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fettuccinealfred0 · 3 months

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Til Death Do Us Part | Part 9

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 12.5k

(CW: SMUT 18+, brief descriptions of gore, vampire biting/blood drinking, unprotected p in v sex, cunnilingus)

Summary:

“You turned me into a vampire?” You practically shriek at Astarion. You keep your palms pressed firmly into the ground, fighting against your instinct to immediately rip his throat out. It’s hard to restrain yourself. You feel like a wild animal.

There’s a flash of panic that passes over Astarion’s face before his brows knit together in confusion. “You’re angry?”

You huff out a humorless laugh, eyes turning up to the sky to check if this is some sort of cosmic joke. “Yes, I’m fucking angry, Astarion! What did you do to me? You killed me!”

“Raphael killed you!” He shoots back defensively. “You were dying! I didn’t have a choice.”

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You can’t focus on anything other than this hunger.

Oh. If this was how good blood tasted, how did Astarion ever manage to pull himself away from you?

You want to fall into him and drown. You want to devour him whole.

The aftertaste of his blood sticks heavy in your mouth when he finally tears his wrist free from your tight grasp. You need more. You never want to stop.

“More,” you croak out and your throat feels like it’s burning.

“There are bodies everywhere, my love. Take your pick,” Astarion says. You’re cradled in his arms, and you can’t even think to question how you got there because your entire being is consumed with this burning desire for blood.

After freeing yourself from Astarion’s arms, you crawl on your hands and knees to a downed guard a few feet away. He’s still alive, but barely. You can smell the blood pouring from the gaping wound on his thigh and can hear how it rushes under his skin. You salivate.

It’s too much work to pull off his gloves to get to his wrist, so you go straight for the gap between his helmet and his chest plate, digging your teeth into his neck. His blood is sweet and rich and so good that you can’t think straight.

The whole thing is messy and crude and violent. You can’t even bother to care right now.

You hear yourself let out an angry growl when you’ve drained that man. More, still more. You crawl a few feet to the next body on the floor. This one is dead and their blood is stale. And still, you drink until there is nothing left.

The more blood you consume, the more your mind clears and the sharper your senses become. Has the world always been so loud? So bright?

When you finish draining that man, still on your hands and knees on the floor, you look up to the rest of the group. You can feel the blood running down your chin and neck, staining the front of your dress. There’s blood all over you, in various stages of drying- the rusty tear tracks running down your face from the energy wave Raphael had unleashed, the thick clumps of your hair that are matted and still wet with blood from when your head had been bashed into the wall.

Everyone's faces are painted with varying shades of displeasure and horror. Shadowheart has big, sorrowful eyes and Wyll is looking down at you as if you were a rabid animal.

All except Astarion, who is kneeling on the ground and staring at you with a wide smile on his face, like this is the embodiment of his wildest dreams.

You had just died and he had the audacity to be happy about it?

You burn with an anger that doesn’t fully belong to you. It’s uncontrollable. You’re scared of yourself. Everything is too much; your emotions all feel too big.

What sort of monster had Astarion turned you into?

The two of you had agreed that you would get to decide when you were turned into a vampire- that you would pick when and how, and it would be a lovely memory that you would get to cherish forever.

This is most certainly not that.

“You turned me into a vampire?” You practically shriek at Astarion. You keep your palms pressed firmly into the ground, fighting back against your instinct to immediately rip his throat out. It’s hard to restrain yourself. You feel like a wild animal.

There’s a flash of panic that passes over Astarion’s face before his brows knit together in confusion. “You’re angry?”

You huff out a humorless laugh, eyes turning up to the sky to check if this is some sort of cosmic joke. “Yes, I’m fucking angry, Astarion! What did you do to me? You killed me!”

“Raphael killed you!” He shoots back defensively. “You were dying! I didn’t have a choice.”

There’s genuine sorrow in his voice as he practically pleads with you to understand. And you do. But there’s something itching at your throat and you just died and you’re angry and you’re upset.

It feels like you are watching yourself react, trapped away in a haze. There are tears rolling down your cheeks and desperate, heaving sobs choking their way up from your throat that have you curling in on yourself to weep. Astarion must have come to sit by you because you feel his hand run soothingly down your back. You wrench your body away from him.

You did not want comfort. Not now.

“You took away my choice, Astarion! Again!” You yell at him between your sobs, too aware of the way each tear feels as it rolls down your face. Everything was just too much. Everything felt wrong in your body. “My whole life, I knew I would have little control over who I married. But you took away the choice of whether I lived or died!”

“You were human, we would have gotten to this point eventually. We had already talked about turning you.” Astarion’s hands have fallen in his lap and he looks at you with such melancholy. It makes your skin itch, to think he pities you in your current state.

“It’s about autonomy, Astarion! It’s about choosing what happens to my body and when that happens. You of all people should understand that!”

If you were thinking clearly, you would never have brought up his past. The part of your mind that is still you and not this monstrous new version of yourself shatters as you watch his face scrunch in pain and anger.

“So, you’re allowed to always be angry at me, but I’m not supposed to have my own feelings?” Astarion asks. “I’m just supposed to immediately forgive you and forget the fact that you invaded my privacy by reading my diary? Am I not allowed to be scared after I just watched your skull practically shatter in front of me?”

He struggles in vain to steady the underlying shake in his voice. “Was I not supposed to do everything in my power to save you? Please, do not treat me like I have been completely unreasonable or like you have never done anything to hurt me. You know as well as I do that you would have made the same choice if I were the one lying in a pool of blood in front of you.”

And you simply sit there, powerless, as the person who knows you most intimately in the world calls your bluff.

He’s right. He has seen right through you in the way that only he can. You had made that same exact choice when he returned home from a previous trip with that gaping wound in his side. You had not thought, you had not hesitated when you cut your hand open and fed him your blood. In that moment, all that mattered was saving Astarion by any means necessary.

“Well, if you would have told me everything, we probably wouldn’t have even been in this mess in the first place, would we?” You shout back, trying to deflect from how Astarion had just exposed the flaws in your anger.

To be fair, only you can comprehend the full weight of your question. Astarion still doesn’t know that you have the final gem. Nevertheless, it rings true. The communication issues have compounded on themselves. If Astarion had let you help in his search, you would not have read his diary and he would not have sent you away to be kidnapped. And if you were not kidnapped, you would not have had to fight Raphael. You would still be alive.

Astarion’s crimson eyes flare with anger because he knows that you are right, too. You both just stare at each other, challenging the other to back down. In the background, you hear someone awkwardly clear their throat, but you and Astarion stay fixated on one another. Apparently, a side-effect of vampirism was unwavering focus.

You break first, though, when you begin to grow impatient.

“You say that you are not allowed to have your own feelings, but the minute you set your mind on something, my feelings on the subject become completely irrelevant. It’s all you, Astarion. It’s always about you and how you feel,” you snarl. “I have given you every opportunity to listen to me and to be honest with me and you have fought against me at every turn.”

Astarion opens his mouth like he is going to interrupt, but you cut him off.

“No. Even when you promised that you would tell the truth, you still carefully selected what insignificant information would placate me without giving me any of the meaningful details. How am I ever supposed to trust you if I doubt every word you say?”

“I have never once lied to you,” Astarion defends, his jaw locked tight.

“A lie by omission is still a lie. Evading my questions with half-truths is still half-lying,” you point out, “Astarion, I don’t know how I can be with you if you’re unable to understand why your actions hurt me.”

“Are you-” Astarion stumbles on his words, unable to even finish the thought. But his eyes betray him, asking are you done with me?

“No, never. I-” you cut yourself off, bringing your hands up to cover your eyes and block out all the too-bright lights. Have candles always burned so brightly? “I think you were right. I think we need some space so we can both process for a bit. I need time to be angry at you. I need time to adjust.”

“My love, I’m so sorry, but that can’t happen.” He sounds so genuinely remorseful. His hands wrap around your wrists, gently pulling your hands away from where they shield your eyes from the overwhelming, flickering candlelight. You can tell Astarion wants you to be looking at him while he speaks and his eyes are soft and round with concern. “You need me now more than ever. You’re going to be hungry, going to need to feed. There’s so much I need to teach you.”

“So you’re making this decision for me, too? That’s wonderful.” You rip your hands out of his grasp.

Why does he keep insisting on reaching out to touch you? Does he not see you struggling? Does he not remember how disorienting it was to first wake up all those years ago? You’re so aware of everything and it makes his touch against your skin practically hurt.

Some distant, detached part of your mind reminds you that he is probably looking to ground himself. Touching. Always touching. Astarion needed that comfort and you weren’t able to provide him with that right now.

You feel guilty and angry at yourself that you somehow keep hurting Astarion without even trying. You’re mourning your life and the loss of everything normal that you once knew. And you hadn’t even begun to fully process the fact that you had just killed people. It was all a blur when you had jammed your knife into Raphael’s throat but his blood was caking uncomfortably on your hands and that poor man who you had just drained on the floor might have been at the brink of death, but it was still you who killed him.

You lean over and throw up. Bile and congealed blood force their way up your throat and leave a dirty, metallic taste in your mouth. Astarion reaches out again, and this time you let him hold the hair away from your face as you vomit on the floor. Over the sounds of your sobbing and heaving, you faintly hear a discussion before everyone leaves the room.

And then, it is just you and Astarion and it’s finally quiet. Astarion whispers soothing words to you in a smooth, low voice that doesn’t make your eardrums feel like they’re splitting open inside your head.

When your sobs eventually diminish into little sniffles, Astarion lets go of your hair. He makes a motion like he’s going to stroke your face before he hesitates and pulls away.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. “The transition can be… a lot. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s been so long since I was turned.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” you ask.

Astarion’s face falls. “Is that really what you want? I’ll leave if you tell me to.”

“No,” you say, almost immediately. You look at your hands in your lap, stained an ugly, rusted brown. Your first instinct isn’t repulsion, but rather that you want to bring them up to your mouth and lick them clean, even if the blood is stale and dry. You feel disgusted with yourself. “What happened to me?”

Astarion seems at a loss for words.

“I want to go home,” you say.

Let there be some comfort, some sense of familiarity, in this tidal wave of foreign sensations.

“We can’t yet,” Astarion says. His voice is so forlorn, as if it is hurting him to see you like this. “It’s about to be daybreak and we can’t travel in the sun.”

It’s yet another reminder of everything you have lost.

“Great, just what I needed,” you scoff.

“There’s an inn across the street. The others went over to get us rooms.”

So that’s where everybody else went. How long ago was that? How long had you been curled in on yourself on the floor, weeping and sick and desperately craving blood?

Astarion must have been trying to give you privacy. Even now, he was still taking care of you- allowing you to grieve without the other’s prying eyes and helping to take away some of the overwhelming stimulation in the room.

“I can go tell Shadowheart to prepare a bath for you, if you’d like me to?” Astarion asks, almost as if he can sense that you are getting lost in your own mind again. He offers you a little smile, “I find those help.”

Those words sounded so familiar… It takes you a moment to place that you had read them in his diary. Astarion had not meant his jab as a jab but it still makes you painfully, acutely aware of how cruelly you had betrayed his trust. You want to start sobbing again.

You simply nod at Astarion, accepting his offer, unable to find the words to say anything else. He seems reluctant to leave you, but he finally pushes himself up from the floor.

“I’ll be back in just a minute, okay?” His hand stretches out awkwardly between the two of you and when you don’t reach out to grab it, he drops it. With a shake of his head, he turns on his heel and leaves.

“Wait-” you call after him and Astarion turns to regard you curiously. You look down at your hands in your lap, feeling a bit silly that you don’t know the first thing about vampirism, despite all the months you spent married to one. “Will I need more blood? I don’t- how do I even know when I’m hungry? I don’t want to accidentally hurt someone.”

“You won’t, little flower, precisely because even now, in the peak of your bloodlust, you are still aware enough to worry about others.” Astarion’s eyes soften. “Though, it is probably a good idea for you to drink a bit more while I’m gone. Can you promise me that you’ll try?”

You nod and Astarion gives you one last fleeting smile before he is leaving the room.

And for a moment, you close your eyes and let yourself sit in nothing but darkness. You sit until you can no longer deny your unquenchable thirst. You don’t even need to look, don’t even need to open your eyes as you drag yourself to a new source of blood.

Only, when you open them again, you are met by Raphael’s cold, dead stare and the deep gash in his throat, nearly severing his head from his body. That is not an image you will ever forget. You fall backward on your hands in horror, trying to back away from him as quickly as possible.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you pull your knees into your chest. You are too aware of the devilish body sitting just a few feet away from you. Raphael’s face stays at the front of your mind. His eyes had not even been that different than when he was alive, looking at you with pure nothingness behind them, like you were so insignificant that you did not even deserve to be seen.

But you had promised Astarion that you would try to drink something and the idea of blood is slowly consuming you, pushing away that horrible image. You scan the room and find another dead guard to drain.

And you do feel marginally better after drinking some blood, so you finally pick yourself up off the ground. It feels too cold in the room. You hadn’t even realized that you were shivering.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the familiar shimmer of one of the green gems, still encased in glass on their pedestals, completely unharmed by the commotion.

You step closer to them, reaching out a hand to press against the glass covering. From this close, there’s no shred of doubt in your mind- your mother’s necklace had contained the final gem all this time. But why? How did she even get one?

It seems foolish to just leave them there when Raphael had gone through so much trouble to find them. Lifting up the covers, you slide the gems off their pedestals. You’ve just tucked them into your skirt when Astarion’s voice surprises you.

“Are you ready, darling?”

You try to gauge whether Astarion had caught you slipping the gems into your pocket, but he simply leans against the doorframe on the other side of the room.

When you come to stand a few steps in front of him, Astarion asks,“Did you treat yourself to a snack while I was gone?”

You nod but you can’t help the way your gaze darts nervously over to Raphael’s body at the mention of a ‘snack.’ His dead eyes feel like they have followed you as you walked across the room.

“Oh,” Astarion’s smile drops instantly. He holds his hand out to you. “Come, let’s leave. We never have to look at him again.”

You know Astarion means to be reassuring but you fear the image of Raphael’s cold, dead face has been burned into your retinas.

Attempting to clear your mind, you give your head a little shake and take a deep breath before reaching your hand out to grab Astarion’s. You do not miss the subtle way he squeezes your fingers, as if he is afraid that you will drop his hand again.

When you finally leave the room, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. With your hands laced, you let Astarion lead you through the maze of Raphael’s house to the inn across the street, where a warm bath is waiting for you. Astarion shows you to a room. Shadowheart is there and when she sees you, she gives you the same melancholic little smile that had been painted on Astarion’s own face all night and it makes you want to roll your eyes in disgust. How long would everyone insist on treating you like you were made of glass?

“You’ll tell me if you need anything?” Astarion asks. He’s trying to keep his voice measured but there is a pleading, desperate undertone. You know he is only trying to help, but that is of little comfort to you right now. You just need time by yourself.

You nod stiffly at him and he awkwardly clears his throat, finally dropping your hand.

“I love-”

“Don’t,” you cut Astarion off. “Please, don’t do that to me right now.”

Astarion’s brow creases in displeasure and he turns on his heel to leave immediately. You stare after him, watching his figure retreat to the room next to yours. He shuts the door with an angry slam.

Where there would normally be a heavy ache in your chest, there is nothing. Just a deep dread settling in your stomach.

When you close the door to your own room, Shadowheart’s back is turned. Seizing your opportunity, you quietly tuck the gems into a drawer in a dresser. You aren’t entirely sure what possesses you to keep them a secret, but after so long of being kept in the dark by Astarion, it’s only fair you get to have a secret of your own for a while.

Shadowheart helps you peel off your dress, which is stiff and hard where the blood has dried into the fabric.

“I sent Gale into the city to get us all new clothes. I fear this dress is beyond repair,” Shadowheart says, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Hopefully, he’ll come back with something at least somewhat presentable for you to wear on the ride back. You never know though. It is Gale, after all. He only ever wears purple.”

There’s a small smile on her face and you can tell she is trying to raise your spirits. It was usually easy to goad you into poking fun at Gale. But this time, you just hum in response. The idea of laughter seems too foreign, too impossible right now.

In the tub, you let her scrub the dried blood off your skin as you numbly stare ahead at the wall. The water surrounding you turns an unpleasant shade of red.

After your skin has been cleaned, Shadowheart gives you a towel and instructs you to stand behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room. She calls upon some of the workers from the inn and they refill the tub with fresh, clear water.

You climb back and sink into the warm water, watching the steam curl around the edges of the tub. Shadowheart lets you sit there as long as you want and you stay until long after the water has grown cold and started to make you shiver.

Shadowheart helps you into the dress Gale brought back from the city (which is indeed a rich, deep purple). You’re too aware of the way the once-soft velvet scratches uncomfortably against the skin of your arms.

It’s only after you’ve dressed and Shadowheart has put your hair into a simple braid down your back that you pass by a mirror. You don’t see yourself. Immediately, you try to conjure the last glimpse of yourself that you had gotten in the mirror before you left on your trip. Even then, the image in your mind is fuzzy- you had not been paying attention to details. You had not known it would be the last time you would ever see yourself.

Tears begin welling up in your eyes again.

“Let’s just cover that, why don’t we?” Shadowheart says, turning the mirror around to face the wall.

You spend the rest of the afternoon just sitting in your room in the inn with the curtains drawn and the lights all turned off. It should be silent and dark. It isn’t. Somehow, your new senses cause you to hear every creak and groan of the building. You can hear the mice in the walls, smell the blood of all the other bodies moving in the building.

How did Astarion manage to live like this?

Eventually, Shadowheart knocks on your door to let you know the sun has set and it is time to leave. You follow her outside, down the cobblestone streets of the city to a stable on the outskirts of town.

Everyone else is standing together. They all look better- washed and free of grime and dressed in fresh clothes. You would almost be relieved to see them if they didn’t all immediately fall quiet in your presence. It makes you feel murderous.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Halsin breaks the silence with a friendly smile.

“I may look like it, but I certainly don’t feel better,” you hiss back, even though you know Halsin does not deserve your anger. “Just because I am no longer vomiting blood on the floor doesn’t mean that I’m not in constant agony.”

Everyone’s eyes dart around nervously, like they’re unsure what to say in such an awkward situation.

Astarion laughs, with a roll of his eyes. “Oh, stop being melodramatic, you’re perfectly fine. You’re adjusting.”

Of course, Astarion looks beautiful in the moonlight. His hair is silver and incandescent, shining brightly against his dark, black coat.

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel!” You snap at him, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance.

“So, what?” Astarion asks you. “You’re just going to keep behaving like a-”

“Ehem,” Gale interrupts. “Not that… this isn’t fun to watch and all, but we need to leave if we want to make it back by sunrise.”

You and Astarion lock heated gazed for a moment longer before you’re shoving past him to the rest of the group. Everyone else is standing next to horses, which have been saddled and prepared for the ride back to the Ancunin manor.

“Horses,” you say, a bit surprised.

“They were quicker than carriages,” Astarion answers, coming to stand by your side. His gloved hand brushes against your own for just a moment. “I wasn’t about to leave you with that vile man a second longer than was necessary.”

“There’s not enough of them for me or Shadowheart to have our own,” you observe.

“You’ll ride with me and she can ride with Lae’zel,” Astarion says, as if the answer was so obvious.

“No, I will not be riding with you!” You look at Astarion, incredulous. “You’re not allowed to make decisions for me anymore.”

Since Shadowheart already has a riding partner, you turn to your next closest friend, Halsin. “Can I ride with you?”

To put it bluntly- you’ve never seen cool, collected, go-with-the-flow Halsin look more uncomfortable and unsure in his life. He obviously doesn’t want to be in the middle of your and Astarion’s argument. Astarion is glaring daggers at Halsin. That selfish, monstrous part of you which has grown louder since your turning feels a bit vindicated that Astarion is jealous.

Halsin clears his throat nervously. “I’m truly sorry, my lady, but propriety dictates that you can’t ride with a man that’s not your husband.”

Of course. Silly you, thinking that a friend would be willing to help you in your time of need. Could this day get any worse?

You turn to your backup plan- the only other woman who does not already have a riding partner.

“Karlach, please.”

“Not a good idea.” Astarion interrupts. “We don’t know if you can control your bloodlust, darling. I’m the only person here you can’t hurt.”

Selfish bastard. Why does he now suddenly feel the need to control even the most minute details of your life, like who you ride on a horse with? Does he no longer love you enough to offer you this small sense of comfort in what has been an obviously distressing time?

“Please,” you ignore him, begging Karlach again.

“Alright,” she agrees warily. “But if I catch you staring at my neck for too long, you have to get on with him.”

“Deal,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand.

Which, maybe, is not the most sensitive thing to do the day after you had just resolved Astarion’s deal with a devil. He shoots you an annoyed look.

The first half of the ride is quiet and contemplative. Every time you turn to look, Astarion’s eyes are already on you and he’s got this distant, faraway look that tells you he’s a bit too lost in his thoughts. You can feel everyone else watching you carefully, as well, like you are a ticking time bomb bound to explode at any moment.

It does not occur to you until hours into your journey that perhaps Astarion had been so insistent on you riding with him because he is worried that you are going to leave him the moment that you get home. In his mind, perhaps he was simply trying to spend one last moment with you. Perhaps he even believed he could convince you to stay. It was just the kind of foolishly insecure thing that Astarion would think. He should know better by now- you were not so easy to chase off, even if you had complicated feelings about him at the moment.

And the ride continues in silence until eventually, Karlach nearly bursts with the need to talk. The two of you start chatting, with others joining in occasionally. Everyone seems to start relaxing around you, now that you have proven that you are not completely feral.

Ultimately, the ride home is uneventful. Karlach talks and by the end, her mood is so infectious that she even gets you to laugh a couple times. You’re so grateful for her humor, it was just the amount of levity you needed.

You’re sure that you’ve never been more happy to be home before and you're desperate to be inside. As you walk from the stables back toward the manor, you find yourself fantasizing about how wonderful it will feel to lie down on your bed, even if you don’t need sleep anymore.

Lifting your foot, you move to step over the entryway. Except, you’re stuck. It’s as if there’s some sort of invisible wall barring you from entry.

Of course, because vampires can’t enter a residence without permission.

Astarion’s got a little smirk on his face as he stands in the hallway, looking back at you stuck outside.

“I’m waiting for you to ask nicely, little flower,” he teases.

“Can I come inside?” You spit out through gritted teeth.

Astarion looks like he’s considering it for a minute before he frowns. “Not nice enough, try again.”

“Oh, beloved husband, can I please come into our house?” You ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. But you plaster a sweet smile on your face at the end and Astarion seems to have had his fun with you, anyway.

“Welcome home, darling. Please, do come inside. You’re keeping everyone waiting,” Astarion says, sweeping into an overdramatic, elegant bow.

You make sure to shove his shoulder with your own when you pass him.

Shadowheart has already drawn the heavy curtains for you when you enter your room.

The first thing you do is carefully tuck the gems away in the hollowed out book on your bookshelf. You could deal with that problem later. For now, it was time to wallow.

For hours, you lie in bed, staring up at the mahogany panel on top of your four poster bed. It all feels wrong. You’re so tired, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t will your body to sleep. You wish you had some book, like Essential Knowledge on Being a Vampire, to teach you how to solve this issue.

Later that evening, there’s a knock on your door and you open it to find Astarion.

“I have something for you,” he says, producing a jar of sloshy red liquid from behind his back.

“It’s not fresh,” you say with a twinge of disappointment.

“You’re too spoiled, pet.” Astarion laughs. “I lived on nothing but rats and bugs for 200 years. I assure you, many vampires would kill for stale human blood.”

You pout, hoping that trick still works and Astarion will give in to you. “Why can’t you just call up one of your snacks for me? Why do I have to drink it like this?”

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion reprimands you as he finally steps past you into your bedroom. “It took me a very long time to curate such a wonderful collection of vintages. The last thing I need is for you to drain one of them dry and scare the rest off.”

“So, I’m stuck with that then?” You ask, pointing to the jar of blood in his hand.

“Or drinking from me,” Astarion shoots you a flirty wink. “I’m more than happy to drink enough to sustain the both of us.”

That hungry, lustful part of you runs wild with the idea. You and Astarion could spend your nights wrapped together again, but now it would not just be him biting you. Now, you could bite back. You could finally taste him.

But that doesn’t seem like a good idea with the current state of your marriage- it would just add confusion and more unnecessarily complicated emotions.

“I don’t want anything else from you, Astarion.” Your harsh words aren’t filled with the normal tenacity behind them.

It’s all too much, the constant smells and having to hold yourself back from sinking your teeth into everyone around you. You collapse into a chair in the corner of your room.

“I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep,” you confess in a quiet voice.

You know Astarion heard you. Now that you are a vampire, you understand the sensitivity of vampiric hearing.

Astarion places the jar of blood on the table next to you. You’re reminded of so long ago, that first day you were here, when Astarion kept sending you food even though you were determined not to eat. He was too good at this- at caring for you even when you were determined to be difficult.

“That comes with time,” Astarion assures you, sinking to his knees in front of where you sit. He looks unsure for a moment before he reaches out, grabbing your hands in his own and pulling your attention to him. “I know that you’re stubborn and impatient and you just want everything to go back to normal, but things have changed. It will take time. I have learned the hard way that you cannot just rush past all the hardships in life, no matter how desperately you wish to.”

Astarion’s thumb traces soothing circles on your hand as he continues speaking, “We’re both here and we’re both safe. And I know you need time to be angry at me. And though I know I will forgive you, I’m still hurt by your invasion of my privacy. So… let’s just… spend some time apart. And know that whenever you decide you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you, okay?”

Astarion reaches out, ghosting his thumb along your cheek as the corner of his mouth quirks up in a half smile. “And don’t rush, we have all the time in the world, my love.”

You nod, unable to speak in fear that tears will start welling up in your eyes again. Gods, was this some sort of horrible symptom of vampirism that you just kept crying all the time? If so, you need to figure out how to deal with that quickly, because these constant tears were a nuisance.

Astarion gives your hand a little squeeze before he’s rising from where he kneels on the floor, turning to leave your room.

“I- thank you, Astarion,” you say when he’s in the doorway. He pauses but doesn’t peek over his shoulder to look back at you, as if he knows that will cause you to lose the nerve to continue speaking. “I don’t say that to you often enough, but know that I am very grateful for all that you’ve done for me.”

—------------

The next evening, there’s another gentle knock on your door but no one is there when you open it. The only thing you see is a leatherbound book propped up next to your door.

It looks remarkably similar to Astarion’s diary and it must have been left by him, but there was no way he was just… giving you his diary, right? Not when it was still such a sore subject between the two of you.

What, was this some sort of weird way to test your loyalty?

You debate whether you should ignore the gift completely but as usual, your curiosity gets the better of you. After grabbing the book, you curl up on your bed and open the front cover.

The first thing you see is your name, your actual name, which Astarion called you so rarely. It’s written in his beautiful, looping cursive and it nearly pulls the breath from your lungs when you see it.

Underneath your name, the first page is a letter to you.

My dear wife,

I know that you are inquisitive by nature and I am sure you are filled to the brim with questions about being a vampire. It seems unfair of me to turn you into one and then send you off into the metaphorical dark, so I thought I might offer you some advice. As you have learned, I have grown to find writing rather cathartic, so I thought it fitting to write to you about my own experiences as a vampire. I hope this will help ease your transition.

Please, forgive me if I have forgotten anything. I have tried hard to think of everything you might ask and I like to think that I know you very well, but I am not nearly as creative in my curiosity as you are.

With all that I am, know that I love you.

Your husband,

Astarion

When you turn to the next page, a loose sheet of folded paper flutters out. There are only two sentences scribbled hastily on the paper.

I told you I would give you your space. I intend to honor that promise.

Oh, how unexpected and perfectly timed. Just yesterday, you had been wishing for a book exactly like this. It was as if your husband, Astarion, had read your mind.

Your insides feel warm and fuzzy as you hold the book to the chest, over the spot where your heart used to beat. For the first time in a long time, you have hope that everything will be okay again, that your anger will fade and love will bloom in its place, a love that was far more radiant than ever before.

—------------

Slowly, you lose track of time. You spend a little time feeling sorry for yourself and a little time feeling sad. But mostly, you spend a lot of time not really feeling anything at all. There’s just numbness and staring at the hypnotic, swirling patterns of the wallpaper in your bedroom.

Time moves. You don’t.

You feel dead. Guess that makes sense.

You settle into a new routine. Sometimes, you and Astarion bump into each other around the manor and you’re both cordial and polite, scared of intruding in the other’s space.

You miss him. You spend your evenings rereading the book he had written for you, tracing your fingers over his lovely handwriting. But at times, the anger inside you still flickers back to life. You do not dare to approach Astarion until you are sure the flames of anger within you are long dead.

“You know, he could have turned you into a spawn,” Shadowheart says one day. It’s enough to finally shock you out of the monotonous routine of self-pity that you had found yourself in.

“What’s the difference?” You scoff.

You were faintly aware of the difference between true vampires and spawn but the subject had not been discussed in any great detail in the book Astarion had written for you. You know this is due to the traumatic nature of his own life when he was a spawn.

“He gave you his blood,” Shadowheart answers. “You’re a full and true vampire. You aren’t bound to serve him; you aren’t forced to obey his commands.”

Shadowheart is purposefully avoiding your eyes while she continues to braid your hair.

“You know, I thought he was going to make you a spawn,” she says. “Trust me, I’m happy that he made the right choice and didn’t. But for a second, it really looked like he was considering…” She trails off and sighs. “Well, I guess I didn’t think he would be able to resist guaranteeing that you could never leave him.”

“Why are you bringing this up now?” You ask. “Are you just trying to point out that my life isn’t as bad as it could be?”

“No, stop being difficult,” Shadowheart punctuates her statement with a tug on your hair that is a bit rougher than what is necessary. “I’m just trying to paint a full picture for you. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She falls into a contemplative silence for a moment before she finally says, “Though, it is rather annoying when the two of you are fighting. I have to go out of my way to avoid two places. When you’re together, I only have to avoid one room.”

You roll your eyes at her comment.

“Something still feels wrong,” you confess. “It still feels like he’s controlling every aspect of my life. He decided we would be married. He decided that I was not allowed to know any details of his past or about his deal with Raphael. He was the one who decided that we would go on the trip which got us kidnapped. He decided to turn me into a vampire. He confined me to this house and made me a prisoner of the sun.”

Shadowheart sighs. “Have you tried telling him any of this? Tried explaining how you’re feeling? Have you asked him what he’s been thinking and feeling?”

“I already made it perfectly clear what I think.”

“No, you yelled at him,” Shadowheart says. She finishes braiding your hair and moves to lean against the vanity to look down at you.

“How do I explain…” She looks off into space as she thinks for a moment before she turns back to you. “Look, Astarion has had a long and traumatic life. Have you really not noticed how he shuts down when people raise their voices around him? Same as how you start spewing insults you don’t always mean. You fight, he flees. Neither of you are capable of listening to the other in that sort of state.”

Damn her. That’s a good point. When did she have time to notice all this about the two of you?

The realization washes over you like a wave- for all your anger about Astarion never listening to you, you had neglected to see that you had been ignoring Astarion’s needs, as well.

This intervention from Shadowheart was good. This was what you needed- someone to shake you awake from the haze you had been trapped in so you could finally see all the damage you were causing.

“Oh gods, I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?” you groan, letting your head fall into your hands. “I’ve been a terrible wife.”

You hear Shadowheart’s twinkly laugh and her voice is amused. “Stop being so dramatic all the time. You’re just as bad as Astarion.”

You shoot her a look of warning between the fingers covering your face, even if you secretly relish the fact that she brought up your and Astarion’s similarities.

“And you’re not a horrible person.” She pats your back in a comforting, reassuring motion. “You’ve been through a lot of very big life changes in the last year. You’re adapting. You’re learning. And I wouldn’t even say you’ve been too harsh on Astarion. He can get a bit too full of himself. He needs someone like you to keep his head screwed on. The two of you just need to talk and actually listen to one another for once.”

“You’re strangely wise, when you want to be,” you tell her.

She shrugs, but you see her smile.

—-----------

Astarion’s faces away from the door when you approach the study, focused on the stack of books next to him. For a moment, you silently watch him hunt along the different rows in the bookshelf before he places a book and grabs a new one from the stack. He must be reorganizing.

You reach out and knock on the door to draw his attention.

“You don’t need to knock if the door is open, Gale,” Astarion says, annoyed. He doesn’t even bother to turn around.

“Oh, I- I’m not Gale,” you stutter out nervously. You fear that he will be disappointed when he sees you- that the beautiful smile that used to light up his face whenever you entered the room will be gone.

But instead, Astarion’s head whips around to look at you. He nearly drops the book that he’s holding, but he manages to catch it before it clatters to the floor. It’s a clumsiness that is so uncharacteristic of Astarion, who always moves so gracefully and elegantly. You have to hide your smile.

Here’s this man, this vampire- so powerful and so strong- and your mere presence makes him so nervous that he nearly drops everything he is holding.

“And thank the gods for that. One Gale is already bad enough,” Astarion jokes and you manage a soft laugh at that. The smile on his face is lovely and you’re struck by the urge to just stand and watch him for hours, to study him how you used to. He tilts his head a bit to the side, in question. “What are you doing here? I thought you still weren’t speaking with me.”

“I came to apologize,” you tell him.

“Whatever for? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Well, that’s not true at all. I’ve done plenty wrong. And I’ve actually been a bit of a tyrant as of late.” You laugh, though you are sure Astarion made his comment earnestly. You were starting to realize that he viewed you as far more infallible than you actually are.

“You’ve been going through a big change,” Astarion continues to defend your actions.

“Please, don’t make excuses for my bad behavior. Will you just hear me out for a couple minutes?” you ask. “After, you can tell me to leave or stay or say whatever you’d like but right now, I need you to be quiet and let me speak, okay?”

Astarion nods.

You take a deep breath and ready yourself for the speech you had prepared in your head. You had been working on it for the greater part of a day, trying to sort through your thoughts and figure out how to vocalize everything in a way that could be easily understood. You had even forced Shadowheart to listen to you practice it earlier, though she was a rather unwilling participant.

“First of all,” you begin. “I’m sorry I read your diary and I’m sorry I haven’t given you a heartfelt apology yet. That diary was yours and I know that I never should have touched it. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. And I kept giving excuses to justify my actions rather than actually apologize, but I fully recognize that any frustration I felt about you not being upfront with me never warranted invading your privacy. I truly, sincerely apologize. It will never happen again.”

Astarion surveys you curiously, though his face remains soft and open. It’s a good sign, at least, that he seems receptive to your apology.

You continue speaking. “And when you confronted me, rightfully angry, I got upset and yelled at you because I felt guilty. I need to stop doing that- I need to learn to take a break when I feel myself getting upset. I know that I can be mean when I’m provoked and I lash out and hurt other people. It happened when you tried to distance yourself from me, it happened when you found me with your diary, and it happened again right after you turned me.”

“I won’t apologize for what I said after you turned me. I stand by all that. I’m allowed to be frustrated and angry at the world. But I am sorry that I took that frustration out on you. That wasn’t fair of me.” You can feel yourself growing more and more impassioned the longer you speak, so you try to tamper yourself down to a calmer level.

“I promise that I am going to do better at listening to you Astarion, but I need you to promise me that you will do the same. I need to see changes,” you implore. “I feel like I have made it perfectly clear by now, but let me be overly explicit for a final time- I don’t like when you make my decisions for me. I know that it is supposed to be my place as a woman to defer to your judgment, but frankly, I think that’s stupid.”

The corner of Astarion’s mouth tilts up in a grin- he always did love your pluckiness.

You feel a phantom heart beating in your chest as you continue speaking. “I have a mind and a will of my own and it is unfair to make me do things that I don’t want to do. A part of me will always be sad that I wasn’t able to enter into our marriage or choose to be a vampire of my own free will. I don’t want my memories of you to be tainted by that. I value and respect your opinion, but please, trust me to be the one to make my own choices from now on.”

“And lastly, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You look up to the ceiling, trying to force down the tears that you feel brimming in your eyes. This was the part of your speech you had been dreading the most, the part that you had not rehearsed with Shadowheart because it felt too personal. But if you had ever inadvertently contributed to Astarion’s pain by being too forward in your intimacy, you needed to apologize to him. “It’s not a valid excuse but I didn’t know about your past, Astarion. You have to believe me. I know that I probably pressured you into uncomfortable situations because I was so insistent. Please know that there will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I truly am.”

“And… I miss you, Star. I can’t tell you how many times I've reread the note at the beginning of the book you gave me. I think I practically have it memorized at this point.” You breathe out a shaky laugh. “Okay, that’s… I think that’s everything I wanted to say.”

You pull your gaze back down from the ceiling to gauge Astarion’s reaction. He just looks stunned. Which is fair, you did just dump a lot on him.

And then Astarion just keeps staring at you, like you have broken his brain completely. The longer you wait, the more nervous you get and eventually, you have to close your eyes, terrified of the rejection that you are certain is coming. You can feel yourself start to panic a bit as you prepare for Astarion to tell you to get out and how could he ever love someone as weak and stupid as you?

Instead, you feel his arms wrapping around you. You cling to him, burying your face in his chest and letting the tears that had been building finally leak out.

He’s so much warmer than you remember.

Astarion tilts your chin up so he can look at you and he brushes away the tears that have fallen down your cheeks.

“I don’t know where to start,” Astarion says, at a loss for words. He gives you a sweet smile. “For what it’s worth, I already forgave you long ago for reading my diary.”

The crushing weight that had been sitting on your chest for so long finally lessens. You feel so light now that you can breathe again.

Astarion’s thumb continues tracing along your cheek and his eyes watch the motion, rather than stare into your own. You are too familiar with the fact that it can be easier to get your feelings out without the pressure of eye contact.

“I see now that I was wrong, too. I’m sorry that I didn’t fully trust you. It’s just-” Astarion huffs and his brow furrows, “How do I explain this? You saw me as the man I am now, detached from all my trauma and background, and you loved that person. And for so long, I was scared that if I admitted my past to you, you would no longer see me as the man you knew and loved. I didn’t want to ruin the illusion for you. I realize now that I was mistaken.”

You’re stunned, partially because Astarion just admitted he was wrong and that was a minor miracle in itself. But also, you had never considered that Astarion might have been afraid that his past would make you see him differently.

And you do, but not in any way that matters. He just feels like a more complete person now. All those little reactions and details you could never place finally make sense.

Astarion wipes away another stray tear rolling down your cheek. “And I need you to trust me, little flower. I need you to hear me when I say that I love you and I want you. I like having sex with you. Believe me, I don’t do anything that I don’t want to anymore. I’m past that point in my life.”

And with his words, Astarion continues to quell any shadows or doubts in your mind. It feels wonderful to finally speak so freely with each other.

“And now, it’s my turn to apologize,” he says. “You’re right. I haven’t been listening to you. Throughout our whole marriage, you’ve basically been shouting from the rooftops that all you wanted was to make your own choices and I kept making them for you in fear that you might choose to leave me. That’s not fair of me, either- I need to trust that if you love me as much as you say that you will choose me.”

Astarion pauses, sighing gently, “And I’m sorry for the circumstances surrounding your death but I won’t apologize for the outcome. You know that I am a deeply selfish man. I wasn’t going to lose you- not now and not ever. I will not apologize for what is done, only that my actions have caused you pain. I know nothing I can say will make this… right. And it probably wouldn’t help you feel better, anyway. But know that I am here with you, every step of the way; as a mentor, as a friend, as a lover. However you want me, you have me.”

“What about as a husband?” You tease.

“Well, that can certainly be arranged,” Astarion says as a devilish grin splits across his face.

“I love you,” you tell him. “Thank you for waiting for me. Ever since you caught me with your diary, all I’ve wanted is to go back to how it was before.”

“I don’t think we ever will be able to go back to how it was before,” Astarion says, and his words fill you with a deep sadness. Your face falls but Astarion is still smiling. A real one, not a performative one. “It will be better this time; we’ll be true equals.”

“Equals. I like that.” You smile back at him. His knuckles stroke lovingly along your jaw.

“And now I should probably tell you that I actually kind of like that you get a bit nasty when you’re angry,” Astarion says with one of those smirks that makes you want to get into all sorts of trouble with him. “Maybe just direct that at other people in the future.”

You laugh. “Just point and I shall destroy your enemies with my vicious mockery.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, please.” He giggles in delight. “That sounds wonderfully entertaining.”

And it feels so good now that everything is out in the open. Like you and Astarion are truly seeing each other for the first time as you embrace, grinning like love-struck fools.

“How have you been?” Astarion interrupts the moment, his voice turning more serious. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you.”

“Um, it could be worse, I guess? I could be dead.”

Astarion frowns at your joke. Note to self- don’t joke about your death with Astarion.

But you’re not sure how exactly to explain the fog that it feels like you’ve been trapped in for the past… Actually, you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve been turned. You lost track of time. Has it been weeks? Months?

Now doesn’t feel like the time to unload all that on Astarion. You had just gotten him back, you weren’t about to go chasing him away again with new issues. You would wait until later. Maybe even bringing it up as you cuddle in bed so you do not have to watch how his pretty face twists with worry at your confession.

You deflect by turning the attention back to him. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for me. You must have been pretty busy trying to get all that blood for me.”

For a moment, Astarion looks like he wants to pry into what’s on your mind, but he resists. It was time to trust each other and that involved having faith that the other person would bring up issues when the time felt right for them.

“Ugh, you don’t even know, pet. It’s more work than I’ve done in years,” Astarion complains. “I have to think about what I want and then go and ask Gale for it and that always takes forever. I was made for looking pretty, not for organizing blood draws.”

You giggle at his theatrics. “Well, if you’re going to be so dramatic about it, I’ll go offer my thanks to Gale instead.”

You move to pull away from Astarion but he catches your wrist and pulls you tighter against his chest.

“Don’t you dare.”

Is this Astarion initiating?

He’s looking at you with hungry, red eyes and the way his hand rests just a bit too low on your back isn’t entirely innocent.

You chew on your lip, debating in your mind whether you should just lean forward and kiss Astarion. You haven’t fully adjusted to the new sharp fangs inside your mouth and you found yourself forgetting them constantly. You let out a little hiss at your mistake and your finger comes up instinctually to dab away the bead of blood from your lip.

You stare at the drop on your finger, entranced, former train of thought completely lost. The room fades away and for a moment, there’s only blood.

And then, Astarion reaches out to grab your wrist and he sucks your finger into his mouth with a moan that should send him straight to the hells. Your brain goes blank, yet again, as you watch how he slides your finger out his mouth, never breaking eye contact with you.

Your whole body feels like a live wire. Reaching out, you tug Astarion down by the back of his neck to press your lips against his. You had been without him for so long and now, you’re ravenous.

This isn’t one of those sweet, loving kisses that you and Astarion share so often. There is nothing loving about this kiss- only hunger. As if you can make up for lost time by consuming one another whole.

Your lips crash against his, two sets of fangs ripping and tearing into one another’s skin. There’s blood everywhere- coating your lips and electrifying your taste buds and trickling down your chin.

And just for a second, you hesitate. Did he want this? You hadn’t checked. You had pulled him down and kissed him and, sure, he had kissed you back, but that doesn’t mean he wants more. Despite his words earlier ensuring you that he enjoys physical intimacy with you, your doubts are still present. You aren’t sure how to act anymore.

Astarion, sensing your moment of hesitation, pulls away immediately.

His voice is low and hoarse. “What’s wrong?”

You try to find the right words. “I just- I’m sorry. I should have asked. Did you want me to kiss you?”

Astarion chuckles. “I always want you to kiss me. But please, no doubts, my love. I promise I’ll tell you if I don’t want to do something. But this-” His hand traces along the curve of your ass as he moves his lips down to brush against yours, “this is me initiating. Trust me, I’m nearly out of my mind with how badly I want you.”

His words send a shock straight to your cunt.

“Get back here, then,” you practically growl, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt.

Your lips collide again and the world closes in around you- there is nothing but you and Astarion and this impossible need to be closer. You can’t think past the hunger itching at the back of your throat and the molten fire pooling in your cunt.

You urge Astarion backward until his back is pressed against the bookshelf. You must overestimate your own vampiric strength because a few books are knocked off the shelf and Astarion lets out a little exhale of ‘oof.’

“Sorry,” you apologize into his mouth, not bothering to fully separate your lips from his.

“Don’t be, pet,” he says in a breathy pant. “I like when you lose control.”

Fuck, you need to lose control more often if it makes Astarion talk like that.

Your hands move down, untucking Astarion’s shirt from his trousers and you ghost your fingers over his abdomen. It’s still shocking how warm his skin feels now that you have become a vampire. You had grown so used to the cold.

Astarion separates his lips from yours only long enough to pull his shirt up over his head and throw it somewhere in the room.

There are hands everywhere. Your hands move down the planes of Astarion’s chest, continuing downward to trace over the outline of his cock hardening in his pants. And his hands pull you so tightly against him- one follows the curves of your body and the other comes up to thread through your hair. He gently tugs at the roots, tilting your head back to give himself easier access to lick into your mouth.

Eventually, you part from his lips and they’re all swollen and bloody and wet. His beauty will always stun you.

Gods, and how does he smell even better now?

You run your nose along the column of his throat. There’s bergamot and rosemary and underneath that, the intoxicating scent of the blood sitting still in his veins. He must have fed recently. You can’t even bother to be jealous that someone else got to experience the ecstasy of Astarion drinking from them because he smells so good.

“Go on, little love. You can have a taste,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. He’s a bit breathless, as if he can’t contain his excitement at the idea.

You take his permission and bite into Astarion’s skin, careful to pick a spot far away from the twin scars on his neck. This was meant to be a new memory, separated literally and metaphorically from the struggles of his past.

His blood is so fresh after so much time of only drinking blood from the jars stored in the cellars. Astarion lets you swallow a few mouthfuls before he guides you back up, crashing his mouth against yours again and chasing after the taste of himself in your mouth.

Astarion continues kissing you, but he presses forward, forcing you backward until your back hits the edge of his desk. You raise your hips to sit at the edge, widening your legs so he can slide between them.

He fiddles with the buttons on the back of your dress while he continues to kiss you senseless and you sigh into his mouth, picturing his wonderful hands at work.

“There’s too many-” Astarion cuts himself off with a growl and you hear a sharp ripping noise as he tears open the back of your dress. “Too many buttons.”

“I liked this dress,” you huff and Astarion leans down to press a kiss to your collarbone in apology as he begins bunching up your skirts.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he says, as he helps pull your dress over your head. He presses his lips to yours again, slow and sweet and a complete shift in tone. He leans his forehead against yours, “I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. You’ll appreciate it more later when you can think clearly again.

Taking a moment to appreciate the sight of Astarion before you, you try to commit this moment to memory. You try to memorize the way that the rivulets of blood running down his chin highlight the lovely blush staining his cheeks.

And over his shoulder, you notice that the door is still wide open.

“The door’s still open,” you squeak out. You don’t love the idea of someone barging in on you and Astarion’s private moment, but you hate the idea of parting from him long enough for one of you to shut the door more.

Astarion must have a similar thought because he chuckles, deep and dark, as his hands grip the back of your neck, pulling your gaze back to his face. His thumb runs down the hollow of your throat and you feel yourself gulp. Astarion watches your throat move, entranced. “They all know better than to interrupt us. And if they don’t… Well, I wouldn’t say no to a snack, would you?”

The idea of draining someone dry with Astarion makes you salivate. Something to look forward to in the future.

Astarion kisses you again, pushing you to lean back at an angle on the desk and distracting you from the lovely images that you had concocted in your imagination. His mouth moves down to nip at your skin and kiss along your collarbones.

“You still have to get past my corset,” you tease. “Can’t rip your way through that one.”

“I can try,” he practically growls, one of his hands coming up to trace menacingly along the boned seams.

“Don’t,” you grip his chin and turn his gaze up to yours. His eyes light up at your command.

Astarion listens and helps you remove the rest of your clothing. Miraculously, your corset and chemise make it off your body without being destroyed like your poor dress.

The cool wood of his desk against your bare skin makes you shiver but you’re quickly distracted when Astarion brings your wrist to his mouth. His eyes lock onto yours and he presses a kiss to your skin before his teeth sink in. You had missed that rush of coldness when he first bites that sends electricity shooting through your veins and it’s almost obscene as you watch him. He drinks from you slowly and sensually and his eyes burn into you the whole time.

As he drops your wrist, a fresh streak of ruby red runs down his chin and you lean forward to lick it up, greedily pressing your mouth against his again.

You fumble with the buttons on his trousers, pushing them down so you’re able to free the hard length of his cock and wrap your hand around it. He groans as you pump your hand up and down his length.

“Missed you being inside me,” you whisper. “Missed how good you fuck me.”

“Then what are you waiting for, pet? Take what you want.”

You guide him into you and he lets you adjust for a moment before his hips are snapping against yours at a ruthless pace that betrays his desperation.

You had missed this- this closeness, this feeling of being whole and one and loved.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Astarion promises, and he grabs the back of one of your thighs, lifting your leg up to wrap around his waist. It has him hitting that much deeper inside you with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes practically roll back in your head.

Astarion brings his lips down to ghost against yours before he teasingly pulls away. “Look at us. I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

You moan at his words, losing yourself in the sentiment and the feeling of Astarion moving inside you. Just him and you, like how it was meant to be. He is yours and you are his.

“Say it,” he commands, pulling your attention back to him. It sends a lovely shiver down your spine. You’d do anything he asked if he kept talking to you in that rough, low voice.

“Yours. Only yours,” you breathe into his mouth, chasing after his lips. He gives you a gentle tug on your hair that pulls you back so that your lips are still just a hair’s breadth away from his.

“And I’m yours,” he says, before he finally kisses you.

And Astarion’s hands are everywhere. As if he is determined to memorize your body by touch alone. It makes you smile. Touching. Always touching. You doubt that Astarion will ever let you out of his grasp again. Nor would you want him to.

The way he fucks you somehow feels even better, even more wonderful now as a vampire. All your senses are tingling and hyper-alert and it only serves to make you that much more aware of how Astarion feels pressed against you and how he moves inside you.

It’s carnal, it’s feral, it’s utterly vampiric.

His hand reaches down between your bodies, his magical fingers moving against your clit in a way that sends sparks through your cunt. It has you reaching the precipice far sooner than you had hoped. That aching desire pools low in your stomach, rising into an inferno.

You come and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Every nerve ending in your body is molten fire.

“So tight, so good,” he pants against your mouth. You whine at the way his hips keep driving into you at a pace which feels so good it’s almost painful. “Can you come for me again, little flower?”

Oh, this man was going to the death of you, wasn’t he? You nod frantically, unable to form words. Astarion presses open mouth kisses along your throat before he’s biting down again. The sudden shock of cold has you gasping for air and digging your nails into Astarion’s skin. You feel that coil tightening deep within you again, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. Astarion keeps moving his fingers against your clit.

You come.

Astarion manages a few more frenzied thrusts before he comes, too, spilling inside you.

And thank the gods you’re already dead because that second orgasm might have just stopped your heart entirely.

You’re just coming back to your senses when you Astarion sinks to his knees in front of you, lifting your legs over his shoulders. He’s staring at your cunt like it’s a four-course meal and you eventually have to tug at his beautiful white curls to pull his attention back to you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“You’re dripping all over my expensive desk,” Astarion says. “I’m going to clean you up.”

Your brain is already a bit slow after two overwhelming orgasms and the sight of Astarion on his knees before you, offering to lick away the traces of his come leaking out of you, has you practically feral with lust. Astarion squirms under your gaze the longer you continue to stare down at him, his confident facade dropping.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

You sigh out a breathy ‘yes’ and he’s back to smirking arrogantly at you. Astarion’s arms wrap around you so he can shift your hips to the very edge of his desk.

He devours your cunt. His tongue is everywhere- lapping at your inner folds and dipping deliciously inside you. You lean back on your hands to steady yourself, but that does little to help when Astarion moves to suck on your clit and your whole body trembles with ecstasy.

You aren’t entirely sure how this is helping to ‘clean you up.’ It seems much more likely that Astarion got distracted by all the noises that you are surely making and is trying to drag this out into some sort of religious experience.

“One more, please,” he practically begs, like it’s some big favor to him that you should orgasm another time. His chin is glistening with your wetness and he sounds practically breathless. “You’ve no idea how badly I missed watching you come.”

His words send another spark of heat straight to your cunt and you let out a surprised, strangled whimper. Astarion’s mouth quirks up in a haughty grin, so you simply reach out to tug his head back toward your cunt.

You feel Astarion’s laugh before he begins feasting on you again, sucking and licking and rolling his tongue in some unholy way that has you seeing stars.

For a moment, there is nothing but the white-hot waves of pleasure that roll through you as Astarion coaxes yet another orgasm from your body.

His mouth continues moving against you until you are shaking. He presses gentle kisses to the inside of each of your thighs before gently lowering them from where they sit on his shoulders and the small, caring act brings a goofy grin to your face.

How is it possible to love someone more with every passing moment?

Astarion surges back up to press a final kiss to your lips. It’s slow and deep and you can taste the combined taste of your releases on his tongue. Astarion gently traces down the column of your throat with his thumb, over the spot where he had bitten you just a few moments ago. You can tell your skin is already healed.

“No more marks.” He looks genuinely forlorn. “A pity.”

“I’ll always have this one,” you remind him, holding up your wrist. Astarion brushes his fingers over the twin bite marks on the inside of your wrist from when he had turned you.

You watch him study the marks and you wish you could hear what he was thinking.

“Speaking of which,” Astarion finally breaks the silence. He leans over you to pull open a drawer in his desk, shuffling around in it blindly. He gives a satisfied little smirk when he finds whatever he was looking for.

“You might want this back,” he says. When he opens his hand, your wedding ring is sitting on his palm.

“Give me that.” You feel the smile light up your face as you snatch the ring from him and place it back on your ring finger. “Are you still wearing yours?”

“Never took it off.” Astarion proudly displays his left hand as proof. Sure enough, the gold band glints enchantingly when it catches the candlelight.

“I love you,” you tell Astarion.

The way he’s looking at you can only be described as awe. He catches your hand and brings it to his mouth so he can press a lingering kiss to the spot where the ring now sits comfortably on your finger, once again.

“I love you, too.”

Somehow, you manage to smile even wider.

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

Notes:

So next week, we wrap up the plot (since we still have that pesky Crown of Karsus hanging around) and then the final chapter is the epilogue. I'm actually kind of happy that I decided to move things around a bit because now I get to add in an extra smut scene that I was originally planning as a fade to black since the epilogue was getting too long.

I loved seeing everyone's reactions to last week's chapter! Can't wait to see what you all think as we start wrapping this bad boy up!

As always, huge thanks to my beta-writer AliensNSuch on ao3.

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary @divineknightmare @fandomarchiveilyd

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion ancunin #x reader #til death do us part

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darlingmbappe · 1 year

Text

The Loneliest [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: The transition period after calling off your engagement has broken both you and Kylian. He needs to have you back, but you can’t handle having your heart broken again.

Warnings: pure angst, heartbroken reader, heartbroken Kylian, cussing, lots of crying. I switched perspectives between the reader and Kylian. — English is not my first language —

Kylian had racked up quite a large amount late fees the following month after your breakup. He never used to have issues going to sleep at night or waking up to go to training before this, but he just let himself scroll through his camera roll for hours on end.

He would emerge himself in that reality, smiling, giggling whenever your digital image did something goofy. He remembered which outfits he helped you pick out, fixating his thoughts on the ‘K’ necklace that he gave you shining around your neck in every frame. Then, due to the fault of a notification or a car alarm going off, he would snap back into the reality of his new life.

These are just memories now. He wouldn’t be able to take your picture again, hear your grainy morning voice, make your coffee so perfectly that you’d hum in gratitude.

Achraf knew about the breakup, but Kylian asked him to keep it hush since he didn’t feel like talking about it most of the time. Some nights, though, he finds himself on the phone with his mother without thinking about the fact that it’s past 2 o’clock in the morning. She (of course) picks up every time, being there for her little boy with a broken heart, her own heart breaking with the thought of you not coming around anymore.

Today, he made it to training just on time, barely smiling at the PSG camera crew that follows them around. Usually if somethings bothering him, football is his medicine. He goes out, distracts himself by making goals and perfect tackles, but it wasn’t until you were gone that he realized he needed you there to bring it all together. He hated how codependent he had become, sometimes subconsciously wishing he’d never met you at all. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel like it was being ripped out piece by piece.

“Okay, seriously?” Glatier grunted, blowing the whistle after Kylian had missed yet another easy goal. “Kylian!” He called over. Kylian cussed under his breath and jogged over to the frustrated coach, his teammates just as frustrated with him for his performance recently. “What the hell is going on with you? Where’s your head at?!”

Kylian looked at his feet, hands resting on his hips. “Sorry, coach.”

“No, not ‘sorry’, Kylian. You’ve been somewhere else for weeks. I need you to explain yourself before we start benching you.”

Kylian bit his cheek, still focused on the pitch under his feet, begging his body to suck the lingering tears back in. He looked up at his awaiting coach, nodding. “There’s no excuse, coach. I’m right here, I’ll do better.”

Glatier looks at him apprehensively, expecting to hear how the pass wasn’t placed right or some other bullshit that Kylian used to blame his shortcomings on, but notes that something is definitely off with the star player. “Alright, then.” He says, keeping eye contact, blowing the whistle twice, sending everyone to do a different drill.

Kylian sniffles as he runs back toward his team, Hakimi pats him on the back upon seeing his glossy eyes.

You had been a mess yourself, occupying yourself with your own job. Coworkers started calling you a hard ass once you decided to take charge of the group meetings, having to have control of something ever since your love life vanished. They were also oblivious to the fact of you and Kylians breakup, feeling as if the news was better off left to his PR team.

You’d settled nicely into the hotel life, enjoying complimentary breakfasts and free valet parking, but finally found a move-in ready apartment close to the office. It’d been a nightmare having your entire life packed into your car, taking up every ounce of room you had in there. There were times you convinced yourself that you were fine, but realized it was just a lie every night when you popped a sleeping pill and craved looking into Kylians eyes. You resorted back to his Instagram so often, clicking the same post every time.

The night you left, Kylian posted something for your birthday. At first, you ignored the notification, deleting the app altogether. That lasted about an hour. You redownloaded it once your curiosity took control of your body, having to know what the hell your newly-ex fiancé tagged you in. You assumed at some point he’d take it down, but it’s been thirty four days and it’s still the last thing on his feed.

You laid in the neatly made hotel bed, your fingers doing their own thing, rereading his caption until you heard your heart crack — like it did every time you found yourself here.

@k.mbappe: To the love of my life; you’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. Sometimes I can’t even believe how lucky I got. Getting to know you and getting to love you was the biggest privilege of my whole life. I hope this year gives you everything you need. I will love you always. — Ky.

You think back to the night that photo was taken a lot. It was at Neymar’s New Years Eve party, a few months before he proposed. Kylians hand was permanently attached to your waist. He looked at you every time something funny was said, wanting to laugh with you. He bragged about your accomplishments to everyone there — as if anyone in the room wasn’t more impressive than you, seeing models and athletes around every corner. At some point, you’d lost him and the clock was ticking down, five minutes until midnight. As you turned down a hallway, you heard his voice coming from one of the rooms.

“She’s the one.” Kylian stated, a giggle following right after. You never meant to eavesdrop on him but now you had to — back pressed against the wall as you tipped your ear closer to the open door.

“Man, she’s awesome.” Neymar’s voice responded.

“I know. I can’t ever stop smiling.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s creepy.” They both laugh, you bit your lip to keep yourself from squealing. Neymar continues. “You deserve someone great like her.”

Kylian pauses, you wait for him to say something. “What if I fuck it up?”

You feel your heart tug at his insecurity, but stop yourself from running in there and kissing him until the silly thought leaves his head. “You won’t. I can tell that she loves you a lot. Just, show her how you feel about her every day and you can’t fuck it up.”

The lull in the conversation gives you time to skip into the room. They both look at you and smile, Kylians eyes shining with love as you make your way to sit on his lap by the window.

“There you are.” You kiss his crinkled cheek. “Been looking for you. It’s almost midnight.”

He hums and pulls you closer to him.

“Aww!” Neymar teases in an exaggerated tone, standing from his place and whips out his phone, snapping a candid picture of the two of you. “What a cute couple.”

You quickly closed the app, throwing your phone far away from you on the bed.

“Fuck that.” You cried, stuffing your face in the mattress to collect your tears. You were so angry at him, but you wanted to talk to him. Slap him. Kiss him. Make him regret everything.

Your feelings have never been so crossed in your life. Of course you knew ending your relationship would be hard, but not debilitating. You didn’t expect to have to find new ways to not think about Kylian. How are you going to do this forever? Will this crippling coldness ever leave you alone? The signs all point to Kylian, but you don’t even know if he’ll be up to talking.

Blocking his number was an easy decision. While you were confident that you made the right move at the time, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. You reached back and grabbed your phone, settling down and wiping any remaining tears from your face.

The amount of times you’ve unblocked Kylian probably has broken some sort of record. You’ve been to really low places in the past few weeks, but the fake it ‘till you make it mantra somehow found it’s way into your system, hearing it buzzing in your ears like an annoying fruit fly.

Clicking the unblock button was simple. Trying to find something to say was beyond difficult.

You typed and backspaced and typed and backspaced until you were ripping your hair out. It was either too weird or too forward, but all of it was too scary.

Almost half an hour had passed, still trying to manage some sort of communication with him. Everything felt wrong, maybe today wasn’t the day. Just as you were about to reblock him, your phone buzzed.

Kylian: hello?

Shit. Of course he decided to text you right when you unblock him.

While you were freaking out about this turn of events, Kylian was holding his breath. When he saw the three dots appearing and disappearing on his phone screen over and over again, he felt like he struck gold. He just needed some way back into your life. And although small, this was an opportunity he couldn’t ditch out on.

You stared at the message, trying to take deep breaths. You should be chill. You’d texted Kylian a gazillion times in your life, but considering the circumstances, panic seemed fitting.

“Okay, (Y/N). Pull it together.” You mumbled to yourself, clearing your throat.

(Y/N): hi

You sent the message quick with no time to think twice. You facepalmed, now overthinking those two little letters. You waited impatiently for his reply. He was taking too long for your liking, but the time displayed at the top of your screen hadn’t moved. Not even a minute passed before he said something back.

Kylian: so you decided to unblock me?

Kylian: how are you?

He didn’t give you a chance to really respond to his first question, so it was easy to ignore it. But the second question had much more weight behind it.

How are you? Really?

You were tempted to type back ‘like my soul was sucked out and repeatedly backed over by a semi truck full of loaded diapers’, but that seemed like a bit much.

(Y/N): I’ve definitely been better.

You waited again, wondering if you should ask him how he’s doing, too. You saw the typing bubbles, but they disappeared. Once, twice, three times until he finally messaged back.

Kylian: did you want to talk?

You sighed, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling. Fuck. Why did he have to ask that? Of course you wanted to talk — but this seems like the beginning of a very slippery slope. Going back to him was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to take him back and hug him and kiss his stupidly plump lips until you couldn’t anymore.

At the same time, you’re so vulnerable right now. You knew that taking him back this quickly would definitely cause an issue; whether it just be second guessing yourself or realizing you were wrong, and leaving him twice was something your heart absolutely could not handle.

Kylian: im sorry if that was too forward

You didn’t realize how long you were lost in thought for. You looked down at the message taunting you in your lap, sighing.

You: no, it’s fine.

You: when are you free?

You didn’t know it, but Kylian, Hakimi, and Ramos all jumped up and cheered when you sent that message. They shook his shoulders around in excitement, all too invested in the young couples relationship.

“Vamos!” Screamed Ramos, hugging the group.

“Okay, okay, shut up!” Kylians smile wrinkled his eyes shut for the first time in forever, sitting back down on the training bench.

Ramos happened to walked by when Kylian was crying to Hakimi, which Kylian was super embarrassed about, but Ramos was a genuinely good friend of the two of you, so now he felt personally affected by this breakup.

“Come on, quickly. What do I say?”

“That you are free tonight. Dios mío.” Ramos tusked like it was the most obvious thing in the world… and it was.

Kylian: tonight after training?

Kylian: I can pick you up, we can go get some dinner?

(Y/N): how about I just meet you at the training center?

There was no way you’d allow for this to be a date. If you let him wine and dine you, your heart would melt into a puddle that spelled out his name.

Kylian: perfect, cant wait

Kylian: I’ll see you later

You smiled down at your phone, putting a thumbs up to his last message and shut it off. Allowing your smile to finally spread across you face, you breathed out a giant huff that weighed down your lungs.

The happiness passed quickly, your mind remembering the way he was before. Aloof, distracted, snappy… You we’re still holding onto the old Kylian. The one that took you on spontaneous picnics, the one who would pull over on the side of the highway on his way home and hand-pick you a bouquet because the wildflowers looked pretty, the one that never forgot to kiss you goodnight, even if he was already asleep when you crawled in next to him.

The expectations for tonight were all over the place. Your mind raced with the possibilities of how it would end. Would you lower you walls for him again? Are you even capable of that? He hurt you down to your core, his actions broke you down into an insecure shell of yourself.

The end of the day came, and by now, the word had spread to the rest of the team about the breakup. Glatier patted Kylian on the back in sympathy, giving him a wise coach speach about life and love — one that didn’t really help Kylian. It was actually rather confusing. Nonetheless, he thanked his elder, mentally noting it’s best if he just sticks to coaching football.

Neymar was shaken by the news, having taken a liking to you early on in your relationship with Kylian. When he asked Kylian what was bothering him so much lately, he breathed out a heavy, “nooo!”. Comforting his teammate felt nostalgic for them both because their own relationship went through a sort of breakup at one point.

Kylian felt the end of the day inching closer and closer. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw you. It was important for him that he doesn’t say anything to scare you away. He wants you to see that he’s sorry and that he’s ready to prove it to you. He wants to make you laugh, make you remember that he is capable of making you happy again.

Kylian smelled better right now than he ever did after practice. He scrubbed like a maniac, fixing his hair with precision, shaving and applying after shave. He finished off with some cologne that Verratti suggested, a cool jacket that Kimpembe let him borrow. He drew the line when Sergio came for his eyebrows with tweezers, doing a nervous final check in the full length mirror. Breathing deep, he opens up his messages.

Kylian: im almost done :)

Kylian: let me know when ur here

He watched the screen, waiting for you to respond with anything. The three dots popped up again, halting his breathing when your message appeared.

(Y/N): I’m here. Come meet me by the maintenance entrance.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing out of the locker room with anticipation taking over his veins, his knuckles turning white against the material of his duffle bag. He felt like he was going to throw up from nerves, but the good kind of nerves — the kind he has before an important match.

Where you were meeting him was his little hidden area. The maintenance crew got an upgraded break room with a patio, so no one ever came out this way, leaving the picnic tables open for when he needed a sneaky break. He brought you out here multiple times when you came and visited, always insisting on making out before he would go back inside.

This door always got stuck. He remembers having to shoulder it every time. He prepared himself, stepping back before lunging his body forward. Next thing he knows, he’s landed on the cold cement, letting out a loud “oof” when he went down.

“Oh my god!” He heard your sweet voice from a distance, looking up and seeing you, sideways from his position. The wind was already knocked out of him, but wow, watching you running in his direction took his breath way. “Are you okay?”

He got himself up when you approached him, he brushed himself off cooly. “When the hell did they oil that door?” Kylian points.

You stare at him before you let a small laugh bubble out, immediately getting Kylian to join in. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed by his less than cool entrance, but mentally checks off the make her laugh box in his head.

Damn, he looks good, you thought to yourself. You kept it at bay, but you noticed how he cleaned up extra nice, tugging at your heartstrings. You can’t lie, you also spent way too long on your appearance.

“Hello,” he smiles, raking his eyes adoringly over your frame. He didn’t even notice himself inching closer to you, but you did. It made you hot under the collar just being around him again. You’d been away from him longer than a month before, but this was hard.

You gulp. “Hi.”

He set his duffle bag down on the picnic table. You had his full attention, every word he’s wanted to say to you just on the tip of his tongue. You made your way over to the bench and slowly sat down, him following suit, sitting a little closer than you wanted him to.

You scooted away slightly. “Let’s talk.” You say. He nods, turning his body toward you. “I have to be at work soon so I can’t stay long.”

His leg bounces. “Can I start?”

“Okay.”

His gaze locked on your delicate hands, wanting nothing more then to hold them tightly. He breathed deep, his nerves felt electric in his veins. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I fucked up and realized it too late. I should have noticed, but I didn’t. And I’m so sorry for that. For everything.” His words were slow and gentle, his eyes not knowing where to look as they bounced from your eyes to you hands to your lips, then back to your eyes again. “I’m miserable without you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, (Y/N).”

You sigh. “I miss you too, Kylian. Believe me, this hasn’t been easy for me, either. But, I’m not here to get back together with you. I can’t let myself do that.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You really wished you planned this talk out better because right now, you were letting your emotions run on autopilot. Yet, you kept your logical side steady on the breaks in case your heart decided it needed his comfort more than it needed peace. “Because, Kylian. I just can’t.”

You felt the anger inside of you rising to the surface. You stood up and began pacing. Kylian stood too, but his feet were frozen in place.

“You know, I didn’t even know you still loved me until I was leaving?” You stated, facing his ashamed demeanor. He opened his mouth to respond but you didn’t let him. “You made me feel like shit. For months. You drove this… this weird insecurity in me that was never there before. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you’d just spin it on me. Do you know how shitty that feels?”

His head hung low, guilt overriding his every sense. For whatever reason, he had high expectations for how this was going to go, and it’s already not at all how he thought. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You never deserved that.”

“You’re fucking right, I didnt.” You snapped, brows knit tightly in anger. “Why did you change? What happened? What did I do to you that made you so angry at me?”

Kylian opened and closed his mouth, stuttering. “I…” Seeing the tears gloss your eyes brought his own forward, but he bit them back. “… I don’t know. Nothing, you did nothing wrong.”

You stared at him, sighing. You ran a hand over your cheeks once you felt some stray tears run down your face. Nodding, you sat back down, Kylian cautiously joined you further down the bench. His elbows were on his knees, eyes facing the pavement. Silence used to be comfortable with Kylian. You two could sit together for hours and not say a word, and it would feel so natural. Now, the air was thick with tension, every depressing emotion running full speed inside your loud mind.

“You remember that benefit dinner we went to in November? The one held by that super rich Fortune 500 guy?” You asked softly, breaking the silence. “That week was when I started doubting if we were even good together anymore. You hadn’t payed attention to me, touched me, listened to me in weeks. I thought it was me. That I was somehow fucking up everything we had.” Kylian listened through the sound of his pounding heart, not daring to look up. He could hear in your voice how deeply upset you were, he couldn’t take the look on your face. “I tried talking to you about it that morning. I was going to ask if you wanted to take a break… have some time to ourselves. Instead, you just turned it into a fight about me leaving the dishwasher open, or some shit like that. I ended up apologizing to you.” You chuckled, but it really wasn’t funny.

Kylian remembered, having been stressed about his difficult new physical therapy sessions. He took out his frustrations on you unfairly, but he didn’t realize that he was doing that until it was too late.

You continued. “I dressed up so nice for you that night. I wore that gorgeous blue dress you got for me, heels that absolutely killed my feet, I got my hair and makeup done by real professionals… I thought maybe I could at least get you to want me again. But, all night long, you pretty much ignored me. You only smiled at me when other people were around and you didn’t want to look like a dick. I loved it, though. It felt like the old days, when you would actually smile when I was around.”

His lip quivered, still not being able to lift his head toward you. You wanted to keep going, but knew what you were going to say next was going to hurt him and it was never about getting even. You didn’t want to put him through what he made you feel. Reluctantly, you knew you had to tell him. You had to do it for you.

“That whole night, you kind of ignored me. I had the thought that you wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared… so I did. I was on the balcony for like, an hour. All by myself. Watching you from the outside to see if you started looking for me, and you never did.” You paused to take a breath, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but what do I have to lose, right?” He looked up, eyes red. You looked away. “It wasn’t on purpose, but… that night, Erling Haaland and I had a great time.” You locked eyes with him when he shifted, his whole demeanor changing from apologetic to full protection mode.

“What? What do you mean?” He attempted to keep his voice clear of obvious anger, but you knew him too well.

“No, no. Not like that.” You clarified. “He came out there for a breather and saw me. I don’t think he knew who I was or that we were together—”

“Bullshit.” He mumbled, but you ignored him.

“We just laughed and talked about the last season. Nothing happened, I wouldn’t do that to you.” You weren’t going to mention how he asked for your number at the end of the night because that would send him into a spiral. “Look, I’m not telling you this to be cruel, or anything, but it’s just an example of how alone I felt… that I would spend an entire night talking with Erling Haaland of all people. He payed more attention to me that night than you did for months. It made me remember how much fun we used to have. It made me realize that you might not be that person for me anymore.” Your voice wobbled and Kylian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears back in with a sharp and deep breath.

He couldn’t believe you never told him about this, but reminded himself that he wouldn’t let you. He was too cold, too defensive.

“I promise you, (Y/N) — even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you back.” He swore through his wavering voice, still attempting to hold back his cries. You saw his twitching face, surfacing your own emotions.

You couldnt hold it back anymore, placing your face in your palms, letting the sobs go freely. “You’re a stupid fucking dickhead, Mbappé.” It was vulgar, but it’s just what shot out of your mouth.

Kylian knew he deserved that and more, just nodding at the new nickname, beginning to let himself cry as well. “I’m gonna change. If you let me show you, I’ll never stop proving to you how much I love you.” He grabbed your hand, tightly grasping it and kissing your knuckles.

“I think…” you sniffle, watching Kylian as he squeezed your hand in his, resting it on his face. “I think I need more time, Kylian.”

Immediately he nods, scooting closer to you. “We have time, baby. I’ll wait for you to be ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You and Kylian continue to cry, together. This kind of vulnerability is what you’ve been craving from him, this is the kind you had before.

“Kylian, I can’t handle having my heart broken again.” You choke. He holds you close now, forehead resting on the side of your head.

“I won’t ever be that person again.” He promised, sniffling. “I’ve never hurt this badly before. I’m not putting either of us through this torture again.”

You nod, wiping your tears and trying to calm down a little before standing up, leaving Kylian sitting alone on the bench.

“If I’m even going to entertain the idea of getting back together… we’re starting over completely. Right from the start.” You point, feeling yourself stop crying and using your sleeve to get rid of any proof that you were an absolute trainwreck.

He nods, standing up. “Okay. I can do that.” It looks like a burst of good energy just shot it’s way into his body, but the nervous demeanor stood above it, cautiously watching your every move.

“This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I need to know it’s the right decision. It’s too hard.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything.” You can tell Kylian is holding back from hugging you by the way his feet tap toward you, his body swaying in your direction.

You look him over, breathing in the crisp air. “Okay.” You check your watch, noticing you’ll be late if you don’t leave in the next five minutes. “I have to go now.” You say, nodding an awkward goodbye to Kylian; hugging felt like it would be weird… a handshake even weirder.

“Wait.” He stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and quickly pulling it back. “Am I allowed to ask you on a date now?”

You chuckle, a real one this time. “Um. Let’s wait a couple of weeks. I need some more time to process all of this. Besides, I’m moving on Friday so I’ll be pretty busy unpacking, so…”

He’s taken aback, quirking an eyebrow and trying to not looked too freaked out. “Wait… moving? Where?”

“Some place I found. It’s fine… close to the office.” You honestly didn’t love it, but it was cute. It had character. “The hotel life was getting too expensive.”

“Let me pay for that–”

“No. Non-couples don’t do that.” You say, checking the time again, walking backwards toward you car. “Look, I really have to go. Wait for me to text you, alright?”

He nods, watching your figure disappear in the dark parking lot. “I will.”

He didn’t take his eyes off your car until it was out of his sight, turning back the way he came in.

The time has come for him to cheer, celebrate, tell all of his friends… but he won’t. He might’ve managed his way back into your life, but he’s nowhere near out of the woods yet. Everyone knows how embarrassing early celebrations are, especially when they they miss the goal in the end. He’s not making that mistake. He’s just grateful for the new opportunity to prove to you that it’ll be worth it… that he’s worth it. You’ll be treated better than ever… as soon as you’re comfortable with him again.

So, no celebration for Kylian Mbappé… not counting the giddy grin and small fist pump he did when he was alone in his car.

He couldn’t stop himself. He really couldn’t.

865 notes · View notes

majosullivan · 8 months

Text

Since it has been on my mind lately and I’m in the mood to ramble, I present to you: why I believe Lenore’s spectre is going to be a Phoenix/Phoenix themed.

Before I go more deeply into this, I want to cover the most agreed upon detail of Lenore’s possible spectre: Lenore having wings. This really seems like a slam dunk at this point. Lenore so far has had a clear association with birds, specifically ravens; with one of the Poe works she is based on being The Raven, her talking to and seeking out the Raven in Nevermore, the cane we see her using in her and Annabel’s memories having a Raven skull as the handle and her family crest having a pair of black wings a part of its design.

Additionally, there’s also the detail of Nevermore’s logo. Nevermore’s logo is comprised of a beating heart and a pair of black wings. Since Annabel’s spectre has a heart shaped hole in her chest, Lenore’s spectre having wings would make up the rest of the logo, with the logo symbolising our pair of deuteragonists.

Furthermore, there is also the scene with Lenore and The Raven, with him mockingly asking Lenore if she has a pair of wings under her blazer after she tries to stop him from leaving in episode 35.

Honestly, this panel might as well have a massive sign titled ‘FORESHADOWING’ in blinking lights attached to it when we take into account everything that we’ve pointed out. So, while it seems very likely that Lenore will have wings, why do I think she will be a phoenix specifically? With her connections to ravens, surely it make more sense for her to be a raven? Well, this is because of one word: rebirth.

Just to have a quick explanation for the basis, a phoenix is an immortal bird that cyclically regenerates or is otherwise born again. Being associated with the sun, a phoenix obtains new life by rising from the ashes of its predecessor. Some legends say it dies in a show of flames and combustion, others that it simply dies and decomposes before being born again. Throughout the comic, there has been a lot of links to Lenore and the ideas of rebirth. Specifically, there are three examples where Lenore has gone through a death of some form, before being reborn/brought back to life in some form.

The first time we see this after the accident with the tree. With the death of Theo, who was seemingly the only person in Lenore’s life at the time who genuinely cared about her, and being locked away in the attic for years after being deemed as never being able to recover from her injuries, along with her parents no longer seeing her as any respectable use since they wouldn’t be able to marry her off, we see Lenore go through her first ‘death’. Forced to live a lifeless existence hidden away in shame, with her ripping away the wallpaper being the only real change that occurred during her time in the attic. All of this leads into first time Lenore is reborn/brought back to life when she first meets Annabel, which allowed her to be freed from the attic and form a genuine connection with someone in years. Lenore even says so herself, describing Annabel as the one who brought her back to life long before she died.

The second time, and the one that arguably has the most obvious link to the ideas of Phoenixs, is when Lenore faked her death to go after Annabel. Here we see her in the process of disguising herself as a man, before finishing her packing and setting the house on fire so everyone will assume she died in the fire and she can assume her new identity without suspicion. Here, I don’t think I have to go too in-depth to point how through her actions, Lenore arose from the ashes of the house fire as Leo Vandernacht, leaving her life as the disgraced daughter of the Vandernachts to burn away in the house fire, just like a Phoenix arising from the ashes of its predecessor (side note quickly but Lenore I swear to fucking god you better actually have a cousin named Leo or I’m coming through the screen to shake you like a maraca). The parallels here are pretty clean cut.

Finally, we have her actual death and her appearing at Nevermore. While we don’t know the full details behind Lenore’s and Annabel’s deaths, whatever they are only have the possibility to strengthen the links to rebirth that have been clearly shown from the start. The whole conflict in Nevermore is the competition for a new life. With Lenore’s death and her arrival to Nevermore placing her in a competition for a second chance at life, she has once again been placed into a position similar to the cycle of a Phoenix, with this time following closer to legends where a Phoenix simply dies and decomposes before being born again. Additionally, Annabel’s complete faith in Lenore can also fed into this. We see in episode 41, how no matter what awaits them, no matter challenges they have to overcome, Annabel has absolute faith that Lenore will find a way to get them out of Nevermore. Not herself or any complex plan she has, Lenore is the one who will ultimately be the key to their escape. Lenore is the key to their second chance at life, to their rebirth.

Speaking of Annabel, the way she describes Lenore in episode 66 can add onto this line of reasoning. During the episode, we see Annabel describe Lenore as ‘ash the moment we met’, before going on to talk about how all madwoman die at least twice. First off, describing Lenore as ash already brings her back to the idea of being a Phoenix, with Pheonix rising from the dead through the ashes of predecessor. Secondly, the idea of all madwomen dying at least twice in relation to Lenore is yet another link to the concept of a Phoenix, with them going through multiple deaths in their cycle of rebirth.

To focus on some of the smaller details, the colours associated with Lenore can also strengthen the idea of Lenore’s spectre being Phoenix themed as well. As we all know well at this point, in very Romeo and Juliet fashion, Annabel and Lenore have clear colours associated to them, with Annabel often dressing in blue, in addition to other cold colours, while Lenore often dresses in reds, in addition to other warm colours. Considering this and Lenore’s already clear association to fire, like Lenore’s spectre having wings, it seems likely that Lenore’s spectre will also have fire powers. Now, what is something that has wings and it linked to fires? That’s right, a Phoenix. This small point can be strengthen by what we know about Annabel’s spectre. Annabel’s spectre is freezing to the touch, which matches up with the colours associated to her. Since White Raven’s spectres are definitely going to parallel each other, this detail increases the possibility of Lenore’s spectre having fire based abilities, and as a result, increases the possibility of Lenore being a Phoenix.

While there are still loads of other ideas about what Lenore’s spectre will be going around, to me at least, Lenore’s spectre being at least Phoenix themed is definitely the strongest theory I’ve seen so far. If anyone else has any other ideas about what Lenore’s spectre will be, or if you have any other evidence supporting the idea that Lenore will be Phoenix themed, I would love to hear it!

#nevermore #webtoon nevermore #nevermore webtoon #lenore vandernacht #lenore nevermore #annabel lee whitlock #annabel lee nevermore #nevermore theories

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pxrxcxa · 2 years

Text

Why are you so mean?

✷ One shot

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+.

Post summary | After getting a little taste of why Eddie Munson has such a bad reputation, y/n can't help herself (and hates herself for it) when she goes back for more.

What to expect | Eddie being a dominant, selfish ass. 18 + so minors DNI.

Post Warnings | Pure Smut 18 +, Slapping, spanking, orgasm denial, F masturbation, choking, p in v, consensual forcing, forced A (Kinda) & degradation.

Word count | 4 K Word Count.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Take care, P. x 🌻

Authors Note | Those that were waiting, thank you & I hope you enjoyed this, I've had a hectic week so thank you for your patience 🌻 - I maybe or maybe not have set this up for a part 3 👀

Eddie smirked as his front door swung back with a loud smack, the thick cloud of heavy smoke swirled in my face as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, throwing it past me onto the dry grass outside his trailer.

“Y/n.” he sneered, leaning against the door frame. He was more relaxed here compared to the last time we met, in the comfort of his house, but he was still extremely guarded, his dark eyes watching my every move as I stood outside his front door in the dark, fiddling with my short skirt.

I had corned Dustin at his locker at school and forced him to give me Eddie’s address under the pretence of buying from him, but since I could barely stutter out the word ‘weed’, the kid had pressed his lips together and given me an embarrassed look. I’d blushed and ripped the paper from his hand that had a name and number quickly scrawled on it, and fled from the hall, shoving the note deep into my pockets while I prepared my plan of attack.

I’d fought with myself the entire drive over to the trailer park, telling myself that I was being an idiot for going back to him, questioning why I would even want to after the last time. But every night since it had happened, the feeling of Eddie’s hand wrapped around my throat and my hair while he had his way with me in the back of his van, forcing me to bend to his will in every way he wanted, had plagued me. Trickling into my mind at the worst times, during family dinners and tests in class. I had to cross my legs every time I seen Eddie at school because of the damn memories that came flooding back.

It had gone far enough.

I needed to do something about the growing need that was taking over my life.

I’d promised myself that it would be the last time, just to get it all out of my system and then I’d be done with Eddie Munson.

“Can’t stay away can you?” A slow smile that didn’t reach his eyes, spread across his face as he ran his gaze up and down my body. I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously as I trembled under his stare.

“Why are you such a dick?” I snapped, hating his smug expression as he blocked the doorway, his tight shirt straining against his arms as he mimicked my stance.

“Because I have a huge one.” He retorted, laughing as my face dropped in surprise, my cheeks burned at his words.

“What? That’s what you’re here for isn’t it?” He bit when I didn’t respond, watching me as I swayed from side to side uncertainly.

“Drugs actually.” I countered, taking pleasure that I managed to catch him off guard. I shivered as the icy night air swirled around my thighs and up my skirt, riffling it up dangerously. I gulped as Eddie’s eyes watched the movement.

“You’re telling me that Hawkins Highs ‘Good Girl’ is here to buy drugs?” He scoffed, raising his brows disbelievingly. I didn’t trust me voice to respond so I just nodded ferociously.

“Now are you going to be a gentleman and invite me in Munson?” I peeked over his shoulder at the messy living room behind him, taking note of the cassette tapes spread out across the couch.

“I thought you’d learned by now that I’m no gentleman y/n.” But he stood back from the door anyway, sweeping his hand in front of him as I stepped through. I hesitated in the middle of the room as he slammed it close behind me, brushing past me roughly down the hall. His wild hair blew out behind him as he took long strides away from me, calling out over his shoulder as I stayed rooted to the spot.

“Are you coming or what?” He shouldered his way through the room at the end of the hall, exposing colourful posters plastered on the wall behind him. I followed with slow steps as my heart hammered loudly in my chest and my slick palms slid across the hem of my skirt.

I distracted myself by looking around at the physical pieces of himself as I headed in after him, carefully avoiding the piles of clothes on the floor as he rifled through the top draw of his dresser. “Have you ever thought of being, I don’t know, nice… or gentle?” I asked softly, watching the outlines of his back muscles as he bent over.

“If you wanted nice or gentle… you wouldn’t have come to me. So stop fucking lying to yourself. Here.” He stood up straight and turned to me, tossing a small bag into my surprised hands. I tried to keep my face neutral as I turned over the little green buds in the plastic baggie, trying to act like I’d done this plenty of times before.

“You do know how to roll right?” He smirked as panic shot across my features.

‘Mhmm.” I lied.

Eddie sighed and crossed his room in seconds, ripping the bag from my grasp and wrapping his other hand around my arm tightly as he tugged me towards his desk. I stumbled as I tripped over discarded nudie mags and even more cassette tapes strewn across the floor. Eddie threw me into the side of the desk, the sharp corner of it stabbed into my hip and my arm throbbed as he let go of me.

He folded himself into the open chair, leaning back and raising his hips in the air slightly as he adjusted himself, swiping his arm across the tabletop to clear it as he placed the bag of weed in front of him.

“Sit.” His voice was stern as he nodded towards his lap, scowling as I hesitated with an outraged look on my face.

“Who the hell -.” I was cut off as his hand shout out to wrap around my wrist, yanking me down roughly so that I practically fell on top of him.

“I said sit.” I gasped quietly as I placed both my hands on his knees to rebalance myself, leaning forward on my toes so that I wasn’t pressed so tightly against his lap. My skirt was loose around my waist, so that it was just my underwear separating me from the roughness of his jeans. He wasn’t erect, but I could still feel him pressing up into my clothed slit, his belt buckle pushing into my ass.

“I don’t like repeating myself y/n. Don’t make me say it again.” His warm breath tickled my ear and sent a shiver down my spine as he leant closer to me, his arms snaked around my waist as he reached out to grab the bag of drugs. Nerves flooded through me as the contoured lines of his body pushed into me from every angle, hiking up my breathing as the room became hotter.

“Just like this” His arm rubbed up and down against the side of my chest as he cut up some of the weed. I stopped breathing as I watched the veins in his hands flex back and forth as his deft fingers sprinkled the bud into a rolling paper. He leaned forward to rest his chin on my shoulder as he rolled the joint up. Blood rushed into my cheeks as I turned my head to the side slightly, seeing that he was already watching me.

“Are you paying attention?” I nodded meekly as my eyes flashed up from his parted lips to meet his briefly. He paused for a second as we stared at each other, electricity zapping in the space between us.

I cried out in pain as his free hand grabbed a fistful of my loose hair and wrenched me forward, turning my head back to the joint in his hand that he held close to my face.

“I said pay attention.” I whimpered as his grip tightened, and clenched the fabric of his jeans from where my hands where resting on his thighs beside me as my pain subsided into pleasure, letting him guide me forward slowly.

“Now, you need to lick it.” I listened without complaint this time, opening my mouth to let my tongue drag across the paper as he pushed my head forward. I looked up into the dirty mirror hanging on the wall in front of us, meeting his dark and heavy gaze in the reflection as my ass pushed into his hard boner.

Our harsh breathing was the only sound in the room for a weighted second before Eddie dropped the joint on the desk and pinned my jaw between his hand, pulling my face against his as I sat half turned in his lap. His plump lips assaulted mine as I melted into him, reaching up to twist my fingers in his curls. As I moaned his name against his mouth he bit my bottom lip hard enough that the metallic taste of my own blood swirled around my tongue.

I ripped myself from him in shock as he reached down to pull my leg over his waist so that I was straddling him. He smirked as he reached up to smear the blood across my lips, his rough fingers pushing against them painfully as I stared at his flushed face angrily, his dark eyes gleamed with excitement.

Without thinking, I pulled my hand back to slap him clean across his cheek, the sharp sound echoed off the walls as his face snapped to the side. I dropped my hand instantly as I realised what I’d done, my blood running cold. Eddie cupped the side of his face, staring back at me in shock as he licked his lips.

“Bitch.”

“Eddie I-“ A resounding crack deafened me as the hand he was holding his red jaw check with, flashed across to backhand me. Blind spots danced across my vision as I cowered over, tears springing to my eyes as my ears rang and my raw skin stung. His strong hands circled around my upper arms to pull me up straight, pulling me forward against his chest as his dick twitched underneath me.

“Don’t ever put your hands on me like that again y/n. Or I’ll make you regret it. If you can’t handle me, then get the fuck out now.” Cold air bit at my arms as he dropped his grip, leaning back in the chair as he waited for me to leave. Something close to regret shot through my frame as he turned his head away from me, clenching his jaw as his eyes darkened.

I threw myself forwards against him, hopelessly pawing for attention as I kissed the underside of his jaw, pressing my lips against the red welt my hand had left as I traced my fingers over his shoulders and up into his hair. He sat as still as a stone-cold statue, as the noises of my mouth against his warm skin echoed into the air.

I groaned as I nibbled at his ear lobe, moaning as I despairingly tried to erect some kind of response from him.

“Please.” I whined. With an animal like growl, Eddie groaned and gave in, turning his head to meet mine. His hands moved to my waist to grip my hips painfully, guiding me back and forth over his hard cock as I moaned against his lips that devoured me. The feeling of him was otherworldly, nothing like I had ever experienced. I had never physically needed something more.

I’d beg for him if I had to.

Like he was able to ready my mind, he snarled against my mouth. “I’m gonna have you begging all night y/n.”

“Do you-“ His words sent a thrilling shock through me, Eddie rolled my hips down onto his lap, making me gasp.

“Have any-“ I cried out as his lips moved to my neck, biting down painfully on my soft skin.

“Condoms this time?” I choked out in between the gasps of air as I broke apart from him to catch my breath.

His stilled under me as he pulled back to look at me, his dark eyes were burning with raw excitement as he laughed at me. I squirmed uncomfortably as I tried to stand up from him, hurt pulsing through me at the disgusted look on his face

“I knew you were a fucking whore.” He grinned, his arms snaking around my waist in an iron grip as I tried to leave.

“Don’t try to deny it y/n. I can feel you; you’re soaking my jeans from how wet you already are.” I hesitated as my words failed me, Eddie glared at me knowingly as he waited for me to argue it.

I was never a good liar in the best of times, and the way his hard body felt under me right now, his large strong hands gripping me to him as my pussy throbbed painfully each time he grinded his hard cock up into me through our clothes.

Fucking Jesus.

“I hate you Eddie Munson.”

“Join the club sweetheart.”

I gasped as he wrenched us up both from the chair, gripping onto his shirt as he stormed over to his bed. With rough hands he reached up to free my hands from around his neck, the air rushed from my lungs as I fell onto the covers painfully. Eddie smirked at me as he palmed his boner through his jeans.

“Look at you.” He scoffed as I raised myself up on my elbows to watch him rip his shirt over his head. The sight was even more glorious than last time, his Hellfire shirts did him no justice, he always looked skinny, but there was strong, intimidating and unyielding muscle under his soft skin.

“You’re pathetic.” He spat, running his eyes over my shivering frame as I sprawled across his bed, crossing my arms over my chest as the position left me feeling too open and vulnerable. His eyes were sharp and unblinking as he made slow, purposeful movements towards me, watching me with a sick sense of pleasure – like a predator corning its prey – as I scrambled away from him to the top of the bed. In a flash he trapped me beneath him, pushing all of his weight into me as the hot tips of his fingers skirted just above my skirt, he grabbed the hem of my shirt and tore it over my head, tossing it into a corner of his room as I gulped.

Without even looking at my exposed breasts, he jerked my hands above my head, Eddie looked at something above me as he leant up over me so that I had to stare up at him. I gasped as the cool metal circled around my wrists, the light clinking of the hand cuffs sounding in my ear as he trapped me against his bedhead.

“Now… you’re gonna take everything I do to you without whining, alright? You had your chance to walk away.” His eyes flashed and sent a stab of fear through me.

“Your body is mine.” He ran his gaze down my trembling frame as he spoke.

“And I’m going to use you how I want.” Silence rang loud as his admission hung in the air between us for a charged moment.

He ducked his head to bite my breasts, leaving red angry marks behind in his wake as I cried out and he made his way to my sensitive nipples, his warm wet tongue made circles around them as I moaned and wiggled under him, pulling against my restraints hopelessly.

An embarrassingly loud whimper of pleasure slipped past my lips as he grinded his harden cock against my pussy, making Eddie pull back to look at me with a smirk on his face.

I dropped my eyes as his dark stare sent a wave of heat through me.

“Awww.” He taunted, gripping my chin in his hand as he wrenched my face back to look at him.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” My eyes filled with tears as my lips trembled, Eddie’s gaze fell slowly from mine to watch my mouth. War waged within me as I thought about leaving, I didn’t know what it was about him that held me here, but there were a thousand alarm bells ringing in my head that warned me away from him.

“I don’t want to do this.” I snapped, pulling hands against the cuffs as they banged menacingly against each other, my tits bouncing with the movement, but the wet patch in my panties and the throbbing between my legs betrayed me.

He cocked his head to the side as he slowly removed his hand from my face and ran it down my body, slipping it up under my skirt and rubbing rough circles against my swollen clit.

“Yes you do.” He grinned, the wetness seeping out of my pussy coating his fingers.

“St- stop.” I gasped, arching up into his fingers as he buried them inside of me.

“You want me to stop?” He hovered over me as he rubbed between my legs with his thumb, pumping away as wet sounds filled the room in between his grunting and my loud moans. He tilted my head back, gripping my chin so I had no choice but to look at him.

I opened my mouth to speak but as he thrusted his arm further into me, I screamed out in pleasure.

“That’s what I thought. Spit in my hand.” He pulled himself from me to shove his hands down my throat as I stared daggers at him, using his free hand to quickly undo his belt as I choked on his fingers, the tangy taste of me swirling around my tongue as I gagged. Eddie’s hulking form towered over me and blocked out the little moonlight seeping through his bedroom window, I gasped as he pushed my legs apart and rubbed my saliva from his hand on my pussy. He tapped my ass and guided me upwards to allow room between our bodies, his free hand snaked down under my skirt to grab his cock, I watched him as he pointed it in the direction of my entrance.

He roughly ploughed forward into me, the long, thick length of him filling me up painfully as he grunted and pressed his forehead into mine, biting my lips as they fell apart in shock. A low murmur of a cry slipped out of me as he wrapped his arms around, moving our bodies together roughly.

“Fuck… you’re tighter than I’ve heard.” I stared at him with angry eyes through wild pieces of hair as my shoulders throbbed, my hands pulling at the restraints that held them there.

“Shut up Munson.” I snapped, chagrin flowing through me as my chest bounced outrageously beneath him.

“How do you think I knew you were a whore? I’ve heard the stories about you y/n. Not such a ‘Good Girl’ are you?” He groaned and swore as he grinded forward into me as far as he could go. “But I know none of those idiotic jocks are as big as me.” He grinned cockily, grunting into my neck as I wrapped me legs around him and dragged my nails across the skin of his back.

“You’re taking me so good y/n.” I blushed up at him in the dark through my lashes, watching his jaw clench as I caught my bottom lip between my teeth.

The handcuffs cut rang out as my hands slammed back and forth into the bed with each thrust Eddie fucked into me, his hands wrapped themselves in my hair as he buried me beneath him, the scent of him was everywhere as he pounded me into his mattress. Sweat, hair and lip-gloss got lost between us as I pressed my lips to his skin, biting down as he left bruises on my soft skin as he gripped me tightly.

“Wait, you put a condom on right?” I gasped as he pulled back to pinch at my breasts.

“You think I’d fuck you raw?” He scoffed, sitting up. My eyes flew down to his red, throbbing cock that glistened in my wetness, a drop of it dripping from the top of the plastic that covered him.

In a split second he flipped me over so that I was face down into his mattress, reaching over me to unlock the cuffs, I gasped as his intention hit me. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his hands around my hips and wrenched my pelvis backwards against his waist, his hard cock pressing against my drenched pussy, slipping in easily with a wet noise, his pace increased dangerously until he slipped out and thrusted back into the wrong place.

“Ow Eddie OW.” I shot forward into the pillows as I withered in pain, but he shot forward to lean over me, pressing back in against me.

“That felt fucking good, c’mere.” I struggled to turn on my back away from him as he tried to slide back into me, my ass throbbing in sharps pains.

“Eddie I’m being serious, stop it.” I held my breath as I half waited for him to ignore me, but he just groaned like he was a child I was denying his favourite toy, his hands snaking back to my waist as he thrusted deep back into my pussy, the tears brimmed in my eyes stained his pillows.

The friction between our bodies was starting to hurtle me towards the familiar desired edge of ecstasy, Eddie must have recognised the sounds tumbling from my lips because his hands tightened on my hips as his paced turned into a frenzy.

“Eddie I’m gonna c-“

“Wait.” He commanded, slamming into me as I cried into his pillow, my shoulder pressed into the mattress painfully as I reached between my legs to rub my clit intensely. He smacked my hand away as I faltered on the edge of exploding, burrowing my head down as I groaned in frustration.

His last few thrusts finally hurtled me over the edge as I convulsed and clenched around his cock still throbbing inside of me, his pants of pleasure and exhaustion sounded far away as my orgasm crippled me and roared in my ears.

He laughed at my expression, pulling himself from me and falling against the pillow next to me, turning away to grab a cigarette from the pack on his bed side. I slumped into his sheets, face down, as the wave of ecstasy slowly faded and the familiar, sickening feeling of being used settled in the pits of my stomach.

I turned my head to face him as he lit up his cigarette. “Why are you so mean?”

He blew a cloud of smoke above us. “I treat people how they treat me.”

I paused while I considered his words. “I don’t treat you like that.”

He swung his head around to meet my gaze, his dark eyes searching for something in mine. “Yeah well, you’re full of surprises y/n. I didn’t think you were like this.”

“Yeah well, I wish I could say the same thing about you Eddie.” I retorted, my mixed feelings towards his abrasiveness fighting each other, now that I was swimming in the bliss of an orgasm aftermath, my logical was painfully clear and the reasonable side of the argument was winning now.

There was a hollowed pause as the only sound was our beathing starting to even.

“….I wasn’t always like this.” He admitted, the hardened cocky tone slipping from his voice.

“You weren’t?”

“No y/n, I wasn’t…” He trailed off before the words tumbled from his lips, rushing out like he was worried he wouldn’t get another chance to say them.

“But when our hometown decides I’m some satanic, devil worshipping, trailer trash, no goodteenager. Well… figured I may as well live up to my reputation.” My mouth fell open as I saw the world from Eddie’s eyes.

He coughed and sat up, shaking his thick head of curls “Now did you want the drugs, or did you get what you came for?”

As his dark, sparkling eyes stared me down unblinkingly, nerves and panic twisted through me as I battled over the truth that I had been lying to myself about for the past week.

I’d already developed an addiction.

And nothing was going to save me from it.

“I got what I came for…” I mumbled, shuffling to the edge of the bed in the dimness, sliding an oversized random shirt over my head as I hurried to escape, preparing myself to never darken Eddie’s doorstep again.

His warm hand shot out to trap my wrist in a firm grip, his husky voice reverberated around the room as I turned to meet his eyes glinting in the darkness.

“You don’t have to go.”

Part Three

Also Readers - if anyone is looking for a slow burn Eddie x y/n, check out my Opposite Ends series.

➢ Tag List } @chickennug90 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn @harrys-tittie @fckyeahlames @mayafatimakhan @mavex @edwardmunsonsslut @eddieishot86 @lacrymosa-24

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techs-goggles9902 · 20 days

Note

Can you do at Tech lives fan-fic (like if Tech is CX-2)??

CX-2 is all that remains

Warnings: prosthetic stuff, mentions of blood and stuff, contact lenses 💀 scars and stuff, bacta usage, memory issues (ik nothing super bad but what if you had a fear of contacts??) TBB SPOILERS

Word count: 1457 (WHOA I WENT OVERBOARD)

A/N: IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG ANON. I genuinely love the bad batch but I HATE WRITING THEM SOMETIMES 😭 I feel like I’m butchering their characters. But I gotchuuuuu!!! Lmk if I should continue this.

Requests are open! See Masterlist for details!!!!

IMPORTANT NOTE: some of this was supposed to be italicized but my copy and pasting removes it, so some of this stuff are their thoughts. Just an FYI

“You recognized it, too,” Hunter whispers to Crosshair as the group hurries up the rocks.

”I did. You said he died on Eriadu,” the sniper replies in a low mumble.

“He did… Wrecker watched him fall.”

”Well, obviously he survived. Next move?”

”Follow through with the plan, Cross. I’ll have Echo double back and take us down there.”

”But… it’s him?”

Hunter pauses. When he speaks, his voice cracks, “Tech’s alive. And with the Empire.”

Tech - no, CX-2! He had to get used to that - needs to get out of the water, and fast. The current pulls at him as he grips a narrow rock beneath the surface.

His helmet can only keep him alive for so long, he needs air sooner rather than later.

This isn’t ideal. The cybernetics will never last if their circuits are drenched.

His slender fingers lose their grip on the rock. One, two, three. The Shadow loses his grip entirely, his gloves ripped apart at the seams as the sharp ridges cut into the calloused flesh of his fingers.

The current throws him back into another rock, his backpack absorbing most of the impact.

There, he thinks as the water starts to seep into his body suit, I just need to make it to that ledge and my odds of survival increase significantly.

He feels his cybernetics digging into the tender flesh of his legs. The part where the river meets land was so close, yet so far. Reaching out a bloody hand, his shredded fingers are met with rough sediment.

Finally…

”Echo, Rex, please. It’s him! I feel it,” Hunter says, trying to keep Echo from making the jump into hyperspace.

“Hunter, what if it’s n-”

”Rex, your buddy isn’t coming after us. He let us go. There’s no risk in going down there,” Crosshair cuts in. Echo and Rex glance at each other.

Rex, Echo’s expression says, what if…

Echo, Rex’s body language reads, you said it yourself. He’s gone.

You didn’t give up on me.

Rex’s gaze softens. “Fine. You have ten minutes.”

Hunter lets out a breath, clasping Rex’s shoulder. He says, “I owe you.”

”You owe me a lot, Sarge.”

Echo lands the ship just off the riverbank but is still hidden in the trees in case Wolffe changes his mind. The ramp opens with a soft hiss and plants itself on the rocks with a gentle thud. The river laps against the rocks like white noise, the water running down the cliff adds to the effect.

And there, lying on the rocks, still half in the water, lies the Shadow. Barely conscious and panting, his bloodied fingers groping the sediment.

“Maker… Gregor, get the med kit!” Echo yells back into the ship as Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker trip over themselves to get down to the riverbank.

“Shit… Hunter, is he…” Wrecker asks in a low tone, kneeling down beside the semiconscious clone.

“His heart’s beating,” the sergeant replies.

“Damn… Wrecker, can you get him on the ship? Gently?” Echo asks, leaning down to check the assassin’s pulse.

“I got him.” Wrecker slowly turns the clone onto his back and snakes an arm beneath his knees and back. “I gotcha, I gotcha…”

CX-2 feels himself being lifted up off the ground, his helmet removed, his head resting on someone’s shoulder plate. He hears voices calling out to him, hands lowering him down onto something somewhat comfortable. A bunk?

His armor taken off his wet bodysuit, said bodysuit is either peeled or cut away from his body.

“Cybernetics aren’t the best quality… just a pawn in Hemlock’s game,” a gruff voice says.

“Oh, Tech…” a softer voice says.

“I told you that you should’ve taken medic training,” a different voice comments. A scoff follows.

“Stow it, Cross.” Cross… that seems so familiar to CX-2. All the voices do, even the soft, feminine one. A warm liquid oozes out of where prosthetics meet flesh. Blood.

“Shit, Gregor, hand me the gauze,” He knows this voice…

“Echo, keep pressure. I’m getting him bacta,” Echo… warm hands trail down his body, checking for further injuries.

“Crap… these prosthetics are absolute trash, I should know. Not even connected properly… Tech, if you were awake to see this mess…” the voice, Echo, scoffs. CX-2 hears a smile in his voice.

“Are…are they as good as yours?” CX-2 hears his own voice ask that. He doesn’t know why he said that. In fact, his mouth moved on its own accord. All sounds around him cease and everything’s quiet except the soft hum of the ship.

“I… no, sorry, bud…mine are cooler,” Echo responds. CX-2 feels a subtle smile tugging at his own lips. Why? These are the enemy. Someone tends to his mangled hands, cleaning them and wrapping them tenderly.

“Tech…” CX-2 hears that name being called over and over again. Whispered in his ear. Murmured into his forehead as soft lips make contact with the scarred skin. Breathed into his hands as someone holds them gently.

His eyes open, just for a moment, meeting the gaze of five pairs of brown eyes. “Tech is gone,” he says. “CX-2 is all that remains…” He’s out like a light a second later.

Hunter’s heart felt like it was stabbed, trampled, cut out of his chest, and thrown out onto a rock to die. Tech is gone… the words echo through his mind all the way back to Pabu. This wasn’t the reunion he had in mind when he realized the Shadow was actually his little brother.

Crosshair doesn’t know how to feel. He abandoned his squad, his family, for the Empire. Is this karma, he thought.

Nonsense, Tech’s voice whispers in his head, this has nothing to do with you. The rational explanation is that the Empire succeeded in turning me into an assassin where they failed to turn you. Do not blame yourself, Crosshair. There was nothing you could do to stop this.

But I could’ve known, Crosshair’s voice whispers back to Tech’s, we would’ve been at Tantiss together.

And how could you possibly have known that, Cross?

Wrecker just tries to keep Omega away from their unconscious brother. “He needs his rest, Meg.”

“I won’t leave until he wakes up,” the blonde replies, crossing her arms. “I’m not bothering him, anyway.”

Wrecker sighs, placing a hand on her scrawny shoulder. He mutters, “Tech’s always been the one to take care of us… it’s weird that we’re taking care of him.”

“I know… what did he mean by ‘Tech’s gone’?”

“I… I don’t know. Cross said the Empire erases their previous lives while they turn them into… this. He’ll pull through and we’ll be losing to him in dejarik in no time.”

Echo was confused. Tech had just asked him about his cybernetics, meaning he did in fact remember them, at least somewhat. He stares out the viewport in the cockpit, his fingers picking at his scomp link. Tech always hated when he did that.

The next time CX-2 resurfaces, he’s staring up at a - wooden? - ceiling, definitely not a ship’s. A house? Hut? Cabin? He groans, lifting a hand up to pinch the scarred bridge of his nose. His face was littered with thick, ragged scars. Ever since Eriadu.

He looks at his hand in surprise as he sees its bandage has been changed recently. Where is he? CX-2 sits up slowly, orienting himself as he goes. The room is warm, small but not small enough that you feel claustrophobic. A window is above the bed he’s currently lying on, soft light filtering through the translucent curtains. He strains his neck to peer out of it.

Pabu…

He gets off the bed, looking down at his prosthetics, which start just below the knee. They’re sturdier as he stands and they don’t restrict his movement like they used to. They’re… comfortable.

He quietly - as quiet as you can get with two durasteel feet - leaves the room, examining the hallway. A kitchen is down the hall, so he heads there. Wincing, he looks around the corner to see if anyone’s there.

There is.

Crosshair…

“C’mere, Tech,” the sniper says, gesturing to the seat at the island beside him. CX-2 hobbles over to it, taking a seat silently.

“I’m not the brother you remember,” he rasps, looking out the window.

“No shit… no goggles?”

“Hemlock thought I should wear contacts so the goggles don’t break out on a mission.”

Crosshair hums in response.

“Why did you come back?”

The sniper takes a moment to respond, “Couldn’t leave you behind.”

It’s CX-2’s - no, Tech’s - turn to hum in response. He feels Crosshair leaning against him slightly.

“You’re not who you used to be, but we’ll get there. Right?”

“Possibly.”

Crosshair scoffs, “Good to have you back.”

Taglist: @will-is-silly @fionajames @sevdidntdie @hellhound5925 @dangraccoon @skellymom

Please let me know if you want to be taken off or join the list!!!

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plan-3-tmars · 5 months

Text

Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart.

Hey I think the framing of this scene is really fucking cool and I wanna talk about it because I haven't seen anybody do that. yet so. yahooo!! let's get into it

BUT FIRST. Symbolism:

an empty chair can symbolise the absence or memory of someone dear who has passed away. This is very obviously meant to represent Hinako in this scenario

In my interpretation, this scene is Kazui saying goodbye to Hinako and apologising for the circumstances of her death.

The lyrics that play are:

"I’m sure nothing will change and we’ll laugh together and call each other stupid names, so many things I wish i hadn't known, I'm just a coward."

The first part of this verse sounds like he's wishfully thinking about what could've happened after he told her the truth - if anything a bit naively.

Kazui wanted (and still wants) to get the weight of his lies off his chest, but he wasn't ready to face the consequences of that confession, most likely making Hinako's death hit even harder.

Here, he bows to the chair before turning around leaving, a silent goodbye.

But what about what's going on in the background of this scene? Well!

As Kazui leaves, these two scenes flash in the background. On the table in the first shot is our good friend the green apple, and Background Kazui picks it up, analyses it, before biting it.

So let's go for another symbolism refresher!!

Green apples can sometimes represent platonic relationships, like friendship, but in Kazui's case this takes the form of a sin - as not loving Hinako romantically is what he's lying about - making it a reference to the Garden of Eden story.

Going from that, biting into an apple can represent feeding into temptation.

My interpretation of this scene is Pre-Marriage Kazui indulging in his 'sin', which in my opinion is the fact he's gay.

Let's go back to that lyric shall we:

"I’m sure nothing will change and we’ll laugh together and call each other stupid names, so many things I wish i hadn't known, I'm just a coward."

So many things you wish you hadn't known huh.. Not knowing you were gay would sure make lying to your wife a whole lot easier wouldn't it?

"What I gave up a long time ago, why is it questioning me now? So many things that I should now have known, I'm just a coward"

Woohoo evidence for Background Kazui being Pre-Marriage Kazui!!!

I think this scene is the last time Kazui let himself be free before marrying Hinako. This could possibly have been when he noticed she had a crush on him at their work.

He's indulging one last time. Embracing his sin instead of hiding it away one. last. time. before giving it up for good, almost like a. goodbye.

So. I think this scene is framed this way in order to show the parallel of Kazui giving up his sin, and Kazui mourning Hinako's death.

As established, they both have a "goodbye, I'm sorry things turned out this way" atmosphere to them. Kazui is apologetic, in a way, that he has to give up on being his true self and he is apologetic of his lies murdering Hinako, so Milgram conveys this by showing the two scenes posed the same way in front of one another.

This framing also gives the scene a Beginning Vs End feeling that I think is really cool, and the use of Dark Vs Light colours only heightens that! (Though that's slightly off topic rip)

Conclusion? I love this scene it's awesome and amazing and super cool

#take a shot everytime i say the word frame and you might get a little tipsy #anyway hi i was meant to post this like 3 days ago but then that patho post kinda blew up and i didnt want it to get overshadowed #or fill up my notifications cuz god damn that was. alot #so im re-uploading this 3rd times the charm baby #milgram #kazui mukuhara #this scene is also one of the biggest pieces of evidence for the gay kazui theory imo especially before Cat's release #also no podcast reference in my milgram analysis?!? what is this anarchy?!?? (i couldnt think of one) ((sad face))#milgram analysis

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cupcakeslushie · 2 years

Note

Were there any experiments that could have risked Three's life?

There were, but Draxum knew what he was doing for the most part. Most of the testing started out monotonous and endurance based. It was only as Three grew older, and Draxum grew more desperate to gain headway on his research that he pushed the experiments past what Three could handle physically and mentally.

The vivisection was the worst, because of the pain, and because Three didn’t follow Draxum’s aftercare instructions and a whole plastral scute had to be replaced when infection set in. It’s probably the most rebellious thing Three had ever done but the consequences were bad enough that he learned his lesson.

Draxum is a lot worse than in canon so there’s not a lot of happy memories…but I think I’m gonna slightly edit something I’ve said earlier, which is that Draxum doesn’t validate Three’s intelligence at all. The more I think on it, the more I think that would be about the only thing he finds Three useful for, after he finds him lacking in the “warrior” aspect. For as much of a disappointment in the physical department Three can be (which doesn’t mean Donnie is weak—just that Draxxy is hard to please), Draxum will admit that the boy is a genius. It’s just the way that Three’s smart which Draxum can’t stand. Three uses too much scavenged, human material in his tech, and while Draxum grudgingly allows it, he refuses to give it any praise. It frustrates him to no end that Three seems to reject studying mystic sciences.

It still doesn’t stop Three from seeking out Draxum’s input, and constantly being disappointed when his tech gets verbally (and sometimes literally) ripped to shreds. Pretty much the only area where Three gets any actual, validation from Draxum, are the bombs and munitions Three makes to supply Draxum’s resistance budies. Everything else is just him not living up to his full potential and wasting his time.

This is just gonna be the nature of this AU, but I’m really leaning hard into the villain aspect of these three. I’m hoping to still give them nuance, But I’m going all in, where each of them is pretty deplorable in their unique own way.

Big Mama was very doting on Mikey, but I think it was more along the lines of her viewing it as being amused by a new pet. I mean she full on dated and had a relationship with Splinter for who knows how long, and had no problem throwing him to the wolves, and I loved that about her. In my AU she’s whatever she needs to be to get what she wants, dialed up to eleven. She has zero problems putting on that mother of year mask for Mikey, because he was cute and entertaining, but the moment she realized she could make a pretty penny off of him by discarding him, she does. So what if she keeps the paintings Mikey made her, up in her private office, nobody has to know.

Draxum is relentless in his mission, and Three is the best tool he currently has to see those ends met. He doesn’t care how much strain it seems to put on the boy—he should be able to handle it. Draxum does not make creations that break so easily.

Shredder does show pride in Leo’s prowess as a fighter, and even though his praise is hard to earn, he does let his student know when he’s done a good job. On the flip side, he’s got no problems punishing Leo for his failures. Shredder is very clear in his expectations for Leo, unlike Draxum who never seems to be pleased by anything. In Shredder’s mind, Leo is his perfect weapon.

Draxum had seen Mikey fight in the battle nexus so he knew about him and just didn’t have the means to take on Big Mama, but when he finally meets Raph and Leo, he’s so frustrated that they’ve aligned with humans and refuse to listen to reason. Despite trying to get them on his side they want nothing to do with him, and what’s worse they’ve poisoned Three against him. He’s already poured so much time and resources into Three and look how that turned out. If they won’t join him, he’ll either find some way to turn them against the humans or he’ll destroy them. They’ve caused him enough of a headache.

I’m still on the fence about Shredder’s entire backstory. I know he’ll have been raised by the Hamato Clan but I’ve never been a fan of the whole love triangle—you stole the woman I loved and I’m gonna refer to her as an object—thing. I think him turning to more violent methods and then learning his true origins is enough of a wedge to drive between him and the man he thought of as a brother. Which leads me to Karai.

I’m not using 2012 Karai cause it would be kinda redundant with Leo’s role. So I think I’m gonna use gram-gram Karai…I just need to figure out…how. I’ve got some ideas, it’s just working out the details of, okay I changed Shredder so he can’t be her father, do I want her to still be dead? Be a guiding spirit for Leo? Do I want her to be brought back to life? Or maybe it would be cool to expand on her connection with April—cause the show gave us this awesome idea maybe I could explore that more? Idk. I just know I do want her to have a bigger role. I’ve got some time tho to think on it.

As for Bradford and Xever they might make a short appearance down the road, but as of now I’ve got solid plans for certain characters and I don’t wanna throw too many shrimp in the pot, ya know? If I can think of some role for them to fill, then they’ll get some actual time but for now they’re relegated to Easter egg status like Bebop and Rocksteady lol.

@burnttoastarista

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lambertdiary · 7 months

Note

hi girl! you're my favorite dalton lambert writer i love your blog sm!! can i plz request a cute fic where dalton and reader are excited about halloween in their off-campus home? maybe not a part two but it does take place in that same universe and reader is kinda excited to buy candy for the kids on their street and dalton thinks its really cute and then he tells her that halloween wasn't as exciting after his coma and y/n feels bad for him so she wants to make it up to him?

sorry if its too specific but thank youu ily

- 🍃

A/N: THIS WAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL REQUEST. I loved writing it so much and I do have to say I got a little carried away with the idea, so if this is too cheesy that’s why. Anyway thank you so so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy this so please let me know what you think 🫶🏻🤍

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warnings: established relationship, mentions of having kids, EXTREMELY CHEESY, fluff, mentions of Dalton’s coma

MASTELIST ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎‎✩ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎SEND ME A REQUEST

Home Sweet Treats

One chilly October evening Y/N and Dalton found themselves roaming around one of the local thrift shops looking for Halloween decorations. As soon as the calendar turned to October 1st, they excitedly declared that it was officially ‘spooky season’, but it was especially Y/N who couldn't wait to celebrate their first Halloween in their home.

“What do you think about this one? Is it too spooky for the kids?” Dalton held up an old looking halloween mask, a big notorious rip at the top.

Y/N stared at it for a moment, trying to picture how it would look outside their house “I think it’s kinda lame”

Dalton scoffed, his eyebrows coming together as he scanned it again “I think it would look okay, we can make him wear a hat to hide the ripped part” Y/N didn’t look too convinced so Dalton put the mask on slowly and held his breath almost immediately, it was an old mask “See? It doesn’t look too bad when it’s over something”

Y/N giggled at this, walking towards him and taking the mask off “Let’s keep it for now in case we can’t find anything else”

They had spent their weekend exploring every Halloween store they could find, but decorations were a little more expensive than they initially thought so that’s why they ended up scouring thrift shops. They were also planning on picking out a couple of pumpkins from the nearby pumpkin patch and brainstorming costume ideas for the so awaited Halloween party Chris couldn’t stop talking about. But there was one thing that they were the most excited for: buying sweets for the little trick-or-treaters.

Y/N had some fond memories of dressing up and going to every house asking for treats and they were determined to create something memorable for the kids in their neighbourhood, so the spooky decorations outside had to be perfect if she wanted it to be the full experience, and when she shared her idea with Dalton he couldn’t help but love her even more.

A couple of Sundays before the big day, they decided to take the entire day to pick out a couple of pumpkins and carve them. Their trip to the pumpkin patch was quick but a little intense, it was hard to find the ones that were big and steady enough since it was filled with kids and their parents who were looking for the same thing, but once they secured their pumpkins they made their way back to their home.

“So I’ve never actually done this so you’re gonna have to help me” Dalton said with a soft chuckle, laying the pumpkin carving tools on the living room floor.

“Never?” Y/N looked at him in disbelief as Dalton shook his head.

“At least not on my own, when I was a kid my parents used to help us do it but after… you know, my coma, Halloween wasn’t the same”

Y/N came up to him and softly placed a hand on his cheek “I’m sorry to hear that, baby”

“It’s okay, it’s not like I missed out on the Halloween experience, at least I get to do it with you” He replied with a smile.

Y/N nodded and placed a quick kiss on his lips “Then I’ll make sure it’s perfect” She whispered.

They sat next to each other so that Y/N could walk him through the entire process, giving him the steadier pumpkin so it would be a little easier for him.

“We’ll start by cutting out a lid” She grabbed a serrated knife and carefully pushed it into the pumpkin “Make sure you do it with an angle though, otherwise it will fall into it” Dalton was paying close attention to her as she went around the top of the pumpkin, taking his own knife to start with the process “Your lid should be bigger than mine, you hand has to fit inside the whole to take the seeds and pulp out”

Dalton nodded and did as she said, smiling when the top of the pumpkin came out in a perfect circle. They proceeded to scoop the insides of the pumpkin with a spoon over a plastic bag to avoid making a mess, putting everything in a bowl to try and make a recipe Y/N’s mum had sent her.

“Do you know what design you want to do?”

“Uh-” Dalton stopped and pulled out his phone, and after a moment he showed her his screen.

“Jack Skellington and Sally? I can barely make a regular face”

“Is it too hard?” Dalton was genuinely asking, he thought it was just like drawing something.

“Well… drawing isn’t the hard part, but we do have to carve it into the pumpkin and that can be a little tricky” Y/N took Dalton’s phone and zoomed into the pumpkins, analysing them closely “There are a lot of tiny details”

“We have the smaller detail sculpting from the carving kit, I think we can make it”

She looked up at him, he had a big smile and hopeful eyes, most likely waiting for Y/N to say yes. She sighed as she gave him back his phone “I’m sure you’ll do great, you’re an artist after all, but you’ll draw mine”

Dalton’s smile grew bigger. He excitedly drew on both pumpkins their respective designs, biting his tongue in concentration as his eyes focused on it. Y/N was right, he did a great job and both pumpkins looked amazing, now all they had to do was actually carve it.

That took a little longer than Y/N had anticipated, since she had never done such detailed faces but she was extremely happy at how they ended up looking, they were identical to the reference photo Dalton had shown her.

“You did fantastic, love” She said, hugging his side.

“We should do this every year” He hugged her back and pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her waist “It could be our very own halloween tradition, we’ll buy the biggest pumpkins and our kids will learn how to-” He said that without even thinking, stopping as soon as he realised. Y/N looked up at him immediately, a smile forming on her face and noticing how his face was going red “Sorry-”

“I think they’ll love it” She interrupted him “And you will be a fantastic pumpkin carving guide” Y/N stood on her tiptoes and placed both hands on his shoulder blades, kissing him softly. Dalton smiled into the kiss, his eyes filling with tears as he thought of his future with her.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★

Halloween was just around the corner, it was the weekend before and Y/N and Dalton set out to buy all the sweets they would need to satisfy the little trick-or-treaters in their neighbourhood. Y/N walked through the shop’s hallways as Dalton followed her around with a shopping cart. They filled it with a mixture of chocolates, gummies, lollipops, and other sweets she thought the kids would love and a few others for them to keep.

"You two are going to be the most popular house on Halloween night!" The cashier smiled at them as she scanned everything they were buying, making Y/N and Dalton blush.

Back at their home they were finishing up with their decorations. It was pretty much done and it was already looking great, including the old mask they got a few weeks ago, but Y/N found a big skeleton that would be perfect to hold their sweets. They had everything ready, including their matching costumes for the Halloween party which was a good thing since the days seemed to fly by, and before they knew it, Halloween had arrived.

The plan was to meet Chris back on campus at 8:00 PM, giving them enough time to hand out sweets to at least a few kids before they had to leave. They were getting ready in advance, Y/N had told Dalton how much she loved it when someone in a costume opened the door for them, even though she doubted the kids would know who Ghostface and Casey Baker were.

As the sun began to set, children in all sorts of costumes began to trickle into their neighbourhood and soon enough the first group of kids were ringing on their door bell.

“Quick, should I keep the mask on or off?” Dalton asked, holding the mask next to his face.

“Definitely on, otherwise they’ll think a black long robe is your costume” He nodded and put it on, following Y/N as she made her way to the front door.

“Trick or tick” Four kids said at the same time as soon as they opened the door, their eyes lighting up with excitement as they noticed Dalton’s costume.

“What do we have here?” Y/N said, taking a handful of sweets and dumping them into their tiny baskets “A fairy, a princess, a witch and a ghost!” “Are you a ghost too?” The little ghost asked Dalton. “Yes, but a cold one, that’s why I’m wearing a robe” He replied, making the kids laugh.

“What do we say?” A woman behind them talked.

“Thank you” They said in unisound, waving them goodbye and leaving their front door.

After that more and more kids started showing up at their door, and Y/N couldn’t be happier. They chatted with the parents, admired the creativity of the costumes, and shared stories of their own Halloween experiences.

Sadly the time for them to leave came, so they placed the remaining sweets in a big decorated bowl outside their door, next to the skeleton.

“Thank you for doing this with me” Y/N said as Dalton locked their door and took her hand.

“It was my pleasure” He brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss “I think this is the best Halloween I’ve ever had, and that’s thanks to you, darling”

Y/N blushed at the pet name, she was used to them by now but it always made her feel some type of way “I wanted you to have good Halloween, and hopefully next year will be better”

"Well I can't wait to do it all over again with you"

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert x you #dalton lambert imagines #dalton lambert fanfic #dalton lambert fluff #insidious #insidious 5 #insidious the red door #ty simpkins

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hyunnows · 9 months

Text

SHATTERED PUZZLES | 10

“a rude and arrogant patient with no identification wakes up from a year-long coma and develops temporary amnesia. Assigned to you, a volunteer who’s not going to put up with his attitude, you’re both in for a rough ride.”

PAIRING(s) | Hyunjin x reader, ft Minho x reader

THEMES | fluff, angst, a slight love triangle (i gotta stop with the skz love triangles–), amnesia!Hyunjin, Doctor!Chan, Rude!Hyunjin, car accident, trauma

WORD COUNT | 2.7k+

RATING | pg13

NOTE | ... well hello there. i know its been a while, and im so sorry for that. im still not really back yet, since i havent gotten into any sort of writing schedule or anything. but i wanted to finish this part up for you guys since i felt you deserved it. i also want to say thank you for all the support while ive been away, and hello to all my new followers and new readers for this series! i cant believe ive been working on this since i was 15 T^T its crazy to think ill be 18 in december... really thank you guys, all of you, im grateful for those who are new around here and those who have been with me since the beginning! please enjoy and have a great day/night!

Series M.list | SKZ M.list | Taglist

It’s been about three weeks since Hyunjin was betrothed to Yuna. The two have grown closer, but not as their parents believe. Now, she’s become more of a sister, and Hyunjin her brother.

She shares her crush on the shopkeeper she’s so fond of, asking for advice and tips. In turn, she gives Hyunjin the same—as well as tricks to keep his hair healthy. He likes having her as a friend.

In between their normal chatter and hanging out, they scheme. Researching legal documents, checking to see if there’s any way they can get out of marrying each other. It’s tiring work, but love is a powerful driving force.

“Do you know of any close family members that might be willing to take your spot?” Yuna raises her brow at Hyunjin. “I mean, I know I have a cousin or two that wouldn’t mind being in an arranged marriage for a few years. If you have someone to take your spot, then I think that they’ll let us off the hook.”

“That’s a good idea, except for the fact that I don’t know any of my family. The only family in my memories are my parents, and Minho I guess, but he’s not blood.” The blond frowns, sighing. Why did he have to be born to money hungry control freaks?

Yuna purses her lips, “I’ll have someone look into your family and see if you have any candidates. Until then, we have to just hang in there, I guess.”

——

“I’m dying.” You whine, hanging off the couch dramatically.

Minho and Chan shake their heads. “You’re not dying [Y/N],” the younger sighs, “I know it's hard, but you’re both safer this way.”

You know what he’s saying is true, but…

It's been over a month and a half since you were ripped away from Hyunjin, and you’ve thought of him every moment since then. You just want to see him--just be in his presence again. Unfortunately, you know that's not possible. At least, not according to Minho’s information on the blond.

So, while you may not be literally dying, you most definitely feel like you are.

And so when a particular idea pops in your head, you decide you have nothing left to lose, and voice it out.

“Let’s kidnap Hyunjin.”

----

“Yuna! Yuna! Where are you?” Hyunjin scrambles around, excitement all over his face as he races to find her. He’d been up since the crack of dawn, brainstorming ways to get out of their arrangement, and he finally came up with something. Now if only he could find her--

“Hyunjin? What? It’s early as hell,” she yawns, glancing at her phone and shoving the digital numbers in his face, giving him a good look at the time. 8:40 am. “What do you want?”

“They can’t force us to get married if one of us is already married.” He grins, panting slightly from the running around he’d done. Luckily, it isn’t odd for a fiancé to sleep over--or else the entire Hwang staff would be giving him a weird look all day.

Yuna curls a brow. “What do you mean? You want to run away and marry [Y/N] to get out of this?” She yawns a bit towards the end, rubbing her tired eyes with confusion.

His face is covered in shock for a moment before he picks up his jaw and shakes his head. “No, I love her, but she’s not ready to marry me yet. I barely confessed the day we were brought here.” He scoffs at the idea that he’d rush your relationship, which she rolls her eyes at. “You should marry Jay.”

Yuna flushes at the idea, mouth turning into a circle in surprise. Hyunjin knows she wants to marry the boy--she’s talked about it almost every day since they met, after all. “I-I don’t know… what if he doesn’t want to?”

Now it's Hyunjin’s turn to roll his eyes. “He wants to, trust me. I’ve seen the way he looks at you through the shop windows. He’s probably written his vows to you already,” he chuckles, his words making the girl redder than ever, which earns him a shove from her small hands. “Just ask him. If you two get married before our wedding, they won’t be able to force us together.”

Pursing her lips, she sighs. “Fine, I’ll ask.” Her agreement makes the blond cheer in satisfaction.

“Thank you Yuna!”

“Yeah yeah,” she waves him off, stepping back into her room and closing the door, “Let me get back to bed now.” Hyunjin apologizes and waltzes back down the hall to his room, and she can’t help but shake her head at his antics. “Weirdo.”

----

“You want to do what?” Chan all but yells, eyes wide in confusion. Sure, he’d heard a lot of crazy things pertaining to Hyunjin’s situation but you want to kidnap him? That’s a bit too much for the Australian to handle. “[Y/N] you know that’s illegal, right?”

You shrug. “Let's kidnap him. They kidnapped me already. Plus, Minho has pretty much done this before.” Your reasons just make the doctor sigh. “What? I can’t just sit around and do nothing anymore.”

Chan sees where you’re coming from, he really does, but as a doctor, he’s not sure he can condone this idea of yours. “But [Y/N], there’s no way you’re getting through their security and getting back here with Hyunjin safely. By the way, you could be arrested for kidnapping too. And you don’t have the money to get out of it.”

All of his stupid, logical reasoning makes you groan and roll your eyes. You know Chan likes to play by the rules—you usually do too—but for once, you just want him to support you and your bad idea. “Whatever, I don’t care! With or without you Chan, I’m gonna get Hyunjin back. I know he’s miserable, just like I am,” you frown, arms crossed loosely over your chest. “He deserves to be free, no matter who his parents are.”

As you strut away from the living room, Minho can’t help but stare at you in wonder. All this time, he’s known you cared for Hyunjin. What shocks him though, is that you seem to be the only person that can rival Minho’s love for his friend. ‘I can’t believe I’m going this again,’ he sighs, standing to follow you to your room so you can start discussing plans to break Hyunjin out. With the bright smile you give him when he agrees to your idea, he knows why it was so easy for him to fall for you. “So, what’re you thinking?”

Chan is completely flabbergasted, as well as disappointed, with Minho’s reaction. Sure, he knows Minho’s in love with you--everyone knows--but to go along with kidnapping Hyunjin? That sounds like more than love. It's insane. But then again, Chan also knows how much Minho cares about the younger boy, and how much he misses hanging out with him freely. “You guys are ridiculous, you know that, right?”

You glare at the Australian, but you can tell with the way he sounds stressed that he’s about to give into whatever plan you throw at him.

And so, you begin explaining your master plan to the two boys.

It wasn’t anything complicated. You would go as Minho’s date for the upcoming gala, disguised as one of their rich guests. While the two of you worked to find Hyunjin, Chan would pretend to be a security guard, and make a safe escape route. This was the base at least. You had also hoped to bring Han, Jeongin, and Seungmin along, have them act as caterers (if they agreed) and keep attention away from Minho, Hyunjin, and yourself as much as possible. Then, Minho would excuse himself, drive one of his cars around the side, and they would all slip out unnoticed.

So here you were, dressed all fancy, surrounded by about a hundred other guests. They’re all too busy trying to either get to Mr. or Mrs. Hwang to notice you, but you feel as if all their eyes are on you, judging you, picking you apart, and getting ready to notify the security of your suspicious presence.

It makes you shuffle forward a bit faster, and you bump against someone’s shoulder on accident. “I am so sorry--”

“Don’t worry about…” her eyes lock with yours within seconds, “What ar--”

You hold your finger vertically against your lips, telling her--Hyunjin’s arranged partner (who Minho warned you about and who was well aware of how you looked due to the social media pictures of you Hyunjin had shoved in her face)--‘don’t say anything’ and reconnect to Minho’s arm. Minho, who’d seen the whole thing, gives you a curt nod for not going off script.

Striding to the buffet table, you spot Jeongin in your peripheral vision, keeping the attention off of you. He seems to be doing a great job, considering all the older women were by him, gushing over the “adorable young waiter” less than discreetly. You’d seen his fiancée, now where was Hyunjin?

“I’m gonna go look around upstairs, you keep an eye out down here, yeah?” Minho leans down to whisper to you, looking at you for agreement.

You squeeze his arm and shake your head, “No Minho, everyone’s gonna know I don’t belong here if they see me without you.”

He sighs, stopping the two of you in your tracks. “Nobody’s going to know [Y/N], as long as you don’t do anything to attract attention, you’ll be fine. Just walk around and smile at people.”

You’re about to argue why that isn’t true when he slips out of your hold and walks off--meaning it would look too odd if you were to speed walk back up to him. ‘Damn you’, you think, before turning towards the art wall and deciding that would be a good place to start.

----

You were wrong.

As it turns out, the art wall isn’t actually just a small hallway with lovely paintings on the wall and a statue or two on display. It was an entire gallery bigger than your apartment by a landslide. You couldn’t help but be amazed at the family’s collection of fine pieces--but damn it if this wasn’t inconvenient to your search. You’re about 15 minutes into the gallery and still no sign of Hyunjin. You’re beginning to get cold feet about this plan and getting ready to call the whole thing off when a mess of blond hair and dark roots catch your eye. He’s admiring a painting, two bodyguards beside him, one on either side.

You want to run up to him, hold him so close you’re practically in his skin, his warmth all around you.

But you can’t, otherwise, all your planning, arranging, and sneaking around would go to waste. You dial Minho’s number and tell him the situation, and he’s by your side within minutes. He smoothly makes his way to Hyunjin, you trailing close behind and listening as Minho tells the guards something to get them to leave.

“Hyunjin, I brought someone with me,” Minho smiles, catching the younger male’s attention. Stepping aside to make you visible, Hyunjin’s jaw drops and Minho has to catch his glass out of his hands to keep him from shattering it on the floor. “Say hi.”

You can see his eyes get watery, his lip trembling as he takes a step towards you before he stops himself. “What are you doing here? It’s dangerous for you [Y/N].”

Despite his words, you can’t help but melt at the way he sounds saying your name. “We’re getting you out” you whisper, staring into his glistening eyes. “We couldn’t just leave you here.”

“How? My clothes have trackers, there’s guards everywhere-- I don’t think you guys are getting out of here with me,” he frowns, grabbing his clothes to the light flickering in the seams. “I’m stuck here.”

“We know about the guards and everything. We weren’t prepared for the trackers, though,” your brows curl in worry as you look at Minho.

He mentions that he has extra clothes, then moves on to explain the plan to Hyunjin. He seems worried, but at this point, he’ll do anything to get out of his parent’s hold. With a sigh, he asks, “Do you know when Chan will be ready?”

“I was actually about to check,” Minho states, calling the doctor up quickly. He mumbles into the phone, hand covering his face, making it hard enough not only for bystanders and strangers to hear, but difficult for Hyunjin and yourself as well. However, the nod that's accompanied by the movement of his chin let you know enough. “He’s ready whenever you are,” he gives Hyunjin a look, before gesturing to a particularly broad-shouldered security guard standing by a door off to the side of the gallery with “SECURITY” written in bold print on it.

You begin tugging the blond towards the Australian, suddenly remember you’re all on borrowed time, and that the guards assigned to stay by Hyunjin could return at any moment. Upon this reminder, Hyunjin begins rushing towards the door as discreetly as possible, and Minho decides now is as good a time as ever to excuse himself as the getaway driver.

“Hey man,” Chan greets quietly, swiftly opening the door to the security room and ushering the two of you inside. Hyunjin nods, glancing around in confusion and paranoia. Upon seeing the younger male’s fright, Chan calms his fears, “Don’t worry about the cameras seeing us. I know a guy who fixed that for us.”

Han’s voice comes out muffled from Chan’s headset, making Hyunjin and your own eyes widen. You knew he had some interest in computers, but you didn’t think he actually had any knowledge to help with something like this. At least now you know how he never seems to get viruses from downloading so much questionable software (he would really do anything to get free streaming services). “Yeah I covered for you guys, but you only have like 5 minutes left before the cameras start capturing live footage again. In other words, hurry up please.”

You all begin moving through the route, which is incredibly clear. The security room connects to dozens of other security rooms through hidden hallways. You suppose it only makes sense, considering just how rich the Hwangs are, for them to have such an intricate hidden system within the walls of their household.

Within 3 minutes, you three make it out the back door, where Minho is quietly pulling up, undetected. Hyunjin had removed his shirt during the walk, and ditched his shoes when you guys left the first security room, only needing to change his lower half’s garments now. He hops into the back, quickly replacing his own clothes with those Minho had given to him, ridding himself of the trackers. You hop in the back soon after beside him, Chan and Jeongin piling in soon after with the elder taking the passenger seat and Jeongin squishing himself beside you, barely buckling in when Minho steps on the gas.

“Alright, cams coming on in three… two… one-” just as Han’s voice finishes the count down from Chan’s phone, Hyunjin’s phone goes off with alerts, which are quickly followed by a spam of phone calls that make him throw his phone out of the window in fear as Minho begins speeding down the road towards your side of town.

Hearts pumping with adrenaline, you and the blond face each other simultaneously, tearing up immediately as you lean in to embrace each other’s lips for the first time in far too long. His forehead presses against yours as tears run down his cheeks, his hands caressing and wiping your face. “I missed you so much.”

Your bottom lip trembles, and you lean into his neck, arms wrapping around him to pull Hyunjin close to you, afraid he might disappear if you let go, “I missed you more.”

He lets out a painful laugh, squeezing you tighter to him, and shaking his head as if to gently disagree with you. He can’t fathom you missing him any more than he missed you. “I love you.”

A wistful sigh escapes you, a choked sob following not long after, “I love you too.”

The three boys glance back at you, each of them wearing a soft smile. However, Chan found it difficult to see only joy in Minho’s eyes after hearing your proclamations. He doesn’t mention it though, allowing you all a moment of peace.

----

After arriving at Jisung, Jeongin, and–at this point–Minho’s apartment and settling in, one question plague’s your minds.

“So…” Jisung begins, “What now?”

Series M.list | SKZ M.list | Taglist

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peoplesgraves · 2 years

Text

Betty

Yandere scientist x Franken-Reader

You wake to a raging headache. Your head is so filled with clutter and voices that are almost yours that it feels like your brain is going to explode. The pain is eased by a cool washcloth being dabbed on your for head while a gentle voice mumbles words of comfort. You pass out and awake a few minutes later. The longer the mysterious man is next to you the more the throbbing dulls until finally it’s dulled enough for you to sit up.

A few minutes later you try to stand but your legs collapse under you. Your horrified to look down and see blood dripping from crudely stapled and stitched wounds. Each line of stitches reveals a slightly different part. Like you’re some kind of horrible jigsaw puzzle. Calloused hands pull you up and back onto the table. The man mumbles to himself as he gathers supplies and you recognize his voice as the same from earlier.

He pulls a stool to sit in front of you and looks at your torn staples. “You’ve ripped them. If you needed something you know you should’ve asked me instead of hurting yourself like this.” He begins to clean it up paying no mind to your winces of pain. An agonizing ordeal later your leg is fixed and the man who you’ve come to dislike greatly is seriously lecturing you.

“You need to rest while your body heals. Until then you’ll stay in the lab where I can watch over you.” When you don’t respond he turn from his work table to look at you. “Ok Betty?”

You look at him confused and terrified. “I’m not Betty.”

“Of course you are. I used Betty’s brain. Her heart was too damaged but it’s the brain that’s really important.”

You shake your head as much as you can laying down. “I’m. Not. Betty!”

He sighs and sits once again by your side. He Henry grabs your hand in both of his and plays with your fingers as he speaks. “Maybe you’re not Betty yet. But won’t it be an interesting experiment to see if I can bring Betty out?”

The next few weeks are torture. Because of your condition the mad man literally has to do everything for you. He was always clinical about it never overstepping anymore then he had too but still, it was torture. The only things to do where to sleep or to watch as he did his experiments. Sometimes you could convince him to tell you stories wether about Betty, his experiments or worst of all, how he’d made you.

There’s also a voice in your head. While most voices have died off by now one is only getting louder. She warns you about the scientist and begs you to run away. As the voice starts to gain more and more purchase in your mind, it starts to show you things. Memories of Betty and the scientist. One day when Betty has drowned you out, she shows you something horrible.

That night when the scientist tries changing your bandages you pull away from him at any cost. Gritting your teeth through the pain to protect yourself from him. Eventually he gets fed up and can’t help but to ask what’s wrong.

“You killed Betty.” Your voice wavers in fear but still it drips with venom.

The scientist looks mostly neutral. Although he does have a small fond smile. “So Betty is in there and shes trying to save you. It’s cute. Really.” He leans forward and rests his forearms on his legs to be eye level with you.

“But there’s nothing to save you from. I took your heart, all of your discarded parts and I gave them a second chance.”

Betty slips through the cracks and your mouth is moving of another volition. “You’ll just tear her apart and start over once she becomes too much for you.” The voice is yours but not and it freaks you out.

You look for comfort, to cling to something and the scientist steps in. He holds you and let’s you cry into his coat.

“Tell me Betty.” He spits her name like it’s poison, the complete opposite of the way he’d said her name when you first awoke. “Why would I kill my greatest creation?”

The scientist rubs circles on your back. It’s like the more you fall into him the further away Betty gets until you’re brain is quiet for the very first time.

“You’re right. You’re not Betty” a serpents smile forms behind your back and his grip on you tightens “you’re going to be so much better.”

#yandere fantasy #yandere scientist #yandere mad scientist #Frankenstein reader #monster reader #yandere mythical creature #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you

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gh0stlyfixation · 1 year

Text

The Love of Us

Part four

Warnings: smut, threesome, male on male action, oral (female and male receiving), fingering, idk, a lot of smut, praise and degradation kink, Also still learning to write smut so it might not be great.

18+ MDNI, my smut work will be going under mature content so please set your settings to be aloud to see mature content if you wish to see it.

Part three here

You went to bed not long after König left. You placed a t-shirt and some underwear on and slipped under the covers with a smile. How did I get lucky? Two handsome men, two men that are into what I am? Two decent and caring men? Fuck.

You turn to your side and look at the empty side of the bed, frowning. You don’t like sleeping alone anymore. You spent years sleeping next to someone, but suddenly it was ripped away from you. You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but you weren’t.

You were sure if you told Simon or König they would fill up that space but it hasn’t even been a week of knowing them. Sure you’ve done some things with them but, occupying your bed seemed a little too much, or so you think. You scoff at yourself, girl, you’ve had an orgasm on Simon and König fucked your throat, how is sleeping in the same bed too much, you yell at yourself.

The sun peaks through your curtains and you look at your phone for a time, ten in the morning. Fuck. You get off the bed and move to your closet putting on a tight crop shirt and loose sweatpants with your thick socks.

—

By lunchtime, you decide to clean around. You look up at the photos König previously asked about, today seemed hard for some reason and your best friend calling you didn’t help.

“I put some roses on his grave for you. I miss you.” She tells you.

“He loved those.” You said back to her. “I miss you too.” you frowned.

“I know. We miss him. We’re with you girly. Can’t wait to see you again.” She said to you.

You look down at the floor trying to fight back a tear, as happy as you were now, John was your best friend who you grew up with. He was your high school sweetheart. You sigh and look back at the pictures. You step forward and remove the smaller side photos stacking them in a neat pile.

Something about taking down these photos click in your brain, you had boxes of his belongings in your basement just sitting. Maybe it was time to go through them. You tell yourself.

You collect the photos and head down the stairs. The basement was finished, nothing but boxes resided down there. It would be a movie theater when you find new homes for your storage containers and boxes.

Slowly you start going through boxes of his clothes. You started a keep, throw away, donate and give back to the family pile. Most of his t-shirts were keeps, his old high school t-shirts from sports and clubs were a must-keep. His sweats you kept, especially his basketball sweats from college, it was your favorite pair.

Old trophies and awards from high school and college went into the family pile, they might appreciate these, you think. You don’t hear your phone upstairs ringing and dinging with messages and calls, you are too focused on the boxes of his stuff.

Most things make you smile with memories. You find a box full of photos of you and him, you and your friends, and a mix of everything and everyone. These make you tear up, hundreds of memories that you can’t relive with him. Maybe I’m not ready, you think, but you were feeling happy for once. König and Simon made you feel good and real. You sigh and look at the mess you’ve made when you hear a familiar voice speak upstairs, “Y/N?” Oh shit, why are they here? You think.

You quickly wipe away the tears and take some deeper breaths, “you down there?” Simon ask. How in the fuck did they get inside here? Must’ve left the door unlocked, stupid.

“Yeah!” You say with a fake cheery voice, fanning your face to cool it down and rid of the redness.

“Hey, there lebiling.” König voice says when he sees you, ducking from hitting his head on the arch.

You look up from your mess of a pile and smile the best you could, “hi!”

The boys could see right through your fake smile but both silently decided to bypass that question. “What’s going on hear?” Simon asks, his hand gesturing to the mess.

“Well, I'm going through boxes of John's stuff. Sorting a throwaway pile and giveaway pile and a keep pile. My keep pile is getting too high though.” You frown, wanting to cry again. The boys see your teary eyes.

Simon wasn’t sure how to handle your emotions yet, it took him months to figure out how to help König during a panic attack. You were new to him, but König knew what to do. Simon stepped back unknowingly and looked at König for help, who didn’t take his eyes off you.

He took long steps towards you and bent his knees down to your level, he was still so tall, “Lebiling?” He softly asks.

He gave you caring eyes, and your smile soon turns downwards, “yeah?” Your voice is shaky.

“Why don’t we take a break?” He asked his voice heavy, something you haven’t heard yet. It was always Simon who spoke with seriousness.

“Okay.” You nodded lightly not wanting to argue, you took the hand he held out. He helps you stand up and hug you. You bury your head in his chest and hold an arm out for Simon. You want him to hug you too.

Simon pulls himself to you and embraces himself to you and König, Simon lets go eventually and König lifts you by your thighs. You wrap your arms around him and walk back up the stairs, you peek over his shoulder and see Simon behind him, once again reaching out for his touch. He smiles and holds onto your hand as they ascended the stairs

Simon was thankful König was here, he doesn’t know what he would do if he wasn’t. König leans back on the couch and you get comfy on him.Simon sits by him looking at König for assistance on what to do. “What’s got our pretty girl upset?” He asks.

“My friend from home called me and said she put some flowers on his grave. I was taking down the pictures,” you started. König looks at the spot where they used to be just yesterday, he looks at Simon. “Then I started sorting his things and I’m just sad.” You finished with a huff. “He was my best friend since we could walk, now he isn’t here.” You tear up. “And I don’t want you to think that I’m not over him and that he’s all I think about because I like you both and I don’t wanna lose you because I miss him.” You choke up looking at Simon.

His heart is breaking for you, “we aren’t going to think anything. He was your first love. He is always going to have a spot in your heart and that’s okay.” Simon says shocked knowing that he’s being this emotional with you. It’s because he understands grief. He understands the process of it, you turn your head to Simon and lay it back down on König, listening to him. “some days feel easy, some days are tough, but as the months and years go by, the memories never fade so you’ll have low days, and getting rid of the memories won’t help you.” He finishes.

Your silent for a moment, processing his words. He's been through grief, that much you could tell. “Who was it?” You ask shyly. Simon looks away, not ready to talk about it. “It’s okay. One day.” You say grabbing his hand and snuggling with it under you cheek.

“You sleepy?” Simon asks noticing your eyes fluttering close. Your feeling particularly small. You nod and snuggle into Königs chest, “where is your bedroom, love?” Asked Simon

“M’upstairs to the right, first door.” You said as König stands up and heads to it.

They look around and see your king-sized bed on the back wall in the center filled with blankets and pillows. You had a messy pile of clothes next to your bathroom door. They lay you down on the bed and cover you up and head to the dooras turn your light off and start to leave the room, “no, stay!” You sniffle. You feel extra emotional, something you haven’t felt in year's, almost little like a child. Simon looks at König, “You go ahead. I'm gonna clean around and make something for dinner later to simmer.” König says to Simon.

König walks out and Simon takes off his shoes and jacket and places them near the door, “is it okay if I remove my jeans?” He questions. You know he won’t be able to get comfortable with them on. You nodded and he removes them and gets in bed with you.

He wraps his arms around you your back firmly against his front, but no later how long you lay there, you couldn’t fall asleep, being this close to Simon was suffocating. He’s in nothing but his boxers and shirt and you could feel his cock and it wasn't even hard, fuck, how is that even possible? You ask yourself. “Si?” You whisper.

“Hm?” He asks. Your growing need for him is getting too painful. You can feel how wet you are for him. You’d take anything from him but you mostly wanted his fingers, because let's be honest, they hit all the right spots sometimes.

“I need you.” You whimper rubbing your thighs together

“What do you need pretty girl?” He ask, growing a little hard, his eyes getting darker as he looks down at you whimper for him.

“I want your fingers and mouth, please?” You look back up at him giving him big doe eyes.

“You asked so nicely, but that’s a want, not a need.” He tsked.

You frown and roll over to face him, lightly tugging at his shirt, “please sir?” You beg quietly.

He smiles at you and kisses your lips “okay pretty girl. Take off your bottoms then and get comfy.” He says and removes the blanket as you expose your bottom half to him for the first time. He pulls your body down closer to his face as he leans down to it “Such a pretty sight,” he says spreading your legs for you.

“Mm,” you say. He caresses your thigh before lightly nipping at them, it’s been a very long time since you fell into a subspace, you missed it. He gets closer to your core and you buck when you feel his breath get near, “m'sorry.” You apologize, remember how König acted when he moved on you, scared as if you would stop.

“You get a pass because this is new to you, but don’t do it again? You’ll learn soon.” He says.

You nodded, “Am I allowed to grip your hair Si?” You pout, god how could he ever say no to you, you were his girl, he nods dipping his head down into your core licking one long stripe.

He attacks it like a starved man, he groans into you, the vibrations making you moan, “yes!” You say loudly.

He pulls his head up and rubs his fingers on you, “you taste so good, pretty girl. Could eat you up all night.” He says running circles on your nub.

“Please, I want your fingers.” You moan.

“Asking so nicely, maybe König should take some lessons from you, should we get König? If you want baby.” Simon says, reminding you that you do have a say in what happens in the bed.

“Please, I wanna make him feel good. I wanna make you feel good.” You pout, giving him the best puppy dog eyes that you could.

“Right now is all about you though.” He reminds you.

“Please?” You ask quieter sounding weak and sad, still giving him the eyes.

He stares at you, knowing your game, “maybe, let me finish what you’ve started though.” He says making you smile. He grins at you, happy to see you smile and not frown. He sticks two fingers in you stretching you out and making your back arch up. He uses his other arm to hold you down.

He pumps his fingers in you quickly making you a moaning mess. You squeeze his fingers, “fuck your tight.” Simon moans out, only making you squeeze more around his fingers, “such a good girl. You gonna cum?” He asks not slowing his pace.

You nod vigorously, “please, can I sir?” You moan out.

“Make a mess on my fingers.” He says going even quicker rubbing circles around you nub. You moan out, loud and shake as he replaces his fingers with his mouth to taste you.

“Yes! Oh god, thank you!” You shout. You breathe heavily as he slowly stops what he's doing.

Simon looks up at you kissing your thigh, “I’m going to get Konig now my sweet girl.” He says. You smile and open your legs up again, “or should I say, dirty girl?” He asks you playfully slapping your thigh making you yelp and then giggle.

Simon is gone for a moment before you see König walking in confused at Simon's request of you needing him, “oh,” he says seeing you naked in front of him, legs spread and you grinning.

“I need you König,” you whine with a smile. It’s clear you just had an orgasm that he missed, Your core is glistening. König looks at Simon for permission.

“Get undressed and make her cum again.” Simon simply tells him. König waste no time undressing, naked and now on his stomach with his face leveled at your pussy. He looks at you and you nod and he licks one long stripe on your core.

You throw your head back. Simon comes up to you and attacks your lips, fervorusly making out with you claiming dominance with his tongue. You moan into the kiss and watch as Simon separates from you. Your gaze turns to König as you see his ass is perfectly arched and in range to be fucked. You go to speak but quickly shut your mouth.

“What is is?” He ask, he’s observant, you should know you can’t hide anything. Your embarrassed at what you want. “Tell me or König will stop and you won't be allowed to cum.” he threatens and hold onto your jaw.

“I- oh fuck!” You start as you grip onto König head pushing him into you more, “I wanna watch.” You whine, looking up at Simon.

He's confused for a moment but then he looks over at König, his ass is in the air, begging to be fucked. “You wanna watch me fuck König?” He asks, a little surprised but your always surprising him anymore.

König looks up at Simon, excited to finally get Simon in him. König pauses to look at you, “please?” You ask König sweetly.

Fuck how can he say no when you have those big puppy dog eyes. You sit up and grab Simon's cock in your hands and pump him, “can I lick you, sir?” You ask.

König watches you break one of simons rules, touching him without permission, but Simon doesn’t punish you for it, of course, he’s whipped by her, König thinks, “Go ahead, make it wet, König is gonna need it,” Simon tells you.

König watches as you fuck your mouth with Simon's cock. Simon holds your head as you move it back and forth slobbering on it, “fuck, such a little whore for it aren’t you?” Simon ask.

He pulls you off and sees the string of spit from your mouth. You use your finger to place it on his cock. He goes behind König and spits a little more on his hole. You go to lay back down, your core right back in front of König face. Simon finally slides into König making him moan loudly and tighten his walls around Simon’s large cock. His face gets pushed into your pussy by Simon and he eats it more.

You hear skin slapping as Simon shows König no mercy. König sticks his tongue inside of you and Simon's pace reflects on König tongue pace. He moans into you making you closer to your orgasm.

“Please König I need your fingers.” You whimper. He doesn’t move from what he’s doing, he's too drunk on the pleasure he's receiving and giving.

You hear a harsh slap and your eyes snap up at Simon as his hand leaves König ass, “listen up boy.” Simon scolds, “our girl wants your fingers so I suggest you do as she says.” Simon says with one more smack as he slows down.

König whimpers and sinks two large fingers in you as he continues to assault your core and nub with his mouth. “Oh fuck! Yes!” You yell out, beginning to shake.

“That feel good? His mouth on you? His fingers? Look at you shake.” Simon taunts giving König a few more smacks.

You finally open your eyes looking up at Simon, he’s smirking as he pounds into König. The sight in front of you releases a feeling you never felt. You've never seen a man fuck another in front of you. Seeing König eyes squeeze shut and he eats you out and gets fucked sends you into a frenzy, you don’t know how to feel now, you want to praise Simon for fucking him so good, but submit and beg for more.

“Feels to good, looks to good.” You babble as you pulls König closer into you.

“That’s a good girl, fuck, feels so good König.” König moans, the vibration to much.

“Please can I cum?” you beg.

“Not yet,” Simon tells you. “I want all of us to cum together.” He tells you as he goes to pull on König cock. It leaks precum, aching to come.

“M’please Si! Please, I can't hold it!” You cry, god this pleasure was to much but it felt so good.

“Come, with us,” Simon says as he feels König start to tremble underneath him. König licks at you and sucks harder on your nub, quickly adding his fingers into you as you rut yourself onto his lips, “oh my god! König!” You tell as he moans into you, the vibrations set you over the edge.

König spurts onto your sheet and you leak out your orgasm onto his hands that still linger in you, Simon stilling in König as he twitches inside him. König rests his head on your thighs and groans once Simon pulls out, König removes his fingers and you whine, too sensitive.

König rubs your thigh softly as Simon goes to collect a towel to clean both of you up, König looks up at you as you rub his hair with a smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper when Simon cleans you both up. Simon can see both yours and König eyelids flutter close. Simon coxes König to get up to the pillows, “but these are good pillows,” König whines snuggling closer into your thigh.

You tug him up, “want you to hold me.” You say. König comes up and Simon scoffs at him listening to you so easily. He wraps around you as the big spoon and you the little spoon and quickly König is out. “I want you both to hold me.” You look up at Simon giving him more puppy dog eyes.

“Who knew you were so bratty.” He says coming up behind you and kissing your shoulder. You giggle and snuggle your head into König, finally able to relax once Simon wrapped his arms around you.

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