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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

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No Pain, No Gain | Part 3 |PersonalTrainer!Aemond x fem! reader

A/N: you guys are absolutely feral for this and I love it, thank you legitimately for all the love. Once again 😘 @ewanmitchellcrumbs , hope you luv uwu

Series Masterlist

warnings: EVENTUAL SMUT, 18+, sexual tension, binge eating, mentions of breakup, cursing, dickhead Aemond, reader is horny af, English slang (soz), warnings will be added when needed

When Baela messaged you with this screenshot.

You thought, hell fucking yes.

What better way to take your mind off thinking about your personal trainer’s dick, undo about an hour’s worth of cardio and feel like shit afterwards?

2 for 1 cocktails.

Storm’s End was pretty popular so Baela, being the legend she is, booked for four of you to go. Baela, her twin, Rhaena, you and a mutual friend from university, Maris Baratheon. Her Uncle owned the pub/club so she used her connections to get a further 50% off on friends and family discounts.

God it was going to be a long night.

After getting ready in the living room, Rhaena absolutely hogging the Spotify playlist, all three of you buzzed on a glass of Prosecco hobble to Storm’s End.

“Rhaena, take those stupid shoes off” you nudge her shoulder a bit, which takes her off balance. She’s wearing heels that are far too big and far too high for her. Tottling around like a newborn giraffe.

She yelps a bit but glares at you, “At least I’m taller than you now, short-ass”

Hand on heart, you feign offense, “Who put 50p in you?”

Baela nudges you from your other shoulder, “Children, stop it”

Maris pipes up from behind, playfully squeezing your butt, “Where did you get this from?”

“Ow! Maris!”

Rhaena laughs, “Our creepy cousin is giving her personal training”

“Hey, you” Baela glares at her twin, “He’s not ‘creepy’, just misunderstood. And be nice, his dad just died!”

“Oh yeah cos everyone loved Viserys” Rhaena mused.

You give an awkward look to Maris as you enter Storm’s End, giving a name as they lead you to a booked table.

“He didn’t seem that bothered about it” you shrug as you huff off your coat.

Maris, sat next to you in the booth, hangs her jaw open, “Fuck you, look at these!” she says squeezing your biceps, “I’m jealous I don’t get to see you in the bikini”

Rhaena snorts, “Maris, your bisexual is showing”

“Sorry, sorry”

You must admit that when you were getting ready to go out with the girls tonight, you’d made the effort. The black cocktail dress hanging in the back of your wardrobe, that probably hasn’t been touched since the graduation party a few years ago, looked tempting. So imagine your surprise to find that it still fit, snug in all the right places. It wasn’t quite warm enough to go out in just that, so you pulled a coat over it. Even here, in the darkened part of Storm’s End, a sort of anxiety prickled at you at how low cut it was. You were usually not so brave.

It had been a while since Maris came to visit all of you, so the drinks came easily. And effectively being as cheap as water, it was easy to put all the cocktails away. One particular cocktail had you constantly sneezing from the ginger in it, but you were nicely drunk now, engaged in conversation.

Maris was swooning over a girl she’d met on a night out.

“You know when you see a woman and you’re just like ‘yes’ she is perfect” Maris swoons, slurring her words.

Almost in unison you all say, “No”

“Maris, we are hetero beyond hetero” you laugh, sipping the cocktail and leaning against Baela on your other side. She leans in as well, partially, if not more drunk than you right now.

“Okay fine, I’m not having this conversation with you virgins”

“Whoa whoa whoa! Who said virgin?” Rhaena furrows her brows, angry and you genuinely have to hold back a laugh with how loud she’s being as several people turn around, hearing what she’s said.

“Rhaena, I am willing to bet yours has grown back it’s been so long”

“Nuh-uh” you point to yourself, head wavy from all the drinks, “that’s me~”

Maris orders more, “Didn’t you and what’s-his-face break up like two months ago?”

“Yesss, but we didn’t have sex for ages before that. So if anything it’s me who’s the sad little virgin of the group” you say, polishing off your cocktail to go in for another.

Baela snorts, “At least until she gets a mouthful of Aemond”

You almost spit out your drink, glaring at Baela. The alcohol has made you more…morally loose, yes. But you didn’t expect Baela to say that.

“What the fuck Baela!”

“Oh come on, she’s been cracking out the vibrator everytime I even say his name”

Maris sees your bright red face, “Don’t” you warn.

“Oh my god, as if you have a thing for creepy Aemond?!”

You raise your eyebrows, “Okay, describe him”

“Tall, lanky, skinny…I guess?”

Stalking time.

You raise a finger, putting your cocktail down to get your phone. You quickly bring up his instagram and show her the one photo where his whole body is in shot.

Pretty much as soon as the screen lights her face, her jaw drops.

“Oh my god”

“Can you two please stop thirsting over our cousin, please” Rhaena rolls her eyes,

Maris zooms in, “Hold on, I want to see what all the fuss is about”

She zooms in, really taking him in and the both of you fawn over the photo for a bit too long. Describing everything. His legs, arms that poke out of the shirt he’s wearing with veins. Ugh. His neck, his chest, his shoulders. How tall and broad he is. Just everything.

“Would you not let that man destroy you?” you ask Maris, snatching your phone out her hand,

In your drunken haze, you freeze as your finger slips and double-taps the screen, liking the photo.

“Oh shit”

Rhaena raises her eyebrows, “what”

“I just fucking liked the photo” you drop the phone and put your head in your hands, vision spinning from the alcohol as well as the embarrassment.

The girls erupt in laughter, which isn’t helping.

You find the courage to look and see that the photo is a good ten or so months old. And the little dot next to his profile shows he’s suddenly active. He’s definitely noticed.

Fuckfuckfuck.

“Hey, you never know, it might be a good ‘in’ to get him to bang you” Maris chimes.

You’ve never felt more embarrassed in your life. And yet, you can’t help your mind wander at the possibility of it.

Would he?

He was pretty handsy last time.

But he’s a personal trainer, surely it’s wrong for you to pay him and bang him when he’s on the job.

No you can’t.

You can’t imagine…him bare chested pressed against you, hot, sticky and sweaty from the efforts, broad shoulders closing you into the mattress, large hands splayed across your waist, teeth biting at your neck, prying your thighs apart, rutting into yo-

“Hello! Earth to y/n!”

Fuck, you’ve got to stop doing this.

“Do us all a favour and fuck him” Maris muses, “You’re like in heat or something”

Despite the embarrassment of it all, the night continues on and Baela is far too drunk to carry on. So being the good friend you were and mother of the group, you pull her hand around your shoulder and escort her home. She’s wobbly at best and seems to laugh at the smallest thing, and even though you’re drunk as well, the situation earlier sobered you up considerably.

“I have a headahceee….” Baela moans.

“I heard you the first three times you said it”

“Can we get some painkillers, we don’t have any hic back at the flat..”

With an annoyed groan you drag her into the nearest corner shop, it’s close-ish to home, so hopefully she swallows the painkillers, shuts the fuck up and you can tuck her in on the sofa.

She waits at the entrance while you pay, talking absent-mindedly to a stranger.

“Baela, don’t talk to strangers please” you say as you shove the box of painkillers in her hand. The man she’s talking to smirks amused at the situation.

“This isn’t a stranger, it’s my other cousin!” she says, her drunkenness making her far too loud.

“Oh yeah?” you crack open the bottle of water you bought, taking a swig before passing to Baela, “Is that true?” you ask the other man.

It could be true. He’s got platinum hair, a smile that spells trouble and that weird cockiness all Targaryen men seem to have. He gives you a bit of a wink, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Unfortunately, yes. Aegon” he extends his hand and you tentatively shake it, still a bit weary. He looks at you like he already knows you, it’s very weird.

“Yeah that sound like a Targaryen name”

“He’s Aemond’s older brother” Baela says while taking a sip of water, accidentally letting it fall over her face and down her neck,

“Unfortunately, also yes” Aegon smirks, “She looks a bit worse for wear”

“We can thank Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails for that, can’t we Bae?” you smile, hooking an arm around her waist to steady her, she just grunts in response, “what are you doing here anyway?” you ask Aegon as he’s now found some interest in walking alongside you both.

He shrugs, “Just came out to get a few bits, do you guys want a lift home? Aemond’s parked around the corner”

“Yeah actu-” your mind works before your mouth does and your face pales a bit, embarrassment working its way into your belly.

Baela has that stupid fucking smirk on her face again, wide and giddy like a child, “Yes please! Y/n, this is your chance to get Aemond to ram-”

“Enough of that” you warn sternly, slapping a hand over mouth, but Aegon gives an amused grin, seemingly catching onto the subject of the conversation, “We’re fine getting home thanks”

“Don’t be stubborn, come on” Aegon says, helping Baela down the road.

A gnawing embarrassment curls in your gut. The last thing you want is to see him. And this is reinforced when you round the corner and Aemond is in the driver’s seat, looking up when he sees three figures. His eyes dart between Aegon and Baela for a moment before landing firmly on you, shamelessly looking down and then back up again.

You take a deep breath. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

Try as you might, you make for the back seat, but with a shit-eating grin, Aegon makes it there first, under the guise of helping Baela in the backseat and making sure she’s okay. And you want lightning to strike him down right now with how fucking smug he looks.

A family trait, you see.

With an annoyed huff and without looking at the smug blonde in the driver’s seat, you get in the passenger seat, quickly pulling the seatbelt around you. Aemond doesn’t say anything either, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

Oh God, his thighs.

Stopstopstop.

You can almost see in your peripheral the way he’s smirking to himself, thinking it’s all very amusing.

“Aem!” Baela shrieks drunkenly from the backseat, luckily cutting the already existing tension, “Where did you come from?”

Aem chuckles lowly and it might be the first proper time you’ve heard him laugh, he turns to his cousin in the back seat, “I could ask you the same thing”

“I found them in the shop, what was it, Storm’s End 2 for 1 cocktails?” Aegon laughs.

Aemond huffs a laugh in response, raising an eyebrow in your direction, “Training going well then?”

You only have to turn your head a little to face him and when you do, you regret it immediately. In the proximity of the car, with you in the front seat, it’s achingly close. You try to muster up an indifferent look.

“Don’t live in the gym like you do”

He smirks, poking his cheek with his tongue, and turns back to the road, putting the car in gear to drive off. And now his gaze is averted, you briefly let your eyes go over him. It was only fair, he did the same to you. And you turn away quickly with a sigh when you see he’s wearing fucking dark grey sweatpants. All those thoughts return at breakneck speed, the sinful, lustful ones you only think of when you’re alone with your vibrator and it makes you squeeze your thighs together harshly, and you swear you see a flicker of Aemond’s head move in your direction when you do it. Not that he shows it on his face.

Aegon’s playlist is in full swing and it’s not a long car journey, but it certainly fucking feels like it.

You’re just thankful that Baela is quietly drunk in the backseat, half asleep, so she can’t say anything incriminating about the desires you’d divulged in female confidence.

“Stop the car” Baela says hurriedly, undoing her seatbelt.

Aemond brakes, looking back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Oh shit” Aegon curses as Baela gets out the car like a bat out of hell to run behind the closest tree, halfway across the park. Aegon follows with the bottle of water you’d bought her.

In any other situation, you’d be glad to have a borderline sick and vomiting Baela out of the car. But right now, left alone with Aemond after the sheer stupidity of the night so far, you want her to come back as soon as possible.

Aemond sighs, at least glad Baela had the decency to get out of the car before being sick. He reaches for the gearstick to move the car out of the way of the middle of the road. And the smug bastard completely misses and his large hand makes contact with your knee instead. You can do nothing but gasp when he does it.

“Sorry” he murmurs without moving his hand.

When you look at him, he stays eerily still, his eyes flitting across your face to take in the dazed, stunned and impassioned look on your face. Your mouth seems to go dry, brain made of cotton, desperately trying to come up with something to say, but failing.

Aemond withdraws his hand back to the gearstick, but not before giving the flesh above your knee a firm squeeze, burning his touch into them, leaving behind prickling heat on your skin. Seeing that you’ve been caught staring at him for too long, you flick back, pushing your legs together impossibly tighter.

He seems to delight in the reaction.

“Have fun on instagram earlier?”

Oh fuck my life.

You turn to him, embarrassed, but his eyes are on the road just as Aegon and Baela get back in the car with a few rough and tumbles. You hate how easy it is for him to get a rise out of you like this, so you turn away and just watch the night life go by as Aemond drives the 5 minute route back to your flat.

Almost as soon as he pulls up, Aegon’s helping Baela out and you follow, just about to shut the passenger side door when-

“See you at our session tomorrow” Aemond muses smugly. His eyes glimmering with mischief.

Not knowing what to say and far too horny to even form a thought, you take Baela back into your arms and make for the flat, but not before looking over your shoulder to see Aemond’s dark gaze over the steering wheel.

Once in the flat, Baela collapses on the sofa, murmuring incoherently. Like a good mother, you put a glass of water and painkillers on the side table, pulling the blanket over her.

“Did you get railed?...” Baela groans, to which you bite your lip.

“No Baela”

With a disappointed groan, she turns and almost instantly falls asleep, aided by the dizzying effect of the alcohol creeping in. You smile at her, she’s always been like this when she’s drunk. Always the wingman. Or wingwoman, you supposed.

Halfway through taking off your makeup, your phone pings with a notification.

Absolute.

Bastard.

You wake up the next day shockingly kind of okay. Baela on the other hand is milking this for all it’s worth. Being a Saturday, you supposed she’s allowed some time to recover.

But when you use the blender to make a smoothie, she groans, “Are you doing this on purpose...” she groans, with a wet cloth on her forehead.

Forcing the urge to laugh at her away, “Sorry hun”

She lifts the cloth to glare at you, “Why are you in gym gear, it’s Saturday”

Your mind races a bit, a blush making its way up your neck and a familiar heat pooling in your stomach.

“Last session today before the holiday” you say, leaning against the counter to sip the smoothie, “only day free was Saturday”

Baela pulls a face, as if amused.

“What”

“Nothing”

You scoff, “Fuck you, I told you all that under the influence, it doesn’t count”

“Oh yes it does~”

She goes on and on and on it feels like, about how badly you said you wanted Aemond to destroy you last night. She seemingly doesn’t remember the finer details about how you got home. You wished you could forget. You can still feel the way his hand gripped your leg so tightly, the bare skin prickling up.

Ping.

The dreaded ring of a notification. And it’s like he can fucking sense when people are talking about him.

Dramatically, you flop on the sofa, showing Baela the text.

“I don’t know how many more signs you need” she reaches for her go to hangover cure, the biggest bar of chocolate you’ve ever seen and a diet pepsi, “I don’t want to hear anything about it, if you do though because that’s gross. Tell Maris or something”

“Nothing is going to happen”

“Uh huh, whatever you say hoe”

With even Baela’s belief in you dwindling by the second, with a heaving sigh you manage to plop into your car, prop your phone on the mount for directions to the address Aemond sent you and drive. Something curls in your gut all the way there. Nerves? Excitement? Nausea? Was it the Indian food…

You know the answer already but it doesn’t make it any better.

The car that picked you up with Baela the previous day is parked on a driveway, a black Mercedes.

Twat.

With a breath to stable yourself, you trudge with your gym bag to the front door. The front garden is curiously and meticulously tidy, grass mowed and in general looked beautiful. A stark contrast, you think, to the guy inside. For a moment, you honestly think why the hell you’re here. Or maybe it’s just scary how easy it was for you to just…go with it and come to his house.

He appears in the doorway mere seconds after you press the doorbell, making you think he had seen your car pull up, but this notion is quickly dashed when you see him. He leans against the doorframe on his forearm, having to look down at you with a bottle of something in one hand.

“Didn’t get lost then” he says with a smug smile. The embarrassment and those thoughts that were loud the night before come back at breakneck speed, making the heat flood your cheeks uncontrollably. You just hope that he doesn’t see it, but by the amused look on his face, he totally does.

You roll your eyes a bit and his smile seems to drop for a second. He removes his arm from the doorframe, your eyes drag over what he’s wearing briefly. It’s not the black shirt he usually has on, but a grey one with patches of dark at the neckline and middle, you surmise he’s probably already been working out before you got here. The image of his taut stomach sticking to his grey shirt will forever be seared into your memory.

Walking through his home is like walking through a show-home, as in, it doesn’t look like it’s been lived in. It’s weirdly pristine, smells like air freshener and detergent. And as you follow him to the back of the house, where you assume the home gym is, you can’t help but stare at the dark grey patch in the middle of his back and the way his shoulders move when he takes a drink.

There’s some stairs that lead down and you quirk a brow, “a basement gym?”

He stops at the stairs, looking up, his eyes somewhere else before he meets yours. His hair is up in a bun again, like the first time, with stray pieces falling out, “Yes?”

“How very serial killer of you” you muse, following him down the stairs, “Should I share my location with someone”

He huffs a laugh, opening the door and leading you inside with the smallest of touches to the small of your back, “Unless you want to”

Even the borderline ghostly touch against the small of your back through your coat is enough to make your brain feel like it’s mush.

What if he’d ventured down, using his large hand to squeeze your flesh between his fingers? Moulding the skin to shape of his palms?

“Drink?” he asks, strangely more chirpy.

Pulling off your coat you reply, “No, got my water, thanks”, you try and make your voice as stable as possible.

His home gym is actually quite big, lit by several spotlights since there’s no natural light. It hasn’t got any machines, but several weights and sit up benches, perhaps he brings some clients here sometimes? Your body shudders inconsolably at the thought of being laid on the sit up benches, flat with him looming over.

He’s filling up his own water bottle from the cooler in the corner, back to you, “So what were you doing on instagram?” he asks, and you think you can hear the smile on his face.

Taking advantage of him not looking your way, you adjust your sports bra. It’s a different set this time, since the other is in the wash, a dark rusty orange two-piece. He turns just as you’re pulling your hair up into a bun, eyes hooded and trained on you before briefly flitting across the new outfit.

“Stalking your creepy profile” you answer, disinterested.

He raises an eyebrow, “Creepy?”

“That’s what Rhaena said”

“Ah” he responds, “she would”

“Why’s that?”

He motions loosely to his eye that you supposed he was blind in, “Freaks people out”

You furrow your brows, “Why would it freak people out?”. You ask it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers against his water bottle in thought.

“Does it not freak you out?”

You shake your head softly, “No”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you when he takes a sip of water and it makes your thighs feel somewhat like jelly.

“Right, stretches”

Oh boy.

It’s almost as bad as the first time you’ve done them together, except he’s extra handsy, smirking with the knowledge that you were talking about him in your spare time. This time, when you’re doing the 60 second planks on the mat, his hand stays there on your back, moving every now and then slowly between your shoulders, to the nape of your neck. And there’s no mirror in his home gym, so you’re only hoping and praying that he’s not taking this opportunity to look at you in the skin tight leggings too closely.

Although secretly, you kind of hope he is.

“That’s it...” he praises lowly, and it takes you so off guard that you think you might just crack. But you resort to just biting your lip, trapping the skin between your teeth painfully.

Squats are genuinely no better. He stays behind you the entire time, achingly close with his hands on his hips and everytime you go down to do one, you can’t help the desperate thrum of anticipation in your belly as you make contact only very slightly with his leg.

Once you’re done with stretching and core, with the lack of windows in the room you’re in, it’s very hot and you wipe your forehead a little, slightly out of breath as you take a sip of water. Feeling as if you are being watched you turn your head slightly and see him sat on the sit-up bench watching you intensely.

“Shit” you curse as some water leaks out of the bottle onto your chest and right down your sports bra. You try and wipe it away quickly, your chest already glistening with sweat. But when you look up, you see his eyes quickly flit from there to your eyes, darkened. One of his thighs jitters as he bounces his leg, as if aggravated.

“Sorry” you breathe, grounding yourself, “what next” you ask, desperately trying to lighten the tension.

“Bench press” he responds, and there’s that same tone he used last time. The tone that he used after literally scaring your ex away. But you swallow thickly and nod and sit where he once was.

He explains how to do it and you take it all in a bit until you realise he’s going to be standing right behind you and your cheeks flood with heat again, tingling down the back of your neck. He just stands there as he usually does, but from this angle (and it’s very difficult to not look at this point) your head is right at his waistline and had there not been 30kg combined in your arms right now, you probably would have given more of a reaction to it.

But you do your reps, with him watching in silence, seeing you break a sweat. As far as you are aware, his eyes forever on your form, but really it’s zoned in on that shadow that disappears down your sports bra and at the exposed bit of midriff beneath that to your leggings.

As you’re doing the last few, he rounds the side and places his hand flat on your ribs, right under your sports bra’s hem and you freeze, an involuntary gasp escapes.

When you meet eyes, he’s already regarding you.

“Relax”

Licking your lips nervously, you nod and breathe in and out deeply. But he never takes his hand off you, almost making sure you’re doing what he says.

The next few reps are probably the most difficult. Never being able to stop thinking about his fingers on your bare skin, his thumbs drawing very very small circles on the hot flesh there. The air feels charged, as if one wrong move could ignite something, like striking a flame near gas.

He moves his hand lower to your abdomen, making you freeze and look at him again. There’s no smug smile on his face, just a hooded, promiscuous expression, one that makes a deep, blurry thrum right where his hand is.

“Push here”

You try and do as he says for the last few, but it’s hard with the way he’s staring at you. And when you let out a huff and put the weights back where they belong on the rack, he nods slightly.

“Good girl”

He sees the way your face flushes this time, but makes no comment on it. Instead he rights himself to stand, extending his toned arm to you to help you up, not breaking the intensity of his look.

It really does happen too quickly to know who did it. All you remember is taking his hand to pull yourself up. The next. Both his hands are around your waist, nearly encompassing them with how big they are, and the way they slide against your glistening skin rouses you in places you didn’t even know existed.

There’s not even time to say anything when he locks his lips with yours, pushing you harshly against the wall with a thud that makes you gasp into his hot mouth. It’s messy, chaotic, a clashing of desperate lips and when he brushes your lower lip with his tongue it’s embarrassing how good it feels. He pushes you against the wall so harshly by your waist that you think he’s trying to embed you into it, hands clasped tightly around you in frustration, his fingertips creating marks where they are fixed.

Amongst all this, he presses his firm, lithe body against yours and you let out the quietest of moans with the realisation that he is desperately hard beneath the sweatpants he’s wearing, pressing it into your thigh.

“Fuck…” he breathes as his hand snakes up your front to take hold of your jaw, kissing with such need that it almost feels like too much.

All this time your hands have had no idea what to do, but one slides to the nape of his neck, gripping harshly and completely destroying the style his hair had been in. The other runs over the slick skin of his forearm, tracing the veins there, and how they seem to thrum with every beat of his heart, faster with the desire that courses through them.

“Fucking perfect…”

Words fail you at this point, his fingers digging into the sides of your face make you realise he’s keeping you right where he wants you, attacking your mouth with his in a way that’s not really happened to you before. And that little breathy moan escapes once again when his teeth nip at your lip as he pulls away, immediately dipping to your neck to kiss and suck the delicate skin there, his hips pushing against yours with hunger.

You wonder what his hands would feel like wrapped around your neck, squeezing gently, or maybe not so gently. If his hands would just go that bit lower…if your hands just dipped beneath the hem of his shirt…down the sweatpants…

Buzz buzz.

Snapped out of this hot, heavy trance, Aemond steps back a little and you duck underneath his arm, not daring to look back at him at the fear you might stay and fuck up this entirely professional relationship. You desperately look at your phone, a missed call from Baela.

But that’s all the excuse you need, you hurriedly pack up your stuff, “S-sorry…I..” you start but with no vocabulary to actually finish. Your core is still spurring with delight with what you’ve just done, taking all the power from your brain.

Looking back briefly, he looks a bit dishevelled but still ridiculously too good, flushed in the face and his chest gently heaving, and with that ghost of a smile on his face. Not smug this time, to your delight.

“Um, sorry I have to go…thanks, Aemond” you excuse promptly. Even the very swift walk back to the car is a blur. It’s only when you’re in the driver’s seat, intensely gripping the steering wheel that it all slots into place.

Your fingers go to your lips and all the places his hands had touched you. They’re on fire. Begging for more. And you feel your breath in your lungs stutter at the memory of it. Aemond stands at his window, watching with acute amusement that you’re still sat there, absolutely dumbstruck by what’s happened.

Baela pings you in the wake of her missed call.

taglist (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m crap, bold means I couldn’t tag)

@mrsgrwy @lovelykhaleesiii@urmomsgirlfriend1@iiamthehybrid @namelesslosers @chainsawsangel @warmfieldofgrass @mynameisbaby9 @afro-hispwriter @tempo-rary-fix @toodlesxcuddles @definitelynotsatans @svtansdaddyx @tssf-imagines @darkenchantress @vrtualfairy @fan-goddess @skikikikiikhhjuuh @helaenaluvr @sarahkimtae @blackxisxmyxcolour @castellomargot @girlwith-thepearlearring @julczimozart @amazingdisneyfansblog @slutforaemond@thedamewithabook@Iiamthehybrid@sahvlren@Whoknows333@cosmoeticss

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studioghibelli · 5 months

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lonely like me- joel miller x reader series

— ;; chapter one, tombstone

summary: joel miller has wrapped himself in an impenetrable wall of thorns, where nothing of seriousness can ever get to him. you have spent the last five years running from a bloody, violent past, thirsty for revenge. when two unstoppable, stubborn, roughed up forces meet, something soft and unspoken begins to ensue.

warnings: no use of y/n, some original characters, sort of enemies (the bickering type) to lovers, cowboyjoel!au, wild west!au, orphaned reader, bounty hunter!reader, hefty age gap (20s/50s), female reader, I am basically taking so many creative liberties this is pretty much my own story with joel miller in it i am so sorry people, probably going to be a slow burn, tragic backstory, will update as i go <3 lmk if i missed anything!

rating: r, 18+ mdni

word count: 4.2k

note: i will be making a spotify playlist for this eventually. this is my first series pretty much ever, so any comments, recommendations, feedback, critiques are all welcome- so please feel free to comment them! thank you kindly my friends.

The wind was howling, like a pack of grieving wolves.

Beneath the canopy of Texas' barren wasteland, the night sky was aflame with twinkling slivers of white, perfectly painted atop the canvas of navy as the promise of winter soon approached.

You couldn’t remember the last time your back wasn’t aching. With the sudden chill that had blanketed itself over the land, your bones cried out for help more and more with each passing day. You were too young to hurt like this, too young to know a pain like this.

But life was a brutal teacher, and you knew there was no other way through it but to hurt with no respite. A desert with no oasis.

Your horse whinnied beneath you, the leather saddle cool to the touch of your naked hands.

“It’s alright, boy. Only got a day of ridin' left. Just a bit longer and you’ll get all the barley you want.” He liked this answer, sweeping his head to the right with a deep huff out of his nostrils. His heavy hooves continued imprinting against the soft brown earth of the ground beneath.

Fritz was your father’s horse, before the attack. Before you were left with nothing but a wad of cash, a fading Stetson, and an old, stubborn steed. Despite his head strong nature and aging body, Fritz was still a beautiful sight to behold. A buckskin American Quarter with white socks on each leg, accompanied by a thick, luscious black mane and a matching tail that was always brushed out and braided- courtesy of you. Your daddy had, supposedly, wrestled him in the deserts of New Mexico when the both of them were just two young bucks, taming him then and there. A bond was formed, a silent sort of partnership that only a gun slinger and their horse can have.

Well, that's how the story goes, anyway. You were never too sure how true it was.

He still had a wild streak in him, after all these years, after all this suffering. Just like you.

You looked up at the moon. It hung from its dainty piece of silver twine, twinkling against the backdrop of dusk. It had always been a sight to behold in your eyes, a celestial entity so unobtainable, yet one you loved so dearly, so deeply.

An owl hooted to your left, and you heard the leaves of the surrounding vegetation dance against the smoothing rhythm of the harmonic gale.

"We've been out on our own for too long, boy." You whispered to Fritz. He pulled against the leather reigns slightly, and you saw where his head was turning. About two miles south you saw lights flickering. A town. A town much closer than your original stopping point.

"Always were the ones with brains, weren't ya?" You patted his head, steering him in a new direction. "A few days off track won't hurt." Fritz was silent at the sound of your voice, clopping quietly and huffing every so often towards the vibrant town.

As you drew closer you could hear buildings bustling with music, women singing songs and men slamming their cups of beer together, frothy foam clinging to the sides. A sign was posted above the entrance:

TOMBSTONE

Something about this place sounded awfully familiar, but you just swallowed it down, eyes hellbent and searching for the nearest stable. Out there, far off in the distance, stood a creaking barn you figured Fritz would be safe resting in.

Clopping and clacking to the entrance, you saw a tubby man with a newsboy cap on, a cigar hanging beneath a thick, red moustache.

"What can I do ya' fer, ma'am?"

"Need to board him. Got any room?" You asked, pulling yourself off your worn saddle with a hefty sigh. Oh, how your body ached.

"Yeah, I got room." He eyed you and your horse, sniffing. "It'll be $15 dollars for the week."

With an eyebrow slowly raised, you pointed towards the sign. "Says right there it's $10. You tryna bleed me dry?"

His eyes, aged and graying atop the leathery mask of skin he wore, widened with surprise. "Now I ain't never met a girl on her own that can read."

"Now you have. I'll settle on giving you $8, since you tried to play me."

He gave a thick shrug of his shoulders, giving in to your offer. "Fair 'nuff. He gets barley twice a day, dollar extra fer some apples. Fresh hay every two days, can throw in a saddle at the end, for twenty extra, if ya' want."

"Sounds good. Hear that, boy?" You turned to Fritz, gently running your fingers down his dusty muzzle. "Just like I said. All the barley you want." Your loyal steed nudged against your chest, before a thinning, weakly looking stableboy took him in to the darkening barn.

"What's your name anyway, miss?" The old man asked, sitting back down in his chair as you grabbed your bag.

"Don't got one anymore." You mumbled, thumbing through your satchel.

"Everybody's got one."

You ignored him.

"This should cover it. Take care of my boy. I'll give you enough for an apple a day." Stuffing the cash in his hand you turned on your heel, before sweeping back to look at him. "And, trust me, I will know if you're skimpin' on those damn apples." You rested your hand on the holster to your side, fingers brushing the pearlescent handle of your Colt. It was a threat, not a warning.

The man tilted his cap, nodding. "I ain't got no doubt about it, miss."

You walked down the dirty road, the thick air burning your nostrils. It smelled like manure, liquor, and lumber. The streets were nearly barren, except the occasional prostitute smoking outside a door, or a fight in a dark alley you had no business standing around to watch.

Just to the corner, you saw the swinging doors of a decaying saloon, falling apart at the corners, and made your way inside. There was an empty seat at the bar that you made a straight B line for. Beside the empty chair sat a broad man in a leather jacket, head bowed, black rim of his Stetson covering a brow you figured was laced tight, thinking about whatever guilt and bad blood inevitably plagued him.

Your eyes raked down his back, his jacket stretched tightly against it. Clearing your throat, ignoring the feeling which stirred within you just at the sight of this man's backside, you sat beside him, ushering the bartender over.

The smell of cigarette smoke, smooth whiskey, and warm, nutty oak seeped in through your nostrils. You realized it was him. The nameless, faceless man who had not so much as looked to the side, despite feeling your body shift beside his into the seat.

"Well hello there, pretty lady. What can I getcha' this fine Thursday?"

"It's Thursday?" You asked incredulously, studying the bottles behind him.

The bartender, a boy about your age with slicked back blonde locks and a thin patch of hair on his chin laughed at your surprise, nodding. "Yes ma'am. Been out on the road for long?"

You scoffed to yourself. The man beside you twitched his chin a bit, but his face stayed covered by his thick shoulder, eyes still behind the darkness of the shadow his well-fitted, worn, aged hat provided.

"How'd you tell I've been out on my own?" Your words were laced with sarcasm.

You had seen better, brighter days.

When your skin wasn't caked by the thick, dry southern dust, when you wore handmade, tailored dresses the color of lilies and sea foam, when your hair was always clean and curled courtesy of your mama, when you were young and alive and pure and clean. A life you felt was more of a theory, a concept, rather than a memory. A story you had never lived, not for many years. Not since you were a young, naive little girl, forced to live out on her own. Forced to witness the bloody walls, dripping knives, rippling gun shots. Forced to live a waking nightmare.

Now here you were. Cotton trousers stained by mud and tea, vest tearing away at the seams. You barely recognized yourself, whenever you caught a glimpse in a flowing stream or dirty window. You didn't think you were pretty anymore, not like you used to be. But you'd rather take the toughness you had acquired, the grit and the anger you held, over being pretty, soft, feminine.

Well, you were still trying to convince yourself of that.

"You okay?" The bartenders voice snapped you out, and you looked up at him.

"Just a whiskey and sarsaparilla. I like mixing 'em." You explained, and the boy nodded once, turning on his heel to work whatever magic he knew.

The shrouded figure beside you scoffed. "Cowboys don't mix their shit." He grunted out.

Your voice caught in your throat before you could throw back an insult, an explanation, anything. He sounded..... delicious. Angry, tough, worn by life, raspy and rough and.... and your eyes dropped down to his hand, wrapped around the glass of his double shot of what you could only assume was Jim Beam or Maker's. His nails were caked with dirt, palms wide and rough, leathered up by what you figured were decades of hard work. You couldn't see his face, but you knew by his hands that whatever was beneath must have been real nice to look at.

For what felt like the hundredth time, you cleared your throat. "I ain't no cowboy." You finally mumbled, voice tired like a petulant child's.

He chuckled sweetly, lifting his cup up to his lips and downing it in one thick gulp. "Sure do look like one."

"Well, I'm not."

"Just playin' dress up then?"

You rolled your eyes, the bartender handing you an open glass bottle of sarsaparilla and a shot of amber hued liquid. "It's all I had."

And that's when he looked up. You glanced over, not expecting to see that.

Tanned skin, dark eyes, perfect lips. A thick moustache, surrounded by scruffy, graying facial hair. You saw a stray curl fall from the brim of his hat, brown and laced with salty white streaks. His jaw was sharp and tempting, lips wet from his tongue, and his gaze was steady, confident. He was the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on. Time had done him well, the clock had been good to him. He was old, much older than you, no doubt about it, but still so alluring, mysterious, delicious,

"Holy shit." You found yourself whispering.

"Yeah," he grunted while flicking his fingers, ordering another round, "I have that effect on women."

"I'm not a woman. I'm a cowboy, remember?"

"Does this cowboy have a name?" He asked, eyeing you slowly.

"Not one she plans on tellin' you."

He gave a deep shrug of his shoulders, twirling the new cup of liquid between his fingers, before nursing a slow sip. "Mine's Joel." He grunted after a long moment of turning something or another over in his head.

"You said you stole?" You asked, the music of the live band behind your backs playing up louder.

The man rolled his dark eyes, the orbs dripping with honeyed amber, before looking at you. "J-O-E-L. My name is Joel."

"Oh." You said in a moment of understanding. You brought the cup of your mixed liquid towards your mouth, slowly sipping at it. "Well now I just feel like I'm being rude, not telling you mine."

"You are pretty rude, yeah." He agreed, a burning smirk planted on top of his thin lips.

"Well, just for that, I'm not telling you now. You ruined it." Your arms crossed over your stomach, eyebrows stitched together in a grimace.

"Only agreein' with ya. I guess I'll have to come up with my own name then."

"For me?"

He nodded.

"Like what? Just pull one outta your ass? Kate? Jane?"

Joel laughed a deep laugh from his chest. "You're dumber than a bag of rocks, aint'cha?"

Your cheeks heated up, out of embarrassment or anger, you were unsure. "Could be. Not as dumb as you though. J-O-E-L."

"I was thinkin'.... hmmm." He studied your face, and you felt that foreign stir brewing back inside your belly. He traced your features. You wondered what he was thinking. Joel had a light smirk dancing across his mouth, eyes darkening ever so slightly with every new inch of skin on your face he discovered. He poked and prodded you with his gaze, and you suddenly had the urge to cover up. It was like he was undressing you, slithering deep into your soul, unearthing and unlocking secrets you had never confessed to anyone before.

"Yeah, those names'll suit you for now."

"What will?"

"Just have to wait and see."

"Well you don't have much longer to confess. I'm heading out tomorrow." You lied.

Joel nodded. "I am too. Where you headed?"

"West."

"What's West?" He asked, stirring the remaining liquid in his cup.

"Work."

"'S that so? What you do for work?"

You stared at the ridges in the wooden table, white knuckling the edge. Memories you wished to repress came swimming up to the surface of your mind. The metallic taste of blood, the smell of salty tears. Begs and pleas and I'll give you anything you wants and please, just give me some times. Your jaw clenched. Joel took notice.

"I hunt." You finally answered. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"Hunt what?" Joel asked, curiosity sparking within him.

You pointed to a few torn posters on the wall with your head.

One, yellowing at the edges with browning letters stood out amongst them all.

HARVEY JONES, 58 YEARS OLD

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE FOR:

MURDER, ARSON, KIDNAPPING.

$5,000 REWARD

"People like that." You muttered, staring at his picture.

Harvey had an old and scarred face, tanned and rough. His right cheek looked like a dog had gotten ahold of him, covered by patchy, gnarled facial hair, and his eyes were cruel, painted through with rage by the steady hand of time, no doubt a victim to the tempestuous waves of life. You swallowed, and Joel watched your eyes gloss over with something he had become well acquainted with: Rage.

"You think he's campin' out West, too?" Joel asked, eyes cemented to the side profile of your face. God damn, were you pretty, he thought. A firecracker.

You nodded slowly. "Wyoming."

"That's where I'm headed."

"What're you running from, Joel?"

"Not runnin' from nothing. Searchin' for my brother, 's all."

You shook your head, eyes meeting his. "Everybody's running from something."

Joel sat in silence, finishing his drink. "I have a proposition for you."

"I'm not sleepin' with you." You grumbled into your cup, staring at him from behind the rim.

"Not what I was gonna ask. Nice to know that's where your pretty little head went." He snickered, waving for another drink. Poor bartender, you thought, he must be five drinks in already. You saw the cups piling around him. Damn, could he hold his liquor. The mark of a real man, your pops always used to say.

"What's this proposition then, Cowboy Joel?"

"I go with you, out West. Keep you safe, help you find that Harvey man. I get half the reward for takin' care of you."

"I don't need some disgusting, stinky man takin' care of me."

Joel laughed, that chesty, deep, gorgeous laugh once again, his neck falling back. "Now I know I ain't stinky, darlin'."

Darlin'. That must have been the name. Your cheeks lit with the flame of.... well, something you didn't quite have the name for.

"And you know I ain't no fool." He continued, his voice settling into a sturdy sort of seriousness. "But you don't look like you've been too well out there on your own. How old are those clothes? Four months? Five? Covered in dirt, even though you wash them weekly. Right? Am I gettin' somewhere with this? Your cheeks are covered in scratches. It's rough out there. Rough for any man on his own, not jus' you." Joel raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to nod. And nod you did. You could feel bitter hot tears stinging at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away, continuing your silent sitting.

"Now, let me see you there safe, make sure you get that man for whatever he did to you, and we can go our separate ways. Like nothin' ever happened. Hell, I'd settle for less than half- If I end up likin' you some."

"Okay." You whispered. "Okay." You repeated, louder this time.

"You got a room here for the night?"

You shook your head no. "I just got here, 'n hour or so ago."

"Want to join me in mine?"

"I said I'm not going to sleep with you-"

Joel cut you off. "That's not what I'm askin'. I don't want to see you naked." You narrowed your eyes, for some reason feeling a bit deflated by that comment. "Just figured it'll give you someplace to wash off. Got a tub in mine, you can go up there and get some of that dirt off. I'll stay down here, if it'd make you feel any better."

You saw him pull a key from his back pocket, pushing it towards you. You stared at the little piece of metal before taking it, glancing up at him.

"Do you... do you know if any clothes shops are open 'round here?" You finally asked, almost sheepishly.

"Think there's one down the road, to the left. Could still be open."

You stuffed the key in your bra. "What's the room number?"

"Twelve."

You gave him a nod, pushing your way out of the saloon, feeling the fresh night air hit your cheeks. You gasped for breath, taking in the sensation of the earth soaking its way into your lungs, filling you to the brim with the crisp night. You hadn't realized how hot it was in there, how stifled your chest had become.

"Dammit." You grunted to yourself, leaning the palms of your hands on your knees as you bent over. These weird feelings? Yeah. Not good. "Dammit. Dammit!" You snapped again, this time louder. Your worn boot kicked a pebble across the street, hearing it clang against the metal of a water trough. "Fuckin' stupid asshole."

You walked the directions he had given you, finding a little clothes shop with the lights still on. You ratted your knuckled against the door as you walked in. A pretty lady, about the age of this Joel you had just met, smiled at you from behind the counter, not deterred by your appearance.

"Howdy! Looking for some new clothes?" She chirped, a sweet song-like quality tugging at her words.

"Yes ma'am. Something nice."

"You a rider?" She asked.

"I am, yes ma'am I'm on the road a lot. Need something that lets me move freely." You explained curtly, not meaning to seem so standoffish.

"Have you ever tried a riding skirt? Just got a new shipment in, made from the finest cow hide." She guided you towards a mannequin, showing you the skirt.

It was ankle length and looked heavy, but you felt a shimmer in your eyes once you saw it. The hide was light brown, patches of white and black spots littered throughout. Must have been a pretty cow. You'd look like a proper lady wearing one of these, you thought, a bit like you used to. You shook the thought away. No. You needed tough. Rough.

"I, uh-" You rubbed the back of your neck. "I think I'll just settle for some pants."

"Sure! These are new." She held up a pair of trousers, simple and black, a pair you knew would fit you nice and well.

"Those'll do." You smiled, gently grabbing them from her. She caught your eye, grinning.

"Good! Now we're gettin' somewhere. I think this would look great together." The pretty lady held up a long sleeved white shirt with a black bow, reminiscent of a bolo tie, around the collar. Alongside it, there stood a nice, deep maroon vest, silver embellished buttons lining the middle, a pretty frill at the hems.

"That's pretty." You admitted, grabbing it from her.

"You need a new holster? Boots? Belt?"

"Well, might as well just get it all." You joked, eliciting a laugh from her.

You settled on a thick belt that matched the vest, a silver buckle in the middle with deep florals carved into the material, a real piece of turquoise jutting out in the middle. Your holster was falling apart, so you grabbed on that matched the belt, and a pair of new leather boots that ached when you tried them on. All good boots have to be worn in, you thought, it'll be worth the blisters.

"How about a hat-"

"No!" You rushed out, a bit too brutally, and she took a step back with her hands raised defensively. You coughed a bit, repeating yourself much softer. "No. No thank you, I mean. This hat was my-... it's a, uh, it's a family hat."

There was a long sort of silence, thick and awkward, the kind you hated the most. "Oh, do you have some sort of, like... sleeping shirt?"

"I've got a nightgown."

Grudgingly, you accepted, taking the soft, feminine fabric from her. It was white, with a dainty bow at the low collar. It was... cute. Something the old you would have worn. Something that sweet, pretty little thing of a girl you once were would have swooned over. It filled you with a twinge of pain.

"Thank you." You spoke earnestly.

She smiled, nodding a bit, before taking you to the register. "It'll be $80."

"$80?" You repeated.

"A bit too much for you?"

You thumbed through the wad of cash in your satchel, handing her $100. "No, it isn't enough. You could be making bank in here, lady." You scooped up the bag your new clothes were in, turning to walk towards the door. "Keep the change."

She giggled a giddy laugh, bidding you a sweet and meaningful farewell, before you made your way to the inn, searching for this mysterious door 12.

Once you finally found it, you unlocked it with ease, the lamp on the beside table soon flickering awake with golden life as you flipped it on. The room smelled like Joel. Like wood, smoke, whiskey. It smelled good. You felt your skin prick with goosebumps, and you shook it out of your head. A man has never had this sort of effect on you. You groaned, stuffing your face in the palms of your hot hands.

This was business. Business. Business. Business. That's all it was. All it ever would be. All you would ever let it be.

The bath in the corner was already full with water, untouched, a bar of soap on the table beside it. You stripped, allowing the cold water to soon engulf you as you let out a little yelp, the temperature making your bones ache even more. Your nipples hardened painfully, and you gave one a twist, feeling some odd sort of relief inside of you, caused by that stupid oaf down at the bar.

"God damned fucking water." You grumbled as it sloshed against your face, directing your energy towards being annoyed, before reaching for the bar of soap. You must have scrubbed every inch of your skin, for at least an hour, before you felt clean enough to get out. The water was swirling with dirt and soap suds, and you winced at the sight. Were you really that dirty? You felt embarrassed.

There was a knock at the door. Joel.

You rushed to dry off and threw the nightgown over your head, before he stepped in with a hand over his eyes.

"Now, I ain't tryna' get a peak if you're still naked." He felt around with his free hand, closing the door with a kick of his leg. Something about that made you feel.... some sort of way.

"I'm not naked." You grumbled, and he let his hand drop.

"Well, I didn't take you for the nightgown type. Did you buy that for me?" He asked smugly, his fingers moving to the buttons of his vest.

You rolled your eyes. "No, I didn't." You spat matter-of-factly, taking every ounce of willpower to turn your back to him as he unclothed himself.

"Mhm. Well, better get a good sleep tonight, darlin'. Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

You shuffled your way to bed, refusing to look his way, trying to ignore the new name he had brandished you with, and climbed under the wool blankets, keeping as many feet away from him as possible. You felt his weight shifting against the hard mattress beneath you once he was undressed, the blanket shuffling. You knew his back was turned to yours, obliging your unspoken wish for space. As you stared at the wall, you felt yourself begin feeling silently thankful for a change of pace from the cold, hard ground.

You fell asleep to the lullaby of his snores.

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waynes-multiverse · 10 days

Text

Plastic Hearts – Part 24

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, weed, smut, fluff, angst, more heartbreak

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Can't believe this is the second to last part. Our boy has come far 🥲🤍 If you look closely, you catch a couple of throwbacks. Also, tons of funny moments ahead with some severe stabbing of the heart on the side (last time, tho – I promise 🤞)

<< 23 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

24. Don't Dream It's Over

“Smoke that bong! Smoke that bong! Smoke that bong…”

Y/N hears the girls chanting and giggling as she hops into the common room of the motel on her crutches. She laughs a little as she finds the women in a circle, strewn all over the four couches as they pass a bong back and forth between them. The air is filled with smoke and reeks of reefer – a typical Friday night at the Dusty Spur.

“I thought this was a team meeting about finale ideas,” she teases with a slightly scolding eyebrow and finds a seat on the dingy carpet next to Jo, leaning her crutches against the couch and clumsily lowering herself to the floor with a grunt.

“We are. We just needed a little help with the brainstorming,” Ruby assures innocently and holds the bong out to her with a daring smirk. “Pipe down, Captain!”

Y/N snorts in amusement, shaking her head. “Guys, no. I don’t do drugs.”

“C’mon, last chance. You’re gonna be a cool kid and finally smoke with us or not?” Ruby’s grin widens as she seductively wiggles her eyebrows with a demonic glint.

Y/N sighs, sending her a raised look that’s a bit playful in nature and less chiding than it usually would’ve been. “That feels like peer pressure,” she notes but then smiles coyly. Honestly, after the night she’s had, she could use a little fun and forgetting. “But alright. Gimme that bong.”

Some of the girls holler and cheer as Ruby passes her the bong and even lights it for her while she takes a deep inhale. Jesus fucking Christ, the cloud of smoke blows straight to her head, her throat scratching with a cough. She already feels lighter as if she’s floating through the fabric of the universe.

“You’re a natural. Never been fucking prouder,” Ruby says with a dirty grin and hands the bong to Alex next. Honestly, that girl might have escaped straight from hell.

Jo snorts as she looks at Y/N’s widely blown pupils before her eyes land on the blue and green bruises that decorate her neck and clavicle. “You’ve got something there,” the blonde deadpans, gesturing with an arched brow to Y/N’s throat.

Flustered, Y/N swiftly pulls the collar of her jeans jacket higher, trying to hide the evidence on her skin. “Probably just fell weird or something…”

“Fell in what? A pit full of leeches?”

Y/N bashfully ignores Jo’s teasing and clears her throat. “Sorry I’m late. Those crutches really slow me down.”

But Jo throws her a knowing look. “You’re late ‘cause you’re boning Dean. Own it.”

“What, no…” Y/N scoffs. It’s probably her worst performance to date.

“You haven’t slept here in four weeks. Everyone knows,” Jo says bluntly, watching her friend’s cheeks redden with embarrassment and a trace of panic.

“They do?”

Jo then looks to the group, speaking louder. “Guys? Who here knows about Y/N and Dean?”

Several hands raise without a twitch of surprise on their faces. In fact, they even seem bored by the news.

“Duh,” Ruby says to drive the point home.

“Wait, Dean?” Charlie seems bewildered for a moment before she sighs and pulls out a $50 bill, handing it to a victoriously grinning Ruby. “Dammit.”

“Thank you,” party girl says happily and pockets the money before a few other girls hand her money as well. “Pay up, bitches!”

Y/N’s brow furrows in suspicion and some offense. “Were you guys betting on me?”

“No,” Missouri sings in nonchalance. “We were betting on who you were doing it with. Some of us thought it was Benny, some Dean.”

Y/N gasps as she watches Billie pull out her money as well. “You too?”

Billie shrugs unapologetically. “For the record, I thought your slutty ass was doin’ both of ‘em. Donna even thought you were doing them at the same time.”

You gape at the blonde in shock. “Donna!”

“A girl can dream,” is all Donna says with a twitch of her shoulders.

“I knew it was Dean,” Meg tells you. “I could smell his cologne on you. You also smelled like dick and sex.”

“Unbelievable,” Y/N mutters under her breath, feeling quite speechless. Another part of her feels relieved, though. No one seems to be mad at her. In fact, the girls all seem to digest the news quite well.

There’s suddenly an odd feeling festering in her heart, and her mind wanders back to Dean and the dance, wondering what he’s doing right now. But she fights the part of her that urges her to go back and be in his arms again. Has he been trying to tell her what she thinks he has? Was he about to say–

“You okay?” Jo’s voice hauls her back into the present moment.

“Fine,” Y/N says quietly, shrugging it off. Her eyes then search for Ruby. “Can I have that bong back please?”

Ruby smirks all too happily. “Of course. Look at you!”

As Y/N takes another hit to blast her sorrows into a cloud of reefer, Bela storms upset into the commons. The girls look at her worriedly as she plops down on the couch next to Cassie and pouts.

“I’m getting deported. Your government told me to leave the country in thirty days. I don’t want to go back to England and my awful parents,” Bela groans with a miserable look and crosses her arms as she sinks further into the couch cushions. “What am I going to do?”

“You could marry an American,” Donna suggests half-jokingly.

“Who?” Bela asks wryly with a roll of her eyes and throws her arms into the air. “You think it’s that easy to get a man to marry you?”

Y/N’s eyes widen, the weed hitting her fully. It feels a little like she’s floating outside of her body. “Oooh! Chucky!”

Jo lifts a brow at her suggestion. “Her pathetic stalker fanboy?”

“No! Fuck no!” Ruby huffs, vividly shaking her head. “I mean, perfect solution and no, I don’t have a better idea, but fucking no! The guy is a weird loser.”

“Yes! Marry the weird stalker loser and then divorce him once you’ve got your green card,” Y/N proposes, her red eyes only growing wider. She then gasps as if a giant lightbulb went on in her hazy brain. “Oh my God! Our final show! Season 1, it’s time for a wedding!”

“Not the worst idea,” Billie agrees and glances at Bela, who purses her lips in thought. She doesn’t seem convinced yet, though.

“Cambridge, heartbroken after she discovers Mick is a mannequin after all, finds true love in the arms of her number one fan, Chuck Shurley,” Y/N pitches excitedly, while Jo stifles a laugh next to her, hiding half her face in her blouse. “We’ll pull out all the stops, and you guys get married in the ring! You’re Chucky’s bride! You can finally ride in on a horse!”

Bela sways her head pensively from left to right. “Loving the idea a little more…” She giggles in nervous excitement. “I’ve always wanted a horse. You think Dean will go for it?”

“I’ll make him!” Y/N promises eagerly. Jo’s lips part for a moment, wanting to say something, but then she closes her mouth again.

Ruby raises a brow and deadpans, “How you’re gonna do that? Blow him?”

Y/N almost laughs hysterically. “Yes! This is our finale, you guys! I’m so fucking high! I’m overflowing with genius ideas! Now, I know why Dean does this all the time. Can I have more?”

Jo snorts a laugh, greatly amused. She shakes her head. “Oh no, you’re cut off…”

Even Ruby nods in agreement for once.

Y/N’s been MIA for two days when Dean strolls back into the gym on Monday morning after a really shitty weekend. Claire left with Lisa, but at least he managed to convince her to let his daughter visit during summer vacations and some holidays. He insisted on Halloween, which didn’t receive any protest from Lisa, and promised Claire they’d watch tons of slasher movies together. And when his kid left with tears in her eyes, he might have cried a little, too. Not that he’d admit that to anyone.

Y/N, on the other hand, hasn’t called once or even sent a damn smoke signal, so neither has he. She hasn’t slept over for the first time in goddamn weeks, leaving him cold turkey. So, Dean drank till he passed out on the bed and forgot that her side was depressingly empty while Phil Collins’ A Groovy Kind of Love played on repeat. It was a fucking new low for him in terms of musical taste. He didn’t do drugs, though, and was real proud of himself, considering all the emotional turmoil he’s currently going through.

His skin tingles, nerves sizzling with every step closer to the bleachers. His heart jumps out of his chest with excitement as soon as his green eyes spy Y/N in the ring with Billie and Donna. She looks absolutely stunning. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe before he shakes it off and finds a seat next to Jo, who’s already been impatiently waiting for him.

“We know what you’re thinking, ‘How can she wrestle with a cast?’” Billie throws out rhetorically, all of it feeling eerily like a high school presentation. What’s next? A fucking diorama? Dean knows they’re trying to help Y/N, but he’s already anticipating a bit of a disastrous train wreck.

“I’m the novelty act!” Y/N announces and tries to sell it with a proud grin. God, she’s so fucking cute, and it’s hot all the same. He loves when she gets all nerdy and desperate. It feels a little like a throwback to the time he met her.

“Yes, people love watching someone beat the odds. It’s an underdog story,” Donna adds. Honestly, Dean feels slightly like he accidentally switched on the home shopping channel, expecting them to sell him some broken crap shortly that he doesn’t need and will then rot in a closet somewhere in his house.

“Alright. Take it away. Let’s get this over with,” Dean tells them with a small sigh, ready to placate his not-girlfriend, who actually might not even be his not-girlfriend anymore. She’s his not-not-girlfriend.

The girls then start, and Jesus fuck, it’s not good. Dean can hardly believe they have even worked on this for weeks, but he knows they did. Y/N’s told him as much. He then notices how Jo sinks lower in her seat, her brow creasing and twitching, jaw clenching and lips pressing into a thin line.

“Oh my God, it’s all so slow and weird,” the blonde whispers only loud enough so he can hear. He usually doesn’t agree with her, but…

“Yeah, that’s why I tell her to just lie there whenever we… Never mind.” The green-eyed director clears his throat when Joanna sends him a chiding glare.

But truthfully, having sex with Y/N in a cast has been a bit of a challenge. He mostly just pushes her into a position and makes her do a little role-play without moving around too much. Fuck, he can’t believe he won’t get to nail her in all her moving glory once that cast comes off. It feels a little like a cosmic joke. Yes, you can finally have her but only with broken parts. Dean can hear God laughing upstairs.

“Anyways, she really wants to wrestle,” the director explains sympathetically, keeping one eye on the atrociously dreadful match in the ring for show. Sometimes, he smiles through his pain, too, and nods politely. The three seem to buy it so far. Maybe he should become an actor. “And the girls really want her to be in the ring, too…”

Jo groans under her breath and rolls her eyes quickly, not longer than a blink. She does her fake Miss America smile at her colleagues every once in a while. It’s not as good as Dean’s, though. “You’re weak,” she hisses snappily. “Y/N’s gonna be fine. She deserves the truth.”

Well, by that logic, Dean should also tell her he loves her, and that’s just a ridiculous idea.

“We can’t deliver a match like this. We’ve got network executives coming,” Joanna reminds him and makes a little more sense now. Dammit. Her eyes flicker to the ongoing match with a shudder. “Dean, make it be over, please.”

Dean takes one more look, too, and sees Y/N clumsily tumble to the mat in slow-motion. “Yeah, alright!” Dean jumps up from his chair and raises his voice, taking a few steps closer to the ring. “I’m sorry, ladies, but it’s not… It’s just not working,” he says apologetically and sees Y/N’s face fall.

Oh God, he used to enjoy seeing that face once, all sad and disappointed, but now he just wants to hug her and tell her he’s here for her. Kiss it better. Maybe run her a bubble bath. Just make her happy, you know?

What the fuck happened to him?

“It’s about to pick up steam, I swear!” Donna exclaims, all panicked. At least, Y/N has found great and very loyal friends.

“What if I rip my cast off and land one last move?” Y/N presents her next idea with a dramatic hand gesture and an elevator-pitch smile. It’s like a villainous salesperson trying to sell snake oil. Ah, there it is – the desperate twinkle in her eyes is back.

It’s like walking down memory lane today.

Of course, Y/N would break every idiotic bone in her body to be in this stupid, stupid, stupid show one last time. But don’t worry, Dean’s not going to let her do that. He’s not as insane as you think he is.

“Yeah, let’s not do that.” He shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Y/N blinks at him with puppy dog eyes and a fucking pout as she hops to the railing and leans on the ropes in her tiny leotard. “I might never wrestle again. I don’t wanna go out like this. Guys, please.” More pouting and begging. Where the fuck is he? Hell?! “Dean?”

The director glances back over his shoulder at Jo, close to whimpering. His eyebrows draw together, however, when the blonde mouths, “Weak.”

She shoots a small glare at Dean and clears her throat, looking at Y/N. “If we have a good enough show and get another network to sign us, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to tumble around the ring again,” Jo argues with a convincing smile. She’s so wise all of a sudden. Dean wishes he would get that much clarity from a single line of coke. Since the accident, she seems like a whole other person.

Well, a smidge different.

Y/N seems to accept that bit of wisdom as well, although she lowers her head with a sniffle. Dean even recognizes a few tears brimming in her eyes as she nods defeatedly.

Internally, he sighs. That used to make him happy, too. Back then, when he cut her during auditions and she looked like he was destroying all her hopes and dreams. Back when she hated him so much and that hatred lit up her eyes, stoking the glowing embers of fire inside them. But now, he doesn’t see that hatred and recognizes something else.

That something makes him smile. His heart flutters. She loves him too, doesn’t she? She might never say it, but he can feel it without words.

Dean then rubs his palms together, an idea hitting him. He knows his Alma, after all. She wants to be needed, so he’ll need her. “Alright, how about you’re with me, huh? Co-directing!”

Her face lights up like the brightest spotlight beam. He's this close to hanging her over the ring and save some money on electricity. “Really?”

Dean purses his lips, hiding his smile underneath it. She’s so fucking cute. “Yeah, I mean, you’re gonna do it anyway, so let’s just make it official, alright?”

“Okay, imagine I’m the bride,” Dean says as he swoops through the ropes into the ring.

“Alright, picturing you in a white dress,” Y/N closes her eyes and teases, the tip of her tongue sticking out between her pink lips as she leans on her crutches.

The two of them had been working on the final episode for the last day, Y/N filling him in on her vision of a wrestling wedding. Then, Dean got to work and tried his hardest to make the magic happen. One good thing about co-directing with Y/N is that he can call as many meetings as he wants to under the pretense of the show.

The young actress still hasn’t stopped by his house yet or slept over, but at least he gets to spend the days with her. He actually loves the idea of a wedding. People surely are into that kind of shit – the love shit. And what’s a finale without some satisfying romance?

Dean scolds her with a look, playfully warning her. “Could we take this directors’ meeting seriously, please?”

Y/N hides her grin and gives him a nod. God, he’d love to spank her defiant ass right now.

“Okay, so, I’m the bride, standing right here underneath this beautiful arch in the middle of the ring, being all nervous…” Dean hears her snort a giggle before she stifles it when he sends her another admonishing little glare. The prop department (aka some of the girls) has built an obnoxiously pink balloon arch. “Alright, zoom in, and then bridesmaids are coming out one by one, sliding into the ring.”

“Bela will be riding in on a white horse, by the way,” Y/N declares more than she asks permission. “We’ll make it look like a unicorn.”

Dean curls his lips. “Is that negotiable?”

She firmly shakes her head. “No.”

Y/N’s not usually this confident or disagreeable, so he knows she has most likely conjured up a character role inside her head. Dean probably could tear it apart and make her cave if he really tried, but he doesn’t care enough about a fucking horse to do so. Guess he’s gotta make someone rent a horse somewhere and bring it to the gym.

Benny.

“Okay, I’ll allow it. Keep the horse,” Dean agrees, smirking like the devil on the inside. “So, who’s gonna give the bride away?”

“Why do we need someone to give her away?” Y/N shrugs. “Kinda sexist. She’s not a possession.”

“C’mon, you’re a pastor’s daughter. This is weddings 101.” Dean shakes his head in incredulity. You’d think a woman knows something like that.

Y/N snorts in amusement. “You would know, Mr. Divorced Twice.”

“Ha ha.” Dean narrows his eyes with a warning look. “I thought you girls fantasized about this shit your whole life.”

“Not me. That’s a gross generalization,” Y/N says and holds herself up by the ropes as she slides her crutches into the ring and follows them shortly after. Dean waits patiently till she’s back on her feet and sticks, standing next to him underneath the balloon arch. “I think we need a platform and some stairs leading up with an aisle through the bleachers.”

“Yes!” Dean agrees eagerly as they play off ideas and plan a fucking wedding of all things. He never would've thought they'd do it this soon. However, brainstorming with his Alma has always been his favorite part. Y/N’s still and forever will be his goddamn muse. “A platform, so everyone can get a good look at what true love looks like.”

His heart twinges as he looks at her and the way she smiles and gnaws on her bottom lip, swaying on her crutches. When has she gotten so close to him? He can smell her deliciously seductive perfume and feel her inviting and irresistible warmth. She’s so goddamn close that he could kiss her right now if he really wanted to. And fuck, does he want to.

The director subtly clears his throat, continuing, “Alright, next is, you know, vows… declarations of love… how they can’t live without one another.” His forest-green eyes find hers. He swallows thickly and takes a step closer. His heart skips a beat, and he can tell hers did, too. She sucks in a breath. “You know, fiction,” he adds and grins wryly. Y/N tilts her head, throwing him a look that says she doesn’t buy into his cynicism. Probably for the best since it’s all bullshit, anyways. “And then…”

“They kiss?” Y/N beguilingly smiles up at him, her eyes flashing to his lips. This time, it’s her who steps closer, her body only inches away from his at this point.

A soft smile forms on his freckled face. He dips his head, his fingers reaching underneath her chin and lifting her lips to his. They brush against each other for a few palpitating heartbeats before she parts her mouth and lets him slip inside. His massive hands roam from her cheeks to her neck and down her sides and waist and back up again. Her crutches fall to the mat by her sides as she locks her arms around him and seeks support on his body instead.

He kisses a path along her jawline and back to her ear, his teeth scraping her lobe. His hands hold her close by her waist and dent the taut flesh there. “Little risky, isn’t it? Since when are you okay with gym PDA?” he teases, his gravelly voice sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N chuckles softly and seeks his lips again, kissing him once, twice before she looks into his eyes, the tips of their noses touching. “They kinda already know.”

Amused, baffled, and most of all happy, Dean arches a brow. “Really?”

His heart melts onto the fucking butterflies in his belly till they’re screeching. Maybe he doesn’t need a wrecking ball and a bulldozer to conquer her heart by force. Maybe all it takes to win her over is just a billion tiny baby steps and a plethora of patience. The only problem with that is that Dean can hear the clock ticking away his precious time. There are only two days left till the final show and an impending goodbye.

Y/N nods without a sliver of panic. “Yeah, it sorta came out during our finale meeting. I took drugs.”

Dean blinks in sheer amazement. “I’m sorry, what? You were fun for once, and I missed it?” he teases, earning him a playful slap of his arm.

“Yeah, I smoked a bong and got high,” Y/N tells him with a clandestine grin like she’s sharing a secret only meant for his ears alone.

The green-eyed director snorts, however. “A bong? Reefer? Sweetheart, that barely counts as a drug.”

Y/N gasps, bewildered. “Sure it does! It’s illegal, Dean.”

“You’re such a nerd.” He grins down at her and cups her cheeks, pulling her back to his lips. His mouth wanders down to the column of her throat and the fading bruise there, sucking a new one into her skin. He’s so busy he doesn’t even hear the gym door open.

“Hey boss, might wanna focus that Hoover vacuum somewhere else. Like her clit,” Ruby hollers, laughing loudly as she passes the ring with a few other girls on their way to the changing rooms.

Y/N snorts into his chest, laughing as well. She tries to curb it, but her whole body is shaking in his arms. For weeks, Dean wanted the girls to finally know about them, so he could kiss her whenever and wherever he wanted to. He should’ve known that wish would come with a steep price.

The director heaves a sigh and caresses her cheekbone. “Wanna continue this meeting in my office?”

“Fuck,” Dean groans, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. He slows his thrusts a little, trying to rein himself in before he blows his entire load. He adjusts her legs around his waist and pulls her a few inches closer to the edge of his desk with a bruising grip on her hips.

“You need to hurry up. The show starts in ten minutes,” Y/N reminds him, giggling softly.

Hungrily, he claims her lips and kisses her breathless. “You need to come first.”

Y/N shakes her head before it falls back with a moan when his lips trail a wet path down her throat. “I already came four times. I’m tapped out.”

“Nah, I don’t buy it. I’m not stopping till you wet my dick again, sweetheart,” he threatens with a playful smirk. “So, if you want us to be punctual…”

Dean’s hand dives between them and pushes her leotard further out of the way till his fingers reach her clit properly. Although she’s not performing tonight, he still made her dress up in full hair, make-up, and costume. One, so he could fuck her exactly like this. And two, he still has a surprise in store for her that will surely get him his cock sucked later tonight.

He pushes deeply back inside her, slow and steady strokes of his cock that match the circles on her sensitive flesh. Y/N’s whimpers grow louder, her pussy grips him tighter, and her nails dig deeper into his shoulders.

“Oh shit, Dean! Fuck, that’s it…”

Y/N’s last orgasm is violent as she screams. He can tell it even hurt a little by the sheer force her cunt squeezes his dick. It’s not the small, regular pulses that happen with the first few. This climax feels more like an epileptic spasm, almost causing her to pass out as tears sting her eyes.

Dean can’t restrain himself any longer and spills into her throbbing pussy with a primal cry. When she’s steady enough, his hands let go of her hips and brush her cheeks, pressing kisses to her panting and pink lips.

He rests his sweaty forehead against hers and smiles crookedly. “Last night… You wanna come over to my place after the show? Have dinner with me, enjoy a few drinks?”

“Sounds good,” Y/N agrees and kisses him softly.

As soon as he slips out of her, the young actress then eagerly puts on her headphones and makes herself comfortable in his chair by the monitors, Dean taking a stand behind her. He honestly can’t help the proud grin on his face as he watches her. She’s come so fucking far.

“It’s a full house today. I think we’ve made something that people really love,” Y/N notes with a smile curving her features. It’s almost melancholic in nature. They both know it’s make or break tonight.

“Good. It’ll look great for the suits,” Dean says and leans his palms on the backrest of her chair, looking over her head at the screens.

“Crowley’s here, too.”

The green-eyed director groans slightly at that. “Maybe he came to apologize for being a spineless dickhead. Still can’t believe he left you alone in that hotel room. Probably should’ve bashed his car, too…” he grumbles.

Y/N’s brow raises as she finds his eyes over her shoulder. “Who’s car did you bash?”

“Uh…” Shit. “Dickbreath’s,” he confesses.

Y/N’s face softens. “Really? Why?”

Dean only throws her a look that says, ‘You know fucking why.’

“For me?”

“Yeah. Of course for you,” Dean tells her and pecks her crown affectionately. She smiles gratefully up at him, her eyes watery. He rolls his at her sentimentality, albeit his heart bawls in his ribcage out of sheer happiness. “Get to work. Don’t fuck this up.”

Y/N only snorts at his feigned sternness, not taking him seriously in the slightest. “Alright, boss.”

The music then starts with the classic Wedding March as the first bridesmaids slide into the ring in matching pink and gold leotards. Joanna’s character is, of course, the maid of honor and comes in last before Bela slowly rides down the aisle on a white horse with a pink glitter cone on its head.

“That horse better not shit in here,” Dean mutters and crosses his arms with a sternly knit brow.

“Oh, it’s definitely going to,” Y/N says with an amused chuckle.

Guess Dean will have to find some poor soul to clean all that shit up after the taping.

Benny.

“Where did you guys get that wedding dress from?” Dean asks curiously as he eyes the pompous and puffy princess puke with disdain.

“Oh, it’s Jo’s old one. We agreed to burn it in a dumpster in the parking lot after,” Y/N quips, laughing.

“So, you guys are really friends again?” Dean suspiciously quirks a brow. He hasn’t seen or heard anything to the contrary, but with these two you never know.

“Yeah, better than ever, actually.” Y/N smiles brightly. “She even offered to drive me to my audition in San Diego three days ago.”

“Hey! I was supposed to do that!”

The actress only shrugs. “You were busy.”

Dean purses his lips, his head bobbing. “So? How did it go?”

“Good, I think. They didn’t hate me straightaway. They even smiled. That’s-, uhm, that’s good, right?” With an insecure lip bite, she glances up at him.

Dean twitches his shoulders and gifts her a small smile of encouragement. “Yeah, maybe.”

He’d love to tell her she would surely land that role and hype her up like the best cheerleader in the country, but truth is, he doesn’t want to see her get crushed by the cruel machinery of Hollywood again. There are some things he can’t know nor control. Y/N’s career is one of those things. He wants to protect her heart, and in a way, he’s shielding her from too much disappointment.

“Yeah, I mean, I know I’m not gonna get it, so it’s fine,” she says as casually as possible and gulps, focusing back on the monitors in front of her. But Dean knows it’s a lie. She really seems to want it.

“What’s the part, anyway? You never told me.” Dean smiles interestedly. It feels a little surreal that, come tomorrow, she won’t walk through the doors of this gym anymore and work for him.

“Oh, uh, they’re doing a reimagining of fairytales. It’s pretty cool. I auditioned for Cinderella,” she tells him with bright excitement before trying to rein herself in again.

Admittedly, it sounds like the perfect fit. Evil step-sisters torturing her? She certainly has some experience in that department. Fucking great. Now, Dean’s got to muzzle his own excitement. He believes she might honestly get that stupid role.

“I object!”

Y/N and Dean stop the chitchatting and turn their strayed attention back to the sudden commotion in the ring. All they see is Bela standing with her fanboy underneath the balloon arch. Rufus is dressed in a priest costume and officiating, but then there’s also Cas, who swoops between the engaged couple and pulls Bela to the side.

“Garth, tighten up on this,” Y/N orders one of the camera operators as Dean puts his own headphones on, listening in.

There’s some vivid back and forth before Bela announces she won’t be marrying stalker fanboy Chucky, after all. She’s marrying Cas, instead.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you! Love is fake, just like wrestling!” Chuck screams before the bridesmaids tackle him and throw him out of the ring. The crowd then does the rest and boos the guy out of the gym.

“Granted, this is some amazing television,” Dean notes but then shakes his head, furrowing his brow. “But what the fuck is Cas doing?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N snorts a laugh, amused, her eyes transfixed by the show below. “But Bela’s about to marry a millionaire without a prenup.”

Dean groans. “Oh Cas, you fucking idiot…”

As soon as the vows are exchanged, chaos ensues. The rules for tonight’s battle royal are: Whoever wins the bride’s bouquet, wins the plastic crown. It was Y/N’s idea.

“Y/N, stop humming Dammit Janet,” Dean warns her as soon as he hears the familiar melody again. She’s been doing it this whole week.

The girls then fall out of the ring one by one until only three remain: Joanna, Donna, and Meg.

“Hey, Benny, I want a close-up of Donna’s face as soon as she wins the crown,” Y/N commands into her microphone.

Dean laughs a little, his grin widening. “Oh, Donna’s not winning the crown.”

Her eyes dart to him, brow questioningly creasing. “Is Jo keeping it?”

Dean doesn’t answer her directly. Instead, he grabs her crutches. “Take your headphones off. That fuck before was enough warm-up, right? Ah, never mind. You'll be fine...” He quickly helps her to her feet as she keeps blinking at him in utter confusion. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Dean leads her outside the office and shows her to a zip line with a pulley, leading straight down to the ring. “Alright, don’t do some fancy shit and hurt yourself. Don’t make me regret this. Just catapult in with your foot out, okay? They all know you’re coming, so crown's yours.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything, but her lips begin to quiver before the first sob follows, a few tears escaping her eyes. She then hops over to him and slings her arms around his neck, crying softly into his chest.

“Okay, alright… Don’t fucking cry. You’re gonna be on TV. Get it together,” he reminds her firmly but can’t help the smile that flickers alive on his face. He rubs her back, hugging her briefly before he lets her go again.

But Y/N only stretches her neck and captures his lips in a passionate kiss. She steals his air right out of his lungs, her wet cheeks brushing his skin and beard. As she withdraws, her eyes find his, shimmering with words she can’t say out loud, although, for a heartbeat, Dean thinks she might. But she pecks his lips instead, her hands grabbing hold of the pulley.

Dean helps her onto the wooden railing and, upon her determined nod, gives her a little push. Cast first, she flies into the ring, the girls tumbling to the ground and rolling underneath the ropes like pins in a bowling alley.

Triumphantly, Y/N grabs the bouquet and takes a few victory laps around the ring before Rufus places the glittering plastic crown on her head. And while she jokes around and does her bit in full Russian persona, her grateful eyes never truly leave the director.

She flashes him a smile, and Dean knows then that he can’t keep it in any longer. It’s all or nothing, make or break tonight.

“This is the best night ever,” Y/N sighs and snuggles herself deeper into his arms, her head lying on his chest as they sit on the loveseat on Dean’s backyard porch and enjoy the quiet chirping of cicadas and splashing of sprinklers on the suburban grass.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees with helter-skelter heartbeats. His fingers grasp her a little tighter as he rests his chin on her crown and inhales her scent, trying to memorize it in case he won’t get to smell it ever again.

It feels like they’re an old married couple, cuddling on the porch under blankets. If he didn’t know better, he’d think they’d been doing this for thirty years. And as Y/N pointed out, he’s already been married twice, so at this point in his life, he truly knows when something feels real and unique. When something needs to be cherished and protected. None of his previous marriages have felt anything like this.

“You think the meeting with the network executives tomorrow will go well?” Y/N asks, glancing up at him as he thoughtfully nurses his beer.

“Maybe, we’ll see,” he sighs and pecks the top of her head. “You girls still planning on going on that insane camping trip tomorrow?”

Y/N giggles. “It’s not insane! It’s supposed to be relaxing. Just us and nature. It’s our last hurrah if you will.”

“You know what else is relaxing? A spa,” Dean retorts. “You guys are no campers. One or more of you is gonna be eaten by a mountain lion or a coyote come Monday.”

“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Y/N laughs. “How can you still underestimate us after all this time?”

Dean only chuckles in amusement. “Sure you don’t want me to book you something in Palms Springs?”

“No,” Y/N insists, laughing. “I’m actually looking forward to this. I even got a trail map. I wanna go hiking.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a sound decision, considering you’re on crutches.” Dean snorts, rubbing his temples. At least a rattlesnake won’t be able to bite through the damn cast on her leg.

“A small hike,” Y/N adjusts her answer. She then twists her head back and cups one cheek, bringing his lips to hers. As she pulls back, she bites her lower lip, a smirk visible underneath. “I think I’m ready for dessert now.”

Dean smiles gently but stops her hand from crawling down his jeans. Fuck, he should get a medal for this. “Hold on a second, okay?”

“Is everything okay? You always want sex.” She looks the same amount baffled as she does worried – like he just ran into the middle of the 101 completely naked after escaping Betty Ford.

“Yeah, no, I-, uh, I just wanna talk for a second, alright?” Dean swallows harshly but is by far not courageous enough to look at her yet. His hand covers hers, drawing small circles with his thumb on the back of it. It’s more for his comfort than hers.

“Oh-kay…” Y/N chuckles nervously, lifting an eyebrow.

“I don’t want this to end, Y/N. I wanna give this a shot,” Dean confesses bravely and finally meets her eyes. His shoulders feel a million tons lighter as the words rush out. He’s caged them for so long in his heart, it almost feels odd to set them free now.

“What d’you mean?” Y/N straightens in her seat a little, her brow creasing more and more with every passing second. He knows it might go horribly wrong at this point, but he needs to get it all out in the open. Shoot his goddamn shot before it’s all too late. Dean wants to be buried with as little regrets as possible.

He has already accumulated enough of those over the years. His first two wives, not seeing Claire grow up, the drug addiction, and one godawful movie. He doesn’t want Y/N to be among those things.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you gotta know at this point.” Dean looks at her, gauging her reaction. But all he sees is a sea of confusion and denial.

“Know what?” Y/N starts to get defensive, so he does as well.

“That I’m in love with you,” Dean grits with some bark in his voice, which is probably not the best way to deliver a love declaration.

Y/N’s mouth parts, but no words come out. She looks shocked, but Dean can’t tell whether it’s because she really didn’t know or because she didn’t ever think he’d say it.

“I didn’t know…”

“Yes, you did,” Dean snaps, the anger and frustration inside of him surging. “Is this really how you’re gonna play it? C’mon, I know you want this, too.”

“I-I don’t, okay? I’m sorry if I misled you,” Y/N retreats further and blinks at him apologetically.

“Oh, you didn’t.” He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head at the audacious incredulity. A part of him hoped she would just admit it and say it back if he pushed her hard enough. But if anything, he knows she’s a stubborn one. “I mean, Jesus fuck, Y/N! Would you just stop being a fucking idiot?”

“I’m not being an idiot,” Y/N defends. “Why are you being mean?”

“You are, and I’m not! You’re just fucking frustrating me,” Dean huffs and takes a deep breath to calm down a little. How the hell is he supposed to get through that thick head of hers? “You’re really gonna throw all this away? You and me… what we have… Do you know how fucking rare that is? ‘Cause I fucking do. I’ve looked all my life for this… for you.”

“I-I thought this was just sex for you… You said this was just fun,” she argues.

“Do you really think that? Y/N, if all I wanted was easy fun, I would’ve kept fucking Bela,” Dean tells her bluntly and watches her gaze fall into her lap where she fumbles with her fingers.

“I don’t wanna lose you as my friend,” she says quietly.

“Well, you’re gonna. I can’t keep doing this with you. Either you love me, or you don’t. This is it,” he says plainly. Maybe an ultimatum isn’t the best way, but Dean can’t do it anymore. If he plays this game with her any longer, whatever is left of his plastic heart might disintegrate for fucking good. “I love you. I fucking love you.”

Y/N’s eyes begin to sting with tears. Her lower lip trembles as she swallows. “I-… I should go. I’m sorry.”

Clasping his mouth with a palm, Dean defeatedly falls back into the seat and stares up at the dark night sky above him. He nods, tears brimming in his green eyes. “Mhm, yeah, you should. Go. Fucking leave…”

Dean doesn’t look at her. He can’t watch her go, so he willfully keeps his eyes trained on the few stars that weren’t swallowed by light pollution till he hears the front door softly shut.

Fuck.

25. Dare

You're probably screaming right now, and I get it. But let's give our girl some time to think, alright? I have a feeling some stinging desert sun will help with that. After all, you can't have a finale without some satisfying romance 😏

Focus on the good and funny! What was your favorite moment of this part? 👑💖

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73

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spxcefarer · 2 months

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Starfield Radio Stations (a collection of Spotify playlists)

Sooo I got super bored yesterday and made 11 (yes, eleven) Spotify playlists for radio stations I made up for the Starfield universe. There's a huge mix of genres, so I thought maybe some of you guys might like to listen too. I've aimed for around 50 tracks each but total lengths vary a little. You can also click here to see all the tracklists.

Red Rock Radio - "martian radio for all your heavy listening needs" - perfect for dogfights and shootouts. Heavy, rhythmic, lots of classic and contemporary hard rock. Probably something the Red Devils would listen to, and a personal favourite of mine.

Space-DST Radio - "classical rock to ease you through the spacelanes" - recently taken up space-trucking? Got you covered. Road-trip bangers and dad-rock in this one.

Asteroid FM - "ambient tracks for when you're lost in space" - think lots of instrumental mountain banjo and some psychedelic rock themes. Some vocal tracks but not many, very mellow in general.

Atlantic FM - "feel-good indie for drowning out the corporate drones" - what it says on the tin really. New Atlantis vibes - up-beat, jazzy, designed to make you feel better.

Radio Cheyenne - "music to awaken your inner space cowboy" - Akila City vibes at their finest. Country, blues and soft rock, very frontier-esque.

RADIONEON - "electronica for those neon-lit nights" - upbeat synth and punchy drums to vibe/dance/astral project/kill bad guys to. Some indie and some more mainstream tracks in here.

RADIONEON ASTRAL FM - "entrancing electronic beats" - made to fit with the air of the Astral Lounge, lots of trancey EDM and house.

Stargazer Radio - "melancholy music found in someone's ancestor's collection" - for when you just need to drift through space and ponder life's troubles. Sad vibes, with modern and old stuff.

Planet Pop! - "a mix of popular music from old earth" - only stuff released before Y2K here, contains lots of 80s in this one.

Planet Pop! 2K - "pop music from after the turn of the millennium" - a mix of dance and classic pop tracks released after Y2K. Tried to keep it space-themed but got carried away lol.

FM Voyager - "moog-ish music to drift in space to" - think 60s space music, and then multiply by 200. Not as many tracks on this one, probably the weirdest out of the lot.

Please let me know what you think!!

I've been so excited to share this I'd love to know if you have any favourites!

#starfield #bethesda #spotify #spotify playlist #starfield playlist #music

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storiesofsvu · 10 months

Text

Solace in Solitude Masterlist

Emily Prentiss x reader Summary: Emily wakes up in Paris, confused, hurt and alone. That is, except for you, the doctor who saved her life after Ian tried to take it from her. She's isolated, lonely, and yet again, living another double life and thus isn't feeling too grateful towards you. You on the other hand, are equally upset after being ripped away from your own life back in Boston, uprooting your entire career to a place you've never been with the worlds worst patient and minimal to no contact with your friends and family. Neither of you is entirely sure what's going on or how much danger Emily could still be in and that certainly doesn't help with getting along and Emily despises having to have a baby sitter 24/7. Will the two of you learn to get along or will it be constant bickering and frustrations? How long are you going to be trapped together and will you be able to return to your old lives when all of this is over? Being isolated together like this could either drive both of you to the point of insanity or to the breaking point of giving in, the question remains, which direction you'll end up snapping.

warnings: lots of language, some (probably not that accurate) medical/injury talk, your regular dose of hurt/comfort, all chapters will be tagged appropriately. Dm/comment/ask to be removed/added to the tag list (though i believe I'm up to 50 ppl already and that's the max. If people are not interacting, they will be removed and I will add people who will interact)

Spotify Playlist (under construction)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10**

Chapter 11**

Chapter 12**

Chapter 13

Chapter 14**

Series Completed!

__________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @prentiss-theorem @strongsassysexysloane @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @kalixxa @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @tommyriddleobsessed @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #solace in solitude #emily prentiss series #emily prentiss fanfiction

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n0v4t33z · 10 months

Text

The Syndicate - Chapter 1: Misfortune of a Prodigy

Pairings: Choi San X Female Reader, Park Seonghwa X Female Reader, Ateez X Female Reader, Bangchan X Female Reader

Summary: Y/N is a Detective with a promising future in the police department until she's kidnapped by the infamous mafia boss Choi San and from him, she learns the dark secrets her superior has been hiding the whole time so she teams up with him in order to put a stop to it.

Genre: Lots of angst, Romance, Crime Fiction, Psychological Drama

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags/Warnings: For Mature Audiences, Language, Graphic Violence, Mentions of Illegal activities (i.e Kidnapping, extortion, assassination etc.), y/n gets roughed up by Wooyoung in the beginning , Slow Burn, Fluff sometimes, Work In Progress, Non-Idol AU, Mafia AU, Very suggestive at times, y/n cries alot, y/n having inner turmoil, Ateez being bad boys, Wooyoung and Yeosang are a little mean in this story tbh, Guns, Gunshot wounds, Assassination attempt(s)

I'll update tags as the story progresses

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Spotify Playlist🎵 | Series Masterlist 📝

Author's Note: Hi guys! This is the very first story that I grew courage to post on here, so please be kind! I would also like to just kind of let you know that this is a work in progress so updates may not be as quick and they will be pretty slow as I am quite busy with work although I'm quite a bit ahead in the story writing wise so in the mean time I have enough chapters to be able to post. I really hope you guys enjoy the story! 💜

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After being called into a crime scene, I finally arrive to my destination and notice a couple of bystanders and a few journalists outside the hotel, I show my police shield to the officer guarding the crime scene and I head inside. I look around and notice the beautiful crystal chandelier on the ceiling and the beautiful marble floor of the lobby. I’m assuming it’s another one of Aurora Syndicate’s rival gang member’s death. I head over to the presidential suite of the hotel and there he was, a man who was around his 50’s bludgeoned to death, judging by his clothes he had a lot of money too. While my mind was focused on the crime scene I feel a hand on my shoulder interrupt my thoughts then I turn and realize it’s my partner Detective Christopher Bang “ Hey, I genuinely thought you weren’t going to come since it’s past the time you get off” He gives me a smug smirk judging from the tone of his voice. I shrug keeping my eyes focused on the victim’s position.

“Well, duty calls. Besides it has to do with AS so you know I’m up for this. So, whose this guy? He looks like he’s loaded" Chris takes out his notepad and hands it to me for me to read “Well, the guy’s name is Shiro Ito judging from his bank cards and identification used to get this room. He was allegedly involved in laundering money for The Aurora Syndicate, my guess he might have been stealing or giving out information which is why they probably killed him.” I slowly nod then I hand Chris his notepad back “Makes sense why they would have killed him, were his records clean?” He nods “Yep, clean as a whistle. The receptionist downstairs told me he was the owner of a few clothing stores which makes sense and is probably how he was able to launder money for so long without being questioned.” I get a little closer to the body and I look at the impact wounds. The wounds looked very deep, something very personal was the reason this man was killed. The suspect is definitely not a female, judging by the severity of the wounds it was definitely a male. I shift my gaze over to the man’s hands whom was holding on to something tightly.

With my gloved hands I pry open the victim’s right hand to reveal a cuff link with a beautiful iridescent stone. My face instantly lights up and I put it in an evidence bag. “Chris, this was not a woman who killed him. Look, a cufflink with an Aurora Borealis stone and it doesn't belong to Mr. Ito, he took it off of the attacker while he was trying to fight him off. If we find who this cufflink belongs to we've got our guy.” Chris’ eyebrows slightly raise while crossing his arms in front of him “Narrowing it down won’t be too hard, I’m positive it’s someone in the AS’ inner circle hence the name of the stone.” I turn and hand it over to a crime scene technician “Put this in evidence please this one is very important.” the technician nods and marks the evidence, I look back over to my partner who was engrossed looking at his notebook and I let out a small yawn “I’m heading home now, I’m exhausted. You mind finishing up here? I'm also almost finished with the police report from the last case so I'll turn it in first thing tomorrow cool?” He nods while he puts away his notepad in his back pocket and looks to me with a small smile “Yeah for sure, see you tomorrow.” I wave goodbye and I head back to my car and drive home for the night.

While I driving home I begin to think about that cuff link. Whose is it? And why was Mr. Ito killed? Hopefully we’re able to get the suspect’s print off of the cuff link but I highly doubt that since it’s probably covered in Mr. Ito’s prints.

When I arrive at my apartment complex, the lights to the parking lot are busted so it was kind of dark but not enough to where I couldn’t make things out. While I carefully get out of my car and I start to walk to my apartment. While I look through my purse to find my house keys I hear the cocking of a gun behind me “Take one more step In that direction and I will kill you.” I jump up and I turn around dropping my purse on the ground. I focus on both figures both dressed in black one was average height with jet black hair framing his face, and a tall one with blonde-brown hair. I raise my hands slightly to show I have nothing in my hand then the tall one removes my gun from my holster. The guy with the black hair grumbles “Mingi hurry up, I have a feeling someone saw us.” The dark haired male grabs me and points a gun to my lower back while his hand covers my mouth and nose with a cloth “If you scream things will get much worse from here, you wanted to be the hero so now’s your chance to take the fall.” Mingi the tall one, walks up to me and injects something into my neck, zip ties my hands and slings me over his shoulders like a rag doll. I have to fight to stay awake. I have to at least see the vehicle. I force my eyes open trying to stay awake whilst trying to free myself from Mingi's strong grip but my eyelids become unbearably heavy and I fall unconscious before I’m able to see the vehicle.

A few hours later, I wake up in a lowly lit room and quickly realize I'm tied up to a chair. Slightly groggy, I look around and see no one was in here. This empty room, is practically a near empty room with a crudely made empty bookcase behind me which looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years along with a mix of bunch of random debris on the ground and dried blood. I sigh then I yell out “Hello?! Let me out of here please!?” After yelling for what seemed like a little while I hear footsteps fast approaching, and soon the door clicks open. It was the dark haired guy who abducted me again. “So you finally woke up, it took you long enough.” He stands in front of me and stares me down all while I look up at him trying to show him I wasn’t scared of him which was an obvious lie considering how I was manhandled earlier so easily. “Why am I here? Who are you?” Completely ignoring my question he reaches over and squeezes my cheeks really hard to the point where I jerk my head back in pain unable to escape his grip “You know, I hate cops. I hate how they try to dig up your business.” I glare at him “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be getting rich off of illegal businesses and death. ” He lets out a mocking laugh and lets go of my cheeks slightly throwing my head back with force that was pretty aggressive “Wow, Detective you’re funny. You know not everyone grew up with the same stupid sense of right and wrong as you right? We do what we can to survive.” I shake my head “No, you and your stupid mafia sheep are just a bunch of idiots who will eventually fall victim to natural selection.” He grabs a fistful of my hair “Oh, we’ll see about that.” He leans in close to my face “I need the rest of the names of the cops who are working on the Ito case, you pigs have something that belongs to San.”

Oh god, is he talking about Choi San? So it was his cufflink, I should have known. I shake my head “No, I won’t tell you anything...” He mutters under his breath “You little- I seriously don’t have patience for you...” he grabs me by the collar of my shirt and punches me in the jaw. A sharp pain shoots through my jaw and the taste of blood fills my mouth, for a few seconds I look at him slightly dazed while I mumble “I’m not telling you.” He shakes me violently pulling me from the rope I'm tied to “Talk! I need those names now!” he pushes me back and I fall on my back and on my arms letting out a pained cry “No! I’m not going to tell you anything!” The male walks over to me and kicks me several times in the stomach causing me to let out pained screams and cough up blood. Slowly I start feeling like I was losing my consciousness again but before it happens he grabs me by the rope I was tied up with again and pulls the chair back up “Hey, are you passing out? Come on, tell me names and It’ll all stop. I promise.” He spits out mockingly. I shake my head while I look at the floor trying to dissociate myself from the situation I’m in. Blood profusely drips from my mouth onto my white collared shirt soaking through the shirt and feeling the dull drops of blood fall onto the fabric. One, two, three..

The dark haired man walks over to the corner of the room and grabs a crop whip and hits me so hard I could hear the whip crack. I let out a cry of pain and suddenly a thin, tall, dark haired man dressed all in black wearing a leather jacket comes in and grabs his shoulder “I think she’s had enough. You can stop hitting her now Wooyoung, she’s not going to talk.” Right after he comes in another man enters the room, he wore a wine colored dress shirt and some fitted dress pants with his dark hair slicked back and black rimmed glasses. It’s Choi San, the current leader of Aurora Syndicate. He looks exactly the way people described him to be. Handsome, cat like eyes with a jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds, and a very intimidating prescence. Wooyoung, slighty nervous knowing he messed up looks over at both guys and says “Seonghwa, San, I tried being nice but she was being so rude I didn’t have a choice.” San looks over at Wooyoung quite irritated and says “Can’t you ever follow orders? We need her alive. I never asked you to do this.” Wooyoung raises both of his hands and nods “Alright, alright fine. I’m sorry. I just thought that because you usually-” San turns to Seonghwa and cuts him off “ Seonghwa, please take her to the infirmary and ask Jongho to clean up Wooyoung’s stupid mess” San then makes his way over to me and kneels down, looks at me for a few seconds and lifts my chin up with his finger to meet his gaze all while wiping the blood off my chin with his thumb “I’ll talk to you later Detective, we have some things I wan to discuss.” he gets up and wipes the blood he wiped off of my chin onto Wooyoung's shirt. Slightly annoyed by this action, Wooyoung scrunches up his face in distaste and follows behind him leaving me alone with Seonghwa.

The man quietly walks over to me and uncuffs me from the chair. “That’s a lot of blood, I hope Wooyoung didn’t do too much damage.” His soft voice had some calming effect to where I was slowly coming back from my dissociation and felt a bit more grounded. He kneels next to me and for a few seconds he lets me recollect myself “Let’s go to the infirmary, hopefully you can get rest there.” Slowly tears well up in my eyes making my vision blurry. He lets out a soft sigh and gently pats my back “It’s okay, don’t cry. I can’t guarantee that nothing will happen to you but I suggest you just listen and answer the questions you’re asked.” I shake my head “No, I’d rather die than throw my whole squad under the bus.” He fixes my disheveled hair and says “I know, but trust me the faster you fess up the faster you’ll be able to leave. Just think about it, please.” He slowly helps me up and picks me bridal style in his arms.

While we head over towards the infirmary I break the silence by saying “Why are you being so nice?” For a few seconds he stays quiet until he finally responds “Well, I believe in treating people with kindness despite whether or not I dislike something about them. For instance, I don’t like the feds but that won’t stop me from being a decent human being.” I look up at him in sheer confusion “But you’re a literal criminal. You steal and kill people for a living.” A small smile appears on his face and he says “Criminal or not i’m still human. Remember, we all have reasons as to why we do things even if sometimes those things aren’t good.” He’s right, even the people on the other side of justice have their reasons for being criminals. Not everyone decides to do it because they want to be evil, most of the time it’s the lack of money, or a cry for help. Everyone is different.

When we finally enter the infirmary it smelled exactly like a hospital, intoxicatingly sterile. Jongho was at his desk on the computer but as soon as he sees me in Seonghwa’s arms he quickly gets up and walks over to us. Seonghwa gently sets me down on the examining table. Jongho looks at me for a brief second in horror then looks over at Seonghwa “What the hell happened? Why does she look like this?” Seonghwa looks at Jongho and says “It was Wooyoung, San got pretty upset about it too.” Jongho looks over at me and glances at the police badge around my neck making a very uncomfortable face and huffs under his breath “That bastard..” He uncomfortably smiles “ Seonghwa, I’ll take it from here thank you.” He nods and walks out the door closing the door behind him. Leaving Jongho and I alone.

Jongho puts on some latex gloves and he grabs his stethoscope from a drawer near his desk. He gently places the chest piece on my chest and does a whole routine check up listening to my breathing and what not, shortly after he finishes he puts his stethoscope around his neck and clears his throat “I listened to your organs and everything sounds fine, no broken ribs which is good. I see that your arms are quite red, so you might get bruises but no broken bones which is good news too. I also see that you coughed up blood but you’ll be okay you’ll just be sore for a couple of days the internal bleeding will heal on its own as it's not severe. I'm going to give you some pain killers, they’ll help for a couple of hours.”

After taking the medicine he proceeds to clean my busted lip “Thank you, but I have a question.” His eyebrows slightly raise “Oh, sure what is it?” I give him a pleading look and I say “Why am I here?” his face grows a little serious and he goes back to cleaning my wound “Oh, well you’re here because San Is looking for a family Heirloom he lost... That heirloom is so important to him because it was a gift from his father and to get it back he decided he was going to hold you for ransom until the police hands it over.” I sit there trying to process everything for a few moments then I respond “Isn’t that a little overboard for a cufflink?” Jongho shrugs “It is, but knowing how San is since he really treasures everything his father gave him. I’m sure he really doesn’t want to replace it and it’s understandable.”

San’s father, Junseo “The Phantom” Choi. He was killed in a shootout last winter at a restaurant he frequented. I look down at my police badge then I look over at Jongho “San could have just asked me to give it to him. It's really that simple.” Jongho shakes his head “I wish it was that easy but it’s complicated, let’s just say that your Captain and San’s family aren’t on great terms so in a way this is payback .This is as much as I can tell you because to begin with I wasn’t even supposed to tell you any of this so please just act like it’s the first time you’ve heard about it when San questions you.” I nod “Of course no worries. By the way thank you for not trying to kill me.” Jongho’s small smile comes back and he says “Of course, none of this is your fault to begin with.” Suddenly a guy with light grey hair that almost looks white comes in and says “Hey, I’m taking her from you San wants to talk to her. Is she clear for interrogation?” I give Jongho a worried look and he gives me a small reassuring smile, helps me get off the examining table and walks me over to the guy at the doorway “Yes Hongjoong, she's clear.”

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If you would like to be on the taglist DM me or leave a comment!✨

Tag list: @cromerteez @thanxx1117

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Next Chapter

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sunandflame · 8 months

Text

Flame and Water, Epilogue

Ship & Trope: Kyojuro x Fem!Reader (Water Pillars Tsuguko) / Slowburn

Warnings: canon-type stuff / angst / huge manga spoiler

Word Count: 4055 Words

pinterest board of Flame and Water

spotify playlist for Flame and Water

crossposted on AO3

I recommend listening to the playlist while reading this chapter.

Masterlist of Flame and Water

The porcelain cup fell out of your hand and you knew something was wrong. Something in you tore and left you breathless. You felt dizzy for the moment and had to hold onto the wall to not fall onto the ground. Senjuro saw it and saw your pale face, running immediately towards you and holding onto your yukata. "Aneue! Is everything alright?!"

You tried to catch your breath and rubbed your hand against your aching chest. "Yes, I'm fine, Senjuro. We should prepare something, since it’s Kyojuros birthday today. Maybe he'll manage to come back from his mission today." You took a deep breath and gave him a smile. To reassure him further you patted his head with your good hand. He smiled excitedly and went to work. Of course, that was a lie, but you didn’t want to scare Senjuro any further.

The aching in your chest didn’t soothe for the next few days until you saw Kaname, Kyojuro’s Kasugai crow, and Senjuro who fell sobbing onto his knees. Since that day the world was not the way it was supposed to be. At least not for you.

You didn’t remember the months that followed, even his funeral was in a blurr. You only knew that everyday was a new dread. And everytime you did not manage to suppress your feelings you started to hyperventilate, fear threatening to consume you again and again and again. It had no end in sight.

“Life has not been the same as before since I lost you.”

You had been advised to write letters to yourself to deal with the grief. But it did not change anything, not really. You were more reserved than ever and your friends and some of the Hashira had been worried about you. The cheerful side they had seen in you at the announcement of your engagement was all gone. Now you were just a shadow of yourself. As if your light had been stolen from you. The light and fire called Kyojuro.

"I talk about you, like you still haven't left yet."

Several months passed, you had left Rengoku estate a while ago since you couldn't bear the sight of Senjuro or Shinjuro. You felt sorry for Senjuro but your pain, the guilt you gave yourself was too great. If you hadn't broken your arm then you would have been on this train with him. Then you could have defeated this Uppermoon together. Then he would have survived. Then you would probably be married and maybe even blessed with a baby. But that was all just wishful thinking. A fantasy that would never come true again.

"You didn't say goodbye, and a part of me believes that means you're coming back."

But he wasn't coming back and the only thing you got from him was the flame breathing. After your arm was fixed and the cast removed, you started your training. And you were training like you had been possessed. You completed one mission after another, killed so many demons you lost count. You tried to distract yourself from your own grief that was holding so tight on you. Others tried to talk to you, tried to help you, but you just wanted to be left alone until one day the Kasugai crow from Ubuyashiki approached you.

You humbly bowed to the man who was now bedridden.

“My dear child, I may be blind, but I can see your sadness and anger at Kyojuro's loss. He really was an extraordinary child."

You stood silent. You had reverted to your old patterns after his death. Your mouth and facial expressions closed as ever. Your heart was not just broken, it was shattered into pieces, never able to feel anything again and yet he was able to break your hard shell with his soft voice.

“Master, how may I serve you?”

“I want you to be the next Pillar of Flame. You were Kyojuro’s Tsuguko after all and you also killed more than 50 demons. I'm sure he would have wanted that."

Your head snapped up and your gaze darted between Kagaya and Amane, your expression twisted in pain until you laid your head on the tatami in a deep bow to hide your tears, shoulders shaking.

"My dream of being a Pillar... If I had known that I would become Hashira at the cost of your life, I would have put the sword down forever."

Weeks passed and you performed the duties of the Flame Hashira with flying colors. Though your flame was not as hot as Kyojuro's. With the grief you were battling inside your mind and your shattered heart it was cold. You were cold.

“I don’t want them to know the way I loved you. I don't think they’d understand it. I loved and I lost you and it hurts like hell.”

Another two Uppermoons were defeated by Tokito and Kanroji. There was an exchange between the Pillars and they mentioned the young Kamado boy and how his sister Nezuko was able to conquer the sun. You remember the name as Shimizu and even his crow Matsuemon Tennoji approached you, telling you that Tanjiro Kamado had a message for you, but you had no desire to talk to anyone. Not because you had anything against the boy with the demon sister, but because you just wanted to be alone. Alone with your grief that you were not able to overcome. Kyojuro was your foundation. He had taken up so much space with his mood and volume, that it seems all the more empty now that he’s gone. His passing left a deep hole in you. And the worst part was you were slowly forgetting him.

“I can no longer remember the sound of your strong and steady heartbeat.”

Your thoughts were interrupted as you watched the argument between Shinazugawa and Giyuu. You understood what Giyuu wanted to say, but his choice of words were poor and he only got misunderstood. However, you chose not to intervene like Mitsuri did, but just to silently observe everything. The special training with the Hashira began, but like Giyuu you did not participate, not yet.

"You would hate what I've become."

Shimizu came flying to you and informed you of an emergency and forced you to follow her without giving any further information. That wasn't usually her way and a bad premonition settled over your thoughts when you recognized the way to the Rengoku Estate. Fear spread through you when you entered the property, breathing heavily from your run, and found it empty. No sign of Senjuro. Panic rose as you heard your own trembling voice calling for the little boy.

A shoji door opened and your eyes widened in surprise as you jumped slightly back. “Y/N, you're here. I'm glad you made it. Senjuro isn't here right now, but please come in. There's a conversation overdue between us.”It was Shinjuro, the father and also former Flame Hashira. He looked different than you saw him the last time. He had been drunk and you had been terrified and a different person that time.

And you remembered that it was the first and last encounter between the both of you. Although you had lived in the Rengoku estate for some time, Shinjuro always stayed in his room so you never saw each other. Now he looked at you with a clear gaze before returning back to the room and leaving you alone in the hallway and forcing you to follow him.

Shimizu, who had sat on your shoulder, got an angry look from you which made the crow immediately take off again.

With a queasy stomach you entered the room that was considered the place of honor for the Rengokus and where the flame haori was draped and the diaries were on the shelves. Shinjuro sat on his knees on the tatami mat and gestured for you to sit opposite him, which you did, but you kept your nichirin sword to your left as you weren't really comfortable being alone with him. You would never make the mistake of underestimating the former Hashira.

Of course, this did not remain hidden from his watchful eyes and yet he said nothing. His face was shaved and he himself was clean. He appeared generally very different, calm and collected.

“Senjuro missed you very much. He often speaks of you as his Aneue."

That gave you a pang in your already broken heart, but you said nothing. Was that why Shimizu tricked you here? You had missed Senjuro very much and it hurt you in your soul to have left the boy alone with his grief, but you couldn't stay. Your own grief, it was too much to handle as it weighed on you and you didn't want to put the boy through more troubles.

“Thank you for mourning Kyojuro-”

You gave him a sharp look that silenced him momentarily. What did he mean with thank you for mourning Kyojuro? What did he think was the relationship between the two of you? Your anger seeped through every pore, but you remained silent, since you wanted to know what this was about.

“Y/N, I am embarrassed about my behavior when we first met. I should have recognized you then and I should have stayed after your village burned down. I know you were alone and yet I had decided that you would be better off not knowing exactly what happened. I was wrong and inflicted a personal hell on you.”

All your anger evaporated with his words and your eyes widened as you saw the senior bow low, his forehead touching the tatami mat. "Rengoku-san, please-" You wanted him to get up, but didn’t move and let him talk.

“My dear wife became ill and died while I wallowed in self-pity over my own incompetence. So like the fool I am, I pulled away and drowned myself in sake. You proved to be a way better person by becoming a Hashira with what Kyojuro taught you.” He lifted his head and looked at you. “I want to give you the Haori of the Rengoku’s as only the Flame Hashira wear them and I am sure Kyojuro would have wanted that too.”

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as they flitted back and forth between the haori and the Shinjuro, who took the white flame-patterned robe from the rack and folded it into place and laid it in your trembling hands. You stared at the white cloth on your lap until you slowly picked it up and rubbed it against your cheek. It had, of course, been cleaned and patched, but the distinct smell of Kyojuro was unmistakably still in it and the memory of him welled up, threatening to overwhelm you.

A desperate wail escaped your throat as you cried bitter tears with the haori in your arms. The first tears since Kyojuro's death. You couldn't take the suppressed pain anymore and needed something to hold on to and then you felt the big warm hand on your shoulder and looked with tear-filled eyes into the eyes of a father who understood your pain like no other.

He pulled you into his arms and another sob escaped your throat. Shinjuro knew about your pain because he had also lost a loved one, because he had also lost a son. The two of you lay in each other's arms like a father would embrace a daughter, comforting each other until a young voice rang out in the halls and opened the shoji door to the room.

"Father, I am back home and- Y/N-chan!" Senjuro dropped everything in his hand when he saw the two of you comforting each other with the Haori between you. You turned to Senjuro and pulled him into your arms, the tears continued to flow and even the little boy sobbed in your arms and held onto you with his dear life. “Aneue, I missed you so much…”

And god did you miss him too. “Senjuro, I am so terribly sorry for leaving you alone…"

~~~

You could breathe more freely. The pain was still the same, the hole in your chest still there, but a weight had been lifted from your shoulders after you allowed yourself to cry. You stroked the white fabric of the Haori that now draped over your shoulders and felt the presence of Kyojuro’s spirit on your shoulders. A little smile crept onto your lips for the first time since his death.

You made your way back when you saw Giyuu and the Kamado boy chatting. They both looked at you in surprise, as if they hadn't expected you. The younger one saw you with a look as if he knew about your deep sorrow and grief. As if he was able to smell it from a distance and yet he met you with a sincere and friendly smile. "L/N-san, it's a pleasure to meet you." He bowed to you.

It was hard for you to smile back so you just nodded politely. "Nice to meet you too, Tanjiro Kamado." Your eyes fell on his handguard. The boy also noticed your gaze and became nervous, seemingly knowing your connection with the previous owner. He probably thought you wanted it back. "Don't worry, just because I was his fiancé and now Flame Pillar doesn't mean I'm entitled to his handguard. I'm sure he would be happy that you have it." This time you managed to give him a smile that made him blush and you thought to yourself what a good-natured boy he was.

Giyuu stared at your haori, knowing the importance of carrying something from people you loved. Because he himself carried Tsutako and Sabito with him, but he said not a word about it. That wasn't necessary because suddenly a Kasugai crow flew screeching over your heads.

“EMERGENCY SUMMONS! EMERGENCY SUMMONS! AN ATTACK ON UBUYASHIKI MANSION!”

You exchanged just a quick glance among yourselves before all three of you sprinted in the same direction, but you weren't fast enough. Several explosions went off and you could only stare at the rising flames in shock. An old fear wanted to take hold of you, but his spirit, the spirit in this haori drove you on. No, you were no longer afraid of the flames because now you were the Flame and when all the Hashiras gathered in front of Muzan to attack him, the sound of a biwa pang rang out and the ground beneath you all disappeared.

~~~

It was an unfamiliar situation in an unknown place. It was more important than ever to keep your eyes open and stay focused, which is why you, Tanjiro and Giyuu were staying together and wandering around this Castle of Infinity. Suddenly you all saw one of the crows who gave you the news of Shinobu's death. Another hole in your heart, but now wasn't the time to mourn. You had to find and defeat Muzan, or at least one of the Uppermoons. Suddenly the whole place started shaking.

"ABOVE!" It came from Giyuu and suddenly a pink-haired man with tattoos stood in front of you and with his fixation towards Tanjiro and with the number in his eye you knew immediately who it was.

The attacks of Akaza were brutal. You used all the techniques that you could think of to protect the young Kamado boy from the demon's fixation towards him. But along that way you noticed the skill and breathing the Kamado boy used to attack the demon and that he had achieved the strength of a Hashira. You performed an attack, drawing the attention of Akaza.

"You!" He pointed his finger at you while you tried to catch your breath. “You wear the same Haori as Kyojuro. You even fight like him with the same fighting spirit! State your name! I wanna know the name of the person who developed this wonderful sword technique. I can feel that you are strong!"

But you didn't want to talk to the demon that killed your beloved one. How dare he even say his first name? It was him who took your beloved Kyojuro. He was to blame for your grief and for other people who loved him as well. It was all his fault!

Anger spread through you, which grew into an uncontrollable firestorm. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest and you were feeling hot all over. Your whole body was literally burning as if you had a fever. You shouldn't be able to move with this fever and yet you feel an irrepressible strength growing in you.

Become the flame that consumed you, my water lily. Set your heart ablaze…

Senses that were closed off to you have been awakened and dragged out to the place where your strong opponent stands. You understood now that the intense struggle to survive increases one’s skills. You became fast like an uncontrolled wildfire, and you and Giyuu launched one attack after another. Your speed was out of this world and yet you could keep up, you could see everything and even through him. It was strange how calm you were in this moment even knowing you were on the edge of death, but that didn’t matter at that moment. You had to go on.

It was one of the most memorable fights you've ever experienced. A headless demon who continued to fight, refusing to accept his weakness. And he didn’t die by any of your hands but ended up using his destructive attack that would have killed them all on himself. If he would have not done that, you wouldn't know how you were going to get out of here alive. Akaza was truly a strong opponent and all three of you had reached your limits. Tanjiro was the first to realize it was over and also the first to lose consciousness. Even Giyuu had to brace himself with his broken nichirin and lost consciousness. Shit. You tried to reach the both men when you felt how the rest of your strength left you and you too fell unconscious.

You woke up to a burning smell and got up so quickly that it made you dizzy. Still aware of the situation, you checked your surroundings only to see Giyuu half-naked in front of a fire. Tanjiro woke up from his unconsciousness just seconds after you and asked what happened.

“I tried to stop my bleeding, but it’s not working, so I’m going to cauterize the wound. You both are also bleeding. If it doesn’t stop I’ll burn it. So strip down and come here.” Giyuu stared into the fire and it seemed like he was saying it more to Tanjiro, but you knew that the wound on your shoulder was still bleeding even if you tried to stop it with your concentrated breathing.

You did as he said and stripped your shirt and sat next to Giyuu only with your binding to hold your breast together. Without paying much attention you saw how Tanjiro was first blushing and then getting all pale while seeing your burned scars, but he did not say anything. It was weird but you didn't mind seeing your scars anymore. You had long since accepted who you were and were no longer ashamed of your past or what it had made of you.

As Giyuu cauterized the wound on your back, while gritting your teeth in pain, your tried to think of something else to distract yourself from the pain when Tanjiro gasped loudly.

“Y/N-san! Your chest!”

Surprised you looked down and saw what had startled him. Even Giyuu looked surprised. At the top of your heart were dark red marks of flames that spread to your left shoulder. So this is what the mark of the flame looked like. Interesting how it was sprinkled over the heart and not on the face like Tanjiro or Giyuu.

"I guess I have to thank Kyojuro for that." You smiled as you put your hand on your heart.

“Y/N-san… Now that you mention it. Rengoku-san had some last words for you. I tried to get through you, but-”

"I know Tanjiro." You gave him a smile. “I wasn't myself until today. Please, tell me what his last words were to me.”

“He said that you should not grieve too much and to feel free to let him wait in the afterlife. That he will wait for you.” You saw the tears forming in the boy’s eyes, while he brought you the last words of Kyojuro.

You huffed a little smile and thanked him.There were no tears, there was no time for them because they were at war, but a little memory crept into your mind and your thoughts went back. You remembered a moment with Kyojuro where you both laid naked in bed after being intimate. Both being in love and looking into each other’s eyes. His hands never stopped touching and caressing you, both the healthy and the scarred parts. He saw no difference, but that wasn't why you resorted to the memory. It was his words back then. "When wounds are healed by love, the scars are beautiful." You were healed by his love and now you are fighting here with the same ambition he had then. To protect humanity, to defeat Muzan.

~~~

Muzan was dead. The demons no longer existed and a new age had begun. A peace emerged that had cost many sacrifices, both mental and physical. Only three of the Hashira survived. Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyuu Tomioka and you. You were all marked by the war and yet you knew that it was worth it. The Demon Slayer Corps no longer existed, so you felt obliged to return the haori to the Rengoku family as you were no Rengoku and no Pillar anymore. Shinjuro and Senjuro asked you to move in with them, as they saw you as a part of their family, but you politely declined. It didn't feel right.

“Because everything feels wrong without you.”

Years had passed and the grief in your heart was your constant companion together with Shimizu who never left your side. You sat in your home with your brush and still wrote those letters to yourself. But not only to yourself but also to others. Which was why you knew about their happy lives and how they all had started their own family while you were being alone. You made peace with that, because you knew that you can’t ever fall in love with someone else again. Kyojuro was and always will be your one true love.

Your 25th birthday was approaching and you knew what to expect. Amane had enlightened you and the others about the price of the mark and you had only been waiting for this day. You felt your strength drain from you and you needed to lay down on the floor. Shimizu worriedly nudged your yukata as if she was trying to get you to stand up. You smiled faintly at her trouble and gently stroked her feathers with a single finger. "Shimizu, you were always a loyal soul to me." You saw your crow friend's tears as you closed your eyes slowly.

You didn’t feel any fear. Only hope because they said you could see your loved one after you pass, they said you reunite with those you had lost; that was your only consolation as you laid there. Kyojuro, your eternal flame, was always in your thoughts. Never leaving you, never wanting to let go of him.

"I will see you in heaven, my love," you whispered, breathing your last.

Your eyes snapped open and you stared at the dark ceiling, before turning sideways to look at the time on your phone. 04:34 am. Again a weird dream about these demons and yet another sleepless night. Did I cry in my sleep again? With a quick hand movement you swiped the tear stains on your face away and sighed. You always woke up with this deep yearning, like you lost something very precious but forgot what it was. Was it maybe this Kyojuro? But who was that? You were not sure, but you knew that these dreams were trying to tell you something…

🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥🌊 🔥

That was hard, even for an angst lover like me. I feel heavy and accomplished at the same time and I just hope you all don't hate me too much. I wanna thank everyone who stayed tuned and loyal to the story and rooted from chapter to chapter. I see you all and I love you all ❤️

Again and again and big thanks to my beloved @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi who knew how this going to end and cursed at me for many times for weeks. But it was all worth it, right?

For all those who hate me... This is not the end of this story! Watch out for my next posts (and the memes if you wanna laugh)

EDIT: The sequel is here! Shards of Glass

Taglist:

@krillfromsky @kingmultiverse404 @deepressed @nelissecrectplace @yomoya-girl @theycallmemrsbarnes @roninishere @beelzmunchkin @kyojurismo @stuckinthewrongworld @lynnw @love-me-satoru @felix99999l @noarawriteszr @strawberrymm @rye-flower @demonslayeranimex @kittenssss-blog-blog @hanatsuki-hime @kxthxrinx3180 @thatw3ird0 @lovely-nayiq @annie-napier @cole-silas @inonezu-808 @witchy-scribblings @drowsydoggy @anjox @xkanrojimitsurix @ahashiraswife @mamayan @flametrashira @crazycatlddy

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kodydrs · 1 year

Text

- 3 is better than 2

a/n : I hate maths so much. Honestly. It’s bullshit that it’s fucking compulsory for the whole of high school. Anyways, didn’t have school today which is a W. Hope everyone’s having a good day.

warnings : 3some, aged up!characters, reader is legal, implied prostitution, drug-use, oral (m.receiving), handjob, riding, titplay(??), unprotected sex, p in v, marking (hickeys), implied bisexual character, implied bisexual reader

The mall was always busy. It didn't matter what day you went, it was always packed.

Y/n quietly sat at her table, her headphones in to drown out the noise of crying kids and scurrying couples. The straw holding her boba up dangled from her lips as she scrolled through Pinterest.

“Lady, running down to the riptide. Taken away to the dark side” Her headphones sang.

She mouthed the words quietly, making the cup bop up and down.

She’d already noticed multiple faces she knew but chose to ignore. 2 faces, in particular, had caught her eye but like the others, she’d ignored them. She knew better than anyone that they just meant trouble.

Rin Itoshi & Ryusei Shidou, who had noticed Y/n, were sitting a few tables away from her. Rin was looking at his phone while Ryusei was plotting.

‘Bro. Come on. She’s just over there.’ Ryusei said with a grin.

‘And? What about it? She isn't doing anything.’ Rin asked, not looking up from his screen.

‘Let’s go sit with her. She hates that.’

Rin looked at the other, then back towards Y/n who was still looking at her phone.

‘Won’t she just get up and leave then?’

‘Probably.’ Ryusei laughed, standing from his chair.

Rin sighed, following the taller one in standing.

‘$20 she’ll suck your dick.’ Ryusei said devilishly.

Rin rolled his eyes and grinned.

‘$50.’

‘Oh. Deal.’

They shook hands.

Y/n had swapped from Pinterest to Spotify, scrolling through her playlist.

“I'm crying all my tears. And that's fucking pathetic.”

She closed the app and took a mouthful of her drink.

‘There’s nothing to do here.’ She thought. ‘But the bus doesn't leave for another hour.’

She groaned, biting hard on the straw. She turned off her phone and buried her face in her arms, her music blaring.

“I wanna be your sex toy. I wanna be your teacher. I wanna be your sin. I wanna be a preacher. I wanna make you love me. Then I wanna leave ya.”

She didn't hear the seats moving in front of her.

‘Y/n~’ Ryusei sang. No response.

He looked at Rin and suppressed a laugh. He giggled as he ran a hand through her head. She responded slowly, lifting her head lazily. As soon as she saw the 2 males though, she slapped Ryusei’s hand away and got up.

‘Leave me alone.’ She said swiftly.

‘Aye.’ Ryusei said sweetly, gently holding her wrist. ‘Come on. We just came to sit with you.’

‘I’d rather bite off my own tongue.’ She spat back, wanking her wrist from his grip. ‘Now leave me alone.’

She walked off, Rin looking at Ryusei with an unsurprised look.

‘I’m not losing that bet. Come on.’

They got up, scurrying to follow her.

‘Come on, Itoshi. Y/n’s fast for a girl.’

‘I'm pretty sure that's sexist.’ Y/n said from beside them.

Ryusei jumped, startled by her sudden appearance.

‘Geez, Y/n.’ He gasped. ‘Don't scare me like that.’

‘You half-baked antennae freak. What do you want?’

Ryusei grinned, looking at Rin.

‘20 for a date?’

‘Pfffft. You wish.’ Y/n laughed. ‘50 at the least.’

The male groaned.

‘You’re such a gold digger.’

‘What do you think I am? Some petty little thing?’

‘You were.’

Ryusei doubled down on the ground as Y/n booted him between the legs.

‘T-That was a cheap shot.’ He winced, holding his crotch.

‘Your own fault.’

Y/n looked at Rin, frowning.

‘Who are you?’ She asked, an impolite tone to her voice.

‘Itoshi Rin.’ Rin replied, still on his phone. ‘You?’

‘Y/n.’

The 2 exchanged a look before looking down at the other.

‘Fine. $25 and you get 24 hours.’ She sighed, somewhat sympathetic for the male.

Ryusei groaned as he stood up, exhaling slowly.

‘You still try to break their dicks before sucking them off, aye?’ He joked.

Y/n shrugged, taking a mouthful of boba.

‘What?!’ Rin shouted.

Both looked at him.

‘Why do you look so surprised?’

She looked at Ryusei.

‘We can go wherever you want, do whatever you want, but you have to give me a ride home at the end.’

‘Deal.’

‘Great. 24-hours starts now.’

‘I win again!’ Y/n shouted.

‘That’s ‘cause you’re blocking my view.’ Ryusei hissed.

Y/n chuckled, wriggling lower against his stomach.

The group had retired to Rin & Ryusei’s flat to play video games. At the present moment, Y/n was situated between the blonde’s legs in an oversized shirt and shorts. Rin was sitting next to them on the couch.

‘Yeah. But I’m not blocking Itoshi’s view.’ She said. ‘And he’s still losing.’

Rin frowned, dropping his controller.

‘I’m getting a drink. You guys want one?’ He asked.

‘Let me see what you have.’ Y/n said, jumping up and following him to the kitchen.

Rin opened the fridge and got 2 cans before leaving Y/n to see what they had.

‘You guys have iced coffee?’

‘Well yeah. How else do you think Ryu gets to work each morning?’

‘Huh? He used to just have an energy drink.’

‘Used to?’

‘I’ve known Ryu for ages. He always pays me for dates, or to get off. I don't mind though. Might even consider him a friend on a good day.’ She smiled into the fridge, grabbing a 3rd can.

‘Hey. Pass me that knife.’

‘Knife? You aren’t gonna kill me, are ya?’

‘Cause I’m gonna open a new box to put in the fridge.’ He said blankly.

She blinked before passing him the object.

‘Thanks.’

She watched patiently as he sliced open the box.

‘You can go back to the game now. I don't need your help.’ Rin said, focusing on the blade.

‘I know. But I wanna watch. It’s rather satisfying.’

Y/n rocked back and forth on her ankles as he removed each of the cans from the box.

‘Y/n. I’m just taking cans out of the box at this point. Nothing is satisfying about it.’

‘There is. You just can’t see it.’

He rolled his eyes, placing each can on the countertop.

‘If you really wanna help, you can start putting the cans in the fridge.’

She grinned, taking the cans. The fridge began stacking up, and Y/n concluded that they drink more than they eat.

‘Shit.’ Rin cursed.

‘You alright?’ Y/n asked, turning to him.

‘Yep. I just got my finger.’

‘Is it bleeding?’

‘A little. Yeah.’

‘Put it in your mouth. It’ll stop the bleeding.’

‘That’s bullshit. And blood tastes disgusting.’

Y/n rolled her eyes, walking over to the male. She grabbed her wrist and identified the bleeding finger.

‘That isn't a little, idiot.’ She said.

Within a second, she’d wrapped her mouth around his finger, concluding that he wouldn’t. Rin didn't react, staring at her dumbfoundedly.

‘What is wrong with this girl?’ He thought.

He could feel her moving her tongue around in her mouth, running it along with the cut. After a few seconds, she removed the digit from her mouth, a string of saliva connecting them.

‘Give it a minute to dry, then I’ll be fine.’ She said, wiping her mouth and continuing to move the cans to the fridge.

‘You’re crazy.’ Rin gawked.

‘I prefer the term, creative, but a compliments a compliment I guess.’ She didn't face him.

‘Who in the right mind would stick someone else’s finger in their mouth?’

‘You enjoyed it though.’ Y/n called out the male. ‘You’re expression gave you away.’

Rin became flushed, not facing her.

‘Is it dry yet?’ Y/n asked, taking his hand. ‘Perfect. Now you just have to wipe it with a paper towel.’

She looked up at him, making direct eye contact.

‘You have such pretty eyelashes, Itoshi.’ She smiled.

Rin couldn’t take it. This girl was beginning to rile him up. And she damn-well knew it.

‘Do you want to kiss me?’ She whispered, acknowledging him staring at her lips.

‘Maybe.’

‘It’s 24-hours to do whatever.’

‘Wasn’t that Ryu’s deal?’

She shrugged.

‘I can make an exception.’

With that, Rin grabbed Y/n’s collar, intertwining their lips sloppily. Her eyes minorly widened, before she got lost in the kiss. She felt his hands crawling up the side of her shirt and holding her waist.

‘D-Damn perv.’ She joked.

Rin smirked into her lips, flipping them so she was pressed against the counter.

‘You’re kinda cocky, you know.’ He said, attacking her neck.

Y/n moaned softly, tangling her finger’s in his hair.

‘Itoshi.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Can I take off your shirt? Please.’ She begged.

Rin chuckled, nodding. She lit up, grabbing the rim of his shirt and lifting it off him.

‘Fuck you’re hot.’ She gawed.

He ignored her comments, attaching his mouth to her neck once more. She wrapped her arms around his neck, which gave her support when he lifted her thighs onto his waist. She bit her lip gently, welcoming everything he gave.

‘I was wondering what was taking you guys so long.’

Both froze, becoming aware of the 3rd figure who had entered the room.

‘Ryu…’

He smirked.

‘I don't care. I just feel insulted that you didn't invite me.’ He said, removing his hoodie and shirt.

Y/n grinned, reaching out for the blond as the ravenette continued kissing her neck.

‘Aren’t you blessed?’ Y/n whispered against Ryusei’s lips. ‘You got a 2 for 1 deal.’

‘That’s what I was counting on from a slut like you.’ He replied, locking them in a french kiss.

She smiled internally, sensing all 3’s arousal. She was enjoying this. Regardless of whether it would continue or not, she felt a certain sensation with the 2 of them.

She unwrapped her legs from Rin’s torso when he placed her on top of the counter, slowly moving down from her neck. Ryusei quickly replaced Rin, abusing certain sweet spots around her neck and creating more purple bruises. She let out breathy moans, releasing a higher when she felt hands groping her breasts.

'You're rather sensitive today, aren't you?' Ryu mumbled against her skin.

He gently bit at her sweet spot, abusing the bruise already there.

'Mm. Been a while.' She said, her breath hitching when he dragged a hand up her side, lifting her shirt. 'Don't get many other offers these days.'

'Should just accept the offer and move in.' Rin mumbled against her skin.

'Might be tempting after this.'

Ryusei lost patience with her shirt, pulling it up to her shoulders before going back to her skin. She shivered at the sudden exposure. She felt vulnerable. Oh so very vulnerable.

Rin was moving down faster than the other male, already pressing open-mouthed kisses to her lower abdomen. Ryusei had moved behind her, marking her back and fondling her tits. Her back was arched as she bit her lip to suppress any noises.

'Hey, Rin.' Ryu spoke from behind.

'Hmm?'

'Should we move to your room or mine?'

Rin remained silent for a few seconds, weighing out his choices.

'L-Let's go to Rin's.' Y/n breathed. 'I've seen your room heaps already.'

Ryusei nodded and both looked to Rin for approval. He also nodded. Y/n wrapped her legs around Rin's waist again and he carried her to his room, Ryusei following close behind.

Rin gently lay Y/n down on the bed, gawking slightly at her half-naked figure. She had a slight tint to her face, the embarrassment of exposure.

'I told you she was hot.' Ryusei whispered, gently pushing past Rin. Rin watched as he leaned down, whispering something in her ear before pressing a light kiss to her cheek. Y/n smiled sheepishly but sat up to her knees. Ryu grinned and pat Rin’s shoulder. 'You guys have fun for a bit. I'm going to grab something.' And with that, he left.

Y/n looked at Rin, the sheepishness from her smile fading. 'Do you want me to suck you off?'

Rin blushed faintly but nodded reluctantly. Y/n bit her lip and shuffled closer to him, moving her hands to rest above the waistband of his pants. He placed his hands atop hers. She giggled quietly as they both tugged down his pants and boxers, his member falling out in front of her.

She gasped at the sight.

'Fuck, you're big.' She praised, lightly wrapping her hand around his girth. 'And hard.'

Rin covered his mouth with the back of his hand, watching her slowly jerk him off. She grinned, flicking her tongue against his tip, capturing the pre-cum.

'And you taste good.' Y/n gave her tongue another flick before taking his tip into her mouth. She gradually began bobbing her head, each time taking more of Rin's cock.

Soft groans and grunts spilled from his lips. He moved a hand to her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and guiding her.

'Fuck. Your mouth is so hot.' Rin groaned, gently pushing her further down. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. He softly caressed her face with his other hand. 'And you look so gorgeous doing your job.'

She gave a hum of a "thank you" and he barely suppressed the moan of the vibrations. It was a messy blow job, a mixture of saliva and pre-cum. Y/n could feel his cock hitting the back of her throat. She tried to relax the muscles to help adjust to his size. Involuntarily, he thrust into her mouth, causing a loud moan (which was muffled by his member) to come out of her.

'Sorry.' He said. She shook her head, signaling he hadn't done any wrong. She pushed her head down further, her nose skimming his stomach. Rin felt her throat pulsing around him, and she felt him twitching in her throat.

'I'm gonna cum.' He sighed. She nodded, continuing to move her head back & forth.

It was hot when it flowed down her throat. It wasn't until after she felt the flow finish that she took him out of her mouth, wiping her mouth.

'That was pretty hot.'

Both turned towards the door, seeing Ryusei leaning against the frame.

'How long have you been there?' Rin asked. Ryu shrugged.

'Pretty much after you praised how hot her mouth was.'

Y/n gave a faint chuckle. 'Fucking perv.' She stood and skipped over to him. 'He tastes nice.'

'Let me try.' Rin watched as the 2 shared a deep kiss and he already felt himself getting hard again.

'Hmm. You weren't lying.' Ryusei nodded.

'Where do you go anyway?' Rin queried.

'Went upstairs and got the goods.' He pulled a small bag containing a white powder. 'Sex is always better with cocaine.' Y/n grinned.

'Come on then. It's your turn.' She took his hand, dragging him over to the bed. He followed with a slight eagerness.

'We doing this the same as last time?' Ryusei asked when she practically threw him onto the bed.

'Duh.' She said, unbuttoning her shorts. He grinned, following her motion. 'You watch porn, don't you, Rin?'

Rin nodded. 'Well, this is like, 100% better.'

Y/n let her shorts and underwear fall to her ankles before kicking them off to the side. She helped Ryusei do the same.

Rin & Ryusei were pretty equal in size. The only difference would be that Ryusei had more girth.

Ryusei lay back against the headboard while Y/n straddled his hips, positioning herself above his length. She slowly lowered herself onto him, a long and low sigh dripping from her mouth like honey. She gave a short hiss when she'd taken him fully.

'Fuck, you're still massive.' She cursed.

'And you still take it so well.' Ryusei praised. He opened the bag of cocaine, tipping the content into his mouth. Y/n leaned forward, whimpering at the slight pain.

'Give me some, you prick.' Ryu smirked, pecking her lips. She frowned.

'Don't look at me like that. You know what to do.'

Y/n pouted but obliged. She lifted herself, then back down, a string of curses quietly leaving her as she repeated the motion.

'Aren't you such a good girl.' Ryusei said, holding her chin. He ran his thumb across her bottom lip, dragging it down to open her mouth ajar. She pushed herself forward, connecting their mouths sloppily. The sweet bitterness made her tongue sting ever since slightly, but the euphoric feeling of the drug distracted her from that.

'Hey, Rin. Come here.' He mumbled against her mouth. Rin complied, moving to sit next to his friends. Y/n quickly moved from the man beneath her to the man beside her, sharing the taste furthermore. Ryusei added more marks to the necklace of hickies around her neck while she continued to bounce on his dick. The sounds she made were muffled by Rin's mouth, but even then they were loud. She pulled away from him, looking with hazy eyes.

'Now you just have to watch and fix your boner.' She smirked.

Turning her focus back to the taller, whose face was still buried in her neck, she thrust herself down hard and deep. Rows of high-pitched moans filled the room, accompanied by the sound of skin slapping and low panting. Ryu's hand's left light, feathery touch against the skin on her back, and his mouth worked against her sweet spot.

The room fell into a calm state until they heard a phone ringing.

'Who'll that be?' Ryusei asked, not moving off her neck.

'Probably my roommate wondering where I am. Pass me my phone.' Ryusei did as requested and handed her the device. 'H-Hey, Kasey.'

'Y/n? Where are you? I thought you were catching the bus back here at 4.'

'Don't worry abo- hah-' She was cut off by Ryusei purposely thrusting up against her g-spot. '-about m-me. I'm staying with some friends.'

'Are you having sex?' Y/n silently cursed the male under her. 'No. Something just bit me.'

'Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Just tell me about it when you get back.' 'O-Ok. Love ya. Bye.'

She ended the call and dropped her phone on the floor. The deadpan she gave Ryusei was bitter. 'You're a menace-'

'And somehow you still love me.' He smiled, holding her hips to help him hit the right spot. She held her hand over her mouth, trying her best to hold in her moans.

'Fuck. Fuck. Ryu. Fuck.' She swore, her climax nearing.

'Just a little longer, ok, baby?' He whispered, kissing her head. She nodded, panting and whimpering as she continued thrusting. She gasped loudly when Rin came up behind her, snaking his hands under her shirt to grope her tits.

'I can't tell if she looks prettier with a cock in her mouth, or like this.' Rin admired.

'Well the view from here definitely beats the sight of a blow job.' Ryu answered, roughly.

Y/n held Rin's hand atop of her breasts but looked down at Ryusei with a face of lust.

'Shit. I'm gonna cum. Please, please let me cum.' She whimpered.

Without as much as a warning, she felt her friend release inside her orgasm following rapidly after. Both moaned deep, Y/n capturing Rin's lips to decrease the noise. All 3 remained still for a matter of minutes, Y/n & Rin lazily making out while Ryusei came down from his high.

'Hey. Do I get any kisses?' He pouted. Y/n smiled sleepily before leaning down again to kiss him. She inhaled sharply at the pain that radiated through her abdomen.

'Fuck. That’s a mistake.' She breathed, lifting herself off him. She let herself fall next to him on the bed, holding her arm out to signal Rin to join them.

'I might just have to take you up on the request if this is how good the sex is.' She mumbled, burying herself in Rin's chest.

'Oh really?' Ryusei laughed. '3 years of asking, and all it took was a certain Mr. Itoshi Rin to appear?'

'What? You jealous?' She grinned. 'And anyways, 2 is better than 1.'

'And 3 is even better.'

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b0nes-mcgee · 7 months

Text

It’s time for music headcanons with the batfam, bc if I don’t get this out of my head and onto page, I’m going to implode.

Fave first, Dick is definitely a indie pop/indie rock kinda boy. Not just because I identify with that, but also bc he gives me those overly energetic, bubbly vibes, that I feel like only come from Grouplove, Vampire Weekend, and Adam Melchor. I also feel like he’s a Mitski and Boygenius kinda bitch, bc ough, boY, he has angst. Said angst can only be expressed through sad girl music, bc he will die before he ever expresses his feelings about anything to anyone.

NEXT we have Jason, I think he’s an emo ass boy, ngl, but specifically like folk punk. He listened to twin sized mattress one time, broke down crying, and hasn’t looked back. Also things like The Mountain Goats, PUP, or Modern Baseball. Ugh, I could make a whole ass playlist for this boy. If he’s with other ppl, I think he’d play something more mainstream of the emo genres, like Arctic Monkeys or The Strokes.

DAMIAN, I THINK, IS COMPLICATED. So, for one thing, he grew up in a weirdo environment, where they probably never listened to music, and if they did, it was “”tasteful”” music, for rich ppl. That, or it was culturally significant. So, I think I’m his exposure to music after moving in with Bruce, he started just absorbing absolutely all the music he could. Like, he’s an everything enjoyer. His spotify liked songs are a minefield, bc one second it’ll be playing Chet Baker, next it’s Viagra Boys, then some country shit, then Chopin, and then it’s Lil Nas X.

BABS, I think, would be a folk music/sad girl music enthusiast. She really likes Ryan Adams, Phoebe Bridgers, Hoizer, Mitski, etc. It’s something that she and Dick bonded over when they first started dating. I think with her, she appreciates the calm/slightly sad music bc she lives in a rlly crazy world, and she just wants to meditate a little when she’s sitting at that desk all day, trying to keep her family and friends alive.

Timmyyyyyy is a Kpop enjoyer. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Specifically, he probably likes SEVENTEEN or ATEEZ a lot. He actively tries, every day of his life, to not stan any of the members, but it’s rlly hard when he’s had two hours of sleep in the past week, and Yoon was just really cute in that last interview. I also think he’s really into trap and pop. He knows all the lyrics to every recent song on the top 100 list.

Duke, I think is really into R&B. I think he’s amenable to pop/rock/rap, etc., but he really just wants something to belt out. Common occurrences are finding him in the kitchen, making an omelette, singing Amy Winehouse at the top of his lungs. If u catch him doing it tho, he gets rlly shy. His guilty pleasure is theatre music. He has to bribe his family to go see Little Shop of Horrors with him.

Stephanie has a 2000s-2010s pop addiction. Anything that makes her feel like Hannah Montana is her SHIT. She’s out here blasting Bubblegum Bitch and early Taylor Swift. You also can and will find her crying to sad One Direction songs. When she’s moody, she will unironically play My Chemical Romance. She understands pop punk a lil bit, but the lyrics tend to get male-manipulator-y, so she sticks with the bands she already knows.

Alfred likes 50s/60s jazz/pop. Frank Sinatra, Chet Baker, etc. It reminds him of home, and of his family. He also really likes old French music, like Joe Dassin. I’m ngl, I don’t know old music enough to add more to this one, but u get the idea 😭

BRUCE. Ugh. He’s definitely the kind of dad who never moved past the music of his childhood. He firmly believes that the Beatles is the best band of all time, and no one can convince him otherwise. I think he tends to gravitate towards the rock/goth end of 70s/80s music, so things like the Cure, New Order, maybe a lil bit of Siouxsie and the Banshees. His goth phase was INTENSE, Alfred can attest to this.

Edit: HOLY SHIT I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT CASS 😭😭😭

Ok, Cass is defo a similar situation to Damian, grew up with literally silence, so music is a super new thing to her. But I think she really enjoys all kinds of genres. I think that especially instrumentals get her, bc it’s just noises that she can focus on, no lyrics to distract her from the sound. I think she also likes to “sing” along to said instrumentals, but mostly it’s just making noises to the same beat and sound, but it’s very off-key.

#dc #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #tim drake #barbra gordon #stephanie brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfamily #batfam #batfam headcanons #headcanon #music headcanons #batfam music headcanons #cassandra cain

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joesalw · 5 months

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If Taylor cred about the quality of her material she would’ve gotten rid of Jack Antonoff 3 albums ago. I remember seeing memes on twitter that his peak of creativity was Lorde’s ‘Stoned at the Nail Salon’. Her hiring Aaron Dessner was a fantastic business decision (which I’m sure was influenced by Joe). And the whiny 40 year old saw that she can make good music without him and got a little nervous. Hence him reuniting her with Healy. Her newer songs that are produced by Jack are repetitive, unoriginal and generic. She doesn’t have a diverse discography like her fans claim. She has country, country pop, pop, electro pop, alt pop. That’s it. If we’re comparing the girls with the most monthly listeners on Spotify, Ariana’s clearing TS. Her last album was released 3 years ago and she’s always in the top 10. Her music has more longevity and is seemingly more relevant and timeless than Taylor’s. If you’d walk up to a stranger and ask them to name a TS song it’s a 90% chance they would say Shake It Off. With Ariana it could be a more diverse group of songs. lol, girl simply said she’s in the studio finishing up her new album and her whole catalog got boosted in numbers. She’s not as relevant in other parts of the world as her pr team and US fans want everyone to believe. I bet she’s gonna get a whiplash on her European tour leg. Her tickets aren’t selling here that well. Mostly because people won’t pay 300€ for a show that a. They can already watch on dvd b. doesn’t have a good headlining vocalist or dancer. She charges too much for a ticket, the European economy is in a crisis. She’s probably going to have to give discounts again or give away tickets for free. She’s already done that on her previous tour. They are pretty much paying for a live action Spotify playlist listening party. Even with her concert film gross, 74% was the US. I think that clearly shows where her demographic is and that’s why she did over 50 shows there this year and is doing more next year. She’s gonna be milking her American fans dry forever.

so true

#ariana grande #anti taylor swift #swifties dni

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no-see-um-incorrect · 10 months

Text

Music head cannons for the Yuurivoice boys (i’ll be doing redacted next) the characters are gonna be getting playlist soon, so think of this as a prediction

Auron

This man has CORPSE on his playlist somewhere. If you’re talking about what the characters do outside of the audios together, my suspicion is that Alphonse probably showed him. Given his whole aesthetic, E-girls are ruining my life. Is probably the song he likes the most.

CODE MISTAKA. Is probably a close second.

My guess is he listens to a lot of like loud, hard rock music. He also probably has the whole reputation album by Taylor Swift on full blast while he’s cleaning his penthouse. Whenever I think of Auron I think of monster by skillet as his theme song

Seth

We already know he listens to Noah Kahan

But I raise you this

Ed Sheeran. Specifically the songs.

The A Team & I don’t care

He has two playlists on Spotify there’s one that’s just his normal playlist, and then a playlist titled

🚬Mama💋

(probably not with emojis but you get the idea)

Charlie

My pizza rat Boi~

No, I do not know why….but I have this thought in my head of Charlie going through the neighborhood on his skateboard delivering pizzas singing ”milkshake by kelis” I don’t know why, but once I thought about it, it hasn’t left my head.

Just a lot of ass shake songs you know so he can shake what he doesn’t have(I said what I said)

Milkshake by kelis

Toxic by Britney Spears

Bottoms up by trey Songz

like his playlist is a roller coaster of 90s and early 2000s ass shake songs and songs that would make you cry for two hours

Casper listens to his playlist for like 20 minutes and comes out like “Charlie, sweetheart love of my life……WHAT THE FUCK”

Alphonse

This man’s hot shit And his music reflects that.

Candy shop by 50 Cent (that one’s obvious)

Stupid by Ashnikko

Girls/Girls/Boys by panic at the disco

This is hot people music and Alphonse KNOWS he’s a hot person

Of course, any character with dead parents comes fully equipped with the using Music instead of therapy add on so amongst the hot people songs we’ve got

supermarket flowers by Ed Sheeran

Dog days are over by Florence + the machine

Makes Me Sick by Addison Grace

His “sad boy hours” playlist borderline concerns, boo and will make Seth cry if he listens to it.

Finn

I had to keep it together while thinking about the music of Finn. On one hand, I think it would be a lot of Positivity and loving yourself, music on the other hand….. this man was in emotionally, abusive relationship,

Strawberry Blond by Mitski

(this next one is a maybe)

Diet Culture by Brye

Soldier poet King by the oh hellos

But then we get into Sadboy territory but also borderline Yan-Finn

He loves me (he loves me not) by Baby Bugs

TV by Billie Eilish

Mr. potato head by Melanie Martinez

(maybe) agoraphobic by CORPSE

A few other Melanie Martinez songs

Lucian

Buckle up

Family line by Conan Gray

In my room by ICP

FACK by Eminem (hear me out)

Take me to Church by Hozier

Mary on a Cross by Ghost

He’s a demon, dirty minded, and the youngest son of the devil himself

The weirdest playlist of all time, and I am

here for it

That is all for now. Have a great night everybody

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice alphonse #yuurivoice auron #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice charlie #yuurivoice lucien #yuurivoice finn #headcannons #incorrect quotes #writing #asmr video

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virtuallyjimin · 7 months

Text

Probably, some controversial opinions

I remember back in Face era when we were complaining about how short Jimin's promotion period was and a lot of armys were saying that it had to be this way because they have no time but apparently there is a lot of time for other members like Jungkook who has been promoting since he released Seven in July and he'll continue to promote probably until December even, i have seen that man's face more than my mom's at this point.

It's just frustrating for me as a fan because i think that Jimin's first solo album has been something that i, as a fan, was waiting and expecting for so long and the fact that everything felt so rushed and short is sad and heartbreaking. It doesn't change the fact that it was really meaningful, it made history and it changed me as a person, i love that album so much but i just wish we have gotten more of jimin with his solo album.

i want to make very clear that my opinion stand even if it was jimin's decision to make his promotion period that short because i don't believe that just because you like an artist you can't criticize their decisions or you can't disagree with what they do, so. if it was his decision i still would wish for it to be longer.

Another thing that i wanted to say is that at this point i just can laugh about how obvious Hybe/Bighit is being with their favoritism, what else can i do. My biggest complain with the company isn't that they didn't give like crazy 10 remixes no, my biggest complain is that they couldn't even do the BARE minimum for Jimin and that song even after it reached #1 in Billboard HOT100. There are things that happened that don't have any explanation other than the company being shady and i want to make it clear that i'm not talking about the promotion that Jimin physically him could have done after Like Crazy got #1; i'm talking about stuff the company could have made to promote the song even a little because it got #1 like playlisting or restocking the cd. I even thought that overlapping promotions is something that they don't do and that's why Jimin's promoting was so rushed but during Taehyung's album release month Jungkook was still there promoting Seven in Stationhead so they can overlap promotions, they just didn't care about doing that with Jimin's song.

And i don't think a lot of that stuff was Jimin's decision, do you think that Jimin the day like crazy was #1 on the top 50 global of spotify he picked up the phone to call spotify and said "please split my song so i'm not #1 anymore☹️" let's be serious and the fact that Hybe still hasn't restocked like crazy cds even though fans have been begging them since March, don't they want to make money? it just doesn't make sense. The shady article that came out from their own company were they diminish Jimin's achievements is even super weird.

In March i gave them the benefit of the doubt and i thought maybe they didn't know what do to do or they weren't expecting Like Crazy to be #1 but after everything they did with Jungkook's Seven they made it clear that they know what to with a successful song and i don't even think that what Seven got is payola, i think they gave him the rightfully promo he deserved but they couldn't do the same for Jimin.

It's just hilarious for me, as a fan of BTS, that for so long have been repeatedly reminded that BTS are 7 and the 7 of them are equally important and for this 2nd chapter of BTS to come and for Hybe to be so obvious about the favoritism that they have is just laughable and i think that because of this point is obvious that there will be some armys complaining about how not all of them are in the same playfield, also, i have seen some people say that they all have different music and different audiences and therefore Bighit couldn't have done the same promo for all of them and i think that's just stupid; Hybe is such a big company and they have the money and they have the resources to give all of them, the seven of them, the same promo and to not underestimated them before they even debuted as a soloist. like just give them all the promo. they're all bts and made bts what it's today.

At last, i just wanted to say all of this because i'm frustrated. I think that knowing that the company didn't submit Like Crazy for some awards made these thoughts and feelings i've been having resurface and these are things that i have been thinking for months, some are just questions that i have that don't make sense and i'd love for someone to give me an answer so i don't think that Jimin's own company is sabotaging him, it's just insanity and seeing armys so against even saying the little thing against the company is just frustrating, you can have your own opinions and disagree with something that has been happening.

and i love jimin and i think he deserves so much better. he's such an amazing artist and i would love to experience more of what he has to offer as a soloist, face was such an excellent debut and it left me waiting for more solo music from him.

#park jimin #jimin #bts #bighit #hybe #jungkook #like crazy #bts army #opinion #thoughts #i'm sorry this is just stuff i haven thinking about for 6 months now #i need it to let it out #bts jimin #bts jungkook #opinions #bts park jimin #bangtan

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autumnshighlady · 1 year

Text

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 8)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: you finally meet Emerie and Gwyn, but an argument between Cassian and Nesta spirals out of control and you come head to head with the High Lord

warnings: the usual IC slander

word count: 6k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n PLEASE READ: so the vote was almost 50/50 between doing a time jump and not doing a time jump, so I decided to meet y’all in the middle. There will be small time jumps, especially in the next chapter, missing a few important ACOSF moments but they will be mentioned briefly. I hope this is ok! Also this is sort of a filler chapter but I think you guys will like it. I’ve put out like 3 chapters in one week I’m exhausted haha

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

part 6

part 7

read on ao3

Spotify playlist

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“Are you even listening?”

“No, not really.”

Azriel rolled his eyes at you for what was probably the fifth time that hour. You were sitting in an office area of the House, a map of the Night Court laid out in front of you. Scrolls and manuscript were strewn across the desk messily, as if whoever had been in here last had not bothered to organize it. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the table in an otherwise dark room, the window nearby facing the mountains rather than the vibrant city below. Azriel had followed through on his promise to teach you about the Night Court before your other training resumed, actually letting you sleep in for once.

Just this one time. He had promised, and you knew he’d meant it.

You had covered Illyria so far, to your distaste as much as Azriel’s. It was interesting how much he loathed his own people, but after delving into their practices you could see why.

“And Rhysand just lets this happen? He allows females be crippled and used for breeding?” You had asked when the spymaster told you about the wing-clipping practice.

“Illyrians are slow to change.” Was all Azriel had said. You pointed out that oh-so powerful Rhysand could simply make them change, or use his mind control abilities to influence the Illyrian leaders. But Azriel had only glared at you, ignoring your comment before moving onto the next subject – the Court of Nightmares.

Which led you to where you were now.

“So let me get this straight,” You said after Azriel rolled his eyes. “The Court of Nightmares is in the Hewn City, and that’s the side of the Night Court that the rest of the world sees and views it to be.”

“Correct.” Azriel huffed, blue siphons reflecting strange casts of light from the lanterns.

You straightened your back. “So my same point as Illyria still stands. Females are suffering there too – you said the Morrigan was rescued from her own family from that very court. But why’s she the only one being saved? What about all the other females in there being sold off into marriage like cattle?”

Azriel’s scarred knuckles tightened in annoyance. His voice was clipped and tense, as you were clearly testing his patience. “Like I said twice already,” He said through gritted teeth. “Change does not come easy. And besides, they have an agreement of sorts. Rhysand lets them do what they please, in exchange for recognizing his authority and providing an army if needed.”

“But you said they have the right to refuse.” You pointed out.

“Yes. The Court of Nightmares has autonomy within the Night Court. It’s the best way to keep the peace.”

“Except for the females.” You muttered, fiddling with a scrap of paper and tearing it up in your fingers. It wasn’t fair how Rhysand and Feyre had the power to help so many people, yet choose to keep things the way they are. Nesta had told you that Feyre often shifted into an Illyrian form – wings unclipped and able to fly her through the sky, above all the female Illyrians down below who were crippled and kept for breeding. The thought of her flaunting those wings when half of the Illyrian population had them taken away simply for being born female made you sick. But it was something to consider for your long-term plan.

“I know it’s hard for you to understand,” Azriel said lowly. “And I know it’s hard for you to hear this as a female. But we help out where we can with the resources we have.”

“No you really don’t.” You scoffed, and then spoke again before the shadowsinger could object. “But if that’s what you have to tell yourself to sleep at night then by all means.”

Azriel huffed, and you felt another twinge of guilt. It wasn’t entirely his fault – he had no authority over the High Lord and Lady, he couldn’t go behind their backs or tell them what to do. You wanted to like Azriel, and a part of you did. But the other part was resentful that like the rest of the Inner Circle, he did nothing to challenge their ways.

“I am trying to help you.” Azriel said slowly, turning his hazel eyes to yours. “I wasn’t lying when I told Rhysand that you had potential. You’re a quick learner, and you’re extremely clever. I want you to succeed and find your place in this court, but I can’t help you do that if you fight back with snarky comments every chance you get.”

“Have you considered that maybe adjusting to your court is difficult for me considering where I came from?” You challenged, meeting his gaze with your own. “Forgive me if it takes some time for me to come to terms that I live in a court where if I had wings or was born in the Hewn City my only purpose would be for breeding.”

“You haven’t been here for long,” Azriel said cooly. “Give it time.”

You sighed, dropping the remains of the paper onto the desk. “If you say so.”

Azriel stared at you for a minute, unblinking. It was impossible to read his expression, as usual. A strand of dark hair fell onto his forehead artfully, contrasting with the golden light and making him look like a painting. “What?” Your tone came out snappier than intended.

“I think you should spend some time with people from this court who aren’t part of the Inner Circle.” He suggested slowly, as if waiting for you to lash out. “Instead of just training with me, you can join the sessions with Cassian and the others. Would that be something you’re interested in?”

You paused, weighing your options before considering his words. Would that be something you’re interested in? He was giving you a choice – your first real choice at the Night Court that wasn’t coerced or scripted. If you wanted to say no, there would be no consequences. But then you thought about Nesta, and the friends she had made. You’d be able to meet them this way and get to know them – spending more time with Nesta was a bonus. You’d have more of an excuse to be around her now, and to coordinate your plan.

The fight. You mentally cursed yourself, remembering last the Inner Circle checked, you and Nesta were on the outs. You didn’t want to have to keep up the argument act, but maybe you could stage something else, something that made it seem like the two of you were on the mend. They’d think it was Nesta ‘healing’ because of them and pat themselves on the back, but you’d have to forgive it and let them have this temporary victory before you pull the rug out from under them.

“I guess I could give it a try.” You said hesitantly, nodding at Azriel.

His lips twitched in a small smile. “Good, be ready at 8 tomorrow.”

*********************

You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you stepped into the training ring. Sleep was scarce for you last night, leaving you groggy and tired as you dressed yourself in the leathers laid out for you. You hadn’t seen Nesta yesterday, but you sent her a mental note about planning for today.

The two of you agreed that you would be distant, but not outright avoiding each other to make it seem more real – Nesta would apologize to you, and you to her, making sure Cassian overheard. Everything was set, now all you had to do was survive the grueling training.

As you entered the ring, your eyes scanned for Nesta. She was sitting down near the corner, stretching alongside a pretty redhead and Illyrnian woman. Her eyes were clear, devoid of the empty hauntedness that had resided in them as she recounted the past few weeks. Hair neatly braided back, she snorted at something the Illyrian female had said.

Taking a breath, you nodded to Cassian and walked over to where Nesta was. The general nodded back, glancing towards Azriel who shrugged his shoulders.

You approached hesitantly, making sure to look nervous. You could practically feel Cassian’s gaze boring into the back of your head, analyzing your every movement like a hawk. “Hey,” You said quietly to Nesta.

“Hi.” Her voice was quipped, yet soft. She looked up at you, expression unreadable. You hated having to play these roles, but you pushed that aside.

“Can I join you?” You asked, fiddling with the loose strap on your leathers.

The other two females glanced at Nesta, one of them raising her eyebrows knowingly. You wondered what Nesta had told them about you, how much they knew.

“Actually,” Nesta cleared her throat and stood up, and you could feel Cassian’s gaze shift to her. “I was hoping I could talk to you. Come grab some water with me.”

You followed her, Azriel’s eyes now on you as well. The two Illyrian males tracked your every movement as you headed over to the water station, grabbing a cup from the table. You stood in silence as you took turns filling it up, waiting for Nesta to speak. Finally, she did.

“I wanted to apologize.” Nesta said, swishing the water in her cup. “For how we left things. You were nothing but kind to me, and I lashed out. You were my only friend, and I was cruel to you. For that, I am sorry.”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to watch Cassian’s reaction. “I’m sorry too,” You said after a few moments. “For what I said about everyone hating you. It was mean, and I didn’t mean it. I’d like to move past it, if we can.”

“Me too.” Nesta’s lips twitched as she spoke to you mentally. Don’t look, but Cassian just broke out into the biggest grin. He’s watching us.

I bet he’s proud of you for apologizing – thinks it’s all because of him.

Well, it’s not.

I know.

You smiled, following Nesta back over to the group. You glanced at Azriel, who gave you a nod of approval. It was working.

“So why did Azriel drag you here?” Nesta spoke up, interrupting your thoughts.

“He thinks it’ll be good for me,” You said, stopping to pick up a mat from the racks. “To spend time with others from the Court.”

Nesta hummed, sitting back down on her stretching mat as you unrolled yours. “Well, this is Gwyn,” She said, gesturing to the redhead. “And this is Emerie.” The Illyrian female raised her hand in greeting.

“I’m (Y/N).” You said, offering a friendly smile. Gwyn’s large, teal eyes gleamed, the freckles on her pale skin were like stardust in the sunlight. She seemed shy, but courageous. You knew she was a priestess in the library, meaning she had likely been through the unthinkable – the fact Nesta was able to convince her to come out of the library made your heart swell with pride.

Emerie glanced up and down at you, a smirk pulling at her lips. “We know,” She said. “We’ve heard all about you.”

You chuckled as Nesta fixed the Illyrian with a stern glare. You’ve told them about me, now have you? You said to Nesta.

Shut up. Her reply was just as stern as her gaze, but there was some lightness to it. Her cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment – it was adorable.

How much do they know? You quickly asked her.

They know we had a fight. They don’t know it was fake, but I think they suspect something. I trust them though, they won’t say anything unless I tell them first. They’re good people.

Works for me.

“We wondered when you’d be joining us.” Gwyn quipped, extending her other leg and reaching down to touch her toes. Nesta turned the other way, focusing on stretching her hip.

“Yeah, well Azriel knew I’d go crazy only seeing his face for the next while so he decided to chuck me in here with you guys.” You said, making Gwyn giggle. “He needs Cassian’s alliance to deal with me sometimes.”

In the distance, Azriel snorted. He’d clearly been listening, which was good. You wanted him to hear everything. You turned to look at him, and he shook his head and sighed. Emerie laughed, missing nothing. “Mother above, what do you do to him?” She said.

You shrugged, clasping your arms behind your back and stretching them behind you. “I make his life hell pretty much, isn’t that right?” You called out the last part loudly.

The shadowsinger walked a few steps toward you, hauling a large mat across the floor. “You certainly don’t make my job easy.” He muttered, setting it down in the middle of the ring.

You rolled your eyes, turning to ask Gwyn about how her training is going but stopped. Gwyn was watching Azriel, teal blue eyes following the movements of his muscled arms as he shuffled equipment around. She caught your gaze, blushing and quickly looking away.

“So,” You said, turning to Nesta. “What are we learning today?”

“More strength exercises, apparently.” Nesta huffed, groaning and clutching her stomach. “My abs are still killing me from yesterday.”

“Are we ready to go, or just going to sit there complaining all day?” Came Cassian’s loud voice. The four of you exchanged a glance, huffing as you stood up and kicked your mats to the side.

You liked Gwyn and Emerie. You could tell Nesta was relaxed around them in a way she wasn’t with the others in the court. You found no jealousy churning in your gut, only pride. Nesta having friends was a huge step, but then you realized something – eventually, you and Nesta would leave the Night Court. Gwyn and Emerie would have to be left behind, unless somehow they were okay with your plan and snuck away with you. But two females fleeing the Night Court was already risky enough, let alone adding two others to the mix.

We’ll worry about that later. You said to yourself, taking a deep breath and extending into the position Cassian was demonstrating.

*********************

“Nesta,” Cassian said after the four of you collapsed onto the mat, panting from exhaustion. “If you were to name a sword, what would you call it?”

Gwyn answered, though she hadn’t been asked, “Silver Majesty.”

Emerie snorted. “Really?”

Gwyn demanded, “What would you call it?”

Emerie considered. “Foe Slayer, or something. Something intimidating.”

You laughed. “That’s no better!”

Nesta’s mouth tugged upward at their teasing. Gwyn looked to her, teal eyes bright. “Which one is worse: Foe Slayer or Silver Majesty?”

“Silver Majesty,” Nesta said, and Emerie crowed with triumph. Gwyn waved a hand, booing.

“What would you call it?” Cassian asked Nesta again. You paused, confused as to why he was so persistent. Apparently, Nesta was the same because she glanced to you before speaking up.

“Why do you want to know?” She asked.

“Humor me.”

She lifted a brow. But then said with all sincerity. “Killer.”

His brows flattened.

Nesta shrugged. “I don’t know. Is it necessary to name a sword?”

“Just tell me: If you had to name a sword, what would you call it?”

“Are you getting her one as a Winter Solstice present?” You asked.

“No.”

“Then why keep asking?” You pressed, eyes fixed on Cassian suspiciously.

Cassian scowled. “Curiosity.”

But his jaw tightened, but you knew it wasn’t that – there was something else.

Why would he want you to name a sword? You asked Nesta.

No idea. She replied. I went to a blacksmith with him a few days ago and helped forge some blades. But that’s it.

“Back to work,” he said, clapping his hands and interrupting your thoughts. “For all that sass, you’re doing double time on the Valkyrie lunge hold.”

Emerie and Gwyn groaned, but Nesta surveyed Cassian for another moment before following their lead. You glanced at Azriel, puzzled, but he averted his gaze. You immediately grew even more suspicious – normally he’d just stare at you with that blank expression, revealing nothing. But his avoidance made you question what he wasn’t telling you.

Just over an hour later, you were back on your stretching mats cooling down. Legs shaking from the grueling exercises, you took a sip of your water before realizing it was empty.

“Here, give it to me.” Emerie said, extending her hand and taking your cup. “Gwyn and I are going to get more water before we all die of thirst.”

“Thanks!” You called out as the Illyrian female and the priestess headed over to the water station. Nesta glanced towards you, and you heard her voice in your head.

I’m going to talk to Cassian.

Before you could stop her, she stood up and stomped over with her arms crossed. You glanced at Gwyn and Emerie, who were too deep in their own conversation to notice. Continuing to stretch, you listened in the direction of Nesta and Cassian.

“Why were you pestering me about naming a sword?” You heard her demand.

Cassian’s voice sounded in return, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. “I just wanted to know what you’d name one.”

“That’s not an answer. Why do you want to know?”

He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. “Do you remember when we went to the blacksmith?”

“Yes. He’s giving me a blade for Winter Solstice?”

“He’s given you three. The ones you touched.”

Silence.

You heard the general tapping his foot on the ground. “When you hammered those blades, you imbued them—the two swords and the dagger—with your power. The Cauldron’s power. They’re now magic blades. And I’m not talking nice, pretty magic. I’m talking big, ancient magic that hasn’t been seen in a long, long time. There are no magic weapons left. None. They were either lost or destroyed or dumped in the sea. But you just Made three of them. You created a new Dread Trove. You could create even more objects, if you wished.”

“I Made three magic weapons?” Disbelief rang in her voice.

“We don’t know yet what manner of magic they have, but yes.” You turned towards the water station to see Emerie and Gwyn halting their chatting, as if they could see or sense the shift in Nesta. You turned towards her and Cassian, and you didn’t have to see her face to know anger was rising in her eyes.

“Who is ‘we’?” Nesta hissed.

“What?” Cassian said.

“You said ‘We don’t know what manner of magic they have.’ Who is ‘we’?”

“Rhys and Feyre and the others.”

“And how long have all of you known about this?”

He winced as he realized his error. “I ... Nesta ...”

“How long?” Her voice became sharp as glass. Everyone was watching now.

“This isn’t the place to talk about it.”

“You’re the one trying to coax a name out of me in the middle of training!” She gestured to the ring.

Cassian’s face grew pained. “This isn’t coming out the way it should. We argued about whether to tell you, but we took a vote and it went in your favor. Because we trust you. I just ... hadn’t gotten a chance to bring it up yet.”

“There was a possibility you wouldn’t even tell me? You all sat around and judged me, and then you voted?” You could feel something deep in Nesta’s chest cracking, to know that every horrible thing about her had been analyzed.

“It ... Fuck.” Cassian reached for her, but she stepped back. Everyone was staring now. “Nesta, this isn’t ...”

“Who. Voted. Against me.”

“Rhys and Amren.”

You sucked in a breath. Rhys was not a surprise – he hated Nesta and everyone knew it. You personally were not surprised by Amren, but could tell by the way Nesta froze that she was hurt. She had told you briefly that she shared a sort of friendship with the female once, before it all went to shit.

Cassian’s eyes widened. “Nesta—”

“I’m fine,” She said coldly. “I don’t care.”

She rolled her shoulders and strolled back to where you all were watching. Gwyn and Emerie looked at her with concern, but she did not acknowledge it. She left the ring without looking back at Cassian, or any of you.

Emerie was on her heels instantly, trailing her down the stairs. “What’s wrong?” You heard her say.

“Nothing,” Nesta’s reply came. “Court business.”

“Are you all right?” Gwyn asked, a step behind Emerie.

“Yes.” Nesta said before vanishing down the hallway. You wanted to go after her, but held back, remembering that Cassian and Azriel had to think you two were still only on your way to making full amends.

Talk to me. You begged, but no response came. You heard nothing but felt the roaring in her head. Nesta had gone silent again.

*********************

It had been hours, despite your searching Nesta was nowhere to be found. You looked in every corner of the House you could think – the library, her room, your reading nook, nothing. Nesta had not reached out to you either, but you hoped once she calmed down she would.

Your mind wheeled from earlier. Nesta had made a new trove, and the Inner Circle didn’t even tell her – Cassian wasn’t even going to tell her, he only did because it slipped out by mistake. It was apparent they felt entitled to not only Nesta’s autonomy, but her powers as well.

Stomach churning, you crawled into bed and tried to sleep.

*********************

The next day came, and nothing was heard from Nesta. Azriel had not come to check on you either. Something was wrong.

*********************

Nothing the next day.

*********************

On the third day, you stood on the balcony. Your eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, hair unkept. You hadn’t slept once since Nesta disappeared, and nobody had told you anything. Training was suspended temporarily with no explanation, and worry nagged away at your gut. You had no idea where Nesta was.

Please, You begged her for the millionth time. Let me know you’re okay. I’ll do anything, Nesta. Just… please tell me you’re ok.

You felt a sudden gust of wind behind you, cooling the sweat on the back of your neck. You turned around, seeing Azriel. A few feet behind him was Rhysand, which filled you with dread. The High Lord looked haggard, his raven-black hair disheveled and his black shirt wrinkled. Azriel didn’t look much better either.

You stormed over. “What the hell is going on?” You demanded, not caring who you were talking to. Rage took over, that familiar sea of anger rose inside of you.

“(Y/N)...” Azriel began, taking a step towards you.

“Where have you been?” You cut him off, glaring. “What the hell happened that everyone disappeared for over two days? Where is Nesta?”

“Let me explain–”

“You…” You hissed at Rhysand, pushing past the spymaster. You stormed to the High Lord, who looked defeated. “This is all your fault.”

“What are you talking about?” Rhys’ voice was flat.

“I heard Nesta and Cassian arguing,” You hissed. “She made some sort of magic weapon accidentally and instead of telling her and letting her help decide what to do, you voted about it without her? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

The High Lord’s violet eyes sharpened, and he glared at you. You felt his presence surrounding you, pushing you to submit to him, to his power. Instead, you ignored it, staring down the male who you hated so much.

“Nesta is fine.” He said sternly.

“Then where is she?” You demanded, cocking your head. “Why did she just disappear?”

Rhysand growled. “She’s with Cassian, they’ve gone away for a couple of days.”

“Rhys…” Azriel’s deep voice sounded from behind you. The High Lord’s simmering violent gaze went glassy for a split second, but enough for you to know that he was telling his spymaster something.

“No,” Azriel said firmly, striding over to face his High Lord. “She deserves to know.”

You furrowed your brows. “Know what?”

Rhysand hissed. “Quiet.”

“No,” Azriel growled. “You put your trust in me to supervise her, and I say that she deserves to know what’s going on.”

“I’m with the shadowsinger on this one.” You said, folding your arms across your chest. Rhysand had not moved, just continued to glare down at you.

He didn’t trust you, that much was easy enough to detect. He still judged you for being from Tamlin’s court, as if you were responsible for Tamlin’s actions against Feyre. No matter how hard you worked, no matter if 500 years went by of you proving your loyalty over and over again to the High Lord, he would never trust you. He would always watch you from the corner of his eye with doubt.

“Fucking tell me.” You growled, fists curling. A scarred hand clasped your shoulder and squeezed, urging you to calm down.

“Come, I’ll explain.” Azriel said softly before glaring at Rhys. “I’m telling her, Rhysand. And if you want to stop me you’re going to have to use that mind control of yours.”

The High Lord’s jaw clenched, darkness filling the area. “I think you’ve grown too close to the matter, Azriel.” His tone was commanding and lethal. “Let’s go.”

“No.” You interjected, yanking your shoulder out from under Azriel’s hand. “You’re going to tell me what happened, right here, right now. And he’s going to shut up and give answers.”

Azriel bit his lip, possibly worried that Rhysand would strike you down there and then. He placed himself between you two. “Okay.” He said firmly. “You know how Feyre is pregnant, right?”

“Yes.” You said, caught off guard for a moment. Azriel’s voice sounded distorted as you got lost in your own mind, recalling Nesta’s words. That’s when we also found out Feyre was pregnant, although Rhys later told us that the pregnancy would kill her since the baby has wings.

“...so he decided to keep it from her until a solution was found.” Azriel continued, recapturing your attention.

“Let me guess, you haven’t found one and Feyre doesn’t know.” You stated, looking at Rhysand instead of Azriel. The High Lord said nothing, only continued clenching his jaw and glaring at you.

“Not yet,” Azriel said calmly. “But she does know now. In her anger from the vote, Nesta decided to storm into the city and tell Feyre about what everyone else knew – that the baby would kill her.”

“Good.” You shot back, furious – while Feyre was far from your favourite person, she was a female who deserved to be able to make a choice about what to do with her body and the baby that was killing her. “Feyre deserved to know, you idiots. How could you keep this from her?”

“Nesta told Feyre to hurt her and to spite me,” Rhysand growled. “Not because she had her best interest in mind.”

No shit, You thought. Nesta owed you nothing. She had all her choices taken from her, and she wasn’t about to let that happen to her sister.

“Shut up, Rhys.” Azriel growled, causing the High Lord to blink in surprise. “But yes, she told her out of anger. Everyone got mad, and Cassian grabbed her to get her out of Velaris. They’re staying in the mountains for a few days until everything calms down.”

Your blood stilled. Something didn’t make sense – you understood taking a few hours apart, but days? Either Azriel wasn’t telling you something, or Rhysand was withholding information from his shadowsinger. You heard stories of the heightened emotions that went along with having a mate. If Feyre was upset and Nesta had been the cause of that, Rhysand would have been angry as hell. Possibly angry enough to….

“You threatened to kill Nesta, didn’t you?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your gaze landed on the High Lord.

He didn’t answer, so you spoke again, louder. “Didn’t you? That’s why Cassian had to stay away for a few days with Nesta, because he was worried that you’d kill your mate’s sister.”

Azriel furrowed his brows, the first time you’d ever seen him confused. “That’s not true,” He said, but his voice was flat, as if he was trying to convince himself of it as he turned to his High Lord. “Right Rhys?”

The High Lord of the Night Court gave no answer, darkness curling around his fingertips as he stared you down. You could tell he wanted nothing more than to mist you on sight – you laid him bare and tore him down in front of his most trusted friend, exposing him for what he really was. And he hated it.

“Rhys?” Azriel’s voice lowered.

Rhysand finally spoke after a few seconds. “I’m not going to hurt Nesta.”

“But you threatened to?” You challenged.

“Yes.”

Azriel sighed. “Are you fucking kidding me, Rhys?”

A rage that you hadn’t felt before bubbled up inside you. The High Lord of the Night Court, who let the females in Illyria and the Hewn City suffer and be used as breeding cattle, had threatened to kill Nesta, his mate’s sister. Despite how much he claimed to love Feyre, he still treated her like any female of his court by not giving her a choice – he could offer sanctuary to the females in Illyria or the Hewn City like he had with the priestesses in the library, but he didn’t. This male insisted that the monster facade he put on for other courts was purely for show, but you knew that at his core, that’s just who he really was.

And he chased Nesta out of the city because she did what he was too afraid to do.

“This is all your fault, Rhysand.” Your voice was steady, cold as the edge of the sharpest blade. “You didn’t tell your mate that she was going to die, and you threatened to kill Nesta because she let her sister have a choice. You locked her up here because you couldn’t control her like you do the others, pretending like it was for the sake of helping her. You let two thirds of your court live in suffering, then wonder why they hate you. You’re a terrible ruler and an even worse mate, Rhysand. And you will get what’s coming to you.”

The High Lord said nothing as you turned on your heel and strode back into the House, leaving him and Azriel alone on the balcony.

*********************

The next few hours felt like a blur – part of you expected Rhysand to return and rip you to shreds for threatening him. It was stupid of you, but you didn’t regret it – you could tell by the way Azriel’s demeanor changed as he found out Rhys neglected to mention his threat to Nesta’s life that he was shocked, and mad that he was not informed of it. Maybe seeing you stand up to Rhys would give him a backbone after all.

You drifted into sleep, hoping that you wouldn’t wake up in a cell.

*********************

A gentle hand on your shoulder woke you. Your vision was blurry as you lifted a head from the pillow, the sunlight casting a golden glow on the female sitting on your bed.

Nesta.

All sleepiness was gone and you bolted upright, not caring that it made your head spin. Before you could say anything, her arms wrapped around you and held you tight. In your grogginess, you yelped and fell back, head hitting the pillow once again. Nesta followed, still clinging to you as her weight landed on top of you but you didn’t care. The hole in your chest from the past few days swelled as you held the eldest Archeron in your arms again, clutching her as if she would float away.

Tears flowed down your cheeks as Nesta nuzzled her head into your neck, her shoulders shaking, indicating she was crying too. The two of you laid there, Nesta laying on top of you and clutching onto your frame as if you were her lifeline. A white, soft glow began to shine from your sternums, merging into one beautiful light. It filled the room as you held each other in the embrace – life and death entwined into one beautiful force.

“Nesta…” You sobbed, bringing a hand up to cradle her head.

“I’m here.” Her voice was shaky as she spoke into your neck. “I’m here, darling.”

“Azriel told me everything,” You choked out between sobs. “About Feyre and the fight. And the mountains. And Rhys… he threatened to kill you….”

“I’m so sorry…” Nesta’s voice was muffled. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh.. It’s not your fault.”

“I wanted to reach out, I really did. But I couldn’t. I just broke out there, I wanted to die. I couldn’t do it.”

Fresh tears washed out the dried ones, and you held her closer. You wanted to burn Rhysand and his inner circle to the ground for this, for breaking Nesta down until she truly believed she was unworthy of life and love.

“It’s okay,” You said quietly. “You’re here now. You’re safe.”

Nesta took a deep breath, but didn’t lift her head from your neck. She just kept holding you. “We hiked through those mountains for two days.” She whispered, voice hoarse. “Cassian was so mad at me. He had me haul the backpacks, he didn’t notice when I fainted. He didn’t speak to me unless it was to order me to eat or drink. Then when I broke, he held me. I thought he was going to stand up for me, say what Rhys did was wrong, that all of this was wrong. But then he wanted to fuck me just a few hours later. That’s all I am to him, isn’t it? Something to fuck but not enough to love?”

“Did you…?” Your voice trailed off, embarrassed for asking. You felt bad, regretting the question even though it had not fully formed.

“No.” She said quietly. “He was surprised. He tried a few times, but didn’t push it. He respected my decision, but I think he could tell something had changed.”

You inhaled deeply, letting her scent fill your nose. You missed it, craved it while she was gone in a way you couldn’t quite understand. Everything you did, every move and plan you made to escape the Night Court at its core was for Nesta. The female who laid on top of you, curled into your arms, had fought so hard and been through so much. She had been forced into a life she didn’t want, and would have to live in it for the rest of her immortal life. You wanted to get out of the Night Court not just for yourself, but so Nesta could have a chance to truly live.

“Besides,” Nesta said, lifting her head and staring down at you with grey eyes glistening with tears. “Cassian isn’t the one I wanted to do this to.”

Nesta leaned town and pressed her lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into the kiss, grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her closer. Her soft lips tasted as sweet as you remembered, but this kiss was different than the last one. Last time, it was all fire and desperation, but this one was sure and intimate. Nesta’s weight on top of you was comforting, her legs tangled with yours as she tried to get as close to you as possible. Your lips broke apart for air. Your heart fluttered as she tilted her head and kissed you again, stroking your tear stained cheek with her hand. It was passionate, but not rough or overly sexual like you were pretty sure she was used to with Cassian – it was a kiss that came from the heart, just sexual desire.

The drums of time slowed down as your lips melted together. The glow between your chests continued to shine like starlight, shutting off the outside world. There was no Rhysand to threaten you, no Troves or death gods – it was just you two.

Needing air again, your lips broke apart. Nesta took a shaky breath, pressing her forehead into yours.

“It’s you.” She said breathlessly. “It’s always been you.”

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