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rustedhearts · 9 months

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crush (college!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: academic distraction comes in the form of one tall, handsome brunet named steve.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the scholar stud masterlist ✶ main masterlist

tags: college!steve, college!reader, fluff, a little cringe sometimes, steve's a cocky douche, smut!! silly ending because i just wanted to finish it.

a/n: why, yes. the notorious college steve has returned for this one day. i hope you enjoy his rebirth.

somewhere in indiana, october 1988. tillman university.

"And that concludes today's class. Folks, don't forget the exam tomorrow, bright and early eight a.m—"

The shuffle of notebooks and folders being swept from plastic desks drowned out the bellow of Professor Brown's instructions as the class scurried to leave. Everyone knew the pub just on the edge of campus was hosting 'Beer Olympics' tonight, and most of your classmates couldn't risk losing out on even one moment in that sticky, wood-paneled bar.

Including the handsome, silky-haired Steve Harrington, who sat in front of you and chewed on his pen for the entire hour of English 231: British Literature. At first, the incessant clicking of teeth against plastic and ink drove you insane.

But once, he whirled around when the cap went flying and landed on your desk, and the smile he passed you seemed sweet and bashful. The rosiness on his cheeks pretty, the hazel of his eyes against the fluorescents dreamy. He started murmuring to you during class discussions, begging for explanations on 'what the hell that Shakespeare guy was talking about.'

Steve Harrington might've shared a love for the stupid and the insane like the rest of the population on Tillman's campus, but he had the good grace to display it such a wonderful way that you didn't even mind.

You shuffled back to your dorm, bundled in a scarf and wool-lined coat, prepared to settle cozily into bed and study for tomorrow's test—your roommate, however, had other ideas.

"I need you to come with me," she whined as you removed your layers and tossed them on the bed. "This is my one chance for James to see how hot I am."

A cackle shot from your mouth, though you softened to pity as your roommate's shoulders drooped. James was her very own Steve: handsome, a year or two her senior, and a complete academic distraction. Her attempts to get his attention have lengthened weeks now, but all to no avail.

"I don't know...I have an exam tomorrow—"

"Oh, God, please," she groaned, falling back on her bed across the room. The springs yipped. "Chaucer is more important than the state of my love life?"

"What is the state of your love life?"

"Dead!"

You bit back a grin, swallowing all amusement when your roommate rolled onto her side and frowned at you. Like a little sister begging to be included, she rounded her eyes and jutted her lip.

"C'mon, please?" she whined. "You can bring your stuff to study, I'm sure there's a quiet corner. They have food, too! Come on, I'll buy you shitty bar wings!"

Eyeing her weepy, desperate eyes and your piles of highlighted notes, you mulled over the options with half-hearted sincerity. You were 95% sure you would ace this exam tomorrow, and the study session was for 'just in case.' Who were you to stand in the way of your roommate's apparent true love?

"And onion rings," you added.

Bouncing into a seated position, your roommate beamed and clapped her hands together sharply. "Anything."

✶ ✶

"Okay, here." Two plastic baskets of sticky barbecue wings and crispy, golden onion rings slid your way across a poorly-cleaned wooden hightop. "Are you good by yourself over here? I saw James by the pool table."

Grinning like a toddler with a treat, you reached for a wing with gentle fingers and nodded. "Yep, I'm perfect. Go get your man!"

Relief flooded her features, all dolled up and sparkly. She popped a quick kiss to your cheek and spun around, sweeping a hand over her hair to tame the frizz.

"Okay, I'm going in."

You watched her trot away in heels she could barely squeeze into with a giggle. She eased her way into a group of people near the pool table, lingering close enough to the blond-haired James without seeming desperate. You'd seen your roommate dizzy-headed around plenty of men before, but James turned her into something else.

The corner she found you was as quiet as a bar corner could be at eight o'clock on the night of a campus-wide event. Purses and backpacks piled in the corner of your booth, potently scented with sweet perfume and cigarette smoke. The lights were low back here, and most of your notes came scanned in the neon blue glow of the Budweiser sign hanging behind your head. Once your eyes adjusted to the hue, and the rowdy buzz of your peers faded away, you honestly found enjoyment in your little corner.

Until—

"Well hello, Oh studious one," a voice bellowed over the noise. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Steve Harrington, handsome, pink-cheeked, and a little bleary-eyed, sauntered toward your table with a beer in hand. He bent over your textbook, elbows creasing the onion skin pages, and flashed you a sideways grin. You thanked the blue lights for concealing the heat in your face.

"I'm quite surprising."

He chuckled, condensation dripping from the amber bottle in hand when he pointed the mouth of it toward the contents of your table. "And you're...reading. At a bar."

You clicked your pen, swiping a lukewarm onion ring from its basket. "I'm studying for our test tomorrow."

Steve lifted his gaze from the book, returning it to your face—his own blank and thoughtless. He's slow to lift the lip of the beer bottle to his mouth, and the swig he takes comes with furrowed brows.

The bottle pops away with a sharp release of suction. "Test?"

Giggling, you slap your hand onto your book. "Are you serious? Professor Brown just told us about it, like, four hours ago."

Steve straightened up, removing himself from your book. A large hand swept over the top of his hair, darkened with dampness from the exertion of Beer Olympic seriousness.

"Ohhh, that test," he snarked. "The test on...."

He trailed so far you worried he'd get lost, and as you tipped your chin down and fixed him with an incredulous look, you had mercy on him. "Chaucer."

Steve blinked again, eyes as glazed over and empty as a doe's. "Who?"

You succumbed to your amusement, a chorus of giggles bubbling over. "You're helpless."

Steve shrugged, cheek meeting his shoulder with an air of coolness. His body tipped sideways, one elbow returning to its place on your wrinkled pages to lean his weight on the table.

"Maybe so."

You took a small bite of your onion ring, which had lost all its crisp, and took your turn to blink blankly. But the boy was patient, knuckles rapping on the table in an offbeat tune as you lingered in the pause. Finally, overcome by his own impatience, Steve set his bottle on the table and slid even closer. You could feel the warmth of his body, exuding alcohol-laced sweat and a back alley cigarette soaked into the dampness of his t-shirt. Black cotton, thinned with sweat, drenched in leathery cologne applied hours ago.

"Maybe...you could help me then," he suggested, tone sauced with boyish charm.

Heat flooded your face like a dam bursting, rushing like a hot-blooded throb. You shifted on the sticky booth, boots clunking together beneath the table. The bits of soggy breading balled in your throat.

"I—" You swallowed, hands gripping the booth beneath you with urgency. "I-t-that could—"

Steve plucked his beer bottle from the table, sliding a step away from the table. His friends crowded around the pool table, where your roommate and her very own version of Steve were pressed against the wall, murmuring in close proximity.

"So, tomorrow?" He took another shuffled step back, a glint in his eye like he already knew his work was done.

He had you.

You swallowed again, tongue darting out to wet your dry mouth. "But...the test will be over by then."

Steve cupped his hand around his ear, eyes squinting as you grew smaller with every step back. "What? I can't—you're so far away! I can't hear you."

Amusement glimmered through, shattering your stunned stupor and bringing you back to life. Another mindless giggle tumbled from your mouth, and Steve savored it as he turned just enough to miss your pretty face.

"See you tomorrow!" he called.

You watched the plain of his broad back make its way into the crowd again, falling into a chorus of hoops and hollers and flushed, sticky bodies. You watched him douse himself in beer from a poorly-crafted beer bong held by a sloppy drunk. You watched him until you felt like a giddy schoolgirl, and did your best to return to your work and wait to take your leave.

And Steve stole glances when he knew you were no longer looking, hoping you'd really show.

✶ ✶

"I can't believe this is happening."

"I'm already nervous enough, please stop saying that."

"I'm sorry!" your roommate shrieked, hands slapping against her cheeks as she watched you fix your hair for the millionth time in the mirror on the floor. "I just...I just can't."

"Okay, but you can tell me if my outfit is good. Is it-is it okay? What does it say to you?"

You hopped to your feet, whirling around to show your carefully crafted outfit. You spent all night holding your roommate's hair back and pondering over your outfit in your head; daydreaming about what Steve would say once he had you in his dorm room, which he slipped by your table with beer-laced instructions to meet him at when the night dwindled down.

Now here you were, clammy palmed and losing your mind. Was this some sort of trick? A dare? Was he playing a joke on you?

“It says: ‘I want Steve Harrington to fuck me.’ But in a very chic, understated way.”

Huffing, you did your best to ignore the swirl in your belly at the thought of Steve mirroring your roommate’s beliefs.

“I’m leaving. You’re no help,” you half-heartedly scolded, swiping your bag on the way toward the door.

But if Steve Harrington wanted to fuck you, you certainly had no objections.

He had a sloppily scrawled sign on his dorm room door declaring it his place of residence (and whoever the hell Eddie Munson was). You swallowed as you brought your knuckles to the wood, smoothing your hair once more as footsteps shuffled behind it. It swung open with a gust of warm, woodsy air. His cologne filled the room like a potent candle, and you took a brief moment to suppress a cough before taking in his smooth, half cocked grin.

“Hey, pretty,” he drawled, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms.

Huffing a laugh, you fiddled with the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “Hi, Steve.”

Steve took a moment to drink you in, tongue inching between his lips to wet it as he shuffled back a step. His hand pushed the door open all the way, revealing a recently-cleaned bedroom adorned with two double-twins and a desk warm with amber lamplight. You immediately knew which posters were his—all sports related and signed.

“Come on in, get comfy.”

You took tiny steps inside, shivering when he breezed by in another whoosh of air to close the door behind you. The heat of his body, lingering close behind as you inspected the room, nipped at that gooey, mushy part of you that ached for him. The same part of you that rendered you a distracted, brainless mess in class when he spoke or flexed that strong arm with a grip around his pen.

“Thirsty?”

Whirling around, you found Steve standing near the desk, watching you with fixed and glinting hazel eyes.

Your face warmed twenty degrees. “Sorry?”

He motioned toward a mini fridge under the desk, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Something to drink?”

You breathed a laugh, swinging your bag off your shoulder. “Oh, um, sure.”

You had to look away when he bent to pull it open, the strain of tendons and cords of muscle in his tan, lean arms enough to make your mouth pool with water. Christ, you were ridiculous. You turned toward the dark, black fabric-clad side of the room where his roommate must’ve lived.

“So, um, the test was pretty easy this morning, but we can still—“

“Look at you. God, you’re so beautiful.”

The cold condensation of a Coke can pressing against your arm was the first to startle you—whirling around with a sharp-edged gasp. Then the sound of his words, rasped behind your ear, bringing goosebumps to your skin. His body, so close you could feel his warmth, smell the mint on his freshly-brushed teeth.

Standing this close, you could feel his breath tickle your cheeks, could see the shiny sheen of spit on his mouth from his tongue.

"W-what?"

Steve just shook his head, a dumfounded wonderment glistening in his eye. "You heard me."

Your jaw slackened, lips parting to utter some stupefied response, mind turning to soupy mush at the sudden proximity. Before you could even attempt some silly, bashful disagreement, Steve collected your chin in his hand. Pinched between gentle fingers, he guided your mouth up to his own until their softness touched.

The Coke can clattered to the ground and rolled toward the desk as his mouth closed over yours. You perked on your toes, fingers curling into fists as they lifted toward his shoulders, broad and firm. You couldn't believe this was happening. You always thought he tossed you looks during class, that he might've lingered a little too long when he walked to his desk just to watch you sit there.

You never imagined it could be true. That Steve Harrington wanted you the way you wanted him.

“You could’ve,” an interruption of kisses stopped you short, the click of spit and lips echoing off cinderblock, “at least…mm, pretended—oh! T-to study.”

“Couldn’t wait,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, teeth scraping your bottom lip, breath hot against your tongue.

Arousal flushed hot in your body, stomach squeezing in time with the fluttered successions of excitement provoked by his roaming hands. They stroked down your arms and toward your waist, slipping through the curves to hold you firmly. Another gasp bled into his open mouth when he tugged you close.

"This is so much better than Chaucer," he breathed, mouth sliding over your lips to your cheek where he pressed a firm and sloppy kiss.

"Mhm," you pipped dazedly, head tipping to follow his affections.

Thighs bumping the edge of the bed, you allowed Steve to guide you onto the black duvet of the mattress behind you. It rumpled with the hurried shuffle of bodies climbing over. Steve tugged you by the calves when you met the pillow, pulling you flat beneath him. He dipped with eager excitement to collect another kiss as your thighs bookended his hips.

"Test was already graded," Steve muttered, nudging your jaw with his nose to move it aside and fit his head in your neck. "Got...mm...eighty-five."

Heaving for air, you ruffled your fingers through the thickness of his hair: soft and slipping between your hands like silk. Blinded by the tingling buzz reverberating through your bones, you could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence aloud. Steve's lips suctioned to the column of your throat, and your body gave a jolt.

"Th-thought you didn't know anything."

Steve chuckled, and the sound grumbled through you like a firework. You gave another jerk, fingers twisting in his hair, hips canting up against the firmness of his jeans.

"M' not stupid," he mumbled into your neck, nipping with gentle teeth at your earlobe. "Just so distracted. Can't stop thinkin' 'bout you behind me."

"Oh, Steve," you scoffed, eyes opening blearily to blink at the tiled ceiling, browned with old water stains. His hair tickled your cheek, cologne bathing you in masculine comfort.

Steve lifted his head, peering down at you with rosy cheeks and swollen lips. "You don't believe me?"

You let your hands fall from his hair, smoothing over the firmness of his shoulders. The stretch of your thighs around him began to burn in the most delicious way, and the tufts of chest hair slipping from his grey t-shirt made you shift on the bed. You wanted him. Like a mad woman, some nymphomaniac, lust-ridden fiend.

"I don't know," you sighed, running a finger down his chest. "Let's just...talk about it later."

Steve watched you a moment, eyes scanning your face with scrutiny. When heat swelled in your flesh, his lips coiled into a grin, eyes alight with amusement.

"Ohhh, I see. Poor little baby just can't wait. Y' want me, pretty girl?"

You bobbed your head fervently, the beginning of a pout even toying with your lips. He rendered you ridiculous and stupid, and later, you might've even felt embarrassed about how easy it was for Steve Harrington to have you whining.

But right now, all you cared about were his hands, big and rough and warm to the touch, taking off your shirt.

"Don't worry, honey," Steve cooed breathlessly, eyes traveling to the newly exposed flesh. "You've got me."

As his hands explored and grabbed at flesh, your own slipped beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, splaying over the soft skin beneath. He was quick to shed himself of the layer, and you did your best to admire the build revealed as he trailed kisses between your breasts. He led them all the way down to your navel, and then over the curve of flesh leading to the waistband of your pants. Steve hooked his fingers in the belt loops and tugged harshly, practically ripping them from your thighs and down over your feet.

He captured his lip between his teeth as he settled between your legs again, fingers pinching and kneading at the flesh like soft dough. "And I've got you. Ain't that right?"

You grew dizzy with your nodding, so petulantly desperate and pleading. Steve grinned at it, index tracing the lace of your underwear with explorative wonderment as he watched your eyes well up. He was certain if he prolonged your pleasure any more, he'd have you weeping.

"Don't cry, honey," he soothed, peeling your panties off by the lace band. "Steve's gotcha."

In the back of your mind, you rolled your eyes and giggled at the ridiculous confidence Steve seemed to think he could get away with—but in reality, you were too busy lifting your hips to meet Steve's fingers, brushing just gently over your core as he undid his belt with the other hand. The buckle clinked and clunked with a toss, clattering to the tile floor somewhere near Steve's side of the room, where your backpack and all its contents spilled in the erotic chaos of Steve's impatience.

When the pair of you were bare, Steve breached the distance—flesh on flesh exuding heat that glistened in a haloed sheen. His mouth worked over yours a while longer, melting you down just a little more into absolutely nothing. Hands coaxing your limbs to release their tensions, your muscles to relax and ease into him. You trusted him more than anything, warmed by his gentle affections. No man had ever been so sweet and slow.

The crinkle of foil came like tv static, muffled and low. And then something larger than his fingers was brushing your core, slipping through the slickness pooling. He rubbed the tip along your most sensitive, delicate spot just enough to have you whimpering and twisting, before sliding into your entrance with slow, meticulous purpose.

Steve groaned as he pushed further, forearms planted on either side of your head. Your thighs quaked against his ribs, hoisted high and holding on tight. You reached for his hair again, desperate for more of him.

"You okay, honey?" Steve mumbled against your cheek, fanning hot breath into your ear.

You shivered at the grumble of his voice rattling through you, nodding once more. "Y-yeah. Keep going, please."

He huffed a chuckle, shifting his hips to push a little deeper and revel in the gasp you shot out.

"Please," he mocked, kissing your damp cheek. "So sweet."

When he sank in completely, you could've sworn you saw the light. A burning sting that had you writhing crawled through your thighs and up your back, settled even deep in your stomach where the thickness of him rested. He nuzzled into your neck with a low grunt of relief, giving you the space of his back to run your fingers down and kiss mindlessly. Steve seemed to be no better, losing himself in the warmth of your body wrapped around him.

"Steve, please."

Your voice stirred him from his hazy, lust-drunk stupor; he quickly readjusted to lift off his arms.

"Shh, shh, 've got you."

Like revving an engine, Steve gave a few short thrusts before settling into a pace of slow, deep humps that came like timed successions. You gasped and groaned with every one, nails biting into the warm, clammy skin of his shoulders. Once he knew you were satisfied and free of discomfort, Steve took his moment to brush your hair out of your face with a heavy, sweeping palm. He peppered kisses all over your face, delicate brushes of his mouth over your eyelids and nose, firmer across your mouth and cheeks.

Who knew Steve Harrington would be so sweet?

“Knew you’d feel so good,” he whined into your ear, pace quickening a bit with eagerness.

“So good,” you parroted, a high pitched and nasally lilt congealing your voice.

But he was just that good.

The room quieted to a blend of slick skin clicking and the bated, hoarse breaths of erotic thrill. You weren’t sure how long it truly went on, but the world just fell away around you. Blackened in a vignette of vision, hazed over with heavenly satisfaction. Your body buzzed in some muffled, distant way—you felt like just a mind in a body, being taken away. It was hard to focus on anything other than Steve, rocking into you and leaving kisses on your neck.

When your hiccuped breath shifted to sharp mewls, clawed from somewhere deep in your chest, Steve reared back and steadied his hands on your hips. He slowed to a glacial pace, watching his own cock prod at the flesh beneath your navel, your own slickness gather at his pelvis. He brought his thumb to your clit, pressing firmly into the delicate nub to focus a gentle, circular massage. You twisted and writhed like a woman enraged with demonic possession, and your grip on his forearms felt like something out of The Exorcist.

But it was all worth it to watch your face balloon with heat, flooding every vein with scorching pleasure until air became nothing but a lifeline. Steve was glad to even press pause on his own pleasure just to see you summit. Your chest trembled with a quaking roar, limbs succumbing to weakness in the daze. Vision clouded with grey static, streaked with a pool of tears.

When you were positively spent, Steve carefully unsheathed, squeezing his fist around his cock with firm pressure and bringing it to hover over your stomach.

“This okay, sweetheart?” he managed to grit out, neck bulging with veins, cheeks growing red.

You could barely nod, swiping your hand through the thin layer of sweat along his arm. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh God—fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Warmth splattered across your abdomen, like a gentle flicker of water across your skin. The squelching sound of Steve fucking his fist died down, mirroring the dwindle of moans and groans from the boy himself. He fell forward heavily, catching himself with one hand beside your head. His nose brushed your cheek, catching his breath against the clammy skin.

“Christ,” he heaved, jutting a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “We owe Chaucer a big one.”

Before you could giggle or scoff, the door swung open with a chittering screech. Steve scrambled to grab the comforter and shield your bare, sticky bodies, both your heads snapping toward the doorway as a shaggy-haired boy stomped through: his roommate.

“Harrington, what the fuck?”

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nataliesfirefly · 1 month

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You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F! Reader - Part 8

a/n: heyy loves! if you’ve stuck around for all 8 parts, thank you SOOO much. writing this series and receiving so many kind comments and love has really made the past month and a half so enjoyable. i cant believe i’m concluding my first fic already!! it’s been so fun and i definitely want to write more. shoutout to my friend @avessss who encouraged me to start posting even though i was really nervous. i couldn’t have done it without her 💕 but anyways enjoy the last chapter! not sure when i will post next but until then… message me, give suggestions, etc!! love you all SOO much 💌

word count: 4.6k words

masterlist

playlist

warnings: MDNI 18+, afab reader, smut, oral (reader receiving), p in v, making out, language, angst for like one second, FLUFF, mentions of alcohol, not proofread

“A pint, please. Thanks.” You smile at the bartender as you slide forward five pounds. You stand and wait patiently, leaning against the bar as he shuffles away to go fill up a tall glass of beer.

You hear your name being said from next to you. You turn to see a familiar girl with olive skin and long, silky black hair. Your brain takes a few seconds to compute who it is.

“Sasha! Hey,” You grin and she smiles brightly. “Hi. I didn’t know if it was you or not,” She chuckles and you stand there awkwardly, not sure of what to say.

“How’s life?” She asks. “Uhh, good. Can’t complain.” You shrug as the bartender slides you the beer across the counter. You take a sip as she nods.

“Same here. Just a little terrified of the fact that we are going to be seniors in a year,” She runs a hand through her hair with a sigh. “Me too, girl.” You nod in agreement.

“How was your summer?” Sasha asks. You let out a sigh unintentionally before fixing your facial expression.

“It was… good,” You nod slowly, almost trying to convince yourself. “I don’t know if you know but…There’s a rumor going around that you and Farleigh had somewhat of a summer fling,” She winces after she says this.

“Oh God,” You press a hand to your forehead and shake your head. “Who told you that?” You groan.

“I’m assuming it came from Felix. I’m not sure, but I just wanted to tell you…” She places a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “If you ever need to talk or anything like that, let me know.” She says, her English accent soft and elegant.

She seems almost too nice. You’ve never seen Sasha like this, so it’s hard to believe.

“Thank you.” You dip your head and take another sip of beer. “I know I was never the nicest to you and we were never close, but I’m here for you.” Her hand falls from your shoulder gently.

“I think I was honestly just threatened by you,” She continues. You jerk your head towards her quickly and furrow your eyebrows.

“What? Why?” You scoff as if it’s absurd. “I always had this… gut feeling that he was in love with you or something. He would talk about you nonstop, about how much you annoyed him and how much he ‘hated you.’ I knew better,” She shakes her head.

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry,” You feel bad, suddenly. Like you were the cause of their relationship problems.

“But that whole thing is over now,” You wave your hand dismissively. “He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” You both giggle at her words.

“He is. I can see why you broke up with him,” You nod, feeling no remorse for talking about Farleigh this way. It’s all true. But you also know Sasha had a lot to do with the shitty parts of their relationship.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” She grins and holds up her hand, giving a tiny wave. “Yeah. See you,” You watch her walk away before turning back to your drink, grabbing it and heading to find an empty table.

You sigh, leaning down and fishing your textbook out of your bag. You still have four chapters to read before tomorrow. The first term of your junior year is kicking your ass, even though it’s only October.

Sooner or later, you see Felix walking through the entrance of the pub. You immediately crane your neck to search for any signs of Farleigh, since he usually follows Felix around. But thankfully, he’s not anywhere to be found.

You turn your attention back to your textbook, and when you glance back up, Felix is sitting across from you.

“Hey.” He smiles and you notice the cigarette between his fingers. “Hi. How are you?” You reply, not exactly in the mood to talk to him right now.

“Oh, you know. Just drowning in work,” He sighs and leans back in his chair, throwing his head back slightly.

“You and me both,” You chuckle lightly and close your textbook, knowing you won’t get anything read so long as Felix is here. He leans forward again and takes a drag from his cigarette.

“So…” He starts, trailing off. You raise your eyebrows. “So?”

“Are you and Farleigh ever going to make up?” He asks suddenly. You cough, surprised by the abrupt question.

“No.” You shake your head. “Don’t even try it, Felix.” You roll your eyes and he groans. “Please, we don’t even get to hang out much anymore because you’re avoiding him,” He whines.

“Then just… arrange a time to hang out with me when Farleigh isn’t there.” You grimace at the feeling of his name in your mouth. Felix facepalms. “C’mon. Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but…”

“It sounds like you think you know what happened.” You narrow your eyes and he seems confused. “What?” He tilts his head.

“Lola told me you’re spreading rumors. Like, that Farleigh and I had some fling over the summer,” You explain, and he glances down like he’s been caught, before looking back up with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“What, you thought no one would hear you two fucking at one in the morning? You guys were so loud, it’s like you wanted to be caught,” He chuckles and shakes his head. Your face burns beet red with embarrassment.

“I don’t judge you for it. I just didn’t expect it,” He says. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean you go telling everyone about it,” You reply.

“I didn’t mean to. I told one person in confidence.” Felix says. “You know you can’t trust these people to keep things to themselves,” You shake your head in disappointment.

“Okay, I’m sorry. But I think Farleigh really wants to talk to you.” He says, his tone persuasive and you immediately cringe.

“I’m not talking to him. Nothing will come of it,” You finish off your beer and set the glass on the table decisively.

“I just don’t want our friendship to be messed up because of this.” He says, sounding a bit sad. You look back up to him and see him glancing down at his lap.

“We’re good. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” It comes off harsher than you meant it to, but Felix doesn’t seem to mind. “I can’t just forgive and forget, you know?”

He nods. “Yeah. Alright, then. Just consider talking to him. I’ll see you later, mate.” He drums his fingers on the table before standing up and walking to the bar. You sigh and decide to pack up your things after checking your watch and seeing the time. It’s getting late.

You stand up and grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You walk out of the pub and down the cobbled streets while looking around and just observing the several groups of students, chatting loudly or laughing. The chilly autumn breeze tosses around crimson and golden leaves.

You go over your plans for the remainder of tonight in your head. You’re going to get back to your dorm, take a shower, then get the rest of your work done. That is, if you don’t procrastinate like you usually do.

You enter your dorm building and then stop in your tracks when you see him standing there, at the bottom of the stairs. It’s like you have a full body reaction to him standing in front of you, sending a chill down your spine and making your stomach churn. He doesn’t speak, he just stares at you. You step forward, walking up the stairs and completely ignoring him. “Can we please talk?” Farleigh calls your name.

“No, we can’t.” You respond, your tone harsh and bitter. You hear footsteps coming up the stairs behind you and you increase your pace, trying to get to your door and unlock it before he can catch up to you. But it’s no use, he’s already standing there behind you.

“Please. Just let me talk to you,” He begs. You shake your head. “Farleigh, I already know how this is going to go. You don’t talk.” You can’t even stand to look at him, even addressing him is difficult after all these months of not speaking.

“I’m going to talk. I swear. Please,” He pleads. “Fine,” You groan with exasperation as you unlock your door, although you’re sort of curious as to what he’s going to say.

He closes the door behind him and you go to sit on the edge of your bed after setting your things down and kicking off your shoes, looking at him expectantly. “Okay, talk.”

“I’m sorry. For everything.” Farleigh says, and it surprisingly sounds sincere. “I’m sorry for being a dick to you all these years. And those things I said at Saltburn, I didn’t mean any of it.” His voice is quiet and he looks down at the ground as he speaks. You blink a few times and take a moment to respond.

“Why would you say those things if you never meant them?” You ask, your own voice timid as you remember all the harsh and cruel words he said to you that one night.

“Did you mean it when you said you hated me and you wished we never met?” He fires back. You bite the inside of your cheek and avoid his gaze as regret washes over you. “...I never said–”

“Yes you did.” It’s silent and the tension in the air is palpable. It seems like you’re both waiting for who is going to speak next, but you aren’t exactly sure what to say.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to apologize when you’ve literally hated me since the day we first met,” You chuckle sarcastically and shake your head. He falls silent, and when you glance back up to him, he looks nervous, like something’s on the tip of his tongue.

“That’s not… exactly true.” He mutters. “I never hated you. I’ve loved you since the moment I first saw you. That night at Saltburn, when Felix introduced us to each other. I saw you and I just felt… Something just came over me. I’d never felt it before. I mean, I was so captivated by you. I couldn’t sleep that night because I was thinking about you every second. And I was scared. I was so scared. So I was mean to you.”

He lets out a breath after his confession and you stare at him in disbelief. You’re barely processing anything he’s saying. Is this real? You feel like you should pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming.

“And Felix never kept his friends around for long, so I knew I couldn’t get attached to you. I thought you were just passing by and that I would never see you again. But when you came back the next summer, then the next, and then you got into Oxford, I knew I was fucked.

“I just kept pushing my feelings down and instead of dealing with them, I was just… a bitch. I was trying to push you away and I was hoping that would get rid of my feelings. But it didn’t. And I regret it so, so much. I wasted all this time and I was being so stupid. I was just scared of love. I was scared of loving you.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. You swear you can see tears in his own eyes.

“What about Sasha?” You ask when you finally gather yourself. “Really? You don’t know why I dated Sasha?” He chuckles a bit like it should be obvious. You shake your head no.

“I just needed someone to distract me. I got with all those people to fill the void. I mean, Sasha and I’s relationship was purely based off of sex. And every single time, I pictured that it was you instead of Sasha. I would close my eyes and imagine it was you. I think that was the only way I was able to get off,” He laughs. Your eyes widen at his words and your stomach flips. So that was why he was always moaning like a bitch?

“So when we finally… I freaked out. It was getting too real, and so I pushed you away again. And I said some shitty things.” You blink and a few tears fall. You don’t even know how to describe how you’re feeling right now. So many emotions are building inside of you, and they’re so dense and heavy, you’re not sure how to comprehend them.

“I’m so, so fucking sorry.” Farleigh seems to notice that you’re crying. “You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m a fucking idiot,”

Before you know it you’re off of your bed, crashing into him and sobbing against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, locking you in a tight embrace and enveloping you in his warmth. Your shoulders shake as you feel all the emotions pouring out of you. He holds you like he’s never going to let go. You don’t want him to let go. Ever.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispers your name into your hair. “I’ll never do that to you again.” He continues muttering these things to you as you let him hold you, melting into the hug.

You look up at him and his brown eyes are illuminated with affection. Something about him is different. He’s softer, unlike his usual cold and teasing personality.

He gently moves some hair out of your face and kisses your forehead, causing you to blush and smile softly.

“Why did we waste so much time when we could have been together?” You ask timidly, more of a rhetorical question. He sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Cause we’re stupid,” He chuckles and you let out a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t matter now. We have the rest of our lives to make up for it,” He grins down at you and you smile against his hand that cups your face. He leans down and you tilt your head up to meet his lips. The kiss you share is slow and sensual, like you’re both trying to savor each other for as long as possible, like you’re making up for all those years of fabricated hatred. You can’t deny that you missed his lips and the way that he kisses, the way his tongue licks into your mouth. He pulls away after a minute.

“But I still feel like I need to make it up to you,” Farleigh’s expression changes and his voice lowers to that familiar deep and gravelly sound. You can see the lust in his eyes and you feel butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“What should I do for you, baby?” His hands snake down to your hips as he lowers himself slowly to the ground until he’s on his knees. Your heart races and you feel chills racing across your skin.

He looks up at you and you swear your knees almost give out from underneath you just at the sight. “Far..” You giggle shyly and feel your face burn red.

His fingers fiddle with the waistband of your skirt, almost teasing you and waiting until you ask him to take it off. But after a moment he’s pulling it down gently, and you step out of it gingerly and nudge it to the side with your foot.

He groans and his hands roam up and down your thighs. “You’re so perfect,” He mumbles as he hooks your lace panties under his fingers and pulls them down as well, almost hurriedly this time like he’s just that eager to eat you out until you’re sobbing for him.

Without any warning or time to prepare, his mouth is already on you, tasting you passionately with his tongue and moaning, the vibrations going straight to your core.

You moan breathlessly, your hand reaching down to tangle in his curly hair for something to ground you, and he seems to like this. He keeps letting out these small, needy whines like he’s the one getting devoured.

Every swirl and flick of his tongue has you whimpering like you’re in pain, your legs feeling unstable and weak. He sucks on your clit and you feel two of his fingers already inching their way inside, curling inside of you deliciously. It’s all too much and your breath has turned into short, high-pitched, desperate huffs.

“Please- Shit, Farleigh,” The third finger he inserts draws a long moan out of you. You don’t care if your neighbors hear you. You’re too lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you, with no drawbacks or regret looming in the future. When you think about how he just confessed his love for you, it only brings you closer to the edge of your beautiful release.

He laps up your slick, his tongue getting dangerously close to your entrance. You gasp for air as his fingers leave, only to be replaced by his tongue. You whine at the new feeling of his tongue deep inside of you, his thumb circling your clit. You feel your climax approaching, threatening to make you crumble and beg for mercy.

A deep and guttural groan leaves him as he continues fucking you with his tongue. “Far, I’m close-“ Your hand twists in his hair and you roll your hips against his face absentmindedly, almost like you’re stuck in a trance.

His tongue slips out of you, his nose nudging against your clit. Then, you’re gone. You feel like you’re floating, like you’re the only two people in the world right now, all your thoughts disappearing as that divine ecstasy shoots through your veins and melts your muscles and your bones.

He stands back up and takes you into his strong arms, cradling you as he brings you over to your bed, with occasional kisses along the way. You both pull away to tear off your clothes. You hurriedly pull off your sweater and your bra and toss them aside, hearing them land somewhere on the floor. Farleigh takes his own shirt off and his jeans, revealing that beautiful body you’ve subconsciously been dreaming of.

“Lay down,” You tell him with some sort of newfound confidence. You’ve never been on top before, but right now you want to pay him back and give him all that you have to offer.

“Mmm,” He hums in response, laying down on your small, twin-sized bed. You climb onto the bed and straddle him, feeling slightly nervous as his hands rest on your hips. You keep your hands on his chest as you grind your hips down onto him, feeling the form of him through his boxers.

He’s rock hard, and it only encourages you to continue to grind against him, rolling your hips smoothly and slowly. He whimpers and grips your hips harder, biting his lip. “Fuck, baby,” He moans, his hips bucking up slightly to meet yours.

You can’t wait anymore. You reach down and maintain eye contact as you slowly pull down his boxers, shuffling them down his legs.

It’s definitely intimidating, but you’re determined to ride him. He looks up at you. “Is this okay?” He asks, his hands returning to your hips. You nod. “Yeah,” You reply before rising up on your knees and adjusting yourself before sinking down onto him.

You wince at the delicious pain as your teeth sink into the plush of your bottom lip, his hands guiding you further down his length. A string of curses leave his lips once his whole cock is inside of you. He definitely missed this.

You place your hands on his chest again as you begin to drag your hips back and forth. He whimpers and whispers your name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck-“ His grasp on your hips tighten and you can already guess that you’ll have bruises.

You rock your hips back and forth, creating a better pace for the two of you as he thrusts up into you. That pained look crosses his face again as you make eye contact. You’re completely enthralled by the sight of each other, a sheen of sweat forming on both of your foreheads. Your head falls back once you finally find the perfect angle that brings you such satisfaction, your jaw going slack. “Baby,” He begs, breathing heavily.

You feel yourself growing tired from the fast rhythm, and you slow down, still circling your hips on top of him. He seems to sense that you’re growing fatigued, so he flips the two of you over, switching your places. You’re dizzy and caught off guard, but you focus on his eyes as he takes over, slowly thrusting into you with long strokes.

Farleigh reaches down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers together and holding on tightly. He lowers his head to pepper kisses across your forehead, your nose, your cheeks. He brushes some hair out of your face.

“I love you,” He mutters, his nose rubbing against yours. Your eyes widen at his words and your heart skips a beat. You squeeze his hand weakly and grin.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, feeling tears brimming in your eyes. “I love you so much,” You tell him, and he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck as he moans desperately, his thrusts faltering. Your other hand rests on the top of his head, stroking his curls. You both finish at the same time, whispering each other’s names and more confessions of love. It’s meaningful, beautiful, and sweet. Something you’ve craved but never experienced. That is, until now.

He collapses next to you and eventually pulls out of you, causing you to grunt just a bit. You lay there, your legs entangled with his and his arms around you protectively. He pulls the sheets over the two of you and continues to kiss you slowly with so much passion and affection.

Farleigh pulls away and swipes the tears off your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. You take his hand in yours once again and press your forehead against his.

“I could get used to this,” You whisper with a cheeky grin. He laughs softly. “Really?” He responds sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

“Really.” You giggle quietly and he presses another kiss to your cheek. “I would consider spending the rest of my life with you,” He shrugs nonchalantly and you can’t seem to stop smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your life.

“You’d consider it? Woah, thanks,” You say with fake awe, gasping. “I’ve been considering it for a while, actually,” He mutters, running his fingers through your hair. “Have you?” You whisper, suddenly feeling sleepy. Everytime he holds you like this, it puts you right to sleep. You feel so safe and loved in his arms.

“Mhm.” His other hand rests on the small of your back and you feel your eyelids growing heavy. “I love you, Farleigh,” You whisper. “I love you too.” He replies, and with that, you drift off to sleep, with no cares or worries in the world, now that you’ve finally solved your problems with Farleigh. You’re so glad you gave him a second chance.

The next morning you wake up to Farleigh pulling you closer to him, nuzzling his head in your chest and groaning. You yawn and glance over to your bedside table, checking the time on your alarm clock. 9:42 AM.

Shit. You forgot about your class. It started at 9:30. Oh well. You groan and let your head fall back onto the pillow, rubbing your forehead.You pat Farleigh’s head, his curls sticking out at awkward angles but still managing to look cute.

You shiver and reach down to pull the duvet over yourself. He stirs at your movement and eventually, his dark brown eyes open.

A grin immediately appears on his face as he looks at you, taking in your appearance. Thank God you hadn’t worn makeup the day before. You were in your natural state, besides the messy hair. He traces his finger along your jawline and you smile, tilting your head.

“Good morning,” He wraps you up in his arms again, desperate to be close to you. His voice is deep and raspy. You’ll never get tired of his morning voice.

“Morning,” You reply, snuggling up to him and breathing in his scent. He kisses the top of your head and rubs your back soothingly.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about waking up next to you?” Farleigh asks. You giggle quietly. “Well, your wish came true,” You reply with a quick raise of your brows.

Suddenly, you remember what Lola said that one night at Saltburn as you think about you and Farleigh’s relationship over the years.

“Lola told me something a few months ago,” You start. “Mmm, and what was that?” He responds.

You inhale slowly. “She said that you were looking for me one morning and you came by our dorm, and you seemed very worried about me,” You smile at the thought, knowing what you know now.

“Oh. Yeah, I remember that. I was always worried sick about you. Whether you got home after a night out, if you drank too much, if some guy took advantage of you…” He trails off and sighs.

“Really?!” You ask, gazing up at him in shock. “You’re so confusing,” You let out a breathy laugh and shake your head.

“Do you remember our first night at Oxford? The very first party we went to?” He asks. You nod. He fiddles with a strand of your hair.

“After our little… argument, I stayed away from you the rest of the night. But then it was getting late, and I couldn’t find you, and I didn’t know if you knew the way back to your dorm. When I went into the bathroom I found you passed out on the floor. Black out drunk.” He explains, his voice soft.

“Anyone could have found you, or taken advantage of you. So I picked you up and carried you back to your dorm and tucked you into your bed.” Your eyes widen as your brain registers his words. Lola never told you about that.

“And when we were talking that night on the steps outside at Saltburn when we couldn’t sleep, the first summer you were there, you fell asleep on my shoulder. So I carried you up to your room.”

It’s silent for a minute as you process this. Was it a common theme for Farleigh to carry you to your bed when you were passed out?

“I never knew you cared that much.” You whisper, reaching up to play with one of his curls. “I don’t think I knew, either.” He mumbles.

You kiss him, slowly and gently, smiling against his lips. He grins, breaking the kiss, before holding the back of your head and guiding you back to him.

And you really believe that in this moment, you could die happy. You want to spend the rest of your life with him. The hot August nights, the freezing December mornings, the summer days under cerulean skies. The good days and the bad days. You can’t even remember how it felt to hate Farleigh. Every single trace of dislike for him is gone, erased completely from your heart. All that’s left is a love too strong to comprehend.

taglist: @isla-finke-blog @ibimbogrl @drunkmysticsquirrel @alonia-olivia @novemilady @saltburnsworld @florkt @i-love-ptv @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha

#farleigh start #saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh saltburn #farleigh smut #Spotify

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magma-queen · 11 months

Note

Archie proposing to Maxie! 🥰

Oooooo yes!! That sounds adorable! Here you go, friend! <3

It was unexpected of Archie to suddenly tell him that they were going on a vacation to Alola.

“But.. how come?” The redhead questioned. “We don’t usually plan a trip until summer.”

It was October.

Archie tried to ease his suspicions. “Babe, it’s our 5th anniversary! Don’t ye remember?”

“Oh god- of course!” He smacked his head in frustration. “Please forgive me. I’ve been working so much lately and I-“

He shut Maxie up with a kiss.

“Mmm~”

“Mmmhmhmhm~”

Maxie then broke the kiss for a moment and looked at his boyfriend. “But, we have a little girl with us now. If you were planning a dinner or something-“

“Tabitha, Matt, Courtney, and Shelly are coming with us. It’s their anniversaries too, y’know. They can watch Sierra while we have a night to ourselves.”

“I’m acting like our daughter is a burden… trust me, she’s far from it. I hope you understand that.”

Archie guffawed. “Oh Max, c’mon now. I know ye better than that. I know ye love our little girl. But I need someone to watch her while I take ye out to dinner one night.”

“Oh, Archie~ You really don’t need-“

“Ah Ah! Yes I do, snookums. *kiss* It’s all for ye, baby. For us.”

Maxie smiles and cups Archie’s face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love ye too, Max. I know all of us are gonna have a great time.”

Around 2 months later, The 7 of them boarded onto a ship to sail for the Alola region. It took around 2 days for them to get there, so once they did, they booked a big hotel room on Poni island for all of them.

“Wow, this place looks amazing!” Matt exclaimed, his arm around Tabitha’s shoulder. “I hope we get a room aaaaall to ourselves~” He chuckles, smirking seductively at his husband.

“For god’s sake, Matt.” Tabitha blushes, looking away. “We have a child here!” He giggles when Matt kisses his cheek.

“Yeah, all of us have a room.” Archie explains, picking his daughter up. “And our little emerald will sleep with us!”

“Papa! Papa! You said you would teach me how to swim, right?”

He smiles and nuzzles her face with his beard, making her giggle. “Of course I will, me little scamp! Yer uncle Matt and yer auntie Shelly will too! Right, guys?”

“Of course we will.” Shelly smiles, motioning Archie to hand Sierra over to her. “I’ll teach you to swim like a pretty mermaid, how would you like that?”

“Uh huh! You really will, auntie?”

“Awww, you know I will, kiddo!” Then smirks at her wife. “And your auntie Courtney will too, right babe?”

She went wide eyed, Shelly knows good and well she doesn’t like to swim. “Umm-“ She cut herself off, looking at her goddaughter’s eyes plead to her. “Of c-course! Of course, sweetheart.” She smiles, petting Sierra’s head.

Shelly handed her back to her dads, and they split into their rooms. Not much later, they all had dinner together.

“Now, Sierra. Your papa and I are going to dinner by ourselves tomorrow night.” Maxie told her. “Your aunts and uncles are going to be watching you while we’re out.”

“But daddy… why can’t I go with you and papa?” She asked.

Tabitha took the conversation over. “Your daddies have some adult things that they need to take care of, sweetie. But don’t worry, the four of us will be with you until they get back.”

She smiled. “Okay.” She turned back to her daddies. “Please don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Oh, never.” Maxie chuckled, kissing her forehead.

The next evening, Archie and Maxie left together and headed towards a particularly fancy restaurant on another island in Alola.

“I can tell that you’ve been keeping something from me~” Maxie teases, watching Archie’s face redden. “What’s with all the fancy trips and expensive restaurants, dear? It’s only our 5th anniversary.”

“Well…” He muttered sheepishly. “You’ll see soon, baby. I promise. I want to take you somewhere special after dinner.”

“Okay, I’m looking forward to it~”

Once they were finished with dinner, Archie took Maxie towards a big beach nearby the restaurant.

“Beautiful sight, isn’t it?” Archie asked.

“Oh yes. He is.” Maxie said back, watching Archie’s face and ears turn red. “It’s beautiful.”

“So are ye, Max. Listen.. we’ve been dating for 5 years now, and… there’s something I really wanna ask ye.”

His eyes went wide, knowing what was about to happen next. “Arch-“

He knelt down on one knee, and he held a small, black box in his hands. “Max… yer the one and only man in my life that has made me the happiest I could ever feel.. and I wanna spend the rest of my life with ye..”

He covered his mouth, tears dotting the corners of his eyes. “A-Archie..”

“Maxie Matsubasa… love of my life, will ye make me the happiest man on earth? Will ye marry me?” He asked, looking up at his lover with a gleam in his eyes.

The other man couldn’t hold in his tears anymore. He took his glasses off and slowly nods his head. “Yes! Y-yes! Yehehehes!” He cried out, then being scooped up into Archie’s arms after having the engagement ring put on his finger. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

“I love ye, baby.. forever and always.” Archie smiles, holding him close as he cried. “No tears, Max.. only love and happiness~”

“I-I’m just s-so happy- *sob* I didn’t know y-you were going to do this! I.. I simply don’t deserve you.”

Archie grins and kisses his cheek. “Oh stop that~ Of course ye do. *kiss* I love ye, Maxie.” His kisses trail down to the base of his neck.

“Aha-! *snort* Archie-! That tickles! Wahahahait-! Hehehehehehehe!” He giggles as the kisses continued. “Stohohohohop ihihihihihihihihit! *snort* my neck ihihihis ticklish!”

“Mmmm~ if I get to hear those sweet giggles during this wonderful moment, then I can take any revenge ye give me. *kiss*” His hands get clingy and wrap around his torso.

He let out a big snort. “AHAH! Archie plehehehease! Thehehehe moment’s behehehing ruhuhuined!”

“Nah~ it’s not, love. I love hearing ye laugh~ *kiss* but not as much as I love ye.”

“Cheeheheheeheesy bahastard~” Maxie giggles, trying to squirm out of the ticklish grip.

“Oh, that’s it!” Archie clung to him and picked him up, bridal style. “Now yer gonna get it!” He practically smothered his face and neck in kisses.

“Hehehehehehey! Ahahah- put mehehehe down! Ahahahahrchie-! Stop- hahah- thahat tihihihickles!”

“Nope. *kiss* Gotta practice for our wedding day, honey. I’m gonna spoil ye rotten~ *kiss kiss* because ye deserve every moment of attention and lovin’s I give ye~”

He practically carried him the entire way back to their hotel room. Everyone was shocked to see the redhead being carried in Archie’s arms.

“What in the world?” Shelly cackled.

Sierra smiles at them. “Papa is so strong!”

“Hehehehe- He won’t put me down!” The magma leader giggles as Archie nuzzles him with his beard. “Archie! Hehehehee- your beard!”

“Guess what, everyone? Max and I are getting married!” Archie announced, making everyone stand up from their seats.

“About time!” Matt guffawed, clapping his hands.

“About time is right!” Tabitha added. “You two have been together for 5 years! We were worried that one of you would never pop the big question!”

Courtney giggles. “So, who proposed?”

Maxie was too flustered to say anything, he still kept his hands over his face.

Archie cackles. “Awww, he’s flustered. *kiss* I did. And he said yes! Ain’t my man the cutest?”

“Archie PLEASE.” He tries to stop his giggling, but he can’t. He’s just too happy not to. He had NO clue that Archie was doing this.

Sierra ran up to them. “You guys are getting married? But papa, I thought you and daddy were already married!”

“Hehe, we sure acted like we were already married, didn’t we?” He smiles and looks down to her. “But it’s true, sweetheart. We are getting married. How would ye like to be the flower girl at the wedding?”

She gasps. “Really? I can?”

“Well, of course my little emerald!” He sets Maxie down and she gets up on his shoulders. “Yer our little girl, so we’d love to have ye be the flower girl.”

Maxie stood up on his feet and stood next to them, not able to get the happy grin off his face. “Archie, I love you.”

“Awww, I love ye too, babe.” Archie smiles, putting an arm around him.

Sierra soon got sleepy, leaning on Archie’s shoulder. They celebrated the engagement later that evening after putting Sierra to bed. There was plenty of wine and laughter.

“Seriously though, congrats on the engagement, you two.” Shelly laughed. “We’re all so happy for you.”

Everyone else agreed.

“Thanks, Shell.” Archie smiles, holding his red headed fiancé close. “I couldn’t be happier to be here with my Max.” *kiss.*

His face turns red with a blush. “Archie~ I couldn’t be happier either. I love you.”

“I love ye more.”

He reached up and kissed his cheek. “I love you, the most.”

Matt chuckled and coughed out “cheesy”, making everyone cackle, but not too hard, since their little girl was fast asleep.

#Pokemon #Hardenshipping #Fics #My fics #Maxie #Archie #Courtney #Shelly #Tabitha #Matt #Sierra #my ocs #Brainyxbat #asks #ask

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immediatebreakfast · 3 months

Note

I love how Renfield is the oldest (59) and Mina is very likely the living youngest, and yet they bond so well. (It reminds me how well Mina befriended the 99 year old Mr Swales that he sought her company and felt care for her.) It probably contributed that Jack may have experience with interacting with "madmen" and studying, Mina had lived with and loved a "madman".

It's truly incredible how a simple conversation between an old man in physical cell, and a young woman in a mental cell put such a dent in the Count's plans that he had to flee to Transylvania once it was clear that nothing would stop the crew.

Even if the repercutions were huge in the narrative, in between the horror and the action it was just a visit (probably the first visit that Renfield had in a long time) to talk.

Reading again the entry I noticed how hostile Renfield is towards Mina at first,

"You're not the girl the doctor wanted to marry, are you? You can't be, you know, for she's dead." - R.M. Renfield, september 30.

and even with everything one can say about sexism, and the building infantilization of Mina, let's remember that this is the first time Renfield meets someone that is specifically associated with Jack. Renfield's remarked abuser in both authority, and personhood in general. Also by probably being informed by Dracula himself that both Mina and Jonathan are the key players in this continuous attacks against his plans in England, on top of just almost correctly assuming that Mina must share the same opinion towards the mentally ill that society has.

Three strikes against Mina that she switfly defeats by treating Renfield like the person he is, and talking to him in a normal manner. After taking care of her beloved Jonathan, and being at Lucy's side most of her life Mina is aware of how the Other is viewed. Maybe as she saw Renfield, Mina thought of a worse reality where the man on the bed was her Jonathan in Budapest, maybe she saw how Seward reacted to Renfield's words, and realized what was actually layed out in the room. Or maybe Mina just saw an old man in need of an ear, and she just listened.

This is the first time that Renfield puts a face on a victim of the Count's games, he puts a voice on the young victim whose life is going to violently end in what he thought was supposed to be eternal bliss. Lucy is a distant dream for Renfield, the revenge against these people who dared to put up a fight against this old ancient evil that goes beyond all of their years combined.

Renfield never knew Lucy, but he knows Mina now.

Renfield sees the young Mina Harker, entering life with her equal young husband in hand, and trying to solve the murder of what he knows now was her best friend, and he reflects. He reflects on everything he has done, on what has passed, and what he can do tomorrow.

Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and bade God bless me. Some way it affected me much; I am crying when I think of him. This is a new weakness, of which I must be careful. Jonathan would be miserable if he knew I had been crying. - Mina Harker, october 2.

And the man is devastated to see how he is helping orchestrate the murder of another young lady to please the Count. He becomes desperate to leave (a request that is denied by both Seward, and Van Helsing), so the Count can't have access to the inside of the asylum. It doesn't matter if he looks like a coward by the time's literary standards because if the only way to at least save that young lady is by acting like one? Then Renfield might as well do it, he has nothing to lose sans his life.

I think that the key difference between Mina, and Jack when it comes to Renfield is empathy, and the ability to simply treat the other person with the same humanity you should be treated.

Jack may have studied, and climbed until he got to be the head of an asylum, but his own biases, mental problems, and ableism blurred the lines between patient and doctor so hard that he made Renfield's life a boring hell. From when their dynamic was introduced, to Renfield's death, the narrative dictated how Seward was putting both into a deep spiral in which, not even with Renfield's manipulations, none of them were going to come out in victory.

In contrast, Mina has cared for Jonathan without any restrain, and has lived in service of what the situation demands of her at all times. She knows, as a young victorian lady, how to balance herself without trying to compete, or win the other person in the room with her. Mina only needed to genuinely talk to Renfield to break his heart because she gave him the respect, and honestly she expects for herself when talking.

#I will always mourn the mountain of potential that was the character of R.M. Renfield #That old man was truly on the best wave lenght in the book #Why kill the only character that could serve as a counter point to Van Helsing after establishing a connection with Mina?#This was from last year by the way #dracula daily #dracula #r.m. renfield #renfield #mina harker #mina murray

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starry-hughes · 5 months

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ugly christmas sweaters (mark estapa)

day 4 of star’s ficmas event!

dakota x mark estapa (au)

Dakota was still nervous to be around all of Mark’s friends. The two had only officially been dating since October. The most of his friends saw her was at her work, the local bar they frequented on weekends they didn’t have games. The last time anyone saw her was when she showed up for a brief five minutes during the team Thanksgiving dinner to drop Mark off some tupperware he left at her place.

“You working on Saturday?” Mark questioned. “No, not with finals next week.”

“Come to a party with me, at my place?”

Dakota hadn’t really gone to a party since before meeting Mark. The first time the two met, Dakota tumbled into him and spilled her drink down his shirt on accident. She poured herself into school work and the rest of her time was spent at work. “I don’t know Mark, I have a finals and case law to review,” Dakota sighed, being a legal studies major with an interest in environmental law wasn’t easy sometimes. “God you’re so hot when you talk all lawyer,” he mumbled, attempting to seduce his girlfriend.

Mark didn’t bring up the idea of the party until the day before the party when she let him into her studio apartment. “Here’s your sweater for the party,” he grinned. “The party?” With finals close by, she was distracted and completely forgot about the party. “Tomorrow night’s party. Remember? I know you have been studying hard and you need a break babe.”

Dakota unraveled the sweater from the bag, an over-the-top ugly Christmas sweater, topped off with a way to turn on the lights on the sweater. “I have a matching one,” Mark said proudly. Dakota tried to hide the fact that she didn’t exactly love the sweater. “It’s supposed to be ugly! That’s the theme! And Ethan is making all the spiked egg nog. Please just come baby. You can spend the night at my place.”

She gave in, nodding, “Fine, but only because I need a break.”

Mark and Dakota were at the house before the party started, Dakota was getting some last minute studying in while Mark napped. When the two descended down the stairs, wearing their matching sweaters, the whole Michigan hockey team was already there. Dakota swore that she had never seen so many ugly sweaters in one room.

The party was in full swing soon after that. “Where’s your other half?” Dylan Duke teased as Dakota filled two cups with Ethan’s overly alcoholic egg nog. “I think he’s singing Christmas karaoke,” she giggled, her cheeks tinted pink from the amount of alcohol she consumed so far.

Mark’s face lit up when he laid eyes on his girlfriend again, shoving Luca Fantilli out of the way as he drunkenly clamored over to Dakota. “I missed you!” He snatched the cup of alochol from her hand and drunkenly placed a sloppy, wet kiss on her cheek. “I was gone for two minutes Mark,” she chuckled. “I know, but I missed you still.” He took his girlfriend out back, where some of the guys were playing Stump. “I can’t believe you let these boys have a hammer when drunk,” Dakota hummed, leaning into his side. “No one has gotten hurt yet.”

Dakota heard the backdoor open, snickering and shuffling behind her but she didn’t pay any attention to it. “It’s cold Mark, can we go inside?” she whined. “Yes baby, let’s go.”

Mark led his girlfriend toward the door and quickly realized why there was laughter just a bit ago. “Babe, wait, the boys put up mistletoe in the doorway.” Dakota smiled up at the plant, probably ripped off the headband Ethan had been wearing earlier in the night. Dakota pulled him in for a kiss, letting her (cold) hand slip up his sweater and rest on his side. Mark almost giggled, the idea of him kissing his girlfriend on the porch, wearing matching Christmas sweaters, drunk on spiked egg nog was something he never would have imagined happening.

#dakota and mark #star’s ficmas #mark estapa imagine #mark estapa blurb #mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa fic #umich hockey imagine #umich imagine

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enam3l · 1 year

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Your writing skills are pure gold. I literally ate your rockstar Eddie posts.

Maybe the next step could be the tour and y/n accompanying Eddie as much as she can. Both living the tour life? And how about a spontaneous wedding when they have a show in Las Vegas? Nothing is more rockstar than a wedding in Las Vegas!

thank you so much!! so Eddie and y/n don't get married until 94 and that fic is coming - don't you worry. but your wish is my command! this is a bonus fic. a huge thank you for 500+ followers. thank you for enjoying everything and being a part of this story.

half the world away (rockstar eddie munson x reader) 4k / fluff / smut / slight angst

a direct follow up to rockstar eddie munson is gonna get the girl and god help anyone who stops him you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist!

Corroded Coffin’s first nationwide tour for their debut album started in New York with a full house. It started the precedent that Corroded Coffin were the must see band of 1989, it's also where you and Eddie parted ways. Much to Eddie’s despair, your work whilst flexible, couldn't allow you to chase your boyfriend round the country in a tour bus. Between weeping tears and desperate kisses, you said goodbye before Eddie got onto the bus, departing New York to complete the East Coast leg of the tour – leaving you behind. For a month you would be apart, only rejoining him in October for the West Coast dates. It was the longest you'd ever been apart since meeting earlier that year in February. Since confessing you were in love with each other over the summer, you could admit your heart ached without him, like part of your soul left on the tour bus with him. Ultimately you were pleased and proud, despite the boys insistence it was okay, you knew this was their first tour and they needed to experience it just the four of them without you crashing. Gareth had pinky promised to look after him and he had.

Before every gig, no matter the time zone, Eddie would call and you'd run through a pre-show ritual you'd developed over the weeks. Before you could ask anything, Eddie would insist on knowing every detail he was missing; what happened at work that day, what you ate and how you slept. As if he wasn't the one living the adventure. Then in return he’d recap the night before, how their journey had been, what his review of this city was and what the guys plans for the set were. Tonight’s show was Texas before the band took a week break in California then making their way through the west coast, curving over the top of the country and ending up in Indiana again. You were supposed to meet Eddie in California in a weeks time but some sweet talking to your boss found you on the plane from New York to Austin, Texas. The past month you'd been meeting deadlines early in hopes you could persuade your work to let you finish early and using the California offices before following Eddie on the last leg of the tour. In the months you'd been together you'd discovered one thing; Eddie would do anything for you and loved surprising you. Whether it be as simple as keeping your favourite snacks stocked to cancelling his whole schedule to nurse you when you had tonsillitis to surprising you with your favourite flowers. For once, you wanted to be the one surprising. It had been hard to keep your lips sealed as you heard the broken turn in his voice over the phone when he confessed how much he missed you. It was nearly impossible during last nights phone call when he said he’d call you tomorrow, to not burst into giggles and say he wouldn't need to call.

Eddie was pacing anxiously as he dialled your number for the fifth time only to again be met with torturous rings. He was cursing himself for not having another way of contacting you, for never getting your work or neighbours number incase of emergency. He felt sick, he had heard your voice twice a day for the last thirty-two days, it's what kept him calm everytime he realised he was on tour and all these people were paying to see him. Your soothing voice was the only thing that helped him feel grounded. He was frantic now, rambling round backstage begging anyone to point him in the direction of another phone incase the one he'd been using was faulty. On his third phone he decided this wasn't technical errors - you weren't there. Eddie stared at the phone as the dead line hummed, the jarring noice only adding to his nausea. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them he liked.

Were you okay? Had there been an accident? Did you forget? Were you angry at him?

Eddie hadn't been pushy with the calls, every night he reassured you it was okay if you had plans and couldn't make the call but so far you had everytime without fail. Even when you'd been out you'd found a phone behind the bar, easily charming any staff into letting you use it to call your long distance sweetheart.

The rest of Corroded Coffin watched anxiously at Eddie’s panicked ranting. They knew exactly why you weren't answering but they'd been sworn to secrecy and didn't want to ruin a surprise that he'd be grateful for in two hours time. Once it was show time Eddie felt awful knowing these fans had used their hard earned money to see him, he'd been there before, saving every penny to see his idols. But instead he could barely hear the music or the audience cheers, all he could picture was you hurt: hit by a taxi, fallen down the stairs, mugged, murdered, somewhere alone and in trouble when he should be there to protect you. There was also another horrifying possibility that nagged at Eddie, despite knowing you'd never believe anything, he couldn't help but fret Carla or someone like her had fed you something to make you angry at him. Eddie is grateful the set list had stayed the same, drilled into him so much that playing was instinctual and any mistakes were hidden by the other guys who could see him chewing his lip out the corner of their eyes. By the time the gig has finished, he's running off stage. Shouting a ‘Sorry man!’ at the roadie he just hurled his guitar at. Gareth is quick on his heels, not wanting him to go awol and miss the surprise. Luckily Eddie is back at the phone, rapidly punching in your number before chewing his nails as he's met again with taunting rings. Gareth carefully approaches, careful not to spook his friend.

‘Hey bro… I'm sure there's a totally reasonable explanation. Why don't we head back to the bus?’ He attempts to carefully guide Eddie towards the exit but he digs his heavy boots into the ground.

‘No Gareth! You don't understand! Something is wrong, I know it. I gotta keep trying!’

Gareth sighs, attempting a new tactic.

‘Well if you get on the bus, you can get to the hotel where you can dial to your hearts content from the room. Right?’

Eddie nods his head letting his now red nails find his mouth again as he allows Gareth to tug him along. The rambling continues all the way to the bus door and Gareth is thankful you're not actually in trouble because he's not sure he could cope listening to the improbable situations falling out of Eddie’s mouth such as ‘rats are getting really fucking big in New York now man. What if one got her? What if it came up the fire escape?’

They're in the living area of the bus when Eddie tries to double back and return to the venue,

‘Fuck!’ He whelps, 'shit, I should've called Marissa. Got her to go round and check on y/n. Fuck I gotta go call now!’

Gareth swoops round to barricade the door, attempting to block the exit of his friend who towers over him.

‘Good god man!’ Gareth cries, ‘just go check you've got all your stuff in the room and then we’ll get you to the hotel. There you can call Marissa, the mayor, fuck me, we can even call President Bush and see if he can track her down.

Eddie groans, scowling at Gareth as he opens the door to the bedroom area. He's puzzled to see a smirk spread over Gareth's face before leaving the bus completely. Brow furrowed, Eddie turns to face into the bedroom and his hand drops from the handle.

There you are, perfect and in one piece, just as Eddie left you in New York. Your sat on his bunk wearing a new Corroded Coffin t-shirt from the tour and somehow looking more ethereal than ever. Eddie bounds over to you, the force of his steps and the leap onto the bed causing the bus to shake. You're in fits at giggles over his eagerness, Eddie’s face immediately burying his face into the crook of your neck. He's completely flattened you with his chest whilst he straddles you and you can feel wetness on your neck. Eddie looks up at you his hands grasping either side of your head, stroking back your hair and you can see tears escaping his big brown eyes.

'You're here…’ he barely whispers.

You smile at your sweet boy, your hands now brushing back his curls and fringe so you can take in the face you missed so much.

‘Yeah, Eds. I’m here baby.’

Slowly the shock and overwhelming emotion leaves his face, replaced by his most smitten grin. He dives back into your neck, smothering all exposed skin in kisses between his confessions.

‘I…missed…you…so…much…sweetheart…I can't… believe…you're really…here!’ His kisses and curls tickle you.

‘I missed you too baby. I never even went back to my apartment. Just stayed in yours, needed to be surrounded by all your Eddie-ness.’

He's beaming at your sentimentalism until he remembers the panic he was in just minutes ago. Eddie’s face turns into a childish sulk and he begins to bat at you gently for worrying him.

‘Hey!’ You gasp, ‘what the hells that about!’

‘You scared me! I was so worried! Missed our call! I thought something happened to you’ Eddie moans and you can tell by the look in his eyes how genuinely worried he was. You pull him down to your chest and press kisses to his head.

‘Oh, Eds… I'm so sorry. I didn't think. But I'm here now, yeah? We’re back together now. I needed to see you, couldn't wait any longer.’

Eddie peaks up at you and nods and whispers, 'thank you baby, the best surprise I ever got,’ a dark look comes over his eyes and a smirk appears, ‘wish you'd worn nothing but a bow though.’

Later when you arrive at the hotel, Eddie is dragging you to the room. The second you're through the door he's throwing your bags down, manhandling you and throwing you on the bed before crawling on top of you. Your hands roam his body, desperate to reacquaint how he feels under your touch. Eddie’s eyes are closed in complete bliss as you lean up to kiss him. Instantly your lips melt together, craving to taste each other again. You're both desperate as your tongues meet, eager to get as close as possible. You bite Eddie’s lip as you pull yourself apart to catch your breath.

‘God, I love you,’ he pants.

'I love you too Eds.’

For a while you just look at each other, taking in every little detail of the other that you've missed as hands trail over bodies.

'Shall we get into bed?’ you sigh contentedly. Eddie nods.

Eddie’s breath hitches as you appear from the bathroom wearing nothing but a smile.

‘No pjs sweetheart?’

You shake your head. 'Don't think they'd be staying on long,’ you purr.

A groan leaves Eddie’s throat and his hands grab for you.

‘Get. Here. Now.’

There's no need for him to persuade you, you're skipping over and straddling him immediately. Every part of you has ached for every part of him for over a month. His lips at immediately on your chest, dotting kisses over your breasts and his fingers run over the curves of your body. You sigh blissfully, feeling relaxed finally now your skin is touching.

‘Need you Eddie.’

He murmurs in agreement, feeling the growing wetness from your folds through the thin fabric of his boxers. In return you can feel his aching hardness.

‘Going to fuck your girl good, baby? Like I'm your favourite groupie?’ You chuckle.

Eddie looks up and the look in his eye makes your heart stop, he looks serious but his chocolate eyes full of so much adoration.

‘No sweetheart. I'm going to make love to you, make you feel how much I've needed you with me this whole time.’

A gasp escapes your lips as he carefully flips you over so you're lying down and he hovers above. Lips reuniting in a deep passionate kiss, inhaling the other. Your fingers pull at his waistband and Eddie sighs as his throbbing cock is freed and you sigh at the sensation of your bodies completely bare against each other. Without realising, you're pushing your hips up to feel his length against you, both of you mewling at the friction.

Foreheads pressed against each other as you both whimper as you grind against each other. Wetness covering Eddie’s length as he slides between your folds, catching your clit as he makes each movement.

‘Need-need you inside Ed’ you pant. Eddie tries to compose himself so he can form words.

‘Not… not yet sweetheart. I just - I really need to taste my girl, okay? It's been so long.’

You can only nod as he litters kisses down your sternum, between your breasts, your stomach where he licks a stripe down to your belly button and then continues his kisses until he reaches your mound. Eddie doesn't care, he can't resist burying his nose into your triangle of curls. Inhaling your most natural smell, it's soothing, it's like home. It makes you giggle slightly, endeared at how blissed his face is. Your giggle is stifled as your mouth turns into an ‘O’ as Eddie quickly buries his mouth this time into your folds. His wide tongue lapping you with one broad swipe, his face blissed at the taste of you. Then his mouth finds your clit, suckling it causing your head to fall back against the pillows. The sensation alone nearly unravelling a months worth of pent up sexual frustration. Eddie brings his thumb to replace his lips over your bud as he watches the way your hands seek out your breast, pinching your nipples. He sees how hard you're trying to keep your head up so you can look at him. But regardless of how overwhelming the pleasure is, it's hard to look at Eddie when he's like this, his big eyes dark and sparkling with primal lust and love. Your mouth is agape and your eyelids fluttering as he continues to rub your clit whilst fingers circle your entrance.

'You're so beautiful like this,’ he croons, 'I can't believe somehow I make you feel like this.’

Your hand reaches to caress his face, you're sure he's the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

‘Eddie… no one has ever made me feel like this. No one ever will. My pretty boy.’

The nickname makes him moan and reattach his lips to your clit as he slides a finger inside you. You can see how he's started to rut against the bed and you're longing to make him feel good too. Struggling to speak you manage to whimper out

‘I-I need you… inside b-but it's been a month. Need you to warm me up.’

Eddie freezes and looks up at you, his pupils now fully dilated.

‘A month? Sweetheart… have you not touched yourself since I left?’

You bite your lip, a little embarrassed as you shake your head.

‘No. Wanted to wait for you… it's not the same now I know how it feels with you.’

Eddie isn't sure whether to cum right then and there or cry over how much you need him so he settles with making his girl feel amazing. He slides another finger inside, scissoring them to ready you for his thick cock.

‘Fuck, baby. I don't know what I ever did to get you.’

He fastens his fingers inside you as he returns to sucking your clit. Once he feels your fingertips begin to dig into his scalp and hears how loud your pussy is getting for him, then he knows you're ready.

Eddie comes back up, arms propping him above you. Your mouths meet and you can taste yourself on his tongue, it only makes you more desperate to feel him inside you. You're longing for the closeness and reuniting of your bodies that can only come with feeling his cock within you.

‘Please, please, I need you inside me,’ you beg now.

Eddie spreads your legs further and guides his cock to your entrance. Both of you watch where you finally merge as one. Both moaning at the euphoria of your bodies finally joining again. You cradle each other's faces as he begins to thrust into you, tantalisingly slow. You look at each other adoringly, eyes filled with so much love.

'Nothing compares to you sweetheart,’ Eddie pants.

Eddie takes your thighs, draping them over his shoulders. The new position allows Eddie to bury deep inside you. The feeling is overwhelming filling and you love it, knowing you're physically unable to get closer to him. His movements remain luxuriously drawn out, his tip dragging past your sweet spot each time. You're only left with the ability to mewl, mouth agape. He begins to fasten feeling the way your walls clench him, making his balls clench in return. You reach out to pull him forward, giving you access to kiss and suck his pulse point in his neck causing him to keen your name. But your movement some how manages to bring him even deeper inside you and it makes your body freeze in shock and pleasure.

‘Oh god, Eds… I need you to cum there. Deep. Inside’ you gasp.

His pace fastens but remains as hard, ensuring he completely fills you.'Christ yeah okay baby, god I can feel how full of me you are… look at your belly.’

And he's right, as Eddie hits the deepest he can, your belly bulges with his cock and it makes you whine knowing he's completely taken over your body and heart. The pair of you struggle to look away, only doing so because Eddie's quickening pace has your head falling back.

‘I don't think I can last much longer sweet boy, it's too good,’ you're practically whining.

‘Me neither baby, missed fucking you so much.’

Eddie brings his hand now to rub at your clit and your stomach tightens instantly, your thighs clenching his neck. The noises you make are pornographic and drive Eddie wilder, near folding you in half so he can steal away the noises with a kiss. You make your walls pulse around him to edge him further and it leaves you mouth moaning into each other's open mouths.

'I'm gonna cum Ed,’ you cry, ‘I love you so fucking much.’

He grunts, ‘fuck. Sweetheart say it again please.’

He's thrusting now deep and sloppily, his thumb pressing fast circles into your swollen clit.

‘I love you I love you Eddie,’ you wail as your climax hits you harder than ever before. Your legs spasm round his neck and your fingers tighten round his biceps.

'Jesus fuck I love you too y/n,’ he gasps as he says your name, his cum spurting deep inside you. He shudders and another rope fills your walls.

Eddie collapses on top of you, exhausted after finally spending the cum he'd also been saving for you. You both pant as you brush away his fringe from his eyes. Both of your eyes and drooping, completely fucked out. After a while, he attempts to move but you stop him. He quirks an eyebrow at you.

‘I… I need you to stay inside me. I've missed you so much… just need to stay close.’ Eddie’s heart melts at your need for him, he tucks your wild hair behind your ear before pressing a delicate kiss to the tip of your nose.

'Of course. Anything for you, sweetheart.’

Carefully, he rolls you both over so you're on your sides. One of your legs hooked around his waist, allowing him to stay inside you. Both of your eyes begin to close and his cock softens inside you. Relaxed for the first time in a month now you're reunited, you both fall asleep, bodies intwined.

Everyone can't help but notice how the tour improves drastically with your presence. Eddie has never played better in his life knowing you're metres away, eyes full of awe and pride at your boyfriends talent. The way you fit perfectly into his life like this only adds to the lingering feeling you're meant to spend your lives together. Every night watches how you chatter with the roadies, always offering help, how you make sure the band has always eaten and are feeling good, how you point out shy fans to Eddie and how you love being immersed in the after parties. No bitterness resides you after the Carla situation, the usual girls who follow their shows respect you and apologies for her behaviour. Eddie’s heart melts at the sight of you tipsy and mouthing along to his songs. Then at parties how you fawn over him chatting every bartender and security guards ear off about how the guitarist is your man. That along with the t-shirt you'd shamelessly produced that read ‘PROPERTY OF THE LEAD GUITARIST’, Eddie has never felt so supported, so loved in all his life.

The tour bus had been upgraded with a mattress on the floor for Eddie. He insisted on taking it whilst you took the bottom bunk it was placed alongside. Both your lip reading skills developed rapidly so you could continue to talk to each other long into the night without disturbing the other guys. Unable to fall asleep in each other's arms like you'd both prefer, you found yourselves drifting off; your hand dangling over the edge of the bed so Eddie could hold it all night. More often than not you woke up fingers still intertwined unless Eddie had sneakily pulled you out of your bed overnight so he could feel your full weight on top of him. The guys were deeply grateful for not having sex in the bus so it resulted in you and Eddie getting creative with locations for the few weeks you were on tour. Bathrooms and dressing rooms across the country were marked by you both. Praying the pulsating speakers covered the noises of your moans and Eddie’s balls slapping against you as he bent you over sinks and sofas or propped you up against bathroom stall walls. Eddie insisted he played better knowing his cum was dripping out of you backstage or that you were struggling to stand, legs still trembling after having his face buried in your core.

The final show was in Indiana and butterflies filled you both, knowing the last time he played here is when he met you. It was the most meaningful show of the tour. Neither of you needing to say a word as your hands gripped thinking about it. You went into the crowd to meet the whole gang who'd travelled into the city for the gig. Eddie played like a man possessed, his eyes unable to part from yours the whole time as you stood with everyone he loved most at the barriers in front of the stage. Seven months ago he was performing here in Indiana, not knowing the person he'd spend the rest of his life with was there and now you're stood in front of him, beaming and bopping around. Eddie wonders if this is heaven, convinced this is the greatest sight in the world, watching you carefree and excited just from watching him do what he loves. He watches your face turn to confusion as during the encore he starts with some unfamiliar notes. It's a new song, your song. Eddie wrote it whilst longing for your presence on the first half of the tour. Tears well as you realise this song is describing you. Steve, Dustin and Robin grin seeing the love between the pair of you, thrilled their meddling resulted in their friend getting the love he deserves. As Eddie reaches his solo you mouth 'I love you.’

Never taking his eyes off you, he mouths back 'I love you too, always.’

Eddie can't imagine playing music now without you by his side. The two things that saved him.

#enam3l asks #enam3ls rockstar eddie #rockstar eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson × fem!reader #eddie munson × reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #munson headcanons #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n #rockstar!eddie munson #enam3l x eddie #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x afab reader

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

Text

All Of The Girls You Loved Before

Summary: I want to teach you how forever feels

OR:

That time Elain was a witch and Lucien was condemned to hunt her down

Part 2/2: I Can Wait For Years | Part 1 | | Read on AO3

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the prompt and @the-lonelybarricade for being my beta. This is for @elainweekofficial day [mumble] because I don't want to post on a Friday/Saturday.

Lucien Vanserra had known his whole life he was going to kill her. Born with magic thrumming in his veins and an acute awareness of her, he’d spent his time honing his skill. Learning the small tells that separated ordinary women from witches. He’d never touched one—he had his own. The only witch he’d ever put his hands around would be the one tethered to his very soul.

It was instinct that drew him to her. Restless and unable to settle, Lucien had taken off as soon as he could fend for himself. Always moving, always heading to her. He’d only calmed when he’d reached a simple village at the edge of the sea.

It was there he waited for the magic in his blood to call him, to force him back toward her. He’d thought she must have died given how everything settled. Lucien had, in the span of that silent year, met a woman, betrothed himself to her, and watched her die. The village needed a healer—and a healer they got in the form of Elain Archeron.

The minute she stepped into his tavern looking for lodging, he’d known what she was. In his grief and rage, he’d gone up to the hall that first night intending to throttle her. It was her fault, after all, that he’d come at all.

It was the sound of her soft weeping that had stilled his hand. Not tonight, some wild wind had whispered. Wait until tomorrow.

And so Lucien did—for two years, Lucien had remained where he was, watching her settle into the village. He watched her deliver babies and guide the ill into death. She’d come rain or snow, sleet or shine, to illness after illness. The village had come to rely on her.

And she’d come to rely on him.

Lucien had begun to wonder what, exactly, the curse was. Were they truly fated to kill each other? He sent for books, reading by candlelight when he had the time. How to break the spell on them.

How to make her his.

With each passing smile and fragment of conversation, Lucien found the pull that had brought him to her settled. Calmed.

Silent.

Like this was what he was meant to do. Find her and keep her safe.

Love her.

Striding through the crowd, his blood aflame, Lucien let himself smile. Elain was looking at him with such horror—had she realized, then? Did she know that Graysen was nothing but an ordinary zealot who’d merely guessed right? Or was she merely terrified by her circumstances and how seemingly pleased he was by the whole thing.

Lucien was hardly pleased. That was his wife tied to a pyre and if anyone was going to slaughter her, it would be him.

“Untie her,” Lucien commanded, pushing to the front of the crowd. “Right now—she belongs to me.”

Smoke billowed from beneath the wood. How long before it caught her skirt? How long before the look of fear on her face was replaced with her sobs of pain?

“You were tricked–”

“UNTIE HER NOW!” he roared, hands clenching to fists. The world seemed to still, as if even the gods had stopped what they were doing to peer down at him. Graysen’s eyes widened.

“He—He is under her thrall. Guards—”

Lucien laughed humorlessly. “You have no idea,” he said. It took merely one thought to extinguish the flames beneath Elain. To blow the sentries now guarding his path backward. And it took only a second, vicious thought to see Graysen ignited in the very flames he’d meant to torment Elain and the other women with. The lord shrieked in pain, dropping to the ground in an attempt to extinguish the flames. There was no smoke–there wouldn’t be, either. No suffocating death, not black out into oblivion. Only misery and pain until his brain melted in his skull.

Climbing the steps, Lucien noticed that while the villagers he’d once known so well watched him warily, they too had rushed forward to free the other women. Lucien only cared about Elain, her face coated in smoke, eyes wide with fear.

“You–”

“Surprise,” he whispered, pulling a knife from his boot to free her of her bindings.

“You—” Elain gulped, looking up at him helplessly. “This whole time, you knew?”

He lowered his face to kiss her, well aware to the villagers around them, he was the witch. Let them think so. Let them imagine him the monster if only to save her.

Elain collapsed against him, her legs giving out. Lucien swept her up easily, turning to face the village.

“If anyone touches her,” he said, trying his best to look each of them in turn, “you will meet the same fate as Lord Nolan. And if you follow us, I will make sure you feel every moment of it right until death comes to claim you.”

No one dared to breathe as he descended those steps amid a chorus of pleading screams. The crowd parted and Lucien thought he’d make a clean exit.

“You lied to me,” Elain whispered into his chest, rubbing her burning eyes against his clean tunic.

Someone grabbed at his sleeve. “Are you taking our healer?” a woman asked, resting a hand on her round stomach. “Please, I…”

“Surely…surely you don’t want a witch among you?” Lucien replied. The woman trembled before him, unaware of his role. Unaware that he was more mortal than not. That the magic granted him was tailored for the witch he was meant to kill and would fade from his blood once he killed her.

“Before she came, we were dying more often than we didn’t. We—”

That woman took a gulping breath as she faced him.

“We don’t care that you’re a witch, Lucien. Just…just don’t take her.”

“I have to take her,” Lucien replied. “Just for a week. Just—” Just long enough to get her to a temple where he could offer a sacrifice to the mother goddess that might free them of the curse placed upon them. “Just a week.”

Elain was still curled against him, taut and breathing ragged. She’d fight him tomorrow and perhaps even kill him for his deception but for today she was still his wife and he’d sworn to protect her.

She nodded, stepping away with him.

“Don’t let my bar fall to ruin,” he ordered, though it was possible he’d never see it again. Elain could have it, he supposed. It was hers, given he’d managed to get her to marry him. Everything that belonged to him was hers, now.

Lucien returned home long enough to gather a few items and a horse. Elain was all but catatonic, unmoving and unseeing as she sat. She let him pick her up and move her around, setting her in the saddle with him just behind. He hesitated to bind her—her wrists were burned from Graysen’s casual cruelty.

“Are you going to try and kill me in the morning?” he asked once they were on the road. Elain pressed her head against his chest.

“Are you?” she asked, the first words since she’d accused him of lying to her.

Lucien ducked his head, pressing a kiss behind her ear. “No. I’m going to free us.”

She shuddered. She’d said she loved him—enough that she’d been willing to leave killing Graysen behind. Lucien believed her, even if it was foolish. He believed her enough to keep pushing forward, well aware he held the woman fated to kill him in his arms and when she came out of the shock of nearly dying, she might turn around and finish what the gods had started.

Night came and went, and when the sun peeked over the rolling hills, Elain seemed to rouse herself from sleep.

“Lucien,” she whispered, twisting in the saddle to look at him. He didn’t give her a chance to respond. If she was going to kill him, he wanted her to know he wouldn’t fight her. And if one of them had to die, it would be him. He kissed her roughly, tasting the ash on her mouth.

She clung to him like a lifeline, her mouth near frantic. He wanted to drag her to the grass and apologize for letting Graysen snatch her the way he had—for not knowing she’d been locked away all night while he’d slept peacefully, thinking and dreaming only of her.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, unsure of what else he was supposed to say. “I thought you were safe—”

“Why didn’t you kill me?” Elain demanded, pulling back just enough to look at him. “If you’ve known this whole time?”

“I don’t know—at first,” he admitted, his voice rougher than he would have liked. “I wanted to. I thought about it all the time. Planned to catch you off guard, to…” Gods, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“And?” she prompted.

“Each day I waited was another day you didn’t know. And another day you greeted me with a smile and came into the bar to talk. And I told myself—at first—that I was merely learning about you. Figuring out your weaknesses so I didn’t make a mistake. And then I caught myself looking forward to seeing you. To watching you work, seeing how much you cared. I couldn’t…I was in love with you before I knew it and I couldn’t hurt you.”

“So you…manipulated me into falling in love with you?”

He winced. “I didn’t make you do anything. I wasn’t trying to trick you into loving me. I knew damn well you might never return my affection.”

“Is that why—the trap, the betrothal—”

Lucien snarled in frustration. “That was to keep him from looking at you and it would have worked if you hadn’t gone after him first. I knew if he took one look at you, he’d take you away. And if you rebuffed him, his ego wouldn’t allow him to suffer the insult. And I was right. If you’d stayed away—”

“I thought he was the witch hunter!” she snapped, though despair filled her eyes as she realized at every turn, Lucien had been one step ahead of her. He rubbed his thumb over her cheek because he knew why she’d gone after Graysen. “I didn’t…I thought I would know you when I saw you.”

“You did,” Lucien murmured, watching her carefully. “I was the first person you found, the very first person you came to.”

She’d told him so that morning in the cabin, curled in his arms with a sweet smile on her face. I think it was fate to find you.

“But I didn’t know…”

Lucien kissed her forehead. “I know you didn’t.”

“But you did,” she pressed, tears filling her eyes. “You should have killed me—”

“I would rather die,” he swore softly, letting her look at him. “And if one of us has to die, it will be me.”

“I couldn’t kill you,” she admitted, failure coating her words. Elain laughed without humor, though she didn’t pull away.

“So what now?”

“We go to the great temple,” he murmured as she turned, pressing herself against his body. “And see if the mother goddess will free us of this curse.”

“And if she won’t?”

“Then we spend the rest of our immortal lives wrapped around each other,” he said. “And pray one day she doesn’t demand one of us make a sacrifice.”

“Lucien,” she whispered, reaching for the arm tight around her body. She merely squeezed, her hand warm against his skin.

“I know,” he whispered into her hair. “I know.”

She said nothing else to him for the rest of the day. She didn’t eat, and stopped only to see to her body's needs before silently climbing back into the saddle. Lucien kept his arms around her, chin resting atop her head, until night had fallen again and he was all but stumbling in his steps.

“Come here,” he whispered once he’d unfurled a bedroll. She was curled against a tree, knees drawn to her chest. “Elain, come here.”

She looked up at him with those beautiful eyes and Lucien knew whatever was ravaging her on the inside hadn’t dimmed how she felt for him. He could see her gratitude, her love, all shining like stars even if she’d never said it. Elain unfurled her legs and came to him without protest. Lucien pulled her beneath the blanket, tucking her against his chest.

“Where were you?” she whispered once they were settled and her face was buried against his neck.

Lucien closed his eyes. His tavern had been overrun by Graysen’s men, keeping him behind the bar just as he’d been about to close up for the night. A fight had broken out—a ruse, he knew—and when he’d gone to break it up, he’d been knocked upside the head and locked in a closet.

By the time he managed to free himself, it was daylight and Elain was tied to the pyre. It seemed the lord didn’t trust him not to come rescue her. Smart.

“Tied up,” he finally said, arms tightening around her. “I came as soon as I was able.”

She didn’t move. “I should kill you,” she said, though she made no move toward him.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” he replied, his heart pounding in his chest.

“And if I wanted to?”

“I’d let you,” he whispered, wondering how much Elain knew about the bargain between them. “It’s not as if death separates us.”

“Of course it does,” she interrupted, finally looking up at him. “You die and I—”

“Have a brief respite before I return,” he replied, eyes searching her own. Lucien caressed her face, wondering how many lives they’d lived hunting the other. He suspected none, given Elain had told him how old she was—twenty three, same as him. This was their first time together but it wouldn’t be their last.

“What?”

“We’re are bound,” he said, letting his magic invade her senses. “Did you think killing me would free you of this dance?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her face pained. “I thought…I didn’t know…”

“I’ll come back for you. Over and over—until we’re nothing but dust, I will always be looking for you.”

Elain shuddered, burying her face back into his neck. “And if I died—”

“You won’t,” he growled, holding her so tight he wondered if she was breathing. “I’m not going to kill you, Elain. Surely…surely you must know that?”

He’d married her, after all. Had walked her out of that village curled against his chest. He’d killed a high ranking nobleman for fucks sake. Lucien knew he would have done far more to protect her, to ensure if they had to meet again, only she would remember him. That she would have enough of a head start that she was always one step ahead.

Just as he knew he would always fall in love with her.

“What if the goddess says no. What if—what if—”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Lucien whispered, kissing her forehead gently. “We’ve gone two years as friends, as—” he wanted to say lovers and was afraid if he did, she’d rebuke him. That she’d lie and say she’d never loved him. He swallowed. “If she says no, then we merely…”

Stay married, have children, and protect them the best we can for the duration of our immortal existence.

Elain kissed the hollow of his throat. “I can’t kill you either, Lucien. Surely you know that?”

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of jasmine and honey mingled with smoke and salt.

He had the vaguest sense they’d done this all before. Some watery dream pressed against the edge of his memory—him, holding her and swearing he wouldn’t kill her. It wasn’t real, though some part of him wished it was. And when she tilted her chin so she could kiss him fully on the mouth, Lucien didn’t care that they were out in the open, hidden only by swaying trees.

He only cared that they were together and she knew what he was. That she didn’t care. Elain’s mouth was warm—sweet, and filled with her desperation. She clung to him, hooking her leg around his to pull him closer. Lucien was tempted to give in, to let the spooling arousal override his good senses—especially when he knew what it was like to be inside her. He hadn’t had the time he’d thought he would. He’d expected Graysen to pack up and leave and for Elain to remain behind where he’d keep her as his mortal wife for a solid decade.

Maybe he’d tell her who he was before she realized he wasn’t aging, either. Or maybe one morning she’d realize who he was over breakfast. He’d grin and she’d scowl, but ultimately nothing would have changed.

“Elain,” he whispered against her frantic clawing at his clothes. “Elain, my love—”

She broke then, eyes filling with unshed tears. A sob ripped from her, cracking through the air like lightning.

“I thought—” she gulped down the rest of her words, bunching his tunic in her fists so she could bury her face into the fabric. “I thought you left me.”

Lucien shushed her, holding her close while all of Elain’s misery poured into the world. Why shouldn’t she doubt the mortal man? Why not imagine him as little more than a coward? He was certain she’d come across no shortage of them, even in her limited lifespan.

Lucien waited for her sobs to calm, for her breathing to steady before he whispered in her ear. “I’m in love with you,” he told her, though in truth it felt too muted—too dull, too mortal to encapsulate the depth of his feelings. “Nothing could change that.” Elain looked up at him with those star bright eyes. “I—” she choked, as though it pained her to say it. Lucien started to turn his head, to pretend it didn’t hurt him but Elain reached for his chin and made him look at her.

“I love you, witch killer,” she whispered, pressing her salt soaked mouth against his own. “And regardless of what the goddess tells us, I will go with you to the ends of the earth.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her they should just go back. Forget the goddess, forget the curse that held them together. This was enough, for whatever time they were granted—it was enough.

But he couldn’t. Lucien couldn’t risk her ire if she ever looked down and realized they openly defied her. He couldn’t risk her twisting their hearts or forcing weapons in their hands. He’d go and beg on his knees if he had to, and if she told him no, Lucien would turn his own dagger inward and end his life so Elain didn’t have to.

Lucien didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment he’d been kissing Elain and the next he was waking to a rock wedged beneath his hip and a sheen of sweat coating his skin. Elain was exactly where he’d left her, nose scrunched in sleep.

He’d had her for less than a week. Four days—that's all he’d been given. Another night of travel and then they’d arrive and Lucien might very well lose her. Sunlight streamed over the canopy, freckling her face with the golden rays. Lucien brushed a loose curl off her cheek, waking her.

“You’re staring,” she whispered, not bothering to open her eyes.

“Because you’re beautiful,” he replied. Elain did look, then, fingers reaching for his cheek. She ran them over the scar on his face.

“How did you get this?”

Lucien swallowed. “I don’t remember…and I was too afraid to ask when I was little. My mom never spoke of it.”

“Am I to avenge this injustice, then?” Elain teased, rising up on her elbows.

“I’m certain it was my own doing,” he said in response. Lucien let Elain wander off to handle her business while he packed up. She returned with a cleaner face, though still in the filthy dress from the day before. Lucien cursed himself for not thinking to get her clothing and swore when they reached the city that housed the great goddesses temple, he would get her something clean to wear.

He offered her paltry rations once they were both back in the saddle. She seemed more like herself—less shocked, less angry. Pressing her head against his shoulder, Elain looked up at him. Lucien took advantage of the moment between them and offered her a polite kiss.

He intended to be far less polite once they were in an actual bed.

“Tell me about your life,” he said instead, wanting to hear her voice. “Tell me about life before you found me.”

She paused for a moment. “I probably shouldn’t be telling any of this to a witch killer.”

“I’ve never killed a witch,” he reminded her, kissing the top of her head. “Nor do I intend to.”

Elain’s eyes fluttered shut.

She began speaking then, telling him the story of three sisters growing up at the edge of a rather large town where her parents thought they’d be safe. Surrounded by so many people, absorbed by their own misery—who cared about the strange family among them? Elain’s father was a mortal man who’d fallen in love with her mother. There was a bitterness to her voice, an edge he thought he understood well enough. When her mother had been accidentally accused, the villagers sweeping up anyone who frightened them without knowing who was truly a witch and who was just strange, their father had made the choice to take his daughters far away.

Elain had all but whispered when she described how her sister had killed him in her rage. At just eleven years old, they’d been on their own, then. Lucien’s heart squeezed, imagining the three of them feigning a sick relative as they took on the burdens of a household, holding her just a little tighter.

Elain’s voice was soft when she told him how they’d drawn borders in blood, swearing never to cross. How they’d separated once the youngest had turned nineteen and could fend wholly for herself. The eldest had gone north, toward the Illyrian mountains, while the youngest had remained in the middle. And Elain had gone south toward the sea.

To him.

He told her about himself, too. He had five brothers—seven, technically, though two had died while he was still young. His brutal father who’d turned out not to be his father at all, and his mother with her kind, smiling eyes. In some ways, Elain reminded him of her, at least a little. Because she’d left out no details of her own, Lucien admitted to his first—and only—kill. He and his brothers had conspired to kill his father after a cruel and unprovoked beating had broken several of her ribs.

After that, Lucien had left. He knew what he was and that staying put his whole family at risk. Gifted with flame and light, he assumed he was bound to a powerful witch and had gone looking for her. He admitted he’d always intended to kill her and return home to his family.

He’d settled where he did because a thrumming in his blood demanded it. He’d taken over the tavern from a dying man, buying it cheaply with all his remaining money. It was there he’d met Jesminda, a farmer's daughter, and fallen wildly, passionately in love. And it was there she’d died of an illness that swept through not six months before Elain arrived. Lucien had still been grieving when she walked through his doors.

“And you knew? Right then?” she whispered, lacing her fingers through his own.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I said I’d help because I knew who you were—and I planned to kill you in your sleep.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked.

“Because you were crying—and I could feel your grief. And I thought…tomorrow. I’ll kill her tomorrow.”

“And why didn’t you?” she pressed, her thumb rubbing the back of his hand.

“I broke up a fight and someone broke my nose–”

“I remember,” she whispered, twisting in the saddle to look at him. “You knocked on my door and I bandaged you.”

“It seemed like poor form to kill you after that. I kept putting it off. There were so many people who were sick and even though you had nothing and you didn’t know them, you got up at dawn each morning to see them all. And I thought it was your fault Jesminda had died, but then…but then I realized she would have lived if you’d been here. And you’d just barely missed her, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t take you away from them. So I said I’d stay and make sure you were harmless.

“And then…?”

“And then you moved out of my tavern,” he admitted, wondering what it said about him that he couldn’t even accept his own easy destiny. “And I missed seeing you for breakfast every morning. I missed the easy way you smiled and how you were the only person who ever asked how my day was going. And I realized I was in love with you and well and truly fucked.” She laughed, the sound all but exploding out of her. “You make it seem so romantic.”

“It took me a few months to come to terms with it. I avoided you as best I could, but I couldn’t shake you.”

He wanted to ask when she’d fallen in love with him and was far too cowardly.

“I don’t know if I ever had one defining moment where I knew I was in love with you,” she murmured into the dusky glow of the evening sun. The light bounced off the apples of her cheek, highlighting just how beautiful she was. Lucien wanted to turn the horse around and run far, far away. To take her away where no one, not even the gods would find them.

He kept the steady pace forward.

“You were the only person I trusted,” Elain continued, unaware of the fear churning through him. “And if I went too long without seeing you, I started to dream about your face. I thought…I thought it would never work and so…” Elain swallowed. “At the end, when I mistook you for Graysen, I thought I could figure out a way to stay with you. I was so distracted and…”

Horror filled Lucien’s chest. “It’s my fault–”

“No!” she twisted in the saddle, looking up at him with wide eyes. “No, if you hadn’t been there who knows…I can only imagine what would have happened. I just…I was so distracted by how much I wanted you that I didn’t realize everything I was feeling was the bond between us. I mistook all of it and placed it on Graysen.”

She pressed a swift kiss to his cheek before reclining back against him. “I think he would have tried to kill me regardless.”

“But you never would have thought he was your hunter if I hadn’t been there.”

She only shrugged. “I never thought it was you, either. I could feel you—but you seemed so far away.”

More guilt filled him, his silence condemning him. Elain turned, eyes wide. “You hid it, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I need some defense.”

“Oh, Lucien.”

Oh, Lucien, indeed. They reached the edge of the town just before the sun fully set. The streets were still packed, the streets bustling beneath the lanterns hung high above the streets. He found a nice inn just off the main market square and paid for a quiet room with a nice bathing chamber. It was stretching his coins, and to Lucien, felt like a necessary expense given he’d married her the day before and had celebrated by fucking her in a cramped, quiet closet. Elain was bleary eyed by the time he’d seen their horse to the stables and wound the three flights of stairs up to the room. One bed—though he wouldn’t have let her sleep in a second one had it been provided—cleanly made and big enough to move around. Elain gave a small cry of relief when she saw the tub and Lucien left her to it.

If they were going to beg the goddess then he needed to look worthy. He couldn’t come in his ash stained clothes, reeking of horse. He handed over more coins for a set of dresses for Elain—one for the temple, one for the ride home, and something to sleep in—and a rather nice tunic and a pair of nice trousers. He picked up food while he was at it, lingering only long enough to collect a bouquet of flowers, shoved hastily in his arms in an attempt to carry everything at once.

She was waiting on the bed with damp hair, wrapped in the blanket from the bed. Lucien paused, admiring how lovely she was. His wife, if only for another night. She was looking at him too, eyes sliding to the parcels in his hands.

“For me?”

Lucien couldn’t suppress the shiver that raced up his spine. Everything was for her, though he didn’t say that. He didn’t want Elain to do anything foolish if the goddess denied them. No guilt, no fear. If one of them had to die for centuries on end, it would be him—always and only him.

“For you,” he agreed with an easy grin. It didn’t match his mood, suppressed deep in his chest as she rose and shimmied on the silken blue night dress.

He didn’t need any clothes at all and from the gleam in her eye, she seemed to know. Lucien took his time in the bath, carefully scrubbing every inch of grime off his body. As if he could wash away his fears, too. He wanted to believe this would work, because what else did he have? Only hope that the goddess would never peer down on her creations and realize she was being defied.

Lucien padded naked to the bedchamber where Elain awaited, picking through the food he’d forgotten about. She looked up, eyes sliding down his body like a caress.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She sighed with exasperation, gesturing at the spread before her. “For food?”It seemed a terrible waste of time to sit down and eat. Worse, still, given the way his cock was rising between his legs, interested in the beautiful woman nestled among the bed.

In a perfect world, Lucien would have had the promised eternity with her. Now he merely had hours and it wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to sleep and he didn’t want to eat.

Elain read it all plain enough on his face. “You think you’re going to die, don’t you?”

“No.” Yes.

“Lucien—”

“Don’t,” he breathed, carefully removing the boxes and dishes from her lap so he could crawl over her. “This might be the last night we ever have together. Don’t—don’t waste it on goodbyes.”

“Then how should I waste it, husband?”

He shuddered again. Lucien pressed his mouth against her own as he laid her out among the soft sheets. “Like this.”

She didn’t fight him like he thought she would. Didn’t demand they talk it through or formulate a plan that would keep them together. Good. Lucien didn’t think he could stand to see that kind of hope ripped from either of them. Let him go knowing she was safe, at least. That if they ever met again, she would see him coming a mile away, would recognize him on sight.

“Lucien,” she breathed against his mouth. “Lucien.”

She spoke his name like a prayer, like the answer to a question she’d been asking her whole life. Lucien couldn’t help himself, pressed against her. In his mind, this was all he had left. One last night, which was better than no nights at all. Better than having never known her—of being her enemy.

Lucien would have done it all exactly the same. He’d have done far worse, too, for just this one small taste of her. Still, lips pressed to lips, he sent a small prayer to whoever might be listening to grant him more. Even if it was just one mortal lifetime, that was enough.

Elain’s fingers raking through his hair dragged him back to the present. Achingly hard and far too clothed for his liking, all he could do was rub himself against her to help alleviate some of the building pressure.

He wanted to take his time with her but eyes closed, all he could see was her terrified face as he approached. Her dawning realization of who he was. Her distrust. Her hands, behind her back while smoke curled around her dress.

Losing her. Lucien felt like he was doomed to lose her.

He just needed her.

Lucien’s fingers had the fresh nightdress off her easily, so they were back to being skin to skin. His mind raced with images of those first few days. Of her writhing in his laps while he’d stroked between her legs, of her beneath him clawing at his back while he’d pumped himself in her.

He’d been foolish then, thinking they could outsmart the lord. If he’d been smart, he would have taken her away right then and there. Maybe stolen more time before they ended up out here, all but saying goodbye to each other.

“I love you,” he breathed against her neck. Elain arched into him. “I love you.”

He didn’t let her respond, though he heard her try. Salt soaked lips crushed against his own, Elain managed to mumble something akin to I love you, Lucien. Something far too final for Lucien’s liking. There was no amount of closeness that satisfied Lucien. Skin to skin, hands roaming the smooth, soft curves of her body and still he felt like he was writhing beneath his very flesh. She understood. Elain dug her fingers into his chest and pushed until Lucien was panting, flat on his back. Elain swung her leg over his hips for a moment, sliding down, down, down, until she hovered over his thighs. Staring at his aching, weeping cock pressed to his stomach.

Touch me, touch me, touch me—

As if she read his mind, Elain wrapped her hand around his shaft as she lowered herself, nestling between his legs.

“I want to taste you,” she murmured, drawing a frantic groan from his lips. He didn’t realize what she was doing for several long breaths. Elain was slowing him down with careful, measured strokes. Forcing him to come back to her, to stay in the present. The pleasure of her though, of seeing her between his spread legs, looking up at him with eyes so dark they seemed to be made of nothing but smoldering flame, silenced all his fears.

She leaned closer, her long hair forming a curtain between her pretty mouth and the otherside world. Desperate to watch, Lucien gathered the soft curls in his hands just as she licked a long stripe up the underside of his shaft.

“Elain, please—” she took him into her mouth, holding his gaze with open, almost teasing defiance. Lucien bucked off the bed, gagging her without meaning too. Saliva slid down her chin as she adjusted, her gaze reproachful.

“Sorry, sorry,” he panted, sweeping his thumb over her cheek. “Come here, let me, let me—” his words choked into a groan. Elain slid her mouth further down, drowning him in the exquisite softness of being sucked by his wife. He didn’t want to come like this and couldn’t bring himself to stop her, either.

All he could do was beg. “Elain,” he moaned, his back arching off the bed. “Elain, ride me, please—”

“You beg so sweetly, husband,” she teased, pulling off him. Her lips were bright red and swollen, her eyes bright. Lucien reached for her, his fingers pulling at her hips until she was rubbing her wet cunt against his cock. He was going to die. Just like this, lying beneath her, subjected to her particular brand of torture and cruelty.

He smiled. “Put me out of my misery,” he murmured, though in truth he liked the way she rolled against him and the friction she’d created.

“Our misery is shared,” she murmured, gripping him at the base so they were aligned. There was no chance to consider if her words were double edged—if she too was worrying about tomorrow. Elain slid down him with ease, releasing her grip on his cock to dig her nails in his chest. Lucien moaned. Every inch of him was ablaze, awakened with the pleasure of being within her. Elain gripped him like a silken fist, so tight he could barely think of anything but her.

Not so mindless that he’d forgotten about her pleasure, but close. Lucien kept one hand on her hip, guiding her into an easy, steady rhythm while his other began rubbing steady, precise circles over her clit. He would feel her fall to pieces around him over and over that night. There would be no reprieve for either of them.

Elain whimpered. “Lucien, I—”

“I know,” he interrupted. No goodbyes. Not here. Not like this. “Come for me, pretty wife.”

She exhaled a shaky breath, bouncing over him. Lucien raised his legs, planting his feet on the mattress so he could do the majority of the work. It would have been a lie to say he hadn’t done it partly because he liked watching how her breasts bounced with each new thrust of his cock.

He was unfurling. Release gathered hotly against the base of his spine made worse by how she was squeezed around him. Lucien held himself back, but it was hell. Even with his head turned, eyes closed he couldn’t think away how good she felt and how badly he needed to come.

“Elain,” he gasped, still rubbing her clit. She was writhing over him, grinding into his cock to take her own pleasure. Using him. “Elain, come for me, sweetheart—”

She cried out, digging her nails so sharply into his chest he thought she might have drawn blood. Her cunt quivered, tightening unforgivably and Lucien was gone. So thoroughly wrecked that all he could do was obey the instinct to finish, to drive himself into her so deeply none of his come would escape.

Elain collapsed against him, hips still jerking even as their lips collided. Lucien held her, kissing like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. Maybe this would be the moment that convinced the goddess he loved this woman more than anything, including his own life.

He could feel her heart pulsating against him, pounding frantically against his cock. “Say it,” he whispered, nuzzling his face against her jaw.

Elain didn’t protest when he turned them, cock still twitching in her body. “I love you,” she said, reaching up to graze his cheek.

Lucien smiled.

He woke to sunlight and Elain quietly braiding his hair. For a moment, Lucien didn’t move. He wanted to pretend this was a normal morning between them. Another day in a lifetime of days where she might braid his hair. Lucien exhaled a heavy breath, turning his head when he felt her tie the end.

“Let’s go home,” she whispered, brown eyes shining with fear. “Let’s forget all this and just—”

A bell tolling in the distance silenced Elain. Lucien twisted, rising up on his elbows to listen, the sound clanging viciously against his heart. It was a warning, an omen not to agree. Elain’s face had become so pale, her hands trembling in the space between them. “I think we have to, now,” Lucien murmured, though he would have preferred to go back, too. His rushing blood was answer enough, reacting to the witch before him. He’d felt that way, once, though never as strongly as it did in that span of a breath.

Kill her, kill her, kill her.

It passed quickly, but not quick enough to see Elain’s eyes darken. She shifted on the bed, angling away from him as her fingers fisted in the blankets. She’d felt it, too. They couldn’t risk going back. What if he woke one night, overwhelmed by the need to hurt her? What if it didn’t pass? He could have children—children he felt compelled to kill, children he’d then have to bury knowing he’d slaughtered them.

She was thinking the same. He saw the anguished shadow on her face, the realization the curse was cruel and would take far more than they were ever willing to pay.

“Okay,” she whispered. Elain didn’t stop him when he reached for her nor did she fight him when he pulled her beneath his body for one last frantic, desperate coupling. They still had time, limited as it was. He could have dragged it out forever—he wanted to. Sweat sliding down his back, her nails cutting through his skin and Lucien swore to the same goddess he was going to meet later than he would do anything—anything at all—if she spared them.

It was all over too soon.

Elain dressed solemnly in an ivory dress that felt like a wedding gown. Iridescent beads caught the streaming sunshine, bathing Elain in a rainbow of color. She was stunning, his ring on her finger, eyes brimming with the same thrumming hope he felt. He reached for her, pulling her against his chest.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered. Arms wrapped around his middle, squeezing tight.

“I’m thinking about going home together,” she admitted, tilting her chin for a soft kiss. Lucien smiled.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he began, sweeping his thumb over her tanned cheek, “but we’re going to need more space.”

“Is that so?”

He grinned. “Yes. If I have an eternity with you…” he trailed off, letting the implications hang in the air. It was good to see her smile, even if some of the fear remained just behind her eyes. Lucien packed their things with more optimism than he felt, laced his fingers with her own, and led her to the street. It was packed, pushing them closer together in an attempt not to stain their pristine clothes and to remain together.

The temple loomed at the end of the city like a great, onyx mountain. Towering spires that led to nowhere grazed the sky like spindly fingers while the yawning entrance seemed to swallow the buttery light of day. Elain’s steps slowed as they approached and he wondered if she’d refuse outright.

“Whatever happens,” he started to say before the words died in his throat. She looked up at him and Lucien couldn’t tell her goodbye. He couldn’t tell her anything but, “I’m glad we’re together.”

She squeezed her fingers tight around him, looked over her shoulder only once—like she expected to see someone in that crowd. Lucien pulled her forward, stepping from the warmth of the city into the stretching darkness and creeping cold of the temple. It was nothing like the one from the village—and empty.

So, so empty.

Inside the cavernous belly, he could hear screaming. Elain had begun to tremble beside him, her steps dragging on the glossy marble floor.

“Please—please! I’ll do anything, don’t—-don’t!”

They made their way toward that woman with a voice so familiar it raked icy fear down his spine. Wide, arching doors had been thrown open from the open atrium, beckoning them. The dancing flame from blood red candles cast long shadows over the floor, though they provided no relief from the cold.

“Why?” that voice sobbed. Lucien could see the woman, then—not just because she was in front of him, but because the memory was washing over him. Elain, in a blood soaked dress, lay at the far end of that room holding his dying, broken body. With her face buried in his neck, she couldn’t see the goddess looming over, her beautiful, ethereal face cold and unfeeling.

“This is your punishment,” the goddess replied, sweeping a piece of golden hair from her delicate, pale face.

Both Elain and Lucien paused in the door to watch the scene unfold, clutching the other so tightly his fingers ached. Phantom Elain looked toward the door, as though she could see them standing there—as if she’d been here a million times before. Lucien swallowed his horror as she picked up a familiar dagger. On the floor, Lucien's face was bloodied, and with a lurch he realized one of his eyes had been gouged out. He reached to his own, running his fingers over the scars cut down his cheek.

It was the very knife hidden in his boot.

Elain plunged it into her breast. He heard the wet crunch of bone, her choking gasp as the blade sliced through skin and tissue to pierce her heart. The goddess did not react to that act of defiance.

She merely sighed.

“It changes nothing,” she said, turning her eyes to the two of them at the door. The scene before them faded, dissolving into a glittering abyss. “You have been here before and you will come here again.”

Elain was shaking so hard he could hear her teeth rattling in her skull. “How do we change it?” she asked as Lucien yielded a step.

“You come more often than your sisters,” the goddess informed them, her voice echoing through the vaulted ceilings. She stood atop a carved black dais, surrounded by more dripping, red candles. There was nothing else—no pews, no seats, nothing but open, empty space. “You have never once managed to kill him. Even they occasionally fulfill their end of the curse.”

Lucien dared to meet her teal stare. “What curse?”

An empty smile graced her beautiful face. “Tell me, Elain, if you remember. Once upon a time—”

Elain’s breathless gasp told Lucien she did remember. He didn’t, though. And he needed to know. Elain squeezed his hand tight, the only warmth to be found.

“Three sisters were blessed by the great goddess. Magic and beauty—they wanted for nothing. They were immortal, deities in their own right.”

“And they fell in love with mortal men,” Elain whispered, her eyes closing.

“Mortal men they swore to kill. An oath broken despite everything I’d done for you,” the goddess reminded her.

“And so you’ve cursed us to forget them—and them us,” Elain managed, a tear rolling down her face.

“It can be broken,” the goddess told her. “If you and your sisters all manage to love the men duty bound to kill you and come to me, on your knees, and beg forgiveness. You’re here, as you always are…and yet I don’t see Nesta or Feyre.”

“Please,” Elain whispered as Lucien groaned. His hand slid from hers, knees buckling. Wave after wave after wave of memories slid through his mind. Centuries of finding her—or her, finding him—of falling in love and coming here to undo the curse upon them.

And centuries of dying. They’d done it all before, on an endless loop they could not escape. Lucien parsed through them, looking for one instance he’d ever killed her.

“Please!” Elain cried, falling to the floor with him.

“Kill him, Elain,” the goddess ordered. “Your continued defiance displeases me. Even your sisters manage this one, simple task.”

“I won’t,” Elain sobbed, one hand pressed to his chest. Lucien was flat on the floor, unsure how he’d even got there. There was a blooming ache in his gut—and the heavy realization he was going to die. Lucien’s stomach was leaden as he looked at her.

“Do it,” he whispered, cupping her cheek in his hand. “It changes nothing. I’ll find you again—and again. In every life, in any world. I would know you on sight, Elain.”

Words he’d spoken to her that first time. A mere mortal in love with an immortal woman, doomed to die if not by her blade than from the ticking hand of time. She’d swore she was going to give it all up, that she’d bind her life to his and they’d have one lifetime together rather than an eternity apart.

“Lucien,” she whispered, clutching at his tunic. On her knees—not before the goddess she swore to worship, to obey, but before him—Elain said, “I won’t kill him. I will never hurt him.”

“Yes,” the goddess murmured, looking down her nose at the two of them. Her eyes flicked the door, her beautiful face curving into a frown. “I have heard this all before.”

She raised a long nailed finger and slashed. Lucien groaned from the pain, his back arching off the floor. Distantly, he heard Elain screaming, as he felt her magic worming through him, trying desperately to heal him—to keep him alive as she did with the villagers. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get the words out to remind her of how her magic reacted with his blood. Lucien knew

Elain remembered, just as he knew she still had to try.

“Please,” she begged, gripping him by the shoulders to try and sit him up. “Please, end this!”

“You know how to stop it!” the goddess snapped at Elain. “Forget this foolish mortal man and come back to me as you should have long ago! He is nothing—he is food for worms, he is the filth beneath your shoes. You could be great. You and your sisters could rule this mortal existence and yet you choose to lower yourself—you choose to be little more than a common whore to a mortal man!”

“And I would again!” Elain screamed through her tears. Eyes on him, Elain said, “I will choose him every time, in every life. Every world. Even if it always ends like this—I will always choose him.”

“Foolish,” the goddess snapped. “Let him go and accept your destiny.”

“You are my destiny,” Elain whispered, lowering her face until her hair became a curtain around them. “And I will always love you.”

“I will find you again,” Lucien managed, trying and failing to raise a leaden arm.

He felt her fingers in his boot, and knew, even as he choked on his own blood, that Elain was coming with him. Elain pressed an urgent kiss to his mouth, fingers grazing his jaw. Everything was hazy—like he was underwater, slipping further and further away from her.

“I’ll see you soon,” she whispered, a tear dripping to his cheek. “Next time—next time we’ll kill her.”

“Elain—”

“ELAIN NO!”

Whoever screamed those words, whoever tried to stop her failed by mere seconds. Lucien saw the goddess smile, and knew she must have known someone was coming.

“YOU CHEATED!” another woman roared, her voice as icy as death itself. Lucien’s blade was buried in Elain’s chest. He reached for his wife, holding her against him one final time. Through her careful curls, he could see two women striding forward, trailed by two equally furious men.

“Looks like you’re too late,” the goddess said with a smile. “Just as you always are.”

“You swore we had until sunset. You break your own promises and yet call us oathbreakers!” the first spat. Darkness seemed to ripple off her, obscuring the bow slung over her delicate shoulders.

“You are not the only goddess,” the other sister said—because they were sisters, he realized. Elain, heaving a terrible breath, said, “Nesta. Feyre.”

“You wouldn’t,” the goddess snarled at them both. Lucien could feel Elain slipping, her frantic heart slowing with each new beat. He willed himself to go with her, to leave the exact moment she did. He couldn’t stand the thought of being separated, even by a few minutes.

“We’ve made a deal with death herself,” one of the sisters was saying. Lucien tuned it out—tuned it all out to look at Elain.

“My wife,” he whispered, trying and failing to touch her face. “My beautiful wife. I love you, Elain.”

Her eyes were glazed, dull and nearly devoid of life. “We will be together again,” she managed. “Lucien, I—”

He never heard what she said. What came next, though as darkness washed over him, sweeping him away, Lucien knew.

I am yours. And you are mine.

Twenty three years later:

Elain had been moving around for the last two years, looking for a place to settle. Thrumming in her bones, deep and unrelenting, was the call of the hunter—witch killer. He was out there, waiting for her. Looking just as surely as she was. Hoping to catch her unawares, to end the delicate dance between them. Elain had been aware of him from the moment she had consciousness. A stranger and yet more than that. Someone she was bound to.

Someone she could never escape.

With each passing step, Elain’s blood settled, as though the very world itself was assuring her this was where she needed to be. This little village, nestled just beside the sea, was the sight of the last ravages of a terrible illness. She’d heard from a passing traveler they needed a healer.

Elain was exhausted. She needed a place to sleep and a hot meal more than anything else. Passing through arching gates, she let herself breath in the smell of animals and cooking meat. Villagers passed, their eyes curious as they looked at the stranger among them. She’d need a home somewhere just outside and thought the swaths of farmland she’d noted, buttressed by the towering woodland, was the perfect place to maintain distance and the sort of garden she’d need without drawing too much attention.

Though, an unmarried woman was always cause for suspicion.

She could make her excuses well enough, just as she always had. Elain meandered neatly laid cobblestone streets, turning when she saw a brass sign swaying in a warm breeze. The orange glow of dusk illuminated the sign—The Ensnaring Snake.

Perfect. She glanced up at the three story building, built of sturdy brick and wood, before pushing open the front door. Inside, warm ale and sweat invaded her senses. Despite the encroaching night, the tavern was mostly empty save for a few stragglers hidden at little round tables and shadowed booths. No one was at the bar, which was Elain’s target.

Just as she approached the scratched wood top, a man stepped from the back. She was struck for a moment by his beauty. Tall, with gleaming, golden brown skin and auburn hair half braided off his beautiful face. A trio of scars streaked over one of his russet colored eyes though they did little to mar how truly lovely he was. Elain’s heart thudded in her chest.

He blinked, slinging a dish cloth over one of his broad shoulders.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly.

He cocked his head for a moment. “Can I help you with something?”

Elain swallowed.

He didn’t remember—of course he didn’t remember. Nesta Archeron had made a deal with the goddess of death after their latest betrayal. Elain could still hear the words ringing in her ears.

Elain will retain her memories this time.

For as long as she’d been alive, she had the memories of every man she’d ever loved—every marriage proposal Lucien had ever made, every kiss, every night.

And every death she’d ever witnessed.

“A room,” Elain told him, though what she really wanted to say was I missed you. I love you. I’ve come back for you, just as I promised I would.

“For how long?” he questioned, likely calculating how easy it would be to kill her. Elain didn’t betray that she knew him at all.

“I heard the village needs a healer,” she said instead, smiling at him with all the hope she felt.

This time we’ll get it right. This time we’ll best her and be together. “Perhaps you could point me to someone that might help me build a cottage.”

He blinked, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. “I could do that.”

“Until then, a room? I can pay,” she said, digging in her pockets for all a gold coin. Elain laid it on the counter, sighing when his fingertips brushed over her own.

Lucien Vanserra looked back at her. “I could do that.”

Elain’s smile was undimmed.

You are mine. And I am yours.

“Perfect.”

#elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fanfic #dont look at me like that

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