#i gave the title away because i thought i was abandoning it
Text
for the last time ; simon “ghost” riley.
pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader
word count 2k
synopsis simon is greeted by an image that haunts him the most: you, completely still and no longer breathing.
content contains death mentions, mentions of blood, slight angst, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, pregnant!reader, the two of you are married, obsessive!ghost
notes takes place in the same timeline/au as this fic! ; title is inspired by miss taylor swift’s line in ‘anti-hero’ (stream midnights, btw) where it goes “i wake up screaming from dreaming one day i’ll watch as you’re leaving and life will lose all its meaning for the last time”, so do what you will with that information!
Is it possible to be so afraid that you can taste the fear on your tongue?
Simon Riley finds himself questioning this as he takes one step further into his home — your home, the empty residence that has never known warmth in between its walls until the first time you graced them with your presence — the foyer eerily quiet.
Usually, you have the TV playing in the background for company when he’s away. Maybe none of the shows airing were to your liking; that’s fine, he reasons. There’s no need to panic. No need for his heart to bang against its ribcage barrier, almost as if it’s trying to break free to search for you itself.
The house is dark, but after years of tactical operations held in worse places, his eyes easily adjust to take in these familiar surroundings. His eyes dart around the room, looking for any sign of trouble. He doesn’t know whether he should be relieved or not to find nothing out of the ordinary.
He moves quickly through the house, searching for any sign of you that he can. You’re not a quiet person — not when you’re in the comfort of your shared home, not when you know that you’re safe to live as freely as you want because Ghost will always see to it.
When he put that ring on your finger, he had promised to always keep you safe. Even before it, you were always going to be under his protection, and ever the honorable soldier (and lovesick fool), it’s a promise that he intends on keeping.
When he doesn’t hear the familiar sounds of you humming in the kitchen or the running water of your hot showers, he starts to feel the panic rising in his chest. It’s fine. You’re fine. He’s a rational thinker, quick and calm in a battle. He doesn’t lose his cool, never loses true sight of his mission.
He’ll find you, he reassures himself. He’ll find you, because to lose you is to lose himself, to lose the last remaining shred of humanity he has left in him. Burned, betrayed, abandoned — every moment of suffering he’s endured throughout his life has left him hardened and cold. Perhaps the universe is a merciful thing; after all, it gave him you. You, who only needs to give him a smile meant just for him to reverse all the pain he’s accumulated over the years.
He never thought he would be able to feel again. And now because of you, he’s feeling entirely too much.
He heads to the last room left: the bedroom.
He’ll find you there. You’ll be sleeping peacefully, tucked into the sheets that will cling with the scent of your body wash, blissfully unaware of your husband’s silly anxiety. Nothing could possibly happen to you — no one even knows you exist, save for the select few who Ghost finds himself able to trust.
He turns the knob, slowly and gently opening the door out of fear of interrupting your slumber, only to be greeted by the sight that haunts his every dream.
You’re lying on the bed, eyes shut, but there are thin, red rivulets running down your face — the face that he can perfectly envision in his mind, down to every eyelash and minuscule mark — and instead of the steady rise and fall of your chest…
…There is no movement.
The acidic feeling of bile rising up his dry throat burns, but he swallows it back down, ignoring the acrid taste in favor of forcing himself to approach your still body. He reaches out for you, noticing the erratic, shaky movements of his hands. When was the last time he had ever been so nervous, so scared, that his hands started to shake?
He doesn’t want to believe it. Your body is cold to the touch, and he finds himself daring to grip you tighter. He doesn’t want to leave a bruise, darling, he promises. He’ll apologize tenfold when you wake up. He shakes you, not as gently as he wants to, because he needs you to wake up. You have to wake up.
“Love?” His throat feels so choked up, he’s surprised he can even manage to speak. He shakes your body again, his knees almost buckling to the heavy weight of immense grief. Your blood stains the otherwise crisp, white sheets of the bed.
He’ll never sleep again if you don’t wake up.
He takes a hand to rest against your baby bump, desperate to feel the familiar kick of his son sensing his father’s presence.
“C’mon, kid.” He pleads and he begs, only to be met with nothing but silence.
He chooses to cradle your face instead, taking in your sweet features and trying desperately to pretend like he doesn’t see the blood spilling, ruining your otherwise perfect visage. The syllables in your name are broken up as he tries to say your name but finds himself struggling to speak properly.
Did you know that Simon rarely cries? Of course, you do — you know everything there is to know about him, down to every traumatic experience that has shaped him into the man he is today. You know that the last time Simon cried was because of his father, and it was very early in his childhood. Even as a baby, Simon was considered to be a very quiet child.
But now he feels the corners of his eyes watering, and he’s not ashamed of the tears — he’s ashamed of himself. You’re not breathing, your body’s gone cold, and he will never get to meet the boy fated to be his son. Is this why the universe had tried so fucking hard to keep him from making attachments? Had fate known that he was undeserving of having a family?
He couldn’t protect you, either of you.
The anger comes — he’ll track down whoever is the cause of this, and he will slaughter every single person involved, knowing that it’ll never be enough, even if the streets are permanently stained red from the amount of blood he’ll spill. But even those thoughts can’t chase away the agonizing grief that is crushing him from the inside out; it takes root inside of his heart, and he feels a part of himself snap.
Rage and agony blend together as the reality of his situation tears him apart. He will never love again; you’ve taken all of what he had to offer straight to the grave. Despite the persistent beating of it, he refuses to acknowledge having a heart, cold or otherwise. There’s nothing. There is no meaning to his life anymore if he cannot share it with you.
His pained screams seem to reverberate around the four walls of your bedroom, and his eyes are instantly open. He sits up, gasping for air, cold sweat dousing his body. He needs several seconds to calm down, and the erratic beating of his heart only quickens its pace when he realizes that all of it was merely a nightmare. But if it was only a bad dream, why does he turn his head only to find your side of the bed empty?
“[Name]?” He calls for you, throwing off the blanket from his body and leaving the warm bed. “[Name]?”
He sounds desperate and frightened — feelings he normally doesn’t display because he usually doesn’t experience them.
He’s gone about most of his adult life knowing that he doesn’t care about what happens to him, but now — now, he actually has something to live for, something to lose. He’s given up so many parts of himself, all for the sake of survival or for a mission. Whatever he hasn’t given away has been stolen from him (boyhood had always been a short-lived concept in his household; his father made sure of it). And then you came into his life — or rather, he infiltrated the building you were held captive in, and suddenly, the world had color again.
He didn’t ask you to fix him, and you never saw him as someone who needed it. You always tell him that he saved your life, even going so far as to call him your hero. You know everything about him; everything but the fact that you saved his life, too.
More accurately: you brought him back to life.
And now his life will go back to being nothing but static and self-sacrificial motivations.
He calls out your name in the darkness of the house, only to be greeted by the sound of his own heart beating against his chest. He stumbles through your home, only to find you rummaging through the kitchen, the light inside of it glowing against your skin and making you appear as an angel.
Breathing becomes significantly easier for him now.
It takes him little to no time to erase the distance between the two of you, and the familiar feeling of your husband’s strong arms wrapping around your body envelopes you. His embrace is comforting albeit a bit suffocating, and you choose to lean into his warmth, allowing him to bury his face into the mess of your hair.
The scent of your shampoo mixing with your own natural scent overwhelms him, and he only attempts to bring you impossibly closer to him.
“Simon?” The sound of your voice is his favorite thing to listen to; even more so when it’s you saying his name so sweetly and softly.
“Simon, what’s going on?” You don’t sound scared, but you take a hand to put over his, massaging his knuckles. It’s nearly one in the morning, and while you know that Simon is secretly clingy, especially when the two of you are sleeping, the way he’s hugging you… It’s almost as if he’s scared that you’ll evaporate the moment he’s not touching you.
“...You weren’t there.” You can feel the movement of his mouth and jaw, his head still very much buried in between the space between your neck and shoulder.
“I wasn’t… Oh.”
The turning point of your relationship had been the fact that Simon was always there every time you had nightmares. It wasn’t until the two of you moved in together that you realized he suffered from some of his own, as well. They’re few and far between nowadays, but sometimes, he’ll thrash in his sleep, tiny, pained groans waking you up from your slumber. You know the memories of watching his former teammates die in front of him haunt him in his subconscious when exhaustion leaves his mind defenseless. Those bad dreams have stopped coming for a long time.
He refuses to tell you about his new nightmare that’s been plaguing him, but either he’s an open book or you’ve just gotten too good at reading him because you think you have a sneaking suspicion as to what’s been scaring him.
“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper softly, and it should be impossible, but his hold on you only tightens up at your words of reassurance. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me.” You take his hand, and he allows you to adjust it to where it’s resting against the swell of your belly. “Nothing bad is going to happen to us.”
He refuses to go back to living that bleak, miserable existence that was his life before you. It’s okay to starve when you don’t know what you’re hungering for; it’s torture when you know you’ll never have what you truly need to survive.
“Let’s go back to bed, Simon. Please?” You plead with him, and after a minute, you feel him nod in agreement.
“You’ll be there when I wake up?” His words come out rough from having not spoken in several hours, but there’s something in his voice that reminds you that there are still remnants of that little, heartbroken boy Simon had to destroy in order to survive his childhood. Those fragments of himself are buried deep through layers of tough skin and pseudo-heartlessness, only coming out in his most vulnerable moments. So far, you’re the only person to witness it. If he has it his way, you’ll be the only one who does.
“I promise. I’ll always be there.”
True to your word, as long as he’s sleeping in the safety of the walls of your home, Simon Riley doesn’t have to find himself waking up alone ever again.
#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x reader#modern warfare 2#cod x reader#angst#one shot#drabble#fluff#hurt/comfort
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Driven by Holy Force
Summary: You had been friends with Sam and Colby since middle school, and it took the success of both of your channels for you to realize that only Sam could satisfy you.
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Drunken sex (consentual), Sam x Reader smut, Lovelorn Bitter-sweetness all around— I’m not responsible for the fuzzy feels
Words: 5.6k
No Y/N Used
Title is from ‘Mine’ by Sleep Token
The last time I stepped foot in this club, I was a shaking horrifyingly new green bean to the party space full of established content creators.
Now I couldn’t keep up with the amount of greetings and glances that shot my way. I kept a smile pulled at my painted lips even though I shook to my core. My heart raced under my ribs, and I desperately needed a drink in my hands to hide behind. I needed an anchor, I needed a place to stay comfortable and out of the spotlight tonight, I needed someone—to find something—
Maybe it had been months now—years—since I gained my own separate platform and business apart from my best friends, but I still felt dependent on them. I remember Sam and Colby posting these dumb videos back in high school and I roasted their asses for being dipshits on the internet.
I guess it paid off considering the room they gave to me in their new house. My room in their new house was bigger than my downtown apartment.
When they told me they were moving to LA, I remember standing shell shocked with questions. For how long? Why? Will I see them again—And then they asked me to live with them.
How much audacity did two boys have in order to ask the younger girl who followed them around like a lost puppy more often than not to move across the country with them?
They didn’t ask without giving me the ultimatum that I had to focus on my own content and actually post a video more often than every six months. I agreed because who wouldn’t try it out at least once? I was only nineteen so if it didn’t work out, I wouldn’t have wasted precious time. This was the time to bulldoze my way through questionable opportunities. Technically we were all kids still; they were 21, nearly 22, and I was told that girls’ brains don’t turn on until they are 24 and boys’ brains don’t turn on period.
I just didn’t expect for my channel to blow up alongside them. If they hit a milestone, I hit it six months later.
Now I was 24. They were 27. And life was still on an incline.
Everyday I was stunned by the achievements I somehow made. Perhaps authenticity and the exploitment of embarrassing universal experiences were things people my age really did want. I grew up imagining living the perfect life alongside the perfectly polished A list celebrities. I was nowhere near that and somehow, I had it so much better.
The major issue that I collided head on going 120 miles per hour wasn’t a massive internet scandal like I expected, but it was the way my stomach flipped when Sam looked at me from across the room.
Call it an overworked brain, call it a lack of sleep, or call it a lovelorn heart that was too afraid of being thrown away; whatever it was, it was out for blood. It made home in the fascia of my body.
God, nothing came of us in our past lives. Not when we found each other between classes in middle school. Not when we skipped school and whispered in the dark alleys of abandoned buildings. Not even when we woke up under the same roof like we always wanted. It was now. Now after the success, after the hard work.
We were stable.
Suddenly I had time. Suddenly I had some leeway where if something blew up in flames, I would be alright.
Now I was feeling risky, and somehow my stomach caught onto it.
”Oh my god, finally.” I heard the voice pierce through the thoughts I couldn’t shake myself. I turned to a red drink pressed to my nose. I grabbed it before it spilled down my front. “She wins a Streamy and suddenly is fashionably late.” I burst out laughing and hid my blush with my hand.
”Tara, shut the hell up.” She grabbed my wrist and that was when I found my anchor.
She led me to the table our friends parked at, and I sucked down the drink by the time we greeted each other. Two shots down and we gossiped like it was the end of the world. It felt like it. The colors in the dark room illuminated their eyes and sparkles in their eye make up, and I wondered if every night would feel like this as long as they were around.
It took years, but here I was finally surrounded by girls who accepted me, who I didn’t need to pretend around.
The problem was, they saw right through me.
“Oh my god!” Vereena gasped and raised her hand towards me. I turned to her in expectation. “I forgot to say—I saw you and Sam out on what, like Tuesday night or something?” My face flared at the name and my heart skipped a beat because yeah, we did do something on Tuesday night. To be fair, Colby was stressed sick and lying in bed all night trying to schedule meetings. He told us to leave him the fuck alone because if we stayed in the house, we all knew we would coax him into having fun like swimming in the pool at 2am in the dead of winter.
”You—What?” I laughed. “Stalking me, are you?”
“Me and Tara literally were meeting up,” she said as she lifted her hand to her. Tara laughed as she agreed with her and shook her head to intervene. “We stopped at the Trader Joe’s right there on the—the—and you guys were—“
”She’s right, I totally forgot. We got stuff for an apartment clean out night, and you and Sam were getting dinner or something.” I glared at Tara for egging this on.
”Colby needed us out of the house so we just got some food before we saw some friends—Why are you weaponizing this?”
”I’m not weaponizing,” she burst out laughing. “I’m just saying what a coincidence.” That toothy smirk and interlaced fingers made my eyes roll to the back of my head.
“You’re an idiot. We literally aren’t—“
“No one said anything about dating,” Tara said as she sipped her drink with raised brows. “Why did Colby even need you gone?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to, Tar—“
“Uh no?” I laughed. “He was literally freaking out about getting shit done, I don’t fucking know—“
“Oh!” Tara gasped. “Speaking of—“
I stood straight as I felt arms around me. They came from around my neck and rested in front of me, face pressed against mine.
“Speaking of? What the hell does that mean?” Sam’s voice is loud in my ear and I drowned in it.
“Oh you know, just talking about Colby’s meltdown earlier this week,” Tara replied.
“Whoa, excuse me,” he said from behind Tara. She looked back at him with a laugh. “I literally was actually working unlike these bafoons.”
Good thing Sam pulled away and hugged the other girls at the table or else I would have collapsed.
“Oh so what you're saying is you kicked them out so they could go on a date, right?”
“What—“ Colby asked, completely taken off guard. “No? They got dinner then grabbed stuff for us to watch movies and actually chill. What do you mean date?”
“Oh my god Tara, you’re being weird,” I said, but as I looked at her, she shook her head with that pesky smile. I decided to interrogate her sometime before the night was over.
“How was last night?” Sam asked as he made his way back to me. I stayed with my best friend overnight after the party at her house because she was utterly blacked out. I was as well—don’t get me wrong—but she had a different kind of black out in her system.
“It was great, I don’t remember anything.”
“Jesus fuck,” he laughed. “At least you’re here in one piece—“ I didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed up and down my body. “—and she’s not, like, dead, yeah?”
“Yeah Sam, literally—I think we slept all day and Tara was the one who called us both over and over to make sure we were up before everyone came to get us ready.”
“You look really nice,” he said immediately after. My smile dropped.
“Thanks, you do too.”
And he pulled his hand away from my back; his palm grazed my arm as he stepped back. I didn’t realize he even held me there.
“I’m getting drinks, do you want something?”
“Yeah, whatever is fine.” He nodded and took other people’s drink orders before retreating to the bar.
I stood in disbelief that Tara said that. To Colby’s face as well. Now I retraced every step I took with Sam; perhaps it could have been taken like we were dating.
But we all knew we weren’t. We had been best friends since middle school. It was clear; none of us liked each other like that. That was how we stayed together for so long without heartbreak or problems.
So I wouldn’t allow it to be a problem, no, this feeling in my stomach might have confirmed Tara’s words, but it didn’t matter.
The words would never leave my mouth.
Colby caught himself in conversation a few tables over, and I stayed with Tara and our friends at the table for only a few more moments until Sam came back and slid me a drink.
Of course it was the drink I always ordered for myself. I didn’t have to ask for it anymore; obviously he had known it forever now. Tara eyed the drink, my face, the drink…
Sam left without a word and mingled with the same group Colby was in.
It got out of hand now, I knew, and Tara’s words made it much more tangible than it had to be. No one had said anything to my face—nor their faces—yet, and for it to happen so suddenly and during a time of weakness nearly broke me.
But how could I not let my body not react when I looked up and saw Sam as he spoke and laughed with friends? He looked too good tonight, he always did, but I never chalked it up to be this kind of good. His glasses, his hair, his face; so familiar but so different. Then his eyes caught mine. Fuck. Too pretty, too blue in the lights; his head leaned to the side in question.
I hardly finished two drinks but they had to have done something to me because what were these thoughts?
“You good?” I felt a hand on my arm.
“Totally! I was thinking that I’m bored,” I said as I looked at the girls.
“We’re waiting for a couple more then we were going to party, I promise!”
“You would be pregaming at the game wouldn’t you?” Vereena jeered, and while Tara glared at her, I laughed and grabbed my drink.
“When we’re ready, come and get me.”
“Sure thing!”
Who else was I to go to than the boys?
But Sam turned around and walked towards me before he noticed I was headed to them. I paused, and when he turned, he gasped and halted right in front of me.
“Oh hi,” he said quickly. “I was about to go so hi to some people, but—“
“Alright, I was just—“
“It’s fine, I haven’t seen you for like two days.” His arm linked around my neck and I rolled my eyes.
“Please, it was a night.”
“In the morning it will be two days.”
“Well, aren't you keeping track.”
“No,” he dragged out bashfully. We walked haphazardly from our friends and deeper into the club where the lights were far and few between and the music was louder until I felt it reverberating my teeth.
“Tara said I fuck ton,” he laughed.
“What are you talking about?” I shouted over the music. We caved into each other, my hand linked with his that was over my shoulder.
“She made fun of us being on a date right in front of Colby.” I looked at him with crazy eyes.
“What are you talking about? So we were on a date?” THat was when he smiled so wide his face flushed.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Nothing?” I gasped. “I mean, I don’t blame her, it was feeling kind of date-ish.”
“If you think that was a date then maybe you need to be shown what a real one is.” We stopped walking and I looked back at him with a smile fallen face.
“And you would be the one to show me?”
“I didn’t think you’d ever want to have this discussion.” His smile was long gone as well. We faced each other, so close that with one deep breath we would touch.
“I didn’t realize there was a discussion we needed to have.” He shook his head in defeat.
He took a deep breath then stepped away.
“Sam—“
“I don’t—You don’t—“
“I know,” I said firmly without breaking eye contact. “I know.” I repeated with more assurance than I ever felt before.
A second.
Another.
He inched closer.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t smile and he didn’t look away. I swallowed down nothing—my tongue was so dry—but I looked back at him nonetheless. And then his hand came up and touched my face as if he couldn’t resist it. My hand held his wrist just in case he was an idiot and pulled away.
“You’re so dumb, such an idiot.”
“I’m an idiot?” I gasped. “You are! You’re the one who won’t look away from me and then have the audacity to call me an idiot when you want to kiss me so bad.” That cracked a small smile from him.
“No, I mean, in all places, you decide to let me kiss you for the first time in a dark club away from all our friends?”
“God, and we aren’t even drunk. What is wrong with us?”
He smiled widely before he grabbed my face with two hands and pulled me into a kiss.
Of course I held onto both of his wrists now—just in case he was an idiot for a second time since everyone knew he was—but this only caused him to step deeper into me and knock me off balance. I gasped against him only for his tongue to divide my lips and taste what was behind.
“Sam,” I gasped his name against his mouth and he only hummed into me. One of his hands fell down and held my waist—tugging, grasping for something—and my arm wrapped around his neck. Fuck, he couldn’t get close enough to me.
My heart stopped the second he moaned into me. I could barely hear it, but I felt it in my mouth, on his skin. He kissed me like he meant it. I would taste him, feel it for days, and even if I wanted to forget, I knew the numbness of my tongue would itch for more and more—
“Oh my god—“ I leapt from him faster than how this all started. He too looked back to the voice, Tara, and he smiled widely. “I fucking knew it you motherfuckers, gaslighters if I’ve ever known them, and you damn well know I do—“
“Tara, chill,” I laughed. “If it makes you feel better, it was the first time that happened.”
She gasped with wide eyes.
“ShIt, sorry I—“
“You’re fine,” Sam laughed. His fingers tangled with mine. “We were just coming back, actually.”
“We were?” I whispered as we followed Tara back to the tables.
“Shit,” he expelled and looked at me with a look I hadn’t seen from those familiar eyes. “What else did you want from me?”
I looked straight ahead even though I knew his eyes were hooked on me.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Whatever—Whatever you could think of I guess.” He sucked in a breath and neither of us said a word until we joined with our friends again.
His grip on my hand tightened exponentially.
“Someone get these jackasses more drinks since they clearly haven’t had enough to chill,” Tara said. I glared at her and Sam walked up to Colby. My heart was in my throat at that point. There was something about Tara spilling the beans to our friends about our kiss mixed with the sight of Colby locking eyes with mine and them slowly widening when he realized.
His lips ever so slowly parted and he smiled with a shaking of the head.
“Fucking knew it,” he said. I didn’t hear him, but I read his lips and Sam shoved him back as he walked past him for a drink. Colby and I stepped closer together as a smile pulled at my mouth and he laughed loudly. “You are so fucking dumb,” he laughed still, and his hands raised in self defense as I wanted at him.
“I’m not dumb; he is.”
“Do you know how hard it is to read you? You literally say and do four different things. You had the poor man pining for years.”
“And I was supposed to know that? Maybe if he just sucked it up and kissed me—“
“Jesus fuck, just blame everything on me, what don’t you? If you want me to kiss you that bad—“
I choked on myself as Sam grabbed me and kissed me there in front of everyone. I swore I combusted the moment I heard my friends get loud, and Sam smiled into this kiss. Of course I pushed him off way too fast for him, but he accepted it.
He didn’t let go of my hand.
He didn’t let go of it all night.
We partied, drank, sang, and talked until we forgot time existed. I couldn’t get this fuzzy ringing out of my head either. I did shots with the girls, Sam got me another drink, and if fourteen year old me knew where I was that night, she probably would have spontaneously combusted.
Because Sam? No way.
No fucking way.
But I kissed him, tasted him, and drank with him and sat on his lap like it had been normal for years.
Perhaps it should have been
I grew antsy.
I couldn’t think straight and I toppled over my shoes. When did they get so tall? And when did it get cold?
We were outside, we were on our way home. Not home. Colby spoke to Sam and it felt like they schemed something behind my back, they always did that, didn’t they? Sam shook his head and I was about to ask him what was up until Colby slipped him the hotel room key card.
Oh.
That’s what was going on.
And he got into a separate Uber.
Sam and I were alone.
No amount of training could have gotten my heart strong enough to handle this night. I hoped the Uber driver didn’t hear its pattering in its place, if it was even there anymore.
Sam’s arm was behind me and I leaned into him; I didn’t know what to say because then the entire world could hear. Suddenly it was as if every word I could possibly say was for Sam and Sam’s ears only.
His voice broke a thank you as we left. Thank god whatever hotel they booked for tonight was close to the club. Did that mean Colby went home? No, he got into that Uber, right. And he followed two girls in, there was a fourth person I thought. I didn’t remember shit—
The closing of the hotel room silenced my busy brain.
Sam pinned me to the door and it was all blood and guts from there.
I memorized the way he tasted as if to make up for lost time, and his hands did the same on my skin. I was so cold, so hot at the same time that he warmed me but sent chills down every inch.
”Holy shit, you’ve driven me so fucking crazy for so long. I didn’t think this—“ Sam couldn’t waste another second of empty air.
A noise yanked from the back of my throat when his arm latched under my leg and pulled it up. My jaw dropped when he rolled his hips into mine and I could have blacked out. Maybe it was the alcohol that amplified my senses, but either way Sam’s touch was enough for me to lose it.
”Can—Can feel you through your jeans,” I whined. I didn’t know what I said, I just needed.
”Yeah baby? I won’t—fuck—won’t even make it to the bed—“
”Need you now.”
He watched me intently when his hand slipped down and palmed at my underwear. I flinched because they must have been disgusting after so long—
He had a visceral reaction.
His moans cut straight to where he touched me, and I pulled him closer, closer.
”Please.”
”No need to beg.” His voice was gentle.
Fingers moved my underwear to the side and he teased me once as if to ready me, but there was no use.
”Holy shit,” he moaned yet again when two fingers immediately slipped into me. “You’ve wanted it for so long, haven’t you? You’re already ready.”
”I thought you were going to touch me after you kissed me the first time.” He choked a laugh.
”Yeah and then make not only our first kiss but our first time together be in a club? Absolutely not.”
”Oh so you planned to torture me like this?”
“I mean look at you; you’re writhing for me like I’m never going to touch you.”
”Just please—“ My head hit the door when he furiously tapped the spot inside of me. The leg that supported me caved, and he pinned me harder to the door. And that was when his mouth latched to my skin. I didn’t care. I wanted to wake up and see the red angry bruises from the night before.
Wanted the world to see them.
”Sam, I swear to god, just get inside of me.”
”Fuck,” he groaned against my skin. “Okay, okay.”
“Holy shit—Oh fuck oh fuck,” I gasped in anticipation. He moaned as he freed himself from the confines of his jeans and didn’t waste any time removing any of our clothes—
I held my breath when he filled me to the brim. He paused. I felt his breath stop as well. My entire body shook with the adrenaline that he caused, and for a second I wondered if some people were genuinely made for others.
“Shit, look at me, look at me,” he said. His voice had been deathly quiet since the moment we stepped foot behind this door. His hand latched to my throat and pushed it to the wall. And as he stared deep in my eyes like he did at the club when he kissed me for the first time, he thrusted into me once, twice—
I had to close my eyes or else he would have killed me.
“Fuck! Sam please just—You feel—“
“Feel so fucking good, oh my god,” he finally moaned louder. His head tossed back. My hand caved over his hand that pinned down my waist tightly. He sped up, everything felt faster and faster, more intense.
“Fuck me, oh god, fuck me Sam. I need you so hard—“
“I know, baby, I know.” He gasped under his breath as he gained better leverage of my leg that he held over his elbow.
This time, he knocked the breath out of me.
“Holy fuck—yes, yes, yes,” I moaned and more inaudible words poured from me. I was inconsolable. I couldn’t control anything that came from my mouth anymore.
And I thought I was the one we had to worry about being too loud; his moans mixed with mine in the hot air between us, and I swallowed them down with every distracted and messy kiss.
”You—Ugh,” he groaned loudly and tossed his head back. I watched in disbelief as that beautiful face twisted with a pleasure I could only imagine before. “I’m so obsessed with you holy shit.”
”Bed, please, need it hard.”
”Okay—“ I bit my lip to distract myself from the empty feeling when he pulled out of me. His hands grabbed me with a fervor they never had and I gave him control as he yanked me around and towards the unused bed.
I knew he tried to throw me down, but I didn’t let go of him and forced him down on top of me. I caught him in a kiss, and a whine broke from him as if he never thought he could touch me like this. I knew. I could tell; I could read him like a child’s book.
“Off,” he demanded, and that was all it took. I helped him yank off the black tank that was a bit too tight already. I didn’t dare try to help him with my skirt; clearly he wanted all of me to undress, to undo, by himself.
As he took off my clothes, he kissed down my body, and I scooted back and properly lay on the pillows. I needed some kind of support—another kind of anchor—because this new side of Sam was something I almost didn’t handle. He almost shot me through the atmosphere with an adrenaline fueled pleasure that was so foreign to me.
“Taste so good,” he quietly hummed in between kisses.
”Haven’t really tasted me yet,” I gasped with my hands tangled in his hair. He’s hooked his head as his fingers slid my underwear off completely.
“Just your skin is enough—“
But it wasn’t all.
I had to bite the back of my hand when his tongue pressed against me. One of his hands held down my hips as the other shoved a thigh back.
“Sam—“ I cried and he moaned against me and tasted me, pleased me, more and more. It was like he couldn’t get enough; I couldn’t get enough, and he needed to give me everything until I was satisfied.
Could I ever be satisfied by him? I was selfish. I needed all of him all the time forever, maybe then I would be satisfied.
”Ugh! Oh my god, please,” I broke.
”Please what?” Fuck that sweet voice. Maybe he would never get the chance to satisfy me, he would kill me first. His finger tips ever so lightly swirled against me where his tongue made disgustingly wet, and his eyes flashed up at me with a look that made me forget every word I learned.
”Please—Hands, I need you—“
”I know that, how do you want me?”
”Fuck—You know!”
”Want you to tell me.” Another whine escaped me as he kitten-licked me once, twice. “Say it.”
”Fingers! I need your fingers inside me, please. Finger me and—oh fuck!” It was incredibly slow, I know that, but the intensity washed over me like a wildfire when two fingers pushed inside. The confidence in his touches alone were what sent me spiraling.
”And what?” Another noise came from me. I didn’t know where that gentle confidence came from. Did his other girlfriends get this? What about me? Mine. He was mine now and no one else’s.
”Need your tongue, please. Put your mouth on me.” The sentence still hung in the air when he dived back into me. This time he used his arm against my lower stomach to pin me down from writhing. I don’t remember what I said; I couldn’t hear the words that poured from my aching throat. All I knew was that it was enough for him to keep going and going until tears blurred my vision. “Sam, please. Please, I‘m—“
”You what, baby?” That fucking teasing.
”I’m going to cum.”
”Oh,” he said as if he didn’t already know that. And he sat up to his knees; his eyes watched his hand as it lazily fell down the work he did on me.
”No please! I want—“‘
“I know it feels good,” he cut me off. “But I want things too and if I’m not inside of you again literally this second I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Something nasty in me wanted to find out what he would do.
”Then hurry.” I sat up and fumbled with the top two buttons of his shirt so that I could at least slip it off his head, and he worked his jeans off.
”Holy fuck just—oh god—just stop,” he demanded and grabbed my wrist. “Lay down.”
“Sam, come on,” I whined through gritted teeth.
Finally he kicked his jeans and underwear to the floor.
”The amount of times I’ve imagined you in my bed is—is unreal,” he said quietly as he crawled over me. My stomach dropped.
”Then why did you have so many girls?” A disgusted laugh broke from his mouth.
“‘Cause you didn’t want me—at least I thought. And how was I supposed to ruin what we had?”
“You wouldn’t have,” I gasped as he slid teased me up and down with his tip. My head shoved deepening into the pillows and I needed a break from watching him or else I would have passed out.
“I didn’t know.”
“But how?”
“How didn’t you?” The grit in his voice tied my throat in a knot and he firmly pushed into me. He didn’t give me any room to run away—not like I would have—but he pinned my thighs back. I had to take what he gave me. Good thing I wanted nothing less.
“How didn’t you?” I shouted back.
That was when he wrapped his hand around my throat and actually pinned me down. My hand held onto his wrist and he came nose to nose with me.
”Wanted you so bad—holy shit—wanted you for so long—“ He couldn’t even finish his sentence, he needed his mouth on mine. I drank him down like he was the last water on earth and I hadn’t drank in weeks. He tasted like heaven in my mouth, and I wished I could feel more and more of him. I knew him all too well, and now I wanted to know him in every way physically possible.
“You don’t even know,” he laughed when he pulled away. A gasp shoved out of me when he linked my leg over his arm. I tried to listen to him, but how could I when he was so infinitely deep in me I didn’t have any more capacity for words. “Literally—I literally imagined it was you when I kissed other girls. Pretended I fucked you and not them. Fuck, it was never enough.”
”Sam,” I gasped at the confession. What was I supposed to say to that? The tears really never cleared up. Not with the unreal stimulation, not with the desperate confessions falling off his sweet tongue. “Wanted you. I was so mad—“ He cut me off with more kisses.
There was enough time to talk later. Right now he decided he needed to kiss it all away and make up for what we lost.
I lost track of time. Any amount could have passed and it would have felt the same. Maybe he fucked me so hard I would feel him for days, but never would this feel like only that. He was more than that, and I should have accepted it long ago. It must have always been there, because two years of living together wouldn’t have brought these feelings, no. I must have wanted him before. Before everything.
“Oh my god,” he gasped for breath. “I love you so much, shit I love you.”
”I love you too, you know I have.” He nodded.
”So close,” he whispered this time. That haze in his eyes gave it away.
“I know, inside of me. I need your cum in me.”
”Are—fuck—Are you sure? You—You aren’t on birth control—“
“I don't care, I'll deal with that later.”
“Fuck, you’re really going to kill me, aren’t you?” I couldn’t say anything else, and I smiled from the over abundance of butterflies in my stomach from his words.
”Fuck—I’m coming,” I gasped. I don’t know where it came from. It was like only he had an on and off switch for me.
”Yeah? With me then, baby.”
I couldn’t even kiss him as I hit my high. It more so grabbed me by the throat and had a death wish for me. We moaned into open mouthed kisses; clearly he was too overcome to kiss me back as well. I held onto him like I was scared he would fall away from me, but how could that ever happen?
He got even closer to me, and pushed me down as tightly as he could. My hand tangled in his hair, nails leave their marks on his skin.
I wanted to live in this silence between us; make it my permanent home. There was nowhere else I wanted to be, and there was no more longing in my tired heart. How stupid I felt. Hopefully he felt the same.
Kisses trailed up my neck. I was lost in the feeling of his gentle touches across my skin. Thankfully he didn’t make a move to get off of me because I didn’t have the strength to fight him to stay down on me.
And I don’t know what came over me, the words just tumbled out.
"I don't think I can settle with just dating you," I mumbled. Sam stared back at me in anticipation. My heart skipped beats like a rock across the top of slick still water.
"What are you saying?" His words were careful.
"Even if we got married, calling you my husband wouldn't amount to what you mean to me, what you are to me."
"Not even marriage is good enough for you," he sighed. I laughed at his artificial annoyance. "Of course I'd be stuck with the one insatiable person alive."
I grabbed his face with my hands.
"You're the only one who's satiated me. What we are doesn’t. The only way I'd be satiated without you deep inside me is the promise that we would be together even after this lifetime." I don’t think he blinked. He stared at me, lips parted with bated breath. Even as we laid connected still, and it was so far past the point of being disgusting, he pushed against me harder.
"Fuck, you’re the beginning and end of me."
A/N: Requests are open
Love, Rosie
225 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: Roller Queen
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader
Summary: A heatwave has hit Hawkins and bored out of his mind, Eddie tries to find something to do. He finds that something in the Palace Arcade…
Word Count: 6997
Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Semi-public sex. Oral sex (male receiving). Vaginal fingering.
Notes: This is what you get when you spend quite some time on Pinterest during a heatwave and suddenly finding a picture that just inspires you. The picture is all the way at the end, it just worked for me.
There is also one mention of the name Arlo in this and that's what I called the unnamed Hellfire member aka Corroded Coffin’s bass player, also known as the titular “Freak”. There’s an entire backstory in regards to why I gave him that name, but I won’t bore anyone to tears with that particular HC.
Betaread by @adrille88 Thanks again ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.
If he was really honest with himself, Eddie had to admit that he kind of liked heatwaves.
All the assholes would leave the town of Hawkins, abandoning the hot and humid place like a bunch of rats leaving a sinking ship, and they’d go spend a couple of days at their log cabins near some lake, leaving all the less fortunate residents behind.
Not that he thought that he was less fortunate, fuck no. He wouldn’t want golden boy Jason Carver’s shiny life. Sitting next to mommy, wearing his Sunday best and listening to daddy as he preached fire and brimstone to the congregation as they clutched their crucifixes. Lord knew where the bastard was now. Probably forced to suck up to some senator’s kid whilst he pretended that he wasn’t from some backwater shithole in Indiana.
So yeah, heatwaves weren’t all that bad. Besides, you could dress for the heat.
He was currently lazing about on the porch in an old pair of jeans that were cutoff right above the knee. His Motörhead shirt (which he had also modified after he tore it making it sleeveless as well as a little bit too short) was in a crumpled heap right next to him.
The only thing that was bugging him at the moment was trying to decide what to do.
It was the first summer after graduation, so he should have been spoiled for choice, but sadly that was not the case at all.
Steve and Robin were at work, like Jeff, and he didn’t feel like bothering them at their workplaces. Again. Dustin was at some kind of robotics camp. Wheeler had joined the Byers family for their last summer in California before they moved back to Hawkins. The Sinclairs were visiting relatives, as was Gareth. Arlo had been signed up for summer classes by his mother because he was failing a couple of classes.
So there was currently no one that he could shoot the shit with.
Usually Eddie wouldn’t have any problems on his own, he’d almost grown accustomed to it when he was a kid, but he was bored out of his mind at the moment. Didn’t help that he was coming off his previous high as well.
Absentmindedly scratching his neck, he brushed away some of the locks of hair that had come loose from his ponytail and that were sticking to his sweaty skin. He’d already taken a cold shower earlier and even that wasn’t enough to fight the heat.
The AC had also gone on the fritz at the worst possible time so staying in his bedroom wasn’t an option. Which meant that jacking off was off the cards, too. Because hey, when in doubt, jerk off. It was basically an unwritten rule.
Everyone that was still in town had either gone to the community pool or the woods, but those weren’t really places where we wanted or could go to. Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock were places that were worth considering, but you never knew if you’d disturb anyone whilst there and some people didn’t take too kindly to having an audience. And even if they were keen to have onlookers, that didn’t automatically mean that they’d want him there.
There wasn’t really much else to do apart from aimlessly driving through town until he found something that was worth his while.
Getting to his feet with a groan, he stretched out, grabbed his discarded shirt from the couch and put it on. His keys and cigarettes were on the small table next to him so he pocketed the packet of smokes and then locked the front door (even if no one was insane enough to attempt to steal anything from them, what with them having the good old Munson name and all).
As expected the van was hot as hell, so he rolled the windows all the way down on both sides before starting the engine and heading out of the trailer park in search of something to do.
Driving around town, he’s reminded of that Ghost Town song by The Specials (Robin was going through a bit of a ska phase at the moment) and before he knew it he was humming it which was in stark contrast to the Megadeth song, Wake Up Dead, that was currently blasting through the speakers.
Despite having previously decided that he wasn’t going to go to Family Video, he found himself driving in that direction anyway. Maybe Eddie could convince Steve to give him access to his backyard so he could have a dip in his pool in exchange for a couple of joints? Worth a shot.
This brought him right past the arcade, which was practically next door, a place that he hadn’t set foot in for quite some time. Together with Harrington, he seemed to have earned the dubious privilege of dropping the kids off there quite frequently, but he never joined them despite Henderson asking him to do so every single time.
He wasn’t about to have his ass kicked by some kid at-
Eddie swore that his eyes were seconds away from rolling out of their sockets.
All that he caught was a quick peek through the open doors of the arcade, but it had been enough to make him punch the brakes of his van and he came to a standstill right in front of the building.
Eddie had never parked his van so fast in his life.
When he got out of the van and walked across the asphalt to his destination, nerves set in, which was insane when he really thought about it. Why was he even nervous? Was it because he was seconds away from shooting his shot and potentially getting horrifically turned down?
The name of the place was lit up in purple neon on the awning over the doorway. Unbelievable that this was something that could make him set foot in the place after all this time, having seemingly graduated from it many years previous, constantly proclaiming that it wasn’t “his scene” since books and board games were more his thing.
That was a better excuse than saying that he had simply been unable to afford it. Money had always been tight in the Munson household and wasting a couple of quarters on something that he couldn’t even take home with him or put in his belly seemed pointless.
There’s an acne stricken teenager sitting on a folding chair next to the open door, a look of annoyance on his face that betrayed the fact that he didn’t want to be here at all.
“There’s a change machine inside. You know where to find me if it stops working,” he says with a bored tone when Eddie passes him by. The kid doesn’t say it, but his line sounds well practiced, leading him to believe that the aforementioned machine must have some issues.
It also sounds like the kid has no intention of going inside unless he absolutely must.
So that means that no one will see Eddie crash and burn if he does. And if he doesn’t, there won’t be anyone to disturb him either, so it was a win-win situation no matter what.
It was cooler inside, but only slightly. The AC was old and far too small to cool such a large space, but it still tried to do its job to the best of its abilities.
There were plenty of noises around him, machines beeping in an attempt to make him look at them, to make him see what he could play if he would only give them a couple of coins. He barely even seems to notice them at all, not caring about what the games have to offer him.
Not now.
The row of games that were visible from the door are all vacant. No one’s there to pour over them, desperately trying to win, so he moves on to the row next to it as he tries to find what he’s looking for. He’s about to turn the corner into the third, already somewhat convinced that his mind had been playing tricks on him, that the heat had fried his brain, when he comes to a sudden standstill and simply stares at the image before him.
Eddie had not imagined it, hadn’t gotten a severe case of heatstroke, hadn’t witnessed a mirage or anything of the sort. Even if mirage was probably the best word to describe what he was looking at.
You were leaning over the controls of one of the machines, tapping away at the buttons and moving the joystick back and forth.
That in itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
Dustin often spoke of you with awe in his voice, regaling everyone with how good you were at the games at the arcade. You and Max held a lot of the high scores and that was pure catnip to the younger boys who only cared about trivial things like that. The fact that you were older only seemed to make you more appealing to them.
A fellow nerd.
An older fellow nerd.
An attractive, older fellow nerd.
Eddie had never really gotten it until now, but that was more down to what you were wearing, which was a lot more revealing than what you had worn when you still walked through the hallways of Hawkins High. Hell, Principal Higgins would probably have a heart attack if someone wore that to school.
In an effort to fight the heat, you were wearing a pair of cut off blue sweatpants, which were so short that they might as well be hotpants, and a dark blue bikini top. And on your feet were the signature roller skates that were very much an extension of yourself as it were.
He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen you without them when you weren’t in school or working. There’s even a story about how you kicked Andy Collins in the balls with them once, but no one has ever been able to confirm that particular story since it was very much based on hearsay.
It is a fact however that Andy doesn’t seem to sniff around you quite as much as he does with every other (single) female in town. Had to be a reason for that.
The corner of your mouth twitches, so you definitely noticed that you had an audience of one by now. It would be rude not to go over to say hello, right? Right? So Eddie starts moving, unsteady on his feet all of a sudden, like he had forgotten how to walk simply because he was in the presence of such beauty.
“Hi,” he croaks out and he raises his hand in greeting. “Pretty hot outside, huh.” He mentally slaps himself for saying that, because why on Earth had he decided to state the obvious? Guess that meant that trying to act cool had gone straight out the window. His remark makes you snort though, which he supposes is a win of sorts. “Anyway. Hi.”
“Hi,” you say with a grin, doing your best not to laugh, as you look up for a few seconds before focusing all your attention back on the game. “Don’t see you round here a lot.”
“Not much of a gamer,” Eddie admits, which technically wasn’t true, but he didn’t think that he had to clarify that he was talking about video games. You would have seen him around the arcade a lot more if he was into those.
“So why’re you here then?”
“Thought I’d check the place out. Henderson’s always talking about it.”
“Ah, Henderson,” you sigh and there’s a hint of exhaustion there that almost makes him laugh. “And that’s enough to get you to show up?”
“Maybe not just that.” His eyes skate over the curve of your ass and when he looks back at your face again, he can see that your eyebrows are raised. Subtlety had never been his strong point. “Busted,” he chuckles.
“Hm,” is all that he gets out of you before you look back at the screen once more.
Eddie tries his best to feign an interest in the game that you’re playing, Bubble Bobble, by trying to keep his eyes peeled on the screen. Even thinks about commenting on the cuteness of the green dinosaur that’s blowing bubbles at his enemies, but he doesn’t out of fear of looking like a complete fool. He actually opens his mouth once with the intention of commenting on how well you’re playing, but what the hell is he supposed to say?
‘Good game, hot stuff, but do you wanna get out of here and play a real game in the back of my van instead?’
Bad idea. Really bad idea. He’d prefer it if his nuts didn’t meet the boot of your skates. That would be a horrible ending to what was turning out to be a pretty good day so far. He’d like to end it on a high if he could, preferably with your phone number scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket.
Damn, this was easier when he could hide behind his usual bravado, but he’d already fucked that one up from the moment that he started talking to you. Hell, he couldn’t even hide behind his hair, because it was in a messy ponytail right now.
Still, you haven’t told him to fuck off just yet so it wasn’t a complete disaster. He leans back against the side of the machine next to yours and he really looks at you this time.
God damn, he had always thought that you were pretty, but fuck, you looked good enough to eat right now. He catches the glint of a bead of sweat as it rolls down your neck, following it as it makes its way down your skin and ultimately disappears into the fabric of your bikini top.
Eddie can almost taste the salt on his tongue if he thinks about it hard enough.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
Your voice cuts through the first wisps of the daydream that was forming in the back of his mind, one that already had his cock twitching in his pants, seconds away from begging him to excuse himself so he could jerk off in his van.
“I would if I had a camera,” he bites back.
You shake your head and sigh and a couple of seconds later the game makes a noise, something that even a newbie like him knew wasn’t good. As if to emphasize this, the words “game over” appear on the black screen.
“Thought you were good.”
“My heart wasn’t in it,” you say while the screen starts flashing the ‘insert coin’ message on the screen in an attempt to lure in new players. “It’s this damn heat.”
“Maybe you don’t do well with an audience.”
“You’re shitting me, right? You know how many times I have those little shitheads breathing down my neck?”
“I dunno,” he shrugs. “A lot?”
“Yup. I barely get any alone time as it is.”
There’s a sudden flush of guilt and he can feel his cheeks burn as they begin to color a dark shade of pink. He’s bothering you. You never said it, but that's what he reads between the lines.
“You want me to leave?” He’s already turning away from you, instantly apologetic, so he’s surprised when he feels your fingers touch his wrist.
“Did I say that?” He’s watching your hand, noticing the gentle pull on his arm which doesn’t stop until he makes no move to leave anymore. “Did I?”
Since you repeat yourself, you’re obviously expecting an answer. The only problem is that the heat combined with your touch are kind of short circuiting his brain.
Eddie eventually manages to get out a small “No?” which he considers a victory. At least it shows that he’s still capable of speech, if only a little.
“No,” you repeat after him and he’s instantly relaxed when he finds that his presence does seem to be wanted after all. He can’t stop his expression from falling a little when your hand lets go of his arm. “But you say you’re not a gamer. Maybe you just haven’t found one that you like yet.”
“Sweetheart, I haven’t been in here for years,” he says with a casual wave of his hand. “The flashing lights are about to give me an epileptic fit.”
“Was that a joke?”
“Yeah?”
“That was so funny I forgot to laugh,” you deadpan.
The flat tone of your voice makes him snort as well as make him wonder why he has never tried talking to you before.
He supposes that it was a form of thinly veiled jealousy over the kids liking you so much. But who cares about them? And why is he thinking about them so much anyway? Being in the presence of a hot girl combined with the stifling heat was really doing a number on his brain, that was for s-
You clap your hands together in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time since he was with you.
“Anyway!” you exclaim and clear your throat before continuing. “There’s a couple of old games in the back. Maybe you’d even recognise some of them, oldtimer. Want me to show you?”
“Which ones?”
“Pong, Death Race, Space Invaders, Asteroids… ring a bell?”
“Always was quite partial to Death Race actually.”
“Figures,” you grin. “Come on then,” you say as you push yourself away from the cabinet and start leading the way.
Eddie lets you take the lead, because it means that he can walk behind you and his eyes drop down immediately, unashamedly ogling your ass as you glide through the arcade.
On your way to the back, he hears the crinkling of plastic and watches you remove the orange wrapper from a lollipop before it disappears into your mouth. He swallows hard when your jaw moves, your cheek bulging as you keep moving the candy from side to side. He’s practically salivating as he tries very hard not to let his mind come up with images of how your cheeks would look if there was something else in your-
“There she is,” you break through his reverie again and he briefly wonders if it’s intentional, if you have some kind of inbuilt radar that alerts you whenever a guy is about to have some very impure thoughts in your vicinity. “Death Race.”
You point out the black cabinet at the end of the row of machines, the two steering wheels making it instantly recognisable. You come to a standstill right next to it and wave your hand over the front of it, like some bikini babe that they sometimes use to advertise cars.
“Goddamn,” he whistles in wonder. “Didn’t know they still had this one.”
“They do,” you reply as you stand to his left. “Don’t think they ever get rid of a game if it’s still working.” You dig around in your pocket and hold out a quarter to him. “Here. First game’s on me.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie takes the quarter from your fingers and puts it in the slot. “I’ll try to make it last.”
Unfortunately it doesn’t last that long. Sadly, he’s a little bit rusty. Not that he was any good when he still came here, but he finds himself wanting to impress you as much as he can.
Eddie’s on his fourth quarter when there’s an almost sickening crunch from your direction. Eddie looks up from the screen to see you chewing on the hard candy of your lollipop and he catches you tossing the stick in a garbage bin behind you. He wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue when your hand suddenly connects with his chest and he’s pushed back against the wall.
“Hey, wh-”
-at the hell.
The rest of the sentence comes out all muffled, because your lips crash into his hard. There’s barely time to close his mouth and you enthusiastically take advantage of that by licking into his mouth, your tongue connecting with his, and he can taste nothing but oranges. When he starts kissing you back, he can taste the same artificial nectarine flavor in your lip gloss.
Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you in closer and you sigh when his hands start rubbing up and down your back. You even giggle when one hand dips down lower and grabs your ass cheek.
There’s no opposition from him when you push him to the side, in between the opening between the black cabinet and the wall, one that the both of you fit into neatly, effectively shielding you and him from the view of others just enough.
Not that there was anyone else there apart from the bored employee that was still sitting outside and even he wouldn’t be able to see what the pair of you are doing from where he’s sitting.
“Aren’t-“ You pull away just far enough so Eddie can look in your eyes for a split second, see how blown out your pupils are, and then you dip your head down so you can drag your lips over his neck. “Aren’t you scared that anyone might see us?”
“No.” Your reply comes far too quickly and your teeth graze his Adam's apple slightly. “Why?”
“Wh- are you serious?”
“Mhm,” you hum against his skin. He gasps when you suck on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. “So sensitive.”
“Fuck.” At least Eddie can sort of peer into the space behind you now. He catches no movement whatsoever. And it’s not as if the arcade is rigged up with security cameras either. You stick your hands underneath his shirt, your fingers finding his nipples with ease and pinching them. “Damn, sweetheart.”
“What?” You look up at him, batting your eyelids almost too innocently, and when he doesn’t reply, you lick a stripe from the dip in his collarbone all the way up to his ear. “Cute,” you say directly into his ear before you gently tug on his lobe with your teeth. “You’re cute.”
Your intent couldn’t be more clear however. You wanted him and you were laying it on so thick that it was hard to ignore. It was all in the hungry way that you kissed him, filled with lust and longing, full of heat and desire.
Even though there shouldn’t be any mistaking your intentions, Eddie still wonders when it would be acceptable to invite you into his van. If he does it too early, you might smack him for being a perv, but if he does it too late, you might mistake it for disinterest, which would be a million miles off from what he wants. If only he had talked to you before, he would know what you were like a bit more, but all he has to go on are stories from Henderson and a handful of rumors.
There’s an unexpected brush of your fingers over the front of his jeans and it’s so light that he mistakes it for being accidental at first, but when it happens again and then again, it becomes a bit more difficult to ignore.
“Oh?” The triumphant tone in your voice is impossible to miss, because now you know that he was already half hard before and that was definitely because of you. “Thought that you had a couple of rolls of quarters in your pocket, but I think I was wrong.”
“You use that line a lot?”
The words came out too easily after all so naturally he’s curious, maybe even a little jealous, but he would never admit to that.
“Please,” you chuckle, “you think so little of me?”
“I don’t know. Don’t know you that well. Unfortunately.”
“You could get to know me. If you want to.”
“Hmmm. Tough question. Let me think about it.”
Eddie meant it as a joke, obviously, but he doesn’t miss how your brows furrow and how your hand stops moving, even if you can’t seem to stop your fingernails from scratching at the fabric.
His hips end up chasing your hand when you pull it away.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Eddie blinks, suddenly confused. “Is that a trick question?”
“Nope, just an honest one.”
“No.” It’s his turn to answer quickly now. And Christ, he feels like such a fucking dickhead for giving you the impression that he might not want this. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“Good,” you reply with a grin that’s bordering on feral, “because I really didn’t want to.”
“Then wh-?” He cuts off his sentence because your hand is back on his crotch again. You touch him with more intent now and he wonders if you can feel his dick twitching through the thick fabric. “Fuck.”
“Cause you looked a bit uncomfortable for a couple of seconds there. Figured that it was because of me.”
“It wasn’t, sweetheart. Trust me. Just never had a pretty girl seconds away from making me come in my pants like a schoolboy in a public place before.”
“Hmmm. I can think of something a lot better than that.” His eyes widen when you drop down onto your knees and start undoing his belt. “All you need to do is stay quiet.” A strangled kind of noise comes out of his mouth and it makes you grin even wider. “Think you can do that?”
“I’ll fucking try,” he squeaks out when you pull his pants down roughly to expose his underwear and his pale thighs. “I’ll really fucking try.”
“You’re gonna have to do better than that.” Your hand rubs over the front of his boxers and he groans low in his throat. “No louder than that, okay?” You pull the last cloth barrier down, unveiling his cock and it proudly stands at attention. “Oh god,” you say, obviously impressed, “prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh yeah?” You lick at the glistening bead of precum on the tip and your eyes close briefly as you taste him. The noise you make is exaggerated, but fuck, who cares? “Like it that much?”
“Uh-huh,” you answer as the tip of your tongue starts following the trail of a prominent vein on the side of his shaft, chasing it all the way down to the base and then back up again. “I do.”
Eddie lets out a sigh when you finally wrap your lips around his cock and let him slip halfway into your mouth. You sit there, looking all pretty, your eyes on his, and he already knows that he won’t be able to get this image out of his head for as long as he lives.
You bob down a bit further, a mere inch at most, and then release him with a soft pop. You spit on your palm, circle your fingers around the shaft, and start working him with your hand.
Ducking your head, you sink your teeth into his pale thigh and then lick the already slightly reddening mark. You repeat this a few more times, much to Eddie’s amusement. The slight sting of your bites in combination with the movement of your hand are pushing him ever closer to the edge.
Having teased him enough, you take his dick into your mouth again and he briefly wonders if you would have still done this if the place had been a bit more crowded. Not that he thinks that the sound of screaming kids would have done anything to kill his boner. If anything, the sheer thought of there being a greater possibility of getting caught only turns him on more.
When you cup his balls and start massaging them, Eddie hisses through his teeth. Fuck, he really wasn’t gonna last long. He also had no idea how he was supposed to stay quiet. He didn’t consider himself particularly noisy (he was), but he liked talking and there was no way that he would be able to control the volume of his voice.
Not when you kept eagerly sucking him off and especially not when you were pairing it with a look that was practically spelling out how much you loved having his dick in your mouth.
You also look like you want him to crack, like you desperately want him to make noises that are way too loud, like you want to get caught giving him head in the back of the arcade.
“Shit,” he groans as softly as he can and he can feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Can’t help it,” he says, softer now. “Feels too fucking good.”
Humming around his length, you hollow out your cheeks and when your hands lightly grasp the back of his thighs so your fingertips can dance up and down his skin, he shudders.
Saliva was bubbling at the corners of your mouth and fuck, it has to be one of the hottest things that he’s ever seen. His hand instantly moves of its own volition, moving to the back of your head, and he pushes you down for a split second, stopping when your fingernails dig into his skin. He loosens his grip, giving you ample opportunity to pull away, but you don’t and your eyes are almost flashing a challenge to him, practically daring him to do it again.
So he does.
This time he holds you down a little bit longer, forcing you to take him in a little bit deeper and instantly letting go when you make a gagging noise. You stay right where you are, his dick halfway in your mouth, eyes still a little defiant, so he does it again, harder, and forcing his cock in deeper still. The discomfort is plain to see and when your fingernails drag down the back of his thighs harshly, he can feel it, too, but your grip on his legs relaxes soon enough. He scratches your scalp affectionately.
Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, threatening to overflow, and his hand releases you so he can wipe at the corners of one of your eyes, in an attempt to brush your tears away.
“Didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart,” he admits. “You just look so fucking good like that.” You blink once which finally makes the tears spill out. “Good tears though, huh?” You make an affirmative noise even if he already knows the answer. “Good ‘cause I’m seconds away from coming all down that pretty throat of yours.”
He catches a glint in your eye, as if his words spurred you on, but Eddie’s entirely unprepared for what you do next.
Your hands grab his hips and you plunge your mouth all the way down his length until your lips make contact with the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You gag around him, but you inhale deeply through your nose and manage to stay down for a bit longer.
Your throat muscles contracting around his cock is what pushes him over the edge and he comes in thick spurts down your throat. He bangs the back of his head against the wall behind him, his lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from shouting as he climaxes. His hands are balled to fists at his sides and he slams them against the wall as a form of channeling the pent-up energy that has nowhere else to go.
It takes him a short while to come back to his senses and his hands shake when he relaxes his grip. When he hazards a glance down, you’re still on your knees, his now soft cock still in your hands as you’re lazily licking up and down his shaft.
Reaching for your face, he touches the corner of your mouth and mumbles the words, “Show me.” You stick your tongue out obediently, showing him that there’s not a single drop of his cum left. “Good girl.”
Exhaling shakily, he manages to say, “up,” a couple of times, his fingers hooking under your chin and pulling in an effort to make you move faster. As soon as you’re on your feet, his lips crash into yours, his tongue invading your mouth until he can taste himself on your tongue.
His hands are everywhere. On your ass, your hips, your tits. He simply doesn’t know what to grab first, and it’s not like you seem to care either with how content your sighs are.
Changing positions, he pushes you up against the wall and hurriedly pulls his boxers and shorts back up. Your hands take over to zip him back up this time, leaving his hands free to pull the cups of your bikini top to the sides and burying his face between your tits.
“Like that,” you breathe out when his lips finally find one of your nipples. “Just like that.”
“So sensitive,” he remarks with a grin, positively delighted that he can throw your earlier words right back at you this time. “I wonder…” He trails off and brushes a hand down your stomach, light as a feather, until his fingers come to a stop at the waistband of your shorts. “May I?”
You’re nodding before he even manages to get the words out, betraying your eagerness and perhaps your impatience. So naturally that makes Eddie move slower than he would have, taking his time to undo the bow that keeps the drawstring of your shorts tied together, and even when that’s undone, he slides his digits underneath the fabric painstakingly slowly.
“Eddieeeee,” you whine, “stop teasing.”
“Who’s teasing?”
“You are,” you pout. “Not like we have all day.”
“We don’t?” You’re ready to say more, he can tell, but he knows you’re right. And he doesn’t know what you’ll do if he keeps teasing, so he slips his fingers into your panties and slides them between your folds. “Jesus, baby, you’re soaked.”
“Mhm,” you bite your lower lip and nod.
“You got this wet just from having my dick in your mouth?” You moan affirmatively. “Poor thing. Seems only right that I help you out then, right?” One of his fingers probes your entrance, not quite pressing inside yet. Not until you answer him. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
“Please,” you whimper. “N-need to feel your fingers inside me.”
“Come on,” he husks against your cheek, “spread your legs a little wider.” You give him some more space to work with and he slides the digit in with ease. “Good girl.”
Your head drops forward onto his shoulder, your mouth almost level with his ear so he can hear every shaky breath and strangled moan. It makes him add another finger, plunging them deeper inside and curling them upward until he hits your sweet spot. Your walls spasm and contract around his fingers, trying to keep them there.
“Really want to get my mouth on you, sweetheart,” he husks against your temple.
“No time,” you answer. “R-raincheck?”
“You’d better,” he chuckles. He just knew that he’d be taking you up on that offer before the end of the day.
Fuck, if he had his way, he’d be on his knees in front of you right now. Your ass pushed up against the controls of the Pong machine, his head buried between your thighs, until you’re screaming so loud that it drowns out every other fucking sound in this place.
If only he’d asked you to come with him, he’d have had his wish.
His thumb finds your swollen and neglected clit with ease. His touch sends a shockwave through you which makes your whole body jolt. You grab at his shoulders, his name on your lips as your fingernails leave crescent shaped marks in the sections of his skin which aren’t covered by his shirt.
Your breath hitches and you let out a choked sob, only to have Eddie cut off any other sounds that you might make by pressing his lips against yours and swallowing all your delicious noises, effectively silencing you. Your thighs convulse around his palm, trapping his hand between them.
Reaching upward, you grab at his tied back hair, wrapping the ponytail around your fingers and pulling until your hand, along with all the other muscles in your body, go slack.
“Mmmm.” You sigh against his lips and he pulls away just far enough to see your blissed out features as you float back down to Earth. “Always knew you’d be good with your fingers.”
“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?” Your face splits into a grin and he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew it.”
You open your mouth to speak, but you’re distracted by Eddie sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking your juices from them. Cupping his cheeks, you lean forward and your lips brush together when a loud scream suddenly cuts through the relative silence. Startled, it makes your eyes snap open, but you visibly relax when it dawns on you that the noise isn’t anywhere near where the two of you are.
“I wanna play that one,” an underage voice shouts and it’s answered by a decidedly more bored adult voice. “Come on!” The child sounds impatient and is probably dragging the adult behind him in the direction of the game of his choice.
“Shame that,” you say as you adjust your top, covering your chest up once more. You move away from him and he hates the fact that there’s space between you now. “I totally would have let you fuck me as I played the pinball machines.”
“I have a van,” he replies, helpful and hopeful at the same time.
“Aren’t you a charmer?” You stick a hand in your pocket and he thinks he can hear you jingle some coins. “Still got some quarters left so you’re shit out of luck.”
“You’re just going to play a couple more games after that?“
“Uh, yeah? I never leave until I’m all out of quarters. Sorry.” Eddie’s expression falls, but his smile returns when you press your lips against his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Can’t you wait a little bit longer like a good boy? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” You give his lips a quick peck and wink. “If you think I’m going to end this day without having your dick inside me then you’re an idiot.”
Someone clears their throat loudly behind you and when you turn, you see what you can only assume is the owner of the bored adult voice earlier.
“There are kids in here, you know,” the man huffs.
“I don’t see any,” you say as you flip him off. “Or are you talking about yourself?” You grab Eddie’s hand and pull him along with you. “Come on, babe. Let’s leave these games for the kids, huh? We both got what we wanted. For now.”
The implication of what you’d done there hangs in the air as Eddie lets you lead him past the man and he barks out a laugh when he sees the furious, and dare he say frustrated, expression on his face.
Fully expecting to leave, he can’t hide his disappointment when you come to a standstill in front of a machine, Q*bert, and take a coin out of your pocket, obviously intending to still stick to your rule of not leaving until you had no coins left.
“You’re still going to- Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head as you put a quarter in the slot and start playing. “I’ll just get comfortable here then, shall I?”
“Uh-huh,” you reply, “just stand there and look pretty. Maybe it’ll help.”
“Okay, I can do that.” He folds his arms and leans against the cabinet next to yours, very much mirroring the stance that he had taken earlier. “But seriously, just one game and then I’m dragging you out of here.”
“Fiiiiine. One game,” you say with a loud groan that didn’t sound anywhere near convincing enough. “But you’d better settle in, pretty boy, because I can make these games last a lifetime if I have to.”
“Did you just call me out over not being good at playing video games? Seriously?” Amusement was dripping off his voice, because he honestly didn’t care that he was no good at any of the games here. But he could have sworn that you had just issued him a challenge and he had every intention of winning that. “Honey, I can last real long when I’m doing other things.”
“Sure.” If you were trying to come across as unimpressed, it wasn’t that successful. You looked more curious than anything else. You shrugged, a bit noncommittally, and threw in a, “They all say that.”
“I actually do though.” Eddie took a step closer and he could see your fingers tightening around the joystick, fully prepared to try your damndest not to let him distract you. One more step and he’s so close now that his lips are a couple of inches away from your ear. He clears his throat and chuckles when you jump ever so slightly. “Baby, I’m genuinely not boasting when I say that I could be down there for hours and I don’t think that I need to elaborate on that now, do I?”
You release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, close your eyes for a fraction of a second, and then the telltale “game over” tune starts playing.
“Fuck.”
“Oh no, sweetheart, did you just lose? I was really looking forward to seeing you play as well, but… a deal’s a deal.” Before you could protest (which you wouldn’t dream of doing), Eddie grabs your hand and makes good on his promise of dragging you out of the arcade. “I just really want to show you what I can do now. Promise you won’t be disappointed…”
And here's the picture that partially inspired this one...
#stranger things#stranger things fic#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#stranger things smut#mar writes
406 notes
·
View notes
Text
Daddys Girl
Growing up you learned one thing.
You were called an “easy kid.” Nice, polite, quiet, forgotten.
But you got that title because you gave it to yourself. In hopes that if you were good, you would get a slither of your father's attention. A bit of praise, a kiss on the head or something like when you were younger.
But no. That was for your little sister now. The hugs, the kisses, the smiles, the laughs.
It was like that was never you. Never held on your dad's shoulders, never tickled until you cried or never fell asleep on his side as cartoons played in the background.
Those were hidden away in a collection of pictures, memories and videos. Abandoned. Forgotten by everyone but you as you rewinded and rewinded them again and again.
Back when your father was who you called “daddy” because that's who he was. The one who showed up, the one who put you to sleep, the one who loved you.
Now he's just the one who didn't come to your award ceremony today. The one who drove you home without a thought in his mind as your little sibling rambled on in the backseat about how “daddy” gave her flowers at her ceremony.
The one that took place thirty minutes after yours.
You say looking out the window, not wanting to look at your dad or speak in hopes he wouldn't see the look on your face or the tears in your eyes.
Your sibling certainly didn't.
“How was school today?” Your father spoke up, surprisingly, even more surprised as the question was aimed at you.
You didn't look at him, simply shrugging your shoulders.
“Fine.” was simply all you offered, watching the trees pass by the window.
“That's good then.” Your father offered, giving you a side glance out the corner of his eye. His voice didn't indicate sarcasm or displeasure, but you had seen it aimed at you to know better.
“You're not excited about your award?” Your sister asked in her sweet, child like voice with a smile. You hated that smile. You hated it because you used to be that smile.
You turned over your shoulder to give your sibling a narrowed glare, not wanting it to be mentioned or talked about. Especially since your dad didn't show up or seem to even remember.
Your little sister didn't catch your look, or she was too clueless to understand. She rolled her eyes at you, thinking you were trying to be mean before she went back to her stupid smile.
Your dad drove you all home in silence. You could only feel relaxed as he pulled into the driveway and your escape was so close.
Your sibling padded out the car as quickly as she could, you unbuckled your seat back quickly and threw open the car door before your father spoke.
“(Name). Are you angry at me or your sister?” Your father tried to speak, genuinely sounding like he cared for once.
But you gave up on that trick a long time ago.
You pretended like you didn't hear him, bounding out the car and jogging inside with your little paper certificate in hand.
“Mom! I got an award!” Your father heard you call out, seemingly happier as you tried to find your mother.
Your father sat in the car for a moment as he heard your happy voice, but not to him. To your mother. He lost that happy, smiling voice of yours and the running into his arms long ago.
What was once a forgotten and stored away memory was now playing out in front of him, but his place was taken by your mother as he was forced to watch from the doorway as you showed your mother proudly.
Beaming like a five year old as your mother smiled at you like he used to, your arms around her waist and hers around your back like a perfect picture he had no right to ruin.
“That's great, baby!” Your mother went on, kissing your cheek and taking your little certification to put on the fridge.
You smiled, sitting on the counter and kicking your legs as you went on and on like you used to, your mother listening and feeding in.
Your mother was everything your dad wasn’t. She loved you, she showed she cared. She didn't replace you. Your father, the famous “Ghost”, noticed this.
He could feel a tug and a piece of longing as he watched his baby girl drift so far away, but he wouldn't admit it.
He watched you follow your mother, talking and smiling as your little sister sat next to him to color.
He tried to pay attention to your sister, but couldn't as he watched a part he played be taken right in front of him.
You and your mother used to be him and you, following at his heels, talking and smiling but now he was unnoticed and ignored like you were.
You didn't talk to him, he never had your attention anymore. Hugs were gone, kisses were non-existent and the daddy's girl was abandoned the minute he stepped back onto that field.
Things were different from then on. No matter what you tried, your dad never preferred you anymore. You didn't talk to him, he didn't talk to you.
You weren't his little girl anymore.
You could feel your father looking at you but ignored the feeling because why give in?
You now sat at at the kitchen island, pecking away at homework as you ignored your father as he got up and moved around, but you still felt his stare.
You learned to ignore someone best from him, choose when to be cold and distant and who to be cold and distant too. Like he was to you.
You could be sad and cold one moment, then happy and giddy the next. A choice to choose an emotion or a choice to switch them off.
You learned from the best, your dad.
Sometimes you wonder if that's how this came to be.
While you wondered, Ghost knew. It was why he left you in the dust. Why you were (Name), no longer his baby girl.
Because your smiling face reminded him too much of himself when he was younger, naive, stupid, childish.
And somehow, you got the worst parts of him. The anger. The cold, lifeless eyes. Ones that stared back at him just as he stared back.
You were too similar to him. Choosing to leave the worst unsaid and the best forgotten, your sister's birth sealed his old baby girl away as another swooped in to take her place.
But your father couldn't help but want to be the one you talked to once more, the one who you loved still, the one you used to call Daddy.
But you couldn't because that was in the past, you've accepted he's different now.
You weren't important now. Your father was cold, he was distant now. Even if he tried he couldn't be like that again, close like you two were but he still wanted that.
It was gone long before he noticed what he had done. You would always be his daughter. And he would always be your dad.
But you're someone else’s baby now.
You were no longer his.
#ghost simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#modern warfare x reader#call of duty x reader#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#modern w
360 notes
·
View notes
Note
Lilith coming back to hell, to see Lucifer moved on and it's with Adam
Tender Sex; Lucifer reassuring Adam that he won't leave him to go back to Lilith(also queen of hell adam)
Oof. For this to work, I would need it to be with Sinner!Adam under contract with Lucifer. Hope that's okay.
Adam watched everything in a blur. She walked into the hotel with grace and fire. She looked just as beautiful as ever. Her long blonde hair, purple eyes, and elegant smile completed her look.
Lilith, the first woman, the first queen of Hell, had returned. And she was in the Hazbin Hotel. Adam felt numb as Charlie hugged her mother hard and how Lucifer asked how she was.
Adam rubbed the ring on his finger. He shouldn't be this fucking worried. He was Adam for God's sake! Not only that but the Queen of Hell. A year he had been proposed to by his partner Lucifer. He almost said no. With two failed marriages, it was hard to not think of the cons of what could happen.
But Lucifer looked so fucking earnest that he couldn't help but say yes. Fast forward to the present. Adam had thought that he had gotten over his insecurities of being abandoned after being with someone as attentive and loving as Lucifer. 'Obviously not.' Adam thought as he saw Lilith place a manicured hand on Lucifer's shoulder.
He tried to fight the urge to yell at the bitch for touching his partner. Adam did perk up when Lucifer beckoned him over.
"Lilith." He managed to say out as he stood next to Lucifer. He brought an arm around his partner and pulled him closer. Adam watched as Lilith's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she looked at him.
Could she see it now? Did she see everything she left for a place in Heaven? A petty place in Adam's heart hoped she was jealous about the whole situation.
"Adam." She said in her usual cool and condensing voice. It took everything in Adam not to snap at her. He guessed those anger management lessons Charlie had been forcing him into had actually been helping. Not that he would ever admit it.
"I could really go for a drink," Lilith said as she walked over to a free couch. Adam could already tell this was going to be a long night.
Adam clutched the sides of the bathroom sink. His mind was spiraling with everything that had just been said not just an hour ago.
'Do you really think you're the Queen of Hell?'
'You know he's only fucking you because you're easy, right?'
'He only gave you the title Queen because it feeds into your delusions. You're a toy. Something to be used and thrown away. He'll grow bored eventually. I did.'
'A Queen certainly doesn't look like you. My, you've really let yourself go.'
Adam felt like he was going to throw up. He knew Lilith would try to get into his head but he didn't think it would be so soon. He bit his lip so hard he felt blood drip down his chin.
All of the insecurities that he'd been battling for years came bubbling to the surface. What did Lucifer even see in something like him? A Queen didn't look like a pig. A Queen wasn't so ugly. Is this what Lucifer saw in him? A toy? A novelty only to be discarded when something better comes along?
A knock on the door and a familiar voice called out to him.
"Adam? Sweetheart, is everything okay?"
Damn it all to Hell! That was Lucifer!
"Um, I'm good!" He said and Adam winced when he heard how wobbly his voice sounded. Apparently, so did the King of Hell because he portaled into the bathroom causing Adam to yelp.
"What the fuck, Lucifer?! I said I was fine!" Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Clearly not. Can you tell me what's wrong?"
Adam refused to look at him. "I'm good. I'll be in bed in a moment."
"Adam, pet, I don't like when you lie to me. Tell me the truth." Adam felt himself lose control and everything came tumbling out about Lilith.
He was prepared for the backlash. That Lucifer was going to defend his ex-wife and that he better behave for her instead of causing fights and lying about it.
Instead, he felt strong hands cup his cheeks and this caused Adam to look at his partner. Lucifer had a kind but sad look on his face. "Oh, Adam. Why didn't you come to me sooner?" He took a hand away from his face and grabbed a fistful of brown hair. He yanked causing a moan to bubble up.
"Now, I need you to know that I would never go back to my ex. She's my ex for a reason. And I will be talking with her about everything." His eyes flashed red for a moment before it turned back to normal.
"Hm. I see you're still doubting me. Well, that just won't do." Lucifer said before scooping him up bridal-style. Adam let a squeak, a manly one, and struggled for a moment.
Adam shook his head, tears threatening to fall. He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to cry.
"Hush, now my pet. Daddy's got you."
Adam was soon lying in their large bed. Lucifer was straddling his waist with a gentle smile. "I love every inch of you." He began and Adam shivered as he trailed his fingers down his shirt. "You're beautiful, Adam. Don't let anyone tell you differently."
A hand slipped under his shirt and caressed a love handle. "This is mine. Don't you trust Daddy's judgment?" Another hand slipped inside Adam's shirt and gently squeezed his chest. The sinner was now squirming under Lucifer, his face felt warm and Adam knew he was blushing.
"This is also mine." A finger pinched his right nipple. "Mine because I would never give you up. Mine because I would fight Heaven and Hell for you." A cruel twist had Adam moaning and panting. Lucifer's hands left his body and Adam felt them take his shirt off. "Isn't that a pretty sight?"
Adam tried to cover his body, but Lucifer just pinned his wrists with one hand. "Don't hide yourself from Daddy, pet." The sheep demon nodded hurriedly. Using his free hand, he dragged his hand down to the waistband of his pants and tugged gently.
"Can I take this off?" Adam nodded with a whimper.
Lucifer gently removed his clothes and smiled at his naked partner. He really was beautiful, soft in all the best ways.
He fondled his pet's balls and watched as Adam fell apart. He was so sensitive. It didn't take long for Lucifer to start preparing him with lube. Adam moaned high and needy even though the King of Hell knew his pet would never admit it.
He had three fingers in, stretching and rubbing Adam in all of his special places. "Daddy! I'm going to cum!" Adam wailed and Lucifer took out his fingers quickly. His pet whimpered and begged for more but he was firm.
"You gotta let Daddy in first, pet." And then he slowly entered into his hole. Adam was still tight after all these years. Lucifer was gentle as he slowly thrusted in. He would make this loving and gentle for his pet. Then he wouldn't have any more doubts about Lucifer's love. He gave praise and encouragement as he made love to Adam.
He could feel himself getting ready to climax and Adam moaned higher and needier to indicate he was close as well.
"Cum for Daddy, pet. My good pet." They both climaxed at the same time, breathing heavily. They both snuggled into each other's embrace. As soon as Adam was asleep, Lucifer felt their earlier conversation repeat in his head.
Why would Lilith do that? What was her goal in upsetting Adam this badly? He knew they had bad blood, but this was on another level. Lucifer felt his eyes turn red again. She wouldn't be doing that again. He would make sure of that. There was a new ruler of Hell and it wasn't Lilith.
Hopefully, that was good!
#adamsapple#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel#lilith#oneshot#send asks#lemon#smut#gentle domination#daddy k!nk
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part two to some kind of AU that still doesn't have a title or clear plot...
Steve giddily laughs his entire short drive home, turning up his music a little louder than usual and rolling his windows down. As he pulls into the driveway to his and Robin’s townhouse, he’s fully head banging and belting out incorrect lyrics.
As he cuts the engine, he waves at his neighbor, Murray, who is watering his garden in his robe.
Steve gets out of the car and presses the ice pack into his wrist, finding that it’s only slightly sore.
“Someone got laid,” Murray sings teasingly.
Steve rolls his eyes replying, “For once, you’re wrong.”
Murray immediately turns off the hose and grabs a flask out of his robe pocket. He takes a swig and explains, “Clears the mind.” He gives Steve a look up and down and guesses, “You have a new romantic interest in your life.”
“Something like that,” Steve says without suppressing his wide smile while making his way to his front door.
“Make sure to bring them to me and Alexei so we can determine how long it will last!” Murray yells as Steve makes his way inside.
Steve continues to smile, resisting the urge to do a little happy dance.
“That good, huh?” Robin asks, glancing up from the papers she’s grading. “I’m surprised. The guy didn’t look like he would be good in the sack.”
Steve hangs his keys up and nonchalantly says, “He wasn’t, and I didn’t sleep with him. He kind of had a boyfriend.”
Robin immediately is abandoning her work and moving to sit on one of their wooden bar stools – her signal that she’s all ears. Steve laughs and moves to the other side of the kitchen island, putting the ice pack in the freezer.
“Why do you have an ice pack? Did the boyfriend do this to you? Steve, did you get into a fight?!” Robin yells.
Steve grabs a banana from the counter and peels it saying, “Careful, Robin. You know Murray is listening through the walls right now translating for Alexei.”
Robin groans, “I’ve been grading these kids' worksheets ever since you left the bar and I came back home. Give me the break and drama I deserve.”
“I haven’t been gone for that long.”
“It’s sixth grade band, Steve. They can’t read music, and no matter how many times I preach ‘Every Good Boy Does Fine’ and ‘FACE’ they still can’t get it! Spare me,” Robin begs leaning over the counter.
Steve takes another bite out the banana just to torture his best friend for a few more moments, but he can hardly stand not telling her. “Okay! So, me and... I don’t remember his name... let’s go with dumbass. He and I were in bed, and it was awful, Robin. Awful. I get there are slim pickings in Hawkins but... That’s not the point!”
Steve runs a hand through his hair and takes the final bite of his banana talking around the mouthful. “I was wondering how I could leave without offending him, and all the sudden he handcuffs me, even though I thought it was clear that I was uncomfortable with him joking about it. And just when I’m about to start panicking, someone busts into the room. Turns out, dumbass has a boyfriend, and a really really gorgeous one honestly.”
Robin gasps, “No way!”
Steve continues, “And I’m sitting there watching them fight because there was no way that Eddie was cool with his boyfriend with another dude, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Robin parrots, hand reaching into their M&M jar and throwing a handful in her mouth.
Steve takes an M&M as well and goes on, “And then I realize as dumbass is leaving that I’m stuck. And those handcuffs were not coming off and, get this, dumbass still has the key in his pocket.”
“No!”
Steve throws away the banana and hops on the kitchen island. “So, Eddie tries to pick the lock, and he tells me that he doesn’t know how but he knows how to hotwire a car? Anyways, we got to talking and he’s so sweet, Robin. He gave me that ice pack, and he’s drawing a custom design for Dustin’s dice! So, I gave him my number, and he said he would call me.”
Steve’s legs swing as he thinks about Eddie.
“Let me get this straight,” Robin says and takes in a deep breath – an indicator of an imminent spiraling breakdown. “You gave a complete stranger whose boyfriend you almost slept with our home number which he could call and track and get our address and get revenge on you! And by you, I mean us because he can’t have any witnesses. And then we’re both dead and die a horrible gruesome death because you think this man who you met briefly and owns handcuffs is cute?”
Steve nods for a few moments, taking in Robin’s rant. “....Yeah.”
Robin thuds her head on the counter and sighs, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I think Ms. Nancy Wheeler will be the actual death of you,” Steve teases, jumping back before Robin moves to smack him on the arm. He’s glad to know one of Robin’s weaknesses – the eighth grade English teacher – is a great distraction. Robin goes into her usual rant about how Nancy is probably straight like almost everyone else in Hawkins, but then she trails off to go over every time they’ve made eye contact or spoken.
Steve half listens to her, having heard the story of how Nancy once sat next to Robin during a staff meeting even though there were three other seats available about a million times before. Sometimes Steve thinks the middle school hormones rub off on them, too. Especially since he cannot stop thinking about Eddie and staring at the home phone, willing it to ring.
But no matter how hard he stares – or how many times Robin makes fun of him for it – the phone doesn’t ring that night.
This is heading in a different direction than I expected... do we like?
(Trying to tag people who asked me to tag them
@gaysonthefloor @tinydragonhuman @micheledawn1975 @kerlypride @counting-dollars-counting-stars @yourebuckingkiddingme )
Part three
#steddie#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#slight ronance#robin buckley#steddie au#writing fanfic instead of an essay
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
RWBY: Next Steps
This is just a design collection (remember when I used to do those? 'Winter Mission', 'Summer Tour'?? Fun times~)...and it may be my last.
Its only real purpose is to give me something fun to draw for the NeverFell Projects wrap-up series. The recent Adam and Cinder designs are technically part of this collection, too. ^^
These were much harder to do than those two, though...I've spent ~2 months chipping away at this set, trying and retrying to address several different RWBY design criticisms while still making the girls look good. ಥ_ಥ I've finally begun approaching success, though, so I wanted to talk a bit about these ideas.
Ruby
The only one I managed to design in one try. ^^; This was my answer to the question I felt was posed by Ruby's Vol. 7 design: i.e. "how do we do a new Ruby design that feels more 'mature'??" Because I never liked how the V7 design attempted to do that. :/
Between the new hairstyle and the new 'generic adventurer' clothes, it felt less like they were trying to evolve Ruby Rose and more like they didn't like her original design and wanted to get as far away from it as possible. V1-Ruby was such an iconic look (and STILL IS), and yet there's no trace of it in V7-Ruby. None of the goth-lolita style or playful edge that even V4-Ruby managed to preserve...instead they just scrubbed everything out to start from scratch, with a new design that's honestly 'meh' at best.
So what I did was stick closely to V1-Ruby, while adding just a few big changes to make the look distinct. You say a 'combat skirt' is too childish for an older Ruby? Well then we'll make it shorts...but shorts that are just as frilly and cute as the original skirt, with a similar overall shape.
You say her original hairstyle is too boring and 'safe'? Well, then we'll change it...by simply shaving half of it off. It's a much edgier look that simultaneously preserves the original shape of her hair: from every angle except front and back, her silhouette will remain the same.
You say you want to give her new shoes, but don't want the fandom to make fun of you for covering them in dozens of belts again? Here's a wild idea: cowboy boots. ^^ A totally unexpected, unique item that still fits in with the antique-ish vibe of her goth clothes.
Basically, I just wanted to prove that you can do something dramatically different with Ruby without completely abandoning her fashion sense.
Criticisms: The details are still lacking; I think I should work some red accents into her corset and boots. Also, I originally designed this outfit with a white shirt, and I kinda want it back (she had the team colors! R, W, B, and Y! ;_;)...the problem is that it clashes with the sheer thigh-highs. One must go...I'm sure I'll figure it out
Weiss
The toughest of the bunch: I did three different Weiss designs before landing on this one. ^^;;; The big epiphany came when I realized that Weiss looks her best when she mirrors Ruby. The girls' original design concepts share a lot of features; I feel like the characters were designed to look like they belong together, and figured I might as well honor that.
ALSO-- and this was the biggest priority for Weiss' design-- I firmly believe that she should not look like a princess anymore. From a character designers' perspective, it is ludicrous that they gave her the giant Disney ballgown in the same volume where they put classism at the center of the plot and have her send her bourgeoisie father to jail. That right there is the definition of mixed messages...
I thought the whole point of Weiss' character arc was to distance herself from the uber-rich parasites of her family and fellow 'Atlas elites'. I thought we cemented that when she officially lost her "heiress" title in V4. o_O I expected her next look to ditch the crown and visually show that she's past the point of 'rebelling'-- there's no more authority in her life for her to rebel against; she's free now! But alas...
So as usual, I had to do it myself. This Weiss outfit is definitely still fancy, with the coattailed vest and ruffled sleeves, but there's a lot less 'decoration'; fewer jewels, fewer details. The construction is straightforward and simple.
And of course, no more tiara. Instead I decided to give her a li'l snow pea flower and ribbon, which ended up inspiring her new periwinkle purple-y color scheme. Like her original design, it's actually fairly colorful, but does its job and puts the emphasis on the white elements.
Criticisms: ...Not many, this came out pretty good. ^^ I might reconsider the black coattails, but if I do I'll probably just switch it out with the indigo inner vest. I like the idea of her outfit construction mirroring Ruby's, but her color scheme mirroring Blake's, since they have a closer bond in NeverFell.
Blake
Blake designs are notoriously difficult; if you wanna hear some great reasons why, I suggest you check out this old Twiins iink RWBY design ranking video, which always helps guide me when I do redesigns for the main 4.
Anyway, this phenomenon makes it hard to describe what I did...I guess you could say I tried to combine all the best elements of all her outfits, while clinging to the 'fancy action girl' vibe of her original design.
I'm most proud of her new hairstyle-- I dunno why, I just enjoyed working on it and making those decisions. ^^ It's hard to tell, but it IS shorter; now shoulder-length instead of back-length. We make up for this with additional volume, emphasizing the waves in her hair texture by pushing them outward.
And most notably: she keeps the ribbon. She just wears it differently, using it to accentuate her ears instead of hiding them. This way, we keep the point of interest on her head while still showing her character growth.
Criticisms: Infinite, countless. This is a good look, but something is definitely still off. ^^;;; I think some additional detail in certain places (not sure where yet...) might help 'finish' it, so to speak. Maybe some extra yellow accents...?
Also, the bow obviously gets lost in her hair this way. I've tried several color changes and don't like any of them; I think I may just have to texture it differently in the final product. Fingers crossed...
Yang
Another tough one...I only made 2 design drawings, but the colors took several rounds of trial and error. I think my excitement over finally arriving at a good color scheme TODAY was what spurred me to make this post. ^^;
Anyway...there is a specific piece of Yang design criticism I hear fairly often that drives me up the wall: people commonly complain that she doesn't wear enough yellow; that she doesn't represent her character color well because all she wears is a yellow shirt.
And the character designer in me wants to rip my teeth out whenever I hear this, because it blindly ignores the giant fairy-tale-inspired mass of yellow that is her hair, and the purposely attention-grabbing pops of yellow that make up Ember Celica. They're not "clothes", technically, but they're still part of the design!
It's like saying a character with green skin can't represent the color green if all their clothes are black...without realizing that maybe their clothes are black BECAUSE they have green skin, in order to draw your attention to it...!! (╬▔皿▔)╯I just jifjkdsnfksahujknsjnfufh
...Anyway, anyway...the point is, it's difficult to take a character design with so much natural yellow in it and add yellow clothes and still have it read well. But because I like a challenge, I decided to take it on. I think the difference between the mustard leather and neon yellow hair is large enough to make it work, while still feeling casual enough for everyday wear. The champagne off-white she wears in her 'Hunter' outfit (which heavily inspired this) looks great, but it feels too 'classy' to me; like something specifically meant to dazzle the audience with her beauty for one special adventure, not for her to wear often.
On that note, my secondary mission with this design was just to make Yang look cute again, by following the structure of her V1 look, and even adding a little skirt on top of her battle shorts, which looks surprisingly natural considering she almost never wears one.
I don't know what happened in the canon to make the character designer forget the 'Yellow Beauty' part of her character concept; tbh even if her gender presentation gets more masculine she can still look pretty. Designs like Ozma, V7 Qrow and V4 Ren show that they understand this, but choose to cover Yang up in flavorless sheets of beige anyway. :T Making sure she always has a boob window isn't enough; the clothes themselves need to say something too.
Criticisms: ...Honestly, none? I think this might be solid. :> We'll see what happens when I draw it properly. I hope the white socks work out, because then she'll successfully be wearing the RWBY color scheme, which fits her (former, implied...) role as the glue holding the team together.
124 notes
·
View notes
Text
A sequel to this Dreamling fic here, though this can be read as a standalone. Written for @merry-moody-missy, who requested I write more and get the two of them together. Also, thanks to @samsalami66, who gave me a prompt (that felt more like a fic outline, but that’s great too XD) for this fic.
Edit: Part one and two are now on Ao3!
--------
Dream came to him more often, after that.
Once a month became once a fortnight. He wasn’t half as reserved these days as he typically was; if anything, he seemed to be even more comfortable in Hob’s presence, now. It was rather wonderful to witness for Hob, who, for the longest time, knew Dream only as his distant Stranger. A far star, unreachable. A sun for him to orbit, but a sun who would only bless him with light once a century.
Every two weeks, Dream appeared beside him at some point in the day. It didn’t matter where; he’d often appear at the back of Hob’s classes while he was working, entirely unnoticed by his students. Or he would materialise next to him and fall into step as Hob walked home, content to follow in silence, or to listen as Hob recounted his day.
The first time he did that, stepping up next to Hob when the space beside him had been previously empty—well, the first time scared him half to death, naturally. That simply wasn’t the kind of thing one grew to expect, even after living for nearly seven centuries.
(He didn’t care. In fact, Hob looked upon that day with fondness, a grin upon his face, because that was the first time he’d heard Dream laugh.
He didn’t have a particular lovely laugh. It wasn’t melodic, or sweet. It wasn’t the kind of thing you expected to be a sound of joy at all, really—if Hob tried his best, he’d only be able to describe it as an awful, croaking thing, terrifying and perhaps the least lovely thing he’d heard before—but Hob didn’t care at all, because Dream laughed.
Loudly, and without abandon. Rosebud lips had spread wide in a smile that stole Hob’s heart entirely, and the joy in his eyes was unmatched. There, stood in the middle of a London street with laughter in his face and sunlight catching his stray hairs—well, he was beautiful, and Hob found himself falling.)
(No. No, that wasn’t true. He found himself falling for Dream a long time ago. He was already so far gone for him; hearing him laugh had merely made him fall further, and he hadn’t known such a thing was possible.)
Today, Dream appeared in his apartment—only, this time, he did so before Hob was about to sleep.
Which…wasn’t a problem. Not at all. Sleep didn’t matter, not when Dream was there. He would gladly drop anything and everything, if Dream wanted him to. If his friend wanted his time and his energy. All of it was his anyway; he needed only to ask.
(And he did ask, these days. Indirectly, naturally—Matthew somehow gained the job of messenger raven, and would often fly to the Waking world for the sole purpose of seeing Hob and delivering a message.
The message was usually short. A quick, Boss asks if you’re free today?, and Hob would reply, Let him know I am before quickly cancelling his plans.
Dream still didn’t ask for what he needed. But he still asked, in a round-about Dream kind of way, and Hob? Hob was proud of him. He remembered all too easily the pain on his face when he thought he burdened Hob with his affections; he could only imagine what it took for his friend to be able to ask whether he was busy or not, after that.)
“Dream,” he said, blinking at the being who materialised at the foot of his bed. To his credit, his heart didn’t so much as stutter, proof that he was used to Dream simply appearing out of nowhere. Proof that they truly were friends, now, after so many centuries of him wanting exactly that.
(They were friends. He couldn’t quite believe it, sometimes. They were friends, and Dream didn’t shy away from that title when Hob gave it to him. If anything, he seemed proud of it, like the title of ‘friend’ was an honour.)
(It certainly was for Hob, at least, so he understood that.)
Dream stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly, cat-like. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Hob underneath his duvet, which—seemed fair. He still didn’t have much of a clue what Dream was, for it didn’t matter, but he knew now that it had to do with a place called the Dreaming—his realm, which certainly gave Hob a bit of an existential crisis the first time he heard that—and sleep. Perhaps he had a second sense for when people were about to sleep. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing Hob had seen him do.
”Hob,” he said, then frowned. Some of that old hesitance kept him from saying much else for a moment, but he eventually asked, “I did not think…Is this a bad time?”
Progress, Hob thought, and shot a grin in his friend’s direction. Dream was making progress, small and still so, so important, and he was simply glad to be a part of it. “Not at all,” he promised, because this was Dream. Dream, who owned his heart entirely by this point, who Hob would gladly dedicate every waking moment of his days to if he could. If his friend would appreciate that, if he would even want that.
That hesitance held him in place for a second longer, but that was all. His floor-length, high-collared coat disappeared, shadow replacing the impossibly soft material of it before vanishing entirely, leaving Dream in a long-sleeved top (black, of course) that felt so casual on him.
(He’d seen Dream without his coat many times before, now. Another testament to the fact that Dream felt comfortable—safe, even—with him. It still startled him, though, and it never failed to make warmth bloom behind his ribs. This—this vulnerability, his desire to abandon armour when with Hob—was another display of trust, and Hob wouldn’t get over that any time soon.
Dream trusted him. It was a fragile thing, that trust, not at all suited for Hob’s bloodied and calloused hands. He’d had many years to practise gentleness, though, and he used it with this; with Dream’s trust, a gift offered so painstakingly.)
And then Dream was moving, climbing onto the bed and tucking himself into Hob’s side. One half of his body ended up entirely on top of Hob’s, his face buried into the crook of his neck, and let out a soft, contented sigh.
It tickled the skin of his neck a little, but Hob hardly cared. How could he, when he turned his head to the side and found himself face to face with Dream’s feather-soft hair, when Dream’s arm came to wrap around his waist?
He chuckled softly. His heart felt so full, all of a sudden, his fondness for this strange and lovely creature lay on top of him almost overwhelming. There wasn’t enough room behind his rib cage for it all, for the adoration pouring from his heart in waves. He brushed his fingers through Dream’s feather-soft hair, the smile on his face growing wider as his friend burrowed further into him, and, without thinking, he said gently, “Yeah, dove, I love you too. And I missed you dearly.”
Missed you dearly wasn’t quite enough. It didn’t explain the way he missed Dream like an ache, in those two weeks he was off doing whatever the ruler of an entire realm did. But it was true enough, so he let the words hang in the air. Dream deserved to know he was missed when he wasn’t around; deserved to know Hob thought about him, even in the louder moments where his head was so busy. Missed you dearly didn’t quite fit, but it said enough.
It was only when Dream’s head snapped up in a movement faster than anything Hob had seen from him before, ocean eyes almost comically wide and lips parted slightly, that Hob realised what he said.
I love you too. It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t think he was capable of that, even subconsciously, when it came to Dream. Always, his heart has been laid bare before him, every little thing it contained inside free for his viewing. Hob made little attempt to keep it hidden. His fondness, his adoration, always slipped into his voice unbidden. Experience told him every attempt to mask it would fall short; there was simply too much to keep it trapped behind his ribs. It was always his friend’s choice whether or not he took it at face value or not.
He did love Dream. Loved him like he loved life; endlessly, with more depth than he thought himself capable of putting into words. Though he wasn’t much of a poet, he would try, if Dream asked that of him. He would do much for his dearest friend, his Stranger, if only he asked.
”Love me,” Dream murmured softly. He sounded almost disbelieving, as though he hadn’t thought of himself as something able to be loved. That thought rang too true for Hob’s comfort; he had to stop himself from holding Dream closer, unwilling to make him uncomfortable in an attempt to offer comfort. “You have. Said this before.”
Not in quite so many words, Hob thought, but yes. He had. Never apologise for wanting to be loved, he told Dream, and that was another admittance in and of itself, wasn’t it? It was an I love you, and I’m happy to do so, and a request; Let me love you, I want, it was always yours anyway.
Fear coiled in his stomach, a poison almost potent enough to stop him from answering entirely. But he met Dream’s gaze and saw the impression of new stars within them; he met his eyes and saw a fragile kind of hope. Fear or not, his dearest friend deserved to know he was loved.
“Yes,” he answered gently. Perhaps he’d run, now, leave Hob as he had in 1889. That, Hob thought, would be alright. It’d hurt, but it’d be alright. Dream would come back to him, just as he had once every month before, and now every fortnight. That knowledge was just enough to make the worst of that fear melt away, and to loosen his tongue. “I love you dearly. With everything I am. Doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to—I don’t want anything from you that you aren’t willing to give, I promise you that.”
A furrow appeared between his friend’s brow. That hope didn’t leave his eyes, even despite the confusion that joined it. “Why would you tell me this, then, if you did not want reciprocation from me?”
Hob ached, suddenly, at the confusion in Dream’s voice. Had nobody loved him without expectation before? Had nobody loved him simply for the sake of loving him, because they couldn’t do anything else? “Let me rephrase,” he said gently, and he sat up. Dream frowned further at being disturbed, though said frown disappeared fast enough when Hob cupped his face. “I would kill to have you feel the same for me. It would be so many centuries of pining resolved in a mere moment; I would love for nothing more than you to love me back. But I don’t expect you to. I didn’t tell you I love you expecting you to say the same. I told you I love you simply because you deserve to hear it; nothing more, nothing less.”
Silence hung heavy between them for a moment, in which Dream simply stared at him without moving a muscle at all and Hob grew increasingly conscious about the fact that he was still very much holding Dream’s face in his hands.
He was about ready to let go, no doubt followed by an awkward apology, but Dream said slowly, “You are. A strange creature, Hob Gadling. I continuously find myself baffled by you.”
Quietly, Hob laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment then, love.” His hands fell from Dream’s face, only for his friend to catch them by his wrists.
”And,” Dream continued, slow and stilted, and Hob froze. Dream’s skin against his, not quite a normal body temperature, was different when initiated by Dream himself. It meant more, somehow. “And. You are not alone. In your feelings.”
Hob was fairly sure his heart stopped in his chest at that. Just for a moment. In his defence, this moment did feel particularly heart stopping. Important enough to fling his own world off its axis.
When he found himself capable of thought again, he asked, barely able to contain the joy pouring from his heart in waves, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Dream?”
”I am saying,” he said heavily, severely, like this moment was as important to him as it was to Hob, “that I adore you, Hob Gadling. That you are a comfort I did not expect to find. That your arms are a place of safety, that I find comfort in your presence, that you are a fresh breath of air after so long spent underwater. I am saying that your continued friendship is an honour, one I am eternally grateful for; I am saying that you baffle me entirely, your joy for life and your willingness to love me, and that love is too small a term to label the depths of my feelings towards you, but it is enough for now.”
Hob stared at him, wide-eyed. His heart spilled over, everything it contained too much, and all of it Dream’s. All of it, shared by Dream, too. “Christ, love,” he said, his voice light with elation. A sob caught in his chest as his hand, still held by the wrist in Dream’s grasp, came up to play with the raven hair at the nape of his friend’s neck, as he pulled Dream into a kiss.
It was gentle. Barely a hint of pressure at all, for fear he’d perhaps misunderstood. But Dream made a noise against his lips, surprised yet pleased, and kisses back eagerly, an answer to a question Hob didn’t realise he’d asked.
Eventually, though everything in him screamed against it, too lost in the sensation of Dream’s mouth against his own and Dream’s hands clutching at the thin top he wore for bed, he pulled back for breath. Dream gazed at him, eyes so dark they were almost black. Hob could see the stars so clearly, now, and found himself breathless for another reason entirely.
Awed, he said, ”You’re beautiful.” His thumb stroked the skin underneath Dream’s eye, reverent and worshipful, and Dream practically preened.
At some point, he lay back down, taking his friend—Dream, his Stranger, who he had loved for centuries and who loved him in return—with him. He tucked himself against Hob’s side, knee wedges between Hob’s legs and an arm thrown over his waist. The duvet was pulled over up to both their shoulders, and Hob let himself kiss the crown of his head.
He needed to sleep. He was tired, his head a little foggy. But elation kept his chest light, and there was enough joy in his veins to last a lifetime. They’d have to talk tomorrow, Hob knew that, but they’d figure that out.
For now, this—this was enough. More than enough.
”I love you,” he said again. His eyes slipped shut.
Sleep would come difficult, with the way his heart felt so full, but that was alright. A small price to pay for the way Dream shifted against him before pressing feather-soft lips against his cheek, whispering, “And I you, beloved,” before settling back in place again.
Hob slept eventually. And when he did, he dreamt of Dream.
#the sandman#dreamling#dream of the endless#hob gadling#dream/hob#the sandman netflix#eris writes things#my fic#dreamling fic
334 notes
·
View notes
Text
Broken-Style Remix: No Peace For A Peace God
Broken: Hello, Everyone! My friend - @anxiousnerdwritings - allowed me to make a small snippet they created about a Minor God of Peace Reader leaving the Patheon they were in to live their immortal life in the mortal world; however, coming in contact with Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman and the Amazons makes that rather difficult. Let's see how everything goes. Let the words weave together!
Note: [Name] is a Minor God of Peace in the Greek Patheon; I chose Greek because the Amazons have ties to the Greek Patheon. This one-shot will be told from a first-person perspective.
Based on my observations, it seems that people eagerly anticipate the point in their lives when they no longer have to work. They view it as a time when they can live off the money they've saved over the years or the pension they receive from the government. Sometimes, I wonder what my life would have been like if I were a human being, attending school, getting a job, starting a family, and growing old before passing away and potentially being reincarnated to start anew.
Alas, fate did not wish that kind of life for me; thus, I was given the life of an immortal, even if my former role in the patheon was not are important as others were.
I am [Name], a Minor God/Goddess and the God/Goddess of Peace in the Greek Divine Pantheon. However, I must clarify that the rightful title of Goddess of Peace belongs to Lady Eirene. Though I am a Minor God/Goddess, I possess some powers similar to Lady Eirene's, but not on the same scale as hers. I can bring about peaceful solutions amongst mortals in small groups, such as villages and some of the other minor gods who reside on Mount Olympus. Lady Eirene, on the other hand, is responsible for maintaining peaceful relations between full-blown towns and councils with Olympus' Elite Gods. Although we both perform our duties well, Lady Eirene's name is more well-known and overshadows mine. As a result, I rarely receive offerings and prayers, and although I know I shouldn't be upset about it, it sometimes hurts my feelings.
As time passed, I began observing humanity closely and grew curious about their way of life. I even found myself envious of them. I considered leaving Olympus and living my immortal life among mortals, but my duties as a divine being held me back. I thought I still had a place among the gods and goddesses of Olympus, so I stayed.
One day, Lord Zeus invited all the minor and major gods and goddesses from other realms to a party on Mount Olympus. I arrived just before the party started, but was stopped by Lord Ares and Lord Zeus before I could enter the Great Hall. They told me that I could come to the party, but I argued that I was also of divine origin and therefore should be allowed in as well. Lady Eirene appeared, sensing the tension, but instead of vouching for me as a fellow god of peace, she told me that I shouldn't consider myself a god or goddess since I rarely received any offerings or prayers. She told me to leave Mount Olympus since the night was for the "true gods". That was the last straw for me.
I told them that I would no longer listen to them and that I wouldn't be tied to them by my divine blood. I abandoned Olympus and my fellow gods and goddesses at that moment and descended to the mortal realm. From that day on, I would live the remainder of my immortal life as a mortal. I was finally free.
Although I have lived for centuries, I appear to be only 18 years old. During my long life, I have accumulated a vast collection of gems and treasures. With the aim of starting my life anew, I decided to sell a small portion of them and make a decent amount of money. I took my collection to an appraiser, who gave me a fair price. Since I didn't want to stay in Greece any longer, I used the money to purchase a ticket for the first boat out of the country.
Destination?
A place known as Gotham City.
The boat ride from Gotham was long but that gave me all the time I needed to make the proper plans I needed to start my life over: I would use my power to give myself citizenship by creating the necessary documents such as a birth certificate and social security number. Next, I would find a decent place to live before finding a job; I may have the funds I need to live on, but I still need a life for myself. I made a mental note to purchase a device known as a 'cell phone';; a passenger on the boat was watching something 'videos' on a social platform known as 'YouTube'. I was going to need this strange device and knowledge of these social media platforms if I truly wanted to be a human.
I acquired a cell phone and started searching for apartment listings in my area. I found a decent 2-bedroom unit with a bathroom, living room, dining room, kitchen, and a balcony. I contacted the realtor and he was eager to show me the apartment the same day. We agreed to meet at a local cafe that was currently hiring for a barista and baker, as it was located right down the street from the apartment. Before the realtor arrived, I managed to pick up an application from the hiring manager. We then walked to the apartment, which was rather nice with dark wooden floors in the living and dining rooms, tiled floors in the kitchen and bathroom, and carpet in the bedrooms. The rent and deposit were reasonable, and the realtor had the paperwork with him. He told me that if I signed it, I could move in the same day. I had a look at the leasing contract to ensure that there were no hidden terms, and upon finding nothing, I asked a few questions with the recording app on my phone to use as evidence in case the realtor tried anything suspicious later. After signing the paperwork, I received the keys to the apartment and mailbox. The realtor informed me that I would receive a copy of the lease in the mail, and then left me alone in my new apartment.
A week later, I returned to the cafe with the filled-out application for the barista and baker positions; after a test to prove I would be capable of handling the tasks under pressure - there wasn't really any pressure since I used my aura to keep everyone calm and acting decent and in order - I was given the job.
It would be another month when my mortal life started shifting in another direction upon meeting Bruce Wayne.
I was working the morning shift when a well-dressed male with piercing blue eyes walked into the cafe and walked over to the counter; there was no line since I already handled it an hour ago. He ordered a dark coffee and a strawberry cheesecake muffin before he took a seat in the booth; there was something about him that radiated sadness. He continued working on his laptop for about 2 hours, long since finishing his coffee and muffin; I made him another coffee, warmed up another muffin, and placed them before him, causing him to look at me with confusion in his eyes, I smiled at him.
"You seem like you are under a lot of stress, these are on the house." I said before walking away. Just then, the door burst open and 3 masked figures barged in with guns, causing everyone to scream in fear while cowering in their chairs but I refused to move from where I was standing. The leader of the group pointed his gun in my face but I looked calmly down the barrel before lifting my hand and moving the gun away before looking into his eyes - into his soul - and his secrets were revealed to me; he was doing this out of desperation.
"Do you think that she would want you to do this?" I asked, causing him to look at me confused, "I know that you are not doing this because of malice in your heart. I know that you are shaking in your soul with fear and anxiety. You want to be a good son and save the woman who gave you everything but this is not the way to do that."
"Then, what can I do? What other option do I have?" He whimpered at me. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a small ruby, and held it out to him before placing it in his palm.
"This is a Burmese Ruby. A Ruby of this size should be worth around $20,000; that should be more than enough to pay for her treatment and aid you in what else you need for a while. Please, never resort to this again; there is always a better way. Do you swear this?" I asked. He looked at the ruby, closed it in his fist, and sobbed before hugging me for a few moments and leaving with the other masked them. Everyone watched me for a while as I walked back around the counter to continue working as if nothing ever happened.
It would be about 3 days later when I received a visit from the Guardian of Gotham.
I had just arrived home after a long day at work, and the visage of a piping hot pizza filled my mind as I pulled out my phone and called my favorite pizza place and asked them to deliver my favorite [Pizza Type] pizza along with [Favorite Soda Type] soda with an [Dessert] in addition; I had some extra cash and I felt like I deserved something sweet for all my hard work. I sat down in my favorite chair and turned on my television to watch [Favorite TV Show] while waiting for my pizza. I was intuned with my show when I felt a familiar aura coming from my balcony, I looked in that direction and saw a towering figure standing on my balcony, watching me while blocking out the moonlight. I rose from my chair and walked over to the door before sliding it open and came face to face with a man in a bat suit. I looked at his face, the upper part of his face covered by his ask with a glare on his face as he looked down at me; however, his aura gave him away.
"You are aware that I don't have muffins and coffee here, right?" I asked with a raised eyebrow and a smile on my face; he looked shocked by my words and marched into the apartment, causing me to close my door and walk over to him with my arms folded, "Is there a reason you are wearing that suit and staring at me through my window, Mr. Wayne?"
"How do you know who I am?" He asked.
"Your aura gave it away - you're radiating the same sadness you were the moment we met. You can change outfits but your aura shall always remain the same.
"You can read aura? You are not human." He said.
"Nope. I'm not human, however, I do prefer to live like one; I've been living like this for the past month & a half and I prefer living to this than I did my previous life." I shrugged.
"If you aren't human, what are you exactly?" He asked.
"I'd rather not say." I heard a knock on the front door, and my mouth started watering, "Food's here! About time!" I walked to the door, greeted the delivery man, and paid for my food while giving him a generous tip before closing the door behind me with my foot since the food was in my hands; I looked around to see Burce was no longer there but I didn't care. Time to eat!
Life going forward would be difficult after meeting Burce Wayne because he didn't learn how to leave me the heck alone. He would come to the cafe and attempt to make conversation with me, trying to gain personal information about me. He would show up at my apartment as Bruce and Batman constantly trying to make me change my lifestyle to a 'healthier' one; he doesn't approve of the additional muffins I take home or the amount of frozen food I have in my freezer. Even when I am out in public, he somehow manages to find me and tries to interfere with my plans or worm his way into them. Then, he literally tried to tell me that I would be adopted into his family; no matter how many times I refused. He was really starting to get on my nerves.
It would be another month when I met another person who would attempt to uproot my life & alter it to their liking: The Man of Steel, Kal-El.
While working at a cafe, I discovered my passion for drawing, specifically digital art and animation. One day, I came across a contest on TV offering a drawing tablet as the prize and decided to enter. To my surprise, I won the contest and received the setup at my doorstep a week later. I set it up in the second room of my apartment, which I converted into an office. Initially, it took me some time to get used to the tablet, but soon I started creating digital art and animations, which I shared on my social media accounts. That was the beginning of my journey.
After accumulating a massive following on Facebook and Twitter, I received a message from an Animation Company stationed in Metropolis; they were requesting that I come in for a meeting for a possible partnership in regards to my art and animations. I agreed to their request and I received the time and date for the meeting; Metropolis was a decent distance away but I happened to have purchased a motorcycle last week and was looking forward to the meeting.
I got on my bike with my flash drives full of art and animations and headed to Metropolis for a meeting. Once I arrived at the building, I gave my name to the receptionist, who then took me to the meeting room. There, I presented my work and the representatives were thrilled with it. They offered me a generous signing bonus and commission for every artwork and animation I created for them. I agreed to do commission work as I wanted to keep my weekend job at the cafe but would work on their projects during the week. After reading and signing the business deal, I left the building. As I was leaving, I bumped into a tall man with light blue eyes, black hair, glasses, and a reporter's outfit with a camera around his neck, as well as a notepad and pen in his hands. He introduced himself as Clark Kent, a journalist and reporter for the Daily Planet of Metropolis. He wanted to interview me as the youngest person to be hired by the Animation Company. I offered to take him to lunch and give him the interview he was looking for after hearing his stomach growl.
During our conversation, he told me about his family: His wife and work partner, Lois, his son, Jon, and his younger brother, Connor; as well as his parents John and Martha Kent. I expressed how lucky he was to have such a close family since I wasn't close with my family. He seemed sad for me and offered to have me meet this family and even offered to have me take the Kent Name for myself since I didn't have a surname, but I refused his offer and went back home to start getting to work on the content my new bosses wanted me to do for completion in 2 weeks time. However, that would not be the last time I would ever see Clark Kent.
I was doing work in my office when I got a video call from Bruce, who was still pestering me to join his family and become [Name] Wayne, but I continued to refuse him when I noticed there was another request for a video call from someone I didn't recognize; curiosity got the better of me and I accepted the call - it happened to be Clark.
Clark (Smiling): Hi, [Name]! How are you doing today?!
[Name]: How did you get my contact information, Clark? I didn't give it to you the last time we talked.
Clark: I happen to have a friend who knew you and I got your contact information from him, but that's not important right now! Have you thought about what we talked about?
Bruce (In the background): You were the one who broke into my computer and stole [Name's] Contact Information, Kent?
Clark: Bruce? Is that you?
[Name] merges the call between Bruce and Clark]
Clark: Bruce, why are you talking to [Name]?
Bruce: I can ask you the same thing, Kent. I'm am trying to convince [him/her] to accept the Wayne Name.
Clark: The Wayne Name? No way that's happening! [Name] is going to become a Kent!
[Name]: I'm not taking either of your names nor am I joining your families. The Bat-Family & Super-Family have nothing to do with me and I want nothing to do with either of you. Now, I'm working, leave me alone.
[Name] Leaves The Video Call]
After that video call, it was silent for about 3 weeks, I thought the two of them got the message and decided to leave me alone; however, I couldn't be more wrong.
It was around that time a 3rd Player entered the game and I was going to have a hard time shaking this one off.
The Princess of the Amazonian Nation and Defender of Man's World: Diana of Themyscira.
It was one of my days off and I had nothing better to do, so I decided to do something I hadn't done in a long while - go flying. I waited for the sun to leave the sky and the full moon to shine, I stood on the roof of my apartment complex and made sure no one was around before I allowed my Divine Power to flow through my body and took off into the thick layers of clouds. Using the clouds as cover, even though I was almost certain no one could see me from this height, and if they happened to see me, they would have most likely mistaken me for a bird. I was enjoying myself, feeling the breeze on my face when I felt another aura quickly approaching me; I stopped flying and floated there for a while I noticed a figure approaching me and stopped a few feet away from me - A Woman.
No.
An Amazon Warrior.
"I am Diana of Themyscira - Princess of the Amazon Nation. I have served the gods faithfully and have always been able to sense when someone of divine blood was near. Imagine my surprise to find a Divine One masquerading as a human and living as one. I heard of your actions from 2 Males I have been working with to protect Man's Word; I can feel it within you - You are a God/Goddess, I can tell from your aura." Diana explained to me, I exhaled before folding my arms while looking at her.
"You are correct, I am a God/Goddess of Peace; however, I am a Minor God/Goddess. I was sick of the way I was being created on Mount Olympus and decided to leave and live as a human. I have been enjoying life as I have been now; with the exception of Bruce Wayne & Clark Kent bothering me to join their families, alas, they refuse to take no for an answer." I exhaled with a shake of my head at the thought of all of Bruce's & Clark's attempts.
"They shall not get the chance. You are of Divine Blood and you need to be treated as such. You shall come with me to Themyscira and we shall worship you as you are meant to be." Diana said.
"I'm not interested. I love being a human." I said.
"You are not human...and you shall not continue to live as one. Come with me willingly, or I shall take you by force." Diana warned.
"I said that I am not interested. Goodbye." I said. She charged at me and attempted to grab my arm but I vanished and teleported back to my living room in a flash of gold light.
I ran my hand through my hair, pulled out my phone, and requested a month's vacation from both of my jobs. Once I received confirmation on both ends, I called a friend who owns a cabin in the woods, away from Gotham & Metropolis, and asked to use it for a month. He agreed since he owed me a favor. I packed a few things such as clothes, my sketch tablet, grade & color pencils, and my wallet. I made sure my bike was locked securely and asked my neighbor, who I was on good terms with, to watch my house while I was out of the city. After receiving confirmation from her, I went back inside to grab my suitcase before teleporting to the cabin's location since I had been there before. I knew where the spare key was and went inside to get some sleep. I just wanted to relax.
Currently, I was sitting on the porch of the cabin with a cup of coffee in my hands when I felt 3 Familair Auras approaching my current location; I knew they were going to find me eventually but I was surprised it took them this long - my vacation was going to be over in 3 days; might as well deal with this now. I sipped my coffee just as a black bat-themed jet appeared over the treeline before hovering on the ground and the cockpit opened as Batman jumped out and started walking towards me as Superman and Wonder Woman landed on the low grass at the same time, glaring at each other before glaring at Bruce who was standing before me, telling me it was time for me to join his family.
Superman matched over to his dark-dressed friend and grabbed his shoulder to push him away from me while barking that I was going to go to the Kent Farm in Smallville, Kansas to live with his Pa & Ma; he already told them about me and they were looking forward to meeting me and welcoming me to the Kent Family.
Wonder Woman pushed the two men apart and roared at them that I was a God/Goddess, therefore I needed to be treated like one and not a human as I have been living for the past few months. I would go with her to the Amazon Island and be worshipped as I was meant to be; while that would have interested me in the past, I wasn't interested in it now.
As for me, I just sat there watching them before exhaling, 'Just as there are geniuses in Humanity, there are also idiots.'
[End of the Remix]
Broken: And done. What do you think, @anxiousnerdwritings?
#minor god reader#yandere dc#platonic yandere#batman#superman#wonder woman#bruce wayne#clark kent#diana of themyscira#yandere
103 notes
·
View notes
Text
two lost souls | neteyam sully
chapter 3 | chapter 2
pairing: neteyam sully x fem!omaticaya! reader
warnings: childhood bestfriends to lovers, fluff, angst
summary: you and neteyam grew up together, attached at the hip since young and that never changed as the two of you grew older. what did change was the fact the two of you began to develop feelings for one another that simple best friends don't hold- two lost souls longing to feel the touch of the other. as everything around you changes when you travel with the sully family to seek refuge in the metkayina clan, you and neteyam's feelings for each other don't- they grow to be unbearable, until everything comes to the surface.
series masterlist
you felt as if someone had punched you right in your gut as you listened to neytiri, jake and your father all speak of the events that had occured that night.
you were never one to question your fathers choices- as you knew he was a mighty man who knew far better than you and most- but in that moment you had never been so confused at why your father would ever wish for you to abandon your ways, this was your home. your people, how could you leave such a thing?
you couldn’t listen to the them speak anymore, in fear that you wouldn’t like what you heard- as you hadn’t so far. you slowly got up from your crouched position, making your way away from the tent. neteyam ears perked up as he heard you stand up, turning around to see you walking away- he turned to kiri and lo’ak who both held concerned looks on their faces, without another thought neteyam stood up quickly- following right behind you.
“y/n,” neteyam walked fast, to catch up with you. you slowed down your paste at the sound of his voice, turning your head to meet him- your expression was filled with hurt, almost as if you were bound to break down at any moment- and it made neteyams heart shatter into small pieces. seeing you upset was one of the worst things that the boy had ever witnessed, he only wished for you to be happy- neteyam would give up everything if it meant you were to be happy and healthy for the rest of your life, because it didn’t matter in the end if he wasn’t okay, as long as you were neteyam sully would be okay.
“you don’t think they’re actually going to leave the clan, right?” your voice came out small- something you hated deeply, you were not small- you despised being looked at as small or weak, but you didn’t care as it was neteyam. he had seen you at your lowest and highest, weakest and strongest, and he had never once judged you for it- that was one of the many things you found yourself to love about the young warrior.
neteyam didn’t speak, because he didn’t really want to know the answer if he was speaking the truth- he wished that they would never, but he knew that his father would not hesitate to do so of it meant keeping the people safe, and in the case they are in right now- it was exactly what was happening. “i do not know.” his eyes fell onto the ground, not being able to bare the mere thought of leaving his home.
neteyam felt his heart twist in his chest, he had been preparing his whole life for a title of the leader of the clan- and if they left, that would be taken away in seconds. it scared him, he believed his purpose was becoming the next oke’leytan, leading the omaticaya clan into a new era- hopefully along side you. but that could never happen if his father and mother decided to abandon it all.
“what will happen if they do?” you whispered, your gaze locked with neteyams- not knowing if you could really bare the truth.
“it doesn’t matter,” he softly grabbed your wrist, “because you will have us, me.” he squeezed your skin in comfort, with the hand he was holding onto you with- you gave him a small smile in return but thought he did make you feel better, you were still uneasy about it.
you’re mine was racing as you slowly arrived at your hut, not wanting to face your father in fear or what he might speak to you. you took a deep breath and pushed the small cloth that covered the entrance of the small pod that you and your father shared- it wasn’t as big as the other families, but you didn’t mind. it was home after all.
as you walked in you saw your father, sitting down lost in his own thoughts- he looked as if he had been waiting for you to arrive. at the sound of footsteps he looked up, being met with you and he smiled slightly.
“hello, father.” you greeted him, beginning to make your way to where you slept- but stopped slowly as he spoke.
and said the words which you were dreading he would say, “sweetie,” he breathed out, almost as if he didn’t want to say it. “i need to speak with you.”
you gulped, your palms all of a sudden becoming sweaty as you nodded hesitantly- going to sit down in front of you father. he looked as if he could break down crying at any given moment, his eyes which held a million emotions as he looked at you. he had no idea that you and the sully children had been listening in on his, jake and neytirs conversation.
“i am sorry about what happened today, you were very brave my child.” his eyes were soft as he gazed at you, if you were telling the truth- it made you want to cry. “i’m sorry about spider, he was a good kid.”
you sighed at the mention of your friend who had got captured, you had been trying desperately not to think about it- you didn’t even want to imagine what spider was having to endure at this given moment. “he is,” your gaze was held on the floor in front of you, sadly. “i just wish the sky people would leave us all alone.”
at the mention of the sky people, your fathers structured position became a little less straight and more sloppy. “i know, but they are not giving up any time soon.” he took a deep breath in as you looked up- meeting your father's eyes. “that is why i have decided on something.”
you swore right then your heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds. you swore right then your heart stopped beating for a couple of seconds. "what is it, dad?"
"before i do, i need you to know that i am doing this because i love you, so, so much." he was trying to be strong in front of you, but you could tell his walls were beginning to crumble. you nodded slowly as he continued. "the sully's are going to be leaving, and you are going with them."
your stomach twisted into a tight knot, you felt like you were about to be sick- the way you were looking at your father made him feel so guilty about the choice, but he knew it was the only way to protect you. "dad..." you whispered, your eyes glazing over with gloss. "what about you?"
he looked down to the ground, then back up at you- cupping your face with his hand. "i need to stay here and help protect the people."
you shook your head, tears now falling on your cheeks. "no- no dad, you need to be with me." you felt like a young child again, crying, begging for your father to stay. "i don't want to leave, this is my home- our home."
"i know, and it will always be your home." a single tear fell from his right eye, which if you weren't paying such close attention to him you would have never seen the small droplet. "but i cannot lose you, not like your mother."
the mention of your mother was always a weak spot for you, even if you never wanted to truly admit it- her death was so long ago, you had never even met her- except for the many times you visited her soul in the spirit tree- yet, it all felt like it was only yesterday that she came to a pass. you yearned for her, your heart forever ached for your mother. "you won't dad."
he nodded slowly, rubbing his thumb to wipe some of the fresh tears that couted your face. "you remind me so much of her, her spirit lives on in you my child."
you gave him a sad smile, he always told you that- and no matter how many times you heard it, it always managed to make your heart swell with warmth.
your father leaned down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead- it reminded you of when he did it to you as a small child, it gave you a sense of nostalgia which you didn’t know you had ever experienced. “i will help you pack, you set a travel tomorrow morning as soon as possible. you should probably go see the others, they are probably having a hard time as well.”
you nodded slowly, still sad. “thank you father.” you could imagine how the others were feeling if they too had just gotten the news broken to them.
you walked out of your tent, trying to keep a strong posture- not wanting the na’vi in the clan to see that you were upset, because if they did you were sure you couldn’t be able to hold the tears.
as you walked through the village- that was now called high camp, due to needing a safe place from the sky people- you observed it more carefully, because soon you will not be walking through it everyday.
you suddenly got the urge to go into the forest, as if something- or someone, was waiting for you there. you were always one to listen to the strange feeling in your stomach, or the voices that would warn you in your mind.
slowly pushing a plant out of the way, you walked deeper into the green lush forest- eclipse starting to fall over pandora, making it glow shades of orange and pink from the setting light. you observed it more deeply as you did so, soaking in all its beauty and life. you felt homesick already, yet you had not even left yet- just the knowledge of that you were to leave your home soon made you feel a certain yearning for everything you once had. you wondered where you would leave to seek refuge in, what would it be like?- what would the people be like? would it be anything like the forest in which you grew up and learned to love? or would it be the complete opposite of what you had been surrounded by your whole life? those were the questions that were circling your mind as you felt the soft grass underneath your feet, making your way to a small pond which you usually hung out at with neteyam.
that was one thing that made it all a little better- and always did- neteyam. of course you were grateful that the others were to going to be with you but you had a deep connection with the eldest, something you could never quite explain- you were drawn to him, his every move and breath. his presence alone could heal all your wounds.
you arrived at the small pond, about to take a step into the open when you suddenly came to a stop- seeing a na’vi there. you recognised them in an instant, even if it their back was facing you. neteyam. his back was slouched and head hung low, with his hands on his legs loosely- his gaze set on the small ripples in the pond created by the small waterfall that poured into it.
you took a step forward, “nete.” you whispered, at your voice the boys ears perked- but he didn’t say anything as you continued to walk forward, sitting down next to him along the pond. both of your feet dipped in the cold water.
neteyam didn’t look at you, he turned his head away from you- he didn’t want you to see him like this, even though you had a million times before. he didn’t want you to see him cry, he never wanted anyone to- but he minded less when you did.
you sat in silence, you stared at the water as neteyam did so too- his braids falling from his shoulders covering his face from your view.
you slowly turned to him, silently begging him to look at you- and he did, hesitantly- when he did you examined his face, his cheeks stained with tears, eyes still a little watery. your face softened. “are you okay?”
he gulped, nodding. “yes.” both you and him both knew that was not the truth.
“you don’t have to lie to me, neteyam.” your tone was soft and gentle as you spoke, neteyams shoulders relaxed- sighing heavily. “did they tell you?”
he nodded, “your father told you?” you nodded sadly in response.
“it’s going to be okay.” you breathed out, looking into neteyams eyes- your own starting to glaze over with liquid.
neteyam shook his head, “no- you shouldn’t have to come with us, it’s not fair on you.” he didn’t know what he was feeling, he felt guilty in the fact you were there when the avatars were- that all because they saw you that you too had to leave everything you knew- though he was happy you were coming with him, you deserved so much more. “if lo’ak just listened for once, then you would be able to stay with the clan.” he sighed frustratedly.
you didn’t really know what to say, yes- what neteyam said was the truth, but one cannot ever see what the future holds. “it’s not lo’aks fault, i should have said something.” you put your hand on neteyams shoulder, brushing away some of the braids that fell on it gently. “no one could have known what would happen today, and i have a feeling it was going to happen one way or another.”
neteyam looked into your eyes, he was terrified of leaving his home- but he realised something in that moment, you are his home. wherever you are is where he wants to go. “i know.” he sighed, “i am just..” he trailed off, not knowing the words in which he truly meant.
“scared?” you finished it off for him.
“scared.” he repeated, nodding sadly. your hand that was on his shoulder trailed down to reach his hand that was closest to you, squeezing it gently.
“i think we are all scared, it is okay to be scared, neteyam.” you reassured him, his heart swelled up at your intervened hands with his- neteyam didn’t know how much he had needed to hear those words until you spoke them.
"are you scared?" he hesitantly asked, examining your face as he questioned you- your face dropped slightly, your gaze falling back downwards.
you nodded slowly, "yes," you thought about it, you were very scared- terrified at most. how could one not be terrified? "i am scared." you lifted your head slightly, meeting neteyam once more who was staring right at you. "but we can be scared together." you smiled slightly at him, which he returned- the corners of his mouth lifting up.
"scared together?" he put out his hand, ready for you to shake it.
you chuckled slightly, reaching out your hand and meeting his. shaking it as if the two of you had just made a deal. "scared together." you repeated his words.
the two of you would forever be scared together, because why be scared by yourself when another is full of fear? never let yourself be blind by an emotion that somehow runs you, stering your body in its every move- neteyam sully had never been fearful, for as long as he had known the only thing he truly feared was failing his father and the people around him- but as he thought of what was in the future for him, neteyam sully found himself consumed by the overwhelming emotion of fear, that was so unfamiliar yet, felt so normal in him. he was terrified for what was to come, all the what ifs? of if they would have stayed in their clan- but he was sure of one thing, the great mother had a plan for all beings, and he felt his plan shift, like a planet that suddenly went off its natural course, for was it ever its natural course?
watching jake sully be thrown from his position of oke'leytan was a scene you would have never thought you would ever see until the day neteyam became oke'leytan, but you were there. watching as tarsem slashed a knife across jake's chest, cutting a straight line that broke through his skin making blood drip from the fresh cut.
in that moment it finally set in for you, it was really happening- you were leaving home. perhaps you truly didn't want to admit it, hoping that you would wake up and it would all be a bad dream that you would awake from- but it wasn't a dream at all, it was reality.
you glanced at mo'at who stopped her chant, she sensed a pair of eyes on her and turned her head to meet your eyes- you would never know why she was so insistent on you, but you would be missing her dearly as well. she had come to be important to you in a way, even though you had only really had one deep conversation with her that was enough for her to mean so much more to you than just your tshaik.
the two of you held eye contact, it was as if mo'ats eyes were trying to convey a prayer to you- one in which you were trying to decipher with all your mite. mo'at watched you carefully- you felt a sudden warmth overtake you, a feeling of knowing but you didn't know of what you knew before you could search for an answer mo'at just nodded to you, turning away leaving you staring at her. until you pried your attention from her.
it was hard for the entire clan as well, they had gone through many oke'leytans in the years and now they all had to adjust to yet another that would lead them all- you had no doubt tarsem would do a good job at it though, he was young but a very wise warrior, you had talked to him a couple of times and trained with him a little bit.
you glanced over at the sullys next to you, tears falling from all their eyes- which you were sure you had a couple falling from yours as well- neteyam was standing straight, trying his best to keep it all in, but even he could not fight the few tears that pushed through. kiri was silent as she watched her father being dethroned, if one didn't know her they probably would have thought she did not have a care for it- but you knew kiri, she just had a different way of grieving from others, everyone did. hers was the silent type, she let it hurt within her- only sometimes letting it fall through into her emotions.
you grabbed her hand that had 1 more finger than yours, and squeezed it gently. at the feeling of a hand in hers kiri looked at you, giving you a grateful look, squeezing your hand back.
jake got up slowly, his face full of hurt as he began to walk down looking at the clan he once led and protected, now leaving. he motioned for you all to follow.
your hand still in kiris as you all walked behind jake, through a line down the middle that had no na'vi in it- the clan on either sides of you all, watching you with sadden expressions as this would be the last time any of them would see you in a while. you could hear neytiris sobs as you walked, it made you want to break down crying and refuse to go.
you didn't want to dare to glance at the na'vi who in which you would not see in a while, but you couldn't stop yourself- you head slowly turned to the right side of you, meeting the na'vis tear filled eyes as you and the sully family left. they nodded their heads in goodbye to you as you passed them, which you returned.
you took a deep breath as you took your last step, finally walking away from the crowd of na'vi- not looking back in fear your body would run right back.
you dropped kiri's hand gently, bringing the hand up to your face, wiping the tears away from your cheeks- but it didn't quite work as they were just replaced by fresh ones within seconds.
neteyam turned to look at you, seeing the tears that came from you- he silently wrapped one of his arms around your shoulder, bringing you closely to his side. which you didn’t fight against at all, instead you leaned in to his touch- feelings a sense of comfort in the heart that was filled with grief as you left the only thing you ever knew behind.
the ikrans were ready for departure, all your belongings were packed onto your ikran and the sullys. no one had really said anything except for jake, who was giving instructions- a certain atmosphere clouded over you all- even tuk, which was unusual as the girl usually always had something to say. though she was going even she knew the importance of what was going on around her- though not to a certain level.
you stuffed a knife into one of the pouches attached to your ikran, rangi. making sure it was secure enough to stay on throughout the trip. your head turned slightly to see your father standing not too far away. “dad.” you whispered, the feelings flooding back to you.
“you forgot this.” he approached you slowly, holding out a small woven arm bracelet- except, it wasn’t just any bracelt that you wore on your upper arm. it was your mothers, one you had not dared to touch.
you furrowed your eyebrows, looking from the bracelets in his hands to his face. “that’s mothers..”
your father nodded, gently bringing your arm out from your side and sliding on the beautiful dark bracelet- fitting onto your right upper arm snugly. “it is yours now, my child.”
it felt foreign on your skin, like a materiel in which you had never felt before- but you had. as if you were waiting for the bracelets crafted by your mother to burn your skin at any moment.
you didn’t know how to reply, after all, how was one to reply to a father who had just given his daughter one of the only things that remained of his mate? there was one thing you knew to say, “thank you.” you whispered, tears swelling in your eyes as you tried to soak in your fathers presence- as you knew you wouldn’t see him in a while.
your father nodded, bringing you into a hug- which you gladly returned. wrapping your arms around him, holding him to you tightly- scared to let go. you felt like a baby again, in his arms. you wished you could have stayed like that, but all too soon he pulled away.
looking into your eyes, “i see you, y/n.”
your ears perked up at the words- breath slightly hitching, for he had only spoke these words to you twice in your existence- not counting this time. first time when you did your first clean kill, the other time when you got your ikran. and now, as you were leaving.
before you could answer, jake shouted out to everyone. “okay, time to go!” you turned to jake, who began to mount his ikran- everyone following in persuit- then back to your father who had glossy eyes, and nodded.
maybe it was the density of the moment, or maybe how you felt like your lungs were failing- you didn’t really know, but you suddenly had a hard time breathing as you stared into your fathers eyes. you imagined how the day would go, when you eventually left home, off to live with your mate- but nothing could have prepared you for this, no. you were not just moving out of the hut the two of you shared, but the clan in which you grew up in- home.
“goodbye, dad.”
#neteyam x reader#neteyam x you#avatar way of water#neteyam sully#neteyam x y/n#neteyam sully x reader#avatar#neteyam#peter parker#avatar 2
496 notes
·
View notes
Text
Until the Moon Stops Chasing the Sun
Julian Devorak x MC/Reader
Summary; Julian admits that he loves you, and always will-Even when the feelings aren't reciprocated.
A/N: Hey guys! I've actually had this fic held up in my vault for a little while. You just gotta excuse the mess. This was actually one of the chapters from my really old story of Lamentation of the Apprentice before I just straight-up abandoned it. I've rewritten it from first person because that just fits my style better and makes it more flexible for you guys. This, obviously, takes place before mc's death.
Also, there is smut, so 18+ and MDNI
You turned at the sound of your name, knowing it was Ilya before seeing him. His voice was thick with a Nevivion accent that had your name feel like a brush of soft wind. Ilya, though, did not look as he sounded, he was lean and moved with little grace. He stumbled toward you as he arose from his spot at the desk, long legs likely tired from sitting too long. Even in the candlelight and days without washing, his hair seemed like a soft fire that curled in perfect licks of flame upon his head.
You reached out to touch it as you handed him some papers he had asked for, noting aloud that he needed a bath soon. He sheepishly said that it was a consequence of working too much.
“A break would suit you,” You commented over your shoulder, disappearing behind the maze of bookshelves.
“I…I return the sentiment to you, beauty,” His voice was distant, becoming louder as he drew closer. He found you with a smile, sliding behind you as you looked up at the towering shelves. You tried not to pay attention to how he smelled of sweet cider.
For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the memories, thinking of the time Ilya had confessed that he was smitten with you and gave you a kiss. At first, you were nearly nauseated by the feeling of someone else’s lips as only Asra had ever kissed you. It was a pity that when he kissed you for a second time you only thought of your white-haired magician. It had taken nearly all your concentration as he and Asra felt completely different. Asra’s lips were plump and warm, and his hands, like him, always wandered. Ilya’s kiss was a stiff wildfire that dared not spread too far for fear of being put out.
You had pulled away out of guilt, telling him that there was no room in your heart for him. Ilya understood, saying that when there was room he’d be there waiting. From that moment on, it had been the little touches and assurances on the worst days that started to clear Asra from your mind. It caused some internal torment, but, like always, Ilya was there to comfort you.
What brought you back to the moment was finding the book, and you shook off the thought as you started to reach for it. Ilya was quick to intercept it, reading the title aloud with a mischievous smile.
“The science of dreaming,” He seemed amused. “I, uh, did not think you took to the more…factual parts of the world.”
You laughed as you took the book from his hands, smoothing your hand over the cover. When the laughter died on your lips, you thought of how to respond that would not have Ilya fussing over you. “I just keep having the same dream is all.”
There was a pause before a quiet question hit the silence between the bookshelves. “What of?”
You finally looked up to meet Ilya’s eyes, answering just as softly, “You.”
It pained you to say it aloud because, as much as you dreamt of him, Asra was like the ghost haunting every aspect of your life. You had spent too long loving him to let go of the rotting love deep in your heart.
Yet, there was Ilya, so fresh and kind. All he’d ever shown you was kindness, even when faced with rejection. He harbored no ill will toward you, accepting everything you had given him so happily.
Ilya said your name and it sounded like a stone skipping on water. When he started to lean down to kiss you, you did not fight his affection this time. Perhaps, it was selfish of you to take what he was giving with Asra still there in your heart. Yet, you could not stop the fire Ilya had started lit against your skin.
His lips followed the same patterns as Asra’s once did, down your jaw, up the hollow of your neck, and just about everywhere you would let him. As he did, you let the book drop from your hands to thread your fingers into his hair to see if the locks would burn you.
Before you knew it, his hands were finding their way under your clothes, desperate touches that he had yearned for since before you had turned him away. You returned the feeling, relishing in the touch of a lover after so long, quickly undoing the buttons on his shirt to feel up his chest as the two of you backed up into the bookshelf. His skin felt hot, and you were not surprised by it as he burned with every ounce of passion that he had.
All of it you knew should have been spent on someone else. Someone better.
When he had lifted your skirts up around your hips, revealing all the parts you had shown only one other person, Ilya’s eyes admired your nakedness. He took in every part of your body like you were a breath of fresh air after he’d been drowning. His eyes flickered back up to yours and you found yourself terrified to look at him, too ashamed of yourself for taking something that should have not been yours to begin with.
“Ilya, perhaps we should—”
His fingers were ghosting over your sex, barely touching before pulling away at your words. The smile he gave you was full of heartbreak, and he whispered, “I know you do not love me.”
Somehow, you found yourself unraveling under his gaze just as you did Asra’s once. “I do. As a friend.” You assured him and yourself.
Ilya nodded his head and squeezed his eyes shut to keep tears from falling out. “I know. I know.” He looked away and sniffled. “But, may I say this?”
No, you wanted to say, do not say it, Ilya. You were holding onto your constraint by a string. At that moment a thousand thoughts rushed through you. Usually, when you were overwhelmed by this, it was Asra who you thought of. It scared you when the only name that came to mind was Ilya’s.
“Yes, you may,” you whispered.
Ilya smiled and stared down at the book before giving it back to you. He looked at you like he was expecting something, perhaps for you to stop him. “You, uh, you are one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. I…I still find myself thinking of you daily, in so many ways—That is, um…Perhaps I should—I love you is what I am trying to say, damn it all!”
I love you. It was the first time anyone had ever told you that before. Asra never did in the six years you had known him, nor in the three you had been together intimately. You hated yourself for not saying it back, for just not feeling the love for him as much. I love you. I love you, Ilya. You begged your heart to say it, but it was unrelenting to let go of Asra.
Ilya studied your face for a moment as a doctor would then let out an airy chuckle. “I wanted to tell you this because, in case anything happens to me, I needed you to know.”
In case anything happens to me. The plague had gotten worse, and you knew Ilya was more aware of how severe it truly was yet that did not stop his determination to help. Truly a doctor through and through.
“Ilya,” The string had turned into a thread and you were leaning up to kiss Ilya again. He kissed you more passionately this time. His tongue found its way into your mouth, and you enjoyed it.
Finally, the thread snapped.
Hiking up your skirts again, Ilya delved into feeling every part that would only be known to the two of you. You gasped into the kiss as his long, slender fingers prodded through your folds before finding your clit. As he worked circles on you, you worked on his trousers, pulling at them until his cock sprung free. Ilya moaned against your mouth, thrusting forward when your hand touched the already leaking tip.
When your eyes met Ilya’s, you nodded your head lightly before taking your hand away from him as he did the same. He gave himself a few pumps before aligning himself up to your entrance. After ensuring that you were okay, he thrust forward, making you gasp.
Within a moment he was inside of you, making you feel whole for the first time in so long as well as different, too. Never before had you had sex with anyone other than Asra, so it was foreign to you to get used to someone else’s touch. Ilya was just as gentle, though, as his thrusts were not hastened, but slow. It made you feel longed for as he felt up your thighs and placed wet kisses over your face.
He said your name again and again like a mantra. A prayer. A title of a book that he wished to never forget.
You did not say his name back. You were terrified that if did Asra’s name would fall from your lips in habit and break Ilya’s heart further. Or worse, and somehow summon the magician to see you in such a state. Not that you would much care. All you could think of was how good Ilya had made you feel. It was like a spell that had you melting in his arms.
“I love you—gods, I love you,” Ilya whispered desperately as he pushed into you deeper. When you started to cry out, he captured your lips in a kiss, only pulling away to whisper some assurances.
With one hand on his shoulder, steadying yourself, you used the other to slip between your bodies and over your clit. You whined, turning away from him so he would not see the way you had started to unfold.
Ilya shook his head as he mumbled so pathetically, “Please, let me see you.”
You couldn’t, not with the image of Asra suddenly dancing in the back of your mind. By the gods, Ilya was far too good for you and you found yourself loving him for it. Burying your head into his shoulder when your orgasm tore through you, you grabbed at his arms, desperately trying to hold onto that fleeting love you had felt for him.
Ilya whined against your lips, mumbling too late about how he was going to cum before spilling inside of you. You soothed him as he said something in his native language into your ear.
“Ilya,” You whispered when he had recovered, and he looked at you.
He already knew.
He knew that it would be the last time. Still, Ilya took you into an embrace. His hands anchored you to him, and, in turn, you laid your head on his chest. Just a moment longer, it said. Pretend to be in love with me just a moment longer. And, you did. You played the part of a reciprocating lover, as much as it broke you to do so. Nothing in the world mattered. Not Lucio, Asra, Muriel—No one, but him. Your Ilya.
When the embrace broke and you fixed yourselves, it was back to being nothing more than friends. Ilya swooped down to pick up your dropped book, handing it off to you.
“I…I should be getting back to work,” He said sorrowfully, eyes not meeting yours. “I, erm, I will see you again? As friends, of course.”
You smiled at him. “Yes. Always, Ilya.” Before he could step away, and out of curiosity, you called out to him again. “Wait, what did you say?”
“I do not follow your meaning.”
“A few minutes ago.”
His eyes widened in understanding and he was quiet for a few moments before finally saying, “It, uh, is something we say back home in Nevivion. It means nothing of importance.”
You pushed the subject no further, but, still, were curious enough to jot it down in a folder of notes. It was a topic to dwell on for a rainy day so you thought nothing of it. Ilya left without another word, and you went back to my room the same way with your book in hand.
After that night, the two of you started to drift apart. The plague had gotten worse, and you eventually found yourself sick as Ilya drowned himself in work. It pained you to see him neglect himself, and angry that Lucio relished in it. Pushing and pushing Ilya until there was no more than the shell of a beautiful human being.
Before the beginning of the end, you wondered what would have happened if you had fallen in love with him. You pictured yourself running away from Vesuvia, going to his homeland Nevivion. Perhaps the two of you would visit the salt baths that he always said had healing powers. Your heart swelled at the thought of him talking of home as he always got a hopeful, starry-eyed look that had your heart fluttering.
With your death, you hoped that Ilya would stop falling for you, and for a time, he did. Asra, the same person who had such a hold on the love of his life, took your place. Ilya tried to find your touches in him, to recreate what he had felt that one night in the library with you, but it all had turned cold.
Asra had found your notes and asked him what some piece of Nevivion gibberish you had written meant. Reluctantly, he answered.
I will love you until the moon stops chasing the sun.
#ilya devorak#julian devorak#julian the arcana#the arcana asra#asra x apprentice#asra x reader#asra x mc#asra x julian#julian x apprentice#julian x mc#julian devorak x reader#nadia the arcana#nadia satrinava#muriel the arcana#muriel#portia the arcana#portia devorak#the arcana mc#the arcana#the arcana game#asra alzanar#romance#the arcana lucio#lucio the arcana
159 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mkay, so I just woke up & I feel like spitting some facts today while I’m still in my BATDR hyperfix, especially since I’m pretty sure not a lot of people have this idea as well & I wanna get it out there somehow.
So…
The Ink Demon is like… written SO fucking well in this game, or at least as I interpret it.
& I figured this shit out like GRADUALLY.
The first tid bit that hit me like a fucking truck was how CANONICALLY the Ink Demon is in DESPERATE need of any kind of love and affection. While it’s hinted at a little bit in the games, the smoking gun comes from the VOICE ACTOR FOR INKY HIMSELF Sean Crisden.
Yes, I looked through his entire Twitter to find this again just to prove I’m not insane.
Like… even if Sean isn’t caught up entirely on the lore, there’s no reason he would say this only knowing the Ink Demon through his lines. After all, my guy has to be told about the character to voice him, so for him to address this pretty much makes it as close to being confirmed officially as we can.
The second thing that hit me like a truck was the YouTuber Pastra’s review video on the game, where he details how the Ink Demon’s mocking in the last chapter is towards HIMSELF, not Audrey, & he’s just projecting all HIS shit onto her.
Not even I caught this, since I always thought Inky was right about the “your life is a lie” thing due to her not being fully human.
But then Pastra emphasized the “mistake” bit. Audrey wasn’t a mistake, far from it. The Ink Demon, BENDY, was. HE was a mistake, born solely to be a living mascot to entertain, & when he came out WRONG, he was locked away, neglected, abandoned by the man who created him.
So he looks at Audrey, someone who was made by the same man who made him, someone who was treated so much better because of how she came out “perfect”, & tries to bring her down on the same level as he is by berating her.
& while this is stretching a bit, him comforting her at the end feels a bit like he’s trying to comfort himself, tricking himself to believe there is SOMEONE like him, someone who was ABANDONED & lied to, & thus giving Audrey the opportunity to live so he can indulge in that comfort.
It’s a BIG stretch, but god DAMN is it a gut puncher!
Like I’m sure he also did it to manipulate her & shit, but like… he can have MORE than one reason to do shit, & if he really did try to comfort himself like that, if that really is true… then I’m gonna fucking sob, man.
BUT THAT IS NOT FUCKING ALL!!
Cause I got ONE MORE mind blower I had, mainly (but not entirely) on my own after that one!!
& it has to do with Baby Bendy.
A LOT of people think Inky got his mind split in two when he was imprisoned as Baby Bendy due to how different he acts around Audrey.
But I beg to differ.
I think the Ink Demon is ABSOLUTELY still conscious & in control as Baby Bendy. He just couldn’t do shit to anyone before Audrey came about & accidentally freed him (cause I am ALSO subscribed to that theory Pastra addressed in his video), so he just minded his own business.
Perhaps his new emotional responses spoken of in the Keepers’ tapes come from him being more powerless & vulnerable where the only thing he COULD do was cry.
& the reason he acts so friendly towards Audrey once she meets up with him near the city? Because she was kind to him, she actually gave a shit about him. She apologized to him about hurting him & wanted to take care of him.
NEVER in Inky’s life has he EVER had someone genuinely care about him & his well being, something he always wanted from ANYONE but never got. So when he finally has that opportunity with Audrey, he jumps to it, going along with it, even if he desperately didn’t want to visit the Gent labs again.
More evidence of this is detailed in a post by @jupiter-jellies titled “Ink Demon VS Vesty” which I really like (I apologize for the tag, I don’t know if there’s an easier option to showcase the post itself, but I still wanna credit you nonetheless) as it makes sense of the sequences of events that happen from when Baby Bendy first joins your party to when he disappears & the Ink Demon comes to stop you from entering the Keepers’ area. Seriously, that shit blew my mind when I read it cause it explains WHY Baby Bendy went missing & why the Ink Demon would try to stop Audrey from going THERE in particular.
It just makes sense that the Ink Demon was still HIMSELF in both forms, he just acts differently to compensate for his lack of powers & to be given the love & affection he always wanted.
… But then it gets sad.
Cause the more I thought about it, the more fucked up it became. The ONLY time the Ink Demon EVER got someone to reach out to him & make him feel cared for… is when he’s in a “perfect” form. Only when he was cute & innocent & TRAPPED against his WILL could he be EVER loved, that if only he came out RIGHT in the first place, then he would DESERVE all the love that Audrey offers him.
If Joey & the others neglecting & abusing him when he came out wrong when he was JUST created didn’t solidify this idea in his head, Audrey treating him like a friend in his “perfect” form & an enemy in his true form DEFINITELY sealed the deal to him.
& it only gets worse.
I was re-listening to Joey talking to Audrey at the tail-end of the game to try & snap her out of the dark mindset Inky put her in when I realized something.
The Ink Demon was RIGHT THERE, listening to his abuser talk directly to AUDREY the ENTIRE TIME, telling her how she was loved & how she’s not this monster, that she was his pride & joy, his ONLY success…
& that PISSES Inky off.
In INKY’s point of view, only after Joey had a creation that WASN’T an abomination did he suddenly have a change of heart, that all it took was to get something he always wanted to be a better person as he completely ignores his biggest mistake that was RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM.
That… has GOT to sting, really bad, to feel abandoned AGAIN in favor of the “better sibling” that Audrey was.
I have a feeling that he didn’t crush Joey SOLELY so he couldn’t get through to Audrey. I think he also did it because he couldn’t take LISTENING to him talk like this anymore, to be reminded that he was a failure that didn’t deserve the love that Audrey got, & lashed out to shut Joey up.
This is ALL very headcanon-y, but… it really does paint the Ink Demon in a more complex & tragic light.
The Ink Demon was NEVER just a mindless monster that killed whatever it wanted on sight. He was capable of emotion, & he could’ve potentially been capable of being something so much more if only he got the proper care & reassurance he DESPERATELY needed.
& GOD I love his character for it, he’s my favorite character in the game BY FAR because of this, GOD I hope this is canon so I can give massive props to the writers for this game!!
#bendy and the dark revival#batdr#batdr spoilers#bendy and the dark revival spoilers#ink demon#ink bendy#bendy#baby bendy#audrey#batdr audrey#audrey drew#joey drew#sean crisden#ink demon character studies#day’s morning ramblings#thank you for reading my essay XDDD#I apologize for the shitty quality for the cutscenes#i just wanted to throw some images in here to spice up the rambling & compliment it a bit#hope ya don’t mind
619 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey there! I hope you’re well! 🥰
So the prompt list you just reblogged, coupled with your response to my comment on your fic created a perfect storm for me to send a request in (if you’re still taking them, that is)
Would you be willing to write some more protective Tommy Shelby using this prompt: “I’m not jealous. I just know the intentions that someone like that has for you, even if you claim not to see them yourself.” ?? … you’re an absolute master at it and I’m excited to see what you’ll write!
Thanks in advance if you choose to! 🧡
Yep, requests are still open and thank you for sending this in! :D
I couldn't help but add in angst and pining because I'm evil.
I hope you like the fic :)
Title: Wanting
Prompt list: list
Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshititsfenharel, lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife, @cillmequick, @polishcrazyone, @nataliewalker93
Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine, @neonpurplestars89-blog
Everything tag list: greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee
You adjusted your hair one last time before turning around. You smiled at Tommy and gestured to yourself.
“Well?” you asked, “How do I look?”
Tommy didn’t answer. He looked away and lit another cigarette. You sighed and walked over to him, sitting down next to him.
“Too much?” you said
“No.”
“Then what is it?”
“How well do you know…” Tommy tried to remember the name of the man, you did tell him after all, “him?”
“James,” you said with a soft smile, “We’ve met a couple of times.”
“A couple of times,” Tommy smiled bitterly, “and you sure you really know someone after only meeting a ‘couple of times’.”
“That’s why I’m going out with him to dinner,” you said, rolling your eyes, “to get to know him. What’s the matter Tommy?” You smiled playful and nudged him, “You jealous?”
“I’m not jealous,” Tommy said firmly, “I just know the intentions that someone like that has for you, even if you claim not to see them yourself.”
You stood up quickly and wrapped your arms around yourself. A thick silence fell over the two of you. Silences were never awkward between you and Tommy. He was one of the few people who you felt comfortable being completely silent with. Ever since you started working with Polly, you and Tommy had become close. Well, as close as anyone can truly get with Tommy.
“I’m not stupid.” You said eventually
“I know.”
“Then why are you acting like I am?”
You heard Tommy stand up. Your breath hitched as he put his hands on your shoulders. He squeezed them briefly before saying quietly,
“Too many people I… care about have gotten hurt, love. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”
You turned around, gaze softened, and put your hand over Tommy’s. Tommy resisted the urge to link your fingers together.
“It’s ok,” you said, “I’m an adult. I can handle myself, can’t I?”
“I know.”
“Besides,” you removed your hand and pulled yourself out of Tommy’s grip, “Polly knows his mother. She assures me that he has nothing but the best of intentions.”
You grabbed your coat and headed towards the door. You turned back for a second and for a brief moment Tommy thought that you had changed your mind. That you were going to abandoned your meeting and agree to spend the evening with him.
“You know where my spare keys are right?” you said, “You don’t mind locking up when you leave? Although you know you’re more than welcome to stay.”
“Not wise to leave your spare keys under a flower pot.” Said Tommy
“And who’s going to fuck with someone who works for Shelby Company Limited?”
You gave him one last bright smile before shutting the door. Tommy closed his eyes and sat back down as the sound of your shoes clicking on the ground was lost to the night. He took another deep drag of his cigarette. He wished that he hadn’t let you go. He wished that he had pulled your back into his arms and never let you go. To tell you how much he loves you, those words that seemed so small and yet would change everything.
And Polly had done everything in her power to prevent that. With her actually knowing the family, and giving you her assurance, you would never be Tommy’s.
#fanfiction#peaky blinders#reader insert#request#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
you'll be alright (no one can hurt you now) chapter one
✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Lucy Chen & Tamara Colins, Tim Bradford & Lucy Chen, background Tim Bradford x Lucy Chen
✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Lucy finds Tamara, not as a 17 year old, but as a newborn. She immediately takes her in, and vows to give her the childhood and support that she deserves.
✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: canon divergence, autistic!Tamara, Tim Bradford would do anything for Lucy Chen, mentions of drug overdose, and drug addiction, death (not a main character though dw), Lucy is a hardcore swiftie,
don’t forget to read and reblog, and i do not give permission for my works to be posted anywhere other than tumblr. thank you.
Title is from Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift
Lucy stood on the side walk, hands on her duty belt, and eyes on her current training officer, Scott Wrigley as he asked the woman they had just pulled over to see her licence, registration and proof of insurance. The woman willingly, gave him the documents, and Lucy found her attention wandering away from the woman in the car, and surveying the area they were in.
Lucy, truthfully, was bored. While Tim was hard on her, he was a good, solid cop, that did the job because he wanted to make a difference in the world. Wrigley, while also a good, solid cop, was only there for a pay check. He was there to write tickets for 12 hours a day, get paid, and go home to his children without a scrape on him. And while Lucy respected that, it just wasn’t for her. She wanted to make a difference, and sitting here, taking only the tame calls, was not doing that. She knew she just had to stick it out for a little longer, and Tim would be back, but she was starting to think she was going crazy.
So crazy that she was now having auditory hallucinations. Auditory hallucinations of a baby crying.
They were in the middle of nowhere, which was rare in Los Angeles. All that was here was empty, and long abandoned warehouses. There was no reason for a baby’s cry to be heard around here. Lucy shook her head, trying to get the noise to stop, and focus back on her temporary TO.
“You hear that, Chen?” Wrigley asked, stopping as he was walking back to the car.
“Hear what, sir?” She responded, expecting him to say something dumb like ‘the silence of a calm day,’ or something like that, just to unintentionally rub it in her face that she was bored out of her fucking mind with him.
“The baby crying,” he said, and Lucy stopped. He could hear it too? She thought to herself. If he could hear it too, that meant one of two things. 1) they were both going insane, or 2) the baby’s cry that she was hearing was from an actual baby. And she knew which one was more likely than the other.
“Yes sir, I do.” She said, looking around. “Do you want me to go find where the baby’s cry is coming from?”
Wrigley furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would we do that?” He questioned.
“Isn’t…that why you mentioned it?” She asked, thoroughly confused. “Look where we are. All that is here is empty and abandoned warehouses, why would we be hearing a baby cry here? We should be making sure that everything is okay before we leave.”
Wrigely smirked at her. “Good job, Chen.” He said, and Lucy dug her nails into her palm to stop her from rolling her eyes. He was testing her. “Go check it out while I fill out this paperwork.” She nodded, and headed off in the direction that she heard the cry.
The cry was growing louder as she turned the corner, ending up in an alleyway between two abandoned warehouses, covered in graffiti. She continued to follow the cry as she approached a dumpster. Her stomach was in knots. Surely if it was a parent and their baby, she would have heard the parents voice, right? Surely no one would have left their defenceless and helpless infant to fend for themselves, right?
Wrong.
Lucy walked to the other side of the dumpster, and she gasped, her heart pounding. On the ground, beside the dumpster, was a baby, who couldn’t be older than a few hours old, judging by the umbilical cord still attached, and how the baby, who upon closer inspection was a girl, was haphazardly wiped off and placed in a broken wicker basket.
Next to her, was very obviously her mother. There was a pool of blood covering her upper thighs and the ground underneath her, and used needles spread around the scene, including one still stuck in her upper arm. Lucy grabbed her radio, and pressed down.
“Control, this is 7-Adam-19 requesting an RA and a supervisor at Cromer Lane, in the first alleyway on the left, I have a 10-50, code 3.” Lucy placed her radio back, and crouched down next to the baby, doing her best to comfort the little girl without picking her up, despite how much Lucy wanted to.
“It’s okay, sweet girl,” She whispered, reaching into her duty belt for a pair of gloves. She slid them on her hands, and reached over to the baby’s mother in order to try and see if she could feel a pulse. Her heart broke for the sobbing baby girl when she couldn’t feel one.
She heard sirens in the background, as well as boots hitting the ground, clearly Wrigley running to see what was happening after hearing her call on the radio.
“Oh my god.” He whispered from behind her.
“I need something to wrap the baby in,” She said to Wrigley, and he started to retreat, mumbling something about grabbing an emergency blanket from the shop.
He returned less than a minute later, and Lucy grabbed the package from him, ripping it open. She shook the blanket to get it to unfold, before she wrapped the small infant up, holding her close to her chest, hoping some of her body heat would transfer through the blanket.
The sirens got closer, and Lucy began to see the flashing lights reflected on the brick wall across from her. Wrigley was talking to her, but she wasn’t hearing or processing anything coming out of his mouth. All that she could focus on was the tiny little baby in her arms, who was calmed down, and was just staring up at her, her small brown eyes looking up into Lucy’s.
“It’s gonna be okay,” She whispered. “You’re gonna be okay.” She heard the doors of the ambulance open behind her and paramedics rush to her side. A female paramedic crouched down next to her, and began to ask her questions about the baby and her mother.
“She seems to be okay, physically at least.” Lucy rambled, her eyes not leaving the tiny baby. “She can’t be more than a few hours old.”
The paramedic nodded. “Judging by the shaking, I’m assuming her mother was using her entire pregnancy.” Lucy nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She watched carefully as the paramedics cut the umbilical cord, and then continued working on trying to resuscitate her mother, with no success.
They gave her 2 doses of Narcan, did CPR, and tried the AED, but nothing worked. She was gone, and had probably been gone since before Lucy and Wrigley arrived on scene.
“We have to take her to the hospital,” The paramedic beside Lucy stated, standing up. Lucy did the same, as Grey and Wrigely walked up to her.
“I’m coming with,” she stated.
“Boot-“ Wrigley replied, clearly frustrated with how hard headed she was being.
“I’m going.” She stated, firmer. She then turned to Grey, and looked at him for approval. He nodded at her, a smile on his face.
“Go with her, Chen.” He said. “Let us know if theres any updates.”
Lucy smiled. “Yes, sir.” She said, before following the paramedic, and climbing in the back of the ambulance. They were pulling away a few moments later, and were headed to St Stephens.
Lucy was able to stay with the baby until they reached the NICU. She was then told that they needed to do an assessment on the infant, but that someone would come and grab Lucy when she was able to go see her. She sat down in the uncomfortable hospital waiting room chair, and glanced around at the other families in the NICU. She didn’t know any of their stories, but they all had one thing in common; they were here because they wanted their baby to be okay.
And while that tiny little baby wasn’t Lucy’s, Lucy was the one who found her, who called for help, who held her and comforted her when she needed it the most. She had no one at the moment, so there was nowhere else Lucy would rather be than here, supporting this little girl.
“Officer Chen?” A voice said to the right of her. She looked up, and stood up when she saw the doctor.
“Yes?” She said, coming face to face with the nurse in charge of the infant. “Is she going to be okay?”
The nurse smiled. “She is very lucky, officer.” Lucy let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding at that. “She is very healthy. She does have traces of meth in her blood, but it is a very minuscule amount. It should leave her system within the next 8 to 24 hours.”
Lucy nodded. “Okay. Thats good. I was thinking the worst.”
The nurse nodded. “She is a very lucky little girl. I have contacted DCFS, and they are going to send someone as soon as they can, it appears that they are very backed up at the moment. Is there anything you need from me?”
“Uh,” Lucy stuttered, racking her brain for the protocols to follow in this situation. “No, not right now. I will have to wait for my supervisor or training officer to proceed, but in the meantime, am I able to go sit with her?”
The nurse nodded, and began to turn. “Of course, follow me and I’ll take you to her.” Lucy began to follow the nurse down the hallway. “Actually,” the nurse said. “Would you be up to kangaroo cuddling with her? Being so young, she definitely hasn’t had skin to skin with anyone, and skin to skin is very beneficial to an infant as young as her.”
Lucy found herself nodding immediately. “Of course, whatever she needs.” Lucy trailed after the nurse into the dark and quiet NICU room, glancing at the two other bassinets in the room, each with what she presumed to be family around them, either gazing into the bassinet, or holding their baby. Lucy’s eyes met the bassinet holding the baby she had found, and her heart broke seeing the infants tiny body with wires and tubes coming out of her body, even though she had much less equipment than the other two infants in the room.
“She’s so small,” Lucy whispered, looking into the bassinet.
“She’s actually the biggest baby on the ward at the moment.” The nurse said, pointing to the chair for Lucy to sit in.
“So she was full term then?” Lucy said as she laid her duty belt on the table next to her, and unbuttoning her uniform shirt.
The nurse nodded. “Yes, she was. And perfectly healthy, other than the meth in her system, which is surprising. It seems that her mother did try to abstain from drug use while pregnant, but she most likely slipped up towards the end.”
“Wow.” Lucy said, taking off her white undershirt and laying it on top of her uniform shirt. “That’s not something I see too often.”
“Me either,” The nurse agreed, as she lifted up the infant and tucked her legs up, bringing her over to Lucy. Lucy opened her arms, and let the nurse rest the baby on her chest. Lucy immediately wrapped her arms around the baby, cuddling her as close as she could without hurting her. The nurse then laid a light pink blanket over the two of them with a smile.
“If you need anything, just press the nurses button, and someone will come and check on you. And I will come and get you as soon as DCFS or your superiors show up.”
Lucy nodded, her eyes not leaving the baby. “Thank you.” The nurse nodded, and headed out of the room. Lucy slowly began rocking back and forth in the chair, looking intently at the baby, who was wiggling around, head bobbing up and down on Lucy’s chest as she tried to get comfortable.
Once the baby found a comfortable position, she opened her tiny mouth in a big yawn, and shut her eyes, falling asleep within seconds on Lucy’s warm skin. Lucy chuckled quietly, and began rubbing her hand up and down on her back, letting her get some well deserved sleep.
After a few minutes of silence, there was a crash in the hallway from a cart crashing into a wall, and the baby jolted awake, before bursting into tears. Lucy immediately sat up, and hushed the baby in her arms.
“You’re okay, sweet girl,” she whispered. “I know, that was loud, huh?” The baby hiccuped, and her tears slowly began to stop. Her eyes were open, and Lucy smiled. “It’s okay.” She continued speaking to the infant. “You’re safe with me.” She leant down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
The baby yawned again, and Lucy smiled at her, cupping the back of her head, rubbing her thumb back and forth against her soft skin.
“I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I’ll never let you go,” Lucy began to sing, her eyes not leaving the baby. “When all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said don’t leave me here alone.
“But all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight,” The baby didn’t move, just continued to stare up at Lucy as she sang. “Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now.”
A lump formed in Lucy’s throat as she gazed down at the infant in her arms. She couldn’t understand how lucky she was that Lucy was near the warehouse when she was. Despite being in Los Angeles, it was still December, and the temperature plummeted at night time, and had she been out there a few more hours, she would have died.
And now, this tiny, defenceless orphan, who’s life only started today, had no one. Had no mother, more than likely no father, and she was about to go into the foster care system if DCFS couldn’t find a next of kin within a few days. And what made it worse, was how Lucy was already dreading putting her down. She didn’t want to put this baby down. She wanted to keep holding this little girl. She wanted to take her home, love her, protect her, and raise her.
She took a deep breath as the baby’s eyes fluttered shut, and fell back into a peaceful sleep. She thought about offering to take her in, at least until DCFS found next of kin for her, if they were able to at all. She could, she was an emergency foster parent, and had been since she turned 20. She had an apartment in a safe part of the city, and made more than enough money to support the two of them.
“You’re gonna be okay,” she said to the baby. “You’re gonna come home with me, and I’m going to keep you safe. I promise.”
#natashasera#chenford#tim bradford#lucy chen#tim bradford x lucy chen#chenford fanfic#the rookie fanfiction#tamara colins fanfiction#melissa oneil#eric winter#dylan conrique
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
golden kamuy is so weird because its one of my favorite manga but whenever i try to talk to people about it all that comes out is 'unhinged pathetic men', 'the art is a little wonky' and 'the anime has low budget bad cgi' but i wanted to take an opportunity to collect my thoughts and put them into words so this will be a very self-indulgent rant.
*warning: spoilers ahead*
i feel like, outside of japan, no one really talks about gk. i currently go to school in japan, and ever since moving here i was really surprised at how popular gk is. obviously there's the live-action movie coming out in less than two weeks but there are gk pop up stores, collab events, and i've even found gk merch in bic camera (generic electronic store that just has a bunch of miscellaneous stuff) but i think the reason for that is that its hark to really understand gk without some historical and cultural background. its about war and brutality and minority culture erasure and materialism and ptsd and abandonment trauma and manipulation and coming to terms with your own identity. it's historical, but its relevant. sure, it's filled with dick jokes and toilet humor and noda-sensei taking any excuse to draw naked men, but man, it gets dark, it gets deep, and it hits hard when it wants to. but that's not to say that the humor takes away from it. it's not a lighthearted manga/anime, but i think the humor ties into it perfectly and im still not quite sure how noda-sensei does it.
and the symbolism!!! gk sure does love symbolism and i am here for it all the way. understanding where the title comes from gave me chills. theres sugimoto and the dried persimmons as a representation of himself and his life before he went to war, and there is also so much symbolism surrounding ogata (especially with the eyes; as someone whose sense of identity and self-worth hinges pretty much entirely on his ability to shoot a gun, having him kill himself by shooting out his remaining eye was *a choice*)
i also think that asirpa is one of the best female characters in anime. she's not a naive little girl, as much as some of the other characters might treat her like one. she's someone who was forced to grow up too fast, who sees her purpose and knows she can't run from it. she carries the biggest burden out of everyone. and i love her friendship with sugimoto they are the most codependent besties and i love them to death.
not to mention the amount of research that clearly went into everything goddamn.
anyway it makes me sad that outside of japan, it's not that well known, when i think its a very well thought out and impactful story
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Let's talk about the title...
Having created this Tumblr for no other purpose than send HIUH (Hand in Unlovable Hand) asks to @thickenmyblood, I figured why not dedicate winter break to fic analysis posts?
So let's start with the title!
How could you possibly be here if you're worried about spoilers, but...
Hand in Unlovable Hand.
At first I was oriented toward the Mountain Goats song (“No Children”), you know how it goes :
I am drowning
there is no sign of land
you are coming down with me
hand in unlovable hand
And throughout the fic's posting, lots of readers have been alternately finding Damen and then Laurent very hard to like (which was an awesome reading experience in and of itself because fanfic doesn’t always tend toward deeply complex characters). So the sort-of-toxic relationship view felt plausible (except I was always going for “appears-toxic-but-is-actually-true-love-and-totally-fixable” because this is make-believe anyway and it’s based on CP, so).
But now I’m thinking, what if the “unlovable” is actually about people who think they are unlovable? And what if that’s not just both Damen and Laurent, but also Nicaise?
So, like, what if what this little family actually has in common – even if Damen appears to have a very different history and Laurent has said they are too different – is their individual fears that no one will ever really love them?
Like Nicaise obviously doesn’t think Damen can actually love the real him and tries to be on his best behavior (even while pushing Damen’s boundaries). And Nicaise seems like he’s doing his level best to drive Laurent away, so that when Laurent eventually abandons him – as he fears - he can pretend that’s what he wanted anyway.
And Damen has panic attacks about Maxime not because he gives a shit about Maxime but because he’s let Maxime represent the idea that Laurent never really loved Damen, but was just using Damen and moved on quickly and painlessly. And Damen had no mother and had a distant father and a resentful half-brother and he’s only just beginning to believe that chosen family can be real family.
And Laurent completely doesn’t get that Damen has this insecurity because he sees Damen’s life as so normal and charmed.
And, finally, even though our unreliable narrator thinks Laurent has always been in control of everything, including their relationship and entrance into the family formed by Laurent and Nicaise, Laurent’s insecurities (on nearly full display in Chapter 19) have been sprinkled throughout this fic like breadcrumbs.
In the original breakup:
“We’re different. We want different things.”
Damen said nothing. The coffee was ashy in his mouth. Dry.
“I’ve got Nicaise,” Laurent said, “and I can’t—this is not working. It was never going to work.”
In the overheard conversation with Ancel:
Ancel’s back is all Damen can see. His hair shakes from roots to ends when he tilts his head in Laurent’s direction. “I thought,” he says, slowly, “that you wanted different.”
“I did.”
“Ugh, Laurent, you’re giving me a headache. What even is the pro—”
“I’m not,” Laurent says, louder than before. The shock of sound works like a slap, and Damen wants to move back into the hallway, to scurry to the other bathroom, to leave them alone, but his legs simply won’t take him there. “ I’m not. I’m still—you heard what Nicaise—”
In Laurent's interpretation of the breakup:
“You wanted out,” Laurent says, “so I gave you out.”
But Damen finds Laurent so loveable – and he didn’t ever really talk to Laurent about the effects his abuse – that he can’t understand how unloveable Laurent feels.
So I feel like they three are all so much alike (and so lost in insecurity) that now they’re all talking past each other.
But I also feel like when they come back together in the right way, the family will be so good for each other, damn it!
#captive prince#captive prince fanfic#hiuh#damen x laurent#thickenmyblood#hand in unlovable hand#neither my wife nor child reads this fic and i suck at fandom these days but i NEED to talk about this masterwork#the sad thing is I'm a professor not a student
63 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
