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whytheylosttheirminds · 1 month

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

(Prologue and Ch. 1) // (Ch. 2)

“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy.

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it.

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you?

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss.

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken.

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer.

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens.

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am.

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times.

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said.

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers.

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love.

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on.

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later.

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything.

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps.

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt.

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him.

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

(chapter 4)

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

If you asked to be on the taglist and I forgot you, I'm sorry and please let me know!!

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts @nymphetkoo @xoxohoneymoongirl @hangmanscoming @azrielsgirll @maibelitaaura @laniirackssss @rubixgsworld @sweetienans @dasguccier @brain-palacee @ymnizuh @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @thewalkingdeadsmut @themindofmoe @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @v0lturiaq

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cloakedsparrow · 5 months

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One of those 'Tim joins the bat family early because the Drakes are neglectful' AUs, only after the bats take him in and he's starting to figure out that this family is different, Bruce makes an offhand comment about dinner time and Tim's like "together?" His tone is cautiously hopeful but his eyes just light up at the thought of regular family dinners, something he's always wanted. Bruce, who is normally terrible about either waiting until after dinner to go out for patrol or coming back for dinner, decides on the spot that nothing will keep him from family dinner outside of a Rogue breakout or Justice League level event.

Alfred notices this and decides he's absolutely going to weaponize this kid to make his insane family take care of themselves better.

After dinner one day, when Batman and Robin were planning to head back out, Alfred casually mentions that maybe -if he has the time- Jason could go over Tim's book report with him, since the boy is worried about his English grade. The boy takes the bait. Of course he does. It's literature and his new little brother; the two things Jason loves even more than being Robin. He stays in to help Tim.

With some subtle grandfatherly nudging, this then becomes a thing. Jason will go out with Bruce for two or three hours, depending on the time of year, come back for dinner with him at eight, and -if it's been a slow night- stay in. He loves being Robin, of course, but he also loves his new family and his schooling, so Jason's perfectly happy to do homework and read or play with Tim until bedtime (unless Bruce needs backup or it's Summer vacation).

Tim is sick and Alfred mentions something about taking it easy and that he, or maybe the boy's father, will come check on him before bed. Before Bruce can even mention that he was going to be on an extended stakeout, Tim catches something in his expression and starts explaining that it's okay. He understands that Bruce is busy and he's not a baby. He doesn't need to be tucked in or anything.

Bruce decides on the spot that he will not be like Jack or Willis, who were gone all the time. He comes back at ten to check on Tim and make sure that Jason goes to bed. He then continues to come back sometime between ten and eleven to put the boys to bed. If it's been slow, he'll even stay in.

With all the extra energy he has now that he's sleeping better, Jason decides to join the school drama club. He revels in it. Alfred mentions his upcoming play to Tim (in front of Bruce), who wants to know if it would be weird if he brought jay flowers because that's a thing at plays, right? Bruce not only puts off Batman to make it to Jason's play, but he leaves early enough to stop at a flower shop with Tim.

Dick comes home for dinner after the play and Alfred makes a comment on hos nice it is to have the whole family together for dinner. When both Tim and Jason agree (looking slightly wistful, as Alfred knew they would) Dick readily agrees to come home once every couple of weeks for a family dinner.

Every couple of weeks becomes every week. Then dinner becomes staying the night. Then he starts paroling Gotham since the was staying the night anyway and he Bruce start getting along a lot better. Then he's there for dinner, patrol, and breakfast the next morning. Then he's there for the whole weekend.

The next thing Dick knows, he's put in for a transfer at work and is toting his little brothers around while he goes apartment shopping in Gotham and he's not sure how the whole thing started. He can't remember if it was him or Bruce or maybe Alfred (it was totally Alfred) who started the discussion on all the driving and how Gotham could really use him now that he's cleaned up the BPD. He just knows his little brothers and father had each showed their version of excitement at the idea and now here he is.

Alfred makes sure to make Tim's favorite foods for a while.

#dc #comics #fanfiction #fic ideas I don't have the time to play with #Bat Family #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #robin #tim drake #tim wayne #dick grayson #nightwing

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weebsinstash · 2 months

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I'm not typically a fan of pregnancy au stuff for hazbin because it introduces a hell lotta new questions, but anyways, I DO find it absolutely entertaining thinking about a Reader who did the nasty with Alastor and had kind of a friends-with-benefits situation with him and he does his whole 7 year disappearing act without warning you or telling you anything at all (assumedly because he did not have a choice or opportunity) and he comes back, knocking on your front door, "say, doll! What's say we mosey on over to our old favorite jazz club to catch up on old times?"

and suddenly peeking out from behind your back is just the cutest little fawn with a head full of curls who is very clearly Alastor's son, clutching at your apron, "Mama, isn't he the man you listen to those old recordings of? He sounds the same"

Alastor feeling this, this WARMTH in his chest as you invite him inside your home and it's completely different from the last time he was there, filled with everything your son could need, his drawings and report cards from that nice school you break your back to afford stuck lovingly on the fridge and a hot home-cooked meal currently cooling on the stove as Alastor's invited for some food... if he feels comfortable. You and him discuss privately where your son can't hear as you get all weepy, "I'm sorry, but when you disappeared, I couldn't... ASK you what you would have wanted... I didn't want to have some kind of, of PROCEDURE and you hate me for it... and even from the very first scan, I loved him so much... he's my entire world... I couldn't even CONSIDER... getting rid of him. He's my beautiful smart baby boy and i would die for him"

Genuinely I think it would be real funny if Alastor is initially quite jealous actually for having to share you with a CHILD, but the more time he spends around the young boy, the more he realizes, oh, this is quite the upstanding young fellow! His mama raised him right and he likes to help around the house, likes to read lots of books, loves all kinds of music, helps his mother on all the crosswords and word searches and puzzle books, and he's smart enough to suss out pretty quickly, "sir are you my father"

and the second your son receives an answer, just, KICKING THE RADIO DEMON IN THE SHIN, "You're a horrible man!! You call yourself a gentleman but you left my mama to raise a baby all by herself!! You're terrible! Incorrigible! Disrespectful! Untoward!--" Your young son is breaking out the goddamn dictionary and synonyms on this man, "you lying, deceitful, devious, DEPLORABLE--"

And Alastor is watching this little kid threaten to beat his ass and not even caring that he's up against The Infamous Radio Demon, just shouting at Alastor until the young boy is absolutely changing colors in the face, getting SO SO upset for his mama that he's ready to FIGHT OVER IT, and Alastor is just, essentially, breaking out into laughter, "oh, so you ARE my son!! Aren't you a gutsy one!! Put JUST a little force behind that next one and it might actually sting a bit!" and pats the boy on the head. That settles it; he's accepted as Alastor's son like THAT

Of course, Alastor now caring for this boy does not come without its... complications. There might be some 'incidents' if you, for example, have other positive role models for your son, other men who are regularly coming around, making Alastor's new position as the boy's father and your not-quite-husband (yet) feel threatened and unstable and encouraging the Radio Demon to 'act out'. You're so happy to have Alastor back in your life that you don't even notice things are a little off until your son starts mentioning things like "Mama where did Mr Thomas go? He used to come by every Thursday to play chess but I don't remember seeing him for a while?" "Mama I know Benson has bullied me and pushed me down and stolen my things but I saw his mom crying outside the bookstore earlier saying he's gone missing and I think we should help look for him" "Mama I know Mr Alastor said we don't need her and he can teach me but I also like my old piano teacher. Could I have some lessons with her and some with Mr Alastor instead of just all of them with him? I miss Ms. Mason"

But like... you don't want to deny Alastor a relationship with his child after they both have already lost so much time and you don't want to deprive your son of his father without a good reason, so you stifle some of your suspicions. It's all for your son's sake, isn't it? And you can't help but, get a little selfish when Alastor insists on taking you and your boy out, going to see live bands, going to local events, taking your son to the county fair and you feeling tears in your eyes as, your boy finally gets to spend time with his father. It's like... it's like you're a real family... you've always wanted something like this, for him, for them, for yourself--

But... Alastor doesn't... see you THAT way, does he? He displays his emotions much differently than you, and there were even times in the past where Alastor himself drew the line in the sand that, oh yes you two were quite close friends, he has such a deep affection for you, but... romantically? Sorry, sweetheart, but no

... or so he thought. Now that he's back, he sees how deeply you love his son and sacrifice so much for him amd how much your son absolutely adores you and how, completely by yourself, without any of Alastor's help, you raised him into a fine young man that... the Radio Demon could see himself helping raise, a boy he can't help but feel a little pride in helping make and, can't help but feel a little sad he missed all sorts of important milestones for. And of course, of course of course of course, he missed YOU ever so much, and when Alastor looks up from his paper to see you at the stove, hair all out of place and your hands messy as you cook a meal for your son and his father, your little boy dutifully helping clean as you go, he can't help wish that THIS was how he spent his last 7 years.

Lucifer have mercy on anyone who tries to disrupt his new utopia of peace and tranquility. Could you even imagine, could you even fucking imagine you and Alastor are walking with your son and nearby TVs snap on and it's fucking Vox, showing your family on TV, talking shit to Alastor, using HORRIBLE language in front of your son--

And Alastor feels his love for you grow all the more as you use your own magic to surge through the television and begin strangling the newscaster right on the air, "DONT YOU DARE SHOW MY SON'S FACE ON TV YOU FUCKING--" and Alastor starts lovingly conversing with his son about how important it is to stand up for your family and your values as the pair of them watch you throw Vox around his recording studio in a frenzied rage, "You and your disgusting Vees always trying to peddle your worthless garbage to kids, you CREEPS!! BABIES DON'T NEED IPADS, RETINOL CREAMS, SKEEYEE DANCE ROUTINES, AND ATHLEISUREWEAR LEGGINGS THAT GO UP THEIR ASS, YOU CONSUMERIST IMMORAL SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING--"

Snapcut to you rejoining your family on the sidewalk with your hair a mess and visible blood on you while Vox is facedown on the floor in his broadcast unable to move before it cuts to a "technical difficulties, please stand by" screen. Alastor is oh so genuinely joyfully smiling, "Now who wants to go and get some waffles? I say we should celebrate any victory over our enemies with some tasty grub!!" and he takes you and your son's hands and is all but skipping down the sidewalk while his hated rival is bleeding out in his tower somewhere. Oh, Alastor will give the Television Demon his own revenge for daring to try and shame the lovely beautiful mother of his child and his beloved boy on that disgusting show. What kind of degenerate uses children for content, let alone threatens their safety? Alastor will be back for him later and do much, MUCH worse than you did.

For now, though? Alastor just wants to enjoy the sight of you and his son sitting in a booth with him while you all scarf down some hotcakes. A family of his very own, huh? How wonderful. If only his own mom were here to see it...

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #alastor x reader #hh #sinprompts #god do you ever think about how people in hell feel miserable if their family is on heaven #you dont WANT your loved one to be suffering in hell but... if thwy were at least you could still see them #catch me crying out here piss drunk to alastor because my mom/granny are in heaven and he nods knowingly bc his mom isnt down there either

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kayjayjwrites · 2 months

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

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sagephilosophie · 1 month

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┃ RINDOU H.

ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ! ʀɪɴᴅᴏᴜ ʜᴀɪᴛᴀɴɪ x ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

𖧧 Tags : SFW, high school theme.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ϟ Crush!Rindou whom you took a liking on ever since he started going to your high school with his brother after their time in juvie, they earned immediate popularity then and gossips spread like wildfire how their rich father bribed the principal to enroll them.

ϟ Crush!Rindou that couldn't care less about the whispering in the classroom going over his gang life and recent fights, your friends were warning you not to go near him because of his sadistic nature, but observing him doodling something boredly in his copybook made you think,"He is pretty cute though..."

ϟ Crush!Rindou that joined the school's football team on the first try and kept skipping classes frequently, so you eventually began showing up at every practice and game to watch him play.

ϟ Crush!Rindou who was the indirect reason the entire football team teased you after every match for not missing a day, one of them being a classmate that started a rumour how you liked him instead, but you brushed all of them off saying you just like the sport.

ϟ Crush!Rindou who ignored you the whole time, all he did was take any water bottle or towel you handed to him, and didn't even answer your compliments or small talk about the game, unlike his brother who sits in the stands with you from time to time, and immediately catched on to the hearteyes you were giving his brother, although, with the no-change in Rindou's behaviour, the former likely didn't tell him.

ϟ Crush!Rindou that kept testing your patience with his indifference, after everyone you know has noticed you had a crush on him except Rindou himself, so you stopped showing up at the football pitch since it's useless at this point.

ϟ Crush!Rindou whom you managed to get your head off of for the rest of your highschool years, only until the final week before graduation, when it occurred to you that this is perfect time to visit the stands one more time.

ϟ Crush!Rindou that was the only one in the field by the time you got there, doing some tricks, and as expected didn't acknowledge your existence, until he heard clapping after his football juggling.

ϟ Crush!Rindou that spoke to you for the first time since his arrival and asked if you wanted to try, you said yes and joined him, but the ball couldn't balance and he was starting to mock you.

"One would think you learned something from the time you spent watching me."

"I wasn't watching you."

"Oh yeah ? Why do you only look for me when the whole team surrounds you then ?"

"...you noticed ?"

"It's hard not to, besides, Ran told me."

"Huh... Then you were giving me the cold-shoulder on purpose ?"

"Mhmm answer this, what are your plans after highschool ?"

"Go to college, pursue a career..."

"Well, i saved you time i could've wasted, all i plan to do is rule Roppongi streets with my brother, you could guess how i'll be a terrible partner."

"I didn't necessarily want you to be my partner... maybe you're taking this the wrong way, with your athletic skills and talent there's a better future than you think still hiding, i would know that, i've been observing you..."

"Yeah, stalker."

"I'm serious! There's at least one thing you want to do later on..."

"I think probably, own a night club."

"See ? You do have a goal, then what was that about distancing yourself again ?"

"You're still gonna regret getting close to me."

"We don't know that for sure."

"There's only one way to find out, what will you be doing after graduation day ?"

"Nothing, you ?"

"Also nothing, should we go do nothing together?"

"Good idea."

ϟ Crush!Rindou whom you managed to talk him into finishing his education and has finally became your ever loving boyfriend throughout college.

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@sagephilosophie

#i write!#vee's #tokyo revengers #tokrev #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani fluff #rindou haitani sfw #rindou haitani headcanons #rindou haitani highschool #rindou haitani x you #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff

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writers-hes · 10 months

Text

Borrowed Time

SYNOPSIS: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, abuse, canon-typical themes, death, war)

Chapter synopsis: The end of the story.

AN: Don’t look at the comments / reblogs if you don’t want spoilers!! But please discuss what you think once you’re done reading 🤍

LONDON, 1921

Tommy sits in his chair, unmoving. Dying becomes an issue to him if it affected you this way. Ever since the war, he thought that he was living for free. It didn’t matter if he died now since he was on the verge of dying every day in France but…was this a physical manifestation of what you felt every single day for the four years that he was gone?

“I only have less than three hours left,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing on the teacup on the table. “I’m not-I’m not supposed to be here, Tommy…he will kill you if he catches me here.” you whispered, afraid to let the whole world know about how terrible Simon truly was.

“Hey, you’re alright,” his voice soothes you; the raspiness sending shivers down your spine. He was sitting beside you now, a hand on your bouncing knee. “I made sure you’re alright,”

“Tommy, I know that you hate me,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry for what-what I did but I…we had these plans together of—of living in a future where it’s just us and—”

“It’s alright,” he says. Seeing you risk everything just to warn him was already enough proof that you were sorry. “I’m sorry for all of the things that I said that night,”

“You’ve-you’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I…I sent you letters every week,” you pleaded. “I know that you might think that I forgot about you, but I never forgot about you, Tom. I’m sorry for believing that you’d think I was replaceable…that I didn’t matter to you,” you whispered the last part, hands on your lap forming into fists.

Would now be a wrong time to tell you that he loves you?

“How do you…” he coughs, trying to veer away from the road where you were going. He couldn’t do this now, not when everything’s slowly set in motion. “How did you get the information?”

You fished for the paper in your clutch, showing it to him.

“I received this during a charity dinner in London,” you said. “I tried everything to put Simon away from you…but I couldn’t. I failed and now…now he’s out to kill you,”

“He’s not going to kill me,” he replied. “It was Alfie’s men who put that there,”

“But he will!” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “He knows Alfie Solomons…”

“So do I,” he calmly says. “Alfie Solomons and I have an agreement,”

“He killed Johnny,” you warned him, but he was looking at you blankly and you feel despondent. “Alfie Solomons…killed Johnny. Has he not?”

“It was Darby Sabini who killed Johnny. To retaliate, I infiltrated the Eden Club. Alfie Solomons’ men were in charge of security and protection but Darby Sabini’s in charge of whatever dirty work Simon wanted to get done. Their dealings started recently with Johnny’s death,” he says. “It’s not—I,” he sighs, not finding the right words to say.

“Tommy…”

“Whatever happens to me isn’t your fault, Y/N.” He means it, you could tell but a small part of you still couldn’t quite grasp the measures that Simon will undertake to keep you close. “Y/N, love, it’s alright,”

“No- I…I can still try to persuade Simon. I’ll give that-that heir he wants so bad just please don’t…” you heaved, choking on your own tears. The way Tommy said it…like he knew that he was dying soon made you feel cold. You've come so far, would you really let Simon kill Tommy that easily? Tommy's hand on your knee tightens momentarily but he lets it go.

“You will do nothing of that sort,” his throat constricts. “You won’t have to do things you don’t want to anymore. I’m—I’m here now. I want you to be happy and I’ll do everything to make sure that you are but if an heir with him is something that you—“

“I don’t want to carry his child,” you shook your head. “Tommy, can’t you see? I just want you to live and be—be happy. We both changed since you left. The war took so, so much from you, Tom. We’ve both said things we cannot take back but God, Tommy. I want us to be happy and I want you to rest,”

“We can rest together…be happy together,” he proposes. “Our future isn’t that far away if—“

“How?” you asked, voice small and eyes full of tears. “How?”

“No more running away. I have a plan,” he tells you, but he didn’t want to divulge the details. His blue eyes stare directly into you. His face was blank, but his body was leaning towards you, gentle hand still on your knee. “Hey,” he says, putting his hands on top of yours. You started to pick on your nail beds again. He interlocks his fingers with yours and you smile slightly. Just like when you were kids.

“Sorry,”

“Y/N,” he stops himself. Why did you have to apologize for everything?. “I…I wrote to you,”

“Tommy—“

“I did. I waited for your letter everyday. I-I would be the first one to be there when letters were being sent but I sent them to Watery Lane,” he says. “I can’t go on with this without you knowing that I waited for you. I don’t want you to think that I’ve abandoned you because I don’t. I could never.”

He didn’t know where his courage was coming from. Maybe it was because he could feel the end coming soon. He was so scared to die without letting you know about what he truly felt for you, no matter how selfish that sounded. He wouldn’t die until he tells you about how much he loved you, about how deep this love ran through him.

“I know…Arthur told me,” you nodded. You blink away the tears that threatened to fall. “It’s me who didn’t wait for you and I-I regret it every day, you know? Not waiting…because I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t be here if I did and—I’ve always believed in your promises, Tommy. I knew that you were going to keep them but I—“

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, he’d be asking Arthur about that sometime. “I’m not angry. I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re alright,” You didn’t believe him though and neither did he.

“Tommy?” you asked. “Do you know who tried to stop the letters?”

“I do,” he replied.

“You don’t want to tell me?”

He hums.

“Can you hold me? Instead of telling me?”

Borrowed time, you were on borrowed time and all you wanted was Tommy’s arms around you. Love is a funny thing. The world was ending and all you could ever think of is how Tommy’s hands were made for destruction, but they were also made to hold yours.

The house was dark when you came back. For a house filled with servants, the house was quiet An eerie feeling washes over you and you walked on, looking for anyone. Instead, the fireplace was open, flames roaring while your husband sat. He was looking intently into the fire, smoking his pipe.

“Where did you go?”

“Out and about,” you said, the lie rolling perfectly from your tongue.

“I see,” he nods. “Did you know that Ada Shelby was abducted today?”

You stopped, ice creeping up your spine.

“Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club owned by Sabini and then, Sabini abducted Ada Shelby.” he says it like it was nothing. “I wonder why Tommy Shelby captured the Eden Club. Do you happen to know why?”

“No, Simon,” you shakily replied. “Why…?”

“Because Darby Sabini killed Big Johnny. Do you know why?” he asked. “You don’t because you’re a fucking idiot, but I’ll lay it down for you. Nice and simple so you can understand. I ordered the death of Big Johnny to punish you for hiding who Tommy Shelby was. I ordered Ada’s abduction because you went to see Tommy Shelby today. I ordered for the death of all the Shelbys—even the children so you would never have to worry about them. I tried to be reasonable, but you wouldn’t listen. Maybe you’d listen to me once all of those Birmingham rats are dead, hm? You’ll have to carry the weight of their deaths in your shoulder because you wouldn’t listen. It’s your fault they’re dying. It’s your fault that Johnny died. I liked him and you killed him,”

“I gave you everything. I love you with all of me and all that I have but you…you still love someone else. What do I have to do for you to love me like you love him?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at you, he was just unmoving…smoking his pipe like he was telling you about today’s weather. You were shaking, afraid for them and for your life.

“Stop crying,” he orders you, but you couldn’t stop. How could you? He just revealed all of his plans—all the things that he wanted to do to them. “Go to our room and stop fucking crying!”

“Well, you look like shit,” Polly says, seeing Tommy on the hospital bed. “What did you do this time?”

“Sabini’s men took me and beat me up,”

“They wouldn’t beat you up without anything. They wouldn’t abduct Ada without reason. I heard that someonedecided to drop by. What did you talk about?”

“Nothing that I don’t already know,” he shrugs. “Can you pass me a cigarette?”

“You want me to help you but you’re not fucking telling me anything,” Polly says, tossing the pack to Tommy’s chest. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Poll—“

“Tom,” she asserts sternly. “You tell me now or I will get it out of her,”

“Fuck,” he groans, head falling back. “Simon killed Johnny and ordered Sabini to kill all of us. They know that I was staying at Ada’s and saw her enter Ada’s house and got us to where we are now,”

“Fuck…but we’re talking about our lives here, Tom.” Polly stresses. “Do you think that you get to have a say on whether or not we’re dying just because of a promise you made when you were young and naive?”

“I think it’s better if you all leave me to deal with this whole…thing,” Tommy says. “You’re right. Your life is on the line and I’m not really accomplishing anything if you all fucking die because of me. It’s not Y/N’s fault. It’s…that fucking husband of hers! If you really want to know, Polly…since you did give her away, yeah? Simon’s out to get all of us, even Y/N.”

Polly feels her throat tighten. This…this is what she gave you away for. Her nephew on the brink of dying, Ada with multiple fucking bruises, the threat of death, and then, the receiver of all anger…you.

“That girl is like my daughter,” Polly says. “I will help you, Tom but you have to promise me that—that you will be honest with me. Don’t keep us in the fucking dark. It’s not your own problem anymore. It’s ours,”

“Alright,”

“I know you have a plan. What is it?” Polly asked, inhaling. “Honesty, Tom,”

“I…I made a deal with Alfie Solomons. We are alliances. He works with Simon for Y/N’s security and I allowed a few of his bookies to be in the racetracks in exchange of ensuring…well, Y/N’s safety,” It was half the truth. The other details, Tommy had to omit to ensure the execution—

“Stop fucking hiding,” Poll warns. “Tommy, you have to tell me,”

“Fuck—“ he coughs. “Everything is set in motion, Poll…there’s nothing else,” Polly looks at Tommy, there was no way for him to let up anything. Tommy was just staring at her, uninterested. He held her gaze, but she knew that there was nothing else. Tommy made up his mind about something; she just wished that it would turn out alright.

“I’d like to stroll around the garden today,” you told one of the servants. Life at home had been back to the way things were. Simon was back to the old Simon that you knew but somehow, you felt like your every move was watched.

“I’m sorry, miss but Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go to the garden with him,” she replied. “We can call on Mr. Coventry to ask…”

“What-what do you mean?” you asked. “I thought I was allowed to go…”

“Mr. Coventry told us that you can only go out of the house with him and that, if he isn’t around, you’re only allowed to be inside the house,” she repeated. You swallowed the constriction in your throat, unable to form any sentence. “We were also instructed to be with you at every single moment, miss,”

“What?” you asked, frowning. “I don’t need to be tended to every minute of the day,”

“But miss—“

“You may leave. I’ll go to the garden alone and you can just tell Simon that I insisted on it,” you told her, walking away but she grabs your arm. “I didn’t tell you that you can touch me,” you spit. You’ll feel bad about it later but for now, you need to go out. The house was suffocating, and you felt like you were being watched.

“Miss—“

“Leave me alone,” you scowled. “I want to go to the garden,”

“Oh, darling but you can’t,” Simon says, mocking you. “I told the servants to follow my orders. With the stunts that you’ve been pulling lately, I think it’s just fine to have you close and protected, hm?” he asked, walking over to you.

“Simon, this isn’t right,” you begged. “I’ve been cooped in the house for too long. I need-I want to go out,”

“I wish you could, but I have to go attend a meeting with Alfie Solomons. Did you know that I had your old driver killed? It’s all because of you,” he chuckles. He dismisses the servants with a wave of his hand. “You have to understand that I…I’m doing it for our family. You can hate me,” he states, walking a step closer to you. “Or push me away…” he adds, a tendril of your hair swirling in his fingertips. “You can even try to kill me,” he chuckles, his breath on your ear. “But you’re still mine. You’re my wife. You’re my fucking wife!”

You shuddered, pushing him away.

“You’re taking everything away from me, Simon,”

“I’m just taking back what I gave you,”

“My…my freedom. You took away my freedom,” you cried. “You took Johnny away from me! You took the Shelby’s away from me,”

A slap echoes in the halls.

“Don’t you dare fucking say that I took the Shelbys away from you. They were taking you away from me!” he roared, chest heaving. “What—you didn’t think I would feel magically alright when you visited Tommy Shelby the other day? You didn’t think I wouldn’t know about that fucking locket that you lied to me about? We were having a wedding and you still had Tommy Shelby on you! You think I’d be happy about that? I love you and I…I gave you everything! But I still have to try to read your mind. Tommy doesn’t. You…you’d rather live in the sewers with that fucking criminal than be here with me,”

He caresses the stinging on your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

You were locked inside your bedroom, your heart aching. He loves you…but he hurts you. He’s cruel and controlling and full of wrath but he’s dependent and loving and kind. You hated to admit it, but you understood his fears, his anger, and him.

What if you stole one of the cars right now? You could drive down to Birmingham and stay there or…or you could leave, find a place to stay in Ireland and never be heard of again. Will Simon shoot down the car? Will he shoot you, too? Or will he forbid you to even set your foot in England ever again?

Simon enters your room, disregarding you completely before sitting on the bed with you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his hand covering yours. “I didn’t mean to…to do that,”

Right.

“Simon…”

“I’m sorry, please,” he says, coming closer to you but you only feel cold and repulsed. “Please, darling… I don’t want to do these things to you. Do you think it doesn’t hurt me when I have to take things away from you? I just can’t…not until I’m sure that I can trust you.”

You closed your eyes, tears falling on the hands that connected you to your husband.

“I’m so tired, Simon,” you whispered. “You…you taunt me and-and you turn my freedom into your weapon. I understand that you’re angry but to do that…to do the things that your father did to your mother…when you told me before that you hated him for it…what does that make you?” you asked. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…was that supposed to be your excuse every time he does something horrible?

“I—I…”

“I married you not because I know that you can give all these things to me. I married you because you told me you loved me. You told me that I was important to you…but is this what love is? Is love supposed to be painful? Is love supposed to bruise? Is this what love is supposed to be like?” you asked. You removed your hand from his, standing up and walking away. If this is what love bruises you like peaches, you wanted no part of it.

Simon has given you the wings to fly but he likes to cut them whenever you fly too close to the sun.

When you lay in bed that night, Simon’s arm draped on your figure, you only felt cold. You laid on the softest bed in the world, unmoving…unblinking.

Maybe you'll be free another time.

“I’m sorry for what I did,” he says, setting his utensils down on the dining table. “You have…you have every reason to be mad at me,”

“Simon,” you sighed. You’ve been playing with your food for a while. “You…you can’t just say sorry every time you decide to…hurt me. I want to be able to love you without fearing for my life,”

“It’s just…Tommy Shelby.”

“I don’t have him anymore,” you told him. “Tommy and I…are nothing but childhood friends. His father used to frequent the brothel when my mother was still alive. He—and I grew up together and he was all I had until he left. Now, I only have you,” you said. “My relationship with the Shelbys is nothing but familial. They took care of me, they took me under their wing,”

“But he loves you,” he replied. “He loves you, Y/N and he wants to take you away from me! Do you not appreciate my efforts to ensure that our marriage is preserved?”

“What preservation?” you asked, standing up. “What—what preservation? You killed Johnny and you expect me to be alright with it. You took away my friends, my freedom…and you—you expect me to be the same!” You chuckled. “Preservation? You’re the only one killing this marriage, Simon. I love you but no matter how much I show it…it will never be enough,”

“Then, kill Tommy Shelby!” his voice booms. “You want me to trust you? You want me to see your love? Kill him! We have more than enough money to have one of Alfie’s men or Sabini’s men to kill him. Kill him!”

Your face pinches in anger, eyes turning into slits.

“What? You can’t be serious,” you scoffed. Simon takes your arm harshly and you flinched. He grips it in his hand, forcing you to stay immobile.

“Kill him,” he spits. “Your love means nothing to me if you won’t,”

“And you think I’ll continue to love you when you’re forcing me to kill my friend?” you asked, shaking your head. “Let me go!”

“No!” his voice booms. He drags you to his office, your legs stumbling behind him. “You have to decide if you’ll kill for me. I’ll kill for you, don’t you know that?” he asked, throwing you on the couch in his study. “I’ll kill for you…”

You stand up to leave but he pushes you down.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me right now. You will love me again. You’ve been obedient for Tommy’s sake…that’s the greatest love of all and I—I don’t have it,” he whispers. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted and I don’t have it.” He shakes his head, watching your husband turn into the cruel man that you learned to hate. He walks towards the door and exits. You run after him but he forces the door closed from the other side.

“Make sure that Mrs. Coventry is taken care of,” he tells his security. “Only maids are allowed to be inside but don’t let anyone near the door until I leave. She will remain in this room until I arrive in the evening.”

You were rattling the door but to no avail. Your tears were freely flowing, trying to get the door open by slamming your body on it. You could hear the quiet murmur outside but they were all ignoring you.

“Let me out, Simon!” you sobbed. “Let me out! Let me out…please!” you cried, slamming your body harder but it couldn’t fucking open. Your fall on the floor, consoling yourself from the coldness and the darkness of Simon’s office. If your mother saw you today, would she be proud of you?

Time passes in Tommy’s eyes, his eyes blank. Alfie Solomons told him to wait but he couldn’t. Their men surrounded the mansion, pretending to be your security but they’ve been planning the seeds, telling Tommy that you weren’t allowed to be out of the house with your husband anymore. He heard some of the men joke that you were a ghost that sat on the window because they have never even seen you.

“Tommy,” Alfie called, a young man trailing after him. “I’ve got someone useful for you. One of my men in Coventry’s fucking mansion. Go on, David. Tell Mr. Shelby here about the fucking horrors in that big, big mansion,”

David nods, his resolve dissolving upon seeing Tommy’s icy stare directed at him.

“My name is David and I’m assigned to the security of the house. Mrs. Coventry is currently locked in Mr. Coventry’s house—“

“Ah, fuck, mate. Just say Y/N and Simon. These fucking names really…” Alfie interjected. He nods.

“Um—Simon laid a hand on Y/N yesterday,” his eyes looking away from Tommy. “She’s not allowed to-to go out of Simon’s study…after Y/N refused to have Mr. Shelby killed”

“What about the driver that brought her to me?”

“He’s dead. Darby Sabini’s men killed him,” Alfie shrugged. He dismisses David with a wave of his hand. “Be honest with me, Tommy. Who is she? Because it’s quite absurd, innit? Here is a man with a wife and then another man who vows to what? Take her back? If I was Simon Coventry…I would be mad too, is what I’m saying. Did you know the tenth commandment, mate? Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife…did you know that?”

“No one,” was Tommy’s laconic reply, standing up to walk away. Alfie chuckles.

“No one!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. “This no one cost me a man. A poor lad who decided to follow your Y/N’s orders for what? A few pounds and a fucking—a fucking night with you. Is that it, Tom? No one. Fucking no one and I’m letting my men run around after your fucking whims!”

“A fucking night? My fucking whims?” Tommy spits.

“What? Is it not true?” he asked, “You’re fucking…obsessed, mate. That’s what you are! She is married. The more you act the more she gets…fucking hurt. You think that’s alright?”

“He’s using her!” Tommy shouts over. “He’s hurting her no matter what I do or not do. Did you fucking know that? You’re not doing anything!” he asked, eyes teary.

“Then, don’t fucking do anything! It wouldn’t matter anyway; you said it yourself. As damned as I am, Tommy, don’t fucking do anything,”

Tommy shoves Alfie, shaking his head. No fucking difference?

“What the fuck? Tommy!” Alfie shouts. “What’s the matter? You’re fucking angry, eh?”

“Yes, I’m fucking angry!” he says, pointing a gun to Alfie.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me?” he taunts. “You’re going to fucking kill me when your anger is un-fucking-justified! So, what, Simon has your woman, eh? He has her? You’re angry at me but fucking hell, Tommy! How many men do I have to sacrifice for this little fucking protection project you got going on? How many fathers will you fucking kill? You think you’re better than Simon Coventry? You’re going straight to fucking hell, Tommy! Straight to fucking hell! Just like me and Simon! You come to me to get closer to Simon Coventry and…you stand there, talking about not doing anything when it’s my men that have to go through the other end of the barrel. Kill me and pull that trigger for some fucking honorable reason. Like an honorable man and not like—not like some fucking civilian that does not understand the wicked way of our world, mate,” he spits. Tommy stares at him blankly.

“Look, mate—Tommy. I will fucking help you but you have to be fucking patient. The races at Sabini’s tracks are happening soon. You just have to be patient.”

Tommy shoves Alfie away from him. He wouldn’t understand—he’d never understand. Time was ticking and if he didn’t move now, he’ll get killed.

“I think it would be much better to wear the green,” Simon says, looking at the dress that you have on for the races. “Wear it,”

“Oh, but it would be such a waste,” you told him, twirling to show him the way the fabric draped beautifully on you. “Don’t you think so? Besides, it’s going to be so hot at the races today. I don’t want to sweat,”

Simon pinches his nose.

“I suppose so,” he agrees, striding over you and laying his hand on your waist. “You do look ravishing, darling. I already can’t wait to take you home, hm?”

“We have to make sure our horse wins first,” you tell him, laying your head on his chest while you let his eyes rake over your body. “Simon, can-can you kiss me?”

“Why so sudden?” he asked, turning you around. “Is everything alright, darling?”

“Of course,” you smiled at him, studying his face. This was the Simon tha you loved; the kind Simon that you rarely see these days. “I just want you to kiss me, my love. Can’t you kiss your darling wife?” He smiles a small smile, taking your chin with his gentle fingers and kissing you.

“I love you, Y/N,”

“I love you too, Simon.” you told him, pecking his lips once more before a knock breaks you away.

“Looks like we’re ready to go,” he tells you.

“Of course, you can go ahead. Let me just fix my hair and we can go,” you replied, turning away from him. He was so warm…so, so, so, warm. Simon leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. You’ve been good lately, no Tommy Shelby…no requests…no anything. You could tell that he loves it; that you were obedient but if you didn’t want a repeat of what happened, you had to play your cards right. You fix your hair one last time and double-check the contents of your purse. It felt heavy, it felt right.

You had to get this right; you were living on borrowed time after all.

Your car stops at one of Darby Sabini’s tracks in London. Simon requested privacy and privacy he’ll get. No one knows that the Coventry’s are present in the race except for Alfie, Sabini, and the men who ushered you to the private room. No word was supposed to be out that you were both here. Simon forbade it. You let Simon walk in front of you with his hand clasped around yours. The room you were in had whisky, rum, and other items that you knew were not for the general public. When you arrived, a man with a hat was waiting.

“Darling, I’d like for you to meet Alfie Solomons,” Simon tells you, removing his hand from yours to shake Alfie Solomons’ hand. “He’s been the one supplying us with security. Sabini will get here in a while, but I think that it’s better for you to meet Mr. Solomons first.”

“Good…day, Mrs. Coventry,” Alfie greets, a polite bow sent to your way.

“Good day, Mr. Solomons. I’ve heard so much about you from my husband,” you offered, smiling at him.

“Good things, I hope?” he asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Mr. Coventry, Darby Sabini’s been looking for you. Something about your dealings. I don’t really keep track, you know?”

“Of course,” Simon nods. He kisses your head. “Will it be alright to leave you with Mr. Solomons for the meantime, my love?”

“Sure, darling,” you said, your hand tightening on the beaded purse in your hand. He smiles at you before leaving, looking for Darby Sabini. You watched the door close and you were about to sit down when Alfie Solomons spoke.

“You know, love,” Alfie starts, walking to you closer. He stops right beside your ear. “If you wanted to hide that gun better, you’d have to loosen your grip on your purse. I can see the outline of the barrel from where I was standing.” he says before leaving you in the room. “Darby Sabini’s not here but he is somewhere by the racetracks,” he hints.

“What do you want?” you asked, following him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Let’s just say I’m a friend of Tommy Shelby,” he nods to himself. Your blood runs cold, and your face turns pale. “Go,” he urges. “Do whatever you want,”

You exited the special room with haste. Blood was ringing in your ears and you couldn’t breathe properly. You were stumbling with adrenaline, with hope, with…every single emotion that you never thought you could feel and comprehend. Nobody else was in the corridors leading to the room marked with an unassuming planter box beside it. You cautiously entered and Simon turned around immediately. His face tenses with alarm when he sees you.

“Darling, what are you doing here? You should go back with Mr. Solomons before Darby Sabini sees you. I told our men to all leave so he and I could have some privacy,” he warns, eyes darting everywhere.

“He’s not…he’s not here,” you tell him, unloading the gun from your purse with shaky hands.

“What—what is this about?” Simon asks, looking pointedly at the gun that Tommy gave you long ago. You weren’t even sure if it was still working. You point the gun at him, straight to his face. “You’re going to kill me? Is that it?” he asked, anger taking over his features. “You’re going to kill me when I’ve given you everything! I gave you your fucking life, Y/N. Put that gun down and-and we’ll pretend like this never happened,”

“No! You—you took everything away from me, Simon. You took my family away. You took Johnny away from me and you still—you still expect me to love you? You took me away and weaponized my freedom. You think—you think that I can still love you? I wake up every day counting to ten if you’d hit me. If you’d shove me down and slap me and kick me. This isn’t love, Simon! This is prison,” you enraged, your gun shaking. “You told me that…you told me that the only way out is if I kill you,” you heaved.

“Y/N…you’re being callous right now, love. You’re not you…you’re angry,” he tries, walking towards you but you just shook your head. “You’re being stupid!”

“Stop! Simon, stop!” you shouted, the volume of your voice raisins. “I can never be smart for you. I’ll always be a property in your eyes and I—and I’ll never ever be your equal,” you sobbed. “This is something that I need to do. You broke me,” you cried, tears falling in your eyes. “You broke me, and you still expect me to love you,”

“I love you, Y/N,” he sobs. “I love you—“

The coiled spring that wrung your heart explodes.

A manicured hand pulls the trigger, and your husband falls to the ground along with the gun that you held. Your hands shake and you fall on the floor, wailing. Now that the job was done, who else would you have? You crawled towards him, your dress was getting dirty, but you didn’t care. Who thought you’d finally use the gun that Tommy bought you for protection?

You lay your head down on his chest, there was no heartbeat. He was dead, Simon was dead. The trembling of your hands, hold what you could. The blood trails down your arm and you just lay there. He was dead. Simon was dead, you killed him. You killed Simon. You killed the man who loves you.

“There’s no use crying over spilled milk,” a gruff voice that belonged to Alfie Solomons says behind you. “You’re more capable than what Tommy painted you out to be,”

“Where is he?” you asked. It was odd, you thought you’d be crying by now. “Where’s Tommy?”

“Sabini’s men took him,” Alfie shrugged. “Simon ordered Sabini to kill Tommy today. You did well,”

“I killed my husband,” you told him. The waver in your voice couldn’t be pinpointed to one single emotion. “I just…I just killed my husband,”

“I see that,” he replied. “This wasn’t Tommy’s plan really. He was supposed to kill Simon and I was supposed to guard you while this all happens but…I guess Simon was quite intelligent too,” he says, pushing Simon’s limp arm with his cane. “You’re a good shot,”

“Mr. Solomons, I’ll buy your silence for five thousand pounds. I’ll let your men take care of this scene for ten thousand more. Make sure that none of this is blamed on me or on Tommy,” you negotiated, pulling yourself away from your husband. You were still trembling and Alfie could see how hard you tried to supress yourself from revealing too much.

“You just landed yourself millions. I don’t think a few thousand more will be burdensome on your pockets?” he asked, looming over you. He extends his hand for you to take, and you do, hauling yourself to meet him at eye level. You swallowed.

“Blame this all on Darby Sabini,” you told him. You stand up straighter, looking him in the eye. “And I’ll make sure that the cash is ready for you after the funeral. I’m sure you’d want very powerful friends on the inside?”

Alfie nods, a smirk forming on his face. Looks like you never needed Tommy in the first place.

The police found you wailing on the scene of the crime, the weapon nowhere to be found. Alfie Solomons testified that you were with him the whole time when one of his men ran to tell you that Sabini’s men shot him in the head. He had someone testify on it too.The funeral was private and quick, you decided to bury him with his parents in the mausoleum with ‘COVENTRY’ written in gold. Simon bequeathed every property to your name in his will. You were free; you were finally, finally, free.

BIRMINGHAM, 1922

After selling your mansion in London, you moved back to Birmingham. You bought a house that was big enough to have guests over but still not as massive as your mansion in London. You haven’t talked to Shelby’s in a year, even though they did lend a hand with what happened to Simon. Apparently, it was Polly who arranged a meeting between some Lizzie Stark and Sabini. Tommy and Alfie connived to kill Simon, but Sabini’s men took Tommy away to some far away place before anything could happen. You couldn’t face them yet, not with the freshness of your wound…not with the guilt that clawed its way deep into you.

You’ve been with Simon for such a long time that you almost forgot what it was like to be yourself.

You looked at the garden outside your window, feeling nostalgic because this was the same garden where Tommy used to take you all those years ago. You were only kids back then…how time flies. Does he know thatnyou moved back to Birmingham? Is he giving you space?

You watched the rain fall from the French windows, appreciating the breeze and the calm that the pitter patter gave you. You looked on, a single figure walking towards your house and you smiled. For the first time since your life started, you were finally free.

A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done…actually, it isn’t. I will be uploading an epilogue sometime soon and then, I will be doing a Q&A afterwards which by the way, I’m already accepting question submissions! I will be posting all of the questions in one post and I hope you guys send in some questions about the story. I want to thank every one of you for loving the story of Y/N and Tommy and it has been such a ride. I can’t write anything about a final author’s not yet…I still don’t know how to feel to finally be able to finish this story…but maybe soon? Thank you so much for waiting and thank you so much for the overwhelming love and support! As always, don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, or maybe all… to show your appreciation! Thank you so much.

TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash @sweetwanderlust05 @globetrotter28 @thebestandworstdayofjune @reggxe-a @verreuckteli @vampireluck @zoexme @liter4ti @quixscentsposts @homosexualjohnwayne @charli123456789 @Maria_elizabeth21

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby angst #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fluff #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #hurt/comfort #thomas shelby ansgt

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arabellasleopardcoat · 6 months

Text

Wolf (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon inherits the Red Keep. He turns it into a sex club. You know, as one does.

Warnings: Modern Daemon x Hightower reader. Smut. Dom/ Sub dynamics. Overstimulation.

A/N: Daemon's views do not represent my own! Pt 2 to this. There is no need to read pt 1 to understand it, though. Also, do not learn BDSM from fanfic.

You sighed. You dropped your head, smashing the keyboard. This was unbelievable. Had your CV always looked so bland?

You erased the keysmash, and put instead, five years of experience as an CDO.

The door to your office was slammed open, making you jerk in your seat. You looked up, an annoyed remark already on your tongue, and froze. Daemon. Because who else would barge in so rudely?

“Your whorish sister is suing me.” He sat down, dramatically slumping down on the chair. “Make it stop.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Good morning to you too.” You closed the tab you were browsing in, job offers in King's Landing, and looked up at him. It was the first time you had seen each other since the elevator incident. So far, you were unimpressed with his opening gambit. “Alicent is the most monogamous person in Westeros.”

“It was a figure of speech.”

“Whatever. I am busy.” You typed even more furiously. You had all tabs closed, but Daemon didn't need to know that. It gave you an excuse to avoid looking at him. After that afternoon in the elevator, you were too embarrassed to do so.

Despite having been the one in control the whole time, you were the one who felt more ashamed of your encounter. Once the power trip had worn off, and you had faced reality, embarrassment had started to creep in. Sitting in your father's car with a bruised throat and soaking wet underwear had been humiliating enough. Just thinking of it made you hot under the collar, and not in a good way.

Daemon, instead, had the shamelessness of a porn star. To him, it hadn't been a big deal at all, and it showed. He strutted around the building, giving you naughty little grins every time your paths crossed. The only change had come, oddly enough, from following his real Instagram. You had been added to his Close Friends and now endured the terrible, inhuman torture of watching his selfies. If his mirror pics showed any more skin, they would be dick pics.

“You won't even ask why I am being sued?”

You sighed. You stopped feigning typing.

“I don't need to ask. I can guess it has to do with the contesting of your brother's will.”

Good Gods, you had heard enough of that. Alicent was clawing at the walls and frothing at the mouth that she was getting evicted from her home. Viserys had left her a considerable amount of money and properties, just as he had done for their children. But the Red Keep, the ancestral home in which she had lived ever since they married, was going to Daemon.

Your father was impossible, too. The majority of Viserys' share had gone to Daemon and Rhaenyra, which meant they could easily kick him out of the company. If they managed to agree on something, of course.

“It does.” Daemon kicked his feet up, placing them on your desk. He made a show of getting comfortable.

“There. Out of my office. I'm working” You slapped what you could reach of his feet and calves, until he had no choice but lower them.

“Fuck, you are so…” Whatever Daemon was going to say, he didn't get the chance. You slammed your laptop closed with much more force than necessary, making him wince. “Stop that. Seven Hells, you are so uptight. Relax. It doesn't matter. It’s not like you will hold this job much longer.”

“Is this my notice?” Your eyes narrowed. “Because you need to present it written, and I have to…”

“I just mean, when Rhaenyra gets the…” Daemon started saying, but once again, you did not give him the chance to finish. If he was going to interrupt you, you were going to interrupt him too. Petty as it sounded, it brought you great satisfaction to see him squirm.

“When Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron, you mean.” You smirked.

“God, what a mouthful.” Daemon laughed. It was annoying. His laugh was so loud and unashamed. You wanted to punch him. Or, at least, shake him and see if his only two neurons made synapse.

“Whatever.” You started to get up, grabbing your coat. Where were you going? Not even you knew, but it would be fine, as long as it was away from him.

“They could fire you still.” Daemon got up as well, blocking the exit. There was no escaping him, it seemed.

“I'll take my chances.” You snarled. Fuck, you didn't even mind Rhaenyra that much. It was the principle of the thing. What had she done for the company? Both she and Daemon just rode Viserys and Otto's success, spending money like it grew on trees and causing so many PR scandals they could as well be a controversial rock band. “Move.”

“It's still going to Rhaenyra.” Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you in place. His grip wasn't harsh, but rather, a warning. It made you think of the way he had tugged your hair, when you were on your knees… “Your sister is suing me because I want to put a sex club on the Red Keep.”

You choked on air.

“You want to do what?!”

“It's an historical building. Or so she says.” Daemon ignored you completely. To him, apparently, filling one of his ancestral properties with a bunch of naked, drunk people, was the new normal. You know, just what one does, if one is filthy rich and bored on a random Tuesday.

“It is one.” You said, a bit perplexed. The Red Keep was more than a hundred years old. Alicent had taken great care to restore the place, bringing experts from all over the world to ensure the best care for the building. You could not even imagine the look on her face when she realized that not only was she being evicted, but that also, Daemon intended to use her home as his sex dungeon.

How would that even work? Was it legal? Tourists visited the Red Keep, you knew. The place was nice, but it was a castle. You could not picture it as a club, or anything more than the home it had been for your nephews.

“The inauguration is on Friday. See you there.” Daemon clapped your shoulder, oddly sheepish. He seemed to actually want you there, which threw you for a loop. He kissed the corner of your mouth, and left, leaving you stunned in the middle of your office.

It ate at you the whole week. A few discreet inquiries confirmed that yes, Alicent sued Daemon. And then, Daemon sued back.

His official Instagram says nothing. His secret one, though, has it plastered all over. You make a note of it, sure that it will leak before the week is over. You get it right. The week passes in a flurry of desperate interns and phone calls, trying to calm down outraged members of the board. His face is all over the news, and the stocks drop. Again.

Your father is furious. Positively seething. Alicent is no better, especially the more Friday approaches. Each day that goes by, it’s one closer to losing her claim on the Red Keep altogether.

It had been a foolish choice, choosing Aemond as a lawyer. He was precisely the kind of man who never knew when to negotiate. If it had been up to you, you would have hired his associate, Alys Strong. Now that was a woman who you could respect.

You tried pretending deafness and blindness, clinging to the idea that out of sight was out of mind. It didn't work whatsoever. You couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if anyone found out about your rendezvous with Daemon last month.

Death, surely. Either throttled by Alicent, or out of sheer embarrassment of your father learning you had sex.

You should stay away from him. It was the reasonable thing to do. A one-night stand didn't mean anything. Everyone had those. Daemon was trouble. But gods, the look on his face when you had left him wanting. How powerful you had felt. Anyone would have trouble letting that go.

Friday dragged by, and you still had not made your choice. You agonized over it all day. It was only when you got off work that you made your choice. You were going, if only to see the clusterfuck with your own eyes.

Daemon had that kind of effect on you. It reminded you of the magicians at the birthday parties you used to attend as a child. He made you recklessly curious, always wanting to see what would be his next trick.

Deciding what to wear was another agonizing choice. Overall, it didn't matter. You realized as soon as you entered the Red Keep that you were overdressed. If you had shown up only in your panties, perhaps you would have blended right in.

It was tacky. It was tasteless. It screamed Daemon.

The Red Keep layout was kept the same, probably because it was an historical building and anything but would go against the conservation’s laws. All the furniture had been removed, making you barely recognize the rooms you passed. This was no longer your sister's home, but a den of sin.

The rooms were only lit by red lights, the heavy bass of some song that was probably in the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack echoing in the stone walls. You made your way to what used to be the dinning room, and walked towards the bar.

Tonight was meant to be a soft launch, and you intended to take advantage of the lowered prices. You asked the bartender to bring you a cocktail, but much to your surprise, the cocktail did not come alone. Instead, it came with a pamphlet and a small basket, filled with colorful bracelets.

“You have to wear one, Miss.” The bartender said. You stared.

When you were confident about what they each meant, you grabbed a purple one and placed it on your wrist.

“Switch.” Daemon whispered in your ear, startling you. “Are you sure about that?”

“Good Gods! You frightened me.” You complained, clutching your chest. To be able to speak to him over the loud music, you had to lean into his space quite a bit. By the smirk on his face, he was clearly enjoying it.

“I live for that. Frightening naive little girls.” Daemon gave a tug to the bracelet, letting it snap against your skin. “Sure about the color?”

“I am.” You moved back, scowling. You hated that he always wanted to command everything around him. The bracelet on his wrist was dominant red, making perfect sense.

“I would not say you are.” His hands were quick to catch you, one at your hip and another at your nape. Daemon ran a finger down your spine, making you shiver. “I think you are a little princess who loves submitting.”

“I am not a sub all the time.” You pushed his hands away. If anyone saw you practically on his lap, there would be hell to pay. Alicent would throw a fit, and so would your father. Besides, you didn't fancy ending up in the tabloids. “And get your hands off me, we are in public.”

“Look around, you prude. Practically an orgy.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and gently tilted you to face some couches in the other room. There were two women kissing, while a man was kneeling between their spread legs. None of them were wearing any clothes. You swallowed. You had been carefully avoiding looking at the others in the room. “And you are a submissive to me. You know what they say…”

“And what gave you that impression?” Your tone was sharp, but you were not as invested in the conversation as you once were. No. Because your eyes were fixed on a younger man, lingering by the corner of the room. A very familiar one, with silver hair. Was that..?

Whoever caught your attention, he was not allowed it long. Daemon stepped in front of you, blocking your view of him. One of his hands went to your face.

“Looks like one.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, open-mouthed. You hated your treacherous, treacherous body for reacting to it, a moan escaping your mouth. “Sounds like one.” Daemon kissed you, exactly at the pace that you liked. For some bewildering reason, that not even you could fathom, you kissed back. “Tastes like one. Must be one, don't you think?”

Daemon grinned at you, superiorly. Irritatingly, and just like that time in the elevator, you weren't sure if you wanted to slap the smile off his face, or kiss it away.

“I do not look submissive.” You bristled. “What in the Seven Hells gave you that impression?”

“Your eyes are all glazed over. You look fucked out and I haven't even touched you. And of course…” Daemon brushed the slope of your nose with a finger and gave it a boop. You batted his hand away, annoyed. “The fact that you were practically drooling to suck my cock a month ago.”

“First of all, that is not even a word. And you said it yourself. A month ago.”

“What? Glazed over or fucked out?”

“You sound like a bad porno.”

“A bad porno you like, little brat.” Daemon nosed along your shoulder, making your knees feel weak. He had the face of a man experiencing heaven, as if the tastiest delicacy was just there, for him to consume. “Lucky you, I love brats.”

“As if I care.” You did, but Daemon didn't need to know that. Part of you felt strangely pleased at being his type.

Daemon laughed. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“You owe me a punishment. Up for it?”

And again, contradicting all common sense, you nodded. Daemon grabbed your hand and brought you to a closed door, but before you could get in, someone pressed into your side.

“Aunt. How lovely.” Aegon said, smiling like a shark. You felt so embarrassed that you felt as if about to spontaneously combust. Daemon's arm around your waist tightened.

“Dear nephew!” Daemon smirked. “Fancy meeting you here. Tell me, how did you get in? Fake ID?”

Aegon was well over legal age, but he glared at Daemon regardless.

“With the invitation you sent me.” He then waved a hand towards you. “Does Mother know about this?”

“Well, yes. But I wasn't expecting you to show.” Daemon said, casually. Your mouth fell open.

“You sent him an invitation? Are you insane?” You shouted, turning towards him.

“I take it Mother doesn't know.”

“I wasn't expecting him to come! How would I have known?” Daemon shouts right back.

“You are mad.” You detangle yourself from him and ask the bartender for a shot. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

You down the shot so fast, you barely feel the sting of alcohol in the back of your throat. Aegon watches, amused, and asks for a drink of his own. When faced with the basket, he immediately picks a submissive bracelet and slips it on casually.

“Nice place you got here.” He complimented. Daemon ignores him, choosing instead to grab you by the arm.

“I can explain, little Hightower.”

“Fuck, you call her that?” Aegon whistles, delighted. His voice has a hint of awe. “That's dirty.”

“Shut up!” You glare at Aegon. Daemon falls quiet. “No, not you, fool. Explain.”

“I sent one to your sister, to Cole, to your father, to that boy with the stick up his ass, to Harwin and Nyra, to Helaena, to…” Daemon was counting with his fingers, and it seemed like he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

“I get it, I get it.” You interrupted. “What for?”

“To piss them off, of course. Gods know, some of those cunts need loosening up.”

“And Rhaenyra? Is she happy with what you have done with the place?” You snarl, a bit of jealousy creeping in your tone.

“Very. In fact, I saw her disappear over there with that Cole guy.” He pointed towards one of the rooms.

“Criston? Didn't think he had it in him.” Aegon comments idly.

“He is dornish.” Daemon interjected, as if it made perfect sense. But it didn't because being dornish didn't equate with wanting to receive whatever Rhaenyra had in mind. You certainly wouldn't be up for it. Your paths had crossed with hers enough times to know that, just as Daemon, she demanded worship.

Whatever Criston was doing here, you hoped he didn't regret it in the morning. Or else, you would have to explain to Alicent why her bodyguard was moping around and hungover.

Alicent. Fuck. Criston wanted to fuck her so bad it made him look stupid, and so did Rhaenyra. Perhaps that was it. Neither of them could have her, so they settled for each other instead.

“And heavy on the guilt.” Aegon muttered.

“Well, dear nephew. As lovely as it was meeting you here, and as touching as your show of support for my fine establishment was, I have business with your aunt.” Daemon's hand presses against your lower back, urging you forwards. You give Aegon a wide-eyed look. He is not the sort to care where others stick their cocks, and you are on relatively good terms, but he could still tell.

“Gross. Does Grandfather..?” Well. No one said Aegon was the paragon of intelligence. It is for the best that you didn't answer his question. Plausible deniability and all.

Daemon and you exchange a look. Your eyes, pleading. His, annoyed.

“Anything he drinks is free.” Daemon grumbles to the barman. He knows as well as you do that Aegon is easily distracted.

“What? For real?”

Neither of you answered. Daemon kept moving, and so did you. He led you towards one of the locked doors, deftly pushing a token inside a slit, and the door opened for you.

Your expectations for what was inside were high. Needing a token to open a door must mean this place is something special. A dungeon, perhaps, or a room filled with chains and leather. Maybe even a bedroom.

But as you have often come to realize with men, having high expectations is a terrible idea. The only thing inside is a cozy-looking couch and a small table that holds a bowl full of condoms and lube. You are unable to keep the disappointed little frown from your face. Daemon had talked such a big game, you had expected something different. Something more.

“This is it?” You say, trying not to sound as disappointed as you feel.

“Yes.” Daemon sits down on the couch. You stare. You must be pretty obvious because he gives you a lazy smile. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No.” Entranced by the way his lips curl, you step closer to him.

“What were you expecting?” Daemon’s hands go to rest on your hips like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“I don't know. Whips, chains?”

Daemon chuckles.

“Oh, sweetling.” He kisses between your collarbones, mouth leaving a trail of scorching heat on its path. You gasp, feeling weak at the knees from the simple touch. Your hands go to his shoulders, clenching and unclenching on his shirt to try to steady yourself.

Thing about Daemon? He is not polite. He kisses your chest and shoulders as if he wants to devour you. Daemon is messy with it, too, leaving you covered in hickeys and saliva. It should disgust you, but it only manages to turn you on more.

The bass pounds outside the room, mixing with the heavy pulse of your blood in your ears. You could swear you can listen to your heartbeat, with how fast your heart is going. Little pants escape you, only encouraging Daemon to get wilder.

He mouths at your throat. He takes off your top, sliding it down your shoulders. You cling to him, trembling and feverish. Your nails dig into the skin of his back, you feel as if about to fall over.

“Please.” You say, and you don't even know what you are asking for. Daemon, though, seems to know exactly what you need. His hand sneaks into your trousers, finding you wet and willing. Your knees buckle.

“Shh.” His voice is soothing. “Straddle me.”

So you do. His mouth goes lower, taking one of your nipples inside his mouth. You give a small, keening sound.

“Daemon…”

“I'm on it.” He smiles against your skin and slowly starts to suck. His fingers move upwards, after collecting some of your wetness. He locates your clit with deadly accuracy and starts rubbing soft little circles.

You mewl. Your hand goes to his neck, holding him as close as you can to your chest. It's not hard for him at all to bring you over the edge. You fall over it embarrassingly fast, muffling a moan on his shoulder.

Daemon lightly bites around your nipple, making you jolt. He keeps stroking you through it, pleasurable circles on your clit turning into painful oversensitivity. You cry out, legs trying to close, but finding there is no way for you to do it with how you are straddling Daemon.

“Hurts. Stop, Daemon.” You complain, trying to get away. Instead of complying with your request, though, Daemon only holds you tighter.

“Now, little brat. Where do you think you are going?” He smirks. Alarmed, you try to break his grip, pushing at his shoulders and even attempting to cup a hand over your cunt. “I have not forgotten what you did.”

You bite at his shoulder, hard. Daemon laughs, and keeps abusing your poor clit. His fingers pinch around it, exposing more of the bead.

“What's your safeword?”

“Safeword.” You mutter back, too distracted to try to be creative. The burning sensation on your clit keeps you from it, rising and rising and making you think you are about to come again. Soon, the pain changes from a bright flame to tiny embers, making your hips chase his hand once more.

“Good girl. Clever.” He kisses your forehead. “If you don't say it, I won't stop, no matter how loud you scream.”

Your mind is at war with your nerve endings, and it's steadily losing the battle. No matter how hard you try to focus on the thought of being unable to come again this fast, your body seems set on proving the contrary.

You want to give Daemon a witty retort. Perhaps, say something about the lines of how he will disappoint yet again. Yet, you are unable to because a shrill moan is leaving your lips, and you are falling over the edge again.

Daemon, though, is relentless. He pushes a finger inside of you, searching for the spot that will make you scream. You try to close your legs, shield your body from him. It’s pointless. He has too good of a grip on you, one hand holding you open and teasing your clit, and the other fingering you.

He definitely knows what he is doing. You are suffering too much to enjoy it.

Your body jerks as if you have touched a live wire, stomach’s muscles quivering with the effort of holding you uprights. Sweat is starting to ruin your hair, making it stick to your nape and temples.

“No, no, no.” You push at him, trying to get away. This time, you half manage, falling off his lap and into the couch instead. Daemon just looks amused, and leans down to nuzzle your belly.

“Thank you.” He lifts your hips slightly, even as you start to try to kick him off. He removes both your trousers and underwear with a swift tug. “This will be so much easier.”

And so, he licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan, half pleasure, half protest. Daemon wraps his arm over your hip and pins you down. He then takes your clit into his mouth.

The feel of his warm mouth around your clit eases a bit of the soreness there. The pleasure has made you stupid, so you open your legs to give him better access. You can feel the smugness radiating off him as you submit.

He is a dragon, he will tell you later. And dragons eat naive girls like you for breakfast, dinner and supper, if they are stupid enough to let them get close.

Daemon pushes another finger inside you. The stretch feels unbearable, making you try to squirm once more, but he is moving his fingers in a come and hither motion; your body is going rigid, and you are screaming and falling and—

You lose count, after that. Your body feels abused, there are tear tracks on your temples. You feel feverish. You go in and out of consciousness, as Daemon laps at you, fingers you, rubs at you.

Time turns liquid. It slips through your fingers, moments at a time. You are not very conscious of your body, or of what Daemon is doing. There is only hot, molten pleasure and burning pain.

How much pleasure can a body take? Your hands push weakly at his head, moments later, you beg for him to use his tongue instead. He gives you a last one, forcing your body to arch and twist and making you sob desperately, before scooping you up in his arms.

Daemon's hands go to fix your top. You shake, afraid that he is going to continue and torture your nipples instead.

“No, no, no, no.” You chant. “Please. I am so sorry. Please.” You are barely aware of what you are saying. If you could hear yourself with a clear head, you would scoff at this pitiful woman who bends for the simplest things. You would scoff at her, just as you had scoffed at Daemon for being made into a slave to his pleasure.

“You won't do that again, will you?” Daemon licks your tears, and you cling to his shirt in desperation, willing to keep begging if necessary. Pleasure is as devastating a weapon as pain, you have found out. The line between the two blurs until you are not sure if you need his mouth on you again to soothe the pain, or if you need him to never touch you to stop hurting.

You shake your head. You would do anything Daemon wants.

He grabs you by the jaw, roughly.

“Say it.”

“I won't. I promise, please.”

Daemon hugs you to him. You melt, mind and body exhausted.

“You were good.” He tells you, after a while. You are not sure how much time has passed, but your head feels much more clear. “My brave girl.”

You cling to his reassurance. You tell yourself you have done good, that you endured and never even thought of the safeword. That your body was pushed to its limits, and that you were able to conquer them. Still, you ask.

“Was I good?”

“The best.” Daemon caresses your hips, drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of them.

“Thank you.” And you pull yourself together, one piece at the time. Your eyes focus, you can feel the way his chest constricts and expands with his breath. You righten yourself. “Water. I want a water.”

“You are back, I see.” He stares at you with none of the contempt he had displayed a month before. “Cunty little Hightower that you are, used to the lush life.”

“I do not think it too much to ask.” You scowl, more than ready for another round of banter. No matter how tired your body is, your mind is still sharp.

Daemon laughs.

“Get down from my lap and I will get you one.”

You do so, on shaky legs. You sit. Primly, as if not sitting naked in a sex club, but rather at the table of an important restaurant.

Daemon laughs at the sight you make, thoroughly fucked out but so damn composed it's nearly irritating. It almost makes him question if he has fucked you well enough. The tear tracks on your face seem to say so, but your demeanor says otherwise.

He comes back with your water, and you straighten a bit more. Your hands give you away, though. As sharp as your posture is, you are still shaking.

“You could come with me.” Daemon opens the bottle for you. “I would pay you.”

You feel as if you have been gutted. You are more than this, you think. A Hightower, an heiress in your own right. Not a trophy wife, not someone to be used and paid. You have a degree, you are smart. And you have sworn not to become like Alicent.

Viserys had been a kind godfather and mentor to you. He had not been a good husband to her.

“Be your sugar baby?” Already, you feel your walls rising back up. Why would he ask this of you? It must be a mockery of some sort, perhaps he has not forgotten how cutting your barbs to him once were. This must be Daemon getting his revenge.

Your mental retreat must be paired with a physical one, even if you do not realize it. Because Daemon is coming after you, his hands on your hips, pulling you back into his lap.

His face changes to something more serious. He rubs his nape, and you know, only by that gesture, that what comes next will be good. Daemon Targaryen does not do sheepish, you would say if asked. Yet here he is, blushing like a schoolboy. It makes something roar in you.

“While that sounds tempting, I like you too much for it. Respect you too much for it. But the club needs a presence on social media…”

You nearly smile. But you are a Hightower and you enjoy making him grovel. Daemon calls you a cunt for a reason, after all.

“Everyone would say I fucked the owner.” You whine, hiding your face on his neck so he doesn't see the ferocious smile on your lips. He must feel it against his skin, the most beautiful of curves, sharp teeth at his throat.

“So? Did you not?” Daemon asks because he is also an annoying asshole. The remark, even if teasing, makes something painful tighten around your chest. As much as you can pretend not to be bothered by it, this getting out would end you. Your father would die of a fit of rage, your sister would never speak to you again, not when the man you are fucking and working with is suing her to the Seven Hells and back.

Rabbits and other small prey animals freeze to avoid detection. You do the same. As if standing still may make you escape notice, will make Daemon unable to read the lines of your face and body.

“You don't have to say yes right away. You can think it over.” His hand rubs the small of your back, soft and sweet.

He can tell. Of course, he can, if the truth is written on your features so well, you might as well be shouting it from the rooftops.

Daemon smiles. He helps you dress, tenderly.

“Come. I'll drive you home.”

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rainylana · 2 years

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“Don’t you ever let me hear you say that again.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: you were not the kind to show weakness. you didn’t want to be babied, but you can’t help but show up to eddie’s with a messed up, bloody face.

warnings: physical abuse, alcohol use, swearing, depictions of blood and bruising, crying, soft eddie, fluff galore, vomiting.

a/n: i know this is sad, but i’ve had a bad couple of days so here we are lmao. also, i wanted to take the time to thank everyone for all the support i’ve gotten with my writing! i appreciate every kind comment, reblog and new follow i get! you’re all so welcome and loved here! feel free to send me asks and requests!

“You’re a fucking moron, Wheeler! You cost us this campaign!” You banged your fist on the table, leaning over as you shouted profanities.

“Me?” Mike scoffed. “How did I cause our downfall? You rolled a four! A four, y/n!”

Dnd nights with the hellfire club weren’t exactly family friendly, but you had to admit, they were fun as hell. The kids were annoying, especially Mike, but they did hold a special place in your heart. Eddie, your boyfriend, sat at the head of the table, giggling and bouncing as he watched you defend yourself against the table.

You and Eddie were known as one of the most chaotic, outgoingly rambunctious couples of all Hawkins High. You became best friends in middle school when you transferred from California, and started dating your sophomore year. It was rare for you two to be apart. You were always together. Whether it was at school, hellfire night or just out on the town, you were together.

“Children, children, children,” Eddie stood dramatically, waving his ringed hands. “Never forget that it’s not about loosing, it’s about how you lose. They’re is no shame in running.”

“Oh, shut it, Munson.” You rolled your eyes, causing everyone to laugh, including him. His pearly teeth shined in giggles as you fought your smirk, collapsing back into your throne like chair.

He stretched out his arm, grabbing you by the collar and pulling you close, placing a loud, smacking kiss against your lips. You both smirked as the kids cringed at your action. Eddie was terrible when it came to pda. The man had no shame, and never gave a shit who could see when he decided to man handle you, and hell, neither did you.

“Are you coming to my place tonight?” He pulled away, whispering amongst yourselves as everyone else loudly scooted out of their chairs.

“I want to,” You sighed, fixing the collar of his jean jacket. “But I’ve been gone all weekend. You know how dad is, he’ll worry.”

Eddie nodded, offering a small smile. “Sure. No worries. I’ll just miss you, is all.”

You smiled at your lover, knowing how lucky you were to have such an amazing person by your side. Hawkins treated him unfairly, because despite his status known as “The freak metalhead”, he won the national boyfriend award every year in your mind. He was thoughtful, considerate. He treated you like goddamn royalty, even. He was the most artistic, creative person you knew. You loved him with everything you had.

Your mother had died the summer before you left California, the reason why you had moved, and your dad had never been the same since. You loved him with all your heart, but sometimes, he scared you. You hated thinking that, because he was your dad, but the alcohol scared you. It had never gotten that bad before, though, and you believed he could keep things under control. When his evenings were tough, he needed a drink. And things, lately, had been especially tough.

His job wasn’t going very well, having been docked pay and hours. Money wasn’t a strong suit in your family, one of the many reasons why Hawkins high liked to pick on you too. A lot of the time, you practically lived with Eddie. You didn’t like sleeping at your house, and usually snuck out when your dad was passed out asleep.

Eddie knew your relationship with your father was strained, so he tried to be considerate as possible, offering his support in any way he could.

You helped him clean up everyone’s mess, putting away the game pieces and throwing away trash. You two always did it alone, because usually, things got a little heated. The kids knew better than to stay. “You want me to drive you home?” Eddie cleared his throat, pushing the last chair in. “Those brakes of yours make me nervous.”

You smiled as you turned, wiping your dirty hands together. “I’ll be okay. I’ll call you in the morning, k?”

He nodded as he watched you grab your bag, rolling his toothpick between his teeth. He gulped, feeling almost nervous about you leaving. But that was Eddie. He was always nervous for you to go home, because he knew how stressful the environment was for you. You chalked it all up with a brave face, pretended it didn’t get to you. He could read you, though. On mornings he picked you up for school, he could tell just by looking at you if the night had been difficult.

You walked over close to him, smirking at his sure sign of anxiety. He would always roll a stupid tooth pick. “Don’t worry about me, Ed’s. I’ll be fine. I’m sure he’s asleep by now.” You grabbed his chin, watching as his brown eyes bore into yours. “Now, are you going to kiss me goodnight, or what?”

He smirked softly, loosely wrapping his left arm around your neck, pulling you to his lips. You sighed into the kiss, his lips warm against your own, noses scrunching against each other’s. You placed your hand on his shoulder, fisting his jacket. You felt that familiar bulk of sadness build up in your chest, but you knew you had to fight it. You loved your dad, but you hated going home. You wanted to stay with Eddie, but you knew you had to go.

You pulled away from his lips, but only to bring your body his. You wrapped your arms warmly around his back, his scent buried into your chest. His arms wound tightly around yours, his head placed alongside yours. Hugs like these made him realize you were stalling to leave, he knew tonight would be difficult for you, but he long since gave up trying to convince you to move in with him actually. You were too stubborn, and liked to pretend everything was okay.

“You okay?” He mumbled, his hand moving softly at your lower back. You nodded against him, muttering a weak ‘yes’.”

You eventually pulled away, and you both smiled at each other. He gave your hand a squeeze, holding it until you walked away and broke the contact. He watched as you pushed open the basement door, and he sighed. Hopefully tonight would be okay.

•

Your breath punched it’s way out of your lungs so loudly, it created clouds in front of you. Your heart hammered so quickly, it barely made you capable of walking. Sobs cracked their way through your throat, making hoarse burns that caused you to wince. Your feet dragged along the ground, your hand holding your stomach to keep from throwing up.

The stale taste of iron filled your mouth, and though you weren’t aware of it, also dripped down your forehead. So, to some it up, no, the night had not gone well.

You weren’t even sure all of what had happened. He’d been asleep, your dad, just like you had suspected. You were nearly asleep, until you heard the loud crashing coming from downstairs. You kept telling yourself over and over to stay up stairs. Stay in bed. It’s not worth it. But you didn’t listen to yourself. You went, and you payed for it.

Your mind was in a total state of shock and disbelief, not being to handle nor process what had happened. You weren’t even able to defend yourself. It had happened so quickly, so suddenly that you barely had time to react, only your muffled screams and cries being heard. A part of you wondered if it was even your dad, maybe it was just someone who looked like him? You highly doubted it.

He had been completely hammered, as per usual, and when you tried to calm him down, your face was met with his fist, your ribs shoved into the side of a table, your throat marked with dark, purple fingerprints. Blood nearly coated your face, making you seem like an entirely different person. You were certain he was going to kill you, but it seemed like he was just bored with you.

He left you to lay there, sobbing and shaking like a traumatized animal. Eventually, you’d mustered up the strength to get up, and that led to now. You should have called the police or the nearest emergency room, but the only thing your mind screamed was Eddie. You tried so hard to keep the boy from worrying about you. You tried so hard to pretend your life wasn’t nearly falling apart.

But now, you didn’t know what to do. You were just wandering, and all you wanted was Eddie. You were in so much pain, your entire body ached and throbbed. It took nearly a half hour until you got to the trailer park, and you flinched as the loud dogs barked at your presence. You sobbed in relief at the sight of his trailer, happy to see his uncle wasn’t there. You loved him dearly, but the last thing you wanted was an audience.

Usually, you would have felt hesitant for his help. You never liked for him to see you cry, because you could see in his face how much it would affect him. Your pain caused his. But, you were running on adrenaline now, you weren’t crying anymore, only bloody and bruised. Eddie had no idea what was coming.

You didn’t bother to knock, and you used your shoulder to push open the door. “Eddie?” You tripped inside, voice cracking. “Eddie?”

You saw his bouncy, black curls first, the shine of his rings that flared in the orange tinted light of the kitchen. “Eddie.” You stumbled, sobbing dryly when you saw him.

“Y/n?” He rushed out at the weak sound of your voice. “Holy- oh, shit, what happened!” His face dropped completely, running to you and grasping your shoulders.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat filled with cotton. You shook your head, your eyes blurring together as he grabbed your face. “Y/n, talk to me! Talk to me! Who hurt you?”

It was starting to catch up to you, everything that had happened, and your mind seemed to go blank. Your vision blurred and it was harder to see, his words became harder to hear and make out. Your breathing slowed, and your head spun. You were finally in his presence, the only person in the world that you felt comfortable to let go around. So you did.

Your knees buckled and smacked against the floor, and the rough, burning pain of bile scorched it’s way out of your throat and onto the floor. Your chest heaved and hyperventilated, and you could barely hear Eddie beside you.

“Okay, it’s okay.” His voice nearly shook at how scared he was, holding your waist as he took in your form. The blood on you was cracked and dried into your skin, the bruised turning into a dark purple. He was trying his damnest to not loose his cool, but you weren’t complying with him.

You dry heaved one last time as you coughed, your senses coming back to. The pain in your ribs was too intense to be able to hide your tears, and you let out a painful, noisy sob as you tried to lift yourself up. “Y/n, please, what’s going on? You’re scaring me, talk to me! Who did-”

“Dad.” You sobbed, grabbing at his chest for support.

That was all it you needed to say, and you watched as the color from his face dropped, his brown eyes sinking as he took in your broken face. You looked down, breaking down in tears as you hiccuped. “I don’t- I don’t know w-what happened.” You shook. “Eddie, I don’t- I don’t understand, I can’t-”

“It’s okay, shh.” His face went back to that loving, passionate gleam that you fell in love with. He was fighting every instinct to go to your house and kill your father, to knock him on his ass and make him pay. He too, was in shock, because you looked terrible. But he couldn’t, because you needed him. You were freaking out, and he needed to clean you up.

“Shh, honey, it’s alright,” He reassured you, gathering your close so he could view your injuries. “Calm down, I- shit, y/n, tell me what hurts? Should we go to the hospital, I-”

“No!” You pulled away, standing up. “No, I can’t! Nobody can know a-about this! Dad- he, he didn’t mean it!” You flailed your hands, and he approached you slowly.

“Okay, okay, just-” He swallowed roughly, feeling powerless. “You need to sit down, baby. You’re bleeding, just..sit down, alright?”

He guided you sit down on the couch behind you, watching you like you were a wounded animal ready to pounce for it’s last fight. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He kissed your head softly, rushing into the bathroom and opening every drawer he found.

Your hands shook in your lap, and you felt the back of your head with your shaking hand. Blood stained your fingertips, and you let out a cry. One by one, sobs began pouring their way out of your throat. You hunched over, your cries sounding hoarse and nasally from the bruises on your throat.

Eddie crouched down below you, his eyes glancing up at you as you cried. He lifted your chin up, bringing a wet washcloth to your bloodied cheekbones. His other hand rested on your knee, and he tried his best to concentrate on cleaning you up. “It’s my fault.” You finally spoke, making him flinch with your sharp sob.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes, bringing the rag down.

“I shouldn’t-” You choked on your sob, grabbing at his wrist. “I shouldn’t have gotten up. I should of just- I should of j-just ignored it. I pushed him it’s m-my fault.” You cried.

His face hardened at your words, and he sat taller, grabbing your face. “Don’t you ever let me hear you say that again.” He shook his head.

“You listen to me and you listen good, this is not your fault, you hear me?” He lifted your chin, wiping away a stray tear. “This is not your fault, sweetheart.”

He stood, moving to sit beside you. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you softly, careful not to hurt you. You cried into him, hiccuping into the material of his shirt. “I won’t let him hurt you again, I swear it.”

He held you throughout the night, taking care of you gently and lovingly. And he was right, because he’d never let him hurt you again.

#eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things season four #stranger things

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captain-barnes-writes · 1 year

Text

Fallen Petals (Max Verstappen)

part one

Summary: How a relationship wilts and comes to an end.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warning: ANGST, so much angst, I LOVE ANGST lol, Wordy as hell hehehe, tension, unresolved feelings, implications of cheating, SMUT, sexual content. 18+

NOT PROOFREAD

Word count: 3.6k (oops)

•

2021

Max Verstappen’s shoes and clothes were starting to collect dust in the closet. His towels unused for weeks, his toothbrush next to hers on the bathroom counter. Everything seemed to be mocking her. Everywhere she looked remnants of the man she loved were there tormenting her.

Things were coming to an end and she knew it.

She knew it as she sat on the chair on her usual end of the table. Her in her usual place and his space as empty as ever. Dinner served on the table. Two plates of rigatoni and wine served, plated ever so carefully to make everything special. A small homemade cheesecake for dessert sat in the fridge.

The pink peonies in the middle of the table, two petals had already fallen.

Her phone read 10 pm in her shaky hands. He was supposed to be home at 7. Three hours ago and yet not a single text was sent her way. Not an apology, not even an excuse.

Where are you?

Are you ok?

She could only afford herself to send two messages, feeling pathetic for even worrying for somebody who clearly chose to be elsewhere than with her.

A little scrolling on social media, story after story until came the one to pin the nail to the wall.

Lando posted a story (1hr ago)

Max wasn’t one to really party, or to frequent bars or places filled with too many people. He wasn’t like that. Wasn’t one to not tell her of his whereabouts, even if she didn’t ask, he’d tell her. Lately things had been different, even that was an understatement. They had been on two different worlds, hers admittedly still welcomed him but his did not.

While she knew that his life was much like formula 1, fast, busy and chaotic, she didn’t account for the many times she’d be left behind in the midst of it all.

This was one of the times. Seeing him sitting next to a pretty brunette she knew all too well, of the history of her with the Red Bull team. Of her father, of her last partner. And maybe she found comfort in seeing Lando sitting next to him on the other side, but it wasn’t enough of it. She still felt the tightness in her chest.

Kelly was sitting next to him, not her. Not his actual partner.

In the beginning of it all, it was hard to understand, but she came to see that it came with the territory. His life was fast and their love would have to keep up. She would have to keep up.

But it had become increasingly harder and harder. The missed dates, the lack of texts and calls, the missed opportunities of spending time together. She missed him terribly and he was so nonchalant. Distant even at many times and her heart ached.

His life was chaos and she was his sanity, retaining him to the ground, enveloping him in a love that granted him comfort. At least that’s how it had been at first.

God, but his life relished on speed even outside the track. The chaos would envelop him and he would get lost in it all. In the clubs, the new people he met on the daily. The models and actresses. In the luxury that came with being a successful formula 1 driver. A world champion.

While she was ever so present, he wasn’t. He wasn’t there at all. Not much like before.

Back then he had been excited by a mere message of hers, any interaction that could be as minor as her liking one of his pictures. The little hearts he’d put under every single one of her pictures. The compliments. The flowers that found their way to her doorstep regardless of where in the world he was. The love that could be seen and felt even by those on the outskirts of it. Once visible and true, now it seemed only a shell of it.

Had it worn off for him? She couldn't even ask herself that. Couldn’t think about it or she’d break even more. Her thoughts were already tearing at her, the seams no longer mendable.

She loved him, but she felt suffocated being in his house. In the large dining room where she sat alone feeling pathetic for even bothering to wear a pretty dress. She felt as pathetic as the uneaten plate of food on his end of the table. She wanted to throw it all in the bin, throw the base on the floor. Scream and cry, but she didn’t want to be that person. She wanted to leave with her dignity.

She would leave it all as it was so he could see that she waited for him as long as she could, but that time had ran out.

She looked around the dining room that felt larger at that moment, got herself up as steady as she could and made her way into his bedroom. It felt stifling being in the room where they had made so many memories only they knew. Engraved in their minds forever even while they were apart.

The space looked as empty as ever. His side of the bed no longer smelled like him after more than a month away. So many weeks and his scent no longer lingered the sheets and pillows to bring the comfort she so desperately needed in those moments she missed him most.

Placing a suitcase on the bed, she began to place the few belongings she kept at his place. Her clothes, perfumes, shoes. The toothbrush that always had its place next to his was thrown into the bin. Everything that would warn him that she was no longer taking part in a space that no longer felt hers.

She couldn’t lie to herself any longer. Not when another brunette was always seemingly at the same events he was, even at his side at times. At first she pinned it on her father’s heavy influence on the sport, or the mutual friends that would always unite them in a way that would have them in a room together. But it was becoming more frequent, her being left behind more and more was not a coincidence.

The tears were flowing and she couldn’t pack fast enough. Her blurred vision making it difficult to see what garments she was even grabbing. How bunched up the clothes were in the shallow spaces of the suitcase. Her ears were ringing and she couldn’t even hear the footsteps of the man she adored at the door.

Max’s azure eyes ogled at the suitcase on the bed, the woman he’d cast aside time and time again stuffing the clothes into it.

“What is going on?” Was all he could muster. She flinched and turned around immediately.

Max stood there with his customary blue jeans and white shirt. His hair slightly smoothed back. His eyes were wide watching as the girl’s puffy eyes rolled at his question.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Max?”

“Obviously you’re packing, but for what?” His attitude even off the track could get under her skin at times. This was one of those times when maybe an apology would be a good start. An explanation as to why he didn’t show up once again, as to why their dinner went cold and the candles on the dining room table had died.

“Because this,” She pointed at him and back to herself. “This isn’t working anymore.”

The man couldn’t walk fast enough towards her and grab her by the waist. She whimpered at the intrusion and how foreign it felt after weeks without him. Yet she still looked up at him and met his eyes for what she knew would probably be the last time.

“Max.” She sighed. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. You’ve been gone and literally the day that you’re back you don’t even remember that I made plans for us here. That I told you I would make you your favorite food and we’d spend the evening in, just us two.”

She was fucking crying and she hated it. Hated that a man had her in her feelings like this. But it had been a relationship nonetheless, a good one at times that still had its ups and downs. One that had her experience things she never thought she would.

He was silent.

“And yet you don’t say anything. You don’t give me an apology, an excuse, you’re not giving me anything. I know that you went out with your friends instead, if you could even call that to your newfound friendship with Kelly.”

“That’s not…That’s not it. I’m sorry. I really am. I’m just shocked at seeing you like this.”

She stayed silent too. Waiting for more than just an apology and quite frankly being in his embrace the way she was, she felt uneasy like she was betraying herself and everything she wanted to say.

“My phone died and I couldn’t contact you. They invited me last minute and were hounding me to go, I had no way to get out. You know how Lando is. I told myself I’d leave after one drink and that I wouldn’t eat much so I could come back. But one drink turned into two and I lost track of time.”

“That’s starting to happen quite a lot.” He winced at her comment. He knew it was true. How his mind was dwindling these days. Occupied with tasks, with meetings, with new friendships that had sparked as he traveled to different countries. With his outings, with a certain brunette whose presence became frequent at events.

How small talks progressed to mingling around to stay by each other’s side. How those talks turned into going for drinks, for dinners. It was friendly, he told himself. He knew better than to lie to himself, how there were always underlying motives behind every move and every word shared.

“And you still avoid talking about her.” She tried to push away from his embrace but he was too strong, feeling suffocated with a man whose love was faltering. Whose body she kissed and touched on the very bed they were standing next to.

She looked away from him for the very first time that night and turned her attention to the bed. They had fucked each other more times than she could count there. Made it their own space, their little haven and now it had been weeks since they had laid there together. She hadn’t touched him in weeks and seeing him again made her relieve all those moments again.

Her eyes were still teary, skin hot with pent up anger and disappointment and yet she was still thinking of how his lips were that same pale pink and full, his cerulean eyes wide, his hair so damn soft. And she would be lying to herself if she didn’t wish things were different. That he had come in through that door with his wrinkly smiley eyes and that it would all be pure happiness like many times before.

The thing was that it wasn’t.

Things were different now regardless of how much she still desired him. How she still loved him. How having his mere hands at her waist stirred the butterflies in her stomach. But it was no longer just her and Max. Something had shifted in him lately. Attention elsewhere, mind wandering.

“She’s just a friend.” He reassured, one of his hands had moved from her waist to her face to make her look at him again. His breath hot on her face.

“I saw that she was at your little dinner. Sitting next to you as always.” She didn’t mean to sound so jealous. Surely, she had a right to be, but she didn’t want to show him how much of an effect it had on her.

“I didn’t invite her.”

“Sure you didn’t, Max. I don’t need the lies.”

“You’re my petal. I don’t want anybody else.” Why was he calling her that now. His favorite petname for her, adoring and private just for them both. To calm her down and reel her in again and avoid the topic she wanted to discuss.

“Your petal is wilting, Max.”

She paused.

“You’re not the Max I fell in love with. The old Max would’ve taken Lando’s phone and called me when your phone died, would’ve made sure I was the one sitting next to you, not another woman. My Max would’ve…” Her voice was shaky as she watches his eyes fall to the ground, his hand had fallen from her face.

“My Max would’ve made sure to see me as soon as he landed. You’re not the same anymore and I don’t understand why. And you know what? Maybe I don’t want to know anymore so this hurts less.”

“Fuck baby... I’m sorry for hurting you these last couple of weeks. I’m a shitty person sometimes, I know.”

One of his hands held her jaw softly while his other hand touched her cheek tilting her head to look at him, to see that his eyes were teary too. They stared at each other for what felt like hours, an intense silence ensuing around them. The tension heavy as the couple who’d spent weeks apart were only inches away from one another in a room that held their best moments.

One of them made the move first, maybe it was him or her, it was too fast as their lips met for a kiss that was bruising. Weeks of pent up sadness, want and desire combined their movements of desperation as he clawed at the back of her legs, securing them around his waist.

“Fuck I’ve missed you.” He said in between kisses. His voice hoarse as he walked around the bed and dropped her on it. Still on top of her not wanting to part from her for even one second or he felt as though she’d slip through his fingers. She was letting him touch her, letting him spread her legs apart as his fingers moved the flimsy material of her underwear to the side, finding the little nub that he missed and starting the same rhythm that always had her writhing in his grasp.

“I hate you for making me feel like this.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” His fingers rubbed against her most private part, her slick already coating his fingers as he continued to touch her the way he knew she liked.

“You are the worst.” She was breathing hard as they pulled away from one another, eyes still sad and cheeks stear stained. He kissed the corner of her eyes, her eyes fluttering close as he became the sensible man she missed so much. He kissed her cheeks as though he was erasing the tears he’d caused.

“I am.” His voice was so low as their lips met again. His middle finger had entered her slick and it had been more than a month for her, she felt like she was seeing stars with just his hands. It had been much less for him, but this one really felt like home.

Admittedly his words carried more weight than he could admit. How nights could get so lonely as he traveled to different countries. One was almost always around, sneaking glances and how it had turned into lingering looks and then into so much more as the days passed. But she wasn’t like his girl, no one could ever come close to the actual feeling of home. How home was the girl in Monaco who loved him and kept him grounded, reminding him of what was important in life.

He was desperate to feel more of her. To be inside her. With his fingers pumping inside her for a bit more, he freed himself from his jeans clumsily. The garment falling to the floor along with his boxers, her panties had followed and within seconds his fingers had been replaced with his throbbing member.

He would be lying if his eyes didn’t roll back and a sigh of relief didn’t leave his lips as he felt her warm walls engulf him. She was letting him have her, to fuck her senseless. Moaning below him as he fucked her into the matress with his harsh movements. He hadn’t even given her time to adjust to him again, feeling so desperate to just fuck away the pain and sadness out of them both.

To him this was his way of making it up to her, of them making up and that things would be ok. To her this was a moment of shameful weakness. This wasn’t making up for her.

“I fucking love you, I’m sorry baby.” His hot breath was on her face as he looked down at her. She stayed silent instead maneuvering her fingers to tangle themselves in his hair making their lips meet again in a heated kiss that shared the same tension as that of the movements of their bodies below.

The room in a way felt like before again, didn’t carry that stifling and unbalanced feeling as before. It smelled like sex, sweat and their perfume combined once again. Much like the times before when they finally saw each other again, they always found themselves in this very room showing each other how much they had missed each other.

His movements were harsh. They almost always were when his trips away from Monaco were long. She was a mess below him, moaning into his mouth as he fucked into her harder, his fingers almost bruising at her legs. It was liberating for him this way, for her to feel how desperate he felt to make it up to her.

It was a mess of limbs, a heady of juices falling onto the bed below, of skin slapping against one another. It was all pornographic as best as she felt herself crumble into the pressure that had built itself inside her and washed over her in torrents as she pulled from his lips to cry out his name.

His movements became shallow and less turbulent as his own release was starting to pent up inside him, wanting nothing but to fill her with his cum. When he did, with tense muscles all he could do was groan in pure content as he filled his girl with his heavy cum. It felt like it had been so long without her and he realized how she much he needed her.

He fell at her side on the bed once he’d cleaned her up with a towel. Her little whimpers at the feel of the soft towel on her sensitive area had made him wince at the realization that maybe he had been a bit too rough this time.

But once he’d found his way to nestle to her side, she had gotten up and placed her underwear again. Fixing her wrinkled dress again to its old state.

“What--What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“What?” He said incredulously, his own body pushing off the bed and placing his own garments of clothing back on.

She started zipping up the brown suitcase which had luckily for her not fallen off the bed despite the mess they had made on the bed.

“That was a moment of weakness for me. I know there’s more to what you’re letting on. I’m not letting that go. I know there’s more to you and Kelly than what you’re telling me. Why you’ve been pulling away from me lately.”

“It’s not the distance because we’ve dealt with that plenty. Our relationship wasn’t filled with excuses, missed calls or late text messages like it is now. You’ve been pushing me away and now I’m not the person you’re most excited to see, Max. I see that. Regardless of us having just had sex or not, I wasn’t the first person you wanted to see today.”

“You’re my girlfriend, you’re always the first person I want to see.”

“You haven’t made it seem like that for a while now.”

“It was a mistake. Today and all those times I’ve failed to communicate, I’m sorry. This life is hard sometimes, I get so lost in it at times. You’re the one person that keeps me sane and keeps me grounded.”

“I’m not that person for you anymore, Max. I see it now.” Those little droplets she hated so much and wanted to avoid began falling down her cheeks yet again. With trembling hands she grabbed the suitcase from the bed and began making her way out of the room.

Max felt desperate again. His heart felt like it was clawing at his throat, beating so rapidly as he watched the woman he’d been taking for granted start walking away from him and his life.

He was close behind, following her through the hallway into his living room. Pleading with her as the apologies fell from his lips, his own eyes were watery. He really was losing her for his own stupid choices.

He realized then that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. His garden had began wilting, he’d foregone watering it, the petals fallen off the pretty flower he had once cherished and cared for.

“You’ll always be that person for me. I don’t want you to leave, petal. I really need you.”

She was crying as she continued the short trek to the front door. Hearing him plead for her this way was painful. But there was more to what he was letting on, more to what him and that woman shared and she couldn’t falter. Not this time.

“It’s clear you’ve already found my replacement.” Was all she could bring herself to say without her voice giving out on her. She didn’t turn back to look at him once as she pulled the door open and closed it after herself.

Hope you guy like this angst piece I wrote in a day! Might have its errors here and there but I love angst 🤭 and I also have been really enjoying some Max Verstappen hehehe

#max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen rec #f1 #formula 1 #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfic rec #formula 1 fanfic #angst fanfic #max verstappen fic

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sanzaibian · 3 months

Text

Life is really unjust.

My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs.

Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.

However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be.

I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.

I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing…

I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.

However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.

When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.

And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.

Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there…

And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.

However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something…

It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…

On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.

“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others !

- Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears.

- And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”

As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :

“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard…

- Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it.

- Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed.

- What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”

She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time !

… at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.

No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What’s-

Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…

As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin.

How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !

The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember…

However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?

The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving.

What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !

I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right…

Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.

The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus.

She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.

I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ...

I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…

“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me.

- Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow…

- Do you want to see the results ?

- Of fucking course !”

The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.

Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich !

I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…

Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :

“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”

The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.

Ugh, my head really hurts...

“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”

I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !

That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :

“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.

Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters.

As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.

“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”

And the limousine sets off.

The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.

I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up.

I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.

Life is really unjust.

I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

But when you’re on its good side,

Life is fucking lit.

#male transformation #male tf #nonbinary transformation #nonbinary tf #nerd to jock #nerd to himbo #jock tf #himbo tf #douche tf #dumber tf #mental change #reality change #transformation #tf story

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the-froschamethyst4 · 9 months

Text

Unwanted love

𖤐Pairing: Ghost x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Some angst, hints of smut, arranged marriage, fingering, p in v, jealousy, fake love, toxicity, arguments, some harassment, fake names

𖤐Summary: Ghost and Y/n are an arranged married couple due to Y/n’s father wanting protection from anyone trying to kill them. Ghost got his payment and requested to marry Y/n

——————

———————

The L/n family were a rich and successful family. So successful that the head of the L/n family; Matteo L/n needed protection for his family.

He had hired some men to protect him and his family but since he paid them, the guys wanted something else in return.

Marriage with the only daughter of the family, Y/n L/n.

She is selfless, stable, kind and open-minded.

The headed of this organization, Simon Ghost Riley who is Y/n's arranged husband is the opposite of Y/n. He's cold, demanding, jealous and serious.

If you looked at him the wrong way, you were on the floor with blood coming out of you, it didn't matter who you were, what you did, you would be dead to him and everyone else.

Ghost hated people, couldn't stand them and when he 'married' Y/n, he ended up vowing that he would protect her even against people he may trust. He gained a soft spot for Y/n but REFUSES to show it to her or anyone.

-----------

Y/n sat on the couch in the big house on her stomach looking at her phone she was on Facetime with her best friend, Ruth.

Y/n and Ruth have been best friends since they were babies. Ghost knows about Ruth and has expressed how he doesn't like her to Y/n. Y/n doesn't give a fuck though and still talks to her.

Y/n and Ruth were talking about going to a club and doing a girl's night.

"Oh yeah, I haven't seen you since the wedding," Y/n said.

The wedding was around 3 years ago. Y/n sometimes feel like a prisoner in her own home, she shares with Ghost.

"Yes, I know. We should go tonight."

"Tonight, okay-"

"Or do you need to talk to your husband about going out?"

Anytime Ruth and Y/n make a plan to do anything, and Y/n goes and tells Ghost. Ghost gets all mad and Y/n has to tend to Ghost making her plan go to waste.

"No, I won't tell him, he doesn't get to know this plan," as she said that she got up and headed to her bedroom to go get ready.

She hung up and started to get ready.

She started up a shower and shampoos her hair and started to get out. She put a towel around her waist and a towel up in her hair, she sat on the sink and started to do makeup.

Ghost had come home all pissed off. He plopped on the couch rubbing his forehead from stress and he heard Y/n upstairs with music playing.

Ghost sat up and went upstairs to see what she was doing, he saw her in the towel around her waist, the one on her head fell off on the ground. He saw her doing her makeup and was confused.

"The hell you are getting all dolled up for?" He asked, leaning on the doorframe.

"No one," she bluntly said.

"Someone," he said.

She put her makeup brush down and looked at him.

"Seriously, Simon?" She said.

"Well, I don't know what you're doing. For all I know, you could be getting ready for a date."

"That's some fucking bullshit, Simon and you know it. Do say that bullshit," she said, getting off the sink counter and pushing her finger into his chest.

"Get out of my face, Y/n," he threatened.

"Or what? What will you do, Simon? I'm already in hell, being stuck here with you, someone who claims to be my husband, but you treat me like I'm one of your men, throwing me around and 'putting' me in my place."

Ghost's eyes had darkened with her attitude. She's given it to him since they first got married. They've had sex but it was so rough and meaningless that it felt like nothing, it felt terrible, and they both knew it too.

Ghost slammed his hands on the counter behind Y/n trapping her between the counter and his toned body. She wasn't scared of him, not one bit and that's what made Ghost fall in love with her, because she wasn't afraid of him.

"I may be your husband, and I may treat you a certain way, but I have my priorities and one is you, believe it or not."

"The hell does that have to do with anything, Simon?" She asked.

She turned around to finish up her makeup, she tried to ignore his gaze on her. She could tell his eyes were dark and meaningless behind them, Ghost rolled his eyes and left the bathroom, he changed out of his clothes and grabbed some comfortable clothes.

Y/n stepped out of her towel and grabbed a tight club dress, it was black short with a slit on both side that go so far up that if she sat down, she could very expose something and she knew she wasn't going to wear underwear underneath it either.

She came out and Ghost immediately looked at her and saw the dress she was in.

"Change it," she ignored his comment. "Hey, did you hear me?"

"I did, but why would I listen to you?" She grabbed some heels with red bottoms.

Ghost grabbed her wrist, making her turn and look at him. "Because I am your husband, I know what's good for you and I don't want to watch the News and I see your face on the TV as a murder victim or something worse, do you understand?"

"Get...the fuck...off of me," she yanks her wrist from his grasp. "I am allowed to dress and wear whatever I want," she said, putting her heels on and walking to the back of the door and grabbing a small purse to put her wallet and phone inside.

"Fine...but don't say I didn't fucking warn you and let me guess...you're going out with Ruth?"

"And what if I am?"

"That's fine but-"

"But nothing, YOU HAVE TOLD ME TOO MANY FUCKING TIMES HOW YOU DON'T LIKE HER!? AND DO I FUCKING LISTEN? HELL NO! Because I don't care what you say, Simon. I'm going..." she said as she walked out of the bedroom and headed downstairs where Ruth waited for her.

Ruth jokingly honked the horn at her, when she came running out of the house and getting into the passenger side and started to sing whatever was playing in Ruth's car.

Ghost watched from the front door as Ruth left the driveway and Y/n didn't even look back when they drove off.

Ghost shut the door and headed to the kitchen to make himself something to eat.

----------

9:00PM

Y/n and Ruth were at the bar on their 6th drink of the night. Both of them are obviously so drunk. Ruth was pulled away from one of the many guys there. Y/n cheered for her best friend as she danced with the guy.

Y/n leaned on the bar as some guy came up to her. He leaned next to her kind of close. Y/n moved away just a bit and looked at her.

"Hey, I'm Max," he put his hand out and to be polite, she took his hand and shook it.

"I'm, Lynn," she gave him a fake name to protect her actual ID.

"Cool, wanna dance?"

"No, I'm not good at dancing," she lied, she also wondered if he doesn't see her wedding ring.

Sure, she may get into fights with Ghost all the time, but she never did take her ring off because for some reason the saying 'I'm married' scares off so many men, even if she doesn't say it, and they see her ring and will leave her alone.

"Oh, come on, come dance with me and my friends and maybe afterwards...we can do a little something?" He got close to Y/n's ear, but she just shook her head 'no'.

"No, no thank you, I'm not here for that kind of fun, I'm here just to drink, really."

"Come on...let's just have one dance and I'll leave you alone."

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, trying to leave around the bar, but 'Max' kept following her.

"Hey, come on, please, have one dance with me or at least let me buy you one drink."

"No, I need to go."

"What about your friend, did she drive you? Let me drive you home then if you're going to leave."

"No, I'm fine," he then grabbed her wrist and before anything could happen, Max's hand immediately let go of her wrist, and she saw Max being pushed against the brick wall of the club from some guy who was a lot more taller and buffer than him.

"Simon," Y/n said, grabbing Ghost's wrist trying to pull him away from Max.

"The lady said 'no' probably more times you can count, don't fucking touch her again, do you understand?" Ghost growled before letting Max go.

Ghost looked down at Y/n and grabbed her forearm, dragging her to his car.

"Ow, Simon, y-you're hurting m-me," she said as he opened the passenger side door.

"Get the fuck in," he growled at her. He slammed the door clipping her foot when he shut it.

"Simon?"

"Shut the fuck up," he said as he drove home.

The drive was so quiet, the silence wanted to make Y/n say something, she couldn't, she didn't know what to say or what to do. She played with her fingers and looked down the whole time. Ghost's eyes were ahead, one hand on the stirring wheel the other between his teeth trying to control his anger.

"I'm sorry-"

"You're not," he said, not even looking at her. Y/n's mouth was open, and she looked like she could cry at any moment, she thought that if she apologized everything would be fine, but she was wrong.

"Simon-"

"Don't...don't FUCKING APOLOGIZE I know what you are trying to do, and it pisses me off when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Apologize and think everything will be normal again, you do it every time we get into an argument, you apologize, I forgive you and everything is apparently supposed to go back to normal. Not this time," he said as he pulled into the driveway. "Get out," he said as she did.

He opened the door going inside first and she follows. Ghost grabbed a vase and threw it across the room shattering it. Y/n squealed and covered her mouth.

Ghost knows he scare anyone, but when he scares Y/n...his heart shatters hearing her squeak.

"I'm trying to calm down...I'm trying..." he said.

"Is it me or the guy?"

"I don't know," his fist were clenched together, and his knuckles were white. She walked to him, cupping the nape of his neck making him look down, her other hand touched his right knuckle trying to calm him down.

"Y/n..."

"I am sorry...what can I do to make it up to you?"

"I don't know...I rather you did nothing...you don't like me and it's obvious that you don't, so...nothing right, now," he said.

"I never said that."

"But you show it," he said.

Y/n thought of something, her mind was in control now, her hand grabbed a hole of his hand and brough his fingers under her dress. His fingers graze her soft clit. His fingers glide through her soft, wet folds.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"I want to make it up to you, this was the only way how," she said, standing on her tippy toes and kissing his lips.

His one free hand went behind her head deepening the kiss as his fingers played with her wet clit. Y/n moaned and moved her hand from his hand that was under her dress.

She felt weak when his fingers started to move inside of her. He moved his fingers in and out her quickly. His tongue pushed its way inside of her mouth.

He pulled away from the kiss and started watch her face as he moved his fingers quickly inside of her.

He watched her as she could barely stand and removed his fingers from inside of her and picked her up and took her to their bedroom, he dropped her on their bed, he removed his hoodie, and she kicked off her heels. He started to unbuckle his jeans till he was only in his boxers.

He pulled Y/n to the edge of the bed and kissed her lips; his hands found the zipper of her dress and unzipped it. He pulled his boxers down and his hard dick sprung out.

"O-Oh," she said as she held the top of her dress so it wouldn't fall down.

"What?" He asked, with a smirk on his face and he cupped her face.

"It's...a little bigger than I remember..."

"Well...we just wanted that sex before done and over with...but tonight...I'm gonna take my time with you," he smirks and kissed her lips again.

This time she let the dress straps fall and her chest be expose. He started to pull the dress off. Ghost smirked and started to kiss her chest and suck just above her nipple leaving a dark hickey on her chest.

"Ahh~ S-Simon," she moans when he started to push himself inside of her. "O-Oh fuck," she moans, she looks down and she saw her stomach start bulging up and down with his dick inside of her.

She dropped her head back on the covers. Ghost lifted her back up, his hand on her lower back and his other hand touching her stomach where he could feel his bulge in her stomach.

He moans when he could feel himself inside of her.

He watched Y/n eyes roll in the back of her head and loved hearing her soft moans. He loved this feeling.

The first time they did it, Y/n never moaned, she wasn't enjoying it, their first time together...it was so silent and awkward that the only noise in the room was skin slapping. The only agreed to it to show that they 'loved' each other but they know damn well, they hated each other.

Y/n was a moaning wreck with Ghost's dick inside of her. She gripped the bed sheets as her knuckles went white. Ghost slid his hand up her stomach and gripped her hand just above her head.

"S-Si-ahhhh~ fuck," she moans before she felt a knot in her stomach, she ended up coming on his dick, he kept going till it was his turn to cum inside of her.

Simon loved feeling his dick just hit the right spot. He ended up coming inside of her and pulled out, he watched their cum mix together, he smirked and pulled her up and took her to the bathroom to help her get cleaned up.

---------

Y/n's back was against his hard chest as they both sat in the hot bath water. He cleaned her up the best he could and watched her look satisfied when he was cleaning her.

"Ummmm~ that feels good," she moans.

"Does it?"

"Mhm~" she moans as she leaned back into his touch. "Fuck," she groans.

"My turn," he said as he stood up in the bath and let her move back into his spot and she did what he did to her, rubbing the soap into his back and she got a soft groan from his lips.

"You wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I...I actually have a soft spot for you, I just don't show it and when I followed you to the club and saw that guy grab you, I just...I just went fucking insane, like my blood turned into fire because he touched something that was mine," he said, he looked over his shoulder and looked at Y/n who just stared at him.

"I understand...Ghost," that was the first time Y/n has called him 'Ghost' and not Simon. He hated being called Simon but never corrected her.

He smirked and leaned back on her shoulder and kissed her soft lips.

"...I love you..." he said.

"I love you too," she said, wrapping her legs around him and kissed the top of his head.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x you

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kamikazii · 3 months

Text

Choso Kamo x f!Reader

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The club was packed tonight, sweaty drunk bodies pressed against each other vibrating from the beat of the music roaring in their ears. You were amongst the crowd, not yet shit faced but very drunk. You smiled largely at your friends, a small bit of drool coming out of the corner of your mouth. You loved every second of feeling the music, feeling like nothing mattered outside of dancing with a room full of strangers. Were they really strangers at this point? This club was your favorite, you were a Friday night regular. As were all the other college students there.

Your friend came up to you, swaying against you as she pushed a shot glass to your lips. You gladly gulped down the terrible tasting liquid, swallowing as fast as you could and grimacing at the taste. Like a child would with cough medicine.

Suddenly it felt like all the contents of your stomach were threading to come back up. You politely pushed your friend away, frantically looking for the bathroom. Pushing bodies out of your way wasn’t easy, but you made it nonetheless. As soon as the toilet was in your eye sight it happened. The terrible taste of alcohol and appetizers coming right back up. You gagged and wretched, feeling absolutely disgusted with yourself. Well, that was a buzzkill. Time to head home.

You pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to the group chat with your friends letting them know you were heading home for the night. The ladies sent back a be safe text and that was all you needed. You exited the bathroom and looked for the exit.

As you made your way through the crowd and past the bar a hand landed on your shoulder.

“Hey baby let me buy you drink.”

A man that looked double your age said in a slur. You pushed his hand off, “No thanks, I’m heading home.” You said, not interested in a man that could be the same age as your father. He persisted, “I could come with, show you a good time baby.” He was now standing, trying to pull your body to his. You looked around frantically for help, no one was paying attention to you. Of course they weren’t.

Until your eyes locked with his. Your eyes lit up, acting on impulse, “My boyfriend is going to beat your ass if you don’t get the fuck off.” You yelled at the stranger, pointing to the man you were referring to. The man walked over, seemingly knowing what was going on. You looked distressed after all.

The older man let go thankfully not wanting to stir anything up, you grabbed the dark haired man’s hand and made towards the exit. He happily went outside with you, how could he not?

You breathed heavily, feeling sobriety slowly making its way to you. You looked at the man you’d brought with you, shit he was so fine.

“I’m sorry, old bastard wouldn’t let go of me.” You apologized, feeling defeated. Total buzzkill now; puking up everything you ate and drank in the last two hours and some creep trying to follow you home. Gross.

“Hey it’s okay, are you going to be okay going home?“ He sounded sincere, placing his hand on your back while you heaved fresh air into your body.

“Uh yeah I think, I’ll just Uber home. It’s only like fifteen minutes away.” You said, pulling your phone out. Shit, it died. He watched as you tried to turn it on, smacking it and whining when it didn’t.

“I can give you a ride if you want, I’m sober so you don’t have to worry about getting into an accident.” He started rubbing the back of his head, hoping that didn’t come off as weird or creepy.

“You’re not gonna stalk me if I tell you where I live are you?” You half joked, raising an eyebrow at him. He shook his head no, laughing.

“I’m Kamo Choso, I promise I’m not creepy, I’m just a senior in college.” He said, the faintest bit of pink danced on the tips of his ears. You told him your name, defeatedly walking with him to his car. It was blacked out and honestly kinda hot. You made small talk with him on the way to your apartment, feeling a little embarrassed a stranger had to take you home.

You found out you attend the same college but never stumbled across each other, probably because he was a senior and you were only a sophomore. Upon arriving at your apartment you invited him in, it was late after all. It would be rude of you to not finish the conversation that was flowing between the two of you. Right? It would be rude to not offer him something to eat or drink.

And it would be rude to not notice the slight bulge in his pants as he sat on your sofa.

You pushed that thought out of your mind as soon as it entered, mentally berating yourself. He was a total stranger. Well not really, after the conversations you had you knew a few things about him. Like that he lived across town from you, so naturally you offered him to stay here at your apartment. It was very late after all. And he accepted gratefully, the idea of driving being a hassle for him. You found out he liked horror movies just as much as you did so of course you put one on and cozied up next to this man on your couch. The man you’d known for a whole hour and a half now. Happy way through the movie his arm wrapped around your shoulder, inviting you to lean against him. Leaning turned into laying in his lap. His arm around your shoulder turned into resting it in your hair, playing with it.

You felt it. A twitch. In his pants. It immediately made blood rush to your face, but you didn’t move. What were you doing? This strange man is in your apartment somehow with his dick pressed to your face and you’re just okay with that? Yes, yes you are.

You nuzzled against his growing hard on, making an almost inaudible moan slip from his throat. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tightly.

“Don’t tease me.”

He was rather rough, which surprised you. The grip on your hair made you wince a little but you continued, ghosting your mouth over his growing erection. The crotch in his jeans were getting too tight to be comfortable, he had to slip them off. You happily helped him push them down past his knees, his cock springing free. His tip was pink, leaking precum from your teasing. God he was so big, he has the type of cock you fantasize about while fucking yourself. You drooled at the sight of him, licking his tip and slowly lowering your mouth down. His grip on your hair loosened only for him to grab the back of your neck to help guide you on how he liked his cock sucked.

A guttural moan escaped his throat as you tried to take him fully, he’d never felt a throat as tight and wet as yours. The very thought made his cock twitch. He pulled you off suddenly, he wasn’t going to last long from fucking your throat. He so badly wanted to eat you out and fuck you hard.

So he did just that, he pushed you back onto your back and gathered the fabric of your dress, pushing it up to rest as your waist. He grabbed the waistband of your panties and slid them down, you lifted your lower half to help him. He stared at your cunt, the sight was heavenly. You were already so wet for him your juices leaking out of you in anticipation. Heat stuck to your cheeks in embarrassment as he stared at you. He made eye contact with you before lunging down to your pussy, not wasting any time and lapping fat stripes up from your entrance to your swollen clit. The sensation made you hiss grabbing onto his messy buns to help steady yourself.

“You taste s’good, can’t wait to fuck you.”

He said, your juices flowing into his mouth and dripping down his chin. Your nectar alone could make him drunk, he wanted to savor how you tasted but he so badly wanted to plunge his cock in you already. You felt the buildup deep in your core, your orgasm making its way to you. He pulled away, “I promise next time I’ll make you cum all over my face but I have to fuck you now.” He said desperately. He gathered the wetness from his mouth and chin and smeared it over his tip, groaning at the feeling.

You were ready to feel him, ready to be filled to the brim with this strangers cock. The thought was exhilarating. You’d never had a one night stand or fucked a stranger. Wait, he said next time. Is he planning to fuck you again?

You came back yo reality as he pushed his tip in, your pussy trying to suck him in. You both let out a groan, wanting more. You reached your hand to him, which he grabbed and placed back into his hair.

“Fuck your pussy feels s’good. She’s sucking me in.” He breathed out. He slowly sank himself all the way in, your cunt trying to accommodate his size. It only stung a little bit as soon as the initial shock subsided it felt so good.

You tugged on his hair motioning that he could move, and he wasted no time. He pulled out leaving just his tip inside you and thrusted back in hard. The squelch of your pussy made him moan loud. His hips found a rhythm shortly, thrusting in and out and in and out..

The sensation made you throw your head back, eyes rolling back and almost seeing stars. Your gummy walls clamped down on him, he didn’t know if he could last long. It had been awhile since he’d been with anyone, he was trying to focus on his studies rather than relationships or women but god the way your body took his cock was too damn good.

You felt your orgasm coming back, the knot in your core building up. He snaked a hand down to rub your aching clit, eliciting a moan from you. He leaned down to your ear, “Say my name baby, tell me who’s fucking you.”

His voice was dark, breath hot and heavy on your earlobe.

“Cho-Choso,, fuckk. I’m so close, pl-please don’t stop.” You breathed out. It was becoming so hard to talk, all you could do was let noises fall from your mouth. His thrusts became sloppy as his orgasm came close, he swirled his fingers faster to get you closer to finishing.

It hit you like a wall, vision going white and body hot. So so hot. All you could do was lay there and squirm, toes curling and moans leaving your throat. Choso pulled out and let his release on your stomach. He fucked his fist until he was empty, moaning your name.

Your brain was fuzzy with euphoria, watching his cum all over you from above. You smiled in your haze, wiping yourself with your dress after you slid it off of you. You grabbed his hand and walked him to your bathroom, turning the shower on and adjusting the water.

“You can sleep with me in my bed tonight, okay?” You said as you helped him slip the rest of his clothes off. Man you were so ready for bed.

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#choso smut #choso kamo #choso x you #jjk choso #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #smut #jujutsu kaisen choso #spicy content #spicy creator #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk x you #kamikazii

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042502 · 2 months

Text

SYNOPSIS: You and your neighbor Matt have a talk in the car while you go to pick up medicine for your father who is sick, the talk was interrupted by a call from your boyfriend. WARNINGS: Double meaning conversation, fluff, Matt may be slightly more flirtatious than normal. There really aren't many warnings. NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :) So please avoid making offensive comments about it., if this is too much for you, go away. MASTERLIST!!

As I parked in the driveway, I gathered all my things and went inside. I was received by my dad on the couch.

"You're home early." I commented in a happy tone and put the bags down.

"I wasn't feeling well, by the way, can you pick up some of my medicine later?" She asked while watching the news.

"Of course." Return to close the door and put the items back in their place.

Time passed and my dad locked himself in the room, and so did I. I was glued to my chair for hours, finishing all my work and catching up on supplements. However, the workflow stopped when I was faced with my college essay.

I had a horrible time figuring out what to write, and my counselor was no help at all. Look, there was nothing that would help me stand out, no story of leadership or talent, not even anything about my identity that you could reflect on. Nothing occurred to me, nothing real. I close my laptop, and decided to procrastinate by shopping online.

This past time consumed even more of the day and it was now night. Yawning heavily, I looked at the time and it was pretty late, shit, its medicine. I redo my ponytail and choose the first thing in my closet.

Wearing sweatpants, flip-flops, and a crop top, I head to the car. However, my actions stop when I find Matt approaching me.

"Do you mind if I join? He asks and my heart flutters slightly. I look back at his house and the foreign car is still there, although I don't bother to question that.

"I'm not going to a club or anything crazy." I warned him and he chuckled.

"I don't care, any place with you is better, can I go or not?"

I huffed once more, watching him cross his arms and wait for a response.

"Yes, come in."

Wearing a black hoodie, shorts, and white sneakers with socks, Matt sits on the passenger seat and I start the car.

"Song?" I ask looking through my phone.

"Rage." He responds, playing with his hair, still not looking at me. I arch an eyebrow. "From Lil Skies, Princess." He repeats and I nod. I've never heard of it, but oh well.

Driving in the cold night always made me feel peaceful for some reason, the windows were already foggy from the cold air. The two of us didn't speak until we reached the pharmacy drive-thru.

"Shit! Are you serious?" I curse under my breath, looking at the long line of waiting cars.

"Can't we come in?" Matt suggests, looking at his phone.

"No, the pharmacy section is drive-thru only at this time." I explain, sigh and line up with the last car.

"So, whose treatment are we collecting?" Ask.

"My dad's is sick." I explain bluntly and let the silence take over once again. "Why did you leave your house...?" She asked, almost afraid he was going to burn my face.

"Do you really want to know princess? You may not like what you hear." She says with her hoarse voice, a sign that he is tired.

"And yes, I would like to know" I responded, driving forward a little now that the cars were moving.

"I'm not exactly a peach of cream with my brothers, and I'm not in the mood to handle it today.

"So you were fighting with them?" She completed, looking back at me, her cyan orbs practically glowing in the darkness of the car.

"I know what you're thinking, ouch! He is a terrible brother! Something like that, but no, the three of us are just hotheads, literally. And today we were talking about college and I got upset" He rambled on. And I realized this is the most he's ever spoken consecutively.

"Believe me, I'm sick of that topic too." I laughed.

"You? You got it figured out" If only I knew...

"If you live in my neighborhood, then you are financially stable too." I reply and his laughter subsides.

"Listen, don't be surprised, I probably won't go anywhere as prestigious as you."

"I don't really want to-"

The song stops when you see an incoming call. They both stopped talking and read the name on the screen. "Baby <3" I pushed my index finger into my lips at Matt, telling him to stay quiet, and I responded.

"Honey, wow, I didn't expect you to be awake."

"Yeah! I'm here picking up some medicine for my dad~"

"Okay, hey, you didn't answer my text earlier, did you finish packing?"

"Yes, of course... Actually, Emmett..."

"Perfect! We leave on Friday afternoon, I'll pick you up and we can go to the airport."

"Yeah... Anyway, um, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"It's okay honey, I love you, good night."

"Me too, baby!"

You hang up and find Matt covering his mouth, practically sweating. He was holding back his laughter this entire time.

"Me too, baby! Fuck you already." She joked, wiping away her tears of laughter.

"Shut your mouth!" I look away angrily.

"Hey, it's been gone all week, with that 'I missed you' thing going on, the sex is going to be great, right?" She joked, leaning her back against the door to get a better look at me.

My hand trailed up and nervously played with the strands of my ponytail.

"Actually... we haven't done anything" He suddenly turns serious and crosses his arms. Bullshit is the kind of expression he gives you, and he raises his eyebrows in a wish he was joking.

Shrugging my shoulders and looking away.

"I guess I'm just scared, because well... He's ready and I'm not and he's been waiting for a while" He gave me a smile that only confused me.

"I could show you how it's done." Matt says fearlessly and my face heats up.

"Very funny, but I'm fine." I laughed, moving the car once more.

"That? I mean, if you're looking for experience, I'm your man, he doesn't have to know, there are no feelings involved."

I felt embarrassed for even considering his offer that was obviously a joke. First of all, it seems like he knows what he's doing, and it's true, I would never tell my boyfriend that. However, I couldn't bring it myself to cheat on my high school boyfriend.

"Don't think about it too much, it's obviously a joke."

"Phew! I hate this!" I screamed in frustration, even in the middle of the long line. We'd been here for an hour, and even though Matt was great company, I just want to go to sleep.

"Princess" He called me and I swear it made my heart race. His voice was strangely dominant and strong, so when he says my name I can't help but look at him. "What were you going to tell me the night you came to the Wave with me?" I assumed the Wave was the club he took me to on Saturday.

"Ah... that, listen, is really stupid." I passed it off as something meaningless, but it didn't break his character.

"Too bad, I want to hear it."

"I was having dinner at Emmett's house that night and... I don't know... when we were talking about college, there was a lot of pressure and it was almost like I was being pushed down over and over again..." I felt my voice crack. Shit not here... nowhere but here. He noticed, but he didn't move, he was still completely serious.

"And?" He wanted it to end, he sounded almost angry.

"Nothing, I just felt like shit, I never have anything to say about where I want to go or what I want to do. Emmett's mom even thinks I won't get into college! to enter or not, but I don't want to disappoint anyone" I felt myself falling apart before Matt's eyes. My palms pressed against my eyes, preventing tears from falling.

The car was completely silent, the song stopped playing a while ago, and here I am crying in front of my neighbor. My neighbor, who probably had more on his plate than me, and here I am crying over my perfect life.

"I just... I want to be myself... I don't want to be anyone's perfect girl, but it's like I'm stuck... and I have to pay for my mistakes," I murmur and Matt doesn't move or say anything. It's like I'm giving you air and space to vent. "Why the hell don't you say anything?"

"Sorry, I'm not usually one to play therapist."

He looked at him, his eyes going straight to me.

"I mean I'm just myself, I don't give a shit what people want me to be, what do you mean pay for your mistakes?" He finished and noticed the line moving again.

"It's complicated, we can talk about it another day" He nods slowly and remains silent. I wipe away more tears and rub my temple. She literally broke me down in front of Matt! I am so weak.

It took another hour, but I finally picked up the medication and drove back home. All I had with Matt were stupid, short-lived conversations, but it was better than before. I understood that Matt wasn't the type to comfort you, not that you were asking for it anyway.

"Well, thank you for letting me accompany you." The man told me, opening the door and getting out. We met him in front of the car to say goodbye. He was awkward because it felt good to give him a hug, but he looked too intimidating.

"You were good company." He chuckled and extended his hand, me raised an eyebrow.

"Your phone, Princess" I give him the device and he dials some numbers. Could be? Are your giving me his number?

"Call that number whenever you feel overwhelmed" Of course, why would she give me her number? After a forceful Goodbye he leaves and enters the house, and I do the same. I sank into bed and looked at the phone number, bewildered by his strange kindness. Another night spent with Matt.

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist, comment on the post posted on my profile!

TAGLIST: @l34n

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alimaybankkk · 1 year

Text

gut-wrenching

summary: jj begs you to stay at his house to prevent his father from hurting him before a breakdown. when you’re there, you help him understand sympathy. the next morning, jj feels the same sympathy you described and also feels guilt.

warnings: mega mentions of abuse, jj’s shitty dad, MEGA ANGST, a bit of fluff but honestly mostly angst

pairing: jj maybank x kook!fem!reader

as you walked into his house, you regretted agreeing to jj’s protests for you to stay with him for the night. hours earlier, your blonde haired boyfriend had kissed you all over your face trying to convince you to come and sleep with him for the night, and you had eventually agreed.

“would be so nice. ‘m not allowed to come to your house no more because dad doesn’t let me. but i want to.” he’d cried, kissing your nose.

the hot tub bubbles surrounded you and you sighed. “jj, who cares what your dad says? he’s a dick. be a dick back.”

he frowned. “you don’t get it, do you, baby?”

you knit your eyebrows together, and eventually shook your head.

he sighed. “he said he’d break my nose if he heard ‘bout me being on figure eight again.”

you sighed, petting his wet hair. you felt terrible. the feeling was gut-wrenching. “you work there, though, right? at the country club?”

“yeah, i do.” he said, massaging your back. he turned on a jet and let it pound on your back. he knew it had been hurting a lot the past few days, and he’d been doing whatever he could to make you feel better. “he don’t care about me being on figure eight, to be honest. he just is mad ‘m dating the prettiest kook there is.”

you scoffed. “is that so?”

“yes, baby,” he kissed your cheek. “y’know, princess, he wanted me to rob you the other day.”

you gasped. your head felt like it was spinning. “what?”

“i didn’t—i didn’t do it, though, baby.”

“good,” you muttered. he kissed all over your face.

“he only cares that i don’t sleep your house. ‘cuz if i ain’t gonna steal, why go over at all?”

“oh. so he’s fine with you dating me?”

“yeah,” he said. he kissed your shoulder and sat up. “but he’s mad ‘cuz i didn’t rob you.”

“what?”

he chuckled. your heart dropped. you knew what he was about to say. “i haven’t been home in days, ‘cuz i know he plans to hurt me. but if you’re there, he ain’t gonna do it. gotta keep his reputation up, ‘m i right?”

your heart at the bottom of your stomach, your mouth open, and tears filling your eyes, you pulled him close into a hug and kissed the back of his head. “yes, j, you’re right.”

you felt the flutter of his adam’s apple when he let out a sob. he started crying tearless cries, holding onto your body like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “i hate it, i hate it!”

you cried with him, almost feeling the pain he felt. not almost—you did. you felt every bit of it. “i know. i know, j.”

“why won’t he stop?” he cried. you felt his tears coming down his face when they slid onto your back.

“jj, it’s okay. i love you so much. i’m coming over tonight, okay?? i’ll stay with you. i’ll do it. for however long you want me to.” you cried. tears slipped down your face, too.

“i love you. i love you. i love you, so much.” he sobbed. you tilted his body weight down, so you sat down together and you held him in your arms.

* now, you opened the door to jj’s house. it smelt like beer and weed. jj did both, but he never smelt like it. he was always able to clean it up and smell like some sort of tropical paradise or something.

so that way you knew it was luke. luke had contaminated jj’s air. you even heard coughing. but that wasn’t the worst thing you heard. it was definitely the loud music and the yelling. the floorboards creaked as you moved forward, praying jj wasn’t hurt.

music up to full blast, luke telling jj he was nothing but a disappointment, and jj’s cries and yells were the only thing you could hear. and so your breaths grew heavier and louder, faster and more panicked. you stepped into the hallway, watching the fight go down. you stayed quiet.

“SHUT UP!” yelled jj, his voice sounding like nothing but boyish cries. you only wanted to take him into your arms and kiss him until he felt better.

“you’re momma knew about you,” luke said, pointing his finger at jj. “if i woulda known you were gonna be like this, i woulda left with her. maybe then you would have shut your mouth in an orphanage, boy!”

luke went to swing at him, and jj sobbed. before luke could go any further, you cleared your throat.

they turned. jj’s eyes were droopy. it looked like he had no reaction. he just stared at you.

but luke chuckled and turned to you. “well, well, if it ain’t the kook princess!”

“mr. maybank,” you muttered breathlessly.

“you should be ashamed of yourself, girl,” he chuckled. jj got up quickly to protect you, but luke still hadn’t moved. “why would such a rich young lady want to date a bastard like him?”

you bit your lip. “i wouldn’t call him that, mr maybank.”

he bit the toothpick that had been in his mouth. “and why not?”

“your son, mr. maybank, is the sweetest boy i’ve ever met. i would say you raised him well but i’d be lying.”

he looked infuriated. jj shoved you out of the way so you wouldn’t get hurt, but even then luke hesitated.

“go on, now,” said luke. “i don’t wanna hear nothin from you two.”

“yes, sir,” you answered. you made sure jj was on the opposite side of luke as you followed him to his room.

jj immediately collapsed onto the foot of his bed, crying quietly. he didn’t want to anger his dad. besides, he knew that when you left he was going to hurt him anyway. he just didn’t wanna make it worse.

“j?” you said quietly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “are you okay?”

“get off of me,” he said quietly. you jerked your hand back quickly and sighed. you stood, grabbing your pillow and setting it next to the one that belonged to jj at the top of the bed.

“j, did he hit you?” you asked in a gentle voice.

he shook his head. “he was gonna. but you saved me. you stopped him. see what i mean? thank you, baby.”

you nodded, really wanting to hold him. but you didn’t want to touch him and scare him. “i didn’t do it just for you, you know?”

he looked up.

“i did it for me, too. every time i see you hurt, i feel your pain, too.”

he gave you a glare that suggested you were pushing it and you shut your mouth. when jj was vulnerable, he was ashamed of himself. he didn’t want to feel any more of the pain, so he shut down anything that might let him feel happy for sympathy.

“jj, you know i care about you, right?” you asked, placing your hand on his. you expected it to jerk away, but he only flinched slightly and sank into your touch.

“i know.”

you nodded, swallowing. “so you have to let me care about you. you need to let me hold you. you got to let me be honest with you.”

“honest, how?”

“j, if i let you get hit out there i honestly would have made him hit me, too. i promise you, jj. even my own injuries hurt less than what i feel knowing you’re hurt. can you understand that?”

he took a deep breath but finally nodded. “thank you.”

“i love you, okay?” you said, crawling closer to him. he nodded and kissed you, sighing right after.

“ ‘m sorry. it’s just, ‘m so scared that ‘m gonna be like him.” jj said. you felt your heart break.

“no,” you said. “you could never be like him. wanna know how i know that?”

he thought for a moment, then he said, “how?”

“because if you could treat someone important to you that way, you would have done it to me already.”

his frown turned into a smile. he sat up and kissed you, taking his time to lay down and cuddle with you after.

“when we have kids, i won’t do nothin’ to them. right?” he asked.

“right. i know you won’t.”

he looked you in the eyes, a glare shining like no other. “can you make sure i won’t?”

“i don’t have to.”

* the entire night had been the best feeling ever. knowing jj was safe and in your arms after waking up every hour to make sure of it relieved you like nothing before. the relief that flooded through you was so great that you almost cried, petting his hair and kissing his head for ten minutes straight before going back to bed. thankfully, he slept soundly through the night without your touch waking him.

jj was still asleep, buried deep in your chest with his arms around you when the sun shone through the windows and onto your eyelids, making them an orangish pink for you to wake up to.

you sighed of happiness, trying your best to wiggle out of bed without waking your sleeping boyfriend.

you creeped into the kitchen, hoping to find something you could cook for jj and have him wake to a good breakfast. you looked through the cabinets and the drawers, but almost everything was filled with beer.

and weed.

you sighed, knowing the beer was luke’s. you were looking through the last drawer when you heard footsteps, immediately regretting the fact that you had woke jj.

“jj, go back to sleep, i’m just gonna find something to eat for you, okay?” you asked, standing. when you stood, you saw that it was not jj, but luke. “oh, um… good morning mr. maybank?”

“i saw you going through my drawers and shit, girl, what do you want?” luke asked, coming closer.

you backed up to the counter, gripping it. “no, sir. i was just looking for something to make jj. he can get hangry if you know him. anyway, if you had other plans i can go back to bed.”

mr. maybank shook his head. “i don’t got no plans. wasn’t plannin on feedin him anyway. ‘sposed to punish him.”

“mr. maybank, sir, he has to eat. he hasn’t eaten in two days.”

“that’s his own fault. maybe he shouldn’t stay away from home for that long.”

you shook your head. “he has the right to eat. he’s starving. i heard hi stomach this morning.”

“you’re on his side?” luke asked, clenching his fists.

“no, sir, i—”

but you were punched. luke punched you over and over again, dropping you to the floor. blood sprayed on the floor and he kicked you in the gut.

you gasped for air but nothing came up. “mr..”

he stomped on your gut, punching you over and over again. there was a puddle of blood on the floor when he reached to punch your nose, but he was stopped.

jj had come in with a plastic foldable chair. “what is wrong with you??” he cried, kicking luke over and over again. first, he hit him with the chair, and then he grabbed a glass of beer from the table and poured it on top of him, smashing the glass right next to his face. he was sobbing, kicking and punching his father.

he drew his fists back, bloody and white. he cried, holding you tight. you could hardly move, but it was enough to drag jj’s foot away from luke, signaling not to fight anymore.

he cried more when he picked you up from the ground and carried you to his room. he sobbed on his bed, not only blood staining his sheets, but now also tears.

you could hardly talk, but it was enough to say, “i’m sorry, jj.”

he cried. “i know what you mean. i feel it. it’s gut-wrenching.”

“huh?”

“the—the feeling. like i feel your pain. but it feels worse.”

you nodded, just looking into his eyes with no emotion but pain. “jj, can we fix this, it… it hurts. am i going to die?”

jj broke at that, punching the wall. he hated luke so much. what kind of monster of a person would do that to someone?

he carried you to the bathroom and placed you on the counter. he lifted your shirt and gave you a tissue for your bloody nose. he disinfected your wound first and then cleaned it with water. you were not bleeding anymore, but he still had to patch you up.

there was another wound on the other side, so he copied the process and tenderly kissed it when he was done. he wet a rag in the sink and cleaned your face off, and soon you looked clean with a few cuts and a black eye, but you were no longer bleeding and you looked beautiful to him. he looked at you with eyes of nothing but love and a tear slipped from his eye. “i’m sorry. so sorry. i know i said i’d be safe here, but i didn’t think about you. well, i did, but i thought you would be safe, too. i’m moving out of here. i don’t care about my dad no more. i’m leaving and i’m moving into the chateau.”

you winced, suddenly feeling the pain once more. “move in with me. my parents love you. and i do too. i love you, jj.”

“i love you, too, pretty girl. i’ll never let this happen to you again.”

—————-——————————————————

a/n: bro. almost cried while writing this for some reason?? lots of angst.

part two here!

#jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #jj obx #outerbanks #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj x you #jj x kook!reader

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