#a million possible outcomes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cactusprincewrites · 2 years

Text

A Million Possible Outcomes #5

What a ride! With a word count of around 8,800, this may just be my longest one yet. But, since I wrote almost all of it in two evenings, I feel like that's fair. Considering all that, though, I think I did this really well! Read on if you enjoy: lots of gay metaphors, mysterious old ladies, riddles and treasures and Enid-Blyton-Esque summer adventures, and a yet another healthy sprinkle of anti-capitalism.

TW: mention of death, cancer, and minor themes of familial abuse and assault

For those who don’t know, AMPO (@a-million-possible-outcomes) is a writeblr challenge run by @nicola-writes & @strawberrystarcake and I’d highly recommend getting involved! The prompt this is based on is "Let's make one thing clear: this is not a confession."

Now, without any further ado:

confess

/kənˈfɛs/

verb

admit that one has committed a crime or done something wrong.

"He confessed that he had attacked the old man"

acknowledge something reluctantly, typically because one feels slightly ashamed or embarrassed.

"I must confess that I half-believed you"

—

Golden sun seeps in through the grand, arched window, a liquid Midas touch that leaves everything in the room tinged with sepia. It’s not the sort of scene I would ever have expected to live through, a melancholy reserved for portraits of fields, faded photos in trim brown frames, or the beginning scenes of the Wizard of Oz.

In some twisted way, that makes sense. Aaron Ordrich is not something you live through. He’s the end of everything.

But, more than that, he’s the love of my life.

And now, he looks at me from across the expanse of the table stretching out between us, sleek marbled wood lined with golden trim along the edges, curled into intricate shapes and gleaming animal heads. I look at them like that will keep me from feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Go on then,” he says. “Out with it.”

“I want to start by making one thing clear.” I raise my eyes to meet his, ringed with gold as they are. He is the sun, and I’m nothing more than a speck of dust caught in his sway. “This is not a confession.”

Just over One Month Earlier — 9th June:

Outside of school hours, I volunteer at a local charity shop. It’s nothing big, it’s nothing special, I’m not saving the world. But I’m playing my little part. I’m another pair of hands when I need to be, doing what I can, where I can.

I pack boxes. I order books. I wear a lime-green shirt with the charity’s logo on it (a blooming plant with leaves the shape of a heart, if that helps visualise) as I stand behind a counter and give change in two penny coins.

It’s nothing so extraordinary.

Maggie, the elderly lady who works alongside me, thinks otherwise. She’s volunteered here for around thirty years, and she sees everyone come and go. She says I’m the first person to really stick with it for any extended period of time.

“I’m telling you, Coulter, we need more kids like you.”

“Please, Maggie, there are plenty of others like me.”

“I’ve yet to see any.” She sighs and shakes her head. “And I tend not to believe in things I can’t find proof of.”

“God?”

“God? God?” She reaches into her mouth and plucks out a half-sucked throat-sweet, setting it down on a coaster she keeps nearby solely for that purpose. Someone picked it up trying to buy it once, and the sweet slid off and down their sleeve. They didn’t come back. “Pesky little barnacle, you are, making me philosophise so early in the morning.”

“Good exercise for your addled brain, Maggie.”

“No, Coulter, that’s what sudokus are for. Sudokus and candy crush. Not pondering the depths of the universe. I’m too old for such existential crises.”

“Sounds like excuses to me,” I tease.

“Excuses? Young man, you’re lucky you’re the best darn kid in the universe. If you were anyone else, you’d be getting a fistful of granny power right now.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Granny power?”

She nods sagely. “All grannies know Kung Fu.”

“I thought you meant you were radioactive.”

“Funny.”

“There’s enough funny ingredients in those throat sweets—”

“Oh, quit yer yappin’,” she says waving a hand airily in the air. She waits for a beat, then looks up. Not quite at me. “Besides, you can find proof of God anywhere. The wooden grain of the counter between us. The delicate pattern of leaves, rustling in the wind. The relieved faces of parents when their toddlers don’t beg them to buy our entire store’s worth of toys. The end of a life well lived.”

“Maggie?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

Now she meets my eye, smiling sweetly. “Never been better.”

12th June:

Maggie wasn’t there to open the shop today. Just me.

15th June:

Maggie hasn’t been in for a few days now. The throat sweet is still on the coaster, dried on and impossible to prise away. She must have forgotten to take it off.

I wish I had some way to contact her, but she despises phones, social media and any mode of interaction not plucked straight from the 1800s.

So I just have to cross my fingers and hope. I just have to bide my time.

20th June:

They’ve got a new lady in now. Sarah. Just looking at her, I know she won’t last more than a few days here.

She’s not the sort.

23rd June:

Alone again.

25th June:

Today, a new gentleman comes in. Sleek black suit, silver watch gleaming on his wrist, platinum-blonde hair slicked back in a widow’s peak like he’s trying to emulate Dracula and a sneer to match. Very clearly out of place alongside racks of children's clothes that barely go up to his knees.

His eyes roam the shop, almost bored, then settle on me. He crosses the room in little more than a stride. “If it isn’t the little philanthropist.”

“Sir?”

“Coulter, yes?”

I nod, not quite sure what to say. Stranger Danger bells are ringing in my head.

“She said you’d stick around.”

“Who? Maggie?” I ask, practically leaping forwards. Slightly embarrassing. “You know Maggie?”

He blinks, half-taken aback, then chuckles warmly and pulls something from his breast pocket. A small, weathered photo, folded into four. Him, a decade or so younger, alongside Maggie, looking not a day younger than the last I’d seen her.

“Know her? Margaret Atford is—was—my mother.”

Slightly more embarrassing. And then the realisation hits me.

I freeze, stomach dropping. I’m sure he can see the blood rush from my face. I know I can feel it.

“Was?” I breathe.

“She’s been ill for quite some time now. Cancer. We thought she was getting better, but…” He paused. “She passed away just yesterday.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head softly. “Don’t be. She was content. She said it was her time.”

I suck in a shaky breath, determined not to let myself cry. There’s something wrong about crying for the loss of someone you knew tangentially when the person who knows her the most is keeping their composure. “Sounds like her.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ll admit, we rarely interact anymore. I’m only glad I got one last chance to say goodbye.”

“Why did you stop talking?”

He straightens, ignoring my question entirely. “But she also wanted you to know. She said that you deserved closure.”

“Thank you for telling me," I say, going along with the subject change. I'll let him have this one. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m not done yet. You see, despite giving most of what she had to charitable causes, and devoting her time to helping others, Margaret still amassed something of a small fortune’s worth of stuff in her many years. Of course, she has left most of it to charity.”

I nod. “That makes sense.”

“She has also left some to you.”

My world tilts on its axis. “She's what?”

—

Left Field is a small village. Not quite to the point where everyone knows everyone else, but fairly close. It’s built right along a stretch of lush green hills, so there are little to no straight roads anywhere, and certainly no flat ones. Most people walk, and the plucky few cycle. There are one or two buses at most. Forests wrap their leafy tendrils around the streets, small cobblestone paths veering and meandering throughout them like little stone streams.

And, notably, an old manor house overlooks the town from its perch atop the tallest, most vibrant hill. Cream walls, white highlights, windows that shimmer in the sun. A sprawling drive, and an even larger garden. A single path leading up to it. No one really goes there, and no one really knows who it belongs to.

I suppose I am now one of the lucky few.

I now know it was Maggie’s.

The Gentleman—who still hasn’t given me anything to call him other than “Sir”—takes me up to the Manor in a sleek black car that’s clearly not meant for these kinds of roads. It growls up the track, sputtering and shaking as the hill just gets steeper and steeper.

“I get the feeling,” Sir says, “that it would be quicker, easier, and infinitely more pleasant for our poor ears if we had left the car behind and gone on foot."

“Oh, definitely,” I reply.

He stops the car. "Right then, out we get."

"We're in the middle of the road," I say. He's already opening the door. "We're nowhere near the house."

"And we'll stay nowhere near the house if we keep going at this pace." He closes his door and opens mine. "Come on, let's go."

—

Sir unlocks the door with a single silver key plucked from one of his many pockets, ornately twisted to be shaped like a rose. "I will warn you," he says grimly, "I can't say I know the state we'll be finding this house in. I left Aaron alone in here while I went out."

I look up to him, frown settling on my face. "Aaron?" A pet of some sort, maybe? It seemed a very city guy thing to lock up a dog indoors.

"My son. He's not thrilled to be here, but better alone in here than alone in the city."

Oh. So not a pet.

"And you think he can cause that much of a state?"

"I know he can," he says, dead serious. I shiver.

The door swings open, and he wipes the clumps of mud from his once-polished shoes on the doormat (reading "No visitors before 10:00am").

There's not much to be done about the mud and grass splattered right up the hems of his trousers though. It's somewhat funny, seeing someone so woefully out of place.

"We're home," he calls in through the door.

The sound of a vase shattering from upstairs. "Fuck you!"

"Nice to see you again too," Sir says pleasantly, and walks in.

The sound of something heavy being overturned. "I hope you shit yourself and have to walk a mile to find the nearest toilet in this fucking hellhole of a town!"

Sir slides off his suit jacket and hangs it on a flamingo-shaped hook, brushing his hands off against his ink-black waistcoat. "But Aaron, we have visitors!"

"Fuck them too!"

"You weren't exaggerating," I say to Sir.

"I wish I had been."

A beat of thunderous silence, and then a boy pokes his head into the stairwell, staring down at us with fury brimming in his eyes.

I blink, taken aback. He doesn't look like the sort of person to be throwing a violent hissy fit. He's dressed innocuously enough—like a rich city kid, sure, but not like a thug—with tight-fitting denim jeans torn very purposefully at the knees and a cream-coloured shoulderless-shirt (with sleeves, for some reason?) that looked like it had probably cost him double his weight in gold.

His face is covered with freckles that travel all the way down his neck in clusters, pooling around his shoulders like someone had flicked a wet, coffee-stained paintbrush over him and left him to dry in the sun. His golden-brown hair is strafed out so that it hangs in messy strands over his face, and it gleams with the sun streaming through the windows.

"This is him then?" He asks, and his voice is posher when he's not screaming profanities at the top of his lungs. “This is the kid who inherited more from my Grandmother than I did?"

"In the flesh," Sir says, patting me on the shoulder. "I thought it might be nice for the two of you to get to know one another in advance of the funeral—" He turns to me once again. "—to which you're invited, of course."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's on her request."

"She sure requested a hell of a lot for a dying woman," Aaron cuts in, clomping down the stairs. "Not much of it to do with her own family."

"It's only fair," Sir replies. "We haven't spoken with her in many, many years. Disagreements will do that to a family."

"It's the principle of it," Aaron snorts.

"Now you sound like her."

"Fuck you."

"That's quite enough of that language." He claps his hands together. "I'm thinking of starting a swear jar. Since we're here for as long as it takes us to settle her estate, we might make quite the little fortune."

"As if we haven't done that already," Aaron snorts.

"Behave yourself, and you might earn yourself a larger chunk of it. Introduce yourself to Coulter. Show him around the remains of the house. Break anything that's left to him and you will be paying it from your own pocket."

It's awkward enough being caught in the middle of a family argument between two strangers. Knowing you're the cause of it? Near unbearable.

"I hate you," Aaron glowers. I'm not sure which of us it's directed to.

"Better. Much more civil. Maybe one of these days you'll explain why." He claps his hands together. "I'm heading back to the car. I'll leave it down in the town, I reckon. Have fun."

He is gone in a blur, and the door swings shut behind him. The lock clicks.

I turn back to Aaron, and he's moved just as fast as his Father, till he's right up in my face—maybe it runs in the family. It's a funny thought, Maggie moving at that speed when the most speed I've ever seen her muster is just faster than your standard snail. An angry snail, maybe. I giggle.

He blinks. "Something funny?"

"Nothing, nothing," I say.

He snorts, then slams me against the wall in one deft movement. He's right in my face, and I'm breathing in his hot air. "I want to make one thing clear. I don't like you. I don't like your town. I don't like whatever fucking charity you work for. And, in case this wasn't clear already, I will not be touring you around this house."

He draws back, running a hand through his hair as he composes himself.

"Wish I could say it was nice meeting you, Coulter, but I really can't. Go die in a hole."

With that, he's gone too.

26th June:

The funeral is a sombre affair. Everyone wears black. She would have hated it.

27th June:

It seems I'm going to get my inheritance in bits and pieces. The first thing I get is a porcelain model of an animal somewhere between a giraffe and a cat. Its mouth is just open enough to slot something into. When I shake it, something clinks inside.

I hope it's not a throat sweet.

28th June:

Sir clearly thinks he's going to need all the time he can get because, come Monday, Aaron is at school with us. And he’s not enjoying himself.

He stands stiffly, arms tight as if ironed to his side, next to Professor Willow’s desk at the front of the classroom as she gives the class a quick introduction to him.

“I’m sure you would all like to extend a warm welcome to the young man who will be a student here alongside you for this week. In from the Big City, Aaron Ordicg is the son of businessman and entrepreneur, Mark Ordrich, and heir to a quarter million sterling. I’m sure we will all have something to learn from such an interesting young man.”

With every word she speaks, the class seems to grow in interest. People go from twiddling their thumbs and staring down at their desks to watching him, eagle-eyed. And I do have to admit, though I wasn’t twiddling my thumbs in boredom at the beginning, I am more interested now than I was a few seconds ago.

Especially since I've learnt Sir’s name was Mark. That just isn’t right.

Now finished with her impromptu Wikipedia article on Aaron, Willow turns back to him. “Now, Aaron, this is something of a right of passage here, so I’m going to have to ask you to indulge me.”

He turns to face her, face set in a frown. The rest of the class is murmuring to one another—is she really going to subject him to this?

“I want you to name three things about yourself. Plus one ambition, for luck.”

She is.

“Of course you do,” he says tartly, then turns back to face the class. And somehow, for some reason, he looks directly at me. “I would like to precede this with a small expression of gratitude for being allowed to speak about myself in a village that clearly defines people by the amount in their wallets.”

Willow frowns, and Aaron seems to relish in it.

“1.) My favourite colour is yellow. Think buttercups. 2.) I am missing my final few weeks with my best friend before they move to a different country to be here, and there’s not even enough signal to message them. 3.) My father does not care.”

The class is dead silent.

“And your ambition?” Prof. Willow says, voice barely more than a whisper.

“To make him care. To make him and anyone he calls an ally regret ever crossing me. To burn everything they know and love to the ground.”

He strides across the classroom without another word, and sits at the one empty seat. The one next to me.

He swivels his head and looks me dead in the eye. “Any questions?”

I realise my mouth is open, and quickly clamp it shut, shaking my head.

“Good,” he says, then sits back and puts his feet up on the desk. “Professor, you may start your lesson at will.”

—

It doesn’t take much to make someone the talk of the town in a place as small as Left Field. And it takes even less to make someone the talk of Progress Academy, secondary school extraordinaire. Still, I don’t think anyone has managed it quite as quickly before as Aaron has today.

Willow clearly saw that he was going to be a handful. She clearly saw that he knew me, somewhat. And she clearly passed on the message to every other teacher in the school, because for the rest of the day so far, we've been paired together for everything.

As the class files in for the fourth lesson of the day, he turns to speak to me for the first time since this morning. “This is getting a bit old now.”

“You don’t say,” I respond drily. “Look, I’m not exactly a fan of this pairing either, but it’s not like there are people queuing up to work with you instead.”

As I say that, a tall girl, one who I’ve shared classes with for the entire year but never really paid much heed to, appears between us, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Hi, hello, hiya,” she says, sticking out her hand in a way that doesn’t make it quite clear if she’s expecting Aaron to shake it or kiss it, “I’m Melody. Melody Ryans. It’s lovely to meet you, Aaron. Would you like to sit with me for this lesson?”

He looks her up and down.

“No thanks. I’ll stick with the prodigal son over here.” He gestures to me with his thumb.

She looks between us, sniffs slightly, and patters off and away to her posse of girls, who all take turns to pat her shoulders very sympathetically.

“Hang on,” I say, turning to Aaron. “Weren’t you just saying that you wanted to—”

“Who said you could speak to me?” Aaron scoffs, throwing his bag down on the seat next to mine. “Keep your mouth closed, and we might not have any more issues.”

“Fuck you,” I grumble, but resolve to keep quiet after that.

Aaron Ordrich is the sort of storm you don’t try to fight against. You just find shelter.

“Tsk tsk,” he says mockingly. “Language. Haven’t you heard? Father is starting a swear jar.”

29th June:

My next snippet of the inheritance is a compass, which—I have checked—does not point north. Ever.

I'm starting to wonder why Aaron even thought this was so much of a big deal. And why Sir—I can't call him Mark, I just can't—feels the need to stay for so long.

It's all beyond me.

2nd July:

I've gone up in the world of charity shop volunteers. Apparently, Maggie left a good word for me before she passed away—as well as a hefty donation—and that's got me to the prized role of Chief Volunteer™ now.

I don't know where she got the money for a donation in the sort of scale that I've heard whispers about. Maybe she had a little more than a small fortune of stuff. Maybe she had a real fortune too.

As I'm pottering about, doing all my Chief Volunteer Duties™, the bell rings and I look up to see Sir striding in, with a petulant Aaron in tow, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his beige trench coat.

"Congratulations on the promotion," Sir says blandly.

"Not really much of a promotion, Sir. I'm still a volunteer."

"Yes, well, I've heard you now have the authority to boss around other volunteers."

I scratch the back of my neck, setting down the Thomas the Tank Engine toy I had been about to shelve. I think I can see where this is going. "In theory."

"Marvellous," he says, nudging Aaron forwards. "In that case, you have a new volunteer. Be as harsh as you will. I think he needs a little tough love."

"I'm afraid corporal punishment isn't a thing in the insidious world of charity shop volunteers, Sir."

"So long as you keep him out of my hair, I couldn't care less. I just can't have him wrecking Margaret's house more than he already has."

With what Sir clearly thinks is a chilling last word, he turns and strides away. The chiming of the bell marks his exit, and the shop descends into silence once again.

After a beat, Aaron throws himself down into one of the toddler's chairs for sale, which is quite clearly ten or so sizes too small for him. He doesn't seem to care.

"I will not be volunteering," Aaron says, without looking up. "In case that wasn't obvious."

"It was. Just keep quiet, don't get underfoot, and I can't see us having much of an issue."

"Joy," He says, plucking a pocket dictionary from one pocket and flipping it open to an earmarked page.

I pick up the Thomas toy and pop it on the shelf. I wait a beat. I let a second or so slide by. I give in. "Is that a dictionary?"

"No. It's a birthday cake." He turns the page without looking up. "Obviously."

I feel myself flush bright red. "What I mean is, what are you doing reading a dictionary?"

"I like it," He answers drily. "It's something to do. I might learn new words to add to the curse I am mentally composing against your bloodline."

"Fun." I perch myself up on the counter, careful not to accidentally knock the Throat Sweet Coaster with my hip. "Or, could it be that the ineffable Aaron Ordrich actually has a hobby other than swearing bloody vengeance against everyone he knows?"

He opens his mouth like he's about to swear, realises that would prove me right, and closes it again. He shuffles about in his seat, flips another page, then looks up at me. "You ever heard this word? Vellichor?"

I shake my head. "No bells are ringing."

"Noun. Vellichor (uncountable) (neologism). Defined as the pensive nostalgia and temporality of used bookstores; the feeling evoked by the scent of old books or paper. First used in this context by John Koenig in 'The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows."

"Huh," I say, because I feel like that's a fair reaction. "That's pretty cool."

He tosses the dictionary to me. "Test me."

I turn to the definition to Vellichor, and listen in shock as he recites it word-perfect.

"Just how freaky good is your memory?"

"Very."

3rd July:

My third part of the inheritance turned up today: a worn little book of poetry, bound in greenish leather and tattered at the edges. Enclosed in the front cover sits a little envelope (opened and then re-closed?) with a £20 note in it.

It's sweet. There's not much more to say.

5th July:

I'm cycling home from the park when I see it unfolding. Aaron and another boy, standing outside the Eggy Cafe (yes, it's really called that) yelling their heads off at one another. I can't quite make out the words, but there's definitely a lot of sounds spilling from between their lips, and they don't seem to be happy ones.

I slow down as I near them.

The boy throws his arms in the air and storms away, and Aaron flips him the bird as he stalks away.

I screech to a stop, coming in at an angle that would look really cool if it had been anyone else pulling it off. I'd like to say my bike spits up asphalt, but that's not really true. More like a load of tiny pebbles.

"What was all that about?"

"If it isn't the prodigal son," Aaron sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Don't ask. I don't want to have to add another clause to the curse. It's long enough as it is."

I tilt my head to one side. "Can curses have clauses? I always thought they were more in verse."

"Just—" Aaron sighs. "Just leave it. I'm tired."

"You know, they serve pretty good coffee in there."

"I don't want—"

"Yeah, yeah. Quit your whining. But maybe think about getting yourself a cup. You need one, for all the bloody vengeance you're wreaking."

With that, I kick back off and cycle away. I don't turn back, even though I can feel Aaron's gaze, hot against my back.

There's something about it.

It's Electric.

7th July:

We're in the middle of a heatwave right now. Prof Willow said it might just be the hottest day on Left Feild's record.

It feels like the world is going to end.

Aaron and I are in the shop, as usual. Me behind the counter. Him sitting in the toddler's chair. He's graduated from the dictionary to Maggie's old poetry book now, flicking mindlessly through the pages as he looks for a poem he likes.

"The Treasure, Rupert Brooke," He says, holding the book up by one cover so that the pages flop downwards. "This is a good one. Listen to this."

"I'm all ears," I reply, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. The Throat Sweet is starting to go rank. I'm going to have to throw it out soon.

I just can't bring myself to do it.

"When colour goes home into the eyes—" Aaron stops reading suddenly and squints at the page. "This isn't right."

"What?"

"This isn't right," he repeats. "I reckon Maggie started going senile in her old age. She's underlined a load of letters like they're typos, but they're not. They're the correct letters."

"Are you sure," I breathe, wiping my forehead again, "that it's not the heat playing tricks with your head?"

Aaron scowls at me, the book, me again, the book (once more for good measure), then sighs and sets it down on his lap. "Normally I'd say absolutely not, and add another three clauses to the curse for even suggesting that. But it's so hot today you might just be right."

"I'm thinking of closing the shop early. No one's coming in anyway." I say, plucking the book from his lap and setting it into my satchel. "I still can't believe your Father still made you go here in this heat."

"I can," Aaron grimaces. "It's very in character."

I sling the satchel over my neck and dust myself off. "Well, not much he can do if I choose to close the shop. There's a stream in a nearby forest we can go dangle our feet in if you want. We could cycle over there."

"I don't have a bike. Father's controlling all of my property at the moment. He won't give any of it back until I stop breaking things, and I won't stop breaking things until he gives it back."

"So you're at an impasse."

He nods.

"Ride with me then. We'll double up."

He looks me up and down. "That is an absolutely terrible idea, and I will not lower myself down to the point where I give it a drop of consideration."

—

Two minutes later, the shop is closed and we're on the move.

8th July:

We don't even open the shop today. We head straight from school to the stream, wind rushing by our faces as we ride recklessly right through the centre of the roads, swerving around other people, on foot and other bikes.

With his arms around my waist, his chin rested in the crook of my shoulder, his breath on my neck, I feel supercharged. I feel like I could do anything, even in this sweltering heat.

Aaron Ordrich is a storm. And I'm right in its eye.

"Am I off the list of people to curse now I'm officially your taxi service?" I ask as we hurtle right out of the town and into the forest.

Aaron snorts, bouncing as we race over rocky trails and green underbrush. "Give it a few more trips and then we'll see, Prodigal Son."

—

It's not just shoes off and feet in the stream today. I don't know which of us does it first, but soon we've both stripped off down to our pants and sat ourselves side by side in the stream, letting the cool water rush over us.

I tip my head back, feeling the soft grass of the riverbank against my neck. My eyes are closed. "Got any poetry memorised in that ineffable head of yours?"

"Only the bloody vengeance sort, I'm afraid," Aaron replies.

"Hmm, might ruin the mood," I say.

"I hate it when you're right."

A beat of silence between them, filled only by the gentle rush of water.

It's me who breaks the silence. Again. "I've got a question."

"Perish the thought."

"Shut up," I chuckle, then compose myself again. "How come you chose to sit with me?"

"You brought me here?" Aaron asks, voice toned with confusion. "Where did you want me to sit? Ten meters away?"

I flush bright red, and hope Aaron's eyes are closed like mine. "I meant on the first day. When Melody came up to you."

"I wanted to keep it secret. The whole son of a businessman thing. People try get close to me. For the money. For the company of someone more refined. So I drive them away. I put on my violent, villain act. It's easier when they're sided with father too. Easier to chase them away."

I nod, realise he probably can't see me, and make a small hum of acknowledgement.

"And then you came along. You made it clear you didn't care about my money. You didn't care what you could be losing by fighting back to me. You didn't even care about my Father, even though he'd seemingly hand-picked you as one of his future sycophants."

"Big word."

"I know."

"I guess I like that about you. You liked me—or you know, hated me—for me. Aaron Ordrich. Not for Mark."

"Don't call him that," I chuckle. "It's just wrong."

A beat of silence.

"You know the boy by the Eggy Cafe?"

"Yeah?"

"He confessed to me, not that he'd even known me long enough to do that. He just said he liked my, and I quote, bad-boy charm, and asked me to the cafe. I got there—a little bit of entertainment, you know? I was a tiny bit hopeful I might find something there— and the first thing he asked is if I'd pay for him."

"You said no?"

"I said no. We fought."

"I'm aware of that bit. It wasn't subtle."

"Well, I'm not exactly a subtle person."

"You can say that again."

"Much as I know I could make a dad joke there, I'm going to be the bigger man and refrain from that."

"You? The bigger man?" I chuckle. "That's new."

"Fuck you," He says, with absolutely no bite in it at all.

"Swear jar," I chide.

He sighs. "And then you came along, and I thought you were going to ask me to buy something for you too. But you didn't. You just cycled away. Not before, of course, you recommended me a drink. A drink that, may I add, was awful—"

"You tried it?"

"Shut up."

"You tried it?"

"Look at you, making an awful situation even worse with a real shitty recommendation." He paused, sighing deeply. "Fuck, I hate confessions."

"In that case," a cool voice said, "it's lucky you're awful at keeping secrets. And also, swear jar."

We jolt at the same time.

Standing in the shade, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and the long sleeves of his white button-up shirt rolled up above his elbows, is Sir. His eyes drift from us to the pile of clothes behind us, my satchel heaped along with them, and then back to us again.

"Coulter," he says, "you're meant to be a good influence on my vagabond son. Don't tell me these interactions are having the opposite effect."

"It's too hot to be a good influence, Sir," I respond. "Give it a few days, and then I'll try again."

"Hmm. We'll see."

"What are you doing here?" Aaron snaps.

"Same thing as you, I imagine," Sir replies, shrugging easily. "Trying to cool off."

"Did you walk?" I ask. "All the way up here?"

"I've given up on driving around here. The only reason I'd even touch that car before I leave this town is if I had to run someone off the road."

"Progress," I say. "Ominous progress, but progress nonetheless."

9th July:

I get a petite, hand held gardening shovel today. Another part of the inheritance. Another mystery.

10th July:

Not wanting to have another strange run-in with Sir, we opt today to not to turn to the stream as our release from the feverish grip of the heatwave. Instead, we down to my house, Aaron pressed up against my back once more.

"You should have told me we'd be having guests," Mum says as the two of us walk in. "I would have prepared snacks."

Aaron suddenly stiffens.

"It's okay," I say, running a hand through my hair. "You deserve to relax just as much as we do. Don't go giving yourself heatstroke."

She wags a scolding finger. "Young man, I'm not the one cycling through the baking streets with another sweaty boy at my back."

Aaron looks even more awkward—like he did standing before Prof. WIllow, but without the burning anger.

"No, but you're up to...you know, whatever it is parents get up to when their kids are out."

"Be that as it may," she shrugs, "I'll whip up some lemonade."

"Thanks, Mum," I say, kissing her on the cheek.

She ruffles my hair. "The things a parent does for their child."

I turn to Aaron, and gesture towards the stairs. "My room's up this way."

He nods, swallowing nothing but the air in his mouth, and follows me upstairs.

—

He sits on the edge of my bed, eyes darting across my bedroom. "You get on...well with your mother."

"She tries."

He sighs deeply. "Is it mean if I say I'm jealous?"

"Since when have you cared about mean?" I say, opening the draws of my desk one by one. I know there's a hand-held fan in one of them, hidden away somewhere.

I feel his gaze on my back, setting my entire body aflame. The passion he'd directed into anger, destruction, and fighting his father tooth and claw for every little action when I'd first met him now transferred into something else entirely.

"Since I met you," He says it without withdrawal. He lets its meaning linger.

I turn to face him, hands still in the draw, fingers brushing over the chain of the faulty compass. It points, now, towards him.

"Is that so, Mr. Ineffable?"

"It is, Prodigal Son."

"I never apologised for how I first treated you."

"You don't need to."

"I do."

A beat of silence, broken only by our breaths.

"You can't see it, but I'm symbolically ripping up my curse against you at the moment."

I chuckle, but my next comment is interrupted by a sudden rapping on the door.

"Come in," I call, and it swings open.

"Another guest, boys," Mum says, passing each of us a cool glass of lemonade.

Aaron looks up. "Who?"

"Your father."

Sir steps neatly in through the door, lemonade glass in his hands. He takes a slow sip. "Hello, young man."

I look up to Mum, and her notably empty hands. "Didn't you get a lemonade?" I mouth.

"Only made three," she mouths back.

Sir takes another sip. "If you're not going to be volunteering, Aaron, I'd rather you be at Margaret's estate with me. If you help lend your clever little brain to the cause of...organisation, we might just get done sooner."

The last statement seems to be just as loaded as Aaron's earlier. Maybe it runs in the family too.

Aaron stands rapidly, and I realise suddenly that between me and getting back to say goodbye to his best friend, I lose. Every time.

"I expect you two will be volunteering again tomorrow?" Sir says, looking to me. It isn't a question, not really.

"If the heatwave's over."

"It will be," he says. "I hear the storm is coming."

His eyes dart down to the compass, and his mouth opens to make the tiniest of o-shapes, like he's finally coming to an important realisation, but wants to keep it quiet.

I close the draw without looking away. Maggie gave that to me, not him. It doesn't feel like something he should see, even though I know, logically, he's looked over everything before he gives it to me.

His eyes narrow.

I've just started something. I wish I knew what.

11th July:

After every heatwave, there comes a storm. So, logic dictates that the larger the heatwave, the larger the storm—and the writhing mass of black clouds looming just above the horizon, edging slowly closer to Left Field with every passing second, certainly doesn't seem to be proving me wrong.

Aaron and I stay in the charity shop today. Sir didn't make it seem like we had much of a choice.

Aaron helps shelve a box or so of rock CDs before he sits down in his usual toddler's seat, but the silence between us is tense, stilted. Not like it was yesterday.

Maybe he realises the silent choice he made yesterday. Maybe he regrets it.

"Hey," he calls from the seat. "Do you still have that poetry book on you?"

"Yeah," I answer. A beat passes. "You want it?"

He nods. "Now it's cooler, I want to look at it again. With a clear head."

"Smartest thing you've ever said," I say, tossing the book over. "Not a high bar though."

He catches it with a little snort, and flips it open to the page.

A beat of silence.

"What is it? What's happened?"

"Gone." He holds up the book, and the entire chapter is ripped out.

"Why would anyone do that?" I squint, confused. "And who would even wan—"

Aaron stands. "Father, by the stream. God, I should have known he was up to something. He was asking me, last night, what I knew. God, I should have known."

"What? What was he—"

"Paper, paper and pen," He snaps, hands rising to his temples. "Now! I remember the page, all of it. We need to look at those not-quite-typos again."

I toss him the till's notepad and pen, staring over his shoulder as he scrawls down the poem, so fast his wrist is little more than a blur, complete with typo marks.

A beat of silence. He puts the pen down, then leans in towards the paper, squinting down at it like its holds the answer to all life's secrets.

"G...O...T...O...T"

"The letters underlined?"

"Exactly." He squints at the paper. "Go to...the banks. Follow...the needle."

"What does that even..." I freeze. "The name of the poem. The treasure. It's a fucking treasure map."

"The banks?"

"Riverbanks."

"It's a stream."

"I doubt Maggie would have cared. We know what she means."

"And the needle?"

"The compass," I breathe, already flinging on my raincoat. "She left me a faulty compass too."

"Fuck," Aaron says, following me. "Mad old Maggie had more than just a fortune of stuff. She had a fortune. And she left it to me."

I whip around. "And your father—"

"He's been looking for it, he must have been."

"We need to go," I say, hopping onto my bike. Thunder rumbles overhead. The clouds are closing in on us. "He knows where the compass is, come on. We might already be too late."

He hops on, clutching me like a life raft, and we're moving immediately. We're racing down the hill, and I don't think all the millionaires in the world could stop us now.

Rain begins to fall, slowly at first, then gaining in speed and ferocity, until we're caught in the midst of a near-Biblical deluge. Still, we cycle onwards, wet to the bone in little more than a second.

Time blurs with the onslaught of water, washing away the barriers between minutes so that the only way to tell the time at all is our heartbeats. We're at my house in no time, and I barely stop the bike before we're off and rushing in through the door.

In the living room, Sir sits opposite Mum. "Thank you so much for—"

She jumps up when she sees us, cutting him off midsentence. "Boys?"

"Not now," I yell, heart pounding in my ribcage.

"Aaron, what are you doing?" Sir calls after him.

"Fuck you!" He yells, and we scramble up the stairs, slam open the door to my room, dive for the draw. It's still there. Thank God. Sir must have thought he had more time.

Aaron is right behind me. "Got it?"

I show him, enclosed in my fist, and shove the gardening-shovel into his hands. "Come on, let's go!"

He nods firmly, and we race back down the stairs.

Sir stands in the living room doorway in shock, and Mum is trying to squeeze past him. His eyes narrow in on the compass, and he reaches out for it. "Wait!"

Aaron whirls round on him, brandishing the shovel like a knife. "Fuck you, fuck your rules, fuck your swear jar, and fuck everything you've ever taken from me. We're about to return the favour."

"Boys," Mum breathes, but we're already out and away.

Thunder booms overhead.

"Boys!" Her voice echoes after us, barely audible over the storm. "It's not safe!"

—

Lighting slices through the sky, shattering and dividing it into a million slate-grey segments of rolling clouds and streaming rain.

We're soaked to the bone, tired to the core, splattered with so much mud we may well be unrecognisable, but there's something supercharging us in that moment. Maybe it's each other.

After all, with Aaron on my side, it's Storm against storm.

The roar of a car behind us cuts through the sounds of nature like a knife.

Headlights slice through the murky darkness of the forest, like a lighthouse illuminating a tiny ship, adrift in a tempestuous sea. We are swallowed by them.

"It's father," Aaron yells over the roar of wind.

I pedal harder, and he grips tighter.

I can barely breathe. I can't breathe.

Risking a glance behind us, for the smallest fraction of a second, I see Sir's car baring down on us, wheels squealing and spitting up tidal waves of mud as it stops and starts, fighting tooth and nail for grip on the road. Behind the wheel, Sir himself, fury in his eyes, sleek hair now wild and uncouth. Mum sits next to him, paler than I've ever seen her before. Terrified out of her mind.

I mouth an apology, then turn back to the way we're travelling. We're at an advantage here, against the sleek city tech that's useless out here in the hills.

We push forwards.

—

We throw the bike to one side as we reach the stream. The compass hangs from my neck from its chain, and Aaron grabs it, flicking it open.

I'm jerked towards him, but I can't bring myself to care.

"This way!" Aaron yells, and we're running again. Somewhere in all the chaos, he takes my hand.

Thunder booms and lightning crackles overhead. Sir's car sputters and roars behind us. The world is nothing but a cacophonous roar of sound, incredible and impossible to reckon with.

Aaron grounds me in all of that, running ahead, kicking up mud behind us. He is my compass, and I follow him blindly into the forest.

An ill tree crackles behind us, and the car bursts violently through it with a metallic roar and a wretched splintering of wood. Sir has gone off the track entirely, literally and metaphorically.

He opens his car door, and it is immediately ripped off as he drives narrowly by a more solid tree.

We speed up.

He's half standing out of the car now, rain beating down on him—it barely seems to be slowing him down, like he's some sort of avenging angel—and Mum has unbuckled and leapt forwards to take the wheel.

"Stop!" He booms.

We ignore him.

I cast my eyes down to the compass, rattling against my hip as we charge forwards, and the needle seems to have found a mind of its own, urging us onwards into a sharp left. A left the car could never manage.

"Left!" I yell, and we dive forwards as a branch crashes down to the forest floor behind us.

The car screeches to a sodden halt, and Sir casts his furious gaze down to Mum, who appears to be yelling her head off at him.

"Start the car," He screams at her. "Start the car!"

"Have you lost your mind?" She screams back.

They disappear from view as we press deeper into the trees. Thunder booms overhead, and Aaron flinches.

"How do we know when we're there?" He yells over the rain.

A shattering of glass, and the needle springs right from the compass and embeds itself into the sodden earth.

"That's how," I breathe, and we dive for it, Aaron digging with the shovel, me with my hands, scrabbling and scratching at the mud.

A crackle of lightning, and the entire world turns to white for a beat. When it fades, we see a tree only a few metres away burning, even in the torrential downpour.

"Faster, faster!"

The corner of a wooden chest now pokes out from the earth, and Aaron digs the shovel under it, using it like a crowbar to lever it upwards. I leap for the exposed end, pushing it up until the entire chest heaves from the earth and lands like an upside-down turtle before us.

I let myself breathe a sigh of relief. "What now?"

An earth-shaking thud nearly knocks me from my knees, and the flaming tree hits the ground with a hellish spurt of fire, like a geyser of blood.

Sir rounds the corner, snarling like an animal. "First my own mother thought she could keep this from me, thought I wasn't worthy to hold her precious fortune, and now my own son and a fucking no-one stand in my way. Move!"

We stay rooted in place.

He pulls a gun from his pocket and levels it right at us. "I said move! Move, Goddamn you!"

Aaron puts his hands in the air and stands slowly, walking dead ahead. Sir keeps the gun raised, so it's aimed right at his own son's head.

Aaron looks right into the barrel. "You're a terrible father."

The fire is spreading now, flickering around us like a predator out for blood.

"I told the class," Aaron continues, "that I would burn down everything you'd ever loved."

The fire licks at their heels.

"I meant every last word."

"Aaron!" I yell.

He doesn't turn around, instead shaking his head furiously as he's speaking. Sir doesn't see it for what it is, but I do.

Slowly but surely, I begin dragging the chest away.

"You thought you could control my life. You thought I was just another asset to bring you profit." Aaron spits.

"I thought no such thing—"

"Lies!" Aaron screams. Thunder booms. I draw further away. "You thought you could do the same for Coulter. You see every moral, principle and shred of human decency as a stepping stone to greatness. And I'm here to provide a little bit of a wake-up call."

Sir lowers the gun, then swings it round and slams the butt of it right into Aaron's face. He staggers backwards, hands rising to protect his face. "You little shit. The only wake-up call you're providing is that I should have disciplined you a hell of a lot harder a long, long time ago."

The crackle of fiery wood tumbling down all around them, the hiss of rain as it fights valiantly against it.

I leave the treasure behind, running back to them. Aaron, not gold, is my compass.

Sir looks up and meets my eye. For a fraction of a second, he seems genuinely scared.

Then, a fiery branch whirls round, arcing towards his head, and he's battered to the ground with a guttural groan. Behind him, holding the flaming wood like a sword from heaven, stands my Mum.

"You, Sir," she thunders, "should be completely and utterly ashamed of yourself and everything you have done. You are a terrible Father, a terrible person, and, if I have a shred of say in it, will be going away for a long, long time."

A crackle of lightning, and the world goes once white once more.

12th July:

"All that," Aaron says, staring down at the singed chest on Maggie's sleek dining room table, "All that and we can't even open it."

"It does seem a little odd." Mum raps on the top with her knuckles, then turns to me. "Are you sure there's nothing she gave you that might have unlocked this?"

I shake my head.

"No key? Nothing?"

It doesn't make sense. Why would she get me all the way to the treasure, then not give me any way to open it? All she gave me was the shovel, the book, the compass and—

"Wait!" I yell. "I know where the key is!"

—

Mum has taken a sliver of the fortune and gone to book Aaron a taxi back to the city. If it makes it in time, he might just manage to wish his best friend goodbye.

The storm has passed. Or at least, one of them has. Aaron is still here, alone with me, for a little while longer.

"You've got something you want to say," he says. "I can tell."

"Smart," I say, not quite meeting his eye.

In some twisted way, that makes sense. Aaron Ordrich is not something you live through.

He’s the end of everything. But more than that, he’s the love of my life.

“Go on then,” he says. “Out with it.”

He pauses. "Oh? And what is it?"

"This is a conversation, from me to you. You've read the dictionary. You've memorised every Goddamn word. I have done nothing wrong, and I have nothing to be embarrassed of. I like you, and I like liking you. I don't want to lose you after we've come this far."

Aaron watches me with surprising tenderness. He crosses the table to stand opposite me.

"So, the prodigal son finally speaks his mind."

I hang my head, already feeling stupid. It was a stupid hope. "I'm sorry. I know you hate confessions."

His hand reaches the back of my neck. "Lucky for you this isn't a confession."

And he kisses me.

—

He promises he'll write, and, one day soon, come back. I trust him. I've learnt that, with the exception of one man, the Ordrich family seems to be one to trust.

Maggie wanted her fortune to go somewhere good. She didn't want it to go to a millionaire who would only use it to make himself richer. But she clearly didn't just want to give it to charity, or she would have done that herself.

I think she wanted me to make my own charity. To pave my own future. I intend to honour her wish.

Today, I bin the Throat Sweet Coaster. She has left a bigger legacy behind than that.

#ampo #a million possible outcomes #original writing #original fiction #my writing #creative writing #writing #writing community #writers on tumblr #writeblr event #writeblr #writblr #my ocs

21 notes · View notes

leonardalphachurch · 10 months

Text

epsilon canonically doing millions of simulations mean that you can make a genuine argument that all rvb fanfiction has been made by epsilon in canon

#like we always knew that the memory unit had recursions but how many. how crazy #now we know. millions. considering every possible outcome.#and you know what. that includes. what if all of my friends just HAD to kiss me on the lips #epsilons writing omegaverse friendfiction you WILL tear this headcanon from my cold dead hands #rvb19 spoilers

73 notes · View notes

because-its-eurovision · 2 years

Photo

Sam Ryder @samhairwolfryder on Instagram

“Hey friends. Just a couple thoughts.

It’s Ukraine’s party. We’re just inviting them to throw it at our house.

I know how much it meant to Kalush and the Ukrainian delegation that Eurovision would be held at home in Ukraine next year. And I’m not the only one whose heart is heavy knowing that that can’t be the case at this moment in time.

But what I would love to say to anyone watching this from Ukraine is that we know how to throw a party here in the UK and our excitement is outshone only by our focus on that one sole objective to hold space and be on hand to help wherever needed to host an event that celebrates Ukrainian culture, history and music, and to stand in solidarity with the rest of the globe shining a unified light.

Now, us… The rest of us are just loving facilitators and there is no doubt in my mind that we will all come together in the spirit of unity that Eurovision has always been about to celebrate the wonderful people of Ukraine.

I love you and I’ll see you soon. Peace!”

#Sam is a bean and needs to be protected at all costs #I can't believe there are people who are salty like the UK somehow stole Ukraine's victory #yes the situation is not ideal but imo this is the best possible outcome #it's fair because UK came in second and won the jury vote #this is also what would be done if the contest was won by Australia or San Marino or some other country that wouldn't be able to host #in those cases the contest would be hosted by a Big-5 country #UK/BBC has hosted the contest a record of eight times #and this will be their fifth time for hosting for another country #they have the facilities and the money #at this point wishing for Ukraine to be the host country is just not realistic #they have more important things to focus on now #even if the war ended soon do people really think Ukraine would pour millions of euros on a stupid song contest #instead of rebuilding the country?#hot take but letting United Kingdom host is the best decision EBU could have made at this point #*preparing for my first anon hate*#eurovision #ukraine #united kingdom #uk #2022 #2023

89 notes · View notes

sunflowersareonfire · 16 days

Text

I’d choose a bear.

#personal #TikTok trends #random man or bear in the woods #violent crime rate is 380.7 per 100k #violent bear attacks are 0.0475 per 100k bear encounter (or 1 in 2.1 million)#so even if we assume the worst possible outcomes for each encounter #a person in general is 8100 times MORE LIKELY to be a victim of violent crime than to be violently attacked by a bear #much less eaten by a bear #not just that but there are techniques to prevent a bear attack that has fairly good success #no such thing is really true for people intent on committing harm on you #save for maybe appearing armed #maybe #so #bear it is for me #no one can say well men are just as or more scared of him as you #but bears are fuckin scardy cats #bears really don’t want to mess with humans #in fact bears and women have a shared understanding of how harmful men can be #like most animals that fear humans they’ve spent millennia learning that survival is avoidance #to watch one’s back #prettt sure a bear would pick a bear over a man

2 notes · View notes

widevibratobitch · 2 months

Text

aaaaaaand it's starting. mom's bestie just texted me asking to come over this weekend cause it's Bad and it's probably the last chance to talk and maybe say goodbye to my mom's husband and i need to take care of her. god. i wont get through this weekend unless im high or drunk istg.

#time to slightly overdose my depression meds again ig lol #anyway. it is a little better with me these last two weeks. turns out the meds do work when you actually take em regularly #but first my best friend's break up that she's blowing up to unimaginable size #acting as if she just got divorced with the love of her life after 20 years #and not ended a few months long relationship with a guy who's been the source of most of her troubles since the moment they started dating #(ofc she's valid and id never tell her that because like. i get it. some people feel stuff more deeply. but its hard to be supportive #when you genuinely feel like this is the best possible outcome for her and that the relationship was only dragging her down all this time)#and now this. and this is gonna be infinitely worse. and then it's gonna get a million times worse when he actually does die.#and i feel like the worst most selfish person ever which like. probably am. but i did tell my cousin who actually knows my mom really well #and she said she understands and that my fears ARE valid because SHE'S terrified of how she's gonna handle my mom #and she wouldn't wanna be me in that situation cause it's gonna be so much worse for me lmao #like i feel like people who know my mother casually really dont understand just how unhinged emotionally she is #anyway. i feel so overwhelmed. i cant handle this jesus.#but im also emotionally unavailable and refuse to actually confide in another person because i dont want to be a bother <3333 #god i love tumblr. i can literally type anything in those tags lol it's the perfect form of venting since you can just scroll by #but i will still have let it out of myself anyway uwu i literally dont need that therapy fr #anyway. i feel so unbelievably fucking lonely and on one hand it's my own fault for withdrawing and refusing to ask for help.#but on the other hand. i AM alone. like there's no one who can help me in this particular situation.#i have no siblings. obviously my dad isnt gonna help. it all falls down to me. good god. i wanna throw up.

3 notes · View notes

margonite-seer · 8 months

Text

This might be one of the most heartbreaking Astarion moments in the entire game.

If you play Dark Urge, eventually, in late Act 3, Tav gets to try to get rid of the urges for good, or, embrace them further. There is a possible outcome where neither of these happen: instead, Tav becomes an outcast cursed to be a murder beast forever, never to be able to get rid of the hunger.

Non-Ascended Astarion's reaction to it is... well... My heart broke in a million pieces, let's say. Because of Neil's amazing acting, as usual, I felt like listening to the conversation is a must. That's why I had to attach the video, too.

But these specific small moments are breaking me more than others.

The subtle but visible drop of his shoulders. He feels so sad and defeated for Tav.

...And this line? Definitely the most tragically poetic/romantic I've ever heard him.

He is so sure he will never love again after Tav, let alone find someone like them.

This has all but confirmed my personal headcanon that unless something tragic happens, Tav and Astarion will stay together for hundreds of years. EDIT:

It's actually so much worse in the ending of the game...

I finished the game on this save path (I'll never consider it canon for my lovely boys and I deleted it after I finished recording all dialogue paths) and the Urges overwhelm Tav the minute the tadpole is gone, but only after Astarion runs to hide from the sun.

Tav has to either stab themselves to death immediately (right in front of other companions) to not become a mindless murderer. If they take merely a moment to plan their future, whatever it is, they get possessed by Bhaal right at the docks. Red glowy eyes, "Orin's" dagger spawning in their hand out of nowhere, all sanity and will gone. And them walking into the city with the dagger in hand is how the game ends.

Tav and Astarion never get their last day together. Astarion running away from the sun is the last time they see each other. No last goodbye, no last celebration, not even an hour of victory bliss and peace.

In the video above, Astarion sounds like he hopes to have at least a few months with Tav, maybe. At least a few days of enjoying the complete freedom together.

In the end, he never got any time with them.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #bg3 dark urge #not gw2

7K notes · View notes

earthtooz · 1 year

Text

x : NO FEAR :*+ﾟ i wanna love you with no fear !

in which: itoshi rin rejected you, so why isn't he handling your avoidance well?

warnings: 5k wc, fluff with minor angst, jealous!rin, food cw, swearing, reo is reader's best friend, COLLEGE!AU, gn!reader, non-canon complaint

a/n: happy valentine's day !!! shoutout to @ryekoo for finally giving me inspo on what to do for the rin fic of my event - u rly saved my life <3

↳ 5K EVENT MASTERLIST ༉‧₊

you:i’m going to end you. <reo3: i’m too pretty to die ._. you: and you told me i was too pretty for itoshi rin to reject!?!?!?! <reo3: oh... <reo3: i’m sorry. <reo3: condolences fr.

with a disappointed sigh, you pocket your phone, decidedly ignoring the next few messages that reo sends as you wait for your bus. he owes you a million yen for the amount of grief and distress he’s currently putting you through, especially with the way he shattered all hopes you had with your love life.

well, hopes that you were stupid enough to feed into because this was itoshi rin you’re talking about; possibly the most standoffish, calculated, and devastatingly gorgeous man you’ve ever met in your life. yet, despite his detestable personality, you still found yourself falling hook, line, and sinker for the man, despite his insults, cold comments, and dismissive attitude.

maybe it’s masochism.

now that you look back on it, rin’s rejection seemed almost inevitable. even if you lead yourself to hope with all the times you caught him staring at you, the prompt replies to your messages, and willingness to somewhat tolerate you during group projects, it was rather obvious that this would be the outcome to your heartfelt confession.

‘i don’t see you like that’.

it’s cringeworthy simply thinking about it. now you’re going to have another memory that’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.

recalling the expression he made after your confession; eyebrows scrunched and lips tugged into a slight frown, was traumatising enough for you to wish for the ground to swallow you whole. his face will plague you for an uncertain amount of time because today truly, was so very humbling.

the sight of your bus approaching your stop rouses you from the crevices of your thoughts and after you jump on and settle yourself into a seat in the relatively empty carriage, you bring your phone out to text reo again. he’d sent four messages since.

<reo3: this doesn’t make any sense we all thought rin was into you <reo3: like DOWN BAD into you<reo3: everyone on the team has literally made bets on you two <reo3: i’m sorry :c r u okay? you: yeah. just gotta take the L and move on you: hey at least i’m free for valentines <reo3: LET’S GOOO we’re definitely doing something <reo3: i’ll be a better valentines than r*n you: you’re sexier too babes xoxo <reo3: duh!

maybe you’ll let reo see another day.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your university schedule was never the same after the ‘itoshi rin’ fiasco.

it was never an amazing schedule to begin with since a few classes were quite inconvenient, and there’s only so much to enjoy out of your seminars. the fun part about them was being able to sit beside rin and talk to him whenever you could without getting waved off, but since his heartless decline of your feelings, acting ‘buddy-buddy’ wouldn’t be acceptable. so you resorted to sit by yourself in a section of the space you’ve never really occupied before, busying yourself on your phone as students walked in to class.

despite the temptation to look at the door to see when rin would come in, you do not budge one bit, eyes glued to your phone screen (which had nothing entertaining on it). this meant that you couldn’t see the confusion on his face when he didn’t see you in your normal spot and how it merged further into a look of offence when he instead spots you across the room.

reluctantly taking his usual seat, rin’s gaze lingers on you, hoping to meet your eyes at least once. but upon your insistence to pretend your phone was more important than him, he sits down, practically flopping onto his chair with his backpack cushioning his fall.

sitting here feels a little empty. rin can’t help but think how it used to be much better when you insisted on being next to him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

<;reo3: you can come now rin isn’t here yet

you: kk b there soon

the trek across campus towards the university’s soccer field, although long, is harmless enough, especially since you were doing a favour for your best friend by bringing the soccer guards and water bottle that he left at your dorm. the harmful part was the looming threat of itoshi rin’s presence and your fear that you would encounter him on your way.

all you needed to do was drop in quickly and leave.

when you get to the field, nagi’s the one who sees you first from where he was lounging on the bleaches, changed in his soccer gear.

“oh, y/n,” he mumbles, sitting up. “hello.”

“hey nagi. are you trying to nap before practice or something?” you ask.

“yeah.”

“won’t that drain you though before practice starts? you’ve got like… five minutes.”

“still classified as a power nap. wanna collect a power up before startin’.”

amusing as ever, he is. “sure. hey, you know where reo is?”

“he’s changed, probably warming up with isagi and bachira and whoever else.”

“shouldn’t you be doing that too?”

“not until reo forces me to.”

as if on cue, a friendly and very familiar voice calls out nagi’s name and you’re delighted to see the purple-haired in question. you can finally give him his stupid stuff back; the ones you’ve been holding in your hands this entire time like an idiot.

“come on nagi!” reo exclaims, jogging over. a smile appears on his face when he sees you. “yo! y/n! thanks for bringing my things.”

“‘s not a problem. next time i’ll burn them so don’t leave them again,” you counter as the purple-haired takes his things from you with an eye roll. “i filled up your water bottle for you.”

he places his things down before sitting beside nagi to put his guards on. “so considerate even whilst terrorising me.”

“of course.”

“seriously though, thank you for bringing my things.”

“not a problem. i’m gonna head back to my dorm to study so i’ll see you later. bye reo, bye nagi,” you wave at the two, fixing your backpack strap before turning around to leave the field, only to bump face-first into someone.

the apology that surfaces on your tongue quickly withers away when you lock eyes with a pair of steely, teal ones, partially hidden by strands of dark hair. he looks at you like he has something to say.

but you’re not ready to hear it.

“uh, hi rin! gotta go!” you squeak before stepping to the side and running away, leaving rin to stare in bewilderment after you.

part of him has the urge to run after you.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

<reo3: isagi’s invited a bunch of us to the on campus screening of spirited away

<reo3: wanna come?

you: ykw why not

you: not like i have essays to write

<reo3: FUCK THEM ESSAYS!

you: YOU’RE RIGHT SPIRITED AWAY IS BETTER !

if you knew that this would lead you to be seated (uncomfortably) between reo and isagi, who acted as the only barrier between you and an-unnamed-man (rin), then perhaps you would’ve dedicated yourself to your essay rather than a fun opportunity to hang out with your friends.

1500 words sounds better than having to pretend like there wasn’t an icy cold stare penetrating the back of your head every time you turned to talk to reo, or isagi trying to keep his interactions up with rin so the latter wouldn’t try to talk to you.

you owe isagi a vending machine drink after this because a ‘thank you’ will never suffice.

it’s easy enough to forget about rin when the movie plays and isagi begins whispering little pieces of commentary to you from time to time, eliciting giggles from you that you try to suppress to not annoy those around you. however, each sound that slipped past your lips was enough to make the dark-haired boy scrunch his face in disgust, an ugly, green monster climbing up his throat when he catches a glimpse of how happy you seemed with someone that wasn’t him. it kills him to see how easily it is for you to just ignore him like your friendship never existed.

since the campus movie was scheduled during a cool but bearable, autumn dusk, you severely underestimated how cold the night would get. heating wasn’t the best in the gymnasium so the committee had instructed everyone to bring their own blankets and warm covers, yet in your haste, you couldn’t bring adequate layers.

so after a while of trying to warm yourself up and convincing yourself that you were warm enough with a measly sweatshirt, rin notices from the corner of his eye how you kept rubbing your arms.

he doesn’t hesitate to take off the fleece jacket that he was wearing over his university jumper. sure, it will be significantly colder without his outer layer, but rin’s willing to suffer as long as you were okay (when has he ever been this considerate?), except he stops when he sees nagi handing you his very oversized jumper. you accept it with a gracious smile and the white-haired boy merely shrugs before going back to watching the film. rin, on the other hand, feels a cauldron of rage brewing within him.

the sight makes his chest twist, wringing him dry as he stares dejectedly at how snug you seem in someone else’s clothes. the green monster inside of rin bubbles in contempt, a being that makes him want to rip the hoodie off you and replace it with his own for you to wrap yourself up in. he wants you to be content with him- happy because of him, not because of another.

you confessed to him only two weeks ago- barely even two weeks ago, so how could you so easily forget about him and move on? pretend like his rejection didn’t shatter you and him when he saw a devastation like no other on your pretty face?

rin doesn’t know how much longer he can live like this.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the following tuesday, you’re already seated in your new spot for your seminar, busy setting up your laptop in preparation when rin walks in. you see him from the corner of your eye, backpack slung around his shoulder, hands tucked unassumingly in his pockets as all 185cm of him saunters towards the seats. however, when you notice that he bypasses his normal spot and walks even further out of your peripheral vision, alarms blare deafeningly in your head.

you freeze when you hear someone take the seat behind you.

there’s a hard gaze on the back of your head, one that roots you to your spot and wills you not to turn around.

sneaking out your phone from your bag, you hide it so that rin can’t see it from his angle.

you: RIN IS SITTING BEHIND ME OH NO

you: terrible start to valentines day smh

<reo3: WHAT!??!!???!???! fr.

you: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY I’M GOING TO DISINTEGRATE RIGHT NOW

<reo3: maybe *don’t* do that????

<reo3: WHY’S HE SITTING BEHIND YOU?????

you: FUCK IF I KNOW IT FEELS LIKE HE’S THROWING DAGGERS AT MY HEAD

<reo3: WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?

you: CRY???????????? IDFK???????????

you: oh fuck class is about to start

you: i’ll let you know if anything happens

<reo3: STAY SAFE

you tuck your phone away with fear and dread looming over you, personified through the form of itoshi rin, who sits so indifferently behind you, head propped on his hand. you hear his pen click behind you and you don’t even need to see him to know that he’s taking out that stupid notebook of his since he preferred to take notes by hand. you want to turn around and rip said book into shreds.

as the professor starts the class, you try your best to shake rin out of your thoughts, wanting to leave him behind in the depths of your mind so you can concentrate on this damn elective. none of the notes you were typing onto your document made sense and it felt like everything the professor was saying went in one ear then out the other. curse rin for having this effect on you.

at least you get to gossip with reo after this.

though your seminar was only 60 minutes, it might as well have been 60 years because of how significantly older you feel at the end of it. the weight of rin’s stare was heavy on your shoulders when you hurriedly grab your things and make a dash for the exit.

well. you try to make a dash for the exit because somehow, rin gained the ability to teleport and beat you there, grabbing your wrist unceremoniously before pulling you into the hallways. you fumble with your phone, hurriedly texting reo.

you: UHH MAYDAY I MGHT NEEE TO SKIP OUR PLANS

<reo3: WHAT’S HAPPENING?????

you: RIN IS DRSGGING ME SIMEWHERE IDK WHERE

you: MY LOCARION IS ON LIFE360

you: I LUV YOU STUPID WHORE

<reo3: WHDJFWIJAIDJFAWHAT THE FUCK????

“hey!” you exclaim, helplessly being pulled by rin’s long strides, shutting your phone off as you try to match his eagerness. he could at least be a little more considerate and lighten up that grip of his on your wrist. “rin- what? where are we going?”

“you’ll see,” he responds gruffly.

your mind blanks despite the hurricane of questions that circulate your mind. how did you get here? is the delirium finally hitting you after countless sleepless nights? you stayed up until 2am last night to make valentine’s chocolates for your friends so maybe it’s the sugar and the sleep deprivation.

as rin pulls you through the hallways, you think about how weird it is to allow him this close to you again- well, you didn’t exactly allow him, he kind of just… invaded your personal space. but after a whole week of not talking to him, responding dryly to his texts, avoiding your regular hangout spots, and overall pretending like he doesn’t exist, being exposed to his intimidating presence once more is… exhilarating? unreal?

“wait, can we stop for a second?” you demand, breaking out of your funk when you step outside as if the harshness of the sun’s rays woke you up. “i’m so confused right now. where are we going?”

“we’re going to have lunch together at that café you’ve been wanting to try out,” he tells you with a serious expression, not breaking his usual aloof and stern personality.

rin doesn’t give mixed messages: no, he gives messages that have completely been lost, fallen astray somewhere along the path of communication.

shifting your weight between your feet awkwardly, you tell him: “well, i kinda had valentine’s plans.”

his mask of coolness and uninterest cracks, exposing all the emotions he’s been withholding from surfacing for the past weeks; jealousy, envy, greed, they all manifest through the helpless scrunch of his face. “with who?” asks rin, tone a lot harsher than he had intended, matching the crease of his eyebrows and the frown he was wearing.

it’s the green monster in him talking.

if you were going out with someone else, someone new, rin’s not too sure what he’d do. determination and pettiness can only take a man so far before his resolve cracks and you have the power to crush his heart with a single stomp, extinguishing his flames in one, swift sweep.

“with reo,” you confess. the dark-haired relaxes again, his face returning to a neutral expression.

“okay. ditch him then.” his audacity is baffling.

“i can’t just do that!”

“why not?”

“cause that’s a shitty thing to do!” you say, before murmuring under your breath, “not that you’d know the first thing about being polite.”

“i don’t care, it’s reo, you two hang out everyday. tell him to give me a turn.”

“you’re a horrible person, rin,” you murmur, ignoring the butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

he doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely eyeing you expectantly, waiting for your next step. huffing, you reluctantly take out your phone as a sign of surrender under his suffocating pressure, muttering complaints under your breath as you find reo’s contact - literally your most recent one, to send him a quick message. almost instantly, your best friend responds with a thumbs up paired with a smirk and you almost want to block him then and there.

“done.”

“perfect,” rin goes to grab your hand again but you retract from him just in time. when you look up to meet his gaze once more, you see his unimpressed expression whilst he keeps his palm extended towards you expectantly.

“i don’t need your help walking places,” you grumble, not liking how fast your heart was racing.

he gestures to his open palm once more. “i know.”

after a moment of silence, you give in, hesitantly placing your hand in his. with a small grin, rin intertwines your fingers before pulling you to his side. without another word, he begins walking, leaving you to merely follow the brutally fast pace he’s set.

you must’ve looked ridiculous to other people. being dragged around by an 185 cm man, how humbling.

the place rin led you to was not too far from campus; a totally manageable distance for the two of you to remain in silence during the walk. you try to bypass the awkwardness of it all by focusing on other things, like how warm rin’s hand is and how you hope he doesn’t mind your sweaty hands. he seems to be content from what you’ve observed, happily walking beside you whilst sparing a few occasional glances over; ones that you pretend you don’t see whilst admiring the cityscape around you.

there are various valentine’s decorations hung up around the insides of the cafe that made you cringe slightly. although they were very cute, you feel humiliation climbing up your throat, serving as a reminder that you were currently spending a day of love and romance, or whatever, standing beside the very man who rejected you.

this is the cruellest version of a sick joke.

“welcome!” a cheery voice greets, breaking you out of your thoughts. “table for two?” rin nods. “perfect! are you here for valentine’s day because couples get access to a special menu on top of our regular one.”

when you open your mouth to reject her offer, rin beats you to it. “we’ll take the valentine’s menu.”

“okay, right this way,” the waitress guides you to an empty table for two that was right by the corner. the atmosphere of the place was cozy with various candles and statement pieces to really bring it together, but you have no time or brain space to appreciate the aesthetic of the café.

it’s not until the waitress leaves that you speak up, utterly confused. “why’d you get the valentine’s menu, we-”

realisation hits you like a truck.

“-are we on a date right now?”

rin’s unmoving, save for the purse of his lips as he stares at you. you feel a little foolish right now.

“yeah, we are,” he answers, curtly and concisely.

alarms are blaring in your head, the earth is tremoring below you, there are distant screams somewhere in the back of your mind and all you can manage out is a simple ‘oh’.

“get what you want, i’ll-” rin begins before you abruptly cut him off.

“-no, hold on, i’m so confused right now,” you rub your temples, staring at the stupid valentine’s day menu decorated with pink and hearts and chocolates. “why?”

“why what?”

“why are we on a date?”

“because it’s valentine’s day?”

“well- i know that part,” you murmur under your breath. “it’s just, y’know, people celebrate this day when they like each other.” and not when one party is miserable because the other rejected them.

“we do like each other though.”

there are no words to describe the shock you feel. really. not even an anvil dropping on your head could wake you up from whatever dream you are conjuring right now.

“no, we don’t! i like you, you don’t like me.”

he looks away, the tips of his ears turning red. “that’s not true,” he murmurs, no louder than a whisper, yet your jaw drops all the same at his confession. “i do like you.”

“a week ago you didn’t!”

“a week ago i wasn’t ready to get into a… relationship… or whatever.”

“oh,” you fix the strap of your bag, feeling slightly awkward. “and you’re ready now all of a sudden?”

“yeah.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“the fuck? why?”

“you don’t really seem like the type of guy to turn around on yourself like this. what changed?”

rin won’t ever tell you about how much he missed you during these two weeks and how it was his jealousy and greediness that spurred him to act on his feelings. instead, he simply slides the menu to you, pointing to a milkshake-‘lover’s brew’, and since the menu was decorated with pictures on the side, you could see what the concoction consisted of. whipped cream, heart sprinkles, topped with a caramel heart and fairy floss.

“the milkshake?” you ask, trailing off towards the end. “you hate sweet things and this especially looks like it could give you diabetes.”

the dark-haired shrugs. “so? i thought you’d like it.”

“sure, but it is kinda pricey for a milkshake.”

he shrugs again, putting his elbows on the table which causes his sleeves of his turtleneck to roll down a little, exposing the shiny silver of his, no doubt expensive, watch. “i’ll pay for us, it’s fine.”

“hold on-”

“i’m paying. end of argument.”

it’s an offer you can’t really reject. being a university student and all, funds are limited, so wherever you can, you want to avoid withdrawing money out of your account. that said, it doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about draining rin’s, but with how long you’ve been friends, you know that once he’s set his mind to something, it’s hard to change it.

“if you insist,” you grumble, straightening up your spine as you awkwardly fiddle with your shirt. you feel so scrutinised under his gaze, even as you reach for the jug of water and pour two cups of water. “what else should we get?”

the waitress then comes around to take your orders and when she’s gone, conversation flows easily, reverting back to how things were between the two of you (to rin’s relief). he listens as you talk animatedly about the unfortunate series of events you had with your professor the other day, how cute your encounter with the campus dogs were, and the really unfortunate run-in you had with a guy from your shared tutorial classes.

(the dark-haired boy makes a face when you mention another man’s name before his usual face of indifference melts back in.)

“here’s your milkshake,” the waitress says, placing the drink in the middle of the table before walking away, “you guys are really cute by the way.”

“thanks,” rin says calmly, a stark contrast to your flustered reaction.

two straws stick out from the milkshake and when you put one in your mouth, you almost choke when rin takes the other one, causing your noses to bump in the middle. the look he gives you is nothing short of mischievous before pulling away, a knowing smirk playing along his lips.

“ew. that is really sweet,” he mutters before leaning back, crossing his arms.

“yeah,” you cough. “it is really sweet.”

recovering from your embarrassment, the rest of lunch goes by quite seamlessly. he goes to pay for everything with a confident tap of his card, causing you to stand awkwardly behind him, keeping all complaints to yourself as it goes through. thanking the waitress, you leave the café hand-in-hand once more.

“thanks again for paying,” you repeat and rin gives a hum of acknowledgement whilst you two walk aimlessly on the path. “what do you want to do now?”

“i don’t know. do you have anything you want to do?”

“i might have an idea.”

leading him in the direction of a nearby store that just opened recently, you come to a stop in front of a shop that had neon-lights illuminating its inside and claw machines filled with adorable plushies lining along the walls.

glancing at him, there’s a glimmer of amusement in rin’s eyes as his lips turn upwards into a small smirk. “really?” he asks, looking over at you.

“really. this’ll be fun!” you promise before walking in, the dark-haired following suit as you stop in front of a token-purchasing machine.

from the corner of your eye, you can see him taking out his wallet already and you immediately put your hand on your wrist, ceasing his movement.

with just one glance, a whole conversation passes between you two. “if you pay for me i will sock you.”

“i’d like to see you try,” he deadpans, quirking a brow before pressing the ‘20 tokens = $19’ button on the machine, “but i’m paying.”

then the sound of his card meeting the reader and the transaction being approved rings through the air, followed by the deafening noise of coins clashing against metal. the look he gives you is nothing short of proud.

“come on babe, bet you won’t be able to get any prizes,” challenges rin as he brushes past you, the pet name causing your stomach to churn as insults rest on your tongue, offended by his declaration.

he’s gracious enough to give you half of the coins, allowing you to play four games each. you only manage to win on one of them and even then, you were astonished at your own achievements, excitedly grabbing the plushie and hugging the stuffed toy to your chest protectively. rin, on the other hand, comes back to you with two in both hands and the gawk you let out was completely against your will.

“how did you do that?” you ask, a little stupified at the sight (it was kinda hot though). although at this point, you shouldn’t really question how itoshi rin works since he takes the meaning of ‘march to the beat of your own drum’ to a whole other level.

instead of answering, he hands them over to you and you have no choice but to take them, your arms now overloaded with three stuffed toys.

before you can even open your mouth to ask if he broke into the machines, your phone buzzes with a notification and the second you open it, you’re met with a familiar ‘⚠️bereal’ banner, one that makes you excited over the impeccable timing. rin raises an eyebrow at your sudden surprise.

“bereal! quick, pose!” you demand and rin obeys, raising a peace sign with a slight smile before the camera turns around to you and the many stuffed toys you’re cuddling.

how adorable you are might just kill him.

the dark-haired shakes the thought away before taking out his phone, instructing you to smile. you pose for the photo, hugging all the plushies closely to your chest whilst rin gives his usual deadpan stare into the camera. he then gives you his phone to check if it was okay to post and when you approve, you press the ‘post >’ button for him.

shutting off his phone for him, it’s at the same time that the bereal notification pops up again, this time detailing how one of his friends had posted but that’s not what caught your attention.

it’s a certain photo that made your heart thump loudly in its ribcage.

“am i your lockscreen?” you ask, pride and flattery swelling in your stomach, manifesting through the warmth of your cheeks.

the slight widening of his eyes give you all the answers you need. “you weren’t supposed to see that.”

nothing could stop the slow grin from erupting on your expression. it’s ridiculous to say so, but it almost feels like a weight is being lifted from your chest, the pains of the last few weeks erasing themselves completely with this one detail.

that’s how you know rin was meant for you.

“out of all pictures of me, you chose this one?” you question, gesturing to the selfie that you once sent him during your study sessions. your hair was messy, there was a semi-crazed look in your eyes, but at least the moisturising lip gloss you had reapplied then made you look somewhat put together.

looking at his phone once more, you feel a little warm.

“i like it,” he mutters shyly, unable to look you in the eye. despite his embarrassment, his statement fills you with endless relief, providing gratification for your relationship with rin that you didn’t know you needed.

though you’ve been friends with him for quite some time now, you feel as though you don’t really recognise the man in front of you. past perceptions you’ve had of him has now been shattered by his flustered gaze, the relentless blush coating his cheeks, and the uncharacteristic way he slumps, as if defending himself from any judgement you might throw at him.

luckily for him, that’s not what you’re interested in doing.

unlocking your phone, you hand it to him. “take a matching selfie so i can make it my lock screen too.”

at least you have all the time in the world to get to know him all over again.

(rin will never tell you that he only has been active on bereal so he could see what you were up to. except it backfired every time because instead of satisfying how desperately he was longing for you during your two weeks of no contact, it only made him want you more. he wanted to be there with you through your intense study sessions, he wanted to be going on walks with you, he wanted to be there with you when you were watching one more episode of your favourite tv show before going to bed, he just wanted to be there with you.

now he has all the time to make sure he is.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[@y/n’s BeReal]

@ karasu69: @fruityninjaotoya YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS 　　→ @fruitninjaotoya: Shut your micropenis up

@ yocchan: Y/N WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS 　　→ @ nagixxxxxxxxxxxxx: ratio 　　→ @ yocchan: DON’T RATIO ME RN

@monsterbachira: omg are y’all 😍❤️😍 rn 　　→ @y/n: wut. 　　→ @itshrin: Yes 　　→ @monsterbachira: y/n rin is actually a good kisser 　　→ @y/n: thanks for letting me know meguru! 　　→ @itshrin: i’m going to end you.

@bbgreo: i’m glad y’all had fun but no itoshi rin on our platonic date pls! 　　→ @y/n: would never dream of it luv <3 　　→ @itshrin: Sleep with one eye open, Reo 　　→ @y/n: that’s my best friend :( 　　→ @itshrin: You don’t need him 　　→ @y/n: reo and i are one you can’t separate us 　　→ @itshrin: Ok fine 😒 　　→ @bbgreo: yay! 　　→ @y/n: yay!

<reo3: told you you were too pretty to reject xx

#itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #itoshi rin drabble #itoshi rin #itoshi rin bllk #blue lock

8K notes · View notes

a-million-possible-outcomes · 2 years

Text

AMPO Prompt: August 2022

this month's mood (a thing now) is sleepy sleepy sleepy because i am sleepy sleepy sleepy but hopefully the cool stories to come out of this prompt will not make YOU sleepy sleepy sleepy !! anyway. here's the August prompt:

"Freedom would be lovely. But usually, caged birds die caged birds."

ooooh ahhhh another dialogue prompt

You’ll have until August 25-30 (roughly around there) to post your story. You’re free to write anything you want, barring any NSFW content and Harry Potter fanfiction (other fanfic is ok), just please add content warnings at the top. We can’t wait to see what you come up with!

#writblr #writeblr #writblr event #writeblr event #a million possible outcomes #words from nciko

18 notes · View notes

thisiswhereikeepdcthings · 7 months

Text

Fic things I will never have enough of/get over:

“Oh no, they’re hot.”

“Great, now there’s two of them.”

See above but with more swearing and feelings of dread and impending doom

BAMFs with swords

Old wise person causing 90% of the chaos

“They’ve never met in canon.” “Actually, they’re dating.”

“They’re mortal enemies.” “Actually, they’re married.”

The keeper of the braincell

Sharing one braincell but they lost it

The cinnamon roll goes feral

Tiny feral child and their supportive, enabling, non-parental background adults

“I’m your problem now”

“Welp, guess I’m a parent now”

Accidental world domination

Competence

Competence kink

Calmly sipping tea while everything behind them is on fire

Trying to be a good, supportive adult but you have no point of reference so you end up giving a sword to a ten-year-old

Time travel

Person A and person B start dating and when they tell everyone persons C-Q are confused because haven’t they been dating for like three years now and persons R-Z thought they were already married

*does something previously thought to be impossible* “What, like it’s hard?”

Platonic besties that will help hide the bodies

Fake dating

Accidental baby acquisition

Accidental baby acquisition but they’re a middle-aged to senior adult with like five thirty-something-year-olds that are now their children

Crossovers that shouldn’t work but do

“I need help” “I’ll grab the shovel” “Not that kind of help”

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Well-written non-canon pairings for characters that have other firmly established canon pairings. Like, fully alters the entire story line non-canon pairings. But done in a way that feels like a reasonable possible outcome.

A protagonist with a million problems to solve still taking the time to be kind

Forehead kisses

Time traveller going apeshit and fixing everything preferably in as Mary-Sue a way as possible

OP character who is oblivious to the fact that they are indeed OP

Character who spouts off increasingly concerning details of their life while not realizing everyone else’s growing concern or the fact that they’re probably about to be mother-henned for the next decade

Character who chooses a parental figure and informs said parental figure of this new development with little to no forewarning

Strong, stoic character is actually the most chaotic one there

Everything in the chaotic portion of the alignment chart

Getting back at a bad guy in as petty a way as possible

Time travel with two or more time travellers who don’t realize they’re not the only time traveller

The guy everyone thinks is going to beat up all the bad guys sitting back and watching the person previously believed to be as strong as an uncooked noodle absolutely demolish them

Any situation where characters play hot potato with a position of great power. “Congrats, you’re king now.” “Not if you can’t catch me, I’m not.”

Unexpected language skills

Unexpected skills in general, particularly if they’re as niche as hell

Two extremely competent individuals who lose all brain cells when within a close proximity of each other

Fixing problems on accident

Fixing problems on accident while actively trying to cause problems on purpose

Surviving primarily due to spite

#a non comprehensive list #fics #fanfic tropes #ao3 #batman #batfam #and all the other fandoms I end up in #several of which I wake up in not sure how I got there #but then I stay for a little while #and then suddenly I’m invested #I think there are only two or three fandoms I’ve ever purposefully sought out #the other couple dozen just kinda happened

1K notes · View notes

d1xonss · 2 months

Note

Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?

Pretty When I Cry

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 1

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Angst/Fluff

✧ Word Count : 4k

AN ~ This is a very cute idea. I've been wanting to write something for season 1 Daryl because he's just such a cutie pie, but I didn't really have any good ideas. Though I think if he were to ever snap and "be mean" it would surely be in the beginning; his sassy era lol. But thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!

In an instant it seemed like, all of humanity was completely flipped upside down. You were on your way to work when the chaos all erupted, dead people coming back to life and the military taking matters into their own hands. Bombing places left and right even if that meant killing the ones who weren’t infected. The entire thing shook you more than you were ever willing to admit, after all, you were more fragile, soft and clearly not built for whatever the world was suddenly turning into.

But to your surprise, you made it out alive. Traumatized, sure, but alive.

You seemed to count your blessings every single day since then, thankful for every little thing that had happened to you since. Luck seemed to shine down upon you as you weren’t alone for long, finding a small group camped out in the high mountains merely days after everything went down. They all welcomed you with open arms, clearly taking a liking to your kindness and wanting as many people to come together as they could get. After all, it’s all that was left of the world. People you could rely on.

You grew to love the tight knit group, forming friendships with people you never would’ve guessed you’d meet in a million years. You also tried to keep yourself busy, wanting to be as useful as possible and provide what you could for the others. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you simply wanted to. Things like cooking, collecting berries and mushrooms, doing laundry, anything you could find to help contribute.

Something you seemed to be ashamed of however, was that you couldn’t really do any of the “heavy lifting.” You had never fired a gun in your life, that alone narrowed down the list. Not being able to stay on watch, not being able to hunt, and…not being able to take care of the dead things that sometimes wandered all the way up here. At first, the thought of you being weaker than the others never even crossed your mind. It was only brought to your attention when a certain man began to poke fun at you because of how small he saw you.

Merle Dixon was a grade A asshole to put it bluntly. Ever since he and his brother showed up to be a part of the group later on, he had made it his mission to annoy and harass you whenever he saw the opportunity. You couldn’t figure out why you were his main target, his main source of entertainment, but you could only guess it was because he always got under your skin in a way he was able to see. That, and he tended to make you cry. He even gave you a nickname because of it after a while, one that you absolutely hated. And he knew it too.

Although Merle was someone you couldn’t stand, his brother Daryl however was…different. He could still be snappy and hot headed just like the other one you supposed, but he had never acted that way towards you surprisingly. His main target was Shane, and honestly, who could blame him? There were many times where the man would take things too far and Daryl would put him in his place, unaware of the watchful wide eyes that watched the interaction. He never seemed to care, wanting to tell everyone how it was without a single ounce of regret. You sort of envied him for that small little thing.

You had never stood up to anyone in your life, always too scared of the outcome and you hated being yelled at more than anything in the world. So it was safe to say you avoided confrontation at all costs. Clearly, as you hadn’t found the strength to stand up to Merle since he got here. But though neither of the brothers particularly cared for you, you were still kind to them just like you were to everyone else. You didn’t miss how the others in the group would almost look down on them in a way you couldn’t understand, so you wanted to be the one who provided just that little bit of kindness. It really went a long way, or at least that’s what you believed.

Though you had to admit, it was a little difficult sometimes. There were moments where you just wanted to yell in frustration, curse at Merle for how he always treated you and how Daryl typically sat there and did nothing. But you always managed to cool off, reminding yourself that they most likely acted like this because of something from their past. Something they couldn’t control. Who were you to treat them differently because of that? It was hard to stay strong at times, but in the end, you always seemed to send them a small smile.

You currently busied yourself on just the outskirts of the camp past the trees, finding and picking a few berries to bring back seeing as the group was running a bit low. And every bit of food counted these days. Your gaze stayed down as you chose the ripest ones, placing them in the little woven basket you brought to gather as many as you could for the time being. Though upon your hunt for different kinds of plant based things you could eat, your eyes happened to catch a mere glimpse of something colorful a few feet away.

To your surprise, it was a small patch of wildflowers growing together, each a different beautiful color and only a reminder to you that the world wasn’t completely dead. There were still many beautiful aspects along the way, even though a bit of hope may be lost, it was little things like this that brought a smile to your face. So you decided to wrap it up, bring back the things you’d collected along with picking one of the small flowers, putting it behind your ear for now to take back and put in your tent with the rest of your things. You had the idea of pressing it into one of the pages of a journal you kept.

You then found yourself slowly trailing back towards the site, almost dreadfully as you could predict what was coming next. You could practically hear it in the back of your mind like it was burned into your memory. Merle’s phantom voice echoed in your mind, knowing he would most likely call out to you the moment he noticed your presence reenter the space. But again, you reminded yourself to just try and be kind. It was the one thing you were best at.

Slowly but surely you made it past the treeline, and only about eight seconds passed before you heard a loud wolf whistle from your left along with the same booming laugh. Like he amused himself or something.

“There she is!” he called from the space in his and Daryl’s separate camp away from the others, “It’s weeping willow.” he smiled widely in hopes to get a reaction out of you.

You sighed as you sent him a small smile, “Still not my name Merle.” you reminded as you just tried to walk past him.

But it wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy. He easily stepped in front of you to block your path, the smirk still plastered on his face. “Close enough.” he waved off, “Besides, I wanna see what you so kindly brought back for me.” he said before quickly snatching your basket out of your hands.

Your eyes slightly widened as you tried to grab it back, but he pulled it away faster. “Merle.” you huffed as you attempted to reach for it again, but he only moved it away quicker. Every move you made, he would make as well, purposefully keeping it from you as he started to walk backwards for you to follow.

Like dangling a damn carrot in front of your face.

Your frustration grew as you continued to follow and reach for it as he laughed, watching your attempts and fails. You could feel your cheeks beginning to heat up in embarrassment now, sensing Daryl’s eyes watching the interaction as he made a few bolts by the small fire they had set up. He sat there still, doing nothing as per usual as he watched the interaction unfold right in front of him.

“Merle, please. It’s for the group.” you tried as you reached for it again.

But he pulled it out of your reach as you stood face to face, “Well, I’m a part of that group ain’t I? I think I deserve this just as much as the next bastard. Unless of course you have a different opinion bout that…” he trailed off as his smirk grew.

You sighed, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. It’s for everyone.” you clarified kindly.

The man only laughed at you, and you quickly began to feel the familiar lump forming in your throat, trying desperately to swallow it down and not let your emotions escape. It was obvious you were sensitive, but also having to fight the same fight over and over again, it got old quicker than you would admit. You could hardly stand these interactions anymore without at least tearing up a little at his teasing and taunting.

Finally after having enough, you reached out quickly and managed to snatch the basket back from him in one quick motion, placing it on your arm as your brows furrowed a little in frustration. Merle’s eyes widened a bit at the fast unexpected action, before he started smirking all over again once he caught the expression on your face.

“Oooh look at that. I almost got ya to snap.” he poked as he swayed a little clumsily on his feet, most likely a little drunk or high would be your best guess.

Sighing to yourself again to calm down, you shook your head as you knew of his only goal, “I’m not snapping.” you stated calmly.

Though he clearly didn’t believe you, wanting to push you even more. His eyes traveled away from your eyes as he grinned wickedly, pointing to your ear. “What’s this lil thing?” he asked. Your eyes widened a little, but before you could even react, he quickly snatched it away all while pulling your hair a little in the process.

Your hand reached again, “Merle, come on, please.” you spoke desperately as you moved to keep up with him, before your frame accidentally stepped a little too far to the left.

In a fit of embarrassment and clumsiness, your foot accidentally knocked over a bucket that was sitting a little too close to the fire. The only problem was, Daryl’s freshly made bolts were sitting in there, now being engulfed in the flames. Your eyes widened in horror as you quickly scrambled back, watching Daryl instantly stand to his feet in an attempt to save what wasn’t ruined. But it was too late.

“Son of a bitch!” he cursed loudly as he bent down to pick up the bucket.

One of your hands came up to your mouth as you couldn’t believe what you had just done, freezing in place as you now didn’t know what to do. You knew you were in deep shit already, but when Merle suddenly paused just as you did, you knew you were royally fucked as the two of you just watched Daryl stare down at the fire motionlessly.

Eventually you found your voice, stepping forward a little to reach out to him, “Oh my God, Daryl I’m so sorry-”

But your words clearly didn’t mean a thing. He slapped your hand harshly away from him as his head snapped up to look at you, a fire of his own growing in his eyes. “What the hell is wrong with ya?!” he screamed.

You instantly flinched back at his sharp tone, the lump once again forming in your throat as you desperately tried to keep yourself together, “It was an accident-”

“Do ya even know how long it took me ta make those?” he asked angrily, not even bothering to wait for an answer. “Nah…course ya don’t. Cause you don’t do anything around here! Always just sittin in yer own little fairytale, smilin without a goddamn care in the world, when in reality you just fuckin ruin everything!”

His words cut through you like a knife. But not one that was sharp. One that was dull, just sawing back and forth relentlessly and hurting you even more than you could’ve ever imagined. Your eyes quickly filled with tears, not even knowing what to say as he was clearly about to blow up even more with how angry he grew.

He scoffed once he saw how speechless you became, “Just get the hell outta here.” he spat harshly as he got up closer to your face, aggressively pointing off into the trees.

Tears began to pour down your cheeks at the last of his words, not even wasting another second as you dropped the basket from your arms before taking off in the other direction in a flash. Your chest heaved as you moved quickly through the trees, not being able to get alone fast enough so you could finally let everything out. You almost couldn’t believe the things that just happened, how everything got so messed up after you swore you were making progress with the two of them. But you weren’t. And perhaps you never would, that being something you would just have to accept.

Though finally after feeling like you walked quickly for miles, you came to the clearing of the large quarry, slumping down near the water before you began to sob all by yourself. You let everything out, every built up emotion poured out of you like a rush of water. You could’ve sworn you cried so much that you could fill a quarry of your own, knowing that those emotions were really the only thing you were good at. Crying could be an olympic sport, and you would win first everytime given the chance.

But that thought only got you thinking more, making you stew over Daryl’s words. Maybe he was right. Anyone could say that it was the heat of the moment, his anger, insults just spilling out of his mouth that were simply not true. But in a way, you knew how true they were. You had to admit that you did feel useless as you hugged your knees to your chest, covering your face as you sobbed even more. You didn’t have useful skills like some of the others, not being able to prove yourself as you truly were weak when it came to a world like this. All you ever wanted to do was be kind, provide for the people you cared about most. But your outlook got ruined in an instant, quickly replaced with a new one that you would surely think about forever.

It was funny, you thought. You once heard Merle’s faint voice playing in your mind repeatedly, but now…you only heard Daryl’s. His insults, his harshness, it was something you never would’ve guessed or expected from him. But now you knew that you had just ruined everything, when all you wanted was to help.

You didn’t know how much time you spent alone, crying off and on to yourself the more you allowed your mind to run, but you could only assume it was a fairly long time. The sun was beginning to set in the sky, the little bit of light that was left shone over the water in front of you, making it sparkle as your tears continued to blur the scenery. You sniffled as you wiped your cheeks over and over again, wanting to pull yourself together enough to be able to show your face again back at camp. But the embarrassment was still weighing heavily, almost a crushing pressure.

But then all your attention was pulled to a shuffling noise coming from behind you, causing you to whip your head around in a panic to see where it came from. Though the sight was more surprising than you could’ve ever prepared yourself for. Daryl slowly emerged from the trees with a hesitant look on his face, and your eyes widened as you quickly turned your head back in the opposite direction. You didn’t want to look at him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to understand why he had come out here. He had already done enough, he made his point crystal clear. You were just silently hoping he didn’t come out here to yell at you again.

Daryl on the other hand felt an immense amount of guilt. His chest tightened a little as he caught barely a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes and your tear stained cheeks, knowing he was the cause of it. He couldn’t describe how it made him feel, but all he knew was he was wishing he could take it all back if it meant not having to see you cry. His brother already caused you to break down enough, he didn’t want to be the cause of that too. And yet, he was.

The man slowly walked up to where you sat near the blue water, the rocks crunching beneath his boots louder and louder as he approached. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you just prayed he would go away, not wanting to interact with him after everything. But Daryl was stubborn, and he didn’t want you out here all night just because you were nervous to come back.

“Dinner’s almost ready.” he said a bit awkwardly, stopping just a few feet away from you. You heard him loud and clear, but you said nothing, not really in the mood to eat. Facing the group after they surely heard the scene that went down, it all sounded like a nightmare.

Daryl sighed heavily as you didn’t respond, you didn’t even look in his direction. Acting as if he wasn’t here at all. “Hey.” he called.

“...Why do you hate me?” you whispered, still not facing him as you spoke.

He almost questioned what you had said, but then it seemed to hit him all at once just how badly he had fucked up with all this. The one girl that showed him a kindness he had never seen, now thought he wanted nothing to do with her from the projected words he spat at her.

He let out a soft breath as he closed his eyes momentarily, stepping up a little closer, “I- I don’t…I don’t hate you.” he said quietly.

You didn’t react, so he managed to push himself a little further than what he was comfortable with. He moved to slowly sit down beside you, keeping some distance, yet he wanted you to know he was there. That he meant it. “I don’t hate you.” he said again.

“You act like it.” you were quick to say as you turned your head to look him in the eye, “I…I don’t even know what I did…” you said, your voice quiet and broken.

The man stared at you for a long moment, before slowly shaking his head, “Ya didn’t do nothin…it’s…it’s hard to explain. But I guess I never really understood…why yer so nice. Thought maybe ya just wanted somethin from me…I dunno.”

You shook your head a little in disbelief, “I’m nice because I care…that’s it.” you assured as you didn’t want him to think otherwise. But you supposed hearing his reasoning out loud made a little more sense, seeing as how you truly were the only one nice enough to show your kindness to the brothers. He was skeptical because no one had done that for them before, the thought nearly broke your heart.

A long moment of silence passed between the two of you, before you were the one to break it, “Listen…I’m so sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean to ruin what you worked so hard on, it was an accident.”

Though Daryl quickly shook his head, “Nah, don’t be. If anythin, I should be apologizin for what I said. I…I didn’t mean none of it…”

You stared at him with a soft expression, “But you were right…everything you said-”

“Everything I said was bullshit.” he said bluntly, looking at you with a seriousness in his eyes, “I say a lotta stupid shit I don’t mean when m’ angry, and this ain’t no different, ya hear me?”

“But it’s true.” you argued gently before looking back out into the water, “I don’t know how to help out…how to survive in a world like this. I always try to do what I can, but it’s never enough.”

Daryl paused as he saw the sadness behind your eyes, a sudden feeling overtaking him as he wanted to say or do something that would get you to smile again. “Hey, that ain’t true. Ya go out and scavenge, ya help cook the food that’s brought back…ya even helped stitch Glenn up when the dumbass hurt himself.”

His words caused a small laugh to escape your lips as you looked back over to him, “Well I knew he would somehow mess it up even more if he did it himself…I didn’t have a choice with that one.”

“Nah…ya did.” he said seriously, “Ya always have a choice, and I see ya puttin others before yerself all the time. That’s somethin ya should give yerself credit for.”

Your eyes softened the longer you looked at him, a small smile forming on your face just seeing how much he cared. Even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud just yet. “Thank you.” you said quietly.

Daryl felt his face grow a little hot as he ducked his head, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, “Yeah, no problem…” he muttered before it looked like he suddenly remembered something. “Oh, and uh…I brought ya this.” he said before revealing the hand that sat behind his back.

You looked down to see it was the same small flower that Merle took from you, sitting in the palm of his hand as he held it out to you. Your eyes widened a little as your small fingers delicately took it from his grasp. “You got it back?”

“Uh, no that one was all smushed by the end of…everythin. So I went and got ya a new one…hope that’s okay.” he explained a bit quietly.

Your smile grew as your eyes lit up at the simple kind gesture, one you would have never expected from him. “It’s perfectly okay…thank you.” you said sincerely, raising it up to place it behind your ear.

He nodded a bit awkwardly as he watched you for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip. “Alright, well come on.” he muttered as he stood back up to his feet, “Best be gettin back.” he spoke, hesitantly extending a hand out to help you up.

His actions surprised you a bit, but that didn’t stop you from taking his hand, letting him help you stand before the two of you slowly headed back through the woods. You half expected complete silence as you walked side by side with him, but he managed to keep a conversation with you as if he suddenly enjoyed your company. Though maybe he always did, he was just cautious as he didn’t always trust people as easily as you did. But you were growing more hopeful as he slowly came around, finding you had to be patient to see how much of a gentle person he really was.

From that day on, you and Daryl had slowly gotten more comfortable with each other. You wouldn’t really call it a friendship per se, but it was something the two of you very clearly cherished. But that wasn’t the only thing that seemed to change.

Merle’s attitude toward you seemed to have completely flipped from what you had grown accustomed to. He rarely ever spoke to you again after that day, and if he did it was always something short and simple, not an insult in sight. Though you were a little surprised, a part of you had a feeling who changed his mind about you.

~ Thanks for reading!

612 notes · View notes

thot4ellie · 2 months

Text

oh sweetheart pt 3

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 5.4k!!! longest part yet yay

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: dealer! boxer!ellie, weed, alcohol, boxing, kissing, joel is dead in this, talk of abusive relationship, smoking, they’re drunk but eveything is consensual ofc! lmk if im missing anything

summary: you and ellie share a moment and both of you admit it :)

author notes: hi everyone thank you for all the love on this series <<<333 this is a good one! not all the way edited yet but i wanted to post cause i finished it 20 minutes ago! sorry for the wait but i think maybe some smut in the near future ;) requests are open and id love any feedback. thank you for 200 followers and over almost 2000 likes!! this is unbelievable and im so grateful! pls let me know if u want to be added to the taglist!!!

part 3 | part 4

series masterlist | main masterlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

finally friday is here, it feels like you’ve been counting the minutes until you see her again. you woke up around eleven am and put water in the kettle to make yourself some tea as you went to the bathroom to get your morning routine done, paramore playing over your speaker in the bathroom. your routine is something you’ve started to build since you moved to try and keep your anxiety at bay, not all the time it works but its a good way to get your day started. you started with washing your face, brushing your teeth, then brushing the bedhead out of the mess you call hair.

a couple minutes later, you hear the kettle hiss and you make your way back to the kitchen and turn off the stove. you picked your favorite mug out of your cabinet and make your tea. leaving the kitchen, you went back to sit on the couch and think about a million different outcomes that would possibly happen tonight when you see her. you wonder if you’re reading too much into the way she talked to you, was she even flirting with you at all? or just being nice? did she just feel bad about seeing what happened outside her gym?

your phone buzzed in the mist of your thoughts on your and you read a text from dina telling you they’re leaving for the gym around 7 and if you wanted a ride. before responding you pulled up the weather app on your phone and decided you could walk there, its a warm summer day out again and by the time the sun fell, it would be cool enough to walk and it was only about 15 minutes from your house, that and leaving open the possibility that she would want to drive you home again.

you texted her back saying that you would just meet them there. you looked at the time seeing its about eleven thirty so you still have a while until you have to leave. you decided you were gonna be productive today. you did laundry and washed your sheets, did the dishes, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and made a sandwich for lunch even thought by now it was 4 o clock. as you were walking around your apartment, you made a mental note to try and find some nice thrift stores around to help you decorate your place. you made your way to your bathroom to shower for tonight.

you love taking long showers, its your guilty pleasure. thanking god that your landlord pays your water bill as you dried off from the shower, put on your strawberry lotion, a big black t-shirt and fuzzy socks to hang around in while you did your hair and minimal makeup. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her tonight. new girl was playing on the tv in your room as you finished the final touches on your face. doing light everything since its hot but still wanting to look nice for the occasion: finally seeing her again.

four episodes later and its 6 o clock so you change into a pair of black levi shorts and a green top. your hair and makeup still looked good from earlier so nothing to touch up but you still triple checked yourself. you wish you could have smoked today to help beat the nerves but you wouldn’t have anything until tonight, smiling to yourself thinking of you and her on the phone both laughing when you asked if she was bribing you. you slipped on your converse, grabbed your bag, and locked the front door behind you and started making your way to ellie’s gym.

you got there around seven and you didn’t see jesses car yet but you did see hers. ellie’s beat up 2000 green honda cry sat in a spot towards the back of the parking lot. memories of you leaning on her window practically admitting you liked when she called you sweetheart and the peaceful feeling of comfortable silence you both held.

you heard someone call your name in the distance to turn and see dina getting out of the car, you were so concentrated on ellies car you didn’t even see them pull in. you made your way over and greeted them with a hug as dina wrapped your arm in hers and dragged you in with her, jesse following behind. you tried to calm your nerves but it just wasn’t working. not nervous about being here, even after what happened outside with the man last time, but of seeing her again. you’ve only spoken to her a handful of times but you thought of her more times than you can count.

as soon as you made it closer towards the front door, it was loud, like the first time you were here. loud people, loud lights, loud everything but now knowing it was ellie’s changed it. jesse held the door as dina went in first and you both followed. florescent lights beamed from above you, shining on the sweaty bodies in the gym. it was just like it was the first time you came. your nerves followed you everywhere, but it was worth seeing her again.

you went in and dina guided you guys to the same table you had last time. you wonder if they sit here every time. you looked around for ellie but you didn’t see her anywhere. you saw her car so she has to be here.

dina and jesse got up to go get drinks from the makeshift bar while you sat and waited for them to bring back your drink. you looked over to them waiting their turn when you heard something behind you.

“hey sweetheart,” she whispered close to your ear, and before you could respond she pulled out the the seat next to you and sat down.

“hey ellie,” you said almost startled. she was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a black t shirt and all her tattoos were showing this time. it was almost mind blowing seeing her and you couldn’t even explain what it did to you. you don’t understand why a girl you barely know has this effect on you.

“i told you to call me el,” she said and laughed kindly towards you, “i have the stuff for you” she finished.

“oh thank you, i’d hope so considering that’s the reason i came,” you joked.

“wait you mean you didn’t come to see me?” she said sounding fake hurt.

“that was just a plus,” you flirted. dina and jesse came back to the table with the drinks before she responded to you and they both greeted ellie as they sat.

“hey els we didn’t see you before we ordered the drinks, i can go get one for ya?” jesse asked her.

“nah i’ll wait til the next round, thanks though” she told him. she smiled at you and the conversation started between all four of you, before you knew it an hour and a half passed, you had more three more rounds and just enjoyed your friday night. the match started and you find it so convenient that you can still see the ring from where the table is so theres no need to get up and watch considering its not ellie up there.

you watched for a bit until it was coming to the end, cheering erupted and ellie told dina and jesse that she was going out for a smoke, before she got up, she leaned over to you and whispered “you coming sweetheart?” softly in your ear, her face inches away from yours, then she moved back and smiled. she held out her hand and you held it as she pulled you up with her as you blushed so hard, you swear you turned into a tomato.

your eyes stayed on her hand holding yours and the beautiful moth tattoo covering her arm, not believing that she’s actually touching you again. you followed behind her as she moved with you through the gym towards the door, as you walked out still hand in hand you saw the side of the building, it was the same place she defended you the first time you met her.

she lead you over to a bench that you never even realized was there. your hands broke as you both sat, she went pull out her cigarette pack and the lighter from her back pocket when she noticed you were staring at her still. she smirked as she opened the pack, and surprisingly pulled out a joint. she put it in her mouth and brought the lighter up to it before telling you “its not polite to stare sweetheart.”

you blushed and looked away as soon as she said it. she laughed and she passed the joint to you, you told her you just couldn’t help it. and you really couldn’t, she’s breathtaking. the way her freckles danced across her whole face, her eyes had a small tint of brown circling her iris, the scar on her right eyebrow, the way her lips just sat perfectly on her face. you so badly want to reach out and touch them again.

you hit it a couple times, you are sure your cheeks haven’t been back to normal since you saw her and you wonder if she’s noticed. you passed her back the joint and she staring at you taking in every detail of you too as she brought it to her mouth and took a hit. blowing out the smoke she smirked, and said “i can’t either sweetheart.”

she leaned back against the bench, legs spread a little as she handed you the joint and asked, “so what brought you here besides jesse?” she acquired. you told her about living in brooklyn, above the cafe you worked and how your time spent there wasn’t totally great but the real reason was running from a shitty past, you weren’t ready to tell her specifics but you told her that’s why you left, you had to get away from what happened there but it was more like who. she told you she understood and then she told you “well i’m glad you’ve made your way here sweetheart.”

you don’t know if it was the alcohol or weed but you sat outside on the bench for another 20 minutes, smoking and laughing as you talked about so much: you talked about the tv shows you’re both watching, the albums you had on repeat, the guilty pleasures you both had and what you both did in your free time. you spoke to one another like you’ve known each other for years. it just feels so good to talk to someone like this again.

she learned that your parents live in portland, so moving coasts was a big deal but you felt like you were on auto-pilot growing up and you knew you had to get out when you could, she learned that you dropped out of college two years and haven’t made any plans to go back but you would like to. you told her a couple funny stories about you and jesse growing up and she laughed at them all.

you found out that she plays guitar and that she spends time drawing and journaling. you learn that ellie was adopted when she was 14, she grew up in boston, and she has an older sister named sarah but that she doesn’t come around much anymore since she gotten married. she told you that her dad passed away from a heart attack about a year ago and since then, her and her uncle tommy.

“im sorry to hear about your dad els” you sympathized.

“its okay sweetheart, just fucking sucks sometimes.” she responded softly as she put the joint out next to her and slipped it back in her cigarette pack. instead this time she pulled out a cigarette and lit that this time. she slid it in her pocket before she stood up off the bench, offering you her hand again and said you should probably head back inside.

you grabbed her warm hand and stood up to follow her, you started the walk towards the side door but before she opened it, she turned around to you and faced you.

“hey sweetheart?” she asked.

“yes els?” you waited for her to continue, her hand still covering yours.

“im glad you came sweetheart, this was nice, i mean as nice as it gets sitting on the side of this place,” she laughed softly, you felt like she was closer than ever but maybe because you just wanted her to be, “you know, id love to do this again.. and maybe play you something on my guitar.. if you want.” she said almost nervously, feeling the urge to look away from you.

“i would love that els.” you said, looking up from staring at your hands together to smiling in her face. you cant believe she asked you, part of you prayed she would, you knew there was a connection here. she realized it too. your eye contact never faded as you stood here.

“great, im looking forward to it more than you know,” she told you sweetly. she let go out hand and you felt slight disappoint in your heart as you assumed she was going to turn around and open the door and this moment would be over. instead, she brought her hand up to your face and let it rest on your cheek as she brushed her thumb over it. the touch of her warm hand sent sparks through your body this time and you couldn’t be bothered moving as she grew closer to you.

“you have no idea how much i wanna kiss you right now.” she whispered, from only what felt like two inches away from your lips. fuck, you thought silently. she was so close to you, you could feel her breathe as she spoke.

“please do it.” you practically whined, you couldn’t take this anymore. all you wanted to do was feel her lips on yours. after you spoke, you felt her thumb move from your cheek to brushing your lips softly. the drinks you had definitely brought out your confident and the want you had for her.

“oh sweetheart,” she purred towards you, “how badly i want to but it has to be more special than this.” she said moving her thumb back to your red cheek.

“just as long as it happens el,” you responded, breathing heavier as your nerves grew in anticipation.

she nodded as she slowly moved her hand off your face and brought it down to your hip and gave it a squeeze, still smiling at you as she reached to open the door and let you through in front of her.

you walk back into the gym and went to find jesse and dina. you saw jesse at the bar and ellie went over to him, telling you she was getting more drinks. you went over to dina at the table and took a seat next to her. you asked her how the match went and she told you same as always and nothing crazy this time.

“you guys were out there for a while, whats up with that?” dina asked while smirking and wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“dina…” you laughed, “we just smoked and talked for a bit.” you replied to her.

“sureeee that’s all, we see the way you look at her!”, she squealed, “and the way she looks at you, it just seems pretty obvious.”

you laughed and told her that nothing happened yet but you did admit to her that you wanted it to.

“stop we knew it!” she laughed loudly and hit the table in excitement. you pulled your hands to your face that was full of embarrassment.

“what do you mean you knew it, was it obvious?” you gasped. your eyes darting towards ellie at the makeshift bar.

“to me and jesse yes.” she told you still smiling over the fact that her two friends maybe starting something new soon.

as you went to reply, the drinks were on the table, jesse and ellie were back already at the table pulling their chairs. the conversation between you and dina came to a halt as you all started talking. you all sat, conversing and finished your last round by the time it hit around 11 pm. you were getting tired and you were definitely drunk after all the rounds of drinks everyone bought. the matches ended an hour ago and you guys were the last few people left besides the lady behind the bar and a couple stragglers paying their tab and chatting.

“hey i think me and d are gonna head out,” he said looking over to dina, who was definitely feeling all the drinks she had, he laughed and said, “this one needs to make it home into bed. can you make it home okay? i can take you now if you need” he asked talking to you.

“no i’m gonna take her home.” ellie cut in before you could respond. you looked at her and smiled as jesse told you to text when you both got home safe. he helped dina up and they made their way to the door. your eyes followed til they left and then you turned to ellie, who was already staring at you.

“that okay sweetheart? that i take you home again?” she asked smirking towards you.

“yeah els, that’s okay.” you blushed as she stood up and put her hand out for the third time tonight. you connected your hands again. touching her had your skin was burning up. you followed her into a back office. paperwork, receipts, and random things littered the room. as you looked around and saw a decent couch, a safe in the corner and a coffee area on a little table and a large desk with folders and boxes of things you didn’t know.

you watched as ellie disconnected your hands to go over to pick up her backpack from the side of the couch and then she grabbed a jacket she had hanging over the deck of the chair to the desk, she slid it over her shoulders then grabbed a piece of paper, writing something non legible from where you were standing. she smiled when she turned towards you and held her arm out motioning to the door for you guys to exit.

the stragglers were gone and the bartender bid ellie goodnight as she walked out the front door. you walked the distance of the gym and made it to the door with ellie, she leaned over and turned the lights off and then held the door opened for you.

you told her thank you and she nodded towards you, “i think we should walk, it’s not far from your apartment.” she spoke looking towards you for confirmation as she turned and locked up the gym for the night.

“that’s okay but how are you going to get home without your car?” you asked. you didn’t want her walking home alone either, you knew she could handle herself but still, the thought made you worry.

“i’m only 5 minutes away from you actually so its not far, ill be back for my car tomorrow.” she told you. you nodded and both of you continued to walk the sidewalk in a comfortable silence next to each other. you glanced up at the sky, noticing the stars and the way the moon beamed over the city. it was so much cooler now than it was earlier and you moved to brush over the goosebumps that covered your arms. ellie noticed your movement and took off her jacket. you turned when you noticed what she was going and told her, “no its okay we’ll be there soon i don’t need it.”

“sorry sweetheart, got to make sure you stay warm.” she smirked as she put it over your shoulders and watched as you put your arms in. you smiled to her as you readjusted it and continued the walk to your place. the smell of her engulfed you and you’ve never felt so comfortable.

“its so beautiful.” you whispered, “and quiet, new york was never like this. they don’t lie when they say the city never sleeps ya know?” you finished.

the city you moved to that you wish you could escape from. the shitty and abusive relationship you wish you could leave behind. the things you tried the most to forget. you never spoke about it, you just ran. the city you wished had better memories connected with it. but now all you want is to create new memories.

when you moved across the country, you told yourself that you’re not getting into anything here because you know you need to heal from the those years of abuse and insecurity so the last thing you expected was to meet ellie and end up feeling this way about her. you don’t want this to happen and you ruin it because you aren’t okay but with her, you feel like you could be okay one day.

“i could only imagine, boston was a busy place too but not the same, it always is quiet here.” she chuckled softly.

“i love it, things finally seem calm now.” you smiled as you looked her. she took in the sight of you in her jacket and she loved it. she can only imagine seeing you wear her t shirts… or nothing at all. she shook the thoughts from her head but she just couldn’t help it. you were the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. you were breathtaking. she couldn’t believe she’d met someone like you in this shitty small town.

the town where her dad and her moved, and the memories of them together haunted her. now that he was gone, she knew a piece of her was missing. things were incomplete without him. he was all she thought about, the guilt of what happened and how she couldn’t do anything to stop it.

the only time ellie wasn’t thinking about joel was when she was thinking about you, she was grateful that she met you. she didn’t know what this was going to turn into but she hoped it would be something. she sees the effects she has on you and she wishes she really knew how to communicate with you that she feels the same way about you.

you continued the walk in a comfortable silence, both of you wrapped in your thoughts of each another and eventually made it to the front of your building. you turned to face her with a smile,“here i am,” you spoke softly to her, not wanting the night to come to an end.

“here you are, thank you for letting me take you home sweetheart, call it peace of mind,” she admitted.

“thank you for walking me els… do you want to come up?” you said without a thought. you didn’t know if this is was the alcohol talking but you know you didn’t regret it when you said it and you wish that’s what you could blame it on but you knew you wanted this even sober.

“if you want me to sweetheart” she smirked as she responded.

you stepped closer to her as you looked at her, only a couple inches away from her face, watching her eyes move from your eyes to your lips. you knew you both could feel the tension.

“please just say yes.” you sighed wishing you could feel her lips on yours already.

“okay sweetheart, lets go.” she pulled away but connected your hands and it took you a second to recognize that she agreed. you turned around, suddenly nervous about the fact that she’s going to see where you spend your days. you opened the door to the lobby, and ellie held the door as you both walked in. she followed you up the stairs by the front, and you made your way to the front door as you held ellie’s hand in one and used the other to pull your keys from your bag.

you unlocked the door and you brought ellie in with you before the door was shut and you were locking it. you took off her jacket and put it on your coat rack and turned to look at her.

“okay it’s kind of a mess so i’m sorry but-“ you started before she cut you off.

“sweetheart, your place is practically spotless, you should see mine.” ellie laughed.

you laughed as you pulled ellie over to the green couch that took up a lot of your living room but it was a dream purchase and you loved it. you told ellie to take a seat as you walked over to the kitchen and grabbed some water for you both. as you were walking back towards her, she was digging around in her backpack. as you placed the waters down and took a seat, she pulled out weed in a jar and handed it to you.

“here this is yours.” she said.

“oh thank you! i totally forgot, do you want to smoke now- fuck i don’t think i have anything to roll with.” you told her as you went to open the windows in your living room.

instead of saying anything, she reached back into her backpack and pulled out a jar of already rolled joints.

“i came prepared.” she laughed, “and you won’t owe me anything for that.” she said, motioning to the stuff she gave you as her hands were cracking open the jar of pre-rolls.

“ellie- no i’ll give you the cash,” but she shook her head no and brought the lighter to the joint between her lips.

“no, it’s on me, don’t worry about it.” she responded as she took a hit.

“do you give other people weed for free?” you asked, looking at her as she was smoking while sitting next to you on the couch. you wish you could stay like this forever.

“only pretty girls that i like…” she said sweetly as you held eye contact as she handed you the joint.

“oh so you think i’m pretty?” you teased her as you took a hit.

“sweetheart, i think you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.” she told you. you instantly blush and look away from her, trying not to choke on the smoke you held in your lungs.

“thank you els, i think you’re beautiful.” you said to her. when you looked up, you saw her cheeks tint lightly as she grabbed the joint you held out to her.

“thanks sweetheart.” she said as she put the joint down on a cup at the table you’d been using as an ashtray and she brought her hand up and held your cheek like she did earlier. you couldn’t help yourself as you nuzzled your face into her warm hand. your eye contact only made the tension in the room worse.

“you really are beautiful… sweetheart, can i?” she asked as she looked down at your lips. you nodded and as she came closer, your lips just barely brushing, as she asked, “i need to hear you pretty girl.”

“yes please els- please just kiss me already.” you begged.

her lips were on yours before you could even realized this was actually happening. your lips moved slow together at first but you couldn’t help yourself from deepening the kiss as ellie brought her other hand up and tangled it in your hair as you moaned, her tongue slipped into your mouth, both of you tasting the weed and alcohol you consumed.

one of your hand rested against her chest and the other gripping her arm as you melted into the kiss. both ellie’s hands were in your hair now as your tongues continued to fight for dominance but you let her win and moaned again and she swallowed it as she kissed you.

ellie pulled your leg over her lap so you straddled her, never breaking your lips apart. your lips continued to move in sync as you grinded against her. her hands on your hips moving with you. your lips stay connected until you broke the kiss to come up for air and rested your forehead on hers.

“you okay sweetheart?” ellie panted as she caught her breath too.

“yes els just need a second.” you said as your eyes stayed shut while you tried to control your breathing. you couldn’t believe that you guys finally kissed. the tension was killing you both and now it’s finally happened.

“hey it’s okay, take your time sweetheart.” ellie said as she rubbed a hand along your thigh at a comfortable pace, brushing the cloth from your shorts as she moved it. she brought the other one up to your cheek and lifted your head to look at you. you looked tired and ellie didn’t want to take full advantage of you after you guys had been drinking and smoking all night.

“hey sweetheart, lets get you to bed, we’ll finish this another time i promise.” she said sweetly as you mumbled an “okay els thank you,” and moved off her lap to sit back on the couch. ellie stood up and offered her hand. you stood up and walked both of you to your bedroom.

you moved to sit on the edge of your king sized bed and ellie stood in front of you still holding your hand as you asked her if she wanted to stay the night because it was late and you didn’t want her walking home.

“sure sweetheart i’ll sleep on the couch, and only for your peace of mind.” she chuckled, thinking back to the conversation earlier.

“els we can share the bed, it’s okay, i’ll keep my hands to myself.” you joked and she laughed.

“i don’t think i’d be complaining if you couldn’t but i’m okay on the couch.” ellie insisted.

“els please just lay with me.” you said looking up at her as she moved her hand to rest on your cheek again.

“okay sweetheart.” she finally agreed.

you smiled up at her and you took ellie’s hand from your face and guided her into the bathroom connected to your room. she watched as you bent down and opened the sink cabinet and grabbed a toothbrush. you turned around and handed it to her with a smile. you guys brushed your teeth and then went back into your bedroom.

ellie stood here as you moved across the room to your dresser, and pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts from your drawer and handed them over to ellie. she told you thank you and you smiled at her. ellie walked into the bathroom to change and you walked back to the dresser. you stripped yourself of your shirt and bra before throwing on a different oversized tee and changing your underwear. you didn’t even realize you were soaked after what happened on the couch.

ellie watched you as she leaned against the bathroom door frame as you untangled the sides of your underwear after you pulled them up.

“you’re perfect”, she thought in head before speaking out loud. “thanks sweetheart.” you turned around when ellie spoke, sending her a smile before you moved to your side of the bed, you grabbed the duvet and moved it so you both were able to get in your bed.

you and ellie laid facing each other in a comfortable silence as you were both growing incredibly tired. you felt your eyes starting to get heavy and felt ellie’s hand brush your hair back from your face so you kept your eyes open to look at her.

“el?” you whispered.

“yes sweetheart?” she spoke quietly back to you.

“i really like you… i don’t know if this is too early but it just feels right.”

“i feel it too sweetheart, i like you too so don’t worry,” ellie said softly, hand still holding your face, “now get some sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning pretty girl.”

“goodnight els.” you whispered.

453 notes · View notes

raitonsfw · 3 months

Text

𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 (𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐) | 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚘 ꨄ

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: When you come home with tears running down your face, Choso immediately fills an entire wine glass for you. You had gotten your period that day, on Valentine’s Day of all days, and there was no way he was going to want to do anything with you. But it was quite the opposite actually; the man was practically begging for you to engulf him as soon as you mentioned your predicament.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, needy!choso, period sex, blood play/kink, begging, pleading, whimpering (oh my!), riding, sexual intercourse, creampie, hair pulling, grinding, breast play, reader rides choso with a wine glass in their hand, spilling of wine, pet names (baby), choso the blood manipulator alright (ideas for this man practically write themselves)

a/n: happy valentine's day! wrote this on my period last month and am currently going through the motions again so lucky me! (tmi sowwy) enjoy and here's your 3rd valentine from me! 💌 wc: 2.7k. v-day m.list | m.list

now playing: the red means i love you by madds buckley

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“Y/N? Open up, please.” You heard Choso’s quiet rasp through the door and you felt even more tears slip from the corners of your eyes, threatening to ruin your makeup even more. The mascara had poured down your face and you tried your best to wipe it all off, but it had stained a bit and you didn’t care anymore; you just needed it off.

“No.” You managed out as normally as you possibly could but he could hear the broken huffs that came from you. He was confused to say the least, the glass of red liquid in his hand chilling his fingers as he waited for you to tell him what was wrong. You couldn’t offer him an answer though as you panicked throughout the confines of the bathroom, scrubbing off the cursed makeup your period ruined.

It wasn’t the best day be bleeding from your fucking cunt.

You had run past Choso the second you got home, much to his discontent as he welcomed you home with a small murmur before fading away as you disappeared into the bathroom. He had set up a wonderful Valentine’s night in for the both of you, the most expensive wine sitting in the middle of the dining table as you arrived and he took the opportunity to pour more wine into yours without a second thought; hell you might need the whole bottle.

“I have a glass of wine for you.” He tried to convince you with that, but you didn’t budge from your spot in front of the mirror. You glanced towards the box of tampons that sat against the back of the shelf near the tub, frowning at it. You wished you could flush them down the toilet, but all that would offer you would be cotton waste and a clog with nearly a million girls threatening you from the shadows because those things were fucking expensive.

“Choso, I’m fine.”

“Please open the door. I want to help you.” He started to knock on it, sending you into a frenzy as you hurried wiping your makeup off. You threw the makeup wipe in the trash; and what stared back at you was a mess and all you wanted to do was hide beneath the sheets and isolated from society for the five wretched days. You were able to get the mascara off, but some of it still smudged underneath your lashes as a reminder that the promised look for the date went awry because of your sobbing. Which brought you to another revelation, your boyfriend.

Choso wasn’t going to want to have sex with you tonight, not when you were bleeding rivers. You had gone over his reaction in your head a thousand times and every single one didn’t end up with a good outcome; especially since it was such a precious day to him, it felt like your worst nightmare had come true.

“Y/N.”

You sighed heavily, unlocking the door with a quiet tilt and Choso immediately opened it when he heard the click of the lock. You didn’t get to look at him properly as you ran past him, but he had cleaned up considerably nice today; his blood mark cut neatly against the bridge of his nose and his hair, albeit still incredibly messy, sat up like pins in the ponytails he spored them into. The dark circles around his eyes were still prominent in the luminescent light of the bathroom and you felt for him, he must’ve waited for you for a while.

Then again, he always looked tired to you.

Choso held out your glass of wine to you, but then faltered a bit as he took a good look at you. Your eyes were rimmed red with blemished tears as you stared back at him, flicking back and forth from the red liquid in the glass and his puzzled face. Instead he sat the wine glass on the accented table next to the bathroom with a tiny exhale and came up behind you with strong arms. He folded them underneath yours, his fingers dancing over the crevices of your tummy and he pulled you close to him. Resting his chin against your shoulder, he rocked you softly with him to the sway of the music that played out in the living room.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Choso whispered into your ear, pressing feathered kisses behind it and you shuddered at the action. “Do I have to kill someone for you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” You gave him a tired laugh, placing your hands on his where they intertwined. His hair tickled the back of your neck as he started to kiss down it towards your shoulder and you tried to pull away. “Choso…”

“Yeah?” He hummed out, a bit muffled by your shoulder and his violet eyes glanced towards the mirror, towards yours and you suddenly felt so exposed as they filled with adoration. You couldn’t see his mouth, your shoulder covered it but you knew he was ready to plant kisses down your back and your waist if you let him– anywhere he could reach within a few minutes he would be worshipping.

“You were looking forward to a night in, right?” You asked him, one of your hands coming up to pick at his hair sticking up from their confines in the hair tie.

“Is that not happening now?” Choso straightened up a bit, his mouth pouting into a confused frown. He narrowed his eyes a bit, trying to figure out exactly what happened to you. Out of everything he thought of, he speculated you had a rough day at work and needed some love; which was easily done as he’d be right in between your thighs with his tongue lapping up your cunt, two calloused fingers stuffed within in no time.

“It might need to be changed a bit…”

“Why’s that?” Now he was worried, his arms squeezing you closer to him, a whine etching his words as he rested his chin against your shoulder again. Choso didn’t know much about human emotions, especially women’s and he’d have to ask Yuji later what it meant when one tries to postpone a date night. He’d probably say that means they don’t like you, but that couldn’t be possible; he knew you liked him, otherwise you would’ve left him already. You wouldn’t have tolerated six months with him if you didn’t in some form or another ‘like’ him.

“I got my period earlier today.”

There was a pause and you felt as though you could hear a pin drop but then there was a bit of shuffling behind you and you observed Choso’s eyes to try and gauge his reaction. You swore you saw them darken, the vibrance of them tinting and he squinted at you slightly before resuming his kisses down your shoulder and you felt his hands trail up towards your chest. Your breasts were sore, swollen and when he lifted them up slightly with his palms, you let out a relieved sigh. They wandered over your peaked nipple, his fingers slicing over it and you felt the heat rush through your cheeks as he tweaked it slightly through your clothing.

“Choso?” You watched him through the mirror and you saw the blush that had crept up on his face, you knew that flushed look– and the hardened outline of his cock pressing into your backside very well.

“Fuck baby, that made me hard…” Choso muttered admittedly into your shirt with another whine, purposefully hiding his face so you wouldn’t tease his blush. The slightest thing would turn him on so you weren’t that surprised, though you didn’t quite expect it to be because of the crimson between your legs.

What were you so worried about? It’s Choso, the boy who would become flustered if you so much as kissed his hand while in public, who would nearly fall to his knees when you showed off the lingerie you bought whilst out shopping, who would pant at the sight of your arousal leaking out of you like a faucet; your hormones did you so dirty, letting you believe he wouldn’t get off on a little blood.

After all, he was a blood manipulator and this was his speciality.

“That made you hard?” You backed your hips into him slightly, earning a choked gasp from him. “You don’t mind me being on my period? If it bothers you, we can use a cond-”

“No, no condom. Don’t want that, want to feel you.” Choso blurted out and you knew you had him pegged, completely cornering him by the thought of pleasure. You bent over slightly and watched him through the mirror as his entire face turned red, his crotch pressing directly against yours now.

“What about the blood?” You asked, genuinely concerned that he lost his mind as he started to not so subtly grind against your cunt with a roll of his hips. Choso knocked you slightly over against the edge of the sink, his hands grasping for your hips now, one trailing up your back to bend you further and the other steadying you so he could bury deeper into the warmth. His hand found your hair and you were sure he was going to yank it, but instead he tangled it into the strands and rubbed circles into your scalp like the good boy that he was.

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to use one.” The heat of your cunt made him dizzy and he couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking good it would feel to plunge into you, the blood making it so overbearingly wet that he might bust as soon as he’s bottomed out. God, he was this pussy drunk already? He had his chin tilted up now, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head and you watched with tenacious eyes. He wasn’t even buried in you yet and his tongue was nearly lolling out of his mouth at the thought of you squeezing around him senselessly with an extra lubrication drooling around his cock.

“I want to drink my wine though...” You whined out, perhaps a bit more innocently than you intended.

A short groan came out of him and that’s when his hand gripped at the tendrils of your hair, yanking it upwards with a harsh pull. His arm flexed as he pulled you up towards him, quieting huffs and pants escaping him as he continued grinding against you. Sometimes when he got like this, all hot and bothered and nearly on the verge of devouring you whole, he didn’t know his own strength and you yelped in pain, moresos shock. His lips hovered over the shell of your ear, his hips ceasing their movements and his chest rose and fell against your back.

“Drink it while you ride me then.” He whined into your ear in rushed syllables, his fingers digging into the crevices of your thighs. They crawled towards the front of your mound, dipping lowly into the soft covered flesh there, if only he could fucking reach his hand down your panties… but you hesitantly stopped him before his hands got dirty. “I need you now, right now. Please, Y/N?”

How could you possibly say no to his pleas?

And there you were five minutes later, with your wine glass balancing delicately on the tips of your fingers as you sunk down onto him as he babbled out begs and whimpers. Your pussy fluttered against the intrusion of his cock and you let out a delicious moan, your head tipping back as he thrusted up inside you greedily. Choso nearly knocked you off of him, your wine almost spilling from the confines of the glass and you glared at him as you ceased his movements. “Cho– you almost made me spill my wine!”

He faux pouted before continuing to bounce you harshly on his cock, his fingers digging into your flesh and you could barely hold the glass still against your lips; it drenched your breasts and his chest, staining you both a beautiful red. As Choso noticed the deep color, he instantly glanced down at where you two were connected, the blood slicking up his cock so nicely and at the base it glistened with it. He couldn’t fucking see straight at this point, your pussy clenched around him like a vice as he refused to let ride him fully; he was just so desperate.

“Shit, I’m so sorry– c-can’t stop.” One of his arms came to wrap around you as he sat up on his elbow, his tongue lapping over the stickiness of your chest and he moaned out as he tasted the tartness of it against your skin. His palm laid flat against the middle of your back as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, teasing lightly. As you looked down at him, you almost came from the sight. Choso’s eyes were closed and you could feel the incessant groans and grunts coming from his mouth, the vibrations surrounding your breast and his eyebrows were furrowed in pleasure with every harsh roll of your hips.

Deep pleasure shot through your body, every single one of your nerves nearly setting on fire and clutched the wine glass in your hand but you knew you were going to eventually drop it if he kept fucking you like this. You couldn’t bring it to your lips, your mouth had fallen open in small pants and moans and you felt Choso take the glass from you. He quickly set it down on the end table, temporarily popping off of your nipple to do so and you used that to your advantage to pin him down onto the bed again.

“Baby, baby, please.” He whimpered as you dragged yourself up his cock and slammed back down on it, his hands flying towards the pillow and clutching it. He buried his face into the crook of his arm, trying desperately to muffle the moans that poured out of him as his hips barely kept up with yours. “Please, fuck me, I’m so close–”

With every thrust a drowning squelch filled the room, nothing but your arousal mixing with your blood and his precum, submerged in the intoxicating feeling of what it was like fuck up into the wettest mixture ever; Choso felt the blood dripping down his thighs and the dip of his balls and it spurred him on even more, his orgasm flooding through him and threatening to spill out into you.

“Baby, can I cum in you–? Can I, please? Fuck, I need to...” Choso whined, frenzied purple eyes peeking out from underneath his arm and you nodded quickly, your own orgasm piling up your spine and you felt him shudder beneath you. You watched in awe as his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted as his hands found your hips again trying to still you against him. His mouth had dropped open in a pitchy moan and you swore you’ve never been more in love, but here you were watching your man fall apart within minutes because of how good your pussy felt whilst on your period and it made you numb with devotion.

Your orgasm met his a few seconds after, squeezing him tightly in place and you breathed through the ecstasy. Your hands were glued to his chest, convulsing through the pleasure that spread throughout your body and you felt his hands come to grasp at yours in a heated motion. Coming down from your high, you regrettably rolled your hips off of him, a heady groan coming from Choso and you noticed how fucking soaked his dick was with your fluids, your face reddening at the sight.

You gasped as you also noticed the wine and blood stains splattered against the white sheets you two laid on. “Oh God, Choso…”

“We can get new sheets. Come here.” He breathed out, sitting up fully and leaning towards you needily. His hands pulled you back onto his lap and you squeaked, his dick resting against your thigh and you let him kiss you eagerly. He tasted of fruit, the wine that he laved at earlier, and pure adoration that spilled out of every nook of his curse.

Yeah, you were an idiot to not believe Choso wouldn’t go nuts over this. He wasn’t going to let something so dreadfully normal, not to mention erotic, ruin his Valentine’s and especially not yours.

You pulled a whine from him as you bit his bottom lip, earning the promised words you were especially dying to hear. “Round two, baby?”

taglist: @izakyun | @classyempathmongercloud | @rubyparsonx

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

562 notes · View notes

sweet-as-an-angel · 10 months

Text

Miguel’s Reaction to You Taking Him to Watch The Barbie Movie

Warnings: Mainly Just Miguel Being Defensive, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Miguel Secretly Being a Barbie Girl, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Miguel loves you. So, so much. And he would move Heaven and Earth to ensure even an ounce of your happiness.

However, he is 100% convinced that this excursion, this ‘girls’ day out’, will be anything more than a mind-numbing jaunt to the cinema.

At first.

He can’t deny that his heart sank and all enthusiasm he held for your date drained from his body the second you said the words ‘Barbie’ and ‘Movie’ in the same sentence.

But alas, he swallowed his dismay and took you out, plastering on a thin smile while he thought of a million and one things you could both be doing besides watching this masterclass in colour theory.

Sat beside you, packed in on either side by yourself and the many other attendees, waiting for the film to begin, Miguel can feel his patience trying to escape, trying to convince him to run, to get out while you still can!

Because of his heightened senses, he can hear every single word passing between the crowd. And with every mention of “Pink”, “Ryan Gosling,” and “Margot Robbie!” he can feel his mind numb.

The film starts. And for you, sending a watery smile your way, while your eyes sparkle with nostalgic wonder, he endures.

Five minutes in, Miguel is assaulted by pink. The very essence of the colour and all its vibrancy sends hot pink pain through his skull, his senses raw.

Quietly, he slips his sunglasses on.

This is going to be a long movie.

And, for the first quarter of the film, Miguel held that notion. Near and dear as if it were the antidote to the current situation.

Then, halfway in, the story started to intrigue him.

The colour scheme is…tolerable now. Even pleasing to the eye in some scenes.

And, dare he say, Miguel found the music to be catchy.

Two thirds in and he’s sat forward in his seat, hands clasped and his lips resting atop them. Not that you can see, but his eyes are blown wide, his mind arace with possible outcomes.

By the end of the film, Miguel’s holding your hand, forehead pressed to your shoulder, a single, silent tear illustrating his cheek.

“Miggy?” you say, leaning over to try and see his face. You recognised the singular jutting of his shoulders immediately. And, with a smile teetering on the edges of your lips, you try to console him.

“Mig–”

“S’nothing. M’fine,” His cut-off is blunt and non-negotiable. You drop the subject and escort him from the screening by his arm, the music bright as the credits roll. The dimness of the room gives way to light, gradually, slowly. The streak of Miguel’s tear glistens.

Miguel’s visceral reaction to Barbie’s movie doesn’t stop when you get home, by the way.

It actually gets worse.

If you’re lucky, you can catch Miguel reading articles on his phone, an unmistakably pink banner and the title of ‘Top 10 Things You Missed in The Barbie Movie!’ leaving little to the imagination.

Confronting him about it will lead you nowhere. Miguel will sooner shove his phone up his ass and pretend it never existed than admit that he is indeed curious as to what happened to that one background character who fell off a cliff in that one scene. Is she okay? Does anybody know where she is? Does her family know?

The fact that you find his curiosity (empathy) endearing, ‘Aww’ing at him and pinching his cheeks, makes him ever the more secretive.

Just about secretive enough to keep his volume to a minimum when he’s singing; tunes which you know are from the soundtrack.

“I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world~”

“Babe, what was th–”

“Nothing.” He’s blunt, but there is haste to his tone. Shame, even.

Occasionally, you’ll see him eyeing up Barbie-themed merch when you’re out shopping. But he never makes a move to purchase any. Not for himself, anyway.

He’ll buy you said merch – anything that catches your eye, your fancy. Even if it is a shirt ten sizes too big.

“Babe,” you say, pinching the shirt up at your shoulders, the fabric in enough excess to cause the neck to expose most of your chest. “I may be wrong here, but I’m fairly certain only you would be able to fit in this shirt.”

“Oh, well, guess I’ll just have to take it off your hands, then,” he says, his elation barely concealed behind his faux-disappointment. As if him doing so is a chore – that he’s doing you the favour by taking the garment whose shoulders could only fit his insane proportions.

Please just buy him the merch. Any shame he may feel upon initially receiving it will fade when he realises – when you reinforce – how his liking of Barbie is “Adorable, yes. But uplifting; it’s so relieving to see that you’ve found something you actually like that isn’t to do with the Spiderverse!”

“It’s actually called the–”

“Yeah, I don’t care, Babe.”

His favourite present you ever got him was a brightly-coloured exercise suit Barbie and Ken wore in the movie. He had to turn away, the fabric neon in his periphery, tears filling his eyes and balling in his throat when he saw that you’d bought a matching one.

“So we can fight crime in style!”

Miguel’s watery smile twitched, faltered. His Brow furrowed.

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” he said. “You don’t think my suit’s fashionable?”

The way your face drained was enough to spark laughter in Miguel’s chest. His only line of defence against the tears that pricked his throat, played him like an instrument, with you as the orchestra’s master.

While he can’t wear the suit out on superhero duty, he does keep the headband on beneath the suit.

A reminder of you when he’s throwing himself at every threat, every monster, every evil, the band a halo hugged to his skin; a slim substitute for your warm touch, your scent, but a reminder all the same.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

2K notes · View notes

camembri · 25 days

Text

yeah yeah zoro and sanji are mirrors of each other yeah they have narrative parallels yeah they're the wings of the pirate king. zoro's got the higher bounty but sanji is the only one Luffy's directly said he can't become king of the pirates without. this is all good and well and I eat it up every single time but the truly compelling part of that relationship in a romantic sense is that it's objectively the funniest outcome possible. they'd be so mad if they knew. can you imagine having this coworker who you think kind of sucks even if he's a vital part of the team and millions of people are like. I'm going to write stories about you two having sex. what do you even do in that scenario. and the best part is that it becomes literally everyone else's problem too. clocking in bright and early at like 7:45 and you witness a physical alteration between your two idiot colleagues and then immediately after they somehow manage to dodge their third HR violation this week one of them comes up to you to make small talk and all they talk about is that other guy. "ugh can you believe people think we should get together... that's crazy... how would that even work anyway. what, like he'd take me out to dinner? get all dressed up? hah, as if..." and then they trail off all meaningfully and you're just like. I can tell you're wistfully imagining your future together. it's painfully obvious. I just wanted to refill my coffee. and every day you contemplate quitting but every so often something just goes right and it's like they're resonating on the same wavelength and maybe you catch them smiling all wide and unfettered at each other like they're the only people in the world. like just this once they forgot to hate each other. you left your mug in the microwave but you can't ruin the moment so you just have to suffer in silence. truly the ship dynamic of all time.

#genuinely would not survive knowing either of them irl #the best relationship dynamic is “deeply inconvenient for literally everybody”#one piece #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #zosan #sanzo #sanji #zoro

301 notes · View notes

azrielbrainrot · 1 month

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 5

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 4715

Notes: This took a while to write, I'm sorry about that but life has been kicking my ass. I really hope it makes enough sense because I've found I'm not very good at writing action scenes (but that's also not the main focus). Hope you enjoy!

Part 4 ○ Part 6

The moon was high in the sky, its pale light guiding your way through the forest. The air was strangely quiet, the leaves crunching beneath your feet were the only thing that could be heard between the trees. Even the wind was serene and no animal dared make a sound, as if sensing what was to come. The atmosphere allowed you to keep your composure, any incoming threats would be easier to detect like this. Unfortunately, so would your allies.

It's funny how so much can change in a matter of days. Before, when you were only a relatively low ranking member of the guild, walking through the dark woods as you are doing now would simply be the norm, whether you were on a mission or not, but, after everything you learned, not having Azriel and his shadows near you makes you feel off-kilter, like you can't protect him if he stands too far from you.

If it weren't for the millions of problems that keep piling on, you'd probably sit on this feeling, dissecting it until you realize how peculiar it actually is for you to feel so achingly connected to the shadowsinger who, even if had been your husband during a time of your life you've now forgotten, was essentially a stranger to you now. You've only really known him for about two weeks, not nearly enough time to be feeling like a part of you is missing.

You weren't used to worrying about anyone else at times like these. Even when your missions weren't solo, you didn't actually know your coworkers, much less cared if they survived or not. But now, you can't stop thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, of how Azriel and his family could get hurt because of you. You stayed up thinking about this all night, if this would all be truly worth it just to get your memories back, but had decided that you wanted to know what happened, no matter the cost, and knew that, as much as the Inner Circle was helping you recover your memories, not all their motives were altruistic. They all wanted revenge as much as you did.

All of you had planned this out meticulously, going down to every last detail and considering every possible outcome. Everyone was also extra careful on how to approach using you as bait. You expected it from Azriel - he's been protective of you ever since you stepped foot into his High Lord's home - but seeing the rest of them so worried about you made you want to recover your memories that much more. You want to remember these people, want to know how they all, especially Azriel, came to care for you, so much so that even death didn't stop those feelings.

There had been other plans brought up, ones that didn't involve putting you in such a risky situation, but it was soon decided that the only way to get to Norris would be to show up alone. If he so much as caught a glimpse of anyone else, you know he would simply run and if he truly put his guard up and went into hiding, finding him would be nearly impossible even with Azriel's spies and shadows at his disposal, he hadn't found you after all.

The tree you were looking for comes into view as you get lost in your thoughts, the magic traces left behind on its bark unmistakably familiar. The guild has used this system for as long as you've been a part of it. Every important meeting with your handler had taken place next to any object or area marked with this exact faint magic, enough for the attuned eye to pick up on but not so strong that anyone else might come across them and meddle where they're not welcomed.

You don't have to wait by the marked tree for long before an imposing figure appears beside you. He had probably been watching you for as long as you've winnowed into the edge of the treeline, keeping his eyes on you as you walked to the meeting place. The air shifts, the wind picking up slightly as if sensing the tension threatening to form in your body.

Turning around as casually as possible, you face your former handler, the male you thought had saved your life but you've now learned did quite the opposite. Not that there had been any particularly fond feelings between you and him, but it still hurts to know how easily the male manipulated you and turned your entire life around with no remorse.

He was mostly covered with a black hood, only a bit of his face being visible through the shadow it cast, enough to meet his eyes. You've only seen him without it a few times, you know that dark brown hair lays under the hood and a few scars adorn his face. Truthfully, you're not even sure if this isn't some intricate glamour. Nothing that comes from this male should be trusted.

His form gives nothing away, no nerves or suspicions, but his brown eyes rake over your body, searching for something. Since he thinks you've just crawled out of a cell or worse, he's probably looking for any signs of injury, or that you've betrayed him and the guild. It's best you don't let him find anything that tells him otherwise.

“Norris,” you greet him as you would any other time, nodding once at him with a passive expression.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes when he hears your voice. His eyes dart over the forest around you as if he knew Azriel would be lurking in the shadows. His self assured expression doesn't help with your nerves. Norris always seems like he's three steps ahead, and more often than not he was actually four.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” he finally speaks up.

“I thought so too.”

Norris hums in response. You're not sure if he believes you or not, but short and distant answers are the norm for him. Either way, you need to stick to the plan, there's no turning back now. “How did you escape the Night Court?”

“They thought I was someone else, someone they used to know,” you start, trying to convey some of the confusion you'd experienced the first time they told you who you were. He knows you well enough to expect you to have some trouble maintaining the same level of apathy he so easily displays, he'd warned you multiple times to act more like an assassin and not let your emotions get the best of you. “It eventually led to a fight between the High Lord and his Spymaster. They couldn't agree on what to do with me from what I heard. I managed to escape in the chaos.”

You stop for a second, licking your lips. You decided not to completely lie to him so it would be more believable, this version of events could have come true had you not trusted Azriel, had your feelings not been so suffocating and confusing.

“I waited for a while before contacting you, to make sure they didn't come looking for me,” you continue eventually, the fact that he isn't asking more questions makes your heart pick up ever so slightly.

He turns his head to the side, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You resist the urge to clench your sweaty palms, not wanting to let him see through you. “Who did they think you were?”

“The Spymaster's former wife,” you admitted, hoping you sounded as detached as possible.

“And what do you think about it?”

“What?”

“Do you believe them?” You didn't expect him to ask you outright. It would make more sense for him to try to cover it up, stopping any doubts you might have had before they grew.

“Of course not. I've never been married,” the lie tastes wrong on your tongue but you make sure not to let any of it translate into your body language or your voice. Which is why you're so caught off guard by his next words. “I think you're lying to me.”

Norris turns you around and grabs you to him before you have a chance to react, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing a dagger to your neck, power rumbling under his skin, raising the hairs on the back of your neck at its intensity. This isn't that surprising to you since you were more than aware of how much faster and stronger he was, and that tricking him would be extremely hard, but this means you need to move to plan B. And you were really hoping you could avoid a direct conflict like this.

Azriel is the first one to show himself, emerging from the shadows with deadly calm, hazel eyes never straying from Norris as his hand hovers Truth Teller. As much as you try to keep calm and not give anything away, you know Norris can feel you tense up and hear your heartbeat picking up when you see the shadowsinger walking straight into danger.

You feel another presence behind you, Morrigan, followed by Cassian and Amren on each side. The sisters had stayed behind, despite their many protests. In case anything happened, Velaris needed its High Lady and the Valkyries at least. You also know this is a personal matter for the fae present, you had been their friend and been ripped away from their lives by the male currently holding you at knife point, threatening to end your life once again, for good this time.

They all start walking slowly to you, effectively forming a circle around the two of you, getting ready to attack if Norris hurts you or tries to run. He appeared as calm as if he had just been caught on a night stroll, his heartbeat never rising in tempo against your back even under Azriel's chilling stare. He had been expecting your betrayal, and had been ready for them.

You could feel the fury in the air, could see it written in Azriel's eyes as he studied every single one of Norris' movements. You had been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure since he was against this plan from the start, in fear of this exact situation coming true. But he seemed completely focused, not even risking looking at you too long in case he'd get distracted. This made you relax ever so slightly. You'd planned out for this situation and even if you ended up hurt or worse, you know Azriel won't let Norris go unharmed. You would get your revenge one way or another, you just hoped you could spare the male in front of you any more pain.

Rhysand winnows in next to Azriel moments later, darkness clinging to him as he takes a few steps closer to you nonchalantly. Talons scratching your mental walls before checking in on you. All according to plan.

“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but even I can't spin a lie so effortlessly,” he starts, arrogance dripping in every word. You'd never admit it, much less to him, but Rhysand was every bit the perfect High Lord, especially at times like these. It showed in the way he carried himself down to the seemingly bottomless pit of power at his disposal. No matter how strong Norris is, anyone with even a little of self preservation would think twice on how to handle him.

“I came prepared for your little tricks, High Lord.”

You frown at his words, confusion settling over you before you realize what it meant. Rhysand must have tried getting inside his mind as soon as he appeared. Norris had expected him to, had put up walls to ensure it didn't happen. This would only make things harder.

“Skipping pleasantries, are we?” Rhysand's face gives nothing away, but as he drops said pleasantries, it gives way to some of the anger bubbling under the surface, the next words coming out in a serious tone. “You're not walking out of here, Norris.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Norris says as he leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper, “Did you think I would come on my own?”

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach as you watch dark figures manifesting all around you, far outnumbering your group. You recognize some of them, know their clothes and masks mean they're assassins from the guild.

A fight breaks out right before your eyes, causing you to struggle desperately for the first time in Norris' arms. He tries to keep you in place by letting the blade touch your skin as a warning, a few drops of blood escaping the small wound. You know he could easily kill you, but you're also aware that if he did the chances of him escaping would drop to zero. That's the only reason you're still breathing, so he can use you as a shield.

Your eyes were following Azriel's shadow covered form as he fought against multiple attackers, the feeling of helplessness rising with each clank of his sword. You can't stand there and wait any longer, so you grab the blade still positioned dangerously close to your throat and wrap your fingers around it tightly so it cuts your hand instead of your neck while swinging your elbow back to try to push off of Norris. Just as you expected, you weren't strong enough and he pulled the knife back from your grasp, intending to stab your stomach to stop you, but you had a new trick up your sleeve.

Azriel's shadows had moved to you as soon as Norris grabbed you, crawling up your legs discreetly in the dark of night, where they stayed waiting for your signal. And, as they tasted your blood in the air, they engulfed Norris, giving you enough room to push back and to elbow him a few more times, also letting off some of your power and finally being able to release yourself from his hold.

The shadows aren't enough to keep him away from you for long, the lack of visibility barely slowing him down as he attacks you before you even have the chance to take a breath. Luckily, your little helpers' singer rushes in, getting between you and deflecting Norris' strike. He hands you a sword so you can fight back with him and pushes back against Norris without wasting a single moment.

The three of you enter a match, barely being able to pay attention to what's happening around you, though you can tell everyone is in the same predicament. Even between you and Azriel, keeping up with Norris proves difficult, he's not only an exceedingly proficient fighter but he's also familiar with your attacks and style, making it easier for him to avoid your attacks and focus more on Azriel's.

The fight goes on for longer than you'd like. Even with your and Azriel's joint efforts, you had barely managed to wound Norris. The bastard was too strong and experienced, he was one of the guild's oldest assassins for a reason.

Suddenly the sickening scent of blood reaches your nostrils, in a concentration you haven't experienced before. It makes you falter in your movements, but luckily it has the same effect on Norris, leaving him open to Azriel's attacks, who seems undisturbed by it. You risk a glance behind you, but all you can see is the rest of the Inner Circle watching the battle, while the ground and their bodies, even the trees around them, are covered in blood. You're not exactly sure what happened, what they did to completely obliterate the assassins to a point not even their bodies were left, but you don't have more time to linger on this as Azriel finally manages to get a few good hits in, leaving Norris stumbling back away from him.

Rhysand is next to you in the blink of an eye, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. You move to help Azriel, hoping to distract Norris enough for him to be able to infiltrate his mind. It doesn't take much longer before Norris finally drops unconscious at your feet, and you immediately let out a relieved breath. Azriel's shadows move to tie him up so he has no chance of escaping.

Your plan had always been to catch Norris off guard or wear him down enough so that Rhysand would be able to infiltrate his mind, successfully knocking him out so you could take him back to the Night Court for interrogation. And, as much as you'd planned for the possibility of him bringing backup, the assassins had made this harder to achieve. You all had been worn down more than expected, but, as you look around, you see no one seems to be gravely injured.

Cassian smiles and nods at you when he notices you eyeing the blood trickling down his shoulder, it wasn't too deep of a wound and the blood was already stopping from the looks of it. Azriel did tell you Illyrians heal faster than most fae. Speaking of, you feel scarred fingers wrap around your wrist as you give Cassian a tentative smile of your own.

Your focus is stolen by Azriel, your eyes finding his instantly as he holds up your hand carefully, examining the wound and the blood that had been smeared all around you during the fight. He's wearing a conflicted expression, pain visible in his eyes. You've found Azriel shoulders too much guilt, even when what happened wasn't his fault.

His other hand reaches out to touch your neck, where a small cut overlaps with the pronounced scar on your skin. He's been blaming himself for your death for over a century, he must have been terrified of not being able to stop it again, even if it was happening right in front of him.

“I'm alright, Azriel,” you smile up at him, hoping to calm him down, “This will be gone by tomorrow.”

“We need to take you to a healer.” You shake your head, not wanting to stay behind and leave them to deal with Norris by themselves. Gently prying Azriel's hands away from you, you go to tell him as much.

“He's right,” Morrigan interjects, “I can take you to Madja and she'll fix it for you in an instant. I can bring you back right after.”

“It's just my hand.” You don't understand why they're making such a big deal out of it. This wouldn't need a healer, aside from some discomfort it won't hinder you in any way. They all have small wounds of their own that they seem to be ignoring.

“You're hurt.” There's a finality in Azriel's tone that is starting to rub you the wrong way. You understand he's concerned, you've tried to be considerate of his complicated feelings ever since you found out you had been his wife and the tragic way in which he had lost you, but that doesn't mean he can order you around.

“Barely.” You try to keep your voice leveled, pointing at Norris' unconscious form still covered in shadows. “And this is a lot more important. I need to know what he did.”

“I'll tell you everything we find. You don't need to go with us.”

“What?” You can feel the confusion taking over your features. Azriel has been forthcoming with any and every bit of information, you don't understand why he's trying to keep you away now.

“It's best if you don't come to the dungeon. You don't need to see that,” he offers, his face becoming irritatingly blank, the mask you know he uses as the Night Court's Spymaster. This only makes your anger spike even faster.

“See what?,” you challenged, head tilting to the side, “Do you think I never tortured anyone?” Your voice rises with every word, annoyance taking over your body. “I know the female you married was much different from what I am now, and I don't know if she let you order her around like this, but I'm not her.”

“I'm not ordering you-” Azriel's face falls at your words but you're too far gone to even try to interpret what it's written in his eyes, to even listen to what he has to say.

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Rhysand stands between you two before the argument can escalate further. “This is not the time to be fighting. We need to take him to a safe place before he regains conscience. I can only keep him down for so long.” He eyes Azriel for a moment, studying his features as some sort of understanding takes over his own. “Mor will take you to a healer,” he holds up a hand as you open your mouth to argue back, “It will only take a moment and then you can meet us in the dungeon. We won't start without you. I promise.”

By the expression on his face and authority behind his words, you know trying to argue with the High Lord won't take you anywhere right now. He's too used to calling all the shots and you can't change his mind in a matter of minutes, not when there's a much more pressing situation on your hands. You need to choose your battles.

You simply turn to Morrigan, ignoring the hazel eyes staring straight into your soul. “Take me to your healer then. The sooner I get this done the better.” She nods at you, extending her hand as she winnows you both back to Velaris.

The adrenaline of the fight started wearing off as the healer, Madja, worked on your hand, stitching skin back together with expert ease. As much as it had annoyed you to be sent to the infirmary, you could admit the pain had been worse than you expected as your body calmed down. It still wouldn't have been much of a problem to warrant that amount of concern.

Morrigan simply watches as the old fae works on you. She tried to talk to you about Azriel but you pushed her away, not wanting to hear any explanations from her. He's old enough to speak for himself, and you'll probably be eager to hear what he has to say after this whole situation is worked out. Right now, you only want to go back to where they're holding Norris so you can finally understand what he did to you and hopefully learn how to fix it.

Just as Madja is wrapping your hand in a white bandage, keeping the strong smelling ointment she spread in place, the healer speaks up for what feels like the first time tonight. “That boy loves you more than anything. Give him a chance to explain. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you,” she finishes as she pats your hand softly. “All done.”

Her words give you pause. It does make you wonder how obvious your and Azriel's love had been that everyone seems to have no doubt in their minds that he would do anything for you. He seems to be very private in his affairs, especially personal ones. It also makes you curious if you'd known her before, it's more than likely since she's the Inner Circle's healer. You push those thoughts away, knowing you wouldn't ask the old healer about your relationship before anyway. You were so close to getting your memories, you needed to focus on that.

“Thank you.” She gives you one more smile before gathering her things, making you stand up and rush to Morrigan, who has a somewhat nostalgic and understanding smile on her face. She holds onto your shoulder before you even have the chance to say anything, knowing what your next words were going to be.

As soon as you winnow in, you understand why they called this place a dungeon. There really was no other way to describe the dark, stone covered space. The air was thick with humidity and blood, the kind you know has lingered for centuries and will never be completely washed out. You have to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it was truly close to pitch black inside, the perfect environment to torment someone in, especially when you're the shadowsinger.

You never let your eyes meet Azriel's when you walk in, even as he turned to you, only allowing yourself to focus on your former handler, heavy chains on each of his wrists as he stood on his knees in the middle of a cell. He was already awake, it seems they did start without you. Rhysand speaks into your mind, sensing the incoming protest. He woke up sooner than we expected. He's been trained for this.

A sigh almost escapes you. Norris was trained for every possibility, this was going to be a gruesome session. As much as you were arguing with Azriel to stay, the truth is this is not something you ever enjoyed. So many in the guild did this sort of thing for pleasure but you only ever tortured anyone when it was strictly necessary and they had truly done something awful to warrant it. You can only hope it at least gives you the information you've been searching for and the freedom you never even dared to dream about.

“I almost thought you weren't going to show your face again.” It's infuriating how unaffected Norris sounds even though his blood already stains Azriel's favorite dagger.

“Wouldn't miss this show for the world,” you admit. He was one of the few individuals you believed deserved this and much worse, for all he has done to not only you but so many others. You're almost certain your conscience won't bother you for this.

Up until tonight your feelings for him were passive. You never particularly liked him, but you always felt obligated to show him respect as your superior, there were also less than ideal consequences if you let your true feelings show. Still, there had been some small, stupid hope that he didn't really do all those awful things to you. He trained you and taught you a lot, knowledge that you know has helped you in a lot of bad situations, that has kept you alive through them, and will continue to do so in the future.

A sickening smirk overtakes his face at your response. “I always liked you better when you acted like one of us.” Fury and shame travels across your body, but Azriel moves before you get the chance to, slashing his blade across Norris' chest, a sharp noise of pain escaping him. The gesture almost makes you smile, as twisted as that may sound.

“You'd do well to watch your mouth. My Spymaster doesn't take well to disrespect,” Rhysand's voice sounds different, arrogant but nothing short of furious.

“Still hung up on her? Since you stopped searching I thought you found yourself a new shiny toy.” Azriel's fist connects with Norris' jaw as he gets the last words out, a laugh escaping him despite the flow of blood rushing through his teeth for being able to rattle the shadowsinger.

You decide to step in, not wanting to let Azriel speak or act for you when you're more than capable of doing it yourself. And knowing how much he blames himself for your situation, for stopping his search when you were alive all this time. You'd be damned if you let Norris hurt him in any way. He's done more than enough.

“So you admit you were the one who found me.” You walk until you're standing over Norris' beaten body, right next to Azriel, close enough he has to adjust his wings not to touch you.

“Of course, you were one of my finest projects.” You let out an acknowledging hum, temperature dropping around you as your icy power rose to your fingertips. The pain would be a lot worse if you kept his body temperature down, you want his whole body to ache. This was going to be a long night, thankfully hurting Norris was nothing short of enjoyable.

taglist: @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @thisblogisaboutabook @chessebookgirl @going-through-shit @starcrossedsan @macimads @janebirkln @dr4g0ngirl @harrystyles2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @queensl1234 @lisanna2000 @starryhiraeth @shadowsaz @sakurafrost3-blog @evergreenlark @sisterjuliennes @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @historygeekqueen @writingcroissant @abysshaven @pablopascal @that-girl-reading @naturakaashi @tenshis-cake @sharknutz @isa1b2h3 @thehighlordishere @tarathia @sfhsgrad-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @starsandnightmares @cuethedepession @emryb @mybestfriendmademe @fxckmiup @adharanotfound @b0xerdancer @ervotica @aria-chikage @serendipityx150 @fanboyluvr @rogersbarnesxx @that-one-little-soybean @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @saltedcoffeescotch @astarlitsoul @just-a-social-casualty-1 @sundayysunshine

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #divider by saradika

272 notes · View notes