#then she gets to celebrate it with her family and her new family | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

velvetcloxds · 1 day

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THE PRICE OF FREEDOM | S.R

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

word count: 0.8k

warnings: toxic family, parental role reversal, guilt

summary: spencer and the team come over to your new place to celebrate you finally leaving your toxic childhood home

a/n: started off strong , became too real, rushed the ending

It wasn’t much of an achievement for most, moving out of the house you grew up in, doing so in your mid-twenties even less so. But Spencer thought it the biggest achievement, the bravest step you’d ever taken, and you were touched by his excitement. It was a small little apartment, open floor space, everything flowing into one and with your boxes still scattered everywhere there was hardly room for everyone- but Spencer bought a cake. Rossi said he was bringing pasta and you just barely heard Emily promise to bring champagne, so you couldn’t talk anyone out of making a fuss.

It was a confusing set of emotions, you’d been dreaming of leaving for years, since your second year at university, but guilt always stopped you in your tracks. You didn’t want to leave without her, leave her in it, feel responsible for her, like getting a good job and finding a good place should be to save her and not yourself, not just yourself. And you waited, begged, bargained, fought with all your might to have her see things for what they were and leave, you would’ve done anything to make it happen for her- but despite it all, despite years of pain, she wasn’t ready to escape and as much as you wanted to make her ready, you couldn’t. You were, you didn’t have it in you to stay even if you wanted to for her, you had to get out, for you.

“Do you think there’s enough candles?” Spencer was fiddling about in the living room area, though it wasn’t truly ready to be lived in yet, furniture wasn’t in the cards for a while so of course he’d taken to constructing some with all your boxes.

“I think it’s plenty,” you smiled and it felt more sincere than it looked, only barely hiding the embarrassment from not having working lights set up yet. “More and we might set the place on fire before I unpack,” you pulled some paper plates and cups from the grocery bag, hoping no one would mind as much as you did.

You knew they wouldn’t, knew they wouldn’t mind sitting on dented boxes, eating cold pasta, and drinking fancy alcohol out of party cups. If anything it just felt like a testament to your fate, to how rash your decision was, how unprepared you were for whatever was to come. It reminded you that you had no idea how to exist outside of your terror, if you weren’t protecting your mother, what were you doing? Throwing lackluster dinner parties while she was still ever miserable with a horrid man and no escape. It made you feel all the more guilty, and all the more selfish. You couldn’t comprehend the excitement you were expected to be expressing. With all your might you had to convince yourself not to run right back to that blush pink bedroom stained at every inch with dried tears and echoed with screams of bitterness.

You had to convince yourself once again that you were free and you deserved to be as much, you didn’t choose to be born into that madness, you had every right to run away from it. She chose to stay, countless times, no matter how many scary nights or pleating fits of fear, she chose to stay.

“I think we can paint the walls if you’d like, Morgan would help me, though I wouldn’t ask Garcia because she might end up choosing a bright green or yellow,” you met his breathy scoff with a lazy hum, stilled in the middle of counting out the right amount of bamboo forks, staring at the only corner you’d managed to unpack- the photo frames. Spencer followed your gaze, and landed on a large frame with a colourful picture of you and your mom at the theatre, only a few months ago, her smile was only ever that big when you were away from home, from him. You dropped the lightweight utensils with a sigh, everything felt wrong, you felt wrong. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” he knew the answer but didn’t know how to approach the situation without asking anyway. You hummed, bit back a fake smile that would only turn to a frown even if you tried to stop it, and folded your arms around yourself to ground you.

How a space so small, so full, could feel so void, lonely, you weren't sure. Your mom had been dying for years, not physically, but he’d been hacking away at her soul since you could remember- left a shell of her, a ghost, you’d mourn her daily, he made sure of it. Now the mourning was different, the grief, leaving your best friend, your shadow felt like you’d buried her alive and left her screaming. Horrendous thing, the juxtaposition of it all, you couldn’t spend another second in that house, can’t imagine taking another breath without her at your side. You hoped she’d follow, it’s why you borrowed the queen size mattress and not the single from Hotch, space for her, somewhere to escape to when she was ready, but who’d protect her while she wasn’t?

“I was thinking,” careful hands slid over your elbows, loving smile met your gaze. “With your power still out, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone in the dark. Maybe I can stay over?” Spencer was never so forward, if he were he’d present you with ample facts to support his case first, not such a simple little tale of charm.

“Please,” you’d not usually accept so easily, but you were being profiled, you’d learn to know when you were and though not always intentional, Spencer tended not to notice how unsubtle he was with it. You smiled, traded your own embrace for his, looked up at him with your chin planted on his chest. “How am I reading, Dr. Reid?”

“Not well,” he tutted, brows dipped with sympathy, eyes sparkling with genuine care as foreign as it comes. “Which is valid, every horrible and amazing feeling that you’re experiencing is completely valid.”

“I’m scared she’ll never forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to be forgiven for, you are not her keeper, she knows that, you love her but that’s still the truth,” he kissed your forehead, squeezed you a little tighter than before. “You know all of this, but I won’t stop reminding you.”

“Can we visit her?”

“As many times as you need to.”

You stood like that for too long before the room echoed with far too eager knocks, dinner was cold but delicious as only Rossi can achieve and when the cake came you were sat on the floor next to Spencer, smiling as Derek bargained for the biggest piece. Spencer’s hand was entangled with yours in his lap, head on his shoulder and for just a second you felt light, weightless- new.

“Are you still okay, sweetheart?” he whispered with a soft smile, hopeful and you nodded, instantly took the plate when JJ handed you the biggest piece of cake.

“I think so, Spence, I think it’s all going to be okay.”

Maybe it was delusion, maybe tomorrow you’d wake up drowning in dread and pack your few unpacked boxes to go back, maybe you’d stay and spend every second hating yourself for giving up on her, not saving her, maybe she’d finally leave and start over. Maybe you’d stay stuck in time, lingering between the first time he did it and the last, forever the little girl who grew up too soon because someone had to take responsibility for saving her. Maybe you had no purpose beyond that, maybe that’s what you were made for, to fix her and comfort her and stand up for her. Maybe you were the biggest of failures for thinking you could have more from life than that horror, that love ridden burden. Maybe peace only comes after and not during life, born into chaos, into hatred out of young love, maybe the idea of your freedom was as fleeting as his affinity for family. How can someone raised in darkness ever dare to look for light, let alone try and live in it? Maybe you were only ever meant to be nothing more and nothing less than a lesson about how broken people make broken children. Shackled by the knowledge that you never should’ve been, she’d left him sooner if you weren’t.

Imagine that, your whole life devoted to making up for being born, for making it impossible to leave until it was far too late. Hope and freedom, like love, is nothing but a golden cage.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid fic

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footballfanficwriter · 2 days

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Hiii, I love your writing, can I request a Jude x reader where they do celebrity gogglebox and they watch Jude’s champions league final at Wembley where he proposed to her & she told him she’s pregnant, and they watch everyone’s reaction at Wembley when it’s happening ( his teammates, family & fans)

A/n: I was so excited to write this I just had to get started immediately,cause I hadn't gotten a request in such a long time,thank you so much for this and I hope you enjoy please comment and like at the end I'd really love some feed back as to how my writing is and where I need to improve

Looking Back

Hi I'm Jude Bellingham"

"And I'm Y/n Bellingham and welcome to our Google box interview"

"It's not an interview"

"Then what is it?"

(Color bars)

"Hi I'm Jude(Laughs)

"Why are you laughing?"

"Stop"

(Color Bars)

"Ok we gotta be serious this time"

"Hi I'm Jude Bellingham"

"And I'm Y/n Bellingham"

"And today we're doing a Google box, about our story and how we got to this moment in our lives together and my first of the season"

"Bit of a mouth full innit"

"Whatever, just press play"

He pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and kisses my forehead I lay my head on his chest , then he takes some popcorn from the bowl on my lap

I press play and the first thing that appears is Jude's first day in Madrid when he signed his Real Madrid contract

"This day was a big one you know, new place for us, new language and Culture, just everything"

"Luckily we had so many people that were willing to help and make our adjustment as easy as possible"

"True"

"Actually I remember something from that day"

"What?"

"You nearly tripped and fell"

I give him an eyebrow raise

"Yes you did, I remember you nearly fell and I caught you, I'm surprised they didn't get that on camera"

"No I didn't Jude, you're lying"

"No I'm not, I vividly remember holding your heels after the pictures cause you'd given up on them after you used my shoulder to help you take them off"

"I don't remember that"

"I even told you that morning before we left the hotel that you should get a comfortable shoe then you said no and I put your shoes in the car before we left"

"I still don't remember"

"The gaslighting is crazy"

"Let's continue" I say remembering the moment he's talking about

The video cuts and this time it's Jude's first Real Madrid game

"I remember that game, when we were in America during the preseason games and we played against Milan"

"I remember being in the stands and just being so nervous"

The video cuts and shows Jude waving to someone in the crowd after the game

"Mhhhm I wonder who you're waving too"

"Same" he says

The video cuts again but this time it's Jude's first La Liga game where he scored his first La Liga goal and celebrates in front of the Bilbao fans and all of them showing him the finger

"The amount of hate that came from those fans you'd swear I'd just killed someone"

I laugh at his his comment

"No but on a serious note though that was just iconic"

"And you know what I loved about it?"

"What?" He asks

"It never discouraged you, instead you continued playing at your best"

"Yeah it didn't discourage me but I for sure thought I would be the most hated player of the season and actually right after that moment I remember looking for you in the stands and you had made a heart with your fingers"

"I mean, I needed you to know that even if the whole world hates you I'll still love you"

"And I'll love you more"

The video cuts and it's Jude's first El classico where he scored two goals

"Ah I remember that game, it was my first El classico"

"I remember going home after that game and we were just in disbelief"

"Yeah, I just couldn't believe it, you know and I was so nervous the night before, remember?"

"Yeah I remember, you were pacing around the room and the whole time and I was just there trying to calm you down"

"I was nervous"

"I know you were my love, but the next day you scored 2 goals and won the match so there was no need to be nervous"

The video cuts again and shows Jude's Goal against Girona and his injury, how he was on the floor and the medical team icing his ankle

then the camera panned to me where I looked with a concerned expression on my face and glistening eyes

"I was so worried in that moment" I said looking at the screen

"So was I, I just heard my ankle pop and i knew something was wrong"

"We didn't get home the until the early hours of the morning"

He turned to the camera and said

"She stayed by my side the whole night despite me telling her to go home and rest and the whole time she held my hand while my ankle was being examined and I'm not gonna lie I was grateful that she didn't listen to me because that was very painfull and having her by my side just served as comfort"

"I couldn't leave you there, I would've been restless at home not knowing what was happening" I say smiling up at him

"Well I'm glad you stayed"

"You're welcome"

"Ok next"

The camera cuts to the Ballon d'or ceremony and Jude Winning the Kopa award where he does his speech

"Thank you everyone for all the wonderful support and the messages, two days ago I won my first El classico so this is just a cherry on top, thank you to the fans and the supports and my Family as well I am grateful and I am appreciative,thank you"

"Wow, you really do have a way with words don't you?"

"What can I say, This was my First time going to the Ballon d'or ceremony and just being there with so many other great Footballers and Football legends was so surreal it felt amazing

I remember meeting R9 for the first time and you were by my side holding my hand and the whole time as we're talking to him I was holding onto your hand for dear life"

"I actually thought you were gonna break my hand I'm surprised I still have it"

"I'm sorry"

"It's fine I'm just glad i was there with you" I say

"He kisses my forehead and looks towards the screen again

The screen transitions to Jude's first Champions League game for Madrid

"That game was another for the books, first UCL game and I had scored the only and the winning goal"

"Yeah I was really proud to say the least ,aww look at that that, he's pointing to me" I say

"You wish" he says jokingly

"One day , maybe not today or Tomorrow but one day you'll get a taste of your own medicine" I say

"Oh my gosh shiver me timbers I'm so scared"

"You will be" I say and lean back onto his chest and he kisses my head and I smile

The screen transitions to Jude's Golden boy ceremony

"Incredible moment" he said

"Yeah I just remember watching you with awe and I just thought about everything that happened to get to that moment and get that award"

"Yeah the plane ride to Italy was cool and calm but that's because we knew what to expect and what was going to happen I think it was when we got there that it actually dawned on us that I had just won the award"

"True"

The screen transitions again and this time

It's Jude Celebrating the supa copa de espane

"First trophy of the season and for Real Madrid" he says

"Unfortunately I wasn't there but you called me immediately after you got into the dressing room and the whole time, vini and cama were just interrupting us and asking to talk to me"

"I'm not gonna lie that did annoy me and I couldn't get a word in they kept stealing my phone as if they don't have their own girlfriends"

"I'm not your girlfriend, I'm your wife"

"At the time you were my girlfriend"

"I actually preferred talking to them"

"Of course you did" he says rolling his eyes

The screen transitions to the game where Jude received a red Card and got a two game ban as a punishment

"I don't wanna talk about this game, I might just get into trouble"

"But I won't"

"I don't know...

"Let's all be honest here that ref was unfair and he knows it he blew the whistle while the ball was in the air and in my opinion that red card shouldn't have even been pulled out, it was a natural reaction to what had just happened at the time"

"Ok Mrs. Bellingham, not you defending your Husband"

"I mean my husband is always protecting me so it's only right"

"I'm blessed to have you in my life"

"As am I" I say and smile as I look up at him and he pecks my lips

"Ok next one"

The screen transitions to the match where Jude was a spectator at a Real Madrid game after the red card he got

"I loved that game you know, the love and the support of the fans was one of the things that kept me going, and just let me know that they were behind me and that was really heart warming"

"The Madridistas are very much loved"

"That is not a lie"

"Next"

Now we're watching Jude accepting his Lauresports award

"I was just tired that day, exhausted could even describe it"

"I actually opted to accept the award on your behalf so you could rest and take a break for a little bit,but him being stubborn he refused"

"It wouldn't have been ok, even though I was tired I needed to be there"

"I don't know when you'll realize that you're only human"

"I know I am"

"Mhmmm, whatever you say"

Next we see the La Liga title race parade and Jude lifting the trophy

"That day was amazing" he says, ,"the atmosphere the fans, you"

"I loved the outfit mostly, you looked Handsome more than anything"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, I can't explain it but damn, that day I learned to appreciate what I have" I say

He laughs and I join him in laughing

"You're so weird you know that"

"I'm just telling the truth"

He continues laughing and the screen changes again but this time a picture of Jude stating that he was the player of the season

"The day of the award show, I was getting ready for the champions league Final, so we couldn't attend and to be honest it was worth it because if I had attended I would have gotten what I received that day"

"And what's that?" I ask as I look at him hoping he'll mention our special moment

"Winning the Champions league"

I roll my eyes at him and watch the screen changed as he laughs at his stupid Joke

The screen changes to the Champions league Final against Dortmund

Showing highlights of the game and the team

Then the moment Real Madrid won the Champions league and the Celebrations

The camera then pans to Jude to where he's having his post match interview

"Jude, well done on your win, how long have you dreamed of this moment"

"Ages hey, a long time"

"What does it mean to win the champions league"

"It means the world to me, I've dreamed about this for a long time, it's every footballers dream"

"How do you plan on Celebrating such a moment"

"With my teammates and my Family, I've actually got a very important person here that hopefully I won't only be celebrating a champions league trophy with but much more as well

"Well congratulations Jude"

"Thank you, I need to go do something important, please excuse me"

"Of course"

"Here we go" Jude says as we watch the screen

He walks to the stands and walks to where I'm standing and helps me get down the stairs and leads me to the middle of the pitch

"Where are we going?" Can be mouth read as Jude walks me to the pitch

"Just trust me" he replies

We reach the middle of the pitch when all of a sudden Jude Goes down on one knee and gives and inaudible speech that can't be heard because it was covered by the cheers and screams of the fans watching the interaction happen

"We couldn't even hear eachother in that moment" I say watching the screeen

All they see is me nodding my head and mouthing yes

Jude gets up and slips the engagement ring on and he hugs me tightly, then I swiftly pull away and look him in the eye

And mouth something that can't he heard or mouth read

Jude's eyes go bigger and on shock

"Are you serious?"

Is faintly heard and I nod and the fans continue cheering with Jude hugging me and spinning me around in the middle of the pitch

The video then shows the reactions of Jude's teammates, who rush over to congratulate us. The camera captures the joyous expressions of our family in the stands, and the fans are going wild with excitement.

Jude's teammates run to where we are

"Juuuuuude" they chant

Cama and Tchomeni come and give me hugs

"Back off Cama that's my Future wife right there" Jude says

Cama rolls his eyes and just continues hugging me

"Congratulations"

"Thank you"

Back on the couch, Jude and I look at each other with smiles.

Jude looks to the camera and says

"Now you're probably wondering what she told, that made me react like that, truth is she told me that she was pregnant and that I was going to be a father and honestly, a three in one that night was amazing"

"I don't way that it was the best day of my life, but at the moment it is, but that will probably change when we get married or when we have our baby" he continues

"That moment changed everything," Jude says softly. "Winning the Champions League was amazing, but proposing to you and finding out we were expecting... that was the best moment of my life."

"Mine too," you say, leaning into him. "And now, here we are, sharing our story with everyone."

"Yeah, it's been an incredible journey," Jude agrees. "And I can't wait to see what the future holds for us toether. With us planning a wedding and expecting our first child together it's bound to be a rollercoaster"

"I've been Jude Bellingham and Joined by my Future wife Y/n Bellingham and thank you for watching

#football fanfic #romance #world cup #x reader #fan fiction #football #love #soccer fanfiction #imagine #reader #judebellingham #jude x reader #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude

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burnthoneydrops · 1 day

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A Shame Indeed (c.b. x fem!reader)

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: use of female descriptors (miss, young lady, etc)

a/n: Part II to this post for colin! also a continuation of this series! i hope you enjoy and a reminder that requests are open! (both in general and for my 200 celebration :)) )

The Bridgerton drawing room is a wonderful net for beautiful sunlight. At least, that is what you gather while sitting there early one morning, a few weeks into your new role as governess. No main member of the family is awake, just the staff that keep the house afloat. It is rather peaceful, and you are grateful for the moments of solitude away from your room where you have piles of old curtain fabric surrounding you. As you finish stitching two panels of a Hyacinth size dress together, there are footsteps traipsing down the carpeted floor, alerting you of someone else’s arrival. You’re quick to your feet, lest it be a Bridgerton and you appear disrespectful. Though you have gained their trust and appreciation, it still feels as though someone might pull you back out of this dream scenario at any second.

“Ah, good morning Mr. Bridgerton,” you nod, smiling lightly as Colin appears in the doorway.

“Good morning Miss Y/N. It is rather early is it not? Is Hyacinth even awake yet?” He asks, looking down the hallway before walking closer into the room.

“Alas, she is not. I figured wasting time while awake rather silly, however, so here I am”.

“With…” he looks behind you, back at the couch, and his eyebrows raise in confusion as his head tilts to the side.

“Oh, those are curtains that Mrs. Wilson was going to have thrown out. There was a stain on them, apparently, but I have yet to find it”.

That does not seem to lessen Colin’s confusion.

“And what exactly are you doing with them?”

“Hyacinth has been begging to go to the modiste with Lady Bridgerton and Miss Bridgerton, but the focus is on those who need new dresses for the season. So, in the absence of the actual modiste, I figured I could stand in and make her a new dress. It is, however, a surprise so please do not tell her,” you look between him and the curtain, hoping you hadn’t just spoiled your plan.

Instead of verbally responding, Colin drags his fingers in front of his lips and twists an imaginary key, signalling his sworn secrecy. You laugh quietly, before turning to sit back down with your work. Now that you no longer have to fear the undermining of your surprise, you are free to work on it in the open, or at least in front of Colin. As a member of staff passes, Colin orders tea and scones, muttering something about how if the two of you were going to stay awake you might have some fuel. One thing you have learned throughout your few weeks is Hyacinth and Gregory’s love for mischief is rivalled only by Colin’s love of food. You say nothing, choosing to politely nod in agreement instead as you create the puff sleeves of Hyacinth’s dress. The scones and tea are brought quickly, you assume already prepared. You don’t think it will ever fail to amaze you how on top of everything the people who run Bridgerton house are nor the fact that you are now a part of that.

“Do you care for cream or jam first?” Colin breaks the silence, almost startling you.

“Oh, um, do not feel obliged to offer me any Mr. Bridgerton”.

“Colin, please. We did agree to get to know each other on more adult terms, did we not?”

“Well, I suppose we did. But that does not remove anything in the series of respect and class differentials Mr. Bridgerton”.

“Yes, but if I am insisting, and you work for my house, then you must listen to me. Yes?” He looks quite pleased with himself as he pours milk into his teacup.

“Fine, Colin it is. But if anyone asks, you are to inform them of your wishes immediately. I will not have people thinking I disrespect this house voluntarily,”.

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs, “now, cream or jam?”

The conversation carries on easily enough between the two of you, and for a second you forget yourself. You forget that you are inside the previously terrifying Bridgerton home, making clothes out of old curtains and drinking tea with one of your employers. It feels easy, relaxed, and you wish that you could perpetually stay in this moment. The warm sun on your back is the same that makes Colin appear glowing, making his laugh even that more heavenly in appearance. You pause, internally slow blinking and hoping that you’re not physically translating that on your face. You did not just call Colin Bridgerton’s laugh heavenly, did you? You push the thought out of your mind, remembering there is no place for thoughts like that while doing your job.

That is until Lady Bridgerton makes her way into the drawing room and pauses at the sight before her. You notice her before Colin does, standing at attention immediately, dropping the dress down on the couch beside you. Colin stands cooly, walking over to greet his mother with a soft hug and a light kiss on the cheek. You do not think you’ve seen him do anything with much more force than that since your arrival, and you wonder if he is that gentle with every person he meets. Quickly checking that train of thought and registering it unhelpful at this current moment in time, you look back solely at Lady Bridgerton, apologising for the possibility that you had any part in waking her.

“Oh no, my dear, it was not you,” she reassures you, choosing not to question why she found her third eldest and her newest hire alone together, but rather allowing Colin to excuse himself with the claim that he is to meet his brothers for a round of fencing. “May I ask why you have some of our old curtains in your possession?” She asks instead, taking Colin’s previously occupied seat on the couch across from you.

“Oh, Mrs. Wilson said they were to be thrown away and I couldn’t bear the waste of perfectly good fabric, so I fashioned Hyacinth a new dress,” you display the work you had completed during your conversation with the third Bridgerton boy, trying to be prideful but fearing the response all the same.

“How thoughtful of you,” Lady Bridgerton smiles and you secretly sigh in relief. Though you had never pegged Lady Bridgerton to be cruel or patronising in any way, some of your previous employers had not been as kind, so you always secretly fear the worst. Your letters to your mother would describe as such, the growing anxiety that every well-to-do mama that you serve under will be exactly like the last. As much as you continually remind yourself that the Bridgertons are different, those thoughts do love to linger.

The afternoon sun brings a welcome break to your lesson with Hyacinth, who immediately insisted on wearing her new dress when presented with it. She looks lovely wandering around the garden, running across benches in the lightly patterned fabric which makes her easier to spot as well. Though that had not been your intention while making the garment, you have to admit it is a welcomed bonus. That child certainly has enough energy for all the ton twice over, so being easily seen is a necessity when she could run off at any moment. She had been dying to show you what she had observed in Gregory’s dance lesson and requested that you acted as the female so she could take Gregory’s spot. You curtsey as low as you can go before placing your hands on her small frame, bending at the knees ever so slightly so her hands can rest at a comfortable position. With no music to accompany you, Hyacinth takes to counting the steps out loud and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to suppress your laughter. One misstep has Hyacinth scolding you, though not entirely in earnest as the situation quickly crumbles into a fit of laughter between you both. The sweet girl sits next to you on the garden pathway, the two of you holding your stomachs as you laugh heartily.

Colin stands at a window a floor above the gardens, overlooking the entertaining spectacle taking place before him. A persistent smile etches its way onto his face as his hands rest behind his back, grateful that you are down there and otherwise preoccupied so as to not witness his very obvious infatuation. He does not entirely know when his thoughts about you transitioned in such a way, he just hopes it is not as obvious as he feels it must be. Soon, he realises he is not the only person watching, as his mother has joined by his side, glancing down at what has captured her son’s attention so.

“She has quite the way with the children,” his mother comments, continuing to glance at the two of you rather than addressing her son directly.

“You chose well,” he agrees, looking quickly at Lady Bridgerton before continuing to smile at the sound of your laugh climbing its way up through the window.

“A very kind soul indeed,” Lady Bridgerton sighs contently, turning then to look at her son. “With a rather large, loving heart as well. It would be a shame to let that go to waste”. With no further explanation, she turns and walks away, leaving her son in the sunlit spot on the carpet, confused. She did always have a way for reading her childrens’ minds, as well as their hearts, even when they could not conjure up their thoughts themselves.

What a shame it would be, he agrees mentally. What a shame.

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgeton season 3 #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton fanfiction #colin bridgerton x you #colin bridgerton x fem!reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader

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al9ayf · 13 hours

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ᥫ᭡ 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 | astarion x f!reader

｡˚ word count: 6.2k

｡˚ summary: reader and astarion are tied to a prophecy that links their souls as one. she inherits the powers of the gods all at the expense of seven thousand souls. will it tear them apart?

｡˚ a/n: i feel this is more on the thematic or poetic side of my writing and i just wanted to explore it more. i love this and i love midsommar. plz dont hate cause i don’t know much of the festival outside of the movie and i just love that dress and yeah i just wanted to do something with it. i hope u enjoy <3

｡˚ explicit content :: NOT SUPPOSED TO BE A HAPPY STORY !!! large age gap, psychological abuse, grooming, angst, mentions of underage sex, teen pregnancy, overall major tw’s but NOTHING IS EXPLICIT !!

what have you done in life to deserve this?

your chest heaves and your breath shakes. with each spin around the pole the air around you thickens with heat, and a bead of sweat rolls down your temple. your sweaty palms let go of cold ones and you raise your arms above your head, spinning three times and then stopping to grab onto cold palms again. laughter and music enter your ears but it doesn’t sound happy. they sound dreadful. as they fall and topple over each other, you have no other cold hand to grab onto.

it’s just you, and one other girl across the pole. she doesn’t drop. she doesn’t stop. she doesn’t know why the others have dropped. she doesn’t know who you are. and for that, she must stop. her black hair woven into braids flies around her like a kite, and you know that if your father could be present, he would fly her above the palace doors to try to challenge you. for this is not a challenge, but the first step towards a prophecy.

but her determination to keep up scares you. your palms get sweatier and your feet struggle to land properly after each step. your body feels lightweight—so lightweight that a single breeze of wind could push you off your feet and send you sinking into the hells. her piercing black eyes are the only thing you can focus on.

“stop!”

the music stops and so do you. your feet trip over each other but you catch yourself just before you fall. your hands grip your white dress and your thumbs feel the intricate stitching of flowers on it. the girl’s chest heaves harder and faster than yours. only now when your vision starts to get clearer can you see how exhausted she is. her forehead is drenched and her eyes are droopy. her gaze isn’t as piercing. the beam of the sun tires her.

“continue!”

and you keep on going. you keep on going until you can’t feel your feet and the tips of your fingers become numb. her braided hair unfurls and waves of black cloud the girl’s vision. she tries to move it, frantically grabbing at the strands to get it away from her face. her panic disrupts the careful step of her feet, and when you spin three more times around yourself the music comes to an end and you find yourself staring at the pole instead.

“we have got our may queen!”

but you don’t listen to the applause or announcements. you don’t listen to the noble families yell in excitement over the news of you becoming the new may queen. you watch as the girl stands up in utter defeat and walks away. you don’t know her name or what family she comes from. all you know is that she tried to challenge the daughter of a goddess and master vampire.

the air gets thicker as people surround you, congratulating you on winning. you recognize the people as nobles of baldur’s gate, some young and some old. they’re here to see the child of cazador szarr fulfill a prophecy. some of them know who he truly is, some of them are oblivious to all the power he holds. but in the end, all are here to celebrate a win that was given to you.

they hold your sweaty palms and giggle in your ear. everything is loud and the liquor in your system isn’t going anywhere soon. it’s a struggle to stand up now after dancing around a pole, spinning around it, spinning around oneself, and stopping abruptly multiple times. it’s a struggle. a girl, the same age as you, comes up with a flower crown in her hands as an older woman walks alongside her. you still heave as she places it on your head and cups your cheeks. she’s smiling a smile so wide you can feel the pain in your mouth.

“you are our may queen,” she says in a thick-accented voice.

you don’t have time to say anything to her for the girls around you grip your hands and drag you away to a larger crowd of people who are applauding you. a larger crowd of corrupt people who applaud you for fulfilling the first part of the prophecy that will wreak havoc onto this world. as you get pushed into the crowd, people whose names and faces you don’t know congratulate you. they cup your cheeks as if they are your aunts and uncles, kiss your forehead and temples as if they are your mother and father, and hug you in a way a sibling would. but you are not their family, and they will never treat you like one.

as you get pushed to the front of the corrupt applauding crowd, you find yourself standing face-to-face with the archduke of baldur’s gate—lord enver gortash. a slaver, a tyrant, a friend of your father’s. he smiles down upon you; a smile so sinister it makes the sweat on your body turn ice cold and freeze.

“i offer my congrats to you, y/n,” he says, stepping towards you. “you will prove to be an excellent may queen. one that will surely turn the heads of the people of baldur’s gate. you will be magnificent.”

his empty compliments do not sway you. they do not make butterflies appear in your stomach or soothe your mind. he does not matter to you in the slightest. because found within an abyss of darkness of your mind is the silhouette of a lonely man. he shifts and merges with the shadows, and moves with a beauty indescribable to a mortal. his form is dreamlike, blurry, and beautiful. he could be described as a figment of your imagination, but he isn’t one. he is very much real.

his body sways to a haunting melody that, at first listen, sounds like a song but becomes nothing of the familiar sort. it is a sound beyond the mortal realm—a sound that belongs to another plane; another world. it echoes throughout the loneliness forever, just like him.

in your mind, astarion is a mesmerizing vision trapped there forever.

to him, you were a presence; a constant companion that has been there throughout his entire life. you were there before he became a vampire spawn before his life had been taken away from him before he had even come out of his mother’s womb. you were always there, always in white or in the nude, swaying sorrowfully. after over two hundred years, he learned and now knows your every curve and movement as intimately as he knows himself. your haunting presence is both a comfort and a torment to him—a reminder that he will never have you.

in the depths of your consciousness, you have glimpses of astarion. he is both familiar and foreign—a presence that tugs at the strings of your heart with an intensity you cannot comprehend. though you long to reach out to him, to close the gap between your worlds and touch the soul that mirrors yours, you are bounded to your father (just like him). astarion, a mere mortal in the eyes of the gods and spawn to your father is deemed unworthy to ever lay his red eyes upon you, let alone share his affection with you. your connection is one of forbidden desire.

you know astarion only through the whispers of the wind and the echoes of his presence in your mind. a ghostly reminder of a love that can never be. yet despite the barrier that stands between the two of you, you continue to hold him in your heart. his presence is a beacon of hope in the darkness surrounding you. in the darkness of your mind, you sway with him to the haunting melody. your souls entwined in a dance of forbidden passion.

you are forever separated yet eternally bound through your father’s blood and the prophecy.

for long now, his phantom touches and whispers have been distant. you do not feel his pain so greatly anymore in the halls of your palace. he has left, and has been gone for far too long. it tugs at your heartstrings to have him gone, but it brings you joy that he has escaped the torment of your father. for every whip and stab and prick he inflicts on astarion, you feel its phantom partner do the same to you.

that night when you return to your palace to attend the ball your father has thrown for you, you find yourself dressed in white again. virginal colors for the new may queen, your father says. colors to represent the queen of may, your goddess mother whispers to you. and after the ascension, after you have completed the prophecy, no longer will you wear white but dawn the colors of dark reds and blacks to represent power and carnality. this was why you were created by corellon and cazador szarr. a divine offspring gifted by the goddess of spring to the vampire to fulfill a prophecy of becoming an ultimate being. and you were your father’s proudest achievement.

he holds your warm hand with his cold one and grabs your hip with a grip too tight. your father, a monster and a vampire, only keeps a soft spot for you. but you know him better than he thinks, and you know it is only an act. once he achieves his power of ascension and takes yours with it, he will discard you. his smile makes you stand on edge, and you long for a genuine warm one. but with a red gaze as piercing as a knife, and skin so white even snow cannot compare, you could never generate warmth from a being colder than ice. not even if he is your father that you can’t help but love dearly so.

“tomorrow, my sweet child, we will ascend,” he whispers to you.

your pointy ears pick up, and you feel the color from your face drain.

“that boy will be here any time tomorrow. and we will greet him with open arms. you see; he will fight, he will beg, he will cry, but i am his father and he will obey. i feel it.”

you feel astarion too. you feel him more than cazador does. you feel his anxiety and revenge bubbling in his blood. you can hear the sharp breaths he takes when he even thinks of your father. you know of his plans to kill the man in front of you in so many gruesome ways. you’ve seen it. you’ve seen so many ways he would have him hung above the doorway to this palace. you’ve seen the ways he would burn him in the sun and flay him a hundred times over before plunging a dagger deep into his chest and letting his blood spray onto him. you have seen it all more than a hundred times.

you know astarion will be here tomorrow. he has seen you for two hundred and thirty-nine years, and not once has he ever laid eyes on you. he has heard your laughter, felt your every pain and pleasure, felt your heartbeat in his own non-beating heart. he will lay his red eyes on you tomorrow and you will lay yours on him.

“and after our ascensions, i will turn you into a vampire,” he says. “you will be beautiful.”

you don’t need to hear his words to understand the true meaning behind them. you can see it in his eyes and in his actions why he sweetens you up just to become your puppet master. but how can you refuse your father when he has given you life? when he has given you the privilege to become the may queen of baldur’s gate? when all it takes is a vampire ascension to complete this prophecy between a goddess and a devil, and you will become powerful. and you know it will all be snatched away once your father claims you as his spawn. and you will be his only child forever.

he twirls you, and without noticing, you bump into a woman holding a glass of red wind in her gloved hands. it spills all over your white gown and you can only stare at her in shock momentarily. it drips down your chest and stains your skirt. her panic is like music to your father's ears, but the screams of a million tortured souls to yours.

“i’m so sorry, my lady!” she exclaims frantically. her voice pierces your head and you feel a ringing in your ears. “please forgive me, i did not see you there! i will fetch the maid—“

“go and fetch the maid and leave my palace, immediately!” cazador yells at her. you could not gather enough words to yell at her for the shock of the spilled wine on your dress paralyzes you. you look as if you have been stabbed multiple times, and it makes you shiver. the woman runs away in tears after having your father reprimand her, but you do not care for her. you do not know her name or her family, and you could not care one bit to know.

“we should get you changed, y/n.”

but you refuse. your night has been ruined by both your father and this woman, and as your two servants grab your hands to lead you upstairs, you bid your father a goodnight. you would not return to the ballroom tonight. you and your two servants ascend the stairs and enter the hallway where your bedchamber lies. you clutch your diamond necklace and rip it off of you, throwing it somewhere onto the ground and leaving it there for one of them to pick it up. your chest is heaving and your palms get sweaty. it’s like the dance all over again, yet you are not drunk nor spinning. it’s anger and panic settling in you—frustration even.

as you stand in front of the mirror and allow the servants to remove your stained gown, you look at yourself and imagine astarion being the one to remove that article of clothing. you shut your eyes to relax and fall into his ghostly embrace. he’s so close to you. you can feel him pressed onto your chest, kissing and hugging you. your heartbeat becomes his and his cold touches become warm. you are his everything, and he is your everything.

they slip your nightgown on you and go sit you at your vanity to comb your hair and remove your makeup. you are pampered like the lady you are, but when you look at yourself in the vanity mirrors, you think of smeared lipstick and ruined mascara from the result of astarion. you long to touch him, to be with him. you want to feel how real he is. you want to hear his sweet words and sassy remarks. you want him.

and as you lay down in your plush bed with only the candlelight on your nightstand, you sink into that dark abyss of your mind and lay with astarion in a pool of black like you do every night. for years you have lived, and for years you have done this. the both of you know everything about each other without ever seeing each other. without saying a single word to each other. but he knows you better than you know yourself, and you know him as if you had created him from dirt and molded him into the perfect being that he is.

astarion, who sits at the crackling campfire with friends and companions all around him, feels your frustration and panic. you are the first person he has ever truly and deeply cared for, and yet he can do nothing now to be there with you. he does not know how to act upon his feelings or express them. all he has ever known is pain and torture, and tomorrow it will all change. the pale elf excuses himself from the party and heads off into the darkness of the woods where his eyes illuminate the surroundings like a bright day.

he stands in a clearing and shuts his eyes to feel you better. to be with you as one. to know that you are waiting for him—aching for him. and he swears he could feel his heart beat again and oxygen enters his lungs. <em>he swears it.</em> and for you, he will do anything. he will complete your prophecy himself if required, and it will be a win-win in his book. you will be free of your father and become an ultimate being, while astarion truly becomes free and gets to become a vampiric master. it makes him laugh. it makes him laugh at how beautiful life could be if he could kill the man who took everything away from him, yet, gave him the one thing he always wanted and needed.

you.

you who awakes the next day gasping for air. for the first night ever since you were conceived, you did not dream. it frightens you, but when you inhale and exhale sharply to regular your breathing, only then do you realize why you did not dream. astarion is here. he is back home. and he is confronting your father. he is acting out the second and last step of your prophecy right at this moment, and it severed your connection for only that time and made you forget all that you had dreamed.

his feelings become yours. no longer is it a distant presence in your mind and body, but a presence that has merged with your soul and claimed it. you jump out of bed and run out of your bedroom. the hallways are eerily silent and there are no servants to be found. the smell of iron lingers in the air, and when you reach the main hall and find the ballroom doors that are always closed open with a mess inside, you follow its blood trail eagerly. you are not afraid of what is happening. you are excited. astarion is also excited, you feel it. you feel the goosebumps on his skin that rival yours. it’s a pleasurable feeling.

you find the old platform by your father’s office. many times have you seen it, and many times has cazador not allowed you to even step near it. but now his demands have ceased. now it is yours to command to take you down into the abyss of darkness. and it descends and it feels like time is slowing down. but with each meter, it goes down, the stronger your connection with astarion is. now you feel his blood and his thoughts jumble together. you feel the rage in him. you feel the need for his revenge grow thick. it hovers over your back. and as you run down that large hall with nothing but your light nightgown on and a beating heart faster than that of the speed of light, you encounter the countless spawns trapped behind cages calling for you. begging for you to free them. but you cannot. you will not.

you rush out into the large ceremonial site decorated with grey and black pillars descending into that dark abyss that resembles your mind. you stand on top of the stairs, and there you see astarion for the first time. his white hairs with speckles of blood and dirt make you lose breath. your ankles give out and you nearly tumble down the stairs if not for your hands catching you first. you scratch your knees on the hard marble and the sound of your fall alerts not only astarion and cazador but of the elf’s three other companions as well.

you stand up and carefully but quickly descend the mountain of stairs ahead of you. your eyes, now full of wonder and excitement, lock with astarions for the first time. and it takes his soul away. you are even more beautiful than what his mind has shown him. you, who is so sorrowful and submissive, stand before him with a power unlike any before. you are and will be the only person astarion deems beautiful enough to shake mountains and rival gods.

cazador watches from his trembling spot on the ground as you push past the companions and stand in front of astarion. cazador, who has forbidden him to ever lay eyes upon you, can do nothing but see the love and adoration spark in your eyes like flames coming out of a dragon’s mouth.

“what are you doing, y/n?!” he screams at you.

but you do not look at him.

fear envelopes his body and his voice and mind become desperate for your attention.“stop this boy! he is not worthy of the ascension!”

but you do not have the intention of stopping astarion.

you look down at your father with a pitiful gaze. you do not say a word to him. you do not say a word to astarion. at that moment, cazador realizes the truth. the prophecy was never meant for him. he who made a pact with the devil mephistopheles to sacrifice seven thousand souls to ascend, and conceive a child with the goddess of spring, was never promised to him exactly to become an ascended vampire. it was promised to a vampire that would ascend, and that would be astarion. your power, which should have been his to take, will help the pale elf rule baldur’s gate and many more cities.

cazador almost cries when he sees his daughter, his own flesh and blood, staring down at him with nothing but pity.

“after all i have done for you, you turn your back on me?! when i have nourished you in love on a silver platter and you dare defy your father?!”

but you continue to stare at him as if he was nothing. cazador cracks and screams in frustration, which allows astarion to take the chance to now carve into his back the runes of ascension. the runes you have seen for years on his back now become woven into your father’s. with each slash, astarion digs into his back, and your father’s blood splatters on your dress, staining it a dark red that almost resembles black. it lands on your sweet cheeks and plump lips. it tastes bitter.

woe, the staff that was once your father’s, now is held by astarion. with a flick of his wrist, you watch as cazador is flung into his spot on the platform and held there. everything turns red as astarion slams the staff down and now chants the the words of ascension. and at the same moment, you feel it in you. you feel the scorching of the spring heat envelope you and your body contorts and twists into positions you never thought was capable.

you grow from your bloody gown a dress large enough to make a queen cry and bow down to you. a flower crown, big enough for a bird bath, sits on top of your head. the dress sprouts out different flowers and captures your whole essence. astarion’s companions have to back away, and before long, both of your ascensions have been completed.

he, who now radiates power, and you, who now radiates the energy of the gods, look at each other as if the world around you has gone away. there is a glow to you that is otherworldly, godlike, and beyond what can be described as beautiful. astarion cannot believe that you are real and no longer in his mind anymore. you are here, present, in front of him.

you smile at him and take the first steps towards him, like a bride on her wedding day.

“how long have you dreamt of me? thought of me? felt my heartbeat in your very chest? you breathed my every breath, i felt your every pain, and we watched each other through one’s eyes. two hundred and thirty-nine years you have seen me and now you have me. to hold, to love, to use… and to destroy.”

your voice, soft as silk but powerful as a dragon, moves him. he falls into your warm embrace without needing skin contact.

“you’re… real!” he exclaims, out of breath. he is smiling from ear to ear, his voice thick with nervousness and disbelief. “i cannot believe that you are real.”

he wants to touch you, but the gown that holds your body does not allow him to step closer to you.

“long i have seen you and heard you, but was never allowed to be with you, let alone touch you. cazador deemed me unworthy to ever lay eyes upon you, and now i know why,” astarion says, his voice dripping with honey.

and now he knows why.

“sorry to interrupt, but, who is she, astarion?” asked tav with a confused look on their face.

you turn to look at them, keeping your small smile on your lips as astarion takes his stance next to you. he is beaming.

“this, my dear, is the may queen of baldur’s gate,” he says. “she is cazador’s only child with the goddess of spring, and…” he stops to look at you.

his gaze feels like the sun on a summer’s day. it burns but it burns good. it gives you the energy you need, and when you look back at him, it forces a toothy grin on his lips.

“and she is my consort.”

—

flowers and vines bloom from the roots of where you once stood at the platform of ascension. the whole area, which was once used to sacrifice seven thousand souls, now flutters with life. its thick air is now heavy with the smell of flowers and walls covered in different plants. butterflies appear around your crown and gown that now sits in the middle as a reminder of who started all of this. you will help end this illithid empire with your newfound power, and rule peacefully as may queen.

the servants that served your father now serve you. you are the lady of this palace until astarion destroys the illithids. but for now, for this night, for the first time, you are both here together. he had left earlier to resume unfinished business, but returned to spend the evening with you.

you wait for him at the front doors with a servant behind you. she’s standing so close to you that you can hear her sharp breaths in your ear. but you don’t say anything about it. you do not care. this is the closest she will get to a god by standing in your divine presence. she longs to touch you, but her shaky hands will not move from their spots by her hips. you know how much she wants you. you know how much she loves you. but as astarion ascends the stairs leading up to the palace doors, you step forward to greet him, and she steps away from the doors and into the dark palace.

the smell of rose, white musk, and jasmine fills the air as soon as he steps into your vicinity. he smiles at you; not a warm smile, but a sinister one. almost as sinister as your father’s, if not better. he finally touches you. it’s ice cold but burns like a great fire against your skin. you yearn for more. you grab his hand and lead him inside the great hall of the palace without a single word exchanged between the both of you. he holds your hand gently but with great strength. you feel that fear of his that if he lets you go, you will leave and never return. but it’s a fear he tries greatly to hide from you, but you know everything about him. you feel everything from him, as he does you.

he stops you in front of the closed ballroom doors and grabs both your hands. you look at him with great admiration, but the words that spill from his lips aren’t comforting or filled with love.

“i can’t believe we did that that. killing all those people,” he lets go of one of your hands to touch your cheek. the grip on the one hand tightens as he cups your cheek. “a pleasant surprise.”

you smile a little. “i wanted what was best for both of us,” your voice is light and soft. astarion melts at the sound of it. “you would get your freedom and power, and i would fulfill my prophecy.” you grab his hand that holds your cheek and caress it with your hand.

“you sweet, sweet thing. i want what’s best for us too, of course,” his smile turns more sinister. “and one wicked turn deserves another.”

“so, tell me what you desire. what can i do for you my dearest pet?”

pet? your smile falls from your face at the nickname. how long has he haunted your mind? how long have you haunted his? when you have felt his every pain and soothed his burning scars. he knows you inside and out, and you know him as if you are him. but now you can’t understand him. his thoughts are all complicated and you can barely understand his motives. you helped him sacrifice your father, sacrifice seven thousand souls so the both of you can ascend and rule with the power of the gods, and now he speaks to you with a tone similar to cazador’s. he feels everything you are feeling, and it makes him frown.

“i’m not him,” his tone softens. “unlike him, i love you.”

“is that the only difference?” you whisper. “know that you cannot lie to me, astarion.”

“i’m willing to share all of this power with you? what’s that if not love? what’s that if not the farthest thing cazador would have done?” he leans in towards you. “he would have taken your power and gotten rid of you before you could breathe.”

and he’s right.

“of course, if that’s not enough—if you need something more—perhaps this isn’t for you?”

and as soon as he’s sweet he turns mean. you know his manipulation tactics. he had done it so many times with his victims, but never before with you. you are his everything, but he makes you feel like you are nothing.

“so. what’s it to be, darling? is this it?”

“no!” you cry to him, now rushing into his chest and hugging him. you cannot fathom being away from him anymore. not after he has been forcibly taken away from you. not when this prophecy has connected you for so long that it would tear you apart if he left. “you are the one that i want—the one that i love.”

his fingers find their way under your chin, and when he looks into your eyes, he sees the tears welling up in them. his finger brushes against your tinted lips and a bit of your lipgloss ends up on them.

“you could be so much more if you want it. one little bite and you could be mine forever,” he whispers. “my dark consort. my right hand. my most beloved spawn.”

“i want to be a true vampire like my father promised me,” you whisper back.

“and you will! all in good time. but we mustn’t rush these things. you may need time to adjust.”

for once, you don’t know if he’s lying or not. you don’t and it scares you. but you want him. you want to be with him. there is nothing more that you want in life than to be with the man who gave you all this love and power. who was the only constant presence in your life that gave you comfort. the only one who loved you and not your power.

“then make me like you…”

“oh, my sweet girl. there is nobody like me. and there never will be again.”

the grip on your chin gets tighter and your breathing gets heavier. his lips are so close to yours. his face is mere inches away and you are having to stop yourself from grabbing his face and never letting go. you need him. you need him forever, and that is exactly what he needs too. and that instant you think those things is when you see astarion smile again.

“that’s what you want, isn’t it?” his voice reaches your ears only and it’s so soft yet heavy. it’s sexy and it’s beautiful. you could hear him speak forever. “to be mine? forever?” he tilts his head ever so slightly so his lips almost touch yours.

yes. that’s all you want.

you don’t say it aloud because he knows. he hears it in his head and yours. your breathing gets heavier and heavier with each second that passes. it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

astarion finally kisses you. his lips are softer than you imagined them to be. he kisses you with such ferocity and passion it knocks the breath out of you. you have never kissed anybody before, and it to be with the man you love and share a special connection with felt alien. you cup his cheeks with your hands and stand on your toes to reach him. you’ve never wanted something more before.

but then he pulls away as fast as he kisses you. you go to kiss him again but he places his fingers on your lips to stop you.

“you’re eager,” he teases. you can hear the laughter in his voice. “shall we have this night together before you join me in immortality? one for the road, so to speak.”

“yes,” you want to say clearly but only come out as another whisper.

“then come with me, my love, and live your final night.”

astarion takes your hand again and leads you up the stairs. the whole time you’re engaged in a bliss of his love. his hand, now held with yours, becomes warm. yet his eyes are still as cold as ice. two servants stand outside your bedroom door, but with the appearance of you and astarion approaching, they open the door for you. you enter first and stand in the middle of the large and dimly lit bedroom. the red, heavy dark curtains shield any moonlight from entering. and when the door closes and you hear astarion come up from behind you, only then do you realize how cold it is in here. how you miss the sunlight when you became the may queen.

he places his hands on your shoulders and slips his fingers underneath the spaghetti strap of your slip dress. you are calm. you do not feel anxious or nervous. you don’t feel a thing besides love and lust as astarion removes the straps and allows the white fabric to fall from your body and pool around your feet. you shiver as you feel his hands trail down to your hips and, again, hook his fingers around the lace of your white underwear and rip it off of you with one swift yank. the fabric rips across your skin and you wince in pain. he shushes you as he turns you around to face him. you don’t try to cover yourself.

you know what astarion wants you to do, and so you reach out and remove his bits of clothing as carefully as possible. and once the both of you stand naked in front of each other, astarion takes you to your bed. he kisses you all while pushing you onto the plush mattress. you struggle to keep up with his fervent kisses, and he thinks of it as cute. how virginal and pure you are. how he will take it all away tonight and make you his. he leans over you and fully lays you on the bed, now getting on top of you. you hold him and drag your fingers across the scars on his back.

he finally pulls away to look at your face, to see what you are feeling. and although you are submerged in his pool of lust, you are no longer submerged in his pool of warmth. no longer do you feel that warmth from him, but the coldness of your father’s eyes and touch. his skin, whiter than snow, reflects your shivering body. and as he leans down to kiss your neck and kiss the space in between your breasts, you think of one thing.

were you only created to be used?

—

six months after the fall of the illithid empire, and six months of being astarion’s dark consort, you find yourself in the large bathtub in your shared bedroom. a servant girl you have seen before sits naked in front of you washing your arm with a loofa and vanilla-scented soap. her black hair is curly from the water, and her once-piercing eyes are now filled with pain. she had not been flayed and hung but turned into a spawn.

tonight, astarion is holding a masquerade ball. he’s inviting the lords of noble houses to make connections with them. he’s the new lord of the szarr palace, and the dear husband of you, cazador’s child. but you do not feel like a noble lady. you do not feel like a beautiful wife. you feel like a weapon that has been used and drained. your goddess mother, who speaks to you riddles of the future to come, gives no protection over you. you are astarion’s forevermore.

the girl looks down at your body, and you do not cover yourself. you allow her to touch your stomach and brush her fingers over the soft swell of your belly.

“my lady, you are with child.”

“i know,” you say to her.

it was your sixteenth name day.

midsommar, astarion, trauma dump all in one? 🤨

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 angst #astarion bg3 #astarion

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 2 days

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Hi, What do you think about the cheating rumors? I stopped watching royals 4 years ago, and I am shocked! What has happened? WTF is Rose back? Is Will stupid enough to get rid of her?

What happened recently? So much happened, anon. Let's see if I can give you the TL;DR.

January 16: Kensington Palace announced that Kate was having planned surgery on her abdomen and wouldn't be making any public appearances or sharing further details.

January 29: Kensington Palace announced that Kate had returned home from the hospital. People were upset there was no "proof of life" photo of Kate.

February 9: The Waleses go to Sandringham/Anmer Hall for the kids' half-term break. There are two sets of gossip from royal reporters. Gossip #1 - Kate is well and healthy and with the family. Gossip #2 - Kate's situation is worse than we're told and it's dire.

February 27, in the morning: William pulls out of attending King Constantine's memorial service of thanksgiving. KP says it has nothing to do with Kate but it's later confirmed that it wasn't true, that William pulled out because of Kate's diagnosis.

February 27, in the evening: Sussex Squad makes conspiracy theories about Kate go mainstream and viral on Twitter/social media. I won't rehash them all here but the rumors get dark and blame William and bring back the original Rose affair rumors.

March 4: Kate and Carole papped in a car around Windsor near the kids' school. Kate doesn't look like Kate, jumpstarting conspiracy theories again.

March 10: UK Mother's Day. The Waleses publish a photo of Kate and the kids taken by William. Sussex Squad goes after the photo for having been edited. Getty, and other agencies, kill the photo. It blows up into a huge thing. Celebrities pile on with their own jokes and memes about editing their photos, including Blake Lively and Kim Kardashian.

March 11: Kate issues a statement taking responsibility for editing the photo and apologizing for it. William and Kate are papped in a car leaving Windsor Castle.

March 12: Stephen Colbert jokes about the Rose affair rumor on his show.

March 16: Kate is papped with William at the grocery store. People claim it's her lookalike double because her hair is too hair and she's too skinny. (WTF, yes, I agree.)

March 22: Kensington Palace drops bombshell video statement by Kate that cancer had been found in whatever was removed during her operation in January and she was beginning a course of preventative chemotherapy. No further work or public engagements for Kate at this time. The celebrities that piled onto Kate during "March Madness" (the conspiracy theories and photo-editing weeks) get served humble pie and issue meek apologies that mean nothing.

April 23: Louis's birthday. As a consequence of the way the media flipped out over the Mother's Day photo, the Waleses publish the birthday photo (taken by Kate) exclusively to their social media and don't distribute it to media / photo agencies.

April 29: The Waleses publish an old new-to-us photo from their wedding for their anniversary on their social media.

May 2: Charlotte's birthday. Same deal with Louis - Kate takes the photo, they publish exclusively to their social media and don't distribute it in advance to the photo agencies / media.

May 12: Camilla is papped at the Badminton Horse Show talking to Rose Hanbury. No one cares.

May 14: Sussex Squad finds the photos of Camilla and Rose from the weekend and bring back the affair rumors. They claim that Kate is dead and the BRF is soft-launching William's mistress as his new girlfriend/future wife.

May 15: Charles and Camilla attend the OBE dedication at St. Paul's Cathedral. So do the Cholmondeleys but because they're not photographed with Charles or Camilla, no one notices they're there and no one cares they're there.

So that's what happened. That's where we are today.

How did the affair rumors start?

Discussion about whether the affair rumors are mainstream and how damaging they could be to William and Kate's reputation

Commentary about Rose

#waleses #cholomondeleys #rumors

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storiesbyjes2g · 2 days

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3.125 Gossip queen

Mama came barreling toward me like a freight train with glee in her eyes. She stopped within whispering distance and tickled my ear with some very unexpected, upsetting, yet exciting news about Alessia. Apparently, she was expecting triplets! As small as she was, she had the nerve to be carrying THREE babies?! How? Where?? If our baby was a sweet potato, hers must have been three sweet peas. WOW!! At first, I was excited about all the cousins and instant playmates my daughter would have. As children of two only children, we didn't get to have extended family, and I loved that Less and I were starting our families at the same time. But she never wanted any of this, and I knew why she didn't look happy. I wished there was something I could do to make her see this situation better. I'd still tell her our story, but I knew it wouldn't help now. Hopefully Jace was more excited about becoming a parent than she was.

After that bit of news, Mama took a step back and put on her serious mom face. She asked why we waited to tell her about the baby. I knew this conversation was coming at some point today, but it was not the right moment for such a grim tale. But I knew she wouldn't let me go without giving her something, so I tried to keep it light and gave her a happier abridged version, saying we were really excited about it and went out to celebrate. We arrived home late, and with the party the next day, we opted to wait and tell everyone at the same time. But she saw the gaping holes in my story and demanded the details. I shook my head at my nosy gossip fiend. I kissed her on the cheek and told her this was not the time or place, but we would talk later.

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #emerald pope

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madridfangirl · 11 hours

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Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fanfic)

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3)

Chapter 4

Jude * female reader

Warnings: None. Slightly mature language in parts.

…………………………..

Jude let go of her hands, which fell in her lap, and took two steps back to look at her. The mood needed some lightening up.

‘Look at you, shooting me down two nights in a row. One would think I played for Barca, not Madrid.’

This made her look back at him. His silliness made her smile, she couldn’t help herself.

‘There is no way I would be sitting in your kitchen if that were the case.’

‘Finally, the sass is back. Hallelujah!’

He mimicked his celebration, with his hands raised, quite proud of himself in the moment.

She tried kicking his knee to wipe that smirk off his face but he dodged just in time, both laughing by now.

‘Let’s get some food in you. And more wine, definitely more wine. Then we will talk.’

They moved to the living room couch with their dinner and drinks, and settled on watching an episode of Friends. Both knew the show by heart and it served as the perfect distraction. The food was lovely too. White sauce pasta was her ultimate comfort food - she had no idea how he chose this or if it was just something his cook decided to make.

But what helped the most was the wine. It tasted like little drops of heaven. She knew it would be some fancy ass bottle she won’t even be able to pronounce so she didn’t even bother checking the name.

It had started raining by then, she could see the downpour through the French windows facing the backyard. And in Madrid, when it rained, it poured.

While she was looking outside, he cleared the empty plates and came back to the couch with re-filled glasses.

‘Agnes will drop you back later, don’t worry. He’s awesome at driving.’

She turned around and thanked him with a genuine smile, taking the glass from his outstretched hand.

‘Now, tell me, why so intent on shooting me down?’

He tilted his head towards her, patiently waiting for a response. Ananya looked down wryly, while her fingers played with the fabric of the couch.

‘It’s not something I set out to do. But, you and me, we are so different. Don’t you think?’

‘Why do you think so?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Our jobs, our worlds, our lives, our circles, our priorities - every damn thing is different. There is nothing in common.’

‘Or we are two young, lively, ambitious people, enjoying life in a new city while still being connected to our families back home. That’s how I see it.’

She shook her head in frustration.

‘C’monn, Jude. I am sure you can see my point. You can see what I mean.’

He scanned her face for a few seconds, before conceding.

‘Alright, cool. Yes, we are different. Why is that such a bad thing though? Don’t opposites attract?’

‘Only in movies. And novels. Not in real life. Practicality always wins in real life.’

‘Don’t believe in romance then? In love and fairy tales?’

‘Romance, yes. Love, yes. But not in fairy tales. Not in Price Charming or a White Knight. Not in some star crossed lovers kinda story.’

‘That’s too much scepticism for a 20 year old, y’know.’

She just shrugged in response. He wondered if there was a story behind it. If something, someone rather, made her feel this way. But that thought was so unpleasant that he quickly snapped out of it. Conversation for another time.

‘Ok, let’s stick to practicality then. Let’s break it down. Why can’t we give this a try and see where it goes? Why do we have to think 50 steps ahead on day 1?

‘Define giving it a try.’

‘Dating.’

‘And what would that entail?’

He had been leaning against the back of the couch but sat upright then, and looked at her quizzically.

‘You are asking me what dating entails?’

‘No. I am asking what dating you entails. Would it mean going to your matches, going out in the city with you, to be clicked in public with you? Yeah?’

‘Well, yeah, I guess.’

She sighed, and he put his glass on the table, utterly confused now. When she spoke next, her voice was small but firm.

‘The thing is, just the thought of that, of so many eyes on me is nauseating. It makes me want to run. I can’t handle the pressure of being in the public eye like that. Of being under constant scrutiny. The media will dig out every photo, every text, every said and unsaid thing. And not just that, the fans Jude. Some of your fan girls will absolutely detest my existence, for not being deserving in their eye of the most sought after guy in all of Europe maybe. And I live here, right in the epicentre of all this. It won’t just be virtual. It will be everywhere around me.’

Ananya took a big sip from her glass, almost gulping down the remaining half in one go. While he sat still, trying to process everything she was saying. She continued immediately after.

‘Also, who’s gonna take me seriously at work then? Do you know how hard it is to get into investment banking? There are so few women who graduate to leadership roles in this field - the glass ceiling is present and real. And I am just starting out. I worked my ass off to get here. But they will all just look at me as your…, as some kind of floozy..’

He didn’t let her finish. Jude grabbed both her hands, held them together between his and squeezed firmly.

‘Shhhhhhhh, calm down, calm down babe. I hear you.’

She breathed heavily, gradually opening her eyes as he kept making shushing noises in the meantime.

His eyes were kind and sincere, seeking hers. She nearly got pulled into them but managed to regain her balance. He spoke softly, with understanding.

‘It’s not that bad for some guys, y’know. Tony was telling me how Jessica has pretty much been able to do her own thing here, without much glare. Same for quite a few other guys.’

‘Jude, they are not you. And please don’t make me explain what that means, you already know it.’

Yes, he knew what she meant. She could see it with the resignation in his eyes.

It was his turn to look away to compose himself. She couldn’t resist admiring his face from so close, as he was lost in thought.

‘How about this - we don’t tell anyone. No one. Just you and me. We meet either here or at your place. I will find a way to get there without being seen. No media. No fans. No pictures. No drama. No pressure. Till we are ready. Till you are ready.’

His eyes had changed shade again, filled with resolve now.

She considered every word and replayed it over in her head.

‘That’s not ideal for you, though, is it?’

‘Maybe it is. The media finds enough fodder to rip apart my life and my family’s as it is, let’s not give them more juice. It could be a good thing dove, seriously.’

She scanned his face to see if he really meant what he said. When she couldn’t find any evidence to the contrary, she let out a little sigh.

‘You are sweet.’

‘You are pretty.’

His instant response threw her off-guard. The look of surprise on her face and her failed attempt to speak was deeply amusing to him. Along with the little blush that was starting to creep up at the top of her cheeks.

She pulled out her hands from his hold, gathered herself and tried to look admonishing. He just laughed at her response and flashed her his biggest smile, all 32 teeth visible.

Ananya was convinced he was just trying to distract her from the conversation. The darned thing was, it was working.

‘Can you please be serious, Jude?’

‘I say it as I see it.’

He retorted, meeting the challenge in her voice.

Just then, his phone rang loudly and they both jumped from the suddenness of it. He looked at the phone, then looked at her indecisively.

‘Umm, it’s my Mum.’

‘Go talk to her, she must be calling about the match. What are you waiting for?’

He beamed happily at her, almost thanking her for understanding. Then quickly answered the phone, moving to the next room. She could see him through the glass windows, walking up and down, practically skipping with joy while discussing the match with his mom.

It was such a sweet moment. He looked like a 5 year old little boy telling his mom he came first in a school race. The love was practically radiating from his being.

She smiled, then busied herself with her phone. Giving them their privacy.

Her insta was filled with messages of shock, awe and jealousy of them getting to watch the Classico live. She chuckled and scrolled through all, reminding herself to respond later.

Roma had sent her a few messages too, asking her how it was going. And throwing in some deeply suggestive comments in between. Ananya could tell her friend was drunk. If only she knew what was really happening here, she would probably murder her.

What was really happening here? She was ruining what was probably the best day of his life yet by discussing her complicated thoughts. He could have been celebrating with his teammates right now, or with anyone else. He deserved to have the moon tonight, not what they were doing.

Guilt set in and she kicked herself for coming over in the first place. He would have been upset but surely he would have found ways to get over it quickly.

The constant pattering of rain outside served as a good distraction. She walked over to the French windows and settled down on the comfy floor seating. The cushions were cozy and the throw was soft; she pulled it up till her waist and shut her eyes for a bit.

She still hadn’t told him the other piece of her hesitation. It was a trickier conversation - she didn’t know how to articulate it, or if she even wanted to. She didn’t know how he would react to such vulnerable admissions. Tonight was so not the night, such horrible timing.

Just then, she heard half-frantic footsteps in the background and moments later she saw him turn the corner.

‘There you are. Thought you ran away without telling me.’

She elbowed his side lightly as he settled down next to her on the floor seating, leaning against the cushions.

‘You think I would do that?.’

‘Been trying to run since yesterday. Don’t trust you yet.’

They were side by side, facing the windows but turned slightly towards each other. Ananya chose to not address the last comment.

‘How was the call? She must have been happy.’

There was the little boy again, smiling from ear to ear, radiating such affection for his mom that it made her heart flutter.

‘She was over the moon. But she’s always like that - twice as happy as me for anything I do. Same with Jobe. She’s just a bundle of love.’

This was just cheating at this point. How was she supposed to resist him like this? But she had to get it off her chest, before it was too late. Before something happens that she can’t go back on.

His eyes turned yet another shade, intense. She could feel them roaming over her now.

‘Listen, about earlier.’

‘Oh yes. Sorry for the interruption. You said there was something else. Tell me.’

Her fingers dug into the cushion as she struggled to articulate this sensitive topic. He watched her movements closely, letting her take his time.

‘I came out of a serious relationship, in fact the only relationship I have been in, about 6 months ago. It was hard, coz I thought that person was THE person I will end up with. He said all the right things, did all the right things but eventually when it came to it, he didn’t have it in him to fight for us enough.’

Jude grabbed a nearby cushion too, resisting the urge to bite on it or rip it open. He could tell her scepticism had a story behind it and this seemed to be that.

‘Not gonna bore you with more about that. But long story short, the idea of being with someone is a bit daunting for me right now. A lot of my fundamental beliefs have been shaken, including my ability to trust in my instincts, which I thought I was good at. I am still trying to piece myself back together block by block. That was another reason to pick Madrid - a complete change of environment. I am not…as in I don’t have any feelings for him anymore but it’s myself that I am trying to understand better. Not sure if that makes sense but that’s what it is. ‘

Just my luck, he thought. The cushion was living on borrowed life in his hands at this point but Jude was proud of the way he had kept his face calm and neutral.

‘Thank you for sharing this with me, couldn’t have been easy. Look, I get it. Coming out of a long relationship can be hard. I have also been in one. Though, I don’t think I was ready for it at the time and I can’t claim to have been a good boyfriend either. But we all learn and grow from our experiences, right? Can’t stop trusting our instincts. Think of it this way - you knew all this yet you are here tonight. Something pulled you towards me. Don’t let your brain deny that.’

Well, she wasn’t denying the pull she felt towards him. She was trying to make sense of it with him. But he still hadn’t gotten the full picture. She needed to spell it out crudely so he really gets it.

Ananya looked straight at him for this - so she could see his reaction closely.

‘Jude - I don’t think I am ready for anything physical. And I don’t know when I will be ready. Or if I will be ready. That’s what I have been trying to tell you.’

She watched the realisation dawn on his face then. Well, finally, she thought. When he didn’t speak for the next 30 seconds, she chimed in again.

‘Look - I know this is atypical and I know this won’t work for you. I get it. We can look at last two days as a different experience and just call it a night. It’s absolutely fine.’

His head shot up at her, and his tone was sharp, for the first time tonight.

‘Sorry - what do you mean you KNOW this won’t work for me?’

‘Because it won’t work for most people in your position.’

She said calmly, trying to keep an even tone.

‘IN MY POSITION? You mean a footballer right? And you know this how? Let me guess - media, social media and gossip pages, correct?’

‘Jude, I..’

‘Tell me this - have I done ANYTHING in the last two days to make you uncomfortable? Did I push you, touch you or even look at you when you didn’t want me to?

‘Please don’t say that. You haven’t. That’s not what I..’

‘Then why, why did you of all people assume I was some sex-crazed animal who is only interested in fucking anyone with….’

She crossed the distance between them, kneeled in front of him and covered his mouth with her hand.

‘Stop, please stop. I am sorry. That’s not what I meant. And yes, I shouldn’t have drawn any conclusions from the media. You are right. Pls I beg you, just calm down. I am so so sorry.’

She could feel his heavy breathing on her hand, but atleast he didn’t push her away. The fight drained out from his eyes slowly, replaced with hurt. Which killed her even more. She moved her hands to his shoulders, gently stroking both.

He spoke in a small voice then, the twinkle lost from his eyes.

‘What did you mean then, if not all that?’

‘I meant that, someone like you, who has the world at his feet right now, who has enough high stakes as it is in his day job, why would such a person want this kind of a restricted set-up? I am sure models, actresses and all such sexy women must be throwing themselves at you left, right and center. You could be with anyone you want to be with.’

He seemed to believe her explanation, from the way his shoulders relaxed and his expression softened.

‘Clearly, not anyone.’

He pointed in her direction. When she didn’t say anything, he reached for her hands lying on his shoulders. And gently, fleetingly brushed his lips on the back of both.

She gasped & shut her eyes, willing herself to not melt. Failing miserably.

‘I believe I have the right to decide who I find sexy. And dove, you are the reason I struggled to sleep last night. Haven’t stopped thinking about you.’

Ananya wanted to hide from his gaze which was burning her even with her eyes closed. But she was transfixed.

‘Plus you are smart, a little lippy, highly opinionated, well-read, brave, vulnerable, honest and so so real. Gosh, I love that about you.’

He requested her to look at him. She obliged.

‘I would take you right now if you were in the same headspace. God knows I have thought about it. But, if taking things slow is what you need and the alternative is you walking out that door forever, then let’s go at a turtle pace. Can’t let go of you.’

He pulled them both up to their feet, standing a few inches away from each other.

Then, he opened his arms for her, inviting her in. She looked between his arms and his face which had an expectant smile, then back to his open arms.

‘Come here, come to me.’

Next second, she found herself against his chest. Strong arms wrapped around her in a gentle hold, pulling her further into his chest. While her hands went around his broad back, clutching at his jumper.

This wasn’t like anything she had ever felt before. His scent, his warmth, his breath, his presence fogged her mind and made her oblivious to everything else in the world.

Jude kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek against it. She bit her cheek to not let out a moan, but failed, making him smile.

‘Feeling what I am feeling?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you give us a chance, then?’

‘You haven’t left me with a choice.’

‘Finally. Two wins in the same night, I am truly on a roll.’

She giggled against his chest at his silliness, and he followed suit. Feeling his laugh reverberate through his whole body was a feeling she couldn’t describe in words. It was something pure, something ethereal.

They swayed in each other’s arms for minutes, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to disturb the peace of the moment.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she grudgingly removed her cheek that was placed against his chest, and looked up at him.

‘It must be late. I should go now.’

‘If you want, you can take the guest bedroom. And leave in the morning whenever you want.’

‘I have some work in the morning, have to send out some stuff to the New York office.’

‘Agnes can pick up your laptop and bring it here.’

‘Jude - I really don’t think we should be under the same roof tonight.’

‘Don’t trust me?’

‘Don’t trust either of us right now, to be honest.’

He flashed her a mind-numbing smile.

‘Already can’t resist me? I knew it.’

‘Shut up and let me go.’

‘Five more minutes?’

‘Fine.’

She rested her cheek on his chest again, while his went on her head. His arms gently stroking her back, building a cocoon of comfort. They stayed like that for more than 5 mins.

……………………………………………

There you go - hope you are liking the story so far.

Feedback is very very welcome :)

#jude bellingham #bellingham x reader #bellingham #real madrid #jude fanfic

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lenreli · 20 hours

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damnation keeps me alive [Dreamling week Day 5 - Midsummer]

[AO3] | [Dreamling Week '24 Masterpost]

Title from SHIV-R's Promises of Armageddon! What can I say. SHIV-R fucks.

M, 3.1k. It's a midsummer's night when Hob becomes a vampire, and eventually, meets a merman in trouble.

CW for mild violence and kidnapping.

It’s a balmy midsummer night, when Hob gets turned into a vampire. It wasn’t what he was expecting when he followed the beautiful woman who was looking at him as she passed by, and Hob’s pretty sure he can’t even say he was under her thrall ― just that she seemed interested.

Or perhaps, he’d reflect later, she saw an easy prey as she sucked him dry and left him for dead in an alley, with Hob getting a bite in for himself once he realised this wasn’t going to turn into him getting under her skirts.

Hob wakes up in a coffin, still tasting the acid of her blood in his mouth, and Hob almost considers ringing the bell, the rope tempting ― but in the end, doesn’t, wanting to get out, the wood of the coffin door tearing easily under his hands, a hunger making itself known as he crawls out of grave dirt.

Shaking, he looks around, only the quiet of the animals in the surrounding forest he can hear, the moon bright and full as he stumbles out of the graveyard.

All in all, he doesn’t mind being a creature of the night. At most, he misses seeing the sun ― but getting to live through changes, the way Kings and Queens rise and fall, the Industrial Revolution, and he always wants to see what’s next.

Hob never was one for checking years, always a bittersweet reminder of his family, long-lost to plague before he even became this, the years counting down to his death, but now he always looks out for the calendars, the burgeoning New Years celebrations as they pass by.

It’s the year of our Lord 1910, and he’s at yet another midsummer's party, this time a ball when he spots ― him. Pale and black clad, wavy hair down to his shoulders and Hob’s mesmerised. Everyone else ceases to matter as he stares at the other man, and he only looks away once deep blue eyes glance at him.

He’d like to say he went up and smoothly seduced the man into his bed that day, but the next time he tried to find him ― the party had good food, and he lucked out with food not tasting like gravedirt when he ate, unlike some other vampire’s he’s met ― and the man was gone.

Six years later, and Hob has put down spikes to target a particularly rich set of cars, three in a row, black and glossy, when he opens the back door to the middle car and meets wide blue eyes, the wavy black hair familiar. Definitely not what he expected when going after some rich schmuck for kicks.

The fact that the man has his wrists tied and mouth gagged with black cloth makes him, well, double-take. The man’s tail, long and black, fins curling onto the back of the seats, the least concerning thing about all of this. “I,” he pauses and the man’s brows furrow, gesturing to black fabric around his mouth, which he swiftly takes off, as well as the one’s around the other’s wrists. “You just―I think I have them to deal with now,” he points behind himself, smiling.

He’s not a good man by any means, but he tries, and at times it’s easy when violence is involved, the screams of the men holding the merman captive beautiful as he rips their throats out.

Cleaning the blood off his face, he goes back to the middle car, glad they’re on a deserted country road as he sees the man scowling down at his tail. “We could go,” he offers and the man sends him a wary look. “Ah, I’m Robert Gadling ― though, Hob is fine.”

“I’d rather walk myself,” the man says, voice so deep that Hob swallows. “What exactly are you?”

“A vampire, at your service,” he says with a bow, flourishing a little as he sits on the edge of the seat, handing over his brown longcoat, noticing the shimmer of water reflecting off pale skin. Instead of wearing it, the man uses it to dry himself off, and Hob blinks as the man glows ― then it fades, revealing black clothes and legs, which the man stretches.

“The rescue is appreciated, but I would rather―” whatever else the man says is cut-off as another two cars come and they share a look, the man scowling.

“Well, do you have a weapon or some powers you can use, Mr Merman?” He hisses, hearing footsteps and heartbeats―and the merman’s scowl evolves into a death glare. “You didn’t give me your name! What else am I meant to call you!” Hob whispers furiously looking at the surrounding forest.

“Dream,” the voice is quiet as the man ― Dream, apparently, scowls. “And I doubt my arsenal would be as useful as vampire fangs,” he concedes, not looking happy about that fact. Sighing, Hob pulls out a switchblade and hands it over, Dream blinking at him.

“Okay, we’re going to take out these assholes, and then we’re going into the forest and come up with a better plan once we’re off this road,” he whispers, watching Dream nod before he goes after the first amount of people.

Hob groans, staring at the man as he dies, Dream scowling down at him, blade red and dripping. “Who the fuck would want you so much?” He says, frustrated because even in the forest, they’re still coming. “And does this asshole have a whole army?! The fuck!?”

“Burgess,” Dream says simply ― and Hob tilts his head, the name sounding familiar but not that known to him. “We were at his party years ago,” Dream points out and Hob smiles.

“You remembered me?” He chirps and looks up, closing his eyes as he listens, hearing more people walking in from the edge of his hearing. Grabbing onto Dream’s arm, he frowns at where he can hear them converging. “This way,” he whispers, listening for other signs of life other than the birds and insects, and soon, he’s sure―

The faint sounds of electricity, a light by the sound of it and they walk closer, reaching the edge of a river. “If I walk in that,” Dream warns, blue eyes shining under the moonlight.

“Tail?” He asks, already knowing the answer as Dream scowls. Looking around, he lets go to bring up some of the bigger rocks on the riverline, speeding his way through making a tiny rock bridge, and he smiles at the other side as Dream hmph’s and regally walks along it. “There’s a place nearby. Maybe we can get a car or something.”

3 Months Later

“Disgusting,” Dream says, and Hob can tell by the tone that his nose is scrunched behind his feathered black mask as they stare at the Burgess mansion, gold-plated doors and decorations, people in masks enjoying themselves, despite the heavy rain. And not at all like the owners attempted to kidnap a merman months earlier.

“Very,” he looks around, focusing for a clear room. Scratching behind his dark green mask, he grabs onto the other’s hand as they slip into an empty room. Dream takes out the switchblade Hob gave him, checking it as Hob checks his own daggers and magnum gun, which he bought from a sketchy American years prior. Dream gives the gun a disdainful look, not a fan of it when Hob tried to teach him how to use it. “What? Of course you’re going to get the killing blow, but it’ll be useful in other ways.”

“If you say so,” Dream sniffs, and Hob’s still surprised when Dream kisses him, the thing very new between them. “Do you need to feed?” Dream’s eyes shine in the moonlight and lamplight, and Hob resists a roll of his eyes as they pull their masks up.

“Really? Now?” He whispers, laughter and merriment outside of the room they’re in, with Burgess being his horrible self right outside.

“It’ll help me,” Dream purrs, lashes black as blue eyes stare through them.

“It’ll help you,” he says, doubting. Although, considering their first ever kiss was after the first time he fed from Dream, the bliss emanating from him afterwards. Sighing, he gives up his half-hearted feelings and nips down Dream’s neck, feeling the other’s heart rate pick up. Dream hums, arms going around his shoulders as he bares his neck.

Dream sighs into his hair as he bites down, the merman’s blood saltier than a human’s as he drinks his fill. Dream holds onto him tighter, and he can feel the way Dream ruts into him, cock hard as Hob continues to drink, the smell of the other’s arousal, as well as the rutting making his own pleasure rise.

There’s a cry as Dream comes, and he moans into the other’s neck as a hand goes into his pants, gripping his dick roughly, quickly bringing him off. Taking out his fangs, he licks up the bite, healing it under his tongue and Dream shudders.

“Thought you’d want to kill him first thing,” he says into a pale neck, nibbling up to his jaw as Dream continues to gasp.

“Regardless, the result will be the same,” Dream purrs and Hob grins, soft cock twitching in the other’s hand.

Cleaned up and masks put back on, they leave the room and blend in with the crowd as they go where apparently the esteemed Roderick Burgess will be having a secret ritual to ― do something, which Hob’s honestly forgotten.

Walking past the rooms of people partying, the second floor is off-limits, so clearly where they should go. There’s a host of people in the hallway, dressed in black cloaks and masks and Hob freezes, quietly getting out his blade―

―A sound pierces the hallway, making him flinch. His eyes widen as Dream is ― singing, or something, voice loud and resonant like a bell, and the people in the hall collapse, unconscious. “And you couldn’t do that before?” He asks incredulously.

Dream’s lips purse, “I put too much energy into finding other ways to escape other than this, and by the time you arrived at the car, I couldn’t have,” the merman replies primly. “Let’s go.”

“Okay, but why couldn’t you?” He whispers as they get closer to where Burgess is, the rooms feeling colder and thicker ― and an easily recognisable smell: blood. Cleaned off from the walls and floors, but can still smell traces, as stained into the house as it is.

Dream sighs, “if I did that it would’ve sent you to sleep too, if I could manage to do more than one person, as exhausted as I was,” he mutters and Hob nods, satisfied with the answer.

“They’re in there,” Hob says, pointing to the end of the hall, the door a plain wood.

“You’re sure?”

“They’re whisper-chanting, so yeah, pretty sure,” Hob replies, hearing the faint sounds of chanting and the slide of metal-on-metal. Quietly approaching the door, Dream motions for him to open it, and then Dream does that singing tone, quiet and blending in with the chanting, Burgess recognisable with all the gold embroidered on his cloak, and being the only one unaffected.

“What on Earth…” Burgess mutters as everyone else collapses, looking around to see him at the door, Dream behind him. “Who do you think you are, interrupting this sacred rite?!” Burgess shouts and Hob’s brows raise at the imperious tone.

“No-one special, really,” he says, amused as he takes out his gun and shoots the goblet out Burgess’s hand. Giving a see? look to Dream, he leans against the door to reveal the merman and Burgess stops his annoying whining about his hand at the sight of him. “Him, however.”

Burgess looks between them and grits his teeth, “you, you’re the one who took my―”

Dream gets even more angry, and Hob bites his tongue to keep silent, “I am not yours. I am not anyone’s,” Dream’s voice is as deep as the sea, foreboding and endless. “Years you kept me,” Dream spits and Hob blinks, unaware of that as the rain seems to get even heavier, beating against the windows, “but I will not be so nice,” Dream intones.

The room’s windows crash open and Hob jumps as the rain water floods in, surrounding Burgess as he screams, water-y claws holding him in their grasp as Burgess is pulled out of the room. Gaping, Hob looks around as the room clears of water, and he looks outside the windows to only see the rainy night.

“Holy shit.��

Hob stares at the calm water warily, wondering how Dream can even do that ― well, he’s a merman, but considering what he’s heard about the Bolton Strid. He’s not going to set foot in there, unlike Dream, who’s just holding onto one of the rocks, floating in the narrow stretch of water, an eyebrow raised. “You’re not going to drag me in there too, are you?”

Dream blinks and smirks, “only if you want to be.”

“I’ll pass, thank you. I’d rather not be a drowned vampire,” he declines politely, warily looking at the rocks as he clutches for his undead life, Dream amused as he watches him come closer, eventually managing to clutch at Dream’s wrist, pulling it in to kiss his hand. “Well, it was a pleasure.”

There’s a tilt to Dream’s head, wavy hair touching the water, “Hob, I am coming back. I just want to watch him squirm a bit,” Dream says slowly.

Hob gapes, thoughts of mourning the good times he’s had with Dream as a lovely fling vanishing from his mind. “Ah. Um. I just thought that―but we stayed at my other place and I plan to move back to my place in London now that there’s no imminent danger,” he frowns, pleased at the news as he works out what to do.

“Then leave a note at where we stayed, and I’ll find you,” Dream gives him a tiny smile and Hob nods, smiling brightly in return. Dream pulls himself up onto the rock, gently tugging him into a kiss and Hob hums as Dream’s wet hands pet his beard. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“While I don’t doubt your probably-not-a-regular-merman magic to keep me safe, I still stand by my answer.”

Dream’s eyes gleam silver in the moonlight, happy. “I am not just a regular merman, indeed,” and then, like the dramatic bastard he is, sinks into the river, fingers lingering on Hob’s face before also leaving.

Hob laughs, and slowly makes his way over to solid ground.

A month later, and Hob pauses at the door of his house, which he definitely didn’t leave open when he left. Taking out a switchblade from his boots, he quietly opens the door, closing it just as quietly as he walks through the hallway, and there’s the sound of ― water, in his bathroom, which gives him pause, a leisurely splash.

Already? He thinks as he goes to his bathroom, blade loose in his hand. In his tub, free-standing and blue, sits Dream, long black tail flopping out of the tub and touching the floor’s tile. “Dream,” he breathes, hardly believing his sight as the merman hums, tail flickering slowly through the air as Hob kneels next to it, leaning on the edge as Dream raises an eyebrow.

“You may require a bigger tub,” Dream says and Hob grins as he puts the blade into his boot.

“Whatever you need,” he promises, delighted to see Dream in his home, as leans up to kiss Dream, hands on the other’s jaw, Dream relaxing under his hands, tail swishing through the water as Dream meets him.

“What I need right now requires that talented mouth of yours,” Dream whispers and Hob laughs, scooping Dream up from the tub, making the merman sputter, arms winding around his shoulders, “Hob!”

Uncaring of his now wet coat, vest and shirt, he laughs as he takes Dream to his bedroom, plopping the merman down onto the bed so they can some more, Hob’s hands going into wet black hair. Kneeling over Dream, he can feel the other’s tail move side-to-side underneath him as they kiss.

Dream tugs off his wet clothes, leaving him only in his pants and boots as Hob starts to nip down a pale neck, “my talented mouth? You mean my fangs?” He asks, glancing up to Dream’s face, flushed and gasping as his fangs scrape up to the other’s jaw.

Dream whines, arching into his mouth, hands going straight for his chest. “Hob,” Dream pleads, tail writhing and thrashing against the floor as his fangs trail down to a sharp collarbone, chest heaving underneath his touch.

Humming, he holds onto Dream’s waist, black scales shiny and wet as he kisses down a pale chest, biting at pink nipples, Dream’s sounds getting louder, the sheer muscle of the tail pressing up into his groin. “I’ve missed you,” he says into the other’s stomach, licking down to where skin fades into black scales, “so much.” Shifting down, he caresses the scales, looking up to Dream’s eyes, “what do you think, here? Never done it here.”

They’ve never actually done a lot of this, of Dream with his tail, which seems like a major oversight as Dream writhes, tail slapping against the ground―though, Hob soon gets distracted, seeing a slit open, fluid leaking onto the black scales and Hob leans in, nosing at the slit as Dream’s tail thrashes even more, fingers tugging at his hair as Dream cries out, voice echoing and resonating with itself.

Fascinated, he licks on the outer edge of the slit, scales ― well, scaly, the slit itself is more warm than the outside as Dream does another scream that resonates as his tongue goes closer to the slit, liquid thick and inexplicably tasting of candy and his prick leaks in his his pants.

Dream shudders, tail slapping against the hardwood floor loudly as his tongue probes deeper, the merman speaking in some language that’s wholly unfamiliar as he licks and sucks at the other’s slit.

“Just as delicious as the rest of you,” he whispers as Dream moans, fingers painfully digging into his hair as he continues his exploration―

Then, Dream seems to have dried off and Hob leans back, bounced off as the tail is being replaced by legs, revealing the merman’s hard cock, leaking profusely as Dream catches his breath. Looking up, he catches glassy blue eyes as he shows his fangs, hearing Dream’s heart rate double―and biting into Dream’s inner thigh, salty blood filling his mouth, still tasting the thick fluid from Dream’s slit.

Dream screams as he comes, which Hob doesn’t pay any mind to as it coats his face and hair as he continues to drink his fill.

[Fin]

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #dreamling week #dreamling week 2024 #writing #not sfw #hob should get sexy fangs. as a treat

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