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queenshelby · 10 months

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Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 16: EDGED

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Fluff, Smut

After Cillian disappeared and you tied up your robe, you opened the door for Kit who, when you opened the door, held a pile of paper in her hands.

“Y/N, what a nice surprise” she said nervously while quickly shuffling the papers into her handbag before marching in to Cillian’s apartment.

“Likewise” you responded with a smile before informing Kit that Cillian was in the shower.

“That’s fine. I just came by to drop something off” she informed you while stammering nervously, before reaching back into her bag and pulling out some of the papers again, but not all of them.

“Uhm, should I give these to him or will you stay for a drink?” you offered politely as she placed two pieces of paper onto the kitchen bench as well as a cut out from Peoples Magazine featuring an alleged affair between Cillian and his co-star Florence Pugh during the time of filming Oppenheimer.

“No, I won’t stay. Just give these to him, would you?” Kit asked before being on her way. She seemed rather distant and you knew that, if it was not for you being here, at Cillian’s apartment, she would have stayed and handed him something else as well.

She had another piece of paper in her bag that was clearly intended for him but, with you being there, she took it with her again, possibly trying to hide its content from you.

***

“Where is Kit?” Cillian asked just as, after a few minutes, he came out of the shower, wearing his briefs and a t-shirt.

“She left” you told him before handing him the newspaper article and two letters from his and co-star’s publicists, denying the affair.

“Is that all?” he asked and you nodded. “She could have emailed these” he then said somewhat surprised before pulling you closer.

“She could have, but I think that she has a crush on you and that is why she came over” you teased but your suggestion that Kit took a liking in him amused Cillian.

“You think that Kit has a crush on me?” he asked somewhat surprised. “Please, don’t be ridiculous” he then laughed, brushing off the fact that she had come to his apartment unannounced for no real reason whatsoever.

“I am serious Cillian. I am just surprised that you can’t see it for yourself” you told him, even though you did not really feel threatened by her.

“She’s been working for me for six years and has never made a move on me, so no, she does not have a crush on me. Despite, are you being a little jealous right now?” Cillian asked teasingly while caressing your face.

“Me? Jealous?” you laughed. “Never” you then said before pulling him in for a quick kiss and then pushing him away again playfully. “Although, knowing what I know now about you and Florence Pugh, I am inclined to think that…” you then began to say and Cillian was quick to interrupt you.

“Shh…” he said, placing his index finger onto your lips seductively. “It’s a rumour, nothing more. Despite she is way too young for me…” he then reassured you before telling you that, as for now, he wanted you and no one else all whilst getting undressed again.

“Cillian…” you began speaking just before he tried to kiss you just as some guilt was creeping in. You still had not told him the truth about your age and this was a situation you needed to remedy.

“Hmm” Cillian murmured before attacking your neck with his lips and eliciting a moan from you which almost made you forget about what you were going to say.

“Nothing” you thus stammered. “Keep going” you demanded and Cillian asked whether you want to continue where we had left off before Kit arrived unannounced.

“Absolutely. Come on then, the handcuffs are still waiting for you” you teased while dropping your robe again and leaving you wearing nothing but a pair of lace panties.

“You are not going to cuff me to the bed again. I can’t fucking take it” Cillian responded before, playfully, pulling you into his bedroom.

“Oh, is that so?” you asked as you followed him through the door in a haste and he nodded.

“Yes!” he said. “In fact, I believe that it’s time for payback” Cillian said before he pushed you back towards the bed.

Of course, you obliged with his request and fell backwards onto the covers and grinned, disheveled wavy hair haloing your face.

“What are you going to do to me Cill?” you asked as Cillian climbed on to the bed with you to straddle you.

“I am going to tie you up now and lick your pussy until you can’t take it anymore” he announced with a devilish smile while you felt the warm skin of his thighs against yours.

His cock has already sprung to attention again as he secured your wrists to the bed and, just as he cuffed you, you supressed another shiver and remained silent, breaking into a smile of your own.

“Well, I will try to be a good girl for you then” you eventually winked as Cillian ran his hands up your chest, giving your breasts a brief squeeze before bringing his fingers to your mouth to gently part your lips and slip a pair of digits past them.

“I am sure you will be” Cillian winked as you willingly suckled at his fingers, bathing them with her your tongue.

“Fuck you are so goddamn sexy, aren’t you?” Cillian then acknowledged as a strand of spit connected him to your lips as he pulled his fingers away and traced dampness down the graceful arc of your neck.

“I need you so badly Cill” you moaned just as you stared up at him eagerly, waiting for him to make the next move, and he hesitated as arousal made way for uncertainty.

His sexual interactions with Danielle for the past twenty years were not like this but you clearly seem to be enjoying this dominant side of him as he watched you while you quivered in anticipation.

“Cill, please, I need your hand, mouth, cock, anything…” you then begged while, at the same time, you could feel your heart racing.

“Do you just?” Cillian asked, playing along before he pinned you down properly.

It wasn’t just the cuffs holding you into place now as Cillian leaned in, holding your head so that he could plant kisses along your neck, which Cillian knew was something that drove you absolutely crazy.

You squealed and squirmed underneath him as he nipped and nibbled, leaving red marks along the sensitive skin.

“Good god Cillian” you moaned when he finally reached your collarbone, biting down and sucking hard.

“More…” you demanded him and Cillian was certainly delighted in the way you gasped under his touch.

“You are so fucking perfect Y/N” Cillian then said in a husky murmur, planting a kiss over what he knew would still be a dark mark tomorrow morning.

“And you are so fucking perfect at this Cillian. Please. More” you begged once more as a certain kind of thrill shot through your body while you tried very hard to grind your naked mound against Cillian’s thigh.

You needed friction, down there, but he wouldn’t give to you for at least fifteen minutes until, finally, he broke off with a gasp and then tweaked both your nipples, keeping them pinched for long enough to make her squirm.

“It’s payback time remember?” he then said while his eyes were locked on yours. They were both, attentive and hungry. “That means that, at least for now, I will get to dictate when you are allowed to cum” Cillian then warned you in a low voice just before, finally, he reached for your panties with both hands.

He slid the waistband past one curve of your hips at a time before slowly and teasingly pulling your underwear down your thighs and, by doing so, drawing out a strand of wetness that connected you to the lace.

“You are so fucking wet already” Cillian acknowledged as he discarded the damp fabric and lowered himself slightly on then bed.

“Spread your legs” he then ordered and, of course, you complied in earnest.

“Yes sir” you smirked just as Cillian brought his face to your waiting mound and inhaled sharply.

“What do you want me to do?” he then teased as you could only feel his breath fanning against your wetness, teasing you.

“I want you to make me cum with your tongue” you blurted out, begging him to stop teasing and, just as you said the words, his hot tongue pushed through your folds.

“Holy fuck. Yes. Like that” you moaned as, with a few licks, Cillian collected your wetness.

“You taste so fucking good Y/N” he told you before he settled into a well-practiced pace that made you moan loudly.

Cillian knew just what you liked and it didn’t take long for you to get rather vocal as you were basking in the sensations.

"Don’t you dare cum” Cillian murmured with amusement as, under his skilled tongue, you were slowly losing control, squirming and shivering all at the same time.

“I cannot hold it” you gasped as, after as little as five minutes of Cillian’s ministrations, you were ready tip over, which is when, suddenly, Cillian stopped and you whined in disappointment.

“Not yet!” he winked as you looked at him with a torn expression on your face. It was an odd mix of lust, frustration and excitement.

“Fuck, why did you stop?” you asked and Cillian simply grinned.

“Because I will draw this out for at least an hour” he then winked and your chin dropped.

“A whole fucking hour?” you asked surprised before Cillian leaned to give you a kiss, making you taste yourself on his lips before resuming where he had left off.

“Yes, one hour and you will not get to cum until I say so!” he went on to say before latching onto your clit once more.

An hour later…

‘Do you want to cum?’ Cillian teased with a smug smile on his face and you nodded eagerly in response as sweat was dripping from your forehead.

“I want to cum. Goddamn please! I am begging you” you gasped as you couldn’t cope with this any longer. You were spent and overstimulated by Cillian’s tongue. He was driving you absolutely crazy and you were sobbing mess by now.

But, for Cillian, denying you was all part of the game. He loved to tease you and played you like an instrument for hours until you squirmed and screamed for your release.

‘Why should I let you cum?’ he asked, his face smug.

‘I don’t know Cillian, but I am begging you, please…’ you managed to choke out in need and with great desperation.

‘Please what?’ he teased.

‘Please make me cum…please’ you said, desperate for his tongue to make contact with your mound again after he had pulled away once more and, luckily for you, he finally relented and his lips closed around your clit.

“Cum!” was all he said, ordering you to let go after an hour and ten minutes had passed and he certainly did not have to tell you twice.

‘Oh fuck, yes right there’ you screamed almost immediately, giving into your needs just as you felt as though Cillian’s tongue was everywhere and he began adding one finger followed by another inside of you.

He curved his fingers upwards slightly while he continued to suck on your clit and, just as he did, an unfamiliar feeling raged through your body.

‘Cillian, oh god…’ you moaned, not sure what was going on as the rough intrusion and onslaught of sensations had you seeing stars. You never felt anything like this before and thought that, right then and there, you could possibly pass out from the sheer amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

‘Yes, please don’t stop!’ you screamed as your legs began to shake violently and you were cumming against Cillian’s hand and mouth, shouting his name desperately while pulling against the restraints which were clearly cheap enough to give way.

You pulled your wrists off just as the broken cuffs fell off the bedhead. You then clutched onto Cillian’s hair for support and screamed once more.

“Oh god” was all that left your lips. The intense sensation lasted for what felt like several minutes but you knew that it must have been something less than that as your head finally stopped spinning and you recognised your surroundings.

‘Jesus Cillian, what was that?’ you huffed out, breathing heavily as the stars began to fade and Cillian slowly withdrew his fingers from inside you.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked somewhat confused but with a slight chuckle as you were still panting, trying hard to calm down.

‘It felt like an orgasm, but so intense. I could not control it’ you tried to explain with blushing red cheeks and Cillian smiled in response.

‘Good’ he said. ‘I guess I found the perfect position to get to your g-spot then’ he smirked while crawling up on your body and kissing you passionately again, making you taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

‘You sure did” you panted against his lips as Cillian slid two fingers inside of you again, right against the same spot, causing you to shriek.

‘Fuck, stop! Too much’ you immediately panted and Cillian decided to give into your demands and relented, for now.

“Too much, huh?” Cillian teased just as you pulled him on top of you.

“You broke my cuffs” he then acknowledged and you smiled.

“I did and, yes, it’s too much. My g-spot needs a rest for now but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want your cock inside of me right now” you said just as you felt him against you, hot and hard.

‘Patience isn’t your strong point, is it?’ Cillian smirked as he leaned into you slightly, causing you to moan.

But you wanted all of him, and you told him as much.

‘No. We’ve been at this for hours and now I just need you to fuck me senseless Cill” you begged and just as you did, he pushed his length inside of you with one firm push.

‘As you wish” Cillian groaned, almost surprised as he bottomed out against your cervix.

‘Oh god. Yes. Just like that” you moaned, holding him close as he gave you some time to adjust to his size before he started to move with slow but deep thrusts.

‘Fuck you feel amazing” Cillian groaned loudly and you loved feeling the warmth of his flesh inside you and he loved the feel of your moist walls rubbing against his length as he thrusted in and out of you.

In between moans, you shared several passionate kisses and it didn’t take you long to find a rhythm.

Your fingernails were digging into the flesh of Cillian’s perfectly round ass, keeping him deeper and deeper inside you as he continued to fuck you until, suddenly, his movements came to a standstill and he repositioned himself so that he could lift your legs against his shoulders.

‘Uhm, what are you…’ you were going to ask but, just as the words left your mouth, he drove back into you and you let out a loud moan.

‘Holy shit’ you shouted out as you could feel the tip of his length against your g-spot in this position and every time he thrusted into you, electricity shot through your body.

‘Are you going to cum for me again?’ Cillian asked and you could barely nod when your legs began to quiver.

‘Good. That’s it’ Cillian groaned and, just as he did, you started to scream so loud that he had to over your mouth with one of his hands.

‘You look so sexy like this’ he groaned, watching you come so hard, even harder than before as his cock thrusted against your g-spot and his pubic bone was rubbing against your clit.

“Christ. Cillian. Fuck” you yelped against his hand as your body began to convulse and Cillian certainly loved seeing you loose control beneath him which was exactly what, in the end, pushed him over the edge as well.

‘I want your cum inside me’ you blurted out as you came, almost surprised by your own profanity and it was obvious to you that Cillian enjoyed some good dirty talk and, with that, Cillian groaned again as he slammed himself into you. Your legs were quivering still as your orgasm continued on and your tight walls began to clench hard around Cillian length, urging him on to find his own release.

With one final thrust and a loud groan, Cillian finally stilled, pushing himself into you as far as he could get and, just as you felt the warmth of his essence flooding your insides, you moaned again.

‘Oh god’ you moaned as you felt him throb and pulsate inside you, spilling himself into you before taking in a sharp breath.

‘Jesus’ he then huffed out, still panting as, slowly and carefully, he pulled out of you, causing some of your combined juices to spill from you and onto the sheets.

You could certainly feel it and, when you collapsed onto the bed and turned around to face him, an almost devilish grin escaped you until you looked down and in between you.

“Oh my god. Shit!” you cursed as embarrassment washed over your face. This couldn’t possibly be happening, or could it?

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine

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moomv · 1 month

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— till death do us part ; chapter eight - trust in me

when a girl vows to save an ever-destined agency from death, even if she's been trying 106 different times and even if she's died 106 different times in the process.

series masterlist

-word count. 3.0k

-genre. fic, comfort/angst, eventual romance

-tags. fem.reader, mentions of blood

-note. not sure about the last part of this chapter, i hope it's alright!!

You came out of Fukuzawa’s office with a soft click from the door.

The agency room hung empty except for a certain blonde and certain tiger.

Quietness settled over in a thick blanket; you curled into the feeling till the dull ache of whatever feelings remained were left buried.

“[L.name]-san,” Kunikida pushed his glasses upwards and came over towards you, “I didn’t get to ask if you were okay before you went to the Director, they didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You shook your head, “I’m okay.”

He nodded and with the words you spoke, his shoulders softened into a relaxed position and with it, you felt a tang of guilt at the sight.

“Sorry,” Your voice was soft, “I didn’t mean to worry you guys.”

Kunikida shifted where he stood before stiffly shaking his head. “No need for apologies. I’m sure you had your reasons for your actions.”

You gave a half-hearted smile, “Still— I should have informed the rest of the agency and not just Fukuzawa-san of my actions, I caused needless worry and for that, I apologize. It won’t happen again.” the words rung in your ears, deafening and loud, liar carved into the syllables like a melody.

You cannot save the agency without risk – you cannot save the agency without sacrifice.

Kunikida blinked before giving another stiff nod. “The agency trusts you,” He gave a brief pause, “I trust you, [L.name]-san and although your actions may cause worry and although we haven’t known each other for long, I can assure you that we trust you and your actions. So although it is much appreciated for further warning before you make a decision that could very well be your downfall, I can understand the need for secrecy.”

He gave a thin smile, “So please don’t apologize where it isn’t needed.”

Atsushi came up to Kunikida's side, a warm smile taking place on his features, a smile that spoke of lands with forever spring and summer and forever with a warmth you could only dream that one day you can dare partake in. “He’s right, [L.name]-san. And I know I haven’t known you for long but I can wholeheartedly say that I trust you. Call me a fool, but I can put my entire life in your hands and I know you would take care of it.” He gave a sheepish laugh.

Your chest grew warm, dancing butterflies taking up residence inside your stomach and making a mess of your feelings. “I-” You took a breath, “Thank you… truly.”

Kunkida gave a smile. “We are co-workers, comrades and most importantly friends, [L.name]-san, it is only natural that we have your back, that we trust you.”

Something in you echoed of a moment long past, of words long shared, friends, yes, you were, weren’t you? You were friends and nothing would change that, not even the slow tide of time that consumed everything in its path, you were friends and that couldn’t be rewritten, fate couldn’t toy with such a simple fact.

The feeling made you feel a sense of pride, a sense of overwhelming comfort, you basked in the feeling until it lingered moments after.

He gave another nod and this time it came loose. “Then, moving on from that, the Director had asked that we move out the workers from the office, he left just before you came out, [L.name]-san.”

You frowned slightly. “He’ll want us to go to the old Bankou Hall then.”

Kunikida quirked an eyebrow, “Bankou Hall? That was the old base you used before switching, wasn’t it? Why there?”

Atsushi eyed you curiously.

“It’s well hidden; Fukuzawa-san… has resolved that this conflict will be ending in a fight. It’s better if we can be protected and prepared.”

Kunikida grimaced at your words. “There’s no way for the fight to be avoided?”

You shook your head, “It can’t. I’ve tried.”

Kunikida gave a shallow sigh in response. “...Then we should inform the other members of this decision.”

At his words your phone rung, you gave a look to Kunikida and Atsushi before flipping it open.

“Fukuzawa-san? What is it?”

“We’re going to the old lecture hall—” You could hear him sigh over the phone. “But I’ve supposed you gathered that already, haven’t you?”

You nodded even if he couldn’t see it. “I have. But I’m not a seer, what would you have me do now?”

“Nothing as of this moment. But I need everyone there, we’ll sort out what to do when we can do a proper meeting, and [Name]—” He muttered something under his breath, “Apologies, it seems I have company. Let's talk again when we meet up.” the phone gave a soft beep when he hung up. You stared blankly at the screen before pocketing the device.

“What was that about? Is the President in danger?” You looked up at Atsushi, his eyes were wide, on the verge of being frantic, ready to do whatever was needed to help the Director.

You shook your head and offered a soft smile, “No need to worry, Atsushi. He’s okay, he’ll be okay.”

His hands curled into fists before easing. “Then… are we to gather the rest of the agency at that old hall you mentioned?”

You nodded, “I’ll tell the others, you get to the hall–“ you looked around before grabbing a piece of paper off a nearby desk and scribbling the location on it.

You handed it into Kunikida’s hands. “Here, meet us there then burn this paper, I’ll be no longer than an hour.”

He inspected it before putting it in his pocket. “Do you know where the others are?”

“I have an idea. Let’s hope my memory relies well.”

Kunikida pushed his glasses up and this time it was a sort of confirmation and with it, you felt a sense of warm familiarity.

“Stay safe, [L.name]-san.”

You let a smile ease to your lips, “You too. And [Name] is fine, please, it feels odd having you call me my last name.” you gave a look to Atsushi, “And you too, Atsushi, please, my first name is okay.”

Kunikida’s lips twisted slightly before he gave a soft sigh, “[Name]-san then.” Atsushi nodded along with him.

You gave a half-shrug before a smile eased to your face, with them calling you by your first name, it brought a sense of comfort to you. “I’ll see you soon then, Kunikida, Atsushi.”

“—Right see you soon.” The phone call ended with a beep, the silence thereafter echoing in the darkened tunnel.

The walls around you loomed, ever the tall, ever the suffocating, ever the cruel.

You had been in this room, in this very hallway that led to the main office, thousands of times, memories burned the walls brighter than stars burned in the night sky.

Cherished memories and some laced with the most vicious of poisons; you can still taste the burnt aftertaste of them on your tongue.

You had left the agency in this very hall, a bag slung over your shoulder and your eyes glassy and on the verge of tears.

Fukuzawa had stood tall before you. Ranpo and Yosano were gone on a mission, easier this way, they wouldn’t object to your sudden departure, easier this way for them to forget your presence.

You had been merely a ghost inhabiting these halls and rooms, merely a memory, that was all you were, all you’d ever be.

It was the best decision, you had decided it with Fukuzawa, better for the agency, better for you.

In some ways you regret the decision, you regret it deeply, carved into your bones and into your heart, you regret ever leaving them, regret the decision you made that night.

And in some ways, you don’t regret a thing you did, you don’t regret not saying goodbye, you don’t regret leaving, you don’t regret it.

Being back now only sparks dull coldness, long ago your strings of this place were cut.

The latch to the room opens with a thunk, you walk down the stairs and you enter to see Dazai, Kunikida, Yosano, Kenji, Tanizaki, Atsushi and Ranpo.

Atsushi perks his head up at the sight of you, a warm smile coming onto his face. “[L.name]-san! You’re back.” Everyone’s eyes focused on you, silent questions lingering in some of them.

You came over to the group, you nodded. “Are we only waiting on Fukuzawa-san, then?”

Atsushi gave a quick nod. “Yeah.”

Sheepishly he scratched the back of his head, “So um, [L.name]-san, what do you think is the next course of action? This’ll be a three-way battle between The Guild, The Port Mafia and us, won’t it?”

Everyone looked at you expectantly, their gazes looking at you like you held the key to the answers of the universe, in some ways you did.

Ranpo threw his arms onto the booth in front of him till he was tittering off the booth’s seat and practically falling onto the one in front. “Do we really have to do this? You know how this ends up, don’t ya, [Name]-chan?”

You walk over to Ranpo and pressed down on his hat till it was covering his eyes, he swats at your hand, an outrage yell with it. “I do. But if I change too many things, it won’t play out in our favour. This battle is necessary…” You frown.

“You know this already, Ranpo, why are you asking?” You remove your hands from his hat and he perks up like a loaded spring.

“‘Cause it’s troublesome and I like it when you explain things.” A teasing smile spreads across his lips, you could feel your heart do a nervous fit inside your chest at the sight of it.

You turn towards Atsushi before you completely stop working, you drop your bag on a nearby booth and sit down. “...We’ll be split into teams, probably we’ll have two offence teams and one defence team to try and protect Yosano-chan.” You give a small smile, “Or that’s my guess.”

Dazai snaps his fingers, you turn your head slightly to look at him. “Indeed a good guess, [L.name]-chan! My, change your mind about—”

You give him a glare. “Still haven’t changed my mind, Dazai.”

His expression changed before a smile lifted at the corners of his mouth, ““Dazai?”” he parroted back.

You tilted your head to the side, “Would you prefer Osamu?”

He gave a quiet hum, his eyes glinted with almost affection. “I wouldn’t mind—”

You gave a soft clap of your hands. “Dazai it is.”

Dazai shakes his head, “No, no, I quite liked—”

Before he could retort back to you a soft thunk echoed in the room, the words die in his mouth.

You turn to the set of stairs, Fukuzawa comes down them, silence settles over the room, everyone looks at him, awaiting.

He gave a once over towards the gathered. “Good. So you all made it.”

He gives a simple nod. “A couple of days ago we could have avoided this war, that bridge has long since burned.” His voice took on a tone of command, a soft powerful voice that made everyone look in his direction. “On one hand we have the Port Mafia who is trying to take us down and on the other hand we have The Guild trying to take over us.”

“We are in a lose-lose situation if we don’t change something. We have to safeguard the agency with everything we possibly have against this two-front attack.” He nods in Dazai’s direction, “Dazai, elaborate.”

You leaned back slightly in your seat, a dull ringing of a headache on coming.

Dazai nodded, “Gotcha.”

“The Guild possesses formidable capital while the Port Mafia has considerable troops, if we engage in open conflict on either side it’s surely going to lead to our ruin. So, we’re going to arrange our offence and defence into separate groups, like [L.name]-chan said earlier.” He gave a quick glance in your direction before addressing the whole of the group again.

“It’s the defence's priority is to stay here and protect Yosano-san, with her healing ability we can go all out without having to worry for our lives. As for how that’ll feel… that’s another story.” You scrunch your nose up at his words, mirrored by you so did most others, except Kenji who just let out a fit of laughs.

Dazai continued, “The defence team will be the Director, Ranpo-san, Yosano-san, Kenji-kun and [L.name]-chan. While the offence team will be split into two groups: group A and group B, group A consisting of Kunikida-kun and Tanizaki-kun and group B will be myself and Atsushi-kun.” he gave a soft clap to finalize everything.

“The main objective of this operation is to make sure this place stays secure and hidden. Since if our enemies storm this place with all the ability users the defence team won’t stand a chance.” Dazai blinked before grinning as if he had just given the news of celebration.

You let out a quiet sigh in response, you can’t turn back now, can you?

Your breaths came out in harsh gasps, the air around you turning acidic.

You didn’t expect to encounter the Port Mafia on your dive for information, you didn’t expect to get into a fight with an executive—!

You brushed your hand across your cheek, the blood that lingered there smudging with the movement, you took in another shuttering gasp before tumbling into the little café under the agency building.

A blonde sitting in a nearby chair, eyes swivelled towards you, his eyes growing wide at the sight of your roughed up form.

“Fuku—” You took in a deep breath, “I need Fukuzawa.”

The blonde got up and came over towards you, his drink left forgotten on the bar counter.

His hand hovered awkwardly in the air before he steeled himself and ushered you towards a chair. “Calm down, what’s wrong? Why do you need the Director?”

You let him guide you towards a chair, your movements jittery, adrenaline still high, you took in another breath until you could speak without a tremor in your voice. “Are- are you a member of the agency?”

He nodded, his hand sliding to push up his glasses. “I am. Now can you tell me what’s wrong, why do you need the Director?”

You sat in a chair, your hands clutching the fabric of your clothes, you looked at him, green eyes stared back at you, furrowed with worry, you drowned yourself in the feeling of warmth brought to you by him, it spread through you and calmed your nerves that were frayed beyond repair, stitching them back up with gentle hands and melody of spring.

In and out, in and out, in and out. You chanted as though it would ease the way your hands shook and the way your head ached.

“Kunikida Doppo?” You stared at him as though looking for an inch of familiarity; you wouldn’t find any, you’d never met this person in your life, in your lives. The thought came sickening and suddenly you wanted to be anywhere but here.

He gave a curt nod. “Why do you need the Director?” His voice was steely, his guard raised.

You swallowed, “[L.name], [Name]. I’m… was a member of the agency.” you took in another breath as though it would calm your nerves. “It’s about the Port Mafia.”

“A member?” He shook his head. “What about the Port Mafia?”

You grasped his wrist, “Please, I need to see Fukuzawa.”

He placed a hand on yours and pulled out of your grip, you sat loosely staring at him, shock written through your pupils. “What about the Port Mafia, [L.name]-san?” His voice was coaxing, soft and gentle.

You hesitated slightly. “I…” You shook your head, “I need to see Fukuzawa, please, I need to see him.”

“You can tell me, [L.name]-san. What is it about the Port Mafia?”

“I can’t, what if…” The thought lingered heavy in your mind, ‘What if I can’t trust you?’

“...I need to see Fukuzawa.”

“You can trust me, [L.name ]-san, once we determine the severity we can go see the Director.”

You looked at him; hopeful.

You swallowed again, you shifted in your seat. “You're really a member of the agency?”

You knew the answer to that question, he was, you had looked at his information over thousands of times. Kunikida Doppo, previously an algebra teacher, birthday is August 30 and he took the entrance exam 3 weeks ago.

He nodded. “I am, so you can trust me, [L.name]-san.”

You hesitated for a second, the words coming far too easily for your own comfort. “I… had an encounter with an executive.” You fidgeted with your hands, dirt littered the underside of your nails and there were droplets of dried blood all along your hands. “They’re after me, my ability, they want my ability, my knowledge. I know this sounds crazy, I know my words are hard to believe, but please, I need to see Fukuzawa, I need to talk with him, please Kunikida–san.”

He gave you another once over, weaving a story for himself with your words, weighing if you lie or tell the truth, weighing if you’re part of the Port Mafia yourself.

He gave a soft sigh in response. “Let’s get you to the office firstly, [L.name]-san, we can go from there.”

You gave a small nod and let him lead you up to the main office, into the warmth, back into a place you swore you would stay away from.

Coming back because you got scared, coming back because you were tired of running away from a place that was— is your home, through and through, your fate was so entirely weaved with them, how could you think you could stay away? Run away?

[previous chapter] [next chapter]

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #kunikida doppo #kunikida x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #ranpo edogawa #ranpo x reader #bsd angst

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

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Imagine this: Wesley makes a new friend and Joe is jealous of how close they are UNTIL he sees her for the first time. Suddenly, he can’t stop nagging Wesley about her.

ok so, i need everyone to understand that i do not know wesley or his mannerisms at all (obviously i do not know joe either, but we've established what my fictional joey's like) so i TRIED and it was AWKWARD for ALL SORT OF REASONS but i hope that you LIKE IT enjoy! (rewritten 16 nov 2023) Wordcount: 2.8K

Inevitable Sparks

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five The noise of a soft ringtone cut through the conversation and made Wesley stop talking mid-sentence.

"Sorry, I have to take this," Wesley said when he saw your name grace his phone screen.

Sat opposite him, Joe made a face.

"Um, you literally don't?" Joe jokingly frowned in frustrated confusion.

"Hey!" Wesley answered, far too chipper for Joe's liking. He hadn't been in the best mood. Conversation had been fine, but sort of serious. This different version of his best friend that he saved for someone else rubbed him wrong, just a little.

".... yea, I'm not doing anything, what's up?" Wesley turned away from Joe, his full attention with you now.

Joe flung up both arms and shook his head in bewilderment. Couldn't believe what he was hearing.

What did he mean, he wasn't doing anything?!

Going for lunch with his friend, hanging out at home, even taking him on trips around the globe - his best friend seemed to always be talking to his other friend.

This other person who seemed to be replacing Joe on that number one spot fairly quickly - too quickly, because you hadn't known each other long at all, Joe thought.

But anytime Joe would call Wesley, he either didn't answer, declined his call and sent him to voicemail, or he would answer but he'd say he wouldn't be able to talk long. Would ask for Joe to make it quick.

"You up for dinner tonight, mate?" "Sorry, I can't do tonight, I've already got plans," "Oh, is it with her again?"

The fact that he was out having lunch with him now almost felt miraculous.

It was silly. Everyone had friends that their other friends didn't know, didn't they?

But this was Joe's best friend. And he was his too. Wanted it to remain that way. Too many things were changing already, and keeping this the way it was, always had been, felt important. Grounding.

But then Wesley talked on the phone for over ten minutes and didn't even seem that bothered that it was incredibly rude to Joe.

After a lot of humming, yes-ing, and even some loud, loud laughs, Wesley hung up, turned back to Joe and pretended the call had never even happened.

"So, Tokyo, you said? How was that?" Wesley took another bite of his lunch, falling back into their previous conversation, leaving Joe to squint at him.

"Yea, no... Japan was amazing... what the- how do you even know her, again?"

Wesley looked up from his plate at his friend, for a second unsure who Joe was referencing.

Like Joe hadn't just listened to him talk to you for ages.

"Oh," the penny dropped. "Um, we went to school together, did a film- a thriller, together for a class, and then I ran into her randomly, what, two, three months ago?"

"Mmhm, school, huh?"

"She did awful storyboard drawings of a girl being punched once, and then we made her be the girl, and she accidentally got socked right in the eye! We didn't even use the footage," Wesley recounted a funny memory and chuckled lightly.

"Almost didn't recognise her without the bruised face, but she recognised me, so," he shrugged, took another bite.

"Oh, she did, yea?" Joe acted up his hatred in rivalry with you, and it tickled his friend, but he swiftly moved onto another topic and didn't mention you again.

Joe took Wesley with him to events for his job all the time. They seemed the perfect pair: the film maker (you know, the camera guy) and the actor.

Besides the hopeful networking Wesley maybe got to do, Joe was mostly happy to have a friend at these things; someone to ensure that he'd actually have fun and wouldn't just be a big ball of nerves throughout. Would say he was his PA if anyone asked. They never asked, it was always fine.

Sometimes, of course, there were moments when Wesley couldn't tag along, because of his own obligations.

Not a problem, there were plenty of other friends to ask to come to things with him.

It's just that... Wesley sometimes didn't have time for him because of you, and when he caught onto how annoyed Joe would get over it, he started mentioning your name loads. Just to fuck with him.

Like a couple of days later, hanging out at Wesley's place, spread out across the sofa, Joe and Wesley had the TV on in the background, but weren't really watching what was on.

"The absolute units of yachts they had over there," Joe scrolled through his phone gallery, looking for a picture to show his friend. "Just, ridiculous. No one needs a boat like that, really, do they?"

"You know who's got a yacht?" Wesley took a sip of his drink, eyes glued to his phone, before continuing, "Like, a sailing yacht?"

Joe turned his phone to show a picture he took in Newport Beach a couple weeks back.

Wesley peeled his eyes away from his own screen, looked at Joe's, and went, "Yea sort of like that one."

Joe tutted, immediately groaning, knowing Wesley was going to mention you again and it instantly made Wesley grin.

"Not her, she doesn't have a fucking yacht. Fuck, could you imagine? Someone our age with a massive sailing yacht?" Wesley said and let Joe visibly relax before continuing.

"Her dad does, though,"

"Okay," Joe slapped his knees as he got up from the sofa.

"At this point, is she even fucking real? What are you hiding from me?" Joe flung an arm about, slid his phone into his pocket and grabbed some shit from the coffee table he needed to throw out.

"I'm not hiding anything!" Wesley argued, but couldn't help laugh at his friend accusatory tone.

"So why haven't I met her yet?" Joe collected the empty beer bottles from the table too, and made his way to grab two new ones.

"You wouldn't- I just... I don't think you'd get along, you know? You're very different people," Wesley lied, not sounding as confident as he would've liked, and Joe poked right through it.

"What are you on about, mate? I get along with everyone!"

Wesley sat up and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, contemplating if what he was about to say next was the right move to make.

"People love me." Joe definitely didn't believe that in his gut, Wesley knew. But he also understood that... yea, people kind of always did really like Joe.

"Yea, exactly... maybe that's the problem,"

Joe turned around, jaw dropped, but eyes showing nothing but absolute cheek.

"Oh?" suddenly, Joe was intrigued, but Wesley was quick to hold up his hand.

"No!"

"What was her name again?" Joe whipped his phone from his pocket, ready to look you up anywhere he could think to. Not being on any social media himself didn't have to stop him from googling yours for a quick look.

Mentioning you had bit Wesley in the ass, and he sighed in annoyance, knowing from the start this is exactly what it would eventually lead to.

How could it not have?

It was absolutely inevitable.

Joe was single, you were single, and hot but approachable. And also friendly, sweet, kind, fun. All the good shit.

Wesley was drawn to the same type of people. The amount of times he'd been hanging out with you and had thought to himself, wow Joe could've said that, or, Joe would've done the same thing, had really started stacking up.

So when you had a couple of friends over on a random Friday night, for drinks and chats with music playing in the background, you had also invited Wesley to mingle with this new group of people he suddenly was a part of.

Half way through the night, Joe'd facetimed him and Wesley had decided to answer this time.

"Joe," Wesley said upon seeing his friend's face fill out his phone screen.

He saw Joe's face go from utter shock and surprise, because Wesley never fucking answered his FaceTime calls, straight into a frown as his face get closer in the camera. He was obviously trying to figure out Wesley's surroundings.

"Where are you?"

Wesley grinned and switched the camera around to show your living room, aiming his camera to see out the window and Joe could see three people out on a balcony, smoking, drinking, chatting and laughing.

"Is that-"

Before Joe could get a proper look, Wesley had turned the camera back onto himself, hiding a grin as he took a sip from his beer.

"Wait, turn it back a second, I thought I saw something," Joe said, sounding so very earnest, but it just made Wesley laugh because he knew Joe just wanted to check again, see if one of them had been you.

"Why are you calling?" Wesley tried to shift the focus away from you.

"Just checking to see what you were doing," Joe feigned being incredibly bored, speaking through a dramatic sigh.

Joe could see his friend look over his phone for a second as someone asked him something. Then Wesley's eyes scanned his phone, and Joe was shocked when his friend muted himself so he couldn't hear what was going on.

Muted.

Shut Joe right out by muting the audio.

He saw Wesley talk to someone off screen, then look at Joe when leaning to show someone who didn't step into the camera's vision enough for Joe to see.

It was obvious he was showing Joe's face to someone in the room. To the person he was talking to about something Joe wasn't allowed to hear.

Fucking muted.

What the fuck.

Then Wesley laughed, raised his eyebrows questioningly in that same direction and then nodded before turning back to his phone and unmuting himself.

"You want to come over?"

Wesley texted your address, and about half an hour later, you were stood out on the balcony when you heard the buzzer go inside. You knocked on the window and interrupted Wesley's conversation with one of your other friends, gestured for him to open the door.

You'd seen Joe walk up to the building and knew it was him who'd rang your doorbell.

You knew what Joe looked like, it was almost impossible not to in the year of our Lord, Eddie Munson, 2022.

But you also remembered meeting him once on a night out when you'd just turned 19 and you'd been out with a bunch of people from uni. Wesley had brought Joe along, and you only remembered that he'd been goofy. Sort of didn't really fit in with the group, but was funny enough for people to enjoy and appreciate his presence.

You didn't know if you had actually spoken then, but a swift plow through countless now hidden Facebook photo albums showed you weren't in any photos together.

A shame, you thought, because Joe was handsome.

And Wesley had been a little bitch for weeks about having the two of you meet.

It's not like you hadn't been pushing for it. A little.

"Are you gatekeeping Joe?" you had asked him, more as a joke, but you did wonder. Wesley talked about Joe all the time like they were joined at the hip, but you had yet to meet him.

"Absolutely." Wesley had thrown a bag of nuts into your shopping cart.

You snorted. You had expected him to deny your accusation, to come up with a million different excuses, but instead Wesley jokingly confessed and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you.

"What possibly for?"

"Joe's.... he's sort of... I don't know, you won't like him, I think. Joe's weird," Wesley'd scrunched his nose to really convince you.

"Wouldn't that make you weird by default?" you'd laughed, referencing the fact that they'd been friends for years.

"No, it's like... like, I don't know. He's just weird. Joe likes wallabees, you know those shoes?" Wesley had raised his eyebrows at you, making a point.

"Oh, ew," you'd grimaced.

"See? He's a weird fucker. Best to steer clear of him." Wesley'd concluded, and you had agreed to put it to rest, but you couldn't lie.

You'd seen pictures of Joe on red carpets looking sharp.

In your opinion, he was allowed to be weird and like wallabees if he wore suits like the ones you'd seen him wear every other week, no problem.

When you saw Wesley walk him into your flat, the first thing you did was pan down to see what shoes he was wearing.

Sneakers.

Okay.

Good.

Sneakers were fine.

They didn't match his outfit, but, they were fine.

Wesley pointed at you, and you smiled and waved at him from outside. Joe did the same, small smile, small wave, and then you turned back to your friends, turning away from the window completely.

"Shit," you whispered, making two of your girlfriends turn to see who you had just waved at, and they chuckled when they saw Joe.

"Shit," Joe said softly under his breath upon seeing you, his hand still stuck up in his wave, even after you'd turned around and faced away from him.

"Okay, let's go," Wesley said, dragging his friend into the kitchen. "We've got to talk."

Whilst getting Joe a drink from the fridge, he sighed deeply.

"There's no way..." he started, handing Joe a beer bottle, but not letting go of it just yet. "You're obviously each other's type, so there's no way I'm going to be able to stop this," Wesley looked his friend in the eye sternly.

Joe was just about to object, but Wesley was quick to speak over him.

"But if you fuck this up," his grip on the bottle strengthened. "She won't want to be my friend anymore, and then I won't want to be yours." Wesley warned, finally letting go of Joe's drink.

"Mate, nothing's gonna happen," Joe reassured, obviously lying to himself and to his best friend, planting a heavy hand on his shoulder and making Wesley scoff loudly.

Who was Joe trying to fool here?

"All right, well, we'll see about that,"

"Hi!" you stepped into the kitchen, and very obviously walked in on them talking about you. Both heads turned towards you and you were met with four big, bulging eyes and silence. You stared at them for a second, eyes going from one to the other, until you cleared your throat loudly.

"Hi," Joe snapped out of it and smiled his warmest of smiles before reaching out a hand and bowing his head down slightly as he shook yours.

Sparks.

You smiled back and silently told yourself you'd been right all along.

Joe really was handsome.

And cute?

How could you describe him... handsomely cute?

Pretty.

Joe was pretty.

Yes, pretty felt right.

Wesley formally introduced you to each other, but you couldn't even hear what he was saying.

Inside your head you heard classical music playing- a full orchestra, loud with violins and flutes and harps. Several harps, very romantic.

You held onto each other hands for far too long for it to be normal, and Wesley's eyes darted back and forth between the two of you.

"That's um... that's a lot of prolonged eye-contact, guys," Wesley spoke, his voice slightly hesitant, like he knew he was intruding.

"Yea," you sighed, still not breaking eye contact.

"Yea," Joe agreed and his smile grew wider, almost impossibly so.

"Greaaat... yea, this isn't making me uncomfortable at all," Wesley sarcastically elongated his words.

"Yep. yep. Great, this is just great. Well, I trust you guys will let me know if you need anything," Wesley's voice sounded uncomfortably constricted as he took awkwardly big steps to tiptoe around you as he stepped out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

"I've um... I've heard a lot about you," you said, finally snapping out of it.

"I've heard a lot about you too," Joe replied before taking a swig from his beer.

From outside on the balcony, Wesley and your two girlfriends watched as you and Joe chatted, exchanging pleasantries with flushed faces, pursed smiled, and probably painful cheeks from suppressing your grins so much.

It was an adorable sight to behold, and it made Wesley chuckle a little.

"I am either going to have to write two best-man-speeches for their wedding, or I'm going to be the deciding factor in who gets the dog when they break up," Wesley said, making your friends laugh as he shook his head.

He wasn't joking though, and inhaled a sharp breath before taking a sip from his drink.

There was no other choice for him but to stand back and watch this unfold.

We'll see how this pans out, he thought.

We'll see.

-----

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @dirtyeddietini @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @harringtonfan4 @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland - add yourself

#requested #my best friend's best friend #joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #joe x reader #joseph x reader #joe quinn fluff #joseph quinn fluff #fanfiction #fluff #Inevitable Sparks

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queerbuckleys · 1 month

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INSPIRATION SATURDAY//SEVEN SENTENCE SUNDAY tagged by @hippolotamus and @honestlydarkprincess i dont have any visual inspo this week, just promo for 7x05 and my own queer journey :) i am still messing around with this, right now this is before the date but it might be moved and rewritten a teensy bit but for the most part beats wise it'll stay the same.

“Okay kid, ready?” he asks Jee now that all the mugs are filled. And then he stops, frozen with the tray of mugs in his hand and Jee taking off toward the living room. And he just stops and watches. His family. And something in his gut tightens. And it becomes too real that there is something, that there is a fundamental truth to his being that they don’t know. It’s not that he thinks they will think less of him. It’s that there’s this thing that wants to burst out of his chest and he doesn’t know how to say it. He shakes himself out of it and finally joins them, placing the tray on one of the end tables next to Hen who passes the mugs out. He settles into the chair. “So, when is this little munchkin arriving?” Maddie asks over her coffee. “She’s with another family for the weekend, but we get to pick her up on Monday.” Karen replies, her fingers running over the hem of a little pale green onesie with ducks all over it. She’s smiling and glowing, and looking at Hen. Buck listens and puts the puzzle pieces together, he’s witnessing another pure joy. Something that he knows the both of them have wanted for so long. “You guys are having a baby?” he asks softly, grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t need to hear the answer. He wants to wrap them both up in the biggest hug. He was always going to be ecstatic when this day came for them, he always believed they would have their chance. But now, now, he wants to weep with joy. There is a whole new thread pulling at his heartstrings. He wants to say I think I’m like you and I'm excited to find out more. But he just sits and watches, his eyes bright. “--Buck?” “Huh” “How is single life treating you?” Karen asks “Well, I uhh, have a date on Saturday.” his leg bounces rapidly. “Oh how fun! What’s her name?” He swallows and nearly chokes on his coffee. “Uh, Tommy,” he says casually. He doesn’t even know how it came out of his mouth if he’s completely honest. “Oh, I love subverting gendered names. We should consider that!” Karen says tapping Hen on the shoulder with a smile. Buck actually chokes on his coffee this time.

idk who to tag my brain is mush for some reason

#911 spoilers #705 fic #seven sentence sunday #inspiration saturday

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ramblingoak · 8 months

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The Vampire's Bride part 2

(This is dedicated to the Anon that told me vampires were overdone)

Just another bit of The Cardinal's Bride rewritten with vampires in honor of spooky season. Probably will only do maybe one or two more parts? Thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the banner!

Read Part One / Three / Napping With A Monster

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader ~ The Ghouls fight over why you're still alive and you make the mistake of running from The Cardinal

Warnings: vampire violence, blood, sexy vampire!cowboy!copia, nsfw, 18+ only, mdni, 2k words

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The branches grabbed at you as if they were hands, your dress getting more torn up as you rushed through the woods. This was stupid, you knew it was stupid, but when the two Ghouls had started fighting each other you had to take the chance. The vampires had fought often since they had taken you, but this was the first fight that had gotten especially violent.

It was also the first time they had fought over you.

Sunshine was the one that always questioned The Cardinal, Copia as you had learned, although he seemed used to it for the most part. He’d either humor her or ignore her and she seemed fine either way. It was when she had asked why you were still alive that the mood had taken a turn. You had been huddled by the campfire trying to stay warm when she had brought it up. Copia was sitting on the other side of the fire, his eyes on you every time you snuck a glance. He only looked away when Sunshine questioned him about you.

“Is there a reason she’s still here?” Copia just gave her a single nod and she had bared her teeth at him. “Care to share with everyone?”

“Not really, no.” When Sunshine growled Copia had flashed his own fangs at her. “Don’t forget your place here.”

“Well apparently ‘my place’ is just to blindly follow you and starve.”

“We all fed less than a week ago and we fed well. Control your cravings or stay behind next time.”

“Maybe you should control your cravings.”

“What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please, I’ve seen the way you look at her.” Most of the camp had already been invested in Sunshine and Copia’s conversation but now everyone had stopped to watch them. “Like you’re hungry for more than her blood.”

“Sunshine, back off.” Aether, one of the only Ghouls that had been kind to you had stepped close. “Leave it alone.”

“No Aether I want to hear what she has to say.” Copia crossed his arms and looked up at her, waving his hand in a circle when she stayed silent. “Oh did you run out of courage?”

“Fuck you, she should have died with the rest of them.”

“What’s the matter Sunny? You jealous?”

The Ghoulette whipped her head around, her red eyes glowing with anger in the moonlight as she glared at the Ghoul that spoke.

“Fuck off, Swiss.”

“Mmm, no. You fuck off. It’s the boss’s business if he wants to keep a little midnight snack around.”

“The problem is no one is doing any snacking! We’re going to have to start drinking deer blood soon.”

“Maybe I meant a different kind of snacking. Not that you’d have much experience with that seeing as you’re so fucking obnoxious you’d have to drain someone for them to spend any amount of time with you.”

Even Copia raised an eyebrow at that. You shifted nervously, watching as Sunshine stared Swiss down. The Ghoul was smirking back at her, neither one of them moving until Swiss winked and pursed his lips toward her. With an inhuman shriek Sunshine launched towards him, her body like a blur as she slammed into his body. They tumbled across the ground, snarling and snapping at each other. Aether and the tall Ghoul, Mountain, surged forward to try and break them apart, but when Mountain wrapped his arms around Sunshine’s chest she slammed her head back and connected with his face.

“Fuck!”

He shoved her away, directly into Aether, both of them going down in a tangle of limbs. Swiss leapt up from the ground and followed them. The Ghoul had his hands at his side, fingers spread out with nails seemingly growing into claws as he growled and reached out to grab Sunshine. Mountain shook his head, blood splattering the ground as he ran after Swiss. He slammed into his back, shoving him into the dirt face first. Swiss quickly rolled over onto his back and dove at Mountain’s legs, both of them immediately tearing at each other.

With four of the Ghouls fighting the others seemed reluctant to try and stop it. It wasn’t until Aether cried out, a spray of blood emitting from a claw mark Sunshine had just given him on his face that the rest of them finally sprung into action. Dewdrop and Rain got in between Swiss and Mountain while Copia grabbed the back of Sunshine’s hair and attempted to peel her off Aether. They were all growling and hissing, none of them looking your way. You slowly rose and began to back away from the fire, not knowing how far you might get in the dark but your fear of what might happen if you stayed was too great.

It was worth a shot.

At this point you weren’t sure how long you had been going. The shouting and snarling was long gone, the only sounds you heard were bugs and owls as they went about their business. You were straining your ears, hoping to hear the small stream you had all crossed earlier, but you really had no clue what direction it was. A whimper left you involuntarily, quickly turning into a sob.

You stumbled to a stop, leaning over and resting your hands on your knees as you took deep, panting breaths. What were you doing? You’d reach the creek and then what? You had nothing with you, no idea where to go, stuck in the middle of a noisy forest. As if on cue an owl shrieked and took off right above you. Leaves spun down around you from the tree and the moment would have been peaceful if it wasn’t for the fear of what you left behind.

After a deep shuddering breath you looked up into the tree canopy. There was no sign of the owl anymore, but as your breathing quieted you began to frantically look around. Something was off here, but it took you a moment to realize what…

The forest was silent.

There were no more owls or bugs, no frogs singing. The trees weren’t even moving. It was like the entire forest was waiting for something to happen. A twig snapping nearby had you spinning around and looking into the trees for what might have caused it, but it was too dark. You exhaled slowly as you started to back away, not looking behind you in case something rushed at your front. There was a rustle close by and then a cool breeze drifting right across your cheek, a whispered word barely forming along your skin.

“Bambola.”

You gasped and spun around again but the only thing in front of you was more dark forest. Another whisper next to your other cheek made you yelp and stumble back. Your dress got tangled in some fallen limbs and you cried out when one scraped across your cheek. You had to get out of here. With a strangled cry you shoved yourself back on your feet and started running again. The forest was still quiet and your footsteps were loud, there would be no hiding from whatever chased you.

“Bambola.”

One glance behind you was all it took. As soon as you looked away from where you were running your body slammed into what felt like a wall. But it wasn’t a wall or a tree, it was the vampire that had kidnapped you for reasons he hadn’t told you yet. Tears started to spill down your cheeks as you futilely hit his chest to try and get away. All that got you was a deep chuckle as you were pulled tightly against his chest.

“Please let me go, please!”

“Now, now bambola. Where’s the fun in that?” His sharp nails bit into your chin as he tilted it up so you were forced to look at his face. “What’s happened here?”

When he reached towards your cheek with his other hand you flinched back, turning your face away from him.

“Please Cardinal, just let me go.”

He didn’t say anything at your plea so you kept your head away from him. Copia leaned forward, his nose nearly brushing the scratch from the tree limb. You started shaking when he took a deep breath, groaning as he did so.

“I can’t bring you back like this.” You gasped when something wet touched your skin, a quick flick of his tongue against the cut. Copia groaned, deep and almost wild sounding, before you felt it again. This time it ran from one end of the scratch to the other. “Cazzo, you taste unholy.”

You whimpered at his words, at his actions. He continued to lap your cheek, his chest vibrating with what almost felt like purrs. When he stopped he dragged his lips to your ear, nipping at the lobe. You couldn’t help but beg, to plead with him again to let you go.

“I can’t go back there, Cardinal.”

“No you cannot, not like this.”

That got you to turn and face him. It was shameful how you felt about this man. About this vampire. He was a monster, he wasn’t someone you should have fantasized about to begin with. You shouldn’t be feeling a thrill run through you when you finally opened your eyes to look at him. To see the effect your blood had on him. His red and white eyes seemed to be staring into your soul, his mouth open so you could see his fangs up close.

The Cardinal was mesmerizing.

You whispered please again but he just shook his head. As your eyes wandered over his face you noticed a few scratches, presumably from fighting with his Ghouls. Part of his hair was slicked back with blood but you couldn’t tell if it was his or not. You yelped when he abruptly growled, spinning you around and pinning you against a nearby tree.

“I can protect you bambola, but it comes with a price.” You shook your head, you didn’t want to hear about the deal or the price of it. His mouth broke out in a feral grin before he continued. “Look at me. I can make it so no one dares touch you. Human or otherwise.”

It was like you were in a trance, his eyes so intense you were scared to look away. Mustering up all the courage you had left you lifted your chin defiantly and glared at him.

“I don’t need your help with anything.”

Copia laughed at that, a dark sound that sent a shiver down your body.

“If you go back there they will tear you apart.” He lowered his head so his lips were touching your ear again. “I’ll make sure no one will dare touch you.”

Your hands found their way to his chest, clinging to his jacket. What was he talking about?

“I don’t understand…what will you do?” Copia didn’t say anything, he just lowered his head and brushed his nose along the line of your jaw. You felt his lips brushing against your skin as he moved further down. He couldn’t mean… “No!”

“Just a taste, mia bambola. Enough to mark you.”

You started pushing at his chest, shaking your head frantically.

“No! I’m supposed to trust you to stop?!”

Copia slipped a hand into your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“What other options do you have?” He leaned forward and licked up a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek. “I promise I’ll be gentle. It won’t hurt for very long. And after…”

His mouth was hovering over yours now, his lips just out of reach.

“After what? What happens after?”

Your breath hitched as he smiled at you, his fangs shining in the moonlight.

“After that you’ll be begging me to do it again.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The Vampire's Bride Part One / Three / Napping With A Monster

The Outlaw Brides Masterpost

My Fic Masterpost

My Archive of Our Own Page

#my fics #my writing #the cardinal's bride #cardinal copia x female reader #copia x female reader #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia fanfiction #the band ghost fanfics #ghost band fanfics #ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia x reader

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firstelevens · 2 months

Note

No. 20 from the eras tour prompt list for sambucky ? ?

did I hear someone ask for a Sweet Home Alabama Louisiana AU? no? well I wrote the start of one anyway, so here it is

20. all your dirtiest jokes

Pebbles go flying as Bucky pulls his rental up in front of Sam’s house. He kind of wishes there was the satisfying screech of tires on asphalt to emphasize his mood, but he slams the car door twice as hard to make up for it, and feels just a little bit better afterwards.

Back when they were kids, the Wilsons’ place had been close enough to the neighbors’ houses to wave at them from the porch. The house that Sam bought when he came home from his first tour is set back a lot further than that, wooded where it doesn’t back up onto the water, so Bucky has no compunctions about getting a little shouty.

“Sam Wilson, I know you’re in there!” he calls out, walking up to the front door. “You can dodge my calls as long as you want, but I’m not going anywhere until you open up.”

It’s not a big house, and there’s at least three open windows, so there’s no question that Bucky’s voice is carrying through loud and clear, but there’s no response. Bucky raps sharply on the doorframe.

“You can’t avoid me forever, Sam. I know this town just as well as you do, and I will follow you everywhere.”

It takes another five minutes, but finally, Bucky sees a figure approaching through the frosted glass pane on the front door. When it swings open, he’s met with a bare-chested Sam Wilson, breathing heavy from a workout as he pulls his earbuds out of his ears.

For all that he was yelling a second ago, Bucky suddenly can’t seem to make words come out of his mouth. To add insult to injury, Sam seems perfectly unaffected by the sight of him, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Bucky Barnes,” he drawls, and Bucky hates how comforting that voice still is after all this time. “What can I do for you?”

In a second, the ire comes flickering back to life. The nerve of Sam, to ask that question when he knows perfectly well the only thing that Bucky’s been asking him for for the past year.

He holds up the envelope that’s the whole reason he had to drag his ass back here, a thousand miles and twenty years removed from home.

“You could start by giving me a fucking divorce.”

Bucky spent so long working himself up over this, back in New York and on the plane here and on the almost-two-hour drive from New Orleans. He’d written and rewritten a hundred different speeches, rehearsed so many arguments with the Sam in his head that he was sure he’d know exactly what to say.

But now he was here, and he’d gone and delivered what should’ve been the last line of his scathing speech way too early, and what more was there to do except stand there on Sam’s porch and glare at him expectantly?

Sam, for his part, looks at Bucky consideringly for a moment, then peers around him to look out towards the yard. “You should come inside,” he says, and then steps away, leaving the door open.

The petty part of Bucky wants to refuse, wants to make a nuisance of himself right here on the porch so Sam can’t ignore him, but then he stops to take in his surroundings for longer than a second. The air is thick, the heat more sluggish than it was when his flight touched down. Beyond the trees, the sky has gotten darker. It’s been a while since Bucky lived on the bayou, but the signs of an oncoming storm haven’t changed.

He huffs and steps into Sam’s house, closing the door behind him just as thunder rumbles in the distance. It’s cooler inside, at least, and as Sam moves further into the house, Bucky figures he’s supposed to follow. He’s still not completely over his need to be a nuisance—or so he tells himself—so he goes slowly, glancing around at the house that Sam bought long after Bucky wasn’t a part of his life anymore.

Bucky knows it’s a completely different building, but part of him still expects that it’ll be the house that Sam grew up in, all warm wood and quiet chaos. Somewhere in his head, he thinks that if he just went up that staircase in front of him, he’d end up in Sam’s childhood bedroom, sixteen years old and laid out on the floor with the boombox between them, laughing at the dirty jokes that Sam heard in senior calc or trying to figure out just what the deal was between their grade’s latest on-again, off-again couple.

But this isn’t that house, Bucky reminds himself, and this isn’t back then. He’s not looking to go back in time; he just wants to go forwards, and he could if Sam would just cooperate.

“What happened, you get lost in that hallway?” asks Sam, when Bucky finally makes it to the kitchen. He doesn’t bother answering, but Sam’s back is to him, so there’s no way to tell whether he’s even noticed. “Hey, cream and no sugar, right?”

“What?”

Sam turns around with a mug of coffee in his hand, and Bucky’s pretty sure he can’t hide how he immediately perks up when the cup is set in front of him. For a second, he thinks about telling Sam that he does take sugar now, just to be contrarian, but then he remembers he’d actually have to drink it and throws that plan out the window.

“This is fine, thanks,” he eventually says, setting the envelope on the island and picking up the coffee. He hasn’t had caffeine since before his flight this morning, and he can feel the first sip right down to his toes. His eyes actually close for a second, and when he opens them, Sam is back on the other side of the counter, looking amused. There’s no mug in his hands.

“You’re not having any?” Bucky asks. “What’d you do, poison it?”

Even if he did, Bucky’s not convinced he’d be able to put it down. It’s really good coffee.

“I will,” says Sam. “But my Mama would kill me if I entertained company like this, so I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home; the view’s nice from the family room if you missed the water.”

He breezes out before Bucky can argue, his footsteps thudding up the stairs between one sip of coffee and the next.

After a moment of looking around incredulously, waiting to see if maybe he’s being pranked, Bucky decides this is just Sam trying to annoy him into leaving, and he won’t let it work. He marches into the family room just as the rain starts in earnest, and just to spite Sam, he turns his back to the French doors and surveys the rest of the room. There’s art hanging up, intermingled with family photos. Lumpy ceramics that are definitely grade school art projects sit beside beautiful crystalline sculptures, tall and spiky and somehow familiar.

Along one of the walls is the credenza that Bucky recognizes from Sam’s parents’ house, the one that Mr. Wilson had hauled home from an estate sale and refinished just because Sam’s mother had lingered beside it for a few seconds longer than anything else. It’s a different color now than it was before, but Bucky would recognize it anywhere. Sitting on top of it are what Bucky guesses are the important photos: Sarah’s wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson on the boat together, Sam with a toddler beside him and a baby in his arms.

Furthest to the left is a picture of the dock behind the Wilson house. Two figures sit at the end of it, leaning into each other in the sunshine. One of them wears a t-shirt, gangly arms braced behind them. The other has a letterman jacket on, and that’s what tips Bucky off when he picks up the frame to look at it more closely: that’s him and Sam, sitting out where they did almost every day after school. Sam had gotten his varsity jacket for the baseball team when they were sophomores, and Bucky was pretty sure he’d worn it more often than Sam had. He’d always liked the way it felt on his shoulders, and when fall rolled around and the wind blew in a little cooler off the water, Sam always passed it over to him without needing to be asked.

They’d gotten a little more refined, once driver’s licenses were acquired and curfews were lengthened. Sam would drive the Wilsons’ old pickup truck a little ways out of town, to an empty plot of land flanked by trees on one side and water on the other, and they would sit and soak up the wind off the water until they could both breathe a little easier. Bucky had started thinking of it as their piece of the island, the safest place he could ever remember being.

When the future had barreled towards them with no signs of stopping, it was where Sam had driven them, nothing around but the birds in the trees when he quietly suggested his plan for getting out of Delacroix and taking Bucky with him. Nobody else had been around to see Bucky fling his arms around Sam’s neck and whisper a muffled yes into his shoulder, either: both of them a little bit scared of the future but determined to make it better for each other.

Maybe they can be reasonable about this. Maybe he and Sam can look at each other and see exactly what the other person needs, the way they did when they were younger. Maybe there don’t have to be questions and discussions and the kind of passive aggressive emails they’ve been exchanging through lawyers for the past year.

The rain is still coming down hard, lulling Bucky into a daze, so he can’t be blamed for the way he startles when Sam’s voice sounds from behind him. He scrambles to grab the picture frame before it falls out of his hands, setting it down and taking a beat before he turns around.

Sam is holding the envelope with the divorce papers in his hands, but Bucky has seen his ‘I give up’ face and that definitely isn’t it.

“The entire year that we’ve been going over this, I’ve asked you the same question, over and over, and you’ve never answered,” Sam says.

“Fuck,” says Bucky, scrubbing a hand down his face. “This? Again?”

“Yeah, again,” says Sam. “Because if I’m getting a divorce, I at least deserve to know why. I deserve to know what changed.”

“I have told you every single time you asked, Sam. Nothing changed. Nothing changed, because this was never a real marriage, and you know that. We got married so we could both get the fuck out of this town, and so I could stop being so terrified all the time, and we did that, and now we’re done.”

Sam crosses his arms, setting his jaw, and it occurs to Bucky that this is the first battle of a long war. “We did all that fifteen years ago, easy. That’s not what this is about. What changed, Buck?”

But Bucky can’t answer Sam any more now than he could the first time he asked that question a year ago. He can’t remind Sam of all the things he missed out on because he was tied to Bucky, he can’t bring up Riley or Sam’s parents or all the little ways that Bucky managed to steal things from him without even trying, because Sam would never see it. Even now, squaring off against each other with no possible middle ground, Sam would never see it, so Bucky can’t say it.

“Just sign the damn papers, Sam,” is what Bucky says instead.

It’s the first time he’s ever evaded the question in person. Somehow when he pictured Sam reading all those emails and messages he’d sent, Bucky had never imagined a flicker of disappointment on his face, gone as soon as it appeared.

Sam turns to set the envelope on an end table and picks up a wristwatch from beside it, doing up the strap before he turns around again. When he does, he’s got a determinedly cheerful smile on his face, the kind that Bucky has always known meant trouble.

“Gee, Buck, I wish I could, but as it happens, I’m running late for something,” he says, with an exaggerated look at his watch. “Maybe later?”

He’s already heading for the door, leaving Bucky to hurry after him. “What do you mean you’re late for something? Where the fuck are you going in a hurricane?”

Sam snorts. “You’ve been away too long. This is barely even a storm.”

An enormous crack of lightning punctuates his words, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“It’s a drizzle,” says Sam, pulling on a jacket. “And I have a date.”

Bucky is not entirely prepared for the feelings that those words stoke in his chest, but worse still is what Sam calls out before the door swings shut behind him.

“Guest bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. Don’t wait up.”

He’s not entirely sure how much time he loses, fuming in the foyer of Sam’s house, but eventually, that rage sharpens into something else entirely as he remembers what he yelled out standing on Sam’s porch half an hour ago.

He knows this town just as well as Sam does.

He knows this town just as well as Sam does, and unless fifty years of corporate development hit Delacroix in the last fifteen, there’s only one place to take a date if you’re an adult who doesn’t want to get accosted by the entire senior population of the island over the course of your evening.

Bucky pulls his keys from his pocket and and umbrella from Sam’s coat closet. If Sam means to drag this out, Bucky’s going to make sure he feels every single second, until he decides for himself that this marriage is more trouble than it’s worth.

(And if, before he leaves, he swaps his comfortable traveling clothes for a short sleeved button down that’s a size too small and not buttoned enough, well, nobody ever said Bucky was perfect.)

#sambucky #ok admittedly i lied emma did in fact cheerlead the writing of this and encourage me the whole way but what's new #this is truly just like. the opening half a chapter of this au but I have THOUGHTS #to be clear the rest of it is never getting written unless a miracle occurs #but here have this nonsense on the occasion of bonky's birthday #zainab does ask meme things #taylor swift prompt fics

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obxone · 1 year

Text

Assumptions (Part 3)

Rewritten/Edited-ish-- ~2.2k words

Master Page

This might become a full blown series, but I'm not sure yet. Enjoy!

The day had started great, but now it is not. The couple miles back to your house from town seemed short when you started, but after being two miles in, the realization of how much it is after being on your feet all day sets in. Your car would need mechanic work, and that makes you nervous because you are responsible for it. It had been one of the conditions for you to get a car at sixteen. You are responsible for gas, insurance, and maintenance. You had checked everything you could think of, and your trusty mechanic friend, JJ, was not answering texts or calls before you started the walk home. It is another five miles at least.

You groan loudly, hating the shift in karma. A truck passes and rolls to a stop a few feet in front of you. You frown, not ready to fight off some random drunk loser. You pause, not nearing the truck. Instead, you wait for them to get the hint and drive on. But the driver’s side door opens, and out steps Rafe.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, moving around the back of the truck and coming closer. His expression is worried as he looks you over in an attempt to catalog any injuries. You look past him, waiting to see his kook buddies step out, but no one does. It is just him, and you are not sure if that terrifies you, or not.

He looks good. His white t-shirt brings out his summer tan and highlights his toned physique. His favored cap on backward, pulling his hair back from his face and letting those frosty blue eyes become unleashed.

“I’m fine,” you respond, crossing your arms over your waist, aware of the situation of being alone in the middle of the night on the side of the road with him. “What are you doing out this late?”

“Picking something up. Why are you out this late?”

“Car trouble.”

“So you walked? From The Wreck?”

“Yes.” You reply, tightening your arms around yourself self-consciously. “I could not fix it by myself.”

“Why didn’t you call your parents or a friend?”

“Working, and I tried.”

“Come on.” His tone is casual while he extends his hand for you to take. You raise an eyebrow at him in question. “I’m not leaving you here in the middle of the night.”

You look him over, trying to decipher if you are safe with him. He frowns, understanding the reason behind your hesitation.

“I won’t hurt you. I’ve already told you that.”

“You did,” you agree. The idea of walking another five miles have you giving in and grasping his hand. He walks you to the truck and helps you into the passenger side. Once he is back in the driver's seat and heading towards The Cut, you take the time to look over at him, the faint glow of the dashboard lights illuminates his facial features.

“You know where I live?”

“Yeah. Remember our date that you bailed on.”

You look down at your lap and fidget with the hem of your shorts. “About that…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says before glancing at you and then back at the road. “This makes up for it.”

A smile teases at your lips, it is an easy fix for you to partake in. “All right then. Thank you for saving my aching feet from walking another five miles.”

“Promise me that next time, you will call me instead of walking, okay?”

“I don’t have your number, Rafe.”

“I’ll give it to you.”

You watch the familiar surroundings of the island pass until he pulls into your driveway and puts the truck in park. You turn to him and begin to say thank you again, but he locks the doors.

“What-?”

“Give me your phone.”

You pass it to him and watch him input his number before his phone pings with a text sharing your number with him. You take your phone back and put it into your pocket. He has an unreadable expression while he looks at you. His hands are back on the wheel, clutching the leather-bound circle.

“What is on your mind?” You ask, trying to understand the kook prince that only seemed to confuse you each time you interacted lately.

He reaches over, brushing your hair behind your shoulder before his fingers move to your throat. His thumb drags down the length of your neck. Your inhale is shakey, and your nails press against your palms as he touches you. He smiles, knowing what he is doing to you.

“Why won’t you date me?”

“I told you,” you respond, voice breathy from his touch. “I’m a pogue.”

“I don’t care.” He looks at you through his lashes, a teasing smile on his face.

“You don’t?” You reach up to take his hand in yours and bring it down to the console so you can focus on the conversation and not the fire igniting from his touch. “I thought that is why all the fights between your Death Squad and my friends happen.”

“Death Squad?”

You nod, briefly pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

He frowns, “That was for Topper.”

His fingers fill the space between yours, and your palms rest against each other. You stare down at your conjoined hands. Your heart thuds so loud you are sure residents of Figure 8 can hear it from here.

“Rafe, you and I would never work. Think about it.”

“I have.”

The silence stretches out as you think about the best way to handle this. He is relentless, and you know he is going to be true to his reputation and keep on until you give in to him. But you know giving in to someone like Rafe Cameron would likely mean losing yourself in the process. Rafe is all-consuming, you have seen it in previous girls that slept with him and seemed to be hooked on him after. But Rafe did not date, not seriously anyways. He always wanted to have fun and move from one girl to the next. It is a story that is old as time and told over and over, and the ending never changes.

“Have you ever been told no?” You ask, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

He smiles then, looking away before turning back. “Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He shrugs. “I have no way to prove it.”

You laugh, shaking your head before reaching for the door handle.

“Lunch, tomorrow?” He asks, his hand reaching for yours again. “Please? It doesn’t have to be a date. We can be friends having lunch for now.”

“Did you just say please?” The surprise is clear on your face and in your tone.

He laughs, head tipping back and his eyes closing before he looks at you again. A simple shrug of his shoulders. “You’re worth saying please for.”

Your cheeks heat, and you have to look away from that piercing gaze as you try not to fumble at his revelation.

“Dammit, Rafe.” You mutter under your breath, but he still hears it. A faint chuckle leaves his perfect lips. “Fine. Lunch tomorrow. You can take me to my car so I don’t have to walk.”

“Perfect,” he responds before you exit the truck. He waits until you are inside before he drives away. You lean against the closed door and shut your eyes as you realize you basically agreed to a date with the enemy.

— — — —

You laugh as Rafe finishes telling you about Kelce tripping and face-planting on the golf course earlier that day after too many drinks. The sun illuminates his blond locks like a halo, and he smiles at you. He enjoys your laugh, his eyes sparkling when you meet his gaze again.

“Poor Kelce.”

“He did it to himself.”

“Fair,” you offer before taking a bite of your food. “How many did you have then?”

“None. I knew we had our date.”

“Lunch,” you amend before looking at him. “A proper date is over dinner, not lunch.”

A frown takes over his lips, and you feel bad for it. He has yet to seem anything but happy until now. Happy Rafe stirs something inside of you. You like the idea of being the one that makes him smile so wide his face probably hurts. He is complicated, and you understand that more today than before. He is also careful with who he shows what to, and you know none of the other pogues or most of his friends ever see this side of him.

His face lights up a little, and you see a mischievous look take over. “So, I need to hold you as a hostage until dinner?”

You fight back a smile. “It’s Sunday, so no. I have work.”

“How many nights do you work?”

You think about it before responding. “As many as the Carreras need. I like the extra cash.”

“For books?” He asks after he finishes his bite of food.

You smile a little. “Car maintenance this time, it looks like.”

“I’ll make sure they give you a fair deal, Babe.”

You flush at the pet name and look away before clearing your throat. He reaches across, his fingers brushing your heated cheeks. You open your mouth but close it when you see a different look on his face. It made your skin tingle.

“What am I going to do with you, Rafe Cameron?” Your voice is soft and airy to try and hide the feeling he was causing.

“Date me.”

You laugh before swatting his hand away. “You are incorrigible!”

He shrugs. “I know what I want.”

“You think you know what you want,” you correct.

“Oh Baby, I know.”

“Rafe!”

He laughs before he takes your hand in his, and they rest together on the tabletop. “I’m not giving up.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, dropping your head back as you stare at the clear sky and relish the sun. “I don’t think you realize how terrible of a match we would make,” you confess, meeting his gaze. “I’m also working way more than you probably realize, and when I’m not working I am reading. I’m home with my nose in a book. Happily, I might add.”

“Is that why you are so hard to track down?”

“Pretty much.”

“Then I’ll hang out with you while you read and take the rest of your free time.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Cameron.”

He smirks before stealing one of your french fries.

He takes you to work after you finish eating. His fingers tangle with yours, and your hands rest on the middle console as he drives to The Wreck despite your best efforts to break free of his hold. You silently wish on all your good karma that no one is outside when you arrive. The pogues would never let you live it down and would probably be mad at you for spending the first half of the afternoon with him.

He parks in a space near the entrance and turns the truck off as you unbuckle and shift to the front of the seat while pulling the mirror down. He is silent as he watches you gather your hair in your hands to tie it back.

“You are beautiful when it’s down, but I think I may like it up a little more.”

“Would you stop?” You ask while laughing. “I get it, okay?”

“I don’t think you do,” he responds before reaching over to touch your ponytail. “Because you would agree to be mine.”

You look at him, narrowing your eyes before glancing at The Wreck’s door. “I have to go.”

“See you tonight?”

“No!” You chastise him. “I already told you.”

“I know,” he mutters before dragging his index finger down the back of your neck, and you shiver at the feeling of his touch. “I had to try.”

A bold feeling settles in your chest, and you lean over to peck his cheek. His skin is warm and soft under the press of your lips. His arms fold around you, keeping you pressed against the center console, and you blush before you lean back slightly.

“Thank you for lunch, helping me get my car to the garage for repair, and for driving me to work. But I have to go.”

He turns his face to yours, and your lips are barely a breath apart. Your breath hitches, and he smirks, liking the effect he is beginning to have on you.

“See you later, Future Girlfriend.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter before reaching back to remove his arms, and you climb out. You meet his gaze, and he winks at you before you close the door and turn for the front door as he starts the truck. A stupid smile on your face until you see Kie watching you, arms crossed over her chest, a look of surprise and irritation on her face. You hear the truck leave as you grip your apron bundle tightly in your hand. She had seen it.

“What was that?” She asks, her tone clipped.

“My car broke down, and he helped me get to work.”

“Looked like more than that.”

“It’s not, I promise.” You say before reaching for her hand and squeezing it in yours. “He did ask me out again, but I said no again.”

“Okay,” she responds, following you in. “I trust you know what you are doing.”

“Thank you,” you smile before patting her hip. “Let’s have a good shift okay?”

“Tips for days,” she confirms with a smile, letting the Rafe sighting go.

Part IV

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #outer banks rafe cameron

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ngmn2002 · 4 months

Text

*** Ch: 110***

As always, just side notes...

Who was right to guess the yorishiro is within Mirai? Yep, me.~ would pay to be in Hanako's, Nene's, Teru's place or the owls and watch Tsukasa in action and going -far shore No.6 mode but X1000 COOLER like they were doing. the amount of self confidence he has has always impressed me. my goodness it's limitless… but this chapter is on another whole level. SO SMUG! I love that mood of his. oooooh SO COOL!!!

...

Why the yorsihrio of No.1 had to be a key of all things? ........

What nat did to Mit 2.0 on her order... what a simp. Indeed proved his words in here.

So the 'welcome between us party', the whole big-bro nat facade, the nice gestures he showed together with his lady toward Mit 2.0 were fake all along? How funny. What a shock. I didn't expect they are this sort of people. I'm shocked with nat and his lady. lol

So, I was right in the end? They are plotting things of 'her' own together. No way Tsukasa would plan for Mit 2.0 end up this way.

It's her not being able to wait to have her wish come true no matter who she will hurt. That makes her so happy.~ what a softie. lol

(can't be) Though, if the 2 were plotting to put Mit 2.0 in a situation where he'll be forced to have a yorishiro by having nat do that so they can destroy it later... hmm... judging from Tsukasa's words in here...

What a devious face. 💜 Uh, how cool-looking... Tsukasa amazed me all chapter long. What a force. ✨

Is that what he meant by calling No.3's case a 'done deal' in ch 92? The only yorishrios that are left are him and No.1's. what about old No.3's yorsirhio that's still on the ceiling?

and... I get what nat meant with his words of 2 yorishiors are left. No.1's and No.7's. I see what he meant.

I see... I see...

What happened to granting Mit 2.0's wish btw? Tsukasa, you're going to carry on with that or..... wait... maybe there is no reason... once all yorishrios are destroyed, if what she said is true..... hmm..... things are going way too fast..... if we assumed the world will be rewritten so the living, the dead, supernaturals are equal and can live together... that means Mit 2.0's wish is granted along the way? uh, that's too much thinking

Anyway, don't think Mit 2.0 will end here. We need to have Kou in the picture, don't we? His long-wanted wish coming to play???

Love how he aimed for the sleeve!!! He is not there to harm Tsu, he wants to keep him safe and protect him at all costs!!!! What an emotional moment... oooh!! the position!!! it's always the same!!!

So we have a promise to keep Tsukasa moving... The core to all we have now. It only takes a spark for a fire to start -The promised Neverland keeps echoing in my head. Promises.....

And...

Hmm, did this trigger Hanako's memory to recall a some kind of promise he made to Tsukasa or maybe himself in the past?

This might be related as well...? will Tsu really /disappear/I mean I've always wondered what will happen to him once the seal is gone? hmm... does Amane know of Tsukasa's condition or not? if he does and still see that will happen....

Hmm... what is your duty?!

So? SO?! You broke him sir. Easy on him.

After all he voiced out you went SO? How cruel. Do each of you take turns in acting rude to each other at times? What he said to you next is well deserved, Tsukasa. Even though Amane didn't mean it literally. Understand his aching, feelings, pleading. SO?! .............

on the verge of tears? Is that Amane face close to the one Tsukasa fantasize over from when he *killed* saved/protected him? What does this face of Amane mean to you Tsukasa!!! What kind of emotion do you see held in it!!! CAN YOU SEE THE HUGE LOVE!!!!

AND THIS?!

Awww, it must feel lonely while like that.. let's add it to the family. a little side 'that rejects him' of Tsu he... AkaneAoi interaction got me I will go mad if Tsukasa went Aoi mode and came up with a thing like you don't really need me, I'm disappointing by your side..

Tsukasa got him TALKING about his feelings?! WOOHOHO Finally?! I'm not dreaming?! GOOD JOB TSU!!!!!!

Come on, he actually voiced such sentence out loud?! It was there sleeping inside his heart for soooooo looooong!!!!! He said I "LOVE" you so much?! FINALLY?!

He answered the question with words?! whooohoo we need to celebrate over here!!!

Between question and answer.

Tsukasa!!! LET THAT SINK IN!!!!! in the way intented. please don't take it literally like your little self once assumed it. You see and think differently now, right?

And I was waiting for Nene to confess to him. Look at the move he took. AHAHAHA This arc is full of confessions on their side. WAAAHHH

Ok, now waiting for this next, thank you.

And later on this!

Come on, Amane! You can do it! Just take a step forward! You're almost there! I need you to reach this point, fianlly lose it and shout out all the love you have for him with all your might so Tsukasa will finally understand......

What a nice way of talking he has. Between the 2, some cool development! Keep it up, Amane! I'm cheering for you! Talk more about your feelings!! Voice them out to those you love and love you back!!

It's impressive how he is ready to let Nene go twice and with Tsukasa... that's never an option.

I assume it's within his belief of she will move on someday, and have her dreams achieved and have a nice life, she doesn't really need him there to be happy as he voiced out before. now we have a swap with Tsukasa taking his place as he takes Nene's. tragic.

While with Tsukasa, he knows they can't ever let go of each other, it's never an option for them.

Yet, Tsukasa insists on leaving him, on sacrificing himself! One time, another time, and another time! Give the boy a break!!! His heart won't take it anymore!!!

If there is a thing he won't want to ever happen it's to lose you!!! He is NOT happy without you beside him!!

He does want to be with you, but he needs to be shown you REALLY wants it. That you needs him to be happy. That you needs him beside you. He needs a reason to stay.

Ok, Amane. Give him the reason to stay by your side. Let this 'I hate you' shine. Come on, prove to Tsukasa what he is worth to you! Tell him/show him what you want for real, your real desire, what makes you happy for real. And!!! Tsukasa, accept his wish!

Would having a wish coming true make him happy if he were to lose you?! I mean, if you're not gone Nene is also saved! who cares for her wish, huh?! Amane always comes first to you, right? Your top priority is to keep the promise you made to him and grant his real wish. Didn't you ask him to decide?! He did!!! Consider his decision!!!

You always go saying people should have the chance to do what they want, alright! Between the contrasting wants of your twin AMANE and assistant, which will you choose?! One has to get lost. It's her! Care for those who care for you, not the ones who want you gone to get what they want.

Between the 2 of you... what would keeping that promise mean if he were to lose you in exchange? He doesn't want that.

Boy......

I seriously wonder if Amane knew these… would he react nicely to her? Those who treat his precious ones as if they were nothing… oh… will he be merciless?

Seriously, even though I was trying to give her a chance, even though I was trying to keep in mind she might have had a hard life and just wants to be free, with everything new I see of her I can't help but despise her and her dog more. Sheesh. They piss me off.

The true definition of selfish and hypocrosity, manipulation at its best right there.

Anyway... TSUKASA!!!

TSUKASA!!! THIS!!! THIS!!! RMEMEBR THIS?! MAKE THE CONNECTION!! THIS CONNECTION!!

.......

I can't with these 2.......

Then I remember Nene is fated to die and her life is linked to the yorishiros and I'm......... T.T ......... what is going on?! What's with all the drama?! Easy on ME!!!

I can't with all of them...

........

Uh...

About Amane going for the yorsihrios detruction in the start... so... what was his plan really? Didn't he include Tsukasa in there...?

So in the end, he doesn't want to do this? At least not with Tsukasa...

Hmm...

Uhhh.... he doesn't want to *do it right* after all?

Tsukasa... the seal is there! It is right there on your face! Don't be blind and see what it means, Tsukasa!!! Before we ask for anyone else to see it, it's meant for you!! you're the one who needs to see what beautful meanings it holds! Isn't that obvious?

Talking issues-listening issues. Providing issues-understanding issues. Isn't it the perfect combination for the perfect miscommunication? How cruel.

Hmm, it's easy to stop Tsukasa if both Amane and Nene went: we won't destroy you, how about it?

Hmm... maybe some things naturally, intended by the bad 2 or maybe Tsukasa himself? come to play to force them to?

I'm toally confused. With time I will get a grip, for now... I will leave this here.

.......

They seriously need to talk. One long talk, get over this miscommunication issue between them. Because I can't take it anymore.

........

Things escalated quickly this chapter, wooh.

#with this i feel a little better #i had to let some things out #since again I might not be able to make the chapter review so soon #the twins are playing with my feelings #...........

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jess-the-vampire · 2 months

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To be fair, the whole mind reading thing with Belos in canon isn't necessarily unheard of, seeing how Odalia could do the same with her Oracle magic.

Then again, she specifically needed an enchanted amulet in order to communicate with Amity telepathically, so we're back to square one here.

i think i mentioned it before in the past, but belos's powerset is a little wonky, i'm not really convinced he wasn't rewritten between seasons because of some of these detials.

he has this artificial magic, something that is kinda neat and was a dead giveaway he wasn't a normal witch, but the show never really explains what artificial magic is and how it works exactly. Toh has rules for it's magic so it is a wonder exactly how one creates a "Fake magic" on the isles. (Like at one point they maybe imply it's coming from his arm glyphs but that doesn't explain his staff or hunter's staff)

Collector claims he taught belos magic, but outside of the draining spell....we don't really know what he means by that specifically.

and then you have his curse, which is a whole mess in itself, he's got several abilities, some of which just kinda....happen. Not to mention the rules of his curse aren't really clear to an audience member who thinks about it in more detail, like how much control he has over the curse for example (He has scenes where he clearly has control but there are others where he clearly doesn't), or why he was cursed and for what reason, or if the palisman are an extension of life or just to keep the curse at bay (Maybe both? but why would he do this before even seeing caleb again?) ....and also....what the glyph arm is even about. Heck, i'm not quite sure why belos can talk to the palisman in his head, but hunter can't communicate with flap in his own if we're to believe both are being used for a similar purpose of giving the other magic and life. (I mean maybe you can say the fact Philip forced them to give up their lives puts them in some kinda limbo, and not flap who chose to move on, but Philip can also apparently remove them from his head so like-)

(I've heard a LOT of people go on about belos's curse being played for sympathy from the other characters, that he's faking it and it's another addition to how bad of a person he is. And i'm not saying he never faked it, he probably did in some of these scenes, but there's also a lot of scenes where he's clearly in pain and not in control of the curse, so it's clearly not something he's faking for sympathy all of the time. I get the impression this is just because the show really didn't do the greatest job making how his curse functioned clear to the audience that a lot of people are now convinced he was never in pain when he clearly was since he has scenes where it makes no sense to fake it.

Like my best interpretation that makes the most sense is he does have outbursts and he does get hurt but he takes advantage of them, weaponizing his own pain and curse to his benefit where possible)

and then.....we got this power from season 1, which never comes back and is never explained. It could be arguably an oracle power, but oracle magic might be the most underexplored magic covens in the show next to healing, so i genuinely have no idea if that was the intent or even what oracle magic does in this world. I would think if it had use like this belos would use it more often, would of avoided a lot of future issues had he done so.

This might sound a bit nitpickey, it's just i spent a lot of time trying to decipher his abilities to use in my work and i ran into a lot of walls trying to figure out how any of this works in the universe of the show.

he feels like he needs a character bible, there's just a lot here that doesn't quite make sense and i would of loved to have explained in better detail.

and the show usually (Mostly) makes sense with it's magic (Trust me, belos isn't the only character in this show whose magic abilities drive me nuts), i think eda's curse is actually well handled and well explained to the audience. You really understand how her curse works, how she controls and works with it, and it remains consistent in it's abilities.

belos just has way too many abilities, some of which just kinda happen, a lot that aren't entirely explained, and half the time i wonder why he never uses some of these powers at other points in the show.

this fact might not bother some people, but if you're someone trying to study his powers for your work, like me, it's really noticeable.

i think what happened is they needed belos to be able to do several things for plot reasons (He needs a fake magic to hide the human twist, he needs to possess hunter for reasons, he needs to pretend to be human for one scene at the end so now he suddenly can shapeshift, he needs to find out about luz stealing from him so sudden kinetic powers) and then it just became way too much.....i think they should of kept it simpler and less vague if you ask me.

the man has far too many abilities, and too little explanations for why he has them or how they work.

Having some proper limits to his powerset and being able to go from A to B To C on how he works would do miles for him.

#my art #the owl house #toh #emperor belos #philip wittebane

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raspberryfingers · 1 year

Text

A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 3)

A/N: for masterlist formatting reasons I'm just going to post this at the same time as rewritten chapter two, so enjoy having two to read at once :)

WARNINGS: Blood, gore, and mentions of rape

Word Count: 6k

—————

After marching for nearly half of the day, there was less than an hour left until we finally reached King’s Landing. Loras and I had talked for a good bit of the trip, but I could tell that there was quite a lot on his mind. I supposed that similarly, there was also much on my mind, for this was one of the first major battles I would lead this many men into.

I was glad that Loras and I were leading the vanguard, because that was where the fighting was thickest. I’d always been inclined towards danger, even if my brother and I were too skilled to end up actually getting ourselves killed. There was truly no rush like being surrounded by men and needing to fight your way out. For me, at least.

At the present moment, the thing giving me the most excitement was knowing that my father would be riding alongside Tywin Lannister. Gods, my father would be making him absolutely miserable. It made me smile brighter than a thousand suns.

“Are you… are you nervous at all?”

The sound of Loras’ voice broke me out of these happy thoughts, and I raised an eyebrow at him from underneath my helmet. Was something giving him the impression that I was nervous?

“Of course not, why?”

“Well… what if Stannis manages to take King’s Landing? What if we’ve come too late? Or what if our numbers still aren’t enough?” Loras asked, voicing his concerns on the subject. I instantly realized that he was nervous. It had perhaps not helped that the capital was now in sight.

“He’s not going to take King’s Landing, Loras. I promise you that much. Not only would he have to get past our entire army and fleet, he’d have to climb the walls and break down the mud gate too. I assure you that there is nothing to worry about-”

My sentence was suddenly cut off by the earth below us shaking, and many of the horses became somewhat startled. I furrowed my eyebrows with confusion, looking toward the Red Keep for any sign of explosion. Anything that had made the ground tremble like this must’ve been massive, and I certainly did not like the thought of that.

Just beyond the castle, I spotted a mass of bright green fire. Wildfire, no doubt. My heart dropped, because while it appeared to be coming from the bay, it was impossible to tell. Had Stannis used it, or had we?

“Loras… Loras keep marching with the men, I’ll be back in just a moment,” I said mindlessly, gripping the reins of my horse and turning around to try and find Lord Tywin. It was entirely possible that he might know something about this if it had come from our side.

I had been riding toward the back when I saw another rider approaching me, a red sash fashioned around his armor. I slowed my horse, feeling somewhat breathless despite the fact that I had done absolutely nothing. I lifted the eye covering of my helm, watching Lord Tywin do the same as he pulled his door styled covering open. We instantly made eye contact, and there was quite a serious look on his face.

“What happened? Did you see?” he questioned, pulling his horse closer to mine so we were directly facing each other. If I’d moved over anymore, our opposite legs would’ve been touching.

“It was wildfire. It did not look as though it was touching the actual Keep, but it was hard to tell. If I had to make a guess, I would assume it was in the bay. I wanted to ask if you knew anything of it, but- well…” I trailed off, having my question answered by the fact that he had to ask what had happened. Naturally, he hadn’t seen it from the back.

“Well, to shake the ground the way it did, it must’ve been quite a lot. King Aerys was rather fond of wildfire, as I’m certain you’re well aware. Perhaps… well, perhaps it was stored away,” Lord Tywin said, though it almost felt like he was thinking out loud. I nodded in response, hoping that he was correct in his guess.

“But if… if that did come from Stannis, what do we- would you… would you still want to lead the men into battle?” I questioned, swallowing so that I would refrain from asking him ‘what do we do’. That was one of the last things I would ever permit myself to say to Tywin Lannister.

The Old Lion looked at me for a moment, contemplating and then appearing to settle on something. The challenge in his eyes returned as he sat a bit straighter and looked down at me.

“You tell me, Lady Tyrell, in your infinite wisdom.”

I nearly scowled at him, infuriated over the fact that somehow, even in this dire situation, he still managed to be an utter cunt. I held myself back, however. I couldn’t be angry now, I had to be logical and smart. What would I do? To let Stannis take King’s Landing would be unforgivable, but would it be even worse to lead tens of thousands into a pointless slaughter?

“It- It depends. If you think it’s most likely that it came from your son, then we should expect to see Stannis’ ships burning in the bay. But… if that did come from Stannis, we ought to be careful. If we see that his ships are untouched, then I will lead the vanguard on my own. That explosion was so big it must’ve… well, it must’ve taken quite a lot of wildfire. I would doubt that he has more, but just to be certain I think it would be best… best to only take the vanguard at first,” I strategized, having to raise my voice over the sound of men marching around us. The entire situation was rather stress inducing, and I could see a distinct fear on the faces of soldiers around us.

“You ought to lead the vanguard from the back then, Lady (Y/N). If Stannis still does have wildfire-”

“I will be burned alive. I know, Lord Tywin. Nevertheless, I will lead from the front. The vanguard must always be led that way,” I replied firmly, swallowing whatever nerves I had in face of my principles. Being killed by wildfire did not sound pleasant, but it was still entirely possible that it had not even come from Stannis to begin with.

Lord Tywin blinked a few times, looking at me with a sort of curious observation. I assumed that he was trying to figure out whether or not I was utterly insane. It was highly likely, I supposed.

“I see. Very well, Lady (Y/N). It is not a call you need to make yet, but you will know before I do. I am entrusting the vanguard, and my men, to your judgment,” he said, taking a deep breath. Under a different situation, I might have thought him sarcastic, but there was something genuine in his voice. Even despite all our hatred for one another, he at the very least knew I could be trusted to make a smart decision.

Somehow, the biggest compliment I’d ever received had just come from the man I hated more than anything.

Lord Tywin and I looked at each other one last time before parting ways, and as I began riding to the front, our drummers began to play something. It was not until the singing started that I realized it was the Rains of Castamere.

Hundreds—if not thousands—of Lannister soldiers had joined in on the recognizable tune, and it somehow seemed to be replacing their fear with pride. It was a good thing, I thought. In a few minutes, they might all be dead.

I found my brother leading at the front, and he was instantly relieved by the sight of me. I rode up beside him, putting my eye covering back down in case I looked frightened. In all honesty, I could not discern my own emotions. I was never afraid of fighting men, but wildfire would mean death, and not even the best armor would be able to keep me from that.

“(Y/N), what did Lord Tywin say? What are we- what are we supposed to do?” Loras questioned, a slight tremble in his voice. Neither of us had prepared for something like this.

“It is my call to make… when we- when we get there, I have to assess the situation and make a decision,” I said, nearly choking on my own saliva. Gods, I hated this feeling. I turned to my brother then, my voice entirely serious as I spoke. “And Loras, I need you to promise me something right now. Promise that no matter what I say, you will listen. I need to make sure that you obey whatever command I give. As your commander, not as your sister.”

Something in Loras shifted then, and I could tell he was processing the fact that this situation might be utterly horrible. He nodded at me, but that was not enough.

“Say it, Loras. I need to hear you say that you’ll obey.”

“I will. I will… I will obey any command you give.”

I sighed out then, pressing my lips together and nodding. It was the only thing I needed to hear from him, even if it probably wasn’t entirely truthful.

With each step forward that my horse took, I felt myself getting closer and closer to vomiting. I had never prayed so fervently as I begged the gods to let it have been Tyrion Lannister’s wildfire and not Stannis’. The only thing I could think about was how the men would scream as they burned, and it made me want to hyperventilate. To have men die in battle was normal, but to have them be slaughtered was devastating.

However, as the Blackwater Bay finally came into view, a giant wave of relief hit me. Stannis’ ships were flaming in the water, and his men were desperately trying to get to the landmass south of the river. Loras turned to me, waiting for me to say something.

“We need to move faster. We can’t let them cross the rush,” I thought aloud, settling into my saddle and licking my lips. I turned to the men behind us, all mounted and waiting for my instruction. Though, I could similarly see them preparing to draw swords and spur their horses.

“Men! Stannis and his army mean to cross the Blackwater Rush and take King’s Landing. They mean to take the throne and all seven kingdoms with it. Do you want fucking Stannis Baratheon for your king?” I shouted at them, putting as much volume into my voice as I possibly could. What sounded like the voice of nearly every man there shouted back a distinct ‘no!’

I smiled, for it was the most invigorating thing I’d ever heard.

“No! Of course not. Nobody wants Stannis, the boring, cold, and stale cunt sitting on the throne! And that’s why we are about to go kill every last one of his pathetic soldiers and make sure that he doesn’t! And just to be sure, I want to see Stannis’ head detached from his fucking body by the time the sun rises over Blackwater Bay!” I yelled out, grinning as the men cheered and whistled at my sentiments. I could feel my blood pumping through every single vein in my body, and at that moment, I don’t believe that even wildfire itself could’ve stricken the pride and confidence from my body.

“Now, let’s go fucking slaughter them!”

I unsheathed my sword, raising it into the air and smiling as the shouts of thousands came back at me. I had spurred my horse then, and so did Loras. For the second time that night, the earth shook as men on horseback and on foot followed eagerly behind and alongside us. I was right next to Loras, and as we approached their men, I couldn’t help but smile. Somehow this was all I had dreamed of since I was a young girl.

And it became even better as we started to plough into their army.

I was gripping onto my reins with one hand and swinging at the soldiers below me with the other. Several attempted to fight back, but many of them failed. In fact, I became particularly giddy as I managed to slice a few men’s heads clean off.

Our line of horses had broken apart, and I no longer knew where Loras was. It had given me initial panic, but I knew I couldn’t focus on it or else I would be putting myself in danger. Especially because, while it was a great advantage to be on a horse, the risk of it being cut down beneath you was a very serious one.

As I struck another man down, I found myself scanning the battlefield. I could hear shouts of ‘Renly!’ in the midst of screaming and armor, which certainly made me smile. My plan had worked after all, and it was especially clear as Stannis’ men began to join our side.

Feeling content in that, I turned to face the shore. The vanguard was trying its hardest to keep Stannis’ soldiers from crossing the river, but there were still so many of them that it was inevitable. Thankfully, that was our only concern. Our fleets had already arrived and were absolutely destroying the small portion that was left of Stannis’.

I did not ponder this long, however, because I was still directing my horse through hoards of Baratheon soldiers. Man after man was plucked down by my sword, and even those who weren’t killed immediately would be dead within hours. The poison on my blade would see to that.

Though, my time on horseback had unfortunately come to an end. After realizing how destructive I was, a few of Stannis’ men had purposefully sought out my horse and slashed at its ankles. It went down instantly, and so did I with it.

Everything moved in a blur as I flew from atop my horse and hit the ground. I landed on my back, which caused the air to escape from my lungs. I forced myself to roll away, however, avoiding the weight of my horse landing on top of my legs.

I had also hit my head rather badly, even despite my helm. I felt like my entire world was spinning, and that combined with being breathless was utterly awful. Gasping for air, I reached for the head covering and pulled it off entirely. Perhaps it was utterly stupid, but it helped me see more clearly and fight off how dizzy I was.

I forced myself to stand up, which thankfully helped clear my airways at least a little bit. I was still wheezing, however, and it made me panic as I looked around for the men who had disabled my horse. One of them had been conveniently crushed under the animal, and the other two had gotten on their knees to try and pull him out.

Coughing a little bit, I grabbed my sword from the dirt and rocks beneath my feet and approached them. They were so desperate to save their friend that they hadn’t even noticed me.

“Hey! You fucking cunts!” I shouted, getting their attention as I crept up behind them. Before they could fully turn and rise, I grabbed one of the men's heads, reaching around and slitting his throat as if I were ripping a sheet of parchment. The other one tried to get up, but was so shocked that he stumbled backward.

I coughed again, inhaling deeply and scowling as I took the handle of my blade in both hands and moved toward him. He attempted to get up again, but was so paralyzed with fear that he couldn’t. It was utterly pathetic.

He began feeling around himself, realizing that he had dropped his sword when trying to help the stuck man earlier. He found a small knife, however, and held it out toward me. I genuinely began to smile, so amused by the thought that this man believed he had a chance. He was better off saying a prayer.

In a few quick seconds, I swung my leg out, knocking the blade from his hand and pinning his arm to the ground beside his head. I then plunged my sword straight through his rather poorly-made breastplate and listened to him scream. And he had thought that taking me off of my horse would make me less dangerous. He should have known that the exact opposite was the truth.

When I removed my sword from his chest and looked around, I realized that the fighting was already beginning to thin out. I nearly laughed, for so much importance had been placed on this battle, and yet our vanguard alone was ripping through Stannis’ men. The rest of the Tyrell and Lannister men had also joined us, but they were hardly even needed.

I, of course, was not about to miss out on the slaughter. This was only the second major battle I had ever fought in, and—with the same naivety that I’d had at 14 and 15—I found it quite exciting. I was instantly throwing myself into the thick of the fighting, gutting man after man. To me, there was a sort of rhythm in fighting. I couldn’t lie to myself, I did enjoy the feeling of thrusting my sword into another person, perhaps in the same way that many enjoyed the feeling of pushing their needles into needlework. But, to be truly good at something does make it enjoyable, and the same went for my swordsmanship.

As I killed Stannis’ men, I got the rush of adrenaline that comes from such intense situations, but I felt little fear because of my training and skill. They were no real competition for me, merely targets. They would always scream and yell at me when they swung, as if somehow that would give them a better chance at killing me. When I blocked their advances and swiftly cut through them, they would go silent for just a moment. Then their eyes would go wide, as if realizing that they were going to die, and—just as they called out for their mothers—the blood would spurt from their throats. Thus continued the cycle of stupid men who believed a woman would be an easy target, or the even stupider men who knew who I was and believed they could take me down anyway.

As I once again thrust my sword into another man and felt his blood splattering against my face, there was a general cheer coming from all around me. I instantly looked up, realizing that many of Stannis’ men had begun to retreat toward the shoreline in a desperate attempt to get away.

Foolishly, I permitted myself to relax a bit and began to smile at the sight. The battle was clearly won, even if some men refused to leave and wanted to die ‘valiantly’. I supposed I could not judge, for I would be inclined to do the same in their situation.

However, my feeling of victory disappeared when I turned around and noticed one of the largest men I’d ever seen in my life staring directly at me. He was obviously a Baratheon soldier, and the way he was looking at me sent a small shiver up my spine. I could not tell if he wanted to kill or rape me—or both.

However, as he raised his sword and began to approach me, I decided that the first of those options was the more immediate problem. I instantly raised my own blade, and mentally began to curse my fancy armor, because there was no doubt in my mind that it had made me a rather obvious target. And while I usually did not mind that, I disliked any feeling of insecurity when I was facing an opponent, and this man's height and sheer muscle certainly made me feel more than just a bit insecure.

Nevertheless, I forced myself to swallow this fear. If I played this smart, his physical characteristics would be of no importance whatsoever. And I felt utterly confident that I could play this smart; I would simply have to be careful.

I prepared to block him as he began to pick up speed, sword raised into the air as he ran. His blow seemed to come down in one swift movement, and I groaned out with exertion as I held my own sword up and felt the two blades clashing against each other. He was so insanely strong that my arms began to quiver after a few seconds, and I had to scrape my sword along his as I quickly moved aside. He had been pressing down on me with so much pressure that it made his weapon slice into the dirt.

And after a moment, I realized that his sword had not only sliced the dirt, but the rocks too. I furrowed my eyebrows, and examined his sword. It was then, after finding a clean spot at the base of the metal, that I realized it was valyrian steel. Another shiver went up my spine as I realized it was entirely possible that he could probably cut straight through my armor, even despite its good quality. How had this man acquired valyrian steel?

I didn’t have much time to ponder the question, though, because I had to act fast. While he unstuck his sword from the earth, I was moving forward, swinging at and slicing his ankle. The man groaned out, and like some sort of monster from the tales my septa had told me as a child, he rose with even more anger. Again, he was swinging fiercely at me. I managed to block each one, for that was a matter of skill, but I could not hold my sword up for very long. That was the other difficulty: he was so tall that all his blows came down at me rather than from the sides.

When he continued to swing at me, I forced myself to give up on blocking and instead prioritize dodging. It was a frightening thing to do, for I could hear the distinct ‘whoosh’ of his giant weapon. If I had not been so swift, I feared he might’ve cut an ear off.

While dodging his advances, I had to force myself to formulate a plan. Because yes, I could try and tire him out, but I was growing just as exhausted as he was. When he finally did falter, I would need to have an actual move ready to go. I needed to find a way to put myself on the offense, because once I was, I could be quick enough that he wouldn’t be able to block. The problem, however, was actually getting to that point.

I continued dodging him, and as I wracked my brain, I suddenly realized that he had begun swinging with a pattern. Naturally, it was quite a bit of work to lift and then bring a sword straight down every time, and so he’d begun to do so with an angle. He’d make two right-slanted swings and then a single left-slanted one.

Having processed this, I prepared for what he was going to do and then moved to the opposite side and brought my sword down on top of his, making him fumble just a bit. Finally, I managed to swing my sword before he did, and he was desperately lifting his sword to try and block me.

This continued for a bit, and I was simply so fast that he did not have an opportunity to counter my speed with his strength. He was also growing tired, and it was extremely obvious. Unfortunately, so was I, and it did not serve me well when a stray horse ran right by us and made me falter as I began to swing.

Of course, the man took this opportunity to dodge my advance and ram the handle of his sword into my back when I kept moving forward. I cursed out, feeling the intensity of his blow in my chest as I hit the ground. My sword had also flown from my hands, and my eyes went wide at this realization.

Nothing felt broken, thankfully, and so I turned onto my back in the hopes of getting off the ground or at the very least being able to roll away from the man's sword. However, when I did turn around it was not his sword that I was met with. Instead, his hand reached out toward me and gripped the neck of my armor.

He pulled me up, and I frantically felt around my armor for my dagger. I managed to grab the handle of it, but he was so insanely strong that he lifted me into the air and let me dangle in front of him. He began to chuckle at the sight.

“There you are, finally still. My, you’re a pretty one. Now that you aren’t swinging your fucking sword at me, anyways… perhaps I ought to make you pay for that, hm? What do you think? I’ll pin you down in the dirt right now, and then once I’m done with you I’ll gut you for being such an annoying bitch. How does that sound?” he threatened, flashing his teeth at me and continuing to laugh. His insinuations made a cold fear rush through my body, and the shaking in my hands was genuine. My only consolation, or rather my only form of hope, was the dagger underneath my armor. It was still concealed, but I was more than ready to pull it out. All I needed was for him to do something stupid and give me an opportunity to strike.

“I think it sounds fucking pathetic, you disgusting cunt. It’s also not going to happen- you’d have better luck raping my fucking corpse,” I choked out, spitting directly into his face and watching the anger spark in his eyes once more.

“Then maybe I will!”

He began lifting his sword with his free hand, and I wasted no time pulling out my dagger and shoving it directly into the unarmored space around his crotch. My dagger was thankfully long and sharp enough that it made it through the rest of his clothes, and I heard him scream in a way that I’d never heard before, nor ever would hear again.

Unfortunately, I also experienced quite a lot of agony as his sword cut clean through my armor and sliced down the left side of my torso. His sword had already been at my side when I’d mutilated him, and so when the pain had triggered his survival instincts this had been the result.

I screamed out as I fell to the ground, clutching at my side. I could already feel blood seeping out of the wound, which was rather deep and ran, at a slant, from just below my armpit to the backside of my hip. The pain was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, but at the very least it wasn’t nearly as bad as what the man in front of me was feeling.

He had fallen to his knees, and was bent over as though he were worshiping a god—perhaps the lord of light. Either way, he was sobbing with pain, and when he mustered enough strength to lift his upper half up a bit, I watched with a sick satisfaction. He certainly wouldn’t be capable of raping me now.

Of course, the pain that I was experiencing made this a much more bitter moment than I had hoped it would be, especially when the man set his eyes on me with a distinct fury and began reaching for his dropped sword. Oh fuck.

I clasped at my side in an attempt to suppress either the pain or the bleeding, for I knew both was too much to ask for, and tried my very hardest to scoot backwards. I was unable to stand in this condition—or not on my own, anyways.

As my legs desperately kicked at the dirt and tried to propel me backward, I observed with fear as the giant before me yelled out in pain and slowly stood up. It took him a while to properly get his footing, and his jaw was clenched so tight it was a wonder his teeth did not fall out. Tears were streaming down his face, but sheer anger made him determined to kill me.

When he began to stagger toward me, I found myself wondering what kind of sick joke the gods were playing on me. I hoped they were laughing, at the very least, because I certainly was not. All I could do was sob out as I dug my heels and elbow into the earth in a desperate attempt to escape death.

It was of little use, however. His painful staggering was just a bit quicker than my pathetic crawling, and as he came closer and tightened his grip on his sword, I prayed that my death would be quick and clean. I found Loras and Margaery on my mind, and I suddenly felt horrible for leaving them, especially so soon after Renly’s passing. I thought of my parents for a moment, and as the man before me started to lift his sword, my grandmother was the only one on my mind. I wished I had said a proper goodbye before we’d left Highgarden.

The giant man’s blade was high in the air, though it took him quite a lot of strength to get it there. I expected—and was prepared for—it to come down with a sloppy, painful ‘thwack’, but instead only heard the slicing of metal into skin and felt the warmth of blood splattering on my face.

My eyes shut instinctively, and they only opened once I heard the thumping of a fallen body. When I did look around, I found the Baratheon soldier laying face down in the dirt beside me, blood spewing from a giant hole in his head. My eyes widened with some shock, and I instantly lifted my eyes to see who was responsible for saving me.

There, atop his pretty white horse, I found Tywin Lannister.

For just a moment, my shock had made my pain go away, but it did not take long to return. Lord Tywin had of course understood that I was injured, and instantly threw his leg over his horse to dismount. As he did, I realized that the man’s valyrian steel sword had dropped beside me with him, and I mustered all the strength in my body as I grabbed at it and pushed it into my sword belt.

It had timed out perfectly, for once I had finished doing that, I felt the Old Lion’s armored hands at my shoulders. My head began to spin as I looked up at him, for he was kneeling beside me and checking to see where my injury was. He quickly spotted the blood seeping from the wound, and for just a moment there was an odd look in his eyes. He was perhaps wondering whether or not I would make it.

“Lady (Y/N), look at me. Look at me… I need to get you to a healer, do you understand? I don’t wish to take you on horseback, because if my horse falls from under us and we are both injured, you will die. Do you think- are you still well enough to hold onto me? I need one hand for my sword,” he questioned, simultaneously explaining our situation. If not for my serious blood loss, I probably would’ve formulated some snarky response, but alas all I could do was nod. Because even in this state, he was right. To go on horseback was certainly quite the risk. Although, debatably so was him, dressed in his quite obvious Lannister armor, deciding to carry me across the field. All I could do was pray that enough of Stannis’ men had retreated or were being dealt with by the rest of the vanguard.

In a haze, I felt Lord Tywin placing his hand under my back and helping me to sit up. I cried out rather loudly as he did, for it sent an unbearable pain through my side, and for a moment I thought I might pass out.

I did not, however, and instead realized that Lord Tywin was wrapping his arm around my upper torso and trying his very hardest not to add to my pain. After a few moments, he whispered a subtle ‘shhh,’ in my ear in an uncomfortable attempt to soothe my pain. None of this fully registered in my brain, however. All I could think about was wanting the pain to stop.

It did not do so, however. In fact, it only got worse as Lord Tywin began to stand up and lifted me with him. I yelled out, and I may have cursed him, but it couldn’t have been any worse than things I’d said in full consciousness.

“Lady (Y/N), I need you to wrap your arms around my neck,” he instructed, huffing out with exertion. I could see the sweat on his forehead, and noticed that there was surprisingly also blood there, though it appeared to be someone else's. It seemed the Lord of Casterly Rock himself had genuinely joined in on the fighting for once. It’s funny, the things you notice when rapidly losing blood.

As we began to move across the field, Lord Tywin’s grip on me was firm. He was holding me against his chest, and my cheek was pressed against the top of his red sash. I was trying my very hardest to hold onto him, but had he not been holding onto me so fiercely I most assuredly would’ve fallen straight into the dirt. There was an utter determination in him, as though getting me to a healer was the single most important thing he would ever do.

I started to wonder if it would make a difference, however, because I was still bleeding immensely and forming coherent thoughts was becoming harder and harder. When Lord Tywin was forced to plunge his sword into a charging man, pain rippled through me once again and made me even more certain of the fact that I could not continue.

“Lord Tywin… Lord Ty-Tywin… let me die…” I rasped out, tears falling from my eyes and onto his sash. I could see the dark spot they left behind, for the moonlight was especially bright. My throat began to feel dry. Surely I would not last much longer.

“No, I will not. You will grow strong, Lady (Y/N). Think of your house words,” he replied, voice harsh and demanding as he pushed his sword into yet another man. It was an order, not a request, and yet I did not feel that I could follow it.

“I’m so tired, my lord… I can’t… I can’t…” I cried softly, burying my face into his neck now. There was a warmth there, and for a moment I felt like a small child clinging to my mother. It was comforting, and I considered that perhaps death was supposed to feel this way. Like becoming a child again, like returning to the safety of your parents arms. Perhaps that was why so many called out for their mothers in their final moments.

“You can, my lady. You can and you must. You… are not allowed to die,” he encouraged, interrupting himself for a moment as he adjusted his grip and lifted me up ever so slightly. We moved faster through the men around us now, and I felt as though my arms were going entirely limp. I took his advice for once, trying to repeat my house words to myself so I would not give up entirely.

Grow strong.

Grow…

Strong…

I passed out, and would come back in small bits to discover I was still alive, and to discover that Lord Tywin was continuing to carry me. I would cry out every time I did wake, for the pain would return full force, but the man carrying me would not react to even this. He went on with his task as though I was still unconscious, for it did not matter to him. He had no time to focus on such things, I assumed.

Eventually, I felt myself being placed down. I had finally been handed over to a healer, and very hazily I heard Lord Tywin—rather harshly, in my opinion—mentioning something along the lines of ‘attend to her first’. After that, the waking up in small spurts stopped happening entirely. The next time I fully woke up, it would be somewhere inside the Red Keep, alive only because of the man I hated more than anybody else in all seven kingdoms.

—————

TAGLIST:

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@ladysindar @vesta-ro @exo-nova @paola-carter

@prettykinkysoul

@fullmoonshadowwrites @kishie8

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@abigfanofgameofthrones @smalltownbigheart

@frombloodandflesh @supernaturalismyreligion666

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#tywin lannister x reader #tywin lannister #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #asoiaf #house lannister #lannisters #a lion in the garden

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taylorswiftstylequestions · 5 months

Note

1/2 Hi Sarah! I have seen so much excitement about Taylor's new relationship, and while I'm happy for her, it feels like the Twilight Zone, because this was the vibe during original 1989 when she was with CH. It's been largely rewritten, but people were THRILLED with the photogenic pairing of TS+CH. I remember their awkward AF "one year" video and people saying she looked so happy, and now people joke it looks like a hostage situation and widely hate on CH. I recently saw a sneaky (unethical)

2/2 video of Taylor and Travis where he ignores something she says to him for a while, and I just want to remind everyone that we do not know the inner workings of her life. In the same way, I want to remind everyone that we were all enamored by Joe a few short years ago. His narrative has been rewritten as well, but Joe was the first openly supportive bf Taylor had, and he always looked proud of her on tour and attentive. She deserves even MORE support, but let's all keep perspective <3

—

Hi! Not to be all “I’d very much like to be excluded from this narrative” about this because I’m aware the point of this message is in emphasizing context, perspective, and encouraging a reasonable level of emotional distance over emotional investment due to the para-oh who cares of it all (which is not a bad thing!) and also we’re talking about the *waves arm* general at large feels and if it doesn’t apply to you it isn’t about you … But! Lol. Not all of us were enamoured about either of these relationships when they were happening and still don’t now that they’re over.

I also think some, and by that I mean many, are just happy to be along for the narrative ride of Taylor’s life and feeling feelings over that because we - parachute socialite aside - do care about her and are invested in her life and use her work as a gateway to understanding our own feelings as we relate her music to our own lives. And that includes availing ourselves of the highs and lows and entries and exits of the people closest to her and what vulnerabilities in her story she permits us to know about.

I don’t care to encourage either safeguarding or villifying the histories of these men because they are merely supporting characters in the story that I actually care about and am invested in. And I don’t need to put my energy into their stories because I was never here for their stories. I was here for their role in HER story and then in how her story helped me understand mine. I get that that is my personal experience and I understand if other people have differing levels of interest and act accordingly based on that but just wanted to offer another POV that I think can help w perspective. 💚

(And also fwiw as a She’s The Man-esque completely objective third party with no interest in the matter whatsoever [excellent quote, lives in my head rent free]- neither of CH or JA’s narratives have been rewritten. Their stories just got added to appropriately as things unfolded. That’s how life and time work - constantly adjusting and moving forward).

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queenshelby · 1 year

Text

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART FOUR: THE ESSAY

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Mentions of Depression, Anxiety

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

PLEASE NOTE THAT I HAVE REWRITTEN THIS STORY AND PART TWO CAN BE FOUND HERE (rewritten).

A week had passed and you had settled back into drama school without any problem whatsoever which, to you and your best friend Emma, was a surprise.

You had told Emma everything. You told her about the night you spent with Cillian three weeks ago, you told her about who he was and you told her exactly how you felt about this man being your lecturer now. It bothered you and you desperately wanted to quit, feeling torn about the attraction you still felt towards him while being with James.

Luckily for you, however, Emma was the voice of reason. Like always, she supported you, retained your secrets and reminded you that it would just be for four months and then he would move on and so would you. The semester would be over by the end of November. It was your final one and you would probably not see him again after that.

“Don’t forget that you are on a scholarship. You need this and, no doubt, this class will help you with your acting skills” is what Emma reminded you of and, since you were grateful for the place you were in these days, you agreed with her. She was right. You needed this in order to leave your past behind as, just like Emma, you went through the so called “foster system” in the US which was nothing short of horrific.

Both, Emma and you immigrated to the United States without a family to support you. You arrived as refugees at the same processing centre when you were just ten years old, making you both unsuitable for adoption which was largely due to the fact that most families approved for adoption wanted babies or toddlers under the age of three.

As such, you both moved from one foster home to another and the last of them was the worst for you. Your so-called foster parents were strict and any time you did not obey to their rules, you were punished for it. Food was withheld from you and, on occasion, you were even beaten to the point where your skin turned blue. During this time, you had been to hospital five times and no matter how often you complained, nothing changed until you ran away.

You had nowhere to stay for a while and then, when you turned sixteen, you moved out into a home designed for girls like you. It was a home for young women who went through abuse and this was exactly where, after several years, you reunited with Emma.

The facility provided excellent care for anyone who needed it but, on occasion, you felt somewhat worthless and ashamed about having lived there. Thus, you eventually took not one, but three jobs while furthering your studies at night through a state-run school. You moved out shortly after that and the college you went through helped you and Emma to apply for a scholarship abroad.

Together with eight other students in the state, you received some funding to attend different universities and schools across Europe, for which the ones based in Dublin became your choice.

Unlike London, Dublin was affordable for you both. You were now sharing a tiny studio apartment, and the money you received alongside your scholarship helped a lot.

You were an excellent dancer and, because of it, you now only had to have one rather than three jobs to support yourself, making your life relatively easy in comparison to your past.

In accordance to James and Lorraine however, who were rich and entitled, you still worked too hard. You had nothing in common with them and, even though James had been dating you for years, he always criticised you and your life choices.

He criticised you for having run away from your foster-home. He criticised you for working forty hours per week and he criticised you for saving money almost religiously.

On occasion, he also criticized your looks and the fact that you dressed too plainly. Your clothes were largely second hand, a mix of denim, sneakers, and plain coloured shirts. You owned two dresses, both black and wearing make-up was a rarity for you and you were told by your boyfriend that you should be making more of an effort for him.

But then, why should you? He never made an effort for you and being with him made you wonder whether you could ever leave your past behind. He had no idea how good his life had been while the memories of your past kept haunting you, playing with your mind.

You reflected on your past quite often. It was what kept you grounded even when you were around people like James and Lorraine. But speaking about this pain was something you struggled to do ever since you opened up to James about your upbringing. It was almost like he was embarrassed by you because if it and this hurt more than the bruises you sustained all those years ago.

Unfortunately for you though, reflecting on your past was something you were required to do as part of your first essay in PRAC300. You had to write about yourself, in a creative kind of way, drawing parallels between any painful events you encountered and a fictional character you were reading about. You had to write about how you felt in the midst of a difficult situation and then describe how you would show your emotions about such events in front of others.

Why this was relevant to your acting skills you did not know, but you wrote down what you thought anyway without putting much effort into your work. You made something up and when you submitted the paper to Cillian, you also chose to ask him about the curriculum for this unit moving forward. Again, you were playing with the idea of quitting now, but you weren’t quite sure how.

Until such day, you had largely ignored him and he had ignored you. In class, he pretended that you did not exist and rarely ever called you out to answer any questions. Without your knowledge though, this was his very own defence mechanism. It was his way of coping while he adjusted to the fact that he was meant to be teaching you now and by asking him about the essay and upcoming unit content, you took him off guard.

In addition to your questions about the curriculum though, today was also the day where, even if this particular essay was not in play, you could no longer have ignored him as, just last night, photos of him on a date with a fellow actress emerged on Twitter.

Of course, you took no interest in Twitter, but other disappointed students like Lorraine shared this information with you before class. The actresses’ name was Sophie O’Callum and she was currently filming in Dublin. Sophie was in her late thirties which, to you, seemed like an appropriate age for Cillian. She was blonde, skinny and incredibly good looking, creating a fair bit of jealously amongst your peers and this emerging jealousy quickly became evident to you during class.

Usurpingly, after hearing the news, Lorraine was rather upset about the date. She was now trying it on hard with your fellow lecturer and this, in itself, became amusing when Cillian shut her down.

It was obvious to you that he was annoyed by her and whilst you felt sorry for her, you also secretly enjoyed the fact that he retained his professionalism in class especially when Lorraine made advances towards him.

But, that’s not to say that you were not a little jealous too about Cillian’s date with an equally famous actress and you did not know why. You only ever slept with Cillian once and the fact that he was seeing someone else should not have bothered you. But did it. It upset you and, thus, when you finally walked into his office after class to ask him about the essay and unit content, you had to put on an act. You had to pretend that you did not care about his date and, for all you knew, he probably bought it.

***

“Hey Y/N, how can I help you?” Cillian asked after you walked into his office before shutting the door behind you.

“You look like you had a big night” you observed while watching him rub his eyes for the millionth time that day. He did this all throughout class and now he did it again, right in front of you.

“What makes you say that?” he wondered.

“You look a bit dusty” you pointed out with a giggle in order to lighten the mood.

“I may have had a few too many pints, but don’t tell the dean, alright?” Cillian teased, knowing that you would not say a word to the school’s principal.

“As if I would” you pointed out nonetheless before bringing up his date. “Although, you do realise that the pictures of you and Sophie O’Callum are all over the internet, right? You both looked drunk and knackered” you laughed but Cillian simply furrowed his eyebrows.

“Seriously?” he asked after picking up his phone and googling himself.

“Don’t you follow yourself on socials?” you wondered as you watched what he was doing.

“I don’t have social media” Cillian chuckled before telling you that he was too old for it, which was a comment that amused it.

“Oh please” you laughed which was when he quickly and somewhat unexpectedly addressed the rumours he was reading.

“Just for the record though, this was not a date. We went out for drinks and then we went our separate ways” he pointed out and, whilst you secretly felt relieved about what he was saying, you put on your acting hat and furrowed your eyebrows.

“And you are telling me this why?” you asked as if you were not interested in what he had to say and Cillian bought it and snapped out of it.

“Good question” he said before asking why you were in here to see him.

“I have a question about the essay which I handed in earlier today” you said before carrying on. “How are my emotions relevant to this class?” you asked and, before you could point out to him that you felt uncomfortable with the essay topic, Cillian began to explain.

“Well, learning how to act starts with learning about emotions and how to display them on screen or on stage. Often actors can draw from their own experiences and…” he said just before you interrupted him.

“But this stuff is personal” you blurted out to which Cillian simply shrug his shoulders.

“It’s part of the curriculum Y/N. I didn’t write those essay templates. I don’t even get to grade them” he informed you, causing you to sigh.

“But you will read them?” you wondered.

“Yes. I will read them and then pass them on for grading, with my comments…” Cillian began to explain and you interrupted him again.

“Fuck” you spat. “We slept with each other and I don’t want you to know about my past and my fucking emotions” you told him and, to your surprise, Cillian reacted in a gentle kind of way.

“Y/N, I won’t judge you for whatever happened to you in the past. What you write in your essay is confidential and whether we slept with each other or not is irrelevant. We both agreed to put this one-night stand behind us and that is what I am doing, alright?” he said and this was all you needed to hear before storming out of his office.

Three days later…

Three days had passed and, like most Mondays, you arrived at school early that morning. You had just been for a run, showered and sat down with your lunchbox, which is when you saw Cillian walk into the lecture hall with a cup of coffee in his hand.

He was surprised to see you there and, after putting down his mug, he approached you.

“Y/N,” he murmured almost nervously.

“Cillian. Good Morning” you smiled and, after engaging in a little small talk, he addressed the elephant in the room.

“After class, could we, maybe, talk about your essay submission please” was what he said and your heart immediately skipped a beat.

“Yes. Sure. I will see you at your office then? What time works for you?” was your response and, within seconds, you locked in a time while, the truth was, that you had no idea about what you were going to tell him. What was it that he needed to hear from you, you wondered? The truth? You weren’t going to give him that. He was better off failing you and get the professor to give you a bad grade.

So clearly, this was not going to go anywhere and, just as you were sitting in Cillian’s class again, you reflected on all the pain you felt when thinking back at when you were a young teenager.

It was this kind of pain you did not want him to know about so you sat there, awkwardly, like a pathetic loser, raising your hand, answering questions, to make up the credits that you would need after he failed your essay.

You put on act and, luckily for you, he never called you out that day. He left you be, sitting quietly at the back of the class room and then, without giving it any thought whatsoever, you were the first one out the door after a two-hour session, wanting to avoid him at all cost.

Yes, you needed to go and see him at his office. But you had no intention to actually do so, at least not now while your heart was racing and anxiety took over your anxious brain. You had no idea what to tell him and simply wanted to be left alone right now.

“Will I see you in ten?” Cillian reminded you nonetheless in passing as the students behind you were all hanging back, chatting and joking with the others. Lorraine, in particular, attempted to put on an act of her own, flirting with Cillian again.

“Yes, I will see you then” you confirmed nervously before you quickly made your way to the ladies room.

The lady’s lavatory followed a dull theme of light green. It was dated and made you feel a little nauseous.

You were nervous about meeting with Cillian about your essay and thus splashed some cold water on to your face before taking deep breaths. Then, when you looked into the mirror you saw the ghost of a girl who had died a long time ago.

Your face was gaunt and all your features were sunken in. Your eyes, once your best feature, were the only things that seemed to stand out now, as if you were just that, all vacant and lifeless. There was nothing else to look at. You were already disappearing and realised that you were all bones and baggage now, made up of shadows and secrets and nothing, nothing at all.

Then, you recalled what your dance coach had said to you just recently, telling you that you were one of the best dancers in class, but you lacked emotion. You lacked expression and you certainly lacked happiness. It was obvious to him, which is why he suggested an acting class to you. But perhaps acting skills were not what you needed. Perhaps you simply needed some happiness in your life, but felt as though you were not entitled to it.

Then you remembered, that, just a few weeks ago, you did feel alive and happy for one night only and this was the night you had spent with Cillian.

It was strange, exciting and sensual and certainly felt different to when you were with James who did not help the way you felt within your own body. You were insecure and, at least in your mind, there was nothing special about you.

Being with James was like a bad habit, just like smoking. You kept him around and went back to him simply for the fact that he provided something to you which you were familiar with. He provided structure, security and you adored his family.

But he did not excite you. Life did not excite you. It never did. It was painful to be who you were and, thus, you wanted to break every mirror in the bathroom. Every time you saw yourself you saw the sad little girl you used to be and still were, caught in this viscous cycle of negative thoughts. You were afraid to take risks because it had been enshrined in to you throughout foster care that taking risks was wrong. You lacked your very own family and love and often wondered whether your life would change one day.

Then, eventually, you locked yourself into a stall to get away from your reflection. You knew that you were nearing another mental breakdown any minute now and began to scream, quietly, but loud enough for others to hear.

It was quarter past ten now and you had been there, inside the lavatory stall, for fifteen minutes. You put your head in your hands, your fingernails digging into your face, wanting to scream but not having the nerve to do it.

Traumatising thoughts about your past visited you just like bad dreams did at night. You were losing your mind or maybe you have lost it already.

Some time passed, but you could not tell how much. You just let yourself slip away from reality for a bit but then, suddenly, the sound of the restroom door swishing open made you jump, startling you out of your mad, mad thoughts. A familiar pair of brown leather shoes came to stop outside of your stall.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" were the words you heard next and, suddenly, time slowed. Your skin burned and your voice was shaky when you spoke.

"Please go. You are not meant to be in here" you said although you were not even sure if you really wanted him to, but you said it anyways.

"But I am in here now and I am not leaving. Lorraine said that you have been in the lavatory for over half an hour. So, please come out before I tare the door open and embarrass myself in front of the entire school” Cillian chuckled, but with great concern in his voice. He knew that you were simply hiding in there and he was clearly worried about you and your wellbeing.

“Fuck. Seriously?” you stammered as you got up slowly and opened the stall door.

“Yes! Seriously Y/N! Clearly, you are avoiding me and I thought that we talked about everything that we needed to talk about. But, I supppose I was wrong as, first, you submit this ridiculous paper to me and now you are hiding from me…’ Cillian then said quietly as he was facing away from you in what you presumed to be an effort to give you some privacy, but his eyes then met yours when you looked in the reflection of the mirror.

You saw yourself too, standing in front of him with tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, fuck, are you okay? Did something happen? Should I call the student counsellor?” Cillian then asked anxiously when he noticed your tears and you tried to hold his gaze, but his eyes were too intense so you looked down at the tiled floor.

"God no, please. I just had a moment. I am okay” you stammered quickly but Cillian looked sceptical.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he then asked politely but you shook your head.

“I think I embarrassed myself enough already” you then told him but his eyebrows furrowed quickly.

“You are afraid of your own emotions and I get that. Most people are. But you know what I have learned throughout many years of acting?” Cillian said quietly again but, this time, with a warm and gentle smile.

“What?” you asked, wondering where he was going with this.

“That accepting and dealing with your emotions is an integral part of life. Unless you do that, you are not going to be happy and you most certainly will struggle with the line of work you chose. So, if you need to talk with someone about the way you feel, then talk to me. I am here to listen and what happened between us doesn’t matter, alright? I am not the kind of person who sees things superficially and, I don’t know why, but I do care about you. I want you to be okay” Cillian then explained while gently rubbing his palms over your upper arms and you were glad for his words and the way he spoke them, in a gentle and caring way.

“Thank you, Cillian” you cried before taking a deep breath. “Can I redo my paper?” you then asked. You still did not want to talk with him about your past just yet and hoped that he would accept your offer in lieu of an explanation as to why you were so anxious right now.

“I was hoping that you would and I want you to know that, when you do, I will not judge you or think any less of you for what you write” Cillian reassured you and, after you gave him a quick nod and wiped away your tears, he walked towards the door of the lavatory and held it open for you.

“Can you redo the paper by Wednesday? I need to pass it on to the unit co-ordinator” Cillian then said with a slight chuckle and unbothered by the fact that he just came walking out of the ladies’ bathroom with you.

“I can. And I am sorry for my slobby work” you then said and Cillian smiled. God, he was so beautiful and you stared shamelessly at him. He should not have become a lecturer at school full of young female students. Temptation was going to come knocking at his door, hordes of twenty something year olds begging to be noticed, to be loved, to be fucked. It was insanity and, just like Lorraine and some others, you wanted him and that was another form of madness.

A few days later…

Eventually, Wednesday came about and, when it did, your first stop was at Cillian’s office. You had promised to hand in your revised paper by nine and so you did.

This time, your effort was six pages long and included a large spiel about the foster care system in the US and how it shaped you from an emotional perspective.

It also included an array of emotions you believed many others like you felt when dealing with every-day life and you drew an analysis about them to the character you read about.

It was a paper which you had prepared with great care and thought and, in the end, the references to pieces of literature within your writing impressed Cillian so much so that, on Thursday evening, he sent you a message on the school’s online portal.

“I am impressed. This was certainly worth the wait” he said with an emoji on the end and his message certainly made you laugh.

“I am glad, because it wasn’t easy to write knowing that you would be the one reading it” you responded quickly after you saw Cillian’s message pop up as a notification on your phone at around 10 o’clock that night and, the fact that he wrote to you that late made you wondered whether he was thinking about you.

Clearly, he had read the paper on Wednesday morning already before making his notes on it and sending it to the unit co-ordinator, so why did he only message you now? There must have been a reason for it, right?

Unbeknownst to you, there was most certainly a reason behind this message. Cillian had, indeed, been thinking about you and the truth was that he was taken by what you wrote in your essay.

He saw the care you took in writing down your every thought and your very own emotions and, whilst he could sense that you were hurt by the system, he did not consider you to be weak. To the contrary, he considered you to be much stronger than you thought yourself you were. You took matters into your own hands after the system had failed you. Unlike James, Cillian was impressed by your courage and soon realised why it was you who had been chosen for the scholarship.

You were determined and, whilst you struggled to come to terms with your feelings about what happened to you, you were emotionally intelligent. You knew what you needed to do and you knew about the bad influences in your life. You just had to act upon your desires, follow your goals and leave your pain and restraints in past.

As such, Cillian had nothing to add to your paper and thought about it every night since. There was something about you which intrigued him even more now and his thoughts about you were not just sexual anymore. His interest in you was on a different kind of level now and the feelings he was starting to have for you bothered him, causing him to supress his very own emotions.

He had to put on an act of his own, pretending that he was not interested in you but, every time he had a pint with his best mate Dermont, Cillian’s true feelings surfaced as, suddenly, the conversations they shared were about you.

Even though Cillian assured him that he had forgotten all about your short lived fling, Dermont did not believe him as his friend spoke about you with a lot of admiration.

In addition to that, Dermont also knew that Cillian was not the type of guy who would engage in one-night stands and then never think about them again. He must have liked you if he took you home, to his house that night. And he most certainly had not forgotten about you now that you were his student as every conversation about his work was also about you, your talent and the way you interacted with him.

A few days later…

Eventually, Friday came around and it was another day where you had a lecture in PRAC300 before commencing your on-stage experience for which you were each given an on-stage character role and a script to read.

The roles were allocated randomly and when you were assigned the role of a mother who had recently lost her child, you could not help but sigh. It was not a role you were confident to act out and, yet, you knew that you had no choice. You had to take the role just as the other students had to take theirs. This included James who, also, ended up with a role that he was unhappy about but, unlike you, he spoke about it in Cillian’s class.

“Cillian, man, I think there is a mistake” he said in an arrogant way. “This role should be given to a girl” James determined, causing Cillian to furrow his eyebrows.

“Why?” Cillian asked, seeing that James had been drawn for the role of a character named Tina.

“Because Tina is a girl. I am playing a fucking girl” James laughed but Cillian did not think that his comment was funny and neither did you.

“Not exactly James. The role is non-binary” Cillian explained before telling him that this was an acting class. “It is important for you to step out of your comfort zone” Cillian furthermore said before pointing out that two female students in the class are portraying male characters as well.

“Now, if I can get everyone to schedule a time with me for the next week so that we can go through your role, one on one, that would be fantastic. I intend to allocate half an hour to each student” Cillian said and, of course, Lorraine and some of the other female students were quick to snap up the first available spots, leaving them with next to no time to prepare.

Luckily for Lorraine, she was portraying a young female teacher who was in love with her student. It was a role based on a book you had read quite recently and the fact that she got this role was rather amusing to you. She had an interest in Cillian and it was basically a matter of roles in reverse, if only Cillian had known.

When it was finally your turn to book in a time with Cillian however, you realised that your work schedule clashed with his remaining availabilities and it was at this point that he made an exception for you which was something that got you talking.

“I give dance classes from 3 o’clock to 6 o’clock each day and I cannot get out of them. It pays the bills and I am teaching ten teens for their upcoming dance competition in Cork so I have no idea what to do” you told him after the last student left the room and, sure enough, he remembered your passion for dancing.

“You teach dance? I did not know that. Are you enjoying it?” Cillian asked surprised and you nodded.

“Yes. I love it” you told him while he looked at his calendar.

“Alright, so how about 7 o’clock on Thursday then? It is after hours but I could come in and see you here” Cillian offered and you were surprised by his suggestion.

“Is that not too late for you?” you wondered, knowing that he had children as well.

“Well, generally speaking, Thursdays and Fridays are good for me. My ex has the kids those days and, even if they were to come over, they are old enough to look after themselves for an hour or two” Cillian responded before telling you that they often do their own thing now that they are older, meeting up with friends after school and playing games at the local arcade.

“So, where do you teach dancing?” Cillian then wanted to know, being more chatty than usual.

“At the Dublin School of Dance. I teach contemporary dance and ballet” you told Cillian who, again furrowed his eyebrows.

“My daughter goes to that school twice a week” Cillian told you before showing you a photograph of her which he took during her last class.

“No way! I think I have met your daughter then” you said while Cillian was sliding through the photographs and you could immediately see the resembles of him in his daughter. They had the same pale freckled skin and light-coloured hair.

“Really?” he asked with great surprise and a hint of concern.

“Yes. She is in Miriam Mill’s class, isn’t she?” you asked and Cillian nodded before telling you that Miriam was leaving soon. She had an offer from another Dance School in London which she took.

“She is leaving, yes. But, your daughter will get another pretty awesome teacher soon, so don’t you worry” you then teased and Cillian furrowed his eyebrows quickly.

“Really? Is that new teacher good?” he asked without realising that you were going to be his daughter’s new teacher.

“She is the best” you joked before telling him that you would be taking on the classes for her age group in a couple of weeks.

“Talking about awkwardness” Cillian then said with concern, seeing that this may become a little weird but, to you, it meant nothing. If anything, you were looking forward to meeting Cillian’s daughter properly and preparing her for the dance competitions.

“Yeah, I mean, you could enrol her into another dance school if you like” you said nonetheless but he chuckled.

“And explain this to my ex how?” Cillian asked while cocking an eyebrow.

“Well, you could tell her that you slept with the ballet teacher who also happens to be your student at drama school. I am sure that would make quite a story” you joked and Cillian quickly reminded you to be discreet.

“Y/N, please…” he said while you laughed.

“God, relax Cillian. I am going to make sure that she has fun and excels with her routine for the finals. There is no bad blood between us and, like I said, nothing ever happened right? It was just sex, a one off, that is it. No one will ever know about it. My lips are sealed” you promised him and Cillian gave you a reluctant nod.

“Yes, it was just sex” he repeated quietly after ensuring that there was no one around. “So, Thursday, 7 o’clock then?” he then asked and you confirmed.

“Yes, 7 o’clock is great. Thank you. But I must go now. I am already late for training. Thanks Cillian” you said before grabbing your things and walking through the door.

To be continued… Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please! Tag List

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