#but for some reason the thought of her tearing someone's throat out with her teeth and going feral is very appealing to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyjaeyun · 8 months

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𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 – 𝟐𝟑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

⤲ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⤲ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐀𝐔, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐀𝐔, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

⤲ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕.𝟓𝐤 (not proofread yet i got hungry, sorry)

⤲ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧...

"The actual love of my life."

The sound of your best friend's voice sends literal chills of excitement over your body and for the first time in a total of three weeks you feel like your lungs fill with oxygen again.

You still have to get used to not spending every single second with your better half after doing just that for the past twelve years and as you wrap your arms around his strong body, you let out a deep sigh.

Jungwon's warmth, his familiar scent and calming energy embrace you within seconds, easing your nervous soul in ways only he manages to do it.

You've never associated anyone with an actual home except your brother, until you met your best friend all these years ago. You still remember the way he'd make you laugh in the worst moments of your life as he wiped away every single tear and as usual, healed injuries he hadn't caused.

"Now now", he sighs and takes your face into his big, delicate hands, his attentive eyes roaming your face and you know he can read you like an open book. It's always been as easy for him as it's been for his older cousin and the ability's definitely a blessing and a curse in one.

"Let's save those conversations for the next few days, yeah? Today's going to be a good day and you're going to enjoy yourself or I'll have to throat punch you", Won's words leave no room for discussion and you can't help but chuckle at his threat, knowing he'd actually pull through with it if he had to.

Once the two of you get comfortable in Heeseung's car, you catch up on the past week, since neither one of you has had the time to actually talk on the phone, both of you covering extra shifts to get the same week off and enjoy your time together.

For some reason, neither one of you seems to dare mention a certain someone and you wonder what Jungwon talked to Heeseung about, only to get rid of those thoughts as quickly as they appeared.

The drive to your brother's apartment is calm and everything you needed right before a nervewrecking night like this one and all of a sudden you find yourself dreading the upcoming few hours.

Just as you two step out of the elevator, you literally run into the strong chest of someone you recognize by his scent before you even get to see his face.

"Wonie!" Heeseung's deep voice fills your head in the most agonisingly perfect way possible, taking over yet another one of your senses and with your bottom lip firmly tugged between your teeth you take a step back and watch the two cousins greet each other.

"Where are you going? The party's literally about to start", Jungwon asks and definitely doesn't miss the way the older one's eyes find their way to you and back within a second.

You're just glad neither one of you is brave enough to actually address it.

"Jong's too drunk to cook and everyone got here straight from work. Yuna almost punched Yun in the face because he told her to relax, so I'm gonna go and get something to eat. Delivery would take too long."

Heeseung wants to look at you, he's dying to take in the sight of your perfect body in that cute little dress, save it in his memories for all those times he's by himself and has nothing but his thoughts to handle, but he doesn't.

Not even a single time does his gaze shift to you, his eyes remaining on his cousin's face as he hears his heart breaking into thousands of pieces in a far distance.

"My baby's going to join you", Jungwon suddenly says and with wide eyes you lift your head and stare at him, trying to understand what the fuck he just said.

"Huh? No, it's okay", Seung says and for some reason there's a quick flash of irritation in his eyes, but you can't help and be sure it's mostly because of your best friend's choice of words to address you.

"You'll have lots to carry", Won states calmly, "you've got like ten hungry mouths to feed and my presence will distract them long enough."

"What about my presence?" You say and place a hand on your hips, looking him up and down only to catch a gentle smile of amusement on Heeseung's pretty lips, which however slips away rather quickly once he realises.

"You'd be too much of a distraction to the boys, especially in a dress like that." Jungwon's shameless flirting doesn't even faze you anymore and with a roll of your eyes, you allow yourself to peak a glance at Heeseung, who – again – doesn't seem fond of his cousin's behavior towards you.

"It's okay, seriously", Seung says and you can tell it's directed towards you, yet he still refuses to make eye contact, which definitely irritates you in a way you weren't expecting it.

If he's going to act the way he does, the least he could do is have the audacity to meet your eyes when he's talking to you once in a while.

So, without an ounce of hesitation, you lift your head to look at his face, subconsciously enjoying the definition of his features and how everything about him seems perfect.

"Don't be a baby now", Jungwon rolls his eyes and reaches for his suitcase, pushing it away from the three of you before he follows and quickly lifts his hand to make you stay.

"Whatever you're ordering, please get a less spicy version as well, not everyone has a tongue of steel like you." Those are your best friend's last words before he makes his way to the front door of your brother's apartment and with a soft sigh, you turn around and press the button of the elevator.

The following few minutes are filled with nothing but silence, since neither one of you dares to start a conversation. You know he'd feel uncomfortable and quickly bring it to an end so he can act like you don't exist to ease his conscience, which is why you'd rather sit there and say absolutely nothing at all instead.

Once you two make it to the boys' favorite restaurant, you thank Heeseung for holding the door open for you, a big smile suddenly appearing on your face as you spot the cute waiter and owner's som at the register.

"Hey, there!" You lift your hand to wave at him, Heeseung's eyes attentively watching your every movement and just like Jake had told you to, you decide to play a card you usually would have been too scared to even think of, but this time it's actually happening and not just in your instagram stories.

"Oh, goodness! There she is, the prettiest girl in town!" The young man shoots you a charming smile, runs his hand through his dark hair and even winks at you, yet not giving an ounce of his attention to the tall male mext to you.

"Don't get me all flustered now, you know I tip too well if you do!"

Both of you erupt in laughter, much to Heeseung's dislike and with his hands balled into fists to the point where his rings actually hurt him, he just clears his throat and finally manages to make the man avert his gaze from you.

Once he's made sure to get everyone's order and a few side dishes, the man disappears for a quick moment and you can feel the tension between the two of you.

"Close, huh?" The sudden question takes you aback and with furrowed brows you look at him in annoyance.

"Too lazy to form a complete sentence..huh?"

You hate yourself for being so irritated by his behavior because you've been playing with his patience all week, thanks to Jaeyun. You genuinely didn't think it'd work, yet from what your brother's friend has been telling you, your little game of provocation has worked just as you had planned and Heeseung's been going crazy just because of your instagram stories.

But you've decided not to care too much, knowing he won't act on it anyway so there's absolutely no point in considering if it's too much or not.

"Here you go, this is the change and a little something for you guys while you wait", Siwoo says with a bright smile, his pretty eyes again, remaining on you only and you hate how happy the sudden tension in Heeseung's posture makes you.

"Thank you, handsome", you reply with a charming smirk, carefully watching your life long crush roll his eyes in annoyance in your peripheral sight, while you're barely holding back a chuckle.

You quickly take one of the tooth picks and take a little rice cakes into your louth, humming softly when the perfect sauce hits your taste buds and you can feel both men's eyes on you, yet only caring about the one's beside you.

"I've been meaning to ask for your instagram", Siwoo suddenly says and pulls out his phone, handing it to you with a hopeful expression in his pretty eyes.

"Oh, su-", but before you can even think about reaching for the device in his hand, an arm suddenly appears in front of you, pushing him away casually but firmly.

"She has a boyfriend", Heeseung suddenly hisses and you feel heat boiling in your lower tummy, the possessiveness in his voice sending shivers down your body and with an inaudible gasp you look at him in shock.

"Oh? So, you and Jaeyun are dating? I always thought he was just joking, I'm sorry", Siwoo mumbles and you hate how Heeseung's reaction has him embarrassed as he puts his phone away again and smiles awkwardly.

"I do not have a boyfriend", you quickly reply and push Seung's arm away, holding your hand out for the young man to give you the device again, "Jaeyun and I are just friends."

You emphasise the last two words while looking into Heeseung's eyes with a fire he's never seen before and for some reason the urge to just bend you over and fuck you into oblivion has never been as intense as in this particular moment.

He hates the way his blood is boiling and he can't do anything but watch as you type in your instagram user name into the search bar, quickly tapping the follow button and give Siwoo his phone back while shooting him one of your prettiest smiles.

Heeseung knows he has absolutely no right to feel jealous or angry, but these past two weeks he's had to tap through your stories and listen to Jaeyun tell him all the details about your new lover, so he has absolutely no energy left to fight these thoughts and emotions.

This is what he's always wanted. For you to move on with a good guy who eats you out and takes you on cute little dates, something your new fucker has apparently been doing a lot, according to Jaeyun.

He hates his best friend for being so open about your new relationship despite his knowledge of Heeseung's feelings, but there's no point in blaming anyone but himself so all he can do is let out a loud sigh and accept his defeat.

Once Heeseung thanks the kind employee for helping him load all the bags full of hot food into the little box in the back of his car, you both say your farewells and head back to your brother's shared apartment, yet again – not a single word being exchanged throughout the whole drive.

But as you turn to the side to reach for the door handle, Heeseung doesn't immediately unlock the door itself, a loud sigh following his lack of movement.

"Why are you doing this to me, princess?"

His choice of words and way to address you, as well as his tired tone and the lack of eye contact sends a jolt of sadness through your body. You hate how much he's fighting his feelings but you have no choice but to push him if you really want him.

"What exactly am I doing – especially to you?" You spit back, sudden anger and frustration taking over the place of your sadness and with your hands balled into fists you turn your body to face the love of your life again.

"Don't act like you don't know how much watching you with other men hurts me", Heeseung growls and throws his head back against the seat's headrest, his hands tightly holding onto the steering wheel and you can't help but bite your bottom lip at the sight of his pretty, ring adorned fingers.

"Yeah, right", you reply and don't even try to hide the annoyance in your voice, "you act like I was the one who pushed you away every time. I get to do whatever I want with whoever I want to do it with."

And those words flip a switch in Heeseung's brain, mental images of your pleasure contorted face with a faceless guy between your legs, driving him absolutely insane within a few seconds. He's never felt as jealous as he does right now and he actually watched your boyfriends kiss you multiple times in the past.

The fact you're so open about your intimacy with other men has his heart skipping a few beats, all while he tries to breathe in as much air as possible, only for his lungs to fail to take it all in.

"Oh, so you're going to go and fuck some lame ass loser because you feel like it? Come on, why don't you go back and let that ugly bitch from the restaurant take you, hm? You love wasting your time after all."

You don't expect his sudden outburst and as soon as your brain processes his words, you feel heat pooling in your lowe tummy as your cunt clenches in despair. He's not being loud or aggressive, yet there's nothing but raw jealousy burning in his usually so soft eyes and you hate how much you're enjoying it.

"Maybe I'll do just that", you hiss and can barely hold back the look of surprise on your own face in response to your words.

You've never been one to openly talk to your brother or his friends about anything related to intimacy, but you've had enough of Heeseung's games.

"And what about your little boyfriend, huh? The one you post and talk about all the time? Think he's gonna like hearing you talk like this?"

At this point you have absolutely no ounce of patience left, and neither does he.

You attentively watch the way a deep shade of pink starts covering the soft skin of his cheeks, his eyes filled with anger and jealousy as he tries his best not to yell at you. And for some reason you feel relieved to see a reaction as intense as this one from the man you've been head over heels for all this time.

In a twisted way it's helped you finally get rid of all those thoughts dismissing any possible feelings of his towards you.

"There is no fucking boyfriend!" You finally raise your voice as your patience finally finds its absolute limit and with wide eyes you look at Heeseung and try to calm yourself down.

"Oh, so go ahead then! Let's see if that fucker can even last longer than a fucking minute and then you can come and brag to me about it", Seung's words are harsh and dirty, they make you feel uncomfortable yet for the first time in your life you don't even think about stepping away from a confrontation.

For a short moment you're surprised at your boldness, not used to being like this to anyone, especially someone with an aura as intimidating as Lee Heeseung.

"Maybe I'll do just that, Heeseung." You take a deep breath and roll your eyes, turning your head to hide just how much you love this side of him to avoid a sudden turn of atmosphere.

"He looks like he eats it well, too, doesn't he? Once he's done with me I'll make sure to let you know if I've finally found someone who can eat-", but yet again, you don't get to finish your sentence as Heeseung quickly reaches over to cover your mouth with his ring clad hand.

His touch isn't rough or harsh, not even firm, it's just a way of him asking you to be quiet as your words get the best of him and with big, glossy eyes you watch the way he pushes his forehead against the steering wheel and lets out a loud sigh.

He sounds defeated, tired and just done.

But you don't get to feel bad for what you said, nor does he give the time to pity him.

"Stop", he whispers and tightens his grip on his own thigh, yet not moving an inch when it comes to the one on your face, "I can't do this anymore."

You sigh and reach for his hand, gently wrapping your fingers around his and placing it in your lap before you turn to look at him.

"Why are you fighting it so much, Seungie?"

The question lingers in the air for a good minute and if it wasn't for the feeling of your skin against his, Heeseung would have stayed quiet for another thirty.

"I promised to never cross this line", he finally admits after losing the battle against himself for the nth time within a week, "I fucking promised."

Heeseung was doing so, so well hiding his feelings for you all this time, which is probably the reason why he would have never expected your close presence to make it so much harder than before.

Knowing you're this close to him physically and he still has to pretend like he's not going absolutely crazy over you is what has driven him into absolute insanity and at this point he's just exhausted.

He's had to watch you live your life without him for years, pretending he didn't care and be content with being as distant as he's always been but after realising how close the two of you could have been if it wasn't for his stupidity, he's been regretting most of the things he's done and wished he could have done it differently.

At this point he's just glad he somehow gets to stay in contact with you, talking to you becoming a privilege and treasure he could not take for granted even if he wanted to and after leaving his apartment for the fifth time within a week to make you feel as comfortable with the lack of his presence, he's simply had enough.

"Look at me, please", you whisper and patiently wait for him to meet your eyes, knowing you'll feel more comfortable and less tense if it was for that, "stop being so hard on yourself. It's breaking my heart to see you like this."

Just a few minutes ago you were yelling at him about having another man eat you out and now you're on the complete opposite side of the road. If it wasn't for the fast pace of your heartbeat, the sudden change in air would have given you a good whiplash.

"I want you", Heeseung suddenly whispers, allowing himself to indulge in the sweetness of your tone and the softness of your touch, calming his nerves in a way he's never experienced it before until you came into his life.

"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you, princess." His confession immediately pushes you to the furthest edges of your self control and as a thick veil of tears blurs your sight, you can't help but swallow them down again. His tone is genuine and you know he's being honest, but from the way his eyes are looking everywhere but your own, you know he's about to crash every bit of hope you had manage to build up these past few days.

"I just can't break this promise, Sunghoon is my everything", yet again, you find yourself despising their bond, when everyone else in this world would probably kill to have a friendship like theirs. Neither one of them is at fault, and you know that, yet you can't stop yourself from being angry at life for putting the both of you in a situation like this one.

And as you hold Heeseung's hand, something you've been dreaming of for years, taking in the sight of his perfect face and those soft eyes you've been craving for so long, your heart finally manages to overpower your mind and before you can overthink them, you find yourself mumbling the words "and what about me? What am I to you?"

"My most precious treasure."

Heeseung doesn't miss a single beat as if he felt your question in his heart before you had the chance to voice it out to him. He's been through these questions so many times already, at this point he's sure he's got an answer ready for every single one of them.

Maybe it's the raw honesty in his voice or the actual pain in his eyes, yet as soon as you process his sweet confession, you feel the tears streaming down your cheeks, leaving a burning trail on your skin and doubling the knot in your throat in its size.

Heeseung has seen you cry before, but this time he knows he's got the chance to actually comfort you and for a minute, everything and everyone becomes irrelevant. Nobody and nothing matters as he pushes his seat back and reaches for your hand, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around your body.

Neither one of you remembers the last time you two hugged each other. Both of you turning too shy and awkward once puberty had come around and yet as soon as you indulge in his embrace, the comforting feeling of familiarity overwhelms you.

"My sweet souled angel girl", Heeseung whispers and caresses your back, his heart breaking a little more with each one of your sobs, but for some reason he's glad you finally know how he feels about you.

"Why is life so unfair", you mumble against the soft skin of his neck, breathing in his calming scent because you know you won't get another opportunity like this.

"I'm sorry, Baby, I wish I could give you an answer but I'm still trying to figure it out myself. Always wondered why you had to fall for me and not one of the other boys", he sighs and pushes a strand of hair out of your face, taking it into his big hands and nudging his nose against yours.

"Life would have been so much easier for you if you fell for basically anyone else." You know he's not doing it on purpose, yet after talking to both Jake and Jungwon about it for so long, you can't help but actually hear the self destruction in his words, the conviction of his presence and place in your life being nothing but a burden to you wavering in each one of them.

"It's unfair but I wouldn't want it any other way", you quickly say and look up at him with teary eyes. You need him to understand just how much he means to you.

"You're the reason my standards have always been so high", you chuckle and nibble on your bottom lip as soon as Heeseung looks at you with surprise grazing his perfect features.

"You're so fucking cute", he sighs in response and cocks his head to the side, his eyes slowly roaming your face to land on your parted lips and for the first time this evening you regret your choice of outfit. Your skirt has already ridden up your thighs and you can feel the zipper of his jeans against your sensitive cunt, yet still afraid he might feel the growth of the wet patch in the center of your panties.

"Don't look at me like that, princess", he suddenly grunts and tries to adjust in his seat, "we can't do this."

You don't say anything. You don't even dare to move. There's something heavy lingering in the air, a sexual tension neither one of you had ever had the guts to acknowledge, yet now happened to be the reason for the lack of oxygen in your lungs.

"Then we won't do anything", you whisper and lean further into his gentle touch, loving the way his other hand is holding onto your hips with such vigor, you have to physically hold back a whimper.

"Just one kiss", Seung's voice is a mere whisper, barely audible, "and then I'm gonna let you go again."

"Just one kiss", you reply in the same way, gasping for air as his hot breath fans your sensitive skin, "and then I won't ever let go of you again."

Neither one of you dares to make the next, important move. Both just taking in the presence of the other as you lose yourself in all those hidden feelings and urges, until you've finally had enough.

Without missing another beat you lean forward and press your lips against Heeseung's, almost instantly eliciting a deep grunt from his throat before he moves even closer into your touch.

The kiss is calm and soft at first, Heeseung obviously hesitating in hopes of maintaining his composure, only for you to break every single wall he had built throughout the years with one whimper.

He's been dreaming about hearing your noises for so long, there's absolutely no way he's going to back away now that he finally got a taste.

You can feel the bulge in his jeans growing underneath the light movements of your hips as you kiss him deeper, harder, hungrier. The need to lose yourself in the sweet taste of the man you've wanted for so long finally taking over every single one of your senses and with a soft sigh your hands find home in his dark hair.

Heeseung on the other hand has lost every bit of self control and if it wasn't for the current situation you're in, he would have made his way with you in the backseat with absolutely no hesitation. He knew he wasn't going to push you away for a third time and now that he's actually wrapping his lips around your tongue, he knows he's absolutely fucked.

With each time your lips meet, his hot muscle grazing yours and exploring your mouth in ways you've been craving for way too long you lose yourself even more in the sweet haze of pleasure, subconsciously rocking your hips against his to get rid of the pressure on your cunt.

"Princess", Heeseung suddenly whispers completely out of breath, his attention remaining on you and you're surprised just how heavy the both of you are breathing, "your phone is ringing."

You forcefully swallow the last few noises of pleasure before you reach for your phone on the passenger seat, ice cold shivers running down your spine at the sight of your brother's contact picture and name on your display.

"Where the fuck are you two?" Hoon slurs, not even trying to hide the few drinks he's had since he had come home a few hours ago.

You look at Heeseung with heavy eyes and your hand on the base of his neck, biting back a whimper when he moves it a little further up to wrap around his own throat, his gaze never once leaving yours.

"We just parked the car", you say and try to sound as unaffected as possible, "two more minutes."

"Just hurry the fuck up, Yuna's going to fist fight Jaeyun if she has to listen to another one of his stupid jokes without anything in her stomach."

You chuckle nervously in response to your brother's words but can't get yourself to verbally answer him, just ending the call and slowly climbing off of Heeseung's lap and back into the passenger seat.

The air and tension in the car is filled with arousal, so heavy, you feel like there's barely any oxygen left as your head starts spinning.

"Are we going to talk about this?" You ask softly, not brave enough to lift your head and look at him, only for Heeseung to place his hand on your hand and letting out a soft hum of approval.

"Yes, Baby", he replies quickly and you stare at him with big eyes, surprised at his sudden openness, "but let's get this party over with first, yeah?"

All you can do is nod and kiss the palm of his hand on your cheek, his lips stretching into a soft, honest smile before he lets out a sigh and gets out of his car rather quickly.

As soon as you two step through the door, both Jaeyun and Jungwon are attentively watching you and with your brows furrowed in confusion you just roll your eyes and make your way past them. Neither one of them manage to get a minute with you to themselves as you help Heeseung and the girls with the food and since both of them haven't eaten in several hours, they quickly shift their attention to the more important things.

Once everyone is seated none of you bothers to even bring a toast to the birthday boy, who's currently busy drinking the little cocktail Ryujin had mixed him up and you can't help but feel glad because if anyone was sober enough, they would have felt the tension between you and Heeseung withou any difficulties.

Sitting across from each other and right next to your brother definitely doesn't contribute to it, since your gazes meet more than you would have expected but every single time Heeseung looks at you, he wipes his thumb over his bottom lip and lets his eyes fall to yours, casually letting you know of his unspoken thoughts.

By the time everyone's well fed and back to giggles and loud laughter again, you feel yourself easing up a little as well and actually manage to shift your attention away from your brother's best friend for a little longer, focusing on your girls instead. Since the three of you haven't had much time to chat the way you used to, both Ryujin and Yuna have quite a few stories to tell as you clean up the kitchen knowing the boys are busy enjoying the night in the living room. However, it doesn't take long for Wonie to join you and soon you find yourself holding your belly from how hard you've been laughing at your friends' comments.

Every now and then you catch yourself letting out a sigh of relief and gratitude, since this has been the first time in weeks you feel like you're actually living a moment instead of just making your way through a night and as much as you want to hate the reason behind it, you can't.

After about an hour of seperation, Jungwon forces the three of you to join them in the living room again and after almost brutally pushing the girls into the hallway of your brother's apartment, you're adamant to finish the rest of the dishes as quick as possible.

But as soon as your friends stumble through the door, Heeseung's eyes are nervously looking for you, yearning for your presence even worse than before and every time he looked at you after the kiss, his head has been telling him just how badly he fucked up because letting go of you and staying away seems absolutely impossible now.

He doesn't say a single word, just waits for everyone to agree on what Cartoon to watch for their drinking game and sneakily making his way out of his spot once the argument becomes more serious.

You don't even give him the chance to watch you, as his presence creeps up on you before you can even see him in your peripheral vision and quickly shoot him a soft smile.

"Is everything okay?" You ask and reach for the towel to dry the last few dishes, only for Heeseung to take them out of your grip and place them on the kitchen counter again.

With a quick glance to the door to make sure no one followed him, he reaches for your face and pulls you closer to his strong body, his hands finding home on your hips as he buried his nose in your neck and inhales your sweet scent the way you did it with his.

"We can do the rest tomorrow, princess", he whispers into your ear, tightening his grip and gently groping the soft flesh, "I want you as close to me as possible from now on."

Your thighs basically start pressing together almost automatically in response to his words, the sudden attention nothing you're used to and you genuinely hope he can't tell just how needy you are.

Of course Lee Heeseung has always read you like an open book but he's never seen you in a state of arousal, so maybe these are the first pages he still has to figure out.

"Stop doing that", he suddenly presses through gritted teeth and nudges his knee in between your thighs, "I've been trying everything in the books to get rid of my fucking boner for the past two hours and knowing you've probably ruined your panties just makes me want to bury my face in that pretty cunt and finally take what's mine."

Speechless.

There's not a single word left in your vocabulary to describe what his words have managed to erupt inside of you and for a whole minute you're convinced the whole world has come to a stop for you to actually process them.

For some reason you're not even shocked, since you always kinda knew Heeseung's got a talent when it comes to charming his way into one's heart, yet you've never actively heard him something so lewd, so forbidden that you simply don't know what to say.

Your whole body is on fire; there's not one part of your limbs not burning like someone threw you into actual flames and with wide eyes you try not to fall to your knees.

"Are you thinking about all the ways I'm going to make you cum, pretty girl? You seem so thoughtful", Heeseung chuckles and casually leans against the wall behind him, his eyes roaming your body and taking in every single one of your reactions. He's always loved the effect he's had on you, yet now it's finally time for him to take advantage of your body's sweet response to him and just the way you're looking at him through glossy eyes is enough for him to never stop.

But all of a sudden there's a light shift in your thoughts. He can tell by the way you nervously start nibbling on your bottom lip that he isn't your only focus anymore and with another quick glance to the door he places his hand on your cheek and looks at you worriedly.

"Too much, Baby? Want me to go a little easier on you?"

You quickly shake your head no, since you definitely don't want him to stop or take it easier, his pace and everything he's been doing more than just perfect and with a soft sigh you try to get rid of those stupid demons, only to realise there's no point in hiding them from Lee Heeseung.

"What's wrong then, princess?"

"I've never –", you take a deep breath and try to compose yourself, but still giving you the time you need to find the right words simce you've never actually told anyone about this, not even your closest friends.

Heeseung doesn't really know what to expect since he's stopped hoping to be any of your firsts the day he saw you get quite handsy with your first boyfriend during a friendsmas dinner back in his last year of High School, which is probably why remaining quiet and just waiting for you to talk is his best option instead of getting his hopes too high up.

It's not like he cares if you're experienced or not, nothing is going to change how much he wants you anyway.

"Nobody has ever made me cum and I don't want you to be disappointed when it doesn't work out the way you've imagined."

For some reason, you don't feel as ashamed about it with Heeseung the way you usually did when it came to your previous boyfriends and the fact you have yet to talk about the whole moment in his car from a few hours ago, yet are already discussing details like this definitely seems a little rushed.

Yet it doesn't feel like you're going too fast. There's just too much pent up frustration for the both of you to actually take it slower and you're pretty sure (and hopeful) Heeseung feels the same way.

You carefully watch his reaction and nervously fumble with the rings on your fingers, the knot in your throat growing bigger and bigger the longer it takes for him to reply to your statement. You never thought it'd come to this point with Lee Heeseung, of all people, no matter how much you've been dreaming about it, so you simply can't help but feel even more self conscious about it.

It's not like you've never had an orgasm before, you've got a fair collection of toys to do just that, after all. It's mostly about your lack of satisfaction provided by someone else, which is why you've stopped asking for basically anything after about three months into your second relationship. Most of the time you liked them enough to give them head or let them fuck your fist, yet never trusting them enough to take it to another level, which you're definitely not ready to tell Heeseung just yet.

"I'm sorry", you whisper quickly when you realise he still hasn't said anything, the guilt of ruining his fantasies overtaking you in an instant and without hesitation you try your best to compensate for your lacking, "but I wasn't expecting anything from you anyway, I promise. I could just uhm do something for you and–"

"Princess."

As soon as the petname falls past his lips in the form of a whisper you shut your mouth almost instinctively, yet never once looking away from his face. You're still too shy to meet his gaze but try to focus on his pretty lips instead.

"First of all", he sighs and pushes your chin up with two of his fingers, "don't ever apologize for something like this, do you hear me?" All you can do is nod softly, still too flustered to respond and the possibility of someone walking in on you two so close to each other like this definitely contributes to the thrumming in your throat.

"We're going to talk about this when it's not as risky but I just want you to know you could never, ever disappoint me about these things. You're everything I've ever dreamed of and nothing is going to change that, yeah?"

It's definitely the way he talks and looks at you, which easily calms down all of those anxious thoughts in your brain and for the first time in yesrs you find yourself believing someone, almost instantly falling in love with the silence in your head.

"Good girl", Heeseung mumbles, doesn't even think about it for another second only to turn around and open the fridge to prepare Sunghoon's birthday cake, knowing one of them might storm into the kitchen any minute wondering what you two have been doing for so long.

And as he looks around for the decoration bag, you can't even blink as your body tries its best to cool down from the heat those two words of praise have sent through your system.

You've always had a thing about being praised, realising it's most likely caused by your lack of attention and validation in your childhood and confirmed by your choice of romance books, but none of your romantic interests had ever cared enough to indulge in it.

You still remember your most recent boyfriend trying his best to compliment you, only to use the words "hot" and "sexy" four times in a row and making it even worse for you to the point where you had accepted your fate, yet again.

Knowing Heeseung seems more than just casual about it to the point where he doesn't realise the effects it has on you sends jolts of excitement and anticipation through your body in the best way possible.

However, just as he'd expected, Jongseong stumbles through the kitchen door with flushed cheeks and messy hair, questioning the two of you only to place a finger over his pursed lips when he spots your brother's birthday cake.

It doesn't take long for them to absolutely destroy it all, not even bothering to plate each piece but instead everyone digging into it with some kind of utensil they found on the table, Jake not even giving enough fucks to find the second chopstick to his first one.

You have no idea how much time passes as you start playing random games and everyone tells a story about Sunghoon to honor him, most of you losing it as soon as Heeseung starts to speak because he never fails to bring out the best ones.

The girls are the first ones to leave, Heeseung insisting on driving them home with the boys, despite them living in an apartment across the street. By the time he's made sure everyone got home safe it's way past midnight and to his surprise mostly everything is cleaned up, yet none of you are where you're supposed to be.

It's not until he hears your chuckles through Sunghoon's door that he lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes you're still here.

"This was the best birthday ever", your brother slurs, his words barely coherent at this point and usually you'd be a little stricter about his drinking habits, but this time you just don't have the heart to actually say anything, "you and Seung are my favorite people in this world. I'm so grateful to have you both."

For some reason you feel a sting reach your heart as you thread your fingers through Sunghoon's hair, taking in the sight of his features and reminding yourself of his importance in your life, yet not feeling guilty enough to turn your head and look at Heeseung, who's standing in the doorway, just watching the three of you, with genuine adoration.

"Shut the fuck up."

Your best friends whine quickly ruins your oscar worthy moment and with a roll of your eyes you give Jungwon a kiss on the forehead and finally make your way to where Heeseung's standing.

"I'm–"

But for the third time within a few hours, Heeseungs cuts you off by wrapping his arms around your shoulder and pulling you into his embrace, just holding you close to his chest.

"Today's been a long one, how about we leave the talking for another day, yeah? I'm here, princess", he whispers and gives you a quick kiss, afraid one of the boys might still be up, "and I promise I'm not going anywhere anymore. Now go and get comfortable in my bed, I'll take the couch."

When you bury your face in Heeseung's pillow, you can't help the big smile on your lips and your brain finally lets you relive every single moment between the two of you, even showing you the mercy of pushing every bit of guilt to the back of your brain until you can barely keep your eyes open anymore, hoping you're not the only one falling asleep with butterflies in your tummy tonight.

And if Heeseung had the heart to let you know that this is the first time in weeks he's not actually crying himself to sleep, he definitely would because he can't even remember the last time he placed his head on a pillow with a genuine smile on his lips.

For a moment he can't help but wonder how something that feels so right, could ever be so wrong, only to throw all of those thoughts out of his head before they can take away this newfound feeling of hope filling his chest.

Maybe life isn't as bad as he thought.

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: and here it is 💀 i know you guys had quite high expectations of this and i'm sorry for deciding against a proper smut scene last minute but i feel like it wouldn't have matched the vibe 😭 thank you ao much for all the love, you guys are the best. i love you sm 🥺🧸 feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!🩷🧸)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @thvhannie @enhaz1 @kpoprhia @abrazosolorcereza @deobitifull @mixtape-racha @certifiedmoa @jungwon-xo @hoonieluv @enhamysunshines @jaehoonii @pussyslayerhd @ineedsomezzz @neocockthotology @heerinnie @onionzzzs @hee-pster @3amstarlight @xxxxrvexxxx @primroselover @mimikittysblog @iea-tsand @lhspeachie @xiaoderrrr @viagumi @smg-valeria @kells5595 @heeseunghee7 @xrvrqs @ddazed-lhs @heebrry @fakeuwus @dammit-jjk @ivyannemarie @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @s00buwu

#enhypen social media au #enhypen writers #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung social media au #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #heeseung smut #heeseung

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fettuccinealfred0 · 4 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 2

Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 7.4k

(CW: general vampirism, period typical sexism, forced marriage)

Summary:

“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunin, take this lady to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Astarion gives a dramatic ‘I do’ with a self-important little flourish of his hand. Even in the little time you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize that he is a showman above all and is incapable of turning down an opportunity to be over-the-top.

Gale turns to you, “And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you force the words out through gritted teeth because at this point, what choice do you really have?

Read on ao3

There’s a knock on your door the next morning, but you ignore it- too consumed by the throbbing pain in your head and the feeling of tiny knives stabbing at the back of your eyes. This is what you get for crying yourself to sleep.

At some point last night, you had managed to pull yourself off the floor and into the bed, still wearing your gown. You had barely thought to pull the pins out of your hair before you were curling in on yourself under the covers, pillow dampening under your cheek.

But there are no tears left this morning, only anger burning through your veins.

Anger felt easy, anger felt familiar. Anger masked hurt and gave it a purpose. You were hurt by Astarion because he made you feel special and you were angry at yourself because you had been too caught up in the fantasy and believed him. The two sentiments twisted and warped in your mind until you were left angry at Astarion for tricking you.

There’s another knock at the door and it infuriates you. Why couldn’t you be left alone to grieve? These people would have the entirety of your life to bother you. Did you not deserve one day to yourself? You pick up one of your shoes from the floor and hurl it at the door as you yell at the person on the other side to leave you alone.

Thankfully, your message must have been received, because for a few moments, there’s nothing but glorious silence. You let your eyes drift closed again, but your mind is too quick to turn back to last night- how easy it had been to dance with Astarion, how his arm had felt wrapped around your waist, the solid line of his body as he had pinned you to the wall and threatened you. And through all those memories is your new fiancé’s stupid, perfect, beautiful, lying face.

The way you see it, you have two ways of getting out of this wedding. Either you manage to escape or figure out how to kill Astarion.

How do you kill a vampire, though? You try to pull the stories you were told as a little girl from the recesses of your mind to see if you remember any weaknesses or weapons you can use against him. You’re supposed to drive something through their heart- a wooden stake. The elegant wooden bed posts are perhaps the most reasonable candidate, you just have to figure out how to saw through the thick wood. At this point, you’re desperate enough to start gnawing on one like a beaver. You’re studying the posts and losing hope at the feasibility of turning one into a stake when the dark haired woman from last night bursts her way into the room.

“Get out!” You practically screech at her, reaching down to pick up your remaining shoe to throw it at her. The woman simply dodges the shoe and continues wheeling in a cart of food.

“You weren’t answering the door, my lady,” she says, in a sickly sweet voice that makes you want to grab the butter knife from the cart and jam it into her throat. The way she looks at you makes you feel like you were the one inconveniencing her and not that she is complicit in your captivity.

The butter knife had you thinking again, though. It was not the best weapon by any means, but it was perhaps the best defense you would have access to. You rise from the bed and move toward the cart under the guise of investigating the food on it.

It is a lavish spread. Someone had obviously gone through great care to make sure you would find at least something on it appealing and your growling stomach is tempted by some of the sweet-looking pastries. Nevertheless, in your scheming this morning, you had already decided that one of your little acts of revenge will be to refuse food. Astarion can’t very well keep a prisoner who is dead. Or at the very least, it will be a great inconvenience for him and that thought fills you with the tiniest spark of joy.

You press your hands to the cart, continuing your fake investigation of the breakfast. The servant has her back turned to you as she remakes the bed and you take the opportunity to carefully slide the knife off the cart, concealing it in the pocket in the folds of your skirt.

“I’m not hungry,” you finally declare, as you settle at the little table in the corner of the room. You feel better, now that you’ve got your secret little knife with you- more prepared, and at least a small step further on your plot to get out of here.

“Lord Ancunin will be worried about you if you don’t eat,” the lady answers, but you can tell she is growing a bit exasperated by your antics. She prepares a plate of food anyway, setting it on the table in front of you. Passing over the food, you instead pick up the cup of tea she’d poured in an attempt to soothe your stomach.

“Astarion can worry all he’d like. I’m not going to let him fatten me up like I’m some pig he’s readying for slaughter,” you push the plate back toward her as you speak.

Astarion might have gotten what he wanted for now, but you were by no means going to make this easy for him. You were going to fight and claw and resist him in every way you knew how. A dark, vengeful part of you smirks at the idea of his pretty face marred by your claw marks.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d already be dead,” the maid says, though her face does soften a bit, full of pity. You hate her for that, for pitying you. Had you really fallen so far that you were seen as nothing more than a helpless little snack for a vampire Lord?

“At least let me help you out of that dress. You’ll feel better with a change of clothes,” she says and even though you’ve decided that this woman is your new enemy along with Astarion, she might be right that you would feel better in new clothes. You debate whether you should accept this offer of help or not, worried that if she were to help you out of your dress, she would find your precious knife tucked in the pocket.

She seems to notice your internal struggle and offers, “Or I could bring you a new dress and you could change on your own?”

You do end up agreeing to those terms, but quickly discover that you have vastly underestimated the difficulty of removing a ballgown. You weren’t used to dressing by yourself and the tiny buttons down the back of your gown seem too slippery and impossible to manage on your own. For a moment, you consider giving up entirely and just wearing this dress for the rest of your miserable life, but now that the idea of changing your clothes has gotten in your head, you want out of the stupid dress that is so full of reminders of last night.

You quickly tuck the knife underneath the pillows of the bed so that the woman cannot find it in your skirts before you swallow your pride and hesitantly knock on the inside of the door. It whips open almost immediately, the dark haired woman looking at you curiously, her long ponytail swaying behind her.

“Can you help me? I can’t get this dress off by myself,” you say, but you can feel your voice is tinged with embarrassment.

She enters the room again and undoes the slippery buttons on the back of your dress with dextrous fingers. Her speed is irritating since you had just spent the past half hour hopping around your room with your hands twisted behind your back like a fool.

“What’s your name?” you finally ask, as she’s helping to undo your corset.

“Shadowheart, my lady.”

“That’s a…” you struggle with the words, trying to be polite, “unique name.”

Shadowheart snorts out a laugh and you appreciate that she seems to have a sense of humor. “I’m not from around here.”

The dress she helps you into is soft and simple. The pale blue cotton is light and will keep you cool during the warm summer afternoon and the thin lace trim around the neckline is delicate and refined, hinting at your fiancé’s wealth. It’s the complete opposite of what you would have expected for the bride of a vampire. A part of you had even considered that Astarion might keep you dressed up in gaudy ball gowns for the rest of all time. He did seem to have a flair for the dramatic. Your initial pleasure with the dress sours when you realize this dress was just another reminder that as your husband, Astarion could completely control every aspect of your life, right down to the clothes on your back. Or the lack of clothes, though you shudder at the thought.

“We can go to a dressmaker soon and get you new clothes,” Shadowheart says, when she notices you plucking sadly at the material. “Or we can try writing a letter to your father and organize having your old clothes sent here, if you’d rather?”

Her offer makes you question if you might have been too quick to judge Shadowheart, who has been nothing but kind to you this morning, even when you have screamed and thrown things at her. Perhaps you could manage to turn her into a useful ally in your escape, after all. You couldn’t allow yourself to think that you might grow friendly with her over time. No, right now, all your mental faculties need to be dedicated to getting out of here before the wedding, before you would be legally bound to Astarion.

“The dressmaker is agreeable to me- though, it would be nice to have some of my old items sent here. Personal belongings and books and whatnot,” you answer and she gives you a small smile. Truthfully, you’d rather not have your old wardrobe sent here, especially since you planned on leaving before it would arrive. Those dresses hold memories that at this point, you’d rather forget. But, if you were to be stuck here forever, you would certainly miss your little collection of books and you also long desperately for the necklace your mother had given you before she died- it would provide a small bit of comfort in this very stressful time.

You hesitate to tell Shadhowheart that the necklace is the real purpose of your request. If your father was given any inclination how much that necklace meant to you or how much it was likely worth, it would certainly be missing if your belongings ever did show up.

“That can certainly be arranged, my lady,” she gives you another sweet smile as she guides you to sit so she can work on your hair. She looks like she’s debating whether or not to speak for a moment before she says, “Believe it or not, but everyone here really does want what’s best for you. This was just the only way for Astarion to ensure you kept his vampirism a secret.”

You scoff, immediately dismissing her words. You hadn’t missed the way that she had mistakenly called him Astarion rather than Lord Ancunin. There was a familiarity that was suggested at her use of his first name and it sat wrong with you- this idea that Astarion could be respected or, gods forbid, friendly enough with his staff that they would feel comfortable using his first name.

“But what about the woman he was drinking from last night? Why does she get to leave with her freedom?” You snap back at her, the hypocrisy of it all fanning the spark of anger within you again.

“The Lord has a longstanding agreement with several local people.” Shadowheart explains and when you let out a huff of annoyance at her answer, she continues, “There’s a level of trust and predictability there that isn’t present with you. You’re a wild card.”

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone,” you grumble, though you aren’t entirely sure if there was any truth to your words. You hadn’t really had time to think about what you would do after the ball since you were too focused on trying to escape Astarion. Perhaps you might have told your father on the carriage ride home, but he would have probably used it as an excuse to send you to the nuthouse and finally be rid of you. You would have still ended the night locked in a room, though admittedly one with worse interior design.

Even after Shadowheart excuses herself from the room, you sit glumly over this realization. It seems predetermined that your fate was to be imprisoned- in the asylum, in this room, in a marriage to Astarion or a marriage to that rat of a man who had been with your father last night.

The escape efforts continue in your mind, but you grow half-heartedness as the hours continue to tick by.

Shadowheart returns a few hours later with lunch, a spread of meats and cheeses with breads and dried fruits. Your fingers pass reluctantly over the dates, which were always a favorite of yours, while you reach to pour yourself a cup of tea. It’s dark and rich and you only realize after you’ve drunk the whole pot that it’s filled the room with a hint of a lovely bergamot smell. Your heart twinges when you realize that Astarion has taken this from you now, too- that bergamot has become intrinsically linked with him in your mind

You spend time staring out the window at the view of the garden, watching the servants come and go as they clean up after the ball and you can’t help but wonder if your view is by design or if this room is just the most equipped to hold a prisoner. Since your room is on the top floor, the distance to the ground makes jumping impossible. The drop could potentially kill you or at least leave you so injured you wouldn’t be able to get very far. It takes about an hour to tie together the sheets from the bed and see how long you can fasten the makeshift rope, if maybe you can climb down the side of the building before you jump. Ultimately, you don’t have enough material and the drop would still be too far. You remake the bed, disheartened at your lack of viable escape options.

When Shadowheart returns a few hours later, she lets out an annoyed sigh at your uneaten lunch, replacing it with dinner, roast duck on a bed of fragrant rice. The aroma wafts through the room, but you hold strong, letting the bowl sit untouched on the small corner table. Once again, you greedily suck down the tea, grateful that you were given an herbal blend that smells of lavender rather than bergamot.

The lack of progress you’ve made in escaping today has you feeling defeated, and you resolve yourself to the fact that your only available option is to fight your way out. After retrieving your hidden butter knife from underneath the plump pillows, you wait by the door. Strength isn’t your strong suit, so the act of surprise will have to be your weapon. You aren’t entirely sure how much damage you can do with the dull knife, but a poor weapon is better than no weapon at all. Hopefully, you can subdue the next person who comes through that door and negotiate your way out. Shadowheart would likely be back to help you prepare for bed soon and as guilty as you feel at the prospect of using her as a hostage, your own well-being was paramount.

The doorknob twists and you pounce. It’s perhaps the worst or the best possible option of who has opened the door.

“Oh, I rather like being in this position with you. Tell me, dearest, what will you do with me now that you’ve caught me?” Astarion practically purrs with his beautiful, lilting voice.

You have Astarion pinned to the wall in the perfect mirror image of last night, your arm against his chest so that the knife is pressed firmly against the column of his throat. You don’t allow yourself to look at his neck longer than it takes to position the knife, too scared you will be distracted by the way the muscles curve and dip into that delightful hollow at the base of his throat.

But you do catch the two distinct puncture wounds on his neck. The crude markings looked as if a wild animal had ripped their teeth into him carelessly. They can only be one thing. Bite marks.

The twin scars were an obvious clue to his true nature, a birthmark left from when he was reborn anew as a vampire. The high collar he had been wearing last night had covered them but the scar tissue is jagged and rough against his pale skin and they stand out unmistakably now.

Ripping your gaze from his neck, you glare into his definitely-not-distracting eyes as he regards you with a hint of amusement that just serves to irritate you further. You were supposed to be intimidating here, not amusing.

“Really, what was the plan here?” Astarion seems to grow bored at your lack of a response, lips turning up at the corner as he lets out a breath of laughter, “To stab me to death with a knife that’s not even sharp enough to cut a slice of bread?”

Your arm holding the knife up to his neck wavers and Astarion’s fingers trace a gentle path across your arms until he grasps your hand, nearly crushing it in his grip. The pain makes you involuntarily open your fist and the knife clatters to the floor with a clunk. Astarion’s quick to move his boot to step on it so you’re unable to pick it up.

With the threat of the knife removed, Astarion still lets you keep him pinned to the wall. “I see you got at least something out of the breakfast I sent for you.”

“I don’t appreciate being locked in my room,” you snarl back at him.

“Yes, well, when you start to earn some trust, I’ll let you out. But you’re not off to a strong start with the knife, darling.”

Darling.

You think of how he had called you darling last night as he swept you into his arms and danced, how it had sounded like a hymn dripping from his lips that caused a sweet warmth to pool in your belly. Now, you practically hiss at him using the words, hackles raised in defense like a wild dog.

He pokes your cheek, lips curled up in a smile, “Very scary.”

“I hate you.”

“A shame, really. We could’ve had so much fun together,” Astarion’s hand sneaks down to curl around your back and rest against your hip while he talks, pulling you closer against him. The position is so similar to how he had held you while you danced last night and for a moment, you give in, letting yourself enjoy his touch rather than immediately shaking his hands off.

His voice is deep and sultry, hand tightening where it clutches against the fabric of your dress, “If only you hadn’t ruined my plans for last night… I would have come back from my midnight snack, satiated by blood, but starving for you. I would have taken you to stroll the gardens, fed you a line about how the roses were jealous of your beauty and I would have even cut one off for you for you to remember me by.”

You’re struck by how similar his plan was to your daydream last night, as if Astarion was intimately familiar with your deepest desires.

He’s leaning closer and the soft brush of one of his white curls against your forehead is nearly divine as his words continue to hypnotize you, “I would have kissed you, over and over and over again, until you couldn’t think straight.”

“I could’ve touched you,” he emphasizes his words by dipping the hand on your waist just a fraction of an inch lower. The warm smell of bergamot is flooding your senses and his mouth is moving so, so close to yours, only a hair’s breadth away from your own as he speaks in a rich, seductive voice. Your lips part in anticipation, breath hitching in your throat at the thought.

“Have you ever been touched before?” His gaze feels like a caress as it slides down your neck to your collarbones, gentle fingers tilting your chin up to refocus your gaze on his lovely face.

“No, not a proper little girl like you. I can’t imagine how pent up you are. I would have used my mouth and my hands on you until you saw stars. Until all you could remember was my name, falling from your lips like a prayer.”

“Enough,” you shake your head, placing your hand against his chest to press yourself a step away from him. His eyes are dark and hooded as he follows your movement and you take a deep breath, trying to calm the flaming heat you feel licking at your face.

It’s cruel of Astarion to imprison you and then come in here and fill your mind with delicious fantasies. Perhaps this is his way of playing with his food- to visit you and shame you for how desperately you wanted him. It was cruel of him to demean you for your desire, not after he pretended to need you just as badly last night.

“You don’t get to mock me,” you say to him, once you’ve collected your composure.

“I’m not mocking, pet, I’m teasing.” He’s still leaned against the wall, arms casually crossed across his chest. “It’s what good lovers do to each other.”

“Lovers?” you splutter.

“I’m teasing again, dear. Gods, you make it so easy.” Astarion finally pushes himself off from the wall, leaning down to pick up the knife and tuck it in his own pocket.

You glare at him while he moves, attempting to assert your dominance over a situation that you were quickly losing control of.

“You haven’t eaten today,” Astarion breaks the silence, eyes softening a bit. He sounds genuinely concerned and his pretend sincerity has you wondering if you could be quick enough to grab the knife back out of his pocket and give him a good stab in the side. He doesn’t get to be concerned about you. Not when he is the one causing you distress.

“I wasn’t hungry.” Your stomach betrays you by choosing that moment to grumble. You know Astarion heard it. Damned vampire.

“My, my. Well, you’re either lying or you’re dying of some weird stomach condition. And as much fun as the latter would be, I’d really prefer you stay alive until our wedding.”

Refusing to respond to his taunts, you cross your arms over your chest and continue glaring.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to poison you, darling. That would be a waste of perfectly good blood.” Astarion says, rolling his eyes. You know that he catches how you stiffen at the mention of blood.

“Oh,” he draws out the word all long and self-important now that he thinks he has you figured out, “So that’s what you’re worried about, that I’m going to drink from you. Dearest, as fun as it was chasing after you last night, I prefer meals that are a bit easier to catch.”

You remain silent, still, and Astarion takes a step closer to you, his fingers brushing affectionately against your upper arm. It’s nearly impossible to hold back the shiver that threatens to run down your spine.

“Just promise me you’ll eat something,” his eyes have got that stupid soft-ness to them again that makes you want to do the opposite of what he’s saying just to spite him.

You remind yourself that you can’t believe a word he says. Astarion has proven himself as a liar and a cheat. In fact, his whole act tonight is probably a part of his masterplan to sacrifice you for your virgin blood or something.

“I won’t promise you anything!” you cry, incredulous.

Astarion moves to leave but pauses in the doorway, hand curled around the doorknob. If he would just open the door, you could try to rush out around him.

“How do you feel about a nighttime wedding?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“Whatever pleases you, husband.” You hiss back at him. “My opinion on our upcoming marriage hasn’t seemed to matter so far.”

“Yes, well, you do forfeit some right to make your own choices when you exhibit poor decision making capabilities and sneak around, following scary monsters in the dark,” he snarks, which sets off a fresh wave of anger within you.

Astarion closes his eyes, letting out a deep breath. You feel a bit of pride that you seem to be getting under his skin just as much as he is frustrating you.

“You like roses, right?” Astarion asks.

“Yes,” you reply. The initial pleasure that he had remembered a detail about you from last night fades as you begin to grow wary about his motives in asking.

“Good, I’ve planned for there to be plenty at the wedding tomorrow night. I’ll be the handsome devil standing at the end of the aisle,” he shoots a wink over his shoulder before the lock clicks behind him. At this point, the familiar sound nearly makes you sick to your stomach.

—---

Shadowheart comes in to see you sulking a bit later and draws a bath for you. The warm water feels wonderful, but does nothing to tamper the heat that has been rising under your skin since the moment Astarion let you pin him to the wall.

You don’t sleep very well that night, anger and something else coursing through your veins. Astarion’s words from earlier stick with you in your dreams.

I would have kissed you, over and over and over again.

I would have used my mouth and my hands on you until you saw stars. Until all you could remember was my name, falling from your lips like a prayer.

And a day ago, you would have let him, would have been driven half mad with ecstasy at the prospect. But Astarion had to ruin that. Astarion had to ruin everything. He was the subject of all of your daydreams and the architect of all your nightmares.

You do manage to sleep, eventually, but you wake up hot and sticky with sweat, the taste of Astarion’s lips still a whisper in your mind.

And yeah, okay, maybe you do snag a pastry at breakfast when Shadowheart isn’t looking. She doesn’t say anything, but you know she notices. You can only hope that she doesn’t report it back to Astarion.

In the morning, you watch the gardens as they’re prepared for the wedding, observing how the ornate flowery archway that you suppose will be your altar is constructed at a moment’s notice. You feel like you are marching to your death as the wedding crawls ever closer, your chance of escape slipping further away with every passing moment.

Shadowheart returns in the late afternoon to help you prepare for the ceremony. The dress she carries with her is far simpler than you expected, less intricate even than your dress from the ball a couple nights ago. The dark material is offset with shimmery, golden thread embroidered into the material in beautiful floral patterns. You wonder if Astarion just kept this on hand or had managed to contact a dressmaker who could make this dress so quickly.

Shadowheart pins your hair up in tasteful braided style and you do have to admit that you look beautiful when you look into the mirror. That familiar rage is burning in you again. You don’t want to look beautiful for Astarion, you don’t want to drag this out any longer or harder than it needs to be.

You dread the thought of tonight. You were not as naive to the world as your father might have thought; you had heard the whisperings of other ladies when they discussed the horrors of their marital beds, heard the talk of greedy husbands and so much pain. On a normal wedding night, even the best of men could turn into a savage and you shudder to think what it might be like with a man who is already a beast. How much worse would it be for you?

But were you not a hypocrite? Had you not dreamt of coming undone on his elegant hands just last night? You force yourself to stop before you can continue down that train of thought and get carried away with silly, romantic notions. No, it was best to prepare for the worst. Tonight would be a worse torture than your two days locked in a cage. And you had to attend a stupid party about it first.

Shadowheart seems to be able to sense your nerves, probably because you’ve spent the whole afternoon alternating between fiddling with your hands and sighing.

She kneels down in front of you, staring at you with an intensity that lets you know her next words will be very important. “You know that I am your lady’s maid. That I default to serving you over the Lord, right?”

“Deep down, he is a good man, but if anything, and I mean anything, happens tonight that makes you uncomfortable, you call me and I will drag Lord Ancunin out of here bruised and bloody. I don’t care if it’s as simple as him attempting to hold your hand when you don’t wish him to.”

Her words comfort you even though you wonder how much time that would really buy you. After all, it was part of your wifely duties to satisfy your husband, to bear his children. Although you aren’t entirely sure if it’s possible to have children with a vampire, you’re going to operate under the assumption that it’s possible until you’re told otherwise as part of your ‘prepare for the worst’ strategy.

“Thank you,” you sincerely tell her because you want to let her know that her words have comforted you even if you doubt that she would be able to fight off a vampire.

“If you really wanted to help, you could get me out of this marriage,” you offer up, partially as a joke and partially to see if maybe the solution to your problems is really that easy.

“We both know I can’t do that,” Shadowheart says, because it never is that easy. Once again, she’s got that stupid, sad smile on her face again that makes you want to knock her pretty teeth out.

“Thought I’d try, at least.”

Your feet seem to have stopped working, so Shadowheart has to practically drag you out of the room and dump you in the garden. She’s, unfortunately, much stronger than she looks. Who knows, maybe she could take down a vampire?

The floral archway you had spent all morning looking at is even more breathtaking in person. The deep, red roses are braided in against beautiful ironwork. You hate Astarion for remembering that you liked roses, hate him for feigning kindness and trying to do something that you would like.

Astarion is standing at the end of the altar, as promised, and damn it all if he doesn’t look like Lucifer incarnate- the most beautiful angel hiding an evil and twisted soul. When you get closer, you can see that his waistcoat has matching floral embroidery on it.

So, you’re matching now? That’s what the world has devolved into. It takes everything in you to not rip the stupid dress off right then. But, you refrain yourself because you’re in public and you’re a lady (and definitely not because you were humbled by the button fiasco yesterday).

You practically snarl when you meet Astarion at the altar but he ignores you, his finger reaching out to trace along the petal of rose embroidered on your dress, right next to your collarbone. If he were alive, you would be able to feel the warmth from his hand.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“You have ruined roses for me,” you spit back at him. Astarion’s brow furrows for a moment before the man standing next to the two of you is awkwardly clearing his throat. You recognize him from the ball, as the man who interrupted your and Astarion’s dance. He must be Astarion’s valet, serving him as Shadowheart does for you.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” The valet tries to sound enthusiastic but he wilts a bit when you shift your glare to him.

You can feel Shadowheart standing behind you and you know that if you try to run, she’ll simply grab you and drag you back.

“The quicker this is over with, the better.” You say and can’t resist looking at Astarion and adding, “Though, I’m sure you know a thing or two about finishing quickly, darling.”

You can tell that Astarion’s valet is holding back a laugh at your comment.

“Continue, Gale.” Astarion finally instructs after a few seconds of stunned silence.

The man, Gale, holds up a stack of papers that he begins to read from. Oh my, were all of those pages filled with words? You might be here all night.

“What is marriage? A contract, yes, but also the blessed union of two souls, sealed together in eternal love. The marriage bond is sacred and divine, but we must not mistake it as pure. No, real love is never pure. It is messy and confusing and the both of you will make many mistakes as you grow together.”

Hang on, was this guy even married? Who the fuck is he to be out here spewing nonsense about the sanctity of marriage? And when did he even have the time to write this? You’re so confused by the situation that your anger at Astarion has managed to dissipate completely.

Gale is somehow still rambling on, minutes later, as you stare at him with an open mouth, “And although, the two of you are entering this contract under… less than ideal circumstances, we can only hope that your love will grow to flourish. In fact-”

Astarion finally cuts him off. “We can do without the fanfare, I think.”

Gale gives a disappointed sigh, grumbling about how he was just trying to make this a nice moment.

“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunin, take this lady to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Astarion gives a dramatic ‘I do’ with a self-important little flourish of his hand. Even in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize that he is a showman above all and is incapable of turning down an opportunity to be over-the-top.

Gale turns to you, “And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you force the words out through gritted teeth because at this point, what choice do you really have?

You slide the rings on each other’s fingers and Astarion’s cool skin against your hand feels wonderful amidst the balmy summer night.

There’s no after-party, no fanfare. You simply say the words and sign the paperwork and leave immediately, content to go wallow by yourself in your room as you wait for Astarion to consummate your marriage.

You’ve half sent yourself into a panic as you pace, even if Shadowheart’s promise from earlier rings comfortably in your ears. You wish you hadn’t already wasted your knife yesterday. It would at least provide some false sense of comfort for when Astarion came for you.

You sit and you wait. And you wait. And you wait. Astarion doesn’t come.

You feel your eyes struggling to stay open and only when you catch your chin falling down to your chest do you snap yourself awake. This isn’t like you, to just take something lying down. The only solution left is to confront him. You jump to your feet, crossing the room with the most determination you’ve been able to muster all day.

For the first time, the door to your room is unlocked when you turn the handle. Surprised, you poke your head out, scanning left and right down the hallway to check that there’s not some sort of booby trap. That seems like something Astarion would do- offer you hope of escape and then callously snatch it away at the last moment.

Candlelight flickers in the doorway a few rooms away. When you peek into the room, Astarion is reading something, leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on the desk looking like the arrogant asshole you know he is. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence at all, just turns the page of his book.

“The door was unlocked,” you say, because you aren’t really sure of how else to greet him. Hello felt far too simple after you had spent the past two nights pinning each other to walls and playing mind games with one another.

Astarion hums in affirmation, eyes still focused on the book in his lap. “Yes, I only had it locked in order to keep you here long enough for us to get married. Do what you’d like now. You are the new lady of the manor.”

It seems unreal, that the past two days of torture were ultimately going to amount to… nothing? Perhaps this was just another one of his tricks to catch you unawares? If you stopped thinking of him like a threat, stopped expecting the worst in him, or gods forbid, if you lowered your guard, it would be that much easier for him to trap you.

“So, I’m free to leave?” You try asking cautiously, expecting his red eyes to snap up and for him to hiss out an angry no, for him to laugh at you and snatch away your freedom right after he had teased you with the unlocked door.

“I’d suggest you wait until the morning, but yes, feel free to leave and continue on with your life however you please. Or stay. I really don’t care.” He says instead, turning the page of his book again. Was he even bothering to listen to you?

“Then why did you force me to marry you?” You cry out because nothing these past two days has made any sense to you. Nothing has made sense to you since you saw Astarion standing in front of you like a holy angel who had been blessed with all of heaven’s beauty, when all you knew was that this man had been made to ruin you.

And now, everything about Astarion is a contradiction. You hate him and yet you crave him. He offers you hope while crudely stabbing through your back with a knife. He imprisons you and shackles you to him by law and offers to let you go free. Even now, as you stare at how the candlelight sends shadows dancing across his pale skin that make his jawline somehow appear even sharper, you aren’t sure whether you want to kiss him or kill him.

“Well, I doubt anyone would believe a new bride when she says her husband is a vampire. They’d chalk it up to a newlywed squabble or perhaps think that you just don’t understand the sensuality of a good bite. And if you do choose to leave, the longer we aren’t together, the more people will assume you’re spreading nasty rumors because we’re estranged.”

That… actually makes a lot of sense. You had been too caught up in your panic and your anger to look at this situation with any real rationality.

But now, faced with the choice, where would you go? If all the freedom in the world was yours, what would you do with it? Certainly, you wouldn’t go to your old home, with your angry father and unsympathetic brothers.

You would want a garden, you think, perhaps one to rival the Ancunin’s. You would want to fill your days with reading and gardening and walking. For the first time, you wonder if perhaps the life you’ve always wished for has been offered up to you on a silver platter. Your mind had been so tainted with your hatred for Astarion that you didn’t even imagine that perhaps you could be happy here. That perhaps you could be happier than you even were before.

“I don’t… I don’t really have anywhere else to go,” your shoulders drop in realization, fingertips nervously running along the pretty embroidery of your dress. It feels like an admission of defeat as you stand in front of him, as if you’ve been eviscerated and are trying desperately to keep your insides from falling out on the floor in front of him.

“Stay here then,” Astarion answers and he looks so bored with the conversation that the familiar fire of anger is burning in your veins. How dare he callously act like his actions have had no consequence on your life? How dare he act like he didn’t have the legal authority to control you as your husband if he wanted to? How dare he act like he hadn’t flipped your world upside down the moment he first swept you into his arms?

You force yourself to take a deep breath, to soothe the anger that sits deep in your chest and you finally decide to bring up the issue that’s plagued your mind all day. “You didn’t come to my room tonight.”

“Do you want me to?” He looks genuinely shocked and finally closes the book and drops his feet from the desk. He takes a moment to collect himself before leaning forward, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. “I know I’m irresistible. There is still plenty of time tonight for me to ravish you, if that’s what you’d like.”

You know it’s an act, know he’s probably teasing to get a rise out of you. But you can help the panic that bubbles in you and you immediately shout a refusal to his offer.

Astarion leans back in his chair, hands coming to rest under his chin. His fingers are long and slender and oh, so elegant as they press together as if in prayer. This man, who could destroy faiths and desecrate holy ground with just the flick of his pretty wrist.

It dawns on you that the gold wedding ring you had slipped onto his finger hours ago has already mysteriously disappeared from his hands. And though it might be hypocritical of you, who removed your ring almost immediately, you can’t help but be a little hurt that he apparently wasted no time in casting you aside, either. Have you already been so cruelly disregarded?

“I don’t go where I’m unwelcome, darling.” He curls his lips up at the corner in a devilish smile, “I’d much rather wait until you’re so desperate that you beg me to have you.”

You’re determined not to give Astarion the shocked, embarrassed reaction you know he’s itching for.

“And what if I want you to be the one to beg?” you ask him instead. His eyes flash with a wicked gleam, so red you can’t help but remember the blood running down his chin in the moonlight.

“Well, that can certainly be arranged, darling.” Astarion keeps you locked in his fiery gaze for another moment or two before he sighs and breaks the tension. “But that’s not going to happen tonight, so I suggest you go to bed. Get some beauty sleep, not that you need it.”

And yeah, maybe you do have to hold back a laugh at that stupid line.

“Goodnight,” you say, turning to go back to your room.

“Sweet dreams, little flower,” Astarion calls after you.

And for the second night in a row, you dream of crimson eyes and elegant hands that have you waking restless and unfulfilled.

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

Notes:

For the record, I absolutely love Gale, but lets not pretend that he wouldn't go SO over the top if he was allowed to officiate a wedding.

As always, thanks to AliensNSuch on ao3 for beta-reading! ETA for the third chapter is next Sunday, 12/31.

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

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ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

@hogwartslegacystuff : I'm sorry if I'm a bother, but for Donna's child AU, the Reader nearly gets killed by one of their uncle Karl's lycans that out of the blue went rogue, simply because the Reader accidently got in the lycans bloody path. I don't know how they escape with their own life, because by some miracle the lycan heard something from the distance and went after it, leaving the Reader injured badly but alive. They didn't know how they were gonna slip this one past their mom because she would be absolutely worried and the Reader was right. But after their full recovery, Donna is now being extremely overprotective than she already was, trying to avoid them from leaving the house without her. The Reader eventually had a thought about wanting to get the Cadou, so this didn't happen again and because of other reasons. Donna might protest to it and have a panic attack trying to explain the repercussions that could happen, but the Reader is like, "Mama I don't got a choice anymore, I could have died.. or better yet, I will eventually get physically older than you and I don't think either of us want that to happen. Someone has to protect us both, might as well let that be me. I'm going to talk to Miranda about the implant first chance I get, I promise you I'm going to be okay..." While comforting their mom. The Reader convinces Miranda to go ahead with the procedure.. Maybe repercussions did happen, which scared both Miranda and Donna to death, but luckily the reader made it out like a champ and survived the whole ordeal.(I'll leave what abilities the Reader develops up to you, I couldn't think of anything on the spot... But at the same time I would understand if you don't want to do this one, it was a mess when I first thought of it.)

This is really good! Not a bother at all. I love seeing what y'all have to share! Now, I might have changed some things but the main points are highlighted. I hc that the lycans get more aggressive and wander around in colder temperatures (Like in RE8. Thought that might be a good explanation). Let’s get into it!

You had been for a run in the woods and took a minute to catch your breath and pick out the next song you wanted to listen to.

As you finally made your song selection, a decidedly unmusical sound comes from behind you. A growl.

You had a pretty good idea of what creature could have made it, too. Your mom had told you to be very careful and alert when you were in the woods. She had also said that lycans were known to roam when it got cold outside… Damn! How could you be so oblivious?! Donna even told you to start limiting your workouts as the fall transitioned to winter. You… Kind of snuck out of the house before she had gotten up today. You didn’t want to worry her.

No time to dwell on the past, though! Your fight or flight senses activated and you found yourself running faster than you ever had before.

The lycan snipped and bit at your heels, furiously trying to attack.

You tried not to look behind you and just focus on getting away, but you could hear the lycan’s panting getting closer. You turn to assess the situation, but accidentally trip on a rock. You go flying and land roughly on your side, breaking your arm. You cry out in pain and the lycan quickly starts tearing into you. It bites your throat and claws your torso. You try to push it away with your non-injured arm, but your attempts aren’t doing much good. The lycan’s sharp teeth easily pierce your skin over and over again.

Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing out, mutt?!” You hear Karl shout.

The lycan immediately stops and runs over to Karl’s side.

Karl takes a look at the lycan’s face and sees the blood on it. He moves closer to inspect the mangled body in front of him before he gasps. “Y-Y/N?” He asks, horrified to see that it is you who’s so hurt. He drops to his knees and quickly tries to put pressure on your wounds. You are in bad shape. He can see you slipping away. “Okay, stay with me, Y/N. You gotta hold on.” He says, choking back tears of guilt. This was his fault. He should have kept a better eye on his lycans.

You muster the strength to smile at Karl. He had been like a fun uncle to you and he took you under his wing. “I’ll be… Alright, old man.” You joke, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Karl loves you like his own kid… And this… Absolutely crushes him.

Eventually, Karl decides that he needs to get you home. Donna would be able to help… Or… She would at least be able to say goodbye… Karl wipes his eyes in anguish before he angrily stands to his full height and smashes his hammer right in between the offending lycan’s eyes. The attack pierces through it’s skull and the hammer completely embeds into the lycan’s brain. The creature howls in agony before it eventually succumbs to it’s injuries.

Karl quickly looks at you and scoops you into his arms. “Just hang in there, kid. I’m taking you home.” He says quietly and makes his way to Donna’s house.

——————————————————————————

“WHAT HAPPENED?!” Donna roars and takes your limp body from Karl as he brings you in.

Karl winces in shame. He’s never seen Donna so livid. It’s unsettling. “A lycan… I tried to help Y/N, but they were already hurt. I-”

“You idiot! This is your fault!” Donna screeches through her tears as she lays you down on the couch.

Karl hangs his head. It is his fault. If you don’t pull through… He doesn’t know what he will do.

“Baby, it’s Mama. Can you hear me?” Donna says.

You cough up some blood and your eyes slowly open. You are so confused. “M-mama?” You say, barely lucid.

Donna sobs and gently dabs at your mouth with a cloth. She runs her hand through your hair. “Yes, Y/N. Mama’s right here, okay? Stay with me, tesoro.” She tells you.

Donna turns to Karl with a sharp look on her face. “Get Miranda.” She commands.

Karl swallows and nods before he runs out the door.

As soon as Miranda hears what happened, she teleports to Beneviento Manor with medical supplies. She absolutely adores you and she’d do anything to help. “Tell me what happened.” Miranda says and brings the supplies over.

Donna weeps as she tells Miranda about the attack.

Miranda’s eyes widen. “I’ve never seen a lycan attack so early into fall…” She says and furrows her brows as she works.

Donna is beside herself. Her baby. Her reason for living is fighting for their life. Despite all she’s been through, she’s never felt so helpless.

Miranda works efficiently and accurately, occasionally asking for Donna to hand her things. She’s got to move fast if she has any hope of saving you.

——————————————————————————

Finally… You start to stabilize. Your vitals look better and Miranda finishes bandaging you up. “I’m going to observe them, but I think they’re going to be alright.” Miranda says and wearily sighs. That was entirely too close.

Donna cries in gratitude and hugs Miranda. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. Thank you for saving my child.” She says.

Miranda hugs Donna back. “I love Y/N, too. I would do anything to make sure they’re okay.” She tells her.

Throughout the day, Miranda monitors you and administers pain medicine.

You sleep completely through that day and all through the night.

The next morning, you wake up finally. You see Donna dozing next to you and gripping your hand in her sleep. You’re confused. What happened? “Mama?” You ask gently.

At the sound of your voice, Donna’s head whips up immediately and her eyes lock on yours. She gasps and cups your face. “Sweetheart…” She says before bursting into tears. You’re okay. You’re alive. She is so thankful and she carefully presses kisses to your cheek.

“Did something happen?” You question, not remembering anything. As you try to move, blinding pain erupts in your body. You wince in agony and groan.

Donna grits her teeth at this and swears she is able to feel physical pain when she sees you hurt. Only mothers can understand, she reasons.

Miranda walks in just then and gasps at seeing you awake. “Oh, Y/N.” She whispers and hurries to your side.

Donna and Miranda tend to you as they explain about the attack and your subsequent injuries.

You feel like an idiot. Why did you go out in the first place? There was no way for you to defend yourself. You’re a helpless human, you can’t even protect yourself…

You quickly come to a realization.

As a human… You’re completely vulnerable. But… What if you had powers like Donna or Karl? Then you could protect your Mama. You wouldn’t have to worry about losing her ever again. Plus… You weren’t getting any younger. You can’t stand the thought of continually aging until…

That’s it. Decision made.

You pipe up as Miranda changes some bandages. “Mother Miranda… I… Need the cadou. Please.” You plead with her.

Miranda’s shoot wide open in surprise. “W-what?” She asks, totally shocked.

Donna is dumbfounded as well.

“I need to be able to protect myself. And you, Mama.” You say before looking at Donna.

Before Miranda can say anything, Donna voices her opinion. “Absolutely not.” She says firmly.

You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head in confusion. “What? Why?” You ask her, completely bewildered.

Donna looks at you and you’ve never seen her have such a bleak expression. “I am not losing you again. The cadou has very serious side effects, Y/N.” She tells you.

You look to Miranda for assistance, but she refuses to meet your stare.

“But… I need to protect you. And… I’m… Getting older.” You tell her.

Donna scoffs at this. “Do you think that I’ve never considered that?” She asks lowly.

She’s never had such a bite in her tone when speaking to you before. It makes you nervous.

Miranda clears her throat which eases some tension. “Um… If I may, the chances of mutation are much lower for Y/N seeing as you had a more favorable reaction to the cadou, Donna. A parent reacting well to it almost guarantees that a biological child will as well.” She offers.

Donna snaps her head to Miranda. “Do you… Honestly believe that this is a favorable reaction?” She says harshly and points to her eye. “I am a complete FREAK now!” She roars. “This is what the cadou did to me! If you think I’m going to risk having my child go through that, then you are an utter FOOL!” Donna yells and turns to you. “The answer is no, Y/N. Don’t even dare think about asking me again!” She tells you and storms out.

You are speechless. And… Heartbroken… Your mom thinks that she’s a freak? You look at Miranda who now has silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

The priestess feels so guilty. Deep down, Donna resents Miranda for the cadou implantation… It’s hard to reconcile.

You sigh. But… You know what you need to do. Consequences be damned. “Mother Miranda?” You ask.

The blonde looks at you through her teary eyes.

“We’re doing this. There’s no other option. We have to.” You all but beg. “If something else happens… It’s going to destroy my mom.” You tell her.

Miranda sighs. She’s in a moral dilemma here. She agrees that the cadou is the only chance she has to guarantee your safety and Donna’s eventual well-being… But, going against Donna’s wishes? Could she do that? Selfishly, she wants you to get the cadou too. She wants you to be able to protect yourself and stop aging. She adores you too much to let you go (And knows Donna does too). Eventually, she relents. She hopes that she won’t regret this and Donna will forgive her. “Alright,” She nods. “I’m in, Y/N.”

Now, the hard part truly begins…

Masterlist

#donna beneviento #re8 #re8 village #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x y/n #angie beneviento #resident evil village #resident evil imagines #resident evil 8 #resident evil #mother miranda #karl heisenberg

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inoreuct · 7 months

Note

HEHEHEH ASK AND I SHALL DELIVERRR

It too a while for the crew to get used to Zoro just… head butting them. Not even just in his Tiger form, his human form as well. He would randomly walk up to someone, and aggressively shoulder or nudge someone with his head (as cats are prone to do). It was quite startling the first time it happened, and Nami was the first. Let’s just say, if everyone wasn’t already awake, they sure as hell would be with Nami’s scream.

Once Chopper got used to being arOUND A PREDATOR, the two quickly bonded over their shared experiences of social isolation due to their species. It got to the point where their bond was so close, it could be equated to a father/son relationship.

He does actually communicate a lot. Just in sounds. At a pitch humans can’t hear. It’s one of the few things he’s oblivious to; Zoro just assumes everyone hears and doesn’t care.

Zoro’s social perception? Outstanding. He can analyse a situation down to the tiniest detail, and reads the room by like a boss. His bedside manner, though, could do with some work. He is so blunt, it’s physically painful to experience.

They had to install a dust bath for him, and they realised it got the blood off of both his and Choppers fur far easier than a bath would.

For reasons that should be obvious, they then had to install an air shower.

Zoro loves eyeshadow, and is surprisingly good with makeup. Robin and Nami often let him do them up if they have to go anything important

He and Sanji have become the ships stylists. Maybe this is because no one wants to say no to the massive green tiger and his boyfriend, although they are admittedly good

Zoro (in Tiger form) can’t get through quite a lot of doorways, as he is BLOODY MASSIVE. 6ft at the shoulder, he isn’t exactly small

Perona’s shovel talk for the crew (“if any of you dare hurt my baby brother, I will [redacted]”) when Zoro joined was… quite the spectacle. Mihawk almost laughed, while Usopp almost wet himself.

Mihawk adopted both Zoro and Perona, as they are both Tiger shifters like him. He didn’t want them going through what he did (Zoro was adopted shortly after Kuina’s death).

Mihawk can shift into a melanistic tiger with an almost lion like mane, that is slightly smaller than Zoro. Perona can shift into a much smaller, hot pink tiger (with white stripes, for some reason). Although she is smaller than her brother and father, she is still much larger than a normal tiger. The three of them all have the same yellow eyes with the black rings (Mihawk just doesn’t bother hide it in his human form)

Zoro can and will tear things apart with his teeth, even in human form. It was… quite disconcerting when he ripped out someone’s throat in front of everyone for the first time

And even worse when he lost control of his instincts, and attempted to full on eat someone. It wasn’t technically cannibalism, but the crew was still quite uncomfortable being alone around him for a while after that

Desires affection. Do not give him affection. He will make you give it to him anyways.

Sanji can’t say no to this man. Not even for romantic reasons, Zoro just has very good puppy dog (kitty cat?) eyes

THAT IS SO CUTE. i know exactly what you mean, and nami probably thought he was picking a fight at first until he walked away and she was like ????$38;?;?//(353 and then he turns back like “…what 😐” he’s not very tactile unless someone else initiates so this is def what he does to show affection

I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS zoro’s his father at this point. they probably communicate without words and it creeps the rest of the crew out a little but it’s their thing

on that note. he definitely communicates but it’s all subsonic; he probably growls something at sanji while they’re at a stakeout and the cook still moves to go forward and zoro has to scruff him by the collar like “what did i JUST say. i told you there was danger—” and sanji’s like “you didn’t say anything???”

his compartmentalisation is bonkers good. he rarely forgets things, if ever, and he’s very very tactical; but yeah, he does not pull his punches. no tact whatsoever. if you look ugly he’s gonna tell you straight to your face and then send you off to sanji for help.

THIS IS SO FUNNY BCS THEY WOULD ESSENTIALLY HAVE TO BUILD HIM A SANDPIT. IMAGINE “oh yeah we just had a sandpit built for our tiger on board”. the strawhats baffle people on a regular basis and enjoy it immensely.

the first time they used the dust bath they were quarantined there until franky finessed a vacuum into a makeshift air shower. sanji was Not about to get bathing sand in his expensive shoes.

OH THE INCREASED AGILITY DEFINITELY PLAYS INTO THIS he has really steady hands and coupled with sanji letting zoro practice on him? the girls trust him implicitly. HE PROBABLY KNOWS HOW TO BRAID TOO BECAUSE PERONA MADE HIM LEARN

oh please sanji is a fashion diva. look at him. he knows how to dress all of them to emphasise their best features. he commissions formal attire for the whole crew. the strawhats will never be caught slacking or not slaying. AND SANJI CUTS THEIR HAIR TOO

oh my goodness what if for whatever reason his muscle mass didn’t translate? like at the beginning, he hadn’t shifted for so long that in tiger form his physique deteriorated and they all think he wouldn’t be able to fit through the doorway but it’s all just fur. after that sanji made it his personal mission to make sure zoro was hanging around in his shifted form more and also made sure to kept him fed AND NOW HE’S BULKED UP AND GETS STUCK ALL THE TIME but they really can’t be mad about it because it’s better than when he was borderline malnourished

usopp PLEAse just don’t yank on his tail and you’ll be FINE. mihawk was secretly so proud of perona you can’t tell me he wasn’t

ADOPTIVE DAD MIHAWK MAKES A REAPPEARANCE!! YES!! also,,, how common are we making tiger shifters,,, bcs what if they’re actually pretty rare and he finds these two cubs on their own and he’s like ok. i dont care you’re My kids now

they’re such a terrifying family. they’re all menaces. zoro and perona take after mihawk in their own ways but they’re all horrible i love them

it probably happened because luffy or sanji was in danger. he didn’t think, just lunged, and he knows the crew’s startled but at least they’re all okay so he doesn’t regret it

…now THIS one he regrets. kinda want to write a drabble for this bcs the angst potential is DELICIOUS. i haven’t angsted zoro nearly enough yet hehehehehehe

he’s so touch-starved my GOD. he wants attention? ear scratches? belly rubs? he headbutts you with a VENGEANCE and almost bowls you over. thats how he makes sure to get your attention. he’s so silly

OOOH THIS ONE he gives sanji the big eyes and the gentle headbutt and a quiet “mrrp” and sanji is GONE.

i am eating this UP anon. he’s the literal definition of a danger kitty i love him

#roronoa zoro #zosan au #one piece #ino's ask box

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gigicreates562 · 4 months

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If I Die- Get it On Camera

Finnick and You go to what’s left of District 9 to shoot more propos for Coin, but you won’t both be coming home.

TW: Hunger Games level violence, Blood, Death

WC: 1190

No use of Y/N

Authors note: sorry in advance

—-----------------

The brisk air tickled your nose as you walked through the rubble of District 9. The capital had shown little mercy on the factory workers after the riots, leaving nothing behind but charred walls and drifting ashes. Your eyes wandered over the smoking ruins, hopelessly scanning for survivors. The smokey air choked in your throat. You tried your best not to think about all the lives that had been lost here.

“Come on, Coin said in and out,” Gale reminded you. Coin had requested more footage for the propos, but seeing as Katniss was still recovering from Peeta’s assassination attempt, you and Finnick were her next best options. So here you were, trudging through the debris.

Finnick’s fingers squeezed tightly around yours, “You okay?” he whispered. His soft eyes met yours.

“Yeah,” you half-smiled in return. He nodded, seeming to understand.

“Let’s have you right here,” Cressida pointed. You followed her finger to a mostly standing alleyway just off to the left.

Everyone began to move towards their respective positions when gunfire erupted from behind.

“Get down!” Boggs shouted. Everyone scrambled to safety. You felt Finnick’s hand guiding your shoulder. Following his lead, you sat down behind a broken wall and shielded your head with your hands. A short spurt of gunshots pierced your ears, stopping after a couple of seconds.

A deadly silence fell over the air.

“Stay here,” Boggs ordered as he crept into the now-settling dust. You sucked a breath in through your teeth and grabbed for Finnick’s hand. Together you braced for gunfire you hoped wouldn’t come.

Luckily it didn’t, but the unsettling feeling in your stomach remained. You had felt this feeling twice before, once in your first games, and once in your second. Neither instance was a particularly happy memory.

“All clear,” you heard someone say. The others began to crawl out from hiding. You began to move as well, but for some reason, you just couldn’t make your legs stand.

Finnick shifted to get up, keeping his eyes on the alley for potential danger. A shiver spread throughout your body, and were you lightheaded? What was wrong with you? You’d been through the games twice, and you’d never crumbled under pressure before. You had always- Oh. Oh. Your eyes sank down, beholding a dampness spreading in your jacket. The thick black material masked the color of the substance, but your intuition told you all you needed to know.

“Let’s get this filmed and leave,” Boggs ordered Cressida, and once again everyone began to get set.

“Finnick,” you called out faintly. At the sound of your voice, he stopped and turned to you. One look at your face caused goosebumps all over. His brow furrowed as he rushed over to your side. At the sudden movement, the rest of the group’s attention shifted over to you.

Finnick took your hands into his. You hadn’t even noticed you were trembling until he grabbed them. Tears clouded your vision as you glanced downwards, too afraid to confirm your thoughts for yourself. Finnick swallowed heavily as he moved his hands to your zipper. Cautiously guiding it down, he revealed exactly what you were afraid of.

“Oh my god,” His voice cracked out, “We need a medic, please!” The blood already covered most of your abdomen. The metallic tang of it punched you in the nose, stirring your stomach. A soldier appeared at your side, frantically tending to your wound, but you were disinterested. You couldn’t really feel it anymore anyway. You were more focused on the boy in front of you with panic laced in his expression.

“Finn-” You whispered and his hand came to your face.

“You’re okay sweetheart, you’re okay,” he comforted you, sweetly caressing your cheek. His eyes searched your face up and down, begging for a sign that you were okay. In your peripheral vision, you saw a camera raise.

Before you flew out you had both told Cressida, If we die, get it on camera, and show everyone exactly what the capitol does to their victors. You figured he might play it up for the camera, but you could tell by his eyes. He wasn’t acting.

“Stay with me, alright? Just look up here,” he soothed. Both his hands cradled your cheeks now, attempting to keep all your focus on him.

Beams of sun hit the blonde curls falling lightly over his forehead. He really was beautiful, even in a time like this. You smiled softly up at him, if you were going to die, you were glad he would be the last thing you would see.

“Honey, stay with me. You’re not going to die, I won’t let you.” He pressed a hot kiss into your brow, still holding your face with his soft hands.

“Finn,” you hushed his anxieties as a tear rolled down your cheek, “It’s okay.” You smiled sadly. His eyes frantically combed your expression, not understanding how you were so calm.

Your heartbeat slowed in your ears as your limbs grew heavy. Little black blurs crept into the edges of your vision. It didn’t take a genius to know what would happen next. You know that you should be freaking out, but for some reason you weren’t scared. An overwhelming calm had settled into your skin. It felt like the waves back home. That feeling when the sun kissed your cheeks while the salty water lapped at your toes. You could practically see Finnick’s cheeky smile staring back at you from across the beach. After a lifetime of hunting and being hunted, you finally felt at peace.

Finnick’s pleas brought you back to reality, “Stop it. Please don’t leave me,” his lip quivered. He was crying now too. It was evident by his face that his thoughts were racing. You only hoped that he would feel peace like this one day too.

A sad smile crept onto your lips, heart aching for your lover. Tenderly, you pulled his chin down to press his shaky lips against yours. They were swollen and chapped, perfectly Finnick. A glowing warmth spread through your chest to your fingertips. Whether it was from the kiss or the blood loss you weren’t sure, but you chose to believe the former. Your body tingled as you felt one of his hot teardrops hit your cheek and slide away. That’s the last thing you remember before the world went dark.

He pulled away from the kiss slowly, his heart wrenching as your body went limp against him. Trembling, he shook you lightly, a last-ditch effort to keep you with him.

“I’m sorry,” He wept, clutching your head to him, “I’m so so sorry.”

The medic began to pack away his things, “No! Please! Help her!” He screamed, desperately looking around for anyone to help. Instead, he was met with a crowd of sympathetic eyes.

Finnick clung to your body as he pressed his face into your hair. The cameras stopped at the command of Cressida. Your death may be broadcasted all over the districts, but his grief was too personal to share. The group mourned for you in privacy as Finnick wept by your side.

#fanfic #reader insert #finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games #hunger games #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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nrnyx · 1 year

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Fix it Fic - Teen Wolf Movie Ending

Stiles woke with a sharp gasp.

His heart was pounding, and he was covered in sweat. Stiles had fallen asleep on his sofa from exhaustion. He’d been feeling anxious for days, unable to sleep, unable to eat. He’d picked up the phone to call Lydia multiple times but stopped himself.

Maybe Lydia was still having dreams. Maybe what she thought were premonitions had changed. Maybe this was when Stiles was supposed to die, and the universe was realigning itself.

Lydia thought she could change what she saw by leaving. Stiles knew the universe didn’t work like that. The universe would get what it wanted. If not the way it wanted it, then another way - if not Stiles… then someone else. Everything was a balancing act.

That’s the part that terrified him.

Lydia knew that too. She’d used the dreams as an excuse to leave, but they both knew that wasn’t the reason why.

Their break up had been a long time coming. They’d both known it from the beginning, but being together had been better than trying to soothe the ache in nameless, meaningless faces. Better than stringing some poor bastards along who didn’t understand what they were, where they came from, and that their hearts weren’t theirs to give anymore.

At least he and Lydia genuinely loved each other, even if they weren’t in love with each other. They’d built a wonderful life together. The life they wanted - just not necessarily with who they wanted. Stiles wasn’t going to lie and say that it didn’t hurt that she left - that it didn’t ache, but he also understood. It had been time. They’d let it go on too long.

Stiles just wished he could have been as brave as Lydia - to finally make the decision to walk away and face the truth. He wished he was brave enough to go back and face what he left behind in Beacon Hills now.

Stiles’ jumped as his phone suddenly started ringing. He snatched it from the coffee table - heart in his throat as Lydia’s picture flashed brightly on the screen. He hit talk and pressed it to his ear, unable to find his voice past the lump forming in his throat.

“Stiles…”

That one breathless word was all Stiles needed to hear to know. The universe couldn’t have him, so it took someone from him instead. He was terrified to ask who.

“Eli?” he asked. His voice came out stronger than he expected, even though his hands were shaking.

“With your dad.”

Stiles took the phone away from his ear and pressed the palms of his hands against his burning eyes hard enough that he saw starburst behind them.

If not Eli or his dad then...

He clenched his teeth to hold back a scream and then took a few gasping breaths to try and push down the panic attack he felt creeping in.

After a moment, Stiles put the phone back to his ear, where Lydia had remained silent on the other side, allowing him to pull himself together. “Did you wail?” he finally asked.

“Not for him,” Lydia stated, and despite the tears, he could still hear in her voice, there was also an underlying determination there that Stiles could hold on to. It wasn’t foolproof. Lydia didn’t wail at every death that occurred, but it was something.

It was something.

Stiles could work with it. He’d done more with a lot less. It’s what made him so good at his job. “Okay… okay, I’m on my way.”

#fix it fic #sterek #teen wolf movie #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles stilinkski #eli stilinski hale #eli hale #this was the real ending #eternal sterek #stiles x derek #sterek fanfic #sterek fanfiction #sterek au #derek x stiles #sterek fic

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salembutnotthecat · 5 months

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tw for emeto, panic attack, fever

a little more vanessa and willow, just a little fic showing a little more of Vanessa’s backstory (not a whole lot) and the domesticness of vanessa and willow

feel free to send requests for these two/general requests!! if you want to see more!!

First it was 10:00pm. Willow said she would be off at 9:30 and therefore, should be home by 10.

Then it was 10:30pm. Willow got caught up in a last minute patient and had paperwork to finish about it.

Then it was 11:00pm. The paperwork went longer, the family had given Willow countless issues.

But now it’s midnight, and Willow isn’t here.

Vanessa knows she’s both a nursing student and an adult. Willow can come home whenever she wants.

By one in the morning, Vanessa is pacing the downstairs. The kitchen, the living room, the eating area. She would pace, try to force herself to sit, only to start again.

Her body is tingling. Shaking her hands, her arms, even her feet, isn’t helping. The tingling stays, if not gets worse.

She’d texted Willow frequently. Every 15 minutes, or thirty.

But what if Willow was driving home and saw Vanessa’s texts?

The thought made Vanessa panic. Years of serving as a cop, many more of watching the news, she knew how frequently people wrecked from texting and driving. Vanessa couldn’t handle that.

She already felt responsible for what happened before. With her mom, on the other side of the country. The whole reason she packed up, moved, and quit serving as an officer.

She couldn’t be responsible for Willow too…

Vanessa started biting her nails, she stopped texting. Pacing, shaking hands, nail biting. She couldn’t breathe.

She went toward the stairs. Maybe she could get her scanner, maybe she could listen and see if someone had been in a wreck or something.

No, Vanessa thought, that would terrify her more.

Her chest hurt. Her breathing was shaking. Her whole body felt like live wires were running through it. Her stomach… god, her stomach was starting to feel bad too…

She found herself in the kitchen. The room seemed so much smaller, closing in on her. Vanessa braced herself against the counter by sink.

It’s 2:15. Vanessa can barely make it out on the clock. Willow isn’t here.

In her distress, Vanessa heaved over the thankfully empty sink. She was grateful to herself, her earlier self, for washing them.

God her stomach felt really upset… and her vison was blurred with tears.

Vanessa’s breath caught in her throat, a strange mix of hyperventilating and the occasional dry heave, leaving her to anxiously white-knuckle the counter. The hyperventilating, the heaving, the anxious thoughts. All of it.

Vanessa was in tears, a choked scream coming through clenched teeth as everything continued to spiral.

And suddenly, there’s a hand brushing Vanessa’s hair, gentle hushing, and a hand carefully wiping away some tears.

“Ness,” Its Willow. Finally. “Nessie, what happened?”

Vanessa can’t speak. But, a shaking hand releases the counter, reaching for Willow. Willow’s hand, her shoulder, something, anything…

Willow pulls Vanessa into a comforting embrace, feeling the tension in her body.

"It's okay, Nessie. I'm here," Willow murmurs soothingly.

Vanessa clings to her, chest heaving with each shaky breath.

“Gosh, you’re hot,” Willow said. Which, was true, Vanessa did seem awfully warm, even by panic attack standards. But part of it was just to see how far gone into panic Vanessa was.

Vanessa doesn’t say anything, just tugs at the neckline of her t-shirt.

“Okay, here… let’s do this,” Willow said, leading Vanessa to the side door, where the small porch on the side of the house was.

It was an odd placement, and quite small. But there were two chairs out there. The air was chilly, Willow knew the cold would possibly shock Vanessa back into stability.

Willow guides her to sit on a chair, her touch a steady anchor in the storm of Vanessa's panic.

As Vanessa struggles to find words, Willow keeps her focus on providing comfort. She gently strokes Vanessa's back, a calming rhythm that matches the rise and fall of her uneven breaths.

“Inhale with me, Ness. Deep breaths. You're safe here."

Vanessa follows Willow's lead, gradually syncing her breaths with the gentle cadence Willow sets. The tingling in her body begins to subside, replaced by a sense of grounding.

Willow watches, subtly checking Vanessa’s pulse rate and basic vitals as Vanessa calms. Willow observes Vanessa, looking for any clues as to how Vanessa is feeling.

The porch light shows that Vanessa’s face is flushed, more so than Willow is used to seeing for most panic attacks. Vanessa’s hair is in a ponytail, she’s in a shirt from her former police department and comfortable shorts. The wrinkle of the shirt alone tells Willow that Vanessa has been in that outfit since she got home. Vanessa was either going to go for a run, or was hot.

As Vanessa calms, behind the flush she seems pale. Paler than usual. Willow brushes a few tears off Vanessa’s face with her thumbs and sees a startling difference in their skin tones.

Vanessa has always been a little darker than Willow.

“My dad, he was Italian and Latino I think,” Vanessa had said one time while she was cooking dinner for herself and Willow.

But now, Vanessa seems the same shade as… well, the relatively violently red-headed, Irish Willow. Pale, much paler than she should be. Vanessa’s strawberry blonde hair washes her out.

“I’m sorry…”

It’s the first words, and only words, out of Vanessa’s mouth.

“It’s okay,” Willow said, “How are you holding up..?”

Vanessa looks at her, regret and self disappointment painting her features.

“I… I’m sorry…”

Willow sighs, pulling the other chair over to sit in front of Vanessa.

Vanessa is looking down now. At the ground, a hand over her stomach, her body rigid again.

But, Willow can tell, it’s not a panicked rigid.

Willow places a careful hand over Vanessa’s hand on her stomach, her other hand on Vanessa’s shoulder. Vanessa’s stomach feels bloated.

“Hey, deep breaths,” Willow said, confused by the escalation. At least, momentarily.

Vanessa wipes her face with her hand, she mumbles something but Willow doesn’t catch it. Theres a strange growling noise.

“What was that..?” Willow tilted her head.

“I’m… I’m going to throw up.”

“Yeah, that’s normal to feel after a-“

Vanessa nudges Willow back, standing up and going to the railing, immediately heaving into the grass.

One gag, just spit. Another, Vanessa feels her stomach seem to move to her throat, and whatever she heaves up burns. A third gag turns into a full retch, and a torrent of vomit splatters into the grass.

Vanessa gags again, heaving up an even thicker stream of vomit over the railing. Willow stands beside her, rubbing her back and keeping Vanessa’s hair out of her face. Vanessa is hot, and sweating, and something tells Willow this is definitely more than a panic attack.

Vanessa heaves again, more vomit. Each wave comes up thicker than the last. For a moment, they stop producing anything. But then, Vanessa leans into the railing, pressing her abdomen into the wood, and the thickest wave of vomit pours out of her like someone dumping a bucket of water.

Vanessa gasps, but the heaving breaths turn into genuine heaving, and by Willow’s timing it takes almost forty minutes of abundant vomiting, each heave becoming more violent the less there is coming up, before Vanessa is left gasping, pressing her forehead to the rail to try and catch her breath.

“Got it all out?” Willow questions.

Vanessa nods hesitantly, coughing a few times and spitting, but it’s nothing more than to try and get the terrible taste out of her mouth. She feels like theres more, but it could just be everything else.

“Okay, come on…” Willow said.

Carefully, she leads Vanessa into the house, into her room.

Willow goes to grab Vanessa’s trash can, but Vanessa stops her.

“It’s already over here…” Vanessa said. And sure enough, on the side of the bed where Vanessa usually sleeps, theres the trash can.

“You get nauseous a lot,” Willow said, “Have you thought about-“

“Seeing someone?” Vanessa asked, “I did before I moved here. The doctor said it was stress related, but everything else looked good.”

“Hm, interesting,” Willow said, “I’ll be right back.”

Willow stepped out, went to their shared bathroom, and came back with a thermometer.

“I know you just threw up but can we please check?” Willow asked “You seem warmer than usual. Even by panic attack standards…”

Vanessa nodded, grabbing the thermometer and putting it under her tongue.

The feeling made her want to gag, she anxiously rubbed her hand against her pants. The second it beeped, she handed it to Willow before lunging for the trash can, heaving and having more abundant waves of vomit.

“Oh, god…” Willow was shocked, but quickly dashed to grab the one from the bathroom.

As she came back, the trashcan on Vanessa’s floor was nearly full.

“Here, here..” Willow said, guiding Vanessa to the other trash can.

The security officer almost filled that one too, before the vomiting subsided.

“Wills… I… I don’t know what’s wrong…” Vanessa mumbled, “I never feel this sick…. From that…”

“You’ve had panic attacks before..? You know what we can talk about it later,” Willow said, “You have a fever. If I had to guess, that’s why your panic was so bad. And why you threw up so much… Ness, are you sick?”

Vanessa moaned, her stomach cramping.

“I don’t know… I mean I was hot coming home,” Vanessa said, before resting her face in one of her hands, the other holding her stomach that was starting to feel even sicker, “Can we just… do this later..? I feel like if I talk too much more… I’m going to throw up again…”

“Yeah,” Willow said, sitting beside Vanessa, rubbing her shoulder, “And I’ll stay right here until you want to talk… or if you need to throw up again.”

#emeto #emeto fic #emeto cw #emeto tw #panic attack tw #panic attack cw #fever tw #fever cw

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slvt4lanadelrey · 11 months

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FAKE LOVE | Tara Carpenter

Tara Carpenter X gf!Rileyfem!reader

Warnings: death, murder, cheating, swearing, stabbing(?)

"What the fuck! I loved you, I love you, and your the one trying to kill me?" Tara screamed. She pleaded with her eyes, her words shaken as the truth about what you actually are settled in. After Dewey everything stopped, you needed the satisfaction of knowing other people was hurting too to get through your day.

"Love me! You love me? You bitch, you wouldn't know what love was even if it- we'll, stabbed you in the back?" You laughed, mocking Tara and reminded her of the slash on her back that happened because of the knife so nicely clung in your hands.

"What- what are you talking about?" Beads of sweat dribbled down her head, splotches of blood down her cheeks. Her throat bobbled with tears, mascara ran at the fact you had betrayed her. You licked your teeth, blood dribbling down the side of your face. Your dagger was hung by the side of your head, it drawn in the air ready to pierce the flesh below you.

Tara was pinned, her body pressed to the floor. You was above her, anger flaring in your eyes.

"You know I love you."

Her words hurt, they stung your ears to hear her unhonest nonsense spewing out of her mouth so naturally. Your eyes ached, tears blended into the bloody mess that was your face. Bodies around you laid numb, Chad, Ethan, Quinn, Wayne, and Sam.

"Did you love me when you was fucking Chad?" You seethed, the fire behind your eyes spread to your chest. You felt hot, anger rising with each flicker of pain that was caught in Tara's eyes. She blinked once, then again. Her eyes flooded with guilt, a loud and audible gulp was heard that some how made you even more mad.

Your jaw clenched, the muscle strained with the each chew that took place in your mouth. She closed her eyes, tears still falling down.

"I- it- we?" She couldn't speak, she was embarrassed. She didn't mean to cheat- well no one means to cheat, necessarily. They were drunk, Chad had a crush on Tara for a little while and he was bolder than the rest of the frat guys hitting on her. You had obviously been grieving your dead father, someone who died so Tara could live. The fact was it was with Chad which made everything feel worse, Chad?

"To think my dad died for such a pathetic piece of nothingness. I hope you burn in hell, Tara, I hope you scorch. You don't know what love is, your a heartless siren who can only think with her dirty thoughts." The shiny metal dragged down her face. It was euphoria hearing her whimpers, her eyes clamping down with fear. You giggled, biting down on your bottom lip pulling it back into your mouth. You had been hit on the head with a popcorn machine by Chad, your head throbbed in pain; a gouge that leaked with blood on the corner of your forhead.

You impressed yourself. Previous ghostface's had to have a partner- minus Ronan. You had murderer 10 people on your own. Frankie- someone who tried to take advantage of Tara, Jason and Greg- other ghostface fanatics that had hoped to have the satisfaction of seeing Tara in such a state. Then finally, the final stage.

Chad- it was fun. His blood poured like a fine wine. He screamed as the knife inpaled through his neck, his eyes went wide only being able to see the whites of them. Blood gasped out of his mouth, Tara screaming at the top of her lungs at the sight. You ignored the way she howled, pressing further down into the larger man infront of you. Before he died you leaned forward, your lips pressed to his ear. "You shouldn't have took what's mine." His eyes somehow expanded more hearing your confession. You made sure he knew who killed him, that he was aware of the women that had been the reason his life came to an end.

Tara brought you back to reality, her lips trembling with how hard the knife grazed down her neck. You couldn't help the way your eyes sparkled, hands antsy with anticipation. You knew you wanted to kill Tara, you knew she needed to die.

You asked one thing of her. Throughout the 4 years of dating, the hours of love and patience you pored into the relationship. You cried with her when Sam left, you stayed awake in the night when she was alone. Every happy moment in Tara's life you was there, holding her tight. Every moment were she needed to scream you was there to allow her to scream into your chest.

Your dad died. Your dewey was murdered infront of you, brutally and unforgiving. You asked for one night, one single fucking night were you and Tara didn't drink away the pain. Gale, your mom invited you over to meet your new 'step-dad'. Tara knew you needed to see your mom, she knew you was still having a really hard time getting over deweys death.

Somehow that lead to her being underneath Chad. Alcohol flowing through her veins, a hazy mind. She didn't think about you in those moments. At the end of the day, every moment with Tara made you realise something; Tara was one selfish little bitch.

Finally, after a teasing amount of time the knife embedded her chest. Her heart pulsated around the blade, slowly slowing down as the blood gushed out. She gasped, her hands pressing into your shoulder. She cried, her breathing staggered and strained. You wiped her hands away, pressing further into her chest. There was a click, then a loud gasp. She was dead.

Tara, your beautiful Tara was gone. You'd miss her dimple filled smile, you'd miss the way she insisted on making you a playlist every month, you'd miss her warm kisses across your shoulder blades in the middle of the night, you'd miss her muffled words of love when all you could do was watch bad romcoms at night because you was still crippled by the memory of Amber betraying you.

You won't miss her tendancy of possession, how you wasn't allowed friends after Amber had confessed, but she was allowed to fuck Chad whenever she felt like it because you was so blinded by her fake love that you didn't have a clue what was happening. You wouldn't miss the way she screamed at you the week before that party, her hand slamming into the wall because you physically couldn't leave your own bed.

She made excuse after excuse. Every time that would lead to you and her, holding each other.

You think you died the moment the ghostface's started to attacked again. You could tell in Tara's eyes when you stumbled over to her the night Amber attacked you; she wasn't getting over this, but you didn't know she stopped loving you in those moments were you was fighting for your life

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thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

Nobody Has To Know

TW: fem!Reader x Madelyn. Smut. Language. Cheating.

Summary: Madelyn makes a move on you after a fith with Drew.

WORD COUNT: 1500

REQUESTED:

Drew dating reader who is also his love interest in the obx and Madelyn has a crush on her and one day they kind of argue on set but it’s not that big of a deal but Madelyn convinced reader to cheat on drew with her ?

*HEY I WASN'T SURE IF YOU MEANT THAT DREW AND READER GOT INTO A FIGHT OR HER AND MADELYN, AND SO I KINDA DECIDED ON MY OWN. HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT!

Nobody Has To Know

You were always one to harbor a curious mind as well as pushing limits and boundaries. It was one of the many things he loved about you, and it was also what landed you the role to play Rafe's onscreen love interest, and yet, it was also a means for your arguments. Jokes taken too far or moments in which your maturity would be tweaked to fit the role of peer pressure or some pointless dare. The most recent having been showing up to work a bit too hungover from the night before. Usually a professional, you had allowed Chase and Austin to convince you of one too many shots as Carlacia and Madison had taken you to the dance floor to garner the attention of everyone.

Including her.

Especially her.

The memory of the way your body moved and the dress followed each and every sway has set her teeth to sink into her bottom lip at the thought of joining you. But you were friends. Not to mention dating a shared friend, someone she considered to be family. But the crush she had developed on you over the last few months of filming was enough to be noticed by people like Jonathan and Madison as they consoled her when she was affected by your presence. But she would always remain a friend first.

At least she planned to...

"I'm not doing this right now..." Drew said with a sigh.. "I hope last night was worth it...Let me go cover your ass for Jonas...Just try to go...sober up somewhere..." He spoke to you, more disappointed as he left you in the makeup trailer as you waited for your designated artist. But upon doing so, you were left with guilt. Drew was a perfect boyfriend for so many reasons. But where he knew the limitations of his excesses, you had a tendency to go overboard. You were a wild spirit reined by his more conservative lifestyle. Sure, he could party and be the life of the party for any instance, but when embarrassed, he could become almost parental.

"You alright?" Madelyn asked as the door closed behind her, her mouth cocked to the side as she analyzed you. Shades covering your tired eyes, despite the fact you were in a dimly lit trailer whose mirror light was kept off for the time being, hair set in a messy bun from having overslept, and the groan that left your throat having left your lips in such a way that prompted the understanding of you enduring the consequences from the night before.

"I'm sure whatever he said..."

You sniffle, having begun to cry since he left.

"What did he say?" Her demeanor changed, now immediately upset at Drew for making you shed tears.

"I just feel like I always let him down...He is so sweet and he looks out for me...but I always feel like I'm a step beneath him or something. Like he has to babysit me..."

"You have a right to live your life though...I mean, do you think about not being with him?" She asked, forcing her excitement to shallow behind her concern.

"Sometimes...Oh my God..I'm too hungover, Drew is so good..."

"Is he what you want though? I mean you can love someone and they still might not fulfill you. I mean I could eat salad all day, its good for you and everything, but I'm always gonna want something sweet..." Her eyes flashed to you in a way you hadn't noticed. Her usual sultry eyes, a statement of hers along with those full lips pulled in a natural pout when content, had darkened with lust. This was the closest she had come to confessing how she felt for you. But now she was closer to acting on it then just stating it.

"Do you ever think about anyone else?"

The truth was, you thought about everyone. You found everyone attractive. Their personalities meant more than the genetics making up their gender. It was a problem as it caused for many flirtations to be misinterpreted. But it was simply how you were. Curious. Adventurous. Anything but judgemental. Which was why Drew's words were so painful as they probably shouldn't have been. Maybe because a part of him was right.

"Sometimes..." You confessed.

"Ever think about me?" Her fingers traced yours on the table as you caught her eyes in the reflection. She always made you the kind of nervous you get before the drop of a Rollercoaster. Maybe because she was effortless and talented, not to mention caring and sweet. And even if looks were something that was a mere addition, you couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she was.

"I think about you..." Her words threw you off. You have only ever seen her spend her time with other guys. Nit that she was an option anyhow as Drew was your boyfriend. Her friend. YOUR boyfriend. But as she moved closer, her perfume, her voice, and her overall aesthetic had wrapped you around her completely.

"Way more than I should..." Her fingers played with your hair until her fingers fell to your neck. Her touch was immediate fire against your chilled skin, the rush if what was forbidden having sent hour eyes to a close to bask.

"What-what do you think about?"

"I don't know I should tell you...I don't want you to look at me differently...for our friendship to change..."

"I...I wanna know." You turned to face her as she lowered to you, on her knees, as her hands ran slowly up your thighs, teasing beneath your skirt.

"They are the kind of thoughts that make me...wet..." Her eyes flashed up to you as she watched your reaction. "Do you have the same?"

You slowly nodded, her face illuminating. "But Drew..."

"We aren't doing anything wrong...we're just talking..."

"Maddy..."

"There's nothing wrong with talking, right?" You watched her bite her bottom lip as you shook your head.

"So I usually think of your lips...they always seem so soft..." She reached to them, your eyes fighting to remain open as you were tempted to take them into a suck.

"And you have the prettiest breasts I've ever seen...I just want to feel how soft and warm they are...make your nipples all hard with my teeth..."

"Oh my God..."

"And your thighs...the things I want to do between your thighs...I could make you feel as good...better than him because I know exactly what would make you feel good-" Her thumbs were at your clothed clit, her words having distracted you enough to make this motion, as you gasped.

"Madelyn-"

"I want to know how sweet you are." She dipped her finger into your panties, before taking you to her lips.

"We can't..." You looked to the door of the trailer as she moved to the lock, twisting it closed, before returning to you.

"I know we should, but I'm so wet for you...my panties are soaked through..." She pulled you to your feet as you would feel her, "See? I'm throbbing for you...I'd come so fast for you...but I'd take my time with you..." She ghosted your lips as you slowly nodded.

"Yeah?"

"Oh my God.." He moaned as you began to rub against her, basking on how she sounded because of you.

"Oh my God!" She spoke again, this time with a smile.

"Madelyn..."

"Please don't stop. Oh my God..." Her hand came to your breast as she slid beneath the fabric before you heard the door of the trailer tried from the outside.

"Please." She wrapped her hand tighter around your wrist while her second hand drove between your own legs.

"I don't want to hurt him-" You breathed quickly as she used her hand to your face, leading you to her lips.

"Nobody has to know...this will stay...just...between...us..." She pulled apart between the kiss, a thumb to your clit motioning for you to copy.

"How wet you are...how good I'm making you feel...how you're gonna make me come...all of it will stay between us..." As you tried to rationalize the reality of this, you found the rush of an orgasm silencing you.

"Fuck-" She spoke almost silently, a word you'd heard her say a million times, but never like this. Never this breathless or beautiful. Nit because of you. It was enough to prompt your own release as it came to the surface.

"I wanted to take my time touching you...pulling those sweet moans from you...But at least I know how good you feel clenching around my fingers baby..." She sucked you off of her fingers as another knock came to the door.

"Madelyn..."

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone else how sweet you are. Our little secret." She gave one final kiss before leaving you to fathom what you'd just done.

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor

#madelyn cline smut #madelyn cline #outer banks #obx #outerbanks #outer banks smut #outer banks fanfiction #madelyn cline x fem reader

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