him.

Rather than pushing him away, something inside you stirs awake and begin to implore to coalesce with his existence.

"I'm Y/N L/N, an adventurer."

So it is really you.

He briefly looks down to their intwined hands.

For countless nights, the image of your bloodied hand reaching out to him as you take your last breath plagued his every dream. The tender, soft hands that will no longer bring him comfort. The hand of the person whom he loved so dearly, whom he failed to protect against the wicked ways of the world.

The intense urge to hide you away from the prying eyes that shared similarities to his kept his mind in shambles.

Which what led him to mumble to you what his thoughts are repeating like a mantra.

When he spoke the promise he'll show you what's up at the highest altitude his wings could go, he was mostly speaking out of his selfish desire to hold onto your hand and fly you away to the farthest place no living creatures have ever stumbled upon.

He had to learn it the hard way; that the greater you wish for something, the crueler fate can be. Maybe if he hadn't been so greedy you could've live your mortal life.

Now that you are standing in front of him, shaking your hand, he can amend his mistake by straying far away from you before he repeats history itself, before he could inflict pain on you again.

And yet, looking at you attempting to shoulder the boulders of life is what all it takes for all the wisdom he garnered for centuries to be thrown out the window.

He can't imagine himself distancing from you when you're suffering and have no one comfortable enough to share your burdens with, no one to validate your feelings, no one to embrace you in your vulnerable times.

You taught him to be compassionate, to not disregard emotions, and he's about to set that in motion. You were there when he needed you the most, offered your shoulder to vent out his feelings, it's about time to let him do what you always did for him.

It became abundantly clear he's not willing to let you go through anything alone just like he had gone through without you.

"You claim you're a consultant. Did you perhaps think I'm a potential customer?"

He let go of your hand as much as he loathes being away from your warmth for even just a second, he's still convinced you can be taken away from him at any given moment.

"Indeed, I couldn't stand idle and watch you grieve alone." He watches how you averted your eyes as if hiding the pain would appease your mind.

"I appreciate the thought. . . though, I highly doubt it'll be effective."

He mentally chuckled at the irony. He, too, was once amazed of what simple gestures can bring to a downhearted person.

"Hmm. An old friend once showed me how to console a person. Allow me to share their insights."

Your eye brows perched in curiosity, this man speaks like he's in his 50s or something, ". . .If you insist. I could use a company for now."

Morax experienced eons of desires to attain what he wishes to, though he refrains from being blinded by those greedy thoughts as he had witnessed how cruel fate can be when he once desired to have you. Will history repeat itself?

Zhongli chortles in response, but his expression soon turned nostalgic, "I may not know what adversities you're facing nor do I know who you are, but know that you're never alone."

His smile never left his face as he takes off his glove and held the palm face forward to you, he watches how your eyes glisten with unshed tears, "W-What is that supposed to convey?"

You didn't even notice how much gap he closed just to increase the proximity between the both of you. Archons! You can smell the lingering scent of Osmanthus Wine mingling with his breath!

Is he a drunkard like Venti?

Perhaps this man is drunk to comprehend his actions, perhaps he won't remember this the never next day, perhaps he has mistaken you for someone else, perhaps—

"Wherever you wish to go, I'll keep you company. I dare ask if I may hold your hand along the way, Y/N?"

Perhaps there's hope you can cling onto until your aching heart is at ease.

Your hand found its way to his, almost too desperate to not let this moment of comfort vanish. Just this once, you thought to yourself as the man smiled with absolute glee that it puts the sun in shame.

Out of reflex, your fingers laced with his, wanting nothing more than to relieve in the warmth of his hand. His expression soon turned into a priceless one as if he's in disbelief that you actually just did that, and that alone made the realization struck you harder than Raiden's lightning and fried your nerves with embarrassment.

"I-I'm so-sorry! I didn't mean to get too comfortable!"

You're a stranger to him, and you acted as if you've been a longtime friends. He must have been feeling uncomfortable, you nervously thought as you quickly tried reel back your hand in an attempt to salvage whatever budding acquaintanceship you have.

Keyword; tried.

Your action prompts him to retaliate by locking his fingers in place, keeping your hand sealed with his and shot you a reassuring smile.

"Do not fret. I'm delighted to know I somehow earned a little fraction of your trust. It's only fair to mirror the trust you gave me."

As if to spell out his point, he held up your intertwined hands just below your chin. His eyes blazed with a newfound emotion you couldn't decipher. He almost looks eager. He was gripping your hand, not too tight, but firm enough give emphasize of something.

His action wasn't fruitless as it gained a reaction from you. Your eyebrows twitched, there's something too familiar about it, but your memory refuses to give you that answer.

Instead, you could only mutter weak responses, "I-I understand, but if you feel uncomfortable in any way then don't hesitate to point out what I'm doing wrong."

Whether it was a satisfying answer he wants to hear, his emotions betrayed to even give you a brief answer and his face only lit up as he turns away from you, "You could never do anything wrong in my eyes."

Did he just say something? "What was that?"

"Nothing. Are you new in Liyue? I could give you a tour if you'd like to make you familiarize with the environment."

Your lips turned into a genuine smile, it didn't reach your ears but something tells you this man will lengthen it until you're the happiest person alive, "I'd love to, Zhongli."

As the wind blows to the East, a new chapter has began with a new retelling of their unfinished story. Until the last maple leaf falls and the oldest standing tree drought, two souls will always find their way to rekindle what has been lost.

>> PART III

─ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. @itsyourgirlria @shizunxie @elsoleil @cherlynono @slzarr @katsuissus @tartarsaucechi1de @spyanya @tikitsune @shoujishu @useless-potatho @chimsblogg @xiamuyi @lemonlimesocks @belletifeshyl @alexon-mars @multifandomvoyage @malt-rants-and-stuff @jameineliebe @angelkazusstuff @orginiallyann @eissaaaa @beezgobuzzbuzz @towos @kamukayakmonyet @atsukawolfcat @sunflowers1970 @yamtwt @avery-needs-more-fics @angstylittleb1tch @bigcandlesmolbrain @lxmine @imk1ra @fauxizs @islxisl @chihawari @bishishbored @yuuki4646 @sunsethw4 @princeabomination @alexiris @chocolateneapolitan @ayra2452008 @akaritenchi @sophiee-bush @ittosoneandoniwife @alatus2716 @almighty-raiden-shogunate

(it's my first time doing tags so pls inform me if it's not working, idk why the others are white, did I do something wrong??)

PS. if you want to get tagged for the next part or be removed then simply comment it TAGLIST is for the readers who want to be updated for my future genshin works.

─ 𝐀/𝐍. Can you all smell that? *sniff sniff* I smell a Xiao ver. of this 👀👀 Fr, I didn't expect the fic will be loved that much as I initially thought, I received many appreciative comments and messages which is what motivated me to write part 2, and possibly part 3 (just for the fluff) since this was supposed to be a series but I crossed that idea out until everyone broke my expectation. Thank you💜💙 and merry christmas everyone ❤💚

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli fic #zhongli angst #genshin crossover #genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #zhongli fluff #crossover #see you in my 19th life #webtoon #genshin impact crossover #reborn au #genshin zhongli #Spotify

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katyswrites · 1 year

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don't call me 'baby'

PART 1 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap

Wordcount: 4k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 1 | in the same room, at the same time

This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would tell yourself, later. But, life is funny that way - nothing ever really goes the way you’d expect it. And, when you had taken the last-minute shift at Enoteca Bruni, the fine-dining restaurant where you worked as a cocktail waitress, you could have never predicted where the night would take you.

It had started with a large reservation that had come in around 8pm, four businessmen in suits and watches that you imagined cost more than your entire month’s rent. You were used to that type - considering the prices on the wine list, nearly everyone you served here lived at least three tax brackets above you. It wasn’t a job meant for everyone - a lot of these types of customers were dismissive, rude, and expected those who serve them to disappear in the background, not to interrupt whatever they were doing, which was obviously oh-so-important. But, the tips were phenomenal, and the late night hours worked perfectly with your daytime shifts at the cafe in the city’s center.

Still, the most intriguing thing about them was that they weren’t Italian, like you had gotten used to - nor were they speaking Spanish, French, German, or any of the other languages you had learned to recognize over the last few years. No, they were American. It wasn’t often that you heard your native tongue and accent nowadays - no, it was actually jarring. But, you welcomed it. The oldest man at the table, a gray-haired, thin man with a sharp face and tailored three-piece suit, smiled when you greeted them with a hello.

“How wonderful,” he had exclaimed. “Someone from our side of the world.”

“Finally,” a younger man with a smattering of freckles on the other side of the table had said, exasperated. “We’ve got someone who actually speaks English around here.”

“Well,” you said, “To be fair, you are in Rome. I suppose you could say we are the odd-ones-out.”

He rolled his eyes, and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just trying to say it’s nice to actually understand who I’m talking to for once, you know? Not that I’m looking for her to talk back.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t even crack the top ten worst things a customer had said to you in your time working here. So instead, you just plastered on a cheerful smile.

“Of course. In that case, what drinks can I get started for you gentlemen?”

As the hours wore on though, it was becoming harder and harder to feign kindness. With each wave of dismissal, or snap of their fingers, you wanted to take the drinks you were serving and throw them in their faces. The worst of the bunch were probably the first older man you had spoken to, who had such a vile demeanor about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on it; and perhaps worse than him were two of the younger men, the dark-haired one with freckles, and a sandy-haired guy with what you could only describe as a mullet.

1982 called, it wants its hairstyle back, you thought to yourself.

It was those two who you could see undressing you with their eyes, who called you over for nonsense requests, asking you to bend over the table to get things that you knew they were perfectly capable of reaching themselves. And, you weren’t deaf; you heard the comments they made as you walked away to fetch more wine and scotch.

Look at that ass go, one of them said. I’d definitely hit it.

As if you could pull that, the other said. Besides, you’ve already got two bitches on the side Billy; leave some for the rest of us.

Don’t look at me, the sandy-haired man who was apparently named Billy retorted. If anyone around here needs to get laid, it’s Harrington.

With your back turned, you rolled your eyes, and wondered if they’d notice if you spit in their drink - that was, until no-first-name Harrington replied.

Guys, lay off - just let the girl do her job, yeah?

You took a deep breath, and recomposed yourself - it was the bare minimum, but it was something - someone who saw you as a person, maybe.

You carried the tray over with a wide smile plastered on your face, handing out drinks as you surveyed the table. You glanced at Harrington, the quietest one in the group - you had hardly heard a word from him all night, until right now. He was handsome, on the younger side of the group, but you’d estimate still about a decade your senior; he had a thick, slightly wild head of chestnut hair, and more of a boyish look about him. And with the exception of his perfectly-tailored suit and ostentatious Rolex, he didn’t look to have much else in common with his colleagues at first glance. While they sat at ease, laughing and conversing over their drinks, he sat up straight, stoically swirling his wine.

You pulled the post-dinner cigars they had asked you to bring out of the box, slicing the end with the guillotine cutter and handing the first one to the oldest man, striking a match and lighting it for him until he drew smoke. It felt humiliating sometimes, to light the Suits’ cigars for them as if they couldn’t do it themselves, but that came with the territory in a place like this, you had learned.

You reached Harrington last, only for him to shake his head.

“Oh, none for me - thank you though.”

Thank you - he was probably the first one from the table to say that all evening.

“Can I get you gentleman anything else?” you asked stiffly.

“That’ll be all, for now,” the gray-haired man said, waving you off.

You nodded, and at the bar, decided it was high time for your smoke break. You glanced at your watch - your shift was over in less than an hour, and your high heels were killing you. You signaled to the manager behind the bar that you were taking fifteen, and shouldered your way out the door.

*****

The first few minutes outside were peaceful, and relatively quiet - at least, as quiet as Rome could be at this hour. There was still the distant sound of traffic, the bustle of people on the sidewalk, many drunkenly stumbling and laughing, in the midst of making merry on a Friday night. You took a drag from your cigarette and inhaled deeply - even just a few moments off of your feet, and sitting out here on this bench in the fresh air, was starting to take the edge off. Still, you couldn’t shake that table of men - your manager had warned you that it was a very high-profile client, explaining that the dinner was likely a pretense for some multi-million dollar deal to be discussed. Still, you found yourself muttering under your breath, practicing the retorts and profanities you had wanted to throw at them. The shield you had built for dealing with customers was only so strong, and if your job wasn’t on the line, you probably would have told them to fuck off hours ago.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear someone approaching, not until they’re right next to you, clearing their throat.

“Oh! Jesus, hi,” you say, clutching your chest with your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Harrington was standing above you, hands in his pockets and his tie loosened.

“It’s fine - I promise, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His smile was friendly, and a bit apologetic. He looked different in the dim light, a bit younger, and not at all like someone who spends his days in an office doing… whatever those men inside did.

“You mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you on the bench. You just shook your head, a bit wary of him still.

He smiled, and started fishing around in his pockets until he pulled out a small baggie of tobacco and a pack of rolling papers. You raised your eyebrows, and smirked.

“You roll your own cigarettes?” you asked.

He nodded, not quite looking at you, focused intently on the task and hand.

“Yep. It’s so much better than that crap you smoke, trust me.”

You scoffed, despite the fact that this man was technically your customer, and your shift wasn’t quite over yet.

“Yeah, well, I’m doing just fine with what I’ve got. Thanks though…” you trailed off, looking at him expectantly. He caught on and turned to face you, grinning.

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

He extended a hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard by the simplicity of the gesture from someone like him, but you took it, telling him your own name. His much bigger hand was warm and calloused, shaking yours firmly before pulling away.

You stared at him intently, desperately trying to figure him out as you placed your cigarette between your lips and inhaled. It was hard to figure out what exactly his deal was - but, he was talking to you like you were an actual person, so that was at least a step above most of the people you’d waited on here.

When he finished rolling, he stuck the cigarette between his lips, then sighed.

“Shit - d’you have a light?”

You nodded, reaching into your handbag and pulling out your small blue lighter. He leaned in close, close enough that you could faintly smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off of him in the cool May evening. It took a moment for the flame to catch, then he was leaning back and he took a drag, letting his eyes flutter shut.

You looked away quickly, staring at the street ahead. Your black cocktail dress didn’t offer much coverage, causing you to shiver slightly as a breeze picked up. It was Steve who broke the silence, after a few moments.

“I want to apologize, by the way - my, uh, colleagues… they’re assholes.”

You nearly choked at his words, whipping around to face him.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“I - I don’t know how much you heard in there, but -”

“I heard enough,” you said quickly.

His face fell, then hardened. He looked… angry? Or, perhaps disappointed.

“I really am sorry. I know I probably should have said something, but…Brenner’s my boss. And, there’s a lot of people who would kill to work for him. So, you have to understand… I mean, Tommy and Billy, they’re real jerks. I can’t stand them, most of the time. So, just know that if you want to punch them in the face, I’d understand.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head.

“Well, just between you and me, I do want to punch them. But… I would really like to keep my job, and actually get a good tip at the end of the night. So, if I can make it through the next -” you glanced at your watch, “- half an hour or so, I’ll be alright. I’m kind of used to it anyway, working here.”

You felt his eyes on you, but didn’t turn to meet his gaze. Then, he said more softly, “I’m sorry to hear that. Really.”

You shrugged.

“It’s fine. But, thank you - most people don’t take the time to say that, I guess.”

A moment of semi-awkward silence fell between you and him, before you added, “But, it’s good to know that I apparently have a nice ass.”

He laughed at that, choking on the smoke he was inhaling.

“Oh God - Billy and Tommy really are the worst. Did you hear that they actually were trying to make a bet about you in there?”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What kind of bet?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, staring straight ahead as he shook his head vigorously.

“You know what - nevermind, you’d be disgusted -”

“Well now you have to tell me,” you conceded, inching closer. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad -”

“They said if I manage to get you to go home with me tonight, they’d agree on this huge deal with HNL that they’ve been trying to close with our European counterpart for months - they said it because they knew it wouldn’t happen, of course, I don’t really -”

“What would you get?” you asked bluntly.

“Huh?”

“If they thought you won the bet, like, would that be good for your job?”

He scoffs, nodding fervently.

“Um, yes - my yearly bonus would probably quadruple -”

“Then let’s do it,” you said.

His mouth fell open, and he was staring at you like you had three heads.

“Do what, exactly?”

He suddenly looked flushed, frozen in place as he stared at you. You felt a devilish grin spread on your face as you looked back at him, stubbing out the cigarette with the toe of your shoe.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, Harrington.”

*****

You had made sure he arrived back at the table only moments before you. The group of cajoling men were louder now, Tommy slurring his words and Billy in a heated debate with Brenner. Steve flashed a smile at the group, then started sipping his drink as if he had never left.

“What I’m saying is, if we offer them 14 percent -”

“Well, at that rate, we may as well sell them the whole goddamn company -”

“We’re going to have to budge at least a little if we want to make headway, otherwise Upside Tech might outbid us -”

“Harrington!” Tommy cried over the other two men. “Where th’hell ‘ave you been? You left me stranded with these two, they’re actually trying to work right now -”

Then, he spotted you, suddenly flashing a grin that was too wide for your liking.

“Mademoiselle - might I say, I think you’ve only gotten hotter since I last saw you -”

“That was only about twenty minutes ago,” Steve said firmly, cutting Tommy off. “Also, we’re in Italy, not France.”

Tommy waved him off, leaning closer across the table, towards where you stood.

“May I ask, how’re you getting home tonight, little lady?”

You just smiled.

“I’m actually so happy you brought that up - while I appreciate your concern and all, I’ve got that covered.”

You then turned to Steve, who froze in place.

“Ready to go, Steve?” you asked innocently.

All conversation stopped, then, the other men around the table stopped to gape at him. A smug smirk appeared on Steve’s face, and he stood up slowly, smoothing out his suit.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at the pet name, as ridiculous as it felt.

“What?” Billy said, his jaw nearly on the floor.

But before they could ask any more questions, Steve was holding out his bent arm, which you graciously hooked yourself through. You pressed yourself into his side, flashing another grin back at the group.

“I’ve left your bill on the table - thank you gentlemen for a wonderful evening, and we hope to see you soon!”

Then Steve surveyed the table, adding, “I suspect you’ll be in touch about negotiation meetings shortly? Since that was the deal and all. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

Then, you and Steve turned a corner and headed out the door, to where a car was already waiting for you.

Steve gestured for you to go in ahead of him, opening the backseat door. You slid across, greeting the driver quickly and Steve followed, shutting the door behind you. The second it was closed, you both looked at each other, and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh my God - did you see their faces?”

“I’m going to live on that for years,” he added, fighting to breathe. You threw your head back, practically cackling at the memory of their dumbfounded expressions.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, regaining his composure. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it - I think I got off of it more than you.”

“I doubt that.”

You met his gaze, and your breath stopped for a moment. He really was handsome, his honey-brown eyes staring into yours with such sincerity that it was actually overwhelming. You looked away quickly, staring straight ahead.

“Well, if anything, it made my shift more interesting, so thanks,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, and you just made me my yearly bonus, so thank you.”

After a moment, he cleared his throat.

“So, uh, where do you live? So I can get you home.”

“Oh! Right,” you said. “Um, do you have any ID or anything?”

Steve furrowed his brow, confused.

“Why are you asking?”

“Look, don’t take this personally - I’ve watched way too much Criminal Minds in my life. And, while I’m sure you’re nice and all, I’m not exactly gonna tell a strange man I’ve never met where I live without some precautions. So, I’m going to take a picture of your ID and send it to my roommate, so she knows who to turn in if I end up on the news, yeah?”

Steve just smirked, and pulled out his wallet.

“So, you think I’m strange?”

You shrugged, fighting a smile.

“Obviously, yes.”

Steve chuckled softly, fishing his license out of his wallet.

“Fair enough - as long as you’re not trying to steal my identity or anything.”

“Oh, definitely,” you said sarcastically. “I was actually going to buy a mansion in your name, if that’s alright.”

He laughed, handing you the card as you took a photo. The address was in Indiana - interesting. He was also 30, judging from his birthday - nearly ten years older than you. Also interesting. You handed it back, shooting a quick text to Robin:

I’ll explain later, but in case I get murdered!

You attached the photo and pressed send.

Satisfied, you leaned forward, telling your address to the driver, who nodded and pulled onto the busy city street.

You leaned back in your seat, staring out the window. You passed dimly-lit alleyways and bustling restaurants, groups smoking on the sidewalk and couples kissing on benches as the evening started winding down. The silence in the car is comfortable enough, considering that you met the man beside you a few hours ago. It’s him who breaks the lull in conversation, once again.

“So, why did you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“The bet? Well, kind of - at least, why did you make it look like I - like we -”

You shrugged, shifting to face him.

“Honestly?”

He nodded, gaze fixed on you.

“Well - a few reasons, I guess. I knew it would get those jerks off of my back. And, I knew it would help you, with your bonus and all.”

“And why did you want to help me, though? You know nothing about me.”

“Not true,” you said firmly. “I know one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re kind.”

It was simple, but true - for the type of clientele you usually served, he was a rare breed. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I mean, you were nice to me, and actually treated me like a person. I can’t say that for a lot of people, not in that place.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

A beat. Two. Then, he added, “Oh no - I didn’t even ask, did you have a car, back at the restaurant? Because we can go back and get it -”

“No, don’t worry about it - I don’t have one. I usually take the bus.”

“Oh - alright.”

You tried to stop yourself from rolling your eyes - Steve probably wouldn’t be caught dead on a bus. Or any public transport, for that matter. But, you kept it within yourself, and turned out towards the window again - the sights were getting more familiar, the buildings a little more run-down - closer to home.

You noticed your phone light up in your lap, and glanced down - a response from Robin.

Um… congrats???? Getting laid???? You’d better tell me EVERYTHING!!!!

You laughed under your breath, and saw Steve move to look at you out of the corner of your eye, curious. Before you could respond to her message, the car came to a halt right outside of your apartment building. You sighed, and turned to face the man beside you.

“Well, this is me. Thank you. For the ride home, I mean - you didn’t really have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” Steve said, waving a hand. “Had to make sure you got home safely and all, it was the least I could do.”

You both looked at each other for a moment, faces soft. You shot him another appreciative smile, and popped open the car door.

“Goodnight, Steve Harrington. Until we meet again!”

You knew the chances of seeing him ever again were slim at best, but it felt like the right thing to say, given the hilarity of the situation. After slamming the door shut, you rooted through your bag for your keys, taking the steps up to your door two at a time. Before heading inside, you turned and waved to the car one more time - Steve wasn’t visible through the tinted windows, but you liked to imagine that he was waving back, maybe even smiling fondly.

******

Two days later, an envelope was pushed through the mail slot in your door. It was Robin who brought it in, plopping it down on the kitchen table as you sipped your coffee.

“What’s that?” you asked.

She shrugged, carding through the other envelopes and flyers.

“Don’t know. But, it’s made out to you. The envelope looks fancy though - I mean, who the Hell puts a wax seal on letters anymore?”

You felt your heart skip a beat, and snatched it up, turning it over in your hands - it was thick, the nice kind of stationary that you had to go out of your way to buy. There was a return address, but it seemed like it was for an office building of some kind, with no name associated. And, right on the center, a red wax seal with an H. You felt your face grow hot, your stomach doing somersaults as you practically tore the thing open.

Inside was a simple piece of paper with a note scrawled on it. After writing out your name, it read:

Thank you again, for the other night. You have no idea how much that helped me out. Plus, it was probably the best time I’ve had at a work event… well, ever. But, since you provided such great service… you really should be tipped appropriately. I also made sure to leave a glowing review with your manager the next day. Buy yourself something nice.

S.H.

You glanced back in the envelope, and gasped - loudly enough that Robin stopped what she was doing, and joined you in her awe.

“Is that -”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s a shit ton of money.”

He had sent a stack of €100 notes - you hadn’t counted yet, but it had to be over €1,000, at least.

“Dude, that’s like, at least two months’ rent right there, right?” Robin asks, flabbergasted.

“I - yeah.”

“Okay, be honest - are you a drug dealer? Is that, like, a side gig you’ve got going?”

You shook your head incredulously, gripping the money - the most cash you had ever held at one time in your life.

“No,” you admitted. “That would be a lot easier to explain.” Steve Harrington, you thought to yourself, what’s your deal?

Notes: a brand new fic! A ton of credit goes to my friend Em, who indulges my fantasies and headcanons with plenty of ideas of her own. Also, I've never been to Rome, so bear with me here. Also, please always read content warnings before reading each part!

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maidragoste · 1 year

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The Wedding

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aegon II Targaryen

Masterlist Serie

Part 4 Part 6

sorry for taking so long to post, I hope you all like the chapter I remind you that my inbox is open and it always makes me happy to answer any questions or read any headcanon you have. thank you very much for all the support

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

You had your eyes closed while Alicent finished doing your hairstyle. The maids could have helped you prepare for the wedding, but your mother-in-law insisted on doing your hair and dressing.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could pretend that the fingers that were braiding your hair with such care and delicacy weren't Alicent's but your mother's. You could pretend that she was by your side. Surely he would never agree to this marriage but you knew that he would be with you, that he would never miss his only daughter's wedding… At least by his own free will, after all, no one from your family had been able to be at your first wedding, with Aemond, because there had been secret. It was just you two and the septon.

And you weren't the only one consumed by nostalgia. Alicent was also thinking of your mother, remembering her when she helped prepare her for the day Viserys named her his heir. She was also thinking of her sweet Helaena of hers, remembering how she had had to comfort and reassure her before her wedding. You didn't seem to need any words of comfort. You seemed ready to do your duty.

"You look beautiful," Alicent said breaking the spell and making you open your eyes. You tried not to feel bitter seeing her and not your mother.

"Thank you" looking in the mirror. Your dress fitted perfectly to your body but it had no collar so you could clearly see the hickeys Aemond had left the night before. You knew she did it on purpose to remind Aegon and the rest that he was still your husband and that he was the one who had you first.

“Are you ready yet?” Aemond asked, entering your chambers. For a moment he felt as if the air had been stolen from him when he saw how beautiful you looked. Although he couldn't help feeling envious of his brother because he hadn't had the chance to see you in your white dress or see you walk down the aisle, let alone be able to hold a big celebration in honor of their union. "You look perfect," she said, ignoring his annoyance.

"Thank you" you approached him and gave him a short kiss. If Alicent hadn't been in the room, you would have prolonged the kiss "Now we can go"

•••••

Once you entered the Sept you began to feel nervous, you were afraid. Not for marrying Aegon, he had been a bad husband for Helaena but you knew that he would be good to you, he had never hurt you during the war, on the contrary, he had been your support, he was by your side in your worst moments, somehow you knew that you could trust him. You weren't afraid of Aegon, what you were afraid of was what it meant to be his wife. She would be queen. You would be responsible for all the people who were here. The welfare of the kingdom would depend on you. Any decision you make could bring misfortune to the kingdom.

You knew you had to start walking but your legs wouldn't move. Aemond, who would walk you to the end of the hall, turned to see you. If you wanted to back out of the wedding, you just had to say so and he wouldn't hesitate to get you out of there. He didn't care how many people he would have to fight, how many he would have to kill, he would get you out and keep you safe.

Suddenly you felt cold on your shoulder "You can do it" someone whispered in your aer. It was not Aemond. It was Jacaerys, you would recognize your Jace's voice anywhere "You will be a great queen" you knew it was only a product of your imagination but thinking that your dear brother was by your side, supporting you, gave you enough courage to start walking.

Some people expected to see you being dragged down the aisle by the guards while you yelled and cursed at the green ones. Others expected to see a young woman walking down the hall all shaky and whimpering. But no, you surprised them all by walking with your head held high and without any tears in your eyes. You had the countenance worthy of a future queen.

Aegon felt his heart race. You looked so beautiful no matter what you wore for him you would always look beautiful. But you looked so beautiful in your white dress, you seem taken from a dream, this was a dream for him. He couldn't help but get emotional, his eyes clouded over for a moment and he had to force himself not to cry in front of everyone, he had dreamed of this for so long and it was finally happening. I would finally be your husband.

You forgot all the lords and ladies watching you when your eyes met the Aegons. You felt your heart warm when you saw the emotion in his lavender eyes. You almost wanted to laugh when you saw how he seemed about to cry, he gave you so much tenderness. Gods, how had you been so blind and stupid not to notice before that he loved you?

Aemond felt pure bitterness and fury at the way they looked at each other. It seemed as if you two had forgotten about the rest and were the only ones present in the Sept. You weren't supposed to look at his brother like that, he thought you would look at him in disgust or directly without showing any expression. But the only thing that transmitted your eyes was warmth. Did you lie to him when you said you didn't want to marry Aegon? Had the two planned everything behind his back? No, Aemond knew you well and you would never do such a thing…So Aegon's courtship had worked? Now did you love him?

When you reached the end of the hall, Aegon smiled at you and you smiled back. Aemond felt as if someone had punched him. And as if that hadn't been enough, you didn't even seem to hesitate as you released his arm and entwined yours with his brother's. You and the king started up the steps to meet the septon so the prince had to go and stand next to his mother.

"Now you can cover the bride and place her under her protection," the septon said and you instantly turned away to let the king cover your back with her cloak in the colors and shield of the Targaryens. Once he finished you went back to your previous position. "My lords, my ladies we stand here in the presence of the gods to witness the union of a man and his wife." The septon began to wrap your hand around Aegon's. "I hereby solemnly proclaim that Y/N, of the houses Velaryon and Targaryen, and Aegon, of the Targaryen and Hightower houses, are one heart, one flesh and one soul” when I finished wrapping them both intertwined their fingers.

It didn't feel good to hear those words. You couldn't help but look at Aemond. He is your first husband, the father of your children, he is also a part of your heart and soul. No matter what the septon says, you made up your mind. Your heart belonged to both.

"And cursed be anyone who dares to come between them" the septon continued speaking making you turn your face forward "Now, look at each other and say the words"

The two faced each other “Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger" you two recited at the same time without taking their eyes off the other, again it seemed as if only the two of you existed, you felt your heart race "I am his/her, and he/she is mine" the king's smile was so big while saying those words that you couldn't help but smile too "from this day until the end of my days" they both finished safely.

Aegon could not remember ever having been so happy as he was now. You were finally his wife and best of all, you seemed to love him. He could see it in your eyes and could tell that you longed to kiss him as much as he longed for you. So he wasted no time and he cupped your face in his hands before crashing his lips against yours. He felt his heart race as you continued the kiss with the same intensity.

You had promised yourself it would be a short kiss, you didn't want to make a big show of it in front of Aemond, you knew it was hard enough for him to see you marry his brother and you didn't want to make things worse, but kissing Aegon had felt so natural. , her lips were so soft, it wasn't supposed to feel so good. The shouts and applause of the guests brought you out of your reverie. You separated from the king feeling how your cheeks warmed up. You turned to face the crowd, avoiding looking at your first husband out of guilt.

Aegon waited for the crowd to calm down before he began to speak loud and clear "Today we leave the war behind. Today is a new beginning for the kingdom. From today Y/n Targaryen will rule by my side as my equal. We, together, will watch over the kingdom."

Again the sept erupted in cheers and cheers. But instantly they all fell silent as they saw Te kneel in front of the septon.

"May the Warrior give her courage" the old man began to recite and put a smell on your forehead "May the Smith give strength to her sword and shield" he put the smell again "May the Father defend her in her need" he said The image of your father watching over you when you were little and sick or hurt came to mind. "May the Crone lift up her bright lamp and light her way to wisdom" now you thought of your grandmother Rhaenys. You hoped that wherever she was she would guide you. Everyone knew that she would have made a better queen than your grandfather.

"With you, Y/N Targaryen first of her name," Aegon said placing the crown that had been worn by your mother, your grandfather, and old King Jaehaerys years ago.

•••••

The celebration was in full swing. Everyone was enjoying the food and some laughter could be heard in the room. A couple of people were already dancing. Of course, the first to open the dance had been you and the king, as much as you and Aegon felt that their jaws would end up aching from smiling so much but they didn't care. Now you were lovingly looking at your second husband dancing with Jaehaera. They looked so happy that you would have loved to have an artist draw them so you would never forget that moment.

After dancing you were thirsty so it didn't take long for you to drink the cup that a servant brought you. You felt that the wine was sweeter than usual but you didn't care, thinking that surely Aegon ordered a new wine from Essos or Dorne.

"Your grace, may I have this dance?" Aemond said, appearing beside you and offering his hand.

"Don't call me your grace" you complained but still you took his hand and let him guide you back to the dance floor "I'm your wife" you said making him smile for a moment.

"You know I'm going to have to call you 'your grace' in front of the court, don't you?" the prince said as they began to dance.

"Absolutely not" Aemond had to suppress the urge to laugh at how you seemed about to pout "I forbid you"

"If I don't call you "your grace" people will think I don't respect you as a queen"

"I don't care about people. I know you respect me."

Did you know that people will no longer treat you the same as before. The servants would probably be more careful around you now. The lords and ladies would not stop praising you to win favors. But you didn't want your new arrivals to change their ways just because of your new title. First, you had been a sister, wife, and mother. Being queen didn't make you a different person.

"Fine. Fuck the people" your husband said making you laugh but your laugh didn't last long because when Aemond lifted you up to spin you suddenly black dots appeared in your vision. Once your feet touched the ground again you clung to your husband, or at least you tried to because you barely had the strength to stay upright. You felt how your head began to throb. The music seems to be heard more and more distant.

"What's happening?" asked the prince concerned, holding you by the waist to prevent you from falling.

You were confused just a few minutes ago you were fine and now all of a sudden you felt like your own body was passing you by. Then you remembered the glass of wine. Shit.

"I don't want you to panic" you kept your voice as low as possible "But I think I was poisoned" saying each word took a lot of effort.

Listening to you, Aemond felt his blood run cold. He knew you weren't exaggerating, you would never scare him like that for nothing, he was sure that your eyes reflected the same terror as his. He couldn't lose you. What would he do without you? You were his, all of him, only you could see the best in him, only you could make him happy. How would he raise the boys without you? The boys. If someone poisoned you, who could make sure they wouldn't do the same to children? Desperate, he search with his eye where the twins were.

"The children," you said reaching the same conclusion as him. You started to panic. You needed to know that both your brother and the twins were okay. You couldn't die without knowing it first.

"They're fine. They're with my mother. Your brother is with her too" your husband answered and you followed his eye to find your mother-in-law, sitting, holding Aemon in her arms while Egg wiped Baelon chin which surely got dirty when he ate. "I'll take you to the maestre. You'll be fine" Aemond carried you in his arms, drawing the attention of the guests. In other circumstances he would have bothered to think of another way to get you to the maester without attracting attention, people would panic if they found out that someone had poisoned you, but now he couldn't waste time. He didn't know how fast the poison was advancing.

"Aegon. Maybe they want to poison him" you mumbled trying to keep your eyes open but the candlelight was beginning to be unbearable.

If you and Aegon died then Aemond would be king but the war would continue. There was no way Aemond would win Cregan Stark's support. The northerners will fight for your little brother to have the throne. They wanted the descendant of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

"What's going on?" The king asked approaching you, as soon as he saw the look of his younger brother he knew that something bad was happening to you.

"Poison"

And for a moment Aegon felt the air go out of him. Then fury took over his body. How could someone have hurt you? Who had dared to try to separate them? Whoever it was would repent, torture him for days, then have Sunfyre eat him. He would show people what happens to people who try to touch his family. No one would ever hurt you again. He knew you would recover. You had to, he couldn't bear to think about losing you.

"We need a maester! I want all the maesters right now!", he ordered even though you could hear the desperation in his voice.

And Aegon's screams were the last thing you heard before you lost consciousness.

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