#i RIPPED this house apart multiple times over the last two years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fr3sh-tragedies · 1 year

Text

Pay Attention

[Resident Evil: Village] Daniela Dimitrescu x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.05k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: Mentions of Daniela feeling like a burden, general angst-to-fluff, crying, soft pining, worries of delusions, and skipping a meal.

[A/N]: I was wanting to post this a week apart from Cassandra’s, but the WiFi went out and took a few days to fix, so I wasn’t able to work on her part. On top of that, I'm not entirely sure how to write for her character since I only recently started to come up with stories for her.

I had much more planned for this one, but I wanted to keep the word count in between what I had written for Bela and Cassandra, so I shortened a few things.

Also, this will be the last story for the Dimitrescu sisters for a while. Please check my bio for an explanation on that. I'll likely be writing for Amity Blight and Boscha from The Owl House next! Check the poll at the end of this story.

Enjoy!

“Love can exert the same strain on the body as experienced intense fear. In a person in love, the same physiological reactions are observed: dilated pupils, sweaty palms, an increase in heart rate.” Pure intrigue and fascination sparked its way through Daniela’s body, her molten golden eyes skimming over the lines on the page that seemed to pull her in further with each passing word. A few weeks prior, when she had made her usual trip to the Village to visit the Duke and see what stories he had to offer, he had mentioned a book about facts relating to the human body’s anatomy and physiology–a book of “fun facts,” as he called it. Daniela had taken interest in this immediately and ordered it. During the time that she waited, she pondered about what kind of facts it could contain: whether or not it would mention how the body works when a human is in love.

Although she wasn’t entirely aware of it, there was a part of her mind that always brought her attention back to a certain maid that worked for her family. Anytime she thought of how the body might react to being in love with someone, her mind wandered to [Y/N] [L/N]. She would think of how soft her stare always seemed to be, how relaxed she appeared in the youngest Dimitrescu daughter’s presence. It made her feel as though she trusted her the way she was yearning for.

Subconsciously, she would begin to daydream. At first, it only started at night when she was getting ready to fall asleep after a long day. Over a–rather short–amount of time, however, she found herself staring into the distance at random times, completely in a blissful daze. The smitten woman would think constantly of [Y/N]’s steady gaze, and almost immediately fight to suppress a squeal once remembering how flustered she had gotten each time the two of them made eye contact.

After calming down, she’d dream of [Y/N]’s soft locks of hair that always seemed to frame her face so perfectly, cupping the outlining structure of her cheeks and jaw that she wished she could caress with her own hands. How she envied the way any other maid, or even one of her sisters, would so easily rip her attention away from her. She wished she could find a way to keep [Y/N]’s attention on her, find a way to make her pay attention, in other words.

To ease her growing frustrations, she’d turn her attention to [Y/N]’s lips. Although the young woman hadn’t worked for her family for very long–likely only two years–it didn’t take Daniela long to begin falling for her. Often, she would feel her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to vividly picture herself gaining the privilege to kiss her. She wondered how soft her lips would feel against her own. How warm they would be. Would they welcome her with the same spark of enthusiasm? Or would they freeze against her own before roughly removing themselves from one another?

She was often made fun of for being delusional when it came to romance, always falling back to rely on the romance novels she could be found burying her nose into on multiple occasions every single day. As much as she hoped her love would be reciprocated, she could feel the doubts and insecurities creeping in, wishing she didn’t have to consider the fact that her sisters may be right: she may be delusional about this romance.

Maybe she was making this out to be something so much more in her head.

Blending together and jumbling up her mind only made her daydreaming grow more frequent and harder to tear away from. She found herself retreating to her fantasies out of fear of it being the only way she would be able to hear [Y/N] tell her she feels the same way.

Her sisters would snap her out of it and, of course, tease her for it. It would always leave her flustered as she tried to act as though she wasn’t just fantasizing about her favorite maid, which she had personally requested serve the family for each meal.

She’d hastily make her way through her meal, ignoring the taunting of her older siblings, before excusing herself to fly back up to her room for some kind of privacy. She knew Bela and Cassandra would expect to find her in the library first–if they were to search for her–so she would hide away in her bedroom and distract herself with the stack of books she had stashed away in her wardrobe for such an occasion. Time and time again, she’d think about the book she ordered, increasingly growing fearful that it would only worsen her possibly deluded dreams.

After a while of waiting anxiously to learn more about the human body that always captivated her in more ways than one, the book finally arrived at the Duke’s cart. She paid him as promised and quickly fled back to the castle to read in the comfort of her favorite space, the library, leaving her sisters to continue their shopping on their own.

Thankfully, she had managed to keep her inattentiveness to a minimum. Because of this, she felt it was okay to go back to her sanctum to read, rather than secluding herself in her bedroom.

Brushing past the maids that worked deftly throughout the front parlor and all the way out to the opposite sides of the sturdy structure, Daniela finally made it to the library, where she shut the doors behind her and huddled up on the sofa closest to the center, allowing the large skylight above to provide light for her to read under.

She had curled up against the armrest, tucking one of the throw pillows against her chest and propping her legs up to press it further against her torso. Quickly, she flipped the front cover open and thumbed eagerly at the pages as she began to read the introduction–which opened by explaining how different events trigger different emotions and hormones throughout the brain and body. It was hard for her to suppress a yawn. The way the paragraphs were phrased, including the diction used, seemed more like something her eldest sister Bela would be interested in.

Seemingly countless words filled each pale, thin page, all of which added up to share different messages and facts about the physiological side of emotions. When the Duke had been talking of the book a few weeks prior, he made it seem far more interesting than what she was reading at the beginning. She had pictured interesting facts put together with very few words, short sections of small lists decorating the page with each bulleted point. She did enjoy lengthy novels using flowery language, which often used far more detail than this book had so far, but those had a story building up throughout each turn of a page.

The way the facts were laid out before her made her feel like she was being lectured by Bela.

The paragraphs seemed to stretch on and on. Her eyelids drooped upon feeling heavy, her boredom growing more and more evident across her features.

She sighed, swiftly flipping through the pages using the pad of her thumb, desperately searching for where the more interesting part of the book was. Finally, with a small cheer of triumph, she discovered what she was seeking out for. She smiled gleefully and nuzzled up against the sofa and the pillow. Her body sunk down into the cushions as she finally took interest in the words that rested underneath a large, bold title that read “Facts of the Brain.”

It had started off sharing facts about the brain connected to the nervous, digestive, and integumentary systems, though what truly caught her interest was when it started speaking of how love and romance affected the body. Finally, she found the part of the book she had been fantasizing about for weeks. Each fact drew her deeper and deeper into the pages, her senses tuning out the rest of the world. Her smile cracked wider and wider across her face, and just like she had done before she had even gotten her hands on the book, she pictured the effects taking place in her and [Y/N]’s bodies while dreaming of one day learning that her love was mutual.

Laughter is associated with the positive sides of love that partners share.

The initial stress of a relationship can cause physical symptoms similar to a heart attack, known as Broken Heart syndrome.

Different stages of love exist, with different reactions at the start of a relationship that are different from the ones that they feel when it is a long-term romantic attachment.

Being in love alters our personality and perception of things. We can become more open to things that our lover is into, or we may even become more optimistic about things.

Love leads to the deactivation of the amygdala in the brain, which regulates fear. Thus, you are less scared of outcomes and consequences when in love. You experience a fearlessness and bravery that you wouldn’t usually feel.

Gleefully, Daniela squealed in excitement over all of the new information greeting her. She continued reading, wondering if [Y/N] had ever felt any of these things while around her. She had certainly felt the intensity of her feelings anytime she so much as thought of the girl. Had [Y/N] felt the same?

The urge to share these interesting facts with her family grew stronger in her body. Maybe if she brought it up with her sisters and told them of how she wanted to use the information to finally confess to [Y/N], they would encourage her and help her do so.

Quickly, she stood from her spot on the small sofa. She spun on her heel and practically skipped towards the doors, softly closing the book and tucking it under her arm after folding the corner of the last page she had read. She flung the doors open in front of her, then tugged them shut before letting the lower half of her body swarm back into the flies that made up her being, allowing her to float above the ground and travel quickly down the hall. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to find Bela or Cassandra first. She had heard them come back home a while before, though she wasn’t aware of where they were.

Bela was likely in her study going over the paperwork her mother had given to her, and Cassandra was without a doubt in the armory crafting her newest weapon with the metals she had purchased from the Duke back in the Village. It would be far easier to visit Cassandra first, seen as how she was the closest.

Daniela made her way through the doorway that led to the hallway connecting the main hall’s stairway to the Wine Room. She slid past the balcony, brushing past the maids that seemed to cower back a bit at her presence. She then hooked a right at the end of the walkway, then a left, and went through a few more doors before finally reaching the armory. Just as she had assumed, Cassandra was in there, working away at designing a new dagger she would be able to add to her personal collection. She sat atop the crates stacked against the main pillar in the center of the room. A pen in hand, she sketched out her idea onto a sheet of paper that sat propped up in her lap. She used a thin sheet of wood as a surface to draw on.

She seemed not to have noticed her younger sister walk into the room, and Daniela smiled to herself. She lurked forward silently and hid behind the crates, peering out over the top. With a silent chuckle, she moved to float just behind her sister, sucking in a small breath and readying herself to yell in an attempt to startle her sister.

“Don’t even think about it, Dani,” Cassandra warned without glancing in her direction, continuing to focus on her newest blueprint in front of her instead. Daniela let out the breath she had been holding through a loud sigh, pouting as she crossed her arms and flew to stand in front of her sister. “You’re no fun,” she murmured. “I am so. I’m just working on something. Plus, I don’t think you realize that I was able to hear the door open and close when you came in.”

“It could’ve been Bela or a maid that came in! Why would you assume it was me?”

“Well, Bela wouldn’t have tried to creep up on me, she would’ve waited at the doorway and said my name or cleared her throat to catch my attention. And the maids know they aren’t allowed in here, especially if I’m already here, unless I ask them to polish the armor. I knew it was you. And either way, I could smell you coming from down the hall.”

“H-Huh?”

“Your perfume, Daniela. It’s so strong all the time. Makes me wanna pinch my nose shut every time so I don’t have to smell it. God, are you trying to cover up the smell of all the blood and death on you? Because if you are, it’s not working.”

Daniela could feel her face burning, the blush that had already begun to form on her cheeks out of embarrassment now creeping up onto the tips of her ears. She felt her shoulders tensing up, the grip on both her book and her arm tightening to a painful degree. “Th-That’s not true! I’m not trying to hide anything with my perfume!” She scowled and stared at Cassandra for a moment, although her gaze was not met. Her sister continued to stare down at her sketches, though there was a cocky grin plastered on her face. Daniela scoffed and shook her head.

“That doesn’t matter,” she started again, tugging the book out from under her arm as she once again looked up at her sister. “I wanted to show you this book! It’s full of all kinds of facts about the human body and mind, and I finally got to the part about how love affects the body, and I wanted to–” “I’m not interested, Daniela. I’m busy. And besides, you’re the only one who cares about all of this romance stuff this much. The rest of us are perfectly fine with keeping it to ourselves.”

Daniela frowned, her enthusiasm beginning to crumble in a very visible way. She thought for a moment about what she could say to capture her sister’s attention. “W-Well, I know you don’t really care for my interest in romance novels, b-but I think you’d like the rest of the book! It’s–”

“Daniela, I’m not interested. I don’t care what the rest of the book is about, I don’t want to hear it. If you’re only going to pester me with this when you know I’m busy, then just leave.”

Daniela’s frown only deepened, her gaze dropping down to the floor. “I-I’m…not meaning to bother you, Cass. I’m sorry. I just wanted to share it with someone, and you were the closest one to me, so…” She turned her attention to the book still waiting to be opened again in her trembling hands. She absolutely hated the feeling of being a burden to anyone. Before she could get too deep into her head, however, she began heading towards the door again. Perhaps Bela would be more accepting of her excitement.

She retraced the trail she had taken to find the armory, though she flew downstairs into the main parlor instead. Her arms tugged the book closer to her chest as she soared all the way to Bela’s personal study. There, she made sure to knock before entering.

“Who is it?” Bela asked softly from the other side of the door. “It’s just me,” Daniela replied. Bela sighed. “Come in.” After the confirmation that she could come in, Daniela opened the door and headed inside before closing it behind her. She spun around and walked over to Bela’s desk, where her eldest sister was working away, already buried in paperwork again. “What do you need, Dani? Is something wrong?” Bela briefly glanced up at her before shuffling a few papers, letting out a small sigh when she found the paper she was seemingly looking for.

The youngest daughter stood next to the desk and stared at Bela patiently. “N-No, nothing is wrong. I just…wanted to know if I could share something with you.” The blonde grumbled something under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose as she leaned back against her chair. “As long as it’s made brief, yes.” Daniela’s frown returned. “Oh, well…” She tapped the front cover of her book, catching Bela’s attention. “Not exactly something brief, but I thought you might like to hear about it. You know…just in case you decide you want something to read later on down the line.”

Bela sighed again, running both of her hands down her face. “Dani, you know I would usually have no issue with you talking to me about your stories, but,” she was cut off as Daniela leaned forward and interrupted her. “But it’s not a story this time! It’s a whole book filled with fun facts about the human body! I think you’ll really like it.”

“Look, that sounds interesting, I suppose. But I’m really busy, and I need to get all of this finished before the end of the week. Which is in three days, mind you, in case you weren’t already aware.” Bela slid forward again and picked up a smaller stack of documents tucked away in files. She thumbed through them, checking the labels for what she was searching for. “If you really must share it with someone, go find Cassandra instead.”

“I already did though. She said I was just irritating her and that I needed to leave while she works on her new weapon. I figured maybe you’d be more interested in it.” Daniela grimaced at a thought that made itself known in the front of her mind. “I’m not…bothering you, am I?” Bela looked up at her finally. “Listen, you know I don’t enjoy being blunt with you, but quite frankly, yes, you’re bothering me. These papers are very important, Dani. I have to focus on them right now.”

Again, Daniela’s confidence began to crumble. Even more so when her sister once again turned back to her work as if it were far more important than her. “Oh, I-I’m…I’m sorry.” She began to back away, unable to tear her eyes away from her feet as they led her backwards. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

She twirled back to face the door, slipping through it and leaving abruptly. She could feel her insecurities eating away at her self esteem. Tears began to form and prick the corners of her eyes. She let out a small sniffle and began to head out towards the courtyard. “Perhaps mother will listen to me.”

She traveled all the way through the large, open space, grateful that the weather permitted her to do so peacefully. She made it to the structure connected to the space just across the dining room, floating up the stairs, through the doorway, and then turning to go up yet another set of stairs. She then took a few more turns before finally making it to her mother’s chambers. She pressed her ear to the door, smiling weakly when she heard her mother moving around on the other side.

Swiftly, Daniela knocked on the door. “Yes?” Her mother questioned, her tone professional in case it was a maid. “It’s just me, mother. May I come in?” “Of course, dear. Just try to keep your voice down.” Daniela was confused by the last part of her mother’s statement, but she still turned the door’s handle and pushed it forward, allowing her to step inside. She smiled, though it quickly dropped once she saw that Alcina was on the phone, likely with Mother Miranda again.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry, mother. Is this a bad time?” Alcina glanced over at her softly for a moment, though quickly sighed and furrowed her brow. “No, Daniela, it’s not–ah, yes, Mother Miranda. I’m aware. I can assure you that everything will go accordingly.” Daniela made no move to step further, already sensing that she was becoming a burden to yet another one of her loved ones. “I’ll leave you be. I-I’ll see you during dinner,” she mumbled just loud enough for her mother to hear.

She turned and left the room just as Alcina looked back over at her again. “Daniela, wait.” Another sigh. “Mother Miranda, I understand. Yes, I know how important this is to you.”

The entire time she had tried to share her interest in this new book she found, Daniela had been fighting back tears. With each way of saying that she was only being a nuisance, her confidence faltered before shattering into pieces. Now, after bottling it up for so long in hopes of being able to change her attitude, she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down her face as she rushed back up to her room, locking her door and crawling up against the pillows on her bed.

Until she managed to think things through and calm down, Daniela intended to hide away in the comfort of her bedroom. She wiped at her face, scolding herself for being so emotional for such a ridiculous reason. Her family was simply busy doing their own things–they didn’t owe her the time of day.

But she wanted so badly to share something she was so passionate about with someone. Her excitement had blinded her to the fact that she truly was burdening the others as they tried to work. They were all doing important things, and she was curled up on her bed, sobbing because she wasn’t able to keep the attention on her?

How pathetic.

How selfish.

She sucked in a shaky breath, trying desperately to bring her crying to a halt. It failed, however, as another sob wracked through her body. She whimpered, feeling as though she truly was weak since she wasn’t even able to keep a straight face. She shifted and turned on the bed, burying her face in her pillow as she tossed the book onto the floor. Maybe the plush surface beneath her would muffle the sounds of her vulnerability.

“Lady Daniela? Will you be joining your family for dinner anytime soon? They’ve asked me to see if you’ll come down.” “No, I’m not going to eat dinner tonight. I-I, um…Just really want to finish my book. Tell them I’ll find something to eat later, will you?” “Of course.”

It had been a few hours since Daniela’s meltdown. She had finally managed to stop crying within the first hour of hiding away, though she still felt too depressed to leave her room. Dinner had been ready for over half an hour at that point, yet she was the only one not to have joined her family downstairs to eat. It surprised her mother, as she was usually the first one seated, always eager to see what the kitchen staff had prepared for their meal that night. She had sent a maid up to her youngest daughter’s room four times, asking them to encourage her to come down and join them, even though Bela and Cassandra were already finished eating.

The two waited patiently at the table per their mother’s request, although they also wanted to use the time spent at dinner to apologize to Daniela for the way they treated her. They both felt guilty for it and spoke to each other about how they could make it up to her. When she didn’t join them at the table, however, they could feel their regret growing stronger. They often poked fun at her for different things, but Daniela knew it was all in good fun. She knew they didn’t really mean anything by it.

They were sisters, after all, and they even mocked each other at different points. Most of the time she would laugh at their jokes aimed in her direction. They must’ve really hurt her for her not to at least come downstairs long enough to eat dinner with them.

After waiting another half hour, they decided that it was best to give her a bit of space before they tried to properly apologize for what they had done. They left the dining room. Alcina, however, continued to wait there for her youngest to show up. She never did, and after yet another hour, Alcina headed upstairs to her own room to retire for the night. She knew her daughter likely needed time to herself, especially after Bela and Cassandra explained what had happened. In the morning, she’d make sure to check in on her daughter personally and apologize to her herself.

All the while, Daniela remained in bed, staring blankly at the wall the side of her bed was pressed up against. Her eyes were dull, straining as she fought to stay awake. She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t letting herself fall asleep. She knew she’d feel better if she got a bit of rest, but for some reason she just wouldn’t let her eyes stay closed.

Her mind was swarming with all kinds of negative thoughts, none of which managed to do anything but dampen her mood even further. She must’ve lied there for hours in absolute silence. Everyone else, including the maids, had already gone to bed, which is why it was such a surprise when a knock sounded from her door. She nearly jumped out of her own skin. A loud yelp slipped past her lips as she jolted upright and felt her head whip towards the direction of the door.

Who could that possibly be? Surely her sisters weren’t up at this hour. It was long past midnight, and although she knew the two of them were more insomniatic than she was, she could tell from the way that silence followed the knock that it wasn’t them. Still, her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to decipher the scent.

“Wh-Who is it?” She asked shakily.

“It’s me, Daniela,” [Y/N] responded from the other side of the door. “Is it alright if I come in?” Daniela’s heart began to race even faster, though it was for a different reason now. Why was [Y/N] the only one who came to check in on her herself? Perhaps she cared more for Daniela than her own family did. She hesitated, her mind telling her she’ll only be a burden to the woman she loved so dearly. Ignoring those cruel thoughts, she wiped her face and straightened out her dress. “Yes, come on in,” she finally said at length.

Slowly, the door creaked open to reveal [Y/N], who peered in through the dim lighting the candles from the hallway managed to provide. “What’s up?” Daniela asked softly, watching as the young woman closed her bedroom door and walked over to her bed. She sat on the edge of it and gazed over at her. Even with how dark her room was, Daniela was able to see the concerned look on [Y/N]’s face. “I heard about what happened today. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Daniela smiled weakly, her heart pounding against her ribs once more. She glanced down at her lap, tugging her gloves off and tossing them to the side to pick at her nails. Her palms flipped downwards to desperately try to wipe the sweat onto the fabric of her dress. “I-I’m fine,” she mumbled in reply, her voice almost inaudible. [Y/N] shifted on the bed, the mattress suddenly sinking down next to Daniela as she sat beside her. “C’mon, you and I both know that’s not true. I can see it on your face. And in your body language. You’re upset. You don’t have to hide it. You don’t have to tell me about anything, but I can promise you I won’t judge you for whatever it is you’re upset about.”

Now, as her lip began to quiver for the first time in hours, Daniela managed to peer over at her from the corner of her eye. She tried to maintain her composure, though it was quick to falter as [Y/N] held out her arms and gazed at her with those damned eyes. “C’mere.”

Without meaning to, Daniela whimpered and practically seemed to lunge forward as she dove into [Y/N]’s embrace, letting her face bury itself into the smaller woman’s shoulder as she let out a small sob. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was about this girl that made her feel so safe, other than her love for her. Something about the way [Y/N]’s eyes always seemed to show a sign of trust and never held any judgment made Daniela feel as though she could confide in her about anything.

[Y/N] was quick to rock her back and forth, her fingers gently stroking the unshaven side of the redhead’s messy hair and scratching soothingly at her scalp. “Everything is going to be okay, Dani. And they didn’t tell me to say anything, but your sisters and mother are very sorry for whatever it was that they did to you. Believe me. I was able to see it on their faces during dinner.” Daniela sniffled softly and tilted her head to peer up at [Y/N].

“You were there during dinner?” [Y/N] nodded down at her with a soft grin. “Yes. I was also…” She seemed to hesitate, worried about something. Daniela straightened up at this to look her in the eye. “What is it?” “Ah, I just–I was also there in the room with Bela earlier when you tried to show her your book. I heard what happened.” A soft shade of crimson dusted Daniela’s cheeks as she turned her head away in embarrassment. “Oh, I didn’t even realize. I-I’m sorry you had to see me act that way.” “What way?” “Like a spoiled brat. I-I sounded like I just wanted attention, didn’t I?”

Gently, [Y/N]’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “No, not at all. I can understand being upset about not being able to share something you’re passionate about, and I could clearly tell you were passionate about the book you were carrying.”

Daniela looked back up at her again, slightly surprised. “You don’t think I was being pathetic?” “No, not at all! I’d probably react the same way, honestly.”

Daniela smiled and hummed after a moment. She crossed her legs and returned to where she had originally been sitting on her bed, staring down at her lap. “Th-Thank you for not judging me,” she murmured quietly at length. “It really does mean a lot.” Her head lifted so she could once again look [Y/N] in the eyes, her smile never faltering, and instead growing. “Anytime, Dani,” came the smaller woman’s reply. They gazed at each other for a while, not realizing it.

Suddenly, a look of pure confusion riddled Daniela’s face. “Wait, if you were in the room with Bela when I came in earlier, then how did you not know what I was upset about? And…why did it seem like you didn’t know about any of it until my family “told you?””

Again, a look of anxiousness crossed [Y/N]’s features. She averted her gaze and began to fidget with her fingers. “A-Ah, well, I just didn’t want you to know I had listened to what happened. I thought you might be mad at me for it.” Daniela stared at her, bewildered, but quickly smiled and chuckled. “I could never be mad at you. Especially not over something like that.” She took [Y/N]’s hand into her own and gently caressed the back of it with her thumb.

Daniela sighed in relief. The noises pounding in her mind began to soften, finally feeling at ease for the first time in hours.

“Oh!”

She jumped at that, her heart stuttering in surprise as she quickly turned her attention back to [Y/N], who looked excited now.

“Speaking of that book, I was actually going to ask if you could show me some of the facts you were trying to talk about!” An unusually wide smile cracked across Daniela’s lips, almost to a painful degree. “You’d really be interested in that? And you’d pay attention?” [Y/N] nodded with a look of pure intrigue. “Yeah, of course! I managed to spot the cover of the book while you were in the room. It’s about the human body, right?”

Daniela nodded, quickly flying over to where she had tossed the book to pick it up before returning to the bed. “Yep! The first half is really really boring, but the rest of it is really cool! I love the part about how love and romance affects the body so far.” [Y/N] giggled at her and reached over to the nightstand to light a candle. “I figured as much. That’s very in-character for you,” she replied softly, making Daniela blush.

“Is that a bad thing?” She questioned sheepishly. “No, of course not. It’s actually one of the things I love most about you.” Daniela’s face burned even brighter, and she secretly scolded herself, trying to force the blush to die down before the candle lit up the small space next to them.

“Oh, Daniela. Did that new book you were talking about finally make it in?” Bela asked from the sofa in the front parlor, Cassandra’s head perking up at this. The youngest of the three beamed brightly over at them and chuckled. “Yeah, it did.” Her two older sisters smiled back at her. “Would you want us to read it with you?”

Daniela eyed them for a moment, though her expression quickly changed before they could notice. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I was actually planning on reading it with [Y/N] first! She’s in the library right now: I told her to wait there for me while I grabbed the book from the Duke’s shop.” She hummed and swarmed up, flying all the way across the property to the library, where she found [Y/N] waiting for her on her favorite sofa.

Similar to the way she had been doing almost all day everyday, Daniela smiled wide, squealing from excitement and catching [Y/N]’s attention, who turned to her and grinned in return, waving at her. “Dani, hey! Did you get the book?”

With an enthusiastic nod, Daniela soared over to the sofa and plopped herself down next to [Y/N], leaning against the armrest. “Sure did! Volume two of fun facts over the human body.” She pulled the book from underneath her arm and swayed it back and forth with a teasing smirk. She then set it up against her lap and flipped open the front cover. Bringing her closed hand up to cover her mouth, she cleared her throat, then began to read the story aloud.

As she spoke, she got lost in the words. She hardly noticed as [Y/N] shifted on the cushion in front of her. She was made aware of her movement, however, once the smaller woman leaned against her shoulder to read the words on the pages as well.

Her voice shook and cracked in surprise, her confidence in the words she spoke beginning to waver as she stared down at [Y/N]. “U-Um, are you alright?” She looked up at Daniela in confusion. “Yeah, of course,” was her soft reply. “Just wanted to get cozy, y’know?” Uncharacteristically, Daniela grew sheepish. She was often the one who made a bold move to fluster others–she wasn’t used to someone else doing it to her, let alone the woman she loved.

“Y-Yeah,” was all she could mutter, forcing herself to tear her gaze away and focus back on the words decorating the pages. She continued to read it aloud, though she wasn’t able to comprehend anything she read. This continued for a long while, and finally she was able to get back into a more confident headspace. Her attention to the facts returned.

A gentle yawn sounded from Daniela’s shoulder, prompting her to look down at the source. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes before letting them flutter shut. She sighed as she nuzzled back up further into Daniela’s shoulder. Her nose gently bumped against her neck. The redhead shuttered, causing her breath to halt for a moment. How long had they been reading together? Surely it couldn’t have been that long.

She turned her head to glance up at the skylight, finding that the sky above was growing darker, almost pitch black. “Oh, I hadn’t even realized we’d been here all day. Sorry about that, [Y/N]. Should I carry you back to your room?” [Y/N] shook her head after a moment, seemingly already halfway asleep. “No, I’m fine. This is really comfortable. You can keep reading if you’d like.” Daniela smiled softly down at her and nodded. She shifted her arm to tuck it underneath [Y/N]’s torso and pull her closer, using her free hand to flip the pages of the book as she read silently to herself.

Another hour must’ve passed before Daniela finally finished the book. “Man, it’s much faster to read something in my head than out loud,” she whispered to herself, closing the cover and gently placing the book on the ground next to the sofa. She yawned and sighed, glancing back over at [Y/N]. Her eyes were shut, her breathing and heartbeat slow and steady. Daniela grinned and absentmindedly pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the woman’s head. She couldn’t see it, but her pupils were blown from the love and admiration traveling throughout her body.

“I’m glad you’re asleep,” she started. “I-I promise I’ll tell you this to your face when you’re actually…y’know, conscious–when I can find the courage–but…I love you, [Y/N]. You’ve cheered me up countless times, especially these past few weeks. You’ve always made me laugh and made sure I knew that you were actually paying attention to me. You make sure I know you’re actually interested in what I have to say, and that really does mean the world to me.

“I hope I can help you feel the same way. There are so many things I never want you to have to experience, but feeling useless, or ignored, or…like you’re a burden is definitely one of the major ones. If you ever feel like you have no one else to go to, I just want you to know that I’m here.”

She giggled to herself, running a hand through her hair and then down her face. “I want to keep telling you about how much I love you and why I do, but I feel like I should save all of it for when you’re actually awake to hear all of it. I want you to know just how much you mean to me. Though, that’ll be hard to explain since you mean the world–no, more than the world to me.”

Finally, she let herself relax, leaning back against the armrest and closing her eyes with a heavy sigh. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face if she tried. Again, just like she had done multiple times over the past few weeks, Daniela jumped. [Y/N] seemed to be unnaturally good at catching her off guard. She wasn’t sure if she was proud of that or not.

“Aww, Dani, that’s so sweet,” she mumbled. Daniela’s eyes shot down to her still resting against her shoulder, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. “H-How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it.”

Daniela whined in embarrassment. She used her free hand to hide her reddened face, mumbling things under her breath. [Y/N] giggled at her reaction, one arm moving to wrap around the redhead’s torso and pull her closer. Her face nuzzled against Daniela’s collarbone as she smiled and sighed. “But…I love you too. I want you to know that.”

For what must’ve been the fifth time that evening alone, Daniela’s head whipped back around to let her stare at [Y/N]. “You do…?” She whispered, her voice once again cracking as tears unwillingly began to prick her eyes.

“Of course I do. How could I not?” [Y/N] said it like it was the most obvious thing on earth. She really found it odd that Daniela was surprised about her feelings being mutual?

Daniela’s lip quivered. Slowly, she shifted onto her side to fully face [Y/N], who finally opened her eyes to gaze up at her. The smile that caressed her lips so beautifully only made Daniela’s heart flutter. “Could…you say that again?” [Y/N] smiled.

“Yes. I’ll say it to you as many times as you’d like. I love you, Dani.”

She leaned up and began to pepper the woman’s face and head with kisses, whispering a faint “I love you” with each one.

Daniela finally let out a small laugh mixed with a sob. She leaned forward and pulled [Y/N] closer. [Y/N] smiled down at her, shifting up a bit further to comfortably pull the weeping girl into her chest. Her fingers raked through the red locks that rested against the armrest, lulling Daniela further into a sense of security and bliss. “I’ll always be here for you, okay? Anything you need, I’m here: I’ll be here to listen, pay attention, make you laugh, and love you. Just like you said to me, if you ever feel like no one else is there, just know I’ll be waiting for you with open arms.”

Tears soaked through [Y/N]’s shirt, though she didn’t mind. She could feel Daniela smiling broadly against her clothed skin, and that made everything feel like it was worth it.

#daniela dimitrescu #re8 daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x female reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #x reader #resident evil #resident evil village #fluff #slight angst #angst #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #female reader

164 notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

Text

VIII ║ Concentric

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

{ << Part 7: Contrary | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: You and Dieter come full circle.

Warnings: Shenanigans, fighting, drinking, swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, safe unprotected sex (be smart kids!), multiple orgasms (f and m), cumshot, cum play, size kink, light spanks, yearning, mentions of food, fluff, feelings, no use of Y/N

Word count: 11.5k (it's only fitting that we break the word count record on the last chapter!)

Note: October 2013. That was the last time I finished a WIP, and that one took me 6.5 years. Years, I kid you not. So please forgive me for being extremely melodramatic and emotional about finishing Consent in just over 5 months.

I thought I was done with fanfiction and writing, and I've never been happier to be proven wrong. I wouldn't have believed it if you told me the next series I'd complete would be about a man called Dieter Bravo. You've all been the most incredibly supportive readers, and I'm so lucky to count many of you as friends. I don't know what I've done to deserve you. Thank you, thank you, thank you - this is for all of my fellow Dieter Bravo hoes (affectionate) ❤️

I had a lot of help for this chapter. To avoid any spoilers, I will be thanking everyone at the end of this chapter.

There’s always a jarring sense of disconnect when you land in a country you’ve never been to before. Even more so after a red-eye, a connecting flight you almost missed and a long drive from the airport to the little seaside town you’ve seen so much of in Ana’s stories.

It doesn’t help that you’ve been wide-eyed the entire journey, your head too loud to switch off.

The sleep deprivation makes it doubly surreal to see the mountains, the Tyrrhenian Sea and picture-perfect towns zoom past the car window. To feel the sunshine on your face as your taxi eases around hairpin turns on the coastal roads, then down narrow streets - barely squeezing past the summer crowds - as your destination draws close.

The car purrs to a halt in front of a charming pink-orange house that looks like something straight out of Under The Tuscan Sun, where Ana is waiting impatiently. She nearly rips off the door handle and throws her arms around you as soon as you clamber out of the car.

‘I missed you!’ you mumble into her hair.

‘You too, bitch!’ she squeals, dragging your suitcase off the sidewalk. ‘Let’s get you unpacked and showered. We’re going on a cast and crew sunset cruise in a couple of hours, so you can finally meet Richard Linklater. I hope you brought something pretty to wear!’

You didn’t pack much summer attire with you to Calgary, but you did bring your trusty yellow dress from that night, which feels like a lifetime ago - if not from another one entirely. The shower perks you up somewhat - at least you don’t smell like an economy plane cabin anymore. You’re putting on your makeup in a futile attempt to cover up the dark circles under your eyes when Ana comes back to the apartment.

She hands you an espresso and a cannoli, which you take gratefully. ‘Thank you so much. My biological clock is so confused, I don’t know when I last ate.’

‘Don’t worry, hon, there will be plenty of food and drink on the boat,’ says Ana. Eyeing you over critically, she runs a makeup brush or two over your cheekbones, and dabs some colour onto your lips. ‘You look great. Shall we?’

The town is absolutely darling, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not actually dreaming this. The weathered cobblestones are slippery beneath your leather sandals as you trail behind Ana. Your tummy rumbles at the smell of sweet tomatoes and baking bread, and you can’t help but run a hand over beautiful summer fruits as you walk by stalls on street corners, brimming with produce. Exuberant Italian conversation surrounds you, and you lose yourself in words that you don’t understand.

Your breath catches when you round a corner and the blue sea comes into view, the fresh scent of salt and summer in the air. With her arm hooked through yours, Ana leads you across the water front, pointing out her favourite restaurants and watering holes, clearly having settled well into her workplace these past months. You’re distracted when you spot a familiar low wall, recognising it as where Dieter and Constance posed for one of their many Instagram stories.

Distracted, you nearly walk into Ana when she stops abruptly in front of an extravagant-looking yacht, spread over two levels, her arms outstretched in a flourish. ‘Ta-da! The perks of the movie being financed by a rich local guy - free boat trip every weekend!’

‘Fancy,’ you remark, suddenly nervous that you’re underdressed for the occasion.

‘He’s newly divorced too,’ she adds with a wink. ‘And stop fussing, you look fantastic. Come on, I see Richard - I’ll introduce you!’

The boat is fairly full, people bustling about with drinks and canapes in hand. Despite being jetlagged and incredibly starstruck, you manage to somewhat hold it together when Ana introduces you to your favourite director. She offers to get you a cold drink and leaves you to chatter with him. You talk about your favourite movies of his, his career, and a bit of yours, before someone shows up at his elbow to whisk him away. You shake his hand and thank him for his time, and he gives you his business card before he takes his leave.

The boat pulled away from the port while you weren’t looking, sailing smoothly towards the calm, open sea. You glance about, trying to look nonchalant and to keep your breathing under control. Now that you’ve met your hero, you have to contend with the fact that you came to Italy for something else.

Someone else.

A voice catches your ear. Familiar and gruff, drawling in a bored monotone.

There’s no dramatic swell of music in your ears, or the fading of the world until it’s just the two of you and no one else. It’s almost anti-climatic, really.

You tilt your face towards the upper deck - and there he is.

One of his signature earth-tone t-shirts (you know he has more than one) hangs comfortably off his broad shoulders, sunglasses hooked at the neck, dragging the ragged neckline low. The sea breeze ruffles his curls, longer than they were on Resurgence, the sun bringing out undertones of gold. He’s chatting to a man - or rather, being chatted at - leaning his weight on his elbows on the bannister, scratching at his beard, wearing his usual air of indifference.

One look and the clocks turn. It takes you right back. You remember exactly what it’s like to be that close to him, to be wrapped up in the broadness of him - the feeling of his body warmth, how soft his t-shirt is when you rest your cheek on his chest.

You haven’t moved a muscle, but somehow, his head turns just a fraction, and he finds you.

If not for the physical distance between you, you’d be convinced that he’s reached inside you and squeezed your heart with the whole of his hand until it stopped pumping, blood roaring inside your ears with nowhere to go. His stare - bewilderment and awe and hunger - pins you to the spot.

And you know. You just do.

They are the same eyes you woke up to so many mornings. First thing when consciousness seeps in and you blink away the last remnants of the night before, his arms around you or yours around him. Through thick lashes and peeking from under heavy eyelids, syrupy-slow with sleep as they sweep over the contours of your profile, lips curling into a warm smile.

Yours.

He’s long stopped listening to the man, and even from where you are, you see him grip the wooden railing tight, disturbing his rings, the same ones he always wears.

Then she appears.

An Aperol Spritz in each hand and a small plate of canapes balanced awkwardly on the sides of her wrists, she nudges his side hurriedly with her elbow, her platonic tone carrying despite the rush of the sea. ‘Oi! Grab your drink, dude. Come on - it’s slipping!’

The naked panic on his face only reaffirms what your intuition tells you.

Ana finally returns to you with chilled champagne, grumbling about the crowds at the bar. Taking a glass, you turn to her and nod towards the upper deck. ‘So - Dieter and Constance.’

‘What about them?’ she asks innocently, taking a big gulp of bubbly.

You watch as Dieter furiously whispers into Constance’s ear. Her eyes widen in obvious excitement, darting everywhere until they settle on you for the briefest second before she schools in her features. You hear Dieter hiss, ‘Don’t be so freaking obvious, Jesus Christ.’

You fight the urge to giggle - and you never giggle. An Oscar winner and an Olivier nominee walk into a china shop and they’re about as subtle as two bulls after a red flag.

You turn to Ana and ask conversationally, ‘They’re not really together, are they?’

She shrugs, poker face firmly on. ‘Don’t know what you mean, hon.’

‘Ana,’ you put on a serious tone.

Never one to stand her ground under pressure, she surrenders far too easily. ‘Fine, they’re not! Before you yell at me, it was all Dieter’s idea. And I’m sorry it upset you, but I’m not sorry that it worked! I’m not going to apologise for helping him get you back.’

The words tumble out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘He wants me back?’

It’s beyond strange to acknowledge aloud what’s between you and him for the first time. You’ve never even articulated it to yourself.

Ana beams, bumping shoulders with you. ‘You better believe it, hon.’

Your head feels like it’s filling up with helium and any second, you’ll be lifted off the wooden deck. You’re so fucking confused - should you be angry that he basically tricked you into coming here? Should you be elated that he went to such lengths to get you here?

There are no answers, but there’s booze. Lots of it.

So you bring the glass of champagne to your lips and tip your head back, draining the flute until there’s nothing left.

‘Whoa! What are you doing?’ squeaks Ana as you plant the empty glass on a cocktail table nailed to the deck.

Crossing your arms, you say, ‘You’re right, his little ploy worked. But if he thinks he can mess with me without paying for it, he’s got another thing coming.’

‘For fuck’s sake, can’t you two just talk to each other like normal people for once?’

‘Ana, I was miserable! For weeks!’

‘Girl, I’m gonna give it to you straight. Even if he didn’t pull this Constance bullshit, you would’ve been miserable anyway because you broke up with him!’ She clasps her palms together in a desperate prayer. ‘I’m begging you, can you two please just make up!’

You hold out stubbornly. ‘Not until I’ve messed with his head at least a little bit.’

‘This is not what I signed up for,’ Ana grumbles.

You laugh and drape an arm over her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. ‘It’ll be fun. I promise. I flew all the way here, I deserve a little restitution.’

She whines. ‘Hon, come on, what am I going to tell Dieter?’

You hold up a stern finger. ‘Nothing. You can’t tell him that I know, you owe me as much. I also need you to distract him while I talk to Constance.’

She frowns. ‘Constance? What are you planning?’

You wink and turn to leave without giving her an answer.

Ana watches you go with a long-suffering sigh. She’s taking a deep glug of champagne when Dieter ambushes her, startling her into a coughing fit.

His usual air of chaos has intensified exponentially, she can almost feel it physically vibrate off of him. He spills Aperol everywhere when he asks with his hands. ‘What the fuck, Ana?’

‘What?’ she shoots back defensively.

‘Why didn’t you tell me she was coming? Are you double crossing me?’

‘Double cross - what does that even mean in this context?’

Dieter’s not interested in her answer though. His eyes are darting about, looking for you. ‘What’s she doing here? Did our plan work or did you tell her?’

Technically, you found out on your own, so Ana is comfortable lying through her teeth. ‘I didn’t! She said she came to see me and to meet Richard, that’s it.’

He’s talking to himself now more than anything. ‘She must suspect something, but I don’t think she knows about the whole set-up.’ Pausing, he pokes her in the side in a warning. ‘You can’t tell her that you know I think she knows.’

Ana’s eyes nearly roll behind her skull in exasperation. ‘Couldn’t if I wanted to. Here’s a bright idea - why don’t you go talk to her?’

Dieter’s frown deepens as his determination hardens. ‘No, fuck that. She broke up with me. I’m not going to be the one giving in.’

Ana waves in a frenzy to get someone’s attention to refill her empty glass, letting out a cry of relief when a server starts making their way over. ‘What do you mean by not giving in?’

Dieter swigs his glass clean and sticks it out to the server to fill it up. ‘Keep doing what Constance and I were doing. Until she cracks.’

‘Just so we’re on the same page, this entire weekend, you’re going to keep pretending to date Constance and throw it in her face, instead of just making up? What could possibly go wrong?’

‘Way to be supportive, Ana.’

She gives him dead eyes in response. If only Pete was here to back her up. Speaking of whom - he’s really missing out big time. She’ll have to call him to fill him in tonight.

Dieter half-turns to leave, but something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. He does a double take, craning his whole body forward and squinting dramatically to take a better look.

‘Ana, why the fuck is my girlfriend talking to my fake girlfriend?’

Constance is not hard to find, with her willowy figure and luscious curls billowing in the wind. She seems to have recovered her composure from when she first spotted you, and when your gazes meet on your approach, they give nothing away.

‘Hi Constance,’ you say casually in greeting.

She plays it cool with a polite smile. ‘Hi there. Have we met?’

‘I know you know who I am, Constance.’

She blinks her doe eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, I really don’t think I do.’

You shuffle in closer and say under your breath, just in case someone overhears. ‘I know you were in it with Dieter - his little plan to get me jealous. Ana told me.’

The mask melts so quickly that you can’t help but find it endearing. Dragging you by the elbow into the privacy of the cabin, a sincere crease in her brow, she confesses, ‘About that, I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t want to do it at first, I swear. But he’s so smitten with you and he was just about ready to try anything to get you back -’

You shush her and grab her free hand. Both of you have just enough alcohol in your systems to feel the pull of the universal, sisterly bond between drunk women, despite having only met thirty seconds ago. You reassure her, ‘No, please don’t apologise. I’m not angry - well, a tiny bit mad at him for messing with me, but not at you.’

‘But I feel so bad,’ insists Constance. ‘You must have felt strongly enough to have flown all this way. Please, if there’s anything I can do.’

‘Listen, if you want to make it up to me - you could do me a favour.’

Constance nods solemnly. ‘Anything.’

You grin mischievously. ‘Will you help me get back at Dieter?’

Dieter mopes in his corner on the upper deck, growling and hissing at anyone who dares approach, drowning himself in Aperol Spritz. He doesn’t particularly like that stuff, but when in Rome and all that shit.

From his perch, he can see and hear you laughing loudly at something Constance says to you, champagne in hand, having a whale of a time.

There’s no two ways around it. His plan failed. Ana’s right. You came to see your friend, not him. If you did and knowing you, you’d be doing something to get his attention. You’d be trying to make him jealous. You’d be mad, spitting flame and venom.

You’re giving him nothing. You haven’t even deigned to glance his way after you locked eyes for that brief moment.

But… you’re wearing that dress. Surely you haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you showed up in his trailer wearing that -

Another peal of laughter pulls him from his thoughts. He slurps on the straw until it gurgles at the empty bottom of his glass.

You didn’t expect to like Constance. It turns out she grew up in the same county as you, just a few towns over, you even share a few distant mutual acquaintances. You chit-chat about everything - your schools, the local beaches, working with Dieter.

The boat has anchored in the middle of the sea for the sunset, and you’re sitting on the deck at the back with your feet dangling in the cool water, sandals by your side. You marvel at the view - the beauty of this place is unreal. Village houses hug the rugged shoreline, stacked one on top of the other in gravity-defying fashion up the steep cliffside, dramatic mountains rising above behind the town. The setting sun throws a rose gold tint over the valley, the sky burning orange.

Even if you don’t go away with what you came for, this could be enough.

Constance giggles drunkenly, looking over your shoulder. ‘He’s watching you again. You’ve really riled him up.’

You resist the very great temptation to take a peek. But you know Dieter - the longer you hold out, the better the payoff later.

There’s a scrape of footsteps and Ana appears with her phone out. ‘Selfie time, bitches!’

‘How’s Dieter?’ asks Constance, shuffling over to make space for Ana.

She sighs. ‘So confused. When will you put him out of his misery, hon?’

You shrug. ‘He can hold out a little longer. Constance, remember, you have to keep up the whole charade for maximum effect, ok?’

She wrinkles her nose. ‘It would be weird doing it in front of you though.’

‘Are you a working actress or not?’ you tease.

Ana chortles, and Constance raises her glass. ‘Alright, alright, I’ll do it - for you. To new friends.’

The three of you clink glasses clumsily, bumping shoulders and cackling at everything and nothing at all.

You’ll drink to that.

When the yacht docks, spontaneous dinner plans are made, with those wanting to prolong the evening revelry wandering down the cobblestone streets to a trattoria frequented by the cast and crew.

The dozen or so of you sit at a long, rickety table under fairy lights, the plentiful food and drink illuminated by candles dripping wax as they burn low. Easy conversation, a mix of English and Italian, ebb and flow over the course of the slow dinner.

You’re sitting in the middle of the table, flanked by Ana and directly opposite Dieter, with Constance to his immediate left.

The actress keeps her promise to you, practically dousing Dieter in PDA. She’s feeding him pasta, handing you her phone to take photos of them kissing and practically sitting in his lap. He’s unresponsive, staring at you openly throughout dinner.

It takes all of your resolve to not give in to meet his eyes.

The street gets rowdier by the hour, and the group thins after dessert and limoncello is served. When an impromptu band shows up and starts playing music right next to your table, Constance tries to pull Dieter to his feet for a dance, but he’s like dead weight, pouting and somehow burrows himself deeper into his wooden chair. Unperturbed, Constance grabs Ana instead, joining the raucous crowd gathering on the sidewalk.

It’s just the two of you left at the table.

You finally let yourself look at him, finding his gaze already trained on you. You took it easy on the wine over dinner, allowing the rich food to soak up all the alcohol you had on the boat. But you still feel buzzed enough to do something bold.

Scooping a generous helping of tiramisu and bringing it to your lips, you lick the underside of the spoon, collecting the cream on your tongue, before pushing it into your mouth. Your eyes flutter close as you moan around the spoonful of smooth mascarpone and coffee-soaked biscuit.

Dieter’s jaw goes slack, and you spot the pink tip of his tongue between his parted lips, his chest rising and falling quickly. Leaning forward, you reach out and trace your index finger up the back of his hand until you reach his ring with the black gemstone. He doesn’t try to hide the shudder that runs like a current through his body.

The power you so easily wield over him is both sweet and heady. You decide to push him further, leaning your elbows on the table and drawing your shoulders together, making the neckline of your dress gape and your cleavage pop.

The way he stares is gasoline to the fire under your skin.

When you speak, he demonstrates that he still remains somewhat in possession over his faculties as he drags his gaze up, with considerable difficulty, to your face.

You wear a bright smile, and your tone is syrupy sweet. ‘You’re one lucky guy - Constance is amazing. Honestly, I think you’re perfect for each other. I’m so happy for you, Dieter.’

He echoes your words, slowly. ‘You’re… you’re happy for me?’

You blink, butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth as you answer, ‘Yes, I am. So happy for you.’

He stutters, before his words peter out. ‘But - but you were meant to be -’

‘Meant to be what?’ you prompt.

When he doesn’t reply, you give him a pat on his hand. ‘Take care of yourself, Dieter.’

He’s so stunned that he doesn’t react as he watches you go.

Dieter thinks for a second, the pasta and pizza and bread having absorbed enough alcohol from his bloodstream for him to dig deep for some clarity within himself. He re-runs your words in his head, a deep frown on his brow.

Hold the fucking phone.

He scrambles onto his feet so hard that his chair hits the pavement, and he runs after you.

He crashes through the crowds half-blind, angry Italian cursing thrown his way, until he leaves the ruckus behind. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, but by some miracle he spots yellow, and with one last push, he throws himself in front of you, wheezing and leaning heavily on one hand against the wall to block your path.

You’re staring at him in genuine concern. ‘What are you doing? Are you ok?’

Finding his voice, he opens with an apparent non-sequitur. ‘You do impulsive things when you’re mad. You know that, sweetheart?’

You brows knit in confusion. ‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

You humour him, arms crossed. He knows that you probably think he’s just drunk. ‘Ok. Like what?’

‘Like flying 6,000 miles to see me.’

‘I’m here to see Ana.’

Dieter shakes his head slowly, a smile unfolding as he begins to find his footing for the first time since you appeared out of thin air and turned his day upside down. ‘She sold me out, didn’t she? Constance too. I should’ve known they’d be on your side.’

You snort. ‘You’re talking crazy, Bravo.’

He crowds you against the wall, meeting no resistance as your back hits the stone, and he coaxes. ‘Admit it, sweetheart, and I’ll give you everything you came for. I just need to hear it from your pretty little mouth.’

You hold your tongue stubbornly, but he sees your pupils dilate and senses a shift in the crisp evening air.

He grins, finally establishing control over the situation, which sobers him up like nothing else. You’ve tortured him all day - it’s time he has some fun.

Leaning down to your ear, he growls in a register that he knows will get you wet for him. ‘Tell me you came for me, sweetheart. And then maybe - I’ll make you cum for me.’

You just about lunge at him, but he holds you in place with hands around your upper arms, crowding you, drunk on the power now that the tables have turned. He wags a condescending finger at you, tapping the tip of your nose. ‘Uh-uh-uh. You heard me, sweetheart. C’mon, four little words. You can do it.’

That does it. You bare your teeth at him, panting as you struggle in his grasp. ‘You’re such an asshole.’

Dieter makes a buzzer noise. ‘That’s four words, but not the right ones.’

‘Over my dead body,’ you spit at him.

He tuts. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, no deal. Well, I guess I better go -’

He lets go of you and spins on his heels, but he doesn’t even get to take two steps when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist and haul him around with surprising force.

He deliberately knocks into your body, hands landing on your waist and his weight holding you in place. You all but snarl at him, ‘Don’t you fucking dare walk out on me again.’

There she is, he thinks to himself, chest swelling with pride at the fire in your eyes.

He runs a finger down the side of your cheek, the gentle touch in direct conflict with the words that come out more affectionately than he intends. ‘You never make things easy, do you? You get off on making my life hell, hmm?’

Your eyes soften, but you still run your mouth brash. ‘You don’t like it easy, Bravo. You’d get bored.’

He chuckles, and leaning in to brush the tip of his nose along yours, he tries again. ‘Did you come all this way to see me, sweetheart?’

He isn’t gloating, or trying to trip you up.

You cup the side of his stubbled cheek, and you decide to let him in. ‘Of course I did, you fucking idiot -’

And then he’s kissing you.

Your hand is tightly wrapped in his as he leads you through a maze of alleyways, as if he’s worried that you would bolt. You won’t though - you’re done running.

The strain in your calves begins to make its presence felt after several flights of stone steps, the long journey earlier today kicking in as the adrenaline fades. You yawn and Dieter notices, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

‘Almost there, sweetheart,’ he promises you, dragging you against his side with a hand on your hip, taking some of your weight.

You watch from under drooping eyelids as he turns the key and opens the door to a two-storey house. A lone lamp glows in the corner of what appears like a comfortable sitting room, but you’re too tired to be curious to look around.

Dieter steers you up cool tiled steps, having helped you out of your sandals. He all but pushes you up to the bedroom, hands firm on your waist so you can focus on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The mattress is soft and welcoming as you flop down nose first, muffling your groan as you give in to the exhaustion that you’ve been putting off all day. He chuckles, rolling you onto one side of the bed.

‘Let’s get this dress off, shall we, sweetheart?’

Even in your prone state, you attempt to put on a coy smile, pushing the straps off your shoulders. ‘You know you want to.’

He chuckles, turning you over to find the zip and pulling it down. He mock admonishes you, ‘Keep it in your pants, woman.’

Dieter feels almost bashful peeling your dress off, baring skin that he hasn’t touched for too long - he has to wait a little longer for that. You never sleep in your bra, so he unhooks that too, averting his gaze, and grabs a comfortable t-shirt from the dresser.

‘Arms up, sweetheart,’ he cajoles, and you comply despite grumbling sleepily. The t-shirt slips easily over your head.

It’s a warm night, so he lets you stretch out above the duvet as he strips down to his boxers. He opens the window to let in a cool breeze to bring down the temperature in the room. It’s been baking in the sun all day.

Dieter shuffles onto the mattress behind you, no hesitation when he tucks your body under the crook of his arm. He breathes you in, nose in your hair, a deep calm settling into his bones as he feels your steady breathing. He tightens his grip on you and lets sleep claim him.

You’re not sure if it’s the church bells or the light streaming through the patio doors, but it’s a clean awakening, your eyes snapping wide open as you take in the bedroom you barely saw last night before passing out.

It’s strangely comforting to see he’s brought with him across the Atlantic the same mess that you became so used to. Inside-out t-shirts and shorts draped on chairs and flung carelessly onto random spots on the floor, where they’ve stayed. A glass of water half empty on his bedside table, his reading glasses and a couple of rings next to it. One slipper at the foot of the bed, the other nowhere to be seen.

You look down at the t-shirt you’re wearing. It’s one that you often borrowed from him for bed, and it makes you smile.

Following the smell of fresh coffee and bread, you pad quietly downstairs, admiring the rustic living space flooded in morning light, the open patio doors leading to a lush garden, letting in a soothing draft.

Dieter is perched on a bar stool at the counter in the open kitchen, already dressed for the day. He looks up from his phone when you approach, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he beams at you, and he breathes out something like relief when you slot into the V of his thighs without any trepidation.

‘What’s this? Dieter Bravo out of bed and dressed before,’ you pause and squint at the clock. ‘Ten in the morning?’

‘Not just that,’ he gestures at the breakfast spread on the table with a proud puff of his chest. ‘I provided.’

You smirk and rest your palms on the top of his thighs. ‘No Deliveroo around here, huh?’

‘It’s sink or swim, baby. Got pretty hairy for a while.’ He grabs a paper cup and pushes it into your hand. ‘Got you a cappuccino from my favourite barista. Try it.’

‘You have a favourite barista? Not just a favourite cafe?’

‘Of course. I have a favourite barista for cappuccino and another one for espresso.’

‘That might be the most obnoxious thing I’ve ever heard.’

He gives you a wink. ‘I’ve put down roots here, baby.’

‘Dieter Bravo has roots?’ you quip. ‘Do you even speak the language yet?’

He replies in an exaggerated Italian accent, complete with hand gestures. ‘A leetle beet, bella signorita.’

You laugh and take a sip of the cappuccino, sighing deeply at the rich, roasted flavour. ‘Thank you, this is delicious.’

Rough palms rest on the small of your back, pulling you flush against his chest. His eyes are warm and open as he confides in you, ‘This job’s been really good for me.’

You run your fingers through his curls. ‘I know. I can tell.’

‘And Calgary’s been good for you too?’

You nod, and you hesitate for just a moment before you answer, ‘They’re going to offer me a contract for the second season.’

It’s not that you’re trying to catch him out, but you watch his reaction closely. You see nothing other than excitement before he presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. ‘That’s my girl.’

Suddenly quiet, you go still, and your change in demeanour doesn’t escape him. He pats you playfully on the bottom to get your attention. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’

It’s hard to meet his stare when you’re trying to find it within yourself to get the words out. You fixate on a small stain on his shirt instead, rubbing your finger over it.

He waits patiently, and to give you an out, replies lightly, ‘Couldn’t get the stain out. It’s ragu from my favourite place in town - I can take you there if you want.’

‘I’d like that,’ you smile gratefully.

But the thing is - you don’t want out. You want in.

You take a deep breath and take the plunge. ‘Dieter - should I sign that contract?’

It’s the longest five seconds of silence, and it takes all of your self-control to not twist around in his grasp and run up the stairs. Finally, he leans in to kiss you deeply, and you’re glad he’s holding you up when your knees give.

He pulls back and runs his thumb over your cheekbone. ‘Can you hold out for another two weeks?’

You wish you didn’t answer so quickly, but you can’t help the breathless yes that slips out. Of course you fucking would.

Dieter holds your gaze. ‘Just so we’re clear - I want to be in the same place as you, sweetheart. Or at least close enough to commute to you. Is that ok?’

You nod, a stupid grin breaking across your features. ‘Yeah, that’s ok.’

‘Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,’ Dieter winks at you and grabs a paper bag from the kitchen counter. ‘You’ve got to try this.’

You peek inside and ask skeptically, ‘Is that… a doughnut?’

‘No, it’s a bombolone.’

‘Out of all the Italian things I haven’t tried, you picked the most American -’

He shoves the sugar-covered pastry into your mouth to shut you up, laughing as an indignant squeal catches in your throat. You bite into the pillowy doughnut, a thick smear of the chocolate filling spilling out and painting your lips, sugar crystals sticking to the mess.

Dieter wrinkles his nose jokingly. ‘You look so hot like this, sweetheart.’

Swiping at the chocolate from the corner of your mouth with your index finger, you push it between his lips. His eyes darken immediately as he sucks on it, the mood in the room swinging instantly into familiar territory.

Running your tongue across your lips, you put the rest of the doughnut in its bag and lick the sugar from your fingers. ‘I hope you haven’t had breakfast yet.’

His big hands dip underneath your shirt again to cup your bottom. He raises an eyebrow at you inquiringly. ‘Oh? Why not?’

Your back arcs and you rub your ass into his touch. ‘Because this pussy hasn’t been eaten in a very long time.’

His eyes snap shut at your words as if they physically pain him, impatient hands now sliding up your front to cup your bare breasts. ‘Fuck, baby. Is this the first thing you think about in the morning, you filthy girl?’

You kiss him sloppily, more tongue and teeth than anything, and Dieter pushes you away to hop off the stool, pulling off your shirt in the one smooth motion. He runs two fingers along the seam of your panties, smirking at the wet spot he finds. ‘Did no one else take care of this pussy while I was away?’

‘You know there’s no one else,’ you whine, letting him walk you into the living room, until the back of your knees hit the sofa.

‘Good,’ he growls into your ear, spinning you around and pushing you onto your knees into the cushions, hands on the spine of the sofa. Possessiveness clouds his mind as he runs his gaze over you every inch of you. ‘All mine.’

Slowly, he drags your panties down your legs, kissing the back of your thighs. You writhe under his touch, the scrape of his beard on your sensitive skin making you shudder. You moan, ‘Dieter. Please.’

Spreading you open, he tells you through clenched teeth, ‘I can see how wet you are, sweetheart. So pretty.’

‘Don’t tease,’ you beg, feeling your pussy flutter around nothing, your ass in the air as you grip the sofa tightly. ‘I need -’

You break off in a moan when Dieter closes his lips around your clit in a wet suckle, dragging the broad of his tongue through your core messily. His nails dig into the swell of your hips to hold you in place as you writhe, dipping into your pussy to taste you. Too long. It’s been too fucking long since he’s had you.

He traces his tongue along your contours patiently. He’s waited so many months, he can hold off the want to fucking devour you just a little bit longer. The tip of his tongue draws insistent circles on your clit, your hips undulating while you chase your pleasure. He feels a tremour run through your body before you bury your head into the sofa, muffling your cries.

Oh no, that won’t do.

He brings his palm down in sharp clap on your pillowy cheek, making it jiggle. You gasp, head snapping up and around to glare at him. ‘What was that for?’

He shoots you a dirty grin, chin already shiny with you. ‘Wanna hear you scream, baby.’

You pin him with an audacious stare. ‘Make me, then, Bravo.’

As if he isn’t already rock hard, he has to bite down on his bottom lip to wrangle himself under control. He groans, ‘Can’t just go around saying shit like that, baby.’

You smirk, knowing exactly what it does to him, enjoying his desperate little whimper. You shift to widen your stance, knees sinking deeper into the sofa, teasing him, ‘What was that about the screaming again?’

For one second, you think you’ve pushed too far when Dieter draws clear from you completely. Before you can protest, there’s a scrape of wood on stone as he pushes away the coffee table clumsily. Leaning on the sofa, his long legs splayed in front of him, you can see the clear outline of his erection through his shorts. He lays the back of his head on the edge of the seat, meeting your panicked eyes when you look down at him between your legs.

You squeak. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

He grins, reaching up to nip your inner thigh with his teeth. ‘You want me to make you scream, right? Come sit on my face, baby.’

Holy fuck. You hear the metallic zing of a zipper being pulled down. Dieter’s eyes squeeze shut, his neck muscles pop, and you feel his hands move, out of sight. ‘I’m so fucking hard for you, baby. Please, ride my face while I stroke myself -’

‘Oh god,’ you grit out when you lower yourself onto his tongue, hips jerking when he grips one of your thighs almost painfully, grunting as you slide wetly on his tongue. Looking down, your lips part when you catch him watching you with a frown of quiet concentration as you grind down on him, too keyed up to find any sort of rhythm. It’s messy and crass, desperate above all else.

You know you’re drenched. Almost embarrassingly so. One of your hands drops to tangle in his hair, curls sticking to his forehead as his hairline beads with sweat.

‘Baby -’ You’re out of breath as you feel your orgasm building. ‘I’m close - oh god, Dieter -’

His fingers close around the plump flesh of your ass, and with a violent shudder, you’re thrown over the edge into a heaving, knee-shattering high, your slick and his spit dribbling down the inside of your thighs as you scrabble for air. Collapsing bonelessly onto the spine of the sofa, you feel Dieter wipe his saturated chin on your skin, leaving a cool trail, and you jump as if it burns you.

His whispers tickle the shell of your ear as he climbs onto the sofa behind you, cradling your smaller frame with his. ‘You came so hard, sweetheart. Such a good girl.’

You groan indulgently as he wraps himself around you. One hand finds your breast, and the other dips between your legs, a growl rattling in his chest when his fingers slip uselessly over your sodden pussy, unable to find any purchase.

‘All this cum for me,’ he hums, crooking two fingers to gather your slick before bringing them onto his cock, which nudges you just above your ass, stroking it languidly. ‘I missed you so much, baby.’

You nearly stumble over your words, too highly strung. ‘I missed you too. So fucking much.’

One hand turning your cheek, he claims your mouth possessively, sliding his tongue in to mark you with your own taste. Heat spreads across your skin as he caresses your lips sensually slow, his hand sliding down to hold your throat gently. He feels rather than hear your breath catch before you swallow thickly, the movement intimately pressed up against the tips of his fingers.

Sliding his cock through your wet folds, he pushes two fingers into your mouth to wet them. He fucking loves the feel of your tongue on him - anywhere on him. Mindful of how sensitive you are after you came, he runs the lightest path from your clit to your entrance, then up again.

‘Have you been touching yourself while I was gone?’ he asks gruffly.

‘Yes,’ you admit without putting up any resistance.

‘Stretch that tight pussy with your fingers?’

At your frantic nod, he retorts with a feral edge to his voice. ‘You pretend it was my cock instead?’

Gasping when you feel him notched at the mouth of your pussy, you cry out, ‘Yes!’

‘Well, you must have one hell of an imagination. How could these little fingers -’ he grabs you by the wrist and sucks on them, one by one, leaving them spit-soaked, before wrapping them around his throbbing cock. ‘- stretch you even a fraction of how my dick does?’

You flush at the filth tumbling out of his mouth, and you’ll be damned if you don’t give as good as you got. You smirk, ‘Why don’t you find out?’

‘Don’t have to ask me twice, baby,’ he grins into your shoulder, and one thick finger slides into you.

You feel his smile falter and his teeth dig into your skin instead. He groans into your ear, ‘Sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but you’ve been doing a pathetic job.’

You squeeze your hand around his cock and he lurches against you, grabbing you in a silent warning. You blink sweetly at him. ‘Stop gloating and do something about it then.’

Your smile falters when he pulls out of you, only to reenter with two fingers, and your chin drops to your chest at the fullness as he fills you. His ribcage vibrates with a satisfied hum against your back, sweat building up where your bodies meet.

‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he says, mouthing sweet kisses down your spine. ‘You’re doing so well for me. Good girl.’

Taking a deep breath, you do, and he eases in even further, eliciting a sharp gasp when he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you. He works into you at a steady pace, sometimes shallow, sometimes knuckle deep, until you start to pant, your hips twisting in pursuit when he draws out of your wet heat.

‘Harder,’ you demand, and he tightens the arm wrapped around your waist, pumping in earnest, teeth bared as he draws increasingly loud squelches from your cunt. He hisses when he feels you begin to clench around him, whimpering, ‘Fuck - fuck I’m gonna come again -’

Dieter wraps his whole body around you as you thrash in his arms, desperate sobs racking your frame as he rambles in your ear. ‘That’s it, let go, baby - this beautiful pussy’s getting my fingers so wet - gonna make you feel even better with my cock -’

Suddenly, the room spins and you’re lying on your back, Dieter’s weight pinning you to the soft cushions. You arch up lazily to kiss him, enjoying the heft of him on your body.

‘You ok?’ he asks almost sheepishly, nuzzling your neck. ‘Too much?’

You don’t skip a beat when you retort with a flippant shrug. ‘Honestly? Not enough cock.’

You grin at his splutter to your response. With a low growl, he grinds the underside of his erection against your folds. ‘That fucking mouth is gonna get you into trouble some day.’

You reply cheekily, ‘Sometime this morning would be preferable.’

Dieter reaches down to wrap your legs around his waist, lips on yours. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone else, but I can wear a condom if you want me to.’

You shake your head adamantly. ‘I want to feel all of you.’

Pushing your legs open wide, Dieter positions himself over you, teasing the head of his cock at your entrance, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

‘Look at me, sweetheart,’ he whispers, and pushes in.

Your noses knock together as he bites out a harsh fuck, rocking into you inch by inch with patient strokes.

‘So big,’ you moan, burying your nose in his shoulder. You feel his arms tremble as he holds himself over you. ‘You feel so good inside me.’

He grunts as he bottoms out, taking a second for you to adjust around him. ‘Are you still on birth control? ‘Cause there’s a very real possibility I’ll blow my load any fucking second -’

You take him by surprise when you bring a palm down onto his ass cheek in a sound slap. ‘Don’t you dare, Dieter Bravo.’

He grits his teeth at the sting that lingers on his skin and goes straight to his cock. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

He doubles down and fucks you hard, dipping his head to draw wet circles around your nipples with his tongue before biting down on the underside of your breasts, making your back arch, allowing him to fuck into you even deeper. You can only take him, hands around his neck, your lips clashing together in a wet tangle of tongue and teeth. You moan when he slides his hands under your ass, lifting your hips to change the angle. He plants his knees and thrusts into you feverishly, making your tits bounce to the rhythm.

Looking up at him, backlit by the soft morning light, you scrape your nails on his scalp, pulling at his curls until his eyes shut with a groan. His beard is scratchy on your fingertips when they draw a line down his strong jaw. You watch the endearing lines on his face crease as he watches you back, a small smile breaking through the intensity for just a moment before it gets too much again.

His knuckles on your hips turn white and the vein in his neck throbs. ‘I can’t hold on. Where do you my cum, sweetheart?’

‘Inside me, please,’ you plead, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips as he ruts recklessly into you.

His last thrusts shove you up the length of the sofa, and you watch as Dieter throws his head back when he comes. His hips crush against yours as he chokes on broken moans, spilling into you. But instead of winding down, he keeps pumping into you even when you feel his cum leak - hot and sticky - out of your cunt.

You look up at him, confused. ‘What - what are you doing?’

‘I’m still hard,’ he pants, eyes screwing shut from overstimulation, his body wound up painfully tight. ‘Oh god, fuck, I think I’m gonna cum again, baby -’

‘My tits - cum on my tits,’ you demand hurriedly.

He pulls out of you, and you feel his spend dribble and pool onto the sofa below. Cock in hand, Dieter clambers upwards, knees on either side of your hips as he strokes himself frantically, his tanned skin flushed with a sheen of sweat.

‘Ready, baby?’ he pants as he braces above you.

You nod and push your tits together, the visual sending him over the edge. He cries out your name, and you watch with your lips wantonly open as lewd, white lashes spurt over your nipples, the swell of your breasts, dripping into the valley of your cleavage.

With one last, strangled whine, Dieter collapses half onto you and half onto the couch, and you beam proudly at how absolutely wrecked he looks. You did that. You stretch languorously, and his gaze follows intently as beads of cum drip from your breasts and down your sides in thick streaks.

‘Look at you and your multiple orgasms,’ you tease, shuffling closer to peck him on the lips.

He grunts. ‘Didn’t wanna get upstaged by you, sweetheart.’

You shiver when he brushes a finger through the mess he made on your tits with a deep groan of satisfaction before pushing himself up with great effort, and settling himself between your thighs. Pinching your folds together gently, he groans as a pearly bead of his cum oozes out of you, feral eyes meeting yours. ‘I love seeing my cum all over you and inside you, baby.’

Glancing down at the wet patches on the cream-coloured sofa, you quip, ‘I don’t think you’re gonna get your rental deposit back, though.’

Sidling up to you, he kisses you and grins. ‘Totally worth it.’

The next time you wake up, it’s definitely the church bells ringing for the evening service that rouse you.

‘C’mon sweetheart, it’s dinner time.’

You turn to Dieter’s voice and pout sleepily. ‘What?’

‘You passed out after we took a shower, and I didn’t want to wake you for lunch,’ he recounts the missing hours to you. ‘Ana brought your suitcase around, by the way.’

You swing your legs off the side of the bed and stretch with a yawn. ‘She’s the best. We need to buy her dinner or something. Constance too.’

Dieter pulls you onto your feet to nuzzle the side of your neck. ‘Nope, sorry - you’re mine this weekend. Especially since you’ve already spent about half of it passed out cold.’

You roll your eyes and wriggle out of his grasp to unzip your suitcase, bending over to rummage through it for something to wear. ‘Hardly my fault that I find jetlag more compelling than your company, Bravo.’

He grins when you yelp at the smack that lands on your ass. ‘Hurry up, sweetheart. I’ll take you around the neighbourhood, and we can get pizza from my favourite place for dinner.’

Your stomach answers for you with a comically loud rumble. ‘Yes please, I’m starving.’

The streets look different in the dying daylight. You bask in the twilight sunshine, senses in overdrive as you take in the surroundings.

Dieter lets you drag him into a gelato shop to get a refreshing frutti di bosco in a cone, which you both take turns licking and biting into as you stroll through the neighbourhood. Then he ducks into a tiny deli to get some burrata and prosciutto in case you get midnight munchies later. As you get closer to town, the crowds start to thicken, and Dieter feels you shrink into yourself.

Brushing a kiss to your temple, he reassures you, ‘There’s no paparazzi here, sweetheart. I’ve been here for three months and no one has recognised me even once.’

Your shoulders relax. ‘And your fragile Hollywood ego lived to tell the tale?’

He pulls a squeal from you when he dives in for the last bite of the cone without warning, sucking melted purple gelato off your hand.

The pizzeria is tucked away on a side street, tiny tables and stools lining either side of the entrance, and there is no sign above the door. Stepping inside the dark interior, it’s piping hot with three men behind the counter, rolling out dough and cooking pizza in a wood fire oven, trading rapid-fire Italian.

A man with grey hair and an impressive handlebar moustache exclaims when his eyes land on the two of you, stepping from behind the counter. ‘Dieter! Amico mio, vieni qui!’ || ‘Dieter! My friend, come here!’

They embrace like life-long friends, the older man babbling Italian at him while he babbles back in English. You’re absolutely certain neither of them knows what the other is going on about.

Dieter gestures at you. ‘Lorenzo, I want you to meet my girl.’

He makes a delighted noise and kisses you flamboyantly on both cheeks. ‘Questa è tua moglie, vero? Buonasera, signora Bravo! Che bella coppia!’ || ‘This is your wife, yes? Good evening, Mrs. Bravo! What a beautiful couple!’

Dieter winds an arm around your waist and tells you proudly, ‘This place makes the best pizza in town, and they don’t even have a name! I found it one night when I was drunk off my ass. The best margherita I’ve ever had. Am I right, Lorenzo?’

The Italian smacks his lips in a chef’s kiss as if in agreement. ‘Voi avrete i bambini bellissimi! Te lo giuro!’ || ‘You two would have the most beautiful babies! I swear!’

‘Lorenzo says it’s something about the flour they use in the dough. Or was it the yeast?’

A wistfulness creeps into the Italian’s tone, and he suddenly leans forward to grip your chin between his thumb and index finger. You suspect he’s not exactly on the same topic of yeast. ‘L'amore è bello. Voi mi ricordate me e mia moglie defunta, pace all’anima sua!’ || ‘Love is beautiful. You remind me of my deceased wife and I, God rest her soul!’

Dieter claps his hands together to wrap up the unilateral, bilingual conversation. ‘Anyway - can we order the margherita and artichoke? Takeaway, please.’

Lorenzo lets your chin go and presses a kiss to his hand, then dispatches it heavenwards. ‘In onore della mia amata moglie, Maria, Includo gratuitamente un regalo speciale! I miei colombini preferiti!!’ || ‘In honour of my beloved Maria, I will include a special treat for free! My favourite lovebirds!’

Dieter pays for the order and a couple of limonata from the fridge, and you retreat outside to wait for your dinner. Sitting down on a low stone wall opposite the shop, you take a sip of the fizzy lemonade and remark, ‘Now, that’s what I call a character.’

He beams and laces his fingers through yours. ‘Isn’t he great? I want to move here someday.’

Your eyebrows reach for your hairline. ‘Really? Dieter Bravo living la dolce vita? Leaving behind the lights and vices of Hollywood?’

Before he can answer you, a piercing screech sends your heads spinning around to see Ana running down the street towards you, shouting and waving, ‘Hey, lovers!’

You laugh as she smothers you in a hug while simultaneously fiddling with her phone. ‘Oh my god, you guys are fucking adorable. One second, one second -’

You shriek when she brings up her phone to show you who’s on the screen. ‘Oh my god, Pete! We miss you!’

He waves at you through Facetime. ‘Babe, I cannot believe I’m not there to witness this first hand. It’s not fair! Let me see you two together!’

Ana grabs the phone and angles it so you and Dieter are both in the shot, and sing-songs, ‘Kiss cam, lovebirds!’

You roll your eyes. ‘Ana, we’re not just going to -’

You’re cut short when Dieter ambushes you with a full-mouthed kiss, and you hear both Pete and Ana squealing excitedly.

‘What are you doing? These two don’t need any more encouragement!’ you chide halfheartedly when he finally draws back, releasing your lips with a wet pop.

Dieter points at Pete through the screen then at Ana. ‘We’re keeping it under the radar for now, okay? No leaks to the papers or any of that shit.’

Ana nods solemnly. ‘Lips are sealed.’

‘I’m totally not screen recording this right now.’

You narrow your eyes at the phone. ‘Pete - ’

‘I’m joking, I swear!’ he protests. ‘Totally not crossing my fingers behind my back.’

Lorenzo appears with three pizza boxes even though you’re sure Dieter only ordered two, and he shepherds you on your way while speaking Italian, presumably saying something to the effect of eat it while it’s hot.

Ana waves, heading in the opposite direction. ‘I’d invite you for drinks with Constance and I later, but I doubt Dieter would let you out of your sight for even a second.’

‘She’s staying in my bed till Monday morning. Naked.’

‘Dieter!’ you admonish.

Ana laughs and winks at you as he impatiently drags you away. ‘Have fun, lovebirds. I’ll see you back stateside!’

And Pete gets the last laugh. ‘Don’t you forget - I called best man!’

A spiral staircase winds up to the rooftop you didn’t know existed, and you gape at the view from the top. The sea laps in the distance, blue and orange, waves rippling as if in slow motion. The rest of the town sitting on lower ground is laid out below your feet like a chaotic streetmap, the dinner-time ruckus a muted buzz in the distance.

The terracotta tiles are sunwarm beneath your bare soles as you set the rustic dinner table under the canopy. Dieter appears at the doorway with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.

‘I forgot the water. Do you want some?’ he asks.

You step around him and peck him on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it.’

You hum to yourself as you traipse your way back upstairs with a jug of water and two glasses full of ice from the kitchen. Dieter lines up the three takeaway boxes side by side, and rubs his hands in anticipation for the big reveal. ‘Alright, ready for the best pizza of your life, sweetheart?’

‘Go on, then,’ you grin.

He’s barely cracked open the first box a sliver - you catch a glimpse of a perfectly baked crust - before he snaps it shut with a panicked, ‘What the fuck?’

You frown. ‘What’s wrong?’

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the other hand on his hip. ‘Lorenzo - he pulled a prank on us.’

You reach for the box to see for yourself, but he snatches you by the wrist. You sigh, ‘C’mon, Dieter, I don’t care as long as I can still eat the pizza without getting food poisoning. I’m actually going to faint from hunger.’

He lets you go cautiously, holding his hands up soothingly like he’s trying to talk you off a ledge. ‘Just - promise me you won’t freak out, okay?’

You cross your arms. ‘You’re actually scaring me now.’

‘It’s not a declaration or anything. I didn’t ask them to do it.’

You’re about this close to stamping your foot like a child, but you take a deep breath and reply, ‘Dieter, seriously. I promise I won’t freak out, just -’

You trail off when he opens the box and you stare down at the contents.

It’s a heart-shaped pizza.

Any and all apprehension bleeds out of you as your shoulders quake with laughter. You open the other two boxes, which are identical in shape, with different toppings. Turning to Dieter, you pull him in by the scruff of his shirt to plant a kiss on his lips. ‘I love it.’

The relief is clear in his features. ‘Really? You’re not gonna flip and run off in the middle of the night?’

‘Unless there’s a diamond ring baked into the cheese - no, I won’t,’ you give him your word.

Dieter winks and kisses the centre of your palm. ‘Oh, you should be so lucky, sweetheart.’

Making yourself comfortable on the cushioned bench, you pat the space next to you. Reaching out for a slice of what smells like the best margherita you’re about to have, you sniff, ‘Be quiet and eat your pizza, Bravo.’

Pouring red wine into your glass, Dieter rambles on conversationally, ‘So… since you like heart-shaped pizza, does that mean I can get you heart-shaped cookies? Heart-shaped donuts? Heart-shaped marshmallows -’

Using his own trick on him, you shove the slice that was destined for your plate into his mouth instead to shush him. He spills wine everywhere in his haste to put the bottle down, and you laugh as he sputters.

His mouth full, he shakes a finger at you as he chews and swallows. ‘I’ll get back at you for that, just you wait.’

You smile sweetly and grab another slice. ‘I’d like to see you try, Bravo.’

Pulling you flush against him, he looks down at you playfully, but his eyes are soft. ‘I will always try, sweetheart.’

And you know he will.

Rebecca is enjoying a rare evening alone. Coco is over at a friend’s pool party and won’t be home until after dinner, and Hank is still at the office. She flops heavily onto the outrageously expensive sofa she so rarely gets to enjoy, kicking off her high heels, when her phone buzzes. She arches an eyebrow when she sees the name on the screen.

‘Hello, darling. Long time no speak.’

‘Hey Becks. Listen, do you have any TV roles for me?’

‘Not even a hello, how are you, dear agent?’

She shakes her head fondly as he parrots back word by word, ‘Hello, how are you, dear agent?’

‘TV, you say?’

‘Something that will stick for at least a couple of seasons, in LA. And make sure it’s something edgy.’

‘By edgy, do you mean something that might have an intimacy coordinator role that needs filling?

‘Yes.’

‘And does that mean you want me to take your name out of the hat for the next Spielberg movie?’

There is no trace of doubt in his reply. ‘Yes.’

‘Alright then. I’ll have a scout around and send you some options in the next few days.’

‘Thanks, Becks.’

She smiles into the phone. ‘I’m happy for you, darling. Send her my love, please, and we’ll have you both around for dinner soon.’

‘Yes, ma’am. Will do.’

Two weeks later, a package arrives at your flat in Calgary, and you hand in your one-month notice the next day.

A covering letter to the contract directs you to an address in Sherman Oaks to drop off the documents in person the next weekend. You’re not aware of any studio offices in that particular part of town, but you need to go back Stateside to sort out something at your bank anyway, so it’s not particularly out of the way.

You slow your car down to the crawl when your phone announces that you’ve reached your destination. It’s clearly a residential area, and you double check the address - you’re definitely at the right place. Maybe it’s the HR director’s home address. You’ve been to far stranger places in your career, so you shake it off and walk up to the modern, white-washed house that sits on two floors, with a minimalist garden in the front.

You glance about at the tidy hedges after you press the doorbell, and you hear footsteps approach at a leisurely pace. You put on a professional smile in anticipation.

The door opens, and your jaw drops.

‘Hello, sweetheart.’

Before you can make heads or tails of the situation, the envelope in your hand slips out of your grasp and you launch yourself at him. Dieter staggers backwards with a laugh, his hands full of you and his lips on yours. It’s been three weeks since you said your goodbyes at the airport in Italy, with promises to see each other when filming wraps for the both of you in another month or so.

You can’t resist slapping him on the chest in rebuke for showing up unannounced. ‘What are you doing here?’

He shrugs nonchalantly. ‘Thought you’d appreciate a house tour now that you’ve signed up to the project.’

You look around, taking in the dark wooden floors and high ceilings painted white as he scoops up your abandoned papers and closes the front door. ‘What house tour?’

‘I told the studio you’ll be living with me. It’s the only reason they hired you, by the way, because we’ll be saving them accommodation costs.’

You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, so you don’t give him the satisfaction of a quick-tempered answer. Instead, you cock your head to one side, and purse your lips. ‘How did you know I want to live with you?’

His answer is unexpectedly forthright, and it hits you right in the stomach. ‘I don’t, but I hoped you would. I want to live with you.’

Rocking onto your tippy toes, you reach for him, but before your lips meet, he stops you, brandishing a piece of paper in your nose. ‘One minute, sweetheart. Since we’re now both employees of this show, we should really sign this Relationship Consent Form for HR before we do anything else.’

You blink and take a mental step back, suddenly alert. His smile is perfectly benevolent, which is suspicious in itself. He’s trying to pull something, you just know it.

But you go along with it. ‘Sounds like the responsible thing to do. You got a pen?’

Right on cue, Dieter pulls out a fancy-looking fountain pen and his glasses from his shirt pocket. ‘Voila. This way, sweetheart, we’ll do this in the kitchen.’

The foyer opens up into a large and modern kitchen space, with a marble counter separating it from the dining room. You like it - it’s not as coldly sleek as the apartment you shared while filming on Resurgence. It looks homey and lived-in despite knowing for a fact that the most Dieter’s ever used it for is pouring milk into a bowl of cereal.

He pulls out a chair for you at the dining table, even pushing your seat in before settling opposite you. You keep a watchful eye on him at this show of gallantry. Pointedly ignoring you, he smooths a hand over the consent form sitting in front of him, uncapping his fountain pen dramatically and putting on his reading glasses.

With a clap of his hands, he announces. ‘Ok, here we go. Fill in the name of Party A.’ He spells out yours letter by letter as he scribbles. ‘And Party B: Dieter Bravo.’

From where you’re sitting, his handwriting is barely legible and absolutely not contained to the pre-drawn lines.

‘I can do the writing, if you want,’ you offer, eye twitching at the mess.

Dieter smiles at you. ‘I got it, sweetheart, thanks.’ Clearing his throat, he reads the first question out loud. ‘Are Party A and Party B engaged or intend to engage in sexual intercourse?’

He looks up at you, as if expecting an answer. You frown. ‘What?’

‘You have to say the answers out loud.’

‘What?’

He taps somewhere on the piece of paper. ‘To consent, you have to say the answers out loud. Says right here.’

You sigh heavily and reply, ‘Yes.’

Dieter scrawls the answer with a flourish, and moves on to the next question. ‘Is the frequency or intended frequency of said intercourse between Party A and Party B expected to be equal to or exceed once a week?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are Party A and Party B engaged in or intend to engage in an exclusive sexual relationship?’

Your answer comes out sharper than you intend as your patience wears thin. ‘I fucking hope so.’

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t look up. ‘That’s a yes, then. Are Party A and Party B engaged in or intend to engage in an exclusive romantic relationship?’

You cross your arms suspiciously. ‘An exclusive romantic relationship? That’s an actual question in the form?’

He points somewhere in the middle of the page. ‘Yes, it says right here.’

‘I’m sorry, why does the studio need to know that?’

He sighs. ‘Sweetheart, it’s a simple question - yes or no?’

You shift in your seat, feeling vulnerable, but you answer in the affirmative. ‘Well, I mean, if I’m going to be living with you - yes.’

The smile he gives you nearly reaches his ears, and you smile back, before he looks down at the form and continues, ‘Now, this is an interesting one. Is Party B’s genitalia the most substantial Party A has ever had in terms of length and girth?’

Not even Dieter can keep a straight face.

You growl, reaching across the table to rip the piece of paper from his hands while he howls with laughter, reading glasses coming off. ‘Ugh, Dieter Bravo! You’re so fucking juvenile!’

He’s literally wiping tears from his eyes. ‘You should’ve seen your face, sweetheart. You were taking it so seriously.’

You run a critical eye over the form. It was obviously done in Word and printed out at home since the margins are all off. ‘You used Comic Sans? Comic Sans? You might as well have written this in purple crayon!’

‘Hey! Don’t judge a consent form by its font, sweetheart.’ He rounds the table and grabs it from you, pinning it onto the kitchen counter with his pen.

‘I forgot one last question, it’s an important one,’ he says, and you squeak when he lifts you up onto the cold marble surface of the kitchen counter by the back of your thighs. Close enough to bump noses, his breath hot on your lips, he asks, ‘Does Party A consent to being thoroughly railed on this kitchen counter by Party B right about now?’

Grabbing the pen sitting next to you, you scribble carelessly over the sheet, before tossing it somewhere behind you without looking. It floats languidly, landing feather-light on the kitchen floor, soon joined by hastily half-unbuttoned, half-unzipped clothing and underwear.

Your answer to Dieter’s question - all his questions - is scrawled across the page in a clear, emphatic hand.

Fuck yeah.

[ the end ]

Very long note: This wasn't the easiest chapter to write, but then, I guess finales never are easy! Having said that, I already knew what the last scene was going to be when I decided to make this a series, and it was surreal to finally see it typed out in black and white.

I also made sure the supporting cast - Pete, Ana and Rebecca - each made a cameo in this last part. They've been so important to the plot, and your reaction to these OCs makes me so warm and fuzzy inside. I'm very happy with the way this chapter turned out eventually - I hope you are too!

I've left things fairly open in this finale. I don't feel like Dieter and Reader have to make any grand declarations to each other, or to put a label on anything, for this stage of their story to be complete. This also gives me the space to explore their relationship in further instalments. While I don't see another full-fledged series in this universe, there will definitely be drabbles and one-shots in the future.

Before I lose my shit and start crying up a storm, I need to give credit to these lovely people who helped me with this chapter.

❤️ First, I want to thank Cristina @pedropascalsx for making the gif set for the last ever sneak peek. It really set the tone for the finale, and I will cherish it forever.

❤️ Second, thank you Kat @katareyoudrilling for helping me with the Italian translations. Your notes were so detailed, I loved learning about the language from your explanations.

❤️ Third, the heart-shaped pizza idea came from a reblog @hquinzelle left for a previous chapter, and it's been stuck in my head since! Thank you for letting me use this idea for this chapter.

Lastly, thank you to every single one of you who have interacted with this fic in any way. I have been blown away by your love and support every step of the way. Thank you for taking a chance on this story, which started off as a horny one-shot (and my first time ever writing smut), and ended up a short series that I'm so proud to have written for this beautiful mess of a man and - most importantly - for all of you❤️

Ok I'm going to go bawl my eyes out now.

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo fanfic #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo self insert #cliff beasts 6 #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x f!reader

935 notes · View notes

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 1 year

Text

The Silver Dragon (24/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 4748

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Aemond, Arianwyn, and Queen Alicent race to find Brynna. Larys Strong informs them that she has been taken to the Throne Room by none other than Daemon, who claims that it was Brynna herself that attacked him the night before. Not only that, but he also accuses Aemond of forcing Arianwyn to marry him, and of raping her so that the marriage could not be dissolved.

Warnings: Violence.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming @multiple-fandoms-girl @gyuxmilk @somemydayy @kittykylax @whore-of-many-hot-men

The Trial of Brynna Taler

Arianwyn had never craved violence. When she had tackled Rhaena years ago, all she wanted was to save Aemond. When she stabbed Daemon last night, it had been a desperate attempt to save her own life.

But now, as she frantically ran through the halls of the Red Keep in a dress borrowed from the Queen, she wanted nothing more than to feel her father’s blood running through her fingers.

If he had done anything to hurt Brynna, she did not know what she would do. Claw at his face, perhaps. Or rip every hair from his head. Gouge out his eyes. Take his sword and cut him in two, like he had done to Vaemond Velaryon. Command Emrys, the dragon he had once kept from her, to burn him alive.

Or maybe she would simply unleash Aemond upon him.

From the murderous glint in his eye and the hard set of his jaw, she knew that was the cruelest thing she could do.

Her husband would make him suffer for what he had done to her. By the time Daemon finally breathed his last, perhaps some small modicum of justice would have been served.

Arianwyn was torn from the fantasy of revenge when she rounded a corner and nearly slammed into Aemond’s back. She could not see why he had stopped, only that his hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend his wife.

“Stand down, Aemond,” Alicent commanded, laying a soothing hand on his shoulder as she stepped around him.

Though he did not release his weapon, he did step aside, allowing Arianwyn to see Larys Strong, the Lord Confessor, standing before them.

Leaning heavily on his cane, the clubfooted Lord of Harrenhal looked over the harried group with a grimace. “I am afraid your presence is urgently required in the Throne Room, your Grace. Prince Daemon claims he has been attacked, and is demanding a trial immediately.”

“A trial?” Arianwyn asked, trapped somewhere between fear and hope. A trial meant that his attacker was alive, for corpse could not face judgment.

Larys’ dull blue eyes locked onto her face. “He has brought the accused – your long-serving maid, Brynna Taler – before the Hand and the Small Council.”

“Has he hurt her?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from breaking with terror.

Flicking his eyes to Aemond and to the sword on the Prince’s hip, Larys replied carefully. “Not grievously, my Lady.”

But the words offered no comfort. That Daemon had laid even a finger upon her was enough to set her tears flowing and a sob ripping from her wounded throat.

That single cry was more than enough for Aemond. He growled, drawing his blade as he pushed past the Lord Confessor.

Alicent followed him, shouting futilely for him to remain calm, with Arianwyn not far behind. Despite the relative warmth of the day, she pulled the fur stole the Queen had given her tighter around her neck to hide the grisly bruises that lay there.

Aemond could hardly see the path in front of him for the bloodlust surging through his veins. The fearful stares of courtiers and servants alike as he stalked through the halls of the keep were as inconsequential to him as rats in the gutter.

However, the words they whispered more frequent as they got closer to the Throne Room echoed through his mind.

“Do you think he really did it?”

“Of course not! He has only done what we have always expected.”

“It’s only that she’s been kept on that island that it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“That’s precisely what I mean! He’s been stewing in anger for all these years.”

“Perhaps since he could not have Lucerys’ eye, he took her instead.”

“She may have loved him once, but that was when they were, and he had no scar.”

“Would you really want that sharing your bed?”

“Gods, just look at him. Not even Maegor looked such a villain.”

“He did it. Of that, I have no doubt.”

Aemond would not react. He would not give them that satisfaction.

Still, he could not help but grip his sword tighter, until the skin of his knuckles ached with the effort. He could not stop his scar from burning, or the skin surrounding it from twitching. Nor could he stop his stomach from roiling, for despite Arianwyn’s ardent insistence in his continued beauty, he knew that the whispers were true.

To all but his wife, he was hideous – nothing more than a villain and a monster.

The feeling of despair only deepened when he approached the open Throne Room doors and heard Daemon’s voice echoing throughout the hall.

“Arianwyn was distraught,” he said, voice wavering with fabricated despair as he addressed the growing crowd. “It is no wonder why. From the moment we arrived, Prince Aemond never once relented in trying to molest her before our very eyes – ”

His false tale of woe was cut short when the gathered crowd gasped as one at the sight of the One-Eyed Prince, the steel of his drawn blade gleaming in the dawn’s light, storming into the room, Daemon’s ‘distraught’ daughter close behind.

At the sight, Jace burst from his place by his mother’s side, drawing his own sword and pointing it toward Aemond’s chest.

“Release my sister!” he shouted, despite the fact that Aemond was clearly not holding her hostage.

“I am not your sister!” Arianwyn yelled back.

Aemond said nothing. He did, however, raise his own blade in reply as he took an offensive stance.

How dare Jacaerys call her ‘sister?’ What little blood they shared was thin, and tainted by his bastard birth. Perhaps if he had been more than Aegon’s boorish toady in their youth or been kinder to Arianwyn on Dragonstone, Aemond would not now be so eager for this fight.

Tilting his head in a silent dare for Jace to make the first move, Aemond could not help but wonder whether the Curse of the Kinslayer applied to bastard nephews.

But then Arianwyn screamed anew when she saw the woman kneeling before the Iron Throne.

“Brynna!”

Arianwyn pushed past the Queen, moving around Aemond and his outstretched sword. He reached his offhand out to stop her, but she brushed it aside.

“Take my hand, Arianwyn,” Jace whispered as she passed him.

She did not give him the courtesy of a reply or even a glance at his pleading face.

Daemon glared as she approached, but she did not face him either.

At the base of the Iron Throne, she tripped over the too-long skirts of Alicent’s dress, falling to her knees before her lady’s maid.

“Brynna, I’m so sorry,” she cried as she took in the woman’s wretched state.

A large purple bruise covered most of her face, from her split brow to her bleeding lip. Her nose was clearly broken, still marked with a dried river of blood.

But the worst of it was her hands. Her lithe, nimble hands that had crafted some of the finest dresses in the history of the Seven Kingdoms – including the dress that had become Arianwyn’s wedding gown.

Shattered.

Each finger bent and twisted, like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. The skin was so red and bruised that Arianwyn could hardly see the countless cuts marking where Daemon’s stone had struck over and over and over again.

Arianwyn knew that while it was not by her own hand, she had done this. By angering her father, by stabbing him. The moment she married Aemond, she made everyone that she loved a target for Daemon’s wrath, and he had wasted no time in claiming his first victim.

“Oh, gods!” She cried, dropping her head to Brynna’s lap. “This is all my fault! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Through her throbbing pain, Brynna tried and failed to quiet Arianwyn’s frantic crying, but soon found herself sobbing along with the girl. She wanted nothing more than to stroke her silver curls, but her hands were in far too much pain. Besides, she would never wish to see her Lady marred with blood.

“It is not your fault,” Brynna whispered, voice hoarse from screaming.

Arianwyn did not believe her.

She would beg and beg for forgiveness until her voice gave out. Until her knees bled from kneeling, and her eyes were dry of tears. She would beg until the Mother herself appeared to offer her mercy, or until the Stranger took her away – though to the heavens or the hells, she did not know.

At the door, Aemond raised his sword level with Daemon’s heart as he strode past Jace. The young Prince moved to stop him but was pulled back by his mother.

It was Daemon who had done this. He had hurt his wife’s greatest friend. He had made Arianwyn cry. And he would pay for it.

But Daemon paid him no attention. Rather, he sighed, and with an expression of relief to rival the worst actors in King’s Landing, took a single step toward his daughter. “Arianwyn!” he cried, “How relieved I am to see you unharmed!”

Tearing her eyes from Brynna’s ruined hands, Arianwyn stared at her father, brow furrowed in bewilderment.

She had been harmed, and he was the one who had done it.

“Stay away from my wife,” Aemond growled, circling around his new father-by-law until he stood protectively between him and Arianwyn. He could feel the fiery rage in his heart hot on his breath, and could swear he heard Vhagar roaring in the distance.

“Was it not enough for you to steal my dear Laena’s dragon?” Daemon asked, brow crumpled with false heartache and a voice loud enough for everyone in the Throne Room to hear his words clearly. “Now, you must take my firstborn daughter, as well?”

“I have stolen nothing,” Aemond hissed, angling the point of his sword to Daemon’s neck. All it would take was one motion, one cut, and the Rogue Prince would never harm Arianwyn again. “Can you say the same, uncle?”

“Prince Aemond put down your sword!” Otto bellowed from the throne. “There will be no more blood spilled in this hall!”

But Aemond did not move, save for a twitch of the muscle in his jaw. Gods, his scar was blazing. It had not hurt like this since the night it was given to him.

“Despite that pin on your breast, Otto, you have no right to rule in this. It is a family matter,” Daemon spat, dropping his besieged father act.

Otto did not yield an inch, speaking calmly, with all the authority of the Iron Throne. “Indeed. Concerning my grandson and my great-niece. And seeing as how, in his absence, I speak with the voice of the King – your brother and Prince Aemond’s father –I have every right to rule on this family matter. Don’t you agree, Lord Wylde?”

The Master of Laws jumped slightly when his name was called, but he quickly collected himself and answered, “Yes, my Lord Hand.”

The only hint of Otto’s smugness was the nearly imperceptible twitch of a smile on his lips. “With that matter settled, we can begin the proceeding. Prince Aemond, I will not repeat myself again. Put. Down. Your. Sword.”

Against all instinct and every nerve in his body, Aemond obeyed. Though he did not sheath the blade, nor did he move away from his wife.

Alicent finally moved away to the door to the foot of the dais, joining a concerned Helaena and a hungover but intrigued Aegon.

As she passed Rhaenyra and her children, the Princess and the Queen exchanged a look that Aemond could not decipher.

The Hand sighed, gesturing with an open palm to Brynna. “Grand Maester, for the love of the Mother, will you please tend to this poor woman?”

Daemon seethed, “That ‘poor woman’ has attacked a Prince of the Realm!”

“I have not!” Brynna shouted.

“She did not!” Arianwyn yelled simultaneously, with such a cold fury that she was sure she bore icy claws. Emrys’s howling echoed through her mind as she pulled away from her maid, only enough to allow Orwyle the access he needed to assess her wounds.

Orwyle examined Brynna quickly, then looked back to Arianwyn and gave a slight smile. She will recover, he seemed to say. She may not be the same, but she will recover.

But Arianwyn’s heart was hollow, and she could not return the gesture. Brynna would not recover if she was soon executed.

Once he was satisfied that Brynna’s wounds were being tended to, Otto lowered himself upon the Iron Throne. “Prince Daemon,” he said, “If you are quite finished with your performance, the Crown will now hear your accusation.”

Daemon bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over whether to respond to the Hand’s remark. Deciding against that, he once again painted his face with fatherly concern. “After our family meal last night, I went to check in on Arianwyn. She had been so upset when she left, after seeing her dear brother attacked by none other than the man who had treated her with such unabashed vulgarity all evening.”

Arianwyn looked up at Aemond, begging with wet eyes for him to speak in his own defense. But he only continued to glare at Daemon, for the comforting thought of spilling his uncle’s blood was the only thing distracting him from the pain searing through his very skull.

Unchallenged, Daemon continued. “When I reached her rooms, this woman,” he pointed at Brynna as he spoke, drawing the court’s attention to her, “was at the door. She would not allow me entry to my own daughter’s chambers.

“First, she told me that Arianwyn was unwell. Then, that she was asleep. When she had run out of excuses, I demanded she stand aside to let me through. But she would not. So, I went to push past her. That is when she took her shears and did this.” He tossed the bloodstained iron shears to the floor, and tore off the linen wrapping around his right hand before raising it above his head for all to see.

A large gash was visible in the space between his thumb and forefinger. As Daemon turned to present his hand to those behind him, Aemond was gratified to see the wound was wide enough for a beam of sunlight to shine through the hole. When this was over, he would have to congratulate his wife on a job well done.

“I, of course, was able to subdue her even with the wound, and she quickly revealed the sinister scheme.” Daemon grinned at Aemond as he went on, “The Prince here paid her quite handsomely to sneak him into our guest quarters, that he might steal her away for his own. He forced Septon Eustace to wed them. And then, I imagine, he raped her so the marriage could not be dissolved on account of a failed consummation.”

Arianwyn’s mind was spinning. From the audacity of Daemon’s lies. From her disbelief that in the face of such slander, Aemond continued to stay silent. From the conflicting whispers swirling around her.

“The most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

“Look at the cold look in his eye. He knows he’s been exposed.”

“I have known them since they were children. Prince Aemond could never hurt her.”

“He should be gelded without delay, and sent to the Wall to rot.”

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. How could they believe such lies? Daemon’s own demons were well known, as were Aemond’s virtues. At least, they had been when she had left the capital. What had changed since then, beyond the scar now marking his face?

If enough of the court was so quick to believe Daemon’s story, what could she possibly say to sway them?

Her only salvation was that it was the Hand sitting the Iron Throne, not the King.

“An interesting story, my Prince,” Otto said, not a hint of emotion or bias in his voice. “Though I am afraid I find myself with several questions regarding its details.”

Daemon scowled, unable to keep the disdain from his eyes. “And what, pray tell, are your questions?”

“I think we should start at the beginning, don’t you? With Prince Aemond’s behavior at the King’s dinner.” Otto raised his eyebrows, the only hint of his confidence. “You see, my Prince, I was seated closer to him and Arianwyn than you were, and yet I saw no such evidence of molestation, attempted or otherwise.”

When Daemon opened his mouth to counter him, the Hand simply continued, “Though I may be mistaken. Perhaps we should ask the Princess Helaena, who was herself seated at Arianwyn’s side, what she saw?”

Daemon scowled, but did not object as Alicent encouraged Helaena.

“My sweet girl,” the Queen whispered, “can you tell us what you saw between Aemond and Arianwyn?”

Helaena, at last seeming to realize where she was, glanced between her brother and his wife. When she saw Arianwyn crying on the floor and Aemond clutching his sword, she looked mildly concerned at their predicament. “I saw love, gentle and true. As it has always been.”

For a moment, the Princess smiled proudly, but it faded as a shadow passed over her lilac eyes. “Shattered glass,” she murmured, “the silver shards sharper than the blunt point of the broken blade.”

Not even Daemon had a clever answer for the seemingly meaningless words.

But in the silence that followed, Arianwyn looked closely at her cousin as the fog cleared from Helaena’s eyes. At the dinner, she had said something about a cloak – a white cloak – in the moonlight.

Had she somehow known?

Perhaps more importantly, what did she know now?

“But these are the small details of your tale, Prince Daemon. Indeed, they may be crucial to its veracity, but whether or not a lady was molested can be quite easily mistaken by even the most perceptive among us.” A tentative laugh went up among some of the gathered crowd, and the Hand let it run its course before he continued.

“Let us focus instead on the larger picture. For that, it seems we are missing the most important testimony. Arianwyn?”

Otto’s question broke her from her musings on what Helaena’s words might mean. He tipped his chin, and she was surprised to find reassurance in the gesture. “Please stand and tell us what happened – but speak only the truth.”

Those words, spoken to her once before, long ago, brought Arianwyn back to the Throne Room on Driftmark. She was kneeling at Aemond’s side, pressing kisses to his trembling hand only moments after his eye was taken. She could feel Rhaena’s nails scratching her skin, the heat of Aemond’s fresh blood flowing through her fingers, and her aching chest wheezing for breath. She was drowning in desperation as she begged the King to believe her tale.

How had it come to this again?

“Aemond has done nothing untoward,” she said as she stood on shaking legs. How she wished he were within reach so she could hold onto him for strength. “Nor has Brynna. But the Prince and I are indeed wed, and our union has been consummated – willingly.”

As she spoke, Arianwyn felt her confidence grow. She steadied herself and stepped towards Aemond, lacing her fingers through his. He startled at the touch, for she had approached him from the left. But he relaxed and sheathed his sword when he saw the plea in her eyes.

“Septon Eustace can attest to the veracity of the marriage,” she said, looking only at her husband. “My household guard, Grand Maester Orwyle, Ser Criston Cole, and my maid Brynna, all bore witness. Orwyle confirmed the consummation this morning.”

When Daemon scoffed, Otto held up a hand to silence him. The Prince looked for a moment as though he may argue, but he was pulled back by his own wife taking his hand. Rhaenyra gave him a stern look, whispered something in his ear, and he stilled.

“My dear, why wed in such haste? And in near complete secrecy?” Otto asked.

Arianwyn considered her words carefully. She knew Otto wanted her to tell the court everything – but he could not possibly know what he was asking.

Someday, Daemon would pay for his crimes. But today, all Arianwyn wanted was to free Brynna and remain by her husband’s side.

“Aemond and I have been in love these many long years, even when separated,” she said. The truth, even if she had only just learned it. “We did not want to wait any longer for our families to negotiate a marriage contract or allow them to promise us to anyone else.”

That was a lie. But by the faces in the crowd, it was at least a good one.

“I apologize for any pain our impatience has caused,” Arianwyn continued, bowing her head toward Alicent, Helaena, and Aegon. “We have deprived our family of seeing us wed and all the celebration that comes with it.”

Aegon smiled, raising his brows, “I had but one chance to bring my brother’s wife to bed, and I have missed it,” he muttered.

Suppressing a grin, Arianwyn went on. “We married out of love, my Lord Hand. There is no more to say than that.”

The Hand again smiled at her, “Thank you, Arianwyn.”

She began to curtsy, but Aemond held her still. “You are a Princess now,” he murmured, “You need not bow to him anymore.”

“Septon Eustace,” Otto said, turning to face the man, “You performed the marriage?”

The Septon nodded. “I did, my Lord Hand.”

“And did the Lady Arianwyn show any reticence during the ceremony? Did she appear nervous or afraid?”

“No, my Lord Hand,” Eustace replied. “She was as happy as any bride I have ever seen. Happier, perhaps.”

Arianwyn blushed, squeezing Aemond’s hand. She could feel his heart racing through the contact and wished desperately to calm him. But he would not be satisfied until Brynna was free, and Daemon was not.

He was a dragon who had caught the scent of his prey, and he would not let it go free.

“Grand Maester,” Otto now plainly bore a smile as he turned to Orwyle, “can you indeed confirm the consummation?”

“I can indeed, my Lord Hand.”

“And can anyone else attest to Brynna Taler’s presence at the ceremony?” The Hand glanced around the room until he found twelve knights clad in bronze armor.

But it was Ser Criston Cole who answered. “I can, my Lord Hand.” He looked to Prince Daemon with an expression of pure disdain. “I would swear my sword to it.”

“I thank you, Ser Criston, but I wager that will not be necessary.” Otto finally smiled as he swept his eyes past Arianwyn to his grandson. “Prince Aemond, is there anything you should like to say to the court?”

Aemond finally tore his eye away from Daemon, gaze softening as he looked upon Arianwyn’s beautiful, hopeful face. There was much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell the whole court – the whole world – of Daemon’s crimes. He wanted to see him arrested and face the Father’s justice. And when he was executed, he wanted to be the one to swing the sword.

But Arianwyn saw it all on his face, every sinful thought he had. She pulled him towards her, wrapping her hand around his wrist, and shook her head.

“No,” Aemond sighed. “Only that everything my wife has said is the truth.”

The Hand turned back to Daemon, “Well, my Prince. It seems that matter is settled. But there is still the question of your wound. Would you care to offer the court another explanation as to how you were injured?”

The Rogue Prince was practically steaming with rage. The sight awoke a feeling of sinister pleasure within Arianwyn’s heart. That feeling, combined with the strength she drew from her husband’s touch, had her hands moving to the stole around her neck before she could think better of it.

“Perhaps he could explain this as well,” she said, pulling the fabric from her throat and exposing her wounds for all to see.

A gasp rippled through the crowd at the sight of her bruises, and the anger in her father’s eyes sharpened. Arianwyn only smiled.

Daemon snarled, “The work of your new husband, obviously.”

Arianwyn laughed. A light, blithe chuckle – wholly out a place at such a solemn occasion. “I think you’ll find my husband’s hands too large to make such small marks,” she said with an animalistic tilt of her head.

Aemond suddenly felt the urge to take her, right there and then. She had always had such fire within her, though it was rare that she let anyone but him see its glow. How he longed to burn in that delicious fire.

On the Iron Throne, Otto smiled proudly at the newest Targaryen Princess. He had thought her as harmless as Helaena, but perhaps she would prove more of an asset in the days to come. “Well, Prince Daemon? Have you any explanation for the court?”

Daemon only sneered before Rhaenyra stepped in front of him, cutting off whatever biting remark he surely had planned.

“I think we have heard more than enough,” Rhaenyra said, the same forced diplomacy in her voice as the night before. “I suggest, my Lord Hand, that we dismiss this matter entirely, as the unfortunate result of an excess of wine at dinner.”

Otto nodded, content in his victory – one more trueborn Targaryen, and one more dragon.

“Grand Maester Orwyle,” he commanded, “please take the lady Brynna to the Rookery tower and give her your greatest care. Dear lady, you have the sincere apology of the Crown, as well as my personal assurance that you will be compensated for your troubles.”

“Thank you, my Lord Hand,” Brynna said. Then, with the aid of the Maester, Brynna stood and curtseyed. Then, as she was led out of the Throne Room, she flashed a quick grin at Arianwyn – a promise that she would find her soon and that she wanted every detail of the bedding.

Arianwyn was practically overcome with relief. As her breath heaved, she felt the warmth of Aemond’s hand holding hers climb up her arm and spread throughout her entire body. Aemond focused on the feel of her pulse slowing, the pain in his face fading with each beat of her heart.

For long moments, the only sounds in the hall were the gossiping whispers of the court. Those who could not believe that Daemon had lied were evenly matched with those who could not believe Aemond had gotten away with his crimes.

But they were soon silenced when Rhaenyra again spoke. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. I thank you for your kindness and hospitality. But I am afraid we must now take our leave.”

“We hope to see you again soon, Princess,” Alicent replied, sincerity in her eyes.

With a quick nod, Rhaenyra turned her gaze to Arianwyn and Aemond, giving a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Before we go, I would like to offer my best wishes to my dear stepdaughter and her new husband.”

Aemond again tensed, but Arianwyn kept her grip on his hand firm. “Thank you, stepmother,” she said without returning the smile.

Rhaenyra stood in silence, apparently expecting the same grandiosity for the departure as she had for her arrival. But just as before, she would not receive it. So finally, after several awkward minutes, she relented and led her family from the hall.

Only Baela stayed behind to embrace her sister before going. “I am so happy for you,” she whispered.

“I will see you soon,” Arianwyn promised. “Perhaps for your own wedding?”

Tears coming to her eyes, Baela only grinned and nodded before following her family out of the Throne Room and the Red Keep.

Though she was surrounded by her family – the true family she had missed for so long – Arianwyn felt a sliver of emptiness creep into her heart as she watched her sister leave.

But then she felt her husband’s strong arms wrap around her, and all was right.

“If you would excuse us, my Lord Hand,” she said, not looking at the man atop the Iron Throne but at Aemond’s lips. “But my husband and I have yet to break our fast, and I find myself feeling quite hungry.”

Next Chapter

270 notes · View notes

burninlovebutler · 2 years

Text

22 - Christmas Special (ft. the Grinch) // Forever Winter Series

pairing: austin butler x fem!oc warnings: sad fluff, angst, SAD SAD, drugs (pills), physical agression, paranoia, memory loss?, cursing, annoying male territorial shit, teeth rotting christmas presents, 18+ minors mdni

22/?: Austin struggles to wrap gifts alone on christmas eve before spending the next day with Elsie & her suspiciously nice boyfriend. Elsie finds herself atop Austin after opening his gift. Austin is cornered with an unexpected proposition.

prev chapter -> 21 - Blue M&M's see masterlist/summary for background info + chapter log

gif cred: @carnevol ♡

(SORRY YES I NEEDED MULTIPLE GIFS SH)

I hope you get your ballroom floor Your perfect house with rose red doors I wish I'd known that less is more But I was passed out on the floor That's the last thing I remember It's been a long lonely December

-AUSTIN-

A mountain of failed gift-wrapping attempts sat next to me as I started what I hoped would be my last one. Smoothing out the foiled paper flush against mahogany slats and carefully placing one of the two vinyl records I’d gotten for Elsie strategically in the middle. A scissor still dangled from my pinky while my palm attempted ease the frustration built up behind my eyeball.

“Okay, it’s fine. I can do this. It’s just wrapping a fucking gift.” I muttered to myself, something I did quite often. When you have to reassure yourself as much as I did, saying the words just in your head got to be inadequate.

Taking a deep breath, I repeated the process I had already done what seemed like a million times – fold (poorly), tape, fold, tape, add a cute ‘to/from’ sticker tag, a bow, then holding it out to admire my handiwork.

Then, paranoia all over again.

My stupid fucking brain.

I tried my best to delicately tear a small corner from the taped gift in order to double check that it was the right record. And obviously, it was the same fucking one as the last ten, but of course it destroyed the wrap job completely.

“Fuck!” I swore, letting out a charged, frustrated groan before chucking the kitchen scissors across the living room floor. Then, ripping the gift wrap off, crumping it into a ball and repeated the action, landing opposite the scissors.

My foolish coping trick was the first line of defense when I attempted to focus on one of the thousand skyscrapers that scattered outside my floor-to-ceiling windows. City glows and holiday twinkles littered the midnight skyline, then a wall of snow flurries poured over the scene. There wasn’t a damn thing out there that interested me enough to stare at to distract me. If anything, the arrogant bustling city only added to my heightened state. My eyes then scanned across the room – the wall, no – the couch, no – the coffee table –

The mug on the coffee table. Elsie’s mug.

Reminding me of how we had spent almost every Christmas Eve together for the past 6 years. Well, we met on Christmas eve and sat in a breakfast diner until about 2 am Christmas morning. But the traditions really began when we moved into our apartment the year after that, sophomore year. We’d find the most pathetic looking evergreen at the closest tree farm and brought it home.

We were both so broke we couldn’t afford real decorations, so we’d buy plastic dollar store ornaments and even made some out of paper. Like kindergarteners we’d get a thick stack of construction paper and create those chain garlands, draping them all over the house. Then on Christmas eve we’d wear tacky matching PJs, make the sweetest hot chocolate with the biggest marshmallows and watch cheesy Christmas movies.

Christmas celebrations with my family were always so chaotic and stressful, full of arguments and tears. But the ones with Elsie were so easy, so fun. I hated Christmas until I met her.

When we finally decided to not renew our lease last year and she moved in with Nox, I packed our decorations away into storage totes, keeping all of them, even the paper ones. I intended to surprise her with them and have her help me decorate this holiday, but then all this shit happened.

And so, here I was staring at her favorite mug that was filled with my futile effort at the hot cocoa tradition, by myself. I out did her in almost every concoction that required a kitchen, but her hot chocolate was one I could never quite replicate. But maybe if I added enough sugar, enough syrup, enough marshmallows, it just might have some aftertaste of hers. I thought it might bring some sort of comfort and festivity to this lonely Christmas eve.

My heart was still thumping and my hands already trembling from the inability to wrap a fucking gift, but I kept staring at that stupid, condescending cup. I lifted it off the table, leaving behind a brown ring on the glass and brought it to my lips. Tipping the entirely full and now cold beverage to my lips, letting the liquid seep past the layer of melted marshmallow. Immediately repulsed at the taste, spitting it out. It was bitter.

“Augh-“ Wiping the liquid off my chin and furrowed my brows at the cup, “What the fuck?”

How the fuck could I have made hot chocolate bitter?

Using my index, I gently pushed the mountain of marshmallow to inspect the drink. It was watery, pitch black and had floating specks. Specks.

Grounds.

The cup was full of coffee. Black fucking coffee.

Right now, that mug was a familiar pest, but I had to weigh out how dangerous it really was. Racing through the steps I took earlier to make this cup, but all I could see was me ripping open an instant hot chocolate pouch, pouring it into the warm milk and mixing it. I thought I could remember even taste testing it to check the sweetness. It was all so real, vivid, tangible.

I had been taking my meds – or at least trying to.

It took a moment before complete and utter descent kicked in.

My chest felt tight, constraining, like an anaconda wrapped around my ribs, and just about every negative emotion a human could feel hit me like a train. Anger, heartache, loathing, sadness, jealousy, frustration, everything. Before I could even process the rumble surging through me, the full cup soared through the air clashing into my white wall. Ceramic shards flying and coffee painting the wall brown.

The sight of it encapsulated everything I was experiencing, the shattered cup a perfect analogy for me and Elsie. Her favorite mug in pieces. Something that was once full of beauty and meaning, now shattered on the ground. The scene reflected my mind as well - broken, fragmented, incapable of being used anymore.

I folded my extended legs into myself when tears began to well in my eyes, pressing my face against my knees and wrapped arms around them. My sobs shaking my entire body and soaked my stupid Christmas pajama pants.

I didn’t know what I was crying about – the frustration of not being able to trust my brain? The inability to wrap a fucking gift because of said brain? The lack of my best friend? or the sheer loneliness of this eve?

The harder I cried the tighter my grip was around myself. It was the hardest I’d cried in a while, maybe even since my dad. But at least I had Elsie then. Now I had to play some fucked up game of chess just to see her on Christmas.

“Okay,” Wiping the tears aggressively with the palms of my hands, “I can do this.” My breaths still rapid and staggered.

The words of my father rang in my ears –

Shut the fuck up, men don’t fucking cry

Only little girls sob like that

Be a fucking man and cut it out

You’re an embarrassment

Why was I relying on a woman to come save me? A woman that wasn’t mine? A woman that didn’t even want me?

Once my cries slowed enough to pull myself up, I went to what I really relied on - arguably worse than any girl. Going straight to the cluster of orange prescription bottles scattered all over the apartment, finding the one I wanted on the granite kitchen counter. I plucked an entire bar and knocked it back with ease.

If I wanted to get those fucking presents wrapped, I needed to do it before the pill entered my system fully.

Unrolling the wrapping paper tube reaching the end, leaving me with just enough to finish. I laid out the metallic paper, placed the records on their respective squares and employed my last resort when I really couldn’t trust my mind. I used my phone to snap several – several pictures of the records, front and back, from all angles. Now, I had concrete proof for myself that they were correct ones. Even with the evidence, I figured out a way to leave a small discrete opening in the back so I would have an extra layer of verification.

As the Xanax began to filter into my mind, I decided it would be a great idea to write a letter to Elsie, basically emotionally dumping whatever I felt in that moment.

Though I hadn’t decided when or if I’d ever let her read it.

I slipped on a pair of dark jeans, getting ready for this stupid fucking group Christmas Elsie had arranged. I didn’t understand why she would even set this up, why she pushed us to get along - but whatever it was important to her.

What I couldn’t wrap my head around was why Nox allegedly wanted to apologize, I knew he wasn’t sorry. I hypothesized that it was all Elsie’s puppeteering, and we were just her dolls on dangling strings.

Regardless, it felt a lot like a minefield. I wasn’t much of a people person, I avoided them as much as humanly possible. Though, that was difficult being in the industry I was in. But people like Nox always kept me on my toes, they reminded me so much of my dad. I loathed the juvenile mind games and territorial rivalry.

Nox was convinced I wanted something that wasn’t mine. It was as simple as that. I suppose this fence mending dinner was the perfect time to prove him wrong. I could wave a white flag and call for a ceasefire. I shouldn’t have to fucking tip toe around my best friend of six years just because of some fucking asshole. As much of a shitty thought it was, I knew they wouldn’t last.

He was temporary, I wasn’t.

I piled gifts in my arms. The gift wrap crinkling around the two flat presents reminded me of my last-minute verification method. I lifted the tiny hidden opening at the back to check the record, then pulling out my phone to match them to what was in my hands. This process delayed me quite a bit – about 20 minutes late as I kept going back between the two pieces of reassuring evidence. Before I left, I poured some white tablets into my palm, deciding to snap one in half and swallowing it dry. I couldn’t be too out of it in front of her, especially not on Christmas.

After a knock, I anxiously waited for Elsie to open the door. The most enthusiastic smile plastered on her face when it finally cracked. “Yay you’re finally here!” She exclaimed before even fully opening the door. Joyful arms squeezed around me, filling my nose with a strong peppermint scent, “Merry Christmas Austin!”

Hm, Austin. Not Aus or Aust or Austie. I wonder fuckin why.

Even though ‘Austie’ was the lamest fucking one, it was my favorite. I’d do whatever she wanted when she used it. She could ask me to bring her lava and I’d figure out how some way to gather some for her, even it singed me, even if I came back to her looking like Deadpool.

She wore a short, strapless red dress with scrunched sleeves just off her shoulders, a black corset tied around her waist. It almost resembled a pirate’s dress. Her hair curled and topped with reindeer antlers. A sudden flash of her on my couch in my oversized shirt using my lap as her own personal toy-

Thank god for Nox appearing because my eyes and thoughts would’ve lingered much longer. He crossed from the kitchen. His outfit much like mine, black jeans, black shirt. Except Elsie had just plopped a Santa hat on my head. “Nox won’t wear one.” She glared over at him with a pout.

And of course, I would, right? Because I do all the things he doesn’t, right? Including making her fucking come. Must be nice to have your cake and eat it too. I’d like to have just one fucking decent slice of cake. The abrupt rumble of resentment told me maybe this Christmas special was a mistake.

“Hey man, I just wanted to say sorry about… well everything.” He gave me the stereotypical ‘bro’ handshake. I didn’t believe a word that man said, but this time it did seem genuine. Perhaps he did have some sense knocked into him from having the best thing that could ever happen to him ripped away, even temporarily.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry too.” My best attempt at a cordial apology.

“Okay okay! Presents!” Elsie broke the tense air, clapping excitedly.

My brain already began to slow down thanks to the meds and suddenly, the idea of this didn’t seem so bad, maybe even fun. That sense was fleeting though when she went to grasp my hand but promptly drew away, probably remembering her boyfriend was right fucking there.

Funny how this worked - her instinctively reaching for my hand and the word ‘baby’ swirling at the tip of my tongue. The memories from a couple weeks ago looping in my brain – the dressing room, truth or dare, dancing, couch, eating, cuddling.

They seemingly just no longer existed. They didn’t mean anything, they never happened.

The fucking close call clause.

Did they mean anything? Did they mean anything to her? Did they mean anything to me?

A jarring twist in my chest suggested that they might mean something - or it might be because she was completely unaffected.

But it was wrong, the twist wasn’t any of those things, I was just fucking angry.

The close call clause was in place for a reason, for this exact reason. And normally it would be relieving, but for some reason it no longer felt like a safety net. As if what we did had burned a hole straight through the web, and I was falling through it.

Falling into what exactly?

She led us to the sloppily decorated tree, surely because she wasn’t home for so long or because she didn’t have me to help her. And I knew Nox wasn’t one to assist in any sort of festivities. “C’mon,” She tapped the ground next to her looking at me, “Sit.” But naturally, Nox stole the seat. So, I chose to sit to the other side of her, further away.

Nox and I exchanged gifts first. It’s always awkward when you’re required to get gifts for people you don’t really know.

Shocker, we got each other the same things – Amazon gift cards.

She excitedly handed over a small container to Nox. He opened the box revealing a luxury designer watch, silver with a navy face. “Oh, thank you baby.”

‘Baby’

A sharp jab pierced through me as the memory of calling her that rolled across my brain. It didn’t sound right when he said it, it sounded like a lie. But I guess I was lying too, since I only ever managed to call her that when I wanted to be inside her.

“Do you like it?” She chirped, straightening up like a little kid giving their parents a finger painting.

“Yeah of course.” Wrapping his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple.

I studied him, this was a reconciliation dinner after all. I wanted to know if it was genuine, picking apart every word, tone and gesture. It appeared authentic – so fucking bland, but authentic. Perhaps that’s why she’d get so wrapped up in him, he could just act this way and she was pliable in his hands again.

“Your turn Austin!” She shot up from the floor, “Wait here! Close your eyes!”

My eyebrows scrunched watching her scurry away across the grey carpet. What could she possibly have gotten me to require this song and dance? I glanced over at Nox, sensing his anger but keeping a pokerface. A stupid, happy, festive pokerface. Any other time, her cheerful excitement would wrap me in a fluffy warm cloud but even with the Xan beginning to kick in, I was still just unnecessarily fuming. Nonetheless, I closed my eyes as instructed and waited for her.

Some fumbling came from the other side of the apartment before I sensed her next to me. “Okay! Open!” I was almost afraid to look, any tiny misstep threatened to set Nox off.

Cracking my left eye before opening both wide. She stood there with a vintage guitar, one I had been searching for - for years. I think I had only ever mentioned this guitar to her once. During one of our first trips to our college diner, before I even learned how to play.

“I- Oh my god Elsie.” In complete awe of the wooden instrument.

“I know your new role has some music parts, I thought this might help.” She beamed at me, wider than with Nox’s gift. Her green eyes brighter than they were with him.

“Wow- um you really didn’t have to do this.” Leaning forward my fingers tracing the smooth, worn curves. “How did you even know?”

“I pay attention.” Shrugging and giving me the soft kind smile that always seemed to melt me.

That was my Elsie. Not whatever artificial shell of a human Nox turns her into. How can you see her, who she is, her heart and treat her the way he does? Why would you want to change her?

“I’m, just wow. It’s beautiful Elsie, thank you so much.”

She didn’t need to ask me if I liked it. She knew.

She rested the guitar across the couch before coming back to sit down. Nox handed his present to her, a generic teardrop diamond necklace. But she acted like it was the best thing on the planet. Probably because it was the nicest gift he’d ever given her.

Her arms wrapped around his waist nuzzling into him, “Thanks babe.” She shined, “It’s so pretty!” The way her eyes flickered up at him broke completely through the calm lull of my high, for some reason making me more furious, livid even. The sort of fierce anger that I’d only ever felt when disgusting men would hit on my girlfriends at bars and clubs.

But as her delicate fingers unraveled the thin chain from the box handing it to him to place around her neck, it brought another sensation. His tattooed hands gently laid the silver necklace on her accentuated collarbones and clasped it at the back. The same ferocious feeling came but beneath a different filter. It was like someone took the arteries in my beating heart, wrapped them around the thumping muscle, then tied them in strangling knots.

Why?

Wanting to fuck her was one thing but wanting to put some cliché necklace around her neck? That was different. I didn’t fucking like that feeling. That was the worst one yet.

“Are ya gonna keep me waiting or what?” She joked, leaning out of Nox’s arm to lightly smack my own. It was only then that I realized my stare had stayed on them when my thoughts ran rampant. I glanced over at Nox, finding an expected displeased look.

“Oh, Oh yeah sorry.” I twisted behind myself and picked up the poorly wrapped slender boxes, stealthily peeling the paper back to ease my doubt one last time before handing them over to her. Coincidentally I had also gotten her something had long been on her ‘in search of’ list. “Alright well, I’m not sure I’ll be able to top that, but I hope this comes close.”

Her dainty fingers followed the edges of the wrapped presents then tucking a soft chocolate curl behind her ear. From the gift’s shape it was pretty obvious that they were vinyls, but she was probably assuming they were some new albums, thinking something like Taylor Swift or Halsey. She gently tore the wrapping paper seeing only the corner and letting out a gasp already able to tell what it was, “Austin!”

Elsie loved old music (hence the Cher guilty pleasure) but an even bigger love than Cher was-

“Oh my god it’s Elvis!” Then followed what could only be described as an ear-piercing screech. “Aaahhh!” Almost as if she flew off the ground and pummeled me to the floor (still screaming) knocking all the wind out from my lungs. The spirit of the king must’ve certainly been in her at that moment because my god, I’d never seen anyone move that fast. It was what I imagine parents experience when they give their kids Harry Styles tickets, just ear drum shattering screaming and ‘thank you’s.

The records I got her were antique Elvis vinyls, originals from his very first albums. They cost me an arm and a leg, literally, an absurd amount of money I didn’t even want to say outloud - but this reaction was worth it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She hugged me tight, her body on top of me and then, at just at the right angle away from Nox, she smushed my face in her hands and planted an aggressive smooch on my cheek. Yep, those expensive little plastic discs were worth this. And if her looming boyfriend wasn’t just feet away, I don’t think I could’ve restrained from pulling her on top of me in that skimpy dress.

Once her spirit returned to her body she promptly recoiled, regaining composure in front of a visibly irritated Nox. “Oh- I’m so sorry everyone.” She chuckled, nervously playing with her fingers, “I just got really excited.”

My slowed body struggled to pull myself upright again. I didn’t need to look up to know what Nox’s reaction was like this time. Fucking Elsie, with an antic like that I could very well get my ass kicked, for real this time.

“Well.” He cleared his throat sending a rumble through the apartment, “That was eventful.”

“I- Yeah, sorry, I know you don’t like when I get loud like that.” Her voice now shy, hidden and her attention on her hands as they smoothed out the plastic that covered the vintage record.

My jaw clenched and fists tightened hearing her shrink herself down for him. That’s when I turned my now fuming eyes at him, his nearly black ones already on me. No surprise that they matched my energy, his girlfriend just tackled me to the ground, screaming. I knew that was something she wasn’t doing with him, in any context. She certainly didn’t restrain from being loud with me when my head was between her thighs, and I definitely didn’t mind.

Then in the most terrifying switch, one I visibly saw in his eyes, he shifted. He confirmed it when he flashed a pleasant grin. “I just didn’t know you liked Elvis so much babe.” Was this man not dating her? Did he even know the color of her eyes?

The buzzing of her explaining to him how much she loved the king of rock and roll faded to the background as the full weight of the drug kicked in. I brought my hand up to touch the searing remnants on my cheek from where she placed her lips. It only made me realize that through all of the shit we did at my house – the dancing, the touching, the couch – we never kissed. Not once. She never even kissed my neck. I didn’t kiss hers either. My mouth did touch her, but never a kiss.

So maybe she was right, it never happened. Nothing happened. We never even kissed.

It’s not like we were having some illicit affair, but I still felt like a secret.

She wasn’t mine to kiss. She wasn’t mine to fuck. She wasn’t mine to want. She wasn’t mine to have. She wasn’t mine at all. She was his. And as much as the thought of it nauseated me, it was the harsh reality.

They ordered take out Chinese. Although Elsie and I protested since people shouldn’t be working on Christmas, but Nox insisted. Elsie passed a white and red carton to me.

“So, Elsie tells me that you landed that one role?” Nox asked, proving that he didn’t listen to a word she said since she just gave me an entire guitar for it. I believed his apology earlier but after the gift exchange I became hyperaware of any word he said.

My decelerated mind took a moment to process. “Yeah, yeah.” Scooping out some lo mein onto my plate. “It’s not that big really, but definitely bigger than any other role I’ve had.” He just nodded and I passed the carton to him. “She told me that you just got a promotion too?” Nox worked in some business office, typical former fratboy pipeline.

“Yeah, it’s been great. More money but of course more responsibility.”

I glanced over to Elsie, who looked like a parent who was monitoring siblings getting along. A part of me wanted to play nice and keep a smile on her face, the other part wanted to end the dinner there, tell Nox off and leave.

The sinking paranoia from earlier took a front seat as my gaze stayed on her as if some subtle gesture would confirm or deny the authenticity of our transgressions. If it had all been imaginary then any stirred feelings were just that, delusions. It would make all of this so much easier. It was then that felt a pair of eyes boring into me, realizing that lost in my own thoughts my stare never left Elsie.

Excruciatingly uncomfortable small talk swirled back and forth between us the entire dinner.

In a bustle while cleaning up Nox bumped into Elsie spilling red wine all over her dress. She immediately left to get the stain out, he didn’t offer to help, and I certainly wasn’t going to, seeing as I didn’t have a death wish. I made my way to the kitchen to help clean up, wanting to keep busy in an effort to avoid any awkward small talk with Nox.

Almost in the instant she left the room, the brooding raven-haired male was in my face, grasping my shirt with a fist and shoving me back, this time against the counter. Fucking Elsie, I knew her little show with the gifts would land me here. “Listen here fucker, I’m sick of you filling her head up with bullshit.” His voice dark, only slightly different from his normal voice. The angular edges of his face seemed even sharper.

“Bullshit?” I questioned, “What the fuck are you talking about?” God this was so ridiculous. We’re grown adults, why was I being thrown around like a rag doll over some stolen glances. But with the high that weighed down my limbs, I had nothing in my arsenal to fight back.

“You with your fake mental shit, your ‘hallucinations’. Telling her you saw me fucking cheating?” Ramming his boney fist into my sternum. “I know you’re just doing it so she’ll come to your rescue, so she’ll leave me for you.” His eyebrows furrowed with intimidation, creating deep wrinkles between them.

“They’re not fucking fake, I’m fucked up in the head, obviously.” Regarding him with a sneer. “I don’t need rescuing for her to come to me.”

“I see the way you look at her.” Thankfully not catching onto my sly jab.

“I don’t know what y—" Going to protest.

He shoved me back again, his fist tightening around my shirt, and each knuckle making itself known. “She told me about your little game of truth or dare.”

Truth or dare – she only told him about truth or dare. And thank god because I’d probably be dead in a dumpster by now if he knew the rest.

I blinked up at him, “She told you?”

“Oh, you bet she did. I knew her touch was different, now I know why.”

She touched him differently? After us?

“What the fuck do you mean different? Nothing even happened.” Practically spitting his face.

“She hasn’t wanted put out since she came home from you.” Causing a vein to pop out of his forehead.

Who the fuck says ‘put out’?

“Well, that’s not my fucking fault, maybe you’re just shitty in bed.” His thick bushy brows lowered and forced me back into the cold, sharp granite edge.

Maybe my mouth had fucked some sense into her.

I beat him to it before he had a chance to explode, “I don’t fucking want her Nox.” A guilt pulsed like a lie. “She’s yours.”

He ignored me, “Now here’s what going to happen.” growling just inches from my face, his expression twisted into a threat, “I’m gonna introduce you to my friend, and you’re going to like her, and you’re going to leave my fucking girlfriend alone.”

“And why the hell would I do whatever fucked up scheme that is?” Countering his insane demands. What normal person creates such a calculated plan. And what the fuck did that mean, his ‘friend’ and ‘you’re going to like her’. What, was he pimping me out to some random bitch?

The grip on my shirt only constricted, tightening the cotton around my chest, “Because I know your little secret.”

“And what would that be?” I scoffed.

“Your bloodshot eyes and giant pupils. Your heavy, slow movements. Your slurred words.” Tone pitched with prideful blackmail. He was right, the only reason I wasn’t trying to escape was because moving was too much effort. “It’s honestly shocking that your so called ‘best friend’ can’t tell that you’re fucking strung out.”

I hadn’t thought about it that way. Even though I was hiding it from her, and I didn’t want her to know – actually hearing it caused me to view it in a different light. If I was obvious enough for Nox to notice, how didn’t she? How could I notice her every tiny gesture, but she couldn’t even tell I was high?

“You follow the plan, and you’ll have an endless supply of whatever fix you want.” He cushioned the appeal of this ridiculous plot.

Endless supply – now that was a thought. I could tell that my doctor was starting to get suspicious, I was only a couple more requested early refills before she’d cut me off.

Eyebrows furling up at him with curiosity, “And how exactly would you do that?”

“Ah, so I got your attention,” His lips curving into an arrogant smirk, “The how is none of your concern.”

I analyzed him, searching for any explanation of how exactly he’d have unlimited access to supposedly whatever I wanted. My silence must’ve answered some silent trick question since he followed with,

“I knew you’d sell out your little crush for some pills.” Heaving me once more into the counter coaxing an audible wince when the edge dug into my hipbones, “You see, me and you are more alike than you think. We both rely on things we shouldn’t. We both love the same thing – except that thing only loves one of us back.”

Love?

Heavy eyes rounded at his words, more surprised at the visceral sting through my gut. I knew if I took any more time to unpack it, he’d suspect it meant something else.

“For the last fucking time, we are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. There is nothing is fucking going on, you’re just fucking delusional.”

“No, you’re the one who’s delusional to think she’d ever chose you over me, that she’d ever love you.”

The sting returned, this time followed by rage. Though I was unsure what I was angry at, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the sender, just the messenger. My nails dug into my curled fists, “It’s going to hurt her, being away from me. You know that.”

“Yeah, and I’ll be there to take care of her. I’ll be the one to save her.” That was it, wasn’t it. He didn’t like how it made him jealous, that she came to me more than him.

“I’m not doing it.” I stated simply, taking any ounce of composure to mask the brewing fury.

“Well, if you don’t go along with it, I’ll tell her you relapsed.”

And there it was. I hadn’t wanted to say it. And he said it with such ease, when I couldn’t even admit it to myself. If I said it out loud it’d make it real. But it was already fucking real.

But it was my secret and Elsie couldn’t know. I didn’t need her to know. There was still a part of me that believed I had it under control, that I could stop if I wanted. As long as I could get myself clean without her ever finding out, it would never hurt her. And I wouldn’t have to burden her again.

Aside from the relapse, it was probably a good idea to stay away from her. Ever since Thanksgiving week, things hadn’t been the same. At least not for me. I couldn’t get her out of my head - her in my clothes, in my bed, in my arms. In my fucking lap.

It was eating away at me, even more than the drugs. The only thing harder than accepting my relapse was the realization that I had to push her away. I thought I could just stifle, push, stomp, burn it out - but today showed me that was impossible. It was too confusing, it hurt too much to be around her.

I had to do this stupid fucking scheme.

Next Chapter -> 23 - Comeback Special (Christmas Pt. 2)*

A/N: Thank you for every like, reblog or comment, it means the world to me truly. I love hearing your thoughts and I'm glad you're liking my little story 💗

P.S. Fun fact - This chapter is followed by four back to back smut chapters 👀

#austin butler #austin butler x fem!oc #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x oc #austin butler x afab!oc #austin butler series #austin butler imagine #elvis #elvis movie #elvis 2022 #forever winter #forever winter series #forever winter fic #Spotify

75 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 2 years

Text

You know how the saying goes: if at first you don’t succeed then sulk like a toddler, baselessly claim that an election was stolen from you, then try, try again. After lots of will-he-won’t-he it now seems almost certain that Donald Trump will run for president in 2024. Last Thursday, Kellyanne Conway, Trump’s 2016 campaign lead, said that we can expect Trump to announce his candidacy soon and rumours have been flying ever since. Over the past few days, Trump advisers have been dropping hints to the media that the former president will run and Trump himself has been teasing a comeback at events across the country. On Monday, shares of the company that will take Trump’s social media venture public rallied in anticipation of the idea that the guy who reportedly drinks 12 Diet Cokes a day, likes to flush White House documents down the toilet and is mired in multiple lawsuits, might become the most powerful man in the world again.

So when will Trump make this cursed announcement? Probably as soon as I file this column, knowing my luck. And I’m not the only one nervous about Trump’s timing. A number of Republicans reportedly spent Monday frantically calling up Trump and begging him not to announce his candidacy until after Tuesday’s midterm elections. The worry among some Republicans is that Trump’s news would overshadow the midterms and send Democratic voters scrambling to the polls. Trump, in an unusual display of self-restraint, has suggested that we should all mark our calendars for 15 November when he’ll make a “very big” announcement from Mar-a-Lago. “We want nothing to detract from the importance of tomorrow,” he added, as he made an announcement he knew was guaranteed to make headlines and steal at least some attention from the midterms.

I know it’s grim to think we might all have to suffer through two years of Trump-the-candidate (and that’s not even figuring in the fact that he might win), but there is a silver lining to this horror show. Namely, there’s a decent chance that Trump throwing his hat into the ring will divide the Republican party and, if we’re lucky, cause them to eat their own. Right now, you see, the top unofficial 2024 Republican contender is Florida governor Ron DeSantis, whom Trump is extremely annoyed with. Trump helped DeSantis go from relative obscurity to rightwing darling when he endorsed him back in 2018. Since then, however, DeSantis hasn’t been kissing the ring enough. He’s gone from a protege to a potential threat – one that Trump is very keen on neutralising. We know that Trump is serious about taking down DeSantis because he’s reached for strategy No 1 in his “How to Be a Political Genius” handbook: come up with a devastating nickname for your opponent. On Saturday Trump unveiled his new moniker for the Florida governor: “Ron DeSanctimonious”. Not bad, but it feels a little try-hard. Probably because it is, in fact, extremely try-hard. According to the New York Times: “Mr Trump has been privately testing derisive nicknames for Mr DeSantis with his friends and advisers, including the put-down he used on Saturday.” I know that we should all be worried about the death of democracy and all that but I just love the idea of Trump convening a little writers’ room where everyone workshops nicknames for his nemeses.

Speaking of strategies, the Democrats, I reckon, ought to be weaponising Trump’s insecurities as best they can. Democrats should be getting operatives to call up Trump and say: “Hey, did you hear what DeSanctimonious said about you?” Then they should be calling DeSantis up and saying: “Hey, did you hear what Trump said about you?” Then they should sit back and watch as two of the most popular – and most awful – Republicans tear each other apart. Forget Nixon’s “madman theory”: behold Mahdawi’s “middle-school politics theory”.

5 notes · View notes

adventures-in-poly · 2 years

Text

I want to be there

Last year, on September 24, I wrote a long post about my insecurities in my marriage and then nervously made it private.

One week later, we got into a three-day argument. We worked it out. We had a plan for how to make things better. I felt tentatively optimistic, like we had hashed it out and unsettled all this uncomfortable stuff but now it was out in the open, we could do something about it, we could heal.

One week after that, he left and never came home.

We are getting divorced.

It’s been 8 months now. I live alone in the apartment we used to share. Our cat died. Our sweet baby Tater Tot got sick two months after M left and died. My life as I knew it was ripped away from me. I have a new cat, my Millie. I have new furniture. I turned the apartment into the place I wanted it to be. I am trying to do the same with my life.

I don’t know how to write in this blog because honesty has always underpinned everything I say, and I don’t know how to divulge my feelings without airing our dirty laundry. As Beyoncé said, “You know I’m not gonna diss you on the internet, ‘coz my mama taught me better than that.” Gotta listen to Beyoncé. I still want to be respectful to M, to a point. We are civil but we aren’t in each other’s lives anymore. We have a business relationship. Getting divorced is a business. Taking each other off the insurance. Dividing up our things. Delivering mail that’s been sent to the wrong place. It’s all cordial but there’s no love in it. I write friendlier emails to colleagues I know 1/10th as well.

And another reason, which is also the reason I hadn’t written for so long before, is that poly just isn’t a huge part of my life right now. It hasn’t been for a while. The problems between M and I were deeper than that. We split for much more foundational reasons than that. The things I want to write just aren’t really relevant here. Maybe I’ll keep it alive in case anybody cares. Maybe.

I’m still dating Crow. Our relationship hasn’t changed. There was a hot second there when I thought it would. After M left, and my body broke down, I left my house for two weeks, left Tater Tot with a sitter. Part of that time I went to go stay with Crow and his wife. They were there for me when I needed love. I had my birthday during that time. Yes, he left five days before my birthday. We had had plans to celebrate in the town where Crow lives. I guess I kept those plans. They took me to the place where M was supposed to buy me cake. I didn’t eat normally for about two weeks but I still bought a cupcake. Crow’s wife tried to buy it for me, but I said I wanted to buy it because my money was still technically M’s money, and I wanted to do it out of spite. That made her laugh. Spite won over her ingrained need to be a good hostess. That night Crow cooked a delicious salmon dinner for all of us. It was the first time I had eaten real food since M left. We watched Ratatouille. It was as good a celebration as I was going to have, given the circumstances. I felt loved but gutted.

A few months later and Crow and I were talking about changing the nature of our relationship. Exploring an attachment relationship. I wanted to get closer to him, to rely on him, and he wanted the same. He talked with his wife and she was into it. All the pieces were coming together. But that fell apart, too. Part of it was when Tater died. My world was shaken up again. Five days before Tater died, Crow and I were talking about marriage. He’d said that if he were allowed to have multiple spouses, he would have proposed to me years ago. But when Tater died we kind of stopped talking. He also had a lot going on. A close friend, like family, was in the hospital. Another friend’s mom died. All in the same week. Crow is caring and he doesn’t know how to set boundaries around his caring, so he burns himself out and then isn’t able to help others or himself. He’s a care worker by profession and I’ve seen him set those boundaries in his job, so I don’t know... anyway. The world was dead to me at that point anyway. I didn’t feel close to him anymore. We talked about moving in together, with his wife, and that fell apart. That’s when I realized that we aren’t going to get closer. It’s just not in the cards for us. And I’m okay with that. Really, I am. I always liked being his secondary, and him mine. And now I’m on my own, I need to be my own primary. I can’t jump out of one person’s life and into my own. Before M left, I’d only been single as an adult for a small handful of months. Now I’m not single, but unattached. I like that word. It describes what I am beautifully. I’m dating Crow, I love him, but I’m unattached. I would like to be attached to someone, some day. But not any time soon. Only myself. And Millie. I need to figure out what I want my own world to be.

I’m reading The Midnight Library and questioning everything. In it, she quotes Camus. “If something is going to happen to me, I want to be there.” I haven’t been there in many, many years. I need to find my way back to myself.

#people: m #people: crow #people: crow's wife #divorce

18 notes · View notes

stylescine · 1 year

Text

tattoo artist!Harry Styles x Princess!reader

Summary: A night out leads you straight into a stranger's home.

Warnings: angst

Words: 1.5k

A/N: Here's the prologue for this new series! I would really appreciate some feedback, likes, reblogs or just thoughts from you :) If you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask and also feel free to tell me what you think so far!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Ask

Glamour and parties should have been exactly your thing. You had been raised with gold surrounding you, the smell of freshly baked cakes and loud music playing at official events.

The ability to fill a room with your presence had been the first thing to learn after walking. To demand everyone’s attention, to drown out anyone else around you.

Yet you wanted nothing more than to run from the bright chandelier lights, to rip apart fancy dresses and disappear in a crowd. You wanted to be one of many, not the one every pair of eyes would follow.

Growing up as the Princess of England was a huge privilege and you were aware of that. You tried to remind yourself of it every time you found yourself in bed, tears streaming down your face as you wished to be away, just away from here. The Palace sometimes felt like a golden cage, one made out of all the beautiful things that haunted you. Fancy dinners, dress fittings and public events – each of them was part of this glittering cage you found yourself in. You wanted to escape, push through the bars or make the cage fall apart all at once.

But there was no chance for you to do that.

Even getting out of this cage for a night would have meant a lot to you. Your friend, Marlene, knew that all too well, having listened to your complains for years. You couldn’t go anywhere without a bodyguard, you couldn’t risk drinking more than a glass of champagne and just the thought of you being out on your own woke anxiety in the people around you.

It had taken a lot of planning, finding a day where your family was at a public event in another city, where it would only be you as a high-ranking member of the Royal Family. You had found that days at the Palace, whenever your father was away, whenever it was just you, were usually more quiet and the staff didn’t pay as much attention to the smallest things. Probably because you had never caused any trouble – they trusted you and enjoyed a bit of calm in their work routine.

Finding an entrance that wasn’t guarded had been the next step for both Marlene and you. You had eventually decided on a kitchen window that was rarely locked. It wasn’t easy to squeeze through it, especially in a short black dress.

Marlene had gifted it to you for your last birthday and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You had been raving about a dress like this for ages, but every time you asked your stylist for once they insisted it wouldn’t find any use anyway. They weren’t wrong about that, but you would have loved to own one, just for yourself as well.

Getting through the gates outside was the hardest task, but there was nothing a good amount of money couldn’t solve. And you had more than enough of that. By batting your eyelashes, giving the guard a charming smile or two, you had convinced him to take the unholy sum you forced into his palm. No one would ask where that money was and if they did, you surely weren’t banned from going on an Amazon shopping spree and accidentally deleting the confirmation E-Mail.

The night air was colder than you had expected and your thin jacket wasn’t helping with that at all. “Tell me you organised a car or something,” you whispered to your best friend as you made your way down a few streets, turned multiple corners and soon found yourself gaining more and more distance to the huge building you called home. “I don’t think I can enjoy this house party if I freeze to death before that.”

Your friend brushed her blonde hair over her shoulder before she turned around to you. “Of course, I’ve organised a car. Do you think I would walk all that way? We’re there soon.” Marlene had always kept connections to people that could keep their mouth shut. You imagined she had asked someone like that again to drive the two of you to wherever the promised house party may be.

It still left a bitter taste in your mouth to think about all the people you might meet. And all the people that could go ahead and tell the press about your little adventure. Or worse – your parents finding out about it. You were risking way too much with this, but even just the thought of being out for a night, without supervision, was thrilling enough to dare this step.

It would have brought down the cage for a night even if it would tear down your reputation right with it.

The ride in the backseat of a stranger’s car was nowhere like the comfortable rides you were used to with enough space to stretch out your legs. You pressed your knees together, holding onto your small handbag as you watched buildings pass by, London’s street lights flashing by you.

There was 80s music playing from the radio, the smell of smoke filling the car as the unknown driver lit himself a cigarette and barely opened his own window. You gave Marlene a look, but her green eyes were focused on the phone in front of her, swiftly typing away on it. You pressed your lips together, trying to focus on the scenery outside again.

More and more anxiety about this whole idea was rising within you, tightening your throat and making it increasingly harder to think straight. So many dangers awaiting you, so many consequences you would have to face if this went wrong.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Marlene let out a gasp and put her hand over her mouth. She then leaned forward, tapping the driver on the shoulder. “You need to bring us back to where we were, I have to head home,” she said quickly, before turning over to you, horror written in her face.

“I am so sorry, honey, but I don’t think it’s gonna work out tonight. My mum just texted me that dad’s in the hospital and-”

“It’s alright,” you interrupted her, grabbing her hands to give them a squeeze. “It’s okay. We’ll do this another time.”

A part of you was frightened for your best friend while another one was frightened at the thought of getting back to the Palace, to slide back into your bed and spend another day looked in the cage. Then wait for another eternity until a hole would be there for you to slip through.

You watched the car and your best friend drive past you after they dropped you off where you had first wanted to start your adventure.

Now you were left in the cold with that little hope for fun shattered. A sigh left your lips as you put your hands into the pockets of your jacket and tried to make your way home. You had to fish out your phone after a while, trying to navigate the way home with that.

You didn’t come far after the rain started. “Oh shit,” you groaned, looking for some shelter under the small, extended roof of a tattoo shop. The lights inside were out, it was too late for customers anyway, so you knew you wouldn’t disturb anyone by waiting out the worst of the rain here. Unless it would rain all night. Then you would have to run home and somehow explain the soaked clothes and promised cold afterwards.

Your hair was already soaking wet, more rain drops moving down your face as you crossed your arms in a desperate attempt to warm up some more.

One call and someone would pick you up. One call and you would have the disaster of your life.

Moving your legs back and forth, you tried to warm your body up, even if it was just a bit.

How could you have ever assumed that this had been a good idea?

“You’re going to freeze to death out there,” a low voice said behind you.

You flinched immediately, spinning around to face the stranger, already ready to scream if he would come to close.

The door to the tattoo shop was open and a small light was now turned on in the back of it.

A man leant against the door, wearing a T-Shirt and sweatpants. His green eyes were filled with worry, a deep frown on his face. Your eyes wandered to his tattoo-covered arms, concluding that this was probably the shop’s owner.

The stranger brushed a curl of dark hair out of his face, his hair getting continuously more messy.

“Come in,” he offered, nodding into the direction of the tattoo shop and you couldn’t deny that it looked rather warm and cosy compared to the freezing cold outside.

“I don’t even know you,” you responded quickly, shaking your head. Entering a room with a stranger? That could end horribly.

“Well, it’s me or a stay at the hospital soon, so feel free to make your own choice.” The stranger gave you a shrug before making a step back inside again. “I would not risk it if I was you,” he added.

You stared at the street again, the rain coming down hard on it, the thunder roaring in the distance. Then you glanced back to the man, the promised safety inside.

“Fine.”

You closed the door behind you and hoped for the best.

taglist: @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #fine line #love on tour #harry’s house #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry fic #harry styles roleplay #harry styles imagine #one direction imagine #harry styles fics #harry styles x y/n #one direction

85 notes · View notes

loving-all-for-loki · 3 years

Note

How about a Loki x reader.. Tony moves his baby sister into the compound after something happens to her but he won’t tell anyone what. She refuses to leave her room until everyone is in bed. She comes out one night and is caught by Loki. She immediately apologizes and becomes so shaken up that she drops her things and breaks a glass. Then it hits him why she was secretly moved in. Tony had discovered his little sister living in a bad situation with her now ex and suffered years of abuse. Loki decides then to take his time to make her feel safe again and they eventually fall for each other.

A/N: I hope this works! I got really sappy at the end, but I also don’t know how to end these one shots. This is a bit of a lengthy one, so bear with me.

He’s Not Him

Summary: Tony Stark has enough of his sister’s ex and moves her into the Avengers Tower. After taking notice of her shy and timid behavior, Loki digs deep at her past, making him want to make her feel safe.

Pairing: Loki x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2993

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of domestic abuse, language

Forever Tags: @mm2305

Y/E/N - your ex’s name

*If you or someone you know is being domestically abused, please reach out to 911 or call 800.799.SAFE (7233) for help. Love you all*

Tony storms into his sister's apartment. After standing outside of her door for a half hour, he bashed in the door at the the sound of a scream from inside. Frantically, he pushes his way around the furniture and bursts into your bedroom. His eyes go wide at the sight of you on the floor in a ball and your ex boyfriend above you with a fist out. Stark grabs your ex’s fist and rips him away from you, pushing him into your dresser.

“Get the fuck out!” Tony screams.

“Oh, the great Tony Stark is here. What are you going to do? Drop a bomb on me?”

You’ve never seen Tony’s skin turn so red. He storms forward and punches your ex square in the nose, sending him down on the ground. Tony unleashes all his energy until the man is left with a broken nose and multiple bruises.

“Get. Out.”

Your ex runs out of your room, without missing the chance to break a few things, and out of your apartment. You look up out of your ball to see Tony rushing to your side with panic in his eyes. He lifts up your head as you climb into his lap.

“Come here, darling. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” He coos.

You cry into the crook of his shoulder as he rocks you back and forth, his hand on your back.

“I’m getting you out of here,” He says, placing you on your bed, “I’m taking you to the tower with us.”

Tony leaves you on your bed as he gets a suitcase and packs your things. He gathers all of your clothes and some of your possessions like books, drawings, and others. You can feel the tears starting to dry on your skin as you stop crying. Tony doesn’t miss the way you start to uncurl and the bruises on your neck show up. His face drops to see the choking marks on your neck.

“I’m… so sorry, Y/N. I should have been here to protect you.”

You shake your head at him as he joins you on the bed. Tony reaches around your head to undo your ponytail and cover the bruises.

“There, now no one will ask you about them.”

You give him a gentle smile which eases him a little. He leans forward and kisses your forehead before taking your hand and helping you up. Tony and you walk out of your building and into the garage where Happy is in the car. He drops you off for five minutes to go talk to your landlord about you leaving.

“You’re going to be okay,” Happy reassures you.

“Thanks,” you manage to get out.

He gives you a warm smile. He has always made you smile throughout the years. Tony comes back, joins you in the car, and takes off to the tower.

Upon arrival, you look up at the large tower in awe. You’ve visited a couple of times, but that was a year ago since your ex didn’t allow you to see Tony much. It’s always been impressive. You were thankful for Tony letting you live on your own and make something of your own life instead of letting you mooch off of his fortune, but you do regret sometimes not letting him support you more. You were always so proud of him.

Tony carries your luggage as he leads you to the elevators. He looks down at you every so often, noticing the anxious way you bite your nails.

“You’re safe here. We have the best security and you’ll be surrounded by trained assassins and heroes. They’ll protect you, I promise.”

You nod your head at Tony’s words. As much as they help you, you don’t really want to see or talk to anyone. After having your ex break into your house every day for two weeks, you want to be alone except for the occasional visit from Tony.

The elevator doors open and reveal you and your brother to the Avengers who are all lounging in the living area. They turn to look at you with puzzled faces, making you nervous and hide behind Tony’s arm. He lets you stay behind him instead of forcing you to say hi as you exit the elevator.

“Everyone, this is my sister, Y/N. She’s going to stay here from now on so be nice to her,” Tony announces.

Everyone says hi to you but you stay silent behind Tony. He doesn’t question it even though the others look at one another in concern. Steve thinks to himself that you can’t be that rude, but given the way you look, everything must be very different to you from the rest of your life. You look shocked and scared.

Looking at the Avengers, you take in each and everyone’s appearance. Bucky and Nat look the scariest in your opinion and you make a mental note to stay away from them. Sam, Steve, and Clint look nice, but Wanda looks like the sweetest lady in the universe. She has a smile that warms your heart. Turning to your right, you see two very tall men standing and staring at you.

The taller one has blonde hair and a big grin on his face. He has a large stature, but he does not look intimidating. He has a golden retriever energy to him, but the man next to him is a different story. With his pitch black hair and powerful stand, the other man stares at you with daggers in his eyes. He sends shivers down your spine without saying anything.

You drag your eyes away from the intimidating man and follow Tony down the hallway. He leads you to your room where you get settled in, unpacking your clothes and putting away your things. Laying in the bed, you take a big nap which is needed. You feel as if you let out a breath you’ve been holding for days. The idea of being away from your ex finally settles in and you feel the wave of relief wash over your body, letting you drift away into sleep.

You’re woken up by Tony letting you know dinner is being served. He lets you know that you’re not being expected to come out and eat with everyone, which you appreciate. Ten minutes later, he comes by your room and slips a plate of food in your room as he opens the door, letting you eat alone.

Tony returns to the living room by the other Avengers eating and gathered around the couch. He takes his plate and sits next to Pepper who has her own food, smiling at him as he joins.

“So, your sister?” Sam asks.

“Don’t even think about it. She is not to date any of you.”

“Woah, I didn’t say that,” Sam laughs.

“But we know what you meant,” Steve chuckles, rolling his eyes, “She seems shy.”

“She is. You probably won’t get a lot out of her.”

“Can I ask why she’s staying her?”

“No.”

Steve shares a look with Bucky. The elevator door opens and Peter walks into the living room.

“You guys started dinner without me?” He asks, jokingly.

“Early birds get the worm,” Steve laughs.

The group chuckles and keeps eating their food.

“Is Y/N a new Avenger?” Steve asks.

Tony sighs and rolls his eyes at the question. Everyone notices the annoyance in Tony with talking about you and collectively decide to stop asking questions. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about you much.

“No, she’s not.”

“Who’s Y/N?” Peter asks.

“I’ll fill you in later,” Nat replies.

The day goes by fast and you find yourself staring out at New York in the moonlight. You have always enjoyed the night time. They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but you’ve always found peace and warmth in the New York night. Everyone goes out to party or to bed. It’s a time of joy and relaxment.

You hear the last door shut for the night, signally everyone going to bed. Looking outside of your door, you don’t spot anyone so you sprint outside to the kitchen with your empty dinner plate. Upon entering it, you search the walls for the light switch for about five minutes. There’s no other light than that except for the over. You finally find it and switch it on. As you turn around, you’re startled by the frightening black haired man standing there.

Scared, you drop your plate, shattering it on the tile floor. Your eyes go wide as you start to back up against the wall. Without saying anything, the man takes a step forward, scaring you half to death. Your mind plays tricks on you and all you can think about is your ex breaking into your home. You start to have a panic attack, sliding down against the wall, and curling up into a ball.

You miss the way Loki’s eyes go wide. He watches you descend into an anxiety attack and doesn’t know what to do, knowing he’s who caused it. Quickly, he rushes down the hallways and bangs on Tony’s doors.

“What do you want, Reindeer Games?” He groans.

“Your sister…”

Tony doesn’t wait for another word for following Loki down the corridor. He spots you panicking in the corner of the kitchen and grabs you, lifting you into his lap. You grab onto his neck and pull him close, crying into him. He lifts you up and carries you off to your room without saying a word to Loki, leaving him standing in the kitchen agape.

Not knowing what to do and unable to relax, Loki makes his way to his room and opens up an old laptop Thor had gotten him. After spending thirty minutes just to figure out how to work it, he starts googling things about you. He starts with your name and finds multiple articles on you and Tony, the Stark Industry Golden Children. You left when you were eighteen, wanting to make your own life and not follow in the family’s footsteps. He gives you credit for being yourself, something he had struggled with. He knows the feeling, not wanting to be your family.

Then a certain website catches his eye, Facebook. He finds a profile of you filled with photos and text. There are some of you with friends in the town, a couple of old coworkers wishing you a happy birthday, then there’s a photo of you with a man. There are no other photos of you with him other than this one a couple months ago. He keeps scrolling to find more photos of you with him, but they all stop after that first one. Clicking on something tagged in the caption, another profile pops up.

Y/E/N’s profile. Filled with photos of drunk nights at the club, shirtless gym time, and quotes from misogynistic authors, Loki finds himself despising this man he does not know. He scrolls through finding very little of you in his account, as if you don’t matter as much to him as he does to you. Closing his computer, Loki decided to go check on you. He’s frustrated by whoever this man is, not knowing whether he’s important or not.

Loki peeks into your room to see Tony laying next to you, brushing through your hair with his fingers. Tony looks up and meets him in the eyes. There’s slight anger, but Loki doesn’t feel pushed away. He takes a step in before Tony leans into your ear and whispers. You look up and over to Loki, but you don’t ask him to leave. Loki continues to walk into your bedroom quietly, but with a small gentle smile on his face.

“I’m sorry for scaring you earlier,” he says, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. Thanks,” you mutter.

Your voice is small and timid like a mouse. He can hear the hesitation in your voice, not knowing whether he should talk to you or not.

“Are… you okay?”

“Yes.”

Another awkward pregnant pause erupts between the two of you. Loki looks around your room as Tony continues to hold you. He whispers into your ear again before leaving.

“I’m going to go back to my room,” he says, “call me if you need me okay?”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Of course, anything for my little sister.”

He kisses your forehead and heads out of your room, leaving you and Loki alone. You don’t mind his presence anymore. After Tony tells you that Loki isn’t your ex and you’re okay, you’ve accepted him.

“I have to ask… who is that man on Facebook?”

Loki gives you a quizzical look. You think for a moment about how Loki got on Facebook and what guy he’s talking about.

“His name is Y/E/N.”

Your body clenches at the sound of his name and Loki takes a step back, looking at you. He’s never seen anyone physically close up just from a name. It may be some Midgardians thing he doesn’t understand, but the way that you are shaking, he thinks otherwise. He sits down next to you and wraps his arms around your shoulders. You lean into his touch as you attempt to calm down.

He’s not here. I’m safe. He’s not here. I’m safe.

You keep repeating that in your head, reminding yourself that you’re safe in the tower like Tony said. Looking up at Loki, you see his concerned face. He cares. This man you barely know cares about you.

He’s not him. He’s not him. He’s not him.

“I don’t think I properly introduced myself. I’m being quite an ass asking you these questions without manners. I’m Loki.”

Loki, not Y/E/N. He’s not him. He’s not him.

“Well, L-Loki,” you say with a stutter, “He’s uh… my ex. Ex boyfriend.”

“Ah.”

He nods as he takes in the information at hand. Your ex, who makes you quiver in fear even over people who have done nothing to her, has no photos of you. He shares his lavish lifestyle that most would presume belongs to a single man. Loki looks back at your depressed ridden face. The color in your skin has drained from you and you’re staring blank cold at the wooden floors under your bed. Loki places a hand on your neck to move your hair and give you a light massage, but you flinch away from him before he is able.

Loki’s never seen so much fear and worry in someone’s eyes before. You jerk away from him muttering yourself, as if it were taking everything in you to not scream. He looks over you to see bruises along your neck where your hair had moved from when you moved. A wave of anger runs through his body, infuriating him. He did that to you. That’s why you’re so afraid of him.

“Did he-”

“Yes.”

Loki rises from your bed and clenches his fists. You see the anger pouring from him and rush to his side before he can storm off. You grab his arms and force him to look at you.

“Please, don’t… don’t do anything.”

“Why shouldn’t I? No man should ever do that to a woman, especially you.”

“Just let it be.”

He releases his fist but the fury in his eyes doesn't. You pull him towards you to make him sit again. Moving in closer, you lean into him. Loki wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. The two of you lay down in your bed, you curled up on him as he held you, running his fingers in your hair.

For some reason, Loki feels as if he has to protect you. The way you ball up gives him this sense of innocence about you. You haven’t done anything to deserve those injuries, just live your life and try to find love. Loki always knew there was a good reason to hate Midgardians, not just for their stupidity and now he’s found it.

The two of you fall asleep without realizing it. The light from the sun peaking in the windows wakes you. Stirring in bed, you look up to see Loki under you, his arms holding you against him by your waist. You're cradled into his chest as his chin barely rests on the top of your head. Loki’s eyes flutter open at the feeling of you moving on top of him. He looks down at you and smiles.

The way the light shines on your face makes you look angelic. Your smile warms his heart and the warmth of your body against him makes his heart jump. You turn over to face him, leaning up on your shoulders over his head.

“Hi.”

“Hello, darling.”

“You slept here.”

“Both of us did, actually,” he laughs.

You drop your head laughing. Loki’s sweet laugh fills the room and blesses your ears. He’s not too bad to be around. He’s quite kind and sweet.

“Thank you for last night.”

“For what? If I remember correctly, I gave you a panic attack.”

“I mean the way you calmed me down and held me. It was needed.”

“Well, I’m glad I could do that for you.”

Loki means it when he says it. Looking at you now, there’s not much he wouldn’t do for you. You don’t deserve what the world gives you, especially that asshole Y/E/N. He would hold you for the rest of time if that meant keeping you safe.

You won’t lie either when you tell Loki he makes you feel safe. Every day before he sneaks off to his room so the others don’t know he spends the night with you, you tell him that he makes you safe. He never believes you. He’s shocked that anyone could feel safe with a monster like him, but after all to you, Loki is not him.

#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki #loki x reader fluff #tony stark x sister!reader #tony stark x reader sister #loki x stark!reader #loki x reader stark #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fluff #marvel x reader #loki oneshot

479 notes · View notes

messers-moony · 3 years

Text

Dangerous | S.B

Paring: Young!Sirius Black X Fem!Reader

Summary: Sirius Black falls for the female player at Hogwarts despite his friends warning that she’s dangerous.

Prompt: Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

Sirius Black had a thing for red and black clothing. Blame it on his house and his last name, but he absolutely adored the colors. Back at home, Sirius’ room was filled to the brim with the sultry red and shiny gold colors, paired with a brilliantly dark black. He despised the color green due to it being associated with his family. Anything having to do with his family he wanted no part of.

A trip to Hogsmeade was all it took for her to catch his eye. That same sultry red top - the color he loved oh-so-much - and black leggings to match. Doc Martens on her feet, creased and so obviously loved due to the scuffs. Sirius felt like he was in heaven. Of course, Y/n knew what she was doing. All around, school girls fawned over the sixth year. Sirius Black was a player, but so was she. She’d managed the most brutal guys in their year and above. Sirius Black would be easy.

James snapped in front of Sirius’ glazed eyes, “Mate! Come back to us!”

Sirius shook his head slightly, bringing his attention back to the three males in front of him, “What?”

“Staring at L/n?” James snickered, and Sirius scoffed, “Staring at Evans?” Sirius mocked.

Remus snorted, “She’s a player, Pads. She’ll rip your heart in two.”

“Two can play it that way.”

“She's dangerous.”

A roll of the raven-haired boy's eyes, “Bullshit.”

“Padfoot, we’re serious.” Remus warned, “Y/n is no joke. She’s all charisma.”

“We’re looking out for you, mate.” James stated with his hazel eyes pleading, “The last thing we want is a sulking Sirius.” Peter interjected.

Sirius made a noise of defeat. He continued to stare. Merlin, she was beautiful. The way her h/c hair fell from her head and her confident demeanor. It was no wonder why she managed everyone she wanted. But Sirius would be no fling to her. Despite her adventures with other men, he always stayed consistent. He was always haunting her mind in the worst time.

Y/n was powerful, and she knew it. The whole castle knew it. Y/n was a force to be reckoned with but to be wary of. A master of fake kindness and persuasion skills better than a salesperson. Wearing the dark maroon and black was the beginning of her plan to catch the eldest Black brother's eye. Hogsmeade turned out to be successful as she saw him gawking at her multiple times.

At the end of the day, she returned to her dorm with a bag from Honeydukes. Nothing was better than chocolate at 4 a.m. Maybe Sirius would think the same. Maybe Sirius would indulge in her late-night habits, or perhaps he’d despise them. Truthfully, Y/n was guarded and let no one in. But for him, she’d drop her walls.

A week passed since Hogsmeade and Y/n took a trip to the Astronomy tower to eat the chocolate she had bought a week ago. Climbing up the stairs, she heard a faint sniffling. Y/n wore a Gryffindor sweater, black pants, and black socks. Hair tied up in a messy updo. Y/n padded across the concrete floor to see a male sitting on the edge.

His knees to his chest as his body shook. Dark raven hair, almost blending in with the night sky. Pale skin glowing in the moonlight. White shirt and plain joggers - sleep attire. Perhaps he wanted to be alone? Y/n didn’t know what it was, but she sat beside him. She drew a chocolate bar from her pocket and set it between them. Pushing it slightly towards the crying boy.

The boy looked up. Y/n was met with familiar blue-grey eyes. They looked beautiful in the moonlight despite their glossy texture and red glaze. Y/n thought every part of him was beautiful. Sirius Black would forever be the prettiest boy she ever saw. Hesitantly Sirius took the chocolate delicacy and unwrapped it. Nibbling on it like a bunny with a carrot.

Y/n looked at the stars in front of them, “Hiding does no good, you know?”

Sirius looked confused, “Hiding from your problems? Not allowing yourself to get help?”

“I’m sure you’d like to be alone, but you need to talk. Maybe not to me but to James, or Remus, or Peter. I know they’d listen. They aren’t your friends for nothing.” Y/n explained, not sparing Sirius a glance, “It must be nice to have friends. I’ve lived in this castle for six years now, yet I have no one to lean on truly.”

“That isn’t true.”

Y/n turned to him; his voice was hoarse and cracked, “It isn’t?”

“No.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I’m your friend.” Sirius confessed, “My friends say you’re dangerous.” He admitted after a moment of silence.

Y/n chuckled and looked back out to the sky, “People act as if I have claws. What if, in reality, I’m just a cat unwilling to trust?”

“I never really liked cats.”

“Okay, what if I’m a dog - scared and timid - and someone tries getting into my territory. What would that dog do then?”

“Defend themself.”

“Exactly. Maybe I’m that scared and timid dog just trying to defend myself. Protecting myself from heartbreak. Yet people mistake my protection for aggressiveness.” Y/n stated.

Sirius was still in his curled-up position, desperately wanting to understand, “Why are you afraid of heartbreak?”

“Because that’s all I’ve ever seen. My parents? Divorced. My brother and his wife? Divorced. No one in my family stays together long. They end up apart and heartbroken. It’s like I’ve been cursed.” Y/n answered.

Silence passed through the tower seamlessly, like a clock ticking time by. Sirius stared at her bewildered. His friends were wrong. She wasn’t dangerous. She was cautious and terrified. He uncurled his legs and moved beside her. Gently he reached out for her hand. Y/n found his hand to be slightly wet but disregarded it. Turning to face Sirius in the eyes, Y/n noticed his nervousness. Like a puppy trying to approach after getting yelled at.

“Do- Do you- Do you want to break the curse?” Sirius whispered, his breath hitting her cheek, “Wh- What?”

“Hogsmeade is in a week, and- and I’d- I’d like to take you if that’s alright.” Sirius replied, his breath smelt like the chocolate she’d given him.

Y/n swallowed, “But I’m dangerous.”

“You’re a puppy that’s scared and looking for a home, trying to survive. Let me give you shelter - a home.”

“You really want to try this?”

“If you promise not to run, then yes, let’s break your family's curse.” Sirius answered.

“I- I promise, but it will be hard. It’s been years since I’ve opened up to someone.” Y/n admitted, and Sirius gave her the softest smile she’d ever seen, “I’d wait till the end of time.”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, his thumb running over hers, “Then- Then let’s try this.”

Sirius smiled and let his lips wander to her cheek. Lingering for just a moment before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Letting go of her hand to do so. Y/n’s head rested on his shoulder. Y/n was never dangerous - she was scared, and Sirius knew what it was like to be afraid. Sirius would wait until the ends of the earth if it took that long for her to be open with him. Sirius would prove that Y/n could call him her home. That Sirius could be her shelter from every danger. She’d no longer have to survive on her own. He’d be there every step of the way.

580 notes · View notes

ynscrazylife · 3 years

Note

I was thinking maybe a oneshot where B!D gets poisoned by Cadmus?

Sisterly Instincts

Summary: Y/N is Kryptonian who landed on Earth a few years after Kara. When CADMUS kidnaps her, they inject her with a poison made out of their version of Kryptonite, which is very harmful to her.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

DCEU Masterlist | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/mundodeseriess

Image ID: Alex and Kara sitting together. Alex has her eyes closed, head on Kara’s shoulder, arm wrapped around her, and is looking upset. Kara is wearing her glasses and is looking down, crying. End ID.

“Alex, have you heard from Y/N yet today?” Kara asked as she entered the DEO, a slight frown on her face still evident from the morning.

Alex shook her head no. “Not since last night, why?” She asked, coming down the stairs and joining her sister in her walk.

Kara shrugged it off. “She just didn’t send me her usual good morning text . . . She’s probably fine, right?” The blonde answered, now feeling silly as she voiced the worry that had been slowly eating at her.

Alex’s warm chuckle calmed her almost instantly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. We’ll see her soon as she’s coming into the DEO anyway,” she reasoned, assuming their younger sister had just overslept.

They reached the main room where J’onn and the other DEO agents sat at their desks and immediately the Danvers’ sisters got to work.

However, when it was ten minutes past the time Y/N was supposed to arrive, Alex decided to give her a call, biting her lip. She discreetly pressed her phone to her ear, turning away so she wouldn’t cause her sister unnecessary worry.

It ringed.

And ringed.

“Hey! You’ve reached Y/N Danvers. Sorry I couldn’t answer! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.” Alex cursed quietly when it rang so long it went to voicemail and huffed to clear her mind and steady herself.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Alex. I’m sure you just overslept or are rushing to work,” she said, pausing to chuckle when the image of her younger sister running around the city popped into her mind, “Just give me a call when you get this. Love you, bye!”

Despite the small worry entering the pit of her stomach, Alex reminded herself that Y/N being late and missing a phone wasn’t too uncommon, and she resumed her work.

"Alex?” Kara said, and Alex looked up from her computer to see her sister gesturing at the clock with a nod. The brunette looked over, and felt that pit sink lower when she saw that 20 minutes had passed. Getting no message from Y/N, Alex and Kara shared a look, coming to a silent decision.

“We're gonna go by Y/N’s apartment and check on her,” Alex informed J’onn as she stood up from her chair and grabbed her coat. She couldn't keep herself from remembering that Y/N should be here right now, she didn't live far away.

Kara nodded, following her older sister, and the two women left the DEO, neither of them discussing their worries in fear of distressing the other one. Great minds do think alike, though, and that’s why they both internally came to the conclusion that if nothing was wrong and they found Y/N sleeping late, they were gonna be pissed (however they hoped that was what they found instead of the scary alternatives brewing and stirring in their minds).

When they reached Y/N’s apartment, Kara knocked on the door. They waited almost a minute and when the door didn't open and they didn’t hear anything, Alex fished the key Y/N had given to her out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

Stepping inside, the women were prepared to search the house like they were on a mission, when a paper on the floor, having been slipped under the door, caught their attention. Sharing a look, Kara grabbed the paper and unfolded it. It read:

“Hello, Supergirl,

I won’t lie. I don’t know your ‘secret identity’. However, I was able to find out Y/S/N’s, so it’s only a matter of time before I find yours, too. Come to these coordinates: [pretend there’s random coordinates] by 12:00 alone and allow us to experiment and test on you. If you fail to do that, I won’t give Y/N the cure to the Kryptonite poison that’s in her system and I’ll reveal her identity to the world.

-- CADMUS.”

For a couple moments, Kara and Alex stood, glued to the spot. Thoughts and emotions washed over their bodies: concern for their sister, anger at CADMUS, and an utter helplessness since they didn’t know what to do.

It was a little past 10:00 now and when the two got back to the DEO, they made a plan with J’onn. He’d disguise himself as Kara and would do as the letter said and they’d have DEO agents - including Alex and Kara - stationed around the building with cloaking devices, which would make them invisible to CADMUS and their tech. Winn would hack into CADMUS’ tech and after Y/N was given the cure, the DEO agents would act.

At 10:30, the DEO agents were stationed around the base, invisible, and J’onn had walked into the base itself, disguised as Kara. He noticed the Kryptonite around the room, there to weaken Kara, so he put on an act: pretending that it was hurting him. He barley refrained from rushing over to Y/N when he saw the woman who was like a daughter to him siting on a chair, weak and only half-conscious, sweat shining on her face with Lillian Luthor standing beside her.

“Good, you came,” Lillian said with a sadistic smile.

“Yes. Now give Y/S/N the cure,” J’onn said, putting on his best Supergirl face.

The corners of Lillian’s mouth turned into a smirk and she walked over to another chair a few feet away, which had Kryptonite restraints. “Sit,” she said calmly, although the way she stood, her hands delicately placed on the chair, brought power to the lonely word.

J’onn complied, frowning as he walked over to the chair and sat down, letting Lillian put the restraints on his wrists and ankles that she thought would weaken him. For extra effect, J’onn sucked in a breath and faked pain.

Lillian smugly turned around and walked back to Y/N, who didn’t seem to realize what was going on. The older woman gestured to one of her minions and they promptly injected a serum into Y/N’s neck, making the youngest Danvers’ gasp just the slightest before her eyes fluttered close.

“The antidote is taking its affect in her system,” Lillian informed J’onn before turning back to her minion. “Take the girl outside. She can find her way back.”

The man nodded and picked Y/N up, slinging her over his shoulder and walked out. The second J’onn heard a smash and knew that his team had acted, he gave Lillian no time to be on alert before he ripped off the restraints and knocked all of the CADMUS agents out.

. . . . . . . . .

Alex and Kara had been standing outside, listening to Lillian and J’onn’s interaction through their earpieces. The women were both racked with worry over their little sister and when they saw the man carrying her, it took everything in them both to wait until he carelessly dropped her on the floor. When he did, Kara revealed herself and knocking him unconscious into a wall. Alex then revealed herself as well, hearing J’onn fighting, and ran to Y/N while the rest of the DEO agents went inside to erase CADMUS’ memory of Y/N’s identity and to make arrests.

“Y/N, Y/N! Come on, wake up,” Alex said, slightly panicked as she gently rolled Y/N from where she was laying on her side to be on her back. Kara, after making sure the guy was unconscious, sped over.

Kara knitted her brown together and drew her lips into a line, silently gathering her sister into her arms. Alex glanced up at her, tears in her eyes, for she knew Kara was only silent when she was very worried.

“I’ll meet you back at the DEO,” Kara said quietly, her tone almost emotionless, before lifting off and flying into the air. Alex swallowed and took a breath, getting to her feet.

. . . . . . . . .

As she flew through the air, Kara battled to keep distracting thoughts about the clouds and the breeze away, as she knew she had to focus on her unconscious sister. Y/N was the priority. Once she landed at the DEO, she immediately headed to the med bay, where doctors took over and Kara informed him that Y/N had supposedly been given the antidote.

After almost ten minutes of Kara pacing just outside the door and Winn doing his best to comfort her, the doctors informed them that the antidote was indeed in Y/N’s system and it was fighting off the poison. They didn’t know when she would wake up but when she did, she would need to rest a lot as she’d be weak. They were also unsure if CADMUS had done anything else to her, so she’d need to stay at the DEO overnight if she didn’t wake up soon.

The doctors allowed Kara to see her so the blonde sat by her sister’s side, holding her hand until Alex burst in, looking out-of-breath.

“How is she?” Alex asked, sitting on Y/N’s other side and taking her free hand.

Kara told her what the doctors said and they collectively let out a breath, relieved that she was going to be alright. They stayed with Y/N for another hour, silent except for the occasional comment, when Y/N started blinking her eyes open.

The agent and the superhero both sat up, patiently waiting for Y/N to wake up and adjust herself.

“Alex? Kara?” Y/N croaked out, looking at her sisters in a haze of confusion.

Both women smiled and let out happy tears, helping her to sit up before wrapping their arms around her. Y/N smiled, leaning her head against Kara’s neck.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Alex whispered.

“It’ll never happen again,” Kara promised.

Y/N nodded. She didn’t say anything in response, finding herself too tired after the day’s events. Kara and Alex stayed until she fell asleep and then they reluctantly left her under the watchful eye of Winn, since they needed to debrief with J’onn and prepare for when Y/N would come home.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @sybil-moon-is-a-mess @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

DCEU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @basiclesbianbitch @extraordinary-fangrl @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok @harrypottercumslut

213 notes · View notes

legoshi-plz · 3 years

Note

How about birthday prompts (Like how they celebrate your birthday and how you celebrate theirs)?

Warning: NSFW-ish themes (Riz and Bill’s part),

All Characters are adults, around mid-20s here. So basically a couple years after college. Except for Gouhin, Oguma, and Gosha who are their canon ages.

Reader is Gender Neutral

Louis:

Your Birthday:

- Mr. MoneyBags here is going to go all out as far as expenses go.

- Fancy Dinner at an elegant restaurant, picks you up in his ridiculous sports car which you’ve rode in a million times but it’s still exciting. (Also, Louis drives extremely fast. He’s a good driver but if he’s not going at least 30 miles over the speed limit, he feels like he might as well be parked in the street. Also has a bad habit of running red lights and stop signs just because he can.)

- Buys you a brand new outfit just to wear to dinner and has it delivered to you in the morning in a red velvet box with a silk bow. You’re a little uncomfortable with the whole high society scene but you go along with it anyway for Louis’ sake.

- At dinner, he orders for you. He has a bad habit of doing that, even though you’ve told him multiple times you’re capable of making your own decisions. At least he usually orders you something you end up liking.

- Night concludes back at his place, he pulls out another velvet box similar to one from this morning except this box is much smaller which only meant one thing: jewelry.

- “Louis... Are there diamonds in this?”

- “....”

-“Louis...”

-“.... Maybe...”

- You refuse to accept the overly expensive gift, refuse to even look at it. You give it back to him and you could see he’s a little hurt but you assure him you know he means well but everything was just a little too much and you felt out of place.

- He accepts your criticism gracefully even if he is a little frustrated you wouldn’t accept his gift he spent so much time picking out. He promises to tone it down next year.

His Birthday:

- You actually really hate Louis’ birthday because he almost never spends it with you.

- He always works on his birthday, not seeing it as important enough to halt business.

- You’ve tried everything from bribing his assistant to haggling his bodyguards but nobody can get Louis out of his office in his birthday.

- You’ve learned to let it go, and usually surprise him by doing something special the week before.

Legoshi:

Your Birthday:

- All about being sweet. Values time and effort over anything and hopes that you see it that way too.

- Makes you breakfast in bed, he’s a pretty good cook all things considering (it’s a skill he picked up while being a waiter.)

- Takes you out for lunch, the two of you spend the day doing pretty regular couple stuff but you’re just happy to be there with him.

- Your present is something that’s both useful and to your taste, like along the lines of a sweater or cardigan in your favorite color. He makes sure it’s oversized because he knows how much you love to wear his sweaters and he even has your name embroidered in small cursive letters above the heart.

- You love your gift and how the two of you spent the day.

His Birthday:

- You two spend it almost identically, just with he roles reversed.

-Legoshi is still a little uncomfortable with extra attention so if you want to incorporate his friends into anything then you’ll have to be really stealthy about it.

- No surprise parties please, he literally would melt into the floor with embarrassment. Best to take him somewhere and his friends slowly join in organically (or at least, you hoped it came off as organic but it really didn’t)

- “Hey Legoshi, fancy seeing you two here at this restaurant in this reserved section. Mind if I join ya?” By the tenth time that exact excuse was used, the cat was well out of the bag.

- Legoshi appreciates your efforts though, even if he’s not one for attention. He sort of clings to you the entire night, whether it be holding your hand, gripping your thigh, encircling your waist, etc. as long as he’s touching you, he feels calmer and it helps tone down his anxiety.

- Overall, Legoshi’s the type to be fine with almost any birthday celebration (or even none at all) as long as he can be with you.

Juno:

Your Birthday:

- Makes you do something spontaneous for once, even if you’re hesitant.

- Takes you somewhere like Skydiving, or Paragliding, or Bungee Jumping. If you’re adamant about making it to your next birthday not risking your life then she will settle for something a little more mild like Scuba Diving.

- Can not stop gushing about how hot you look in your wetsuit and flusters you in front of the Scuba instructor (he’s an older Walrus and finds it cute to see young animals in love).

- The two of you end up having a blast and you’re happy you went along with Juno’s plan, even if it tired you out completely.

- Once the two of you get home and shower, you collapse onto the bed and fall asleep almost immediately, the exhaustion from the deep diving really taking it’s toll.

- Juno enters the bedroom holding a cake with lit candles and wearing brand new sexy lingerie she purchased just for you to rip off of her. She’s a little disappointed to find you unconscious but she figures it is your birthday and you can sleep if you want to.

- She blows out the candles for you and puts the cake in the kitchen, then she throws on a robe and snuggles up next your slumbering figure.

Her Birthday:

- She wants to travel for her birthday and she can’t think of anyone she’d rather take a trip with more than you.

- You two go somewhere hot and tropical, probably somewhere near a beach (she loves any excuse to wear a bikini and sunbathe)

- You two probably find a bar near the beach and get drunk, her moreso then you because you start to sober up as the night goes on so you’re able to take care of her.

- You take her back to the hotel and tuck her in after helping her get ready for bed. She a giggling, flirty drunk mess the entire time but it still makes your heart soar because you know she had fun.

- Before she falls asleep, she whispers to you that this was her favorite birthday yet.

Riz:

Your Birthday:

- He’s waking you up with morning head, no way around it. You wake up to him kissing your neck, then your collarbone, down your stomach and he just keeps going down until he has you whimpering and falling apart beneath him.

- Then the two of you take a shower together and he’s making you cum for him in a totally different way.

- But once you finally pry his humongous paws off of you, you think you’ll be able to relax but he has other plans.

- He sends you off to the Spa. He’s not going in with you because he wouldn’t be caught dead in one but buys you the best top of the line experience . You enjoy the peace and relaxation but you’re kind of lonely and just want to be with him.

- When you get home, he presents your gift to you which is probably something big and wooden that he made himself because he’s great with his hands and actually an amazing craftsman. Probably something like a intricate Wooden Gazebo outside so you could sit and enjoy your garden.

- “Riz, how the hell did you get this back here without me knowing?” You ask, your arms still wrapped around his neck from where you squealed in excitement, lavishing him with kisses.

- “Built it off site, just needed a few hours to install it,” Riz winked, cupping your ass with both hands and lifting you up so your legs could wrap around his waist.

- “So that’s why you made me spend my birthday alone?” You pouted.

- “Yeah, m’sorry about that, baby. But I can make it up to you...” Riz growled, carrying you inside to the bedroom.

“Wait, I wasn’t done looking at my gift,” you giggled as he began nipping at the fur at the base of your neck.

“Trust me, it’s not going anywhere,”

His Birthday:

- Riz loves nature and outside in general. So for his birthday you plan a camping trip deep in the forest.

- You don’t tell him anything about it, you just make him request two days off of work, no questions asked.

- You two leave early in the morning, drive deep into the forest and then you spring it on him. You also let him know that if he doesn’t like the idea, theres still time to turn back and spend his birthday in the city.

- Not a chance if that happening though, this man LOVES the outdoors. He’s already halfway out the car before you could even put it in park.

- The two of you have a blast setting up the tent, making the campfire, cooking dinner over said campfire, and communing with nature.

- “There’s a river that runs north of here, it’s about a 15 minute walk from here, I figured we could go fishing there tomorrow morning,” You tell him as you sit in his lap, admiring the fire.

- However, the two of you don’t make it there until we’ll into the afternoon and it was a miracle you made it there at all. Riz had fucked you senseless last night, the atmosphere of nature giving him a newfound surge of energy. It’s a good thing no one was around because the two of you were almost embarrassingly loud.

- Anyways, Riz thoroughly enjoys his weekend of wilderness and fucking you like a wild animal all throughout the forest. You enjoy it as well despite the fact he has you almost limping by the end of the trip.

Bill:

Your Birthday:

- Honestly, he forgets. If you wait on him to remember or ‘surprise you’, then you’ll only end up ruining your own birthday.

- If you remind him on the day of, he takes you out to eat at a nice restaurant but it’s still very last minute.

- If you remind him the day before, he’ll at least get you a gift but it’s last minute.

- Overall, if you want to actually enjoy your birthday with him, you better plan it yourself

His Birthday:

- Plans an entire house party himself and invites everyone, it seems, but you. He wasn’t exactly aiming to exclude you, he just thought it’d be a given that you would be there. However, if you didn’t show up, he wouldn’t really notice either way.

- It’s wild and crazy. A ridiculously huge amount of people show up and there’s alcohol coming from every direction, and Bill is soaking up every ounce of the attention.

- Once you finally had enough of being ignored, you go home. You doubt that Bill will even notice you’ve left.

- You’re at home, showered, and about to head to bed when your phone starts ringing. It’s an unknown number so you let it ring out. But then they call back again, and again, and again. Disturbed, you accept it on the fourth call just in case it’s an emergency.

- “Finally they picked up! Y/N? You there?” It was one of Bill’s friends. Apparently in his drunken state, he went into a rage when he couldn’t find you and had been crying for you to come back for almost an hour. He was inconsolable and his friends knew there was only a matter of time before he started a fight at his own party. You were irritated but you still allowed them to drop him off at your place.

- The second you answered your front door, the giant tiger in question was all over you, squeezing you right and asking why you left him. You helped him inside and laid him in your bed.

- He cuddled with you for maybe 10 minutes tops before he was out like a light. You end up falling asleep next to him, finally enjoying a little peace for once tonight.

- That peace doesn’t last long though, Bill wakes up the next morning horny. Like extremely horny. You wake up to him grinding against your thighs, whimpering and begging to let him fuck you. You give in to the belated birthday boy and he proceeds to give you the sloppiest, most sensual, earth-shattering morning strokes of your life. You’re so mind blown by how good he fucked you, you forget about how angry you were with him.

- After a well needed shower, he takes you out for breakfast to apologize for how much of an ass he was on his birthday. You accept but tell him if he ever pulls something like that again, he can look for a new lover.

Collot:

Your Birthday:

- Surprisingly wants to spoil you on your birthday but unlike Riz, he actually minds being apart from you (he’s hella clingy, he just hates to admit it) so whatever activities he has planned, the two of you are doing it together.

- Takes you to a fancy resort, somewhere in the mountains where it’s cold and there’s snow on the ground even during the summer months.

- The two of you attempt skiing but you’re terrible at it and he ends up laughing at you falling majority of it.

- You two also enjoy the giant jacuzzi the lounge has to offer but Collot can not keep his hands off of you and eventually you two have to run back to your room for a midday quickie.

- His birthday gift to you is something simple, like a necklace with your birthstone in it. You love it and allow him to put it on you.

- The rest of the evening, it’s just you and your man, walking along the Snow filled grounds, sipping warm apple cider, and enjoying the break from the rest of the world.

Gouhin:

His Birthday:

- This man wants REST. No need to go all out, his life is crazy enough the other 365 days of the year. Just give him some peace and relaxation and he’s good to go.

- He also loves your cooking and wouldn’t be opposed to you cooking him a huge meal.

- Also loves your body and wouldn’t be opposed to you doing that thing that he really likes in bed ;)

- Your gift to him would be something he can use but also is a little unnecessary. Something like a ridiculously fancy, golden calligraphy pen for his office or a brand new crossbow with genuine leather straps. He’s pretty hard to shop for so it’s always best to go with something he already has, just a newer model.

- Honestly just wants to spend his birthday with his baby (you) as if it’s any other day.

Gosha:

Your Birthday:

- Gosha is so lovable, he’s probably more excited it’s your birthday than you are.

- He’s picked up quite a few skills over the years and baking is one of them. Bakes you a giant birthday cake in your favorite flavor. You’re grateful he was so thoughtful and made such an extravagant cake but there’s no way you’re going to finish this entire thing.

- You end up inviting over friends just to get rid of some of the cake, which they’re more than happy to do since it’s absolutely delicious.

- A few of your friends bring group dishes and fancy wine and soon it’s a whole party underway. The small gathering is actually a blast and you can’t think of a better way to spend your birthday other than surrounded by the people you love.

Oguma:

Your Birthday:

- Mr. Moneybags 2.0

- Gets you a crazy expensive gift like a brand new car and calls it a day.

- Not really much for spending time or celebrating traditionally. But to compensate, he’ll buy you the world (even after you’ve repeatedly told him you don’t need all that.)

- Probably won’t even see you on your birthday because his schedule is so overbooked but sends you plenty of gifts to remind you that he loves you.

- It stings not seeing him on your birthday but at this point in the relationship, you don’t really expect anything else from him.

606 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

I’m Right Here

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident (minor), Injuries

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Summary: There is nothing scarier than those moments when every breath you take is shallow; when your heart is racing and your body is drenched in cold sweat. When you are rushing to the aid of a hurt loved one, knowing you can never be fast enough because your mind and fear are at least a mile ahead of you. Corpse has to experience these exact moments after a frightening call that informs him of his girlfriend’s car accident.

Requested by @sugiliteshadow . Hi! Thank you so much for you request, darling. Sorry to be posting it so late and I can’t thank you enough for your patience. I hope the fic itself makes up for the wait. Please enjoy! Stay safe! Love, Vy ❤

It’s been about an hour since I got off the phone with Y/N and my concern is through the roof. She called me from the parking lot of the office building where she works at, telling me she’s be home in less than half an hour and asking if I needed her to pick up anything along the way. I have been trying to brush away the worries, comforting myself with the fact that I did request a specific type of iced tea and knowing Y/N, she’s probably looking for it in multiple stores because she couldn’t find it in the convenience store that’s along her way back home. I should’ve told her not to sweat it considering I don’t need it right away or anything. I have tried distracting myself with editing just to hinder myself from picking up my phone and debating weather to call her or not. I may be worried but I don’t wanna put her life in danger by calling her while she’s driving.

I keep my hands on my keyboard and mouse, my phone halfway across the room just in case. Another thirty minutes pass by with no sound of the door being unlocked or even a car pulling up. My fingers are beginning to drum over the buttons on my keyboard anxiously. I have had to go back and redo so many things with the video I’m editing because my mind simply isn’t present. It’s wandering around the city, looking for that one familiar car that’s always outside our house, parked in the driveway. That’s currently being driven by my girlfriend of two years Y/N.

My phone’s ringtone snaps me out of the downwards spiral of my thoughts, simultaneously picking up the speed of my heartbeat. I basically launch myself out of my chair and towards the bed where the ringing is coming from. I feel a wave of relief rush over me when I see Y/N’s name on the lit screen.

“Hey babe, where have you been?“ I ask as soon as I answer the call. It feels like my whole body shuts down when I finally pick up on the sound of blaring sirens in the background.

“Sir, I’m sorry to inform you Miss Y/L/N has been in an accident.” The words the female voice on the phone says cut through me like a knife, sending chills of paralyzing fear all over my body, “You were the last person she contacted before the accident which is why we’ve stepped in contact with you. However, if you are not able to come collect Miss Y/L/N, please contact a family member of hers.“

The calmness of her tone is freaking me out of my skin and mind, “Is she ok?! Where is she?!“

“She’s alright, sir. She’s not completely conscious yet, though. But she will be by the time you arrive. Her injuries are not in any way life-threatening. She has a few cuts and bruises and a concussion. A medical team has already taken care of her.“

Before I know it, I’m already out the door, the location the policewoman gave me in my head as I get behind the wheel of my car which I rarely use. Thankfully, the road the accident happened on is less than fifteen minutes away. Due to the late hour there is close to no traffic on the roads so I make it to the scene in no time. Y/N’s car is surrounded by two cop cars and two ambulances. I barely even notice the black Honda Civic that is almost equally as beat up as Y/N’s Toyota. Speaking of the Toyota, its front bumper is completely obliterated - the headlights, blinkers and windshield in pieces and shards on the pavement.

In the first ambulance there’s a guy passed out on a gurney with an ivy rip connected to his arm. In the one next to it is Y/N, sitting hunched over with her head hanging low, her hair falling over her face.

“Y/N?“ I rush over to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder but withdrawing my arm in case she has a bruise in that spot.

She lifts her head, a look of relief and happiness flashing across her face. She lets out a sigh, a small smile appearing on her lips as her eyes fill with tears. “Corpse...” her hand reaches out for mine which is still hanging in the air. I give her my other hand and she uses me as support to slowly stand up. She lets go of my hands and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug as a quiet sob leaves her chest. “I was so scared when I woke up. I couldn’t remember anything.”

“It’s ok, you’re ok now. I’m here, I’m right here.“ I gently smooth her hair while carefully holding her in my embrace. She has a few purple bruises along her arms and cuts on her cheek and neck which are covered in white bandages with small dark red stains. The most major thing I can see is the cut on her left temple which is also covered up. I press a tender kiss to the right one. “Are you in any pain?“ I pull away to get a better look at her.

Thankfully she shakes her head, “No, I’m ok. My elbow hurts a little but that’s it.”

I nod, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead. Just as I’m about to ask her what exactly happened one one of the police officers approaches us.

“A drunk driver. He ran the red light and crashed straight into her car.“ The officer says, judging by her voice it’s the same woman that called me. “You don’t remember that, do you?“

Y/N turns to her, “I just remember hearing a loud crash and then darkness. I didn’t know what had happened until you told me when I woke up.”

The policewoman gives us a sincere smile, lightly touching Y/N’s shoulder “It’s ok, sweetheart. You are alright, that’s what matters. And you have someone here by your side.”

Y/N’s eyes meet mine when she gives me the most loving glance, the one that I often catch in her eyes - the one that always melts me. “He always is.” she says, running her fingers down my arm, interlocking hers with mine when they reach my hand.

The policewoman tells us good night and walks over to the other ambulance. We stick around to see the cars get taken away and Y/N gives her info so they can contact her when the car is repaired. I know how much she loves that car - it’s the first and only car she has ever owned. She has had it for about seven years and calls it her child basically. I never thought I’d be jealous of a car in my life - just kidding. But my point has been made - she’s never been apart from it or driven another car.

Wrapping my arm around her while she watches her car being taken away, I turn her around, leading her towards my car. “Let’s get you home. You’ll be 100% under my care and no complaints will be accepted.”

She rolls her eyes playfully, snuggling up into my side, “Don’t make a big deal about this please. And, for the love of God, don’t baby me too much, ok?”

I grin down at her, “What was that, I didn’t quite catch it?“

“Corpseeee...“ She pouts, a frown on her face, making her look so childish it’s absolutely adorable.

“Save the whining, it ain’t gonna work.“ I open the door to the passenger seat, stepping aside so she can get in the my car.

Surprisingly enough, she actually doesn’t complain the rest of the way home nor when we arrive. Nor when I instruct her to stay in bed and not move unless it’s absolutely necessary. I basically bring all the snacks from the kitchen into our room while she compiles a list of movies we will be watching because no sleep will be had tonight. “I love you.“ Y/N says through a sigh halfway through the second movie.

“I love you too. But don’t fall asleep.“ I tickle her side, causing her to giggle and squirm in an attempt to get away from me.

“Ok, ok, but you’re gonna have to help me. If I blink, I’ll be a goner.“ She yawns, shuffling back towards me. When she flashes me that hinting wide smile, I know exactly what she’s insinuating.

I sigh, giving in with ease. “When you were here before...“

“Couldn’t look you in the eye...“ she backs me up just as I knew she would

“You’re just like an angel...“

“Your skin makes me cry...“

Needless to say, we end up duetting random songs - rap songs, heavy metal, pop songs, some of my songs, some Christmas songs, Disney songs - making it one of the best movie marathons we’ve ever had, the unfortunate events of the day far behind us and completely gone from our minds.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @the-fuck-up-of-today @chiefwombathoagiepizza @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @symphony-butterfly @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @baby-iyania @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @pinkhairedsapphic @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @maybe-im-dead-idk @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @chaoticgayandnerdy @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @strawberrycheesecakekenzistuff @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @amysingh2512 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @faepetersen @namikhai-i @nastiablr

604 notes · View notes

fandom-imagines-stories · 3 years

Text

Run to You Part Two

Derek Morgan x Reader

Words: 2494

Part One

Summary: Having been dating for a while, you finally feel comfortable enough to introduce your boyfriend to your daughter, Angelica. Derek takes on the role better than you could have imagined and you start to feel like a family. Then one day, Angelica disappears from a friend’s house and your ex husband starts making demands.

Notes: Thank you all for the support you’ve shown for this series so far! Funnily enough, this three parter is actually similar to a Fox Mulder x Reader series I started a couple of months ago that may or may not see the light of day. I guess if you guys really like this plot and if you like The X Files, let me know if you’d be interested in that.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, stalking, kidnapping.

More Criminal Minds: HERE

Derek made a half-hour drive take twenty minutes and pulled up to the front of the school. Local police had already been called in and were bombarding you with questions. He broke through the wall of officers to get to you.

“Oh thank god,” You exclaimed and he took you in his arms without a second hesitation. “She’s gone.” You sobbed into his chest. “He took her. I know he did.”

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down and tell us who you think took your daughter.” A female officer said calmly, taking another step towards you.

“Stop crowding her. Everybody back up!” Derek ordered.

“I’m sorry, sir, who are you?” Another officer asked, sounding defensive. Derek pulled out his badge.

“SSA Derek Morgan. I’m from the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“It’s a little early to call you guys in, isn’t it?” The first officer said.

“I’m not here officially. I know the missing girl.”

“Then we’re going to need to ask you a few questions.” The defensive officer snapped. You pushed in between them.

“I know who took her. Please, we have to find my baby.”

“Y/N, just take a deep breath, okay.” Derek put a hand on your shoulder and waited for you to calm down a little. “Now, what do you mean you know who took Angelica?” You tried to keep a sob from escaping, but the tears fell freely.

“Her father.” You watched Derek’s face morph with confusion. “My ex-husband.”

You sat in the police station with Derek’s hand running up and down your back as you slowly sipped a glass of water. You hardly remembered getting there or seeing members of Derek’s team arrive. Since there was already a leading suspect, the BAU wouldn’t be called in, but Agent Hotchner and Agent Prentiss came anyway to help Derek consult with the police.

“Ma’am, my name is Gina. I’m going to need to ask you a couple of questions, okay?” The officer from earlier started. You nodded, drinking the rest of your water.

“Um, Derek, maybe you should go talk to Agent Hotchner and Agent Prentiss. Ask them what they need to know from me.” You suggested. You didn’t want to have to explain everything to him like it was an interrogation. Derek nodded in understanding and gently kissed the side of your head.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He gave Gina a thankful smile and joined Hotch.

“The police said they don’t have any problems with us being here as long as we stay out of their way.” Hotch informed, casting a sympathetic look in your direction. “How is she?”

“Her little girl is missing, Hotch. She’s doing about as well as you’d expect.” Morgan sighed.

“What do we know about the suspect? She seems pretty certain that her ex is the one that took her daughter.” Prentiss asked.

“Just his name and that they used to be married. I’m gonna call and see what Garcia can dig up.” He pulled out his cell and kept his eyes on you as you spoke to the officer.

“All-knowing goddess, what can I do for you?” Penelope answered cheerfully.

“I need your help, babygirl.” He said seriously. “Y/N’s little girl is missing.”

“Oh god.” She gasped. With still so many more questions, she readied her fingers over her keyboard. “What do you need?”

“Lance Booker. Anything and everything you can find on him: properties, businesses, residences, especially places in the last six years.” He heard a flurry of typing before she answered.

“Got it. I’ll send you the list forthwith.” There was a long pause, followed by a sad gasp.

“What is it, Garcia?”

“Lance Booker’s ex-wife, Y/N… your Y/N? Ugh, I hate my job sometimes.”

“Penelope!” He shouted into the receiver, his sudden outburst making Prentiss jump.

“Sorry, sorry.” Penelope fretted. “At the time of their divorce six years ago and Y/N receiving full custody of their daughter, Y/N filed a restraining order against Booker with claims of domestic violence. She’s filed multiple reports of stalking since then, but without breaking any of the terms of the restraining order, the police haven’t been able to hold him for anything.” Derek’s hand tightened around the device to the point where he heard the shell crack.

“Thanks Garcia.”

“You’re going to find her, Derek.” Penelope assured him quietly. He took a deep breath.

“I’ll keep you updated. Keep looking into this guy and anyone else who might have taken Angelica.” He snapped his phone shut and pressed it against his forehead, trying to calm himself down. He needed to be the one who held it together. He couldn’t let you see any anger or panic in him because it would just make you angry and panicked even more.

It seemed like you were finishing up with the officer so he started back in your direction. Seeing him, you stood. Judging from his expression, he knew.

“Derek, I can explain.” You wanted to reach out to him, but you kept your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as if it kept you from falling to pieces. “I wanted to tell you.” You wiped a stray tear from your cheek. “I wanted to tell you about all of it. About Lance a-and our marriage and everything that happened, but I just didn’t know how.” His eyes softened and he ran his hands down your tense arms.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, baby.” While there were so many questions in his mind, none of them mattered. All that mattered was that you were here with him and Angelica was out there somewhere with that man.

The group fell silent as your phone started to ring. With a shaking hand, you looked down at the unfamiliar number, glancing back up at Derek for instructions. He nodded slowly while Prentiss called Garcia to get a trace on the number. You took a deep breath and answered.

“Hey baby.” The voice on the other end sent a tremor up your spine. You kept your eyes locked on Derek’s to keep from hanging up right there.

“Lance, where’s Angelica?” You tried to sound calm but you wanted to rip the bastard apart.

“You know, she doesn’t even remember me?” He hissed. “When I picked her up from school, she had no idea who I was. But I guess that’s what happens when you decide to replace me for six years.”

“Lance, please. I need to know that she’s okay.”

“Of course she’s okay. She’s got Agent Morgan protecting her, right? Oh wait, he failed at that too.” He barked furiously. Your body tensed up even more.

“How do you know about Derek?” You asked slowly. Derek’s expression didn’t change, but he felt a shot of guilt go through him. He was the trigger.

“I have ways of knowing.”

“He wants you to change the subject. Keep talking about Angelica.” Agent Hotchner instructed, keeping his voice low so the other end wouldn’t hear. You nodded in understanding.

“Lance, I need to know that Angelica is okay. I need to hear her voice.” You kept your voice as level as possible. There was a shuffle on the other end and you nearly broke down when you heard Angelica’s confused voice.

“Mommy? W-where are you? I wanna go home.”

“I’m coming, baby. Everything is going to be okay.” You cried, hearing the sound of the phone switching back.

“We’re going to be a family again.” Lance growled. “I’ll call again soon.” The line went quiet and you finally stopped holding your breath, leaning against the desk. You let the phone slip out of your hand and fall to the floor.

“Did we get a trace?” Morgan called to the agents behind him, keeping his eyes glued on you. Hotch sighed.

“Garcia said there was something interfering with the signal.”

“Lance was a phone technician, he knows how to hide.” You said blankly. “He won’t let us find him until he wants us too.”

The agents and officers around you were in a frenzy trying to dig up all of the information they could possibly find on Lance. Every time they said his name, you felt the back of his hand or the heel of his boot. For six years, you had been free of him. Angelica had been free of him. How dare he come back and ruin what you had built all on your own?

Something inside of you switched. You weren’t just frightened anymore. You were pissed off.

You didn’t move. You didn’t eat the food Derek had put in front of you. You didn’t drink the water he’d brought either. All you could do was stare at the phone, leg bouncing up and down anxiously. You hadn’t wanted to go home, but both the police and Agent Hotchner thought it would be a good idea in case Lance tried to contact you there. A team was setting up a device to hook your phone up to so they could control the line. All you could do was watch from the kitchen table, hands clasped in front of you like you were praying.

Derek watched you from the living room as his team set up the phone. He sat down on the couch, running a hand down his face. He should have asked you about Lance sooner. Maybe he could have prevented this if he only knew what had happened.

“We’re going to find her, Derek.” Prentiss said, sitting down next to him. She’d watched the way that this was tearing him apart. He didn’t respond. Both watched as the youngest of their team approached your table.

“Miss Y/L/N?” You looked up, finding the agent you could only assume was Dr. Reid. No one else was that young.

“Yes?”

“I, um, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I work with Morgan- I mean, Derek.” He asked to sit down and you just nodded in response. “I would like to talk to you about your ex-husband, if that’s okay?”

“I don’t know what else I can tell you.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Lance was… mean. He was controlling and when he didn’t get what he wanted, he got violent. But he never hurt Angelica. Ever.” You stared at the table’s wooden surface. “I was always there to protect her.” You felt a tear slip down your cheek. Reid’s lips formed a thin line.

“What was he like before? When you first met him or when you first got married?”

“Well he wasn’t the monster he is now, I can tell you that.” You sneered. “When I met him, he was sweet. Sure, he was mysterious and attractive, so I did whatever he said, but he was romantic and- and different from the other guys I’d dated. When we got married, I thought ‘this is it’, you know? Standing in that little church, everything felt exactly like it was supposed to. But after Angelica was born, everything changed. It was like he’d been hiding this creature under his skin all those years and it was finally emerging.”

“Do you remember anything specific that might have triggered this change?”

You shook your head. “I just remember the first time it happened. There weren’t any warning signs or anything. He hadn’t been irritable or upset. He just… snapped. Angelica was in her high chair and she had thrown her bowl of food on the floor. He must have heard the sound and he came into the kitchen. When I knelt down to clean it, he grabbed my hair and pulled me up, screaming about how it was my fault. How I made a mess and that he was going to show me what happens to people who mess up his life. And then he hit me. He hit me over and over and left me on the floor to clean. I should’ve- I should have left him right there. I should have taken her and run, but I didn’t. In my head, it wasn’t his fault. It was because of his past, it was because of me. I should have run. I should have left. I should-”

“Miss Y/L/N.” Reid interrupted, allowing you to gasp for air. You must have forgotten to breathe. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he was stopped by the shrill, dooming sound of the phone.

You bolted from the table and joined the agents in the living room, waiting for the signal to answer.

“Okay, you remember how it works?” Derek asked. You nodded. “Alright. Keep him talking. Don’t let him go off the subject of Angelica. You just want your daughter back. You don’t want to hurt him.” He pointed at the device and you picked up the receiver with a shaking hand.

“Hello?”

“Tell Agent Morgan he can’t replace me.”

“Lance, I’m tired. I just want Angelica back safe.”

“No, you want to play happy family with your BAU boyfriend. He isn’t her father. I am!” He spoke with the fury of a madman. Derek looked at the rest of the team grimly. Lance was spiralling.

“What do you want me to do, Lance? I’ll do anything to get her back, just please, I miss my daughter.” You cried. Derek pressed the button and muted the call.

“Y/N, you have to keep calm. I know it’s hard, but Lance is trying to push you. He wants you to break, but you can’t.” He took your hand, softening his tone. “I’m right here. You can do this.” Under Derek’s comforting voice, you could hear Lance start to ramble.

“I just want us to be happy again. Do you remember when we were happy?” You waited for Derek to press the button again before responding.

“Y-yeah, I remember.”

“We can be happy again. We can be happy again…” His voice trailed off and you heard a shuffling sound.

“Wait, don’t hang-” You exclaimed, but the line went dead. You slammed the receiver back down and kicked the coffee table it sat on. “He’s going to kill her. He’s going to kill her.” You pushed a lamp over and listened to the bulb shatter against the carpet. Before you could break anything else, or hurt yourself, Derek locked his arms around you, pinning yours to your side. “Let me go! He’s going to kill her! It’s my fault! It’s all my fault!”

He kept a hold of you as you screamed, sitting down on the couch with you on his lap. The other agents just stood, watching the scene of turmoil. Reid was standing completely skill, eyes darting in between invisible words in his head. He suddenly looked at Prentiss.

“Get Garcia on the phone.” He said, turning back to you and Morgan.

“What did you get?” Prentiss asked. She was still trying to decipher everything that Booker said. Reid swallowed.

“I think I know where he might be keeping Angelica.”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

Series: @ weasleytommy, @ lowsodiumfreaks67, @panhoeofmanyfandoms

#derek morgan x reader #shemar moore #criminal minds #criminal minds imag #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #badass #domestic violence #kidnapping

271 notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

smoke and fire (epilogue II)

word count; 3193

summary; deep into your relationship, and still happy, there’s a bigger step on the horizon.

notes; please note that this is based two years after the events of the main series!

warnings; reference to arson, reference to injury.

“Tommy, where the hell are we? Why does it smell like burned wood?” You grinned, your vision blocked by the tie Thomas had used to cover your eyes, holding onto one of his hands tightly as he guided you up the pathway beneath your feet. “Seriously, I thought we were having a date night. You said we were going out!”

“We are out, technically.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, your skin tingling a little where his lips had pressed, before he was slowing you down, bringing you to a stop, and his hand left yours. The sunlight that had been pocking through the tie was blocked, shadowed as Thomas came to stand in front of you. “It’s just not what you think. But we are on a date, and we can order some food out here later.”

“Where exactly is ‘out here’? Because we were driving for, like, an hour.”

“Okay, well, it wouldn't normally be that long. I got a little lost because I couldn’t use the SatNav.” He huffed, fingers smoothing over the knot on the back of your head and trying not to pull on your hair as he undid it carefully. You were buzzing with excitement, wondering where exactly it was that he’d brought you, and you blinked a little at the light burned ta your eyes, finally able to see again. Thomas had blindfolded you upon leaving the station after your shift, not wanting you to have any idea about where you were going, and it took you a moment to readjust. “You ready?”

“Totally ready.” You beamed, and Thomas nodded, dipping down to press a quick peck to your lips, before he was stepping out of your way. Staring up at the building for a second, your blinked once, and then twice, before your lips were pursing, head tipping to the side. You stared for another moment, before turning to look at Thomas. “We’re at a burned-up house from a call last month?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah! Cool!” You faked his enthusiasm for a second, trying to understand where it was coming from. “Huh. Why?”

He rolled his eyes fondly, tucking the tie into his back pocket before taking your hand and tugging you up the steps. The doorframe was burned, the door pulled closed but unable to lock as it hung unevenly on its hinges, and Thomas pushed it open again carefully. “I thought you might want to look around? Can I show you around?”

You didn’t understand much, but you smiled, sensing his excitement in it, and nodding your head. “Yeah, Tommy, of course.”

You stepped in a little more, eyes flicking over it all. There was peeling wallpaper that was scarred with ash and black stains, burned away right down to the foundations in some places, and the ceilings were covered in soot. The floors creaked under your feet as you stepped in glass smashed and the shards stained, and it was unusual to see the remnants of a building like this without all the smoke and fire that usually came with it when you were on the job.

The first room looked like it was supposed to have wide doors, an entrance that would take double doors but they’d fallen down, ripped laces along the frame where they’d torn of, but the debris had been moved from inside of the house. The living room was beautiful, you couldn't deny it. There was a large fireplace against one wall, real log-burning with a chimney up to the roof and if you hadn't actually worked on the case, you’d have immediately put the large accessory down to the cause of the fire.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t. The reason this beautiful large house had burned down was stupid kids messing around with fireworks in the back garden of a house for sale, which was now completely destroyed. What would once have sold for over a million was barely worth a couple hundred thousand anymore, despite the beautiful neighbourhood it was in.

“This room is huge.” You mumbled, stepping a little further inside, and Thomas nodded. There was a file on one side, a place that was covered in old and destroyed bookshelves, a large windowsill beside it, and you could already picture it extended to make a little reading nook.

“Do you wanna’ see how it looked before? There were pictures on the real estate website, it was beautiful.”

You nodded, tuning to your boyfriend as he pulled out his phone, pulling up the pictures and swiping through them, Standing by his side, you looped an arm around his waist, leaning in slightly, and his arm went over your shoulders. Finally finding the right one, he positioned you both to be facing in the right direction, a set of large bay windows on one side that went out towards a decking that had been burned away.

In the photograph, the window had curtain rails and soft white curtains made of a thin kind of mesh, letting in the natural light as they hung over large glass doors. The walls were done up with a pale grey and white wallpaper, leaving it simply for the furnishings, but everything seemed to be in pale shades that made it all feel modern and elegant. Turning you both, he showed off the fireplace, decorated with old cobblestones and shale around the base that decorated it beautifully, before fading away into what had once been smooth oak wood flooring.

There were pictures on the wall at one end, and it reminded you of the wall Thomas had in his apartment, the one you had moved into almost a year ago, but his one was bigger, and looked like it could hold at least three times the quantity. There were couches laid out, surrounding a large television, and it was a huge area, a coffee table that looked like it was almost the size of a dining table.

Moving through to the kitchen together, you were even more taken aback by it. To one side was what was once a dining room, connected fully and open space, enough to seat a whole extended family, and you could only imagine the thanksgivings or the Christmas’, and you would be able to fit the whole squad into that room without trouble, without sitting in different rooms or connecting tables, all squeezing around the kitchen counters at Newt’s place or sitting in the tables, couches and floor like at Minho’s last Christmas.

There was space in the kitchen for an island in the centre, stools in front of it, and built-in ovens and fridges like at the station. There was also a set of large doors here, the glass broken, and you assumed this was where the fireworks had burst right though because there was a hole in the centre of the ceiling up into one of the rooms above.

“I saw this kitchen and I was immediately thinking about the size of it. Y’know, like, imagine the parties or the holidays, with a dining room like that and a kitchen like this I remember thinking it when we were putting out the flames, too.” He scratched at the back of his neck, looking around for a second, and you guided his face back to your own, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Weird thing to think about when putting out a fire, I know.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Big kitchen and dining room, you’d actually be able to fit a family our size into it without trouble. It’s kinda’ wild to think about.”

He chuckled, nodding his head, and his hands lifted to cup your cheeks pulling you back in closer to him. His nose bumped against your own, dragging together for a second in sweet Eskimo kisses, before his lips were meeting your own. Pressing in softly, he was still smiling into the connection for the first few seconds, before his head was twisting to the side, one hand dropping from your face to your waist, smoothing around your lower back and pulling you in even closer.

Pressing up into him, your arms circled his neck, pulling him down to your level as his tongue soothed over your lower lip, and you parted them for him. He sighed, a breathy and delicate sound, before his fingertips were digging into your flesh, holding you tightly as he pulled you impossibly closer. Scratching lightly at the hairs along the base of his neck, he rumbled happily, chest vibrating under your own with the noise and your fingers tangled a little more, and you pulled back. He whined, chasing after you for a few seconds, before letting you go, his forehead resting against yours instead.

“Your hairs getting kinda’ long.”

“You don’t like it?” He teased, and you shook your head, slightly kiss-swollen lips puckering for a second to press to his own again, a series of short pecks, before you pulled back.

“I like it, but you always complain about how sweaty your head gets in your helmets when your hair is too long.” He sighed, knowing you were right, and shrugging it off with a ‘hmph’.

“You know, talking of parties, there’s this amazing outdoor area. It's huge, there’s the decking from the living room and a patio outside here, there’s a big tree at the end of the garden and this amazing barbecuing area.” You nodded along, eyes narrowing on him again as he got excited over it, walking you a little closer to the broken doors so that you could see out.

He was right, there was a tall oak tree at the end of a huge garden, a fire pit made in the middle surrounded by beer cans and wrapped from where you assumed the teens who’d started the fire had been messing around, but with a little love and care, it would be all fixed up. The patio would seat big outdoor furniture, and you could picture a smaller firepit in the centre for later summer nights, as well as the proud barbecuing area Thomas had mentioned, built into the stonework with different levels and multiple grills.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think of this house?” You echoed, and he nodded slowly, almost hesitantly, before you took a deep breath, staring back out to the garden.

“I think it’s beautiful. Or, it was. Has a lot of potential to be incredible again.” You didn’t know much, you’d barely seen half of the lower floor and none of the upper ones. “I haven’t seen much of it, but what I have seen is nice.”

“Well, y’know, there’s big bedrooms. The master bedroom is amazing, it has an en-suite with a shower and a bathtub, a big closet and huge windows for natural light with a little miniature balcony outside of it. There’s a study down here which would make a really nice snug or cosy room, it didn’t get touched as much by the fire so you can get a better image of it when I show you. There are so many bedrooms, seriously, like, six bedrooms. There’s an attic, and a basement, and-

“Tommy, why are we here?” There was something hidden under his voice, his words trailing off after you’d interrupted him and his hand sank back to his sides from where he’d been making gestures with them, his shoulders slumping a little.

“It’s a cool house, I thought you might want to see inside of it! Especially since you and Newt didn’t get to do much when we were here, there wasn’t anybody injured, so you were just left waiting around, and I wanted to share it with you.”

“There’s more to it than that, I know I’m not great at picking up on signals, Tommy, but I’d like to think I got pretty good at reading you over this last year or so.” You studied him for a second, and he shrunk a little more under your gaze, before huffing out a laugh.

“Almost two years, now.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing to reassure him, before sliding up to sit on his neck, letting your thumb brush over his pulse point and calm him. His hand landed on your wrist, following as he trailed it up your arm to find your hand, pulling it away from his body and linking your fingers together instead. He kissed along your knuckles, remaining in silence, but you felt like you were drowning in the nervous tension he was letting off.

“Talk to me, Tommy.”

“Okay.” He let out a shaky breath, nodding his head before looking back up to you. “Well, you and Newt were talking after the case, right? He said Derek lived in a neighbourhood like this when he was younger, and that you had always wanted to live in an area like this. Well, when I was in here, I kept thinking about how beautiful this place was, and how big it was. The whole squad could fit in, and it would be so comfortable. This is the sort of place you spend the rest of your life in, right? I was looking through it all and doing a sweep and because I knew it was empty my mind was wandering. I just thought about how I would never normally be able to afford a place like this, and how the value would go down so much because of the fire, and..”

“Oh, wow, are you thinking of buying this house?” You couldn't hide the shock in your voice no matter how much you tried, and Thomas chuckled as he watched you look around, with a little more interest now as you took it all in with more attention to detail.

“Well, yeah. Kind of. It’s only a thirty-minute drive from the house so it’s pretty much the same commute as right now, and-” He huffed, nostrils flaring a little as he thought, and you raised your brows at the way he suddenly went quiet, the gears in his head visibly turning as his brows furrowed a little. “Look, I’m struggling here, I’m nervous, okay?”

“Thomas, you’re getting all panicky.” You whispered, pulling him in a little, and leaning up. He was eagerly awaiting the kiss you gave him, body relaxing a little as you balanced yourself with one hand, thumb playing with his own where the other was still held by one of his, and he didn’t let you go when he pulled back. Instead, his head dipped lower, pulling you in and wrapping an arm around your waist, needy kisses that left you breathless as he held onto you, tension melting away and becoming a little hazy instead as he clung to you.

“I’m just,” His teeth nibbled a little on your lower lip, panting slightly as he pulled back for breath, and you were stealing more kisses through gasping laughs as you tried to get enough air, smiling and teasing as you did. “I’m just trying to ask you,” He was cut off again, your mouth meeting his and he laughed against your lips, his hand leaving your own to hold onto you more, fingers tickling over your sides lightly as you laughed into the kiss. “Cut it out, I’m calm now, but I have to say this while I have the courage.”

His cheeks were flushed when you pulled back, hair a little messy and lips a darker shade than usual, and he licked over them as he stared down at you, undoubtedly staring at an equal messy composure. “You have my undivided attention. Go right ahead.”

“I remember that a while ago, we were lying in bed and talking about things we wanted that we never thought would happen, and you said you’d always wanted to rebuild a house. Renovate it, was the word you used. You wanted to make it your own, but you never thought you’d afford it. And, on a paramedic and a firefighters wage, we’d never be able to afford a place like this, normally.”

“We?” You echoed, a soft smile on his lips as your heart thudded in his chest. You knew what it meant, it was a heavy commitment to buy a house with someone, living together was one thing but buying a house was basically a step away from a proposal, it was an investment in a long term future together, and you felt like you could barely breathe. Your chest felt tight, shock and adrenaline racing through you and you stiffened slightly, fear lacing itself into Thomas’ features once again. “You, uh, you want us to buy a house together?”

“Maybe..” He sighed, a little timid again now. “It was just a thought, because it’s such a beautiful house, and as soon as I saw it I was thinking about things you’d said, and it just seemed perfect for us, but if you don’t like it then that’s fine, just don’t shut down on me, okay?” He rested a hand over your cheek, thumb brushing softly, and his lips pressed a soft kiss toy our forehead. “Just tell me you hate the idea, but don’t go silent, alright?”

You nodded, letting him kiss your temple too, before pulling back to look at you. “I, um..”

“Hate it?”

“Love it, actually.” You choked on the words slightly, feeling a little breathless as they were wheezed out, and Thomas paused. He looked sceptical, shaking his head slightly, and you tried your best to smile. “No, I do. I really do. I’m just terrified, okay? I’m not good at long-term commitment, I’m scared, but I want it. With you.”

“Really? Because I know it’s a big step, and I know what it means, I’m not blind. It’s buying a house together, so if you wanna’ freak out or you don’t want it, that's okay, just tell me, alright? Because I’m in this with you for the long haul and you’ve got to know that by now, it’s not a secret, so I can wait until you’re ready.” The words sped from him, a little too fast, and you shook your head, leaning up to press your forehead to his.

“I’m really, totally sure. I just hadn't thought about it, okay? I was caught off guard, I’m not much one to think about the future, it doesn’t come naturally to me. But when I do think about my future, you’re always there.”

“Always?” He teased, twisting his head to brush his lips with your own.

“Every single time.” You gave him a quick kiss, a happy hum to accompany it and he relaxed once he let you sink back. “So, why don’t we order some pizza to be delivered here, and you can show me around some more. You said there were lots of bedrooms, which is good, because you know Newt will want his own.”

“So, we’re buying a house?” He looked a little unsteady, eyes glossing over, and he sniffed lightly. You matched him, nodding your head and beaming as the emotions overwhelmed you.

“Yeah, baby, we are.”

#thomas the maze runner #thomas #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #firefighter!tommy #ff!tommy #smoke and fire #SAF #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner

182 notes · View notes