#stupid bastard (affectionate and derogatory) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesistersarcheron · 3 months

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Pairing: Elriel Rating: E Word Count: ~4k Tags: PWP, Smut, Outdoor Sex, Feral Behavior, Dominant Azriel, Slight Degradation Kink, Forbidden Love & Secret Relationships, Established Relationship, Post-ACOSF, princess (derogatory), princess (affectionate) Summary: After Rhys reiterates his orders from that wretched Solstice night months later, Azriel snaps, and Elain quite happily earns herself a new nickname.

The long-awaited sequel to Breathless!

Read this fic on AO3 or check out a snippet under the cut.

The heat of high summer threatened to roast Azriel alive as he flew over Velaris. His shadows shrouded him from the worst of it, cool and mistlike where they lay against his skin, but even they could not fully shield his exposed wings from the sun’s furious glare.

Keep your hands off of my fucking princess.

Rhysand’s voice still echoed in his mind, the memory a fresh hell that was certain to haunt Azriel during his sleepless nights.

If you can’t get your mind out from between her legs, then you could at least pretend to have a shred of respect for her position.

Clenching his jaw against the fury gathering in his throat, Azriel tucked his wings, angling for the ground. Nosediving through the air was reckless, thoughtless—a move that would have gotten him whipped as a novice if any war camp commander had seen—but he savored the wind that stung his eyes and tore at his hair.

This rush of adrenaline felt better than the vicious, lung-shredding unworthiness clawing at his insides. That feeling had sunk its talons into him in his cell beneath his sire’s keep and held on all his life, through wars won and promotions earned and centuries of pining for a female who never wanted him back.

And just when he thought he might have shaken it…

Now that Nesta has publicly accepted her bond with Cassian, Elain is the closest thing the Night Court has to a princess. And I won’t let you ruin the opportunity in front of us with your cock.

It was back.

In an instant, Az was just a nameless bastard again, clothed in rags and kept secret behind a door locked from the outside. A small, weak boy who had only scarred, ravaged hands and shadows that drove him near to madness to his name.

He burned to think of the way Rhys’s cold eyes had pinned him to his seat in his heavily warded study in the House of Wind—black, empty pits of night void of any trace of stars. Though Azriel put everything he had into reinforcing the walls of ice around his mind, a ravenous, beastly feeling had stirred at the sight of the disdain in his brother’s expression.

Hell, he’d almost had to rustle his wings just to remind himself that they were no longer two emaciated, useless things hanging limply off his back for well over five centuries.

He had held off though—barely. If only so Rhys didn’t witness that moment of insecurity.

You know better than anyone how many eyes are on her. I won’t have her dragged through the scandal sheets every week like Cresseida and the Vanserra brothers. I expect you can respect that, at the very least?

Azriel could. The gossipmongers of Prythian had better spies than most governments. He could only imagine the malicious horse shit they would sell on every newsstand and street corner if they got the faintest hint of a rumor about the High Lady of Night’s quiet, reclusive sister.

The ground rushed toward him, but he waited until his shadows cried out in fright to snap open his wings. Every muscle and tendon in his back screamed with agony as he caught the wind, pulling out of his dive with a low groan.

While you were gone, Elain expressed a desire to take a more active role in the politics of this court. She cannot do that if she is embroiled in a fucking feud between my spymaster and the gods-damned Autumn Court.

Azriel, stupid with rage, had opened his mouth then. Can’t she? Feyre’s reputation hardly suffered after being caught between two High L—

Even now, with the wind roaring in his ears and his own wingbeats defeaning him, Azriel could hear the ear-splitting CRACK! as Rhysand’s hands slammed onto the desk he so rarely used.

The desk he only used when he wanted to speak to Azriel alone these days.

Keep your hands off of my fucking princess.

The snarling command played on a loop in Azriel’s head.

And here he was, soaring low over the rooftops of the city, so easily identifiable in his leathers and Siphons.

Reckless.

Stupid.

Everyone would see him.

People would talk.

He didn’t give a single shit.

He glided over the theater district, the Rainbow. The shadows whispered of shady dealings at the Palaces as they quickly passed beneath him—more insider trading from the governors, apparently, and Azriel tucked the information away for later—and gave way to the Sidra, which snaked down to the grander estates on the river’s eastern banks…

Neat, manicured hedgerows and alabaster stone crept into view.

Azriel hadn’t originally planned to go back to the River House at all after Rhysand summoned him out of the city for a meeting in the House of Wind. It was too risky, knowing Feyre would be home from her evening stroll to put the baby to bed by then. But his head went quiet at the sight of freshly trimmed rose bushes and clean-swept gravel paths.

His feet touched down between the dahlias and the petunias.

And there she was, wielding a spade against the weeds that had terrorized her rhododendrons since the spring. It was undoubtedly hard work; as he watched, she sat back on her heels and swept the back of her hand over her glistening forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt on her smooth brow.

Elain, the shadows sighed fondly, forgetting the hell Azriel had just put them through.

One, a bold ribbon of utmost darkness, cooed, Princess.

As if Elain could hear the damned things calling to her, she turned her eyes toward him, squinting into the sun. Azriel’s chest squeezed with tenderness as her full lips formed a smile for him. Just for him.

“Azr— Oh!”

Azriel was upon her in three steps, falling to his knees in the cool patch of dirt beside her and hooking an arm around her waist. With his other hand, he took hold of her wrist, disarmed her in a swift, gentle twist of his. He tossed her spade into a bed across the gravel path.

Better not to have sharp objects anywhere near her right now.

Her tinkling laughter trickled over him like water, a moment of cool relief from the sweltering day. ”Azriel, what in the world brought this on?”

He didn’t say a word.

He wound the thick length of her hair around his fist and kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle kiss—it was clashing teeth and bruised lips and sharp, possessive nips until he tasted precious metal on his tongue.

--- Continue on AO3.

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #my fics #a court of thorns and roses fic #azriel shadowsinger #elain x azriel #touch me hold me tell me #breathless

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 3 years

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Hihihi this is may be a weird question but is your opinion on the main hypmic cast?

In brief:

(Spoiler alert: It was not brief. Stuck under a cut for length)

Ichirou: He's a good kid. I wasn’t super into him at first, as main protagonists very rarely hold my interest, but I appreciate him now for the struggles he goes through and the growth he’s experienced across the series.

Jirou: Jirou is also a good kid in his own way. I didn’t know what to do with him for a while, but now I feel like I understand him too. I don’t think he quite gets what makes Ichirou be as loved as he is, nor does he really understand what makes people love him for who he is. But that’s okay. He’ll get it someday.

Saburou: If you had tasked me as a fourteen year old to create an idealized anime boy sona, I would have come up with someone shockingly similar to Saburou. I’m fond of him. He can be a bit mean at times in a very fourteen way, but deep down, he’s a good kid too. All the BBs are good kids.

Samatoki: I just can’t not make fun of him. His posturing is so ridiculous to me that I am constantly filled with the urge to clown on him. Oh, you think you’re so tough? You think you’re a big tough guy? Well, I’m just a little bastard; what are you going to do about it? But underneath the posturing, I do feel sorry for him and admire his strengths a lot. He’s a good kid too under a very funny exterior.

Juuto: I’m enjoying learning more about him from the BB/MTC+ manga, but I’m a bit surprised at how much of a dick he is even deep down. Still, he has plenty of good qualities too, and I like him in a vague sort of way. I’d throw fruit at him over a fence but wouldn’t put any malice in it.

Riou: What a delightful individual he is. The BB/MTC chapter about him really resonated with me. For a character so outwardly obsessed with the military, Riou has an incredible understanding of the weight of his actions and such a deep appreciation for every living thing. There’s a lot of his depth to his simplicity, and the level of care he exhibits towards everyone is delightful to witness. An absolute favorite among the cast.

Ramuda: Self-recognition through the other (derogatory). In all seriousness, Ramuda’s story arc and actions are great narrative tools for me to examine some things about myself and grow to try to be a better, more considerate person towards myself and others. I want to see him achieve freedom and happiness.

Gentarou: I enjoy Gentarou quite a bit, although I think he gets overshadowed by the other members of Fling Posse at times due to my sheer passion for Dice and Ramuda. He’s my favorite character to translate at the moment, which is apparently heresy among Hypmic translators. More than the sheer fun of writing his witty banter, I find him to be a very intriguing individual, and I’m excited to learn more about him. I want his happiness too.

Dice: Oh, Dice... He’s a really good kid in a way that the BBs could never be. He’s deceptively good, and he does choose to hurt other people and himself in ways that characters like Ichirou don’t. But he also finds the goodness in the oddest places, like a person finding a coin in a cracked sidewalk, and that’s delightful. His narrative is one of the most compelling for me. What a champion of a character.

Jakurai: Wow, what a good foil for Ramuda. Let me bounce narratives off of you like a mirror. I’m slowly learning to find him compelling in his own right, however. This is also a self-recognition through the other (derogatory) scenario, but there’s more of an emphasis on the derogatory part.

Hifumi: A funny little individual bearing a lot of sadness and a whole lot more courage. Like most of Matenrou, I admire him a lot, but I think that Matenrou resonates much more strongly with other people than they do for me, so I prefer to sit back and let other people appreciate them. I think he’s very brave and very fun to read/write.

Doppo: The biggest fucking mood in existence. When you move past the stereotypical aspects, you end up with another character who has a lot of deep flaws but also an incredible amount of courage. I’m excited to see where they go with him, but again, I’ll sit back and let others take the first row here.

Kuukou: Having already drafted Saburou, if you came back to me at age eighteen and asked me to make an idealized anime boy sona, you would probably have ended up with a character astonishingly like Kuukou. He brings me sheer joy. Astonishingly, I feel like Kuukou has exhibited the least growth out of any of the cast, and yet I do not mind a bit. He is the closest to the perfect man I have ever met. I would drop everything to be this dude’s homie if he existed in real life. Just a champion individual.

Juushi: Juushi’s a good kid. I’m very fond of him and like writing him, but much like Matenrou, I feel like he does a lot more for other people than he does for me. Therefore, much of how I work with him is less, “How do I enjoy this character as a reader?” and more “How do I nurture the traits about him that other people love?”

Hitoya: Hitoya strikes me as a damn good person with a lot of heart who sometimes lets his anger drive him a bit too much. He’s also utterly ridiculous, of course, but I try to write him with as much strength as possible to be present behind his words. He honestly seems like a great person to know in real life, not simply as a fictional character, as well.

Sasara: I have to clown on him to assert dominance. Joking aside, I admire the depths of his character and the growth he’s shown over the series. He can be pretty callous at times and goes to odd lengths to get what he wants, but I think he’s now starting to realize how much his actions affect other people. For a while I was really in his camp as a hardcore Sasara lover (back before he was a main cast member - I love writing quirky minor characters), but now I approach him with the idea mentioned above, ie how I can present him for other people.

Roshou: Whenever he’s around the rest of Dotsu Hon, I think he’s kind of an idiot. I mean that in the best way possible. It’s very endearing. Yet moments when he’s on his own are where I think he best shines, and I would love to see more solo material for him. He’s an incredibly good support character, and I admire his passion for his students.

Rei: I really enjoy asshole antagonists, which is why I liked Ramuda for a while before the clone story came up behind me and struck me into the ground with its mighty fists. Now Rei fills this role. I would love to learn more about him and team up with the Buster Bros to pelt him with rotten eggs in a fun bonding activity. I’m sure there is some strong backstory that will absolve him of at least some of his shittiness, but until now, I’m still not excusing his whole abandoning his children thing, not to mention the human trafficking thing he pulled with Ramuda.

Otome: I hate translating her, if only because she and Rei frequently talk about things in extremely vague terms that I have no context for. It’s hard to make her sound idiomatic in English while also not shooting myself in the foot by accidentally filling in the wrong information. But with that aside, she’s okay. I like her, I guess. Her motivations are pretty interesting.

Ichijiku: Ichijiku was written for people who are sexually attracted to women, and I’m not at all, so I 100% approach her in terms of her pull on other people. She’s fun on her own, though, and I’m impressed at her ability to walk in high heels. Her complete disrespect for everyone but Otome brings me no end of entertainment in reading and writing.

Nemu: YOU. Maybe this is some stupid toxic masculinity thing, but I always feel embarrassed speaking affectionately about male characters but not at all about female characters. Therefore Nemu gets all of my loveposting. She’s a wonderful girl! She has such a strong spirit, and I’m completely overjoyed that she’s making her own decisions and becoming her own character defined on her own terms. I want to watch her grow up big and strong. Fuck yes, baby girl! Fuck it up! I’m very proud of her.

#not a translation #asks #hypmic asks

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vinylhazza · 4 years

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Can you write a lil thing about confiding in your best friend (either twin) about your abusive relationship and then he helps you leave and shows you real love. I'm in a abusive relationship atm and I wish I had it :(

LEAVE HIM FOR ME (G.D)

warning: mention of physical abuse, trauma, mention of sexual abuse, angst, fluff

*italics are flashbacks/past conversations*

grayson would have been trying for so long to figure out where the bruises were coming from. he stopped at nothing to try and pry the information out of you until he finally started to back up after you got angry at him one evening for not letting it go.

“just let it the fuck go grayson, i fell. i told you that.” or “yeah straightener is a bitch you know? you’re not a girl you wouldn’t understand gray, i’m okay.”

you knew he was trying to help, but feared that giving them the knowledge would only make it worse. your jackass of a boyfriend was dangerous, you knew it even if he didn’t. he could hurt him, and that was the last thing on earth you would ever want - for grayson to be hurt. you would get teary eyes and a flustered blush when he noticed your frown at the mention of the bastards name. it was like a shock to your system. with grayson...everything was different. you weren’t weak. you weren’t some piece of meat that could be abused and used whenever he pleased. you weren’t a derogatory name that seemed to define you.

he kept you safe. he kept you warm when you shivered. he made sure you ate when he notices you haven’t touched a single piece of food all day, takes e time to cook your favorite meal of all. he would care for you, wait on your every hand and foot when you felt ill, make that special soup his ma taught him when he was younger, he knows how much it helps. he braids your hair to help you calm down, and he’s actually very good at it. something about the tenderness and care he gives you when he’s messing with your hair immediately eases your stress, and you don’t know it, but he has a small smile the entire time.

God that man would love the fuck out of you, just waiting in the shadows for you to see that he was right there, waiting to give you all the love that he could give. Grayson’s love language was physical touching, he loved to have his hair played with, back scratches, hugs that last too long, having your legs propped up over his lap as you watch a netflix special. he often watches you close in those moments, running his own fingers through your hair, deep slow massages, and sometimes....he even leaned in for a kiss on your cheek, your forehead, and when he was especially clingy, your neck. you didn’t think anything of, even tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach - the butterflies swirling around like a tornadoe. and you especially ignore the clenching in your lower region, trying to convince yourself it’s not him in particular but the lack of affectionate touches you never receive from your boyfriend.

deep down, you know your heart tells you different. but you aren’t a cheater and how could you leave? you know he would come after you, after your family, after grayson, even after ethan if he’s as crazy as you thought he was.

the first time he hit you, was the first night he ever yelled at you as well. it had been sudden, out of nowhere, shocking. he was...not right that day. he was irritable, not really speaking to you all that much...just quite frankly being a dick. your love language is physical touch just like graysons, but...not that kind. you had just wanted to hug him, maybe give him a reassuring squeeze to let him know you were there to help him and be there for him through whatever it was he was struggling with. you know how hard it is to be in your own head and have no one to share your pain with.

but his hand slapping into like a tidal wave prevented that from ever happening.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?! can’t you see i want to be left the fuck alone?! are you fucking dumb?! get out!”

you spent the whole night crying, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you tight, a bag of frozen peas pressed up against your right cheek. in the morning when you woke up with a groan, you stumbled into the bathroom to find a black and blue bruise right along your cheek bone - a hateful looking mark. this...this wasn’t love.

“such a slutty, dumb little bitch. thinking you can wear that out and strut around like a whore? then i’ll treat you like a whore.”

he never apologized and the violence never stopped. the punches became more frequent, and it was getting so hard for you to hide them that you began making excuses: falling, fluke accidents that sometimes made no sense, dropping something, bumping into things. but everytime you made up a lie, it took a piece of you away. a piece of you that you felt would always in some way be connected to him. to his viscous words, actions, and those little moments that kept convincing you to stay.

you stayed for the rare moments he would smile, the times that would remind you of the man you fell for - the one that didn’t exist anymore. you knew you were foolish and anyone with a brain could see right through your stupid lies and excuses, but you simply avoided talking about him. he made you think it’s what you deserved. and after a while you believed it.

you stopped being sexually attracted to him in the very beginning, when the hitting first began...but he...he was a man of selfish desire. take what he wants and be on his way, keep treating you like dirt, keep kicking you while he knew you had no fighting chance. he took advantage of your body, used you like a toy and threw you away. made you think it was a yes even when you screamed no. a hand over your mouth, his tongue down your throat, you didn’t have a choice.

grayson knew it all along. he knew the bastard hit you. he knew the disgusting filth of a man you would go ‘home’ to. he knew it wasn’t your true home. your home was him. your home was grayson. but you had to keep him safe, hence the reason you never admitted to the consistent mental, physical, and sexual abuse. but grayson refused to do nothing, stand by and watch the women he loved suffer all alone, determined to be your knight in shining armor, save you from the villain trying to ruin your beautiful life so full of purpose.

“what am i supposed to do e? he’s hurting her, like really hurting her. the bruise on her neck isn’t a fucking burn it looks like a goddamn hand was choking her to death. what am i supposed to do? tell me what to do.”

Distraught was an understatement when it came to a teary eyed grayson sitting at the foot of his brothers bed. you had left after a movie night, having to lie to your boyfriend and tell him you were at a girlfriends house, you’ve already been beat up for even mentioning graysons name. you would never make that mistake again.

ethan sat straight up against his headboard, pulling at the stubble on his chin, brow furrowed with a concerned, and angry, scowl.

“the asshole thinks he can just get away with hurting her because she sits there and takes it...it’s killing me. God how did she get herself into this mess...i just feel...useless. i’m supposed to protect her e, that’s what you do for the people you love and i fucking fail her over and over again everyone i let her walk out the front door of this house,” grayson grumbled, leaning over the bed with his head in his hands. his shoulders were tensing, something that usually happens when he’s especially stressed or upset about something.

“i’m sure ‘taking it’ isn’t exactly what she’s doing. she’s scared. he’s a big guy gray, a dangerous guy, he can really do damage to her if she tries to fight him back,” ethan mutters, not wanting to make his brother more upset. it didn’t seem to be working, “you know this isn’t her fault and so do i gray. a man like that will stop at nothing to control her every move. it’s an act of dominance, control, he wants to rule every action, every thought, every move she might make. if we do anything, we need to do it fast, and do it in a clever way that won’t get her fucking killed by that psychopath.

“it’s just impossible to sit here and have her flinch when i try to touch her...i would never fucking hurt her. i never have. and i know it’s so hard for her to trust anyone with all of the shit she has to deal with...but God dammit i would move heaven and hell for that girl and i need to save her,” grayson sits up, a noticeable tear streaming down his face. his love was evident in his every word, “i’ll take my time. make her see she deserves better. whatever the fuck she needs to convince her to leave that dumbfuck, i’ll do it. i just need help e, that’s all i’m asking.”

“of course gray, you know i got your back. and i have y/n’s too. we are gonna get her away from that creep and show her what real love is. not that fake disgusting shit he claims it is. doesn’t even know what the fuck it means and he has no business using that word frankly.” ethan’s tone is clipped, sharp, and deep - he would do whatever he could to get away just like grayson would. granted he’s not in love with you, but he doesn’t have love for you, and he would still do anything to protect you, “but be patient with her. a guy like that stops at nothing to tear down a woman until she thinks she deserves what’s coming to her. she accepts the pain because she is trained to live in silence. we need to break that silence and make sure that she knows it’s okay to tell us and we would never put her in danger.”

there is silence for a moment, full of tension, worry, for their friend. graysons worries if he speaks, he might cry. instead he ops for bouncing his knee in a steady rhythm, something you taught him to do when he felt restless. and it helps. but with a deep breath he’s turning back to ethan.

“okay so, how do we do it?” grayson stands, ready to take on whatever it is to get her in his arms safe and sound. even if that means hurting her jackass of a boyfriend. hopefully soon to be ex, he thought.

“well, i think maybe tricking her into a little intervention is the only way to go about it. or maybe one of us can convince her to spill the beans. it might be too much on her if we both start hounding her with questions she’s scared to answer. i’m sure some of them are very personal. we can’t freak her out, she’s already so fragile.” grayson knew he was right. he needs to proceed with caution. maybe if he could convince her he’s who she belongs with...confesses to his desires and wishes maybe she would have the strength to leave. if that’s even what she wanted. if not it would ruin their friendship and she would still be in a bad situation.

“true...if we go to their apartment fists up and ready to fight, it will probably make it worse and fall back on her. she’s doesn’t need any more problems than she already has. i mean hell, she’s even scared to sleep anymore,” grayson ponders. he remembers the nights she would stay over when her boyfriend was away gallivanting with whatever floosy he could find. cheating abusive bastard that he was. then it dawned on him.

“what if, and hear me out, what if we just move her out and have her live with us? i mean the guy doesn’t know where we live and fuck it i’ll get security if i have to. we’ve been needing it for a while anyway. she would be safe, protected, and with her closest friends who wouldn’t let a damn thing happen to her,” grayson tried to explain himself, gauging ethans reaction to see if he had a disapproving face.

to his surprise, he didn’t. in fact, it was like a lightbulb clicked inside of his head. with a clap of his hands he’s standing.

“that’s actually a great idea. i don’t know when he leaves or whatever the dumbfuck does but when he does we can go over there and get all of her stuff out and move her in here. we just have to make sure we know when he leaves, when he comes back, and most importantly if she will even say yes.”

it was three days after when you finally stopped by. the bruises on the left side of your neck and cheekbone fading away. graysons heart broke every time he saw the purplish hue on your face. he would kill him if he could. he would do whatever it took to keep you safe. he just had to do it like a civilized human being. he knew that at least if you’re on his property and your stupid bitch if a boyfriend came by...well let’s just say he wouldn’t be so forgiving.

he pulled you into the backyard with the sun just sinking under the horizon. he wondered how you managed to sneak away without a scratch, but hopefully it would be the last time you had to.

“i need to talk to you about something,” grayson started, pulling at your hand to bring you further into the backyard, standing in the grass just beside the pool. he was nervous, palms sweating already. this was a big moment, and it could change everything for them.

“is it about the last piece of banana bread? cause i ate that like a week ago and if you just now noticed maybe you don’t really love it like you claim you-“ you started, teasing him with a smile. always the jokester. he wondered how you found the strength the smile. but he cut you off before you could finish. his frown had your smile wilting.

“i know he’s hitting you. don’t try and hide it either like you always do. you always try and cover up his abuse and his fucking disgusting behavior. and i understand you’re scared, y/n. but this ends now. i don’t care what i have to do to make you see you deserve better but this...this isn’t it. you have so much to give and deserve someone that would burn the whole fucking world down to keep you safe. so stop pretending and tell me the truth.” there it was. that face he was dreading. the face of absolute terror.

he knew. he fucking knew.

you thought you had been good at hiding it from him, from everyone really. even your mother loved your boyfriend. she often said he was “good for you” that she was happy you found him when you did because “he’s the only one that’s really ever gotten you under control”. you haven’t talked to her in months, to say the least.

grayson recieves a chest rattling silence. something he wasn’t expecting from a girl that was known for word vomit and stuttering all over herself trying to get a thought out fast enough before it slipped away. but you stared at him with wide, misty eyes. you were scared - frozen in his backyard. you couldn’t believe he had come right out and called you on your bullshit. but you knew it was coming, you tried your hardest to hide it, but grayson wasn’t stupid.

with a slow shake of your head, you swallow the tears threatening to escape your eyes. you won’t be weak in front of grayson. you spent so much time being weak because of him, but no, not in front of grayson. he deserved better than someone that couldn’t even escape a white boy she fell for after a run in at the movie theater. he deserves someone that can fight for herself.

“so you know. you and ethan i’m assuming?”

a nod with more silence. he is watching you, not exactly staring, but certainly focused on watching you try and hold yourself together. you know ethan is somewhere close by, watching this go down from his own little hide out. you’re half tempted to yell out to the house and tell him to get the hell out there and face you, but then you know you’d have to confess the truth in front of not one, but two of the most important people in your life.

“...what then? you want me to sit here and cry? you want me to break down and talk to you about all the times i’ve come over here and lied? pretending everything was okay and putting a smile on my face? because believe it or not this is my safe place and i’d rather not think of him. you make me forget. i just wanted to forget and i know that hurts you that i didn’t say anything but i don’t know what i’m supposed to do right now gray...” your voice is thick with emotion, hands coming up to twist at the flowy tank top resting on your torso. it suddently became very chilly in the backyard that felt previously warm in the suns dying moments until morning.

“i’m not letting this go. not like all those times before. i had my suspicions, had those little clues that would pop out when i reached to tuck your hair out of your face, or help you with the laundry you still do even when you don’t have to. you would jump, y/n...from me. and i would never,” he swallows, you can feel all the strength it’s taking him not to show you just how much he wants to cry, “i would never, hurt you. there isn’t a bone in my body that would ever touch you in any way other than love and adoration. i know it’s because of him. he’s - he’s fucking sick, y/n. he’s twisted and made it almost impossible for you to live a normal life. you snuck over here didn’t you? it’s nearly 8.” you know he won’t let it go until you answer, so you give him another small nod, biting at your bottom lip and flinching at the tear that drops down onto your cheek. it would wash away that pathetic layer of concealer you put on, exposing more of the purplish bruise he left there.

“where is he? let me guess - he said he was going to “tanners” right?” his voice remains calm, with just a hint of a grit there to show how truly disgusted he was by the man that abused you time and time again.

another nod and small sniffle.

you felt like a child getting caught by your parents for sneaking out.

you and grayson both knew there was no tanner. there was and never would be. it was just another girl he decided to fuck around with before coming back to control you, make you feel like the disloyal one. make you feel like the monster.

“and what happens when he comes back and you’re not there huh? what happens if he comes back early and wants you to text him a picture of where you are? actually fuck that have you even thought that maybe the psychopath put a tracker on your phone? ...why are you back away? hey hey come here it’s okay i’m not mad at you,” grayson is trailing off into an apology when he notices the distance beginning to grow between your two bodies. he was near yelling at the end of his little speech and you’ve learned enough to know what yelling means. of course he said he wouldn’t hurt you, but that’s exactly what he said in the beginning too. and look where you are now.

before you can back away from his touch any further, he’s tugging you into a hug, cradling the back of your head against his chest. his heart beat was steady, the calm thumping easing your own nerves. he never held you like this. grayson wasn’t him. it was unfair to be afraid of everyone because someone tried to stifle your fire. with your body tucked into his arms, grayson rocks side to side on the bottom of his shoes, eyes closed and chin resting on the top of your head. you liked to be held when you’re upset and overwhelmed and he knew it. it helped ground you.

he’s pulling away too soon, swiping a hand through his hair in frustration. you know it’s hard for grayson to express his emotions sometimes. giving him the same patience he gives you is the least you could do. you stand quietly in front of the tall block of muscle, arms crossed once again - a comfort mechanism you’ve taken up over the past few months - and wait for him to sort his thoughts out and try again.

“i didn’t mean to yell but dammit, y/n. i mean it when i say you can trust me. i know he’s ruined so many things but this - us - isn’t going to be one of them. he doesn’t get the satisfaction of pushing us apart. you -“ a huff “you’re too...special to let go. and it’s his own fault he can’t see it.” from the dead serious look in his hazel eyes, you know he means every word.

you wouldn’t say grayson is entirely closed off, especially when he’s always touching you in secret, tender ways when no one else is looking. he tells you secrets he’s scared to tell anyone else. he’s not a secret. he’s just in some way...scared just like you.

“gray i don’t know what to tell you...it’s not as easy as you’re making it seem. and yeah he has ways of tracking me i’m sure, but i can’t just go without you you idiot. that would kill me. it would fucking break me and i hate that you’re making me admit it.” he frowns at the break in your voice.

“leave him,” graysons voice is soft, but more serious than you’ve ever heard it. so deep rooted with...something you can’t quite catch...that it makes you shiver.

“gray...”

it’s not that simple. you can’t leave a man that has his grip on you too tight. you can’t just leave a man that has made it his goal to make sure it never happens. you can’t just leave because you wish to be with the love of your life...you can’t just...want love when you’re trapped with no hope of escape. especially when that very same person whose love you yearn for is promising it to you, unknowing of the sure consequence.

he doesn’t give you a chance to turn him down, say anything more that will certainly be a way to weasel yourself out of this. he knows you’re in denial, denial of what there is blossoming between you, the bod consuming desire to always be touching whenever you are together - whether it be a pinky hooked around another, an arm over your shoulder, an arm around his waist, fingers massaging at your scalp. whatever it was, it was real.

“might i make a suggestion gray?” ethan frowns, biting at the skin of his bottom lip, now raw with his anxious assault.

“whatever it is make it good because i’m not changing my mind,” grayson grunted, slicing his bananas at a quicker pace. he’d have to build up strength for this conversation, lord knows it’s going to tire him out. you’re a tough one to crack. another reason that he fucking loved you so much.

“tell her how you feel before it’s too late. i’m sure you’ll be pleased with the outcome.”

how could he be so sure?

fire twists in your tummy as grayson inches towards you, eyes narrowed right at your own misty orbs. with irises blown out and black, he tucks that cussed piece of hair behind your ear. with his fingers feathering across the skin of your cheekbone, another tear drops to your cheek. it streaks a hot river across the skin, chipping away that milky concealer, a mask to hide the evil. the way he gazed at you like you were and always would be the most beautiful treasure, only made you confirm to yourself that it was torture to love someone you were scared to have.

“i know you feel this...don’t fight it...just let me show you how good this can feel...how it’s supposed to feel” his voice had switched from one of raw emotion to one of earnest and...need.

within an instant he is grabbing your face and pulling you close by the back of your neck, a hand digging deeply into your mane of hair. he made a fist to secure you to him, afraid if he let go you might disappear. another hand was pressed against your cheek - being careful to not apply direct pressure to your bruise, instead rubbing it tenderly with his thumb. his touch not only eased the pain, but the memories that matched themselves to it. soft plump lips landed on yours perfectly with a hum resonating in his chest. it was a pathetic, needy sound - one that made you aware that he really meant it. he’s been waiting for this. to have your lips smashed up against his. it was like an itch he’s been waiting to scratch, now relieved. he takes his time to let himself feel his way through the kiss - initially feeling your shocked lips at a stand still.

he almost backs away in defeat, but then... you’re sighing, a satisfied, eager sigh tossed between the two of you. biting at his bottom lip felt like a burst of unashamed power coursing through your veins. your tiny nimble fingers are tugging at his white cotton t-shirt and pulling him even closer if possible, goose flesh tracking from your shoulders down to your fingertips. youve kissed let that be known, a guy here or there, but none of those kisses had ever felt like this. before registering how much trouble you would get in if he ever found out what you were doing and how good it felt doing it, you are tilting your head to the side and moving your lips against his greedily. humming into his mouth and pushing your front against his flat. fuck his kiss felt so good. his lips were patient and languid, lapping like smooth waves of the ocean. persistent.

his hands made sure to move your face just the right way, get just the right angle, sure he could feel you turning weak at the knees already. not anything like any other kiss you’ve been given. it’s patient, tender, purposeful - that purpose being to convey just how much you mean to him and always will mean. the way he’s kissing you is a desperate move to tell you how he feels without having to say it just yet. this is everything you’ve ever wanted but never knew you could have, or feel, or want.

his tongue is slipping into your mouth when you gasp in shock at the electric fire burning through your senses and into every nerve in your body. your hands feel tiny on his massive biceps, but he loves the feeling of your thumbs rubbing at his skin while he kisses you so deep. your tongues danced together, the kiss stealing your breath away. it was fierce and passionate, everything you thought kissing him would be like. you had daydreamed about this moment forever, and you couldn’t believe it was finally happening. especially not like this. not when you’re a damsel in distress, waving your pathetic hand at the top of the tower in hopes your knight in shining armor would come and save you. the day had finally come.

he’s pulling away slowly, begrudgingly, panting from working his mouth so hard against yours. wanting to take it farther than a kiss, but understanding enough to know it would take a lot more time to be at that poin - no matter how bad you both wanted it. your trauma lurked beneath the surface, a fight for another day. he poured everything into that kiss. the rosy red color of his skin being a testament to that. he hoped you knew just how much it meant to him. from the way you stared at his mouth in a trance, he knew it meant just as much to you. the look of wanting in your eyes made him shiver.

“you want me?”

the best you give him is a puffed out “yes” between your lips, staring at his own longingly. it was a pathetic sound, a cringe fighting to shrink in your shoulders and hide yourself from him, but you accepted it as it came. you wanted more. you thought for a split second that you couldn’t imagine never feeling that again. electric. strong. like fireworks igniting in your body over and over. your eyes travel slowly from his mouth to his soft wishful eyes, feeling the sudden urge to cry again.

“leave him for me,” his whisper is pained, vulnerable and aching for you to want him back. need him back. love him back.

“but i can’t have you, you know i can’t. he won’t allow me to leave him.” God it killed you to even say it. You wanted to throw caution to the wind, and in a way you had, but to throw it all out would mean putting him in the line of fire - and you didn’t know if you could bare seeing him burnt.

“yes you can, you can have me. every hour of everyday. you can fucking have me. you have always had me, y/n. i think you know that. i can’t lie anymore. not when it means this much to me. he won’t keep you a prisoner. i refuse for it to happen. i know you want this as much as i do. i feel it. i’ve always felt it. if you don’t leave for you, then leave for me. just...you have to let me protect you.”

the way he says it, just holding you in place, forehead resting against yours in an attempt to stop the tears bubbling behind his eyes. it killed him to see you caged like an animal when you wanted so badly to be free. he would do whatever the fuck he needed to do and he swore his life on it. whether you believed it or not.

“but how? he’s a psycho grayson the man beat me for getting gas without telling him. i was gone for 5 minutes.“

“i know sh, i know it sounds crazy and reckless,”

“really reckless,” you tutted, popping your lips out in a dissatisfied pout. it was cute but he needed to focus.

“- just hear me out. me and ethan have a plan that involves no contact, and if he does show up i don’t think you are underestimating the lengths we will go to, to make sure he doesn’t lay a finger on this beautiful body of yours. he doesn’t get to have you anymore, he abused that privilege, literally. he didn’t appreciate and cherish what he had so now it’s over. you won’t ever have to see him again. but it’s gonna take a little cooperation and for you to be that sneaky little detective i know that you are.” he waits for your reaction, confused that your eyes are still closed, your thumbs still rubbing at his forearms. it was peaceful. for the first time, you felt protected. and really understood. important. valued. loved. whole fuck you felt loved.

“i don’t know how much help i can be,” you choked, voice a lot weaker than you wanted it to sound. truth is, it was taking every bone in your body not to kiss him again, get that fire ignited again. but you had to focus. one battle at a time. beat the dragon, then you get the prince.

“how about this, you and i, we go back in the house, i’ll sit you down on the counter - yeah that’s right the counter - because i don’t give a fuck if ethan thinks it’s unsanitary. i’m gonna cook you you’re favorite meal, kiss those beautiful lips for as long as i want,” he pauses to dip his head down, pecking your lips slowly as an example, a butterfly flew through your core, wings licking at the buzzing nerves, “and explain every tiny detail until you understand just how serious we are about getting you away from that sick creep. i may be persistent but my brother is a determined mother fucker too and he cares about you, y/n. as much as he loves to tease you and throw his little tantrums when you eat the last piece of pizza - he cares so much. and he wants you to be safe. to be with us. be with me...if that’s what you want.”

“as in like...live with you? are you sure that’s a good idea? i mean i kind of have a crazy guy on my back you sure you guys want that baggage?” you’re tone is lighthearted and witty, but he knows that’s just you trying to hide how nervous you were.

“you know, when you love someone, their baggage becomes your baggage. you have that weight together and find the strength to carry it along the way. at least that’s what i’ve found out.”

when you love someone

when he loves someone

when grayson loves...

he loves you

“you love me?” the gleam in your eye is too obvious to miss, the excitement of a child, the joy of a rich man, the satisfaction of a sinner, the bliss of a saint.

“maybe a little,” he grins, lips dropping onto random areas of your face, making their way slowly down, down, down to your blush pink lips. the feeling of them puckering had him pulling you closer again.

“is it too much to ask that you say it again? just for good measure.” your request has him chuckling in your ear, hair tickling you when he bobs his head in a nod.

“i love you,” he sighs, finger hooked under your jaw to tilt your head to the side, sealing his lips down onto yours again. breathing in the sweet scent of your perfume. it drowned his every sense.

it felt so fucking good to say that.

it sounded like your favorite melody. and somehow, as cheesy as it sounded, it gave you strength. gave you that extra power you needed to know that this life did have a purpose beyond pain and misery. it had people like grayson. people like ethan. people that cared about you. people that protected you. people that were ready to do anything they had to do just to make sure you knew how loved you really were.

“i love you too.” it slipped out without you knowing. your hand itched to slap over your mouth, cover up the ultimate betrayal against the monster somewhere off in LA cheating on you again, planning his next attack against you. but no, you wouldn’t feel guilty about loving him. not when it’s the strongest emotion you’ve ever felt. not when it was the truth. and not when he’s cradling you in his arms promising a future beyond the pain and sadness you’ve been stuck in for so long. so for good measure, and just because it felt like a breath of fresh air, you say it again, “i love you.”

“oh fuck,” he breathes through a disbelieving grin, picking you up by the back of your thighs and spinning you around in circles. your legs hooked around his waist tightly, squealing laughter echoing throughout the backyard. this is the freest you’ve felt in so so long. he slows down to a sway once again, turning your head to kiss you slowly, pushing his tongue between your lips to dance with yours again.

“slow down, slow down, we still have something to do yeknow,” you breathe, a lazy smile aimed at his own delighted eyes. he looked so free and it shocked out for some reason that you were the cause of that look.

“no no you’re right i’m sorry, i’m just happy. feels good when you know the girl you love is safe for once. but i guess we do have to go talk to ethan about the insufferable douchebag you chose to date for whatever ungodly reason. must have had a magical dick or something cause the man is lacking in all other categories,” grayson mocks, setting you back into the flats on your feet and imtertwining your fingers together, leading you back toward the house where you presume ethan is waiting somewhere close by.

“actually no, he never really uh...finished the job in that department. was kind of selfish. but i managed,” you tut, rubbing your thumb over the skin on his hand, loving the feeling of him against you in any way you could get. you knew you were so touch starved, but didn’t care if it felt this good.

he stopped at the sliding glass door, face dully lit by the yellow of the light from the kitchen, pointing a defined eyebrow at you in a displeased scowl, the fucker didn’t even make you cum? with a shake of his head he’s sliding the glass door open, ready to talk to his brother and start the plan for your escape. hes ready to see you thrive again. he knows neither he, nor ethan will rest until you have shaken every form of contact with the spineless monster you’re controlled by daily. this plan will be his religion until it is completed. he turns his head to look at you, a smirk on his delicious soft lips, licking at them quickly.

“we will be changing that, make no mistake.”

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