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starzshopoflove · 7 months

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Sweetness

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Notes: fem reader! i hc ghost doesn't wear a mask when he's off duty, this is just whatever rot my mouse brain creates.

WC: 2.3k

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ghost has been weird lately—really weird. He’s not yelling at recruits; he’s not entertaining Soap's stupid arguments; he doesn't get irritated as quickly; and more noticeably, he’s been far more brutal on the field.

Ghost never hesitated to use himself as a shield, letting himself take the pain he thought they didn't deserve. He still did, but now it was different; he was a wall of muscle, but now he pushed for them to get out of fire asap. He’d kill the enemy with more prejudice, like they had already killed his most cherished friends. The look in his eyes was more wild; the adrenaline in his blood was more like fire than it was chemical. Pumping around his big body, he chanted “Protect, Protect, Protect,” which he liked much more than when it used to say “Kill Kill Kill.”

They always loved Ghost as the no-nonsense in-and-out man on the field, the one who always puts others before himself during missions, a man who'd welcome death with open hands if it meant the rest of 141 would live. They loved Simon, the man on base without the skull of a man hiding him, the one who wore a less scary baklava, the man with scars and cuts on his face when they went to the pub, the man with horrible jokes, the man who'd make the base's shitty tea somewhat edible. Simon was different too. Simon ate faster, talked a little more, and rushed to get alone as soon as he could, locking his door and not letting anyone in past dark.

Price got tipped off when he saw the little line of white peeking out of one of his vest pockets on the chopper back to base after the whole Las Almas mission. Short square over his heart under the flag that he proudly wore on his vest. He couldn't see the photo, of course, but he could tell what it was.

A captain should know everything about his force—their past, present, and future. Price knew his past and possibly knew more about his present when they weren't on duty. He knew Simon had shifted flats, moving closer to the city center, when Simon told him to update his address on his off-base database file in order to get any checks or documents for future missions. Simon didn't tell him why. Price assumed probably better rent, or maybe he was sick of the shitty neighborhood he once resided in, or maybe he was sick of walking a half hour for groceries.

Price was getting an itch—an itch he didn't like. Price hated not knowing; of course everyone was entitled to a private life, but not when it put him off.

He felt dirty snooping in Simon's office, betraying his lieutenant's trust. He waited until Simon went back to his quarters, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. Nothing felt different, and nothing looked different either. The burning fluorescent lights flickered every now and then, but the air was still stale. No photos, no knicknacks on his desk, bare. Absolute bare, devoid of any personality, anything that would tell you about him, anything you could use against him had the enemy invaded the base.

Pacing around the room, Price checked under the desk and in the drawers twice. He winced at the squeak of the steel on the wheels and how loud it sounded. He snooped through documents, flicking through them quickly, only seeing the same pen and paper against the Manila folders. His eyes scanned the room again and again, only making him bubble and sigh in frustration, running his hand through his hair and gripping his hat in the other.

He stared at the metal closet, almost like it was staring back. Open me. Open me. I have what you want. As if it were beckoning him to spill every secret inside. Everyone had the same one. No one liked opening it; doing that meant leaving, meant war, and meant more time on the field. The field where you were going to get killed or killed, feeling less human every time you shoot. You welcome the gnawing, snarling, vapid ache that takes up all the space in your lungs when you try to breathe when you open that closet.

He hesitated at first, turning the little lock handle before opening the door gently, trying not to focus on the squeaking. Everything stared back, and Ghost stared back. The mask, once plain fabric, is now soaked in years of war; the blood of war dogs saturated it, and the skull of a man no one knew was tightly bound to it.

Grim, dirt, and filth

Guns that had killed more men than one could say, knives clean but still holding the smell of iron and sweat, boots with soles dirtied with soil and dust, and his vest Almost the same one wore the UK flag stitched neatly on with the same little rectangle shape pressed behind, right over the heart.

He wanted to shut the door, he wanted to leave, and he wanted to do everything that would allow him to pretend nothing happened and that he was never in here. He didn't, justifying in his mind that he was doing the right thing.

I'm not doing anything wrong

Unhooking the vest from the inside holding it in his hands, heavy.

I'm just worried

He set the vest flat on the desk, burning holes into it with his eyes.

I just want to know whats happening

His hands almost shook, sliding 2 fingers in the pocket, a soft grip on the polaroid, a feeling that confirmed everything he thought on the heli.

I'm doing this for you

The photo was small, almost choking him when he saw it. When he saw you, A big, bright smile pulled on a young woman's face—a toothy smile you only make when you're in love. Your eyes shut so tight, your hair is messy from the wind, framing your face so delicately, and the big bouquet in your hands is held so tightly that the stems may have bent. You were beautiful, no doubt, but his eyes lingered over to the man next to you before they glanced down at the writing in the ink pen.

Simon and I, 2.6. Manchester flower festival

Simon was staring at you in the photo, not even bothering to pay attention to the camera. Even if the photo wasn't high quality, anyone could see his eyes melting at the sight of you, how relaxed his shoulders were, and the crease next to his eyes from how he was smiling. Simon was smiling, not grinning or smirking like he does after everyone groans at his awful joke; he was smiling like he'd won the powerball.

Swallowing his pride and shame, he carefully tucked the photo back in and just as cautiously put it back. Backing out of the office, he could feel every question creeping up from the back of his brain.

“Who is she?" “What was her name?”

“How old was she?” “What does she do?”

“Does she know?"

He pushed his thoughts back down, shaming himself for suspecting anything about Simon, mentally noting to sneak him some better quality tea as a silent apology.

___

Simon isn't stupid. He can tell they're all being weird.

Is he going to ignore it? Absolutely.

They’re all cramped up in the corner of the shitty pub booth, drinking the shitty beer, and having a shitty night. Waiting for the night before leave starts is both exciting and irritating; each of them is counting down the seconds until they're home, be it alone or with family. Anything is better than a night on their cot in a cold, soulless room on base.

Simon was letting his skin breathe, finally taking off his plain balaclava when they were far enough off base to nurse his pint while the ball of his foot anxiously bounced his leg. He needed to be home, needed to be with you, needed to hold you; he just needed you. Inside his head, he was practically foaming at the mouth, snarling at himself, trying to make every second go by faster than it should so he could finally get his fix.

While he wasn't showing it, he couldn't hide the impatience basically seeping out of his pores, eyes hazed and uninterested in anything around him, his mind drowning out the sounds of the group's conversation with all the noise in the pub combining into a numbing chatter. He was so lost in his own head that he couldn't hear soap talking to him until he felt an elbow on his side.

“Awright? a'm talking tae ye?”

“Sorry. Say it again”

Bad choice. Soap had that stupid look on his face, a teeth-baring grin with his eyebrows slightly turned up, like he knew something he shouldn't. That alone made his eyes move on Gaz next to him, then Price. Gaz looked constipated, brows furrowed together, nostrils flared as he focused on his own pint, and suddenly Price was doing the same. Soaps eyes bored into Simons while the other 2 men had a new intense interest in their drinks.

“Said ye leek lik' yer thinking aboot yer bird”

“Don't know what your saying”

“Och c'moan dinnae lie tae us, a' body kin tell.”

Suddenly Simon also understood what was so interesting about his pint, bringing the drink back to his lips while his eyes gazed off at the wall next to him. He could feel his back itching and shifting in his seat, his shoulders tensing back up as he bottomed out with his drink, letting the glass sit back down on the table.

“Said, I don't know what youre talkin’ about.”

“Right, 'n' a'm king o' scotland.”

Soap was getting too close and cocky for comfort, too loudly sniffing about where he shouldn't, and poking the bear with a stick too short. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms over his chest, letting the black fabric stretch as he puffed out his chest still with that fucking grin.

“Heard ye talking tae her.”

“No you didn't.”

Price's interest in his pint redirected to the tense conversation on his left; he knew he shouldn't know, but he didn't know Soap knew. The guilt from earlier that was frigid in his mind thawed a little at Simon's denial. If he was lying, that means he was right to search, right? You should never lie to your captain, after all.

“Really? Haven’t got a bird at home?”

“No.”

“Dinnae ye know lyin a’ sin”

A gutted groan left Soap as he folded over to hold his own knee from the sudden kick under the table. At this point, there was no use lying. If anyone was going to find out about you, it was better for them than anyone else. Mental gymnastics were set aside as he made a list.

On one hand, they could act as insurance; god forbid anything happens to him, you would be safer with them alone, never knowing what happens, and maybe now you would stop pestering him about meeting his friends (he doesn't have any but them). On the other hand, the possibility of you being compromised would finally exist; that thought alone could make him sick.

A long drag of stale air settled in his lungs, slamming his eyes shut as he let that same breath out. Straightening his back and resting his arms on the table, he let them flutter open and fall on Soap.

“You get one question each. One”

Giddy laughter bubbled up out of Johnny; he was just so happy he could finally open up Simon's brain and have a peek. Shooting down both Price and Johnny's question with a quick answer of your name and age only to result in Johnny giving him a wolf whistle that rewarded him with another kick to the shin. Gaz let his nervous shifting settle now that the cat was out of the bag, with his question filling the air with a new strain of tension.

“Can we see her?”

Hair. On. Ends.

What does he mean by can they see you? Do they want to meet you? Just a picture? Or will that put you in more danger than them now knowing you exist? Maybe it’ll be safer?

“One picture, than nothin else outta you lot for tonight”

Digging through his album of you in search of a simple photo was tougher than he thought; most were in your shop working, you asleep, some in a more compromising position than he’d like to share, but granted, he finally found one.

You were sitting on your shop counter with your hands settled on the wood supporting you while you had that same teeth-baring smile, eyes open this time, and hair not whipped by the wind. In all honesty, Simon thought you were perfect like this, makeup or not; he loved seeing you like this. You could wear neon-colored jumpsuits for the rest of your lives, and he’d still think you're gorgeous.

It was always you to him. Anytime he sees you, he thinks he could go limp. He was hopelessly devoted to you, ready to drop to his knees and confess all his sins if it meant he could drown in you. You invaded all his senses, unearthing parts of him he didn't know were still alive. You calmed that sick mess festering in him that used to wait until it was dark to sink its teeth into him, reminding him how disgusting he was. You dragged him out of that soulless apartment and breathed life into him. Every time you flood him with ambrosia and honey with the sound of your voice or the heat of your skin.

Well, now he had to let them meet you. A photo could never do you justice.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

can u tell i let this chapter get away from me a bit near the end

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warnersister · 4 months

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“Best interest” - Thomas Shelby x Sister!Reader

Thomas Shelby x Sister!Reader, Arthur Shelby x Sister!Reader, (background) Isaiah Jesus x Reader

During an altercation between you and your older brother Thomas turns physical, you turn to your oldest sibling for help.

Request: from anon

“Hey I got a request for Tommy Shelby

So you and Tommy sister and u are 15 and u are living with Tommy and you and Tommy was having an argument and he slapped u and you walk out and Tommy was worried were u was as u didn’t come back for the night and turns out u was at Arthur and Arthur was shocked to see u at his door crying and u told him after and he rang Tommy up pissed off he has hit u

Hope that makes sense x”

“Isaiah Jesus is bad news.” Tommy told you, cigarette dangling from his lips. “He’s Finn’s best mate!” You retort “plus he works for you!” “Exactly.” He barks in response, stubbing out the remainder of the tobacco onto his desk before rounding it to get to you. “While you live under my roof, under any Shelby roof; you will not date no blinder nor man, you shall stay here and out of trouble.” He told you, wagging a finger at you like you were some dog who refused to do a trick.

“You don’t tell me what to do, you’re not my father.” And before you could think about at a large pain came into the side of your face, followed by an incessant buzzing and potentially red hand mark. Your brother has slapped you. “You are a fifteen year old girl. I am the closest thing to a fucking paternal figure you have and you will not fucking go against me, yn.” You said nothing in response, eyes welling up with tears as you cradle the soreness of your face.

Silently, you grabbed your coat and spun quickly on your heals - pivoting to face the door, rather than Thomas and making a dash for it before your brother was able to stop you. The door slammed shut behind you but Tommy didn’t move - you’d done this before, ran out but returned twenty minutes later with a bit less anger and a bit more Dutch courage in your system.

But when ten minutes had past, twenty, sixty, two hours; Thomas started to worry. He grabbed his coat and his cap, leaving in a similar fashion to yourself - slamming the door behind him to try find you on the unsafe streets of Birmingham: an unpromised virgin Shelby with a target over her head was potentially the worst possible person to leave alone. And even if you were angry, at least you’d be safe in his protection. And for once in his cold little life Thomas started to regret his actions.

You, on the other hand, knocked onto your other brothers - eyes welled to the brim with salty teeth’s that stung the mark on your face. He was notice drink from the hiccup he make when opening the door, but he sobered up rather quickly when he saw the state you were in. “Yn? What’s happened sweetheart?” Arthur asked you. “He hit me, Arth” you sniffed, upset. “Who did? Isaiah? I’ll fucking kill him-” “Thomas.” Arthur stopped in his tracks. “You fucking what?”

“Thomas hit me. Slapped me round the cheek when he found out about Isaiah. Said I wouldn’t stop seeing him just because he told me too-” you explained as your brother embraced you tightly and brought you in fr the cold to be able to properly comfort you. “Let me look” you moved the hand from your face and there laid a vibrant red handprint of the brother who would die tonight if Arthur got his own way; but right now his baby sister was in need and she would always come first to him.

“Come on love, I’ll get you an ice pack.” He mumbled, sitting you on the sofa before heading to the kitchen to grab some forgotten peas from the freezer to heal your dampened mood. “I’ll always look after you, y’know that?” He asked, stroking your hair and kissing your forehead. You nodded up at him. “That’s why I came to you first, Arth” he smiled, glad you trusted him as thus.

When you’d eventually settled and drifted to sleep at this ungodly hour, Arthur made a rather cruel phone call - but not before making a more gentle one. “Isaiah can you come round to mine please… yeah, she just needs you…”

Thomas paced around his house, unable to find you and the police told him they’d do anything in their power to find the Peaky sister before dawn but it wasn’t good enough, he needed you alive and well three hours ago. Not by morning.

The phone ringing dragged him out of his frantic thoughts. “Speaking?” “What are you fucking playing at?” “Arthur?” “I said, what are you fucking playing at Thomas?” He spat again. “Arthur this isn’t the time-” “laying a fucking finger on our baby sister. I’ll rip your cruel fucking hands off and kill you with ‘em” the man on the other end was quiet for a moment. “Is she with you?” “and I’ll slap you twice as bastard hard as you hit her-” “Arthur is yn with you?” Silence. “Yes.” He let up. “Oh thank god, did she come straight away?” “Four hours ago” “oh fucking hell, I’ll be there in five-" he said, pulling his coat back on. “No need. I don’t want to see your ugly fucking mug until morning.” “But," “no fucking buts. My little sister is staying the night with me and that’s final. Not sending her back to someone who’s gonna hurt her” and the line went dead.

The door rattled. “I swear to god Thomas if that’s you-” Arthur seethed, opening the door. “-oh Isaiah, come in lad” he welcomed, letting the sixteen year old blinder into his home - face drained and pumped back up with concern. “Where is she?” “In the living room.”

Isaiah ran into find you on the settee, awake from the commotion. He kneeled in front of you, gently holding your face in his hands checking you over, thumb carefully ghosting over the shadow of a hand on your cheek as his eyes progressively filled with rage. “I’ll fucking kill him for touching you. I’ll cut his hands off and make him eat em from breakfast-” Isaiah began to promise before truly looking into your eyes and seeing the upset in him: to which he immediately relaxed, for you: spoke a bit gentler. “Are you alright?” He questioned, voice barely above a whisper. You nod. “It’s alright, I’ve got you” he promised, taking your body into his chest and caressing your back with a free hand, allowing your distress to seep off into much-needed sleep.

He looked over his shoulder at the older man watching from the doorway, anger returning to his eyes. ‘I’ll fucking kill him’ Isaiah mouthed and Arthur nodded ‘tomorrow’ he lipped back.

In the morning, as soon as the sun reared its head over the horizon, Thomas was at his brother’s doorstep - cap in hands. Awaiting the wrath as the commotion approached the door. “You slimy bastard.” Arthur allowed him through the door, locking it behind him. “Is she here?” “Yeah. With the boyfriend who cares about her more than you think he does.” Thomas ran through the downstairs portion of the house, informing the living room - seeing you sleeping peacefully in the arms of the boy he’d forbade.

Isaiah looked up at him, calmly. “No offence Tommy, but if she wasn’t here right now I’d be chopping your filthy fucking hands off with a butter knife” he said, voice cold and monotone. But he wasn’t able to reply, seeing you wake from your slumber to your abuser in the room you didn’t want him.

“What is he doing here?” You spat, venom leaking from your words. “Yn let’s go home-” “no.” “No?” Arthur stepped forward between the two of you. “I dare you to try lay a finger on her again.” “Yn I’m so sorry. I was worried after you ran off, y’know.” Tommy said, trying to sound guilty - which he was, truly. “But I can see I was being unreasonable and perhaps Isaiah does treat you better than I thought he could. I was only looking out for my baby sister.” He said. “I’ll never touch you again Yn. I’m sorry.” He opened his arms and the two other men looked at you, allowing to make your own choice here.

Slowly but surely, you inched towards Thomas who embraced you in a bone-crushing hug, kissing the top of your head as though it’s the first time he’d seen you in years. But in the embrace, he looked up at Isaiah and pointed a threatening finger at him. “But you ever hurt her and I’ll hold you down while she cuts your fucking balls off.”

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softtdaisy · 5 months

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🌲 save us for later l pierre gasly

summary. Christmas could have been great. if pierre didn't forget to tell his parents you broke. and you didn't have to pretend you were still together.

words count. 2,434

a/n. ok I'm totally obsessed with this one and I really hope you will love it as much as I do🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

“I can’t believe you did that.”

You heard Pierre sigh by your side, like he was already tired of this situation.

Like it wasn’t his fault if you were there today. What a joke.

“You don’t even try to understand.” he added, still focused on the road to not look at you. You noticed he was gripping the wheel so hard his joints were white. Or how he was biting his lips so badly, a habit you helped him to cease doing but apparently he didn’t stop, it was almost bleeding.

But you couldn’t care less. Because this was so typical of Pierre: putting the blame on you by saying you didn’t want to hear his explanation.

“Oh.” you laughed nervously, turning to look at him. “Maybe you’re right.” you took a break long enough for him to frown, wondering if you really agreed with him. He knew for sure that during your past arguments, none of you would flinch this easily.

“I really can’t fucking understand how you could lie to your parents and pretend we are still together, Pierre.”

“What was I supposed to do?

“Tell the fucking truth.” you replied, slamming your hand on the dashboard.

This was absolutely not how you planned your Christmas’ eve.

Well, to be honest, you didn’t plan much. Your parents were away for the holiday and you were just going to eat some homemade food in front of a christmas movie. Nothing much but a well appreciated evening.

For sure, you didn’t plan on spending it with your ex-boyfriend and his family.

Pierre suddenly drove on the sideway and stopped there, getting some horns from annoyed drivers. You looked at him with confusion, he wasn’t the reckless driver type. Obviously. It was his habit to scare you when you shared the car.

He stopped the car and turned to you. “I fucked up, ok? I know that. On so many levels.” you rolled your eyes at this and held back any bad comments. “But everything went fast after our breakup. I haven't seen them since this summer and I couldn’t announce that we broke off our engagement through the phone. When my mom said they were waiting for us tonight, I didn’t have the heart to ruin their christmas. You can blame me for lying. But don’t fucking blame me for protecting my parents for god sake!”

Pierre was right. You knew it.

It was something you’ve always kinda admired about him: how his family would always go first. You couldn’t count the number of hours you waited for him in the hotel room, ready to go out and celebrate, while he was on the phone with his parents or his brothers. For sure, you would be a liar to blame him for something you’ve always encouraged him to do.

Especially considering that you accepted to play pretend tonight for the sake of protecting them, too.

When Pierre called you tonight, you didn’t answer. When he texted you, you barely read the message.

When he knocked on your door, you didn’t have any other choice than to open.

And when he told you, you needed to come with him at his parents’ place to act like a couple even though you’ve been apart for three months now because he still hasn't told them about you…well you laughed. Nervously. And argued a lot.

Then you realised you didn’t want to be the bad person in this narrative. What was one night in a whole life?

You sighed, still looking at Pierre. He still hasn’t moved, waiting for an answer from you. You got lost in each other’s eyes.

And that was the thing that convinced you to come. The fact that he was ready to bring you back home if you really didn’t want to accompany him.

“Fine.” you sat back normally. “You could have told them I wasn’t available.”

You heard Pierre laugh softly. “You still want to have the last word I see.”

Most of the ride went quietly after that. Pierre put on some music and you answered most of your texts. You only started to talk again ten minutes before you arrived to make sure you had the same ideas in mind. No break up, you were still planning your wedding and happy as before. And the reason you didn’t see his family in so long was simply a lack of time from both of you.

“And…” Pierre started once he was parked in front of his family house. You frowned, wondering what you could have potentially forgotten. You memorised everything and it wouldn’t be that hard to pretend after a three year relationship.

But then it hit you when he took the box out of his pocket. “I almost forgot it at home but it’s here.”

You remember when Pierre proposed to you.

You went to Greece during the summer break, last year. One night, while you were walking around the city, you found a place that was recreating Mamma Mia and invited everyone to sing and have fun. And so you went there, singing Abba the whole night. At some point during the night, after a kiss that lasted longer than it should in public, Pierre looked at you with a big smile and said “I want to marry you.” You laughed, thinking he was joking. But he wasn’t. “I meant it. Would you marry me?” and this time you started to cry, nodding so hard you had a neckache.

You later learnt that Pierre had imagined a whole different scenario for the proposal. But it spoke with his heart and did it when it felt perfectly right.

And tonight, you were putting back the ring you worshipped with your whole heart. “It feels weird.” you whispered.

Pierre didn’t answer and simply left the car. It was hard for him too. Acting like he didn’t lose the woman of his life over stupid decisions.

“Vous voilà! Je suis tellement contente de vous voir.” (oh there you are! I’m so happy to see you)

Before you even got the chance to prepare yourself in front of the door, Pierre’s mom opened it and took you both in her arms. You couldn’t lie, it felt good to see her and feel just as appreciated as before. Like nothing changed. And it was the truth, somehow. For his mom, nothing has changed. You were still her son’s fiancé, the one she almost saw as a daughter.

You looked at them, the way she kept touching his face to see any changes. And, what she told you one day, if he had any scars from races he tried to hide from her. You had this weird feeling of being home. Like you were right where you belong. For a second, you were back a year ago, when everything was perfectly fine.

But then it hit you when Pierre took your hand to bring you inside to see everyone. It always felt natural when you were holding hands. In one of your birthday cards, you told him he must be your soulmate simply because your hands seemed to be held by the other.

Tonight, it didn’t feel natural. It was hesitant. Pierre wasn’t confident about closing his fingers on yours and you could feel it.

Everybody seemed so happy to see. They all see you as an official member of their family. And it would be lying to say you weren’t happy to be by their side too.

It helped that you didn’t see much of them for months. You spend the first two hours of the night talking with everyone but Pierre. Asking about their life, their own family, their friends… you had many things to learn. And you avoided some questions. That was one of the rules you established with Pierre. Pretend that the wedding was a big secret you couldn’t tell a thing about. For the rest, you just made the truth prettier.

Sure, you started a new job. But you didn’t admit it was a full time one because you didn’t go to the races anymore.

Yes, your pet was doing so fine. You just had to find the right pictures that would show your new apartment.

No, you still haven’t decided where you would spend the winter break with Pierre. Because you weren’t going on any holiday anymore. At least, not together.

The dinner was a little harder to live. Because you sat next to Pierre, like it was planned. Like it has always been. And this time, compared to the whole drive, you felt more trapped. Because you couldn’t roll your eyes at what he was saying, or avoid his hand when he tried to touch you. Everyone would notice that and understand that something was wrong. You had to be careful.

So careful that, at some point during the evening, you even forgot why you were acting like that. You got lost in his stories about races you went to and especially those you miss after your breakup. You laughed at his joke, sympathised with his bad moments and cheered at the podium you missed.

You remember that day, or night actually for you. You didn’t watch the end of the season after your separation but you still had the notifications from the official account. So you knew the results. And when you learnt that Pierre had secured a second place on the podium, you almost called him. It was still a natural reflex: this desire of celebrating with your loved one.

But you didn’t. You didn’t even send him a text. And for one good reason: the last text you got from him was simply “Je suis désolé” (i am sorry) and you couldn’t handle the pain of going through the pain again.

There had been hard times these past months where you almost forgive Pierre for breaking your engagement. There had been many times where you still wanted to call him and insult him for breaking up just because he woke up one day and realised this was maybe not what he wanted for his future.

What was this? This has been the question you’ve asked yourself many, many times. Was it your couple, your wedding or just you? You had no idea. Pierre couldn’t even explain it himself. He just knew that it wouldn’t be fair to keep pretending he was happy in a life he learnt to despise.

And it was now, sitting by his side, that you realised you had overcome all these mixed feelings. You felt alright. Not good, because the wound was still wide open. But you had accepted it. You would never marry Pierre. And you didn’t want to anymore.

After he finished telling the story of the last race of the season and the battle of champagne he had with Charles, while everyone was talking together, Pierre turned to you. You both got lost in each other's eyes. And you were convinced his little smile was a soft thank you. For being here, for lying, for…being happy.

Because it hadn’t been easy months for Pierre either. Many times he woke up, thinking he had made the worst decision of his life. And some morning, he still wonders if he didn’t lose you for nothing. And those questions weren’t created by some insecurities about his happiness because he knew that he felt happier without this weight on his shoulder. But because he was scared he had ruined you. He would have accepted to be miserable for the rest of his life over this stupid. But he couldn’t accept hurting you forever.

But tonight, you both realised that maybe, things were going better for the both of you. And maybe, that night, was the one you both needed to start healing.

This helps the rest of the night go smoothly. You played games together, laughed together without thinking about the lie you were telling everyone. Even the drive back home felt natural, you talked about his family a lot. He even asked about yours. It was a whole different from the outward journey earlier.

Pierre insisted on walking to your door with you. “It wasn’t that bad, right?” you couldn’t help but smile at him. He had this kind of unserious almost flirty tone like he needed to prove to himself and to you that he was right, in the end. It wasn’t such a terrible thing to do.

You crossed your arms on your chest, a way to protect your heart from opening itself again. “No it wasn’t. You’re right.” he shrugged like it wasn’t such a surprise and you immediately hit him in the chest. You both laughed and oh how it felt good to be this lighthearted again for a few minutes.

It meant more than you imagined that you were standing in front of your door, with your ex-fiancé in front of you. When you could already be in the bed but rather got lost in his eyes. Because you knew exactly what this moment was. And deep down, you weren’t ready to let it go.

You could hear Pierre talk before he even opened his mouth. “We were good together, huh?” you tried to not focus on his glossy eyes or the way he was playing with his fingers.

“Yeah, we were.” you smiled, containing your own tears from falling. “It was good while it lasted.”

Pierre crossed the few steps between you. You closed your eyes when you felt his lips on your forehead. Such a kind and sweet attention you remember he had when you started dating. When, for the first time maybe in his life, he wanted to take things slow to make them last. But this time, there were no other moments to share. And you had to watch him leave your place.

For the last time.

You finally put the key in the door, taking your time to not close this chapter of your life too fast. “Eh!” you jumped, turning around immediately and saw Pierre holding the elevator’s door open. “You know I'll still love you, right?”

“I do.” you tried to ignore this weird feeling in your stomach, not waiting to think about the fact you ended up saying the two words you would never say to him. “Me too.”

There lies the truth. You loved each other. Still.

But you couldn’t be together anymore.

And so when you finally opened the front door and got inside. When Pierre finally let the elevator closed on him and brought him back to his car. You both knew what it meant.

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly story #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fin #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 #my writing

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twinklelilstarkey · 1 year

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Tutor: Aiden

Words: 5.1k+ Type: Smut (brief) & Angst Summary: When going to a party, you get to see someone you haven't seen in a while. Warnings: Fem!Reader. SMUT {very quick and brief; both of them are intoxicated; piv (no protection)} VIOLENCE (yes, the gif is a hint), MENTIONS OF BLOOD, DESCRIPTION OF FIGHTING, mentions of alcohol, mentions of exes and not-so-nice name-calling.

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should REALLY read chapter "Sunbathing" <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

And thank you so much for the 6.6k+ followers!!!

Saying that you needed to come to this party is both a shock to your past self and the truest sentence you’ve ever said. Not that you’ve come to enjoy parties, far from it, but you do need to be in a place where everything is loud and chaotic enough to completely muffle your mind. You need noise and maybe a little alcohol.

You’ve been dealing with a ridiculous amount of work from school, Wheezie is beginning to fall back in her studies, and, the worst of all, the girls.

Whatever happened with them on Monday carried on for the whole rest of the week. The lack of conversation towards you whenever they’re all together and the looks you’ve noticed them give you while they talk between themselves during class. You have no idea what could be going on, and it is only leading you to overthink.

You’ve been thinking on a daily basis of the possibility of the girls knowing about Rafe, but, each time, your thoughts were calmed down with Kristy herself. She has been the one that talked the most with you these days, even though it’s a lot less than she used to. And she acts natural. As if nothing ever annoyed the girls or hurt them to the point of… doing this. Therefore, it only leaves you to think that you might have done something before Monday.

Was it because of Alex? Maybe they liked him a bit too much, and Kristy is the only one that accepts that you don’t think you could be anything with him. Maybe you said something bad? But when? You didn’t spend any more time with them which could’ve led to an argument. If anything, they were happier prior to the date because you were going on the damned date.

Thinking it could be you and Rafe is something that goes through your mind at the worst times, even when you’re with him. You’ve talked to him about it, but Rafe can’t help but feel a little helpless in all of this. He has never met your friends. All he knows about them is what you’ve told him, and that is nowhere near enough to make conclusions, only assumptions.

There was something he said that eased your mind, “Isn’t Kristy who dislikes me the most? Then wouldn’t she be the one acting like a bitch?” And it makes sense, even when you felt like the insult was unnecessary. If it had been about you two, Kristy would’ve probably never looked you in the eyes. Let alone still talked, smiled, or hugged you like before.

And the cure for all your stress, said Rafe, is partying and alcohol. There was a time this week when all your worries regarding the number of people at the party completely evaporated, and all you wanted was to hang out with more people and forget all about these girls. Even when it still hurt. So, you decided to go by his advice.

Once you stepped inside the warm house where the party is taking place, you were pulled into a hug by Patty right as your foot touched the hardwood flooring. You laughed with her as she squeezed you into her arms, while, at the same time, making sure to curse Rafe out for never taking you to more parties so that the two of you could hang out.

And, whether you like it or not, Patty did separate you from Rafe almost instantly. She wanted to get you a drink. So, as soon as your bodies were disconnected from the hug, her hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you into the direction of the sea of people who seemed to not have the courage to jump into the pool just yet.

It’s been maybe an hour since you got to this party, and you haven’t seen Rafe since you came in. It stays like that for, possibly, an hour, but, at some point, Patty decides to walk elsewhere which only leads you to go find Rafe.

When you find him, he’s by the sliding doors that lead to the outside, amongst other guys from his usual group, and when you stand near him, it only takes a slight look down at you for Rafe to welcome you by his side.

To no one’s surprise, the conversation you get to listen to is very much boring, so the music outside and watching the people jumping into the pool is much better for entertainment. People are more than drunk already, and they’re jumping from all sorts of places into the pool. Other people just dance by it, and others sit at the chairs, deep in conversation.

The breeze that hits you from the open door you’re looking out of is just chlorine and some miss of alcohol, not exactly the best of smells.

By the time you and Rafe are left alone and happen to have a conversation on the most random of topics, your eyes are going from his face to the outside, finding people extremely interesting. His friends have begun to go outside as well.

Your hands are resting on his torso. Whereas for his, they go from holding your waist, so that you can stand still and close to him, to sometimes squeezing it to get your attention.

“No, that is dumb.” You tell him with a big smile on your face when you see him smile just as much. “How do they get home if he does that?”

“Soaking wet, probably.” He tells you, “It happens more times than you think.”

“But why? Where’s the fun in pushing people in the pool?” You continue to discuss Topper’s favorite activity whenever he’s very drunk at a pool party.

“Want to find out?”

Rafe is already pulling you off of him so that you can start making your way outside, but he can’t even hold back his smile when your eyes widen at his statement and even more at his actions.

There is absolutely no way that he’s offering to bring you into the fun of coming up behind a random person and just pushing them into the pool. In drunk-Topper’s philosophy, why would anyone come to this party and not expect to go in the pool? But, thankfully, you do not share the same philosophy.

You pull at Rafe’s wrist to hold him back from continuing to tease you about the whole thing, and he does. But, now that you two stand outside, you can tell his next step from a mile away. It's all from the way Rafe's smile changes from a playful one to a malicious one.

It’s by record time that you let go of his wrist and take a step back to escape him. Your heart has begun to beat faster as you look at your boyfriend, the same one that just stands handsomely in front of you as if he isn’t threatening to get you soaked to the bone in cold water.

“No.” You say to him as a warning, and he takes a step closer to you.

You dumbly hold out your hand as if that can ever stop him from getting to you, and every time he takes a step closer to you, you take one back. You, thankfully, notice that you’re getting backed up into a corner before you don’t have enough space to escape.

Once escaping from being backed up into the sliding door, you look around for some sort of backup. Specifically, one shaped like Patricia herself, even if that means sacrificing her. She is nowhere to be seen.

That slight distraction makes Rafe get closer to you, and you let out a sound that resembles a giggle and a scream, but not quite when you feel his hand just graze you. The two of you laugh together as you take another step back and find the sound that came out of you extremely interesting.

“Don’t, please.” You try to plead your way out of this, but Rafe only seems more entertained once you do it.

“I’m not trying to do anything, you’re just running away for no reason.” Rafe tries to tell you as his smile continues to stretch and tries to grab you yet again.

“Rafe,” You start, but you are very much interrupted when he gets yet too close again.

Over the sound of your voice, not too far from you, comes a cheer of someone’s name. A name that is familiar to you. As you look up to see for a few seconds, you are solely focused on him. He’s wearing normal clothes, ones typical for a warmer night. His hair could be a little longer, but he looks the same since the last time you’ve seen him. Aiden looks the same since the night you broke up with him.

Before you know it, your back hits the side railing of the porch, and your attention is brought back to Rafe, who happily gets a hold of you, having no idea who stands behind him. Rafe’s hands hold you and pick you up, and the sudden panic of being thrown into the pool comes back.

You try to get away from him by moving around and pushing him away from you, but as you now try the technique of holding him closer so that he can’t throw you anywhere, you notice how much he’s smiling at all of this. The bastard.

“Please, don’t do it.” You say to him.

Rafe’s response is to turn around to go in the direction of the pool, and you swear that you had no control of your body when you let out a certain shriek of panic.

“What do I get in return?”

“A non-wet girlfriend.” You tell him, making him laugh in your face. “That’s not enough?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

You fake a shocked expression and a clear look of disbelief, and Rafe just takes a step closer to the crowd.

“I will pull you in with me.”

“I have your phone in my pocket.” He reminds you

“I don’t care.” You say seriously, but with a chuckle following your words right away, breaking your character.

As Rafe continues to walk towards the pool, you simply hold him tighter, and you’re not sure how many times you tell him ‘please’ and ‘don’t’ as he makes his way to it. You make purely fake promises of how you will do anything he wants if he just doesn’t do this, or how you will buy him whatever he needs, but those promises fall on deaf ears.

“I will hate you forever.” You try your last resource.

He doesn’t even flinch at the words. You have no idea how distant from the pool you are at this point, but you only hold onto him tighter. If he really wants to throw you in, he’ll have to jump in himself, you are not about to surrender.

Knowing exactly how you have no idea of your surroundings, Rafe simply pauses and pretends to let you fall. And that is probably the funniest thing he could’ve ever done, because you let out one of those screams again and, when noticing that you’re still in his arms, you begin to repeat your previous promises while kissing his cheek.

Rafe only lets this torture last for a few more seconds before he actually lets go, which only leads you to believe that you’re being dropped into the pool again. You granted him a great smack in the arm right as your feet touched perfectly solid ground.

As you scowled at him, obviously mad at what he did to you just now, Rafe only smiles, holding your face as you do a frown that he can’t take seriously ever. He kisses you a few times, and that is what makes Aiden stand up straighter.

Aiden hasn’t seen you in a while, nor did he wish to. The heartache you gave him had been enough for him to want to stay away from you for the rest of eternity. All the missed calls or ignored texts after you two had broken up. It all hurts like the ache of a scar formed from a deep wound. A pain that never leaves, it just changes.

It has been more than a year, and he hasn’t seen you. You’re still absolutely beautiful, and you haven’t changed much, except for the fact that you have started dating again, by the looks of it.

Aiden has tried to pull his eyes away from you more than once, but his curiosity happens to be his worst enemy. He wants to keep looking. He wants to see if you’ve changed in the slightest bit, and he might even want to see the face of the person you’ve begun dating. He has looked away everytime the guy turned around and showed his face. Aiden only wanted to see you.

“Who are you looking at?” His friend asks, noticing how he has spaced out for a minute or two.

Aiden watches as you pull away from the kiss and how the frown is gone from your face. Your eyes are glued to the guy you kissed. His hand is on your face, holding it in place, thumb on one cheek as the other fingers hold the other. Your boyfriend kisses your pouty lips before saying something, Aiden assumes, teasingly, which leads to you smacking his arm and making the guy laugh.

He can read your lips when you pull away from his hold on your face and say “I will throw you in” with a serious expression on your face. The guy says something, and Aiden watches while you pursue your lips and look away to not laugh.

When the guy turns around this time, Aiden doesn’t look away. Someone must have called your boyfriend to get his attention away from you because he had moved so quickly. But Aiden wasn’t exactly expecting to see Rafe. Nothing would've prepared Aiden to see him.

Rafe brings his attention back to you when answering whatever someone had just asked him, and you had just started taking steps away. You tell him something that Aiden doesn’t understand, and Rafe reacts instantly to your words. He moves over to you and throws you over his shoulder, making you almost squeal your words while laughing at the same time.

“Aiden!” Aiden’s other friend calls out, “Come get drinks with us.”

Didn’t even need to tell him twice.

(...)

You’ve had a lot more to drink than you first planned to. You haven’t become completely out of control, but you are very much tipsy. You will trip if you walk by yourself for too long, and you will laugh at everything someone will tell you. With that, Rafe decided not too long ago that it was a better idea to have you seated somewhere and not having you walk around a pool.

As the night grew colder, everyone began to slowly go into the house and continue to party inside as well. Rafe has been sitting next to you on the couch ever since then, in a conversation with his friends.

Your legs are over his lap, and his hand has been smoothing over your skin and playing with the ends of your dress. And because of that, his attention is faulty. He is nowhere near sober either. Whenever your friends got distracted, the two of you shared kisses, and that led to a lot more. Which doesn’t surprise you.

You don’t blame yourself for what happened. Rafe had been laying distracting kisses over your shoulder and neck, and they were always so soft and slow. It got your attention. And it only took one more of your kisses for Rafe to pull himself up from the couch and take you with him.

You giggled your way through the empty hallways while the music continued to bounce off the walls. You found it funny to jump around, but also to have Rafe practically dragging you through the house, all while you can just hug his neck and rest your face on his chest.

One thing led to another, and you were in a bathroom on the other side of the house. The music was distant, but you could still feel its vibration on the door behind you. Your lips haven’t exactly disconnected from Rafe’s since you came in, and due to the presence of the music, your drunk mind found it more than okay for you to relax and not be as silent as always. Rafe was more than okay with that decision throughout the whole thing.

Rafe picked you up and trapped you between the door and him with your legs by his hips. His hands were lost underneath your dress, while yours eventually began to pull his shirt upwards so he could take it off. Once it hits the ground, the two of you were back to kissing like nothing had ever separated you.

You lose track of what Rafe does with all the stimulation of his hands on you and your foggy mind, and he holds you tighter to him when you moan against his lips, and he lets out a grunt against yours. You separate from the kiss as, for you, the pleasure has magically begun to burn at the bottom of your stomach.

Rafe watches you lean your head on the door as try to adjust to the position and to him, who has just slid inside you. And in seconds you were back to it. Rafe chuckles when you kiss him and lays his hand on the cold wood beside you. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you in place, and your hand grips his forearm.

Your moans start with his movements, feeling more sensitive than ever before, and that only seems to motivate Rafe. He separates his lips from yours and begins a trail of kisses down your neck. You hold onto his shoulders tightly and seem to lose complete control of what you say or do. One of your hands holds onto the back of his head, pulling at the strands of his hair.

The sudden pull makes Rafe’s hand drag soundly through the door to detach you from the door and hold you in his arms. Your eyes are closed when he moves, and you hiss at the cold of the counter. The discomfort only lasts seconds since pleasure completely substitutes it.

As Rafe thrust into you, some of the things that were once neatly on top of the counter fall on themselves or onto the ground. You leaned back on the stone counter, finding the cold on your burning skin awfully satisfying. Rafe’s eyes left your face, eyeing down at the two of you, where you connect, letting the fact of what the two of you are doing at a party rest on his mind. Your underwear had been pushed to the side, and he hadn’t even pulled his shorts completely down. Your dress was simply held up by your waist, and your skin has begun to glisten as he keeps on going. Sliding his cock in and out of you as you moan at every movement.

Your sounds aren’t too loud, but Rafe knows that people could hear it if they ever walked close enough to the door. He isn’t even sure if he locked it when he came in with you. Your eyes stay on him half closed as you bite in your lips to be quieter, and Rafe brings his hand down to your clit, leaving you in a complete puddle, and lose all control of the noise you make.

Rafe knows he says things to you throughout the whole thing, but he isn’t sure what exactly. And the same goes for you. Whatever it was, both of you responded to it, to each other. Even when you aren’t quite sure how because you cannot even bring yourself to think.

When it ends, Rafe does pull you closer and puts his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans. And as you two are left with ringing ears, heavy breathing, and with eyes half-closed, you can only kiss again and again. Completely drunk out of each other.

Your hands are lost in the strands of his hair, and Rafe’s holding you closer and closer to him. It takes you a good few minutes to walk out of the bathroom like nothing had happened, and, once you do it, you notice how no one noticed you were even gone.

(...)

Time went by and the alcohol eventually deemed its effects on you, which could only mean that it was time to go home. You weren’t alone on this. Patricia had very much fallen asleep on the couch in an awkward position, and you knew that taking her home would be better. Yet, for the minutes that you watched her asleep, you silently wished that were you.

It took you yawning mid-sentence in a conversation with Rafe about 5 times before he decided that the two of you were done for the night. Topper did the waking up of Patricia and helped her with grabbing her things while some of the guys helped with other things.

You leaned on Rafe as if he was a wall as they did it. Patricia, half-asleep and drunk, eventually got to you and began to tell you with slurred words how tired she felt, which made you agree with her with a nod.

“Are- are you going home?” Patricia asks you before hiccuping, “Like, really home? Or Rafe’s?”

Before you can answer, she continues with a gasp. “You could spend the night in mine.”

“I’m going home.” You tell her, blinking slowly.

She sassily side glances at you and then at Rafe as well, who isn’t even paying attention to her, but to Topper, who is drunkenly looking for one of his friend’s shoes under the couch.

Patricia, forgetting her hate towards you, grabs your hands and holds them as she swings your arms to the beat of the loud music. You smile at her and swing them with hers. Patty dances a little, as many moves as her tired and drunk body could pull off.

The two of you giggle after a few of her dance moves, and then you stop abruptly. A girl has just collided her shoulder with yours, hard, and it catches you off guard more than anything.

Due to that, Patricia loses her smile and faces the person right away. As you go to look at them and say the usual ‘it’s okay’, you see a girl. But a girl you’re sure you know from somewhere, which only makes you pause and reflect on who it could be.

“I’m sorry.” She tells you with a big drunken smile.

“You better be,” Patricia says before you can say anything back. You send her a glare as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You tell the girl, looking away to look at Patty again.

The girl doesn’t seem to walk away right away, and you feel Rafe lay his hand on your, still a little sore, shoulder. He smooths the skin, and right when you go to hold Patricia’s hand again, Rafe’s chest vibrates as he speaks.

“Got a problem?”

You eye him confused, but he isn’t talking to you. You look in the opposite direction, and your hands stop playing with Patricia’s, much to her confusion. Aiden stands beside you, eyeing you both, and then Rafe. And it suddenly clicks, that same girl had been Aiden’s friend when the two of you dated, and seemingly still is.

He eyes Rafe weirdly and then looks back at you.

“No problem, bro. Just wanted to say hi to an old friend,” He says while looking you in the eyes. “Hope you still remember me.”

You open your mouth to answer, but it is not needed. Aiden stretches his hand toward Rafe to introduce himself, “I’m Aiden.”

It doesn’t take long for Rafe to remember the day you said that same name, and because of it, Aiden’s hand stays untouched. Rafe continues to look down at him and bites his own tongue.

Aiden lets his hand awkwardly fall and offers Rafe a fake grin, which only grants him one back.

“Doesn’t look like she remembers you.” Rafe says, reinforcing his fake grin, “Keep it moving.”

“Oh, come on.” Aiden looks back at you. “You remember me, right, Y/N?”

Patricia lets go of your hands and holds your wrist instead. You don’t really understand her actions, and continue to only stare at Aiden in shock. You have absolutely no words to say to him.

“No?” Aiden asks you while spontaneously leaning closer to you so you could hear him better over the music, which only made you take that space back by leaning closer to Rafe.

Aiden looks at the two of you and doesn’t appear to get the hint.

“Are you two dating?” He asks, a smile appearing on his face as if he found his own words humorous.

“Yes.” You break your silence.

“That is so interesting.” He says to you, “I would never see someone like you with someone like him…” His eyes lift to Rafe, “No offense to you, bro. You just, you know, are very different from her type.”

His eyes do not leave you after he says that. His words make the air thicker. He fortifies the idea that he knows you and that he has known you for a while. He has a past with you.

“You must remember me. We used to have so much fun together.” You shake your head right away.

“Just leave, Aiden.” You tell him, growing tired of his pushing.

“Why?” He chuckles, “Because your big boyfriend is going to hit me?”

That confuses you and only leads you to notice how Rafe has, indeed, gone silent and instantly tense. You don’t look at Rafe to not give Aiden any satisfaction, and simply repeat your words.

“I’m serious.” You tell him. “Leave.”

He stays quiet and then takes a step back. Your lungs fill with air as a sign of relief, even when you know it won’t last for too long. Aiden stands before you still, and his eyes move all over your face, examining you. And then his eyes go down, down and down, and suddenly up. Disgust is the first thing that hits you, but you don’t let it show.

“Hopefully she won’t get as tired of you as she got of me,” He looks at Rafe. “You know how they are. Girls like her…” And then back at you. “Always looking for other guys to satisfy them, no matter who they hurt in the process. When the reality is that they will never be satisfied... Not whores like her.”

As he says it, Patricia moves quicker than you. She pulls at your wrist and away from Rafe, who simply moves forward, grabs Aiden, and slams his fist onto his face.

The music around you muffles, and everything slows down. Aiden loses balance after the impact and struggles to strike Rafe back. Some people get out of their way, and both of them move farther for you and Patricia, but continue to be entirely visible to your widened and panicked eyes.

It seems as quick as a blink when Aiden hits the ground with an awfully loud thud. From the distance, you can tell he already has a bloodied nose, twisted in an off-angle, as well as reddened teeth and knuckles. Making it awfully obvious that he has already hit Rafe too. Patricia pulls at your arm, making you look at her for a second, but even her eyes are glued to the fight.

More seconds go by, and people are stupidly starting to circle the men. Whenever you’re able to get another glance between everyone, the damage is worse.

Aiden's face twisted in pain, blood dripping off his mouth, punch after punch as he continues to struggle on the floor. Blow after blow, he slowly weakens. It is gruesome, to say the very least, and not something you're used to ever see.

With your feet still glued as ice to the ground and with your body stuck on the spot, you watch as Aiden does try to open his mouth to say something, and his hand lifts to stop Rafe with a plea. His hand doesn't ever lift to hit, just to hold him back. The same exact gesture you had done when playing around with your boyfriend merely hours ago.

Your heart drops to your stomach at the sight, as his pleas go unanswered. Rafe's fist collides with Aiden's face yet again and Aiden's pleas falter.

Patricia forces herself and you to move out of the house, and you cannot hear anything but your quickening heart. Your vision is faulty, making you feel as if you were blinking and holding your eyes closed for more than time then opened.

You look behind your shoulder before taking the last step down the porch only to see Aiden spread out on the floor, unmoving as Rafe begins to stand before him and letting out a breath, with his back towards you.

“Get in the car.” Patricia practically screams at you, snapping you back to reality and making you face the front.

You get in, and she closes the car door. At the lack of sound, the gruesome images suddenly consume your mind, inducing nausea and more of your shaking and uneven breaths. You cover your face with your hands as Patricia climbs into her seat beside yours and does not mutter a word.

Aiden's face, cut and broken. His silent screams inaudible over the music, and his pleas being cut short for another and another hit.

You knew it wasn’t a lie, that Rafe fought all the time. You had seen him just before a fight. But tonight had made it real. Too real. He fights until the other person can no longer handle it, until the other person cannot say any words that could make him stop. He doesn't stop until he sees enough blood to satisfy him. He doesn't stop until the person goes unresponsive.

No one had dared to push Rafe off of Aiden, not one of his friends. Even when Patty seemed moved, she didn't look at anything like it had been news to her. Rafe always does this. You know he does.

More than a month ago, you had cleaned his hands. Those that dripped with blood, and he hadn't wanted you to see them. You had giggled, found it arousing even. Such a filthy thing it had seemed. Never had it crossed your mind how real it all was. How he hurts someone so badly simply because they dare to cross him. He didn't hold back. He doesn't hold back.

You had never seen him like this, nor do you ever wish to again.

When your hearing clears slightly, you open your eyes and pull your hands away from your face. As you stare at them in the silent and dark car, you watch as they shake violently and listen to your heart not being able to slow down. You do not dare to look up, afraid of who you might see coming out of the house.

As you let out a shaky breath, you feel only one thing ripping through you. Fear.

Didn't I say shit would hit the fan? I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER. I know this isn't my best work, but I tried my best. Love y'all <3

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 year

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It Was Always You (NSFW 18+)

AN: second chances don't always come around, so if you see an opportunity take it. This is my first fic for Joe so go easy on me! lol

Synopsis: You and Joe both attended LSU and although you both had feelings for each other, he told you when you least expected it.... when you had a boyfriend your senior year. What happens when you see him at the LSU spring game and all of those feelings are now rushing back towards you? The feelings that you tried so hard to put in the back of your mind?

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Requested by: @soaharleys and @a-moment-captured 💖

Joe Burrow Masterlist

Do not engage if you are not 18+

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Your breath hitched in your throat when you had finally caught sight of him standing next to Ja’Marr and looked around to see if you could make an escape.

Because right now you wanted to disappear into thin air.

You were now back at LSU for the spring game and knew that it was only a matter of time before you ran into him.

Joe.

The ex that wasn’t really your ex

The one that got away

Because of the way that the two of you left things, if it was up to you, you wouldn't have bothered showing up knowing that he would be here. But your two best friends dragged you along so you didn't really have a choice. They were always Team Y/N and Joe from the beginning and it doesn't look like that was changing any time soon.

The two of you were basically inseparable during your time at LSU, but a relationship never bloomed and there were so many factors as to why. After he got drafted to the NFL, you watched his professional career closely and always congratulated him on social media. He did the same with you seeing as you were now a professional gymnast.

And the crazy part of it all was that you trained in Cincinnati.

But that was as far as it went, social media and nothing else. He also followed your career closely just like you did his and would always tell you underneath your posts how proud he was of you.

Even though there was a time that it was rare to see either of you without each other, it was almost as if you were now strangers and you couldn’t understand how it got to this point.

You just figured both of your careers were now taking off and left it at that even though deep down you did miss him and wanted to reach out to him.

But you were scared.

Scared of what, you didn’t exactly know but you figured that you were scared of your feelings that you had towards him which you didn’t want to admit.

But you had to be honest with yourself. You did know how the two of you got to that point.

During your senior year, you had a boyfriend.

And Joe did not like that one bit. You could tell he was against the relationship from the beginning, but seeing how happy you were, he let it go.

Then it all came to a head.

You admit that you did spend less time with him and in return he decided to tell you how your boyfriend didn't deserve you and was cheating on you every chance he got.

Then the argument happened.

You called him jealous and the only thing that came out of his mouth was 'Well what if I am? He doesn't treat you right!'

'Oh and I suppose you know someone who can do better? You are so jealous of him that it's actually pathetic. I thought you would be happy for me. You're supposed to be one of my best friends!'

'Anybody can do better than his ass! How can I be happy for you when I'm absolutely in love with you?! You belong with me, NOT him!'

'Joey...'

Next thing you knew his lips were on yours and as bad as you wanted to push him away, you didn't.

It wasn't until your phone went off to tell you that he was downstairs waiting for you for date night.

You abruptly pushed Joe away from you and all he could do was sigh in defeat because he knew.

He knew that you would go back to him despite everything that he had put you through.

'Joe, why would you kiss me knowing that I have a boyfriend?'

'Then why would you kiss me back when you know the exact same thing?'

You didn't have a response for him and just stared anywhere but his eyes. It wasn't until he lifted your chin for you to look at him that your eyes welled up with tears.

'Let me show you how you deserve to be treated. Leave him. You already know being with me that you'll want for nothing.'

You didn't know how long you stood there staring back into his blue eyes, but you finally broke.

'Joey, I love you but I love him too and I...'

'You're choosing him over me.'

'No, babe just wait a minute please.' You said while trying to catch his arm as he turned around to leave out of your apartment.

'Wait for what? I'm not waiting for the person that I'm completely in love with go and love someone else in front of my face and that someone else doesn't deserve it. I love you, but I can't do this anymore Y/N. Just.... take care of yourself.'

Joe then placed a kiss on your forehead as you suddenly raised your voice to ask him what that meant.

He couldn't just leave you and your friendship behind, you wouldn't let him.

'Joe...'

Joe turned around to walk away from you and was making his way through the living room as you kept calling him.

'Joey... what does that mean? What does that mean? ANSWER ME DAMN IT! Don't do this, I... I need you in my life. Ever since you came into it, I can't see myself without you.'

'I can't be friends with you anymore and watch you love someone else that isn't me as selfish as that sounds. Y/N, don't call me when he breaks your heart either because I'm here trying to save you from the heartbreak, but your falling into head first.'

As hard as it was to leave your apartment seeing you with tears run down your face, Joe walked out of the door and never looked back.

Not even a week later, your boyfriend broke up with you.

You tried to call Joe right after it happened and of course....

he didn't answer.

"Ooh, look! It’s your man. Go and talk to him.” Your friend Jada said while pushing you towards him, but you immediately shook your head no.

Jada was with you on the gymnastics team at LSU along with your other friend Destiny and the three of you remained close after graduation. They didn't know the story behind what actually happened between you two seeing as you would get upset every time you thought about it. Because of that, you just let it go.

“Why not? He literally has not stopped looking in this direction since you came through the door.” Destiny added while looking over at you confused.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Uhh?? His bedroom eyes that he’s giving you is saying different and what makes you think that? There was a time where the two of you were inseparable and I was convinced you wanted to be in his nutsack so that you could hang with him all day.”

“JADA!”

“Tell me I’m lying. All of us just knew that the two of you were going to end up together and were very surprised that the two of you just went your separate ways.”

“We talk on social media.”

“Barely. You should have been sending him nudes to get his attention. A little titty pic never hurt anybody” Jada added and Destiny just shook her head at her.

“Not everyone can be successful from their only fans, Jada.”

“I only did it for six months!”

You and Joe had formally met when there was one night when you couldn’t sleep and decided to go to the gym on campus. You were in there for about ten minutes by yourself before Joe came in with his headphones on. He sent you a small smile and you went back to doing your workout. It wasn’t until you needed a spotter for your chest press that you actually spoke to him. Of course he agreed and the two of you had been close ever since.

“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s coming, he’s coming!” You whispered to them as you noticed Joe starting to make his way over to the three of you.

“Oh Y/N will definitely make sure that he’s coming later if I have anything to do with it.”

“And this is why we never want to take your ass in public. You don’t know how to act.” Destiny said while shaking her head.

“All I’m trying to do is make sure my bestie gets dicked down, there’s no harm in that.”

“Ladies.” Joe greeted the two of them while you just stayed quiet.

“Hiiii Joe.” Jada and Destiny responded while you just tried to stifle a laugh. They were so incredibly full of it.

He then turned to you and gave you his famous smile and of course you couldn’t help but to smile back at him.

“Y/N, long time no see.”

“Too long in my opinion.” You heard Jada say and Destiny immediately pinched her.

“It’s so good to see you.” It almost came out like a sigh of relief, but your heart rate had definitely begun to pick up even more now that he was right in front of you.

You should have chosen him over your ex-boyfriend and you regret making that decision every day.

“You mind if we go somewhere and talk?” Joe asked while scratching the back of his neck and you immediately nodded your head.

“I slipped a condom in your purse earlier just in case. I got the largest size that I could find. Because we KNOW it's big.” Jada whispered in your ear and all you did was look at her in disbelief before turning back to Joe.

“Sure.”

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence until you reached downstairs in the hallway leading to the locker rooms knowing that you two would be able to have privacy.

You were looking down, being more interested in your shoes when Joe placed his finger under your chin so that you could look up at him. Just like old times when he desperately wanted your attention.

“I actually had this whole speech about what I was going to say to you when I saw you today, but now that you’re in front of me all of that has gone out the window.”

“Whole speech for what?” You curiously asked while you felt your chest was about to burst.

“I… I hate the way that we drifted and there’s really no excuse for it. You were one of my biggest supporters while I was here and you were the first one I told when I said that I wanted to enter the draft. I left you in a time where you probably needed me the most and I feel like I failed you. Even if you didn't feel the same way, I should have been a better friend to you and support you in whatever was going on with him.”

“Who said that I didn't feel the same way?”

“You did?”

“Yes and I thought that I was making it obvious. I just didn't expect to be in love with two people at the same time.”

“I liked you since I first laid eyes on you, but not knowing if you felt the same, I didn’t bother saying anything. At that time, being your friend was good enough for me. Especially because I didn’t know if you felt the same way. Even though I could have just asked you, I didn't know what I would do if you said you didn't share those same feelings. But, I couldn’t risk losing our friendship. When I got drafted and then moved to Cincinnati, I tried to push the feelings to the back of my mind. I thought if I wasn’t always around you that they would go away, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. And seeing you today, I realized that the feelings never left. I thought that distance would help but it didn't. Still want you just as much as I wanted you then and I'm sorry for not being there for you when you needed it.”

You were quiet for a few minutes taking everything in while Joe on the other hand was starting to grow nervous because you hadn’t said anything in response to him.

“Y/N?”

“I wish that you would have told me sooner.”

“Why? Do you have a boyfriend that I don’t know about? Again?”

Joe asked while once again getting a defeated look on his face. You decided for him to sweat it out a little bit before answering.

“No, but we have barely spoken in three years and I fucking missed you but didn’t know if you missed me too and that was why I didn’t say anything. That fight we had? Joey we never fought.. EVER.”

“I know. I've replayed it so many times in my head and walking away from you is the hardest thing that I've ever done. It was always you and I hated how long it took for me to realize it. No matter how much I tried to suppress my feelings I get it if you don’t…” You immediately cut him off.

“If I don’t what? I thought it was obvious that I liked you too and still want you in my life despite how much you pushed me away. I did agree to talk to you today after all. I just didn't expect you to wait to tell me that until I had a boyfriend. Come on, I would get us both Starbucks every morning before class and I shared my apple cinnamon muffins with you and no one else every time I made them. No one got that same treatment. I woke up at 6 in the morning for you, I didn’t even do that for my ex-boyfriend.”

“Ja’Marr also pointed that out, but I didn’t notice.”

"You don't know how hard I had to suppress my feelings for you while I was with him. I thought that you were giving me all of these signs that you liked me back, but when you didn't ask me out, I thought that I had misunderstood you. But then you finally did tell me and I was put in a difficult situation."

"If I would have just told you then we wouldn't even be here right now having this conversation because we would be together."

“So, what now?” You asked wanting an immediate answer.

“I’m doing it the right way this time. Date night later? Now I'm really going to show you how you deserve to be treated.”

—-

Joe was now pounding into you as you reached up to wrap your arms around his shoulders in order to bring him closer to you if that was even possible.

Luckily that condom Jada slipped into your purse earlier came in handy.

As your left thigh wrapped around him, he adjusted both of you in order to be able to grab your hip tighter to continue his movements in and out of you. It was a long time coming with built up frustration on both of your parts since no one wanted to admit their feelings first.

But you had to admit that the wait had been worth it. You had lost count of how many times he had made you cum and you knew for a fact that he wasn’t going to be done any time soon. And if he was, it was only for a small break and then this would continue later.

He then reached down to place kisses all along your breasts before taking one nipple into his mouth and massaging the other one making a moan quickly escape from your lips. As much as you were trying to hold back, you were failing miserably. Joe was doing everything he could to get you to come undone in front of him and you knew that it was only a matter of time.

“Mmm, baby you feel so good around me.” Joe whispered into your ear as he reached down to massage your clit and you only gave him a moan in response. Your back immediately arched up from the mattress beneath you as Joe was trying to hold you in place so that you didn’t move.

“Oohhh shit, right there, baby stay right there.” Joe heard you say and immediately slipped out of you to then put his mouth on you while adding two fingers.

“You going to be a good girl and cum for me again? Been waiting for this.”

You eagerly nodded your head yes as he put his mouth back on you without breaking eye contact. He grabbed your legs tighter to pull you closer to him so that now they were both resting on his shoulders. Your breathing had picked up and you knew that you were close. Joe knew it too as he began to suck on your clit which immediately made you gasp.

“I know you’re not running from me, baby. Spread those legs. You have a few more left in you, don't you?”

“Joeyyyyyyy….”

“Didn’t realize how much I missed you calling me that.”

Less than a minute later, you were coming undone in front of him as he continued sucking on your clit making you cry out in pleasure.

As you rode out your high, Joe was placing kisses on the insides of your thighs as he waited for your breathing to become even again. When it finally did, you sat up to meet him halfway as you brought your lips to his in an intense kiss. It almost seemed desperate at this point wanting for him to explore every inch of you and wanting to do the same for him.

You then made a motion to flip the two of you over and Joe had gotten a surprised look on his face as he looked up at you.

“Damn, I forgot how strong your ass was.”

“You should know better since I could almost lift just as heavy as you could.” You replied as you slowly sat down on him letting him fill you up as moans escaped from the both of you.

His hands immediately went to your hips to help guide you as you were slowly riding him. You could tell that he wanted for you to go faster, but you wanted to take your time. The clock on the nightstand read 1 am and you knew that you still had a few more rounds left in you.

“Come on, babe.” Joe breathlessly said and you could tell that he was growing impatient.

“Patience, Joseph.”

“I am being patient. Take your time, but hurry up.”

“And I see that some things still haven’t changed.” You said in response to him as you rolled your eyes.

“You said how much you missed me earlier so you better ride this dick like it.”

That was all he needed for you to say as you lifted up and slammed back down on him and increased your pace.

“Fuckkkk, baby.”

“You coming undone underneath me is a sight that I’ll never get tired of seeing.” You confessed as Joe gripped your hips even tighter. You had a feeling that was going to leave a mark later, but for now you didn’t care.

“I’m close, babe.”

You then placed your hands on Joe’s stomach to help you lift up as you were also close and could feel him start to twitch inside you.

“Shit!”

As Joe was cumming you continued to ride him and finally lifted yourself off of him to lay beside him. He immediately brought you back on top of him while kissing you as you were eagerly kissing him back.

After discarding the used condom, Joe turned the shower on to a comfortable temperature before going back into the bedroom to pick you up off of the bed to lead you back into the bathroom.

Joe helped you put your box braids into a high bun in the hopes of not getting your hair wet when both of you stepped into the shower with him going first and holding his hand out towards you. Joe was staring down at you smiling and you couldn’t help but to smile back.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked as you reached to the side of him to grab your mango body wash that was perched on the side while he had begun to wash his hair.

“Just happy you agreed to go on a date with me. Despite how I left things between us. I just... I won't let that ever happen again. If problems arise, we work through it.”

“Did you think that I was going to say no?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure. That’s why it took me so long to say anything.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn't so now Jada and Destiny can shut up about it.”

“You know they all had a bet going since we were at LSU right?” Joe asked you and you immediately looked at him confused.

“A bet for what?”

“To see how long it would take for us to start talking to each other again. I don’t think anyone thought that it would take this long.”

“Me either, but it worked out how it was supposed to.”

“And I now owe Ja’Marr 1500 dollars. He said that you were going to say yes to the date and work on moving on from what happened between us.”

"Oh, shit. YOU OWE HIM TOO?"

"Wait?! He?"

"Text me and told me the exact same thing yesterday and said I would owe him 1500 if you proved me wrong."

"Can't stand his ass, he always was right about everything."

"He will never let us live this one down."

Liked by joeyb_9, lahjay10_, lsuladytigers, msjada, chooseyourowndestiny, simonebiles, zendaya, and 836,204 others

y/nthegymnast: date night 💕

y/nupdates: OH, WE GOT A NEW MAN!

msjada: HOLD ON, WHOSE HAND IS THAT?!

chooseyourowndestiny: msjada you are so damn slow. you know whose hand that is! Y/N GET IN HERE!

lahjay10_: joeyb_9 BITCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY. BOTH OF YOU PAY UP!

joeyb_9: lahjay10_ how do you know it's even me in the pic?!

lahjay10_: joeyb_9 currently looking in the imaginary camera like I'm on the office. you been after her since forever. PAY ME RIGHT NOW.

y/nthegymnast: okay this would have been REAL awkward if that wasn't in fact joeyb_9 🙄

msjada: y/nthegymnast I take it you probably used what I slipped you earlier? 👀

y/nthegymnast: msjada and had to go get more

msjada: MY GIRL!

chooseyourowndestiny: msjada actually does know what she's talking about sometimes

lahjay10_: okay cool, so when's the wedding?

y/nthegymnast: lahjay10_ you should have seen how red he turned just now after reading that

I plan on doing a separate taglist for my Joey girls so message me if you want to be on it 💖

#joe burrow lsu #joe burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow smut

584 notes · View notes

cleolinda · 7 months

Text

My sister noticed

Previously on: I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice: So I told you a story about how a Count Chocula used to creep behind me at night when I was a child, and I described my very weird childhood home to you. I told you how my sister had Something Dark living in her bedroom, and I told you about the time she and I compared notes and realized that we also had the ghost of a young woman in the house. Maybe.

I asked my sister to read over the draft for me, maybe gather up the fortitude to fill in some details, and she texted back, "Oh, I'll tell you anything you want. But that’s not how it happened."

I am willing to believe her version for two reasons:

1) My memory has been shit after having covid umpteen thousand times.

2) I actually remember her version of the conversation we had, now that it's in front of me.

I also remember my version, is the thing—the one where I told her about Rebecca when we were younger. And that raises some questions about how independent, how uncompromised, our experiences were. But I think those questions are themselves the story. Can I trust my memory at all? I had such bad brain fog the first time I had covid that I could not remember how to scramble eggs. A lot of things are just mist to me now. There's what I remember and there's what actually happened, but what do I even remember? And that's before you even get into the idea that we're talking about ghosts we "felt" in the house. We saw no apparitions, no shadows, no odd movements.

This is not a story where I'm asking you to believe me.

There are things you experience, and things that happen. An example from the winter of 2016:

What I experienced was standing out on our deck one night and looking up at the stars. They were moving in a slight swirl motion, not unlike the painting Starry Night. I turned to my mom and said, "Well, the stars are moving, so if the world ends or something any time soon, here's our first sign." She stared at me.

What happened was, our upstairs heating unit had a leak, and I sustained mild carbon monoxide poisoning. (I like rooms to be cool, so I had used the heater less than most people would, at least.) This was only discovered during a routine furnace check, after my vision had been a little weird and I had been deeply fatigued for two or three months. I have had a CO monitor upstairs ever since.

Did I see the stars swirling? Yes. Were they? No. That's the distinction I want you to make while I tell you all this. Did my sister and I experience things? Yes. Do I know what happened? No.

So what I agree happened was, we were having Grownup Sunday Family Dinner a few years back, maybe 2019 or so. I had been really into Buzzfeed Unsolved, which later evolved into Watcher Entertainment, but my sister was refusing to watch any of it. She's a big fan now, but she only started watching the guys last year. Yesterday, we tried to piece this back together via text.

My sister ["MS" from here on out]: Like I feel like off and on for years you mentioned [Shane and Ryan's shows] and I refused

MS: And one day my argument was to talk about our own house

Me [let's go with Cleolinda Jones, "CJ"]: You said you felt like fake ghost shows were disrespectful to people who actually experienced [hauntings].

MS: YES I FEEL LIKE THAT WAS THE CONVO

I love paranormal investigation shows, whether they're patently fake or not, as long as I enjoy the people investigating, so I couldn't understand why they personally offended her. Pulling at this thread back in 2019 is how the the whole ghost story started coming out.

CJ: And I was like, okay, but here’s one show where they get, like, nothing, but I can promise you that it's real

(Because the Unsolved/Watcher shows pair a believer with an actual skeptic who still, lo these many years later, does not believe in any of it. I truly believe Shane and Ryan would not stage "evidence," for that reason. Shane makes fun of ghosts and people who believe in them, but he's honest about it, and my sister likes that.)

At this point, we go back to the first version of the story that I posted: my sister had told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her when she was a preteen/early teenager. It felt very dark, very bad, and she had not told anyone else about it until that dinner. The way I relayed it to you, Dear Reader, was that she hadn't wanted to go into detail, and I wasn't sure what it looked like, or if it "lived" in the little witch closet, or what. That night at dinner, I had gone on to tell her that, you know, now that you mention it, I did feel like something used to follow me up there at night. And this was when "My sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears" had come in.

1. Something Dark

CJ: So you were telling me about our house being haunted. Something in your room. How would you describe it?

MS: I think it more lived in the attic

(our pal the dark fucked-up attic room)

MS: but would roam the entire floor so I felt it in the peach room [my (Cleo's) old bedroom and then later, my sister's] but more so in [the Four Closets Bedroom] as it was closer to the attic

MS: The best way I can describe it is just never feeling like I was alone. Feeling like something was always behind me. But I refused to turn around to look. It felt like a darkness that almost oozed behind you in a way that was almost suffocating.

CJ: What I find interesting is that we both describe it as Just Feelings, and never feeling alone.

My sister texted me at this point that she used to sense Something upstairs whether it was day or night; "even in the day, it didn't feel safe." But night was worse.

MS: There was one night in 3rd grade when I was reading and had like my first panic attack because I was newer to living upstairs and I felt it come in the room at night for the first time

MS: I also used to feel compelled to keep the AC running all night like it was never cold enough.

Here's the weird thing: when we moved to the house where I currently live and our rooms were on the same floor, we always fought over the thermostat. My sister hated her bedroom being too cool, whereas I get hot. I remember one night, we were arguing over it, and she was weirdly on the verge of tears: "Why do you have to have it so cold?" In 2023, my sister texted me at this point that she didn't want our childhood home to be cold; it was like the thing wanted that temperature, even if she hated it.

You often hear that ghosts make rooms cold, that's a big ghost hunter show thing—but whatever was up there couldn't lower the temperature on its own?

CJ: "If you can’t make it cold yourself, storebought is fine"

CJ: And you don’t have a visual impression of it, I’m not just blowing past that?

MS: I refused. REFUSED to look. Ever. For any reason.

CJ: I did too, so that’s interesting

CJ: I describe it as a Count Chocula, which should tell you how much it didn’t bother me. Which I find weird

(Truly, there is a reason I titled that post "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice.")

MS: I can’t tell if it was truly terrifying. Or if the amount of data I was getting from it was just so overwhelming that that alone was terrifying to a child. I wish I could answer that now.

CJ: Yeah, in some way I think we’re saying the same thing. I was seven years old and I couldn’t comprehend what it was, either, so I just imagined a silly vampire

CJ: like I can’t overstate how cartoonish it seemed to me at the time, while still being very DON’T LOOK BACK

Part of the problem, she added, was that she felt compelled to go turn down the air conditioning... and the thermostat was next to the (carpeted. shag carpeted) bathroom. And then she had to race back to her bedroom... the same way I used to, as quick as she could.

MS: I also felt like I could NOT run. Like the way you shouldn’t run away from a mountain lion. It would create the need for it to chase me.

MS: What is so strange is that [learning about paranormal investigation] has not changed my perception of my experience in the slightest. Whether that’s the reality or not. It is still something I find dark and terrifying.

CJ: I think you would answer this differently now than you did then: what do you think it was?

We discussed this by text for a while. I mentioned being intrigued that Something Dark wanted to be cold (but apparently was not able to make the room cold). My sister—having agreed to be quoted here—said, "I kinda hope to avoid someone being like 'you had a demon in your house,'" as she doesn't really feel like that's what it was. Her gut feeling (and, bear in mind, we are working off nothing but feelings here) is that it was a spirit or ghost: something formerly human. We agree that it seemed male in some way (again: a Chocula).

And you're probably thinking, This is total bullshit. And it probably is! I'm not claiming any of this to be real evidence! I just find it interesting that we somehow came up with the same bullshit.

CJ: It just fascinates me that I did not experience 90% of this, and yet I got a strong enough whiff of it that I’m like, yeah, I can see it

But what about the female presence, the one I went off to color with in the middle of the night?

2. Rebecca

MS: I didn’t find out you had done the ouija board until we were adults. You didn’t tell me when we were kids

MS: That’s why I was SO shocked when we talked at the dinner table.

See, I was convinced that I had told her about my ouija adventures when I was a teenager, and "What about Rebecca??" flowed really well in the first post. That conversation was already a bit fictionalized in order to condense it from what I remembered—that's how memoirs work, really, unless you have actual transcripts of your life and room to include them. You're telling a story. I thought I was telling a condensed version of a true story. And yet, I do remember how shocked my sister was at dinner that night. And she would have only been seven or eight when I was messing around with that shit. Those two things do support the idea that I wouldn't have told her.

MS: You did tell me skeletons lived in my closet tho

I told you I was kind of a shit.

CJ: when I told you about Rebecca, what was your reaction?

MS: That’s when I went white. Bc I realized we had had a similar experience and I wasn’t just crazy

CJ: The thing is, I WOULD HAVE SWORN I had told you about Rebecca when we were younger

MS: If you did you didn’t name her and that’s why it was nuts when I realized 2 decades later we pulled the same name and we both remembered it.

We did it again, too—I posted briefly about putting this whole saga together, and how my sister asked me to give the ghost a pseudonym (ghosts deserve privacy too). And in trying to think of a good replacement, we both came up with "Rebecca."

CJ: so how did you know the [original] name?

MS: Ouija board with [best friend, redacted] in the playroom when I was like 13. She cried the whole time. We both thought the other was moving [the planchette].

You'll remember the weird, windowless, sky-blue playroom with the scary door from the previous post.

MS: But she was crying so she wouldn’t have been. And I would have never pulled out the name [Not Actually Rebecca]

MS: There was part of me that wonders if I did it but I would have NEVER chosen Rebecca

CJ: So did I bring Rebecca up first in this conversation [at dinner in 2019], or did you? I did?

MS: You said it first. I would have never [told you first] cuz I would have thought you were placating me. Like I’d never really know if you weren’t just agreeing with me

And that's when my sister had "stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone 'go white' until that moment." And I had told her about getting up at midnight and going to color in the weird playroom, and someone else being in there with me, no big deal.

After all this discussion, we do think that Rebecca was briefly my "imaginary friend," but our mom told me to stop talking about that. Not because our mom was spooked, but because she felt like it was rude for me to talk about someone I was presumably making up in front of company. So that stopped. Thinking back on it, I just felt like someone was sitting next to me on the couch. I didn't feel anyone next to me; when I looked, I felt like I could see where... someone was not? The space that someone invisible was taking up? It felt like something reasonably friendly. "Chill" is the word I keep using. Not super eager or possessive, just like a girl who was a bit older, maybe a teenager, a babysitter age, who liked me well enough. There was some dark shit in the attic, apparently—it did feel very oppressive in there—but I would get a sense that a metaphorical desk lamp had been turned on. A presence that stayed back, relaxed, but emanated "hey, I'm here."

What my sister and I agreed on was that we remembered how these "feelings" were both vague and memorable. I can't remember events or chronology accurately, but I remember the actual sensations and presences very, very clearly. They resist reinterpretation. I can't sit here and say, "Oh, Rebecca was totally a guardian angel, I see that now." The Something Dark sounds functionally demonic, but my sister doesn't feel like that's accurate. (If anything, she gets a sense that this could have been a malicious uncle—not father—of some kind to Rebecca, if the two beings were related: particular in their vagueness.) These two presences just... were. My sister says she primarily sensed Rebecca outdoors in our backyard, when we were pretending (were we?) to play with fairies. I didn't sense Rebecca there—but then, I wasn't aware that what I sensed was a someone, not for another thirty years or so. My oblivious ass was up at midnight filling in my She-Ra coloring book with a ghost like, "Yeah, I'm alone in the dark for no reason, this is normal." It's only in retrospect that I recognize atmospheric feelings as things that actually took up space, and I don't know how I didn't see it at the time. I can't explain that, and I can't ask you to believe it. All I know is that my sister still feels very traumatized by her experience of it—and I can't explain why I don't.

I think one of the reasons paranormal investigation shows don't scare me a whole lot is because so much of the "evidence" is random knocks and creaks and movements and vibes, and I'm like, yeah, I've lived in two houses now like that. The door of my current bedroom opens and closes on its own all the time. It's probably a draft from the ventilation system (which does not have CO leaks anymore) (probably). I've seen something at this house that a lot of people might call a shadow person, but I was probably imagining it. So many of these ghost shows just have things that I grew up with and didn't even think a whole lot of at the time; I seem to be protected by a +3 Sphere of Sure, That's Fine. Is my current house also haunted? I honestly don't know. Would I notice if it was?

#part two of two #story time with cleo #long post #the haunting of jones house #spooky season #halloween everyday #me for some reason #first look on patreon

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lloromanic0 · 4 months

Note

2009 BILL

Bill and fem reader ate friends with benefits and after a fancy date things get VERY intense

Hello thank you so much for the request!!

When I read intense I immediately thought about an argument (but ik that’s not what you meant lol) so I did both :D, I hope you like it and that it meets your expectations! :]

!SMUT MDNI!

Fem! Reader

Content: You feel unsure of your “relationship” with Bill so after your date you tell him about your feelings resulting in a small disagreement,which then leads to make up sex.

Everybody knew that you and Bill fuck, nothing else just sex. Ever since Bill started to gain fame from his band and going on tour you’d barely see him, but whenever he came back to Germany you were the only one he wanted to see. Tomorrow he was coming to see you after two months, even though you missed him you questioned why you couldn’t be in an actual relationship, did he fuck random people while he went on tour and because of that you couldn’t be more than friends? You ignored those thoughts knowing it wouldn’t change anything in your dynamic with him and to be honest you kinda thought being like this with him was just fine.

It was the next morning, Bill had already called you twice a few minutes ago, you returned the call.

Call:

-Hi

-Hi Y/N I just landed.

-Good, how was the flight?

-It was alright thanks. Tonight let’s go out for dinner.

-Hm sure.

-Great I’ll pick you up at 7, is that ok?

-Perfect I’ll see you later then, bye.

-See you later.

You hang up. You felt awkward talking to him for some reason, you ignore it again and moved on with your day. You did some essays you had pilled up, cleaned your room a bit and for the rest of the day you just relaxed in your living room listening to some music. At 5 you started getting ready, you took a shower, dried and styled your hair and went back to your room to change your outfit. You wanted to wear this black leather skirt you got last week,pairing it with some tights underneath, black boots, a long sleeve top and a fluffy jacket since you knew it would be cold. When you were finishing your makeup you heard a car honk you knew it was Bill so you hurried out of the house. He was parked in front of your gate you walked to his car and sat on the passenger seat, he smiled at you brightly.

“How have you been Y/N? I missed you” after saying this he went for a hug, you returned it smelling his intense cologne on his neck and feeling the warmth of his body on yours.

“I’ve been fine…I think, I’ve missed you too.”

He drove to restaurant while making small talk with you,you couldn’t stop thinking about your feelings you never had any problem with the kind of relationship you guys had before he started to leave Germany for months, why did he even bother coming back just to have sex with you and the thing is he probably fucked so many other people out there and you only wanted him.

You arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later, he got out and opened that car door for you extending his hand to help you out.

“You look so pretty Y/N.”

“You also look very handsome Bill…”

During dinner the talk got less and less awkward and you felt you were friends again, after dinner he told he would take you back to his room as you already expected.The time you were there went by fast,he kept teasing you during dinner about how much he needed you, as you slowly gave into his words.

At his hotel room you laid on the bed with him on top of you, kissing and licking on neck, bitting your colar bones, you shifted awkwardly under him which made him confused.

“Are you okay Y/N? You’re acting weird…” he sat up to look at you.

“I don’t know about this we have going on Bill…”

“What do you mean? You’ve never had a problem with it before and you know we can’t really maintain a relationship with the way my life changed drastically.” He spoke firmly.

“I know Bill…but why do you always come back for me if we’re not even in an actual relationship?”

“Because I do love you but you know we can’t be a couple, if I was your boyfriend I would want to be present for you no matter what but I can’t so I’d rather just keep it like this.”

You stayed quiet for a minute.

“Do you fuck other girls while you’re on tour?”

“What!? No! I only want you Y/N please don’t think like that.”

He took both your hands between his.

“Listen Y/N right now none of us can commit to a relationship, it wouldn’t sit right with me to be your boyfriend and not seeing you every day.”

“I know Bill…I’ll always love you and miss you no matter what and if there’s a chance in the future we can actually be together I’d do anything for that to happen.” You looked at him your eyes glossy from trying to contain your tears as you spoke the harsh truth.

“I’ll do everything in my power to be able to do that for you.” He kissed you deeply his hand holding the back of your head as your tongues connected in one passionate kiss, Bill got on top of you once again.

“Will you let me have you Y/N?”

“Yes Bill…” he went back to kiss your neck as he was previously doing,this time you let yourself melt under his touch humming in pleasure as he sucked the tender skin on your neck. He took your shirt off leaving you on your bra, kissing down to your collar bones and between your breasts, his hand was now behind you to unclip your bra freeing your perky tits. His mouth now gently sucked on one of your nipples and played with the other using his fingers, little moans escaping your lips. Your hips grinding against his in a way to let him know that you wanted him, he pulled down his pants and boxers freeing his erection, his tip leaking pre cum. He pumped his length a few times before taking your skirt off along with your tights, he pressed his fingers over your clothed pussy which made you tremble a bit.

“Bill…please I want you…”

“I want you too…” he whispered while pulling down your panties. The tip of his cock now rubbing against your entrance both of you moaning and humming at the sensation, he slowly inserted himself in you his movements deep and firm.Bill’s hips moved slowly so you both could enjoy that moment for as long as you could take it, you clenched around him every time his tip hit your cervix, the way your pussy had the perfect fit for him made him go crazy for you every time. You held him close to you, your hands placed behind his head,you felt his breath on your face as you kept eye contact with him the whole time, intimate moments like this were what you cherished the most in your “relationship” with Bill.

You exchanged wet and sloppy kisses as he thrusted in you unhurriedly making you feel everything vein of his cock, one of his hands reached down to rub circles on your clit making you squeal at the sudden contact. Your hips now moving with his complementing his movements as you both seek for release.

“I’m so close Y/N- fuck…”

“Me too Bill…mmhmm”

His thrusts now becoming faster and steadier as you finally came undone due to the double stimulation he was inflicting on you, the wet sounds of your love making aroused Bill so much, with one last thrust he came deep inside you slowly moving his hips riding his high. He pulled out slowly making you shiver already missing him inside you,looking at him once again his face now red and sweaty as he smiled sweetly at you.

“I’ll grab you a water and I’ll get the shower going for you.” Said Bill as he walked away.

You curled up in to a ball thinking about what just happened, for the first time you felt like Bill made love to you and not just pointless sex.

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel bill kaulitz #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz x female reader #bill kaulitz smut

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evilcowgirl · 1 year

Note

Hi! i was thinking of a prompt for some headcanons for autistic! reader x the gang members (any one you like!)

a sort of "they're a bit odd but i like that about em" since it wasnt discovered until 1911.

stuff like when reader gets overwhelmed/doesnt understand social que/shows empathy/apathy at the wrong moments

and mostly what they'd do when reader feels left out/like they dont belong because thats something im really struggling with </3

have a good day/night!

autistic reader relationship headcannons

pairings: arthur, javier, dutch, charles x reader

a/n: hiii loved this request sm !! feeling left out is the worst feeling but there's a place for everyone so pls remember that !! also i included dutch and john for the first time !! this is me using my autism powers for good

word count: 1k (combined)

Arthur

you bond over you both feeling unheard in the gang. you because communication is difficult for you (especially when you feel out of place) and for arthur it's because he and dutch got into an argument twenty minutes ago and he's still mad.

makes it his personal responsibility to make sure you never feel overlooked at camp because he knows how hard it is for you to settle in with the rest of the gang

during parties at camp he makes sure to keep you right by his side of you don't feel up to talking and reassures you that everything is fine if you get overwhelmed

doesn't think twice about intimidating your way out of situations he sees going south

"You can't just go around talking to folks like that"

"Nah you ain't do nothing wrong, just that people 'round here are real quick-tempered; thankfully for you i'm even quicker."

he writes about you in his journal more than anything else, pages and pages are dedicated to just how special you are to him !!

"They aren't like most folk, I like that about them."

arthur takes it as you being less influenced by social norms, which he's naturally drawn to as someone who doesn't get along too well with social norms either.

KING of aggressive reassurance, sometimes it can be off putting but you know he means every word he says.

"I promise you if they didn't want you here you'd be long gone, darlin'"

"Everyone here loves you, I think even more than they love me at this point so stop your nonsense."

Dutch

biggest autism fan

calls you eccentric because thats how he chooses to describe you to people

completely over analyzes everything you say because he thinks you're the most interesting person he's ever met !! you might as well be evelyn miller !!

to him, you are so unique and precious that he finds himself being overly protective

his protectiveness could a flaw depending on your mood because he never notices that he's smothering you until you're past the point of being overstimulated by the attention.

you made a mistake ? no you didn't, you could never.

would rather watch a man die slowly than let you be confronted, even if you can take up for yourself.

"If he doesn't like your manners he'll be terribly disappointed to find that mine are much worse"

"Don't you dare waste your breath apologizing to anyone, sweet thing."

notices the small things about you like how enthralled you were by the noise his rings make when they brush against a glass or how you hate the feeling of too many eyes on you

you're the only person other than arthur that he feels like he can vent to without being judged.

will listen to you ramble about whatever you're interested in at the moment for as long as your interest lasts. has no problem with you coming up to him to talk about horses for a month straight if he gets to see you happy

Javier

he just thinks you're neat

you have a chest filled with little gifts that he brings you from his trips out of camp because you told him you like collecting things once.

little calm walks through the woods when things aren't going well, and even when they are and you just miss each other's company.

always reminds you to prepare yourself for the loud noise when he feels like he might have to use his gun if loud noises bother you.

"Remember to cover your ears, amor"

because of his own strict morals and passion for what he stands for he appreciates your straightness with what you believe. its easy for him to talk to you because he can trust you to be honest.

loyalty is a huge thing for javier so you can trust him to stand up for you diligently regardless of what it's about

someone made a snide comment ?? dead !

he adores everything you view as a flaw about yourself. from your struggles with putting things in a way that people can swallow easily, to your excitement for whats often seen as mundane.

"That's amazing, amor, tell me more!"

javier is definitely a self-identified romantic and finds ways to romance you even if sometimes you don't pick up on his affections.

always invites you to sit near him around the fire and listen to him play !! every song is for you because he knows you like his music

could not care less about your issues with empathy because he has them too after everything he's been through.

would never force you to feel something you don't or don't understand and reminds you that you're just as caring and lovable as anyone else

John

"You're a bit off, you know?"

will ask you why you do certain things, not to be rude but out of genuine curiosity and a lack of manners.

literally so clueless

thought that you hated him in the beginning and held a grudge that you didn't even know about, but once he realized that you simply expressed emotions differently than most people he warmed up to you over time

he wasn't exactly sure how to approach you even though he was interested and he's NOT at all used to being nervous around people he's interested in

tried and failed to strike up conversations with you numerous times before finally switching up his approach and realizing that small talk wasn't going to get him anywhere with you.

the term autism and it's symptoms weren't recognized medically until much later, there was no term for it which often led to people simply avoiding the topic of your differences or leaving you out completely. john on the other hand was incredibly frank about everything and never tries to convince you that you're just like everyone else. he knows that you're not and so do you, what matters to him is that he loves you just as you are.

gets aggressive when you're overwhelmed, not with you but to everyone else around you. hates seeing you stressed out and it gets him stressed too.

"They said they don't want any bother." when you definitely did not say that

sitting in his tent with him while you both calm down and sweet hugs and comforting words afterwards

only he is allowed to poke fun of you everyone else knows you're off limits

Charles

i like my bitches weird an offputting -charles i think

charles is the first person you think has truly known you without treating you any differently. he didn't speak down to you, or simplify things because he saw you as less intelligent. he spoke to you like a person that was just as capable of everyone else, which you were.

gentle words of encouragement and silent glances of of acknowledgment when you need them. he always know when you need them.

so sweet with you because he knows what it feels like to not belong in more ways than he could even list

"Would you like to join us?"

"I'd like it if you came, you're always welcome with me."

you never feel like he's judging you for not understanding how to talk with others in a conventional way. he understands you in a way you're not used to.

he can always magically tell when you're getting overstimulated and never makes you feel like a burden for it.

sweetest man ever just wants you to be okay !!!!

always shares new things that he's learned with you because he knows you'll appreciate them. loves to tell you all about plants and animals and in return he listens eagerly to whatever hyper fixation you have at the time

you both have a similar social which leads to you spending an unsettling amount of time together

holding hands and sweet kisses when you're both up for it, regardless of who's looking

people in camp talk of course, wondering how something that's not an animal being hunted could capture charles' attention for so long

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #dutch van der linde #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan headcanons #john marston headcanons #dutch van der linde headcanons #charles smith headcanons #javier escuella headcanons

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

Text

MAD (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Caught in the crossfire of your familiy's ploys, you never expected to catch the eye of the enemy.

Warnings: Mature language.

A/N: Did you know there are nine meanings for mad in the dictionary? Credits to Wikipedia for the one in the banner. As always, this is already written, broken up for easier reading and editing.

Next part

“I don’t understand.” Your father lifts the letter to the light, as if he is about to uncover some secret in the parchment. His expression is absolutely puzzled. “Are they really trying to sell an insult as a compliment?”

“That’s Otto Hightower for you.” Your grandfather answers. You stop kicking your legs from your place near the fireplace, suddenly interested. Unsure what Otto Hightower has to do with you, you try listening closely. No one has told you yet why you have been summoned, but you would love to know. “But the order comes bearing his brother’s seal. We cannot refuse him.”

“We can’t? It’s worded as a question.”

“A question with King’s Viserys’s seal? Oh, don’t be naive.” Your grandfather scoffs.

Sensing an argument, you decide to tune it out. Like most families, yours can go at it for hours. You kick a bit more, then get up to look through the window. You wish you could be outside, soaking up the sun. The day is too pretty to miss on, and The Reach is always so nice during the spring.

They are still bickering, and taking no notice of your change in position when something catches your ear.

“The girl has to go to court.”

A trip to the capital. You at court? But why? You are a lady from a minor house, and not even an important one. Your family can’t raise many men, nor do they have countless funds. Your greatest ambition in life has been to marry into another family from The Reach and not having to leave your family behind.

“To teach Princess Helaena about bees?” Your father glares at your grandfather. “They aren’t even trying to disguise it, father.”

Teaching a royal girl about bees? It was strange, for sure. You had heard about Princess Helaena’s oddities, but you doubted they extended to wanting to learn how to produce her own honey. You doubted her family would approve, either.

From your limited knowledge of mothers, they disliked daughters crawling in the mud or chasing bugs. They thought it was not ladylike. You had no doubts Queen Alicent was the same.

Chasing of bees aside, you have been nothing but a dutiful daughter. All your life you have kept up to date with your studies and readings, assisted the Sept weekly and learned the finest arts. Thanks to it, you know enough of the world to recognize your lack of importance. Princesses don’t befriend unimportant farm girls, much less ask to have them as their companions. They befriend girls of similar status, girls who will inherit extensive lands and riches.

You are neither. You will get, of course, when your Lord Father dies, a small plot of land for yourself. Not exactly the Red Keep or Winterfell, but not a hut either. The family business is profitable, as always. Producing honey for the Seven Kingdoms means you are not living in poverty. But its nowhere near the level of these people.

So what could they want with you? There is only one possible answer. A political move. One worth befriending someone so unimportant. And what better than silencing your grandfather? You know his opposition to your Liege Lord’s brother has been making waves. His constant backing of Princess Rhaenyra has angered Ser Otto. The fact that the proposal, signed by King Viserys, also wears the seal of Lord Hightower means you can’t say no.

“It’s a show of strength. I have no doubt he could order her to marry one of his family members if he wanted to. He is warning me.” The confirmation of your suspicions makes you feel strangely empty. Your grandfather sounds scared, which is not a common occurrence. Despite his old age, the man is still a menace. A bright politician, and an even more fearsome Lord.

“And are you going to listen, grandfather?” Your pulse beats loudly in your ears. You don’t want to leave your home. Never had you thought it would be like, this, you thought you had time. And whatever these people want to do to you, it can’t be good.

You are scared. House Targaryen is nasty, and you doubt you will find any sort of solace in the ladies at court. You are soon to become an upjumped noble. A girl, who with gods knows what trickery, has ensnared a Princess to do her bidding and secured herself one of the most prestigious positions in the realm.

You will be entering a nest of vipers in less than a week. Any mistake might mean the ruin of your grandfather and yours. You should be scared. Yet, fear is not the only thing in your mind. White, hot, blinding rage builds up in your throat and fills you with the urge to scream.

“My dear girl, I have no choice.”

“I don’t understand why I have to court her.” Aemond leans in, placing both of his hands on the table. He can already hear the smug comment Aegon is about to make. “House Beesbury brings nothing to the table. They are not prestigious, nor are they rich, and they are already sworn to us.”

It makes no sense. When you are a Prince, you marry to secure alliances. You don’t marry your vassals, not when they are already loyal to you.

“And haven’t you thought you deserve her, brother? With that stick up your ass and…”

Why is Aegon even here? Aemond does not mind his presence, but more his lack of gravitas. He seems to have a chronic inability to take anything seriously. It’s not that that bothers him, really. Too often, Aemond has found himself hiding a smile at his brother’s antics. But this is really not the time.

In his eyes, nothing is more serious than getting married. Even if he can’t understand yet why this girl in particular.

There must be some reason he is not seeing. You might be pretty, or his grandsire and mother might think you are a good match. You will be inheriting lands, which is always nice. It means having a place to retire to when life in court gets too stifling. But many other ladies will, too. So why does his grandsire insist on you?

“Aegon!” His mother pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. Then, towards Aemond. “Do not listen to your brother. That is certainly not the reason. Your grandsire…”

“It’s not that I oppose the match, mother. Or that I refuse to court her.” Aemond does not want her or his grandsire to get the wrong impression. He intends to fulfill his duty. If he has to marry the girl, he marries her, no matter his opinion. “I’m just puzzled about the reasoning.”

“I think this will be a valuable lesson for you both.” His grandsire takes out a list of names and a quill. “That’s why we called Aegon in here, too.”

“Are we really going to talk politics? How dull.” Aegon complains, but no one pays attention to him.

“This is an account of the Small Council voting tendencies in the last month.” His grandsire explains, now in full lecture mode. The parchment, now that Aemond is paying more attention to it, doesn’t have only a list of names, but a tally. “As you can see, the backing of my proposals changes, but there is one constant. Can you tell what it is?”

Aemond grabs the parchment and takes a look. It takes him a while, but he notices a pattern. At first, he doesn’t dare mention it. He is not sure of having the right answer and hates being wrong about it.

Some people say that mistakes aid learning. To Aemond, mistakes are painful, and often embarrassing. It’s why he puts the parchment down in front of Aegon and stays quiet, despite knowing he is right.

A few minutes pass. Aegon stares at the parchment. He squints at it, but since he is most probably drunk, he can’t make sense of it.

His grandsire clears his throat.

“Lord Beesbury never backs you.” Aemond finally says. Now, he understands why you. To control your family. “How can that be? House Hightower is his overlord.”

“Perhaps at The Reach, he can’t refuse a Hightower. But as the Master of Coin, he can always excuse himself on a lack of funds.”

“So the man is a cunt. And you reward him by having his granddaughter marry Aemond?” Aegon frowns, showing he is more invested in the explanation than he appears to be. Aemond will never understand why he feels the need to downplay his intelligence. “I’m lost, I think.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, if you will.” Otto circles Beesbury’s name on the list. “He could give us a lot of trouble, not only here, but at Oldtown. It will neutralize him.” Of course. House Hightower would look weak, if they can't get a handle on the Beesburys. But marriage? Is that the solution?

“How?” Aemond frowns. He can understand keeping a close eye on the man, but it feels like much more of a reward than neutralizing him. All their other vassals might think it weakness. Act out, and your daughter will marry up. If it were up to Aemond, he would just kick him out of the Small Council and be done with it. He doesn’t believe in people’s good nature, after all. “By keeping him happy for a while? Gratefulness never lasts, grandsire.”

“No.” His mother speaks for the first time. Her lips are tense, as if tasting a particularly sour drink. It’s clear Alicent doesn’t agree and finds the whole matter distasteful. If Aemond were a woman, he might, too. But he, thanks to the Seven, was spared from that weakness of character. “By giving us a permanent hostage.”

“And teaching him a lesson.” Otto adds, giving him a pointed look. His brown eyes meet Aemond’s, as if silently conveying a message. No more words are needed then. Aemond understands what he is trying to say without having to speak the words aloud. He has grown used to sparing his mother’s sensibilities. She would be horrified and disappointed, if she knew exactly what they were planning.

It’s expected he leads you into some sort of scandal. Something that would mean your ruin, perhaps taking your maidenhead in a chamber close enough for others to hear. Or perhaps, that he times a servant to enter just right. Even leaving you with child before wedlock.

Lord Beesbury doesn’t know, and probably won’t know until it’s too late, that Aemond intends to marry you. The scandal alone will be enough to frighten him into compliance. And once you are ruined enough, Aemond will sweep in to save your reputation, cementing Beesbury’s loyalties. The man will not dare refuse them, after it.

Still, his mother’s words rattle him. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse, that she thinks that’s what’s about to happen. But her experiences with marriage have not been the best, either.

“Hostage? Mother, surely you know I would never treat her unkindly.” He means it. Marriage vows instruct on the most sacred duty. A man must protect his wife, not hurt her. The Seven Pointed Star says that he will have a duty to discipline her, of course, but for her own good. Never Aemond would raise a hand to his wife in cruelty.

He might be willing to ruin your reputation, but he draws the line at hurting you. It’s just not who he is. Aemond has heard enough tales of knighthood to know that’s simply not how an honorable man behaves.

Honorable men weren’t supposed to trick young maidens, either. But that was fine. He would marry you after it, so it didn’t count. It was just taking what was his a little earlier.

“We know, Aemond. But her grandfather does not.” Alicent leans in, to squeeze his hand. It’s that when the doubt assaults him. What if he does ruin you and your family still refuses to hand you to him? What if Lord Beesbury thinks Aemond will hurt you and decides to say no to the marriage? In that case, Aemond would be a despicable person. He would ruin your future, your purity, the most sacred thing a maiden has, for nothing.

“And if he refuses?” Because Aemond would not hand his granddaughter to a man like him. And if Lord Beesbury had any sense, he wouldn’t, either.

“She will come here as a companion for Helaena.” His grandsire smiles. Aemond looks at him, trying to show him he is still not reassured. Otto’s smile widens. Instead of a casual announcement, the words he says next are exclusively for Aemond. “My brother will force his hand if he has to.”

Aemond grins back. It’s not that he would have to just send you to court. If your grandfather doesn’t consent to the marriage later on, he will find himself having to fulfill an impossible condition or perhaps threatened to lose all he has. You will marry Aemond, even if your overlord has to order you to.

It must be done carefully. One of the rules of being a great house is never humiliating their vassals, or abusing them. Asking a man to hand over his granddaughter would be in bad taste, of course. It has to be avoided if possible. So it will be up to Aemond to see that the little lamb delivers herself for the slaughter. He has to tangle you enough that no one suspects the Hightowers’s involvement.

“When does she get here?”

How hard can it be, really? Aegon certainly is more than capable of getting women in his bed, after all. If he can do it, why couldn't Aemond? He has seen enough Lords court Ladies, has read all the books on courtly love and even some romances his mother likes. He has also seen how women swoon around Cole. And you are a farm girl. Easy to impress. Besides, half the women of the realm dream of marrying a Prince.

Aemond will plan accordingly and sweep you off your feet. He can do it. He just needs time.

“If everything goes according to plan.” Which it would because it was his grandfather who had made it. “In a fortnight.”

The dismay must have shown on his face because Aegon snickers.

“Think of the bright side, Aemond. Your little bee has to have the sweetest cunt in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Aegon!”

“What, don't they claim to be descended from Ellyn Ever Sweet?”

You needed to be coaxed out of your sulk. Nothing excited you, after hearing the terrible news. Not even getting two new dresses made, and some aprons.

Well. Perhaps the new dresses. Your father had allowed you to order them in your favorite colors, in a rare respite from the black and yellow from your house. Still, you were angry. You didn’t want to leave the safety of Honeyholt.

“You should think of it as an adventure.” Your father had advised you, on your last night before departing. “Not many girls get to see Westeros before the day they are sent off to marry. And you get to see King’s Landing, too.”

Fuming as you were, you didn’t think it was valuable advice. Your father was, more often than not, a fool. Or so your mother said.

But as the carriage slowly started to leave behind the roads you knew, you discovered there was more to see in The Reach than just Oldtown. Your anger slowly started to fade, replaced by wonder and newly discovered freedom. Your grandfather, travelling with you, had never been the type to keep a close eye on you.

Lord Beesbury had grandchildren for one reason, and one reason only. To spoil them rotten. Unlike your mother, he didn’t believe in chastising you for your behavior or getting you to behave in a ladylike manner. He just wanted you to be happy.

That fact was what made you listen to him when he decided to try to teach you how to survive in court.

“It's no use being angry, little bee.” Your grandfather had said, as you gazed through the window in anger. “We need to think of ways of turning this to our favor.”

And so, the two of you had come up with three rules of behavior. One, never being alone with any man who was not part of your family. Two, never being alone with any Targaryen. And three, being on your most charming behavior. This was a good opportunity to show your beauty and grace to other houses, and perhaps get a better marriage. One that benefited your house and kept you out of the Hightower’s clutches. Now that was an objective you could get behind.

King’s Landing was not what you expected. You had thought the capital would be something like Oldtown, or other cities of The Reach. Carefully planned, either be in a Cyvasse board design or concentric circles. But to get to the center of the city, you had to go through dirty roads, slums and strange settlements.

It was clear the growth of the city had not had any thought behind it. The population was not educated, either, because you had seen some emptying their chamber pots on the streets. The stench alone spoke of a place that didn’t know the wonders of aqueducts.

And all was so gray. So dull. There was hardly any vegetation. Were it not for the fact the city had a port, you would have wondered where they got all their food.

Your grandfather aids your descent from the carriage, a hand firmly on yours to make sure you don’t trip. It would be a disgrace if you were to fall here. The path looks like it has not been cleaned during its whole existence. You do your best to smile and not show how unimpressed you are.

It’s then when you get your first look at Otto Hightower. He stands tall and proud at the gates of the Red Keep, as if he owned the place. Perhaps he thinks he does. You have heard that he disagrees with the succession order King Viserys has set.

He must feel King, already, thinking it will be Prince Aegon who will inherit the throne. The disloyalty and the greed of the man truly know no bounds. He would rather betray the King he has sworn to serve and place a drunk on the throne than have a Queen.

Otto Hightower is serious and slender, marked apart by the brooch he wears. Behind him, in a shock of silver hair, stand three more people.

The only woman, sweet faced, has to be Princess Helaena. It’s easy to recognize her, from your grandfather’s briefing. The two of you have decided her to be the most innocuous. According to your grandfather, there is not a single mean bone in her body. Besides, you doubt she is in any plot. Her family mocks her for not being all there, you doubt they would include her.

Next to her, judging by the lecherous expression and lack of eye patch, stands her brother husband. Prince Aegon is the one you have to watch out for, your grandfather has warned you. He has a taste for young maidens. You don’t get the appeal. He looks like a deviant cherub.

On Princess Helaena’s other side, stands Prince Aemond. Tall, serious and easily recognizable by the injury to his face, he looms above his siblings like a bat. While Helaena and Aegon are dressed lightly, in clothes appropriate for the climate, Aemond is dressed head to toe in black leather. You aren’t sure about him. If anyone out of the three of them is trusted with Otto’s secrets, it is him. But you doubt he could do much to you beyond insult you. He doesn’t seem interested in women, in tourneys or in drinking. In fact, he doesn’t seem interested in anything.

You school your face into a polite mask, as your grandfather is greeted by the Lord Hand himself.

“Lord Lyman Beesbury. I trust the journey was pleasant?” Otto sounds anything but interested in the answer.

“Delightful.” Your grandfather deadpans. “This is my granddaughter.”

“Little Lady Beesbury.” Otto nodded.

“My Lord.” You dropped into a small, but practiced curtsy. Not too low because he was not a royal, but low enough to acknowledge him as someone who was part of the family of your overlord.

His eyes examined you, coldly. From your loud yellow travel cloak to your sturdy black shoes. You pushed your shoulders back, giving him a smile. Ser Otto didn’t seem too impressed by it.

After a beat of silence, he turned towards your grandfather again.

“I have some matters I wish to discuss with you. There have been some concerns raised about…”

Despite being prepared for the possibility of being separated, you hadn’t expected it this soon. You hadn’t even stepped inside the Red Keep, for the Seven’s sake. Your grandfather gives you a reassuring glance.

“I was hoping I could help my granddaughter settle in.” He argues, keeping an eye on the Lord Hand.

The man laughs. It’s not a nice sound, or a joyful one. In fact, it sounds threatening.

“Oh, nonsense. Aemond?”

“Yes, grandfather?” The Prince steps forward, at the same time your grandfather places an encouraging hand on your back.

You step back despite yourself. Up close, he is much more intimidating. He is tall, and sports a menacing look. Your grandfather urges you forward, and Prince Aemond’s lips twitch. He is definitely enjoying your fear.

“You and your sister should help the lady settle in.” Ser Otto smiles. It’s clear who holds the reins here, once more. He has outmaneuvered you two in less than a minute. You squeeze your grandfather’s hand, trying to show him that you intend to be careful.

Ser Otto was a smart man. But you were sure he was not all seeing. You would find a way. This was a small fluke. You had been caught off guard in a disorienting moment. It wouldn’t happen again.

Prince Aemond, on the other hand, was terrifying. But he lacked his grandfather’s experience, he was untested. It would be his downfall, you were sure of it.

The Lord Hand threw an arm over your grandfather’s shoulder and led him away. The gesture made even Prince Aegon raise his eyebrows. Did they think you two were dumb? Because they were laying it a bit thick.

“Come, Lord Beesbury. We should let the youngsters get to…” His voice faded in the distance, as you stood there, feeling as lost as you looked.

Prince Aegon looked you over. Princess Helaena waved. And Prince Aemond, ever helpful, appeared at your elbow.

“Allow me.” He said, offering you his arm.

You looked around. Prince Aegon was on the edge of laughter, it seemed because he was making strange sounds. Princess Helaena seemed oblivious. Prince Aemond was still looming over you.

It was a long walk to the Hall. You would certainly encounter guards, servants and even the odd noble. Not only would it give the wrong impression, that you were here for him and not his sister, but it would be awkward. But rejecting him would be, too.

Not knowing of a better way to get out of it, you decided to play dumb. You took off your travel cloak and placed it on his extended arm.

“Thank you.” And with a bright smile, you took Princess Helaena’s arm.

Prince Aegon gave a poorly disguised snicker. Prince Aemond stared at the bright yellow cloak on his arm, coolly. It made for a great statement, considering he was in all black.

“Of course, my Lady.” But it came out strangled. Good. The sooner he realized you were not easy prey, the better.

“It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Princess Helaena.” As you spoke, you noticed she looked very tense. She had not looked like that before you touched her. You decided to let go of her arm.

The Princess brightened immediately.

“Likewise, Lady Beesbury. When grandsire told me he was getting me a teacher, I never thought you were this young.” Her voice was soft and light. Kind. You wanted desperately to befriend her. You were starting to get the feeling that here, kindness was a scarce thing.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“Oh, not at all.” Helaena answered, lightly tugging at your sleeve. You beamed.

Behind you, Prince Aemond and Aegon trailed dutifully. None of them seemed keen on conversing with you, but Helaena hadn’t left you an opening, either. There was something about her demeanor that seemed off to you. The Princess was very aloof, but not impolite. It was as if she wasn’t intending to dismiss you. Like she was uncomfortable with social niceties. As if she was awkward, like you.

It made you like her more.

“Why do you like insects?” You tried, figuring it was a safe topic. One of the Princes made a derisive sound. You ignored him, choosing to pay all your attention to Helaena.

“Oh, they are a fascinating bunch. They remain even when we do not.” Helaena had a dreamy tone. Again, someone snorted. This time you turned to glare and found yourself staring down Prince Aegon.

You keep your eyes on him as you replied.

“That’s true. They will probably inherit the earth when we are gone.”

Helaena nodded. Oblivious to what was quickly turning into a stare down between you and her husband, she kept talking passionately.

“And I have spent a lot of time watching ants, too. They build small societies. They even carry their dead back home. Surely, that speaks of a superior level of intelligence.”

Prince Aegon looked about to make some sort of joke. Prince Aemond grabbed his wrists, stopping him. He made eye contact with you, mouth quirking up in interest.

It was not good. Not good at all. Your stomach turned. Was he going to humiliate you? Perhaps make a joke at your expense?

His lips twitched. You braced yourself for having to mumble some polite recognition and playing dumb again.

“Hm.” Prince Aemond gave a court tilt of his head.

You blinked. What a strange interaction. You cleared your throat and turned towards Princess Helaena once more.

“Bees do something similar. Do you wish to hear more?"

The Princess nodded. You started your explanation then, still rattled by the siblings' behavior. Whatever your presence had been required for, you were certain it was not going to be boring.

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harrystylescherry · 2 months

Text

Part Four: Terms and Conditions

A/N: FINALLLYYYYY

what it is: a summer romance in the south of france that breeds nothing but hurt

word count: 4.6k

pls pls pls reblog if you liked it!

i’d love to hear your feedback :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

here we go:

June 9

Harry hadn’t seen Della in more than a few days. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. If she was as unknowable as she said she was, it was because she was unreachable. On more than one occasion, during the first three days of not seeing her, he had called her—though he only let it ring a few times before hanging up. Even after they had laid the ground rules—or conditions, as she called them—and made it clear that she was attracted to him and wanted him in a very particular way, he was still feeling insecure.

“Anything I’d like?” Della asked. Harry nodded. “I don’t know if you could handle what I like.”

Harry felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. He cleared his throat and willed himself to not think of all the things that could mean. It wasn’t exactly the right moment for a hard on. “I could.”

Della came forward and leaned her forearms on the table. “Let’s say you could,” she challenged. “But are you willing to follow the conditions?”

He had never been very good with rules. It was why most of his relationships ended. But this wasn’t a relationship, he reminded himself. There was less at stake. It would be easier. He leaned forward and mimicked her position. “More than.”

It was when she sat back with a smirk that Harry thought he might be a little in over his head.

The conditions (rules) were as follows:

No sleepovers (which he should’ve seen coming)

No telling anyone they’re involved (he may have already broken that one, but he wasn’t going to tell her that) (he also was trying very hard not to be offended that she hadn’t bragged about meeting him to anyone)

No meeting up before three o’clock in the afternoon (this made no sense to harry, but Della swore no one met up with their fuck buddies before happy hour—from his experience, that wasn’t exactly true but she spoke with too much authority for him to question it)

No dates (if they went out to dinner or grabbed drinks, they would split the bill fifty-fifty–Harry only agreed to this to avoid an argument but there was no way in hell he’d let her pay for anything)

No catching feelings. The second someone came close, they had to be over (Harry’s cheeks flamed on this one, and he really pretended not to know why)

After they finished their drinks, Harry walked her to her door and they parted ways without a kiss. He would’ve, but Della refused to kiss him after having kissed someone else. Harry was grateful that she at least respected him that much, but part of him wanted her so badly that it wouldn’t have minded. So it was probably best that she didn’t.

He had just come back from a run when his phone buzzed with a text from the enigma herself. It was a link to a jazz bar with the question: Tonight?

Harry Googled the place and saw it was a fifteen minute drive from him and a twenty minute walk from her flat.

He texted back. I’ll pick you up at 9?

I’ll walk

No you won’t. I’ll pick you up at 9.

Fine, bossy

You know you like it

Maybe only a little. For now, at least. Try me again in a few hours

Harry rubbed his palm over his smile, trying to wipe it away. See you later, Del

He had sent the message before he could think through the nickname. For a second, he stared at the message with a stomach full of nerves–but they vanished when the little thumbs up appeared above the bubble.

“You can’t do that,” Della’s voice was stern as she spoke into her phone. She was half-ready for the beach, in her blue bikini with her cover dress gripped in her fist.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Josh said, annoyed on the other end of the line. “You told me to find somewhere else to live, and I did.”

“You weren’t supposed to find somewhere in the same fucking building.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me.”

“What I’m doing to you? That’s real fucking rich, Della. You broke off our engagement. You made me think you loved me and then moved to another fucking country!”

“I’m sorry–I don’t know how many times I have to say that, and I don’t–I’m not arguing about that anymore. I didn’t end things the way I should’ve. I–”

“I fucking followed you across the ocean.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that! Actually, I remember very specifically telling you that I had to go and do this for me.”

“There was nothing specific about the way you ended things and you know it.”

“Josh, you can’t live there.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

Della scoffed. “As if I ever told you what to do.”

“You’re right, and you don’t get to start now. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’ve changed, and not for the better. Honestly, you breaking things off was probably one of the best things you’ve ever done for me.”

She could feel the rage seep into her bones. It was a new sensation–one that she had felt for the first time when Josh had shown up to her flat in London with a suitcase and a two-year visa stamped in his passport. It had become a familiar feeling since then, one that she didn’t know how she’d ever really lived without before. Every time she felt it, she realized that this is what it was like to have convictions, to have boundaries, and to have them crossed and violated. This is what it felt like to want to fight back instead of being disappointed for a few days before letting it all go.

“Go home, Josh. Go back to Vermont. Go away.”

“I have a job here, now.”

“So find a new one.”

“I paid for a visa.”

“I don’t care. Just get the fuck out of my life.”

“Della–”

She hung up and took a shaky breath. She looked at the hardwood floor and considered lying down. It’s what she usually did when the feelings were too much, when it felt as though they would consume her. She’d lay on the floor and wait for the sadness or grief or disappointment or melancholy to seep from her. Anger didn’t work like that, though. It simmered, wanting to boil over and explode. Her body buzzed with the energy. She wanted to throw something, punch something. Suddenly, she felt she could relate to teenage boys–and she grimaced with the thought.

She grabbed her journal and shoved it in her bag. All she knew how to do was write. It’s all she could do. She’d bake in the sun and swim laps in the sea and carve her anger into the page.

Harry’s thumb tapped anxiously on the steering wheel the entire drive to Della’s. They hadn’t spoken since they made their plans that morning and his on my way text had gone unanswered.

The day had dragged as he counted down the hours until now. And he hated that. He hated how invested he already was, how badly he wanted to see her, to feel her body beneath his hands.

He was chalking it all up to sheer lust. Della was beautiful–striking. And she was a riddle. He had already been exposed to so many different sides of her–versions of her–that he didn’t know which ones were real and which were an act. He also couldn’t decide which version was his favorite; Shy Della, who fumbled with her keys and blushed every time he looked at her, or Self-Assured Della, who sat down with him after kissing someone else, not a hint of embarrassment anywhere on her, and told him that she’d like to forge an arrangement.

He was prepared to walk up to the door and buzz her flat (3E, he remembered) and was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance. She stood in front of the Hermes storefront with her head buried in her phone. A breath caught in his chest at the sight of her in her periwinkle silk dress. The neckline dipped between her breasts in a way that made his mouth water, and the fall of the fabric made it seem as though it was cut precisely for her. He could see every line of her body–the curve of her waist, roundness of her hips, a tiny indent where her belly button was, the outline of her nipples. He had to collect himself before stepping out of the car.

Her hair was thrown up in a casual ponytail, with wisps of red baby hairs floating around the base of her neck, over her ears and along her forehead. In her flat, gold sandals, she was so effortlessly beautiful, so chic, Harry suddenly felt a little unworthy and very insecure.

“Hi, love,” he said once he stood in front of her.

She jolted in surprise before looking up from her phone. “God, sorry, I didn’t even hear you pull up.”

She had more freckles than the last time he saw her, and the tops of her shoulders were colored pink. His girl had gotten some sun.

He physically cringed at himself. She wasn’t his anything. He’d do well to remember that.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Her eyes looked him over appraisingly. “So are you.” She tucked her phone into her bag. “Ready?”

Harry nodded and led her to the car with a hand on her lower back. He made sure to open the door before she could get to it and only closed it once she was tucked in and buckled up.

He wanted to punch himself–or throw himself into oncoming traffic. Really, he was willing to do whatever he needed to stop being so nervous, so unlike himself. He was so aware of her, of her eyes on him, of every small movement she made in the passenger seat as he settled in and pulled away from the curb.

“You’re quiet,” he commented when he realized they had made half the drive in silence.

She tossed him a smirk. “So are you.”

“Sorry, I’m just a little–” He stopped himself before he could say something that would scare her away. Because he knew it would. If he admitted to her he was nervous, then she’d remind him that this wasn’t a date, and so there would be nothing to be nervous about, and then she’d see that it didn’t matter and she’d call this off before it could even start. He’d come to know her enough to know exactly how that would go (and he only knew her so well thanks to the hours he’d spent picking apart every interaction they had). “Is everything okay?”

She sighed. “Yeah, just having to deal with something from home. A very annoying something,” she muttered.

“Is it your ex?”

Della’s head spun to look at him. “How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess. So what’s the deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened that sent you running all the way to France for the summer?”

“I did not run to France to get away from him. That’s what London was supposed to be for, actually. It didn’t exactly work the way I hoped.”

With a quick look at her, he caught the grimace on her face. “And how did you hope that would go?”

“He was supposed to forget about me.”

Harry scoffed.

“What?”

“There’s nothing remotely forgettable about you.”

At a stoplight, he looked over at her and smirked at the look of shock on her face. She recovered quickly.

“I need to be drunk to have this conversation with you.”

“That can be arranged.”

The jazz bar was underground, the entrance a few steps below street level. The stained glass door was held open by the man working the door, and the couple slipped inside.

It was hazy, though Della wasn’t sure why, considering smoking wasn’t allowed indoors–proven by the crowd of people inhaling and chatting on the street outside. The small tables were crowded together, forcing Della to lift herself onto her tiptoes as to not knock over the glass of the table nextdoor as she moved to her seat.

A hand wrapped around her hip. “ça va?”

Della looked to the man the broad hand was attached to. He was hot, the French kind of hot, and if she wasn’t here with Harry, she’d probably end up sitting in the chair between him and his friend. But she was with Harry, so she sent him a polite smile and said, “Bien, merci.”

She slid into her seat and out of his grasp. When she looked up at Harry, his jaw was tight. He hadn’t liked that. His reaction made her giddier than it should’ve.

“Humid in here, no?” She leaned over the small table to ask, moving the tealight towards the center of the table.

Harry looked around. “Yeah.” His jaw was still ticking.

Honestly, she was surprised at his jealousy. She didn’t think he had it in him; he just seemed too sweet, too go-with-the-flow, and hands-off to care enough to get jealous. Clearly, she underestimated him.

Josh never really got jealous, and Della was always just toxic enough that it sort-of bothered her. There were a few months her sophomore year where she had found herself going out of her way to spark it. It never worked. She understood being secure in a relationship, being comfortable and sure about where you stood with someone, but it wasn’t about that. It was about feeling wanted, desired. It was about knowing that someone wanted you so much that they got just a little unhinged about it. A little possessive, like they wanted every piece of you for themself.

But Della was who she was, and so she had simply let it go and accepted that it just wasn’t part of who Josh was.

Harry’s eyes were locked on the stage, his jaw still tight. Clearly, he wanted to say something, whether to Della or the Frenchman she wasn’t sure, but he felt he couldn’t. Probably like it wasn’t his place. And it wasn’t, really. They weren’t together. This wasn’t a date. They were just two people…hanging out.

“Should we get a bottle of wine?” She asked, while lifting the worn black book off the edge of the table and flipping through it.

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

She let the smooth notes of the piano fill the space between them. When he still didn’t look at her, and the furrow in his brow didn’t lessen, she reached under the table and dropped her hand on his linen clad thigh.

His eyes snapped to her’s.

“Should we get a red?” She asked casually, as she squeezed the taut muscle beneath her palm. Why she was trying to reassure him, she didn’t know–couldn’t even begin to think about why she cared. Not when she was meant to be doing the exact opposite.

He dropped his hand onto her’s and smiled. “Yeah, we could do that.”

“Cool.” She pulled her hand away and held the book out to him. “You pick.” When he went to grab it, she pulled it just out of his reach and narrowed her eyes. “But nothing crazy. Fifty-fifty, remember?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Drunk enough to have that conversation?” Harry asked as Della drank the last of what was in her glass.

“What conversation?”

“The ex-boyfriend one.”

She scrunched her nose and Harry melted at the cuteness of it. Della eyed the bottle in front of her. There was probably a glass and a half left, but Harry didn’t plan on drinking anymore (he had precious cargo to drive home) so he poured the rest into her glass.

“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”

“What’s that?”

“You think if you liquor me up, I’ll tell you all my secrets.”

“You’re drinking wine, not liquor.” She rolled her eyes. “And no, not your secrets.” He shrugged in earnest. “Just trying to get to know you.”

“I already told you–”

“Yeah, you’re unknowable. So you said.”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t believe that.”

“Not believing something doesn’t make it any less true,” she said before taking a sip.

“The same way that believing something doesn’t make it true.”She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t want to share, I can accept that. As someone who has had to fight for every ounce of privacy they got–and even still sometimes lost–I understand. But c’mon, Del, it’s not that you’re inherently unknowable, it’s that you want to be.”

He couldn’t tell if he’d gone too far. Her expression was unreadable. Panic tightened his chest and he took a long drink of water.

Her pretty mouth twisted in…he couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or amusement or sheer, unfortunate acceptance that he’d just dragged them into the kind of emotional place she clearly never wanted to go.

“I don’t know who I am. That’s why I’m here,” she said. “I’m unknowable to me.” Harry leaned forward, hanging on to every word she spoke. “London was supposed to help me. It was going to be mine, only mine. I was going to have to make decisions. Real ones. There’d be no one to catch me, or lead me, or influence me. Following the wind wouldn’t be an option because I’d have to survive–I’d have to thrive in order to survive. And then that was taken away from me, and everything was all washed up and confusing all over again. Not easy–no, not easy at all. It could’ve been, if I let it, but by then I’d learned how to have some resolve. I had conviction of my own. And I couldn’t give it up.” She finally looked up at him, though her fingers were still toying with the stem of her glass. “So I came here. To hold onto it. I can’t lose it, Harry, not when I just found it. Not when I need it.”

He understood what she was saying. He heard her. She wasn’t in a place to let anyone in right now, not when what she had found for herself was still so fragile. Della seemed to know herself better than she thought. She knew enough to know what she needed. If she thought herself as easily influenced, well, Harry could argue with that, but he didn’t know her before she came here. He didn’t know the version of her that she was so clearly trying to shake, and he wouldn’t challenge that. He wouldn’t make this any harder for her than it already seemed to be. But he wasn’t going to give her up either, so he’d be whatever she needed–whatever she wanted.

“Okay,” he said, allowing an easy smile to take over his face.

“Okay?” He didn’t like the insecurity in her voice.

He nodded once, sure. “Okay.”

She could keep her secrets and her heart as long as she gave him everything else.

Della was tipsy. Definitely, so.

Which was fine. She was having fun, and the music moved from smooth to boisterous without a single warning. Something her and jazz had in common.

On her way back from the restroom, where she waited in line for ten minutes to take the longest pee of her life, the Frenchman caught her hand. He’d caught her eye with his a few times throughout the last hour or so, but Della had done well with ignoring him. The glances weren’t creepy. More interested, questioning.

And she knew exactly what he was questioning. She was in France, for god’s sake. She raised a single eyebrow.

“Est-ce que je peux t'offrir un verre?”

He wanted to buy her a drink? She shouldn’t have been surprised by his boldness, but still, she was clearly there with someone else.

She looked at him, and then back at Harry, whose jaw was tight, eyes set in a glare.

Her hand slipped from his grasp as she leaned against Harry’s side, her hips level with his chest. She dropped a casual hand into his hair and toyed with the waves. His hand slid up the backs of her legs and over the curve of her ass to hold onto her hip. She looked down at him and smiled. “Non.”

His eyes flicked to Harry. “ Peut-être après?”

Maybe after? She wanted to laugh in his face, and also flick his forehead. Clearly, he knew Harry didn’t speak French. If he thought there was any chance he could understand their conversation, there was no way he'd be so forward. Her anger flared at the lack of respect.

Even though it shouldn’t. She’d think about that later.

With way too much ease, she settled herself onto Harry’s lap. For a second, he stiffened, clearly caught off guard, but within seconds, his arms were around her waist. The guy wasn’t worth a response, so she didn’t give one. Only turned towards Harry and kissed his jaw. It was still tight.

She lifted her hand and held it on either side, massaging her fingers into where she could feel him clenching. “Relax, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not the point.”

“I know,” she whispered. Then giggled, the wine fueling her more than anything else.

“What?”

“I think I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Jealous. Possessive.”

“Protective,” he corrected.

She smiled. “That too.”

He shook his head, and lowered his lips to her’s.

A knock on the edge of their table broke their bubble.

A different man, older, stood behind Della’s chair, his hand holding the back of it. He pointed to his left, where a few feet away, his group stood around a table. In French, he asked if they were using the chair.

Clearly, she wasn’t in her right mind, because she told him he could have it.

“Wait, sir–” Harry started as the man took the chair away.

“Let him have it,” Della said and she relaxed further into him. “I’m perfectly fine where I am. Prefer it, actually.”

She really was going to be the death of him. All her squirming and readjusting each time she reached for her wine or water had hardened him beyond the point of comfort. It was taking everything in him to get it to go down–barely. He just needed to relax enough to get out of there without poking anyone in the eye.

“Ready?” Della asked after she drained the rest of her water.

“Yeah,” he said, though he was not. As she stood from his lap, he tried, as inconspicuous as possible, to readjust himself, managing to tuck himself into his waistband. He only had to deal with the discomfort until they got to the car. He could do that.

He led her out by her hips, strategically holding her in front of him as they moved through the tables and up the stairs.

“That was cruel,” he whispered in her ear after pulling her against him once they got to the car.

“What was?” She looked up at him with mock innocence over her shoulder.

He bit the inside of his cheek, reaching around her to open the car door. With a squeeze to her ass, he nudged her towards the seat. “In. Now.”

She paused and looked at him, playfulness and heat in her eyes.

He huffed in playful annoyance. “What now?”

“I think I do like you bossy.”

Before he could reply, she slid into the seat and Harry closed the door.

He knew, undoubtedly, Della would be the death of him.

They went back to her’s (logistically, according to Della, it was the only option considering she didn’t have a car and sleepovers were against the rules) and barely made it into the room before Harry had her dress bunched around her hips.

She tasted like wine and everything good in the world–it made him dizzy. He teased her and licked her until she was a whimpering mess, her hands lost in his hair and her thighs left with handprints where he had to hold her down.

He left careless marks on her neck, for anyone like the prick at the bar.

Before he slipped his cock inside of her, he whispered, “Mine.”

And when he was all the way inside: “You’re mine.”

“For now,” she breathed, caught up in the trails of a moan.

For more than that.

He’d never say it. And with a hard thrust into her, he pretended he never even thought it. He’d be smart to call it off. Only a few days of knowing her and he was in too deep. He cared too much. Wanted too freely. And if she knew, she’d leave him without a second thought. Where she stood had been made crystal clear. Harry needed to pull back, return to the same page. He could. He swore to himself that after tonight, he would.

After he came with his face tucked into her neck, they shared a plate of whatever bits Della had in her fridge, and she made them a snack of chocolate and butter on a baguette. She was so excited to share it with him that Harry couldn’t bear to tell her that his ex had introduced him to it when they first met. It didn’t matter, anyway, since it tasted so much better enjoyed tucked into the sheets with Della.

Her ponytail had loosened, spilling red around her face and over her shoulders. He reached out to wipe a crumb from her mouth and she bit his finger. He fought off the swell in his chest with both fists.

“Should we call it a night?” She asked through a yawn.

No.

“Sure, yeah. I’m pretty beat.” He cleared his throat as he got up and started pulling his clothes on.

When he tried to pull away after kissing her goodbye, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped her in his arms, squeezed, and placed a soft kiss to her neck.

He had just turned on the ignition when a text from Gemma came through.

This her????

Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach as he tapped the photo.

It was a shot of him and Della getting into his car leaving the jazz club.

Thankfully, since his body had blocked most of her from the camera’s view and it was taken at an awkward enough angle (most likely as whoever took it walked past them), all that could be seen of Della was her fire-hued hair.

The relief was short-lived. What if there were more? What if they were clear? He thought of everyone around them and tried to remember if he noticed anyone trying to take photos. Usually, he could feel it. Being in the public eye for so long had given him a sixth sense–a learned survival instinct–but he was so focused on Della he wasn’t sure he would’ve noticed.

“Fuck.” He dropped his head against the seat and ran a hand over his face. If anyone had seen them out the last few times, pictures would’ve already surfaced. They were safe on that front, but now? Now people knew where he was, and they knew there was someone.

He wouldn’t let them take this from him, let them ruin it. If it went up in flames, it would be his own doing.

He wanted to laugh at his luck. At his life. Harry was already going to feel the loss when the summer was over and that was enough to hurt. Now, he could lose it much sooner, and that wasn’t okay with him.

He put the car in drive, and started home.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry x reader #harry styles series #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #one direction

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incrediblyaccuratethoughts · 1 year

Text

I’m Gonna Tell ‘Em (Don’t you Dare)

Ao3

Tim just wanted coffee. That’s really all he desired in life. Coffee. His position as Red Robin. And Wayne Industries to get its shit together for one goddamn day. In that order.

“Are you shitting me? I was a fucking crime lord you little terror, I don’t give a fuck-”

He’d done an all-nighter in the Batcave. Again. Trying to crack a cold case he was sure had something to do with Riddler's vague warning a few nights ago. And he was so close, but his eyes had started to close for just a little too long.

So tell him why he walked into an argument that seemed to be based around the topic of murder, at 7 in the morning. Between Jason and Damian. Who both tried to kill him at least once. Respectively.

“And I am the Demon Prodigy of the League of Assassins. I could kill a man before I could speak.”

Tim stands in the doorway, contemplating if his need for coffee is higher than his potential rate of getting maimed in the dining room.

“Yeah, but you were fucking sheltered inside the bases like goddamn Rapunzel in her-”

“I was not sheltered. You of all people should know of Mother’s harshness for disobedience-“

“Oh and I’m sure you were so disobedient Mr. Goody Two Shoes-“

Ultimately, the urge for coffee wins. Tim crosses the kitchen as unnoticeably as he can, skirting the edges and keeping his footsteps as light as he can manage on 10 hours of sleep in the last week.

He’s busy, okay?

“I’ll admit I wasn’t raised to go against the orders of a higher-up but that did not mean-”

“Bull. Fucking. Shit.”

“Did my propensity for sneaking animals into the house escaped your notice? I thought you were better trained-“

“So what? You save every bird with a broken wing you come across, but you’d willingly slit the throat of a human?”

“Yes, Todd. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

The coffee pot is half full. Tim counts this as the one redeeming factor of this morning. The threat of getting stabbed is nothing in the face of sweet, sweet caffeine.

“What’s your fucking number then?”

“I can’t possibly know the exact-“

“Oh no, you don’t get to pull that shit on me-“

Tim considers pouring himself a cup, but he’s gonna drink the whole thing anyway and he’s exhausted enough to zone out during Alfred’s inevitable lecture, so he takes the whole pot and tips it back.

“I was sent out for missions when I was barely more than a toddler. You can’t expect me to remember every-“

“Ra’s had files on every fucking mission I did while brain dead and high on Lazarus rage, there’s no fucking way he didn’t have an exact-“

Tim chugs his precious coffee. The temperature is surprisingly cool enough that he doesn't immediately burn his tongue. Not that a few scorched taste buds would stop Tim from inhaling the only thing between him and unconscious. But it’s the thought that counts.

“What’s yours then, Todd?”

“Nope. Not until you tell me yours first. I’m not about to have you raise the number because I told you mine.”

“That’s preposterous. I would do no such thing.”

Tim calculates his chances of making it back out of the kitchen with a quarter pot of coffee in his hands and decides his caffeine fix is safer off with a few counters between him and his homicidal brothers.

And yah know. His physical well-being. But that’s pretty low on his ‘fucks to give list’ at the moment.

“I don’t trust a fucking word coming out of your mouth-“

“There’s an easy way to settle this if you’d just-“

“What? Shut up? Drop the argument? No fucking-“

“We can write it down separately and then show it to each other at the same time."

“…huh.”

Tim looks up in genuine fear when both of his siblings go quiet. That’s never a good sign. Not in this house.

There’s a window to his right that he could probably smash through if it came to it.

Neither of them are looking at him though, just regarding each other with much less animosity than a few seconds ago. Tim decides he’s probably fine and goes back to his coffee.

“I will go retrieve a piece of paper and two pens.”

Damian leaves the room and Tim freezes like if he stays still enough it’ll keep Jason from noticing him. Unfortunately, now that his older brother’s attention is directed to his surroundings and not just screaming at a 12-year-old, he makes direct eye contact with Tim.

“Oh hey, Timmers. How long have you been here?”

Tim stares at him blankly. He- doesn’t know what answer Jason wants from him and he’s not willing to face his older brother’s wrath if he’d been having what he thought was a private conversation.

“Sorry about the noise. I hope we didn’t wake you up.” Jason says after it’s clear that he isn't getting answers out of Tim.

As if the manor isn’t literally soundproofed. For this exact reason.

Tim’s 17 years of social etiquette training won’t let him just not answer the open-ended comment, but god does he wish that it did.

“No, I was already up.”

Jason nods as if he was expecting that answer. Which is fair. Tim’s sure he looks just as tired as he feels. His eye bags could hold all of his emotional trauma. They’re Guchi.

“And does Alfred know you’re drinking straight from the pot?” Jason motions to the carafe Tim’s clutching like a lifeline. Because it is.

Tim opens his mouth to lie through his teeth, but is saved by Damian’s re-entry. Wow, he’s never been so glad to see his stab-happy younger brother.

True to his word, the kid’s carrying a few pieces of paper and pens. Tim could leave now. He could casually walk right past them, out of the kitchen, and back to the cave to keep working on his case, but dammit, he’s invested now.

He’s still not sure what this argument is about exactly, but he’s willing to wait a few more minutes to satiate his curiosity now that he’s tentatively sure that the argument isn’t going to evolve into physical violence.

“I’ve acquired the tools to finish this once and for all, Todd.” Damian announces, sliding half of his spoils to Jason.

“Great. We’ll write our body count down and on 3 we’ll turn ‘em around. Got it?”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Damian grumbles, but writes dutifully anyway. The kid would be funny if he didn’t back his threats up with swords.

Tim is. Still lost, but he’s always secretly wondered how many people his brothers have killed. In a morbid way. Mostly because he wants to know if the murder attempts on him were a particularly special event or just a pattern. For his mental health's sake.

“Got it?” Jason asks, holding his paper close to his chest so no one can peek. Tim doesn’t know who would, considering he’s the only one in the kitchen that’s not a part of this squabble, but Damian copies the movement and Tim finds himself inching closer, taking the last swig of his coffee.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

They flip the papers around and for a moment the kitchen is quiet.

“FUCK YEAH!” Jason pumps his fist in the air with a whoop. “Ha! Take that, Demon Brat! I’m the Robin with the highest kill count!”

Tim spits out his coffee and coughs violently. It’s partially because he got some in his lungs, but also to cover the incredulous laughter bursting uncontrollably out of him. It takes him a good few seconds to get his breathing under control, but when he looks up, his brothers are staring at him.

For a moment he’s tempted. So fucking tempted. Because he hasn’t told anyone anything more than bits and pieces about his time with the League. Hell, the only reason his family even knows about his little stint playing lap dog for Ra’s, is because he choked out a vague explanation about his missing spleen when he went into sepsis.

They don’t know about the missions he was sent on. The people he sold out. And most importantly, the multiple bases he blew up because he was crazier than the Joker after Bart and Kon’s death and then the near miss with Bruce.

The bases he absolutely didn’t evacuate. With hundreds of people inside. A few actually avalanched down mountainsides, and he’d eat his Batarang if any of them survived.

The only word he’d confidently use to describe his mental state then, is feral.

He didn’t have to blow them up. He really didn’t. A good few of the bases he’d never actually seen before he snuck in to level the place, but he’d been having a shitty year so naturally, he was going to make sure Ra’s got to have one too.

Not to mention that Tim was as depressed as he’d ever been and wasn’t particularly giving a lot of fucks about if he died during his warpath. He’d already lost a spleen, what were a few more organs?

So this argument? This competition? He finds it objectively fucking hilarious.

Damian and Jason are still staring at him in bewilderment, and for a moment -just a wild moment- he thinks about telling them.

Explaining how he was just. So done. And could only think of one way out, so he systematically hacked into every base he could get his hands on. Stole as many files as he could during his time constraint. And then blew all of them sky-high.

Thought about telling them how on one particularly bad night, gone through every log of the people in those bases. How he hadn’t been ‘sick’ as he claimed the week after he managed to crawl out of his safe house.

He was just too horrified to look anyone in the eye.

It would be funny to watch his family’s expressions go through the five stages of grief and add a few more just for funsies, if they even believed him at all. But no. Tim had his secrets and he was going to take them to the grave.

He grinned at his brothers, patted Jason on the shoulder with a quiet congratulations, and strolled out of the kitchen.

Tim had cases to solve and letting his family assume he wasn’t capable of murder was better for all of them in the long run.

No matter how wrong they were.

👻

In my defense. Writing prompts make the brain noodle go brr. You can blame @coffinbirds and @batcavescolony for these posts.

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alisonwritesimagines · 1 year

Text

Knew It All Along ~Jason Todd Imagine~

Requested by anonymous:

🌟HAPPY 5K🌟

if its alright by you i'd like to please request

Jason Todd x GN!Bestfriend/Crush!Reader

Reader shows up for movie night a day or two after they got in a pretty bad fight. They try to play it off like it's no big deal since they won (barely), but Jason is Jason and eventually finds out the fight was over someone talking shit about Red Hood. Que Jay realizing Reader knows at least one of his secrets so he might as well spill another one, right?

Summary: Jason hates the fact that you were in a fight. However, during your usual movie night, he finds out the reason why you were in that fight.

Author’s Note: My last request from my 5k follower special thing I had going on. I am not taking any requests just a heads up if you're new to my blog! Also, surprise guest at the end of the imagine!

Reader’s Pronouns: They/Them

Warnings: mentions of a fight, mentions of bruises and cuts from said fight, cuss words, verbal argument between you and Jason but he's just a worried love sick simp

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

The fight you encountered was less than kind. You had thrown a good amount of punches but even though you had won the fight, you were pretty beat up.

"Y/n?" You looked up to see Tim Drake, aka your best friend's (and crush's) little brother.

"Hey, Tim," you greeted with a weak smile.

"Shit. Are you okay?" Tim asked as he helped you up.

"I'm fine. Don't tell Jason. Please," you begged.

"Let's get you fixed up first," Tim said before helping you over.

Of course Tim did tell Jason about him finding you all beaten up. Though you were a little upset at Tim, you knew you couldn't blame him. After all, you were the only person who was able to talk to Jason no matter what the situation was.

After a couple days of healing, you felt better to do your monthly movie night. Jason opened his door to see you standing on the other side with some movie snacks. However, he felt more distracted over the fact that you had cuts and bruises from your fight before.

"You ready for tonight?" You asked him.

"Yeah. Come in," Jason said as he let you inside.

"I was thinking of that new movie everyone has been talking about? It's on Netflix," you tell him as you set up.

"Yeah. Sounds great," Jason said softly, still staring at your bruises.

"Is everything okay?" You asked him.

"I think I should be the one to ask you that," Jason said.

"I'm fine, Jason. Come on. Let's just watch the movie," you tell him, not wanting to talk about the fight.

During the movie, Jason couldn't help but stare at you. He felt heartbroken to see the person that he had been in love with, for God knows how long, beaten up over some fight.

"I can feel you staring," you tell him.

"What was the fight about?" Jason asked you.

"Jason-"

"No. Tell me. What was the fight about?" Jason asked, pausing the movie now.

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit. We both know it wasn't nothing. You wouldn't get into a fight without a reason," Jason told you.

"Jason, drop it!"

"No!"

"Fine!" You groaned in defeat. "I got into a stupid fight because someone was talking shit about you."

"What did they say?"

"They said that the Red Hood was a shitty vigilante who can't do anything," you admit.

"What does that have to do with me?" Jason asked, trying to pretend that he wasn't the Red Hood.

"Oh I'm not stupid. I know you're the Red Hood, Jason. You can't lie to me," you tell him.

"How did you know?" Jason asked.

"I see you with your bruises too. And the fact you left your outfit out one time," you said with a smile. Jason let out a groan before leaning back more into the couch.

"You can't tell anyone."

"Like I would tell anyone. You're my best friend," you smiled at him. Jason looked over at you with a small smile.

"Can I tell you another secret?"

"You can't tell me another secret when you didn't exactly tell me the first one," you laughed a little.

"I'm in love with you," Jason said. You smiled happily at him before leaning over towards him.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah."

"I'm in love with you too, you dork," you tell him. Jason smiled before sitting up and cupping your face. He leaned, kissing you passionately on the lips.

"Be mine?"

"I've always been yours. I was just waiting for you to ask officially," you tell him before kissing him again.

Bonus:

"Ma, I would like for you to meet my partner. Y/n," Jason introduced you to his adoptive mother.

"You two made it official!" Jason's mother squealed in delight.

"Yup! Asked them during our movie night a while ago," Jason told her.

"I'm so happy for you my baby boy! You two should stay for dinner! Alfred and I are making something good!" Jason's mother said as she rushed into the kitchen.

"I think she likes you," Jason joked.

"Bruce! You owe me a shopping spree! Jason asked them out!" Jason heard his mother call out.

Jason watched as Bruce walk out of the kitchen with a disappointed look.

"I thought Y/n would be the one to ask you out. Now I owe your mother a shopping spree," Bruce grumbled.

"Sorry Bruce," Jason unapologetically said to Bruce, followed by a chuckle.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc #dc imagine #alisonwritesimagines

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bridgyrose · 2 months

Note

🏠 casual roommate/prudish roommate

Ruby and Cinder, which is which is up to you 😌

(Well, since you were so nice)

“And how do you know you wont like it if you dont try it?” Cinder asked with a smirk.

Ruby blushed as she rolled her eyes, doing her best to keep from watching Cinder strip in front of her. It hadnt been the first time that Cinder had stripped during a hot, summer day, but the idea of being naked around others still didnt feel right with Ruby, especially around Cinder. The older huntress had been a mentor to her at Beacon, almost like an older sister to her, and the idea of moving in with her felt more like a dream for further training. Instead, she had spent most of the last year watching Cinder walk around naked, play strip poker with a few of her friends, and even try to talk Ruby into getting naked. “I’m not… exactly comfortable with, you know, stripping like that.”

“Why not? You wont be harming anyone and even you said that its still too hot in here even with the little you’re already wearing? What’s removing just a few more pieces of clothing?”

“Because its indecent!” Ruby paused for a moment as she swore she sounded like Weiss for a moment. “I still want to keep at least a little modesty.”

Cinder grinned and gestured towards Ruby. “And you think that’s modest right now?”

Ruby looked down at herself, looking over the tank top and shorts she’d decided to wear. Her tank top left very little to the imagination, clinging to her braless chest as sweat dripped down. Even her shorts seemed to hug her hips tightly, a tad bit small on her after years of training. “This… this is different.”

“And how is this different?” Cinder asked as she sat down. “You’re practically exposed right now and you’re worried about showing off a bit more skin? Hell, I’ve seen you go to a pool in a bikini. Its not like you have anything no one else has seen.”

Ruby blushed a bit more as she felt herself get eyed by Cinder, unable to argue that she was wrong. Her hands went down to her shorts as she felt the fabric, the thought of removing them along with her tank top ran through her mind. “Neo… Neo is coming over, isnt she? O-or what if we get called for a mission-”

“Neo wont mind and will probably get naked herself, and if we get called on a mission, then we’ll deal with that. Besides, Ozpin told you to take some time off, right? You’ve been on mission after mission for months, why not just relax?”

Ruby quietly sighed and gripped the side of her shorts. Cinder had made a compelling argument and the summer heat wasnt going to leave any time soon. Still, the idea of getting naked in front of her or even around someone else still felt… wrong. Getting naked still felt like too intimate of an activity to her, especially since most shows gave the impression that getting naked with someone would lead to sex. And that was something she was not up for. “I… I cant…”

Cinder shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Ruby quickly went back to her room, closing the door loudly. The air in her room seemed warmer than the rest of the apartment even though her window was open to allow air to circulate and blackout curtains to keep the sun from shining into her room. Still, nothing seemed to help much. In a moment of desperation, she slowly started to strip herself, first by taking off her shorts and relaxing a bit when it did feel better. Though, it wasnt long before she put her bikini bottoms on to feel a bit less naked. Then, she looked down at her sweat soaked tank top, quickly removing it and replacing that with her bikini top as well. She winced as she struggled to get the bikini top to stay on right, not realizing how small it had gotten on her.

With a heavy sigh, she tossed it away while she dug through her things for something else that’d work. She tossed away a few bras, taking a couple of them and looking in the mirror before throwing them away when she realized just how little most of them actually covered her. Not that she was surprised, after all, she did prefer the feel of lace on her skin and most of the stores she shopped at did put lace underwear on the gothic end. Finally, she settled on a sports bra and put it on, taking a quick look at herself in the mirror. A blush crossed her cheeks when she saw just how much skin she was showing, only embarrassed with the prospect of Cinder seeing her and telling her she might as well just strip.

Ruby flinched as she heard a knock on the door echo through the apartment, quickly putting her clothes away and grabbing her shorts to pull them back up. Her heart raced for a moment as she moved closer to her bedroom door to make sure it wasnt her own that was knocked on, practically pressing her ear against it. When she was sure that no one was looking for her, she opened up her door a crack to see Neo walking into the apartment, following Cinder. She relaxed and closed the bedroom door, letting out a sigh.

“Rubes, Neo’s here!” Cinder called out. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Ruby nearly froze up and opened the door slightly, peeking out before calling back to Cinder. “Wait, you’re going to be in the kitchen?”

“Its colder in there than anywhere else in our apartment.” Cinder answered back. “Besides, There isnt a better place to play a few games. We still have a spot open for poker.”

Ruby could practically hear the grin that Cinder had on her face, knowing full well what she was doing, yet, she couldnt call her out for it. And Cinder was still her mentor, and it was hard to go against anything that she said. Finally, Ruby let out a soft sigh. “Fine, I’ll join you.”

“Great! We’ll give you a bit of room.” There was a pause. “Oh, and come out naked. We have a different kind of poker in mind.”

Ruby sighed and stripped down, blush burning her cheeks as she looked herself over trying to rethink everything she was just about to do. After a few, quiet moments of looking herself over and trying to find an excuse to stay in her room, she finally made her way out to the kitchen.

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #cinder fall #drabbles #nsft #nsft drabble #Why not a bit of corruption?

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orbital-inclination · 2 years

Text

“What I Never Told You”

On edge after entering an AU over-saturated with positivity, and unable to leave it, Dream and his brother have an argument. A long overdue argument. Part 1 (you are here), 2.

Notes: Moltendreams!AU. Set some time after the brothers left Dreamtale during a time when they were still unfamiliar with the multiverse. General warnings for: dreamtale typical angst/drama, references to past emotional manipulation and bullying. Wordcount: 2304

“Two paces. The rocks turn into pebbles on your left. It’s slippery.”

Dream nodded, and then because he wasn’t sure if Nightmare saw him or not, made a small noise of acknowledgment. He slid his foot forward, arms outstretched for balance, and gingerly took one step, then another. The stones of the river bank were smooth and round and as loose as a free-roaming egg on a table. He nearly stumbled when the rock underneath his foot dipped forward, but the writhing mass on his back pulled his weight backward and Dream found his footing on the steady wet crunch of gravel.

“How wide is the river?” Dream asked. He angled his skull, slightly canted in the direction of the cold patch of air a few paces in front of him. A dense cold spot usually indicated where his brother stood. Melancholy clung to Nightmare like morning dew. Even on days when his brother felt calm and focused, that heavy feeling was a breath away. He followed his brother’s line of focus, but could no more sense the river than see it. The river babbled gently, and the pebbles underneath his feet sloshed so he knew he was at the water’s edge. Here the water was slow. Turn his skull in the opposite direction, however, and the playful sound grew louder. “I don’t think a tree could stretch across it,” Nightmare said after a moment. “We will either have to find a bridge or follow the river until it narrows.” Dream tried to picture a span of water so wide a tree could not bridge the distance. He could not. “Is it deep?” “I can’t see the bottom. Do you remember how far it was, from the top of mother’s hill to the village?” Dream stared into the patch of watercolor darkness, where his brother stood, awed. Was it possible to build a bridge at that scale? “Are you sure you can’t teleport us across it?” Nightmare groaned, exasperated. “Dream, if I couldn’t teleport ten minutes ago, why would I have the ability to now?” “We’re farther away from town,” Dream argued. “With fewer souls nearby, the feeling should be less potent.” But now, Nightmare was exasperated and slightly irritated. “There’s too much positivity. Even here. At this point, I’m starting to think it’s a byproduct of the world itself, over its inhabitants.” This was becoming a problem. It wasn’t as though this world was devoid of negativity. And Nightmare would not have brought them here if the world had felt too dangerous for him. But that quickly changed. His brother was vulnerable without a significant source of negativity nearby. (Never mind mobility issues) So they’d fled into the forest. It didn’t feel safe in town and finding a cure for the curse came second to keeping each other safe. (Dream would have protected him. Blind or not, he was determined to. But Nightmare felt he shouldn’t have to. And anyway, neither of them felt comfortable around large crowds.) “I can’t but you could. I don’t need to tell you how strong you are right now,” Nightmare said. “If I tell you how far to go and point you in the right direction-“ Dream quickly shook his head. The ambient positivity here was just as much a problem for him as it was for Nightmare. There was nothing he could use as a point of reference because of it. (except for his brother but Dream did not like the idea of traveling so far away from him.) How far was too far? How far was not far enough? All directions felt the same. The idea of teleporting now, without a solid anchor made him feel lightheaded. “A bridge it is then.” Nightmare said, snidely. Dream felt as though he had lost two arguments instead of one. And maybe he had. Nightmare led him along the shoreline, commenting on obstacles but didn’t offer his opinion on anything remotely interesting until Dream got tired of hearing the same thing over and over again, and said. “Describe where we’re going. We ran down a hill to get away from town but the forest leveled out. The river is louder now. Are we traveling upstream or down?” “Down.” A spike of irritation. “The incline is subtle, but I believe the river is leading us into a valley. I can make out distant hills over the trees. No mountains. The horizon is crowned in green.” “That sounded like a line from one of your poems...” His brother stopped. “… you remember that?” “Of course I do!” It had been a long time since Nightmare had last recited his work, but Dream remembered. Nightmare used to write poetry almost as much as he read books. He stopped sharing them, at some point, years and years ago. He hadn’t heard one of Nightmare’s poems since... “I didn’t know you cared enough to remember.” Dream balked. “Why would you think that?”

Distressingly, Nightmare scoffed. “You were always helping someone from the village. I didn’t see you much.” Dream opened his mouth to protest but found himself clicking his teeth shut. The villagers had kept him busy. He couldn’t deny that. From sunrise to dusk there was always something to be done. An injury to mend. Attention to give. A ceremony to attend. Gradually, it became harder and harder to say no. A pit formed in his chest and Dream shook himself before the dark feeling could take root. He refused to let the feeling take hold. What right did he have to feel unhappy? It wasn’t like he had been mistreated. “I found time,” he insisted. Softly. “You read to me at night, remember? We couldn’t sleep because the wolves were-“ “They howled loudly in late summer. I remember,” Nightmare said bitterly. “You worked late into the evening to help the villagers harvest their crops in time for the autumn equinox. The preparations would last for weeks. I wouldn’t see you until well after sunset.” The tendrils on his back coiled in on themselves, uncomfortable. Nightmare was getting upset. “But it’s always about you, isn’t it?” Dream stilled. He was speechless. “I don’t… I don’t understand.” He didn’t need to see Nightmare’s glare to feel it. “Your idea of spending time together was doing what you wanted to do. When I told you I didn’t feel comfortable with the villagers, you ignored me-“ “That's not true!” “Yes it is!” Nightmare snapped. “The more time you spent with them the more you were convinced you were always right! Especially when I had something to say.” His chest was very tight and cold, suddenly. “That was- it was never about what I wanted! We were told to-” But Nightmare wasn’t listening. He was spiraling. “Enough, Dream. You chose to trust them over me. Accept it. There’s nothing more to it.” Dream felt his jaw lock. He couldn’t speak, his chest was too tight. Everything felt too tight. The ground was spinning and he was drowning. It had never felt like a choice at all. It’d felt inevitable. The river was no longer gurgling playfully, it wailed. Thrashing against the shore and loose stones. The spray was constant.

His brother came to a stop. “We cross here,” he said, mechanically. Calm held in place by a fragile wire. “The river is narrow here. There must have been a storm recently. We can use the fallen trees caught by the current to cross the river. We’ll need to be careful.” The crunch of pebbles underfoot. A splash. Dream didn’t move. “Dream.”

His jaw ached. Dream unclenched his teeth and counted the steps he took. One. Two. Three. Water reached his ankles before he felt close enough to reach for Nightmare’s hand. He was afraid Night’ would be too angry to help him up, but Nightmare grabbed his hand and without hesitation, pulled. The bark underfoot was slick and covered in lichen. Dream felt the growth peel as he carefully shuffled across the log. Nightmare held his hand tightly. “Two paces. I need to let go of your hand to climb over the next log. Use the branches as hand holds. You should feel them easily enough,” he still sounded so monotone. Dream bristled. “I know how to climb a tree.” The river thundered. He almost couldn’t hear the angry snap of his brother’s teeth under it. He dropped Dream’s hand like it was made of hot coal. Turned and climbed over. Dream took two steps forward and reached out to press his hand to the log. He dug his claws in, unhappy and begrudgingly grateful the tree wasn’t alive or magical. He could be as rough as he wanted to be. The negativity rolling off his brother sent the tendrils on his back lashing at nothing. He didn’t know what to do. Once on the other side, his brother grabbed his hand again, but his grip was too tight and resentment stung like needles. He yanked his hand back. “If you hate it so much, you don’t have to come with me.” A different emotion flashed through his brother. It was a sickly festering thing, but it went by so fast, Dream couldn’t hold on to it. “What are you talking about?” Dream hunched his shoulders. The tendrils on his back writhed. Every inch of him felt sickly and awful. “I don’t mind. I can take care of myself. I’m tired of making you miserable.” He heard his brother take a sharp breath. “I can’t-“ “You feel obligated to take care of me. I never asked for your help. And now you’re— and now it’s all my fault?” “I never said that. I never said it was your fault!” “I didn’t reach for the apple first, brother.” He didn’t know why he said it. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but he couldn’t stop the seething remark from leaving his mouth. Nightmare went deathly still. He grew colder than the darkest night Dream could remember. He grew so cold his magic felt like liquid fire. Something snapped. Nightmare snarled. “I was trying to protect the tree! I was trying to protect Nim’s resting place! You weren’t there. The villagers were always kind to you. You don’t know what they were like!” Dream couldn’t take it anymore. “I can feel your resentment, Nightmare. Sometimes you look at me with so much vitriol I feel nauseous! I was there every day you felt so miserable you couldn’t get up! I was there but you didn’t tell me anything, you never told me what was wrong!” “I was scared, Dream! They were going to take the apples no matter what I did. You left me alone to defend the tree by myself. You left me alone with people who hated me constantly! Why would I trust you with anything?” Dream recoiled. An invisible force squeezed his chest and the memory alone gave his brother so much pain. “Night’...” The log underneath them creaked. It pitched down, sharply, and the raging river spat high to drag him into the rapids. Nightmare yelled. He grabbed his arm and they scrambled over up-turned tumbling logs. They weren’t fast enough. Dream’s knee knocked against something hard. The log underneath his feet bobbed vertically and he went down. Fast. He sank like a stone to the bottom of the river, but the river was not still and he was sent tumbling into the rock and debris. He reached out, desperately burrowing his claws into any surface that would give, but the goop that coated his body was like syrup. The wraith of the river peeled layer after endless layer but everything he touched was as slippery as oil and he couldn’t hold on. His back hit something with a hard crack. White hot pain shot down his spine in a brief moment of agony. On instinct alone, he twisted around and heaved himself up over the boulder. He was met with cold, lashing air. “Dream!” Dream heard his brother through the roar of the tide, but he sounded far away. His skull was ringing, water poured from his mouth when he tried to yell and he choked. “-n-night’! Where are you!” “Don’t swim against the current! You’re facing the bank, go towards it! Hold on, Dream! I’m coming!” Struggling against the pull of the current, Dream dragged himself around the boulder, and vaulted for the shore he couldn't see or hear. If Nightmare said it was there, then it must be. The current rocked and rolled his body. It was a struggle to keep moving in one direction. Bones naturally sank and the goop was hardly buoyant. He struggled and kicked off from the riverbed until he felt pebbles under his knees and grit between his phalanges. Silt-covered pebbles gave way to mud. He crawled up the bank as far as he could before his strength gave out. An unpleasant force churned sour in his mouth. Dream choked and lurched forward heaving and gasping, on his hands and knees, until he wasn’t spitting up sand and gravel and wasted magic. His arms buckled underneath him. A whimper rattled his bones. The magic that coated his body had taken the brunt of the river and nothing felt broken because of it, but everything ached. He was so tired. “Dream! Don’t give up! Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep! The bridge is completely gone. I need to find another way to cross the river. I’ll be back, I promise! Don’t move!” “Don’t go,” Dream tried to say, but his voice came as a rasp and was drowned out by the river. If Nightmare said anything in reply. He didn’t hear it. His brother’s presence was already gone.

#moltendreams!au #molten!dream #rem!nightmare #dreamtale AU #passive!nightmare #passive nightmare sans #dream #dream sans #au!dream #utmv au #utmv #dream!Sans #nightmare #nightmare!sans #nightmare sans #Moltendreams!nightmare

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ficfanatictrf · 2 years

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In Bits and Pieces (1/3)

Viktor x Reader

Summary - You had expected that after successfully asking out the man you had been pining on for months, that things would start turning towards good things. You could not have expected how wrong you would be.

|| WARNINGS! - This chapter is mostly angst, a mention/hint of the viewer witnessing an adult looking at a child, derogatory female insults used (though I tried my best to make sure the reader is typically gender neutral), a lot of depressed self talk, ends in a cliff hanger ||

(Authors Note - The order that it will be going is chapter 1 from the readers perspective, chapter 2 from Viktor's perspective starting a little before the first chapter, with chapter 3 being where the fluff finally comes into play for a happy ending. Currently I have the first two chapters complete, with both having cliff hangers, so if you want to wait till the third that is completely understandable)

Word Count - 5k Part 2 and Part 3

Chapter 1

“It would be my pleasure to escort you this weekend”

Those words had been running through your head all day. After months of working with the pair of Hextech inventors, finding yourself completely smitten with the less social one of the two, you had mustered enough courage to ask out the genius Zaunite.

Having found the perfect excuse for why the two of you could spend time together during the coming weekend, working with Jayce to figure out what parts you would need from Zaun that could only be found there.

You had asked if he would be able to show you the way around the underground city since you had never been there on your own before. When he agreed you were over the moon, a grin having cemented itself on your face since you had asked.

So with a spring in your step, you arrived the next day to the lab. It wasn’t abnormal to find the other two already there. Sometimes they were earlier than you, but usually it was because they hadn’t left in the first place. However, it was Jayce's words that stopped your tracks in the doorway, quickly hiding around the corner so as to not interrupt.

“This weekend I’ll have someone stationed outside, I’ll have some council business to take care of and you will be on your little date” The man teased. You felt your face burn at the tone, your grip tightening on the files and notebooks in your hands. You hadn’t said a word to anyone about it, that only left Viktor to be the one to have told him. Which from what you’ve known of the man, he wasn’t one to tell others about such a thing. Unless Jayce had pieced it together from your inquiry earlier…but he never did seem like someone who would notice something that vague.

Maybe he had been excited himself? Slowly, you felt a small spark of joy starting to grow, possibly even hope. You had been about to turn and enter, unable to hide a grin from growing before the next words froze you to your spot.

“I truly wish you would stop with your poorly made jokes. It is quickly growing to be irksome” The accented voice was strained, clearly holding irritation in it. Already, you could feel your chest fall, the smile slipping just as quickly as it had shown.

Maybe he was just shy? Doubtful. Embarrassed? Perhaps, he was someone who had a healthy level of pride. Which he had every right to be, in fact he could do with being more vocal about his accomplishments. So maybe it was embarrassing, but then that raised the question.

Embarrassed of Jayce’s teasing or of you?

“Fine, what would you call them?” Jayce countered, the tone of both their voices making it clear that this was turning into an argument.

“Not that it is your business, but I will indulge you. They asked for a guide to the undercity, it is an errand run. Nothing more”

“Yo-” Jayce didn’t even get in a full word before Viktor was speaking once more, irritation practically dripping from his words, like he couldn’t believe he even had to explain this.

“If there had been any hint that they had asked with the hopes of it being in a romantic excursion I would have declined. Now -” The screech of a chair scraping across the floor, already hearing the steady tap of his cane coming towards the entryway. “-after this unproductive and frankly infuriating conversation, I need some coffee”

You didn’t have time to take in his words, panicking as your eyes darted around the hallway. In a hasty effort, you practically threw yourself through the closet door. Finding yourself cramped into a small storage closet, you just managed to get the door closed as you heard the click enter the hallway.

“Honestly, the nerve” You heard muttered on the other side, footsteps passing and disappearing down the hall. It was only after a few heartbeats of silence that you realized that you had been holding your breath. Taking a shaky breath as you slide down the door, you finally had a moment to replay the conversation from before.

You could feel your heart shatter. Sure, you hadn’t been hopeful that Viktor would return your feelings. He was handsome, smart, funny, kind, and an all around perfect guy. You had seen the way women, and even some men looked at him. At those posh parties, where they would raise money for their endeavors, recognizing the treasure that he was, even if he didn’t notice it himself.

You expected two different reactions with the first one being almost certain. Either he would kindly reject you, let you down gently or he would return your affection. This was something you haven’t even thought about. He had sounded so offended by the notion, almost disgusted at the idea of it being called a date.

That day you called out sick.

Dear Diary, from today things will be different. They have to be. I know the truth now of his feelings, rejected even before confessing, just my luck right? I will smile like normal, if asked I’ll just play it off like I’m just tired, I’m fine. I have to be. Viktor made it very clear today that he would never accept a date invitation from me. His friendship is the most I will have and I need to do all I can to keep it from falling apart because of my own emotions.

The rest of the week was a blur. Thankfully, you had been able to lose yourself in your work, and with the two knowing they wouldn’t be getting any work done that weekend, they too were focused solely on completing their tasks.

Dear Diary, well, I made it through the first week. I must have said that I was fine over a dozen times to each of them. I need to do better, they clearly noticed something was wrong with me. The usual banter and jokes I live for didn’t even happen once these past couple days, I need to act better, I need things to go back to how it was. The non-date is tomorrow. I have no choice but to have myself together by then.

The weekend arrived, a deep frown on your face as you looked through your closet. Before you had overheard their conversation, you had picked an outfit that would be perfect. Cute and a little bit flirty, it being one that made you feel attractive as it highlighted the features that you felt were your best ones.

However, now that you knew he hated the idea of it being a date, such an outfit was out of the question. You had to look like you viewed this as just an errand run. Pushing it aside, you pulled out a bland shirt and pants. You were going for loose and baggy, like you would wear if you weren’t expecting to see the gorgeous Viktor.

With a brief glance in the mirror, you honestly felt like you looked horrible. Your form was non-existent under the clothes you picked, but that had been what you were going for.

Finding yourself there early, nervously waiting as the time of your meeting came and went.

He was late.

From what you had heard, it wasn’t long before you were under the impression that he had just not intended to come. It had been seconds before you were going to call it a day that you saw him coming towards you with an apologetic and nervous smile on his face. There were beads of sweat on his brow and trails of it down his neck, as he tried to catch his breath beside you, he quickly produced a slip of paper from his pocket.

“I apologize for my tardiness” Viktor started, the apologetic smile still in place. “I had mentioned where our errands would be taking us and Jayce figured it would be a great time to give me a list of items he needed procured for his own research”

As the two of you waited for the bathysphere to head down to the lower levels of Zaun, you noticed a nervousness in the man beside you. Even as he was looking over your own list, his other hand was gripping the handle of his cane till the skin was a pale white.

“I believe all this can be found at Benzo’s shop” He muttered softly to himself, before looking at his own note with a frown. “These however might be a bit more tricky. Ublyudok*”

You blinked, not having heard that particular word in his native tongue before. However, being you could inquire upon its meaning, the man was changing the topic to something a little more time sensitive.

“I will warn you. There is very little that will prepare you for the…lifestyle you are about to see. You need to watch where you are going, don’t run into anyone, don’t look anyone in the eye and above all-” He said, his hand reaching out to grasp your chin so that you were looking at him. It was clear from his expression just how serious he was, there not being a hint of humor or teasing in his eyes like they normally would be.

“Don’t leave my side but if I tell you to run back to the bathysphere, you do that without question. Do you understand?”

Ever so slowly you nodded, his amber eyes searching yours for any hint of a lie before he dropped your jaw. His eyes snapping towards the glass that was steadily being overtaken by a type of glow that you had hardly ever seen before.

You had grown up with everything around you being of white, gold, and blue. As you stood there, you watched as those colors quickly melted away, the sun disappearing as you descending lower and lower. The bathysphere's cabin was soon overtaken by an eerie sort of light. It wasn’t bright and clean like above, but almost dusty.

Honestly, your eyes didn’t know what to look at first. Before you could take in one element of the city it had zoomed past you, your eyes darting to a new item to focus on. There were bright greens, pinks and purples. And throughout it all, there was a fog of either steam or smoke just everywhere.

As the machine came to a stop, you only had about five seconds to get prepared before the doors opened and it felt like you had been hit by a brick wall. First the sounds, it was loud. The cacophony of different things you were hearing all at once mixing together to become an almost deafening white noise. Second was the air, as soon as you inhaled your first breath you felt your lungs protest at whatever it had taken in.

You had been so overwhelmed by the feelings you were going through that you hadn’t even noticed that you were the only one left still inside, Viktor quickly coming back with a hint of panic in his eyes.

“My deepest apologies, I was distracted. It will not happen again, I can assure you” Viktor hurriedly spoke, studying you quickly at the signs of discomfort you were showing. “Shit.”

As he took you by the wrist and gently pulled you out so that you both wouldn’t be yelled at for holding them up, he was quickly rummaging through his bag for something.

“Forgive me, I should have given this to you before we descended down.”

You barely got to make out the item, a mix of fabric and metal, before it was softly placed over your nose and mouth, the whirl of something mechanical snuggly forming to your face. Your next breaths were easy, a sigh of relief quickly escaping you as your lungs didn’t feel like the air was full of tiny razor blades.

Nervously, his hand slowly came away from the mask that he had placed on your face.

“Better?”

“Much, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you, I don’t own one of these”

Your comment only seemed to leave him blinking, his eyes darting from side to side as he mulled over just how he wanted to respond. As you watched, you noticed a tiny tint of pink beginning to appear on the tips of his ears, or maybe that was just from the intense lights.

“Ah, well, you would have never need one” Turning on his heel, the man was soon heading off.

Following as closely as you could, you couldn’t help the sick feeling in your stomach that everything around you wasn’t right.

As you walked, everything was inputting itself like flashes, photos of the scenes around you as you couldn’t really believe what you were seeing.

A bright sign, illuminating out the words Clean Air. A boy, who looked days away from starving to death, cleaning the shoes of some overly dressed man. The man eyeing him in a way that you had never seen before, almost carnal.

You passed by a gathering that looked almost religious, only a block or so away from a person being tattooed out in the open. There were animals on leashes and in cages, animals that you had never seen in person before. And as you walked, all throughout the streets there were business deals happening, from the snippets of conversations you did your best to ignore them as words like ‘kidnapped’, ‘shimmer’, and so on.

Glancing back, Viktor seemed to realize that you were starting to lag, seeing just how overwhelmed you were becoming. Taking a hold of your wrist, he was soon gently pulling you along. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, holding your wrist like this eased a large part of his anxiety, now being able to feel that you hadn’t been taken or gotten lost.

It felt like forever, but finally you approached a shop, your partner opening the door for you before entering himself. Your eyes were soon daring around to all the different items scattered around, you were finally looking at things that made sense to you. Cogs and gears, scrap metal and bolts. In your delight, you hardly noticed that you had a set of eyes staring right at you. Viktor’s gaze softened as he took in your reactions.

“What do you think? This place was always amazing to me when I was a kid” He asked, there being a hint of something more in his tone. Though whether it was amusement or nerves, you weren’t truly sure.

At the moment, you just wanted to take in every item in the shop, however as you went to take a step to look at some of the items behind the counter the hand still holding your wrist tightened and pulled you back towards his side.

“Don’t wander off. Things may seem harmless here but touch something you shouldn’t and - well” He paused, looking for the right word that he wanted to say.

“I’ll blow up” You muttered softly, unable to hide a small smile as he chuckled at your comment.

“More than likely your savings will be blown up.” He snarked back, one corner of his lip twitching up before a man came out from the back.

As soon as Viktor took in who they were to be interacting with, he tensed. It was clear from the sudden shift in his demeanor that this was not who he had been expecting to see.

“Where is Benzo?” He inquired, all the while his grip on your wrist never disappearing. The man before you was tall and muscular and looking a little strung out on some sort of drug. As he stalked closer, you felt a sharp tug, finding yourself pulled closer behind him.

“Gone.” The man’s tone was rough, eyes looking over the two of you but flicked back to you with a hostility you had never seen before.

“What’s a piltie bitch doing all the way down here?” His tone was vile, disgust dripping from every word as he leaned over the counter to sneer down at you. “I think we know who would be interested in some topside whore, could fetch a hefty sum.”

“Great way to talk to a customer” You hissed, not taking kindly to the tone that he was throwing your way. This only seemed to enrage the man, his nostrils flaring at the comment you made, already making his way around the counter.

“Shut it” Viktor hissed as he turned towards you, from his tone you would have expected a glare but he almost looked like he was begging. Begging you to go along with this act he was about to be partaking, turning back towards the man as he smirked.

“Thought it would be a laugh to bring them with me. Had a few errands to run and well-” He leaned closer, almost like the two men were sharing a joke. “-how could I turn down the opportunity of bringing some stuck up tramp with me to scare.”

You knew this wasn’t how he normally was like, but that still didn’t stop you from flinching a little at the terms. Viktor rummaged through his pockets to pull out the two lists, setting them down on the table for the man to see.

“Was needing these parts, hopefully you are the guy that has them?” He asked, quickly veering the conversation towards what they were here for as opposed to where you were from.

The man only stood there glaring at you, a few shaky breaths of silence taking place before his eyes lazily moved down to look at the papers. As he skimmed over them, he hummed, picking them up before heading to the back.

Both of you stood there, too nervous to say anything to the other. So as the minutes passed with the store owner looking through the back, it all passed in relative silence.

He was soon back with a box, dropping it roughly on the counter. Just from the look of it, there was no way that it had everything, so when you heard the price you couldn’t help your shock and anger at the outrageous amount.

“You’ve got to be joking? That box is not nearly worth more than half that amount”

Both eyes snapped to you, and while the store owners were full of nothing but hate and malice, Viktor’s own showed clear and utter fear.

That was before forced back on his act, growling as he pulled you after him to the door. “Wait outside, I don’t want to hear anymore of your stupid comments or questions”

You were ushered out, but not before he reached out to grasp your chin, reminding you of the only other time he had done that back on the bathysphere.

“Remember what I told you, run”

He didn’t wait, turning back and closing the door behind him.

You were alone. And it took your heart one beat.

Then two.

And then you were running, you hated it. Everything in you was telling you to stay, that you were safest by Viktor’s side. But you had sworn that if he told you to go, that you would.

This time you weren’t looking at the sights, darting back towards where you had come from. With how quickly everything was rushing back, the sudden twists and turns you were taking, there wasn’t much chance to think of what had just happened, your mind needing to focus more on the directions you had only seen once.

You scrambled onto the bathysphere, only feeling relief as the doors closed behind you. Ripping the mask off your face, breathing true fresh air, you collapsed to the ground as you gasped for air.

Slowly, now feeling safe, everything from before was catching up to you. The way the man had looked at you when he saw you, like he had been ready to kill you on the spot. The weird reference to someone being interested that you was there, not really having any idea who that could be. The way Viktor slipped into a role where he treated you - well, he treated you like vermin, like how you had seen some people in Piltover speak about him.

Silently you tried to take in everything that had taken place, silently getting off and then waiting beside the bathysphere. It was a while, almost an hour later that Viktor exited as well.

He was silent, heading straight to where you were standing before roughly shoving the box of items you had requested into your arms.

“Don’t ever dare to ask me to bring you here again, don’t ask anyone. Have I made myself clear?” His voice was low, the rage he was no doubt feeling barely being contained. You had never heard this tone before from him and it only sent a terrified chill down your spine.

“I’m sorry for being snarky ba-”

“You don’t get it!’ Your voice was cut off, finding yourself trying to shrink away from the anger that was bearing down on you. “The undercity is not some fun place to explore, a tourist attraction for pilties to visit for fun!”

Any chance of a reply was cut off, the man already turning to head away. Throwing one last comment to you over his shoulder, your hands trembling to hold the box of parts in your grasp.

“I never should have agreed to take you”

Dear Diary, the non-date was an utter failure. I can see the relationship slipping, am I even going to lose him as a friend? He hardly spoke during the whole non-date. Oh, Janna, what am I to do? It’s all falling apart isn’t it?

From that day on, you made yourself as unnoticeable as possible. Jayce and Sky were the only ones that would talk to you, but even they were rather distant and Viktor? The little breaks you would take together completely stopped. Now it was strictly professional when talking to him, the man only ever discussing work with you and nothing more. Much like when you had first started working there, it felt like you had gone back to the very beginning to all the progress you had made in your relationship.

The days turned to weeks, it felt like the pressure that you had thought would slowly go away was instead just growing worse. Every small mistake you made was immediately called out by the golden eyed man, anytime you spoke up an idea it was shot down without remorse till you stop speaking up all together.

Dear Diary, it’s been weeks since I wrote last. Things are, all I can say is professional. Where before I felt like I had been a part of a found family, now I feel like an outsider. Since the non-date failure Viktor hasn’t spent a moment with me outside of work. I miss our coffee runs, the walks we would take as breaks together and just talk. I just miss him. He doesn’t seem any different, just more proof that my existence here wasn’t as solid as I first believed. Even Jayce has stopped asking if I’m alright. It probably won’t be long till they fire me.

The mounting stress, the unbearable weight that had been steadily growing and the nervousness you felt when under Viktor’s judging eyes all came to an explosive conclusion.

You had been working on your own project, leaving the room to grab more materials from the other room. When you returned, and in your haste you hadn’t even looked to make sure that the doorway was clear before you rushed in.

First you felt the solid weight of something, the hard and metal surface being a surprise.

That was till you saw it start to tilt.

Even when you tried to reach for it, the weight being far too much for you to hold up.

It crashed to the floor, the inner workings of it shattering and scattering across the floor.

You couldn’t even breathe as the silence in the room hit, it feeling heavier than any other day that you had been there.

“...I…I’m so sorry….I’ll fix th-”

“Just get out” The venom in Viktor’s voice chills you to your core, your gaze slowly moving up from the project to look up at him.

“Viktor, I can fix this-”

“Oh really? And do you know or understand what it was that I was trying to create? Do you have any knowledge of my recent works?”

Like razors his words cut at your heart, you gaze falling back to the floor as you knew a lot of what he was saying was correct. You didn’t know what the object in front of you was for or how it could be used.

“....no….”

“Of course not, and you really believe you can fix it? You?” He waited for a response, receiving none from you as you didn’t have anything to say. His hand came up to pinch at his brow, clearly wrestling with something himself as he mulled it over for a second.

“Your work has been mediocre at best as of late and mistakes like this can’t become a regular occurrence. If you can’t keep up with the workload, it might be best if you resign.”

His words cut like knives, your already sinking self esteem plummeting to the floor. Jayce had thankfully been quick to pull Viktor away from you, Jayce already starting to explain a plan on how they could both fix what he was working on and still be on time for presenting it in a few days like Viktor had planned.

You knew he was just trying to redirect Viktor’s attention, to pull his anger away from you. And as much as you appreciated the man’s kindness, you knew that it wouldn’t change the fact that you still ruined everything.

Silently, you scooped up the pieces that were scattered on the floor before bringing it all to your desk.

It was true. You weren’t really sure what it was, Viktor had used to tell you about his work, but in the past couple weeks he hadn’t spoken to you about anything really. So you were completely at a loss of what exactly the large metallic structure was supposed to be for.

You would just need to piece it back together, looking for clues to put everything together like puzzle pieces. This was your chance, you thought as you hunkered down to work on it.

You would work on it without pause till it was fixed! Viktor didn’t believe that you could fix it, so you just needed to fix it and then maybe whatever you had done to break the fragile bond between you would flourish again.

Maybe once he saw that you had some semblance of brilliance, like Jayce and Sky, like himself, then maybe he wouldn’t fire you?

With a deep breath, steeling yourself for however many hours it was going to take you, you got to work.

Dear Diary, if I didn’t think they would fire me before they are now. Viktor hates me. I can feel it. I didn’t mean to ruin his research, I would never intentionally do that. His work is so important, life changing. I’ll fix it, I have too. He already asked for my resignation, if I can’t fix this, there is no doubt he will let me go.

You never left the office after that, giving Viktor a run for his money when it came to how many hours you were awake and working. Even as each of them, at one point even Viktor himself, had urged you to go home and sleep.

But you refused, hell bent on proving that you were worth keeping around, that you were worth being his friend, that you were worth the time and effort he has wasted on you, wasted teaching you.

With each passing day; with each failure, each misfire, you felt your hopes slipping.

It was useless.

Viktor had been right.

Like he always was.

Why on earth had you believed that you could fix this? It was another one of his brilliant designs and you had said that you could fix it without anything to back that up? You were a failure, a complete and utter failure.

It was the middle of the night, closer to dawn that you took a few seconds to write your feelings down. You just couldn’t stop your tears no matter how hard you tried to calm yourself down. The whole thing was hopeless; you love life, your career, your mental state…it all just felt so pointless, so useless.

Resting your head down on the desk, your eyes drifted over towards the monstrosity you were still working on. It felt like it was no better than it had been when you started and you couldn’t ask for help. If you went to Viktor for help, you might as well just hand in your resignation then.

Your head was pounding, it felt like the world was falling apart around you. You just needed more time…

Just a bit more time…

With a jerk your eyes snapped open, finding the once dark lab was bright with the morning light. You hadn’t even noticed that you had fallen asleep!

In a panic you sat up, feeling drool on the side of your cheek. You could see the wet spot on the paper you had been working on, grimacing at the smudged writing.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

“Finally, you’re awake”

Sitting in a chair that he must have pulled over beside your desk, your journal in hand, eyes scanning each and every word that you had written on the pages.

Sat Viktor.

His gaze slowly taking in the last journal entry you had written only hours before. Golden orbs shifted to focus sharply on your own, a look of pure determination taking over his features.

“We need to talk”

------------------------------------------

Part 2 and Part 3

* I used a Russian translation for this one as I wanted him to be calling Jayce a bastard, but when I looked up the translation of bastard in Slovak it literally translated it to ‘bastard’. Felt like it defeated the purpose.

Taglist: @thedreamlessnights

#viktor x reader arcane #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x you #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x you #viktor angst #ficfanatic #ficfanatictrf #In Bits and Pieces

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