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jgracie · 7 days

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HEY BLONDIE — LEO + DAUGHTER OF POSEIDON

masterlist | rules

♡ dedicated to covey @hopelesslyromanticshark the blueprint for the poseidon girlie x leo trope 😇 lovey > caleo 4eva (even the ship name is cuter!)

❝ daughter of poseidon x leo valdez!!!!! ❞ — anon

in which leo dates a daughter of poseidon

pairing leo valdez x poseidon!reader

warnings percys a bit of an ass in this lowk sorry guys (he didn't mean it i promise!!!), they have tech, andddd i lowk hate this but i haven’t posted in three days so 🙁 maybe i’ll rewrite it someday!!

on the radio . . . hey blondie (dominic fike)

an i’ve been DYING for someone to request this combo i love it sm …. also OGs remember when my bio was hey blondie 🫡 reader isn’t blonde dw (i’m not even blonde myself) !! also reader is a year younger than percy (making her the same age as leo)

Leo didn’t know Percy had a sister. Maybe he was living under a rock (he was - Leo spent the majority of his days at Bunker 9), but he just hadn’t considered the possibility of it, with Percy being a child of the big three and all

If Leo had known of your existence sooner, he would’ve burnt down Bunker 9 himself and spent the rest of his days glued to your side. He had met many people, but none as perfect and charming as you

You see, the boy was simply going to pass by Cabin 3 to show Percy this new gadget he’d made for him and see if he wanted to hang out sometime, since Leo hadn’t seen Percy in a while, when he met you - Y/N, Percy’s younger half-sister

“Hello, may I help you?” You asked, opening the front door of your cabin and being met with a boy with curly brown hair and big brown eyes. Immediately, you felt the heat radiating off of him increase and all of a sudden his brown curls were on fire

As a child of Poseidon, naturally, you’ve never been fond of fire, so this freaked you out. Knowing the water fountain was right behind you, you controlled the water with your hands and shot it at Leo, putting out the fire and drenching him in the process

Leo didn’t care, though. You could drown him for Hephaestus’ sake and he’d still come crawling back - okay, maybe that was a little much. He took in your worried expression and a wave of guilt washed over him as he realised how afraid you were

“I’m sorry, I have a hard time controlling my fire powers sometimes… Where’s Percy?” He asked, not even bothering to question your Godly heritage. You were very clearly a daughter of Poseidon

After that, things calmed down between you two. You let him in and although you were wary of Leo (and sat as far away from him as possible without being labelled as rude), patiently listened as he explained why he was looking for your brother

He then showed you the gadget he made and when Leo saw the way your eyes lit up at its mechanisms, he knew his life would no longer be complete if you weren’t in it

You gushed over the thing, pressing the buttons over and over again (which Leo didn’t have the heart to tell you would wear them down) and showering him in compliments - something that has never happened to Leo before

A grin made its way onto his lips. Sure, people have praised his creations before, but none of them did it the way you did, nearly bursting with excitement as you tried to handle it with utmost care

Part of Leo wished Percy would never come back to cabin 3 ever again, but speak (in this case, think) of the devil and he shall appear. That was his unfortunate cue to leave

He quickly showed Percy how to handle the device and was about to leave when you stopped him. Leo almost couldn’t believe his ears and almost leaped for joy when he heard you ask if you could pass by his cabin sometime, since you really wanted to see more of his stuff

That was the beginning of the most iconic friendship in Camp Half-Blood history

You quickly discovered you had a lot in common and so, you became attached at the hip. It was so bad that whenever someone was asked where one of you were, they’d give the location of the other since they knew there was an incredibly high possibility of you being together

Leo taught you how to use a screwdriver and weld and I can’t think of a third thing people who make machines do but you get the gist! And in return, you taught him how to swim

His ability to swim (or lack thereof) was something which was brought up your very first time hanging out together at bunker nine. After many attempts, you finally successfully hammered a nail into a piece of metal (fyi I’m a daughter of Demeter I know absolutely nothing about this subject) and in your enthusiastic state insisted you go to the beach together

At your suggestion, Leo got awfully quiet and began shyly playing with a stray piece of metal. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused for a second about the shift in his behaviour, when it finally clicked

“Oh my Gods, Leo, do you not know how to swim?” You asked, hesitant - you didn’t want to embarrass the poor guy. He looked up at you and nodded, pouting at the way your lips wobbled as you tried not to giggle. You weren’t laughing at him, of course, you just thought it was really cute

Grabbing him by the arm, you began to drag him to your cabin and said, “c’mon, I’ll teach you! It’ll be like me repaying you for teaching me how to do all the fancy things you do with metal!”

You guys started going to the beach more often after that. At first, you were just teaching Leo how to be in a body of water and not drown, but once he got the hang of it you started having swimming competitions and introducing him to all your fish friends!

They’re always telling you to hurry up and confess because it's so obvious that you like Leo and you keeping it to yourself isn’t doing you any favours but you can’t. Why? Because you don’t think Leo likes you back

Meanwhile Leo’s sitting on the sand next to you admiring the way you seem to gain life by being near a body of water, having to push his fire powers down whenever you’d pull him closer to you, the only thing filling the space between you being the water of the ocean

You are quite literally Mr and Mrs Oblivious. Everyone can tell you like each other but yourselves

It’s actually really funny because you run in the same circles so you tend to complain to the same people about how the other can’t tell you like them and they’re just sitting there trying SO hard not to facepalm

Most of the time you two go to Annabeth, simply because she’s the only one you believe can keep a secret as big as your crushes. Unfortunately for you she and Percy come as a packaged duo, which means Percy’s aware

She didn’t mean to tell him but one time after a heated discussion with you where you analysed Leo’s every move it was still fresh on her mind and she let it slip

Ever since then, Percy’s been eyeing Leo, who’s definitely noticed the behaviour switch. It’s not like Percy had anything against you dating - you were only a year younger than him, after all, and you never tried to stop him and Annabeth from dating - but he couldn’t help but feel a little protective

An extra year of life still made you his baby sister! He’d insist to Annabeth that it doesn’t bother him and Leo is a good guy and his friend so he’s happy that the two of you reciprocate each other’s feelings then turn and give the poor boy a glare so terrifying it’d make a hellhound cower in fear

While all of this is happening, Leo’s freaking out. He’s absolutely losing his mind because all of a sudden Percy no longer likes him which means he’s probably noticed he likes you and disapproves of your potential relationship

All these thoughts cause him to spiral and eventually distance himself from you. It was just occasionally rejecting plans but then it turned into him somehow always being busy, and it broke your heart

Percy, being the kind and loving brother he is, asked you what was wrong on one of those days and you had to fight the urge to burst into tears as you told him about how you thought you did something to hurt Leo

You see, Leo was your first real friend at camp. Sure, you had other friends, but they were all just casual acquaintances you’d talk to whenever you happened to see them. Leo was your first best friend, which meant a lot

In that moment, Percy knew what he had to do

“Hey, why’re you avoiding Y/N?” Percy asked, barging into bunker nine, his arms crossed as he stared down Leo, who was busy making something (as usual)

Leo, who hadn’t been fully listening, looked up to find none other than Percy Jackson standing in front of him, “what?” He asked, his eyes widening

“I said, why are you avoiding my sister?” He repeated, the scowl on his face deepening. Percy was usually a pretty nice guy, but that could change really quickly if anyone ever even thinks of hurting his loved ones (loyalty is his fatal flaw after all)

Putting his tools down, Leo stood up, suddenly defensive. Why was Percy putting the blame on him? He was the reason Leo decided to talk to you less in the first place. Doing that to you really hurt Leo, but he wasn’t going to let himself get close to you just to end up heartbroken and without two friends in the end

“Do you hate her all of a sudden, is that it? Because if that’s the case, you should at least be kind enough to voice those thoughts so she can find new friends–”

“Dude, I love Y/N. Who put that in your head?” Leo interrupted, “I’m avoiding Y/N because I’ve seen the way you look at me, Percy. I get it, you’re not happy that I like her, and I don’t want to bother you or put a strain in your relationship, so I’ve distanced myself.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He avoided you because he loved you, because he didn’t want there to be any trouble between you and your brother because of him, and yet somehow here he was being accused of hating you?

You’re the first person Leo truly felt love for ever since his own mother. How could he hate you

“Tell her,” Percy said. He felt immensely guilty as the realisation that he was the reason why you’d almost lost your crush and best friend hit him. He never meant for it to go this far, and honestly, the glances weren’t even purposeful - he just couldn’t help it

“She likes you too, literally everyone at camp knows it, you’ll be fine. And Leo, I’m really sorry I made you feel that way. I didn’t mean to, honestly, I just really care about Y/N and don’t want her to get hurt. But I know you won’t hurt her, so… I approve.”

When I say Leo ran so fast to your cabin that he left a whole trail of fire behind him, I’m not exaggerating. He passed by Flowers and Vines (Demeter + Dionysus kid flower shop/fruits market iykyk) and set their crops on fire, quickly making himself their mortal enemy

He couldn’t care less though. You liked him back! In a few moments, he’d confess and you’d agree to date him and you’d finally be his

And confess he did <3 you were a little mad at Percy at first for unintentionally separating the two of you but after three days’ worth of grovelling you were fine

You couldn’t be too mad, after all, since you now had your fireboy

(The crowd cheers!!!! After 5 pages of backstory you get actual dating hcs)

Okay so I just want to start by saying that Leo is literally like a raven or a cat or whatever animal it is. He’s constantly finding the randomest trinkets and just giving them you for no reason

He goes to the beach a lot on his own whenever he misses you because the salty air smells just like the crook of your neck and often comes back with a bunch of seashells, randomly shaped rocks and one time an actually alive sand dollar

You spent so long teaching him how to spot one that’s alive and one that’s dead so when he saw a sand dollar he got really excited at the idea of you being proud of him remembering the difference that he’d forgotten it

His favourite things are the seashells though. Why? Well, because he can turn them into cute jewellery for you, duh!

It started off as a silly little idea. He found a cute seashell and thought ‘what if I strung a piece of thread through this and made it a necklace for my beautiful hot gorgeous pretty siren mermaid cutie pie Y/N?’

He ended up doing it and you loved it so much he decided he’d make you a whole collection of seashell jewellery

The second time around, he made an actual chain for the necklace because you’re deserving of more than some lousy thread!!!

Then he began making bracelets and rings and earrings and all sorts of other things for you. Somehow, despite making so many of them, Leo managed to make them all unique in their own way. Your favourite, however, was the seashell locket he made you for one of your anniversaries

Inside of the locket is a picture you took together on the beach. It was from back when you were just friends, but you looked so gorgeous in it Leo couldn’t help but choose it for the necklace

Also, you guys are LITERALLY fireboy and watergirl

You’d had an epiphany one day whilst lying your head on his chest and the gasp you let out had Leo worried you were dying for a second

When you told him this, Leo was confused. Being in the foster care system at a young age then sent to wilderness school then doing demigod things left very little room for him to discover modern things other people his age liked

You immediately took him to the little computer you shared with Percy and opened up fireboy and watergirl (the OG game of course, not one of the newer editions) and taught him how to play

Honestly, Leo’s really bad at it. Like at first you thought he just needed to get the hang of it but then you reached the one year anniversary of when you first showed him FB & WG and he was STILL awful at it (also yes you know what day that is. You and Leo have anniversaries for everything)

“Leo!” You exclaimed, unable to watch as the try again prompt popped up on the screen. After about 50 times doing this level (which you had completed on your own before just fine), you’d finally gotten to the last hurdle when, of course, fireboy had to fall into the green slime

Leo pouted, once again prepared to fight his case, “Fireboy’s an idiot! It’s not my fault you get to control the smarter one out of the two!”

“Nuh, uh! Fireboy’s so much easier to control! He has the arrows, watergirl has WASD, which is way harder!”

“Fine, you control him, since he’s so easy to use!”

“But I’m Watergirl! I can’t have you killing me too!”

You’d have this conversation almost every single time you played the game. It got so bad one time Percy had to block the fireboy and watergirl website from the computer

Which was stupid because Leo’s literally a son of Hephaestus so all he had to do was touch the computer and it quickly became unbanned!

Also I think all children of Poseidon have an obscene amount of fish/sea animal merch. Specifically plushies

Leo stayed the night at your cabin once thinking ‘oh my Gods I’m gonna be sleeping with Y/N for the first time WTF WTF WTF!!!’ only to end up sleeping with Chelsea the starfish instead

He teased you a little at first but you’d refused to talk to him after that so he accepted them into the L/N-Valdez family (despite them hogging the bed 😒)

Now, he also defends the plushies like his life depends on it. If someone even DARES to utter a word against Haley the seahorse its ON SIGHT fr

He also keeps a mental note of all the names of your plushies to see if he can figure out a theme with the kinds of names you like for when you name your future baby but that’s a story for another day!

#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez #leo valdez x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #leo valdez fanfic #pjo fanfic #leo valdez drabble #leo valdez x poseidon reader #daughter of poseidon #children of poseidon #poseidon pjo #cynwrites

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slttygeto · 4 months

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don't be so reckless, don't break my heart —MITSUYA T.

synopsis: an argument with your childhood best friend leads to sweet confessions in the middle of the night.

tags: fluff, confessions, childhood best friend! mitsuya, fem!reader, arguments (so, angst if you squint a little), mentions of the reader being in a panicked state, mentions of mitsuya having injuries and bl00d all over him.

word count: 4,2k

note: thank you to the amazing @jean-kirsteins-real-gf for commissioning me! I enjoyed writing this piece a lot :) what a way to start the year! happy 2024 <3!!

Your first meeting with Mitsuya is a memory that is always present in the forefront of your head. It isn’t something that you could easily ignore or brush off, how such a sweet boy who was about your age had a baby to his chest and a kid younger than you both holding his hand so tightly you could see their knuckles turning white. What a rare sight it was, for a boy so young to guide his sister (after you heard her address him as big brother), the gentle tone to his voice, the carefulness when holding the baby to his chest—his kind gesture seals the deal for you.

Shy and scared as a shrinking violet, your teary eyes face away from the two boys who had pushed you off the swing. Young you was never able to speak her mind so bravely, so freely—yet you watch as Mitsuya—(a total stranger at the time), come to your rescue with a baby wrapped closely to him. It is ridiculous the way he fights and scares them off so easily. At first, they mock him for his soft features, for his lavender eyes and for the tiny human being latching onto him. Yet a single kick to one of the boys’ stomach is enough to send chills down your spine. That looks painful, you think.

As you wipe your eyes, you are finally able to look away from the bullies scurrying away with their tails tucked between their legs, facing your knight in shining armor. Your savior. What do you say in such situations? What do you do? You forget to stand up and dust yourself, only realizing your position when your neck starts to hurt from craning it to look up at your hero.

“Are you okay?” he presents a warm hand which you gladly hold, and he pulls you up with so much ease as you wipe away the excess tears on your cheeks. “I’ve seen them around here, never been nice to anyone.” He continues to talk and you continue to give silent nods as a response. At one point, he questions your ability to speak and your face heats up.

“I’m just…”

“Shy?” The slight to his head, the sweet smile—the crush you developed for the boy was all too expected with how nice he was to you.

As the years pass by, the friendship the two of you have developed turned into something that none of you could quite decipher—not that you wanted to. Strangely, you enjoyed the confusion that paints his friends’ faces as you walk up to him, scold him for missing lunch, for not answering your calls—and he doesn’t blush nor does he shy away from returning your hugs, even more passionately than the way you almost tackle him to the ground. His arms have grown stronger than when you were kids, and the way he smells has become so sweet…so intoxicating—you feel dizzy when you pull away from him, unable to look him in the eye for the next 30 seconds as you listen to whatever lame joke Draken has to say about the two of you.

Unbeknownst to you, the boy remembers the day he saw you as though it was yesterday as well. Pretty girl crying on the playground, heart thrumming in his chest when he saw the tears painting your face—he wasn’t in Toman at the time, wasn’t even a thing to begin with. He lies to himself and says that his brotherly instincts kick in when he saw you, that the protectiveness stems from the fact that he would’ve done the same if it were one of his two little sisters. Nevertheless, whatever he was telling his stubborn brain would not go through. He hears you sniffle and helps you up, gives you a tissue to clean yourself and even questions your ability to speak—when you part your lips, your soft voice is what seals the deal for him at the time.

At the time, developing a crush could be from something as simple as saying hi a bit too excitedly or in Mitsuya’s case, the way you had always been nice to other kids on the playground. You weren’t that talkative, but you played with kids on the swing, built sandcastles with them—until those two boys bullied you and the lavender boy knew he had to do something about it.

Watching you grow was a privilege. In Mitsuya’s eyes, having you was perfect. Knowing you, growing with you, embracing you in his arms—you’ve become more beautiful, your eyelashes brush over your cheeks when you blink and your lips pout instead of wobbling when you get sad. Your eyes still hold the same amount of warmth in them as that summer day he met you. You smell as sweet as a jasmine, handle his little sisters as though they are your own, delicate fingers brushing their hair, fixing their bangs, prepping their meals—you treat him and his family with something that feels so special but he would hate to be falsely reading between the lines.

Empathy and kindness have always been one of your traits, you put other people first and although Mitsuya loved it when someone realized just how much of an amazing human being you were, he hated seeing you get taken advantage of. So nice, so sweet—an angel.

You are present when Toman becomes a thing, celebrate alongside the first few members of the biker gang the birth of something so small yet so significant (with a future so big, nobody could ever foresee it). However, violence was never your thing. And so a frown sits heavy on your face whenever you see small scratches on Mitsuya’s face, remind yourself to scold him later for the bruise on his jaw—how would he explain it to his sisters? They’re probably worried sick about him!

“It’s me, can you open up?” it is a rainy summer night, your favorites. You are wearing light pajama pants and a tank top as you approach the entrance door with your heart beating in your throat. At around 11:32PM, soft knocks come to your door. You don’t move from the couch at first. Maybe they’ve mistaken the property for theirs.

Until a second round of knocks come in, and you hear the muffled voice and—wait, you know that voice! As you rush to undo the locks, nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the scene awaiting you.

Mitsuya Takashi was everything yet nothing—a leader, an older brother and a best friend, but when he comes to you so late at night with bruises and cuts all over his face—purple and red knuckles, the bones almost visible, he hisses at the feeling of the alcohol against his wounds. Tears welling up in his eyes, the sniffles--you realize how utterly small and vulnerable he is, sitting on your red couch with legs that would not rest. His limbs shake and his head hurts, you doubt that he has eaten anything all day and he watches as you sigh and rearrange the first aid kit before making your way to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounds harsh, the softness to it no longer there after having yelled so much during yet another one of Toman’s fights. You give no response. You don’t need his apologies, you do not need words right now—however, starting a fight was the last thing on your mind, and clearly not what Mitsuya was able to handle in such state.

“It’s alright,” you say as you make your way back to where he was and place food in front of him. Hot and delicious, the smell alone is enough to make his mouth water and he digs in with no regard to his wounds—you hear him hiss as he pulls the chopsticks away from his lips and for the first time ever, you give a small chuckle.

Mitsuya smiles at this, a little relieved that you weren’t that mad at him. However, he sees the way you sit and face away from him, how your eyes trail longer on the uninteresting, empty road out there rather than his face. This was unlike you. You were never one to avoid eye contact with him, having openly admitted that you find solace in his lavender eyes and his gentle stare. Clearly, something was wrong.

“Are you angry with me?” It is not a surprise that the emotionally intelligent man was able to pick up on the subtle hints you’ve thrown his way about your sour mood, and you suck in your lips for a bit before finally mustering up the courage to face him. Your eyes are tired, a deep frown sitting heavy on your face and painting your features in a darker light than usual. One that has the wounded man’s heart breaking for a bit.

“Only worried,” you want to say more, Mitsuya fixing his posture to look at you encourages you to do so. “Do you have to do this?” you whisper the question so softly, so afraid that someone in the empty apartment beside Mitsuya would hear. You don’t know why you are so afraid of being heard, perhaps because you know you are overstepping into a territory that wasn’t yours—something you’ve never had the chance to experience—Toman, the community, the people in it. They all meant so much to the guy sitting next to you, wouldn’t it be insulting to ask him if he has to put his life on the line for them every time?

Upon hearing those words, a sigh leaves the guy’s lips and you feel like sinking into the couch. Conversing with Mitsuya was easy, it felt natural and smooth—why was this topic so anxiety inducing then?

“You’ve been there… you know, when it all started.” His words serve as a reminder of the day it all started, the joy on everyone’s faces when Mitsuya handed them the old Toman uniforms. You’ve seen it, how dedicated all of them were. You were understanding—but this was too much.

“I have but—Takashi, this is ridiculous,” you turn to face him and Mitsuya’s eyes flicker down to your pouty lips before staring back at your eyes. He hates seeing you so upset.

“I know, I know…” his hand slides towards your own and you feel electricity through your body when you feel his touch, the way his fingers interlace with yours and his thumb brushes over the skin of the back of your hand. “I just have to and plus, kinda needed that beating as warm up.”

“Huh?” you stare at him confused, pushing him to continue.

“Toman’s been involved in something a bit nasty,”

“But you guys are used to nasty, right?” there’s nervousness in your voice.

“Yeah but this is… This is next level,” when Mitsuya leans forward with his elbows on his knees, the serious look on his face almost sends you spiraling.

“Who?”

“Hm?”

“Who are you fighting?” You’re fighting off high levels of anxiety as he keeps you waiting for a few seconds before replying.

“Tenjiku.”

“Tenji—“ you choke on your spit, unable to finish your sentence out of pure shock. “Tenjiku! You are fighting Tenjiku? No, no no no—you’re not,” you’ve grown agitated at the mention of the name of the gang, and Mitsuya suddenly finds himself unable to calm you down as he normally can.

“Hey, it’s okay we’ve got this, we always do—“

“You always do?!” You repeat, before pointing at his state. “Look at you! You’re barely coming back in one piece, think you can fight Tenjiku?”

“Well excuse you, Toman is also very strong.” Takashi also gets up from the couch, your words having too much of an effect on the usually calm and collected man. As he watches you pace around the living room of your apartment, his hands find themselves in front of his body, reaching towards you in a futile attempt of getting you to calm or sit down. But to no avail. It seems as though the mention of such dangerously reputable biker gang sets you off, and the possibility of what might happen to the man if not careful enough sends you spiraling down faster with each short inhale you take.

“That’s—what? A thousand men against a hundred? Don’t be ridiculous Takashi.”

“How am I being ridiculous? You know Toman,” his eyebrows are furrowed and his body stops moving, indicating that your words were starting to get to him personally. “We are strong, we got this.”

“You always come back beaten up and bloody!” you half yell out exasperated. “You don’t got this if most of your body is black and blue by the time a fight is over!”

The tension in the room has grown so thick. It’s unusual given your somewhat stable friendship with the man. Slight disagreements happened here and there over things that you could easily brush off and say ‘yes, I was wrong and you were right,’ or simply ignore it and pretend it never happened. But as your voice gets louder, and you show more and more evidence of how upset you are, it’s clear as day that ‘slight’ wouldn’t describe the situation accurately. You were having a full blown argument with Mitsuya, and it still hasn’t sunk in yet.

Mitsuya can hear his heart beat in his chest, he feels his ears heating up with the amount of negative feelings he was experiencing towards this—towards you being so against Toman winning. Did you really not believe in him? Were you faking being supportive this entire time?

“You know I’m still going to go and fight alongside them, right?” The tone Takashi uses with you is so unusual that you feel your eyes brimming with tears straight away. Cold and indifferent, two things you never thought you could associate with how the man felt for you.

“Well don’t come to my place for me to clean you up. Find someone else.”

“I will.” He doesn’t wait for you to open the door for him, doesn’t say goodnight as he usually does. He doesn’t even slam the door as he leaves. He is cold and distant as he walks further and further away from you, from the argument. Reality sets in and the heavy weight of your words and reactions to his announcement come flashing back like a short movie made to embarrass you, make you feel guilty.

“Fuck.”

“Mitsuya! You’re distracted!” Another punch lands on the lavender hair’s jaw, sending him flying into the ground with a loud thud. Although his injuries aren’t as bad as half of Toman’s, his disorganized state is sending most of his division members into a panicked state. He was never like this.

“Ugh--!” Before he can stand up, he is being kicked repeatedly in the guts until blood spills out of his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to roll over and away from whoever’s attacking him to avoid another harsh blow to his body. He gets on one knee with an arm around his middle, protecting his injuries and he coughs out blood before letting his wobbly legs help him stand up straight.

“Shit—sorry,” his hand wipes at the blood on his lips. He gets into a fighting stance and immediately, the look in his eyes changes into something fiercer, more passionate. He hates that the argument with you is the only thing on his mind. Your words, your tone, even the way you haven’t reached out to him in a couple of days. He hates fighting with you, despises the fact that maybe you were right, and that Tenjiku are beating them up. But one glance at his division members—at Toman, it reminds him that the roars of victory when the fight ends, the tears of joy. The pain in his body could never compare to the happiness and satisfaction of being in this gang, his second family. However, he cannot wait for everything to be over, and for you two to make up.

The universe has a strange way of showing that two people are meant to be. As Mitsuya makes his way back to his apartment, several groans escape his lips as he drags his bloodied and beaten up body up the stairs. He preferred going to yours because there were less stairs but…It looks like it wasn’t an option now. As his hand twists the knob of his door, he is fully prepared to see a mortified baby sitter asking him what exactly had happened—but instead, he sees something else. Or rather someone.

Earlier that night, things were a bit messy for you. Feeling as though you have been punched repeatedly in the guts wasn’t an enjoyable feeling—the nausea amplified by your shallow breathing, your nostrils hurting from the harsh cold air and your throat dry as a desert as your body refuses to swallow, instead sending you into an anxious state as it forgets to let the oxygen into your lungs. You choke as you get away from the window and run to the kitchen to grab some water, you open the tap and let the cold liquid hit your wrists, calm your nerves. You lean against the sink with your elbows propped against the surface and your lips pathetically wobble as tears threaten to spill. You couldn’t handle this anymore.

You were glad that Luna and Mana had gone down to sleep easily, a short story about a princess that wandered around the forest, slipping down a mystery hole into a magical world which she ended up ruling had the girls’ eyes sparkle, yet the tiredness was visible as their under eyes darkened, eyelids heavy and before you knew it—tiny snores resonated through their shared room. You checked on them a couple of times throughout the night, and although the sight of them sleeping so soundly had you place a hand on your chest as muscle memory, your body wanting to show its relief—your brain was running a thousand miles per hour. Takashi—how was he? Would he even make it back? You feel as though you were a bit harsh with him when telling him that you wouldn’t treat his wounds—but his stubbornness, you couldn’t handle it anymore.

There is a crackling noise coming from the fireplace, and you know that the coldness of your body calls for warming up but—but not now, not when Mitsuya wasn’t back home yet, and it was already approaching three in the morning.

As strange as it may seem, the invisible thread connecting the two of you was tugging from both sides and you find yourself staring at the door knob before it starts twisting. When the door swings open and a bloody Mitsuya comes in sight, the first thing that leaves your lips is a defeated “oh” before your feet rush you to the first aid kit you had brought with you from your place.

“What…are you doing here?” Takashi is the first to break the silence as he limps towards the couch. You don’t answer, you gently place him on the cushions before cradling his face in your hands. He doesn’t like the look on your face, how your eyes are brimming with tears and your bottom lip wobbles before you look away to hide the fact that you were very close to bursting into tears.

“I was never going to come.” You admit, but it was obviously a lie. Not with the way you carefully unbutton his uniform top and hand him a bottle of water to keep him hydrated.

“I know,” his voice had gone low, almost ashamed to be in such position.

“Did you at least win?” You whisper as you open the kit and pull out cotton and some disinfectant for his wounds, a bandage for his for his arms and legs. His uniform was ripped, destroyed from being tossed to the ground repeatedly, but the proud smile on his face eases your worries a bit. You miss seeing his lips curl up like that.

“Toman never loses.”

The next few minutes go by in complete silence, with the occasional hiss and groans from the man being treated and your soft apologies. The living room is filled with something so intense, ready to snap at any given moment. When Takashi groans as you press at a certain spot between his ribs, you freeze and look up at him.

“You broke a bone?”

“I figured with how hard I was getting beaten,” he holds his side with a slight wince.

“Takashi…” said man looks down at you, and his eyes soften when he sees that the tears you once held in were finally spilling out. “You’re so reckless, I—you stress me out,” you try to wipe your tears away, but it seems useless. The more tears fall down, the less control you have over your sobs. You are on the verge of a full breakdown and the man sitting before you on the couch can’t help but reach his hands towards you to smooth your hair, push it out of your wet face.

“Hey…hey I’m fine, I’m sorry that I caused you this much stress I just—“

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you cut him off abruptly, moving your hands away from your face and letting him fully cradle your face. “I can’t imagine living without you, Taka,” before your lip could start wobbling again, Takashi’s thumb gently brushes over it and pulls it down.

“You won’t lose me,” he whispers, leaning down to your level. “Ever. I know I get beaten up very often, but I always come back in one piece, don’t I?”

“But what if something happens?” you’re finally letting your worries float to the surface openly. Rather than telling him not to fight like last time, you are now fully admitting that you were anxious about his absence, how much he means to you and how his well being affects your life. “What if—what if you lose, you die and I don’t have you in my life?”

“That wouldn’t be so horrible, hm? I do cause you a lot of stress apparently,” he tries to joke, lift up your mood but you shake your head almost harshly, hands grabbing his wrists.

“I need you with me, in my life. I need you next to me, I wanna be selfish and keep you all to myself, Taka,”

“All to yourself?” His thumb then brushes your cheek, up to your eyebrows before pushing your sweaty strands out of your face. “Sounds like you got something else to say, don’t you?”

His voice isn’t playful, but rather encouraging. His lavender eyes are filled with something so comforting yet so intense. For the first time ever, you feel nervous in his presence.

“That I love you. I’m in love with you, you don’t even know how horrible it feels when I have to treat your cuts and wounds and have to watch you be so careless about something that is so precious to me,” your hands let go of his wrists to cradle his face, mirroring his actions. He melts under your touch, nuzzling into the palm of your hands like a feline craving heat during winter.

“Lucky you, I’d love to have you all to myself too,”

“You do?”

“I do,” he nods and tilts your head up to stare at him. “I have wanted you all to myself for so long, it’s kind of ridiculous. That warm smile,” his other hand traces your lips. “Those gorgeous eyes,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your eyelids. “This pure soul,” his lips then press against your forehead, between your eyebrows. “I’ve wanted you to be all mine for so long, watched myself fall in love with you harder with every moment we spent together. My heart, my soul—they yearned for yours. For your eyes to only stare at me, for those lips to only smile at me—I love you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up with every word, every honeyed sentence leaving his lips like a sweet melody. You can’t bring yourself to say anything in return, not when looking at him seems so difficult, your eyes, chest and whole body feeling hot at the realization that he feels the same.

Takashi was in love with you.

“You made my confession seem so lame,” you break the silence with a sniffle, and your face heats up even more when he starts laughing at your embarrassed state.

“It wasn’t lame at all, my love, my heart is about to burst at your words,”

“Don’t—you’re so comfortable already!” You try to pull away from him when he uses such sweet pet names on you.

“I am the luckiest to be with my best friend, my baby,” he presses his lips against your cheeks with a grin, going in for another kiss when he feels your hot cheeks. “Of course I’d be comfortable.”

Falling for your best friend seemed like the worst possible outcome when you realized you were developing feelings for him, but when he was holding you with so much care and staring at you with such warm eyes—all those worries melted away against the palm of his hand, accepting the love he had for you with open arms and an open heart.

2024: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #tr mitsuya #tr x reader #tr x you #mitsuya tokyo revengers #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya x you #tokrev mitsuya #mitsuya x reader fluff #mitsuya x reader angst

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thisreadswhatever · 1 year

Text

His Best Friend's Sister

find my masterlist here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.2k

[summary]: as Opie’s little sister, you never really had a chance with Jax. but with a plan to make him jealous one night at Diosa, you're hoping you can change all of that.

[cw]: 18+, flirting, slight angst, smut, younger reader (just out of college), pet names, oral f receiving, choking, biting, mildly rough sex, spelling/grammar errors throughout

[an]: this is based off of this request (thank you!) - it took so long to finish as i was struggling to write for awhile. it’s not as rough smut wise as it could’ve been but for my first one in a few months it could’ve been worse. anyways now it’s complete i think it may be one of my favourite things i’ve wrote for jax! hope you enjoy. requests are always welcomed - they really help me gain some confidence in my writing. if you’d like to be tagged in future works please lmk :)

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, brother?”

Jax was perched against the door of the men’s bathroom in Diosa.

“If my sister’s going to be with any outlaw, I guess it’s better off being my best friend.”

Jax was amused at this, smirking as he pushed Opie in the shoulder. “As far as outlaws I’d say I’m a pretty big catch.”

Opie scoffed while he zipped up his jeans, “Just don’t break her heart, or I’ll have to break your jaw.” Jax grinned at his best friend, “fair enough.”

You’d known Jax since you were both little kids, and between him and Opie, you always felt like just the pestering little sister, even if you were only two years younger than them. Once you’d graduated college and moved back to Charming, you’d realised just how much you liked Jax. He wasn’t like any guy you’d met at college, and you were crushing.. hard. It had been weeks of playing it cool, and you were done with the act. Tonight you had put on your best dress for Chib’s birthday party at Diosa, and you were going to make Jax see you weren’t just Opie’s annoying little sister anymore.

He walked in from the back rooms with Opie, laughing and running his hands through his hair, rings on every other finger. There was just something about Jax. You pretended you didn’t see him, but any chick with eyes would’ve looked. Melissa, one of the Diosa girls that you’d recently become friends with, had noticed him arrive too.

“Well if your plan doesn’t work in that dress, you got no chance.”

You’d wore the sexiest dress you had, a black short formed velvet dress with tiny straps and the tightest push up bra you could find.

“It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve worn a dress in front of him. He probably won’t notice me at all.”

Nonetheless, you did what you could to catch his eye. You shimmied on your seat towards the bar to make sure Jax could see you, and maybe he could catch a glimpse of your best assets flaunting with the help of your bra. You glanced over at him, wishing he’d glance back so you could lock eyes, yet he was clearly preoccupied by the heated discussion Tig and Bobby were having.

Melissa sighed, “we gotta go for plan B.”

You had no clue what she meant. “Hey Lucas, get over here.” You shifted your view from Jax to her, shocked by whatever she was conjuring up.

“What the fuck are you doing Melissa?”

“You want Jax to notice you?”

“By talking to a prospect?”

“Just shut up and do what I say.” If she wasn’t your closest friend here, you would’ve punched her. Lucas had only been a prospect with the club for a few months, he was shy and in your opinion, a little too innocent looking to be an outlaw. He stood beside your table, unsure what it was he was there for.

“Hey ladies. What can I do for ya?”

“Why don’t you sit down? We don’t bite.” Poor Lucas was melting at the flirty smile Melissa flashed his way. He shrugged and wedged himself on the empty chair placed at the edge of the table, right beside you. You almost felt bad for him.

Almost. Because it was that very moment that you glanced at Jax, and realised he was looking over now, directly at you, smiling while sipping his beer. Your heart started to race.

“What do you think of y/n’s dress?” She must’ve really wanted you to punch her. How the fuck was this going to get you Jax? Lucas pulled at the collar of his shirt, clearly wary that whatever the answer, he was in for it.

“It’s smokin’. Is that all you called me over here for?” Melissa nudged you on the side, pushing you closer to Lucas. “We just thought you may wanna get to know y/n a little better. Seeming as you’re new to the club and all.” You weren’t sure if Lucas looked delighted at the attention or like he wanted to run for the hills.

Melissa whispered in your ear, “It’s working.”

You looked over your shoulder back to the bar, and she was right, Jax hadn’t taken his eyes off you. You decided to play into it a little more. “Hey Lucas, did you know there’s a room out the back that is completely sound proofed?” Melissa gawked at your blunt question. Okay, maybe that was too far. “Umm.. no...” You leaned into him, placing your hand on his leg. “Yep, wanna see?” Lucas gulped and stood up. “Sure, why not.” You smiled at him and held your hand out for him to take, and you both headed towards the back rooms. You didn’t so much as peak at Melissa, but you did look at Jax. He was still watching, as you left the lobby, hand in hand with Lucas.

“This is the room. Pretty cool, huh?” You walked along the velvet wall frame, covered in grey foam squares. The room was large and full of red silk and tapestry. Lucas trailed behind you, closing the door as he followed. “Why would there be sound proofing at a massage parlour?” You laughed, the poor kid really was as naive as he was innocent. “This isn’t a massage parlour, silly.” You were about to explain, until there was a loud knock at the door. Before anyone could answer it, Jax walked in. “Club business out back, prospect. Tig’s looking for you.” Lucas practically ran, nodding at Jax as he left, slamming the door behind him.

And just like that, you were alone. With Jax. For the first time. Ever.

“Hi, Jax.” was all you could get out.

“Hey there, darlin.”

“Club business? Now?” You sat down on the edge of the bed, brutally aware of how high the skin on your thighs were now exposed from the already too short dress. Jax ignored your question as he sat down right next to you, twirling a lighter in his hands. “What exactly were you doing in here with the prospect?” You couldn’t lie to Jax, you were smart enough to know he’d see right through it. You also couldn’t tell him how you’d used the poor innocent soul to make him jealous either. “He wanted to see the room. I was being courteous.” Jax couldn’t contain the laughter now, “Courteous? He looked like his face was gonna melt off.”

Jax stood up and leaned back on his heels, plainly drinking you in with his eyes.

“Were you always this hot?”

Your heart started to race again, crimson filled your cheeks, but you knew you had to play it cool. You narrowed your eyes at him, “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Jax smiled back at you. “I never really noticed before. Being Ope’s sister kinda means you’re off limits.” Great. Still in little sister territory. “Then why are you here?”

He was walking to the other side of the room before he sat on the love seat in the far corner. “I wanted to check out the sound proofing.” He was highly amused.

“Very funny.” You figured he was just fucking with you, so you got up from the bed, heading for the door.

“Wait, don’t go.” Jax rushed to stand inbetween you and the doorway, blocking your exit. “I’m only messing with you babe. I’m here cos I couldn’t let Lucas have the hottest girl in Charming.”

“What’s it to you if I’m ‘off limits’..”

The gap between you and Jax was slimming so much you were sure he could hear your heart pounding through your chest. “Play it cool, play it cool” was all you kept repeating to yourself.

“That was before I told Ope I want you to be my old lady. And before I saw you seducing the prospects-“, Jax closed what space was remaining between you, “but I guess if you’d rather have a prospect I could leave you lovebirds to it..”

You shook your head. “Lucas is cute and all but you’re pretty alright too.” Jax leaned into you smiling, turning his back from the door. You moved with him, until you were the one with your back against the door, and Jax so close you could feel his chest moving with each breath. “I definitley don’t want to share you with Lucas.” He was so matter of fact. His nose was touching yours, your body’s morphing into one from the closeness. Fuck.

“Then make me all yours.”

Jax pulled his weight into you, pressing you firmly against the door. You grabbed his cut and pulled him tighter, if that were even possible, securing every inch of your body against his. You wrapped your hands into his blonde hair, tugging at the strands, before pulling your mouth to his. You had to stretch on your toes to reach him, using his hair to bring him closer to your level. He kissed you back with intent, his breath warm and smelling of cigarettes and beer, and you couldn’t get enough. Moans escaped between your lips as his hands travelled all over your dress, pushing you even further into the door so you could feel his hard on rubbing against you.

He pulled your hands from his hair, pinning them above your head to the door. He secured you there with one hand, and used his other to trail his fingers down your chest and stomach, pulling the fabric of your dress higher and higher. He kept his hand against your thigh, gnawing at the skin between your legs, all while kissing your neck as he moved towards your ear. “I like you like this”, he whispered. You groaned at the sound of his praise. This all just felt too good to be true.

He tugged the skin of your thighs tighter and the sensation sent tingles through your core, like a fire was burning in your hips towards your mound. It was all too much. “Holy shit, Jax. Just fuck me already.”

He giggled into your neck and suddenly your hands were released, with your feet lifted off the ground as Jax threw you on the bed. He was standing over you, pulling the buckle from his belt in his jeans. “Mmmm.. well maybe I like you like this better. Take off those panties.” You did as he said, knowing you would follow every instruction he ever gave you without a second thought. You wiggled out of your laced briefs while you lay there, before balling them up and throwing them at him. Jax caught them with one hand, and put them in his back pocket before pulling his jeans off. “What about my dress?” you asked playfully. He knelt down beside the bed, extending his hands to feel you under the dress that was now barely clinging to your body, before sliding them down to your legs and spreading them wide. “Stay just like that.”

He pulled at your hips and slid your body down the length of the bed until you were just hanging off the edge. You whimpered at the touch of his tongue to your soaking pussy. Jax was lapping up every inch of you, and you could feel the pressure mounting between your legs in response. “Jax- fuck- please.” It was all too much. The kneading of your thighs beneath his fingers as he pulled you further into his mouth, his tongue circling and sucking and pulling your clit over and over and over and over. You were almost at the brink of relief when Jax pulled away, smirking at you from the bedside. “Ever since I saw you in that dress I wanted to have my head under it.” He hovered over you, licking his lips before planting them on yours, making you taste every drip of your drenched pussy. You couldn’t take much more.

“Don’t make me beg, Jax.” You could barely get the words out between the gasps of air and his relentless tongue encapsulating yours.

“You don’t have to beg darling’, I’m going to take you so fucking bad.”

Jax pulled his cock from his briefs and slid into you before you could even respond, pounding his length into you while pressing your neck with his hand, choking you into the bed. “Fuck- you’re- so- big.” Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the fullness inside of you. You wrapped your hands around his arm securing his to your neck, craving more. He pushed his thumb into your mouth, holding it open as he repeatedly thrusted into you. “Show me what your mouth can do, baby.” You did as he said, sucking and caressing his thumb with your tongue as he lifted your legs from the bed, pulling him deeper inside you. You whimpered and bit on his thumb to stop the noises pouring from your throat, before he removed his hand from your neck. He leant down into you, kissing you while fucking you, pulling your dress to expose your breasts.

“Don’t need to be quiet in a sound proofed room babe. I want to hear you.” His words took you over the edge, and you came together simultaneously. Jax collapsed to your side.

“Holy fuck, Jax.” You couldn’t get anymore words out. He grinned at you as you giggled, embarrassed at your lack of words.

Jax kissed you before grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your cheeks at this point must’ve been the furthest shade of red imaginable. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t real.”

“Better believe it babe. And I’m not even done with you yet.”

1K notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 9 months

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

DAY ONE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

pairing: stepbrother!frankie x santi's gf!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: you were seventeen when Frankie became your stepbrother, but no matter the title, he never felt like a brother to you, going off to college right after your father remarried. But no matter the circumstances, he was still off limits. Years pass and when he returns from the army your relationship with him is even more strained. You end up settling for the second best thing instead, his best friend. Everything seems to be going fine until Frankie stays over and Santi needs to leave for work.

word count: 5k

warnings: infidelity (reader cheats on santi), stepcest, possesive!frankie, y'all this fic isn't morally okay at all but it's not exactly "dark" it's just really messed up so read with caution, breeding kink, dirty talking, fingering, mild degradation kink, male masturbation, piv, oral sex, spitting, pillow humping, size kink, poor santi didn't deserve this, size kink, cuckolding kink???? (santi isn't there but frankie gets really turned on talking about it)

a/n: i don't know who's or what's gonna do it but I need someone to forgive me for this. also hopefully this turned out okay, it's very loosely edited and feel a bit all over the place but hopefully I'm just overthinking it. enjoy babes

Your father remarried when you were seventeen.

You felt cheated at the time. And not because your father had found love again—no, that made you quite happy actually. You just wished he’d done it sooner, you could’ve benefited from having a big brother early on. Your relationship with your birth mother wasn’t easy, especially when you were young, and having someone there to vent to would’ve been like a dream. Your dad listened, but you know he felt someone guilty for it even though it wasn’t his fault.

Frankie was only three years older than you. Sadly, he didn’t stick around for long, going off to college a year later. But his visits were frequent enough that you two developed a somewhat friendly relationship.

Emphasis on the somewhat.

Being young and dumb, you developed a crush on him instead. It was an innocent thing. Just some hearts around his name and following him around like a duckling whenever he was around. Your dad and stepmom found it cute, endearing. Frankie seemed indifferent most of the time. He listened when you needed to vent, brought you soup when you were sick and your parents were working—and that was pretty much it.

Then he went and joined the army.

You remember the chaos that decision brought over the household. You were applying for colleges all on your own, your dad busy trying to console your stepmom, the latter being distraught over the potential of losing her son. You were just. . . sorta around, floating and looking over them, listening without really being there, just. . . there.

A month later you were surprised to find a letter addressed to you. There was one for his mom and one for you, you just stared at it, confused when your dad handed it to you.

You opened it in your room. You swore the damn paper smelled like him, the beat of your heart too loud to your own ears.

You read it. There was only one sentence scribbled down, his handwriting even more crooked than usual.

I’m sorry.

You didn’t write back to him. You had no idea why he was apologizing and you were too afraid to ask at the time. During your first day of college you just assumed it was because he left you to deal with the mess his absence caused.

Then he returned.

The house was bustling when you came for your weekend visit. Your stepmom grinning from ear to ear when you arrived, hugging you tight with tears shining in her eyes. Frankie had brought a friend with him, a friend almost as handsome as him.

Said friend had smiled at you, squeezing your hand tight, “Santiago,” he introduced himself. He stayed over for about a week and so did you, charmed by this sudden stranger that was your brother’s best friend.

Frankie didn’t address the letter. Or what he’s written inside of it. He was the same as he’d ever been and for a second you doubted if you ever did receive a letter. But you knew you did. You still had it.

At the end of the week, Santi officially asked you out, telling you that he’d already spoken to Frankie about it. You almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole ordeal. It wasn’t like Frankie ever was protective towards you, you were pretty sure Frankie couldn’t care less about who you dated. But nonetheless, you said yes, hoping that Santi would bring you the normalcy you so desperately craved.

And he did. You were happy, enjoying every moment you spent with him. Santi didn’t push you aside, he didn’t make you feel like you had to fight for his attention. You didn’t have to play tricks or games, you weren’t second place to no one. Finally, you felt like the lead in your own goddamn life and you would always feel grateful to him for that.

You couldn’t say the same thing with your relationship with Frankie thought. He completely iced you out, only talking to you normally when people were around, especially Santi. No one seemed to notice. You wanted to ask him about it but too much of a coward to do so. And honestly, you didn’t have it in you to care anymore. Neither you nor Frankie were young anymore; if he had a problem, he could just ask.

Three months into your relationship, you moved in with Santi.

The setting sun's warm, orange glow pours through the open windows. A gentle breeze brushes against your skin, as you place a cup of hot black coffee on the table in front of him.

Santi sits on the couch, absorbed in the files from work. His fingers flip through the pages as he studies them intently. The soft rustling of paper mingles with the soft summer air.

You sit next to him, your legs brushing together. Unlike him, you didn’t hate yourself so you were cooling your insides down with an iced coffee. You take a sip, your eyes eating at the way the sun kisses his skin, sharpening his jawline further.

“Thanks,” he mutters, lifting his mug to your lips. His eyes find yours midst of drinking. “What are you looking at, querida?” he asks, lips twitching into a smile.

“Oh nothing,” you hum. “Just looking at my very hot boyfriend.”

“Very hot hmm,” Santi places the mug on the coffee table and gives you all his attention. “Seems like someone’s gonna miss me when I’m away.”

Before you can quip back, he pulls you to his lap, your thighs framing his hips. You instinctively grind down and let out a shuddering breath, Santi drops his head back against the couch. “Fuck, you really are going to miss me, aren’t you? Sweet thing.”

You cradle his jaw with both hands, leaning in, you press your lips together. Santi eagerly licks the seam of your lips, a silent order for you to let him in, you do, moaning at the feel of his tongue dancing alongside yours. He sucks the air from your lungs, tracing every inch of you with his tongue, a shiver runs up your spine, your body rubbing against his despite yourself.

When he parts away you take in the sight of his swollen lips, his lustful gaze. Your heart skips a beat and your insides flush.

“Oh, by the way, Frankie called,” he says out of the blue and out of breath.

Well, that certainly kills the mood.

“He needs a place to crash a couple of days, is that alright?” his eyebrows raise. “I’m actually surprised you don’t know. What kind of sibling relationship do you two have?”

“You know we never actually lived together right?” you shrug. “But of course, he’s my brother and I love him. He can stay as long as he wants to.”

He nods. “Good,” then nods again before giving you a quick peck on the lips. “It’s a bummer I won’t be here when he arrives.”

“You could’ve rescheduled.”

“This isn’t that kind of job sweetheart, you know it.” he nuzzles your cheek, feeling your discomfort. “But anyway, I’ll see him plenty when I get back.”

You draw him into another kiss, and you take your time with it, feeling the fat strokes of his tongue delving into your mouth as you part your lips further. You wish he’d be here when Frankie comes. He still doesn’t talk much unless there are others around and after all these years you don’t know what you did to anger him enough so that he’d hold a grudge.

Santi moans into your mouth and cups your breasts, toying with your hardened nipples with his thumbs. You wonder how okay he’d be with it if he knew about your past crush on Frankie. He’d probably laugh it off, it was a long time ago anyway.

Your mind drifts to Frankie. To his messy curls the ballcap he refused to take off. Deep down you wonder what his reaction would be in learning about your past crush. A gush of heat rolls down your spine, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. Santi's fingers glide downward, tracing the path between your legs. You shudder, a moan breaking through your lips.

You’re not sure who you’re thinking about right now, two faces merging as one.

You’re sitting on the couch, rigid, when you hear the knock that you hoped never came.

All day you’ve been pacing around thinking about it, thinking about Frankie. He hadn’t called you not even once. All of his travel info was forwarded to you by Santi. It hurt to a degree. Him ignoring your presence so forcefully. You haven’t visited home in ages just because you knew he was staying there, helping your dad with the business. Sometimes you teased your father that Frankie was the son he’d always wanted, and despite your awkward laughter, you knew there was some truth to that statement.

Another forceful knock.

You finally push yourself off the couch and head to the door. Blood pumps vigorously through your veins, your heart beating too fast—too loud. You don’t have time to calm yourself as you yank the door open.

His eyes immediately meet your own. Dark like chocolate chips but bitter like coffee. Sweat clings to his skin, hair curling at the ends, his shirt darkened in color sticking to his sternum, highlighting the contours of his chest and the swell of his stomach. You swallow.

“Hey, Frankie,” you make a move to help with his luggage but he pulls it away before you can touch the handle. Filled with unease, you take a step back and leave enough room for him and his luggage to pass through. “How was the flight?”

“Good.”

Jesus, why does he always make everything so difficult?

You close the door when he fully steps in, he does a brief once-over across the living room. His eyes linger on the picture of you and Santi on the coffee table, then quickly turn back to you, ignoring his own picture entirely. “Which room am I in, hermanita?”

Your eyes widen at the endearment, your pulse picking up again. It had been years since he last called you that. “Uh. . . last room down the hall,” you murmur, mind absent. When he’s about to leave, you grip his arm, stopping him. His muscles tense underneath your touch, his eyes burning holes into the hand that’s holding him. “I cooked,” you say, choked. “You must be hungry, let’s eat first then I’ll show you around.”

Frankie rolls his shoulders and moves his jaw from side to side. You’re about to take back your offer when he sighs, his shoulders dropping. “Fine. Okay.”

You’re heating up the food when Frankie walks through the kitchen door. He’s wearing a clean shirt, cheeks damp from where he splashed water over himself.

“Smells nice,” he mutters, standing next to you and peering from above your shoulder. “Is that mom’s recipe?”

“It is,” a soft smile touches your lips. His eyes follow the curve of it, a slight surprise etching between his brows. “But I don’t make any promises about the taste. It’s my first time making it.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

There’s something in his tone that prompts you to stop your stirring and look at him. You’re surprised to find him already staring. His eyes clouded, lips tight as his gaze searching yours. “I shouldn’t have. . . what?” you ask very slowly, every word chosen very carefully.

“Cooked,” he’s so unbelievably close. So close that you can hear the rasps in his voice, feel the heat of his breath across your cheeks. Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach.

“O–Oh, well it’s nothing,” you force a chuckle. “Didn’t want to feed you something you didn’t like when you’re already probably uncomfortable.”

He laughs, a sound you hadn’t heard in such a long time. Your body vibrates with the sound. “What am I? A dog?” However, the moment is fleeting like the sand dancing under the wind. His brows furrow. “What do you mean uncomfortable?”

Ah, so much for picking your words carefully.

You shrug and turn off the stove. Your eyes move up to the cupboard, you so desperately want to break away from the hold the close proximity has on you but it just feels good to be physically close to him again. He’s taller than Santi, that combined with broad shoulders and chest, Frankie’s presence can be quite demanding when he wants it to be. You guess that right now is one of those moments. He cups your chin, his fingers brushing against your neck. Your throat bobs heavily under his palm, sweat gathering at the small of your back.

“Don’t play dumb,” you answer him sharply. “You barely talk to me when we’re alone. You didn’t even tell me you were staying over or your itinerary, I had to learn it all from Santi,” you break away from his grip, your anger starting to boil over. Frankie’s unphased by your sudden movement. “So what? All of that changes just because I cooked for you? Just because you only now noticed that I actually care about you? Do you have any idea how—”

You clamp your lips shut. It was too much— too much threatening to bubble out. The inside of your mouth feels like sandpaper, your throat convulsing painfully as regret coats your tongue. You dare a glance at Frankie. He doesn’t seem taken aback by your outburst. In fact, he’s giving you a look as if he’s been waiting for this.

“I know that you care,” he murmurs and you look away, the softness in your tone more than enough to convince you that he knows. And he had known, all this time. “I had to ice you out. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

You need to hear him say it. You need him to tell you that he knows—you need him to blatantly tell you that every time you averted your gaze at the last second years before. . . he noticed.

“Choice in what? Just tell me,” you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling like your entire body might shatter into a billion pieces at any second.

He gives you a knowing look, eyes moving up and down your figure. “You know why.”

“So as always it’s my fault.”

“What?” he blinks rapidly and comes closer, hands finding your waist in an odd sense of familiarity. “No no, it’s not your fault. I. . . I was protecting you,” he licks his lips, eyes dropping to your mouth. “I was. . . protecting you from myself.”

You shake your head, fighting every urge to nuzzle his neck like a wounded animal. To smell his scent to soothe you. God, you’re unbelievable. And here you thought all your feelings had disappeared, apparently, they were just laying dormant under the flesh and bone.

His nails bite into your skin despite your clothes.

“Do you know how hard it was seeing you with him?” he spat the last word as if it was poison. A shiver crawls up your spine, needles digging into your skin. “You started to look at him the same way you used to look at me. I had to pull away.”

“You were jealous?” you ask, confusion crossing your face. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because it’s wrong, hermanita.”

The Spanish hit his tongue more violently this time. A reminder of what this relationship was supposed to be. However, the word doesn’t stop him from coming closer and closer, until his lips are only a breath away.

“We’ve never been brother and sister, Frankie,” you say voice surprisingly hoarse. “Everyone knows that.”

He scoffs, “You’re dating my best friend.”

For that, you don’t have an excuse. All you can do is swallow and nod, his chest now flush against his, the only thing separating you to is your own arms that were still squeezing you tight.

Frankie observes you a second longer, eyes flitting across your face; taking in the sight of your parted lips and dilated pupils. “But,” he continues, voice dangerously low. "I'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

You enter the bedroom and as soon as you do guilt rapidly builds in your chest, Frankie is right behind you, closing the door while your gaze remains glued to the picture that’s on your nightstand. A picture of you and Santi; there’s frosting on his nose from your birthday cake, your face split in a huge smile. You also remember being mildly bummed that Frankie hadn’t called.

He follows your gaze, frowning when he notices what it was that you were staring at. With large steps, he walks over to the frame and slams it down.

“Do you want this?” he breathes out, voice nothing but gravel. He doesn’t turn to look at you, his face lowered to the nightstand. “Because if you don’t, you have to tell me.”

He’s asking the wrong question.

You walk up to him, sliding your arms to his front as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades.

Of course, you want this.

The question he should be asking is if it’s worth throwing everything away just for one night. Because this is what that was. You don’t think you can hide it, and you’re not even sure if you want to hide it.

Being with Frankie tonight means that you’re saying goodbye to Santiago, whether you tell him or he figures it out.

You clutch the front of his shirt. It’s damp with sweat. You press a kiss, enjoying the moisture gathering at your lips. “Do you?”

He turns around and grabs your face, pulling you to him immediately. Your mouths crash together, tongue and teeth eager to explore more of the other. He’s already pulling you away before your brain can’t even comprehend the taste of him, “More than anything,” he growls, hands still cradling your face. “Get on your knees.”

Your drop instantly, not even bothering to take off your shirt. Warmth blossoms all over your skin as he drops his pants along with his boxers, cock already hard and ready. He starts stroking himself and tilts your head back. “Open your mouth,” he orders.

Slotting the head of his cock between your lips, fist moving up and down his length. You close your lips around him, dipping your tongue into the slit. He groans with a rock of his hips, the first drops of precome stain your tongue, a loud moan ripping from your throat. You desperately want to bury your hand between your legs, your clit throbbing angrily.

Frankie moves his hand away from his cock and brackets your head with both hands, pushing you forward down his cock. Only halfway down and you begin gagging, struggling for breath. You knew he’d be big, you just weren’t aware of how big.

A cruel laughter rings above you, “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all you can take?” you look up, eyes teary as he thrust a little bit more. Your throat squeezes helplessly around the width of him, your nostrils flaring. Frankie clicks his tongue, “My poor baby sister,” he tuts. “You’re not used to taking something this big huh?”

You attempt to convey an answer but end up choking around him instead, your lids flutter, wet lashes kissing the skin under your eyes. “I guess I’ll have you train you myself,” your nipples harden at the promise, slick gathering at the seams of your underwear. “But later,” he says and much to your disappointment, pulls out.

You breathe heavily, chest heaving as oxygen floods your lungs.

“Strip,” he says, pulling off his shirt and kicking his pants away. “And get on the bed.”

“So bossy,” you mutter, and as soon as you do, Frankie tugs you roughly against him, his tongue slipping between your lips hastily. He doesn’t allow you to breathe, mouth moving before you get the chance. He licks deeper into your mouth, and sucks your tongue as he parts away. Your insides flush. Your head spinning and legs trembling. Lightheaded, you grip his shoulders.

“I’m not bossy,” he grunts, wet lips touching your forehead. “I’m just eager.”

That makes both of you. Quickly stripping, you climb the bed waiting for him to show you just how eager he was.

Instead, he walks around the bed, examing the pillows, “Which one is his?”

“Santi’s pillow?” you raise an eyebrow. “It’s the one on the left.”

He takes it with a hum, “Spread your legs,” he says and when you do, he places the pillow between them. Your heart races, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. You don’t lower yourself down on the pillow, too embarrassed to do so. Frankie sits on the footstool at the end of the bed and takes his cock into his fist. He stares at you expectantly.

“Uh—What am I supposed to do?”

His cat-like grin makes you realize he wanted you to ask that, he leans forward, touching himself slowly, “I want you to make a mess of his pillow,” he groans. You clench at the order, your cheeks heating at how slick you’ve gotten just from the thought of it. “I want you to drench it so when he lays his head, he knows you don’t belong to him.”

Frankie’s gaze flash with hunger, it frightens you to a degree, how angry he truly is.

The fact that you actually do it, frightens you more.

You lower yourself onto the pillow, feeling its softness beneath you and a strange thrill whispering through your body as your arousal surges higher. With a moan, you begin to ride the pillow, sinking your hips deeper with every thrust. You feel it grazing your clit, a whimper dropping from your lips. Mouth agape, you lift your gaze to Frankie.

He’s stroking himself with a smile, wet noises coming from his fist fill the room, he swipes a thumb over the head. Your mouth flooding with saliva, you press against the pillow harder, the muscles of your legs clenching. Frankie notices and spreads his legs further, giving you a show of cupping his balls before moving his hand up again.

“You look like you’ve never seen cock before,” he purrs. “You can’t wait can you? For me to fill that hungry pussy up. Don’t worry, big brother is going to take care of you.”

“Fuck—” you can feel your body becoming increasingly slick, your breathing heavy and labored as pleasure ripples across your skin. Your body tenses and trembles as you rock against the pillow relentlessly, the coil tightening as you circle your hips.

Dampness gross underneath you, Frankie’s eyes fixed on where you and Santi’s pillow connect. You’re embarrassingly wet, strings of slick stretching between. Your movements start to slow as your orgasm nears, it’s too much and you have the need to just bend over and let Frankie fuck you hard without any of the games.

The legs of the footstool drag against the hardwood floors, the sound making you jump. Climbing the bed, he sits on his knees, “Let me feel how wet you are,” he groans. He pushes his hand between your legs without waiting for an answer. He slips a finger in, your eyes rolling back at the pressure. “He can’t get you this wet can he?” he asks rhetorically. “Bet he’d loved to see you getting yourself off like this, coming for another man.” he curses, thrusting into his other hand.

You hover above the pillow, your thighs starting to shake for exertion.

“Don’t stop, baby. Come on, soak it—soak it and I’ll fuck you.”

Your nipples tighten and your skin begins to tingle with arousal. Your head tilts backward and your mouth opens slightly as your body arches and grinds against the pillow. Something devastating builds inside, it builds and builds and builds—builds until you can’t take it anymore. Liquid heat sprays out of you, your walls convulsing as you drip down his hand and soak the pillow, just like he said.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he murmurs, pulling out his finger and dragging the wet digit over your cheek. He kisses you deeply. “Good fucking girl,” he growls into your mouth, nipping your chin.

You gasp for breath, your hips slowing but still shaking with pleasure even when you stop. Your mind is in a state of ecstasy. Frankie forces your jaw apart and purses his lips, spitting into your mouth. You jolt when it hits your tongue. “Swallow,” he murmurs.

“Gonna fuck you now, sweet girl,” he coos. “Gonna claim you on the bed you sleep with him every night,” he chuckles into your mouth. “I’m going to fuck you so good that Pope’s gonna keep wondering why it always smells like sex in here.”

God, you wish it didn’t but the words and the depravity he said them in makes your skin prickle, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips.

Frankie turns you over, pulling the pillow under your hips as you remain on all fours. Your arms feel weak, legs still trembling from your orgasm. “F–Frankie,” you slur your words.

“Don’t worry baby,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth over the small of your back. “I got you, and I’m never gonna let go.”

He positions Santi’s pillow under your hips, the fabric dark in color from your slick. Your arms finally gave way and you drop face-first into the sheets, you can smell him now, Santi’s pine scent fills your lungs.

Shit, what the hell is wrong with you?

“Stop thinking about him,” Frankie hisses from behind you, parting your folds by dragging his length. He lets out a deep sigh before you can answer. “It doesn’t matter, you won’t be able to think of anything else soon anyway.”

You shudder at the promise of his words. He leans in, the heft of his body covering yours as his lips touch your ear, “I’m gonna come inside this pretty cunt. Then you’re going to squeeze every bit of it out and taste it—Got it?”

“Y-Yes,” your voice is trembling, your body burning from the inside out.

Suddenly he grips your nape, squeezing until pain ebbs under the skin. You swallow, tears stinging the corner of your eyes; he doesn’t say a word, pushing his cock between your wet thighs. It’s filthy how he makes you feel, how badly you want to surrender to him. You drool all over him, your walls spasming until the head catches against your clit and a whimper leaves your lips.

Frankie comes to a halt and his grip around your nape lightens, caressing the skin.

You let out a little groan as he eases himself inside you. He moves further and further until he’s fully sheathed. A thrill surges through your body. Your eyes roll back at finally faving him inside, a wanton moan falling from your lips.

Frankie flexes his cock and you groan at the stretch, “Who’s bigger?” he huffs, pushing deeper. Your body becomes limp underneath him. “Me or him.”

“You,” you manage to garble a response. “You’re so much bigger than him, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” he pants, chest heaving. “He can’t fuck you like this can he?”

He presses your hips flush against the pillow, the dampness that touch you scorching your skin. You nod helplessly and claw against the sheets. “He can’t—” you choke out. “Frankie please.”

He gives you what you want, grinding against you, cock filling you up with every forceful thrust. His ragged moans echo around the room, and you grasp onto the sheets tighter. Every thought is knocked out of your head every time he buries himself into you. Hips bruising where it hits your skin. You reach the peak quickly, that familiar tingle blossoming between your legs.

“Fuck—” beads of sweat line Frankie’s body, and you can feel the heat radiating from him. “You feel so good, so fucking good.”

He wraps an arm around you and pulls you out, holding one breast tight. His thumb goes in circles, lust lapping at your tired body as he presses deeper. “I want to feel you coming just on my cock,” he moans into your cheek.

Frankie angles himself in a way that he brushes against something devastating inside of you. It’s like a jolt of electricity, the force of it enough to empty the air in your lungs. He drags his cock over the same spot again and again, his thrust quick paced. You cry out his name when static fills your ears and dots dance over yoru vision. Your head falls back, chest heaving as your body quakes.

Your cunt continues to squeeze and throb around him, and soon enough, you feel the hot spill of come filling you to the brim. You swear another orgasm washes over you, the flavor of it thick on your tongue as you meet his thrusts. Frankie huffs a tired laugh and grips your asscheeks, spreading them.

“I can feel you dripping,” he murmurs, you hear the smile in his voice. “Makes me want to stay buried in your forever,” in contrast to his words, Frankie pulls out. “I hope you didn’t forget what I said,” he kisses your neck, long and slow. “Drag that full pussy all over his pillow.”

You spread your legs wider, rolling your hips over the soft material, you hiss when it brushes over your clit. “S-Shit, Frankie—”

“Bet he never fucked you like that before,” he remarks. Satisfied with the mess, he gestures you to move away. You practically collaps, head thudding against the headboard. Frankie’s gaze is fixed on the poor pillow, drenched in your slick and his come.

No matter what Frankie says, you’re not letting Santi sleep on that pillow. You’re fucked up, but you’re not that fucked up.

Staring at the pillow, reality finally settles in. A sharp inhale parts your lips and Frankie’s eyes snap toward the sound, his gaze searching yours. “There’s no going back from this,” he says. “When’s he coming back?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Good,” he crawl over to you, taking place between your still trembling legs. He slides his palm up your tigh and presses his mouth against your neck. “That’ll give us more time.”

You’re too much of a coward to ask time for what.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x fem!reader #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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halsteadlover · 6 months

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Will Halstead x Female!Reader.

• Requested by @klovesreading: I was wondering if you could do a story where the reader is married to Will but is a detective with Jay and is really close with Jay. But one day a case goes bad and the reader gets shot and almost dies and just a lot of angst but the reader survives in the end!

• Warnings: mention of blood, drugs, gunshots, tiny bit of angst and swearing.

• Word count: 5018.

• A/N: this is my first Will Halstead fic and it’s ugly as fuck, I don’t like one bit how it turned out 😭 you can actually notice I didn’t want to write anything else but I know if I kept going it would’ve ended up being so much longer than this so here is this piece of shit. I hope you’ll like it anyway but please bear with me 😭 comment, like and reblog if you want. I love you all so much ❤️

You, Will and Jay had been good friends for as long as you could remember.

The three of you grew up in the same neighborhood, your families being friends for a very long time. They were like big brothers to you or, at least, only one of them was.

You never managed to hide the crush you had on the redhead since you were a teenager, no one missed this detail – not even Jay who never wasted time teasing you about your crush on his brother – only Will seemed to not to see it.

You spent years of your adolescence and youth pining for him, trying to suppress your feelings knowing he didn't feel the same. You tried to move on, you had some boyfriends but it always ended the same way: you leaving them because you could never completely get Will out of your head. And as time passed you had resigned yourself to it, accepting you’d never be anything other than best friends.

There was a time when the three of you drifted apart, Will had gone to medical school, Jay had joined the army and left to go overseas and you spent a lot of time training to get in the police academy.

But fate really seemed to work in wonderful ways.

You thought you’d never reconnect with the Halstead brothers again but this was proven wrong when one day you met Jay at the police academy. You were a patrol cop with about two years of experience and he had just joined the Chicago PD after returning from his mission overseas.

And just like that you learned that Will had recently returned to Chicago and started working at Med's. It was as if time had never passed for the three of you, returning to having the deep bond that had united you since childhood.

But just as you thought your love for Will had somehow passed, it was enough for you to spend just a day with him to understand those deep feelings had never faded and that Will would forever be in your heart.

As time passed though, Will realized he was starting to look at you differently, continually craving your company. He didn't know when it happened or how it happened but he found himself inexorably losing his mind for you, in a way that shouldn't have happened with his best friend.

So for an amount of time you found yourselves lusting for each other from afar without either of you growing any balls and confessing your feelings.

The turning point came when the morning after spending a night at the bar and drinking too many shots and cocktails, you woke up in Will's bed with only a sheet covering your body. You were both too drunk the night before to remember what had happened but that blurry sexual encounter didn’t only happen once.

In fact after this rendezvous, it was as if a magnetic force attracted both of you and no matter how much you both fought it, one way or another you ended up having sex at one or the other's house.

Jay's teasing was pure torture as he could see from miles away that something really had happened between the two of you.

It was Will who confessed his love first, in the grip of emotions and no longer able to pretend you were just friends with benefits for even a second. You told him it took him a long time and that you loved him madly too, and the rest was history.

So here you were several years later, married to the love of your life and living the fairy tale you've always dreamed about.

“Babe please…” you sighed, eyes half closed as his lips worked their magic on that particular spot on your neck. You had to go to work but that seemed to take a backseat as your mind was completely dazzled by the hurricane that was your husband.

His arms wrapped around your hips and his hands went down to your ass, which they squeezed and groped without any shame. That made you sigh as you wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his soft hair and pulling it lightly.

“Fuck,” he hissed, making him lose the last bit of control he had in his body and you grinned knowing how much he liked it when you pulled his hair. Before you could say or do anything, his lips had captured yours in a deep, passionate kiss as you took slow steps towards the bed

You both fell onto the mattress, bouncing slightly and you both let out a laugh before kissing again, him on top of you. It didn't take long for both of you to undress and throw all your clothes on the floor, losing yourself inexorably in each other.

Needless to say, you arrived at Intelligence incredibly late, thanking all the angels in heaven when you realized Voight hadn't arrived yet by the time you entered the unit.

“Why were you late?” Jay asked as soon as you arrived, handing you a cup of coffee he had set aside for you. He only had to look at you for his question to be answered, the stupid smile on your lips clearer than sunlight. “Actually never mind, don't answer. You're disgusting.“

“Hey! First of all you asked and second, go talk to your brother, he’s always so insatiable,” you replied with the sole purpose of annoying the younger Halstead. You succeeded in your aim when an expression of pure disgust and horror appeared on his face.

“You make me sick I don't want to know about you having sex with my brother for God's sake!” He exclaimed as you continued to laugh out loud.

You and Jay were now detectives and members of the Intelligence Unit for quite some time and as luck would have it, Voight even assigned you as partners. It was great to work with a friendly face, to have someone to deal with all the shit that humanity presented, to be there for each other when the other felt like everything was too hard to handle.

You and Jay continued to have a little banter but that little idyllic moment was interrupted when Voight entered the unit with Sergeant Platt and from their expressions you immediately understood they didn’t bring any good news.

Badly cut drug was circulating through the Chicago streets, causing numerous overdose victims, and there was pressure to get this case solved immediately.

Something told you this case would take much longer than necessary, so you took advantage of every free moment to text Will and update him on the evolution of the situation.

Will was afraid he’d be committed to Dr. Charles' psych ward sooner or later due to the stress your and Jay's job brought him.

He couldn't help but feel the anxiety eating his stomach up every time you told him you had some kind of field operation to do. It was a horrible feeling, having no idea what was going on out there, not being able to protect you or his brother if something horrible happened.

Every single day was a prayer. He prayed you both would come home safely, he prayed he could hug you both again at the end of each shift.

He tried not to give too much weight to his paranoid thoughts and convince himself it was only his sense of protection speaking. You and Jay were more than capable of defending yourselves even in dangerous situations, Will knew that, but that didn't make it any easier.

Many times he had wondered why neither you nor Jay had opted for a safer career, so he wouldn't risk a heart attack every time you left the house. You could’ve been teachers, or cooks, coaches, anything, but no, you both had to choose one of the most dangerous professions in the world. And so he didn't have to worry about his wife or just his brother's, but both.

His heart could only bear it to a certain extent.

And that day was no different when you texted him you and Jay were on your way to question a suspect.

Knowing you were in the district would calm him down a little since you were safe there, but knowing you were both out there with the risk of dying just around the corner was pure torture.

“How much you wanna bet he’ll run away as soon as he sees us?” You asked Jay as you got out of the car and walked towards the driveway of the house where the suspect was supposed to be. He wasn't directly involved with the drugs but, after the team started the investigations, you discovered he knew who was indeed involved and both you and Jay were determined to find out who that person was.

“Nah I pass, I know for sure this will happen so let’s just get ready to do some running,” he replied and you laughed before knocking twice loudly on the door.

“Chicago PD! Open up!” You exclaimed and you and Jay waited a few moments in which there was nothing but silence.

Jay moved away from the door and went to the window to check if there was actually anyone inside and you knocked again with two more loud thuds. “Open the door we just want to talk!”.

What happened was so quickly you wouldn't have been able to tell it if someone had asked you.

The suspect you were supposed to question – a guy in his mid-twenties – opened the door but you had your guard down so you couldn’t react as quickly as you wished. You saw him hold the gun and point it at you, you had tried as quickly as possible to take your gun from its holster but before you could do so a shot had already been fired and a bullet had already passed through your abdomen.

As you said, everything happened quickly.

The bullet shot immediately triggered Jay who quickly pulled out his gun and only then realized with pure horror you had been shot.

Before he could attempt to shoot the suspect, the bastard had already run away at the speed of light even if at that moment Jay didn't care.

He ran towards you and picking you up he dragged you away from the porch of that house, not wanting to run the risk that someone else might shot at you, and he carried you behind your car.

“Hey, hey, hey it's okay, don’t move. Everything's going to be okay, you hear me Y/n? You’ll be fine,” He tried to reassure you, to no avail as you had a bullet in your abdomen and were bleeding profusely, before immediately calling for help as panic coursed through his veins.

You were still shocked even as you lifted your head for the asphalt and saw your wound bleeding more than it should have. You tried to cover it with your hands but Jay did it for you, after taking a jacket he had in the car and pressing it to the wound.

“Shit,” you hissed. The pain was excruciating, even if the adrenaline helped to dull the sensation a little. A flood of emotions overwhelmed you, panic, fear, confusion. Your eyes looked around frantically as if to try to convince your mind you were still alive, that everything was going to be okay.

“Help is on the way Y/n, please hold on okay? You’ll be fine I’m sure,” Jay continued to babble, more to himself than to you.

“It-it hurts…” you stuttered, closing your eyes for a few moments as you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“Hey, hey, hey, don't you dare fall asleep, just hang on for a minute. Please… Everything will be fine...“ he kept repeating.

But his voice began to reach your ears far away. That warm, burning sensation coursing through your abdomen was starting to fade and the weakness was instead starting to take over you. You were fighting so hard to try and stay awake, even though you were in that state you knew this didn’t mean anything good.

“Y/n!” Suddenly you heard Jay's voice and your eyes widened. You didn't even realize you had closed them.

“Jay can you believe…” you winched “Can you believe for just one second I will live?” You continued trying to smile seeing the way Jay was looking at you. You saw him so scared and worried for other few times in your life, and if it hadn't been for the bullet, you would probably have made fun of him.

“Of course you’l live Y/n, of course I believe it. Who will make my life a living hell if you're gone?”.

You giggled at those words. “L-look at my little brother-in-law worrying about me,” you whispered, as you got weaker with each second that passed. Your eyelids felt heavy, you were struggling to keep your eyes open, or even just to speak.

Your mind was racing, a thousand thoughts were invading it, which was in stark contrast to your physical state as you struggled to even lift your hands.

But the first thought was your husband, your beloved Will. How would he react? What would’ve he said? You hated the thought of not being the first to tell him, to comfort him knowing how worried he would be.

“No of course I’m not,” Jay replied, letting out a sound of mock disdain, making you smile weakly again. “I'm just worried about Will, I don’t care about you. I know he’s going to fucking kill me once he’ll find out.”

You tried to let out a laugh but a cough stopped it.

You fought for Will above all, because you refused to leave like this, to give up right when you were living the life of your dreams with the love you had wanted for so long. But in that moment, as your strength slowly left your body as quickly as your blood spread across the asphalt, you needed him so much.

You wanted Will, you wanted him to hold your hand, you wanted him to whisper it was going to be okay and you’d be fine in no time, you wanted him to hug you and make you forget all the pain and fear that was paralyzing you, you wanted to run a hand through his hair and tell him to calm down when he’d freak out.

And you really tried to resist.

But you were tired, so exhausted, you just wanted to be able to rest a little.

And that was exactly how you let yourself slip into the darkness of oblivion, the last thought being Will's eyes.

“Y/n? Hey! Please don't play with me right now,” Jay shook your shoulders slightly when he realized you had closed your eyes. “I know you're joking, just wake up it’s not funny.”

But nothing, he didn't receive any response.

And after several attempts to wake you up he had to accept you had lost consciousness and you weren't joking at all.

He looked around waiting for the damn ambulance to arrive and when he finally saw it from afar, he thought it was a mirage, too good to be true.

Meanwhile Will was unaware of everything that was happening out there, that his world was collapsing on him without even realizing it.

“Your tests came back normal but we'll keep you here for observation for another couple of hours just to make sure everything is fine, and we'll keep you hydrated in the meantime, okay?”.

“Okay, thank you so much Dr. Halstead.”

Will gave the lady lying on the bed a smile before leaving her room and closing the door behind him. He sanitized his hands and walked over to the nurses' station where he took the patient's medical records, updating her tests and treatment.

He couldn't help but take his cell phone from his uniform pocket, noticing with disappointment there was no message from you. He let out a sigh, trying to stay calm and convince himself he was just overreacting even if anxiety was gripping his stomach.

He put down the patient’s chart he had just seen, playing with the ring on his ring finger while a nurse informed him of the arrival of another patient who was already waiting for him.

If only he had waited a few seconds longer, if only he hadn't immediately entered that room, he would’ve seen that the person who had just entered the emergency room, unconscious, was the very last person he would’ve ever wanted to see in those circumstances, the person whose safety he worried about night and day, one of the people he loved most in the world.

Jay couldn't reach you at the hospital right away since he was waiting for Voight's orders on what to do but nevertheless he didn't stop thinking about you for a second and hoping that you were still alive.

Will treated the patient who came to the hospital following a chainsaw accident while chopping wood. With the help of a nurse, he sutured and dressed the fairly deep cut on the patient's leg while in the next room Connor and the rest of the team worked to revive you from the cardiac arrest you had just fallen into.

It took about twenty minutes for him to finish treating the patient, who he recommended to return to check the wound and assigned medicines in case of infection or pain. When he left the room, he did again what he had done earlier: disinfect his hands and update the medical records.

“Woah, what happened in there?” Will asked one of the new nurses that had recently started working when his gaze fell on the now room.

He saw the state in which that room was, copious traces of blood stained the floor on which numerous bright red patches were scattered, soaked in the same blood of the victim he thought he didn't know. The defibrillator was nearby and positioned crookedly on its trolley indicating it had been used and Will hoped that whoever it was, had managed to survive.

“A gunshot victim, bad story. She went into cardiac arrest twice but they were able to revive her and Dr. Rhodes just took her to the OR,” explained the nurse who, being new, didn't know that said victim was his superior's wife.

Will nodded, looking away from the room for a second before handing her the patient’s medical record he had just seen and putting the pen back in his white coat’s pocket.

He took out his cell phone again, noting with equal disappointment that no message had arrived from you. He sighed again before putting it down and his gaze fell on that room again.

His gaze fell on the victim's objects which were in a transparent bag placed on one of the bedside tables next to the now absent bed. He didn't want to snoop but curiosity got the better of him and he thought maybe he could help track down the family.

His heart almost stopped when he recognized your clothes in that bag.

“What the fuck?” He whispered as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. There was a police badge, among other items. Anxiety gripped his stomach in a vice, twisting it until he almost felt like he was going to throw up.

“No, no, no, no,” he babbled to himself as his eyes continued to scan the numbers on the badge again and again.

It was yours.

No, it couldn't be true, there had to be an explanation. There had to be a reason why your badge and clothes had to be there.

While his heart continued to beat voraciously in his chest, Will continued to look among those objects. There was also the gun and a cell phone, yours.

His hands began to shake as all of his worst nightmares seemed to come true. He couldn't believe it, he just couldn't, until the very end he hoped there had been some kind of misunderstanding, that it was definitely someone else but for some strange reason they had managed to take your gun, badge, cell phone and even your bloody clothes.

But it was when he saw the ring that he felt as if a train had hit him. There was no doubt it was your ring, a ring that was stained with your own blood.

Will felt as if the ground had slipped beneath his feet, for a moment so out of his mind everything seemed to happen in a blur.

He immediately ran out of that damned room, making space among his colleagues and passers-by and running like a madman towards the ORs. He looked crazy, but he didn't care, he didn't care to stop and apologize to the people he was clashing with, he just wanted to reach you.

This can't be true, please God.

He had to make sure, it couldn't really be happening.

He didn't even wash his hands before entering the OR, he simply took a surgical mask and placed it in front of his nose before entering where Connor was operating.

If Will had to describe how he felt, he would’ve said he felt like he was dying, that he felt the air stuck in his throat and his lungs collapsing. He felt his legs give way and had to lean on the doorframe leading to the OR to avoid falling on the floor.

It was you.

It was really you.

Unconscious and with a tube down your throat, but it was you.

“Why the fuck didn't anyone call me!” Will almost shouted, his hands shaking with fear and anger, holding back the desire to run to you and grab your hand since he wasn't sterile.

“Will, get out of here,” Connor replied, looking up from your open abdomen for just a second so he could look at his friend and the desperation he had on his face.

“How is she? Connor please tell me something,” the redhead begged as his eyes filled with tears.

“Will. Out. Now.”

“I'm not going anywhere until you tell me how you she is. She's my fucking wife, I'm her husband! I have to know!”.

“This is exactly why you can't stay here! I can't operate if you're here and I'm trying to save her fucking life so get out of my OR immediately!” Rhodes exclaimed loudly, feeling guilty for the tone he had used since Will was only worried about you, but thinking it was necessary. He looked up at one of the nurses and nodded at him at which he nodded back and walked over to Will, inviting him to come outside.

“Don't fucking touch me,” Will spat through gritted teeth, his eyes shining before walking out of the OR.

He slumped against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor, legs bent and elbows resting on his knees while he had his hands on his face.

What the fuck happened?

It was unbelievable, he couldn't process it.

How did you go from making love that same morning to you having surgery a step from the death?

Where the fuck was Jay? Why wasn't he there?

Will let out a sob, praying with all his heart that at least his brother was okay. God only knew he wouldn't be able to survive if Jay got hurt too.

“Will!”.

But when he heard Jay's voice calling him out, a wave of relief washed away some of the anguish that had been plaguing him. Will stood up and saw Jay running towards him. He hugged him, in tears, holding him so tight his bones almost broke.

“What the hell happened Jay? Where the fuck were you? Why didn’t you call me? You okay?” Will peppered him with questions, taking a look at his brother and noticing with horror the blood staining his shirt.

“I'm fine… I-I'm so sorry Will, this shouldn't have happened I…” Jay blathered, also scared to death even though he knew what he was feeling was nothing compared to how Will must’ve going through at that moment. He told him what had happened. “How is she?”.

Will shook his head, as if to tell him he didn't know, and collapsed, letting himself go into tears full of terror, fear, fright. Jay wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him sit down, trying in vain to comfort him.

What would he have done if you hadn't survived? How could he go on with his life if you weren't there?

He didn't even want to imagine it, he didn't want to find answers to these questions because there actually weren't any answers. Will couldn't be without you.

He had known you since they were only a few years old, he had grown up with you, he had laughed, he had cried, he had fun with you, he had confided to you his deepest secrets, his deepest fears, he couldn't even think of not being able to do all this anymore. He remembered your friendship with so much warmth and joy before falling in love with you without even realizing it.

You made him happy, you understood him, you were his best friend, his lover, his wife, his confidant. Loving you felt like winning the lottery, marrying you was the most beautiful gift life could ever give him, he couldn't even think that all this was hanging by just a thread.

What would he have done without your laugh, your horrible jokes, without your smile, your eyes, the warmth of your hugs? How was he going to survive?

No, no, no, she’s going to be fine. She will be okay.

You were strong, one of the strongest people he had ever met in his life, there was no difficulty you wouldn't have solved, there was no obstacle you wouldn't have overcome. If anyone could do this it was you, Will knew you were going to be okay.

He jumped up, no longer able to sit still. Time seemed to stand still, passing so slowly that every minute was pure agony.

“Will…”

“Shut up Jay!” Will exclaimed loudly, not caring about other people. Jay remained silent as he stood up as well, letting his brother vent. “Where the fuck were you! You were supposed to protect her why weren't you there?!”

Will was not thinking clearly anymore because of the anger, not anger directed towards Jay – he knew it wasn’t his fault but only of the bastard that pulled the trigger.

He approached Jay and pushed him but Jay didn't react, his heart actually clenched as he saw the suffering Will was going through. He would probably have reacted the same way if his wife was fighting between life and death.

“If anything happens to her Jay… Fuck!”.

Jay raised a hand and shook his head when one of the doctors passing by tried to intervene, telling him he had everything under control.

“She’ll be fine brother. C'mon, this is Y/n, we know her, there’s nothing that woman can’t do.”

“How do you know huh?!” Will exploded, running his hands through his hair in frustration and desperation.

“I just know Will, she’ll make it, I'm sure of it,” Jay replied more calmly, moving closer to his brother. This time he was the one to hug him although Will resisted for a while, telling him to let him go. Jay didn't do it, he continued to hug him and hold him until he gave up and returned the hug.

Will cried on Jay's shoulders for the longest time, praying with every fiber of his being and whoever was up there to make you survive, to make you okay.

“I just want her back…” he whispered, not sure if Jay had heard him.

Jay helped him sit back down. “And you’ll get her back, just have a little faith. She is so strong man, do you really think she’ll leave us like this? C’mon, she has to be here and annoy us for the rest of our lives.”

Will chuckled through his tears, his eyes so blurry he couldn't make out the objects in front of him. He and Jay sat in that waiting room, waiting for hours to hear from you as he kept desperately praying.

Will sat with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees while he continued to move a leg obsessively.

He had always tried to calm the patients' families, never fully understanding how they must really feel. But now that he knew, he felt guilty for not trying harder.

Please stay with me baby. Please just hang on for a little bit, please fight for us.

He had never understood what it felt like to be completely useless, what it felt like to be unable to do anything for the person you loved most in the world, to be unable to do anything to prevent that person from suffering.

He had always sworn to protect you, to not let anything hurt you and he felt like a failure for not being able to do this. He wished that damned bullet had hit him, that it had been him on the operating table having to fight for his life.

At every slightest noise he jumped, hoping it was Connor bringing good news but when he finally actually saw him appear in front of him, he feared it was just a hallucination.

Connor approached Will and Jay who jumped to their feet as soon as they saw him arrive.

“How did it go? Is she okay? Please tell me he's okay, Connor,” Will stammered, his heart beating so fast he thought he was going to have a massive heart attack.

“It was tough but she did well. The bullet had hit an artery and I managed to extract it but she lost a lot of blood and the next few hours will be delicate. But I'm pretty optimistic and she'll make a full recovery.”

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

Text

The object of my desires

summary: You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson.

warnings: friends to lovers (both are idiots), a dash of angst, Aegon gets punched (but he redeems himself), a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW: it is smut but not very detailed so don't get your hopes up), with a sprinkle of softness

words: ~6500 (it was supposed to be shorter but they started making out...)

author's note: the idea first popped into my head months ago when I saw this post. also, for the longest time I've been thinking that “you are the bane of my existence” monologue is a perfect fit for Aemond — and yet I haven't seen a single fic * using that quote?! so I finally decided to give it a try.

If anyone asked you to describe your relationship with Aemond, you would’ve said that the two of you were almost friendly. The almost part was the trickiest one to explain because, even though both of you acted very content with the way of things, you still couldn’t help but think that you wanted something more, no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it.

You got to know him through Helaena who you befriended when you were ten and six. A year older than you, she was the weird girl no one wanted to talk to and you approached her out of curiosity but soon learned that she had a cheerful nature and quite a nimble mind. She loved your sharp sense of humor and energetic wit and the two of you became close, your contrasting personalities complimenting each other very well.

Your introduction to her brothers was brief and for a couple of months, you didn’t interact with either of them. She’s been married to Aegon for four years back then and even though he immediately didn’t strike you as a faithful husband — always a cup away from being wasted and shamelessly gazing at every maid’s legs — he mostly looked harmless. Aemond, however, was the exact opposite — guarded and collected, he kept his distance from everyone, making it clear that it was his choice. You could only get a good look at the prince when you were passing the training yard, and a couple of times you found your gaze lingering on him — on the lean body and tense muscles, on the way he moved the sword with ease. In those moments you felt the danger radiating off him, yet it never scared you away. But you knew better than to fawn over the prince who seemingly paid you no mind.

A significant change came on the evening of Aegon’s ten and ninth birthday which Helaena begged you to come to — you weren’t fond of big events but couldn’t say no to her. For the most part, the feast was tolerable as you’ve spent it by her side, making glib remarks about the guests, much to your friend’s amusement. But when the celebration died down and all the nobles began to disperse, Aegon, drunk out of his mind, decided to make advances toward his wife whom he ignored for the duration of the evening. His approach was harsh and unexpected, and the look on Helaena’s face shuttered your heart.

“Your grace, your manners escape you,” you tried warning him, shielding your friend but Aegon was too wasted to notice your fiery gaze. In his inebriated state, he probably mistook you for a maid as he grabbed your arm in an effort to shove you aside. Next thing you know, your fist connected with his nose — and then Aegon was lying on the floor, eyes wide and blood gushing down his face as you stood next to him, fuming. Before he could think of an answer, Aemond appeared out of nowhere — just in time to drag his brother away, while the drunkard was hurling insults at you in a frenzy. Only when they left, it dawned on you what you just did.

You expected for the king’s guard to come for your head in the morrow, but instead, a few surprising things happened. First, you learned that the boys didn’t rat you out, making it look like they were the ones who got into a fight. Aegon did apologize to Helaena and from that day, his temper softened as he never dared to repeat his mistake. But, most importantly, Aemond took a sudden interest in you.

Overall, his behavior stayed the same, but you regularly caught him looking in your direction, and every time you saw each other, he made sure to acknowledge your presence. He never initiated the conversation first, only sometimes curtly voicing his opinion, yet you noticed him paying attention to your chattering with Helaena — and you could swear that a few times he suppressed a laugh at your jokes.

The mystery veil that the prince was surrounded with sparked your curiosity, and you wanted to crack down his guard, to get a chance to know him. The opportunity presented itself one day when Helaena and you came to watch Aemond train. You saw him and Criston arguing as the prince was late to his studies but Cole refused to let Aemond leave until he wins the last bout. Whether he wasn’t in the right mood or had something distracting him, Aemond kept losing, and his teacher only pushed him further, relentless in his attempts.

“Ser Criston, you’re putting yourself in harm's way,” you chimed in, making the man turn to you with a chuckle, while Aemond gave you a tired look.

“May it be that the finest swordsman of the realm is simply avoiding his responsibilities?” you suggested with a light grin.

“Mayhaps he is in need of some encouragement, lady Y/N,” Cole teased.

“Well, I would've volunteered to share the burden of learning with him,” you remark. “If only he could win this one bout,” you added, keeping eye contact with the prince.

It took Aemond about two minutes to knock his opponent to the ground which made Helaena gasp in surprise while you were trying to hide a smile. Without a word, Aemond came to you, and the two of you went to the library. On your way there, he kept silent, but you were not intimidated at all. When you walked into the room, Aemond hesitated as if giving you a chance to change your mind. But you boldly turned to him:

“If you mean to scare me with the prospect of studying, I should warn you that I've read more books than you can count,” you informed the prince.

It was the first time when you saw him smiling — widely and shamelessly, looking very smug.

“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he grinned. “Do you mean to challenge me?”

It turned out that Aemond liked challenges, and you enjoyed being one. Since that day, you got into the habit of joining him in the library and the prince would accompany you in his free time more often than not. You would dare him to read faster, to fight harder, to engage in conversations — or sometimes to simply have fun. Whenever you had a reason to disagree with him, he was always respectful and found himself entertained by your way of thinking, which made your discussions and even arguments span for hours.

As years went by, you kept playfully bantering back and forth, and Helaena told you that you were the only one allowed to act like that around her brother. You couldn’t understand what his motives were but it was hard to deny that his company was pleasant. Aemond grew up into quite an eligible bachelor and his attention did flatter you, even though he never crossed the line. Sometimes you even dared to entertain the thought that maybe — just maybe — Aemond had a soft spot for you.

Until one day things took a turn.

Helaena’s twentieth birthday was meant to be just another celebration that you would’ve skipped if it wasn’t for her. The only way for you to pass the time was dancing which you’ve actually come to love in recent years, enjoying the rhythm of the music that helped to lighten your mood. Your dear friend mostly preferred to sit back so you were often compelled to find yourself a company that would be bearable, at the very least.

That evening, you got acquainted with Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy being younger than you but a foot taller. He approached you with a small smile on the pretext of knowing Helaena, and you soon learned that he was a good dancer. But the best thing about Jace was that he spend most of his time talking about his betrothed, Baela, who he was absolutely smitten with. The girl sadly couldn’t be present as she had to stay with her dad, who recently sailed home, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All the time while dancing he was either gushing about her or asking your advice, which you found adorable and gladly chatted with him.

Throughout the feast, you felt Aemond looking at you, probably more than usual. You knew that he wasn't fond of dancing and even though his gaze on you felt rather good, deep down you wished that he was the one you were spending time with. After a couple of hours, however, you saw his usual spot empty, and the prince was nowhere to be found. For some reason, you got a very bad feeling and, after leaving Jace to take a break, you went to Helaena. She informed you that Aemond left not so long ago, adding that it looked like her brother was upset about something.

That's how you ended up roaming through the castle halls, giving in to the unsettling feeling churning in your stomach. Passing by one of the chambers, you suddenly hear voices and realize that it's Aemond talking to his brother. You don’t mean to eavesdrop and were about to turn around — but then Aegon mentions your name.

“You are foolish to wait for so long. You could’ve at least asked Y/N for a dance,” his remark is followed by gulping sounds. Is he ever without a cup? You hold back a giggle — which quickly disappears when you hear Aemond’s answer:

“I prefer not to waste my time on such futile activities,” and his voice is unexpectedly grim.

“You may want to reconsider when the lady has every man’s attention. Even the Velaryon boy was pretty much drooling,” he chuckles, and his words make your brows furrow as you are certain he has no ground to suggest that. You’re a moment away from drowning in doubts, but the younger prince brings you back to reality.

“I suppose it's hard not to, with the way she's been dressing lately,” Aemond deadpans.

He says it with a flat tone — yet it feels like a punch that knocks all of the air out of your lungs. There's a brief pause — and Aegon sounds almost sober when he asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice:

“And what about her dresses?”

“I found them to be... rather bawdy. Although I’m not impressed in the slightest,” Aemond forces out.

Your heart sinks at his words, cheeks heating up. You wait for him to say anything else, to give an explanation, at least one reason for his accusations but there is none. Aegon laughs — and you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that you cannot bear listening to their conversation any longer.

You walk away as quietly as possible, with cotton feet and your hands shaking. You rush past the hall and out of the castle, tears pricking in your eyes. Only once you're all alone, embraced by the silence of the night, you take a deep breath of air. Aemond’s words are ringing in your ears, loud and clear. You look down at your dress in disbelief: the neckline is basically non-existent, your arms are fully covered, and it barely shows any skin at all. And yet he thinks this is inappropriate?

Your cheeks are wet and burning yet you feel anger bubbling in your chest. You never thought Aemond could be cruel — and yet it’s him, out of all people, who let those vile words slip out of his mouth like they meant nothing. Like you meant nothing to him. For years, you heard people calling him cold-hearted and arrogant but you were naive to believe that the prince made an exception for you. Out of all the mistakes you’ve made so far, this one might’ve been the most painful one.

Your outrage spreads like a wildfire as you think back to every interaction you’ve had with Aemond, his every glance and every word that fooled you into thinking that he cared. Was he secretly criticizing you the whole time? How many other jokes did he make behind your back? Who even gave him the right to judge whether your dresses are acceptable or not? As if he is any different from all the other men whose brains turn into mush when they get a glimpse of a female body.

You stop dead in your tracks when an idea suddenly forms in your head. It’s very uncharacteristic of you — at first, you hesitantly brush it off, thinking that it’s not wise to make any emotional decisions. And yet the idea keeps nagging at you for the remainder of the night and for a few hours you ponder if you should take such a brazen approach. But then his unkind remark pops back in your memory — over and over and over.

By the time the morning comes, you make up your mind.

He says he isn’t impressed in the slightest? There is only one way to find out for sure.

On the very next day, you take Helaena for a walk in the garden, well aware that her brothers will accompany you as Aegon doesn’t have anything else to do and Aemond prefers to take a stroll after his training. Your dress is close-fitted yet modest, not an inch shorter than necessary. It is not about the dress but what’s underneath it — and the object in question clinks lightly with your every step. You show it to Helaena right away and she finds it delightful, the jingling only making her smile. Then her siblings come to join you, you curtsy but barely spare Aemond a glance. You don’t ask a single question about his day, instead taking interest in Aegon. The older prince gives you a suspicious side-eye but welcomes the chatting. It doesn’t take long before he notices the sound, too.

“Am I the only one who can hear the clinking? I am almost certain that it’s not just in my head,” he debates.

“Oh, it’s Y/N’s doing,” Helaena beams unsuspectingly.

“Apologies, my prince, it’s my aunt’s gift that caught your ear,” you slow down and take a few seconds to make sure you’ve got everyone’s attention.

And then, with one gentle motion, you pull up your dress — ever so slightly, just enough to show your ankle and the thin bracelet wrapped around it. The jewelry is made out of gold and it instantly catches the sunlight, casting warm sparkles on your skin. It’s decorated with tiny coins which make a jingling sound as you slowly turn your leg from side to side.

“I thought it was rather pretty. Don’t you think?” you only look at Aegon.

“Umm yes,” he gulps. “Rather pretty it is,” the prince mumbles, and then his gaze shifts to someone else. You don’t need to turn your head to know who he’s looking at. Instead, you continue with your walk without a care in the world.

“I should ask my aunt to bring you a similar one, my dear,” you suggest to Helaena and she eagerly agrees.

You have a few other gifts for Aemond, too.

Next time you opt for a different bracelet — with no coins and no jingling, a simple golden chain. But your dress is a tad bit shorter and the jewelry catches everyone’s eye with ease as it looks like a ray of light curled around your ankle. You deliberately walk through the training yard, arm-in-arm with Helaena. You give Ser Christon the brightest smile, and he politely nods in your direction.

“Good morrow, ladies.”

“How's your training coming along, Ser Criston?” you ask, and it feels strange to talk to him instead of Aemond. You bitterly remind yourself that you apparently overstated the value of those conversations.

“I'm afraid, we are hardly progressing. Mayhaps you will keep us company? I fear, we are in need of some cheerful words,” Cole shoots a glance at the prince who stands by, his eye fixed on you.

“Aren’t we all, Ser Criston,” you tilt your head at him. “But it seems like my pursuit of lessening your burden did nothing good,” and before he can ask anything else, you walk away, ignoring Aemond completely.

Helaena senses that something is off, giving you a worried look:

“Is there anything troubling you, Y/N?”

“Not when I'm with you, my friend,” you reassure her and force your smile to look as believable as possible.

Partially, it is true as her company always brings you joy and you don’t want to sour her mood by recalling Aemond's words that wounded your pride. You refuse to admit that he also grazed your heart.

In a week, you accept Helaena’s invitation to join them for breakfast and you decide to up your game. It's the perfect time of year for sleeveless dresses but the one you pick also has a daring addition: two thin cuts under your armpits. They are barely visible but when you put your arms up, it's easy to distinguish the contour of your ribcage and the softness of your skin peeking through.

You sit by Helaena's side, easily keeping up with the conversation and not glancing at Aemond once. After the food is taken away and everyone starts wandering around the room, you get up to fix your hair, standing not too far away from the dining table as you raise your hands and run your fingers into your hairdo.

“May I offer assistance?” Aegon leans on the wall next to you, his mouth curling into a smile.

You roll your eyes and are about to shush him when he quietly adds:

“I know what you are doing,” you turn your gaze to him, and he winks at you. “From the look on my brother’s face, I can tell you that it’s working.”

You fight the urge to look at Aemond.

“I’m afraid I can’t share your concerns,” you are fiddling with hairpins absentmindedly.

Aegon shoots a glance over your shoulder and then back at you:

“He seems pretty bothered to me. Also pissed, but that may be my doing.”

“Look at you, my little helper,” you ramble as the cool air sneaks into the cuts of your dress, and you slightly quaver.

“Well, if you are ever in need of a helping hand...”

“I will not hesitate to stick this pin into your eye,” you cut him off.

“No need!” Aegon throws up his hands, cackling. “I'd like to keep them both. So I can have a better look at my brother’s reaction when you do... whatever you plan on doing,” the shit-eating grin on his face tells you that he is enjoying this.

But when you turn around and suddenly make eye contact with Aemond, your own enjoyment fades. You notice his frown and the probability of you being the reason for it doesn’t bring any satisfaction. You let Helaena lead you away, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk out.

You do not yield to your emotions, continuing with your plan, as days turn into weeks, and then a month goes by without you as much as sharing a word with Aemond. Truth be told, you want nothing more than to stay away from him at all costs but you will not give him the satisfaction. He said he didn’t like the way you dress — and you make sure he sees every single dress you are in. You stay within the bounds of decency as you definitely have no intention to disgrace yourself, and none of your dresses are borderline scandalous, contrary to what any prince may think. You deign to let him see the curve of your neck with your hair up high, the bending of your shoulders and the sunkissed skin of your arms, the arc of your knees and mere glimpses of the upper part of your legs. You leave the rest to his imagination — granted, he has a good one considering how much time he spends reading.

During the second month, his patience starts running out.

In the years you've known Helaena, you learned all the ins and outs of the castle, so you manage to avoid Aemond at first, vanishing from his sight when needed. But, as time passes, you notice that he is tempted to talk to you, and escaping that possibility becomes harder with each day. One morning, when you walk into the yard, Aemond abruptly stops his training upon seeing you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a second, both startled and holding your breath. You are saved by Ser Criston, who calls for the prince, distracting him, giving you a chance to leave, and you all but run away.

After that day, you temporarily cease your visits to the castle, deciding to take a break and make up weak excuses to Helaena. Only now that you were apart, you realize how much you miss Aemond’s physical presence. His sudden, fleeting touches — to help you out of a carriage or to steady you after a fit of laughter, your hands brushing when you share books, his fingers sometimes lightly grazing your waist for the reason you are yet to know. You haven't talked to him for days, let alone felt him in your close proximity, and yet he's constantly on your mind. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you wake up at night realizing you yearn for him terribly. You wish you could go back to that damn evening of the feast, to confront him right away, to maybe get some clarification. But now too much time has passed and you’re too wrapped up in... whatever you plan on doing, so your ego insists that giving up isn’t an option.

When you receive the invitation for Aegon’s name day, you are ready to decline, but then begrudgingly decide to give it one last chance. You practice the look of indifference, the nonchalant tone, the proud gait, and you pull out your best dress. It’s green and the color is so bright, it dazzles the eyes, the material light and flowing — and yet, when you put it on, it feels incomplete. As you look in the mirror, the vivid tone of the fabric suddenly reminds you of something else. It’s a secret you once heard, a hushed conversation between the maids, one of which walked in on the prince when he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You only ponder for a minute and then reach for the jewelry piece that definitely will be hard not to notice.

The castle is crowded, and you are one of the last guests to arrive. Bracing yourself, you pause at the door for a second. Ser Harrold, who stands there, lets out a surprised hum.

“Should I take that as a sign of your disapproval?” you jest, watching his reaction.

“I wouldn’t dare to judge,'” he gives you a polite smile. “But I'm afraid all the men present are at risk of losing reason.”

His comment makes you chuckle and you step a bit closer, letting him take a better look:

“I thought it would match the occasion. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ser Harrold, gods bless him, keeps his eyes on your face:

“As always, it is, lady Y/N.”

It gives you enough confidence to walk in, appearing in all your glory.

The dress is a perfect fit, with a slit down your right side and an open back. The front neckline isn't deep but in the middle of it there's a thin silver chain with a big, glittering sapphire — and the gem lays perfectly between your breasts. It’s only natural that everyone’s gaze is immediately drawn to the blue spark, all the men in the room gazing at it, voluntarily and not. But the effect their attention has is nothing compared to the wave of heat that warms your body when you feel a very particular gaze finally landing on you. You look right at him — and you catch him gawking, his lips slightly parted as he stares at the sapphire, too, almost in a trance. His hand is gripping a cup of wine with such force, you can see the whitening of his knuckles. When Aemond sharply glances up, your eyes lock for a second, and you look away first. So much for him not being impressed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jace waving at you to come sit with him, and you do not hesitate, letting the one-eyed prince out of sight.

You feel like his eye doesn't leave you for a second.

You are barely able to sit still while dining and let out a sigh of relief when it's time for dancing. You rush away from the table, thinking it will provide you with a distraction, and you will be glad for any partner if only he can move his legs and keep his mouth shut. You go to the end of the line, lost in your thoughts, and when you finally come to a stop and look to the other side — you see Aemond standing in front of you.

The tall prince with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing all black, stares at you in a way that makes the crowd around you disappear.

When the dance starts, you step toward each other, and he speaks up first.

“I couldn't help but notice your absence, lady Y/N. I find myself wondering what is the reason behind it,” his hand briefly touches yours, your bodies following the music.

“Your question is confusing, my prince. As I was merely doing you a favor,” you swap partners but Aemond only looks at you.

“Your leaving hardly favors me,” the prince says when you’re in his arms again. You feel a flicker of anger rising inside but keep your voice down.

“I was actually counting on you being relieved,” you snort, not looking at him. “Since, as it turned out, you were so displeased with my bawdy dresses,” with these words, you step away from him once more.

A minute later you come back to his side but don’t let him say a thing.

“I've always thought bawdy was just another word for a whore. So I suppose I should be glad that you at least had some decency to not stoop so low,” when your eyes meet, you think you've never seen him so hurt.

Before he can come up with an answer, you are out of his reach. Then you circle back to Aemond again, and this time your tone comes out hasher.

“I also wonder if you would be so brave to say all that to my face. But it seems that your bravery falters when confronted with the need to speak plainly.”

The rhythm of the music works in your favor, because whenever Aemond tries opening his mouth, you’re swooped away from him, and it gives you time to tighten your self-control. You think you should resent him for his silly words, for his heavy gaze, for him knowing how to dance even though he never once did that with you in all these years.

But you have no resentment for him. All of a sudden you realize what you are actually feeling.

And then the dance comes to an end.

You only curtsy out of politeness, averting your gaze:

“I will not vex you anymore, my prince.”

“Y/N, wait, I should —,” he tries to take your hand but you swerve away from him.

“I already promised the next dance to someone else,” you lie. “You are finally free of my company.”

At that very second, when you glance at him before leaving, he looks absolutely heartbroken. Or maybe you just imagined it in an attempt to ease your own pain.

Your feet carry you to the library on their own accord, and you’re too distraught to notice until you are already inside, in the dusty silence of the endless shelves. You take a hold of the nearest one, trying to catch your breath. You barely get a minute of solitude before you hear footsteps approaching. And it’s kind of pathetic how easy it is for you to guess who it is.

“Your tendency to run away from me is quite unnerving,” Aemond walks in with rapid strides, his voice laced with emotion you can’t read.

His words, however, trigger your reaction in no time.

“Maybe it is because I do not want to be in the company of someone who hurt me,” you turn to him, and he’s already only a couple of meters away. The dim lighting illuminates his silver hair, the outline of his broad shoulders, his eye is boring into you. He looks so beautiful in his frustration, your chest tightens at the sight.

“I would've apologized right away if only you let me speak,” the prince retorts.

“Did something hold you back from apologizing sooner? Or were you too preoccupied with being outraged by my clothing choices?” your heart skips a bit at the intensity of his stare but you refuse to break the eye contact.

“I never said I was outraged.”

“You weren't thrilled, either, you made that very clear.”

“You know nothing of my motives because you refuse to listen to me!” he raises his voice and it startles you. But he doesn’t sound angry.

Aemond is standing at arm’s length — and you can clearly see that his face expresses no signs of annoyance or hatred. Instead, he looks at you with longing.

The air in the room feels heavy.

You run your tongue over your lips to moisten them, and Aemond’s eye darts to your mouth.

“We can agree on one thing,” he drawls, his eye locking with yours again as he moves closer. You take a step back — and feel pressed against one of the shelves.

He speaks with his tone low:

“...You vex me to no end.”

With another step, Aemond towers over you, and when you look up, your faces are only inches apart, and his flaming gaze envelops you.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Aemond breathes out. “And the object of all my desires,” his voice breaks, and you feel him inhaling sharply.

His words are akin to a match that lights up a fire deep in you, the muscles of your stomach tightening involuntarily. With one finger he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your breathing shuddering.

“I’m haunted by your image everywhere I go,” he rasps, his nose brushing yours. “Night and day, I dream of you,” his index finger moves under your chin, close to the pulsating point on your neck. You feel the heat spilling into the pit of your belly, and you want nothing more than for Aemond to kiss you.

“I was raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread every minute I spend in your presence,” he whispers vehemently, his words hot against your mouth.

You are dizzy, breathless — and craving him. Everything else is forgotten, erased, nonexistent. It’s just you two.

“You are all I can think about,” you confess with a strangled voice, looking at Aemond through your lashes — and it sets him off.

His lips capture yours in an instant, claiming and burning with need. He pulls you closer, his hands on your back, and yours go up his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Aemond kisses you deeply, hungrily, sweeping his tongue over your lower lip and then sliding it in, intertwining with yours. One of his palms moves lower, outlining the curve of your hip, glides over your leg — and into the slit of your dress. He grabs your thigh, his thumb landing on the inner side of it, and he starts slowly massaging small circles on it. Him touching your bare skin elicits a moan from you and in the heat of the moment, as your mind goes blank and you can only focus on the pleasuring sensation, you spread your legs, and his finger slips higher — to the place where you want him the most.

He breaks the kiss in surprise, and you wait for it to dawn on him. To realize that you are, in fact, completely naked under the dress. You can feel arousal pooling between your legs, your body prickling with anticipation.

“I was under the impression that you owe me an apology,” you unabashedly murmur, looking him straight in the eye.

You don't know if it's a challenge or a plea — at this point, you do not care. Apparently, neither does Aemond, as he takes no time hoisting your leg up to his waist for better access, firmly holding it in place. Your respite barely lasts a few seconds before you feel his other hand cupping your sex, rubbing his fingers through your folds. You shut your eyes, gasping for air, as he unhurriedly smears your wetness — and then his finger dips into your core, the sensation making you shiver.

“Aemond,” you sign, your body trembling with desire.

Trying to inhale, you get a whiff of aroma, a mix of leather and salty ocean breeze — and all at once, you are surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, his scorching touches, the taste that's left on your lips. He leaks into your every cell.

Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses there, his finger picking up the pace.

“I've missed you,” he avows. “So fucking much,” he lightly nibbles the skin above your collarbone. “Missed hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

He doesn't need to ask twice — and the interweaving of letters rolls off your tongue with each breath:

“Aemond”

“Aemond.”

His name fills your mouth, leaving no space for air, your throat tight and breathing rapid. Aemond’s lips move down to your shoulder.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he haltingly rambles, and the implication makes you clench around him, dragging a low groan from the prince.

He leaves a trail of kisses following the silver chain down to your breasts. The gem feels cold in contrast to your skin, and even though your head is clouded with lust, it triggers a memory. You move one of your shaking hands to his face, guiding it up to look at you again.

“I want to see the real thing,” you whisper, gazing at his eyepatch. “Let me. Please, let me.”

His hand between your legs doesn't stop its movement but the one on your thigh trembles. You are too caught up in the moment to think straight, and before he can answer, your fingers roughly remove the leather patch.

The sapphire glows like a beacon, the cold blue of it is dazzling and piercing through your blurred vision. The tones and shadows are interlacing, cyan melting into azure and dark blue, and it’s mesmerizing. Seeing him like this, stripped of his restrain and his disguise, is the most intimate, precious thing in the world.

“Gods, you are divine,” you moan, panting.

You catch a flash of emotion in his eye — before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours again. This kiss is steady and fervent, and while his mouth melts into yours, Aemond adds a second finger. It slides in with ease, and he builds up the speed that makes you swallow air. He’s terrifyingly good with his fingers, with his every move, precise and fast.

“Aemond,” you whimper in his mouth, but his lips keep chasing yours, and you can only follow, letting him take your breath away again and again. You lose track of time, lose yourself in his arms. His face is always close to yours, he breathes in every moan you make and keeps his gaze on you, watching you squirm, your cheeks flushed and lips quivering.

You helplessly whisper his name, and it comes out as a prayer, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Aemond gives you a breathless smile:

“You do not need to beg me, ever,” he says in a husky voice. “I will give you anything you want,” with these words, he presses a thumb on your clit, resuming the well-known circling motion, making you choke on air.

It takes merely a few seconds for you to come undone, the wave of pleasure blinding and crushing over you. His lips are at the corner of your mouth, ready to cover it should you make any loud sound, but you drop your head back, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

His fingers slow the pace until you let out a quiet whine, and he removes them, carefully lowering your leg. You feel fuzzy-headed, trying to catch your breath, a few beads of sweat rolling along your hairline. One of his hands gently falls on your back, rubbing soothing patterns on your skin.

“I truly am sorry, Y/N,” Aemond admits.

You chuckle lightly:

“I think you already made it up to me.”

Despite the hint of humor, there's an anxious feeling stirring in your abdomen, and you are afraid to open your eyes to meet his. You don't know what's to come and you dread the emptiness that will follow if he leaves.

Aemond tenderly cups your face with his hand:

“Mayhaps my intentions were not clear enough. I do plan to properly court you,” your eyes snap open at his words.

There's a brief pause before he adds:

“But I still need to apologize for my behavior because you deserved none of it. I was unfair with my judgment as I let jealousy get the best of me,” he sounds genuinely remorseful.

You glance at him in confusion, the gears turning in your head for a moment, and then you realize:

"You were jealous of Jace?!"

Aemond looks down at the floor, and there's something endearing in his evident embarrassment. With your thumb and index finger you caress the jut of his jaw and make him look at you again:

“Aemond, I can barely consider him a friend. And the boy can only think about Baela, he speaks of her as if she is the light of his life.”

“I know that feeling," Aemond doesn’t hide his smile anymore when he’s with you. He brings your hand to his lips, and the sincerity of his words tugs at your heart. He leaves kisses on your knuckles, and you’re overwhelmed with happiness spreading in your chest.

“Do you get that feeling every time we argue? Or when I challenge you?” you inquire with a giggle.

His laugh vibrates against your skin. When Aemond meets your gaze, there are no doubts and reservations left, no room for denial.

“My biggest challenge was not to fall in love with you. I failed miserably,” he puts both of his hands on your waist, drawing you closer. “But I will humble myself before you because I cannot stand the thought of us being apart ever again,” Aemond presses his forehead against yours.

“I don't plan on it,” you trace his scar with your finger, giving him goosebumps. “But you do know there still will be days when we vex each other to no end?” your voice is barely audible.

He moves his mouth to yours and, before bringing your lips together, he whispers:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

the author doesn’t know how to shut up: — the dress is from “Atonement” (although I imagined her neckline a bit differently) — I haven’t written smut in a very long time so... I hope it was okay? any thoughts and comments will be very appreciated because I’m super nervous about this 🥺 (not gonna lie, this was kinda self-indulgent so I hope that at least some of you will enjoy it, too!)

* I know there is an amazing fic called “bane of my existence, object of my desire” by @ jasonsmirrorball — I love it to pieces and highly recommend it! 💕 💚 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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tragedy-of-commons · 27 days

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killjoy

childe x gn!reader | wc: ~1.6k

You catch your boyfriend setting up the cake.

tags/warnings: bday fun, modern & college au, based off of the American College Experience™ sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, teucer is a national treasure, comedy, possibly ooc, reader has hair

notes: for @staarri's 100 followers & bday event <3 trying to write childe was a nightmare but the wheel of doom has spoken. chosen prompt "cruel summer" :)

It has been one hell of a day.

Pop quizzes in two of your classes (that you are now tanking), getting heckled by that same group of protesters, slamming head-first into a glass panel like a pigeon, and then getting splashed by a puddle via a speeding car.

To give credit where credit is due, you’ve suffered through every incident with class and poise. Despite how you drip with murky street water, the saving grace that is the promise of your warm bed keeps you from inventing new profanities and falling to your knees in the student parking lot.

It’s almost over with, it’s almost over with—

The splintered door of your dorm unit has never looked more welcoming. When your keycard is approved with a click, you heave the barrier between you and uninterrupted sleep wide open. However, what you don’t expect is the little spectacle unfolding in your kitchenette.

Who you belatedly realize is your lovely boyfriend is sticking candles into something - it being quickly shielded from your view as he reacts to your arrival.

“You just had to be early,” he grins, revealing those pearly whites, “Maybe I’ll start calling you ‘Killjoy’.”

“Ajax?” He’s here? Today? But he said— He must notice your sorry state, but he’s wise enough not to mention it. “You really think I’d miss celebrating your birthday in person? Seriously, what kind of partner would I be, just sending you a text? Babe, you gotta start setting some higher standards.”

“Rotten liar,” you mumble, growing smile threatening to split your face in two.

A small flash of copper peeks around the bedroom-adjoining hallway, hyper. Teucer rushes up in front of his brother, the latter ruffling his hair. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here yet!”

You snort, wondering if anyone else is planning to jump out of the shadows. “My sincerest apologies. I could always leave—”

“No need,” Ajax dismisses the notion with a cavalier wave. “I think we’re all ready, huh Teuce?”

He huffs in agreement, beaming up at you like you hung the moon. “One second!”

Teucer scampers off faster than you can blink, making you bellow a laugh. His energy knows no bounds, necessitating many hours of entertaining his whims. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy birthday,” Ajax says softly; wistfully.

You stalk over to him, embracing your boyfriend like he might disappear into thin air without a moment’s notice. “If you broke in, I will be calling campus security.” “You’d never turn me in! Also, we just so happen to still be on the guest card from last week.” You part from his warmth so you can kiss him. He tastes of sugar, the bastard.

“Buttercream?” you place, peering over his shoulder. The sight of a round cake on the counter confirms your suspicions, and your heart swells. He would’ve had to bake and decorate it somewhere else, given that ovens are a luxury you do not possess in college hell. You picture him in his too-nice apartment, piping frosting in the familiar loops of your name. “Yes!” Teucer rushes back in (you note that he’s hiding his hands behind his back), while Ajax pokes your nose. “Big brother spent soooo long on it!”

You snicker deviously. “Really?”

“No reason to lie,” your boyfriend pouts, “Though I’m a bit hurt that you’re both trying to embarrass me, after I went to all this trouble..”

Teucer sticks his tongue out in disgust whenever you console Ajax with another kiss, likely wanting you both to hurry up your gross couple stuff so he can show you his gift. It’s presented to you ceremoniously, and you honor the splendor by pretending not to know that it’s definitely one of his toys.

Your acting is award-winning, perfectly ignoring the obvious ridges and appendages of a Transformer. After tearing open the paper, you’re told that his name is Mr. Cyclops and you have to take good care of him - your sworn oath.

(Of course, Mr. Cyclops will mysteriously end up back in Teucer’s bedroom if you can count on your partner in crime to help you out. You and Ajax share a Look that hints at conspiracy.)

Speaking of your boyfriend, you don’t think he is governed by even one modicum of shame. During the Happy Birthday song, he performs with his whole chest, much to your chagrin. You think that Ajax lives the most for other people; even if it shines brightest whenever he teases and flusters. His camaraderie is most genuine when he’s this comfortable - when he knows that the present moment is all he needs to focus on.

When did he start letting his guard down? You find yourself unable to recall among past memories of trudging to the local diner at ungodly hours, cramming for finals at the library, and responsibly talking him down from any antics that would surely get him in trouble.

(Maybe it was when you first held an ice pack over his eye, swollen shut from a punch he shouldn’t have taken just for the thrill of it. Your admonishment must have been jarring, because without any teasing remarks whatsoever, he promised that he’d dial it down. You remember lacing your fingers with his - and promptly threatening to “embalm him with jet fuel” if he ever got hurt again.)

Now your relationship has progressed to the point where spending your first birthday together feels natural. It feels so natural that shitty paper plates stacked high with slices of cake is enough to make you forget that you look like that one damp owl picture. Ajax, as per his boyfriend duties, has to remind you, of course.

“Bad day, huh?”

You rest your chin on your fist, elbow supported by the armrest of your (comically small) couch. In retrospect, the fleeting illusion of a living room probably wasn’t worth it. Squished into a corner by a dozing Teucer and an awake Ajax, you yawn. “The worst, actually.”

“Well, we can’t be having that,” he tips your chin up to meet azure hues, “Maybe my gift will make you feel better.”

You blink. “Gift? You don’t have to, you know. The little guy’s was plenty enough for me.”

Ajax spares a fond glance at his little brother, whose head is resting in his lap, legs thrown over the opposite armrest. “Nonsense! If you’re worried about me having bought out a whole store—”

“Don’t tell me you—”

“—Then you have nothing to fret over, Killjoy,” he laughs. “It’s pretty small.”

You don’t suppress the smile that breaks out on your face. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Hopefully not too hard.” He’s so annoying. You want to kiss him stupid.

From what you assume is from his back pocket, he removes a black silk pouch before dropping it into your awaiting hand. He was right about it being small, that’s for sure. Toying with the material of it for a moment, you pull open the bag delicately. Ajax tenses. “So.. whaddya think?”

Inside is a brass key that fits into your palm nicely. Of course you’ll love anything he gives you, but you’re unsure of what this could mean. Is it symbolic? Literal? You thumb over the grooves, unsure of what they could possibly unlock. Your head swims with a fuzzy feeling that you don’t entirely hate.

“What’s it to?”

“Our place.”

It’s perfect. You turn the object this way and that way, swallowing. “Giving me my own copy? You realize that you’re gonna be stuck with me crashing at yours way more often, right?”

Your boyfriend wraps a sturdy arm around your shoulder. “It’s not there for you to crash, it’s there for you to stay. I want you to move in with me.”

The following awed silence from you is clearly taken as something else, because Ajax backpedals in that flippant way that belies the panic he’s actually feeling. You need to tell him that it’s okay; that it’s more than okay.

“Of course you can say no, but the rest of your birthday plans kinda hinge on the possibility that you’ll make me the happiest man in the world and say yes,” he amends.

You pay no heed to his theatrics, because all you really need is him. Gross. “Duh, idiot. As much as it kills me to say this, I’d want nothing more.” Ajax glows. “Because you’re head over heels in love with me?”

“No, because I won’t have to drag my ass to the laundromat anymore.”

The offended sound he lets out is muffled with your mouth against his once more, and the tears that roll down your cheeks are obviously not because you’re ecstatic to be so involved in his life. What a preposterous idea.

His hands cradle your face, a little awkward because of the position, but he’s so warm.

“Killjoy, I have something to confess,” he breathes, pulling back enough so you can see the faint constellation of freckles dotting his features. “You need to start packing immediately, or else the flowers will wilt before you’re able to see them.”

You sigh, happy-sniffling. “Flowers? Is a bouquet perhaps part of these ‘birthday plans’?”

Ajax dries one of his hands stained with your tears off onto his shirt before raking it through Teucer’s curls affectionately. He stirs but does not wake. “Try thirty!”

“Ajax..” The horror in your tone barely disguises the admiration.

“I love you too, Killjoy.”

That night, when you’re both alone in his apartment, tangled in each other’s arms, your overnight bag on the floor - you tell him the same. The few tears he sheds into your hair are also definitely not because you’re finally comfortable enough to say it back. Ridiculous.

taglist: @hanyi-writes, @karagatan02, @bfajax, @aphrodict, @nomazee

#✧ my works #—stellaronhvnters.#childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #ajax x reader #genshin impact #zira's lover : event

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hearts4hughes · 1 year

Text

good 4 u

jack hughes x fem! reader

warnings: cheating / cheater!jack

a/n: this is not a happy or loving jack imagine, and no i am not making a part two where they end up together!!!!! this is an imagine for y/n to be a girlboss, and to show jack what he’s missing.

jackhughes

liked by jacksgirlfriend, njdevils, and others

jackhughes my first and only love @/samantha123 ❤️

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user157 real ones remember y/n :/

fan086 what happened to y/n?

samantha123 mi amore🫶🏻

jackhughes mia bella

user85 didn’t he call y/n that?

staring at your phone, you huff out a laugh in disbelief.

did jack recreate your one year anniversary photoshoot, with his new girlfriend? is he serious?

after getting stood up at a bar, jack quickly approached you. he allowed you to vent to him and get all your negative emotions out of your system. you were aware of his obvious motives- to get your number- but you ignored it. towards the end of the night, you slipped jack a piece of paper with your number on it. thrilled would’ve been an understatement for what he felt.

a friendship blossomed into a serious relationship after a few weeks of talking. you were a breath of fresh air to him, and with the stress of your upcoming modeling career, he helped you through so much. his parents, brothers, and friends loved you. fans even envied you.

you two were perfect for each other.

well, that was until just after your one year anniversary. you noticed jack becoming more distant, slowly slipping away from you. you also noticed his recent obsession with his phone. he always liked to go on his phone. however, he couldn’t stay away from it. it was almost as if he was hiding something.

one day while jack was in the shower, his phone began to go crazy. he was getting notification after notification, and it was driving you insane. even though you knew it was wrong, you picked up his phone, entered his password, and checked what all the noise was from.

you were horrified from what you had seen- photo after photo of some blonde girl’s perky tits and perfect body. however, that wasn’t even the worst part. the worst part was the texts he was sending to her. various messages praising her perfect body, and even saying that she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. through tears and sobs, you packed everything from the shared apartment, leaving before jack even got out of the shower.

confusion hit jack when he got out of the shower, and you were nowhere to be seen. he had called out your name about ten times before he noticed his phone thrown on the bed. the screen was open to his instagram dm’s. his heart dropped and his throat went dry. right there and then, he realized the mistake he made.

it only took a month for jack to get over you. while he was in his post-breakup blues, samantha- the same girl whom he cheated on you with- was there at his aid. guilt hit him as he bought her a ticket to new jersey, desperate to distract the aching pain in his heart. she barely filled the gaping hole in his life, but at least he wasn’t lonely.

you on the other hand, had to spend your time watching jack and samantha grow into a ‘loving relationship’. you knew it was all bullshit. you knew jack regretted ever sending her a text, but you were just waiting for him to come back, begging for mercy. that’s why you were now dressing up in the skimpiest bikini you had, snapping photos and uploading them to instagram.

yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes, and others

yourusername good 4 u

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yourbestfriend he fumbled the bag big time

yourusername <3

fan07 YOURE SO ICONIC FOR THIS

user68 SHOW HIM WHAT HES MISSING YESS

_quinnhughes i’m glad you’re happy y/n :)

yourusername you’ve always been my favorite, quintin

staring at your phone’s voicemails, you gleam with pride and revenge.

missed voicemail from jack - “i miss you so much, y/n. i’m sorry i cheated. i messed up so bad. please come back.”

it almost felt refreshing as you screenshotted the voicemail, dming it to samantha, and discarding your phone on your bed. this was a new era.

#hearts4hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #insta edit #new jersey devils #nhl imagine #hockey blurb #hockey imagines #nora's writings 💐

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pedge-stuff · 8 months

Text

strawberry margs (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual, yada yada.

happy belated labor day, y'all! tip your servers and thank your union reps.

(my union is on strike rn and, while it is ass, I'm very grateful for the people who are working hard to secure a better future for all of us. wga strong!)

summary: a totally normal labor day cookout with no big announcements whatsoever.

—————————————————————————

"Hey!" Pedro is slightly out of breath, flushed from the cocktail and the dry heat. Sometime in the fifteen minutes he's been gone inside the house, a tiny sombrero-on-a-headband has made its way onto his head.

He plants a kiss on your temple, slinging an arm over your shoulder; the man gets a little possessive, after a couple drinks, but not in an unpleasant way. There's a pitcher of pre-mixed margaritas on the picnic table, and only a thin finger of the same drink left in his plastic cup. You squeeze the hand that now rests on your right shoulder.

"Are you having fun?"

Truthfully, yes. Parties usually aren't your vibe, and you'd been nervous about this one, for some reason. Had expressed as much to him, beforehand.

Oscar and Elvira usually host in the summer, the little patio attached to their apartment far surpassing anyone else’s outdoor space in the city. No reason at all to be nervous— you were just here, for the 4th of July, alone, kindly invited while Pedro was still filming in Morocco. (And oh, how the summer had changed.) Had been here almost every weekend since then, while things were shut down.

But, this was the first party since… well. Since you’d put a ring on it, so-to-speak.

The social etiquette of the whole thing has you flummoxed. Are you supposed to tell people? Is that annoying? Do you just not say anything? Wait for them to notice? Take the rings off and break up so you don’t have to do this at all?

Ultimately, these are Pedro’s friends, so it’s been Pedro’s call. Not that you communicated that to him. Which might have been a mistake. Regardless, you’re deferring to him, despite the pit of stupid anxiety it left in your stomach leading up to the party.

Not that you’re not proud of the ring, either. You couldn’t be fucking happier. Social anxiety is a tricky thing, apparently. (You might have way, way overthought all of this.)

“Yeah,” you smile at Pedro, shaking cobwebs of shitty thoughts from your brain. “Yeah, this is lovely.”

Another kiss, this one soft on your lips. He tastes a little fruity, some kinda flavored syrup in the margaritas. You’d accidentally opted for an IPA that tastes like ass, so you’re just carrying around the can as a prop. His fingers are sticky from something, you discover, as he licks them clean.

The arm around your shoulder steers you towards the long picnic table, around which most of the party is gathered: the hosts, and a few extended family members you’ve definitely been introduced to, before. Sarah is here, with Holland, which is a nice surprise. The kids are deep into a game of corn hole, in the small grassy area.

You settle at the table, folding chair pulled flush against Pedro’s. A large hand palms above your knee, exposed below the inseam of your shorts. The sun is warm on your skin, fingers wet from the condensation of the can you’re pretending to nurse.

“— the AMPTP doesn’t know what they’re talking about,” Holland is saying, from where you’ve entered the conversation.

Oscar’s brother, whose name you should know by now, laughs. “Been four months now, though,” he shrugs. “You think someone would’ve budged by now, but—“

"Woah, woah." From his perch on his wife's lap, Oscar points, looking scandalized. “What the fuck is that!"

Pointing, unexpectedly, at the ring on your finger.

"Uh." Pedro's looks sheepish.

"You're joking!" A hand dramatically clutches his heart, while Oscar swoons against Elvira. "I'm wounded. Sarah, did you know about this?"

Across the table, she raises a glass, mockingly. "I picked out the ring."

"That's not true—" Pedro begins to protest.

"—Sorry, I forced him to make a fucking decision because he'd been agonizing over three options for like a month."��

Pedro shrugs. "I wanted it to be perfect," he says sheepishly, "sue me!"

"No, no, backup," Oscar says. "I don't care about the rings. I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"I can," Elvira offers, "you've got a big mouth."

He groans. "It's not like it was a secret!"

Loud interruptions from across the table. "It was absolutely a secret, that's the whole point!"

Oscar throws a hand up. "You already act like you're married, is anyone surprised about this?"

"You were surprised."

"I was surprised you didn't tell me! Wounded, frankly. Irredeemably. To the core."

"Are you done?" Sarah rolls her eyes, squeezing Pedro's shoulder affectionately. "About damn time, but we're happy for you."

She gestures at Oscar. “Yeah, yeah, we’re happy for you.”

“With feeling this time.”

“Guys,” Pedro interjects, “I wasn’t keeping anything from you. It happened two days ago!”

He launches into the tale, eggplants and double-rings and all. The hand stays planted on your knee, and you take advantage, laying yours on top to thumb over the band on his ring finger. Someone tops Pedro off, and you reach for a sip— strawberry, you determine, is the marg syrup. You’re not really listening, but you lean back, content to watch him retell the story.

The next time he kisses you, as the sun sets into the Brooklyn skyline, you taste like strawberries, too.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller #din djarin #javier pena #narcos #the mandalorian #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #javier pena x reader

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artists-ally · 6 months

Text

{Train Wreck} Azriel x Cassian!Sister {Pt.1}

I am in love with this song, Train Wreck by Divide the Day and cannot get it out of my head. I feel like Azriel loves a good broken girl because she can relate to all of him. So here is the first part of that! Enjoy my loves!! lmk what you think!! (i got too excited waiting for the poll to end)

Word Count: 7,947

Warnings: Modern AU, OFC, angst, mentions of crimes, mentions of trauma, language, alcohol.

Summary: It has been far too long since Ira has seen her brother. They meet again under neither of their own terms and struggle to find any room in their hearts for pleasantries. But at least there is a hot, dark-haired, hot, buffer to focus on instead.

Tagging: @bubybubsters @librafairy @needylilgal022

Part Two

~~~~~~~~

“He’s going to say no.” No response from the peanut gallery in the front seat. “Seriously, he’s not going to be okay with this. You might as well let me out of the car now.”

“Will you just be quiet?” Arthur snapped, eyes locking with mine from the rearview mirror. “Need I remind you that this is your fault. You’ve left us with no other option.”

“I told you, it wasn’t me. That was-” “Cal, I remember the story. And that’s all that it is. A story, a fabrication that Arthur and I are no longer going to be entangled in. You may be able to fool the police with that lie, but you can’t fool us, Ira,” Dana snapped, whirling around to shoot me some daggers. She couldn’t look intimidating if she tried; her face was like a bunny, and every time she frowned it just looked like she smelled something rotten.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. There was no way he was going to take me. We hadn’t spoken in almost five years, I didn’t even know he was alive until three months ago when I heard about his engagement. How fucking rude of him not to tell me. I had to find out through a friend of a friend.

Fifteen years growing up together meant nothing to him, I guess.

The big riverside house came into view at the end of an equally impressive driveway. A shame for whoever had to go and collect the mail every morning.

“Stay here, in the car,” Arthur barked.

I opened the door and got out of the car, kicking a few stones. Man this place was flashy; a big fountain in the circular driveway, a line of cars over by a garage. Not to mention the very obvious multi-million dollar mansion that never seemed to end.

“Lord, give me the strength to not strangle this child,” Arthur sighed, marching to the front door. I snickered, he was always so uptight.

“Not a child, Arthur,” I countered. “Just turned 21. You’d know that if you ever bothered to check up.”

“Give it a rest, Ira. We’re trying to help you since you clearly don’t understand the basic human morals of being a functioning member of society,” Dana said, opening the trunk, catching a bag as it tumbled from the stack.

“Sorry that I don’t like to conform to the idealistic fantasy that is modern society.”

Was it my plan to break into that restaurant and pose as waiters to make a few extra dollars? Yes, it absolutely was. And it was genius plan that if someone didn’t fuck up, it would’ve worked flawlessly. It ended with me in handcuffs and my ass sitting on the curb until Dana came to pick me up.

Was it also my idea to drive four fucking hours away from my hometown to the middle of nowhere to be babysat? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

“Get your stuff,” Dana dropped a few things to the ground.

I came around the side of the car and heard the door open, and that lovely voice of his ring through my head.

Great. This is going to go fantastic.

“Arthur? W-What are you doing here?” Cassian said.

Cassian, six-foot-five and one hell of a bastard. He knew just how to get under your skin and make you want to punch him in the face. Which I had done on more than one occasion when he dug too deep.

“Cassian, good to see you,” the old man said, extending his hand. “We uhh… we have something for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

I could hear the crunch of gravel and I knew what was about to happen. Any second now I was about to be publicly humiliated. I wish it was still the 1500’s where they parade you down the street and then execute you so I could at least see all the resentment on everyone’s faces.

“Dana!” I could practically hear that obnoxious grin in his voice before I could see it. “I was not expecting you guys, come in this is so awesome to-”

“She’s not the surprise, Cass,” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and walked to the back of the car. There was a sharp yank on my elbow and I damn near tripped over him. He must’ve grown again because he was a lot taller than the last time I saw him. “She is.” “Ira?” He squinted, as if he could ever mistake me for someone else. “Holy shit, I didn’t even know you were still around.” “You’d know that if you ever bothered to check up on me,” I couldn’t be bothered to be pleasant. Nothing about this would be fucking pleasent.

Cassian looked from Arthur to Dana, then back to me. And to the duffle bag that I was holding on to. I could see him connecting the dots inside his thick-ass skull. “No. No no no.”

“Cassian, she needs someone to look after her,” Dana expressed, chasing after him when he turned inside.

“You cannot just plop her on my doorstep like some stray dog,” Cass shouted, throwing his arms in the air and all around.

“She’s your sister, for fucks sake,” Arthur joined. “She needs you to look after her. Since you left Ira has done nothing but cause me a headache and gray hairs.”

“I’m right here, you know,” I walked over, throwing the bag down. “And I’d appreciate if you talked about me like a fucking human being, not some gag gift that is always shuffled around at christmas because no one wants it.”

“I have a family to take care of, I cannot take you in, Ira. I have too much going on.”

“Some things never change,” I huffed. “See, I told you he wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“Now, let's just take this down a couple of notches, okay? It has been a long drive so why don’t we just go inside and-”

“Cass? What’s going on?”

Cassian scrunched his face, and my eyes went to the door, a pretty woman standing there with her arms folded. She had a scowl on her face and narrow eyes. Her long brown hair was braided over her shoulder.

“Nothing, these people were just-”

“Who’s here?” Another voice, a man, asked next. Now, if I had died and gone to heaven and you told me that was an angel, I’d believe you.

Cassian muttered something under his breath and rubbed his forehead. “Nesta, Rhys, this is Arthur and Dana. My foster parents from years ago. And this… this is my sister.”

“Your sister?” Both of them exclaimed at the same time. He didn’t even tell them about me? Some fucking brother he is. I didn’t want to be here, but now I really wanted to see where this was going to go. It could be entertaining.

“They were just-” “Come in come in,” the man stepped down and shook Arthur's hand. “I am Rhysand, call me Rhys. Welcome, we are so pleased to have you. Cassian never mentioned having visitors today.”

“It wasn’t planned,” Dana let out the fakest laugh I’ve ever heard. She was one of those people who, when nervous, laughed after every sentence. Like come on lady, grow a set and just say what you really mean it’s not that hard.

I smiled victoriously as Arthur and Dana were escorted inside. When I looked up at Cassian, he had rage in his eyes. “Good to see you too, Cassie.”

“Do not,” he pointed at me. “You are not staying here, whenever this little tour is over, you’re gone with them.”

“Gladly.”

I closed the trunk and followed behind a storming Cassian. His shoulders might as well have been pinned to his ears. It looked like a stick was shoved up his ass.

The house was absolutely massive. I thought shit like this only existed in fairytales, not… wherever the fuck we were. Certainly not my normal run-down streets I was used to. There were cabinets filled with fine dishes and things were on display. Everywhere. I don’t think I have seen so many things before in my life.

While Cassian pouted in the corner, the man named Rhys showed us all around. He pointed and spoke, but I received a text on my phone.

Cal: your a piece of shit I hope you know that

Me: You’re* but it’s fine.

Cal: i cannot believe you fucking left me

Me: Whoops. Sorry bud, I couldn’t stick around. You dicked me over so… guess that karma’s a bitch.

Cal: you know I’m bad with names

Me: WE USED EACH OTHERS!!!!!! HOW HARD CAN IT BE TO FORGET MY NAME!

Cal: hopefully pretty fucking easy because I don’t ever want to fucking see you ever again. fuck you ira

Me: Right back atcha, asshole.

Great, now the only person that I had remotely trusted was out of my life. I had no one back in my hometown. No one to remember or care for me. I don’t think I ever had someone in the first place. What happens when you don’t have anyone to teach you right from wrong? What do you get when you mix a traumatized teenager in a city with nothing to do? A hot mess. A hot fucking mess.

“Oh, and this is my wife Feyre. My darling, this is Arthur, Dana, and Ira, Cassian’s foster parents and his sister,” Rhys spared me a glance and I scrunched my face. Had Cassian really never bothered to tell them about me?

“Wow,” she had a small smile on her pretty face. Why was everyone here so pretty? “You look just like him. You both have the same eyes. And the same hair.”

“Great, what I’ve always wanted to be. Cassian's clone.” I couldn’t stop the eye roll.

“Ira,” Dana hissed. “Some manners?”

“Thank you, your Royal Highness.”

Dana smacked her forehead, mumbling something about gray hairs and a headache again. I chuckled. I thought it was funny. Especially the curtsy.

“Why don’t you all stay for dinner, I wouldn’t mind getting to know some of Cassian’s family,” Feyre said, that small smile still on her lips. We had all meandered outside to look at their yard, at the fountain in the front of the house.

To no one's surprise, there was a matching one in the back by the pool.

“Oh, we really have to get back on the road,” Arthur said, folding his hands together and swaying on his feet. “It was a pleasure getting to meet all of you, it makes me happy knowing that Cassian has found such a great group of successful, intelligent people.”

That last part was vehemently directed at me.

“Why are you looking at me? Cassian already said that I couldn’t stay.”

“Well I am sure that-”

“Why wouldn’t you stay?” Rhys asked, folding his arms against his chest.

I looked at Dana and Arthur, patiently waiting for someone to explain it. No takers? Guess it’s my time to shine. “Well, I think it’s because he doesn’t give a flying fuck about-”

“Okay okay,” Cassian interjected, and a devious grin spread across my lips. “Stay for dinner.”

What a two faced son of a bitch. It wasn’t me who decided to leave, it was him. And he’s pissed at me? Not fucking fair. We all went inside, but Cassian lingered at the back of the pack. While Rhys took Dana and Arthur around to the kitchen, Cassian yanked me– why was everyone throwing me around– into a room off to the side.

“What the fuck did you do this time?”

“Wow, Cassie-”

“Do not call me that.”

He used to hate it when I called him Cassie. Especially around his friends because they would make fun of him for days after. I loved that.

“No hi, how are you? No ‘it's good to see that my sister is alive and doing well?’” “Clearly not well enough since they dragged you all the way out here. How the hell did you even find me?” Cassian’s eyes were full of fire. Looks like he still had that canyon of a line between his bushy-ass-eyebrows when he was upset.

“I know a guy,” I shrugged. Antoine is an amazing man. “But that’s besides the point. Wait… were you purposefully trying to disappear so I wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“What. Did. You. Do?”

I swallowed, I hated when he scolded me. “It wasn’t even that bad. They just gave me community service.”

“Jesus Christ, Ira. What did they want to give you?” Cassian shouted for the whole house to hear.

“Doesn’t matter, I got myself out of it. Like I always do, without your fucking help. I am capable of taking care of myself without you.”

“Yeah you seem to be doing a swell job,” Cassian looked me up and down, clearly judging my tangled hair and ripped up jeans that I’ve probably had since middle school. “I thought all of this was behind you, Ira. When I left you were-”

“Abandoned. You didn’t leave, you abandoned me.”

Cassian relaxed his shoulders. “You know if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” I was waiting for him to argue, to deny that fact. But he didn’t, and his haunting silence was enough of an answer. I scoffed, a hard, bitter noise. “You know I don’t blame you, no one would want to take a juvenile delinquent anywhere, especially somewhere like this place.”

“Ira-” “Save you’re fucking breath, Cass. You don’t have to pretend around me, you’ve never had to. Just play along with it for one night and I’ll be gone by the morning. Then I won’t have to be your liability to shoulder ever again.”

I didn’t wait around to see his response. Somewhere deep inside I was actually excited to see him. To meet the person my scrawny, gangly brother had turned into. Now he was… a man. Like a real man. I never thought I’d see him with long hair, but here we are. He was tall and muscular and had long hair. Shoulder length, but the longest I’ve ever seen it. It suited him.

He looked healthy. He looked happy. For fucks sake he was engaged. Albeit to the most terrifying looking woman I’ve ever seen, but they looked like they somehow worked. I feel like Nesta and I would be great friends. Cause a lot of trouble together. Piss off Cass together

I found Dana and Arthur with glasses of wine around a large table, two other women that I hadn’t met yet.

“Ahh, this is her,” Rhys stood up, putting his hands on my shoulders. “This is Ira, Cassian’s sister.”

“After all this time,” a pretty blonde woman spoke, looking at me from head to toe. “Who knew Cassian could keep you a secret.”

“You look just like him,” a girl who looked similarly to Feyre said, eyes wide. “I’m Elain. And that’s Morrigan.”

“Mor is fine, dear,” Mor smiled, coming over to me and Rhys. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?”

“Absolutely,” I grinned, linking her elbow with mine when she offered. I knew Cassian had walked into the room because of his massive feet against the floor. He said something, but I didn’t care because I was giggling with Mor as we rounded a corner to a set of stairs.

“I know Elain said this already, but fuck you look like Cassian,” she laughed, opening a room and revealing a giant bed with a balcony on the other side of some french doors.

“It gets really fucking annoying,” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have something I could change into, do you?”

“Oh, of course. Let's go find you something. You were saying about Cassian?”

“Right, it’s a constant reminder of that prick every time I look in the mirror.”

“Uh oh, trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in a goddamn nightmare,” I groaned, sitting on the corner of her bed while she rummaged through a closet. “I mean, it has been five years since I’ve seen the guy, and he still looks like the same idiot who used to pay me to do his laundry.”

“He what?” Mor gasped.

“Yeah. He threw one red sock in with the whites and vowed to neer do it again. So I, the natural entrepreneur, snagged up the opportunity to take his allowance. Five bucks a wash was a good deal considering he needed to have a load done twice a week. And god did it smell.”

“Well, in the five years since I’ve known him, it hasn’t gotten any better. And suddenly it makes a lot more sense when I see Rhys doing more laundry than anyone else. Interesting.”

I shook my head. I guess things haven't really changed. I’ve been saying that way too much in the past half hour we’ve been here. Could this go any slower? Like seriously, why couldn’t Dana and Arthur leave, then I would pretend to be good for a few hours until the sun goes down. I’ll make my way to the nearest bus stop and hitch-hike it all the way back.

Mor came out and held up a gorgeous top; it was a powder blue color with a square neckline and long, puff sleeves. She tossed it my way and then ran back in there for something on the bottom.

“What’s your style? Skirt? Jeans? Leggings?” Mor called, and by the muffled noise, I could tell her closet was huge.

A dream.

“I’ll take a skirt if you have one,” I said, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. “Leather maybe? Or just black.”

“You’ve got good taste,” she smirked, coming out and handing me a black leather skirt. “Exactly what I would’ve gone with. The bathroom is right through there, I’m gonna head back down stairs and just come down whenever you’re ready. Oh, and if you want to do your hair, everything is in the drawer in the vanity. The big one on the right.”

I looked at her with soft eyes. I’ve always wanted to have a sister to do all that girly shit with. To gossip and do makeup at three in the morning, giggling and laughing until we can’t breathe.

But I can’t get too attached. She’s clearly just being nice, just being a good person. I know nothing about her, I can’t just trust her.

So I nodded, heading off and closing the door behind me. Fuck. This was a big ass bathroom. A huge freestanding tub and an equally impressive shower.

I shed my shirt and folded it up haphazardly, same with my jeans. The shirt she gave me made my boobs look fantastic. There wasn’t a ton there, but more than enough to fill out the shirt. The skirt was a bit of a different story. Clearly Mor had never been to a gym because there was no way my ass was fitting in that.

Thankfully I had learned a trick from a friend. That friend was the internet. And that trick was a skill I had developed from stealing whatever clothes I could get my hands on. I had to make it work somehow. But I found a hair tie and looped it through the hole where the button was in the middle, hooking it around the button and back through.

As good as it was going to get.

My hair wasn’t awful, just a little greasy and wind blown from being outside. There was some dry shampoo and a comb. It would do the trick.

Much like everyone has already pointed out, the hair that Cassian and I shared was a little unruly. It only curled through the ends and was wavy the rest of the way. And the baby hairs? Forget about it, I was better just cutting them off.

I looked in the mirror. Well… it was certainly an outfit. I definitely had an appropriate amount of clothes on my body for a family dinner. The shirt only came up to my underboob and the skirt barely covered where my ass met my thighs.

It did wonders for my self confidence. Guess it’ll have to do.

When I got back downstairs, there was a light chatter in the air. But it stopped the second I walked in the room. Especially when Dana saw what I was wearing.

No one spoke as I sat down and poured some water from the pitcher into my glass. I made sure to make my sip as obnoxious and dramatic as possible. Man I was starving.

Thankfully conversation between Rhys, Feyre, and Dana resumed and the silence wasn’t eating me alive. I took out my phone and scrolled through instagram, posting a picture of a lake I had taken on my up here. It was a semi nice drive, very peaceful, but very very far from the shit-hole I used to call home.

“How do all of you know each other?” Arthur asked.

“Well I met Cassian when we were in high school, as well as our other friend Azriel. We made a deal with each other that when we graduate, we would do everything in our power to become the most powerful business owners we could. As you can see, that little pact is working quite well.” “How long have you lived here?” Dana asked next, clearly eyeing up Rhys.

“For about three years now?” Mor answered, Rhys nodded. “We kind of all found each other on the same paths and stuck together. We sort of own and share everything around here.”

“That is lovely,” Dana smiled. “And what do you do?”

“I own a casino and a neighboring hotel,” Rhys smiled. All the alarm bells were going off in my head. A big cartoon ‘cha-ching’ right there with it. He ran a casino? And a hotel? Oh boy this could be good. “Cassian runs the whole thing, and Azriel kind of has his own thing.”

“Who’s Azriel?” Arthur unfolded the napkin and laid it across his lap.

“He is our other friend,” Cassian butted in, lips pressed in that line that I remembered. “He’ll be by later.”

“Great,” I rolled my eyes. “More people.”

“Will you please be polite for once in your life?” Dana whisper-yelled, clearly not being discrete enough since everyone looked at us.

I just shut my mouth, grinding my teeth. It’s not worth it, it's not worth it, I told myself. A few moments later, a large tray with some type of bird on it came out. It was too big to be a chicken, but too small to be a turkey? Duck maybe? I don’t know, it didn’t matter. It was food.

Everyone around me took their time while I ate like a heathen. Putting a little bit of everything on my plate and scarfing it down like someone was going to take it away from me.

It was so funny to see the look of pure hatred and disgust on Cassian’s stupid face.

I swear, pissing off a sibling, especially an older one, has got to be the most satisfying thing in the world. Except for maybe sex. That was a close second.

And whatever this food was was a close third.

“So, Ira. What do you like to do?”

Here we go.

“I kind of have many hobbies.” I could see Cassian’s eyes narrow from across the table.

“Like?” Rhys stuck a green bean in his mouth.

“Uhh, f-fashion. And I’m very good at handling money. Other people's money. As well as picking locks and hotwiring cars-”

“She’s joking,” Cassian gave the fakest laugh– besides Dana’s– that I’ve ever heard. “We used to play cops and robbers when we were little, she always wanted to be the robber.”

“Did I?’”

“Yes,” he practically growled. “You did.”

This was crazy. This was actually crazy to be doing this right now. If I had any particular feeling about the things I did, guilty and ashamed were not some of them. Who gave a fuck if I stole from Walmart or faked being a waitress to make a few extra bucks? If anything they should be thanking me for the extra set of hands. Which they didn’t have to pay for.

It wasn’t like I stole the Mona Lisa for fucks sake.

“I guess I did.”

“What was Cassian like growing up? I can only imagine some of the stories you have,” Nesta chimed in from next to Cassian.

“Oh my god one time, Cassian was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich-”

“Do not-”

“And he thought that the peanut butter was in the fridge for some reason. Turns out he grabbed a bottle of dijon mustard and used that instead. He took one bite and threw up everywhere. It took Dana a week to get the smell out of the kitchen.”

Everyone grimaced, poking fun at Cassian for making a jelly-mustard sandwich. “I guess that explains the nausea every time I make one.”

“You still can’t stomach even the smell?” My eyes were a little wide. That had to have been from when we were still in elementary school.

“Nope,” Cassian’s tone was harsh, fork forceful as it went into his mouth.

“Ira told me that you used to pay her to do your laundry because you fucked it up one time,” Mor snickered from her corner, Elain covering her lips with her hand to keep the water inside her mouth.

“Seriously?” Cassian glared at me.

“Hey, she asked. Those are trade sibling secrets, I wouldn’t dare give those away without something in return,” I gestured to my new outfit. Just and FYI, I would’ve told Mor regardless.

“Yes you would.”

Yes, I absolutely would. “Lighten up,” here it comes, “Cassie.”

Cheers and laughs raised in the air, Rhys punching Cassian in the shoulder and saying the nickname over and over again. He gave me the nastiest look, but I just tipped my glass towards him.

“What is everyone laughing about?” A new voice said from over my shoulder. When I turned to look… holy mother of Jesus fucking-

“Azriel,” Rhys, still in a fit of laughter. “Listen to this. Our beloved Cassie used to pay his sister to do his laundry. And I found out the reason he runs away whenever any of us set peanut butter on the counter.”

“Sister?”

Okay, I was surely in heaven. Or hell, and he was some sort of demon prince because… someone help me. If I thought Rhys was attractive then… fuck he’s hot. Unnaturally hot. Otherworldly hot.

“Azriel, this is my sister. Ira,” Cassian gestured to me without looking. “This is Azriel.”

He was so hot. That was the only thing going through my mind. He was exactly my type. And he was fucking ripped. I could tell. I didn’t need to see under the shirt he was barely wearing. It was so tight in all the right places. Fuck he was pretty to look at.

“Nice to meet you,” I tumbled out.

Azriel gave a not-so-subtle look at me, but didn’t say anything as he moved to sit with us. Unfortunately he sat on the other side of Mor, who was to my left so I wouldn’t be able to look at him. That’s all I wanted to do was just drink him in and think about those massive fucking hands on my-

A sharp kick to my shin had me wincing. When I looked up, Cassian met my heated gaze.

Don’t even think about it, he mouthed, sliding a thumb across his throat.

One raise of my eyebrow told him I was up for the challenge. I could see his jaw clench, and that only made me more enticed. Azriel was hot, and so was I. I’d make it happen one way or another.

I couldn’t have told you what happened next, I was far too busy thinking about Azriel. Man he was… he was so fucking good looking. He had these lighter colored eyes, hazel I think. And a dark mess of hair. I’m sure he looked like a Greek god under those clothes of his, too.

“And you’re engaged? That’s wonderful, Cassian. I am so happy for you,” Dana gushed while looking at Nesta’s ring. “Congratulations, you two. Do you have a date picked out?”

“No,” Nesta said sternly. “We are just going to wait things out. Until both of us feel ready.”

Cassian nodded, not offering up any words.

“What would you guys like for dessert?” Rhys asked, listing off a few options. I stopped paying attention after chocolate cake because who would want to hear anything else?

“I’m afraid we better get on the road, it is a long drive back to our home. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” Arthur stood up from the table, shaking Rhys’s hand. “Cassian, a word, please?”

With a deep breath, Cassian stood up and followed the old man out of the room.

“Okay, now that he’s gone, can we all agree that there is something wrong with him? I’ve never seen him so… so rigid in my life,” Mor blew out air from her lips, shaking her head.

“I think I better uhh… better explain a little bit.” My heart sped up a bit. “Dana and Arthur are kind of fed up with me so they’re just gonna take off. And leave me here. But don’t worry, I’m just gonna find a bus stop in the morning and be gone before any of you wake up. No biggie.”

The room was silent except for my fork scratching on the plate. When I looked up, everyone was looking at me funny.

“Ira, what? They’re gonna leave you here?” “It is a long story. And they think I need a role model to get my life together. Why Cassian is that role model I’ll never understand because the last I knew of him he was just as irresponsible as I was.”

Rhys took a sip of wine, “How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?”

“Five-six years now I think? I don’t know, I stopped counting after eight months,” I shrugged. Truth is I haven’t stopped counting the days since he left. I took a big piece of this chocolate cake into my mouth. “Fuck, this is good.”

“What happened?”

“We are lightyears away from you being able to ask that,” I laughed. “No offense but, it’s none of your fucking business.”

Again, the room was silent, except for a small snort at the end of the table. It wasn’t Elain because she was so red she looked like she was gonna pass out. And the only other one was Azriel.

“Hint taken,” Rhys pressed his lips in a flat line. “Well, you are Cassian’s family, so you are always welcome in our home.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be. I’ll figure it out, I always have. It’ll be like I was never here,” I took another forkful and shoved it in. Damn, I was gonna miss this cake. “So, Rhys, you own a casino and a hotel. What do the rest of you do?”

“Well, Cassian runs the casino and hotel,” Rhys pointed out again. “Azriel owns and runs the adjacent club attached. We basically have our own empire here.”

“Sounds fun,” I smirked. He owned a club? Could he get any hotter? “What about you Mor.”

“I am the best fucking bartender this place has seen,” her grin matched my own. “And I model here and there.” “Badass.” “I have an art studio. I teach classes and do some workshops,” Feyre said. “But most of the time I am at home with our son Nyx. He is… he’s a handful. A spoiled handful.”

“Hey,” Mor said, “to be fair, he is the first kid in our group, what did you expect?”

“He’s barely two, he doesn’t need designer clothes that he won’t fit into after a few months anyway. It's a waste of money.”

“Feyre, darling, I don’t know if you’ve looked around, but we kind of have a lot of money. It could use some wasting,” Rhys patted her thigh under the table.

I can only hope to have enough financial security to be able to say sentences like that. They could probably retire right now, all of them, and never make a dent in their fortune. Lucky bastards.

“What is it that you do, Ira?” Azriel poked his head from around Mor.

“Oh,” fuck fuck fuck fuck. What the hell was I supposed to say? Certainly the fact that I commit petty crimes won’t go over well. “I’ve had a lot of jobs. I don’t have a set career yet.”

“So hot-wiring cars is just a hobby then?”

A stream of water shot out of Mor’s mouth and onto the table. How did he even hear that?

“It’s a skill. Don’t come crying to me when your battery dies and you don’t wanna pay a hundred and fifty dollars for Triple A to come and pick up your ass,” I deflected. Another skill I had built up over the years.

“And the locks?” Wow, he was kind of an asshole with supersonic hearing. I could see why he and Cassian hung around together.

“I was a locksmith,” I mustered up my best smile and scooted my chair so I was sitting at an angle.

“Ah, so it wasn’t just the ‘cops and robbers’ you and Cassie used to play growing up. Good to know,” Azriel wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He stood up, saying something about having to leave because he had to open up. Just as he was walking by, I stuck my toe into the walkway and he tripped over me.

Azriel all but went through the wall, Cassian coming around at the last second and catching his arm.

“You alright?” He asked as Azriel straightened himself out.

“Yup. Fine.” The glare he gave me sent a shiver down my spine and a smirk curled at my lips. Two can play that game, mother fucker.

I, very gracefully, scratched the corner of my nose with my middle finger. He got the message. But so did Cassian.

“Your stuff is in the driveway. Go get it and meet me upstairs.” Cassian looked so pissed off. His shoulders were pinned to his ears again as he stalked away, that silence settling back in the room.

“Guess that’s my cue to get a move on. Thank you everyone, a pleasure to meet you all,” I said with a genuine tone. They were all cool, and some part of me wishes I could have what they all have. Trust in one another.

The three duffle bags and backpack were not light as I carried them up the stairs, trying not to knock over all the decorations and pictures on the wall. One of them didn’t survive. It crashed all the way down and shattered on the hardwood floor. Cassian cursed from somewhere.

With a thud, I let go of all the bags in some random room at the end of the hall. It was barely big enough to call a hobbit hole. There wasn’t a window or a real bed, just some cot with a pillow and a blanket. “Glamourous.”

“It’s the best that I could do,” Cassian all but rolled his eyes.

“A couch would’ve been better,” I plopped down on the taught fabric, bouncing a little. “Sorry about the frame.” “It’s fine,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, Ira I’m sorry about how I left you.” “Yeah well apologies don’t mean a fucking thing to me unless you fix it, Cassian,” I folded my arms over my chest. “And for the record, I would’ve understood if you would’ve just fucking told me what was going on. Instead, not only did you not tell me, you ghosted me.” “I know.” I just blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation. “Well?”

Nothing. Not even a strangled breath. “I just had to.”

“That’s the best you can do? Are you seriously still that fucking thick in the head?” “I didn’t have a choice, Ira,” he shouted.

“Yes,” I nodded. “You absolutely had a choice. You could’ve at least left me a fucking note with a number on it so I could talk to you. You were all I had, Cass. All I fucking had and you just disappeared. What did you expect me to do?"

Cassian shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I-I don’t know. I thought you’d get yourself together and make it out too. Build your own empire, like the one we have here.”

“In case you forgot, I didn’t get to finish school like you did.”

“Well that’s not my fault.”

The fucking nerve. I stood up, barely coming to his chest, and smacked him across the face. His head jerked to the side, and his mouth fell open. I shoved him into the wall on the other side of the hallway and he fell into it.

“You are a piece of fucking shit Cassian.”

“Ira-” “Did you really think that I would end up alright without you there? Could you really be that fucking stupid?”

“I didn’t think that-”

“Of course you didn’t. You never have. You’ve only ever thought about yourself and what would benefit you. You never gave a shit about me, I was just a burden you couldn’t get rid of.” “That’s not true,” he gritted his teeth.

“Tell me that I am not a constant reminder of dad. Or mom. Tell me.” I waited for a response. When nothing came, I felt the nausea roll through my body. “You are one sorry son of a bitch Cassian.”

“Jesus Ira you think I wanted to abandon you?” “You haven’t given me one other reason to believe anything different,” I was screaming now. I didn’t care if anyone else heard. “The last memory I have of you is seeing you packing a fucking bag and climbing out your window, what else am I supposed to believe about you?”

A door clicked open, and Azriel emerged. He looked at us with raised eyebrows. He had changed into all black. Fuck him and his good looks and his perpetually messy hair that I wanted to tug on.

“Everything alright?”

No, you fucking prick.

“Just re-kindling our sibling rivalry,” I gave a mocking look, staring down Azriel. “Mind your own damn business. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Ira,” Cassian said, somewhat appalled.

“Just fuck off, Cassian,” I waved my hand at him. “Like I said, I’ll be gone in the morning and you don’t ever have to worry about making it up to me again because you won’t be able to. Hope you are happy living in your perfect little bubble with your perfectly little circle. Hope they’re all more important to you than I ever was.”

I slammed the door shut quicker than he could get a response out, leaning against it. I hadn’t ever realized that I was shaking.

Whatever. Fuck him too. I don’t need Cassian. I haven’t needed him for the past six years. God, had it really been that long?

There was no use in unpacking so I just piled the bags in the corner of the room. And there was also nothing to do besides lay down simply because there wasn’t enough room to do anything else.

Maybe when everyone has gone to sleep, or home, I’ll go sneak around. Take something just to piss him off. Nothing too valuable, but something really inconvenient like all the salt and pepper shakers or all the spoons. Or one of the Corvettes in the driveway.

I could easily pick out which one was his; the yellow one with the black stripes on the hood. He always loved to be bold. How he fit in there I’ll never know.

My mind was racing with thoughts, but eventually I had fallen asleep because the sun was peeking through the crack under my door. I stirred and sat up, tucking my boob back into the shirt since it slipped out. Not my proudest moment for sure.

I changed into a hoodie and some other jeans, folding the shirt and skirt up to give back to Mor. It didn’t feel right to take them. She didn’t do anything wrong.

With far more precision, I made it downstairs to the front door. It unlocked easily, thankfully no alarm system went off. The chill of the early morning greeted me and I slipped out silently.

Fuck, this driveway was long. Couldn’t they be normal and have a normal fucking sized driveway? It was so unnecessary.

And of course there was nothing at the end of it. Just the road and nothing else. Not another house or anything. Who knows how far it could be until a bus station. Hopefully this place wasn’t filled with a bunch of weirdos and I wouldn’t get kidnapped.

The thought of carrying all these bags for miles would tear up my back and shoulders. I didn’t have that much but… I needed all of it.

“Ira!”

I whirled around and saw a Cassian shaped silhouette coming down the driveway. Oh great.

“Come to demand I pay for the broken frame?” “Stay.”

What? “What?”

Cassian breathed heavily, “Stay. I-I am so sorry for what I said. And you’re right, I don’t ever think of anyone other than myself. And I’m sorry I never told you where I was going. I want to fix it, but I can’t if you don’t at least let me try.”

I dropped the bags, totally not believing what I was hearing. “And what if I don’t give a flying fuck if you want to or not?”

Cassian completely deflated. “Please, Ira. I made a promise to Dana and Robert that I would look after you. I miss you. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I don’t feel like a piece of shit for what I did."

So what if he made a promise to Dana and Arthur? He made a promise to me first. To always stick together. To always be there. He hung me out to dry before I even had a chance to notice.

I fucking hated Cassian. More than anything right now I wanted to watch him be boiled alive. Could he really even help me anyway? What was the fucking point of any of this? I was already humiliated, and dragging innocent people into my bullshit surely didn’t help.

Throw Cassian back into the mix and my kleptomaniac behaviors will definitely skyrockets.

“Why should I?”

“Because what other option do you realistically have?”

“That is not fair,” I flare my nostrils. “You have no right to waltz back into my life and pretend you give a shit about me.”

“You were the one who was dropped on my doorstep,” Cassian pointed out, making my stomach drop.

“You know, you’re doing a shit job at showing that you legitimately want me to stay, asshole.” I was getting a little angry. Good things did not happen when I felt betrayed. “And for the record, I tried to talk them out of bringing me here, but they went around me and got a fucking court order. So, whether you want to believe it or not, it was not my choice to be here. I can’t even go back with Dana and Arthur because there will be a warrant out for my arrest.”

“Shit…” Cassian dragged a hand over his face. “Ira I’m-”

“Sorry. I know. But you lost the privilege of my forgiveness long ago. It is gonna take a hell of a lot more than ‘I’m sorry’ to fix what you’ve done to me.”

“I know, I know,” Cassian softened his eyes and his voice, standing tall in front of me. “Just… give me something. Anything, and I will never betray you ever again.”

Should I believe him? I have no fucking idea what to do. All my alarm bells are telling me to run and don’t look back, but that gaping pit in my stomach is melting into him and those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes of his. So unfair.

This was gonna be a rough fucking time. Nothing about this was going to be easy, but… he was right. I didn’t have another option. And maybe there was something salvageable between Cassian and I. It would take a hell of a lot of convincing to be able to trust him ever again, but he was still Cassie. That same smug son of a bitch who gave the best hugs in the world.

If he wanted me to stay, there were going to have to be some sacrifices on his end. Mostly just to piss him off and make him sulk.

“I want a real fucking room.”

“Any one in the house.”

“I want yours.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassian furrowed his brow. “Plus, I don’t even live here anymore. Just Rhys, Feyre and Nyx. Nesta, Azriel and I live in the next town.”

“So what, you all just visit together and pretend to be a big happy family?” I scoffed, kicking a stone.

“We don’t pretend, Ira,” he didn’t say it rudely, but more matter of fact-ly. And he looked at me like I had never known what a family was. I guess he forgot that when he left it kind of ruined me. Or again maybe he just didn’t care what it would do to me back then.

Cassian looked sad. Not depressed or upset, just sad.

“Your room or I’m gonna walk away right now.” There was no room for negotiating in my voice. I could see the conflict in his eyes, but with a sigh he gave in.

“Fine, you can have my room here,” Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Actually it was. I spent weeks designing that room. All for it to go to fucking waste.” “Sucks to suck I guess,” I smirked, shouldering two of my bags. “I’m gonna work hard, you know. I’m tired of always being in the fucking mud.”

“Yes, you are going to work hard. You’re going to have to follow some rules and check in. And you’re gonna have a curfew.”

“A curfew? What am I, thirteen?”

“Until you can prove to me that you’re not gonna go and rob a bank, yes, you’ll have a curfew,” Cassian picked up my other bags and started walking back to the house. “We’re gonna find you a job because I will not be funding your operation.”

“What happened to ‘we have a lot of money. It could use some wasting’?”

“Rhys wasn’t wrong,” Cassian said. “But just because we have it doesn’t mean you get access to it.”

“Jeez, sorry I brought it up, grumpy pants,” my turn to roll my eyes. “And what kind of rules anyway?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Some of us like to get a full eight hours of sleep every day so I am going back to bed. You’re not allowed to leave the house until I say so, so find something to do.”

“Or someone,” I whispered to myself. But Cassian heard. “A joke.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eye fucking Azriel,” Cassian practically gagged. “That is one of your rules. You are not allowed to be engaged with him in any type of way. The last thing he needs right now is you.”

“Right to the heart.”

“I mean it, he’s been through a lot the past year and a half. It took him a long time to get to where he is and I won’t let you ruin it for him,” Cassian said possessively. “He, along with everyone else, is my family. Fuck with them and you’re dealing with me.” “News flash, buddy, so am I. We share the same DNA, and hair and eyes according to everyone else on the fucking planet,” I genuinely could not see it.

“Ira, I’m serious. If you fuck around with Azriel and I find out I sweat to-”

“Jesus, calm down Vengeance. Gotham is safe from the Joker,” I followed him inside, clicking the door shut behind me. “I won’t get involved with Azriel.”

“Good.”

Life is too short to not fuck who you want, who gives a shit about what other people think. Sorry Cassian, but I am gonna fucking break that promise if it’s the last thing I do. And so help me god when I do get my hands on him because I’ll never let go.

#acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar fandom #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x ofc #azriel x oc #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #cassian acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar fic

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historianthesecond · 11 months

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Hello would you be open to doing something like that one scene in KoS where Nikolai dives in a lake to save a princess (reader) cuz she’s one of the potential brides visiting ravka but reader doesn’t really like Nikolai, she thinks he’s a stuck up royal getting sent all these princesses to choose from and so after he saves her from drowning they have a heart to heart in front of the fireplace?

Hi! I'm so sorry for taking so long 😭

Tbh I loved this idea so much 🥹💕💕 and of course I got a little overboard, but nevertheless, I hope you liked it :3 I'm thinking about making a follow-up part too kshdjdhd

The First to Fall (In Love)

Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Princess!Reader

You couldn’t blame your advisor for pushing you overboard.

Lady Stell wanted results, and if you weren’t to give them to her and your father, then she’ll seek and harvest them herself. After all, she had married almost all of your elder siblings to their first prospect with pure willpower and cunning convincing. Though when either of those would work with you, she was cornered to use more concrete actions.

She wasn’t at fault for wanting to avoid your father’s rage and the possibility of being dismissed as unreliable.

It was yours for accepting to come to Rakva for a celebration you were sure wasn’t part of the official festivities of the country. Only meaningful gazes were exchanged between your parents during dinner just before they offered you to visit the Grand Palace as a sign of cooperation between the two kingdoms.

They never told you what kind of cooperation they were thinking about. Not until you saw Lady Stell abording the ship as one of your advisors that you knew their secret intentions. Sadly, it was too late to backtrack your decision.

It was your fault to give in to your curiosity and lean in against the wooden rail to see the golden koi Lady Stell was pointing at, allegedly as big as a puppy. But when you gazed down, the fish was gone, scared by your approaching figure falling into the lake.

A muffled yelp, then a big splash. Perhaps some visitors would have seen the swirl of lavender skirts and heard the creak of the wooden rail of the boat as you toppled over.

The water was cold despite the mist that emerged from its surface, sapphire waters becoming darker and darker no matter how much you tried to swim upwards. Your dress was too heavy, layers of wool and cotton to keep the cold autumn air away as you were more used to the warmer climate of your natal kingdom.

Exhaustion settled in your arms after a few moments; your legs were already tangled in your skirts. Would someone come for you when the Rakvan King decided he wouldn’t get his suit wet? You doubted Lady Stell knew you couldn’t swim, an activity that never appealed to you ever since you almost drowned in one swimming lesson many years ago.

It would’ve been very funny to see the plan fail, if your life weren’t at stake, of course. Despite the amount of shame, you were to feel the moment you break into the surface, part of you hoped for it. Because you didn’t wish to get married—at least, not into the Lantsov family.

Your family had been struck by tragedy when your sister Farelisse got engaged to Prince Vasily. The vain and presumptuous Vasily. You doubted the Young King would be any different, as the traits repeated in the family tree, from father to elder brother, to younger brother, surely. After all, the apple never fell further from the tree.

And upon arriving at the Grand Palace, with the other parties presenting expensive gifts and graceful daughters to his distracted, almost bored, figure sitting on the throne, you were sure of your judgment. The Lantsov continued to be reckless rulers and haughty courtesans, idling between luxuries and privileges they didn’t truly deserve.

Farelisse had told you about Prince Vasily’s ill fame of pleasure houses and racehorses, fancy gambling, but gambling, nonetheless. Seeing that the His Majesty had disappeared for years when he was supposedly enrolling in the prestigious University of Ketterdam, you could only imagine how much he had squandered the royal coffers on his little adventures.

Did the King take after both his role models and was also akin to being surrounded by pretty women? Because it seemed he was, with all the women he fancied into his own house to play with them as he pleased.

Good thing he was equally charming and easy on the eyes—not that you cared, of course.

And right now, seeing his outline entering the water, diving toward you, His Majesty wished to play the hero.

The King was a very good swimmer, though perhaps everyone was a master swimming in your eyes, his figure cutting through the water as firm hands took your arms, tugging you upwards so he could embrace you by the waist.

Good thing it was dark down here, so he couldn’t notice your growing flustered state. The water didn't help to disguise the grasp of his fingers pressed into your soft skin, wet clothes becoming thin and tight into your bodies.

He wasn’t supposed to touch any of you, not until he had made up his mind about who he will be courting, so having you between his arms was overwhelming. You dug your nails into his shoulders in desperation, and you saw him frowning at the presence of such shameless behavior, eyes shifting between the surface and your face as if saying that you were so close, or that you should at least try to kick if you wanted to ascend faster.

Your lungs burned from holding your breath, and the surface seemed too far away still, as if time had slowed down on purpose. Some bubbles escaped between your lips when you opened your mouth, muscles sore from keeping it forcefully close. But at least the water seemed clear, though you weren’t sure if you felt warmer now because of the water or of because the King's warmth body.

He heaved you first, your face breaking the surface seconds before him, one of his hands on your waist, the other holding your thighs, to balance your body when you curled around him, coughing water over his shoulder, feeling his ragged breaths against your neck.

When your mind cleared enough that the borders of your vision wouldn’t be all blurry, you pushed him away hastily, blaming your adrenaline for the frenetic heartbeats roaring in your ears. The wooden planks of the dock were sturdy and warm, slightly slippery with covered moss as your fingers enveloped one of the posts to propel you up.

Your muscles felt sore, your legs wobbly, but you climbed onto the dock alone, too embarrassed to accept the help of any of the King's guards.

Some seconds after you’ve sat with a dead gaze upon the water, you heard a wet plop next to you, from where you saw the King sitting on the wood boards warm from the weak rays of sunlight peeking between a group of clouds. The wind blew stronger in this part of the Palace where there were no tall buildings to seek coverage, and you couldn’t stop your teeth from clattering, layers of soaked clothes hung to your body.

“Are you alright, My Lady?” he asked softly, looking at you with a gentle smile, blonde hair dripping around his forehead. “Let’s get a Healer to check on you, shall we?”

You shook your head, afraid that the words wouldn’t come out, still feeling the strained muscles from your intense coughing. “No, no, I—I’m fine.” Because you wished to forget what had just happened, and bringing attention to it was the exact opposite of that. But you couldn’t be rude after he just saved your life, so you added after an awkward pause: “… Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The boat you were in was settling next to the dock, and you could see Lady Stell’s black hair moving with each stride as she descended the ramp. There was no way she would let you waste an opportunity of drawing the King’s attention so easily.

“I insist,” he said. “You’re an important guest and your well-being is my priority. Besides,” the King added, eyes traveling along your figure with a concerned look. “You’re shivering, my Lady. I should get you warmed up with a hot drink, so you don’t get sick.”

Lady Stell arrived with your ladies-in-waiting, their hands helping you stand up. For a moment, you thought if it was possible to push your advisor into the lake to create a distraction and flee the scene.

Not that it would help you to blend in as you’ve been doing ever since your arrival.

“Apologies, Moi Tsarevich.” She bowed. “The Lady is quite shy, but she would be very grateful for all your attention and concern, Your Majesty,” she said, grey eyes looking sternly at you, lips pressed in a thin line as if she were expecting you to talk back.

Exemplary princesses didn’t talk back.

You’re being ungrateful, you heard your mind nagging, your eyes drawn to your bare feet, shoes forever lost in the depths of the lake. All they ask is for you to become a Queen, and you’re being an entitled brat. All the people of your nation are giving to you, and this is how you’ll pay them?

You bit the inside of your cheek, head low. Of course, they were right.

You felt the King’s gaze for a moment, and then he walked away, nodding and requesting to build a fireplace and to fetch some blankets for the both of you, just as a change of clothes.

Part of you thought that perhaps that was it all. He had delivered the girl safely to her ladies, he was already the gentleman and the hero. He would let you in peace as you wished, and then you only had to endure a couple of weeks half-hiding behind the pillars of the ballroom, withdrawn to the gardens and lonely balconies on parties where nobody would think of looking. The King would have probably forgotten your face already.

So you let yourself be guided toward a turn in the cobblestone path running along the garden, fluffy blankets pressed around your hair and body as the servants prepared a fireplace neatly outlined with rocks.

You rubbed the soft fabric of the blanket against your cheek, thinking that perhaps they could absorb you, hide you from the upcoming scold of Lady Stell when you returned to your chambers. For now, you tried to relish in the crackling fire, hands extended toward the flames.

In front of you appeared a pair of polished boots, followed by a hand with the Lantsov emerald shining offering you a glass of amber liquid.

Looking up, you saw the King, his eyes shining. “This will warm you from the inside, My Lady.”

Who could say no to a King? You thought bitterly, taking the glass, careful not to touch his hand.

He noticed, of course, and you hope he thought you wished not to have more inappropriate contact with him after the last events. Though it was only half the story. The rest of your reasons were tucked in a dark corner of your mind, thoughts that were starting to filter when he sat next to you on the blanket.

You huddled closer inside the fabric. From all the empty seats around the fireplace, he had to choose the one closest to him.

“My Lady,” he said after taking a sip of his beverage. “May I ask you a question?”

You just did. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

He leaned in closer to the fire, elbows resting against his knees. “Have I done something to make you avoid me?” he muttered low enough so anybody else could hear the conversation. “If so, I truly apologize. The last thing I want is for any of my guests to feel uncomfortable.”

You doubted that could ever happen with him being so close.

*~*~*~*

“You’re too kind, Your Majesty, but everything is alright,” you said, and Nikolai had to contain a chuckle. You were a terrible liar, and he was a very acute observant.

“Without trying to be rude—I don’t believe you, My Lady. You can’t even look me in the eyes when we’re talking.” Not strike up a conversation with him in any of the past dinners.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, the outline sharp against the covering blanket. “You heard it, I’m shy.”

This time, Nikolai didn’t contain his amusement. He wasn’t supposed to tease his guests, but perhaps that would be the only way you could talk more than three words in his direction.

“I think falling into the river is a very bold move for you to be considered shy,” he heard himself saying.

It had been a surprise that the avoiding Princess suddenly had a change of heart and decided to gain his attention in such a… concise way. Though he was sure it was somebody else’s idea, that you only were a piece of the puzzle your advisors had to complete.

“It was an accident.”

“One too common in novels, don’t you agree?”

You glared at him, the first time he felt acknowledged. The gesture was borderline rude, but he felt relieved of not being ignored anymore—such feeling resurfaced not many good feelings from his childhood that he preferred to ignore. “Are you accusing me of something, Your Majesty?”

He smiled. “Ah! There is it. You have beautiful eyes, My Lady,” he said because it was true.

While choosing the people who will be attending his festival, his advisors had told him that he had inherited your mother's beauty, and now that you were so close, he can testify that it was true.

If only he could see your smile instead of that resigned pout.

“Have you ever thought that perhaps I don’t like you?” you muttered, the edge of your words coming sharp and hurtful like the edge of his sword.

“If I can be honest with you, my Lady, yes. That idea has certainly crossed my mind, but I wasn’t sure.” He shrugs, trying to brush off the sudden pressure that stepped on his chest. “Usually, the people who despise me try to kill me, so this is new.”

He took another sip of his beverage, hot brandy to warm him from the frigid waters of the lake, to comfort his mind as he tried to come up with a plan. “I’m sure it must be difficult to have a pleasant stay in the Palace if you have such an opinion of me.”

You sighed, playing with the glass, swirling the amber liquid inside. "My father wouldn't have had it any other way.”

Your Father, the King of Rewfel.

His playful aura had changed, with his eyebrows knitted together, lips pressed in a pondering line as he gazed at your dress, overly warm, and the way you were leaning in closer to the fire, still cold.

The lavender and teal blue colors of your dresses mimic the tropical bays surrounding the kingdom. Rewfel the land of dreams, home of many gemstone mines and the so-called Capital of the Arts, with the myriad of artistic academies that had trained many renowned artists whose pieces were showcased in the private gallery of the Grand Palace.

Nikolai wondered if you had an artistic inclination, too.

A tiny, amicable kingdom thanks to your grandfather and father’s attempts to woven political bonds with every nation possible, ties that strike to be unbreakable.

“Then I’m afraid we’re in a little predicament, my Lady.” You were one of the most suitable people for him to marry, as your dowry would be bountiful and well-received for the rapidly drying coffers. Not to mention the social influence of your family, even within the Rakvan high society.

By marrying you, he could secure a steady income from the importation taxes of gemstones coming from your kingdom, which could be used for public affairs.

The problem was that you didn’t seem very thrilled about the idea. But why? Surely you had warmed up to the idea of an arranged marriage at this point.

“I don’t think either your father or my Council would be very happy to know that we aren’t on good terms.”

Always the diplomatic. With some luck, he'll get you to open up about the reason behind such an impression about himself. Had he done something rude toward you without noticing? Surely his Triumvirate would have made him known of such a slip.

Your shoulders sagged. “My father considers we aren’t on good terms already,” you said, so low he had to lean closer to you. “Ever since… well, the last engagement.”

The last engagement—?

Oh. That was the reason he had doubted inviting you, but he didn't wish to be in your father's bad book if Nikolai ignored that his younger daughter was still unmarried when he was looking for a bride.

He wasn't there when your elder sister got engaged to Vasily, much less when she broke off the engagement due to Vasily’s overindulgent behavior. Nikolai can only imagine all the things your sister confided in you after her return to Rewfel; all the pitying looks of the other nobles when she assisted to another party alone because her fiancé was enjoying himself in Caryeva.

For the first time in too long, Nikolai didn't know what to say. It wouldn't be good to apologize, because not only he wasn't guilty of anything, but the person wronged wasn’t here anymore.

“Princess…” he started. It was logical that you didn’t wish to be here, let alone in the same situation your sister was. But he wasn’t like his elder brother, he wasn’t even like the last King, and part of him felt hurt that you would assume so of him. “Princess, I know I have no right to say this to you, but I assure you that I’m not like that. My family had committed many mistakes that I don't wish to repeat, and that prodigal behavior is one of them.” He wanted you to see him, to at least give him a chance to prove himself.

He'd been proving himself to everybody, every day, so what was another one added to the list?

“I understand if you don’t believe me—why would you when I’m having you all inside my home? But at least let me try to prove your assumptions wrong.” Nikolai didn’t wish to make you miserable in the upcoming weeks of your stay in the Grand Palace, and he considered, deep down, that he could strike a closer bond with you, that he could achieve being cast in a new light, one that would set him apart of his family that so much pain has caused on Rakva, and now, even beyond.

You held your head low, eyes wandering across the fireplace. Sometimes he did that, too, gazing across the view before him while pondering his options.

There weren’t many here, of course. You could still antagonize him, and return home without his promise of marrying you—but what would your father do? If he cast away your elder sister for not securing a royal marriage, he would surely do that again.

Or you could give him a chance, and both would end up beneficiated from the deal.

Nikolai wasn’t sure about marrying you yet, but at least the idea didn't sound so bad to him.

For what he knew about the report about you, at least you liked to sail.

“Please, Princess,” he muttered. “Let me be your friend.” Nikolai held his glass toward you, a gentle smile tugging his lips.

You peeked from under the makeshift hood of the blanket, your eyes reflecting the everchanging flames of the hearth. “I can try,” you muttered in what felt like an abysmal silence. And then you nodded as if to convince yourself.

By then some locks of hair had already dried, pocking from underneath the blanket, half-covering your eyes. For a moment, he itched about brushing them away.

He grinned, gesturing toward a servant so they could change your cold beverage for a warm one. “Let’s drink, then, my Lady. For our friendship.”

Sheepishly, you toasted, the glasses clinking as your knuckles almost brushed each other with the movement.

“Do you like it, Princess? It’s the tastiest brandy in the country and my favorite.”

You nodded, the blanket slipping out your shoulders when you started to feel warmer.

Nikolai leaned against the blanket that was already making him sweat—or perhaps he was nervous, who knew?

"I was thinking, my Lady, what about having a walk in the garden tomorrow? I’ve heard you’re very fond of flowers, and Mother was, too. We take care of her garden and the conservatory, and it would be an honor if you would like to see it.”

He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. It was too soon, and he was pushing you too fast. Nikolai was about to brush off his idea, but then he heard your voice, clearer than ever:

“I would love to,” you said, and he had to blame the brandy and the fire for making him feel all funny and warm. But perhaps with the dimming light of the dusk, you couldn't see the light blush expanding on his cheeks.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai x reader #nikolai lanstov x you #shadow and bone x you

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lavendertales · 10 months

Text

SEÑORITA: Chapter 2

pairing: Javier Peña x Murphy!f!reader

summary: Steve offers to show you around the precinct, but he's not expecting all the teasing words and the tension between you and Javier; and neither does Javier himself.

word count: 3k

series warnings: reluctant friends to lovers, lots of playful banter, mutual pining, slow burn, secret relationship, filthy smut.

series masterlist | AO3

As it turns out, a baby living in the same space as you isn’t your biggest inconvenience.

Okay, perhaps “inconvenience” is taking things too far. Olivia has been a treat these past few days; she’s just started walking and mumbling a few words, so watching her be curious about everything and reach for things and people with her little hands has been one of your weekly highlights.

But you and Steve remain far from the good buddies you were as children, and the awkwardness that floats in the air whenever you interact is very much palpable and thick, weighing down on both of you.

Even so, you at least remain polite towards each other, and you both try your hardest to become friendly again.

Steve tells you about his time in Colombia; he tells you how he caught Pablo Escobar in his final moments and how he wished Javier was there to share the sweet victory since “it would’ve been only fair”. He mentions Javier quite a lot, actually, just like he did in his letters to you. You deduce that they are good friends, bonded by a mutual goal and plenty of tragedy, and that Javier is, despite some flaws and choices, a focused and hardworking man. Trustworthy and loyal.

In other words, a good man.

“I still have them, by the way,” you tell your brother as you take another sip of coffee.

Steve blinks in surprise. “You kept the letters I sent you?”

“Well, yeah. You’re still my brother, and the fact that you took the time to write to me when you were basically in a living hell, it means a lot to me. I was worried about you.”

The warmth that fills Steve’s body is not unknown, and yet it feels like it’s the very first time he’s ever felt it such a big wave of affection towards his baby sister.

“I figured if something were to happen, you’d be… eased,” he tries to joke.

“You’re not my favorite person in the world but I don’t want you to die. Besides, do you have any idea how expensive it is to have a funeral? Not to mention the cost of retrieving your body from there… way too much work.”

You both giggle, finding odd comfort in the rather morbid way you’re making jokes, and you finish your coffees in silence. Connie is at the park with Olivia—which you suspect was done intentionally on her part—and it’s almost time for both of you to head off to work. You actually crave the library’s welcoming silence today.

“I’ve got an idea,” Steve says, washing both cups. “The precinct isn’t that far from the library.”

“Probably ten minutes by car or so.”

“Exactly. How about you stop by at lunch? I can show you around, give you a tour.”

He’s trying, you smile to yourself. He’s trying to make things great again. You want that too, so it’s not hard to meet him halfway.

“That sounds pretty good actually,” you reply and smile when Steve does.

“Cool!”

“Can you give me a ride to work?”

“Sure thing, c’mon.”

On your way, you talk more and it becomes easier, more lighthearted. You find out that Steve wrote to your parent as well, and he also called them once a week. He talked to your mother daily during the brief time he and Connie were apart, and as you hear that, your heart sinks a little. You figure how difficult it must’ve been for both of them.

And even if you don’t say it aloud, you’re very impressed by Steve’s work in Colombia. But most of all, you’re proud of him.

“What’s Javier like?”

The question replaces the brightness on Steve’s face with a gloomy and curious expression. Much as he tries to hide it, it’s there.

“Why?” he asks flatly.

You roll your eyes, chuckling. “He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Steven, I’m given to understand that Colombia was very dark. The two of you are bonded together by things that the rest of us can’t comprehend. I’m just asking out of curiosity, nothing more.”

Steve’s grip tightens over the wheel, recalling some of the events in Colombia. It was very dark indeed, but most of the time he had Connie there. Javier, on the other hand… there were times Steve feared he was drowning the more vehemently he refused any external help. All he had were his brothel girls, alcohol and cigarettes.

And Steve fears he still hasn’t recovered, even a year later.

“He’s a great guy overall,” Steve replies after a while. “Tough nut to crack and stubborn, but you can rely on him when it comes down to it.”

“He does look like he’s stubborn.”

“Have you seen much of him?”

“You mean since he introduced himself last week, then you shadily pulled him over after which he fled like the plague? Hmm, no, I can’t say I have.”

Steve coos your name, almost apologetically so, but you cut him off instantly. “Even if I were interested in him, which I’m not, what’s it to you? I get that I’m your sister and he’s your best friend and that puts you in the middle, but we’re adults. It would be none of your business.”

“True, but…” Steve huffs, struggling to find his words. “Look, I’m just trying to keep you both safe and sane.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever you were dating one of your bad boys, it never ended well. Remember Hyde, who spray painted dad’s car when you broke up with him?”

“Ugh. Yikes.”

“Or Mike?”

You try your hardest not to laugh. “I still can’t believe he found a skunk and sprayed it all over you.”

You suppress a giggle, much to Steve’s dismay.

“I had to sleep in the basement for a week,” he reminds you bitterly. “Wasn’t funny then, and it’s not funny now.”

“I know, I’m s—I’m sorry.”

“Ever notice how your breakups affected the rest of us, but never you?”

You shrug. “What can I say? I have a long lasting impact on these boys.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Javier’s a grown man. Those were little insecure boys. I doubt—“

“Javier isn’t fully okay after Colombia. Neither am I, really, but I’ve got a beautiful wife, an amazing daughter, and life goes on. He took it all by himself and bottled it up. Which is exactly like the kind of guy you’d fall for.”

“I thought he’s a reformed bad boy.”

Steve huffs, parking the car in front of the library and looking at you with a care he hadn’t possessed in years.

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do,” he says softly. “Not gonna do things like I did when we were teenagers. You’re a grown woman, Javier is a grown man as you said. He’s a little broken though, and you can be a lot to deal with… and I’m just afraid you’ll both end up getting hurt.”

“I appreciate your concern, Steven. But I promise you, I’m not interested in Javier like that.”

“All the women are at some point.”

“It’s a regular occurrence?”

When Steve hesitates, you get your answer. “Oh come on, it’s not like he’s some Adonis.”

“I don’t know, for a guy he’s pretty good looking.”

Devilishly handsome is more like it, you think.

“He is,” you agree indifferently, “but I’m not into it.”

“I’ll pick you up at 12-ish?”

You notice the topic change, but you don’t fight against it. “Sounds good,” you concede. Thanks for the ride.”

“You got it.”

Time flew by in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, you were back in Steve’s car and on your way to the precinct. There’s a tingle in your body that you cannot explain, but you don’t fight against it either.

“So what exactly does a consultant do at a police precinct?” you ask.

“I help with cases but I don’t actually get involved. It’s a pretty sweet deal actually.”

“So it’s basically like giving advice and adding at the end, ‘if it ruins your life, it’s not my fault’?”

A hearty laugh leaves Steve’s chest, booming throughout the car. “Basically, yeah.”

“That’s a pretty sweet deal. How are you adjusting to it after all you did… in your previous job?”

“It’s a bit boring if you compare them, but it’s a nice change of pace.”

“I’ll bet. You are, after all, America’s hero.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Come on! You know what people are saying about you! Steve Murphy, American’s fine hero, saved the world!”

You keep teasing him till you both end up laughing wholeheartedly. It’s a sentiment you haven’t had in years, and suddenly you feel grateful and lucky to have your big brother back in your life.

Steve holds the door for you, thus allowing you to get a first glimpse into his work environment. It’s as busy as any precinct, people buzzing and moving at a fast pace without paying much attention to their surroundings.

“Here,” Steve catches your attention. “This is my office.”

You scan the cubicle, noticing the picture of him, Connie and Olivia on his desk. “Pretty cozy.”

“That one over there is Javier’s.”

The difference between the two desks is quite stunning: while Steve’s is cozy and personalized with reminders of the life he has outside these walls, Javier’s is pretty empty except a few folders neatly stacked on top of each other, a pen and a stapler. His desk seems pretty empty, and you fleetingly wonder if that reflects how he’s feeling on a daily basis.

Impossible, you think to yourself. Surely he’s a ladies’ man, and surely he’s got someone to hook up with at least, if nothing more.

“Hey Jav,” your brother’s voice changes. “You remember my sister.”

Your eyes met Javier’s for a single second, frozen-like in time, and you’re quick to notice how he shifts his gaze as farther away from you as possible. As a response, you lower your head, stiffening a chuckle.

“Hola señorita,” he tells you, even his voice distant.

There’s no verbal reply leaving your mouth. You want to say something clever and witty, maybe even sarcastic, but there is a small fraction of your slightly twisted being, deep down, which considers his greeting to be an awakening of some sort. You like how the words roll so easily down his tongue. A presumably filthy and skilled tongue.

Whoa. Where the fuck did that come from?

Okay, so you might think he’s attractive. He might be sin personified with golden skin and cold attitude, which means he can be trouble.

And you’re not looking for trouble. Not anymore.

“What brings you here?”

It takes you a bit to realize that Javier’s addressing you because he’s not even looking at you; he’s looking through a folder in his hands, seemingly doing everything in his power to ignore you.

“Steve wanted to show me around the precinct while we grab some lunch,” you say.

“Hm.”

“Oh, right, lunch!” Steve exclaims. “I got us turkey sandwiches from a nice place down the street, hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, love those.”

“I’ll be right back.”

With Steve gone temporarily, you take the opportunity to squeeze some answers out of Javier.

“Let me guess,” you start, crossing your arms at your chest and teasingly sitting on the edge of Javier’s desk. “Steven put on the big bro talk with you.”

Javier finally looks at you, somewhat surprised. “Is that a regular occurrence?”

“Oh yes. He used to do it a lot when we were teenagers. But please don’t hold my being related to him against me.”

“Wasn’t going to.”

“Thanks. He claims that I made his life miserable by bullying him when we were younger but if you’re asking me, he’s a bit of a wimp. When it comes to me, at least.”

“You do sound like a bully.”

This time you do chuckle. And if you wouldn’t have such great observation skills, you might’ve thought that Javier chuckled too.

“Did you bully him though?” he asks, voice less distant.

“Well… depends from which side you’re viewing things. I say I gave him reality checks. But this might explain why he’s trying so damn hard to overcompensate now by being ridiculously protective. He knows I didn’t like it then and it’s why we’re awkward around each other now, and yet here he is, going out of his way to keep you at bay.”

“He only asked me nicely to not hit on you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Were you going to?”

“No. You’re not really… my type. No offense or anything.”

“None taken. But the question remains, why does my brother want to keep you at bay? Are you really that big of an asshole, Javier?”

He turns to you, studying your face properly for the very first time. You seem much sharper than any of the women he previously encountered, and for this reason he decides to be as blunt as possible with you.

“That seems to be the consensus,” he agrees.

“Cause I heard some storied from my brother’s time in Colombia. I heard about the infamous Javier Peña. Heard you were quite the hit with the ladies, but nothing short of ‘hero’ and ‘great friend’.”

Gradually, Javier becomes irritated. Reminders of his past life in Colombia and how much it took from him become a trigger, and he doesn’t want to relive any part of that.

“Are you gonna do this the whole time you’re here?” he asks you instead.

“I could,” you shrug. “I can see it gets a rise out of you.”

“And I can see why Steve said you can be a pain in the ass.”

“Ouch.”

But you smile, and paired with the way you said his full name, rolling the R perfectly at the end, it does get a rise out of him.

Frustration. The inability to act upon it. Curiosity. Forbidden fruit.

Too much contradiction for Javier’s personal taste.

“Listen,” he moves closer to you to whisper in dangerous proximity, “Steve asked me to not get involved with you, friend to friend. So that’s what I intend to do. More like not do.”

“Okay, that’s honorable, I respect that. But how much fun would it be to mess with him?”

Javier cocks an eyebrow in your direction, the faint scent of something floral suddenly invading his nostrils.

“Why would we mess with him?”

“Come on! Haven’t you ever wanted to just mess with him? Prank him in any way?”

“Not out of instinct.”

“You’re missing out.”

“And how exactly would we mess with him?”

“Do I detect interest in your voice?”

The playfulness in your voice, along with a hint of mischief, is causing Javier’s head to spin. You’re still not his type, but you sure seem like fun.

And he likes to have fun once in a while.

Forbidden fruit, he reminds himself.

“I figure if he sees me around you a lot, he’ll think we’re fucking, and based on your reputation, sounds plausible,” you ponder. “One of those veins in his head is bound to pop.”

“Shit, you’re a mean one. But I still want to respect Murphy’s wish.”

As if on command, Steve rushes back, handing you a sandwich and pulling Javier closer.

“I found this on Lieutenant Dan’s desk,” he mutters, but not hushed enough to not reach your ears.

Steve reveals a folder that you try to peak at while Javier rummages through it. Seconds later, his face brightens.

“New intel on the case,” Steve adds. “These sure would come in handy for closing the case.”

“So take ‘em.”

Both men stare at you like you just said the most outrageous thing in the world. “They’re classified, smarty pants,” Steve practically scolds you.

“So? You’re not taking them outside the precinct. You’re just… borrowing them, looking at words on a page.”

“If I close my eyes, you’re like the female version of Javier.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Why are you here, again?”

Javier’s sharp eyes cut through you like glass, but they don’t intimidate you.

“Apparently I’m the only one thinking rationally,” you retort.

With a loud grunt and a quick glance around, Javier turns to Steve. “Look, just—just stuff it down your pants.”

“What?”

“Do you wanna close the case or not?”

“Yeah, obviously, but—“

“Stuff ‘em down your pants.”

“Say that a lot to your lady friends?”

The glare Javier throws you doesn’t intimidate either. If anything, it only makes you bolder.

“If your brother wasn’t here, I would’ve told you where you can stuff that,” he grunts.

“Yeah, you’d wish you’d stuff something in this.”

“Both of you, cut it out, now,” Steve shushes you. “And ew. Why me, anyway? You pulled the same stunt back in Medellin.”

“They’ll suspect me.”

“You can’t play that card here too!”

“Spanish-speaking guy with a foreign family name? Trust me, they’ll fucking suspect me, Murphy.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Within a split second, you snatch the folder from Steve’s hands and, ensuring no one’s around, you tug at Javier’s belt, making enough room for the folder to slide between his shirt and his pants. Breathless, Javier can only watch in shock as you smile, so as to not raise any suspicions, and button his blazer so that the foreign element in his suit isn’t visible.

“There,” you say, “problem solved.”

“What the fuck,” Steve mutters under his breath.

“I wasn’t gonna shove a folder down your pants.”

Javier can’t think of a single thing to say. He can only watch you as you sit down, finally munching on your sandwich, and feel a concoction of feelings.

She’s not my type, he remembers.

But shit, that was hot.

previous | next

tags: @pedrostories @milkymoon2483 @ifall4dilfs @psychedelic-ink @casa-boiardi

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thebellearchives · 10 months

Note

i swear you're getting almost exclusively solomon prompt requests and i wish i could say im different but im not. i AM like the other girls (gender neutral). im sorry.

anyway i'd love to see number 26 "I want to move in with you" with sol, if it's not been requested already! i am in love with how you write him like actually.

congrats on the follower milestone, you totally deserve it omg!!

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

~ solomon ; obey me [nightbringer]

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : when you and Solomon arrive to your new place you reveal something that will give him hope for the future

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!mc, fluff, solomon’s crushing on mc ~

‧₊˚ a / n : bestie I AM LIKE THE OTHER GIRLS TOO Solomon was the character with more entries in my masterlist even before the requests 😵‍💫 thank you for the kind words too!

this was SO hard for me to write, i just couldn’t come up with an scenario for this prompt that wasn’t like the one in Domesticity since it’s basically the same prompt, so i came up with this! it’s not exactly mc proposing the idea to Solomon but if that’s what you’re looking for you can check Domesticity ~

Two pairs of footsteps stopped right in front of Cocytus Hall’s frontal walkway. Solomon’s eyes studied the huge residential mansion, too big for even a family like the brothers. You were standing right next to him, your surprised expression and the curious undertones of your gaze made his heartbeat quicken.

All sorts of thoughts flooded his mind: laughing and snacking in the main living room, casually chatting about the day as you folded laundry together and carrying it back upstairs, maybe dancing in the kitchen before dinner and constant calls to let you know he was coming home.

“I hope you’re okay with coming here...” he cleared his throat, trying his best not to look too nervous “I know Diavolo didn’t really ask for your opinion in the matter, and you’re so used to living in the House of Lamentation…”

“No, it’s okay. This is okay.” you looked up at him with those eyes, those adorable eyes that could bring the strongest sorcerer down to his knees, and that smile, that lovely smile…

“Really?” a small spark of something unknown faintly flickered in his chest.

“Yeah… to be fair, i’ve always wanted to move in with you.”

No other words could’ve ever taken him by surprise like those did. He was sure he was staring at you like an idiot, and he was thankful you were now inspecting the building once again because he had to force his jaw to shut close.

“Really?” he repeated, for an instant it felt like he had ran out of words, his brain ran through every single word of the dictionary in every single language he had ever learned in his life and yet he couldn’t quite find himself speaking any other word.

“Yes” you chuckled, eyes once again resting on him as you turned his way “I thought about it during those times where I’d visit you at purgatory hall for magic lessons. Everything would’ve been so much calmer and easy going, and having you right there to keep teaching me? It would’ve been perfect. It didn’t happen back in our timeline, but I’m happy there’s a place and time where we can find somewhere to make our home.”

Home was a difficult word for someone like him to fully comprehend, specially when it referred to such a huge place, but he figured that as long as you were there with him any place could be home.

“Yes” he inhaled with a smile, finally being able to recognize that spark in his chest was hope, hope that maybe this was going to be the time and place where he’d finally win your heart “home.”

#; fluffy belle #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me swd #obey me nb #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me x y/n #obey me solomon #solomon obey me #solomon x mc #solomon x y/n #solomon x you #solomon x reader #gn!mc #gn!reader

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cameronspecial · 5 months

Text

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 7)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Drug Use, Drinking and a Relapse.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.0K

Summary: Time flies by when Y/N is home but eventually she has to go back to London. One argument leads Rafe to his next spiral.

Masterlist

Y/N sits at the kitchen island with her laptop in front of her and a mug of Earl Grey tea beside it. She is looking at different flights back to London. Cole has finished his scouting of the Outer Banks for work, which means he is heading back home, so Y/N thought it would be a good time to go too. She takes a sip of her tea as Mason enters the kitchen. “Ugh, we should’ve figured you would’ve stayed in England forever when you started drinking tea,” he grumbles tiredly, rounding the counter to rest his head on her shoulder. He takes a chance to look at her laptop. “No… You can’t go back. You just got home.” Y/N turns her head to look at Mason, “I’ve been here for almost two months, Mace. London is my home now. Just like how Toronto is now also your home. I need to get back to watch over the bookstore.” Mason gives her a pouty look.

“But, dude, I miss my sister. You haven’t been back in five years.”

“I know, but it’s not like you can’t visit me in London. I have lots of space there for you. Sparky would love to share his dog bed with you.”

“Haha. That’s hilarious. Please stay a little longer.”

“I can’t, Mason. I love you, but I’m going back in a week. See, I’ve already booked my ticket.”

She points towards her laptop screen at the ticket she bought while he was trying to convince her to stay. At this, he groans and runs his hand down his face. “Dude, you suck,” he complains. Y/N looks at him with sad eyes, “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for a ticket for you to come visit me. I promise.” Mason looks at her with reluctant eyes and gives her a small smile. “Fine, but you have to buy me all the food that I want.” “Deal,” she agrees with a massive grin face, happy that she could cheer her brother up.

——

Why the universe kept leading her to her ex-boyfriend’s ex is beyond her comprehension. Blythe stares at Y/N working on her laptop in the booth near the window. Blythe honestly likes Y/N, but with her recent break-up with Rafe fresh in her mind, she doesn’t really feel like sitting next to the girl that plagues his mind. Seeing as the coffee shop is filled with customers and she does not want to go back to the hotel to work, she has no choice but to ask the girl to sit across from her. She is tired of seeing the four walls of her hotel room. “Can I sit here?” she asks Y/N. The bright smile on Y/N’s face makes Blythe think that Y/N isn’t aware of the break-up, “Yeah, of course.” She takes her seat and gets to work on the paperwork she needs to do today.

After about an hour of doing work, it’s clear the girls are running on steam, so Y/N offers to get them something to eat and drink. She returns to the table with a smile, placing the food in front of Blythe. “So what’s it like working for a hotel franchise?” she inquiries to Blythe. The hotel heiress awkwardly looks at her because she really doesn’t feel like talking, “You know, it’s here and there. I love doing the work but I’m nowhere near ready to take over.”

“Makes sense. I mean with the wedding, I’d imagine it would be hard to juggle planning and a CEO change.”

“So you really haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Rafe and I broke up.”

“Was it because of the drugs?”

“Well, that certainly explains his behaviour. I guess in a way it is because it has changed how he acts. But I think it was mostly because of you.”

“Me? I promise you that I haven’t told him to break up with you or hinted that I wanted to get back together with him.”

Blythe gives her a raised eyebrow, not because she doesn’t believe her, but because the answer should be obvious. “I know you would never do that, Y/N. It’s just that, even after all these years, you’ve had this big place in his heart that I or any other person, I think, couldn’t fill. He was always meant to be for you and I think seeing you again triggered this realization for him. The universe wants him with you,” Blythe explains as gently as possible.

Y/N looks at her with questioning eyes, “If the universe really thought that Rafe and I were meant to be, then why did it bring Cole back into my life the day we saw each other at the club? I felt pulled to go to the pool there, which doesn’t normally happen.” Blythe gives her a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t you get it? A part of your healing was being able to move on from the past. The universe might have brought you to Cole, but why does it keep bringing you back to me? I think, as some cruel joke, I meant to help you come to the same realization that Rafe came to a long time ago. That he is the one for you.” Not having anything more to say, Blythe packs up her stuff and leaves the coffee shop, leaving Y/N to wonder if what the outgoing girl said was true.

——

Rafe had been going strong with resisting the temptation of putting any substance that could intoxicate him inside of his body. He has been doing anything that could keep his mind off of her, getting high or drunk. Working until early in the morning, helping his sisters with whatever abstract thing they could think of, doing garden work. Thankfully, it helps. Rafe enters the house on the phone with Mason. As he walks through the door, he sees his dad waiting for him at the front entrance. “Mace, I gotta go,” he mutters into the phone before hanging up. He has been avoiding his father since the break-up, knowing that Ward wouldn’t be too pleased with what happened. However, it seems Rafe couldn’t run any longer. “I don’t want to talk about it, Dad.” Ward shakes his head and approaches the boy, “Well, too bad because that’s what I want to do. How could you break up with Bltyhe? She’s perfect for the family!”

“She was going to break up with me anyway, I just did it before she could. And she may have been perfect for the family, but she isn’t perfect for me.”

“Then who is Rafe? You haven’t been on a date with anyone other than Blythe since high school. How are you supposed to find that person if you don’t give anyone a chance?”

“We both know that I already found her. I just don’t know where we stand at the moment.”

“Y/N is not perfect for you. You are going to take over the company, here. She lives in England.”

“What if I wanted to go to England with her? You’ve never asked me what I wanted when you were planning my whole life for me. You never asked me what I had planned. You’re lucky that I didn’t get into any of the English universities that I applied to. Because if I did, you’d probably never see me again.”

“Yeah, It’s because you weren’t smart enough for the British universities! Did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn’t think you would be good enough for anything else? That maybe that’s why I insist on you taking over Cameron Development! Because you aren’t capable of doing anything not handed to you on a silver platter.” Ward’s cruel words are like a slap in the face. All of Rafe’s insecurities come back to him and all he knows is that he needs to escape.

——

Y/N wakes up to the buzzing of her phone. Not bothering to check who it is, she answers it, “Hello?” His slurred speech is the first thing she notices. “I need you to pick me up,” he demands into the phone, even if she can’t see him, she knows he is waving his arms around as he gives the order. She sits up completely and rubs the sleep out of her eyes, “Rafe, are you drunk? Where are you?” He slurs out a couple of words she can’t understand and then hangs up. She tries to call him again but he doesn’t answer. She swings her feet over her bed and goes to wake up Mason.

——

She drives up to the address Mason gave her, thanks to Find My Friend, to find Rafe stumbling around the front yard. She parks the car and then hops out to retrieve him. “There she is! The girl I should be marrying,” he mumbles, walking right into her arms. She shakes her head, dragging him towards the passenger side of the car. “What are you talking about? Rafe, are you drunk?” she asks, but when she sees his dilated eyes, she knows the truth. “Please tell me you aren’t high. Tell me that you kept your promise.” He hops into the passenger seat and looks at her as though he has been caught committing a crime, which he technically is. Y/N looks at him with a broken heart, “I really wish you kept your promise.” He just sighs and she goes to the driver's side. “You don’t know what I had to deal with this afternoon,” he grumbles, crossing his arm and turning toward the window.

“Was it your dad? About the engagement?”

“Of course, it was my dad! WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE?”

“You don’t need to yell at me. You shouldn’t let your father get to you like this. And drugs aren’t going to solve all your problems, Rafe. You need to talk to someone.”

“Like you’re one to talk. I know part of the reason you broke up with me is because of my dad. Plus, the only person I want to talk to is currently upset at me for doing drugs. You don’t get it. I need the drugs to forget about you.”

“Rafe… I don’t even know how to process any of that, let alone answer it. I had my reasons for our break up. You know that.”

“That’s what you keep saying. But I don’t know why you couldn’t talk to me about what was wrong. We told each other we would always tell each other about what we were worried about. And you didn’t do that. Why didn’t you do that?”

She looks over at him with dejected eyes, turning her head back towards the road. Y/N doesn’t want to answer his question, telling the truth would make her too vulnerable and she doesn’t need to feel like that right now. She continues the journey towards his house. She parks in front of it and doesn’t say anything as he gets out of the car. “Thank you. I’ll stop bothering you from now on. You won’t hear from me again,” he murmurs without giving a single glance towards her. When she sees he entered his house, she starts hitting the steering wheel with tears running down her face. Y/N couldn’t keep her feelings in anymore.

Rafe gets into his room and yells without a care as to who he might be waking up. He grabs the glass on his bedside table, throwing it onto the ground. He watches it shatter into millions of pieces and chucks something else onto the ground. The door to his room creaks open. Wheezie peeks her head through the door, “Rafe, are you okay?” All he can do is scream at her, launching the alarm cloak he is holding at the door. She yips in fear, closing the door to protect herself. He finishes his attacks and slams his back against the wall. He lets himself slide down so he is sitting. Rafe buries his head into his hands and lets out a gut-wrenching sob. Both Y/N and Rafe went to bed that night with pain in their hearts and one question in their minds. Will they ever find a way back to each other?

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