#To them it feels kind of like a hole in their memory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuri-is-online · 10 months

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And in With the New (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, their ex is implied to be kind of a shit person, other dorms can be found here (x) Ortho is somewhat included in Idia's part but does not have one of his own.

Kalim- "Do you have any other things from your world?"

Kalim has expressed a desire for you to see as much of Twisted Wonderland as possible, and he stands by that, but it would really suck if the only physical connection you had to your home was something that brought up painful memories. Your past relationship isn't something that makes him jealous, just concerned since it clearly causes you distress. He can wait to get you more appropriate clothing until after he makes sure you're ok. If the sweatshirt really is the only thing you have from home, he'll be asking if there are any foods you remember or activities you liked to do with the people you actually cared about that the two of you can recreate in Twisted Wonderland. That way you won't have to feel the need to hold onto something painful and he gets to make you happy.

Jamil- "Then why didn't you get rid of it before you came here?"

On the one hand he does feel a bit second rate at the thought of you holding onto something form an ex, but his primary concern is the implication that your financial straights have always been this... dire. He definitely wants to know about your previous relationship so he can judge them for how much better he is, but once he notices that the memories are a bit on the traumatic side he stops pushing and feels just the slightest bit guilty. But really, if it's something that hurts you to hold onto then why do it? You aren't him, you don't need to do that, people love you and want to take care of you, him included. He's not going to just give you his hoodie, he would literally die of embarrassment, but he does get you a sweatshirt. If for no other reason than to keep him from staring holes into your back now that he knows where the other one came from.

Vil- "It doesn't suit you at all."

If his treatment of Epel is anything to go by, Vil is not above spending money on something he considers to be a pet project. Not that this... friendship is one of those, nor is he particularly jealous of some no name extra who was too blind to beg on their hands and knees to get back in your good graces. Not that he needs to do that you understand; as arrogant as Vil has a reputation for being, he is one of the people who has been more genuine when expressing concern and gratitude for you. His comment isn't meant to be a slight, clothing that makes you feel bad about yourself is failing to do its job as fashion, and as a world class super model that is unacceptable. In other words get in the car looser we're going shopping.

Rook- "Ah, I thought it was something like that."

Is it bad if he says he meant he hoped it was something like that? Not that he was rooting for your ex to be a bad person, he would never wish a subpar lover on you. But when he saw the tattered edges of your sweatshirt and how it clashed with the things you bought for yourself, he hoped that maybe someone in your world hadn't wanted your hands to be cold. If that's not the case, then if you are ok with letting it go as a lover of romance who is he to deny you your freedom? Granted tossing roses onto a fire while you burn an ugly sweatshirt is both very extra and very Rook but hey. He's having fun and you've got a new jacket.

Epel- "Afford shamford I could'a just made ya one!"

Offering their sweetheart their hoodie is something manly tall guys get to do and Epel has really really REALLY. Been looking forward to getting to that point in his relationship with you. He wants to feel like a real man, like your real man to be specific. The thought of some other piece of shit getting to do that first and treating you like a used dish rag pisses him off. Best believe he is huffing and puffing his way back to Grandma Felmier's boot camp with a mission to do you one and your ex two better by knitting you a pullover to go with your uniform. Everything that comes from Harveston is a top quality product prefect, better than whatever you left behind he guarantees it.

Idia- "So this is that kind of route huh..."

Of course you had a partner back in your world, if he can see your good points then a normie absolutely could. That doesn't make you less appealing, it just makes him feel all that more convinced he doesn't have a chance. He's halfway through whipping out his tablet to excuse himself when Ortho asks what you meant by "shitty memories" and they both get blindsided by just how much vitriol you have for a person whose clothing you technically kept on you. And suddenly he's back in business because there are few things that unite Idia with someone faster than a good old fashion bitch fest. Sure, his insults are weirdly possessive of you, but if he had any doubts about your feelings for this person he doesn't now! He's never heard you talk about anyone like this before and he finds it so attractive he almost forgets to short circuit when Ortho convinces you to try on his hoodie. Almost.

Malleus- "..."

Sometimes he feels like a broken record, constantly marveling at how little fear you have of him, but really child of man, you have no fear. Malleus has very little in the way of emotional intelligence, so he doesn't fully understand that what he is feeling is jealousy he just knows the thought of you with someone else's clothes hurts. Unfortunately for you both, in addition to not being emotionally intelligent he also isn't with the times and there is a non zero percent chance he will be bringing you a cloak and be genuinely confused when you don't immediately replace your old hide for his. (Lilia takes responsibility for that, he was making a joke honest.) Oh? The point was it's supposed to be something he wore so you can feel closer to him when he's gone? Well why didn't you say so child of man, he is more than willing to offer you a scale- what do you mean you can't wear that either?

Lilia- "Oh? Are you asking for one of mine?"

Shame has not been a word in Lilia's vocabulary since long before you showed up prefect. He always buys oversized clothing because of how cute the long sleeves look on him, but oh they would be so much cuter on you prefect, don't you want to see? Oh and while the two of you are at it, why don't you let him paint your nails and do your eye shadow. He's never had one of those slumber party things you humans do, you should make a night of this so you can both get a new experience out of this. He can have a slumber party and you can be the center of someone's world. Also what do you mean you're supposed to summon the devil at these things, he's already here.

Silver- "Would you like one of mine?"

Lilia raised a very good boy who thinks nothing of offering the shirt off his back to save someone in distress. Silver isn't a jealous person by nature, he's more concerned with making sure you are safe and taken care of than he is making sure you don't still have feelings for your ex. Above all else, Silver wants to be a safe space for you to come home to at the end of the day, like a proper knight in shining armor. Though he does have to admit, you look really nice in Diasomnia colors, they're really close to Briar Valley's so if you decide to come and visit he's assures you that you will fit right in. He's sure his father would be very happy to play host. Maybe too happy.

Sebek- "HOW UTTERLY DISGRACEFUL."

You think he's upset at you but he's not, that's made painfully clear with the rant he starts to go on about proper courtship procedure. Offering clothing to someone is supposed to be a sign of high affection, nay eternal devotion! And it suddenly becomes clear to you that Sebek has somehow managed to confuse the concept of a stolen hoodie and a knight's favor. He seems to have managed to convince himself, in the span of two seconds, that you are wearing this not because it is one of your only pieces of clothing, but because your ex convinced you that they're the only one who could love you which IS NOT TRUE. YOU UNDERSTAND HUMAN? DO YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAAND?

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

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cherienymphe · 5 months

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Teenage Dirtbag III (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: attempted NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

Your brief conversation with JJ Maybank was still on your mind weeks later.

It was so funny to think that you hadn’t actually done anything wrong in the grand scheme of things, but if Rafe ever found out… The thought made you shudder, gaze focused on the pool water as the man himself laughed behind you with Kelce about something. You’d been doing so good lately. Aside from that awful night after the movies, Rafe hardly touched you.

It was a far cry from three months prior.

You still winced when you thought about his fist coming down across your face, voice loud in your ear as he screamed at you. Weeks had been spent holed up in your bedroom under the guise of being sick, and it was a miracle your parents hadn’t forced you to take some tests with how often you’d been ‘sick’ in the past six months alone. You lightly sighed, reaching up to touch your chin and just relieved it didn’t feel sore anymore.

Thoughts of that conversation with JJ instilled fear in you. Even just thinking about it made you tense up, but at the same time, it also caused irritation to bubble up inside of you. JJ Maybank was just so… You pursed your lips, taking a page out of Rafe’s book and opting to label him as ‘a little shit’. Rafe was so far from some saint, but it was plain to see that JJ enjoyed provoking your boyfriend.

However, it wasn’t JJ’s fault that Rafe took that out on you.

If you had a normal non-violent boyfriend, he’d simply ignore the other blond, or at the worst, he’d just fight him. Not you. How was JJ to know that Rafe’s jealousy would result in black eyes and swollen lips and sore wrists for you? Your eyes traced the clear blue water, a frown taking over as memories of that oh so brief conversation made you feel…warm.

It felt nice to talk to a guy and not have to worry about saying the wrong thing or making a questionable facial expression or just being so alert at all times. With Rafe, you could never relax, could never let your guard down, and you were convinced that you were going to start greying by the time you turned 30. With JJ…you didn’t have to overanalyze everything that came out of his mouth and your mouth too. You hadn’t felt the need to carefully watch his face for any sudden sign of a mood shift.

You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you felt like that.

…and that made you feel so guilty for some reason.

Rafe was your boyfriend. He wasn’t a very good one, but he was your boyfriend nonetheless, and despite the fact that it wasn’t, those few minutes in the hallway felt like…well…cheating. It was insane to say that because it wasn’t anything close to it, but you knew Rafe and what would upset him. You knew, and that’s why you were hiding it from him. It wasn’t like you were lying, but a lie of omission still counted, right?

You were pulled from your thoughts by the feel of familiar hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump out of habit, and Rafe only rubbed them in what you were sure was meant to be a soothing manner. When you looked over your shoulder, he was knelt behind you, that cheeky smile on his lips as he eyed you. Rafe knew the effect he had on you…and you swore he got off to it.

“It’s getting kind of late, so we’re heading inside,” he told you.

Rafe wasn’t telling you to be the considerate boyfriend who’s just letting you know he’s heading in. Rafe was telling you because he was going in and fully expected you to join him. It didn’t matter that you were relaxed with your feet in the water and your mind elsewhere, and so swallowing down a sigh, you let him pull you to your feet. His hand squeezed yours as he pulled you along, and out of habit, you rested your free hand on his arm.

“I think we’re gonna call it a night,” Rafe drawled to the other two men in the house.

Their initial response was chuckles, Topper eyeing you both as Kelce shook his head.

“Yeah, whatever you say, man, just wash my sheets in the morning, alright?”

Kelce’s chuckles only increased at that, and you felt heat rise to your face.

“Don’t be dicks,” your boyfriend called over his shoulder, and despite his words and his tone, there was a small grin on his face, and you only felt your chest ache.

Sex with Rafe was so complicated.

He absolutely terrified you, and so that didn’t make for the most comfortable of atmospheres whenever his lips were on yours. However, something innate in your body—call it animal instinct, conditioning, or merely self-preservation—reacted to him in ways you weren’t necessarily proud of whenever he got his hands on you.

…and Rafe always wanted to get his hands on you.

Rafe liked your fear, you didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that, and you were sure he liked the sight of bruises on your skin even more. He liked seeing his mark, and no matter how temporary, you felt that it served as some brand to him. You recalled reading once that cattle weren’t branded to be considered a part of something but instead to show where they needed to be returned to if they got lost. Something had twisted deep in your gut at that.

…because you knew that if Rafe could, he’d brand you for all to see.

Brand you to show the world where you needed to be returned.

After your quick joint shower, Rafe wrapped the large towel around you both, holding you close as he walked you into the guest bedroom. You could briefly hear Kelce and Topper talking downstairs, making drinks no doubt as Rafe shut the door behind you. When his fingers danced along your sides, you couldn’t swallow down the startled giggle, involuntarily pressing yourself against the blond to get away from them.

“You’ve been so quiet all day,” he murmured, pressing his face into your neck as he tightened his arms around you.

Blinking, you weighed your response.

“I’ve just been in my head, I guess.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment before humming, and you both felt and heard him take a deep breath.

“You’ve been in your head for weeks then.”

You froze at that, it was only for half a second, but you were sure Rafe caught it. You didn’t like that your internal conflict was noticeable, and when you tried to pull away, Rafe only refused to let you go.

“What’s going on with you?”

The question came out whispered and gentle…but you knew better.

“Just…things. Family stuff mostly.”

The lie came easy, and you let your eyes close, telling yourself that this was no longer a lie of omission, but how could you tell Rafe that you’d been thinking about JJ Maybank? How could you tell him that you’d been lingering on a single interaction that made you feel miles better than the last year and a half of your relationship?

JJ had talked to you like a friend…like an equal, and you’d forgotten what that was like.

Everyone saw you as an extension of Rafe. His dad, his friends, and even your own parents sometimes. They were always wondering where Rafe was and what Rafe was up to, and you didn’t blame them. After all, in their eyes, Rafe was perfect. Your boyfriend was a dream come true as far as future sons-in-law went, and as far as they knew, Rafe treated you like a princess.

In their eyes, this was the man who rarely let you drive your own car because he’d rather chauffeur you around. Rafe was the boyfriend who was always bringing their daughter gifts and flowers and popping in to check on the whole family. They swooned at how often Rafe called you throughout the day when he was otherwise occupied. Rafe was more than deserving of you.

On the other side of things though…

Rafe drove you around so he’d know firsthand where you were, how long you’d be, and when you were leaving. He wanted complete control over your mobility. So many of those flowers and gifts were only given to you after a particularly nasty fight that resulted in a bleeding lip or bruised back. Rafe popped in to check on everyone…but also to make sure you were exactly where you said you were. He constantly called for the same reason.

To your parents he was a dream and to you…a nightmare.

“What family stuff?” Rafe scoffed, pulling you against him and nipping at your neck. “I don’t think I’ve even seen your parents argue.”

He laughed to himself about that, but you only pressed your lips together because you knew what was coming.

“Your family’s perfect.”

He murmured it against your skin, but the bitterness was heard loud and clear.

Rafe playfully threw you onto the bed, quickly joining you and settling himself on top of you. He pressed his lips against yours, humming into the kiss, and you sharply inhaled when you could feel him hard and throbbing against your thigh. When you shifted your leg, Rafe groaned.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” he whispered, kissing you again. “…and if it is…”

He adjusted himself, resting his forearms into the mattress beside your head. Rafe completely caged you in as he gazed into your eyes, running them over you and pulling his lip between his teeth. The tips of his fingers grazed the side of your face, and you swallowed.

“It’s nothing I can’t help you forget, right?”

He held your gaze, gently brushing his nose against yours, and reminding yourself that he wanted an answer, you nodded.

“Right,” you breathed.

You kissed him back when his lips pressed to yours again, and on instinct, you rested your hands on his lower back. His hips curved into yours, the tip of him brushing against you and making you sharply inhale. You felt Rafe smile into the kiss, and his lips traveled from your lips to your jaw and then eventually your neck. When Rafe nipped at the skin, you reached up to run your fingers through his hair.

Rafe was eager to be inside of you, and it was evident in the way he reached down between your legs, fingers rushing to brush over you. Your breath hitched at the feel, and you lifted your hips when he started to dip them into you. His lips were at your ear as he thrust his fingers into you, and your hips lifted again.

“You’re so tight, you know that?” he breathed, and you parted your legs more.

You were so afraid of Rafe, so afraid of him, but once he got his hands on you like this, he typically wasn’t hurting you. It’d been months since the last time he got angry enough to hold you down and force himself on you. In these moments though, you didn’t have to watch your every comment and observe his every move. When Rafe was kissing you and pushing his cock into you, it was one of the few times you could just be and not have to worry about setting him off.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth, hips snapping against yours.

With every surge of them, you gasped, clinging to him in more ways than one as you arched your chest up into his. His hair was still damp from the shower, and you twisted your fingers into the wet locks. His teeth scraped over your skin and a low moan climbed out of his throat when you wrapped your legs around his waist.

The bed jostled from his movements, and when he snaked his arms around your waist, you reached down to hold onto them. The force in which he thrust into you was almost painful, but you were used to it, and it was something you’d grown to expect…welcome even. You had to if you wanted any semblance of happiness in this relationship—any brief moments of joy.

When Rafe pushed himself up to hover over you, your hands slid up his chest, and when his nose touched yours, you knew what he wanted. Lifting your head, you kissed him, and Rafe was ravenous in returning it. Every curve of his hips made your toes curl, and your nails clawed at the sheets when he fisted his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck.

He cursed into the kiss, and as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your other hand pressed into his back, nails dragging along his skin. You knew it was nothing at all, but leaving your own mark or two made you feel just a little bit better. You came first, but Rafe fucked you through it, continuing to plunge his cock into you and making your legs shake.

The closer Rafe got, the sloppier his thrusts became…and the more forceful he became. When he wrapped a hand around your wrist, you didn’t protest, accepting the feel of him pinning your arm down against the bed. His free hand roughly dug into your hips and then your thigh—painfully so—and you could only half hiss and half moan in response. His hips slammed down against yours, and when Rafe came inside of you, he stilled against you, completely pinning you beneath him.

Despite the fact that you were on birth control, you never not had a brief moment of panic.

“I just like feeling all of you,” Rafe had said over a year ago. “…and neither one of us are sleeping with anyone else…right…?”

The thought of getting pregnant scared you probably more than anything. Despite the fact that you’d accepted your fate and the future that was your relationship with Rafe, getting pregnant by him seemed so final. It would be the final nail in the coffin, and the last thing you needed in your relationship with Rafe. You knew it would happen eventually, but something in you desperately hoped that Rafe would just be a little better. Even just a little.

You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into this world just to be abused.

When your boyfriend rolled off of you, he pulled you with him, resting your head on his heaving chest as you kept your gaze on the wall. Rafe’s fingers gently trailed up and down your back, and you’d just closed your eyes to try and find sleep when he spoke.

“You know that I love you…right?”

It felt out of place, and you frowned slightly but eventually nodded.

“I know,” you whispered back.

You felt his hand trace patterns up your back, fingers dancing along your skin before his hand curved around the back of your neck.

“I know that I hurt you sometimes,” he murmured, making you swallow. “…but… It doesn’t mean that I don’t…”

He trailed off, his words dying in the air, and your eyes watered as you stared at the wall.

“I know, Rafe.”

When his hand landed on your cheek, you lifted your head, looking up at him. He studied your face, blue eyes flickering between your own, and you watched the way his tongue darted between his lips.

“You know how I get sometimes.”

“Rafe, I know,” you hurried to reassure him, reaching for his arm. “I get it, okay?”

You were sitting up, now, looking down at him, and you watched him lick his lips again. His hand took yours, threading your fingers together, and you felt compelled to hold eye contact. Rafe slowly took a deep breath, and you watched his eyes narrow.

“I just don’t want you to ever think you don’t mean anything to me,” he quietly told you. “…because you do. You’re my world.”

His hand tightened on yours, almost painfully, and you swallowed. His blue gaze looked so lifeless—glazed over—and you swallowed again.

“If you left, you may as well have just…died.”

You eventually nodded when he held your gaze for a few moments more, and when he pulled you back down, he gave you a sweet kiss, hand resting on the back of your head when you laid down on his chest again. Your gaze didn’t leave the wall when he reached over to turn out the lamp.

You were waiting on Rafe’s order when you saw him again.

You felt a sense of déjà vu when he walked into The Wreck, blue eyes meeting yours and a small smile thrown your way. Only the last time this same scenario had played out, you’d smiled back, and Rafe had put a gun in your mouth for it. You shuddered to remember that day, and you turned away from JJ without another thought.

You were unsurprised—but disappointed—when he saddled up next to you.

“In some places—and I’m pretty sure Outer Banks is one of them—that’s considered rude.”

You only spared the blond a brief glance, sighing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied.

You heard him snort to himself, silence stretching between you for a moment before he eventually spoke again.

“Where’s your asshole boyfriend?”

You couldn’t help yourself, throwing him a scathing look at that, but the only response you got was a wider grin and one raised eyebrow. Ward had called Rafe the moment he parked, and signaling to you that it would take a minute, he’d waved you on ahead to get the food. That was what you told JJ, and you heard him whistle.

“He let you get it all by yourself? Wow, he’s really stepping up.”

His tone was light and mocking, but you merely fixed him with an unamused look.

It was only then did you realize just how close he was, and you couldn’t help but to swallow at his close proximity. Without thinking much of it, you inhaled and almost immediately regretted it. Rafe and all of his friends smelt so…sharp. They smelled like cologne and laundry detergent and the freshly cut manicured grass on the country club golf course. It was a scent you’d grown up around, a scent you were accustomed to.

JJ just smelled like fresh air.

The blond before you reminded you of the salt water at the beach and the woodsy scent of trees and fresh rain. JJ smelled warm and light, and it was a smell that made you want to just…relax. Realizing that your thoughts were heading into dangerous territory—again—you slightly moved away from him. He noticed.

“Jesus, you’d think it was you I fought on the beach.”

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked him, still staring straight ahead as you waited for your order.

“Well, not only is this place owned by my best friend’s family…” you nodded at that, having actually forgotten that. “…but like you, I also like to eat.”

You rolled your eyes, and you heard JJ chuckle to himself. You tapped your fingers against the counter, feeling his gaze on you no matter how much you ignored it. Rafe sounded irritated almost as soon as he answered the phone, so there was no doubt in your mind that he was going back and forth with Ward about something. For just a brief moment, you wished he was here just so you had a better excuse to ignore the man at your side.

“Rafe’s not here, you know,” he eventually said. “You don’t have to pretend like I don’t exist.”

“Clearly you don’t know my boyfriend as well as you’d like to think you do then,” you snorted. “…because I absolutely do.”

You were relieved when Mrs. Carrera brought out your food, and you felt it was obvious in the way your shoulders sagged. You thanked her, thinking to yourself that you couldn’t get away from JJ fast enough, stepping away just as Rafe stepped inside. Your heart only stuttered a little at the sight of him, but you covered it up with a smile.

“You ready to go?” you asked him, frowning a bit when he pecked you on the lips and proceeded to move past you.

“I want to get a drink,” he told you over his shoulder.

You watched him lean against the counter next to JJ as he talked to the other woman, and you couldn’t stop yourself from eyeing them—comparing them. Something about the sight of them together rubbed you the wrong way, and maybe it was because the last time they were in such close proximity it had ended in a brawl.

Or maybe it was because you’d talked to JJ when you knew you shouldn’t.

You watched JJ say something to your boyfriend, and Rafe’s smirk in response didn’t ease your worries. His arms were folded over the counter, and he turned his head ever so slightly to look at the other blond out of the corner of his eye. He said something—evidently something rude by the way JJ tensed—and to your disappointment, you watched Rafe pull a dollar out of his pocket before flicking it at JJ just as Mrs. Carrera returned with his drink.

“For your troubles, JJ,” you heard him say, a cruel grin on his lips. “Don’t go spending that all at once, now.”

You couldn’t stop your frown, but as Rafe neared you, something else caught your eye instead.

JJ was leaning over the counter, pointing at something towards the kitchen while Mrs. Carrera seemed to sigh in exasperation. His white t-shirt rode up a bit, and your gaze lingered on the discoloration on his side. The sight of it made your lips part, and your frown deepened the longer you stared at it. The sight of it was so familiar to you, and despite the fact that you knew Sarah’s friends didn’t lead the safest lifestyle, something in you wouldn’t let you believe that came from some dirt bike accident.

It was too perfect, too precise of a bruise…and you would know better than anyone.

When Rafe grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the restaurant, you forced yourself to pull your eyes away.

You didn’t want a repeat of the aftermath of the conversation in the hall, so the days that followed were spent trying to be as normal and as present as possible. However, you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to the sight of JJ’s skin at The Wreck. It wouldn’t leave you, and you didn’t need to be some professional psychiatrist to figure out why.

You didn’t know much about his home life, only that his dad kind of sucked from what you’d gathered from Sarah and Rafe and Rafe’s friends. However, you never had the desire to understand what that meant in full. Now, though… You couldn’t help wondering if it encompassed something more horrific than you’d imagined.

There were times when you wanted to ask Sarah about it, but it felt weird. JJ wasn’t your friend, wasn’t even close, so you didn’t think you had a right to his personal life. Especially something so deeply personal, and even weirder, you and Sarah weren’t friends. It just felt strange to go to her about something that didn’t involve you nor her but instead her friend who you were supposed to have no kind of interactions or connections with.

It was especially present on your mind when Sarah’s friends were in the house one day. You’d been in the kitchen when you heard the van pull into the yard, and you’d only smiled in response when Sarah and her friends greeted you.

“Is Rafe here?” she asked you while they all made their way towards the backyard. “John B. can’t find his Juul and now I’m positive that was what I saw Rafe tossing in the trash the other day.”

You frowned at her with a shake of your head.

“He’s running some errand for Ward, but he should be back any minute.”

The blonde girl huffed, mumbling a dejected thanks before making her way to the backyard. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring after them, debating with yourself before thinking better of it. As you made your way towards the stairs, your gaze passed over JJ who stood near the backdoor, his gaze already on you as you climbed the stairs. Ignoring him, you made yourself comfortable in Rafe’s room.

Sure enough, as you’d told Sarah, you heard the distinct sound of Rafe’s truck pulling into the yard not even an hour later. You paid it no mind, focused on your laptop screen as you finished up some lingering homework due in a few days. Distinctly, you could hear Sarah talking to Rafe as she made her annoyance with him clear, but aside from the brief penetration into your bubble, you didn’t give it any more thought.

You were so focused that you couldn’t even really note how long Rafe had been downstairs before finally joining you. You heard the bedroom door open and close, and you briefly glanced at him over your shoulder.

“How’d it go?” you asked him, eyes preoccupied once again.

Your boyfriend didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he was much closer than you anticipated. You hadn’t heard him move.

“Fine enough,” was his simple answer, and you only hummed when you felt his fingers kneading into your shoulders.

You both felt and heard him pull away, and you were forced from your own thoughts when the sound of music reached your ears from his speakers, familiar with Rafe’s Apple Music playlist. Frowning, you turned to look at him, feeling like your efforts to study were pretty obvious. However, your face fell a tad as your gaze connected with his.

Rafe leaned against his dresser, even gaze resting on you as he simply…stared. Nothing about his expression was readable, and that was your first clue that something was very very wrong. Telling yourself that it could wait, you closed your laptop, scooting to fully face him on the bed. His hands were pressed into the wood, and your boyfriend was so still as you two just stared at each other.

“What?” you finally asked, and despite the music, it wasn’t too loud enough to where he couldn’t hear you.

Again, Rafe remained quiet, but you knew that he heard you so your frown only deepened. Moving until your feet were touching the floor, you stared up at him, and even with no words being spoken, you felt something uneasy festering deep within your gut. It had been some months since you and Rafe had one of your big fights, but you knew the signs all too well, and your heart sank when he took a deep breath.

“You apologized to JJ on my behalf?”

You heard a ringing in your ears for a few seconds as his words lingered in the air, and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t look away from him. In this moment, you felt like prey, and you felt like it would be the stupidest thing in the world to take your eyes off of the man before you. Your lips parted as you struggled with what to say, and you eventually snapped them shut, struggling to find a way to talk your way out of this.

“I…”

“I already know the truth,” Rafe told you, tilting his head to the side. “I just want to hear it from you.”

Swallowing, you took a deep breath.

“I…felt bad,” you slowly told him, and you watched Rafe nod.

“You felt bad,” he repeated, pressing his tongue to his teeth and the inside of his cheek.

“Rafe-.”

“When did this conversation even happen?” he interrupted, frowning now. “I’m trying to understand when you and JJ Maybank have ever been around each other long enough to have a conversation where you’re apologizing to him for me.”

“Rafe, it lasted a minute at the most,” you quietly argued.

“Was this at The Wreck?”

You knew he was referring to days ago, and your mind ran rampant, trying to figure out if it was better to lie or not. You were already caught in a lie somewhat, and you really didn’t want to make this worse. You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of Rafe’s bitter laugh, and when you looked at him again, you could see that he was studying your face.

“Don’t think you can sit here and lie to me. When did this happen?” he repeated.

Exhaling, you blinked back tears.

“It was a few weeks ago,” you whispered, and you watched Rafe nod. “Sarah and her friends were going to the beach. JJ was in the bathroom, and I just ran into him in the hallway.”

When Rafe didn’t react, you continued, heart racing.

“Rafe, I just felt bad, that was all. I saw his face, and I felt bad, okay?”

Rafe leaned in a bit, hands and lower back still pressed against his dresser.

“Felt bad for what?” he spat, visage finally cracking. “He was the one bothering us, and I gave him what he was looking for.”

When you opened your mouth, Rafe cut you off.

“…and to make matters worse, you lied to me.”

Your brows furrowed at that, and you didn’t miss the way Rafe’s nostrils flared.

“Family bullshit, my ass. You knew you were wrong,” he threw at you, pointing at you. “See, you think I don’t know you…but I know you like the back of my hand.”

You lowered your gaze, unable to look him in the eye when he got like this.

“I knew something was wrong, and you lied to my face.”

You weren’t able to keep your tears from spilling over, and you wiped your face, looking up at him again. Your lips trembled while Rafe stared you down, and you were very aware of your throat and how tight it felt in this moment. You whispered his name, trying to get him to see that you hadn’t meant anything by it.

“I just felt bad,” you slowly told him again, voice quiet.

You wiped your face again, but fresh tears just replaced those, and Rafe studied the action. He leaned back some, looking down his nose at you, dirty blond hair curtained along his forehead. There was nothing warm or comforting about his gaze, malice stewing there as the corner of his lips curved upwards just a tad.

“Why are you crying?” he calmly asked. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Rafe had closed the distance in the same amount of time. You leaned away from him, a pleading look in your gaze.

“Do you…? Wh-what do you want me to say to him? How can I fix this?”

“Do you think I want you talking to him again? Do you really think that’s going to make me feel better, right now?”

You reached up to keep some distance between you two, but Rafe slapped your hands away. Your face was next, the action happening so fast that you only had time to gasp. You’d just touched your cheek when his hands were digging into your upper arms, violently shaking you.

“I just might do something a little impulsive if I saw you talking to him, right now, so trust me, you don’t want that,” he sneered.

“Rafe,” you gasped, grabbing one of his arms.

He only responded by grabbing that wrist, squeezing it and twisting it until you were forced to try and get him to let go. His face was so close to yours, nose brushing your cheek as his lip curled over your teeth.

“Do you know what that was like for me?” he wondered, forcing you back until you were cornered against the wall. “To have that Pogue throw it in my face that my own girlfriend went behind my back and apologized for what I did to him? For what he brought on himself?”

You pushed against his chest with your free hand, and Rafe only shoved you back, making you wince.

“I mean, have you lost your mind?” he wondered, fingers coming up to touch the side of his head. “Were you just thinking ‘God, what can I do to really piss Rafe off’?”

You were full on sobbing, now as you tried to push him away.

“Wait, no, you…you were thinking that I wouldn’t find out,” he chuckled, and you got no warning before he threw you to the floor.

Your sore wrist made it hard to push yourself up, and Rafe let his impatience show.

“Get up,” he barked at you. “Get the fuck up.”

Deciding he didn’t feel like waiting for you to do that, Rafe pulled you up by your hair, forcing you to cry out as you reached up to grab his hand. Your back was forced to arch as you tried your best to lean away from him, and when he shoved you into his dresser, a choked sound escaped you as pain flared in your stomach.

Rafe seemed to anticipate your next move the moment you took a step forward.

“Where are you going, huh?” he drawled, yanking you back.

“I’m sorry,” you screamed at him, trying to pull his arms off of you.

“No, you’re not,” he frowned at you, pressing a thumb against your throat. “You’re just sorry I found out.”

You pushed at his face, and your boyfriend retaliated by pushing at yours, forcing you to stumble and fall back, the wall barely serving to catch you. In a panic, you turned and ran into his bathroom, just narrowly shutting and locking the door the same time Rafe’s fists hit against it. He hit it again, harder this time, and you flinched, stepping back.

“Open this door,” you heard him say, breathing labored.

He kicked at it when you didn’t, and you tearfully stared at it with wide eyes.

“Baby,” he slowly said. “You do not want me to kick it down. I can promise you you won’t like it.”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you looked around. You were at a loss, mind going a mile a minute as he told you to open the door again, and more tears just kept falling. You could feel yourself overheating, and all those moments where you anticipated his next move or tried to anticipate the best move for you became worthless. This wasn’t a conversation where you were trying to prevent the violent outcome.

The violent outcome was here.

Pushing yourself against the door was in vain, because with a few more harsh kicks, it was forced open, and you were forced to the floor. Your hands shook as you fought against Rafe’s, trying to keep them off of you, but when they wrapped around your neck, breathing became your first priority. He briefly raised your head before slamming it back down, and you felt no relief when his hands let you go because you immediately saw him reach for his pants.

Even with a tilting vision and confused mind, his intent was clear.

However, a harsh knock on his room door startled you both. With a struggle, you reached up to touch your head just as Rafe’s eyes met yours. You tearfully blinked at him, wondering what he planned to do, when another knock followed the first, their fist banging on the door, and with a huff, Rafe got off of you. You licked your lips, unsurprised by the taste of blood.

You heard Rafe open his door.

“What the hell are you doing up here?” Sarah aggressively questioned. “We can hear you banging all the way out in the yard.”

You closed your eyes as you realized that Rafe’s music hadn’t been loud enough, and with an inflamed face and aching stomach, you turned on your side. A small groan left you when you wrapped your arms around your lower half, throat starting to hurt too.

“I was just trying to move my dresser around,” you heard Rafe rudely tell her. “Didn’t mean to disturb her royal highness.”

You didn’t see Sarah’s response, but knowing the younger girl, she probably rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

Rafe’s response was immediate.

“Just keep it down. Never mind how annoying it is, but Y/N told me earlier she had some studying to do. We all know you don’t care about that, but…”

The rest of Sarah’s words were lost to you as Rafe slammed the door in her face. One of your hands came up to cover your own face as you sobbed into it, lip still bleeding from where your teeth had cut into the skin. You could hear Rafe’s footsteps as he approached the bathroom, and you were relieved when he didn’t enter, just opting to stand in the doorway.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t dare look. The thought of what almost happened—and what no doubt would later on—just made you cry harder, and Rafe’s heated sigh reached your ears.

“When you’re soaking in the bathtub tonight,” he slowly began, tone smug. “I want you to remember whose fault this is.”

…and as crazy as it seemed, you couldn’t determine if he meant you…or JJ.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction

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armageddidnt · 8 months

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Welcome to My Collection of Random Thoughts during my nth* rewatch of Good Omens Season 2

*only amazon prime knows the exact number at this point but I’m fairly certain it’s in the double digits

Episode 1: Gabriel’s fly lurking in the box when Aziraphale first takes it inside 👀

Crowley’s promise of “two minutes” basically means that he’s been homeless and living in his car for the past 4 years strictly so that he can be within 2 driving minutes of Aziraphale at all times in case his angel needs him I’m not crying you are

So here I think the key word is “fragile,” Crowley knows they are ostensibly safe from their respective sides but that could change at any moment so he’s basically spent the last 4 years in anxiety-ridden terror hovering as close to Aziraphale as he can to try and protect him from heaven, hell, and anyone else that would want to bring him harm after all that business they pulled in season 1 with stopping Armageddon

Episode 2: I just happened to pause the episode while Aziraphale is lying to the angels about his miracle and LOL Michael really outdid himself here (Sheen, not the Archangel)

Gabriel trying to swat flies and almost smashing the repository of every single one of his memories

I’m cAckling

So if Good Omens exists in Good Omens, does that mean Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett exist in Good Omens?? Do you think they based their Aziraphale and Crowley characters on Aziraphale and Crowley??

Episode 3: So I’m trying to find any hints or foreshadowing of the Gabriel Beelzebub thing bc tbh I did kind of feel like it came out of nowhere which is really the only issue I have with them. I found this one scene where Beelzebub almost ?? seems to be concerned about Gabriel ?? But it’s blink and you miss it and there could be lots of other reasons why Beelzebub doesn’t want to fail in locating Gabriel (pressure from/leverage over heaven, etc) so idk

More Foreshadowing Fly content 🪰

Episode 4: So here we’ve seen that Shax can just appear inside the Bentley bc she did it earlier to talk to Crowley. Shax only pretended to be a hitchhiker so she could be invited in because Azirpahale was driving so technically she needed permission to cross the threshold of an angel 👀

This scene will never not destroy me the 1941 flashback is the absolute sOFTEST thing ever to happen on this show

We really need more context here I need to see the Crowley-Furfur Monkey Rides

Episode 5: ahahaha thank you google translate for absolutely destroying my sanity this evening

POP goes the Ziraphale

Okay I know you can’t hear it in the gif but just before Nina takes Maggie’s hand, there’s a very quiet miracle noise, like Azirpahale literally MADE Nina dance with Maggie, he said I’m writing a Mina Jane-Austen-Ball-AU and my otp will KISS godDAMMIT

Azirpahale seems lowkey kind of manic this whole scene tho, he’s controlling literally everyone to force Nina and Maggie together and whenever Crowley says anything that pokes holes in Aziraphale’s Magical Jane Austen Ball Fairytale, Aziraphale just straight up denies it. He wants Nina and Maggie to dance and he wants him and Crowley to dance and he refuses to acknowledge anything beyond that.

Is this just Shax insulting Crowley for how much of a nuisance he’s been or a reference to his former status as an angel ???

They’re both completely dismissive of each other when they’re trying to say something important and that’s the main issue they’ve been having this entire season tbh

Episode 6: I think it’s funny that Crowley describes the angels as bees here because in the book, Neil/Terry describe humans the same way. Guess we have more in common than we thought huh?

So the metatron was the one who originally decided Gabriel would be memory wiped and not sent to hell, and he was also the one that decided not to sound an alarm about Gabriel for some reason and said ‘just go find him yourself’ instead. The metatron has definitely got his own agenda and you can bet he doesn’t want Aziraphale up there in heaven because he’s a “leader” and he’s “honest” like that’s exactly what Gabriel was and look where it got him 👀

There’s just something I can’t quite put my finger on about the metatron bringing Aziraphale a coffee from “give me coffee or give me death” and then asking Aziraphale if he’s going to take the coffee he’s giving him…

I have not seen a single person talk about this since s2 came out but Nina literally calls Maggie “angel” because that’s the term of endearment they hear Crowley using for Aziraphale !!!! I’m still going fERAL over this and I can’t believe no one else is eitHER

Something about this part of The Final Fifteen compared to this scene from the first episode is so representative of the entire season. Azirpahale keeps saying “my way or get out” and Crowley finally hits a wall and can follow Aziraphale no further. So he does just that. He goes.

I’m sure a lot of us by now have seen this post that brings up how Aziraphale literally pushes the remains of Crowley into his mouth and swallows and it’s the only thing I see when I watch this now

We still don’t know for certain if Crowley queued up this song to play on their way to the Ritz or if the Bentley started playing it all on its own and it’s driving me insane

Basically how I am doing after my Truly-Alarming-Number-th watch of this traumatizing episode/season. WELP hope you enjoyed this garbage dump of my thoughts and feelings time to go cry for a bit again BYE

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #my season 2 rewatch aka: I Went Insane #i am unwell #I haven't slept properly in 44 days and counting #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #angel #demon #armageddidnt-blog #armageddidnt-gifset #armageddidnt-screaming #armageddidnt-pain #good omens 2x06

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florencemtrash · 4 months

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Three

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None that I can think of. Cassian, Azriel, and Y/n go to a romantic library

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“I. Can’t. Believe. It.” Cassian paced the floor in front of his brothers with his hands on his hips.

“I know.” Azriel said miserably.

“I can’t believe it.”

Rhysand smirked, leaning back on Az’s bed with his head propped up beneath his arm. They’d all been in shock leaving the Alcove. Even Helion had been uncharacteristically silent, contemplating what to do now that it looked like his daughter was mates with the Shadowsinger.

Upon return to the Sun Palace they’d found Azriel in his room, head in his hands as his shadows flurried around him in displeasure.

“You fucking ran away from your mate.” Cassian was incredulous, “Over 500 years you’ve been desperate for one, and the moment the bond snaps into place, you fucking run away? What the fuck, Az?”

“As if you or Rhys did any better.” Az growled. Already he could feel the tug of the bond towards you. It was part of the reason he’d run away in the first place. Better to hide and brood over this secret than overwhelm you more than he already had.

“He’s got a point there, Cas.”

“Shut up! Az should know better than to follow in our footsteps.”

“That we can all agree on,” Feyre said, breezing into the room and finding her rightful place on the bed beside her husband. He kissed her on the temple and Azriel felt a wave of jealousy wash over him. He had a mate. A mate who had flinched whenever he came too close. The memory turned the contents of his stomach into ash. Bitter and cruel.

“It’s not that simple. You saw her tonight. She couldn’t stand being near me.”

Rhys’s eyes fluttered down to the female in his arms and Feyre, always in sync with Rhys, glanced up at the same time, a look of regret in her eyes.

“Sorry, Rhys.” Az apologized, but he waved it off.

“It might not have been you. We’ve no idea what kind of history she has. What her experience has been with other fae. With males.”

Az’s eyes darkened, his shadows similarly taking on a more vicious tone. That knife in his gut twisted to the side at the thought of anyone hurting you.

“What Rhys means to say,” Feyre said, catching the flicker of darkness around Azriel’s edges, “Is that until you get to know her better, you can’t come to any conclusions about her actions tonight.” A light turned on in her mind and Rhys nodded his head in agreement, “You and Cass should go see her in the morning. Ask her to take you to the library with the romance books so he can find Nesta something. It should give you more than enough time to talk.”

“I will not be supervised by Cassian.”

“Why not, brother? You and your little Librarian can’t be worse than Nesta and I were.”

Azriel lunged at him, ready to smack him in the back of the head, but Feyre slid between them before he could get too close.

“No. No fighting tonight. You can pummel each other to a pulp when we’re home.”

“Promise?” Cassian winked.

Az rolled his eyes and frowned. “This is a terrible time for a mating bond, Fey. Koschei-”

“Has there ever been a good time for a mating bond?”

Azriel fell silent, unable to refute his High Lady.

“Rhys and I will take care of that business tomorrow with Helion.” She said with a tone of finality, holding Azriel’s face between her hands, “This is a good thing, Az. Enjoy it. Get to know her. Get to know your mate.”

Your mate.

The words floated around in Azriel’s mind as he lay in bed and watched the light start to bleed back into the world. He’d been thinking about you all night. You with your soft hair and sheepish smile. You with your mismatched mugs and cheeks flushed with color. He was grateful that Day Court life started early, because he didn’t think he’d be able to stay in bed much longer.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and no one missed the way the Shadowsinger quickly ate, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he watched Cassian savor every bite of his waffles, berry custard, sausages, and tea. Cassian smiled from across the table and Azriel scowled, silently urging him to hurry up. They were wasting precious time.

The moment the last drop from Cassian’s cup was in his mouth, Azriel was hauling him out of his seat and towards the window. Helion narrowed his eyes at the pair but said nothing as their leathery wings flared out without hesitation and they leapt from the Sun Palace.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat when you opened the door, fresh-faced and smelling like mint and rose. You blinked in surprise, once again half-hiding your body behind the cherry wood door. After his abrupt departure last night, you’d paced the floor of your kitchen, aggressively cleaning the dishes as you mulled over everything you must have done wrong in order for him to react like that. Perhaps you’d offended him somehow? Things had certainly felt fine before. You’d enjoyed talking to them… especially him.

“My Lords,” You said with a quick dip of your head. Azriel cringed at the title and Cassian, for the sake of his brother, didn’t poke fun, “Um…why are you here? Or-sorry-what can I do for you today?”

Cassian’s grin was broad and mischievous, “We were hoping you could show us the romance library. The one you told us about last night. I don’t think I could leave the Day Court in good conscience without something salacious to bring home to Nesta.”

“Oh I um…” You glanced behind you at your living room. You’d hoped to finish reading two of your books on containment spells today, perhaps start summarizing some of your findings and look for connections.

“I-” He coughed, “We don’t want to burden you with this if you’re busy.” Azriel jumped in.

Please say you’ll come. Please say you’ll come. He all but shouted the words down the bond.

There was something so hopeful about the way he looked at you, as if he was silently begging you to say yes, that you couldn’t refuse him.

“No, no. I didn’t have anything planned. Just… just give me a few minutes.” With that you shut the door in their faces and ran to your bedroom, reemerging exactly three minutes later wearing a pale yellow dress with sensible brown shoes and a matching coat. Aside from your hands - which you hid within your deep pockets - and your face, not a scrap of skin was to be found anywhere.

You hesitated at the doorway. Both Cassian and Azriel stood too close, crowding the marble steps leading down to the pale cobblestone streets. Azriel elbowed Cassian out of the way, all but pushing him down the steps with you following six feet behind.

“Lead the way, little Librarian.” Cassian said when they reached the bottom, swinging his arm out to the side.

Despite the festivities that had taken place the day before, fae were already wide awake and winding through the streets with groceries and fresh baked bread tucked under the arms. The scholars were the easiest to pick out, milling about the coffeeshops and athenaeums with ink stained fingertips and the scent of old paper clinging to their coats.

Since the war with Hybern, the Day Court’s borders had loosened to accept more visiting researchers from other courts. Intermixed with the usual jumble of fae were tawny-winged Peregryns from Dawn, salt-skinned sailors from Summer, even the occasional fluttering of Spring Court nymph wings could be spotted, shimmering iridescent pinks and purples.

A quarter mile away, the weekly market was beginning to stir with life, offering up the best artisanal wares in all of Prythian. Hand-stitched leather bound journals, elegant fountain pens with a never-ending ink supply, satchels that could hold up to two-hundred pounds worth of material and still feel as light as a feather. Azriel would have investigated further if you hadn’t steered the pair down a narrower neighborhood street, a pink-stoned athenaeum waiting at the end.

“This is the 69th sector athenaeum.” You announced. Cassian coughed into his fist, “And before you ask, yes, the location was selected very intentionally.”

The Illyrian’s face turned a bright red, cheeks flaring out as he attempted to stifle his laughter. Azriel closed his eyes, one hand coming up to rub at his temples. You could have sworn you heard him mumble “Mother give me strength” beneath his breath.

“And what do you call this place?” Azriel asked curiously, trying to turn your attention away from a very immature Cassian, “The “69th sector atheneum” doesn’t have a very pleasing ring to it.”

You blushed, “We call it The Loveseat.”

“A very-” Cassian wheezed, “A very appropriate-” Wheeze, “A very appropriate name.”

You shook your head, hiding your smirk as you opened the double doors and stepped inside. The library dedicated to lovers took its theme very seriously, as most athenaeums were apt to do. Lush velvet couches, bouquets of flowers in every shade imaginable, and paintings of love and affection were carefully laid out in between shelves of auburn-stained wood that reached as high as the ceiling. Walkways criss-crossed above their heads forming a spiral pattern that ended at the domed ceiling where someone had painstakingly painted a collection of confessional scenes from Prythian’s most cherished romance novels.

Cassian may have been all teenage jokes before, but he melted at the sight of the ceiling. He thought of Nesta and tugged on the bond, letting her see the athenaeum before him.

“The more explicit works are in the back.” You said, pointing down towards the back staircase which would take any full-grown fae to the lower level. But Cassian had already drifted off, silently following Nesta’s guidance as he scanned the shelves.

“How do you know that?” Azriel asked once Cassian had all but disappeared.

“Hmmm?”

“How do you know the more explicit works are in the back?”

You fell silent, tugging your sleeves over your hands as you chewed the inside of your cheek. The Shadowsinger tipped his head back and laughed. Not a hidden smile, not a barely-there smirk, or near-silent chuckle, but a gentle full-bodied laugh that shook his wings.

You gaped at him, “A female is allowed to have hobbies, is she not?”

He shook his raven-black hair, the faint waves within it rippling and catching the warm light that trickled down from the ceiling, “I never said she wasn’t. And I would never deny anyone their smutty romance books if that’s what made them happy. After all, I am Nesta’s brother-in-law.”

You leaned against a nearby bookcase, absentmindedly running your ink-stained fingers over the spines and getting flashes of knowledge - the death of a brother, a night spent sweaty and spent under the stars, the exhilarating lurch that comes when two lips kiss for the first time. You couldn’t help but insert the Shadowsinger into the picture.

“And what makes you happy, Azriel? What do you like to do for fun?”

There was a pause, as if no one had ever asked him that question before.

“I like to spend time with my family.” He said, slipping into the shelves and ducking down so he could see you through the space between the books. For the first time in a while, you disliked the physical barrier between you and another person.

You shook your head, pretending to read the titles so you wouldn’t look into those hazel eyes, “That’s not a hobby though.”

He shrugged, “The nature of my work keeps me away from most things. I don’t often have time for things I enjoy.”

“But you do have things you enjoy, don’t you? Something to take your mind off the nature of your work.”

Azriel stilled, no longer moving with you and you realized you must have overstepped your bounds.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you-”

“I like music.” He said finally after some contemplation, “I like flying over the musician’s quarter in Velaris so I can hear what they’re playing at the theater. Sometimes I’ll sneak in and hide in the rafters.”

He’d never told anyone that. But you only nodded in agreement, as if sneaking around in your own city and into shows you could afford in a moment’s notice were a normal thing to do.

“That seems very appropriate for a Shadowsinger.”

The strange dance you’d been dueting came to an abrupt end when the shelves stopped, spitting the two of you out into one of the narrow aisles face to face.

Azriel smiled at you, exposing his teeth in a rare smile. Other than the smallest chip in his left canine, they were pristine - as perfectly imperfect as the rest of him.

“Now you tell me. What do you like to do?”

“Well you already know I like smutty romance novels.”

“Naturally.” He said, gesturing to the space they were in.

You looked around the room, breathed in the smell of roses and ink. You shrugged, “I like to read.”

“Naturally.” The Shadowsinger repeated.

“I… I suppose I like to sing.”

He leaned forward, as if it were a secret, “A little songbird then?”

“No, no, I’m not good at it. But there’s a pianist who lives down the street from me so I end up memorizing her songs.”

You wracked your brain for anything more to say. Something that would make you appear more interesting, braver, kinder, special… someone worthy of the attention you were receiving from this male. You had never been the most physically inclined, hence why the elite Bookkeepers - Librarians charged with the physical protection of their respective athenaeums - had passed you over. You weren’t one for baking or crafting or gardening or hosting parties or any of the rest of those things. You didn’t know how to draw, you’d never picked up an instrument, you tried embroidery once and found it boring.

“I think… I think that’s it, really.” You said, sounding defeated.

Azriel hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time you were thinking. Not for a single second, “I don’t believe you.”

“Well you don’t know me so…”

“Maybe not yet. But I would like to, Y/n the Librarian. If you’d let me.”

The feeling that crept up into your throat and lodged itself there took you by surprise. Some mortifying realization that you were becoming emotional in front of the Shadowsinger. You cleared your throat, dipping your head down and diving back into the shelves so he couldn’t see your silvery eyes.

“Tell me more about the kinds of things academics concern themselves with.” Azriel said smoothly, calling back your conversation from the night before as he peered over a dense set of bodice-rippers at you. If he wanted to take your mind off things, he was doing an excellent job.

“Hardcover versus paperback.” Your fingers skimmed over the book bindings. Bodice-rippers indeed.

“And?”

You pursed your lips, thoughts of Nesta and her smutty books coming into mind before you could help yourself.

“Ahhh, you just thought of something. Tell me.”

“I don’t want to.” You mumbled, but the Shadowsinger only arched his brows.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. Not that you’d put up much of a fight. He was the Shadowsinger after all, he could learn what you had for breakfast three weeks ago if he really wanted to.

“I… I once got into a heated argument with a certain erotica writer about the physical impossibility of a human having sex with a dragon-born fae…”

He blinked, tipped his head back, and laughed. One of those full-bellied ones again. You swiveled around, grateful to find that the only other fae on this floor were currently lip-locked on a sofa ten shelves down. They were far too preoccupied to make a noise complaint.

“It’s not funny!” You hissed, “There are certain anatomical considerations that can’t be ignored. You can’t-” Your futile attempts at explaining yourself were only met with louder laughter. It was infectious and suddenly that was all you two seemed to be capable of. Both of you doubled over with laughter on opposite sides of the bookshelf in a building that suddenly seemed too cramped, too small to fit the joy within.

“Please-” Azriel chuckled, “Please tell me how long this lasted.”

“I can’t breathe-” You gasped for breath, “Oh gods. Three months?”

“Three months?”

“There are nuances we got into. And they use a pseudonym so we were sending letters.”

“Letters?”

Luckily, or rather unluckily for you, you were saved from further explanation, because there was someone waiting at the end of the shelves with two thin fists propped up on curvy hips.

You bit down on your tongue as she sashayed forward, forcing you backward like she knew you would. Azriel immediately stepped to the side as you careened back out into the aisle, your laughter long forgotten. A new crowd was beginning to spread throughout the athenaeum - shy couples on first outings, sheepish young ones searching for the most heart-wrenching stories they could find, older fae looking for a little spark in their comparably milder lives.

But Azriel’s full attention was on you and the displeasure written in your tight lips as the short-haired pixie came out in full view.

“Y/n.” She said, a sugary sweetness in the way she said your name, like rotten fruit.

“Marsha.” You replied curtly, instinctively stepping back and closer to Azriel as the female moved forward to hug you. She rolled her eyes at the rejection, immediately taking notice of Azriel’s dark and towering form. Her small, round lips opened in a surprised oh before sinking into a low bow, chest jutting forward in an attempt to make full use of her small bosom. She wore the signature pale blue robes of another athenaeum - The Blue Drink.

“My Lord Shadowsinger.” More sickly sweet words.

For the first time in Azriel’s life, he didn’t correct her use of his title, already deciding from your reaction that this was not a female he wanted to associate with.

“It is good to see you out and about, Y/n, and in such distinguished company. Hardly anyone sees you anymore, my dear. I can’t imagine what you must be doing with all that time.”

You swallowed, “The High Lord has me on special business. But you already know that, Marsha.”

“Bah. Special business.” She threw a hand in the air, swatting away your confidence, “Busy work.”

“It’s not- '' You bit your tongue. Marsha was one of the few fae who knew you were Helion’s bastard daughter. A complex story that involved her close friendship with Helion's ex-lover who’d felt betrayed when he chose you and your mother over him. Since then she’d convinced herself that all you did was drain from the royal coffers and take advantage of her High Lord’s generosity like some parasite, “It’s not busy work.”

“Then why do you never share it with us? No papers written. No books published.” Even her frown was sickly sweet, “It seems a waste, doesn’t it?”

You remembered what she’d said to you, back when you were an apprentice. What a waste of a Clairvoyant. Your mother didn’t fall into bed like a common whore for you to choose The Alcove and hide your power.

She tsked her tongue, once again shooting Azriel a deceptively sweet smile, “Well I suppose you have other things taking up your time. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I see.”

Your face paled, half in embarrassment and half in anger. By all means she shouldn’t have known anything, but as it was with all Librarians, she had a stubborn streak for digging in graves that should remain buried. You could respect her loyalty to her friend. The rest you could not.

Your mother didn’t fall into bed like a common whore for you to choose The Alcove and hide your power.

“I’m happy for the pair of you.”

Bullshit.

You finally opened your mouth to correct her, but Azriel spoke first, one hand ghosting ever so close to the square of your back, but never making contact, “Thank you. We were just leaving.” Azriel said curtly, jaw clenched. With just a few polite, yet dangerous words from the Shadowsinger, Marsha clamped her mouth shut and said no more.

Azriel tipped his head towards the way you’d originally come, letting you take the lead. You shot him a look of gratitude to which he returned the subtlest of smiles. A kind of smile that said, we can talk later, if you’d like.

You didn’t speak a word to one another until you were outside. Fae mingled about, their conversations doing nothing to drown out your thoughts as you walked over to the small garden. The greenery was half-sunken in the ground beneath the two main stairs that wound together in the shape of a heart. If it were anatomically correct you’d be sitting in the tricuspid valve.

Azriel sat down on the bench beside you, despite the discomfort it must have caused his wings. His shadows darted out, pooling out of his skin and beginning to cover your hands and arms in a strange hug. Azriel’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, some lingering shame of yours leaking through the bond without you even realizing it.

“We should let Cassian know where we are.” You said quietly, hands folded in your lap. Your shoulders bent inward like the curling of paper when it begins to catch fire.

“He’s a grown Illyrian. He’ll find us eventually.”

And even if he didn’t, I would be happy to sit here forever.

Azriel had been furious inside the athenaeum, the already red room turning redder as he saw the light flicker out of your eyes at Marsha’s comment. Perhaps it was another sign of the mating bond that he’d so wanted to slap that prideful smile off her face. It would be beneath him, but satisfying nevertheless.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently.

You huffed, discreetly blotting out the moisture that had collected in the corners of your eyes, “I am alright. I’m sorry about what happened inside. It wasn’t anything important.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that.”

Gods, he was being kind. Kinder than he needed to be. What were you doing charading two legendary Illyrian warriors through the streets of Day? Stirring up old emotions in public spaces and making a scene in front of him.

“No, I do. It wasn��t right of me to react that way. I should’ve hidden it better.”

“You barely reacted at all.”

Something about his insistence made you feel worse, not better. The emotions you’d been trying to tamp down since the party, and probably far longer than that, were bubbling to the surface.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Y/n. Tell me the truth.”

The truth…

The truth was that you were a mess. You continuously shrank away from Helion’s attempts to foster a relationship with you, the discomfort you felt leaving your apartment for anything other than work was becoming an unignorable problem, and the mere thought of anyone touching you made your stomach clench. Even the Shadowsinger, whose touch you craved right now, felt like a beast behind a door that should never be opened. It might destroy you if you did.

Koschei.

What’s buried beneath the lake?

“There you both are!” Cassian called out, his neck craning around a stack of books that were piled from his waist to his forehead. His cheeks were touched with color, eyes bright with mischief like a boy seeing a naked lady for the first time. No doubt a consequence of the visions Nesta had been shooting down the bond as he’d scanned the shelves and flipped through the pages.

Azriel hated the way you sprang up from the seat and smoothed your dress, like you wanted to be anywhere else but with him. He’d pushed too far. Come on too strong. Damn it.

On the return trip to the Alcove, you and Cassian spoke casually about the books he’d selected. Or rather, Cassian rambled and you listened, occasionally chiming in if you were familiar with one of Nesta’s favorite authors and offering suggestions.

Azriel walked a few paces behind, watching you as you instinctively tightened your back whenever Cassain or anyone else drifted too close, twisting and turning in a manner that seemed effortless, but which Azriel could see was constantly on your mind. There wasn’t a single step you took that was mindless and calm.

Azriel clenched his fists so tightly he felt his nails digging crescent-shaped marks in his palms. He wanted to hold you close, beg you to tell him what was wrong, what he could do to help. But if there was anyone who could understand the fear of being touched, of touching others, it was him.

So when they reached The Alcove, all he did was wave to you from the bottom of the steps as you turned and said goodbye. He committed the scene to memory - your smile, the flush of your cheeks, the swish of your skirt as the door closed shut with a gentle thud.

Cassian whistled low, kicking his brother in the shin with a wobble of books, “You’re whipped, Az. Absolutely whipped.”

And he was right. He was absolutely right.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

*sighs* I just want Azriel to be happy...

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

On a completely unrelated note: I watched Howl's Moving Castle last night and I think it altered my brain chemistry.

"There you are, sweetheart, sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you”

AHHHHHH just AKJDBFHAB ESKLCFNHSDN

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 @auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalaluch @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees @eleganttravelercloud @ghostwritermia @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @fussel9913 @st0rmyt @glitterypirateduck @mischiefmanagers @waytoomanyteenagefeels @acourtofdreamsandshadows @sakurafrost3-blog @utterlyotterlyx @vickykazuya @venussdovess @xxxalicerogersxx @mattiescove @goldenmagnolias @secret-ly-here @kindaslightlyacidic @brujitafantomatico @venussdovess @xxxalicerogersxx @earth-to-lottie @balsalmic-vinegar @darbuckle21 @justagingerliving

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x mate reader #azriel acotar #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months

Text

Yanderes in a Zombie Apocalypse...The Kind Survivor

Imagine the zombie apocalypse starts and suddenly the entire world itself is turned upside down. Those who survive are the ones who can adapt quickly or be lucky enough to be dragged by the former. You re some of the few that adapt turning everyday items into tools and weapons to guarantee your survival. While you could go at it alone you don’t. Shaking your coworker or classmate out of their horror-stricken state and saving them from being eaten.

“Hey you better move it or you’ll end up just like them.”

Maybe you know you’ll be lonely or that you can’t leave someone behind or maybe it's because it's them. Always so forthcoming and so kind to you before the world turned into this. Maybe you consider this payback for their hospitality, either way, you’re leading them away from the danger to regroup somewhere safe.

“T-thank you (Y/n).”

“It's fine, Wendall. Just keep moving we can’t rest here.”

“Right!”

He’s the Kind Survivor, the one who holds onto his sweet, trusting persona. Leaving you to be the untrusting hardened protector. Your roles become clear as you unwillingly are added to a group of fellow survivors. Of course, it’s him who proposes staying with the team still silently accepting your unspoken alliance. Even when the group discards your opinion for their own plan, he advocates for them, soothing your anger.

“I don’t trust them Wendy!”

“(Y/n) we can’t do this alone! We have to trust in them!”

“Until we can’t. What do you plan to do then?!”

“T-then we can leave. Okay (Y/n)...I’ll start thinking about us….about you more okay?”

“Thanks… I’ll be more open-minded.”

For a while, this will work, with your Kind Survivor becoming an important voice in the group while you gain their respect and reverie. Wendall couldn’t be happier, falling into a sense of normalcy as he watches you grow emotionally. For a while, this feels right.

But this doesn’t last.

The first betrayal ruins him opens his eyes. One selfish member's actions put everyone at risk but who suffers the most is you. Led out on a fool’s errand only to be swarmed and backed into a corner. Nothing but your wits and survival instincts to let you lead the remaining scouts with you. You’re holed up in a roof for days, forced to stay quiet, stave your hunger, and remain vigilant. As you hoped, Wendall and the surviving group arrive with food and medicine as everyone reunites.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!”

“Hey, Wendy.”

“Oh, my–(Y/n) you can’t believe how happy I am to see you!”

“...I trusted you’d come…and you did.”

No one’s more happy to be reunited than your Kind Survivor who doesn’t dare relay the frustrating tale of that one’s betrayal. Only holding you close and rubbing his face against your head as he burns your scent into his memory all over again. It's another member who tells you while Wendall lasor focuses on checking you for any and all injuries. You don’t seem all that perturbed–your inclination to trust the others was right—all was well. Sure there was betrayal but you didn’t like that one member much at all so it wasn’t much of a deal to you. The same cannot be said for your Kind Survivor.

“I’m okay Wendy. I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten in days I wouldn’t call that fine.”

“Wendy I–”

“Hush. Eat before anything…please.”

He’s still so sweet. Always so kind. But something's…amiss. The other members feel he’s not the same. Those on midnight watch find his eyes staring at your resting form, not even moving away when they joke with him. When he does turn to look at them, there’s something fiery, something dark lingering behind those eyes before he hides them with his typical amicable smile. They begin to fear him.

“Ah, Wendall-san?”

“What is it? Jjitjg?”

“Uh, nothing never mind.”

The members have a right to. Wendall is dealing with an anger he’s hardly ever experienced. All his life had been a constant string of highs—working his dream job, meeting you, getting to hang out with you. But then the world turned mad which didn’t initially scare him as much as it should. Somehow being saved and haphazardly comforted by you it still wasn’t so bad. He thought the same when you both joined the group. But when that one member betrayed the whole team it shattered him. How could they?! Leaving his (Y/n) out there! When they so courageously followed the so-called leader on this goose chase!? What was his baby doing now while they simply huddled in fear of that one?! How were you feeling being so far for so long?!

He? He was dying.

Would you be disgusted that your Kind Survivor was truly contemplating letting all the others die while he went to search for you? Disgusted in knowing that it was he who was behind that one’s sudden psychosis? He didn’t care!

But when he saw your smiling face he was relieved but still fuming. This..band of wretches was why you were bedded for a week. These worthless meat sacks were using up the supplies meant to take care of you. These fleas were eating all the food that should have rightfully belonged to you.

It was a rising resentment. Pushed down and suffocated every time so that he could steer this group right and properly encourage your latest streak of compassion. It made you so much more integral to the group, as a protector and a leader.

It made his skin crawl. He was so proud of you.

It was another member’s incompetence that puts the nail in the coffin–the entire group’s coffins. Since the death of your old leader the group was out of sync; squabbling and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Of course, the most incompetent one volunteered for the role; forcefully pressuring the others to follow their lead. It led to chaos. The chaos that relied on you to save everyone again. Again, forcing you to risk your life.

“This–this–this is the second time–”

“That I’ve survived the impossible? Don’t know, guess I’m just the best human shield there is.”

“No! This is the second time you’ve almost died because of them! I can’t–I can’t!”

He snaps.

You can calm your Kind Survivor all you like but the damage has been done. He’ll bow and apologize to everyone who’s witnessed it. But he’s not sorry. He’s determined. At a moment's notice, he fights to free you from them even if you resist. Physically you might be able to overpower him but he shouldn’t be underestimated. After all your Kind Survivor has learned so much. So many ways to subdue you, so many ways to trick the group; running off with you will be easy. With so much time to plan he’ll get his plan off without a hitch.

By the time he’s done, you’ll both be miles away from the ruins that were this ragtag team.

“I’m sorry (Y/n)...I thought we’d be safe with others. Now I know we’re better off on our own; where only we can trust each other.”

Your Kind Survivor has grown a lot and he’s learned not everyone’s worth both of your compassion. In fact, he’s made the executive decision to actively keep it and you all to himself.

By any means necessary.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere zombie apocalypse #yandere survivor oc #yandere original character #yandere oc x you #yandere oc #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere survivor x reader #yandere survivor #yandere male oc

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 4 months

Text

Study Days with Joel (Joel Miller x f!reader)

pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (no outbreak) word count: 3.5k of pure smut rating: Explicit, MDNI 18+, swearing, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, breath play, choking, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is in his 40s), no physical descriptions of reader except that Joel is able to lift her up summary: You have your state psychology exam coming up, the last step in getting your degree, but studying is the bane of your existence. Joel comes up with an alternative solution to help you study for the exam. A/N: Soooo, this was rotting my brain for the last month of my semester in grad school, pretty sure I was ovulating and I started typing it out in the library on campus. Best believe I struggled to get any studying done, thinking about this fictional man. This is also my first time writing smut so please be kind. Not beta'd cause I literally just needed to get it OUT. Comment and reblog if you like it. Enjoy! 🌚 🌹-N main masterlist

“C’mon baby, try again. Wanna hear it.”

You whine and squirm under the weight of his grip, his forearm pinning your hips further into the mattress like an iron bar.

“Jo- fuck,” you pant as your hips buck up, chasing the heat of his mouth. The crumpled study cheat sheet that you were clutching is long abandoned as your right hand snakes through his curls and grips them hard.

All you can do is mewl helplessly as Joel laps away at your aching cunt, his tongue lathing in wide strokes through your folds, before flattening it and swirling it around your swollen clit.

“Try again,” he mumbles into your core. The vibrating rumble of his baritone sends shockwaves throughout your body, as he presses a kiss to your clit, then moves down to lick into your hole, drinking up your arousal.

You gasp, canting your hips up again, trying to get him closer.

Deeper.

More of his tongue, more of his fingers, more Joel.

“I can’t,” you sob in desperation and arch your back, more wetness seeping out of your pussy.

Your mind is reduced to mush at this point. The only sensations that exist are the heat of Joel’s mouth, the softness of his curly locks, and the damp fabric of the sheets underneath you.

“Yes, you can,” he whispers against your core. “You remembered it earlier today. C’mon” He looks up at you, those sinful chocolate eyes devouring you whole.

The photographic memory you were so confident in fails you instantly, as you try to remember concepts from the cheat sheet. The only image you can see is Joel's predatory gaze peering up at you from your core, the lower half of his face drenched in your slick.

You have no doubt that Joel’s intentions were pure. Wholesome, even. The key word being were. But the way he’s sucking on your pussy lips, devouring your cunt as if it was his last meal on earth, nothing about this feels wholesome or pure.

He wanted to help you study for your upcoming licensing exam, the final step in getting your degree. When he suggested helping you out, you figured he would run through the material with you a couple times, test you on a few concepts, and then reassure you that you had nothing to worry about. Kiss you on the forehead and tell you that you’d ace the exam no problem.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re gonna do just fine baby, you’re overthinking it. You and I both know that you know your stuff.” He grabs your face, his massive palms enveloping your cheeks, as he kisses you on the forehead while you continue your anxious tirade.

“Yeah, but not with statistics!” Anxiety bubbles up through your chest, solidifying and compressing your lungs as you squawk back at him.

“This is math, my worst fucking enemy. I hate that they include this portion on the exam, it’s not like I’ll ever need to know how the different types of reliability and validity will help a client in a counseling session-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he presses his thumbs into your cheekbones ever so slightly, interrupting your runaway thoughts and bringing you back to earth. “Look at me.”

You attempt to hang your head in defeat but Joel’s strong hands keep your head in place. Pouting incessantly, you roll your eyes and pointedly look away from him.

“Hey.” He grunts and shakes your head sharply. “I saw that.”

You’re still mostly in panic mode, but the edge in his tone has warmth rushing through your body, and your gaze trailing back up to meet him.

Joel strokes your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, back and forth. The featherlight touch on your soft skin lulls you out of panic mode, as your shoulders slump and your posture relaxes. Pulling you in for a hug, he cups the back of your head, his other hand rubbing up and down your back. The heat from his large hand bleeds through your sleep shirt, wrapping your body in his comforting warmth.

“You’re smarter than anyone I know darlin,’ told ya so from the first day we met. Hell, I don’t know anyone else who has the entirety of that damn manual memorized front to back, ‘cept for you.” He presses his lips into the crown of your head, inhaling the sweet smell of you.

You snort, but it comes out muffled as you press your face further into his broad chest.

“That’s different. That stuff is interesting to me, it’s easy to absorb. Statistics is math, and math is the devil.” You grumble, nuzzling further into the warmth of his shirt, breathing in the faint smell of his detergent and cologne. The smell of Joel.

“I know. But I’m sure in the beginning, even memorizing a quarter of the stuff was a headache, and yet you did it. You just gotta give this a chance,” he murmurs against your hair. “Maybe there’s a different method we haven’t figured out yet, that will help it click, hm?”

He continues to rub slow circles against your back when you mumble something incoherent and bury more into his chest, wrapping your arms around his middle.

Joel was right. You knew he was, as much as you hated to admit it. But above all else, he genuinely cared about helping you succeed, and if there was anything he could do to make life easier for you, or let you know that you weren’t alone in your struggles, he would do it. And he always spoke about conquering those struggles as a team, as your partner, always willing to carry the load for you if you couldn’t handle it yourself.

Not that he doubted you in the first place. But it was always ‘we’ or ‘us,’ never just ‘you,’ or ‘I.’ It’s one of the reasons why you were head over heels in love with him. Sometimes you wondered if he realized how much strength he gave you by simply existing.

“Remind me again,” he shifts his arms so that they wrap around you, gluing you to his body,.

“What’s the difference between.. Schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder?”

Although you’re not looking at him, you know that he has a smile on his face. He fully knows that you know the correct answer. Sighing deeply, you turn your head to the side.

“Schizophrenia is a psychotic disorder where a person experiences psychosis, or hallucinations and or delusional thinking, but schizoaffective disorder is when a person experiences the same psychotic symptoms, along with symptoms of a mood disorder, like depression or mania.”

“Straight from the fuckin’ textbook,” he whispers in your ear, before leaning down to kiss your pulse point. “My smart cookie.”

Shivering in response, you tilt your head to the side as his lips trail down your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses and nibbling ever so slightly. Gasping, you tilt your head further, giving him more access and melting in his embrace.

“Mmm.” Joel rumbles, the deep vibration reverberating through his chest.

“Why don’t we try another study method and see how it works?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Little did you know that another study method would involve you laid out beneath Joel, his broad frame caging you in as he took you apart with his mouth. Every kiss, every lick, every suckle to your clit, had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Joel tested your restraint.

“Tell me again baby, I know you know it.”

He whispers into your wetness, pulling away to press wet kisses to the inside of your thighs. When you don’t answer immediately, he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh, applying the slightest pressure that makes you gasp and lift your head to look down at him. He doesn’t say anything else, save for quirking his brow, patiently waiting while his tongue soothes over the indents on your skin.

“Stat-fuck.”

You swallow, your throat desperately dry from the hoarse moans and whimpers you’ve been letting out.

“Statistical significance is- is when the rela-relationsh-shit,” you pant as Joel’s tongue traces your outer lips, sucking slightly before dipping into your hole and curling, “between two or more v-variables is caused by s-something other than-ngh chance.”

The last part comes out as a rushed gasp as scorching heat runs through your veins, with Joel’s mouth magnetized to your cunt, but he praises you nonetheless.

He hums and gives you a devious smile.

“Good girl,” he purrs, grazing your slit with his middle finger, gathering up the obscene amount of wetness leaking out of you, before sliding two thick fingers into your cunt.

You barely have time to catch your breath, choking on gasp as you revel in the stretch of his fingers. So fucking long and thick. You never get tired of how they fill you so perfectly.

“My good fucking girl. So fuckin’ smart.” He growls into your cunt, curling his dexterous fingers, effortlessly pressing up against that spot that makes your eyes roll back and clench around him.

“Oh shit.”

Your mind goes blank as you whine and start to tense your stomach, hips lifting up again seeking out more friction. The stretch of his fingers is delicious, the way they hook inside you, reaching spots you can never reach yourself. It makes your head spin as he continues to lathe his tongue up and down, flattening it and making wide circles around your clit.

You can feel the heat starting to build in your core, licking up your spine as Joel keeps slowly pushing his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. Steadily, in and out, until your hips are tightening and loosing with the building pressure.

“Joel, please.”

You sob and lift your hips up once more to meet his mouth, pull his fingers in deeper.

“Shhh babygirl. You’re doing good so far,” he lifts his mouth off your pussy, his drenched lips hovering just above it as he presses a chaste kiss to your mound.

He waits a beat, before a devious grin spreads across his face.

“But you gotta be prepared for all sorts of distractions when you’re writing that exam, gotta be able to focus and tune it all out.”

Your thoughts aren’t even coherent at this point. Your brain is just a soggy pile of mush, frayed neurons, misfiring in all directions. He’s kidding right?

Joel Miller is your biggest distraction.

Always.

You barely have time to lift your head up and watch his malicious smile disappear, as it morphs into something primal.

Pure hunger.

He rises up from his place between your legs, releasing your one leg he was holding to spread you open, while his other hand is still knuckle deep in your tight, throbbing pussy.

Coming up on the bed to hover over your frame, you’re awestruck by his size. How much bigger he is than you. How broad he is, with his shoulders spanning twice the amount of space as yours. It makes you shiver, your skin tingling under the thin layer of sweat that coats your naked body.

“Next question sugar. Ready?”

Joel licks his lips, his pupils blown black as he snaps his fingers against that spongy spot deep inside you. The air is punched out of your lungs as you choke on a gasp.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“I know baby, I know.”

He coos at you, leaning down to kiss you. Gently brushing his lips against yours before his tongue teases the seam of your lips, you open up to him. He swallows your moans, tongue dancing with yours as he groans, sucking on your bottom lip.

Breaking away he pants as his gaze flicks between your lips to your eyes. “Y’trust me?”

For a fraction of a second, you see the concern in his big rounded eyes. The dominance dissipates as he checks in with you, making sure you’re still with him, and that it’s not too much.

You nod frantically before you can even process his words.

“Words baby, I gotta hear those sweet words.”

“Yes, Joel.” One word falling from your lips.

“Please”

“There we go. Now, can you tell me what inter-rater reliability is?”

“Uhhh.” You wish you could answer him, you really could. But he keeps fucking his fingers into you, pressing up against your g-spot at the same steady pace. The squelching sounds coming from your pussy are obscene, causing your brain to short circuit as you feel the familiar coil tightening in your lower belly.

You try to continue, but as soon as you do, Joel’s free hand slowly snakes around your neck. His massive palm envelopes the circumference of your throat, as he grasps it loosely.

Instantly your mouth drops open as you whine, eyes glazing over. He loves playing with you. It’s all too easy to turn you into a babbling mess, drunk on his pleasure in a matter of minutes. His voice, his hands, his mouth.

Sobbing and squirming underneath him, another pulse of pleasure shoots straight to your core as you clench around his thick fingers. He’s not even squeezing, barely applying the slightest bit of pressure but fuck, it makes you dizzy already.

You love when he chokes you, love feeling his huge warm hands encircling the column of your neck. The way that those hands could so easily snap you in half, holding onto your fate. It makes you ridiculously wet, your pussy fluttering in anticipation.

Joel tilts his head, drinking you in underneath his predatory gaze, before the corner of his mouth slowly lifts into a smile.

“Distractions baby. Gotta think past them”

All you can do is look up at him through teary doe eyes and whimper. In response, his thumb starts to gently circle your clit while his fingers continue stretching you out.

“Joel, please.”

It’s all you can repeat. Begging that he take mercy on you and forget the studying, and just fuck you senseless already.

“Nuh-uh baby, answer the question.” His grip around your throat tightens ever so slightly as he encourages you again.

Swallowing as best as you can while the warmth of his palm bleeds through your skin, you try to think of the answer. But all you can feel is the heat simmering in your belly, the dampness of the sheets beneath you from all the arousal seeping out of your cunt.

“Interrater r-reliability is a measure of val-lidity-”

Joel clicks his tongue and removes his thumb from your clit. You whimper as your hips rise up, chasing his touch.

“Mm, not quite darlin.’ Try again.”

Your brain flounders, unable to conjure up any images of your cheat sheet or study material. The only thing keeping you tethered to reality is the warmth emanating from his large frame caging in your body, and his fingertips pressed into the sides of your throat.

He lets up slightly around your neck, as you pant and bite your lip.

“Inter-rater r-reliability, is a measure of consistency, or the d-degree of agreement between different people -fuck, observing the s-same thing.” The last couple words fade out as he starts running his fingers soothingly up and down the sides of your neck.

“There you go baby,” he purrs. “Very good, so fucking good for me.”

Immediately, his hand slithers around your neck again as his grip gets tighter and tighter, till you’re gasping. Euphoria floods your brain. A gush of wetness seeps out around Joe’s fingers that are still buried in your cunt as you clench hard around him.

You grasp at the sheets, grasp at the hand wrapped around your neck as you writhe underneath him incessantly, your mouth falling open as you try to say his name again.

Growling at the way your body responds to him instantly, Joel’s fingers inside you pick up their pace, thrusting into you and snapping up against that spot that makes you go cross-eyed. His thumb presses down against your clit as he starts to circle it quickly.

“Did so well baby. So fucking smart, and good for me.” His lips curl as he bares his teeth at you.

You’ve never felt smaller in your life. Never felt more aroused. You want him to swallow you whole and wreck you. Then put you back together how he sees fit.

Your lips try to press together, forming the ‘p’ in ‘please’ as you go to beg him for release again. Watching your eyes glaze over, he nods in response.

“Go ahead babygirl, can feel you squeezing me so fuckin' hard. That tight little pussy is drooling, begging for release.”

He leans over you, till his lips are right beside your ear.

"Cum all over my fucking hand and I’ll pound that pretty pussy from behind till you can’t see straight, make you watch in the mirror.”

That’s all it takes. His filthy fucking mouth unraveling your body while his hands break you apart.

All the heat in your body pinpoints towards your core, as you feel your toes start to curl and your eyes roll back as your cunt tightens around his fingers. The coil deep inside you snaps as he lets off your neck, and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

It’s searing, white hot euphoria. Endless ecstasy coursing through your veins as your body locks up and convulses, your pussy gushing around him. His fingers don’t slow down, fucking you through it as you arch off the bed, gripping the sheets with white knuckles, wailing his name as if it’s the only answer.

Forget the studying, forget school, forget anything.

Just Joel.

“There you fuckin’ go.” He murmurs in awe, mesmerized at you falling apart for him.

“My good fucking girl, came so hard. So fucking wet for me.”

He presses soft kisses all over your face, your neck, your chest while murmuring more praise. Pulling his soaked fingers out as your body still shakes with aftershocks, he sucks them into his mouth, his eyes falling shut.

You mewl at the sight and let your head thunk against the pillow.

You feel drained. Flattened. Exhausted in the best possible way.

He rests his head on your tummy, looking up at you with adoration. Like you captured the fucking moon for him.

The hunger in his eye is gone, the depth of his chocolate brown irises replaced with warmth and love. Rubbing his hands up and down your sides and kissing the softness of your skin, he checks in with you.

“Holy fuck,” You huff out as you will your breathing to slow down.

He chuckles, the crinkles around his eyes deepen.

“How was that?”

“Well, I’m not gonna be able to conjure up the definition for statistical significance or interrater reliability without remembering your fingers deep inside my pussy.”

You reach down and bury your hands into the soft mop of curls, trailing them down to caress his jaw. You trace the patchy scruff of his beard as Joel turns his head to press his lips against your fingertips.

“But it certainly is a memorable study method.

You flash him a tired smile. "I’m a big fan”

Sweat beads at your hairline as you feel your hair plastered to your forehead, yet he looks at you with same intensity and adoration.

“I’m glad I could help darlin.’ If you can stand my distractions, I have no doubt you’ll ace the exam.”

Mischief laces his tone as he leans up and over you to kiss your forehead. Moving down, kissing your cheek, your lips, his lips brush your pulse point as he licks and nibbles.

You whimper helplessly and tilt your head, giving him more access.

“We’ll see about that. I’m just lucky I have a very good study buddy”

“Oh we’re just getting started sugar,” he whispers in your ear. “That was just the first chapter of material, we got the rest of the textbook to cover, and the rest of the fuckin night.”

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as you shiver again, warmth flooding from your pussy. His fingers dip down, slipping through your folds as he feels how wet you are. He pulls his fingers up, watching the clear webbing of your arousal coat his fingers, as his eyes darken and his gaze flicks back to you.

“Get on your hands and knees for me.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple weeks later, you get your exam results through the mail. You passed with flying colours, although you’re not really sure how to be honest. But it doesn’t matter as you fling your arms around Joel’s neck, one hand clutching the ripped open envelope as he lifts you off your feet and swings you around, elated for your success.

Needless to say you don’t study by yourself again for future tests after that study session.

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