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notquitecanon · 5 months

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Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until-

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond? an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket.

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already."

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold."

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us."

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack.

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could.

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!"

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you. Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you.

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed. Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared.

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing."

"No promises."

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt.

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more."

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern.

____

Ambushed in the night.

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept.

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow.

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest.

And Astarion? Their target?

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger. With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion.

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart.

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over. Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying.

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion. With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body.

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt.

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief.

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name.

"SHADOWHEART!"

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared. All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night.

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled.

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort. You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you.

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart. Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first.

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake.

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them."

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out."

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed.

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you.

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste."

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier."

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something.

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered?

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-"

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed.

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood.

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape.

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying.

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you."

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse?

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him.

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy.

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck.

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with.

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile?

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being?

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it.

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl."

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?"

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you.

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation.

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

#me when I can use both literal and metaphorical vampirism as an allegory of being consumed by love.#astarion x reader #astarion x you #Astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion fanfic #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 fanfic #Astarion self insert

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4sturns · 4 months

Text

H(ATE) YOU

enemy!chris s. x fem!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: you and chris do not get along. the both of you do the most to irk the other. but what happens when he has you under him, naked and moaning his name?

warnings: smut, pwp, oral (reader receiving), enemies to ???, hair pulling, empty threats (reader's a little violent), marking, chris is a masochist, dacryphila

a/n: y'all want a part two with messy, nasty, disgusting hate sex or nah ... also i had to rewrite literally half of this fic because tumblr crashed on me 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

if you were smart you wouldn't be here right now. you'd still be downstairs and enjoying the party just like everyone else. except you're not downstairs, instead you're upstairs in chris' bedroom, completely nude from the waist up and severely worked up.

you're unsure how you even got yourself into this situation. one second you were downstairs by the punch bowl, and the next you were dragged up the stairs and into his bedroom. maybe you shouldn't have provoked him.

chris hovers over you, his shirt discarded on the floor with yours. his breath is hot against your skin, his tongue licking at the sweet spot right under your ear. quiet moans leave your mouth at his motions causing him to smirk against you.

"keep smirking and i'll cut your dick off, sturniolo." you hiss at the boy. all he does in return is suck on your sweet spot, his teeth nibbling at the skin before pulling back to admire his work. a slightly red mark is left behind, though chris is sure it'll be blooming purple and yellow by the time he's done with you.

"maybe you should give my dick a try before saying such things, baby." chris sneers as he lowers his hands from your waist down to your clothed hips. his fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans before he starts to slowly tug them down, his eyes fixated on yours.

"move faster or i'll do it myself." you throw your head back onto the pillow, breaking eye contact. you're tired of his teasing. you debate whether or not this is worth the fact you're missing out on the party downstairs, but your curiosity gets the better of you, making you stay put in chris' bedroom, your fate left completely in his hands.

"calm down, mamas. i'll give you what you want once you learn to tame that tongue of yours," chris finally gets your jeans off and haphazardly tosses them to the floor. "or you can use that tongue elsewhere." chris smirks.

"shut the fuck up." you snap back quickly.

you're left in your black lace panties which match your bra. your head comes back up to look chris in the eyes right as his teeth take a hold of the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off of you at an agonizingly slow pace.

"holy shit, chris." you moan at the sight, noticing how much darker chris' eyes have gotten compared to the start of the night.

you can feel his breath against your skin, causing goosebumps to form in its trail. despite the obvious effect chris has on you, you refuse to let your guard down. you refuse to stroke chris sturniolo's ego. but you wouldn't really mind stroking his dick.

chris rids of your underwear, leaning back to place his feet back on the ground before reaching to undo his belt. he watches you as you watch his every move, as if you were daring him to keep going. and he's not one to back down from a dare.

"get your dick out before i cut it off, asshole." you spit through gritted teeth. although you know you don't mean it and chris does too. regardless, he quickens his movements, letting his pants fall to his ankles, revealing his boxers. they feel and look tight against him as his hard cock takes up any extra space. you'd never admit it to his face, but he seems quite big based off the imprint in his boxers.

he confirms this when he releases his throbbing member from the confines of his underwear, hissing when the hot tip touches the cold air. he's leaking from his tip already, presumably from the never broken eye contact he still holds with you.

when chris leans back down to get level with you on the bed, you can feel the temperature in the room start to rise. even if you won't admit it out loud, chris has already done a number on your body. he has barely done anything yet you're worked up beyond words and dripping onto his sheets.

"and for that you're not getting my dick," chris snickers, opting to slide lower onto the bed to settle between your thighs. you open your legs to him without protest, an action which makes chris break out into a smug smile and causing you to let out a huff before finally break eye contact to look at the ceiling.

"aren't you just eager, you pretty thing." chris mocks you, and you can only assume he noticed the wet spot on his sheets.

"i'll kick that look off your stupid face if you keep testing me. i'm dead serious, chris." with this, chris puts his hands up quickly in a mock surrender, something you only get a quick glimpse of before his hands settle back onto your thighs, gripping them firmly and pulling you closer to his mouth.

your heartbeat speeds up rapidly, beating so loud you're afraid chris can hear it. all you want to feel right now is his tongue on you, working at your folds and bringing you to that climax you need so badly.

an embarrassingly loud moan leaves your mouth as chris licks a long stripe up your folds, collecting your arousal. at this he hums, savoring the way you taste before his eyes find yours.

there's a difference between his eyes and yours. his are dark and pointed, while yours are a pure reflection of him. it's clear in your eyes that all you want is him. and he's gonna make you admit it tonight whether you like it or not.

he continues to work his tongue in and out of you, alternating between fucking you open with his tongue and kitten licking at your swollen clit.

a sneaky hand makes it way from your thigh to your entrance, two fingers collecting your slick before plunging into you.

"chris— fuck! just like that, keep going." you're whimpering as you squirm against chris' tongue, and all he can do is hum against you in response as your hands come down to pull harshly at his hair.

your thighs start to tremble in chris' grip. his fingers are working quickly inside of you, scissoring you open before angling them and curling right at your sweet spot. with every drag of his fingers combined with the feeling of his mouth sucking on your swollen clit, you know you won't last long.

you're holding back tears as you feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten. the grip on chris' hair tightens too, causing a muffled whine to vibrate against your clit. you buck your hips up as a long cry leaves your body.

"oh my god, chris, keep going. please don't stop, don't fucking stop— holy shit!" tears cascade down your face as your thighs begin to uncontrollably shake against chris.

chris takes a quick look at your face, noticing the river of tears. his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head as he works faster and harder. his fingers plunge in and out of you so violently that the wet sound of your arousal fills up the room along with your choked cries.

your grip on his hair only seems to get inhumanly stronger, causing him to let out more muffled whimpers and moans against your body. call him a masochist but he'll never get tired of the way you grip, tug, and pull at his hair. he'll always eat it up. chris feels his cock twitch, and he knows he's in deep shit.

it's not long before he starts to imagine what you'd look like crying on his dick, all pathetic and weak while you sob and cry for more.

with a choked sob and a vice grip on chris' hair, the coil in your stomach snaps. a wide variety of curses, cries, and incoherent sentences including chris' name leaves your body as you lose complete control of it.

you're violating shaking against the sheets as chris continues to finger fuck you through your high. loud whines come out from your gaping mouth and fill up the room. chris' mouth has left your heat a while ago, but with the grip you still have on his hair, he reminds in his place.

with a rather sharp pull of his hair, he lets out a strained, almost pornographic moan as his eyes flutter shut.

you immediately let go of his hair, using the little strength you've gained back from your intense orgasm to prop yourself up and into a sitting position. you inch forward, trying to get closer to the edge of the bed where chris sways in a trance.

from your view, you spot a small puddle on the floor. a cruel and mean smile reaches your face as you watch chris' thighs flex every so often. reaching forward, you quickly return your hand to chris' hair, tugging and pulling at it violently making him hiss and look up to meet your dark gaze.

"well, aren't you just eager, you pathetic little thing."

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut

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bananntoo · 8 months

Text

getting jealous

sanji x reader

sanji is constantly swooning over other women, leaving his girlfriend forgotten

dating sanji was amazing- constant compliments, never going hungry, having you’re own little maid do everything for you, but it came with a constant worry of other women. you weren’t insecure about yourself in any way, but the fact that sanji swooned over every girl he saw hurt a little. you knew he couldn’t help it and that he loved you more than any woman, but it still hurt.

it was the party at water7 to celebrate the straw hats return from ennies lobby. you had wanted to enjoy the party with your boyfriend but he told you he was busy with the kitchen and for you to enjoy your own time. that was until half a hour later you saw him practically drooling over a group of girls not leaving their sides. was he serious? he had turned you down- HIS GIRLFRIEND- to hang out with a group of women he didn’t even know? you were so done. not even having the urge to party anymore you left and decided to stroll around the empty town.

the walk was a lot. you tried thinking of anything and everything to get your mind off of sanji, but nothing worked. you felt stupid. did you really think he wouldn’t left your side the second he saw another girl?

sanji had noticed your absence from the party now. he walked over to nami asking if she had seen her. she told him you had left and went on a stroll through the town.

why would she leave? is she okay? it’s dangerous for such a pretty lady to be walking alone at night! she should’ve asked me to come with her. his angry thoughts soon turned into happy ones once he saw your figure in-front of him. your back was turned as you were still walking away from him, not yet noticing his presence.

“Y/N-SWANNN” you heard him rushing towards you.

“i missed you so much! i was wondering where you were-“ he had stopped when he heard your stuttered breathing. you thought you were doing fine. you thought you could hold it in, but you were wrong. the second you heard his voice you broke down. did he really not know what was wrong?

“y/n are you okay?” that hurt. suddenly instead of just stuttered breaths it all came rushing out. tears were flowing almost so hard you couldn’t breathe. he was still facing your back. you didn’t want him to see you like this. so defenseless and weak. your legs couldn’t support you anymore so you dropped to the ground, curled up in a ball, with your head in your knees, arms wrapped around your head.

sanji didn’t know what to do. should he support you? should he leave you alone? should he apologize? he didn’t even know what was wrong.

you couldn’t blame him. he was a gentleman. telling him to stop would be like changing the thing you loved most about him. you just had to get over it and dust yourself off. but why was it so hard?

sanji had come to your front now, trying to pry your hand away from your face in order to console you but you held your grip.

“please leave me alone sanji” you had said through broken breaths.

“you know i cannot” he replied. with his worried voice you felt even worse. instead of dealing with your emotions alone, you had now worried sanji. this was the one thing you didn’t want.

a/n : slight scrap. its been sitting in my drafts for a while and i don’t know how to continue it. pls lmk if there’s anything you want me to add

#sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji #one piece x reader #one piece #op sanji #light angst

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sirgogington · 2 months

Text

This might be a little unorganized and is definitely an unpopular opinion in this community, but I'm going to say it anyway. Feel free to unfollow. I wasn't going to post about it, but honestly I am so upset for George in this situation. I want to preface that I am a 28 year old female so maybe my thinking is a little different due to that.

The more I read about people's reactions to the George situation the more angry I feel. George was being accused of sexual assault, and the consensus is "he fucked up and should have asked for consent."

My bold take is that I have little sympathy for Caiti. She is a woman who regrets flirting with George, which she has the right to. But her story really made it seem like George randomly started touching her inappropriately, forced her to drink more when she was already drunk, purposely preyed on her because she was 18, and followed her out of the room to the elevator.

None of these things happened. She was drunk beforehand and her friends that she went to Dreams room with wanted to play drinking games. George didn't randomly start touching her. They were sitting together on the couch playing a game with the rest of the group and mutually decided to start cuddling. Caiti got up multiple times and would always come back and cuddle with George. Over the hour of cuddling they were flirting with each other, playfighting etc. When cuddling George started with his hands on her hips above her clothes, and then after he assumed she was comfortable with what he was doing, given the previous signals of her laughing, smiling, and coming back to cuddle with him then he placed his hands on her waist under her clothes. He said he would slowly move them up after awhile. She didn't show any signs of being uncomfortable. She could have pushed his hand away or told him she was uncomfortable with that, but she didn't. She could of left if she felt uncomfortable or sat somewhere else, but she didn't. She also didn't have to walk with George to the elevator, but she did. She didn't have to keep in contact with him afterwards but again she did. It's no wonder why George was understandably confused, and assumed everyone had had a fun night that night, and was blindsided by these accusations. George said that he made a joke about the elevator being broken, but saw when she wasn't open to getting in the elevator with her then he backed off.

Her friends also knowingly put her this situation. They left her unattended while she was drunk in the hotel room with Dream and George and whoever else was left. Going to a drinking social at 18 is a risky situation in the first place, this is why in college I avoided frat parties because I knew what could potentially happen if I went.

George literally did not do anything wrong, and people are painting him as a monster. Now that Caiti did this stream he has lost a lot of his fanbase and friends for no reason, because God forbid you support George. If you support George you must hate woman, because he's evil. Like people have said this could have all been handled privately. Just simple communication like "hey I actually regret what happened at Vidcon, and I didn't actually like that you were cuddling me looking back" or something along those lines. If George is a decent person which it seems like he is he would say okay and apologize most likely, and they could have not had this nasty drama for no reason.

I believe there is non-verbal consent, and most people in that type of situation would rely on that more than verbal consent. They test things like George was doing and slowly progress things. He could have asked if she was okay with it, but she was showing all the signs over the 3 hours that she was. He's not making you stay if you get uncomfortable. Where non-verbal consent doesn't work is if George would have groped her after a half our of flirting. That would absolutely be wrong, and need to be apologized for.

George was defensive in his video because he needed to be. After being accused of all these things you didn't do, and Caiti leaving out details you would be defensive to. She made him out to look really bad. She blew the situation way out of proportion and George has to suffer due to this. I really think that George didn't need to post the extra apology tweet, that the livestream would of been enough to show that he had no malicious intentions and was sorry that Caiti felt strongly about what had happened.

The whole support victims things in this situation makes me upset as well. There were no victims because there was no sexual assault. Yet if you don't say I 100% support the victim then suddenly your evil and hate woman. Without there being a victim it seems dumb to put that but if you don't then you're follower count also takes a hit as a content creator. George didn't fuck up, he acted in a way most men would, and probably even in a more gentleman like way to be honest.

It also upset me as someone who has experienced very real sexual assault. The guy was 25 and I was 18. I didn't want anything sexual/romantic with him because I could see the age gap, and told him that. He invited me to his apartment which I thought would be innocent because I presented my boundaries, but then he started taking off my clothes and telling me I was okay with it over and over until I believed him and let it happen, while feeling really uncomfortable. My body language did not show any interest, just confusion. I remember answering "I don't know" when he asked for consent to touch me, but he would just keep asking until I said okay. He purposely preyed on the younger women because he knew they were easier to coerce and more vulnerable. Looking back I didn't really knew where I stood on hook up culture. He convinced me he could teach me a few things that I could use with my sexual partners in the future. Luckily it never progressed to him taking my virginity. He bragged about how many girls he had slept with, and how many he had took their virginity. I would have been just a number to him. I am so much more than just a number. (he did a lot of other sexual things with me after coercing me into saying okay. Stuff I can detail if you care to know. I remember saying out loud that I was glad that I still had my virginity and I'm glad he didn't take it afterall. Not purposely leaving out, but it was way more than Caiti had experienced with George. For my situation there was a high likelihood it would happen again to another girl like me, and I remember wanting to warn them. It's different because my attacker did have malicious intents even though he disguised it as me consenting.) Being in the mindset I am now I would have never let any of it happen, but I am much more in tune with my thoughts and opinions on things. I would have noticed all the red flags and I would have never put myself in a 1 on 1 situation with an older guy like that or any guy unless I were dating them.

Outside the fandom I've noticed that a lot of people agree with me in this. It's just within the fandom that people are of this support the victim mindset, even when said victim turns out to not have been a victim of anything. I don't know if it's different with younger people that you have to ask for verbal consent for everything, but it just seems dumb. Everyone was also drunk and not thinking straight so sober minded Georgenotfound would have probably asked for consent before he moved his hands up. It's hard to know. I think other content creators probably do agree with me, but they aren't able to have their own opinions, which to me seems gross and fake. We can't genuinely know how content creators feel on certain issues because if were to tell what they truly thought and it wasn't the majority consensus then they risk their viewership which is also twisted.

#georgenotfound #gnf #rambling #SA #my thoughts #I feel like I'm insane for thinking this due to this fandoms standards #my experience

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bumblesimagines · 4 months

Note

this doesn't mean anything.

- Sarah Cameron

this doesn't mean anything.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

Got carried away with this one

In the world of the Outer Banks, Kooks were seen as untouchable. They were the stuck-up, spoiled, privileged kids who could do, say, or buy anything they wanted as long as they had daddy or mommy's credit card in their back pocket. They puffed out their chests, turned up their nose, and spat venom just because they knew they could. Their parents would flock and point fingers if any harm came to them, demanding Sherriff Peterkin and Deputy Shoupe do something about the 'dirty Pogues targeting their poor babies' as if Peterkin and Shoupe could do anything more than let them off with a warning or a brief night in a cell.

While they were utterly pathetic and useless, (Y/N) found them incredibly amusing. Nothing was better than watching the smugness get knocked right out of a Kook. Tears would immediately spring in their eyes and their perfect skin would stain with purple and red coloring that'd stay no matter how many ice packs they put to it. The Kooks that talked the biggest game were often the ones that squealed first in fights. Their scratchy, obnoxious voices would plead for mercy, shouting empty promises of staying away and never bothering them again. Rafe Cameron was the only one who could handle a little pain, but even then, the boy was as boring as watching paint dry. One look from his daddy dearest and he went away with his tail tucked between his legs.

His sister, as (Y/N) came to learn, was a lot more fun.

"Remember the rules, guys. No hardcore drugs, don't get blackout drunk, and don't start anything without me." (Y/N) called out after his younger brother and his group of friends. He was certain the nerd would keep them out of trouble, as he always did when they hung out, but a reminder never hurt anybody. The four of them scampered further down the beach, kicking up sand in their wake and disappearing amongst the other teenagers. They weren't much younger than him, only a year or two below him in school, but they were as annoying as children and attracted trouble wherever they went.

Fishing his cigarette pack out of his jacket pocket and sticking one between his lips, he allowed his gaze to drift over the party-goers present. Pogues, Kooks, and a few tourists who appeared wildly out of place with their big sun hats blocking half their vision. He recognized Rafe and his posse of coked-up boys lingering near the water and Barry making use of eager Kooks and their heavy pockets. His attention dropped down to his lighter and he grunted when it refused to light for longer than a second.

"Maybe it's a sign you should quit." A feathery voice piped up behind him and he turned around to find the treasured princess of Figure Eight.

Everyone knew Sarah Cameron. She was the beloved daughter of Ward Cameron, the pride and joy of Figure Eight, and the most envied and desired girl in Kildare. Everyone tripped over themselves trying to be in her good graces, trying to get a taste of the Cameron wealth and status. Ever since she entered high school, he'd heard all about her numerous relationships. She lept from boy to boy and left a trail of broken, jealous hearts in her path. Her most recent boy toy had been Topper Thornton, the son of the renowned Doctor Thornton and grandson of Judge Holden. JJ had left enough bruises on him for (Y/N) to know him well. (Y/N) thought they looked more like siblings than lovers.

"Nobody ever taught you not to talk to strangers, princess?"

"I would hardly call you a stranger." She said and lifted the mai tai in hand up to her pink-colored lips. Her eyes twinkled with the setting sun, lightening the deep shade of brown. "Everyone knows the Maybanks."

"And nobody likes them. You might have to forfeit your Kook card if you get caught talking to me, Miss Cameron." He cooed teasingly and she smiled despite herself, rolling her pretty eyes and brushing her hair away from her face when the wind gently tousled it. His eyes drifted down to the dark knee-length sundress she wore decorated in orange and yellow flowers. It looked better than what most of the girls from the Cut wore to fancy events.

"I don't care about my Kook card, (Y/N). I think this whole... Pogue vs Kook thing is so stupid. We're all living on the same island. Why should we be giving each other shit for where we were born?"

"I'm sure you'll be a just and fair ruler, princess." His words made her roll her eyes again and she laughed quietly into her can. Even her drink of choice screamed rich. Everyone else stuck to cheap beer or half-filled bottles they stole from the kitchen cabinet when their parents weren't home. Sarah twirled a piece of her hair around her finger, glancing away from him and toward her friends. They hadn't noticed her yet and for a moment, (Y/N) expected her to call out to them and walk away. But she looked back at him with a familiar coy smile.

"Wanna talk somewhere more... private?"

He wondered how annoyed John B would be when he learned he'd taken Figure Eight's princess back to his place. It'd been closer than the Maybank residence and had less chance of a drunken and drugged Luke staggering through the front door ready to ruin (Y/N)'s night. Kiara would certainly throw a tantrum about him sleeping with her ex-best friend and if Kiara got upset, Pope would quickly follow in defense of his crush. Annoying little shits but they made JJ happy and that was enough for (Y/N) to tolerate their shenanigans.

Tugging up his pants and zipping them back up, he gazed at the dozing Kook. Her long blonde hair had been sprawled out over the dark pillowcase and she'd buried half her face in the pillow, her parted lips forming a small spot of drool. As content and comfortable as she looked, he needed her back home before she chose to overstay her welcome under false assumptions.

"Hey, princess." (Y/N) reached down to move some strands of hair away from her face and shook her shoulder. She whined quietly and squeezed her eyes before rolling fully onto her stomach and burying her face further in the pillow defiantly. "You need to get going before Ward calls the cops 'cause his precious girl didn't come home."

Tiredly lifting her head, she squinted at him through the sunlight. "Are you worried about Ward or worried about what your friends will say?"

"My friends won't give a shit about me taking the Kook princess's virginity, sweets." Her face reddened considerably and he smirked. "My brother's friends might get pissed if they see a Kook on our turf. And I don't want problems with Carrera. She makes good food."

Sarah finally sat up and raked her fingers through her hair to detangle the knots as she searched the floor for her belongings. Her eyes finally settled on her underwear and she pursed her lips, the tips of her ears turning a soft red. "You ripped them." She murmured and her fingers began to toy with the ends of her hair.

"You didn't complain when I did it." (Y/N) scooped the sundress up from the floor and tossed it in her direction, arms folding over his chest while he watched her get dressed and rise from the bed. She awkwardly tugged at the dress and retrieved her torn underwear from the floor before shoving it into her purse and turning to face him.

"So-"

"I can drop you off at Word for Word. It's the closest store to Figure Eight so one of your little friends should be able to pick you up. I'd drive you home but I've got work and Barry will kill me if I'm late again." (Y/N) explained quickly and slipped his shirt back on, snatching his keys from the nightstand and jerking his head toward the door when Sarah remained rooted in her spot.

"That's it? You're just going to... ditch me in the middle of nowhere?" She stared at him in a mixture of surprise and irritation, and (Y/N) sighed, preparing the speech he often found himself telling those who couldn't catch a hint. He was a Maybank, for Christ's sake. Nothing about the men in his family screamed commitment. His father could hardly hold down a job and JJ was as much of a playboy as the next guy.

"Sarah, baby, this doesn't mean anything. I'm sorry if your feelings are hurt but I asked if you were sure and offered to drive you back like five times last night. If you wanted your first time to be with your soulmate, you should've let me know and I would've taken you back to your boyfriend. Now, unless you want to get into a screaming match with Kiara, I suggest you start figuring out who's taking you the rest of the way."

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lexisecretaccx · 1 month

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High School Sweethearts pt.9 - Chris Sturniolo

PT1, PT2, PT3, PT4, PT5, PT6, PT7, PT8, PT10, the rest of the parts on my Masterlist!

(Fem reader x Chris Sturniolo, smut..😍, male!recieving, p in v.. praising)

A/n: you’re welcome, (I felt bad for y/n so I had to give her smth nice) this part is slightly longer bc of the smut.

“Mom I’m sorry.” I keep repeating myself as we get into the car, she hasn’t spoken a word to me since she saw me. “Mom I’m..” “sorry? I know you keep fucking saying it.” She interrupts me as soon as we get in the car. “Jesus y/n, beating up that poor boy?” She pinches the bridge of her nose.

“He’s not a poor boy mom he started it, and then made me more angry by bringing up dad.” She turns to me, her eyes widened. “What did he say.” She asked coldly. “He said I was just like my father, those words should be familiar to you.” I answered her, turning my head away and looking out the window. She sighs.

“You know I didn’t mean that.” She whispered as she starts the car. “Where did you go after..” I interrupt her “after you kicked me out the house in the pouring rain? Maybe I went to a party and got drunk!” I sarcastically smile, “did you?” She asked surprised, pulling the car out of the parking space and driving out the school.

“No of course I didn’t, I cried on the sidewalk for half an hour in the pouring rain until my boyfriend had to come and take me to his house.” I swallow nervously. “Y/n.. you didn’t.” She had a sense of empathy in her voice, a tone I haven’t heard in quite some time.

I nod, biting my lip. The car ride was silent for 5 minutes, “how bad was it? The fight I mean.” She broke the awkward silence, “don’t think you can call it a fight if he just lay there and took it.” I laughed lightly, I swear I could’ve heard her chuckle but she quickly suppressed it. “It was bad, his nose is broken.” I add on and my mother shook her head in disappointment, a look I knew too well.

We arrive at the house and my mother turns to me, “I have to go back to work but, wash yourself up and try to relax.” She try’s to smile comfortingly but that’s just not our dynamic. I nod before getting out and walking into the house.

I head upstairs and get in the shower to wash myself up and also ‘relax’ as my mother said. Once I’m out the shower I walk into my room and throw on a baggy tee and Chris’ sweatpants I left here earlier. I sit on my bed and scroll through my phone when I get a notification from Chris. “Look out your window..” I put my phone down in confusion and mumble to myself “not creepy at all..”

I look outside and see Chris waving up at me from my backyard. I open the window and pop my head out, “how are you in my backyard?” I shout down, “I climbed in!” He replied proudly, “can I come in?”.

I laugh and nod before going downstairs and walking to my back door, as I open it Chris wraps me into a hug, “how are you feeling?” He whispers into my ear before placing a kiss in front of it. “Could be better.” I sigh. “You smell great,” Chris takes a deep breath in on my shoulder, which makes me laugh, “well I did just shower.”

“You look so good wearing my sweatpants aswell,” he grabs my waist and places a kiss on my neck, “keep it in your pants Chris I haven’t even closed the back door.” He moves out the way and I lock the back door up before going to my room. “Did your mom yell at you?” He asks me as I close my bedroom door, I shake my head and lay back on my bed.

“She was.. kinda nice to me.” I reply and Chris lays back next to me. “Wait..” I sit up, “aren’t you supposed to be in school?” I tilt my head and he smirks at me, “I couldn’t wait that long to see you.” He also sits up. “Chris it’s a few hours.” We both laugh.

About 20 minutes pass of me and him talking about the day so far and other stuff in general. “Can we like make out? I’m bored.” I ask. Chris places his hand over his heart, “I’m boring you?” He fake pouts, “no I just wanna.. do something interesting.” I shrug before Chris grins and grabs my face, we start to kiss and it quickly becomes heated, our tongues fighting for dominance.

I feel the ache between my thighs becoming stronger. I notice a bulge in Chris’ pants and I palm it through his jeans, “fuck..” he mumbles into the kiss. “Do you want me to.. you know.” I break the kiss, implying that I suck his dick. “Don’t feel forced into anything.” He breathed out, “only do what you want.”

“I want to suck your dick, I know how to do it, that’s the only thing I’ve done before.” I smirk at him. “After that do you want me to use my fingers or..” he asks me. “No.” I blatantly say, “could you be my first time?” I whisper looking at his lips, his eyes widen and he smiles, “yeah of course.” He replies, placing a quick kiss to my cheek.

I get off the bed and he stands up, I start to unbuckle his jeans and he takes over and does it for me, I pull his jeans down to his ankles and he pulls his boxers down, his length springing up to his stomach, my eyes widen at the size of it and I get down onto my knees. He pumps it a few times before allowing me to take over.

I put my mouth around his cock and wrap my hand around what I can’t fit, I start to suck and I look up at Chris through my eyelashes, he gathers my hair into a makeshift ponytail to keep my hair out my face and to guide me. I feel his dick kiss the back of my throat and I suppress the feeling of choking.

“Fuck.. look so pretty around my cock.” He groaned, starting to push my head further onto him slightly. I grab onto his thighs for stability and his head is back as he suppresses his moans, “shit I’m gonna cum..” he pulls out of my mouth. I look up at him confused, “I didn’t know if you’d want me to cum on your mouth..” he breathes, my hand still pumping his length.

“I want you to” I smirk up at him before taking his cock into my mouth again, his hips buck forward and he lets out a loud groan as I feel his hot cum shooting down my throat. I swallow it and he lets go of my hair.

He lifts me up so I’m standing up and he pulls my face into a kiss, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.. okay?” He reassures me and I nod. He steps out of his trousers and boxers and I take off my sweatpants leaving me in my shirt and panties. “Do you wanna take your shirt off?” He asks me softly. I shrug and lift it off revealing my pink bra.

“I don’t wanna take my bra off, if that’s okay?” I cover up my stomach with my hands and Chris places his hands on my arms, “of course it’s okay, you’re so beautiful.” He plants a kiss on my neck. Causing goosebumps to prickle on my skin.

I lay back on the bed “can I?” Chris asks, his hands resting on the hem of my panties. I nod, he pulls them off in one quick motion, “if you want me to stop just say stop and I will. I promise.” He smiles at me and I smile back, “wait we need a condom, I don’t have any with me.” Chris says in a panicked tone, “I’m on the pill.” I reassure him and he sighs in content.

“You’re already so wet,” Chris whispers, leaning down and planting a kiss on my forehead. “Gonna need you to spread your legs, like this.” He moves my knees up to my chest and spreads them out gently. His tip rests at my entrance, “I’ll push in, it might hurt at first but if it’s too bad I’ll stop.” He holds my hand, “okay..” I breathe out.

His tip pushes into my entrance, stretching it out, it’s painful at first but I wait for him to fully be inside of me, “I’ll let you adjust, tell me when to move and I’ll start off slow.” He kisses just below my ear. “You can move.” I say quietly, he moves his dick slowly in and out, constantly checking my face for any signs of discomfort, I bite my lip as the pain turns to pleasure.

“Oh my god..” I breathe out and he stops his movements, “you okay?” He moves a strand of hair out of my face. “Yeah, it feels good.” I smirk. “Good girl.” He whispers and resumes his movements. “Can you go faster.. please.” I lightly moan out. He nods before fastening his pace.

I grip onto my bedsheets for stability the room is filled with just mine and Chris’ various moans and noises, “feels so good..” I moan out loudly, gripping Chris’ arm. I feel myself clench around him and he lets out a soft moan. His tip hits my g spot causing me to arch my back and I moan his name. “Sound so pretty moaning my name, let everyone know who’s fucking you so good.” He says through his own moans.

I feel a knot in my stomach, a familiar feeling from the other night. “I’m.. gonna.. close.” I whine. “Me too mama.” The nickname causing me to travel closer and closer to my climax, “you like that name huh? Doing so good.. so proud..” he slightly whimpers as he’s close.

“Cum all over my dick baby..” he whispers in my ear biting his lip as he continues to desperately fuck into me. “F-fuck..” I cry out as the knot in my stomach snaps and I feel myself dissolve into the pleasure. My arousal leaking around his cock, slowing his pace to help me through my orgasm.

He thrusts in slowly and gently, “can I cum on your stomach?” He asks me, whimpering and groaning slightly as he’s close to his climax too, I nod rapidly and he pulls out before releasing his cum onto my stomach in white stripes with a loud groan.

He flops onto the bed next to me his chest rising and falling. A second later he sits up and a massive grin creeps across his face, “what?” I smile back still breathing heavily, “you did it!” He says happily. I smirk at him, “I did!” He stands up off the bed and puts his boxers back on, “I’m gonna grab the flannel we used to clean you up last time.” He smiles, “yeah I washed it and cut the label off so you know which one.” He walks out the room and I hear the tap run.

He walks back in with the flannel, slightly damp to help clean off anything. He wipes my stomach and around my entrance. “I am so proud of you.” He kisses me. I sit up, “thank you, for doing that.” I sit on my bed, almost fully naked as he goes over to my drawer to grab me some clean panties. “I practically wasted those ones I had them on for less than an hour.” I point at the underwear I was previously wearing crumpled on the floor.

“It’s okay, and you’re welcome.” He puts the clean underwear by my feet and slips them on me. I stand up and he stares at my practically revealed body, “what?” I breathe out anxiously. “You’re just so perfect.” He walks up to me and wraps his arms around me and we start to kiss. I hear my front door unlock and my eyes shoot up to Chris.

His eyes widen and we hear my front door open, “shit my mom’s home early..” I whisper. Me and Chris are just standing in my room in our underwear. “Get your clothes on..” I whisper yell and Chris nods, “can I wear these?” He points to his sweatpants I had been wearing and I nod, “and this?” He grabs his hoodie from this morning. “Yes!” I said softly.

I open my drawers and get on a new baggy tee and I find some of my own sweatpants. I pick up our messed up clothes and hide them in the corner underneath a box of shoes. “Y/n? Are you here?” My mom calls as I hear her coming upstairs, “shit I’ll sit at my vanity and you can sit on the bed, just act casual.” I murmured to Chris and he nods, grabbing his phone and opening TikTok.

“Yep we’re upstairs!” I call, saying we so my mom knows someone else is here, I notice myself in my mirror, my hair is fucked up, I quickly brush my hair and my mom knocks the door. “We? Can I come in?” At least she asked. “Yeah.” I say. She opens my door and I smile softly. She looks between me and Chris.

“You must be Chris.” She spoke to him. “Yes ma’am.” He replied, saluting with his hand. Causing me to scoff and roll my eyes. “What were you guys.. up to in here?” She asks, I can tell by her face she suspects something. “Just talking about today, and stuff..” I hesitate. She nods awkwardly. “You’re home early from work.” I break the silence.

“Yeah they let me go early because of your.. one sided fight..” she smiles slightly. “Yep.” I say.

The air is tense in the room and Chris clears his throat and me and my mom look at him, he looks around at my room awkwardly. “Do you like the colour pink?” He asks my mom motioning to my room, obviously not knowing what to say. “Not really a fan but it’s not my room.” She replies and he nods looking over to me.

“I’m gonna go back downstairs.” She says to me and she smiles at Chris, “nice to meet ya.” He says as she walks out my room.

“Do you like the colour pink?” I mimic him, he puts his hands out in confusion, “what was I supposed to say? Oh hey there I just took your daughter virginity!” He does an overly happy wave. I laugh, “you’re stupid.” He chuckles.

“I don’t know why she’s being so.. nice?” I say, moving off of my vanity chair and onto the bed next to Chris. “Maybe shes become a nice person?” Chris says in a tone where you can tell he doesn’t even believe himself. I scoff.

“That woman switches up so quickly I don’t know what to expect.” I whisper as I lean my head on his chest. “Maybe she’s bipolar?” Chris asks, “don’t joke about that Chris.” I look up at him, “no I’m serious like does she have something?” He grabs my hand. “I don’t know.” We lay there cuddling and talking for a good 15 minutes.

“I should return to school for my last lesson at least.” He smiles at me, “you do that, I’ll walk you to the door.” He looks over at the box covering our clothes, “do you want me to take my clothes?” He asks.

“I don’t mind washing them for you, when my mom’s not here.” I grin at him, “okay.” He breathes out and kisses me on the forehead.

We walk downstairs and my mom is asleep on the couch, I open the front door and walk out with him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He smiles, “yeah.” I nod pulling his face down to mine and kissing his pink lips gently.

“Tell your mom I said bye.” He says as he walks away, “will do.” I wave to him.

I turn around and open the door, going to walk upstairs. “He seems sweet enough.” My mom spoke from behind me and I turned around to face her. “Yeah.” I smile.

A/n: why is this so sweet tho and smutty.. (y’all we cannot trust y/n’s mom..) anyways I love making this series and I think there will be a few more parts left! Love yall!

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @sturniologurl4l2008 @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosmind @accio326 @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @stingerayyy2 @freshsturns

—💋——📷——‼️——💌———❤️———💌——‼️——📷——💋—

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt

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hockey-fics · 8 months

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A Love Worth Changing For ~ Nico Hischier

Summary: Your commitment to yourself to stay out of a relationship becomes harder to keep when you meet someone who just might be worth breaking your promises for.

Word count: ~8,900

Warnings: Drinking (quite a bit), implied/vaguely mentioned smut, throwing up, toxic behaviours.

A/N: I kind of hate how this turned out, to be honest. It's not super well edited because I didn't want to read through it yet another time.

You didn’t want to be in a relationship. It was a promise you made to yourself. You wouldn’t get into a relationship until you were done with school. You had high expectations for yourself in your years at university. You wanted to do well, that was a given. Staying out of a relationship would only leave you with more time to study. But you also wanted these years to explore who you were as a person, casually date, figure out what you wanted in a partner and what kind of partner you wanted to be.

It wasn’t hard, at least not for the first few years. Until you decided to go to grad school and decided to keep your commitment to not having any romantic commitment. And then came your second hurdle, when you met Nico.

October 2021

Standing at the kitchen counter you fill a bowl with a bag of chips that you know will go mostly untouched in favour of drinks, but it was the thought that mattered, right? Your phone vibrates on the counter and your eyes fall to your bright screen. A text from Jack. Unlocking your phone you read the message, asking if he could bring a couple friends. Sighing to yourself you reply that it was fine, though you were a little nervous about who Jack was going to be bringing to a party you were already worried might be getting too large.

Before long your apartment is full of people, half of which you didn’t know, tagging along with the half that you did. You’re in the kitchen mixing yourself an unnecessarily strong drink of tequila and orange juice when you feel someone tap you on the shoulder. Turning around your eyes focus on Jack.

“Hey,” you greet, pulling him into a quick, friendly hug. Jack. You met him when you both arrived in New Jersey, him to play for the Devils and you to start your undergrad degree. It was an instant connection, but not the kind your friends had speculated. You understood that he was attractive, you knew that almost everyone seemed to fall for him. But your connection with him felt more like a brother than anything more. “How was your game?”

“It was good…It would be really cool if you would like watch a game once in awhile,” Jack jokes.

“I was busy,” you whine, taking a large sip of your drink.

“Busy with what?”

“Preparing this place to sustain the damage of another party,” you inform him. “And pre-gaming.”

“I see how it is, rather get drunk than come see me play.”

Rolling your eyes you lean back against the counter. “Honestly, yeah,” you joke. Your eyes travel over Jack’s shoulder, to the man standing behind him, hands shoved in his pockets, glancing around uncertainly. “Hi,” you call to him, catching his attention. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hey, uh, I’m Nico,” he tells you, shuffling his way between Jack and some other guy you had yet to meet. “Is this your place?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, hearing a shattering of glass from the other side of the kitchen. “Unfortunately,” you add with a breath of laughter. “I should go deal with that, I’ll talk to you later, Nico,” you tell him, placing your hand on his arm as you slip by him in the direction of the shattering sound.

After helping clean up the mess of broken glass and spilled beer you head back into the kitchen, needing another drink. You find Jack and Nico nearly exactly where you had left them, discussing something with an intensity that piques your interest.

“Am I missing something?” you ask Jack, pouring yourself another drink.

“He thinks you’re hot,” Jack states boldly.

You’re caught off guard by how easily he offers the information, especially when you see Nico elbow him in the side, clearly not wanting him to have said that. “Oh?” you say, turning to face Nico, a playful smile on your lips.

“I, uh,” Nico begins, eyes falling to the ground. “Yeah,” he finally mutters.

Giggling you take a sip of your drink, stepping a little closer to him. “Well, I think you’re pretty hot as well,” you tell him, hoping it would ease some of the awkward tension that had fallen on the conversation.

“This is gross,” Jack mutters, gulping back half of his beer in one go.

“You’re the one who brought it up, dumbass,” you remind him, spinning to lean against the counter beside Nico. “Tell me more about yourself,” you say to Nico.

“What do you want to know?”

Shrugging you glance down to his empty hands. “Do you not drink?”

“I offered to drive him home,” Nico tells you, nodding towards Jack.

“Drive Jack home?” you mutter, eyebrows furrowed. “Jack never goes home after he gets drunk here.”

“Oh, I, uh, didn’t know you two were-,” Nico stammers, shaking his head as he glances over to Jack with an incredulous look.

“That’s not what I meant,” you exclaim with wide eyes. “He sleeps on the couch.”

“Oh,” Nico chuckles.

“So, does that mean you’re going to have a drink?”

Nico shrugs, looking over at Jack, who was already on his third beer. “I still need to drive myself home.”

“I’m sure we can find you somewhere to sleep,” you tell him.

And find him somewhere to sleep was exactly what you did, in your bed right next to you.

When you wake up the next morning your arm is slung over Nico’s chest, your head on his shoulder. Slowly you pull your body away from him, tugging the sheets up over your naked body as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 9:35 AM.

“Morning,” Nico mumbles tiredly.

“Morning,” you reply, glancing down at him with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” Nico shrugs. “Tired.”

“Me too,” you laugh. “Do you want some coffee or something?”

“If you’re going to make some for yourself I’ll have some.”

Climbing out of bed you pull some clothes on, shuffling out of your room to take in the damage from the night before. The kitchen counters are littered with cans and bottles, sticky with spilled drinks. Sighing to yourself you grab a bag, beginning the long process of post-party clean up. Nico is at your side a second later, tossing cans into the bag you were holding.

“You don’t need to clean up, it’s okay,” you assure him, not wanting him to feel obligated to help clean your apartment after a party you decided to throw.

“I don’t mind,” Nico shrugs. “I’m sure some of it is my mess.”

His justification makes you giggle, knowing that he had been one of the only people the night before to ask you where you wanted him to put his empty cans. You finish clearing off the counter together, wiping it down before making a pot of coffee. While it was brewing you stand at the counter, Nico in front of you, his hands on your hips as he looks down at you.

“So do you think I can get your number?” Nico asks.

Running your hands up his arms you rest them on his shoulders, smiling playfully up at him. “Yeah, I think maybe I could give you my number.”

Leaning down Nico presses his lips to yours again, gently and slowly, tugging your hips closer to his body.

“Get a room.”

Pulling back from Nico you look across the kitchen to where Jack was now standing. “You know this is my apartment, right?” you joke, pulling your arms back from Nico. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Jack mumbles, leaning tiredly into the counter. “Do you have that girl’s number?”

“Who?” you ask, pressing your palms into the counter, hopping up onto it.

“You know, the one I was talking to.”

“Do you even remember her name?”

“Yeah,” Jack mutters dismissively.

“What is it then?”

“Do you have her number or not?” Jack exclaims, rubbing his fingers over his temples.

“Yes,” you tell him with a sigh. “I’m not giving you her number if you can’t even remember her name.”

Jack lets out a loud groan, shaking his head. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbles.

Nico glances up at you with a look that told you he agreed with your decision. “You remember my name, right?” you joke.

Nico chuckles, leaning up to press his lips to your again. “Of course,” he tells you.

After the coffee is done brewing you pour a few mugs, adding some cream to your coffee. Heading into the living room you curl up on the couch, leaning into Nico when he sits down beside you. The three of you sit in the living room, talking about the night before while finishing your coffee.

Shortly after finishing his coffee Jack decides to get an Uber home, leaving you and Nico alone again. You spend the majority of the day cuddled up with Nico on the couch, watching movie after movie as the hangover slowly begins to leave your body.

“When are you free for me to take you on a date?” Nico asks after the end of yet another movie.

Sitting up you pull your body away from Nico, turning to look over at him. “Nico, I do like you but I feel like I should tell you that I’m not really looking for anything serious right now.”

“Does that mean I don’t get to see you again?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” you giggle, shaking your head. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Okay,” Nico says with a shrug. “How about Wednesday night?”

“Wednesday night sounds good to me,” you reply, leaning over and kissing him gently.

Wednesday night comes around quickly and your date goes incredibly well. As does the next date, and all the ones after that. It wasn’t long till you were spending almost all your spare time together.

There was a connection you had with Nico that was undeniable. But you were holding onto your promise to yourself that you weren’t going to get into a relationship.

December 2021

You’re finally packing clothes for your trip home, having just finished your exams a few days earlier. Going home for the holidays was always one of the highlights of your year, when you could finally relax without worrying about assignments or classes or exams. Folding a few sweaters you set them into the suitcase on your bed, a sudden knock on your door startling you.

Heading through your apartment you hesitantly pull the door open, relaxing when you see Nico standing in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you before you left,” Nico explains, stepping inside. “And I wanted to bring you this.”

Your eyes fall to the wrapped box in his hand. “A Christmas present?”

“Yeah,” Nico chuckles, setting it into your hands.

“Why?” you whisper, looking up into his eyes. “You didn’t have to get me anything, we’re not-.”

“We’re not together, I know,” Nico interrupts, having heard the line from you over and over again at various times throughout the last few months. Not together, just friends with benefits...who also happened to be going on frequent dates.

Sighing you set the present down onto the table by the door, reaching over to take his hands. “Well, thank you,” you whisper, leaning up and pressing your lips to his. “But you really didn’t have to.”

“You’re welcome,” Nico says, pulling you into a hug. “When do you have to be at the airport?”

“Tomorrow morning at eight.”

“I can drive you…if you want,” Nico offers.

Pulling back you smile up at him, fingers running down his arms. “That would be great, thank you. Do you have plans tonight?”

“No.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?”

A smirk forms on Nico’s lips, his hands finding their way to your hips. “Yes.”

Giggling you lean up, kissing him again. This time you don’t pull back immediately, your arms finding their way over his shoulders. His tongue brushes against yours and you push yourself closer to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater.

“Let’s go to my room,” you mumble against his lips before taking his hand and pulling him through your apartment to your bedroom.

“Do you need to finish packing?” Nico asks, his eyes falling to the suitcase on your bed, piles of clothes laying around your room.

“It can wait,” you assure him, setting your suitcase onto the ground. You’re on the bed a second later, letting Nico pull your clothes off. Hands grasping at each other, both knowing that you’d have to go a few weeks without getting to see each other, without getting to touch each other.

Nico makes you finish more times than you ever had in one night, till you’re a shaky, flushed mess. Maybe it was because you would be apart from each other for awhile, maybe he was trying to leave a lasting impression, keep you from wanting to be with anyone else. Whatever the reason, you were more than okay with it.

“I should probably finish packing,” you whisper, head laying on Nico’s shoulder, fingers grazing over his chest.

“Do you need help or anything?” Nico offers.

“No, there’s not that much left to do,” you tell him as you pull some clothes back on.

Nico spends the rest of the evening keeping you company while you finish packing and doing last minute preparation around your apartment. By the time you get to bed that night you know that neither of you was going to end up with an adequate amount of sleep that night. But you didn’t mind if it meant spending more time with Nico.

June 2022

You were prepared to spend the summer away from Nico. You didn’t want to, that much you needed to admit. But you weren’t his girlfriend, he wasn’t your boyfriend. There was no reason for any variation to Nico’s normal summer plans.

So you had said goodbye to him the night before he flew back to Switzerland to spend time with his friends and family. You managed to hold back your emotions till he left and you couldn’t hold the tears back any longer.

You kept yourself busy, picking up extra shifts when you could to keep your mind off of missing him. You knew it wasn’t normal, to have these feelings for someone who you were refusing to be more than just friends with benefits with.

Of course the two of you continued talking, text messages being exchanged when the time difference would allow for it. But it wasn’t until he called you one evening that you were really reminded that whatever was going on between you two was a lot more than what you were willing to say out loud.

“Hey,” you greet as you answer the phone, sitting in your living room, watching re-runs of your favourite TV show.

“Hi,” Nico replies, his voice was quiet but you could hear a slight slur in his words. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, not a lot, watching TV,” you tell him, sitting up straighter on the couch, eyes narrowing as you stare at the other end of the couch. “What are-,” you can’t even finish asking what he was doing before he cuts you off.

“With who?” Nico asks and there’s something in his tone that makes you feel like it’s more of an accusation than a genuine question.

“Nobody…why?”

“You’re watching TV by yourself on a Friday night?”

“Well it’s 6PM here,” you remind him. “But yes, I’m watching TV alone, why?”

“Right,” Nico mutters. “I miss you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” Nico replies quickly. “Yes,” he admits just as quickly, without you even needing to question him on it. “We went out for drinks, I had too many.”

“Well did you at least have fun?” you ask, holding back a laugh.

“Yeah…I wish you were here though.”

Your silent for a little too long, wracking your brain for what to say. ‘Me too’ didn’t feel right, even if it was the truth. “You’ll be back in a couple months,” you finally whisper.

“I don’t want to wait that long,” Nico mumbles. “I want you to come here.”

Laughing softly you roll your eyes to yourself, leaning back into the couch.

“I’m not joking,” Nico states, clearly taking offence to your laughter.

“I can’t,” you tell him, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on your shorts.

“Why not? I’ll buy you a flight, you can stay with me or I can get you a hotel or whatever, it doesn't matter.”

“That’s not the problem, Nico,” you tell him, though if you were seriously considering his suggestion it probably would have been a problem.

“Then what is?”

“We-,” you begin, pausing to take a deep breath. “We’re not together…I’m not your girlfriend, Nico. I’m not going to fly halfway across the world and meet your friends and family when we’re not even together,” you explain.

The silence that follows is so long that you begin to wonder if he was even still there. But you sit in the silence, with each second growing more and more uncomfortable.

“I love you.”

“Nico,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears. You weren’t even sure where your emotions were coming from, but they were beyond overwhelming. “You don’t…you don’t mean that. You’re drunk-.”

“I do,” Nico insists, knowing where you were about to go with your sentence. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as you thought, but you didn’t want to truly admit that.

“Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Nico mumbles.

“Get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” Nico whispers. “Have a good night.”

The two of you did talk the next day. But at no point did either of you bring up the night before. Maybe he didn’t remember it. Maybe he no longer wanted to discuss it now that his mind was no longer clouded by alcohol. Either way you were pretty sure it was the best outcome for both you and him.

October 2022

“I like this one,” you say, pointing out a small pumpkin sitting on the edge of a pallet in the pumpkin patch.

“It’s so small,” Nico comments, chuckling as he stands next to you, staring down at the little pumpkin.

Shrugging you lean down, picking it up. “It’s cute.”

“Like you,” Nico says with a smirk, already anticipating your response.

Rolling your eyes you jokingly take a step away from him. “Gross.”

Reaching over Nico takes your hand, tugging you back towards him. “I know you like it.”

Shaking your head you let go of his hand, running it up his arm to wrap around his shoulders. Pushing yourself onto your tip toes you press your lips to his. “I do,” you admit, stepping back from him. “Now pick your pumpkin so we can go home and carve them.”

After Nico picks out and pays for the pumpkins you head back to your apartment, stopping on your way there to pick up dinner and a couple bottles of wine.

“Do you want the shiraz or the zinfandel?” you call to Nico, pulling a couple glasses of wine out from the cupboard.

Glancing over your shoulder you watch Nico set the pumpkins down on the table, a smile on his face. “You know that I don’t know the difference.”

Giggling you open the drawer in the kitchen, rifling through it for your wine opener. “I want to try the zinfandel,” you tell him, jumping as you feel his hands on your hips, tugging your back into his chest.

“Sounds great to me,” Nico whispers, leaning down and kissing your neck gently.

With a quiet, pleasure filled sigh you let yourself melt into him, the warmth of his body radiating into you. “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Doing what?” Nico asks, letting you turn around in his arms to face him.

“This whole pumpkin thing, I know it’s kind of stupid as adults,” you explain.

Nico shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his arms. “It’s not stupid and you don’t need to thank me, I wanted to do this,” Nico assures you.

“I l-,” you begin, stopping yourself short as you realize what you were about to say. I love you. Swallowing heavily you pull yourself back from him, quickly turning around, fumbling with the wine opener.

“What were you going to say?”

Shaking your head you twist the screw into the cork, fingers shaking nervously. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Nico insists, reaching over and placing his hand on your lower back, trying to get your attention again. “Just talk to me.”

“I said it doesn’t matter,” you snap, struggling to wiggle the cork out of the bottle. As the cork pops out of the top of the bottle the sudden change in force sends the bottle slipping across the counter, red wine sloshing out all over the counter as the bottle clatters onto the counter. “Fuck,” you mutter, eyes welling with tears as you reach for the bottle, quickly standing it back up.

As you reach for the towel hanging on the handle of the oven Nico catches your hands, pulling you to face him. “Slow down,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

The tears that had welled up in your eyes were slipping down your cheeks now, your hands stilled by Nico’s hands stopping you from wiping them away. “I love you,” you exclaim. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Nico is quiet for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around you, rubbing your back gently. “I only want to hear it if you mean it.”

You don’t answer him. You knew you should answer him. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it again, you could barely say it once. “I need to clean up the wine,” you whisper, wiggling out of Nico’s arms.

“You should use the paper towel, you’ll stain that one,” Nico tells you, gesturing to the towel you had originally reached for.

“Right,” you whisper, nodding slowly as you stare up at him. You didn’t know what you had expected out of him after that, but it sure wasn’t cleaning tips. After cleaning up the wine from the counter you excuse yourself to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. Wiping away the remnant of your tears you take a few deep breaths, eventually managing to calm yourself enough to venture back to the kitchen.

When you step into the room your eyes find Nico at the table, two glasses of wine and the pumpkins in front of him. “What-?”

“You don’t want to carve them anymore?” Nico asks.

“I-,” you begin, walking through the room to sit down at the table with him. “Yeah, I do.”

For awhile the two of you sit in relative silence, the energy in the room feeling tense. But by the time your glass of wine was empty the tension had dissipated.

You knew you loved him. You knew you meant it when you said it. You knew it before but something in that evening only made you love him even more. He didn’t push you. He didn’t make you feel bad. He was there for you, with you, in whatever way you wanted in that moment.

November 2022

“Jack, I don’t feel good,” you whisper, glancing around the packed night club.

Jack turns his attention away from the group of your friends that he was in the midst of a conversation with. His eyes land on you, nodding slowly as he reaches out, placing his hand on your side to steady your swaying body. “Come on,” he mumbles, guiding you through the building and into one of the single stall bathrooms.

You’re only in the bathroom for a second before you’re hovering over the toilet, the plethora of drinks you had consumed that night coming right back up.

“I’m going to get you some water,” Jack tells you, turning to open the door. “Stay here, okay?”

Nodding you flush the toilet, standing up and placing your hands on the edge of the counter, a steady surface to steady your not so steady self against. You turn the lock on the door, leaning into the counter again, taking deep breath to try to keep

Jack returns a few moments later with a glass of water which you gratefully take. After downing half the glass you feel your eyes fill with tears, drunk mind racing with emotions. “Does he hate me?” you mutter, looking over at Jack.

“What?” Jack asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nico,” you whisper. “Does he hate me? He asked me to take things further again yesterday and I said no.”

“I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him in a few days,” Jack tells you. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Refusing to be his girlfriend and now you’re crying about him.”

Your eyes fall to the ground, trying to find some sort of valid explanation for him. “I don’t want to be in a relationship right now,” you finally whisper.

“Why? You’re obviously into him,” Jack retorts quickly.

“Because, I’m supposed to figure out who I am in university, Jack. I’m supposed to have crazy, fun experiences with new people and I’m not supposed to find the person I’m going to be with for the rest of my life right now and-.”

“He’s not asking you to marry him,” Jack interrupts. “Why are you worried about spending the rest of your life with him right now?”

“Because I don’t want to get my heart broken, I don’t want to get hurt,” you mutter.

“You’re crying about him in a bathroom,” Jack exclaims, shaking his head. “You’re already hurt.”

“No,” you whisper, sniffling softly, tears rolling down your cheeks again. You didn’t want to admit Jack was right, you didn’t want to admit that everything you had done in the last year to keep Nico at a distance had been for nothing. “I want to go home.”

“You can come back to my place,” Jack offers with a sigh, clearly not wanting his night to be over but also not about to leave you alone.

“I’ll just get an Uber,” you tell him, pulling your phone from your pocket.

“I’m not letting you Uber home alone right now.”

You knew it was coming from a place of concern, but you really didn’t want to be the one to wreck his plans for the night. Whatever those plans were. “Fine,” you mutter. “But I don’t want to force you to go home.”

“Well all your friends are here and they’re also drunk so what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you whine, tipping your head back to look at the ceiling. The tiles are spinning in your mind and your head feels heavy, but you manage to lift it again before the spinning brings on another round of nausea. Your eyes land on Jack, watching him typing something quickly into his phone. You manage to restrain your drunken nosiness from asking who he was talking to, staying silent.

“Nico is going to pick you up,” Jack tells you a few minutes later, making your heart race.

“No,” you exclaim, shaking your head. You couldn’t let him see you like this.

“He’s already on his way,” Jack tells you definitively. “Come on, I’ll walk outside with you and wait for him.”

“Jack,” you whine, following him out of the bathroom anyway. “This is mean.”

“I offered to take you home,” Jack snaps, clearly annoyed with you for making any attempts to help much harder than necessary.

Sighing you follow him outside, the cold night air feeling refreshing to your nightclub-induced clammy skin. “I’m scared, Jack,” you whisper, standing next to him on the sidewalk.

“Why?”

“He hates me-.”

“He’s picking you up drunk at two in the morning, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Yes, he does,” you repeat. “He hates me but he’s nice a good guy and he’s just coming to pick me up because he’s not a shitty person and I-.”

“Shut up,” Jack groans. “Yeah, he’s a nice guy or whatever but he’s not nice enough to get out of bed and come here to take care of you if he doesn’t still like you.”

Just as Jack finished his sentence a familiar car pulls up along the side of the road. Quickly Jack yanks the passenger’s side door open. “Good luck,” he tells Nico as he guides you into the car.

“You okay?” Nico asks as you pull your seatbelt on, refusing to look across the car at him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter, eyes focusing out the side window, small raindrops beginning to splatter onto the clear glass. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” Nico states and you can tell he’s glancing at you when he says it. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to either though,” he clarifies.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, finally glancing over at him. "I'm sorry for making this so hard, I'm sorry I can't be who you want me to be right now, I like you so much Nico but I just can't be with you right now."

"It's okay," Nico tells you, his own voice greatly contrasting your unsteady, high-pitched tone. "I'm not going to push anything, if you want me around I'll be here. I'll wait for you."

January 2023

New Year's Eve. It was the one holiday that you seemed to never have a single tradition for. You had spent your New Year's Eve in a new location every year, from your bedroom to house parties to bars. This year though it was going to spent at a nightclub. A nightclub with as many friends as you could possibly wrangle into spending their night’s in a sweaty, loud, sticky nightclub downtown…including Nico.

You had gotten to Jack’s place just after eight, having spent the better part of three hours getting ready with your best friends at your apartment. You had to admit though, the time paid off, your outfit giving you an almost dangerous amount of confidence.

“Where’s Nico?” you ask Jack, watching him pour another round of shots.

You watch Jack’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, glancing at you for a second before returning to his bartending role. “Very interested in him for not being with him.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking a sip of your vodka soda. “I’m just curious, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Here,” Jack states, handing you a shot glass, filled to the brim with tequila. As you reach to take the shot glass he pulls it away, holding it out of your reach. “You have to promise that you’re not going to end up puking and crying about him tonight.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, reaching over and taking the shot glass from his hand, quickly dumping it into your mouth. You force the liquid down your throat with a wince, shuddering as you set the empty glass down onto the counter.

“If I hear you say you’re not feeling good I will be finding someone else to take care of you.”

“I’ve never been that drunk in my life before, Jack. Stop acting like it happens frequently,” you whine.

Jack chuckles, opening another beer. “You’re still that embarrassed about it, hey?”

“It was embarrassing,” you exclaim, glancing around the apartment, your interest piquing as your eyes sweep by the front door. Looking back you see Nico, struggling to yank his jacket off while holding a case of beer in one hand. “I’ll be right back,” you mutter to Jack, hurrying over to the door. “Need some help?” you ask Nico, taking the beer from his hand to let him take his jacket off.

“Thanks,” he says with a chuckle, balancing his coat on a stack over a hook on the wall. He turns his attention back you, his eyes gazing up and down your body. “You look hot,” he comments.

You can’t help but giggle at his comment, your cheeks reddening. “Well it took me long enough to get ready so I’m glad I got something out of it.” Turning around you head towards the kitchen with Nico’s beer.

Nico has his hands on your hips, stopping you in your tracks a moment later. “You can get anything you want looking like that,” Nico whispers.

Your breath catches in your throat, your back hitting Nico’s chest as you come to a stop. “It’s nine, Nico. We’ve got at least three more hours to go.”

“And?” Nico mumbles.

Giggling you lean back into him, tipping your head back to look up at him. “And if you keep this up I won’t be able to make it till midnight without trying to get you back to my place.”

Nico chuckles, his hand slipping around to your ass as he moves to walk towards the kitchen. Your cheeks warm even further at the contact, watching him take the beer from you, unloading a few of them into Jack’s fridge.

By the time you get to the club that night you’re a little more than tipsy, knowing you wouldn’t need to spend much money at the bar that night. The night had started with a lot of flirting between you and Nico, but once you arrived at the club you found yourself swept away with a few of your other friends.

Before you knew it you were standing in a group with just a couple of your friends and quite a few men you had never met before. There’s a man standing next to you who had his hands on you more than was accidental. A hand on your back as he squeezed by to order another drink, fingers brushing against yours, body pressing to yours while he leaned in to try to hear something someone said. You didn’t dislike it, you knew he was flirting with you and part of you was enthralled by that, by the attention. But every time it happened your mind would find its way back to Nico.

“Let’s get you another drink,” Peter, who you had just discovered the name of, says.

Your eyes glance down at your empty drink before letting him guide you to the bar with his hand on your waist. You order your drink and Peter pulls out his wallet. The two of you make small talk while you sip on your new drink. He was attractive, you had to admit that. But that’s about where it stopped. There was nothing about his personality that enticed you, but selfishly you did like the attention.

But you’re not able to see where things would go with him because the next thing you know Nico is pushing his way through the crowd to be at your side.

“What are you doing?” Nico asks you, not even acknowledging the man you were talking to.

Shrugging your shoulders your eyes flick back and forth from Nico to Peter and back to Nico. “What do you mean?”

Nico shakes his head with a cold chuckle, reaching down and taking your hand. “Come on, you’re done here.”

“Nico,” you whisper, eyes drilling into his. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t,” Nico mutters, shaking his head. “You know what I’m talking about, let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you state definitively, staring into his eyes as you match his intensity.

“What’s going on?” Peter interjects, catching both you and Nico’s attention.

“I think you should go,” Nico tells him before you have a chance to get a single word in.

“Why?” Peter asks with a cold chuckle. “She clearly isn’t interested in you, why would I go anywhere?”

You don’t even process what’s happening till Peter is stumbling backwards, hand on his jaw where Nico’s fist had just met with it. Thankfully a bouncer pulls Peter back before he can retaliate, Nico frozen in place, just as stunned by his actions as everyone else in that club.

You weren’t happy with Nico’s actions but you turn towards him anyway, grasping his arms a second later. “What the hell?” you exclaim, frantic eyes searching his for any type of answer.

Before Nico has a chance to say anything a bouncer is at his side, nodding towards the door. “You gotta go.”

“I-,” Nico begins before turning in the direction of the door, knowing he wasn’t going to argue his way out of this one.

You watch the bouncer guiding Nico towards the door, realizing you weren’t also being kicked out. You didn’t need to go. You could stay, you could keep drinking, celebrate New Years in this club. But the further and further Nico got with the bouncer the more uneasy you felt. So you let your legs carry you through the club and out the front door, into the freezing night air with Nico.

“Nico,” you call as you watch him walking away from the club, clearly with no real destination in mind.

“What?” Nico snaps, turning back around to look at you. “What do you want?”

“You’re really mad at me right now?” you yell, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep yourself warm.

“Yes,” Nico exclaims. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Nico.”

Nico shakes his head, laughing coldly. “I guess not,” Nico yells. “But whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore, I’m fucking done with this, I’m done with you.”

“Nico,” you mumble, walking closer to him, hoping something, anything you would say could convince him that it wasn’t that serious. “Please don’t say that.”

“No, I’m over this, I’m not going to keep fighting for you if you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“I do care about you,” you yell back at him, your voice hoarse and shaky. “I care about you so much, Nico, you don’t even know.”

“If you cared about me you wouldn’t be trying to fuck other guys right in front of me.”

“I-,” you begin, realizing you didn’t even know what your justification was about to be. Because, to be honest, you didn’t have one. “I’m sorry,” you finally croak.

“Just go back inside, I don’t fucking care,” Nico mutters, slurred words finally giving away his drunken state.

“I do,” you yell, walking closer to him. “I don’t want to go back inside, Nico. I don’t want to leave you…I do care.”

“Why?” Nico snaps, staring down at you intently now that you were standing just a foot in front of him.

“Because I love you,” you exclaim, the words leaving your mouth before you even had a chance to process them.

“Then don’t try to fuck other people,” Nico mutters, sliding his jacket off his arms now that you were close enough for him to realize you were shaking, gently placing it over your shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, tears welling in your eyes. You slip your arms into his jacket, tugging it tight around your body. “Please, I can’t lose you. I don’t want to be with him, I don’t want to be with anyone else. I want you.”

Nico steps back, taking a deep breath as he looks around the night sky for a minute. “Okay,” Nico mutters and you’re sure it’s more to himself than to you. “Do you want to go back in?”

“I’m not leaving you,” you tell him.

“It’s New Years, go be with your friends, I’m the one who fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t,” you whisper. “I mean, I don’t think you should have punched him but I’m not letting you take all the blame for this...Do you want to come over to my place?”

“Okay…sure, yeah, if that’s what you want to do,” Nico says, reaching over and pulling you into him, rubbing his hand along your arm, trying to warm you up.

So the two of you head back to your apartment, spending the rest of New Year's Eve together, just the two of you and a bottle of champagne.

It wasn’t the New Year's Eve you were expecting. It wasn’t necessarily the New Year's Eve you wanted, but maybe it was the New Year's Eve you needed. The wake up call that you had gone far beyond just friends with benefits. Even if you weren’t ready to accept it.

February 2023

Things had changed after the New Year's Eve incident. Neither of you had verbally talked about what had changed but you both knew it had. It was the second time you told him you loved him. The second time neither of you acknowledged it after it happened. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Your words had continued echoing in your mind and you knew you should deal with those thoughts, those feelings.

But you didn’t.

Maybe you really wanted to keep your commitment to yourself, to not get into a relationship till you had graduated. Maybe you were scared to take that step. Maybe you were embarrassed to ask for that after pushing it away for so long.

So you fell back into the routine you had before. Frequent dates and spending most of your time together in between. It was different, yet the routines remained the same for months.

June 2023

“I need a date to the awards ceremony,” Nico says, referring to the NHL Awards that were approaching quickly.

“I don’t think you need a date,” you reply, looking up over the top of your phone to the other end of the couch, where Nico was sitting.

“Okay…I want a date for the awards,” Nico tells you, reframing his statement.

“Okay,” you mutter, accepting his rephrased sentence.

“Are you going to come with me?”

“No,” you mumble, sitting up straighter on the couch.

“Why not?”

Rolling your eyes you lock your phone, tossing it down next to you. “Nico, you know why. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“This is a big deal for me,” Nico exclaims, clearly already knowing you were going to put up a fight about this. “Just come with me as a friend then.”

“You don’t bring just a friend to that kind of event. I know that much,” you tell him.

Suddenly Nico is on his feet, pacing the length of your living room, making it halfway back before throwing his hands up in defeat. “You can’t just be there for me, support me, even once. I’m getting tired of this…whatever this is.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, his words hitting you hard. “I do, I do want to support, I promise.”

Just three days later you’re standing in a fitting room, pulling a dress onto your body. Stepping out of the room your eyes land on Nico, waiting for his reaction to this one. It was the fifth dress you had tried on, Nico telling you he liked all of them.

“I like it,” Nico says, his eyes roaming over your body.

Groaning loudly you turn towards the mirror, adjusting the dress slightly. “Why’d you even insist on coming if you’re not going to give me any input?”

“Because I’m buying it for you,” Nico tells you in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, though it would be pretty helpful for your grad student budget.

“I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Me neither,” you reply, stepping back into the fitting room to try on another one.

Eventually you narrow it down enough that Nico finally gives his input, once he was simply picking between two dresses. At the till you try to pull your wallet out, Nico’s hand landing on your hands.

“I’m not letting you pay for it, Nico,” you whisper, trying to keep your disagreement out of ear shot of the sales attendant.

“Yes, you are. It doesn’t have to mean whatever you’re thinking, just let me buy the fucking dress,” Nico mutters, his voice carrying an unusually stern tone.

“Okay,” you whisper, eyes widening, stepping back as you watch Nico pull his wallet out and pay for the dress. He carries the bag for you, silence falling between you until you were outside, away from the sanctity of the boutique.

“What’s your problem?” you snap, standing next to Nico’s car, watching him set the bag down into the backseat.

“What?” Nico asks with a loud sigh, slamming the car door a little harder than necessary.

“I don’t know...you’re mad at me for not dating you and-.”

“I’m not mad at you for not dating me,” Nico interrupts. “I’m mad that we are dating and you refuse to admit it.”

“We’re not together,” you state definitively, arms crossed over your chest.

“Okay, whatever, then this is done,” Nico mutters, shaking his head. “Get in the car.”

“I want to go home,” you tell him, yanking the car door open.

“Well that’s where I’m taking you,” Nico grumbles, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car.

The drive back to your apartment is silent, your eyes focused directly ahead of you, the drive seeming longer than you had remembered. Nico pulls into the parking lot, turning the car around so that your side of the car was facing the door, something he had done since the first time he dropped you off at home. Opening the door you slip out, glancing back to find Nico handing you the bag with the dress.

“I don’t want the fucking dress, Nico. I’m not doing this anymore.”

He nods slowly, your words sinking in. “Well what am I going to do with it? Just take it.”

Sighing you reach over, taking the bag from him, knowing it would be easier than continuing to argue about it. “Alright, well,” you mutter, glancing around. “Goodbye…I guess.”

“Bye,” Nico replies, voice strained, eyes barely meeting yours.

You shut the door slowly, walk into your apartment even slower, knowing that if you really did leave it like that it was a big statement. A big statement you weren’t even sure you wanted to be making. But you keep going, till you’re up in your apartment and your eyes are filling with tears.

Your best friend Liv is at your apartment shortly after you tell her what had happened, with a couple bottles of wine and take-out.

“I just don’t get it,” Liv says, sitting on the couch with half a glass of red wine in her hand. “You like him, you two are always together, going on dates. Why won’t you just let him in? Make it official?”

Shrugging you swirl the wine around in your glass, swallowing heavily as another round of tears form in your eyes. “Because I said I wouldn’t, Liv. I promised myself, I would experience things, I would figure myself out before getting into a real relationship.”

“But you’re not doing that,” Liv points out. “You keep saying you don’t want anything serious but you’ve been, what, casually dating this guy for like a year and a half? When’s the last time you went on a date with anyone else?”

Shrugging you try to think back, try to remember the last time you actually even seriously entertained the idea of a date with another man. “I don’t know, last year, I guess.”

“When’s the last time you hooked up with anyone other than him?”

“Liv, I don’t know. It’s been awhile, I get it,” you exclaim, sighing loudly. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Liv asks, voice gentle and reassuring despite your outburst. “You’ve always been scared of getting hurt. But if you don’t let yourself be with someone you’re never going to even have the opportunity for what else could happen.”

“No,” you whisper, wiping away a few tears that had pooled under your eyes. “I’m scared that I pushed him away…for good this time.”

Liv reaches over, placing her hand on your leg. “You’ve been doing this for a year, I don’t think this has to be the last time…if you’re actually going to let him in this time. But if you’re not, if you’re still not ready, maybe it should be for good.”

Liv stays with you for most of the night, watching reality tv and finishing off the wine she had brought over. You didn’t talk much more about Nico, wanting to get your mind off of the situation for awhile, to let yourself calm down.

You contemplated reaching out to Nico. From hours after to days after. But you didn’t know what to say and he wasn’t saying anything either. So you didn’t say anything at all, till you were only a couple days away from the NHL Awards and all you could think about was Nico telling you that he wanted you to be there to support him.

Pulling your phone out you scroll through your contacts, finding the one you were looking for and pressing the call button.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, um, if I book a flight to Nashville and a hotel and everything can you bring me with you on Monday?”

“To the awards?”

“Yeah.”

“No. What the hell? You’ve been fucking with Nico’s feelings for so long and now you’re going to try to come with me instead?”

“No, that’s not what I mean, Jack,” you mumble, tears welling in your eyes. “I just…I want to be there for him, I can’t miss it, Jack, I can’t. I fucked up, I know I’ve been a shitty person to him and I don’t know how I can change that but I need to see him and I need him to know that I care and I don’t want to lose him and-.”

“Okay,” Jack exclaims, cutting you off. “Holy shit, yeah, okay, you can come. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, pulling your knees to your chest, staring across the living room at the dark TV, your reflection looking back at you. “I love him, Jack.”

“But you don’t want to be with him.”

“I do.”

“You need to tell him that then. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Of course. But you really need to figure this out with him because I can’t handle being in the middle of you two fighting.”

“I will.”

You woke up extra early the morning of the awards. Not on purpose, you had an entire day to get ready. But you were too anxious to stay asleep. So you pulled yourself out of bed and tried to spread out the process of getting ready through the day so you wouldn’t have much time to ruminate on everything alone in the quiet hotel room.

Finally you’re heading down the elevator after what felt like the longest day of your life to meet Jack out front on the way to the arena.

“You look good,” Jack tells you as you pull your seatbelt on, adjusting your dress.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your mind so preoccupied with Nico that you were barely registering anything that was happening around you.

When you get to the venue your stomach is churning with so much anxiety you begin to worry you might throw up. “I don’t know what to say to him,” you admit as you walk next to him.

“Sorry might be a good start.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone else. You force a few deep breaths into your lungs as you follow Jack, till you’re standing just a few feet away from Nico. When your eyes meet you can visibly see the confusion flash across his face, eyes darting between you and Jack.

“What?” Nico begins, Jack stepping back as he says it.

“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Jack says, hurrying off in the other direction to leave you alone with Nico.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice shaky. “I’m so sorry, Nico. I shouldn’t have pushed you away so much. And maybe this is too little, too late, I don’t know, but I want to be here for you. You can tell me to go, I understand if you don’t want me here.”

“Of course I want you here,” Nico tells you, reaching over and taking your hand, tugging you closer. “I just can’t keep doing this. I want to be with you, I want this to be real and if not-.”

“I want that too,” you whisper, shaky fingers clutching at Nico’s arms.

“What? Why? Why now?” Nico asks, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Because I realized how stupid I’ve been. I was scared, I was holding onto this idea that I needed to figure something out before I let myself get into a relationship,” you tell him, trying so hard to come up with words that would explain everything, make everything okay. “I was waiting for something, some revelation or something, but I don’t even know what I was waiting for because I don’t want anything else, I just want to be with you and I’m sorry that I didn’t just accept that earlier. I shouldn’t have made you wait like this.”

Nico nods as he listens to your rambling explanation, watching your eyes welling with tears. When you finish talking Nico pulls you into him, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “I would have waited as long as you needed.”

Sniffling you pull back, wiping away the tears from your eyes before they could roll onto your cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying like this,” you say with nervous laugh. “I, um, I don’t know what to do now…we’re here to celebrate you, how…where…what happens now?”

Nico chuckles quietly, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently. “Just stay with me, you don’t need to worry about anything else.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, taking Nico’s hand in yours, moving to his side. “I love you,” you whisper.

Nico glances down at you, his lips curling into a smile. “I love you too.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl one shot #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines

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fearlessreid · 8 months

Text

Bad Idea, right?

a/n: yeah yeah steve won the poll, enjoy.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you and king steve have been broken up for 6 months, will that distaste you feel for him manifest into sexual tension when you see him at a party?

warnings: SMUT 18+. swearing. unprotected sex (pls wrap it up, especially with your ex) piv sex

2K words (not proofread)

obv based off of olivia’s song

Six months ago I broke up with ‘king steve’, he would tell you that it's because there was a ‘lack of chemistry’ which we all know is a lie, the real reason is because all he could care about was partying and his stupid, stupid hair.

Im sitting at my vanity applying lip gloss, getting ready for another one of carol perkins end of year summer kickoff parties, it's honestly just an excuse for the jocks to hook up with the band geeks and then blame it on the alcohol.

“Okay so Tommy is going to be there, despite it being carols party and they broke up right after prom” my best friend, heather rants. I nod my head and continue applying my makeup. Heather continues “But Tommy told me to keep an eye out for him so I think he wants to hook up and- you are so not listening”

I sigh “I am, I just have bigger things to worry about” I say and heather scoffs “right because worrying about being at a party with steve harrington for the first time in months is so important” she sasses and I roll my eyes.

“Oh please like I could give a shit about king steve and his hair that would explode if I held a lighter to it”. Heather laughs “you totally give a shit,” “nope now hand me the hairspray”

At the party, I stand by a staircase, nursing a cup of jungle juice in my hand, watching across the room as Heather has her tongue down tommys throat.

A hand taps my shoulder and I look at the culprit. Peter Marco, the cute boy from my algebra class, once upon a time, long before Steve harrington, I had a crush on peter, that crush being fizzled out by the charm of king steve.

He smiles, his dimple showing “hey, haven't seen you in a hot second” he says and i smile back, “yeah, I took a break from the whole party thing”. For the next half an hour, I talked with Peter, he's cute and he's funny, he's the type of guy I should want.

Our peaceful conversations get interrupted by a boy yelling “king steve is in the building” and everyone starts chanting and cheering. I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen, I did not need this.

I down at least 3 more cups of jungle juice, the sugar is rotting my teeth and the alcohol is going right into my bloodstream, it's only 10:00 pm and I am completely wasted.

I walk to go use the bathroom. My head is spinning. I bump into someone and the next thing I can comprehend is their drink now on my dress, my light pink dress. I look up and his eyes burn into mine, the man of the hour, Steven William Harrington.

“You absolute idiot look what you did” I yell. I pushed past him and ended up in the second floor bathroom. I locked the door and took a wet towel to try to scrub the drink out of my dress.

There's a knock at the door. “Occupied” I called out and took a seat on the toilet seat. “Open up” Steve calls from the other side of the door. I roll my eyes “go away” I yell and go back to scrubbing at my dress.

“I brought a tide stick, let me in” he says, an undertone of annoyance. I hesitantly open the door and let him in. He comes in and closes the door.

I sit back down on the toilet seat and he bends down on his knees and tries to take out the stain with the tide stick. It doesn't work and I sigh frustratedly. “I'll pay for dry cleaning, don't get your panties in a twist”

His comment makes me scoff “you see? Comments like those are why I dumped your ass”. “You're wasted” he says and i laugh “so what”, he sighs “so i'm taking you home, I haven't drank anything tonight”

I shake my head “i'm not going anywhere with you, plus im here with heather”. Now it's steves turn to laugh “heather left with tommy like 15 minutes ago, let me take you home, no funny business, i promise”

I get into his car and we drive in silence and we pass my street “steve that was my street “what the fuck”, he smiles and shakes his head “youre parents would kill you if you showed up this sloshed, and i meant what i said, no funny business”

My eyes burn into him “fine”

I walk into the Harrington home and the memories start flooding in, the good and the bad. Steve guides me to his room and lays me on the bed. “You'll take the bed, I'm staying in the guest room” and explains. “Stay” I basically beg

I make room for him on the bed and he lays next to me. He's taken off his shirt and changed into his pyjama pants and I steal one of his shirts to sleep in.

All I can notice is his pants low on his hips, his toned v line. my thighs press together. The rational part of my brain is trying to talk but all im hearing is ‘blah blah blah’

I can feel Steve's eyes on me,he's right next to me, I feel the heat of his body lingering on mine, the tension is unbearable.

“Fuck it” i mutter under my breath, i straddle steves hips and his eyes widen “what are you doin-” i cut him off by placing my lips on his, he tenses but melts into the kiss, his hands finding my waist.

The kiss heats up as I grind my hips into his. Steve pulls away and I whine. “You are drunk, we can't” he says and i shake my head “i sobered the minute i walked into this house” i say and peck his lips.

Steve contemplates and is at a mental war with himself. He mutters a “fuck it” and smashes his lips back into mine and my hips immediately find his again and he lets out a groan.

“This is such a bad idea” I mutter against his lips. He flips us so he's on top and pushes my shirt up and kisses down my chest and stomach until he reaches the waistband on my underwear. “Steve please we don't have time for that just put it in me” I beg, Steve nods and takes off his sleep plants to reveal his cock.

My mouth waters at the sight “fuck ive missed your cock so much”, steve smirks and takes off my underwear to reveal my glistening cunt. He groans at the sight and lines up his cock with my folds as he rubs the tip of his cock through them.

My back arches as I moan “please steve, no teasing”. He slides it slowly into me and we both moan at the feeling. He allows me to adjust until I give him the okay. He pumps slowly and I wrap my legs around his waist bringing him closer. It shouldn't feel this intimate, I can't hear my thoughts screaming. This is a bad idea.

His thrusts get sloppy. Signalling that he's close and he sneaks his hand down to my clit and starts rubbing at the nub.

Steve cums first, his hips stuttering and he breathes heavily as he cums, I finish seconds after him, my body tensing with pleasure.

As we both come down from our highs, my thoughts run wild, what the hell just happened.

Steve pulls out of me and watches his cum drip out of me. As the post orgasm haze dissipates my eyes widen “steve we forgot to use a condom”

He freezes and panic sets into his face “oh fuck”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x y/n smut

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feralsteddie · 9 months

Text

blame @grandwretch for telling me to listen to bad idea right?

Steve cringed at himself, contemplated bashing his own head in on his steering wheel, and got out of the car.

He was still slightly covered in glitter, some of it his, some of it Robin and Chrissy’s.

The two of them were still at the club. Where Steve left them. After getting a literal ‘u up?’ text like Eddie hadn’t watched Chrissy get ready to go out with them in their shared apartment and knew he'd be awake and out until 2 AM at the earliest.

God, when had Steve fallen so low?

He’d blocked Eddie’s number months ago, had even gone on a couple of dates! The last one had been with Levi. Steve liked Levi. Even if he kept making Dead Kennedy’s jokes that Steve didn’t get and kept insisting that Steve would just love The Front Bottoms if he gave them a try.

But he was nice.

A real gentleman.

Didn’t seem to have a whole subscription of issues that meant he was too afraid to use the L Word, or talk about the future, or even really answer any questions about what he wanted out of the relationship besides sex, all while being a completely possessive asshole like Steve already had his last name and a ring on his finger.

… Not that that was pointed or anything.

Anyways.

Point was, Steve had been doing good.

And then Dustin had given him a long speech about how they were all adults (Steve refused to believe the kids were adults, they would be kids until he was in the ground and half-rotted) and the weird tension between Steve and Eddie was making it very difficult to plan events if they were always having to take into consideration Robin’s Steve’s no contact rule.

So, Steve had unblocked him. Hadn’t made any move to text him though, just had a couple of stilted phone calls while coordinating who was giving who a ride to Nancy, Jon, and Argyle’s anniversary party.

But apparently Steve’s luck had run out. Some time between getting to the club, Chrissy posting a bunch of half-blurry videos of them dancing, and Steve getting very up close and personal with some guy who had tattoos up to his neck and biceps bigger than his, the universe had decided to tempt Steve.

He’d only seen the text when he’d broken off for a bathroom break, and despite the chorus of drunk girls he knew he would have had if he’d opened his mouth and said the magical words ‘Should I call my ex?’ his fingers had already made the decision for him.

Five minutes later he was telling the girls he had a headache, and that they should keep enjoying themselves.

Robin was going to kill him.

But that was a Tomorrow Steve issue.

He was already climbing the stairs- taking them two at a time even like the desperate bastard he was- and knocking before common sense could kick in and tell him to actually go home and sleep.

He was barely pulling his fist away when the door swung open, and god.

Eddie leaned against the doorframe, stretching his arm up as he smirked at Steve. Fucking shirtless and in sweatpants like the fuckboy he swore he wasn’t, and Steve’s thoughts were just static.

Did Eddie have to be so fucking hot?

It was truly annoying, like Steve was pretty sure he’d have been able to get over the asshole if he didn’t look like that. It was a travesty about his personality though.

“Damn, baby. You get dolled up all for me?” He was looking at Steve like he was a piece of meat he couldn’t wait to dig his teeth into.

Steve rolled his eyes and shoved his way into the apartment, “Actually it was for whoever I was going to bring home from the club, but you knew that already.” He snarked, looking around the living room like he hadn’t been there to help Chrissy and Eddie move in.

The door slammed behind him, making him jump a little, and jump again when he felt hands slip under his fuzzy blue sweater.

Eddie was a line of heat against his back, his long, thick fingers trailing up his sides and over his stomach, stopping to dig into the thick of his hips.

“But you’re not with any of those guys, are you?” He was halfway growling, like he had any say in what Steve did anymore. Possessive bastard.

Steve tilted his head back, resting it against Eddie’s shoulder while he placed little kisses up and down the offered skin.

No, I’m not. He wanted to say. Or maybe I don’t want them. Or even I wouldn’t have to settle for them if you had just loved me.

He didn’t say any of those, because they were too real for what was happening and Eddie would get spooked again and Steve was already there and thinking about Eddie’s dick, so.

“There’s time for that to change.” He settled on instead, curling his lip with all the bitchiness he could muster.

He felt teeth latch onto the side of his neck briefly, Eddie biting down hard enough in those couple seconds he knew it’d be a pretty bruise come morning, “Don’t be like that,” He sounded almost pained when he said it, and Steve had to clench his jaw, “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to be.”

“God, do you ever shut up.” Steve turned in his arms and grabbed either side of Eddie’s face, pulling him into a kiss. Fuck, Steve missed kissing Eddie. Missed how soft his lips were, the curl of them like he couldn’t help the smile, the way he gentled it, slowed Steve down even when he wanted the frantic and messy, so he didn’t let himself think of it as romantic.

Steve pulled away slightly, “Bed. I gotta be in my own before Robin gets home.”

Eddie reattached their mouths, walking Steve backwards, down the hall and to his bedroom that still smelled like weed and the patchouli incense he always swore were fooling his landlord. “Don’t worry about them.” Steve felt his knees hit the side of the bed, and Eddie pulled his sweater and shirt off as he fell back onto the mattress.

“Yeah, you say that until Chris and Rob string us both up-”

“No, I mean her and Chris are heading over to Vickie and Eden’s.”

Steve paused, thumbs hooked into the waistband of his shorts, “… Did you plan this?” He kind of wanted to kick the stupid grin off of his face, and the urge only increased when he snorted.

“She texted me just before you got here, they ran into each other after you left.” Steve ignored the brief bout of disappointment in his stomach, covered it with an eye roll as he finished shoving the rest of his clothes off.

Obviously, it hadn’t been planned. He was booty called with the most obvious line in the history of texting, and he was probably just the first person desperate enough to take him up-

His thoughts were cut off by a hand grabbing his face, fingers and thumb pressing into his cheeks and pulling him into another kiss, “But I’m gunna count myself lucky I get to take my time with you now, sweetheart.”

Steve felt his chest crack a little, and he was so fucking stupid, it was such a bad idea, a colossal bad idea, he was going to make Dustin invent a time machine so he could go back and break his phone and tell him it wasn’t worth his stupid heart again.

Then Eddie was kissing him again, slow and deep and enough to scramble Steve’s thoughts because rule of thumb was Steve and Eddie were never not kissing when they were together and it was still his favorite thing in the world.

His face was released so Eddie could keep touching him, the calluses on the tips of his fingers scraping down his neck, over his chest and waist and hips until Eddie could grab a handful of his thigh and-

Fuck it, it’s fine.

#i did not reread this so you get what you get #the texts were just for funsies #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #not gunna tag the side ships bc they were barely mentioned but i stand by them #uhhh gets a little sad there for a second but they broke up and i needed a reason #and despite how much i love these two being obsessed with each other #they got issues #pyreposting

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silverstagspirit · 1 year

Text

Survivor of Ramshackle - Part 3

Part three is here!

Warnings: corpses, burial, mild panic attack for Grim, angst.

PART 2 PART 4

---

Grim was attending another unbirthday party with Ace and Deuce. He did not like any of these snobby rules. Yet here he was. The very morning after Yuu left, no less. The one upside was that he was chowing down on some tarts that Trey baked. They tasted amazing. The strawberries felt like they were dancing on his tongue.

*Drop*

A sudden wave of dread washed over Grim. Causing him to freeze. His whole body was paralyzed. And his mind kept telling him that something was wrong. It was a terrible, horrible feeling of wrongwrongwrongWRONGWRONG-

"Oi! Grim!"

"Hnngh!?"

He was back at the unbirthday party. Only this time, Ace and Deuce were looking at him.

"What's the matter with you? It's not like you to drop food."

Grim looked down and saw the rest of his slice of tart abandoned on the grass.

"Oh no! My tart!"

"NO GRIM! What have we told you about eating stuff of the- and he's already munching on it."

"We should know better by now, Ace."

He looked at Grim eating his tart.

"Why did you even drop it in the first place? I thought you were like, super protective of food."

Grim stopped eating and looked up at him.

"I dunno. I just had this bad feeling wash over me, and I just couldn't move."

"What do you mean by "bad feeling"."

"I told you I don't know. But I just got a thought that something bad had happened. Something REALLY bad."

"I'm sure you're just remembering an assignment you forgot about, and now you know that Trien's going to have your hide."

"Am not!"

The day would go on normal from there. But Grim would still have questions as to what that feeling was.

Yuu was bumping into things as they floated. Learning how to use this new form was tricky. Having magic now (or at least something akin to it) would be a big thing to adjust to. For now, they stayed on the ground. Thier body feeling lighter than ever.

'I wonder if I can run', they thought.

They picked up the pace a little bit. When they thought they could handle more, they went a bit faster. This continued until they had broken into a full-blown sprint.

'That's weird. I've never been able to run this fast before.'

Yuu began to sprint faster and faster until even the wind couldn't catch up to them.

'Oh my gosh! I feel alive!'

Taking it to the next level, they jumped up. They flew half a dozen feet into the air. This made them panic.

"Wooaoah!!"

'I've never jumped this high before!'

They thought they would collide with the ground but were surprised when they didn't feel anything. When they opened their eyes, they were still floating in the air. They were confused, but when they imagined themselves floating safely to the ground, it actually happened.

'Neat,' Yuu thought as they stepped forward experimentally.

Yuu looked back at the phantom behind them.

It was burying bodies. The middle head using it's snout as a shovel while the left head picked up the corpses and put them in the holes. The third head was also helping with bodies, but it was not as good at it as the left head.

Yuu looked at the phantom doing its job. Before they could take revenge, they needed to have this creature on their side. They couldn't go anywhere without it.

So they walked up to it and started helping them bury bodies.

As they were doing this, they started to wonder, why was the phantom doing this? These things are dangerous, evil beings. So why wasn't this thing destroying everything?

They said that phantoms came from when a Mage was using too much magic on top of feeling intense negative emotion. Said negative emotions manifested as that phantom. This phantom formed when Yuu was experiencing extreme grief at the loss of their race.

That and there was nothing left here for them to destroy.

So Yuu just never said a word to it and helped them bury the dead.

Yuu helped their phantom with the burials all day. When the sun went down, that was when they stopped to rest. After all, you can't stay up past sundown when there is no electricity for light.

When they began falling asleep, they noticed that the extra long sleeves they wore would wind around their waist and tighten like a straight jacket. This felt like a hug, so they didn't mind. And it helped them sleep better.

Waking the next morning, when the sun rose, they set out with their phantom to continue the burials.

Body after body

Person after Person

Yuu felt numb whilst doing all this. But they still did it. Burying people they have known for years. People they didn't know. People who had barely begun life.

This went on for some time. They stopped counting the days. It must have been almost a week by now.

Yuu had thought about naming the phantom. They couldn't just keep calling them by 'their phantom'.

"Hey you!"

The phantom turned its heads towards them with the middle one snarling.

"Can I give you a name?"

That made the creature go quiet and look at them with interest. Yuu searched through the mental list of names they had made.

"How about Ragnarok?"

That made the creature growl at them displeased. They thought of another one.

"Ghidorah?"

Once again, the creature growled displeased. Yuu was actually kind of relieved at this. Because they weren't exactly fond of that name either.

"Doom?"

The phantom made a crackling-chittering noise at this. Yuu thought they made it mad, so they closed their eyes, waiting for pain to come. Instead, they felt something wet and squishy brush over them. Yuu opened their eyes and saw that they were being licked by the middle head. They seemed pleased with that name. But Yuu was not quite finished yet. They still needed to give the three of them separate names.

"Okay, so that will be the name for all of you, but what about each of you?"

Doom's heads looked at each other.

They went through the list again. If Doom did not like Ghidorah, then they probably won't like Ichi, Ni, and Kevin either. They still offered it just in case. The two Phantom heads did not like those names for them. However, the third head on the right started licking them.

"You like the name Kevin?"

It chittered in response.

"So that settles your name. But what about you two?" Yuu thought over possible names. "Ying and Yang sound good." Doom's heads let out a satisfied huff.

"Cool! So that settles things."

They would need some more bonding before they could get Doom fully on their side. But they were willing to wait.

---

Sorry for the wait. It took me a while to figure out the plot for this part. I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks for reading.

Taglist: @kami-kun1003 @lemonandlime22

#twisted wonderland #twst #yuu #overblot yuu #angst #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #overblot

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ficbrish · 1 month

Text

Smoke Rings

[AO3 Link]

[Here we go! @flufftober Spring Edition 2024! Thank you for the prompt 🥰 March 13th - Spring Cleaning]

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

tw/cw: Sexual content, cptsd, blood, alcohol, weed/mushrooms, smoking, sex while high, post-battle scenery, gore, death, hanging reference, an unserious small dick joke, vague reference to past incest and CSA

After the game, but before the epilogue, Astarion and Vistri find a new home in the Underdark.

END GAME/POST-CANON SPOILERS!

Exhausted and ragged, they looked at each other in disbelief and clasped hands.

Their last enemy had been cut down; the fortress finally won.

“I believe we have a home now, darling.”

Astarion’s voice was strained from shouting, and moisture clouded his ruby eyes. His words echoed hollowly, but they were real.

A home, in the Underdark. That kind of life had been snatched from Vistri at the vengeful end of a serving fork. Dear Uncle Hurzeth really should have learned to shut his mouth, but like most religious men, he wasn’t known for his humility or impulse-control.

Vistri’s name and birthright burnt to ash upon his funeral pyre; stuffed in the gullet of his perverse corpse. In seizing justice, retribution wrapped around her own throat like an executioner’s noose, diminishing her to the life of a wandering Surface vagabond. Never to have a home in the violet gloom again.

Until the Nautiloid came along playing matchmaker and diviner of fate.

Their homecomings were each other’s exiles. As she reunited with the permanent dark, Astarion was banished to it. All that illithid nonsense allowed the sun to lovingly grace his skin without burning it to cinders. Now sans tadpoles, or the sacrifice of seven thousand other vampire spawn, his bright star once more turned to poison.

Luckily, Vistri was all the sun he ever needed. She dwarfed the real one in comparison to how she brightened his days and left a pleasant tingling on his skin. Its daylight cast shadows, while her spotlight chased away all shade. Its radiant touch whispered and dissipated rather quickly, hers shouted and echoed endlessly.

And even when it was the other way around, Astarion turned Vistri’s prison into a sanctuary. Maybe it was Sune herself who blessed them, for the love they found taught them the true meaning of home.

Standing back to back in the blood-soaked corridors of their brand-new ancient fortress, all they’d really gained was an address.

And a place to keep their stuff.

And host parties at.

…And for teaching and protecting all the others who’d broken from Cazador’s heavy chains.

Tiredly they turned and fell into each other’s arms, bracing themselves against their weariness. The rush of battle still flared through every muscle as their heightened senses filled with nothing but the other. Relief vibrated into a livid need, so furious at death that it came alive.

Her whimper wouldn’t have been half as charming if she wasn’t so completely oblivious to it building in her throat. He dwarfed it with a moan, taking her lips tenderly between his.

Breaking apart, she sighed and swore, “I’d let you take me over these corpses.”

“Wouldn’t be very sanitary though, would it?”

She giggled senselessly and twirled from his embrace to survey the room. Unsuccessfully clearing the ecstatic happiness from her lips with a smirk, she said, “It’s a fucking dump.”

Astarion threw his head back and laughed with such relief it sounded like sobbing.

Having carved a path of carnage all the way from the gates to that final corridor, they had a clear way back to the others. The halls seemed a lot longer when they were fighting their way through them. And populated with more vampires.

At some point along their macabre stroll, Astarion suddenly stopped them. “But where are all the spawn?” he asked warily.

“Perhaps they’ve met up already?”

Uneasy shivers skirted his neck. He felt them despite being just out of reach. It was enough of a warning for him to suggest they continue carefully, slowly. Even if there was nothing to worry about, a little caution couldn’t hurt.

The reason for his misgivings became apparent as soon as they approached the courtyard. Apparently everyone had met up already. A veritable feeding frenzy played out before them. Ravenous spawn were covering the cadavers like carrion. It was like the Shadowfell had descended, warping them into a Domain of sickness. The risen dead devouring a small village.

They thought they’d learned everything to know about the Dhampir, but clearly their education was just getting started. Astarion was one vampire, and that’s all they were used to. This was a horde. No stranger to the sight of him ripping off a bandit’s head and drinking from it like a chalice, Vistri still froze in fear at the scene before them.

Growling instinctively, Astarion stepped in front of her. Territorial feeders, the spawn were spaced like pieces on a freshly set lanceboard. Even so, the crowd was denser over by the gates, where most of the carnage was concentrated. His siblings feasted among them. He couldn’t help the sense of superiority that dawned on him at the sight.

He might not have ascended at Cazador’s death, but in observing his brethren’s lowly acts, thought himself lord of them all. The blood they supped on was dead and dull, no matter how fresh and warm. Astarion had Vistri. He didn’t steal, because she gave. She came to him willingly, and her blood ran with drow and dragon, so vibrantly full of life it was as powerful as a storm.

Vistri pitied them. How hungry and desperate, how alone they all were. She looked at Astarion in a new beloved light. He was the one who brought them together, the one who would guide them all to be better.

Astarion was the first one to get away, to learn to control his nature. He was the one who killed Cazador. He was the one who broke their chains, giving them another chance. He was the one who had something to teach all the rest.

He felt such a bitter disgust; none of them should ever be this desperate, this starved. Feed, he thought proudly, looking out, Feed to your fill. They’d do better than animals and cooling corpses soon enough.

Realizing they were senseless of anything but the bleeding bodies stacked in front of them, Astarion scooped Vistri into his arms like a bride to carry her across the courtyard.

“You will not be afraid in your own home. I’ll make sure no one gives you a reason,” he said it so surely, it was more a statement of fact than a promise.

As he walked past the growling, slurping spawn, Vistri hid her face in his breast like a nervous child. The world was dangerous and threatening, but she was safe in his arms. Still, the relief she felt was full-bodied when they passed under arches and retreated into the fortress.

He carried her though the blooded halls of time-forgotten stone, unsure of where he was headed. Just somewhere else away from the others, away from the marks of battle. Astarion searched until he was satisfied he’d found a corner that could be entirely theirs. It took him far down the corridors, climbing stairs where he saw the opportunity.

Arms aching, he gave up on perfection and settled for what seemed like it would do. As they crossed the chosen chamber threshold, he kissed Vistri’s cheek and said, “Welcome home, my love.”

She giggled as he set her down with an, “Ooof! ”

The room was too spacious to be a closet, and contained no hints of its purpose. There were chairs everywhere, some broken, none matching. A desk was placed haphazardly near the middle, or maybe it was a table. Wooden crates were stacked to the side in a disorderly way, like they’d been quickly stashed and forgotten. Vistri wanted to open them immediately. She spilled out of Astarion’s arms and tumbled towards them.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here!” she said, rubbing her hands together. She hit one with an ice cantrip.

“Careful!” he chuckled as the air around them chilled and wood cracked.

The crate didn’t open, the side just sort of froze.

“Blast!”

Spotting the way Vistri frustratedly pulled her foot back for a kick, Astarion picked her up and pulled her away. She fussed in his embrace like an angry cat.

“By the gods, you’ll break whatever’s in there,” he chuckled, “Let me do it.”

Vistri crossed her arms, “Fine.”

Alas! There was wine. After he put her down, he pried the crate open with one of his knives, revealing dozens of bottles inside.

“I could have done that!”

He chuckled warmly, “My dear, you would have shattered them.”

Hopefully it was good wine, because every bottle was the same. Knife still in hand, he twisted off the cork and tested the first sip.

His face screwed up with bitterness, “Just give it a little time to breathe.”

Tittering at his reaction, Vistri yanked the bottle from his grasp and took an impatient sip. “It’s not… entirely rubbish,” she said, warily giving her judgment with a thoughtful expression.

“Give it a minute!” he laughed.

Defiantly, she took another sip.

“You little minx,” he smirked, snatching the bottle back. After setting it down on the floor, Astarion looped his fingers with hers. He sighed against her lips before kissing them. Vistri forgot all about the wine, even as their tongues tasted of it.

“Astarion,” she said, and he thought she was just saying his name until she continued, “Is there something else I can offer you to drink in the meantime?”

Her offer brought to mind the courtyard below. He was better than that because she allowed him to be better. She barely let him say it first, always begging to be drunk. In the way that other lovers would ask, Have you eaten today? Vistri tilted her neck and inquired if he wanted a bite.

Resting his forehead against hers, he said, “I am feeling a bit peckish.”

Vistri jumped blissfully into his arms. Her heart beat ecstatically in anticipation as Astarion brought her over to that table in the middle of the room. She felt like a cloth being draped across it. Her legs opened as he climbed over her.

Before he pierced her with his fangs, she pulled him into a rough kiss. His thigh pushed hers wider apart. He felt himself grind into her, his hips swaying in tune with hers. Their song eventually spilled off her tongue, and Astarion moaned too, making it a duet.

“Bite my lip,” she suggested.

Smiling, he submitted to her suggestion, as gently as he could. With the point of his fang, he sliced her open, groaning as the first drop of blood hit his tongue. Astarion feasted like a king among peasants. Vistri wriggled willingly, longingly under him. She kissed him as he sucked her lip and nibbled it, coaxing her nectar to trickle forward. While part of him reached a point of satisfaction, another starved. Ravenously, he pushed into her mouth. They passed her blood back and forth on shivering tongues.

“Astarion,” she sighed as he let go of her lip, and this time she was just saying his name.

Their fingers tumbled with their lacings; their knuckles clashing together in the rush to free themselves from their leathers.

“Can—?”

“Yes!” she pleaded.

It felt like laying claim; to each other, this fortress, their power, and life itself. The tight, stretching ache of one another ripped through their senses with the thrust of his hips. Pleasure sighed through every pore, rushing like a white river over their skin.

Ecstasy erased their sense of self, dissolving them together in its realm. They were safe now. They could spend their lives this way. They were home.

Free.

Little did they know that table had been stashed there over a weak leg. It gave out from the power of their movements, and the whole thing collapsed. Shrieking as they fell, it turned to laughter as they realized neither were hurt.

“Are you okay?” she laughed, and he kissed her in response.

“I almost broke my dick!” he cackled breathily.

Vistri got up first, still giggling, and offered a hand, “Careful, you’re surrounded by wooden stakes.”

She was little help with how weak her limbs were, both from the edge of fulfillment, and their sudden shock that’d blossomed into overwhelming hilarity. They burst into another round of it when he slipped and almost fell back into a broken table leg. Vistri had to catch him with her spectral mage hand.

Stumbling over the trousers they’d pushed down to their thighs, they chased each other to another corner of the room. Astarion caught her and spun her around into an innocent kiss that easily descended into depravity.

His arms felt like mush and their muscles begged screaming for some rest, but Astarion lifted Vistri up again anyway to push her back into the wall. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, taking care not to leave bruises as others did. He hadn’t asked for that yet. But at his command, she’d tighten into a vice-grip and leave behind a physical reminder of their embrace.

Gravity turned the wall into a bed. Like the arches bearing their new home, they found a force and a balance when pressing together that held up their wary, rutting bodies. Staring into Vistri’s violet eyes, Astarion found himself falling into the abyss.

“Wait,” he absently whispered, slowing his movements.

Caressing his cheek, worry infecting her tone, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

His chuckle was a growl, “More like too right.” He kissed her and groaned, “I’m not done with you yet.”

Trapping her hips against the wall, he held them still and started to gradually rock his. Only allowing as much as the tip was a delicious torture.

“More,” she groaned.

As her desperation serenaded his ears, Astarion could feel her tightening and shivering around him, begging to fill her completely. He wanted to give in as much as she did. Controlling her was sweet, but controlling himself was even sweeter. His denial was power, and it subjugated both of them.

“Cum for me first, and I’ll give you more.”

Faster, he pumped in and out, growing in tempo until her screaming rang painfully in his ears. She was already on the verge of it, and seemed to let go at his command. Her pulsing pleasure was rough on his tender head, overly sensitized from repetitive penetration. Love and vice sparked through him and a wonderful pressure built behind his eyes.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. As Vistri surrendered to ecstasy, she dragged him along like a sweeping wave. She was still tapering off the feeling when, unable to wait, he finally buried himself to his root.

Unintelligibly crying out at his thrust, they quickly lost themselves. Gazing eye to eye, they saw past reds and purples into the depths of their exposed hearts. It overwhelmed them, like a cleric beholding their god. Together, they fell into fulfillment with a swooping terror that felt like losing one’s balance, and crashed into a brand-new plane of existence that banished all fear and held only the two of them.

Once they were back to reality, within these unfamiliar walls of their new dwelling, they sunk and sat up against the wall, holding each other tight. Vistri nuzzled her cheek against his and sighed with spent contentment.

“…You know you don’t have to stay,” Astarion said, his voice a shaking heart, “I-If you no longer wish to.”

The dreams already dying in his eyes in anticipation of his fears made her chest physically ache. Vistri caressed his beloved face without thought, just a need to save him from the horror.

“Oh, Astarion,” she chuckled sorrowfully, “Oh, my love.”

He closed his running eyes and felt her lips land softly across his cheekbones.

“I want you,” she whispered on his face, “All I want is you. Only you.”

Unable to bear witness to more of her affirmative words, he stopped them with a long, thankful kiss.

Her rare heart sat clearly in her expression. It was gift-wrapped, tied with red string, and addressed to him lovingly; his name written along the side.

“How dare I doubt you?”

“Exactly,” she giggled, “How dare you!”

Others still haunted their ability to convey and receive messages of genuine love. Having already pushed their limits, they sat embracing one another in pleasant silence.

Until Astarion muttered, “Almost forgot!” and got up to grab the wine they’d left over by the door.

Vistri excitedly ran after him, light on her feet like a fey.

Raising the bottle high between them, he toasted, “To our home.”

She took a smiling sip, then passed it back to Astarion. Swallowing felt like making a vow.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, no bitter flinch present in his expression after his swig.

“You were right,” she smirked warmly, “Some things are all the better for waiting.”

v---v v---v v---v v---v v---v

They figured the hard part would be the conquering, but that was more like Spawn City Tutorial. After the initial looting and corpse-burning, there were some celebrations. Then the real work came. Starting with turning the captured fortress into a real home. Scrubbing, mapping, sweeping, dusting, assessing masonry needs, livestock needs, stocking, mopping—Cleaning! Cleaning!

“Cleaning! Enough cleaning!” Astarion exclaimed one evening.

Vistri giggled wildly as he wrestled her for her scrub brush. Their excited shouts bounced sharply across the barren, ancient stone. Successfully snatching it away, he chucked it out of the nearby window.

Running over to the sill, she chuckled, “Darling, we’ll have to fetch that.”

He scoffed, “I’ll make Petras go fetch it.”

“You can’t always bully Petras,” she laughed.

“Yes, I can!”

Turning to Astarion with a cheeky smile, she leaned against the window and asked, “Do you remember this chamber?”

His pout overturned into a devilish smile. He knew exactly which chamber this was.

“Oh, I think about it daily,” he smirked, joining her over by the window.

He couldn’t read the expression in Vistri's eyes, they were so far away, but her distance seemed filled with possibility instead of escape.

“We have a house,” he repeated, just to hear it out loud again.

“We do! We have a house!”

Flinging an arm over her shoulder, Astarion looked out and surveyed the scenery below with his beloved.

“Well,” she stated shakily, “We did it.”

She turned to him with a beaming expression that shined so bright it was like the sun sat right here in the Underdark gloom. More than joy, there was want and adoration screaming through her eyes. To be its witness, no, to be the direction in which it was pointed, made his undead heart skip happily.

Their old tower loomed over the glow of wild mushrooms like a proud lord. Who knows how many had peered through the same window. Who knows if they would be the last, or if others would eventually come to conquer them too. Who would they be? And what would they think, looking out over the same shades of grey?

“I like it because it’s ours,” she said. Astarion shrugged her closer and blessed the side of her forehead with a rough peck.

He pulled something from his pockets with his free hand, “Do you have a light, my dear?”

Gale and Halsin weren’t the biggest smokers, but they were inventive ones. What started as a few collaborative pipe blends turned into a shared hobby, and they took to it with the enthusiasm of two middle-aged men who had recently discovered model chariots. Before parting for the Underdark, Waterdeep, or the Shadow Curse-no-more Lands, they’d left the remaining team with tears, bear hugs (figuratively and literally), and a few packets of pre-rolled parting gifts.

Instead of filling for a pipe, their masterwork blend was artfully wrapped up into a smokable stick, like a cigarillo. The casing was as well-crafted and loved as their herbal fungi blend, made of dried fruit peels and layered in with rose petals that were kept magically fresh.

Vistri asked them what the blend comprised of many times, and although it was no secret recipe, she’d always ask once the stogie was already lit. There was a bit of timmask dust in there for sure, but the herbs were lost to the blurry memory of their excitedly recited list. The elevated joy that sparkled in Gale and Halsin’s eyes as they spoke stood out to her more than their words.

“You have the most brilliant ideas,” she smiled.

“I know,” he smirked, placing the stick between his lips.

Astarion leaned over as she snapped her thumb, making a small flame shoot out of it in the way Karlach taught her. Cupping his hands around it, he met her fire and inhaled. Tufts of smoke blew out the end of the cig, and drifted in tendrils from Astarion’s nose like a dragon’s breath.

Taking it between two noble fingers, he passed the gift from his lips to hers. Vistri smiled and took an eager pull. She coughed on her exhale, making Astarion giggle.

More than euphoria, the instant effect brought a giddy sort of security. Nothing was wrong with them or the world, a state they’d only found in each other’s embrace. It was nice to live in for a little while, and taught them existence isn’t inherently bad or painful.

Looking out the window, Astarion remarked, “I don’t think Petras could even run that far.”

Vistri’s chortle was so sudden she almost snorted, “Of course he can!”

“Poor fucker would get lost and need a break every few steps. Unless he had Dalyria with him, of course. Then maybe the five minute walk would be such, and not turn into a tenday’s journey across the yard.”

Too thick in the midst of giggling to answer, Vistri went for another puff and ended up choking on the smoke.

“Heavens! Are you ever gonna learn how to hit that?”

Over a series of coughs, Vistri fought to speak, “Astarion! ”

He grabbed the open wine they’d snuck into their cleaning session and handed it to her, “Have a drink of something. You sound awful!”

Suppressing another cough, she took a defiant swig.

“Good. Now pass that my way—Not the wine! You keep that. That funny, little cigar.”

As he took another puff, Vistri regained her breath and said, “It’s too small to be a cigar.”

Astarion, being Astarion, heard small and cigar in a sentence, and jumped on the cliche, “My, my! Imagine being told its too small to be considered a willy.”

“Astarion!—And don’t you dare take another jab at Petras! Poor Petras.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about Petras in that regard!”

“Because you know,” she said, raising her brow and reaching for the cig, “I bet he has a big—”

“Can we not talk about my brother’s Todd Johnson?”

She could barely breathe, “Todd Johnson?! ”

Wrestling her for another smoke, Astarion fell into her laughter until his ribs started to ache. Growing weak from it, he gave up the fight and sat back wiping his eyes. Vistri finally passed it over, grinning victoriously.

He placed the dwindling cigarillo between his teeth and flashed a smile to meet hers. Then with a cat-like pounce, suddenly bent to throw her over his shoulder.

Upside-down her cackling reflected off the floor and continued bouncing between the ceiling and walls. Most of the furniture that was in the room previously had been dumped or moved elsewhere. Sound carried louder and longer than it had the day before, making their laughter haunt the stone like specters.

They could have been a thousand lovers.

“Sit with me, darling,” he cooed, his words slurred with the cig still tucked between his teeth. Halfway gone, it was now just a little longer than his fangs when fully-retracted, about to bite.

Two other chairs remained, but he chose their favorite. Its upholstery had a fresh, weathered look that reminded them of Astarion’s old clothes. Well-tended to with a consistent, loving hand, its rich fabrics held on despite their decay. It made them wonder which discarded body in the courtyard those hands had belonged to.

At least their life’s work wasn’t wasted. Lovers now took it as their preferred perch. They sat so lazily on it, it seemed to swallow them.

With another puff, Astarion released a thick ring of smoke into the air in front of them. Vistri rewarded his trick with kisses to his cheek and a round of applause, delighted by the way it slowly floated by.

“Every day your mouth shows me new wonders.”

“Does it?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss with a raised brow.

“Mmmm, it does.”

Placing a hand along her hip, he commanded, “Face me.”

Moving to straddle him, Vistri turned and settled over his lap. Her thighs spread wide over his; her knees sunk into the cushion cracks. The way she centered her balance over his middle sent another kind of high coursing through their senses. Reaching for the stick smoking in his hands, she wove her fingers into his to smoothly steal it.

A glint in her eyes, she inhaled. Letting the smoke slowly crash over his face, she leaned in to place her mouth on his and blow the rest of her hit into it. Astarion moaned, tasting her under the heavy scent of burning plants.

“How considerate of you,” he exhaled, grinning.

“I try my best.”

Pushing her hair back, Astarion looked suddenly thoughtful, “Do you ever wish it were just us?”

“All the time,” she chuckled, “But they need us. You know they do.”

He raised his eyebrow, “To their credit, none of them have tried to steal a bite.”

“I think that credit is due more to my magic and your promised fury.”

“Maybe a little of that too,” he smirked.

Warmly, she planted a kiss on his forehead. A silent, I’m so proud of you.

As reluctantly as Astarion played it, Vistri knew he relished his new role. It was important to him to be better than Cazador, but more than that, she knew he needed them all to get better together. That’s just the type of person he was, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

Another smoke ring danced in the air above their heads. Then a series of smaller ones.

Vistri was beaming at him, “Look at you, love. So amazing.”

“You’re very high.”

She snickered, “No, I’m not!”

“It’s okay, my dear,” he chuckled, “I’m right there with you.”

They broke into ugly laughter that clashed like two very different songs being played poorly on the same stage. Their ridiculous levity sounded like the echoing cries of some cursed reptilian god.

The stone thanked them for silence when Astarion took her lips between his. With gently rocking hips, he showed Vistri the extent of his desire. She was wanted, needed. Craved.

“You make me feel like a king,” he whispered along the crook of her jaw. Then chuckling, he continued, “I know how it sounds, of course. But I don’t know other words to say it. Not now.”

Her hands glided over his chest, rubbing it in absent-minded patterns, “I am a most willing subject.”

“Are you, now?” he asked, knowing the answer from the warble in her voice.

At the nodding of her head, Astarion untied his laces. He watched Vistri take another inhale of their dying nub. Cool air defied the heat he felt in the oven of their laps as he pulled his twitching dick free of his breeches.

The old robes she wore allowed for easy access, and she adjusted them to tent over their laps. Pulling one hand in through her sleeve, she caressed his cock. Pressing his silky skin against her rolling hips, Astarion gasped pleasantly at the brushing of her lace knickers. He brought a hand of his own to keep under her robes. His finger gently traced its patterns, feeling her labia thicken under it from his gradual strokes.

Vistri hadn’t planned for a moment like this. She figured she’d feel better wearing such plain rags if her finest knickers hid beneath them. The delighted surprise in his expression almost disappointed her. He should really know her better by now.

Rubbing each other under her robes, they passed the last of their treat back and forth with their free hands. On the final pull, Astarion brought her close to share it. Her exhale turned into a kiss; his tongue shyly met the tip of hers.

“Is it all right?” she asked, “We’re quite intoxi—”

He didn’t even mean to interrupt her. The consideration in her query was a splash of oil on his fire, further igniting the blaze.

“It’s all right,” he kissed her, “Are you all—”

“Yes,” she nodded, still unbelievingly grateful for his returned care.

Her eager hips rolled into his teasing finger. Arousal coated the inside of her knickers. It was beginning to soak through to his skin. He moaned, and pulled the bunching lace tight so her folds spilled over the sides, swallowing the string of lace between them. Grabbing his cock, he rubbed his head against her wet skin and the rough line of lace that ran down her middle.

“I could burst just from this,” he sighed.

His finger slipped under the lace, pulling it taught like one of his bows. Upon releasing it, her cry sounded in tune with its smack. She was caught prey, waiting only for death.

Placing her roughly used knickers aside, he lined himself up against her soak. As he pushed in, Vistri lowered herself to take in his length. Gasping from the squeeze and stretch, their high made every familiar ecstasy ten times brighter. Riding each other’s waves, they sunk into multiverses of gluttonous sensation.

“Shit. You feel like magic.”

“I am magic.”

Chuckling together in their embrace, their rutting didn’t cease.

It got faster. Harder.

Deeper. Like they were digging to the core of each other, prying open the gilded chest that housed their very souls.

Climax came over them so strongly it made their lips pull back and shiver. Pulsing together, their shouts dissipated to whines; bliss stuffing their throats.

Fighting overstimulation, they maintained a slow rocking of their hips. Not wanting to stop. Ever. His seed started to spill out of her from their movements and pool over his balls. From whence we came, we shall return.

Astarion thought the joke was too delicious not to share.

Pointing to the mess, he recited, “From whence we came, we shall return.”

Vistri laughed so hard, she tripped going to fetch them a fresh rag.

They made out after casually cleaning each other up.

Passionately, like lovestruck teenagers who’d just discovered it. Loving words and adoring vows came tumbling out of the hot ache. Promises for this new life; dedicating joy to each other’s names.

As sudden as it started, it stopped. Their furious need became a tight embrace, like fingers grasping the edge of a cliff. Beating together in sorrowful song, their hearts found an impossible happiness; a new music.

“I think I rather like this room,” he said in a tone that was light despite its heaviness.

Humming pleasantly, Vistri nuzzled into his chest, “Let’s make it ours then.”

A room of their own. Their chambers.

“We already have," Astarion chuckled, "A couple times, in fact.”

#fluffspring2024 #day 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #vistarion #tav x astarion #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #vistri #flufftober 2024 #full fic #BrishFics #smoke rings fic #smut #fluff #angst #lemon #bg3 spoilers

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

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A Dangerous Game Ch 13

Emily Prentiss x readear Warnings: language, alcohol, smut, daddy!prentiss, very light talk of canon type of violence/situations. I'm really not sure if i like this chapter, part of why it took so long was because i was just not feelin the smut, so that's why the smut is limited. sorrryyyy. next ch will be better! promise!

“Hello?” Emily’s voice rang through your car speaker and you almost instantly relaxed.

“Hey.” You couldn’t help but smile, “I happen to be in your neck of the woods and was thinking about picking up dessert if you’re interested?”

“Sounds like your date went really well.” She half teased, a smile taking over her cheeks as she glanced to her watch, not doubting that you’d left dinner early.

“Ugh, update you later. Are you home? I’ll swing by.”

“Uh…” She suddenly rocked back to reality, glancing back to the pile of dirt on her floor, “you know, Serg is being a real asshole tonight, he just peed all over the bed, can we do your place?”

“Yeah, course. Give me like, half hour? I’ll pick up some wine too.”

“Sounds great.”

“K, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

“Bye.”

The line clicked as you hung up the phone and Emily let out a puff of breath, chewing her lip into her mouth as she tried to figure out what she wanted to do about the bug. If she destroyed it, whoever planted it would know that she’d found it, right now she had the high ground, she’d just have to filter herself to a point while in her apartment, she could handle that. She grabbed a coffee mug she rarely used, scooping up most of the dirt and the bug, placing it back on the shelf it had previously been on before cleaning up the broken ceramic.

Figuring she’d likely spend the rest of the weekend at your place she headed to the bedroom to pack up whatever she might need, Sergio let out a very annoyed meow over being trapped in the room and she rolled her eyes when he darted past her. She made sure that he had more than enough food and water, gave him a little scratch behind the ear, warning him to be good while she was gone and headed out the door.

She couldn’t help but be distracted on the drive over, her mind attempting to replay everything since the party at Rossi’s. For the briefest moment her mind jumped to worst case scenario that this had all been a set up from the start and that you knew exactly who she was the night you’d met at the bar but she managed to squash that down with the reminder that whatever was on the bug would incriminate you as well. Not to mention it wouldn’t make any sense for you to have bugged her apartment, you were basically the only one that was ever there. Penelope had been over for coffee and Sergio snuggles one weekend, but aside from that it was just you, which, very unfortunately, meant there was a whole lot of sex that someone was listening in on. She shuddered at the thought, thankful at least that the bug had been in the living room and not the bedroom.

Letting out a breath, she pulled onto the freeway and her mind drifted from who planted it to what she should do about it. She recognized the style, it was a relatively popular type of bug but one that was readily available both online and in stores, it would be useless to try and track the person down that way. She considered looping in Penelope but that would mean moving it… and that Penelope would very likely be privy to what was recorded and she certainly wasn’t ready for that. No, that wasn’t the route to go, she had to figure out a list of suspects who had the motive and means to want to track her and go from there, questioning and eliminating until she found the guy. Stopped at a red light she let out a groan, running her hand over her face, despite most of the BAU’s unsubs either getting killed on crime scenes or being sentenced to life in prison, there were the few who got shorter sentences. She was going to have to go through every case and double cross with any recent releases.

This was going to be one hell of a fucking headache.

When you pulled open the front door Emily absolutely lost every coherent thought in her brain.

“Holy shit you look fucking hot.” Her eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks heating with the way her gaze dragged up your body. You hadn’t changed yet, still in a deep blue fitted wrap dress that showed off just enough leg and a respectable amount of cleavage. Your hair was styled in loose curls, more makeup and jewelry than you’d normally wear to work to finish it all off.

“Thank you.” You chuckled, letting her in and swinging the door shut behind her.

“This is date night you? Because fuck take out, I’m actually going to take you out next week Jesus Christ.”

“Em…” You laughed again, warmth blooming through your whole body.

“I mean it. Wow.”

“You gonna come in or are you just gonna stare?” You asked with a laugh, swatting at her arm before turning up the stairs, more than well aware that she was definitely staring at your ass as she followed you onto the main floor.

There was a candle burning on your coffee table next to a pile of paperwork, aromas of lilac wafting through the space, a fuzzy blanket strewn across the couch, a book open but upturned on top of it. Her eyes swept through the space and she smiled, god did she ever love just how comfortable your place was. It always had this overwhelming sense of calm and welcoming, somewhere she couldn’t help but relax and feel at peace. When she turned back to the kitchen you’d poured her out a glass of wine, sliding it toward her before picking up a pizza pop you’d been hallway through when she knocked on the door.

“I thought you picked up dessert?”

“I did.” You mumbled, swallowing the bite down, “this is dinner.”

“You didn’t even make it to the main course!?” She nearly laughed, “the date was that much of a dud? Jeeze I thought Morgan of all people would have better judgement.”

“I mean… it was fine? There was potential, she was cute but…” you trailed off, wondering if you should just drop the bomb right off the start until you huffed, “bland. She was bland, and she ordered for me.”

“Eck.”

“Terrible taste in wine too.”

“This leftovers?” She asked, pointing to the take out container on the counter and you nodded. Curiosity got the better of her and she popped the container open, “is this a crab cake?”

“Yup.” You grimaced.

“You hate crab, specifically in cake form!”

“Exactly!” You let out a frustrated groan, “and you know that because you— know me.” You rolled your eyes, “and that’s not even the worst of it, she paired it with a cab sauv!”

“Okay what person in their right mind doesn’t at least google wine pairings if they’re trying to impress?” She laughed, “you pair crab with chardonnay!”

“Thank you!” Picking up your wine glass you took a hefty swig, shaking your head at yourself, “I don’t even know why I went, it was stupid. I would’ve much rather just been with you.” Your free hand finally found hers, gently tugging her toward you and her arms instinctually found their home on your waist while yours loosely wrapped around her shoulders.

“Well at the very least it got you in this dress.” Emily smirked and you chuckled, leaning in to kiss her and the moment your lips met it was as if both of you melted into each other’s arms. The kiss was slow, genuine, soft as lips moved with grace. You pulled away only a fraction, happy grins on both your cheeks,

“You really like the dress hey?”

“I do.” She nodded, stealing another kiss.

“Guarantee you’ll like what’s under it better.” You teased and Emily pulled back a bit further, raising a brow.

“If you put on fancy lingerie for another woman I just might have to punish you…”

“Sounds like someone might be a little jealous?” Smirking, you raised a brow and she let out an offended scoff.

“Absolutely not.” She stuttered suddenly under your gaze, “okay, okay. Yeah… I was jealous tonight; I didn’t like the idea of you being out with someone else.”

“Well you’ve got nothing to worry about.” You kissed her softly, then shrugged, “and I forgot to do laundry before California, it’s like fourth tier under the dress.” Emily barked a laugh and you couldn’t help but smile at the way it reached her eyes, the way her nose scrunched up before she stole a smiling kiss from you.

“As long as it means I get you, I’ll take fourth tier any day angel.”

“You spoil me.” Your lips brushed against hers as you spoke and only a second later she was kissing you again. Her hands began to roam your body, cupping your tits through your dress, squeezing softly earning a quiet moan from you before her fingers pinched at your nipples. Your hands sunk lower on her body, squeezing her ass in retaliation, tugging her closer to you. Her teeth sunk into your lower lip, tugging it away from you before letting it release, her eyes dark as she looked down at you.

“I’m gonna remind you exactly why you don’t need to be going on stupid little dates, alright princess?”

“Yes daddy.” You nodded, a wicked grin on your cheeks.

“Good girl.” She pinched at your chin before her lips returned to yours, this time her tongue quickly sliding into your mouth, groaning over the taste that was so sweetly you. Her hands tickled up your thighs, slipping under your dress before they tugged down your panties, urging you to kick them off your legs.

One hand remained under your dress, simply palming at your cunt until you were rocking into her hand in a steady rhythm. She broke the kiss to glance down at you, watching with a happy smile as your eyes fluttered shut, your skin breaking out in goosebumps, fire peaking right under it. Emily kissed across your jaw, teeth scraping the column of your neck, pulling whimpers and moans from you as she did so. Finally her fingers slid through your folds and you shivered, letting out a little whimper right before she captured your lips in a kiss again. Her lips moved in time with her hand, trailing through your wetness, smearing your juices around your pussy before one finger slipped in and you broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Oh god…”

“That’s it angel.”

She cooed, her finger pumping slowly inside you, crooking just enough to hit the spot you wanted it most. A second one slid in alongside it and you moaned, your walls stretching and fluttering around her fingers. Your hand clenched at her shoulder and she picked up the speed, fingers thrusting deeper with each stroke, curling every second pump. As always, she had you exactly where you wanted within minutes, knowing how to read you perfectly, knowing just what you wanted and how. The heel of her hand brushed against your clit and your body shuddered, legs nearly giving out and she chuckled.

“Let’s get you to the couch.” She murmured, nipping at your earlobe as she pulled her fingers from you and you whined.

In the three feet between the kitchen island and the couch she skillfully managed to rid you of your dress and bra, letting you collapse onto the couch completely bare while your hands tugged at her clothes until she was down to her panties. Her fingers were still slick with your juices, hand coming to tilt your head up toward her while she stood beside the couch,

“Get daddy’s fingers nice and wet.”

In a flash your lips had wrapped around them, sucking them clean from your juices, tongue swirling around her digits while she pumped them in and out of your mouth. Continuing to suck on them your tongue eagerly lapped against her skin and when she pulled them from your mouth they were slick with spit.

“That’s my good girl.” She praised, hand returning to between your legs and easily sliding into your pussy. You fell back onto the couch, letting out a breathy sigh as Emily settled between your legs, fingers fucking into you once again.

“Oh god.. Oh fuck!” You whined, hands scrambling for her body, aching to feel her on you. To not tease you too much, she leant forward, holding herself up over your body while continuing to finger you. Her lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into her mouth and you moaned, hips rocking up to her fingers while your hand tangled into her hair. She bit down before her tongue soothed other the same spot while her fingers picked up the speed.

Your skin burned, pleasure shooting through you, tingling down to your toes as your body trembled underneath hers. Emily smirked against your tit, feeling the way your pussy was fluttering around her fingers, shivering each time she brushed against your g-spot. Her mouth latched onto the other side of your chest, her free hand pinching at the side she’d left, nipple hardening in the cool air of the room.

“Fuck… fuck!” You cried out, “gonna come…”

“That’s the point angel.” She teased before her teeth sunk into the curve of your breast in an attempt to leave you with a mark, one that would let anyone else know that you were taken, that you were hers.

Your back arched off the couch, a cry of pleasure leaving your lips as her fingers pressed into your g-spot harder and longer than before, hips shuddering up towards her before stilling, your peak rocking through you. Emily smiled softly against your skin, her fingers slowing, gently fucking your through your orgasm while continuing to suck at your chest.

“Christ…” you swore quietly, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath and Emily chuckled, sitting up to steal a kiss.

“I’m far from done princess.” With a wicked grin she sunk to her knees between your legs, leaving little kisses and bites on your inner thighs while they trembled under her touch.

True to her word, she brought you to your peak another two times, once with just her mouth and once using both her mouth and her fingers, eagerly lapping up your juices as they dripped down your thighs.

You’d completely forgot about your date by the time she was done, wrapping you in her arms so you could finally relax and catch your breath, tossing the blanket over both of you. She was on her back, resting against the arm on the couch, hand gently stroking at your head that was placed on her chest while the two of you got lost in what had been playing on the television. You yawned quietly, almost nuzzling deeper into her chest and she chuckled softly.

“Are you gonna stay?” You asked and she nodded.

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Gave Serg enough food for a couple of days.”

“What about your sheets?”

“What?” Her brow furrowed and she glanced down at you, though you were still just watching tv.

“If you leave cat pee all weekend you’re never going to get the smell out.”

“Oh!” She felt her heart jump into her throat as reality came crashing down around her, remembering why she had ended up at your place in the first place and her lie she’d used to cover it up, “I left them soaking, they’ll be fine.”

“Mmkay.” You replied, sitting up, “should we get upstairs?” You asked and she raised an eyebrow, sitting up as well. “I do believe I was promised a cock too?”

She chuckled, her brain shifting once again as she leant in to kiss you, just fiery enough to leave both of you aching for more. “You were practically begging to stop an hour ago.”

“You said I looked cute when I begged.”

“You do.”

“If I have to beg for daddy’s cock I will.”

“Oh princess.” Her hand stroked down the side of your cheek, pinching at your chin, “you’ve been good, there’s no need to beg.”

With a small laugh, you kissed her again before slipping off the couch and wrapping your dress back around you. If you were going upstairs you at least had to toss the leftovers and the untouched dessert into the fridge. Emily followed suit, tossing her shirt back on so she wasn’t completely topless, folding the blanket over the back of the couch and blowing out the candle on the coffee table. Her eyes glanced over the case file next to it and she frowned.

“You’re not obsessing over Dewald, are you?”

“Hmm?” You asked, turning back to her as you crossed the room and she gestured to the file, “Oh, no.” You laughed, “bout an hour before you got here sheriff from Beaufort called. They’d found a car abandoned just across the South Carolina border with no tags or plates a couple of months ago, no one thought anything about it til they saw the Federal bolo and realized it was the same make and model. He only scratched off half the bin number so now we know he made it out of Florida.”

“Mmm.” She replied, turning back to the case file she was nearly tempted to flip through it, see what other details you might have noted that she’d forgotten about. An uncaught unsub from recently definitely would be high up on the list, at least this was one you were monitoring, “hey… thanks for keeping up on this case, I know you’ve already got enough on your plate.”

“Meh.” You shrugged, your hand smoothing a piece of her hair back behind her ear, “feels weird to let it go, ya know? Being the original agent on the case and then having a run in with him twice with the BAU? It’s like the universe wants me to be the one to take him down.”

“Yeah…” She sighed softly, glancing up to you with a smile when you squeezed at her shoulder, prompting her off the couch. Her hand tangled with yours as you guided her to the stairs, you were one step up when she stalled, “aren’t you gonna set the alarm?”

“What alarm?” You turned back to her with a laugh.

“You’re seriously an FBI agent who doesn’t have a security system?”

“Yeah….”

“Seriously!?”

“I live in Alexandria… and I have a gun.” You laughed once again, “places I’ve lived without a gun… Clearwater. The door’s double locked, pinky swear. C’mon.”

“You should at least get a doorbell cam.”

“Calm down Prentiss.” You shook your head, “I only bought the place nine months ago, I’m still considering if it’s the right fit or not. I’ve got good neighbours and we’re in a nice area. C’mon.” Your head tilted, eyes glittering, “I was told I wasn’t going to have to beg….”

Emily let out a mock offended scoff, her brow raising in your direction as a wicked grin took over her lips, you certainly knew how to rollercoaster her train of thought and she definitely wasn’t complaining. Only a second later you were letting out a shriek as she was on you, chasing you up the stairs to give you exactly what you wanted.

___________________

@ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @cabotfan42 @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @thisisraes @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots @lavenderhoney94 @overtrred28

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #a dangerous game

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thesupreme316 · 4 months

Note

Had It Coming Part 4!?!?!?!!

IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME COMING SO HERE IT IS

Had It Coming Part 4 (Christian Cage x Female Reader/Hook's Sister/Jack Perry's Ex):

Summary: It seems that you and Christian are going strong. But how does that sit with your ex-boyfriend, Jack Perry?

Word Count: 2.3K (Please accept as an apology for being so late)

Supreme Speaks: thank you guys so much for supporting this series and showing it love. it really means a lot to me. okay, I ain't gonna waste your time any longer. Here is the anticipated part four of this series (it has a dark portrayal of Jack, you don't have to read if you're uncomfortable). Please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: DARK PORTRAYAL OF JACK (tw: obsessive, stalking, in the denial stage, borderline yandere vibes tbh), suggestive mentions, explicit language, proofread to the best of my abilities

Taglist: @hooks-martin @sheinthatfandom @triscillal @cassie0sstuff @hookerforhook @batzy-watzy @wwenhlimagines

It’s been 33 days since he saw you walk away from him with his former mentor and best friend.

And Jack is going crazy.

He legitimately lost it.

Everyone can see it on his face. But they can’t help him…they can only watch as he unravels and continues to ruin his own life. After seeing you run off in the sunset with Christian, Jack became uncharacteristically silent. He wouldn’t even talk to Anna, and when he did, it was screaming and placing blame on her. Anna, who truly wanted to help him, was broken up with before she could even do so. You found that out in the locker room as she was crying to Tay Melo, a sight that was so bittersweet for you to watch.

Jack would walk around the halls, bags under his eyes, genuine stress marrying his facial features, wearing all-black clothes, hair matted, and not utter a single word to anyone. It got so bad that Tony wouldn’t even put him on the screen. He would spend his evenings in the arenas sitting in a corner on top of boxes, just looking over your contact. His thumb would caress your face through the phone screen as his eyes lingered on the contact name “Sunshine.” He tried texting you, asking for you to come back. You never answered. For some reason, he thought changing your name and breaking up with Anna would be enough for you to come back.

It wasn’t.

But even though you didn’t come near him, two people would come near him, offering friendship and shoulders to lean on: Austin and Colton Gunn. They would try their best to get Jack chatting with them as they filled his ears with loud jokes, obnoxious laughter, and weird banter. Although he never cracked a smile, the Gunns were resilient and still provided him with company.

“Hey, Jackie-boy,” Austin said cheerfully, walking up to the sulking wrestler, who would mumble a response. “How ya doing?”

“Man you should have been at the party last night,” Colton said bumping his shoulder. “You could use a night out. There was this insanely cute girl that is exactly your type-” Jack shook his head. Colton looked at his brother before nodding to Jack.

Austin sighed, “Look man, we get it that it’s been a rough month and a half. You lost your best friend, other best friend, title, and girlfriend-“

“I didn’t lose Y/N.” Jack snapped, looking up at the brothers.

Colton and Austin quickly side-eyed each other before Austin continued, “I was talking about Anna…but bro and I mean this respectfully, Y/N left you a while ago.”

“Anna and I were never together. She doesn’t matter to me. Y/N didn’t leave me. We are just going through a rough patch right now.” Jack said while running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not my fault.”

“We’re not saying that it is. We’re just trying to say that maybe there is no future where you and Y/N are together. You need to accept it.”

“No, I’m not going to accept it because it’s not true!” He shouted, startling the Gunns, with Colton hugging Austin in fear. Jack lowered his voice as he continued to talk, “It’s not my fault. It’s not her fault. It’s Christian’s fault.” He whispered to himself. “I didn’t lose my beautiful, innocent, and sweet girlfriend to Christian. That could never happen. He took her from me! Just like how he took my best friend and credit for my career. He just takes everything from me.”

Colton said taking a step forward, “Jack-“

Jack stood up from the boxes, looking into Colton’s eyes with anger, determination, and bitterness, “He filled her head with these images that I’m not the one for her. That he’s better than me. He basically kidnapped her, come to think about it. Yeah…he kidnapped my precious Y/N and started feeding these lies to her. And to make matters worse, Anna came back into the picture and distracted me from realizing it. That’s what happened.” He poked Colton’s chest as he finished his statement, “And I fully intend to get her back.” He swiftly walked away from the brothers as they stared in disbelief.

Austin looked up at Colton, “He is not okay. Where do you think he’s going?”

“It’s 9:00, he's off to do his favorite activity.”

That consisted of Jack watching you from afar when you were by yourself or with your girlfriends; curious if you missed him, if you cried over him, if you were dying to run back to him for safety, comfort, and love.

The answer was no. None of the above.

But the second he saw you with Christian, his stomach would turn and he would run away, not wanting to see the bitter and disgusting man with the love of his life. Jack is miserable, but you? Oh girl, you are thriving right now.

It seemed the longer you and Christian dated, the bigger the smile on your face would get. As Christian stated, if you wanted something, all you had to do was ask. And he has continued to keep that promise. Nowadays, all you have to do is look at him as it seems that he can read your mind. The newest Louboutin heels? He bought them in 5 different colors. You feeling stressed and want to escape? He booked a yacht. You want to ride something while on the yacht? He’s already underneath you, allowing you to take control.

He was a gentleman to you; dropping everything just to assist you, even for a second. You didn’t have to worry about doing a single thing. As long as Christian is beside you, you are sure to be treated like the Princess you are. Hell, he even changed your stance in wrestling. As you were no longer bound by Jack, you took the necessary steps to reconcile with your brother, Tyler (Hook).

As Christian filled your life with love, positivity, and care, you realized that the FTW championship wasn’t something you wanted. So after a couple of defenses, you relinquished it, crowned Tyler the official champion, and started to manage Christian full-time.

But this wasn’t a parasitic relationship where you got all the benefits. Oh no. Christian loved being around you. It just felt right having you near him, with a hand lingering around your waist. Not only did you feed every single one of his sexual and physical needs, you also met and exceeded his emotional needs. You made him feel heard and seen. You see him in a different light than everyone else. He is letting his humane side be seen more now that you are always with him. Because to you, he is more than your lover, he is your protector and motivation.

He is also a great man of taste…

“Willow, he is so sweet! Just yesterday, he drove 45 minutes to sleep beside me because I couldn’t fall asleep. And then, he brought a chef to cook my favorite breakfast!” You yelled out to your best friend while getting dressed for Dynamite.

“That’s great Y/N, I’m so happy to see you smiling again. I haven’t seen you this happy in a while.” Willow said with a grin on her face. To everyone, your relationship with Christian was no more than a typical “sugar baby” transaction. But it was nothing like that, and Willow saw that.

You stepped out in your new dress that complimented your skin tone beautifully. “I know, he truly makes me happy.” As you were about to speak again, there was a knock at the door. You squealed, running to open it and seeing a medium-sized bouquet of white roses. You thanked the man before closing the door. “He always sends me flowers every Wednesday.” You said as you put the vase down. Willow got up and examined them. “But he never gets me white; they’re either red, pink, or orange.”

“Maybe he’s full of surprises,” Willow said as she got closer to the vase. There was another knock at the door, you went to answer it as Willow started to speak again. “Y/N, there is-“ She was cut off by your sequel again. She looked back at you to see you give Christian a soft kiss.

“Hi Princess, how are you?” Christian said hugging you with one arm, the other was behind his back. He twirled you around, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, baby.” You said, placing a kiss on his cheek. Christian greeted Willow while still trying to hide his arm behind his back. “What are you hiding?”

“Well, it is Wednesday and you know I give you flowers-“

You smiled as you cut him off, “Baby, I already got the flowers you sent me. They are beautiful.”

Christian’s face screwed up in confusion, “What are you talking about?” He moved his arm from behind his back to reveal a much larger bouquet of red roses. “The flowers I got you are right here, I wanted to personally deliver them myself today.”

The color drained from your face as you took your boyfriend’s flowers and looked behind you. Willow held the roses in one hand and a paper in the other, as she read the note, the color drained from her face as well. “You need to read this.” She gave you the note. It would have been a very sweet and flattering one….if it was sent from your boyfriend.  

Your laughter, a melody, a joyful song, In my embrace, is where you belong. Each moment with you, a cherished delight, You're my sunshine, my morning light. Love J

Your heart started racing as Christian ripped the note, took the flowers from Willow, and them in the trash. “He’s a piece of shit. That bastard.” He looked at you, who was in shock and disgust. He hugged you tightly, avoiding the roses he got you. “He just needs to leave you alone.”

“Yeah, I’m going to make sure of it.” You said before gently placing the red roses down on the table, taking over from where those distracting and bitter white roses once were.

 “No, you will not. You let me handle it, I don’t him anywhere near you. He put you through shit before and I’m not letting that happen.” Christian said getting angrier by the minute, obviously not at you. “I’m going to get Luchasuarus to accompany you tonight. My woman will not go anywhere near him.” He said sternly.

Did you listen? No. Of course not. You left way before Luchasaurus got to your locker room door.

Your heels clicked along the halls as you were trying to find your ex-boyfriend. Anger was pounding through your blood as you carefully looked for him. You were about to turn to go down another hallway until you saw his matted hair in a bun. You stormed towards him, calling out his name. Jack turned around and immediately lit up at your figure getting closer, even though your facial expression was anything but happy.

"Y/N-"

You cut him off by sharply slapping him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You angrily asked him, not giving him a moment to register anything.

"Sunshine-" He sweetly started to say

"How dare you send me flowers and address me like that? We are not together. That was clear when you cheated on me with Anna"

Jack's face became angry as he spat out, "Don't talk like that. Anna means nothing to me. You love me and I love you. That backstabbing, lunatic, bastard is messing with your mind. Sunshine, just come back with me. Stop this little game of yours, you're letting him get the best of you."

"Jack, stop. I am with Christian; he treats me with love and respect. He actually cares about me and my feelings and treats me like royalty. Much better than the low-down and disgusting ways that you have shown. The only lunatic around here is you. You don't care about me."

"Don't say that!" He yelled, grabbing your arm harshly, "I love you Y/N! He's not the one! I am! Just come back with me and everything will be fine!"

You were struggling to pull your arm away from the man you once loved. Then a voice shouted down the hall, making Jack take his hand off of you. You turned around to find your boyfriend and your supposed bodyguard. Christian gently placed you behind him. "I'll talk to you later about this." He quietly said to you before turning his attention to Jack. "Listen, you have one more time to pull some shit like this-"

"Shut up! This is between me and my girlfriend-"

"MY girlfriend, MY woman, your ex. You have no reason to talk to her anymore. I'll be damned if you try to come between us or weasel your way back into her life." Christian stepped closer to Jack, looking down at him. "Leave her the fuck alone, little boy. Or the next main event for you will be your funeral."

Jack rolled his eyes as Christian grabbed your hand and kissed it before leading you and Luchasaurus down the hallway, away from your ex. You quickly looked back with bitterness and a glare as you turned the corner. But to Jack, that was a look of hope and desperation.

Desperation to get away from Christian, the man who drove you two apart. But also he could have sworn that your eyes were delivering him a message, a message of love and secrecy that was directly for him. "I'm going to save you from this Y/N. You don't have to pretend to have feelings for him much longer. I see your plan, and I understand it. It's genius. As those white roses signify, it will be a new beginning for us. And then, when it's all said and done, Christian will finally see who the real man is."

And according to Jack,

Christian had it coming…

And he only had himself to blame.

39 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 1 year

Text

The ring

Summary: A ring. A broken heart.

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, breakup, no happy end, Andy being a douche

Hatred.

Hatred is not the absence of love. It’s the contrary.

There is so much love in a loving heart that it turns into hatred when you get robbed of your love.

But the love remains deep within you. That’s what’s hurting the most. That your heart still remembers how it felt to be in love.

The person leaving you doesn’t know what they have done. It’s not their fault your heart is bleeding love after they cut you open.

At least that’s what they like to tell themselves when they lie awake and think about the decisions they made.

If they think about you at all.

You will ask yourself what you did wrong. Or if there was a way to stop them from leaving you.

Did you talk too much about yourself? Did you not care enough about him? Did you not turn him on any longer?

In the end, you’ll never know.

Most of the time your questions won’t be answered.

Except. In your case. You know what you did wrong.

You asked him to finally take off his wedding band.

He refused. He didn’t even give you a reason why he won’t take it off.

It ended in a fight. An awful fight. The kind of fight in which you tear each other apart until nothing is left but bruised egos and broken hearts.

He just left you there, in the middle of the living room you wanted to share soon.

The door slammed shut. Your heart shattered. The tears started to finally fall.

It took you almost half an hour to remember that you are standing in a house that isn’t yours.

“Fuck,” you buried your face in your hands. “How can he just leave me here? We wanted to have a look at the fucking house!”

“Miss…uh-I’m sorry to disturb your breakdown or whatever you are experiencing,” the broker nervously poked his head inside the room. “Your boyfriend left and…you know…I got other interested parties. They want to have a look around the house too.”

You blinked the tears away. This was the house you have been dreaming of for so long. You decided to buy it with Andy and suddenly, everything was in ruins.

“I guess they’ll get happy here,” you gave the poor guy an apologetic smile. He had to listen to your fight with Andy. “Sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your time. You’ll sell the house in no time. I’m sure of it. It’s very nice.”

You were more than embarrassed when you turned to leave the house you had hoped to buy. “He’s a fool if he hangs onto the past.”

“Maybe I’m just not the right person for him,” you wanted to roll your eyes at the broker. You never were a fan of unwanted advice. Especially when it comes from a stranger. “Have a good day…”

You left the house and moved on. Never looking back.

It was six months later that you ran into him again. Per accident. Literally.

You ended up hitting his ass and lower back with your shopping cart as you were busy checking your shopping list.

“Sorry, I—” you stammered to his back. Unbeknownst that it was the man breaking your heart you just hit with your shopping cart. “I wasn’t looking where I’m going.”

“Miss you should always watch where you are going. People can get hurt if you don’t,” he turned around to give you an angry look. “Oh…it’s you.” Andy nervously looked around the supermarket. As if he was afraid you’ll cause a scene.

Of course, he still looked good. How you wished he wouldn’t.

“I’ll keep it in mind for my next grocery run.”

Anything in you was screaming to just run out of the supermarket, but you didn’t want to let him win again. Just like you wouldn’t cry in front of him.

“Y/N…”

At least he remembered your name. That was a pro. You would have chuckled at the thought if your heart wasn’t still battered and bruised.

“Mr. Barber,” you coolly replied. “If you would excuse me now. I got more things on my list.”

“You’re still making lists, huh?” Andy tried to keep you from walking off right away. “Listen, what happened back then…we never talked about it.”

“I need to go now.”

You turned your shopping cart and just went away. It was too late for poor excuses now.

After what happened at the house, you tried to call him. Andy never answered. He just went on with his life and forgot about you and your relationship.

Typical.

Another month later you ran into Andy again. At your favorite café.

This time, he pulled a chair for a pretty blonde. Again, he was stabbing your heart as it seemed he moved on to the next girl.

Maybe this one wouldn’t ask him to take off his wedding band.

“One tea, chamomile,” you ignored the aching in your chest. “A red velvet cupcake and…” you pushed the tears away as the clerk asked if you want to stay. “No…not today. I got a lot of things to do.”

It was a blatant lie. Usually, you loved spending your Saturdays at the café. Andy managed to ruin this for you too. “Next time then.”

“Next time,” you gave the clerk a cracked smile. “Have a great weekend.”

You passed Andy’s table, acting like you didn’t see him on a date with another woman.

He moved on. It was time for you to do the same.

Three weeks later you finally made a decision. You had to move on and forget about the life you wanted to have with Andy.

If he couldn’t even give up his wedding band for you, he was not worth your time.

“I like this one,” you looked around the house. It was smaller than the one you wanted to buy with Andy, but it would be yours. “It’s cute…and I like the garden. Do you think the owner will go down with the price?”

“I’ll talk to them,” the broker pointed at the broken window in the kitchen. “The house needs a lot of fixing. I’m sure they’ll agree.”

“I hope so,” you looked around the kitchen again. “Damn, I’ll paint the kitchen neon and dance all night.”

The broker chuckled. “After you bought the house, you can do whatever you want with it. I’m sure the kitchen will look pretty in pink.”

“They don’t want to sell it to me?” you sighed deeply when your broker called you two days later. “Why? I got the money and all…”

He explained that someone else offered more money and that he couldn’t do more for you. Of course, they would always go for the person paying more money. That’s just how this works.

A new house for someone else. Another broken dream to you.

You already imagined moving into this new place, now you were back to square one.

“I understand. Maybe next time then,” you tried not to sound too sad. “Thank you for your help.”

You hung up the phone. Disappointed. Disheartened.

“Nothing ever works out for me,” you wiped your wet eyes. “I can’t even buy a fucking house…”

“Tea, peppermint please.”

Once again you found your way to the café. “A red velvet cupcake and some chocolate chip cookies too. I need something to...,” you sighed deeply and shook your head,” doesn’t matter.”

“Y/N,” your body went stiff hearing Andy call out your name. Out of all the days, he could come here, it had to be this one. “Hey, good to see you.”

“Can we not do this post-breakup shit right now, Andy?” you snapped at him. “I lost something very great today to someone else.”

“I thought we could have a coffee together and talk,” he offered as you whipped your head toward him to glare at Andy.

“I’m not in the mood to have an awkward conversation about our past relationship and to hear half-hearted apologies. Your silence and the way you left me told me everything I needed to know. So please, just leave me alone.”

You walked out of the café, not wanting to see his face any longer. It still pained you too much to be close to the man breaking your heart.

Andy followed you outside, to walk next to you.

“What did you lose?” Andy asked, not giving in so easily. “Y/N?”

“I wanted to buy a house,” you exhaled sharply. “They sold it to someone else, though. I didn’t have enough money. Are you happy now?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Where was the house?”

“Andy, can we not do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t talk to you. You just left me there at the house and refused to acknowledge my existence. You weren’t man enough to break up with me. No.You just upped and left.”

“You asked me to take off my wedding band,” he argued. “I told you about my past and everything I lost. Still, you wanted me to give up the last piece reminding me of what I have lost.”

“It’s been five years, Andy,” you stopped walking away to look at him. “Do you know how it feels when someone calls you Mrs. Barber and I have to explain that I’m not your wife? Every single time they looked at your wedding band, believing I’m your sidepiece. I only wanted to not feel like I’m your dirty little secret.”

You huffed. “But you are living in the past. Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. It doesn’t matter. You will never be able to take it off. And I’ll never be able to forget how you made me feel when you left me there, at the house we wanted to fill with love and life.”

Andy could only watch you walk away. Once again, he was the one left behind.

Only this time, it was his fault alone…

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#The ring #andy barber #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber angst #angst

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obetrolncocktails · 8 months

Text

Deception | Josh Kiszka X Reader | Part 4

Warnings: angst, stalking, embarrassment, miscommunication, depression, JOSH SOBBING IN HIS MOM'S ARMS, some suspicious shit, broken off engagement, foreshadowing.

Word Count: 6,243

A/N: Hey guys! It's been a while, but it's here! Prepare for your hearts to be broken and broken some more. Josh is pitiful in this chapter, and I just wanna hug him and tell him it's gonna be okay. Also, there's an OC in this fic (Hailey), who has no relation to anyone in real life, I just needed a mechanism for something....I won't give too much of it away.

Summary: They say it's not the bomb that has the lasting effect, it's the fallout. You'd shattered each other into millions of pieces, so where do you go from here? What's left to save in the wake of explosion?

“He’ll come to his senses, I know it,” Hailey, Sam’s girlfriend assured you, forking through her salad. Her demeanor was nonchalant, but her words filled you with relief, even if it was through false hope.

“I hope so. He has every right to be hurt for what I did,” you began, leaning against the park bench, squinting your eyes as you looked into the trees above. “I lied. I didn’t tell him that I knew who he was before–before everything.” You pulled your hands up in the air in front of you, frustrated with the truth of the situation. You had spent the last half-hour explaining the very thing that had torpedoed your relationship with Josh.

“So, you didn’t lie,” she said, chewing a large bite with her hand covering her mouth. “You just withheld information.” She shrugged, batting away a fly. You couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to be able to dismiss the severity of the situation like she did. Then again, she wasn’t the perpetrator. You were.

“Everything was just so great,” you reasoned, sighing deeply. “We were in love, we had sex for the first time.” You covered your face from the dismay and groaned into your palms. “I love him so much, and I’ve fucked it all up.”

“Just by keeping some things to yourself?” She asked, her eyebrows raised. You watched her crack open a bottle of juice. “I don’t think Josh could possibly hate you for that. Hurt? I get it, but not hate.” She shook her head for emphasis as she tilted her head back for a sip. “How did he even find out? Did you tell him in that letter? Cuz, wow. Bad timing on your part,” she said, offering a cringing expression, gritting her teeth together.

“No, I was waiting to tell him after his birthday. I wanted him to have a great time at the party.” You realized that the beds of your nails had begun to bleed from picking at them. You rolled your hands into fists and continued. “This is so embarrassing, and unbelievable,” You began.

“What do you mean?” She asked, turning toward you, obviously more enthused and interested than before. You didn’t make eye contact with her as you stared forward, watching as a squirrel turned to look at you before skittering away with a captured acorn. Here’s where you’d have to admit that you’d had-have a stalker.

“Someone knew about all of it. Knew about my account. Knew that I was a fan of the boys before I ever met them,” you started, your voice thin from painful guilt and from the feeling of being violated. “Even knew that I…” you trailed off, ashamed of yourself. “That I wrote smut about them.” She nodded silently for a long moment. “That I had a following on social media–a fan account.”

“Wow,” she said finally. “That is a lot. How did anyone find out?” She asked, putting her curly hair into a loose bun.

“I don’t know. I privated the account when I met Josh. I should have just fucking deleted it,” you admitted exasperatedly.

“But you didn’t,” She continued. You shook your head no.

“Nope,” you answered, staring ahead. “They stole my password, changed the authentication phone number–everything. They stalked me for an entire month and a half, threatened me, followed me, took pictures of me, and destroyed my life. I have no idea who they are, or what they want. I haven’t gotten another text, so maybe they’re happy now. They got what they wanted.”

You had left your entire lunch unattended at your side, and, glancing down, you noticed an orderly line of black ants assembling up and into the salad container. Good for them, you thought. Absolutely nothing in your body had a desire to eat, anyway. “Have you heard from Josh?” She asked after a deep sigh. “He’s been off the radar since the party.”

“No, and I don’t expect to hear from him any time soon,” you said with a shrug, a gesture that felt as if you’d been holding the weight of the world on your shoulders. “I understand.”

“You don’t feel the need to defend yourself?” She asked, her expression changing to that of confusion.

“It’s not worth it to argue my position and lose him forever,” you decided. “I thought about writing him a letter and leaving it in his mailbox,” you shrugged again. “But I don’t know if he’d read it.”

“I think he would,” Hailey argued. “Josh loves you, Y/n. It would surprise me if he just thought that you were some traitor or something this entire time. You can’t fake love.”

You took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll see what happens. Maybe he’ll just ignore me for the rest of my life, and I’ll just move to a remote island that’s far off the grid.” Hailey snorted.

“I don’t think you’d survive very long,” She grinned before standing up and grabbing her trash. “You didn’t even finish your lunch,” she said, turning to watch the insects feast on your salad. “Ready to grab Jita? I can’t imagine they’re still doing her hair,” she said, rolling her arm in front of her to glance at her apple watch. You nodded, taking the first step forward, tossing your uneaten meal in the nearest trash can.

***

“I don’t know what to tell you, Jake. Do the rehearsal without me,” Josh said exasperatedly, rifling through his closet to fill a duffel bag. “I don’t really give a shit.”

“Hey man, you don’t get to speak to me like that. You signed on to be part of this band. It is your responsibility to be there. It’s on the damn contract!” Jake raised his voice slightly, but what was more intimidating was the rasp that had grown with his rising temper. “You don’t get to run away.”

“Watch me,” He seethed matter-of-factly, elbowing past his brother. Jake stood there for a long moment debating his next move.

“Can you at least tell me where you’re going? So I know you’re safe…” Jake began, stepping out of his brother’s bedroom and into the living room where Josh stood, zipping up the large bag.

With a deep sigh he finally answered. “I’m going home. Okay?” He said, looking up at Jake. Though Josh seemed to be acting out of intense anger, Jake could see within his brother’s gaze that it was a safety mechanism. It was easier for him to be angry than it was to process how deeply hurt he was. He’d remain closed off for now, and everyone would have to be okay with that. The best path forward would be to give him the space he needed.

“Okay,” Jake agreed calmly, nodding his head once as he placed his arms across his chest. “Please travel safely,” he insisted.

“By the time I get back, have Y/n moved out,” Josh ordered, disregarding his brother’s concern. His eyes were blank and absent of feeling as he uttered your name.

“Come on, Josh,” Jake attempted. “You’re not even going to speak to her?”

“She knows exactly what she did to me,” he said, hiking the bag on his shoulder. “She can go live with one of her fucked up friends.”

“Who?” Jake asked, confused.

“I don’t know, maybe one of the thousand that write fucked up stories about us.” Josh’s eyes were wide and wild, and it almost scared Jake.

“You’re hurt–”

“I’m not hurt,” Josh stopped his brother. “I’m fine. Really. I feel stupid. This whole thing. It’s all a fucking joke.”

“She loves you, Josh. You can’t just throw your entire relationship away–tell me how that makes any sense.”

“I know you think you’re being helpful, Jake, but I don’t want to hear it. I have a flight to catch. I’ll text you when I land.” With that, he was up and walking out of the door. Jake followed his brother out of the house. “And I meant what I said about her moving out,” he finished, before closing and locking the door behind him.

“Okay,” Jake swallowed, regretting that he had to be the one to relay such painful information back to you. “You sure you don’t need a ride to the airport?” Jake offered. “I could spare the half-hour.” Josh shook his head.

“No. I love you, but I’m fine. I want to be alone.” With that, Jake left his brother to back out of his own driveway toward the airport, following him until he had to make the turn toward his own house.

***

Danny’s house was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like home. You no longer had your own apartment, your parents lived hundreds of miles away, and couch-surfing with friends would only be a viable option for a few more days. You knew that while you were at his house, you wouldn’t be a bother to Danny. You had missed several days of work already, and had stayed to yourself in his spare bedroom until the growling in your stomach became so severe, you were forced to pull yourself from your depression hole of a bed.

You heard your phone ping from beside you, and you reached for it. It was Hailey.

“Hey babe, what are you doing today?”

You had half a mind to respond,“Oh, you know, loving life,” but you refrained, instead typing “I have nothing planned. I’ve been laying in bed all morning. Please save me from my own depression pit.”

With the motivation of possibly getting out of the house, you stumbled to the bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror, and instantly regretted it. You were surprised that it didn’t crack just by the sight of you. Your hair had never looked worse, and your eyes were extremely puffy. Your cheeks had begun to break out from the stress of the last week. Sighing deeply, you forced yourself to take a shower, cranking on the faucet of the and waiting for the water to heat up.

You weren’t sure how long you spent in the shower, but it was long enough for the searingly-hot water supply to turn ice cold, forcibly removing you from underneath it.

“Y/n!” Danny called from downstairs. “I’m making some lunch, want something?”

You cracked open the bathroom door and shouted back down to him.

“Sure, anything you make is great!”

“Cool, cool!” He responded casually.

You stepped out of the bathroom, taking care to not slip as you dripped water onto the hardwood floor. You cursed yourself for not being patient and drying off adequately.

“I figured we could go shopping, or do something to get your mind off things,” Hailey had texted back.

You began to compose a message back to her. “Yeah, I think some shopping and walking around would help. Maybe we could talk about some things. Not sure who I can really turn to right now, you know? I don’t want to involve the boys, specifically Danny, more than he’s already involved. Josh is already pissed at him.”

“Just us! Don’t worry. We’ll make it a you and me day,” She texted, finishing with a heart emoji.

“Meet at Danny’s in half an hour?” You asked, and she instantly answered back.

“Sounds great!”

You tossed your phone onto the bed and heard it thump into the covers. You hadn’t spent much time with Hailey alone since she and Sam had started dating. Usually she would hang out with her local friends, and occasionally you and Jita would tag along with Hailey and you’d do something together. The lunch you had shared in the park the other day had felt kind of strange, but at the same time it was relieving to vent to someone who wasn’t directly in communication to Josh. Hailey was very responsive with everything you had to say, and for the most part, she didn’t seem to be judgmental, which surprised you. Something about her always made you feel a bit uneasy about getting too close. Now that you had chosen to lean on her for support, maybe she’d be just what you needed.

After getting dressed and brushing your resisting tresses into a ponytail, you grabbed your phone again, absently scrolling through tiktok, your heart thudding in your chest when a fan-made tiktok of Josh appeared on your FYP. You sighed deeply, and threw your phone back down on the bed, but decided after a long moment to pick it back up. You hadn’t tried to reach out to Josh in the last few days. His broken expression at the party had terrified you, broken your heart, and left you paralyzed to even know how to begin to explain the whole truth to him. Opening a new message to him, which you hoped would be delivered– God willing he hadn’t blocked your number. You took the gamble anyway and began a message.

“I know you don’t want to talk, or really have anything to do with me, but I need you to know that I do love you, Josh. I love you with everything I have. Every bone in my body, every breath I take–is for you. You found out something I had kept from you for a while, but I intended to tell you. I wanted to tell you, until someone stole that from me. I’ve been stalked by someone for more than a month, and they threatened me over and over again. They had photos of me–” You deleted the last phrase for fear of going on too long.

“Please don’t end things like this–this silence is not like you. Even if you’re angry, and hurt, which I know you are. Please talk to me. Please. I have made mistakes, but the one mistake I didn’t make was falling in love with you.” You hit send. You felt as if someone had dropped the weight of the world back on your shoulders, and there was nothing you could do about it. So, for now you’d pretend to be okay. You walked downstairs and began to prepare for the day, shoving down the despair for a little while longer.

***

Delivered.

Josh had turned off read receipts to all of his usual contacts. He didn’t want to talk or entertain them. He simply wanted to disappear. As soon as his flight landed, he pulled his duffle bag off of the plane and retrieved a rental car, putting it into drive and almost immediately getting back on the road. Within an hour, he had pulled into the familiar town, passing the buildings and businesses that he had frequented his entire childhood and adolescence. He wanted to bring you here. He wanted to bring you back to his hometown, and show you everything that had made him into the person he had become. Now, all of those wants were thrown into the air with so much confusion, hurt and anger, that he had no idea what to do with it all. He finished the rest of the drive by forcing himself to tune out the sentimental thoughts that pried at him, the beautiful Michigan scenery rushing by without another thought. Occasionally through the drive, he swiped away the tears that betrayed his shredding composure. He knew this route by memory, having memorized every turn, every redlight and passing sign. And there it was.

As he approached the house, it took everything in him to not fall apart in the front yard. Stepping out of his car, he reached in and grabbed his bag and trudged up the stairs to the entrance of his childhood home, ringing the doorbell, which felt incredibly strange in the moment. Within seconds, Karen opened the door, her eyes wide as she discovered her son on the front steps, his eyes welling with tears.

“Josh? Honey…”

“Mama–” Was all he could say before letting go. His mother was the one person in the entire world that he couldn’t, and wouldn’t lie to. No matter how hard he had tried, he couldn’t hide how utterly destroyed he was.

“Oh, baby,” she comforted, pulling her arms around her son as he sobbed over her shoulder, his embrace so desperate and tight–as if he clung to her as hard as he could, he’d wake from whatever terrible dream he was having. His sobs ran loud and free for the first time since his birthday party, and Karen stood there with him in the heavy silence, holding him, her hands rubbing long lines up and down his back in a soothing pattern.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re home,” She murmured softly, kissing his head over and over, rocking him back and forth in the afternoon sun. They stood there for a long time, Josh’s sobs slowing over time into choked sniffles. When they finally parted, Josh’s face had grown intensely swollen, his eyes exceptionally puffy, and his face reddened with exertion.

“Come inside,” Karen said after another moment.

“What’s going on?” Kelly asked, spinning around in the recliner in the living room. “Josh?” He asked, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

“Hey Dad,” Josh offered with a tearful smile, wrapping his arms around his father, who returned the hug firmly, patting his son’s back.

“I’m sorry about your girl–about everything, you know,” he said, attempting conversation, as much as Josh would allow. Josh offered a simple nod in response.

“Did you come by yourself?” He asked, his eyes glancing at the front door.

“I wanted to come alone,” Josh said, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “I really just needed to be away from everything. Out of Nashville.” Josh wiped the wetness of his tears from his face on his pants and continued. “I just–�� He shrugged, unable to explain further.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Karen comforted him. “You know you’re always welcome to come home. We miss you when you’re gone, you know.” She took Josh’s hand, rubbing her thumb over the tops of his knuckles.

“I made soup for dinner,” She mentioned, turning over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “It’s in the crockpot. Let me make you a bowl,” She insisted.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Josh assured her.

“No. You’re going to eat. You don’t eat when you’re upset. I’m your mom, and I know you well. Eat this bowl, and I won’t bother you again tonight about it. Can you do that for me?” She asked, eyeing him sternly. Even in his fragile state, she still parented him like she always had, and in a way, though Josh would never admit it, it made him feel the tiniest bit better.

“Yes, Mama.”

“Can you put ice in glasses?” She asked as she ladled portions into bowls. He did as he was told, bringing out the glasses and filling them with ice.

“We’ll just eat in the living room,” she explained. “No need to set the table.”

Being home quieted the hurt for a little while. His mom and dad loved him more than anything in the world, aside from his brothers and sister, and they did a good job showing it.

“Your sister was here earlier. She’s visiting for a few days before heading back out to LA,” Kelly explained, spooning food into his mouth. “She’s doing the whole fashion thing,” he continued. It had been a long time since Josh had seen Ronnie, and though he was in pathetic shape tonight, he’d most definitely want to see her before he left for Nashville.

The rest of the night was quiet, and Josh spent the evening curled into his mother, watching a movie as she mindlessly combed her fingers through his hair. After a while, he fell asleep, calmed into slumber by her nurturing spirit.

“Josh, honey,” she said after a while, stretching through a yawn. “I’m going to head to bed,” she mentioned, rubbing his back to rouse him from sleep.

“Hm?” he asked groggily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Oh,” he responded, looking around into the dimly-lit living room, deciding that he, too, was far too tired to stay awake any longer.

“Me too, mama,” he agreed softly, standing up and stretching his limbs with a low groan.

“Dad put sheets on your bed,” she told him, standing up and reaching for the remote to turn off the TV. “I’ll see you in the morning, sweetie. Thanks for coming home,” she smiled softly, stepping over to give her son a long, firm hug. “I love you so much,” she spoke. “And I’m sorry you’re hurting, honey.”

Josh squeezed his mother tightly, laying his head on her shoulder as she spoke. “I missed you, Mama,” he admitted, feeling emotion cause his throat to ache from the possibility of crying again. He cleared his throat and began once more. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Get some sleep,” she said, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before stepping down the hall to her bedroom.

In his childhood bed, Josh fell asleep almost instantly, suspended within the most restful sleep he’d had since the birthday party. Between the crickets chirping and the whir of his ceiling fan, he let his thoughts wander into a mindless drone of noise.

***

“Knock knock.” Josh’s eyes cracked open, squinting from the light cutting through the curtains into the bedroom.

“Mom said you still weren’t up.” Josh felt the mattress sink towards his feet and turned to see his sister sitting cross legged at the end of the bed.

Josh groaned, gazing at Ronnie, waiting for his eyes to adjust to a new day. “No peace,” he said softly and grumbly. “I get no peace anywhere.”

Ronnie moved to plop on top of Josh, chuckling when he groaned even more. “Get up!” She pushed, jostling him by the shoulder. “Mom told me what happened, and it’s my job to get you out of the house.”

“Let me mope in peace,” he grunted, reaching for the closest pillow, pulling it over his face.

“Nope,” she insisted, stepping off of the bed to pull her brother by the arm. “Come on,” she grunted from the resistance that Josh’s weight posed.

“Fine, fine! Ow!” He complained, stumbling out of his sheets. “Are you happy now?” He asked, scratching his head sleepily.

“Very. Wake up and get ready,” Ronnie told Josh. “We’re going on a hike. You can’t say no.”

“No.” He said, leaning toward his sister, speaking just beyond the curve of her ear.

“Ugh, you’ve got morning breath,” she said, scrunching up her face. To Josh’s amusement, he made a point to huff a deep puff of air into her face, chuckling when she swiped at the air with disgust.

“You’re going, even if I have to drag you,” she said, stepping into the kitchen where Karen stood, cooking breakfast.

“Going where?” she asked, turning over her shoulder as she worked on a batch of scrambled eggs.

“I’m making him go hiking with me,” Ronnie announced matter-of-factly, a casual smile spread across her face as she shrugged. She walked over to the barstools at the island, and Josh followed, plopping down beside her. “Do I have permission to drag him out of the house?” She asked, echoing her warning to Josh.

“Only if he doesn’t come back whining to me about it,” Karen said, grinning. “Josh, you should go. It will be good for you to get out of the house,” she said. “How do you want your eggs?” She asked, turning back to the pan.

“Fried over medium. I’ll just make a sandwich if you’ll make the eggs,” he said, getting up to place two pieces of bread in the toaster. “Where are we even going?” He asked, turning to his sister. “There aren't really any places to hike,” he argued.

“Okay, we will be walking, but still,” Ronnie said, reaching for her plate as Karen handed it over the counter.

Josh stepped behind his mother, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of orange juice. “Okay,” he agreed, taking a swig out of the container.

“Joshua!” Karen scolded, turning and attempting to swat him with the now-cold spatula. Josh dodged his mother with a grin and a chuckle, plopping down in his seat beside his sister.

***

“It’s been forever since I’ve been down here,” Josh admitted, looking out beyond the trail, watching birds stir from the comfort of their languid, sleepy pond, batting their wings and taking the air, flying high up into the sky, disappearing behind the alpine trees. “Probably since high school,” he said after a moment.

“It’s been a long time for me too,” Ronnie admitted. The trail was only a mile from their house. Growing up, the kids had taken turns throughout the years of finding refuge in nature, taking the time to think and work through anything that may have been troubling them. Now, when Josh wouldn’t have thought twice to come back to this place, Ronnie had quite literally dragged him back to his roots, reminding him of the quaint protection that this area had served all those years ago.

They were quiet as they walked together side by side, Josh kicking a worse-for-wear pinecone down the paved walkway. The asphalt was littered with a thin layer of pine straw, disguising the man-made trail underneath it. “So,” Ronnie began.

He looked at her without a word, waiting for what she was going to say next. “You’re really not yourself right now,” she finally said, sighing. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

“There’s nothing really to tell,” Josh shrugged. Ronnie rejected his poor explanation instantly.

“That’s not true in the slightest. You come home barely once a year these days,” she explained, stopping on the trail to turn to him with her hands on her hips. “If you’re here, I know it has to be bad,” she continued. “So tell me what happened.”

It took much coaxing, but after a while, Josh began to open up, beginning somewhere in the beginning of the relationship. “Everything about her just makes sense–or made sense. She was so special. She understood me. She’s patient, funny, beautiful–” Josh continued, struggling to keep his tenses consistent, caught within the uncertainty of the current standing of his relationship. Ronnie nodded, arriving at the first bench, and sat down. Josh joined her and continued. “Since the beginning, we couldn’t get enough of each other, and it wasn’t like infatuation or anything like that,” he said, pulling off his Kavu hat to tangle his fingers into his unkempt curls. “She just knew me. She got me. I’d never ever had that before,” he said, his eyes cast down as he picked at the seam of his shorts. “Not in the way that left me thinking about her every single night. She’s my best friend.” Ronnie could hear the hurt in Josh’s voice, how the last words had crackled as they came out.

“And what happened for that to change?” She pushed.

“I don’t know how to explain–it’s so weird, I can’t–”

“Tell me one thing at a time,” she said softly, crossing her legs under her as she adjusted in her seat. “Take your time.”

“At my party, she handed me a card,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing as he remembered. “And she was smiling and so happy–I thought it was a birthday card.” his hands lifted in front of him, before dropping to his lap defeatedly.

“Inside, there was a letter that said that Y/n knew who I was before we even knew each other. She wrote–she was–” he got hung up on his words. “She wrote stories about me. About the band.” Ronnie nodded slowly, understanding. “She had a whole dedicated blog about me– about the band, I mean.” Ronnie watched as Josh fidgeted with his clothing. “She lied. She led me on to believe she had no idea who I was when we met. The entire time we were together, she was a fan, not a stranger. I feel so–dirty? I don’t know.”

“So she told you in the letter?” Ronnie asked, picking apart the situation one piece at a time, trying her best to understand.

“No, it wasn’t her handwriting. It looked familiar, but it wasn’t hers. There were printed out pictures of her writing–screenshots of her blog, I guess.”

Ronnie let silence wash over the conversation for a long moment. “Josh,” she said, mostly as a statement.

“Yes?” He asked. She looked out at the scenery in front of them. “Do you love her?” She asked, turning to look him in the eyes.

“What?” He asked, though he heard exactly what she said.

“Do you still love Y/n? Because so far, you’ve spent way more time telling me about the amazing things than you really have about the bad parts,” she said, tucking stray hairs behind her ears.

He stopped for a moment and sighed. “Of course I love her, Ron,” he said. “Hell, I was going to propose to her at the party,” he continued. “But she ruined it.” She let the sting of his words calm before continuing.

“What’s the most hurtful thing about this whole– you know?” Ronnie asked.

“I just feel lied to, and led on,” he admitted, rubbing his chin in an attempt to pacify and comfort the vulnerable feelings. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“She didn’t really lie to you, exactly.” She said, squinting from the intense sunlight, turning to look at Josh. “Yes, she should have told you, but I can imagine that wouldn’t have been an exactly easy conversation to have,” she admitted. “And even so, it’s so embarrassing. Do you really think Y/n had this drawn-out plot to find you and make you fall in love with her? You’re many things Josh, but you’re not an idiot,” She said, punching him gently in the shoulder. He offered a half-smile.

“I don’t know what I expected,” he answered.

“Maybe she didn’t expect to ever meet you in real life. And–maybe she fell in love with you honestly. It didn’t matter that you are famous, or that it was you that she fell in love with.” She shrugged. “Have you ever considered that might be the case?” She asked.

Josh shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“How did you guys meet?” She asked out of curiosity.

“At the grocery store. On the pasta aisle,” he grinned, embarrassed.

“Who spoke first?” She asked, as if scoping out Josh’s concerns, walking them back to the very beginning of the relationship.

“I did,” He admitted. “She chose Rao’s sauce,” he grinned, nodding. “Girl has good taste.”

Ronnie chuckled through her nose. “You’re a loser.”

“How did she react when she met you?” She asked, moving further down her list of questions.

“She couldn’t speak straight, but she smiled so wide. She was funny–clever. Something about her just screamed to me that she was a good person, an interesting person,” He went on. “We clicked instantly. So much so that I didn’t bother getting her number. I knew I’d see her again.”

“And?”

“And I did. At the bar a few weeks later,” He went on.

“Did she know that you were there?” She asked.

“No, I don’t think so. She was with friends,” Josh continued. “From that night on, I just knew that it was her. I would have never told her, but I just knew it.”

“So do you really think she was pretending the entire time?” She asked finally.

Josh was silent, trying his best to find words to say.

“Josh,” She began again. “What is the one thing that the world needs more of? You always say it.”

“Love,” he said, eyeing his sister with a suspicious rise in his brow.

“Did you even let her explain everything? Give her time to tell you all of it?” Josh shook his head, looking off in the distance. “Nope.”

“Why not?” She asked.

“Because in the moment, I felt so violated that I couldn’t even look at her. I mean, I had the ring in my pocket, Ron.”

“If you had the ring and were ready to propose, that tells me you were prepared to spend your life with her,” she replied. “You’re not a casual person, Josh. You never have been. Are you really willing to throw away what could be the love of your life over something she obviously feels awful about?”��

There was another long silence, save for the wind brushing through the trees.

“And it doesn't make sense how you even found out about it,” she continued. “Who told you? Who wrote that card?”

“I don’t know,” he explained. “Honestly, I didn’t even think about it,” he explained. “I knew Y/n didn’t know that it had been switched, but at that moment, I didn’t care. I just wanted to leave.”

“I’m going to be very honest with you. I don’t think it’s very fair to Y/n to believe everything you were shown at first glance, and then not even know where the information was coming from, even if it was true.” She delivered her opinion honestly, but still remained careful.

“Danny knew about it. He knew everything.”

“Josh, it’s Danny we’re talking about. Do you really think he would betray you by siding with a crazy stalker fan?” Josh stared straight ahead, picking nervously at his cuticles. His gaze fell, staring down at the ground for a long time. “You’re no longer the kid from Frankenmuth who sings in choir and gets the lead in musicals. You’re not a nobody.”

“Wow, thanks,” he said with a sarcastic chuckle.

“You’re famous, Josh,” She continued. “And you’re becoming well-known in circles you probably never expected or dreamed of.” Josh nodded. “I don’t think it’s fair to place that expectation on your partner–to be a perfect stranger who’s never heard of you, even if that is how you think you’d want to meet them. If it ends up happening that way, cool, but don’t determine the end of your story together based on how it started.”

“I just didn’t want to be known for my music when it came to stuff like that,” Josh explained, visibly disappointed.

“And why’s that?” She asked, crossing her legs as she adjusted in her seat. “Don’t you think that your music is an extension of who you are as a person?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I mean,” He said. “I just want her to love me for being me, and I felt like she did, but now, I feel like I’m questioning everything.”

“You know what you need to do. You’re upset, and rightfully so, but I don’t think you’re upset that Y/n was a fan of yours. I don’t think that at all. You’re upset because she didn’t feel like she could tell you the truth. You’re hurt that you had to find out the way you did. You wish you’d heard her tell you first, and not in front of your closest family and friends. That was wrong.” Ronnie’s words were hitting home for Josh, and it was exactly what he needed to hear.

“You can be hurt by someone and still love them. You can be hurt by someone and still want to be with them and work through things. I can’t tell you what to do,” She said, standing up from the bench. “But I can tell you that the brother I know would have told me the exact same thing. You would have told me to trust my gut, and lead with love, even if you end up getting hurt in the end. So,” She said, stepping forward and placing her hands on his shoulders. “You need to go home and talk to her–and you need to decide now if you love each other enough to move past this.”

“Who taught you to be so wise?” He asked, his lip curling with enthusiasm.

“Mom and Dad,” she answered with a grin. “But I’ll throw your name in there if it makes you feel better,” She finished.

“I love you,” he said, pulling her in for a long, well-needed hug.

“I love you too, turd,” she answered playfully, squeezing her brother tight. “I know you’ll make the right decision.”

“I hope I will,” he said, already lost in thought.

“I know you will,” she repeated. “You’re Josh. You’re always the heart of everything.” Josh couldn’t exactly understand why it had made him so emotional, but Ronnie’s words had simultaneously shattered the rest of him, and repaired the broken pieces all at once. You’re always the heart of everything. He’d continue to be that person, even if it meant that he would hurt in the end.

“I’m going back to Nashville,” He announced, clearing his throat, working through the emotion. “I need to fix this.” He swallowed, straightening his posture as he stood up.

With a keen eye for departing flights, Josh had cancelled and rebooked the soonest one he could find, opting for a less than ideal airline and paying an exorbitant amount of fees, but he didn’t care. He’d determined that through all of the hurt, he still couldn’t tell himself that he didn’t care about you, and no amount of convincing himself would stop him from loving you–being in love with you.

Touching down in Nashville that next morning, he booked it to his house as quickly as he could.

He was coming home to you–if you were still home, for that matter.

End of Part 4.

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