#but it feels like it's going to be towards the end of the year when i finally get the damn thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellecdc · 1 day

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Wolfstar x bookworm!reader

What about reader, Regulus and Barty have their own little chaotic book club and Wolfstar often have to go in search of reader as Barty happens to enjoy switching the location of said meetings.

Wolfstar Sirius, ends up dragging reader away for cuddles and reader ends up reading to them, running her fingers through Sirius's hair as he needs extra affection

Hope this inspires you, I hope you feel better soon, sending all my optimism your way 🫶

you guys really came through with the cutest wolfstar requests - thank you and I owe you my life

poly!wolfstar x bookworm!reader who has a book club with Regulus and Barty...much to Sirius' chagrin

CW: fem!reader, Sirius being a sucky baby, Barty being a shit disturber, Regulus being exhausted, Remus being there for the drama

Remus didn’t bother looking up from his book at the sound of his dorm room door slamming open unceremoniously followed by the sound of Quidditch equipment falling in a heap on the ground because he didn’t need to; it had Sirius written all over it.

Not only would Prongs never treat his equipment with such disrespect and disregard, but he also always came back from practice far too excitedly.

“Fucking hells, Prongs is working us hard.” Sirius grumbled as he fell face first spread-eagle onto his bed.

“Rough.” Remus gruffed back, knowing better than to try to say anything even remotely supportive of James’ coaching methods, but also not feeling particularly sorry for his boyfriend, seeing as he actively chooses to be on the Gryffindor team every year.

“Where’s our dolly?” Sirius mumbled into his bedding.

Remus failed to smother a smirk as he flipped a page in his book. “Reading.”

Sirius’ head popped up at that as he looked at Remus bemusedly. “Then why isn’t she here reading with you?”

“Because she’s reading with her book club.”

Remus’ response was met with a small bout of silence.

A very small bout.

“Why aren’t you in the book club?”

Remus finally let his book fall to his lap in order to consider Sirius. “Because I’m not reading the same book as they are.”

“Who’s they?”

“Sirius.” Remus warned.

“Remus.” Sirius returned without hesitation.

The two boys stared insistently at the other; Remus fighting the urge to laugh at how petulant Sirius looked with his hair still all windswept and falling out of the bun he’d thrown it in for practice.

“Who’s they?” Sirius repeated with faux casualty.

“Regulus and Junior.”

All faux casualty was thrown out the window as Sirius slammed his hands onto his bed and sat up on his knees quickly. “You’re sodding kidding me!”

“‘Fraid not, Pads.” Remus offered as he turned to look back down at his book.

Sirius was having none of that as he accio’d Remus’ book into his hand.

“You let her leave with Regulus and Junior!?”

“What do you mean let, Pads? I’m not her keeper.” Remus scolded. Sirius looked like he really wanted to argue with that point, but also knew better.

“Well…this is just not right at all!”

“What makes it wrong, Sirius? That she’s not here to cuddle you?” Remus asked flatly.

“Yes!” He shouted in exasperation as he headed towards the dorm room door, and whilst Remus found his boyfriend quite exhausting right now, he couldn’t pass up the show this was guaranteed to provide.

Any tension that dissipated from Sirius’ shoulders as he spotted you in the library quickly returned when he also spotted his younger brother and his brother’s best friend sitting along with you.

Regulus rolled his eyes and snapped his book shut abruptly knowing full well that Sirius’ temper tantrum was about to force their book club to a close, but Barty simply smirked at the promise of some drama.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid this book club is closed; we’ve already hit our quota for Black’s.” Barty jeered as Sirius approached your table.

“Sod off, Junior.” He grumbled quietly.

“Hi Siri! How was your practice?” You asked cheerfully; Remus almost laughed at the way most of Sirius’ ire melted away at the question.

“Long.” He pouted, causing you to coo in sympathy.

“James working you too hard?” You asked tenderly, taking his first two fingers into your hand from where his hand was dangling dejectedly beside you.

“Oh cry me a sodding river, Black.” Barty scoffed. “Now would you skedaddle please? We’re trying to have a tantalising discussion on the ins and outs of the literary masterpiece Alice in Wonderland.”

Remus could restrain the laugh that bubbled out of him at that. “Are you guys actually reading Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes.” Regulus sneered defensively.

“Treasure thought I’d love it.” Barty explained haughtily. “And she was right.”

“I don’t give a thestral’s arse what you’re reading, Junior; I want my girlfriend back!” Sirius barked, earning him shushes from surrounding students.

Barty looked like he was thoroughly enjoying the verbal sparring that was no doubt growing to near physical sparring levels when Regulus rolled his eyes and stood. “Barty, please; I really don’t feel like fielding one of my brother’s meltdowns.”

“Maybe I feel like fielding one of your brother’s meltdowns; did you ever think about that, Regulus? Salazar, you Black’s are so selfish.” He spat with vitriol; and though he continued berating his friend, he did in fact collect his book and his notes and stand from the table, continuing to jeer at Regulus as they exited the library.

“I’m sorry we interrupted your book club, lovebug.” Remus placated as you turned to consider your two boyfriends.

“I’m not!” Sirius argued quickly. “I wanted my post-practice cuddles.” He pouted, the end of his sentence trailing off as Remus noted the slightest dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Your face softened as you looked at Sirius with equal parts love and teasing. “I’m terribly sorry, Siri.”

“Well…thank you.” He mumbled.

“Come on then.” Remus offered with a laugh, patting Sirius on the bum roughly. “Let’s go for our post-practice cuddles then.”

You stood from the table, accepting Remus’ hand as you did.

“No, none for Moony.” Sirius whined petulantly, causing Remus to scoff indignantly.

“Why not!?”

“You have not been sympathetic nor helpful in the slightest to my plight.”

“I came with you to fetch her!” Remus defended.

“No.” Sirius started, throwing him a glare that held little to no malice. “You came to watch me argue with Junior and Reg.”

“Same thing.” Remus muttered quietly, earning him another glare from Sirius.

You squeezed Remus’ hand twice as you bumped your elbow into Sirius’ side, encouraging him to throw an arm over your shoulders. “What book would you like to read, Sirius?” You asked him sweetly.

And that’s how Remus found himself laying on his bed alone as you and Sirius laid in his bed; Sirius’ head propped on your chest as you read from the beginning of Alice in Wonderland and played with his hair the way he liked equally in his human and animagus form. And Remus couldn’t find it in him to be particularly perturbed when the two of you looked so sodding sweet.

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utterlyazriel · 2 days

Text

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: here we go honeys. when me and aly (<3!) tossed this idea around months ago, this was the big question; how to do the reveal and what comes after. naturally it was as angsty as possible tehe <3 cw: canon typical violence

word count: 4.2k

synopsis: Azriel mourns a mistake that will haunt him for eternity as he races back to you. You play the leading role in one of your nightmares, but you can't seem to wake up.

CHAPTER SEVEN :: MATES

It's too loud and he can't think— that's the only coherent thing that Azriel can seem to grasp as he stumbles forward in the snow.

His shadows burst into a wild frenzy as he staggers towards the cabin door. It's not snowing here but the wind current is fast and wicked, tunnelling over the hilltop. His breath locks in his chest and even as he gasps, he can't seem to catch it.

It's too loud, too much— every single thought and feeling within him is just climbing over one another, overlapping, melding into each other so he can't tell where one ends and another begins.

Sadness, misery, torment, upset, anger. His emotions are thrown together with yours, a thousand afflictions all battling for his attention and he can't fucking think.

He shoves the cabin door open, falls through it, and it slams shut behind him.

Like a puppet getting its strings cut, all at once the noise... stops.

As though the very action of closing the door had managed to silence the bond between you and Azriel.

A different, very real fear suddenly burrows deep in his heart.

Still gasping for air, he shoves a hand against his chest and searches within himself desperately for that tether, his eyes crushing shut. For a moment, his heart hangs in the balance, teetering on the edge of agony.

And then— there.

Golden and rooted in his very soul, the bond that connects him to you. Only once he's found it does he release the breath captured in his lungs. He breathes an audible sigh of relief and shudders lightly, his knees giving out slightly.

He lets himself slump back against the cabin door as his scarred hand slips from his chest, his wings curling forward around himself. His head swims with the overload of new information, the first dregs of it only just sinking in.

You... were not the person you said you were.

...Was that such a bad thing?

Still breathing hard, Azriel's gaze turns to stare hard at his hands, their delicate scarring paining him nearly as much as the memory does. He thinks back to their origin.

Thinks back to a space too small for a growing boy, thinks of the darkness. He thinks of the never-ending misery that seemed to torment his life in a way he feared he would never escape.

It had taken a very long time for that fear to diminish in size; or perhaps, Azriel had just learned to grow around it.

But the cruelty of those mountains and the Fae that resided there was something he was intimately familiar with. The world up there, between the pines, was kill or be killed. Rise to the top of the food chain or spend every waking moment trying to figure out how to survive.

Isn't that what you had done? Learnt how to endure the conditions, to withstand the brute force of the winter and the merciless Illyrian way?

And wasn't that what he had done, all those years ago? Perhaps, the two of you weren't so different.

But his mind keeps snagging: liar, liar, liar.

Some vicious, prideful voice in his head makes a different point— he did it the right way. He didn't deceive anyone.

He fought for all he had, trained harder than any of his camp-mates to overcome every wretched obstacle in his way, earned his place at the top of the Blood Rite by being better, by working harder and winning.

Even with his... set back with learning to fly, he had still conquered it. He'd earned his place.

But… no, that wasn't right, was it?

He'd earned it, yes, but only because there was no other choice.

He had been kicked down at every possible chance, stalked for being born from a father who detested him and none of it was his fault. He'd earned his title as warrior but he had done nothing to reap every extra hurdle to get there.

Azriel had endured a great many terrible things in his life—and it took effort to recall that it wasn't fair. That it was an injustice he shouldn't have had to bear.

Sometimes, he hated how deeply ingrained the Illyrian way was within him. How it had changed him in the most unsavoury of ways, giving him an Illyrian pride that overtook his rationale at the worst of times.

It echoed out in the most unfamiliar of ways, like a hidden piece of himself he'd forgotten about— forgotten the person he'd needed to become to survive those camps.

So when Azriel thinks of the lie you've been hiding it, protecting yourself, the forgiveness is already there. It always was there. He could never had truly held it against you.

You had lied, yes, but as if there was any other way to survive. As if he could fault you for picking the option that let you fight, let you grow strong, let you keep your wings.

He remembers your words suddenly.

Please, I- I just wanted to keep my wings.

A sinister horror creeps up his throat and Azriel lurches forward, his forearms slamming against the cabin floor as his body forcibly retches. His stomach clenches tightly and bile floods his mouth but nothing comes out but his ragged breath.

How young had you been?

He knows to make your lie feasible it had to have been too young. Nine years old? Eight? He tries to recall the age that Lord Mylind said you started turning up trouble but it only succeeds in fueling the harrowing feeling that was running through his veins.

Azriel sags forward, his eyes drawing closed as he presses his forehead to the cool wood of the ground, trying to contain his growing dread. Still curled around himself, his wings quiver in the wake of his revelation. His shadows try soothe him, whirling down the planes of his neck.

You were pleading with him.

And... he had left you.

His stomach heaves once more, his breath a mixture of raspy pants.

It's impossible not to recount every single interaction you've had over the months, turning over every memory and seeing the other side of it with startling clarity.

The lone cabin, the outlier to the group. The tenseness in your shoulders when asked about the Blood Rite or your absences from training that Lord Mylind had spoken so crudely about.

Your drive to train and learn; the utter disappointment at the inadequacy of your tonics.

You had so much on the line, so much more than he ever could have imagined.

Azriel bites his cheek meanly as he recalls the conversation in which he asked why you hadn't completed in the Blood Rite. It makes perfect sense now; the exposure of the challenge was far too big of a risk and as a bastard, you would automatically be a target.

Even if you managed to succeed, which he had no doubt you could, the tattoos... removing your shirt...

All dead giveaways.

Your voice echoes in his mind.

Azriel, please, you have to understand—

You had begged him and he left you, he left you.

His body gives another awful retch, the horror of what he had done beginning to truly settle in. Gods, in a thousand ways you had been more trusting and vulnerable that he had ever known. Allowing him into your shelter, into your life...

Letting him get close to you, knowing that the closer he got, the more your secret threatened to reveal. And you let him anyway.

Azriel lurches to his feet, swaying for only a moment, his head reaching a clarity he so desperately lacked earlier.

He needs to go back. He should have fucking never left.

Somewhere between his ribs, there's an wallowing ache on the bond. A jolt of sharp pain.

Hand flying to his chest, Azriel stares at it and desperately prays to every god he can think of that he isn't too late to fix this. His eyes flick over to the Siphon on the back of hand, dim and lifeless. Drained.

Fuck. He snarls in his frustration. He can't even winnow back to you.

Turning and pressing back out the door, his boots smash through the snow outside for only a few steps— til he beats his mighty wings and takes to the skies.

Whether the bond had snapped for you or not, it didn't stop him from gripping that thread tightly and pouring every sincere intention down it. I'm sorry. I’m coming back. I’m sorry. I never should have left. I'm so fucking sorry.

He could only hope that you somewhere on the other side, connected to the same red string of fate, you could feel him coming back to you.

—

He's taking too long.

It's the thought that's stuck on loop, like a record that keeps skipping, repeating the same part over and over again. He's going as fast as he can and still, he knows he's taking too damn long.

As his wings strain from the long journey, the endless labyrinth of trees whirring past beneath him too fast to see, Azriel glimpses down at the siphons atop his hands.

They're still gleaming in that lacklustre way but there's more of a shine to them now. He can feel it too, the well refilling with a slow drip, the build up of his power.

His keen eyes scour the landscape, narrowed as he analyses the distance between here and Exordor. It's still far— it will stretch the reserve of magic that's barely begun to replenish but Azriel doesn't care. He'll do anything to reach you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, brow furrowing, and folds the fabric once more. The world spins as he pushes through the fabric of it, feeling the strain in his bones. The snowy entrance to your shelter comes into view.

He lands with a sickening crack, his knees bending to catch himself as he touches down, one heavy motion into the snow which spins up in a flurry. It's raining heavily, the drops coming down with a vehemence, creating a thunderous applause against the frozen ground.

Around him, the trees groan and shudder as they bow to the powerful energy. Birds take flight, cawing as they do. In the distance, there's a loud snap, carried with the wind.

Azriel stares right into the cabin.

His stomach threatens to lurch again at the sight. The door to your shelter is wide open.

His mate, where is his mate?

Stretching out the doorway, there are obvious signs of a struggle. The muddy snow has been kicked around, the boards nailed to the inside of the door are fresh with splinters, and... and...

The blood. Crimson, scarlet, fucking red blood coats the floorboards, a ghoulish splatter of it leading from your bed out the door, turning the slurry of melted snow a soft pink. He knows from the pull in his chest that you're not here.

This isn't just some attack. They haven't just ambushed you, they've... found out.

Where before he had felt terribly ill, bile rising, there is only icy and raging fury. In the distance, another snap sounds and his shadows beg him to pay attention to it, their whispers kissing at his cheeks. Water soaks his dark hair, stray raindrops rolling down his face.

Azriel ignores them and stumbles forward one, two steps and stops, his heart soaking in the reality of what had happened.

He had left you and they had taken you.

They found out and they hadn't killed you, they had— they had—

The snap in the distance. This time when it sounds, it yanks Azriel's attention, his head whipping towards where it's coming from. It's towards camp. Dread curdles up in his gut, latching onto each notch in his spine and burrowing deep.

Every instinct in his body roars into overdrive as he realises what it is he can hear in the distance — the crack of a whip against skin.

—

One of your nightmares has come to life, dragging from the murkiest parts of your mind and taking the treacherous form of Brudam.

You keep begging yourself to wake the fuck up.

It can’t be real— this can’t actually be happening, you think desperately, none of this was ever supposed to happen- you had- it was- you secret was something you guarded with your life.

"Wake up," You plead to yourself deliriously. Your wrists are already feeling chafed from where they're bound against the wooden pole, the steel that binds them cold as ice. The rain has soaked you to the bone.

"Wake up," You all but sob, trying futilely to pull against the restraints on your wrists.

It only succeeds in tugging on the stakes driven through your wings, a searing, fiery type of pain the ripples along every nerve in them. A sob scrapes up your throat, answering the pain's call. It hurts, it hurts, it fucking hurts in a way you haven't known before — everything, every cell in your body, is being tortured.

A shredding deep in your gut as though you've taken a fistful of claws to the stomach makes you seize, your vision flashing wildly. Even now, your cycle continues its bloody rampage. You can't stop crying, can't stop your body from convulsing in pure agony.

Somewhere behind you, your ear pick up the shifting in the mud, Brudam preparing to strike again.

Even sobbing, you tense up, unable to stop yourself—instinct drives you to hastily try tuck your wings, trying to pull them from their spread position. They catch on the stakes pinned through them meanly, the delicate flesh tearing with a sickening squelch and sending rivers of pain up into your body.

You cry out a strangled gasp, your head bowing further forward, trying to escape what's to come.

The blow rains down onto your unprotected wings all the same.

It's pure fire. Like they've doused the membranous skin of your wings with oil and set them ablaze, fiery hot pain licking at the tendons, tracing all the way up to your bare back. Your teeth grit to contain your scream. Tears streak down your face, lost in the thrum of the rain.

"Wake. Up." You demand to yourself again, panting heavily now.

You can't take much more pain or you'll be unconscious soon and some awful part of you knows, that's when they'll take your wings. You'll wake up midway to the worst nightmare of them all; the splintering sound of them cutting them off your body.

There's a boot pressed suddenly to your lower back, pressing meanly.

"Oh no, this isn't a dream," Brudam taunts as he leans down, all too happily. His tone shifts to something harder with his next words, nearly spitting the words. "I knew there was something off about you, you mutt."

His voice climbs to a shout, addressing the crowd gathered around you. "I always knew you were a FUCKING TRAITOR!"

There's a roar from the crowd, lead by the antsy group of warriors you've grown up and trained beside. All of them are eager to see justice delivered for your lies. None of them are pleased to have been duped, much less by a female.

They know, everyone knows. There's no coming back from this. Even if it weren't from the scent of blood from your cycle, your bound chest—revealed through your cut away armor— is proof enough.

Another convulsion rocks your body, the pain from your cycle making itself known. You're burning hot from every laceration on your skin and freezing cold from being bare in the icy rain. Your defence gets swallowed up in your pitiful whimper.

The mud behind you shifts again, Brudam no doubt winding up for his next hit.

You hold your breath, capturing the next sob in your throat. Your wings tug inwards, despite how you beg them not to, and your wrists ache as you try to wrench them free fruitlessly.

A sense of finality sinks in. You're going to die here.

A part of you feels like maybe you'd always known it would end like this, one way or the other. It's tired. So fucking tired of living in your intricate lie and spending each and every moment of your miserable existence on alert. On defence. Waiting for a break that never seems to come.

It's that part that can't, in any capacity, be truly upset at Azriel.

You can't resent him for leaving when you're the one who lied.

You can't regret him finding out, without regretting ever meeting him—and that means... regretting all the happiness you've truly felt.

But there's also an anger swirling within you, a rage that is as icy as it is hungry for vengeance.

Inexplicably, it feels unknown. Not your own. It starts somewhere in your chest and it only feels like it's getting bigger, growing in size, glowing hotter.

In the drone of the rain, blackness swims before your tired eyes as they begin to slip shut— only, no, they haven't closed.

The darkness is real and in front of you. It's surrounding you, curling up from under your captured arms. Despite the loud protests from your anguished body, you lift your head shakily. You're still quivering, quiet hiccups pushing out your lips.

"What are you doing, witch?" Brudam snarls from behind you, his boot on your back digging in harder. You wince, the motion dragging your wings against the splinters of the stakes. You shake your head, unable to form words.

It isn't me, you want to say.

But you're not entirely sure that's true either. The black plume is only around you, rising as though it is coming from you. Protecting you.

"Brudam!" A loud voice cuts across the rustling, nervous crowd, cutting through the din of the rain clear as night and sounding as deadly as venom. The courtyard falls into silence.

Your heart lurches up your throat. You know that voice.

Something within you cleaves in half, torn by opposite forces. On one side, there the mountainous evidence of your miserable life, of every thing that's worked against you time and time again. Of the fact that things don't work out for you, they never have. You're a fool to believe that would change now.

The other side... is a terrible, feeble hope.

Because he came back.

"Shadowsinger," Brudam greets with a sneer. The boot on your back shifts and then retreats, the warrior turning away from you. Agony tears through your body again and you hold your breath, shuddering through the silent pain with gritted teeth. A dangerous hope starts to cling to your heart.

"One chance," Azriel growls. The hair on the back of your neck rises at the promise of violence in his voice.

"Let her go."

Brudam snorts unattractively, forcing a bitter sounding laugh out. You focus on trying not to throw up as the pain fogs your brain, bile filling your mouth.

"Not fucking likely."

"Walk away." Azriel snarls his demand, sounding angrier than you've ever heard him.

"Over my dead body, bastard," Brudam spits back, the mud shifting as he digs his feet in, preparing to fight. His hand tightens around the whip in his hand.

There's a moment of silence, the wind carrying a whistle, the trees swaying as if leaning closer to listen in, two warriors sizing each other up in the pouring rain. Your ears strain for Azriel's response.

"Gladly."

And then the courtyard is doused in pure shadow.

—

Azriel moves without hesitation.

Illyrian warriors are fiercely trained to fight through every type of conditions, battling in the harshest of all seasons. Snow, sleet, rain, shine. They're disciplined to go days without sleep, to fight and win, even with one arm pinned behind their back.

But what defence is there against losing your sight?

Azriel hadn't even known his shadows were capable of such a thing. Their usual whirling expands in a blink of an eye, spreading out into a storm-cloud of blackness that drapes itself across the landscape. People murmur and bleat in fright as it creeps out deathly fast, snuffing senses and blinding everyone in the courtyard except him.

Like Rhys' own cloak of darkness, of midnight — but no, it's not night, it's shadow.

Azriel doesn't dwell on it, doesn't hesitate. Not when there's still territory, still enemies, in the space between him and you.

There's a ripple of unease from the warriors but Azriel's already advancing, the shadows beneath his boots silencing the shift of his feet. Through the darkness, Brudam gives himself away with an animalistic snarl and leads Azriel exactly to his his target.

He swings powerfully and Heartstriker does what it does best—aims true.

The bones in Brudam's shoulder makes a horrible sinking crack as the blade pierces it through, the brute giving a fiendish cry of pain.

Azriel drives it all the way through, his anger aiding his strength as he swipes out Brudam's feet. Heartstriker buries itself deep into the mud, driven by the weight of Brudam's body as it hits the ground.

All Azriel can think is that he should fucking gut him, should skin him alive. He should pull that blade and drag it forward, force it through all the muscle and shatter every bone on the way, until it pierces his awful heart.

The mating bond within him roars at him to do so, every inch of his body, of his soul, enraged at the state he'd found you in, the agonising hurt bestowed on you by this male—but it's not his kill. Azriel knows that.

So instead, he draws the Truth Teller with deft, deadly accuracy and then sinks it in deep into Brudam's groin, til the tip reaches mud on the other side.

Brudam howls, his whole body twitching as it tries to curl up against either blade unsuccessfully. Between the rain and the shadows, he's too incapacitated to do anything except wail.

Azriel doesn't waste a second, already moving. There's a warrior approaching on every side but between the gift of sight and silence in the shadow, he's devastatingly lethal.

One goes down with a slice across his throat, crimson soaking his front. The next crumbles after too many jabs of Azriel's dagger land in his torso, too slow to block them when he can't see them coming. The next, his head cut from his shoulders in one mighty swing.

Their cries join the thunder of the storm but somehow, through it all, all he can hear is the softness of your weak breath. Wounded. Fading.

Azriel's vision goes red. He moves expertly, his kills efficient until the burning rage in him gets too much and then he's slashing with pure malice, teeth gritted in hate, as he cuts down any warrior who stood by and watched. All he can feel is the thread between you and him, nearly torn from how much they've hurt you.

When the clashing of steel stops, the last foe dead, only the din of the rain remains.

Like a vacuum has opened somewhere in the sky, the inky cover of his shadow is sucked away, leaving only his sluggish moving shadows and exposing the bleak day. Carnage lies all around him. Bodies upon bodies of warriors.

Azriel can only see you.

You're still strapped to that torturous pole, your beautiful wings forcibly spread out and pinned, like you're being laid out for dissection. Across the flesh of your wings is a sickening number of thin, scarlet lines, gently bleeding.

Beneath you, in the mud, is the remains of your armor and Azriel can trace the scar that'll be left on your back from where it was cut off. The binding on your chest remains, now stained with blood.

You aren't moving.

He sprints without thought, without reason, following the bond. He finds the thread within his chest, grasps it tight, and tugs desperately. You don't even flinch.

A fear mounts inside him, more heart-wrenching than he's ever felt before. A glance down at his siphons reveals their still dull appearance—fucking useless to him.

Azriel staggers to his knees as he reaches you, his scarred hands reaching up to pry off the steel that binds your wrist to the wooden pole—ripping out chunks of the wood at the same time with his rapid, panicked motion. Your hands fall limply to your sides. He feels sick again.

"Y/n?"

He's scared to touch you, scared to do more damage that he's already caused, so so frightened that he just found you and you might already be gone.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you die. He can't—the thought is suffocating in itself, like a black hole that opens and starts pulling in his entire world— you can't die or he'll— he'll- nothing will matter anymore.

RHYS. He throws the plea out desperately, nearly delirious at the sight of your unmoving body. The words sound like a sob, even in his own mind. You have to help me.

Where are you? Rhys' voice fills his mind in an instant.

Then... a haggard breath sounds, like drawing through a mouthful of blood. You cough lightly, barely audible, and murmur, "...Azriel...?"

Something explodes inside Azriel, a burst of pure energy that fills him with relief so overwhelmingly he could cry.

Exordor. He barely manages to think properly, to even respond, beyond the staggering emotion. Come immediately. Please. I need you to- she needs—you have to help her. Please.

I'm on my way.

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

@aomi-recs @letmejustreadthanks @problemfinder @sevikas-whore @doodlebugg16-blog

@meandmysillywriting @justingnoreme @krowiathemythologynerd @hanatsuki-hime @sunny747

@coffeebeforewater @kalulakunundrum @marina468 @moonbirde (i'm so sorry! u asked me to tag u right at the beginning and i've forgotten this whole time! forgive me pls <3)

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dazednmatthews · 2 days

Text

the ending is the same every damn time ~m. sturniolo x reader

exbf!boxer!matt x reader

based on this ask and post by @dominicfikue it was literally just tew good not to write yall. all creds for the idea and inspo to them <333

“everybody’s wants to know,

how it felt to hear you scream

they know you walk like you’re a god

they can’t believe i made you weak.”

the air was thick with the smell of sweat and cigarettes. the volume was on level a thousand, voices clashing in their efforts to be heard. the sound of men yelling followed wherever y/n went, possibly the worst noise there ever was.

she stood towards the back of the room, tight skirt riding up her thighs slightly. she gripped her purse tightly, making sure to keep aware of all the men coming and going around her. she hated this fucking place and she hated that she was here. it never stopped her though.

he was next, the very reason she would ever be in a place like this. she wasn’t supposed to be there; swore she was done entertaining this fucked-up, no-win cycle they’d found themselves in. yet, despite herself, she could never ignore the chance to see him. he’d always had a way of getting her to do the unthinkable.

the crowd ramps up the volume as she looks up and sees him, matt, enter the ring. it’s a shitty, smaller than normal caged in ring, sat on a lifted stage. he’s shirtless, black shorts slung low on this hips, hands wrapped. his tattoos are highlighted by the top-bright over head lights, his entire body coated in a deep yellow. it’s something out of a wet dream, the way he stands there, cocky smirk adorning his full lips.

y/n catches a glimpse of the silver chain she gifted him on their year anniversary, sitting prettily against his collarbones. it makes her pinch her eyes closed. attention whore, she thinks, shaking her head.

when she opens her eyes again, matt’s staring right at her, despite the distance she was from him. it’s like he could pick her out from the crowd immediately; like his eyes could find her anywhere.

his right eyebrow is raised, questioning her. she doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, just standing in the same place, forced bored look painted on her features. what she’d never admit though, is that her heart is beating out of her chest and there’s a warmth pooling in her stomach. ‘cause fuck, he looked good.

his smirk widens as he chuckles to himself. matt shakes his head, sliding his eyes from his opponent back to her. he nods at her, and that she does react to. she rolls her eyes, making a ‘shooing’ motion, as if to hurry him.

he laughs louder that time, to which the man in front of him bristles at. there are words exchanged between them briefly, before the whistle is blown and it’s time for the show.

thing about matt and y/n, is that they both have an insatiable need for each other’s attention. they performed for each other, addicted to the other’s fateful gaze. y/n showing up here, out of the blue, in the shortest skirt she owned and the tightest top she could find was her way of forcing matt to see her. the way matt was fighting tonight, showboating and landing particularly harsh jabs to the stomach of his opponent was his way of making sure she knew that he was still as mesmerizing as he’s always been.

the way he moved around the ring was hypnotic. the way he deflected hits and hurled them back ten times faster, made her knees feel like jelly. he was a hurricane; all consuming and unavoidable, commanding the space in a way that no would in the world could compete with.

y/n leaves her place leaned up against a balance beam, slinking further into the crowd. his plan had obviously worked, her need to be front and center driving her closer. she slips through the crowd seamlessly, drunk and distracted men too fussed with the view to stop a pretty girl moving around them. there’s women there too, eyes trained on matt hungrily. they hung on to his every move, whispering between themselves.

“he’s so fucking hot,” a blonde says, fanning herself. “i would give anything for him to fuck my brains out.”

her friend nods in agreement. “he could definitely throw me around.” she sighs. “whoever he’s going home to is so fucking lucky.”

she can’t help but smirk to herself, continuing her path. when she was just a couple people back from the area surrounding the cage, matt delivers an especially heinous punch, that leaves the man in front of him reeling. he’s knocked back, disoriented. when a couple seconds pass, matt cocks his head.

“had enough yet?” he taunts, circling the space leisurely, like a vulture. his steps are slow and menacing, sweat glistening in the light. y/n swears she almost passes out with the rush of need that takes over her body.

“fucking pretty boys,” the man in front of him spits, wiping the blood from his mouth. “can’t wait to rearrange that face.”

matt snorts, cracking his neck. “time’s ticking then, sweetheart.” y/n can practically see the steam coming from the man’s ears at the name.

when he lunges again he manages to send a punch straight to matt’s face, followed by one to his gut. it has y/n wincing and turning her head. this was the part she couldn’t stand; watching matt get hurt. despite how many times during their relationship he reminded her it was inevitable, it never made it any easier to see.

but unfortunately for the man, who was feeling proud after that, matt simply spits to the side, and in the span of seconds, sends a deadly combo to him, the sickening crack! of a bone echoing around them. he doesn’t stop, jab after jab connecting.

one last punch and the man is out cold, falling to matt’s feet with a loud thump. the ref counts down, and when there’s no movement, they declare matt the winner.

it’s electric, the way matt looks at her, flashing her a million dollar grin. he takes the cash, and of course, sends the audience a bow, which they go crazy for. y/n shakes her head with a smile, just knowing he got off on it.

only thing is, she can’t judge him too hard. cause the way he looks in that ring and the way winning made him light up, she got off on it too.

“stop moving,” y/n grumbles from atop her bathroom counter, cotton swab in hand. matt’s palms are laying flat against her thighs, squeezing the flesh tightly when she applies the disinfectant to his eyebrow.

“it fuckin’ hurts,” he says, blowing a breath out. she can’t help but roll her eyes at the irony. he’s dressed in the loose fitting sweatpants she loves a little too much now, black tank top hugging his frame.

“aren’t you supposed to be mr. tough guy? suck it up.” he swats at her thigh and she laughs, applying the bandaid.

it always ended up like this. matt finding his way to her after a fight. they’d been broken up the longest they ever had, a whopping six months, but it never stopped the inevitable. together or not, they would find each other anywhere. they were magnets, pulling towards each other but pushing away when they got too close. it was exhausting really, how bad they seemed to need one another but could never make it last.

when she’s finished fixing him up, y/n drops the trash into the garbage below her, leaning back against her mirror. matt’s eyes are more pupil than iris, dark and enthralling.

y/n raises her hand, gently swiping her thumb against his cut lip. “you’ve got to stop showing up here, matt.”

his stare doesn’t let up. “stop letting me in.”

there’s endless meaning under the statement. she hates that he’s right. because as many times as she tells him not to come, she’s always opening the door, to both her apartment and her heart, which isn’t good for either of them.

matt leans forward, angling his head to find her neck. his lips ghost underneath the shell of her ear, breath fanning the skin.

“we’re broken up for a reason.”

“which is?” his hands are wandering, making the warmth in her stomach spread. one of them is lodged in between her thighs now, the other gripping right below her chest.

y/n’s breathing is a lot heavier than before. “because you’re an inconsiderate dick that can’t communicate.”

matt trails his nose across her jawline. “mmm.” he hums, leaving an open mouth kiss on the base of her throat. “and you’re a neurotic bitch that doesn’t trust me.”

the words sound honey sweet falling from his lips and y/n can feel her resolve crumbling. if she was being honest with herself, it was paper thin to begin with. it always was with him.

“right,” she says, snaking her hand up and gripping the hair at the nape of his neck roughly. she yanks his head back, looking him directly in the eye. “call me a neurotic bitch for caring.”

it’s wicked, the way they get off on fake-hating each other. there’s fire building where matt’s hand is inching closer and closer to her center, fingers grazing her underwear.

“i know you care,” he purrs, the hand that was on her chest coming up to grip her jaw tightly. “you’re so good to me, baby.”

matt’s hand leaves between her legs, pressing flat against her back and pushing forward. she wraps her legs around his waist. they’re chest to chest now, breath mingling.

y/n looks at him through her lashes, pressing her heels into his back. she rakes her nails down his chest, feeling him shiver under touch. she can feel him through his sweats, hard and unrelenting. there’s a storm behind his eyes, basically begging her to close the distance. it makes her feel like a god, the way she has him hanging on to every move she makes. matt, this powerful and intimidating presence of a man, just a puddle underneath her fingertips.

“yeah,” she says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “and you don’t fucking deserve it.”

she unhooks her legs and hops off the counter, pushing him back before opening her bathroom door. matt curses under his breath, following her helplessly.

she may be a great actress, but her skin is vibrating with need for him. her pulse feels one beat away from a heart attack and there’s a layer of sweating coating her head to toe. her desire is burning her core from the inside out, begging to be touched by him.

“no way you’re walking away from me right now,” matt whines, standing at the entrance of her en-suite, watching her open her closet.

she does it to torture him, undressing sinfully slow. she’s in nothing but her bra and underwear, his favorite dark blue set, when she stands in front of him.

“nothing to walk away from, matt.” y/n shrugs. “you made sure of that.”

a muscle in his jaw ticks. “you broke up with me, y/n.”

“which time?” salt in the wound.

when she turns from him, he grabs her arm, pulling her towards his body. “fuck this. i miss you.”

her eye roll is immediate. “you always miss me, matt.” his hands are gripping her ass desperately.

“exactly,” he snaps the band of her underwear. “it’s been six months, baby. when are you gonna stop torturing me?”

“hmm,” she thinks, looping her arms around his neck. “how about never?”

much to matt’s distaste, she steps away from him again. y/n ignores every nerve ending in her body, screaming to walk back over there and fuck him senseless. if she was one thing, especially when it came to her ex-boyfriend, it was prideful.

she’s sliding her shorts up her legs when he asks it. the most left-field, unexpected thing possible. “do you still love me?”

she pauses, turning to him with a blank look on her face. there’s a panicked feeling funneling through her veins. tension she can deal with. their on-again-off-again, ‘who’s gonna fold first’ game was fine. feelings were too much. “what?”

“you heard me.”

“what does it matter?” she sighs, avoiding his eyes.

he’s everywhere, all at once. in front of her, hands in her hair, searching for her eyes. “cause i do.” his voice feels far away as she forces herself to disconnect. matt makes her look at him. “never stopped.”

it’s too much, entirely too much. but matt knows her, knows how to bring her back. his lips are on hers before she can answer. he’s kissing her like a man starved, both hands cupping her jaw. it’s like everything in her collapses, the way she melts into him.

it’s teeth and tongues and fervor. matt’s swallowing her whole, sucking every single lie she wants to say right out of her throat. it’s a fucked-up sort of peace offering; he’s telling her she won.

y/n knows she’s done for. she’s falling head first into the trap all over again. she can’t bring herself to care.

when they pull apart, she’s breathless. “you’re a bastard.”

it doesn’t deter him. “be my girlfriend again.”

she shakes her head. matt kisses from her lips to her collarbones, sucking the skin harshly. he’d always been keen on marking her. made him feel otherworldly, knowing only he could do it.

“come back to me,” he whispers, nipping at her throat. she can’t help the moan that escapes. “i need you back, sweetheart.”

“matt,” she warns, or pleads, she’s not really sure. “don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“i’m serious.” he says instantly, stopping his movements and connecting their eyes again. his tone goes soft. “i want it for life this time.”

that sends her reeling more than any touch ever could. she’s searching his eyes for that arrogant, playful look he always has. when she doesn’t find it, she feels her heart constrict. she knows it’s futile, denying him. she realizes she doesn’t want to.

“last chance, matt.” she says. he nods. “i won’t do this if nothing changes.”

“everything’s changed.” the smile, the one he wears exclusively for her, the one that makes his eyes light up is on his face, and she thinks he’s never looked sexier than in that moment.

“okay.” she says simply, because there’s nothing else she has to say. because matt knows what’s on the line, and he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

when they kiss this time, it’s different than any other night he’s found himself at her apartment. it’s a promise. one that y/n has to let herself believe is true.

it’s strange, the love they share. the red hot, brutal depth of it. it’s unexplainable and unforgiving. something only them will ever know.

just how they like it.

TAGLIST:

@cottoncandyswisherz @peachmels @sugrhigh @tastesousweet @rootbeerworshiper @hollandsangel @sturnolio-luvs @55sturn @chrryclouds @mattsobvimyfav @misscocodiorsblog @pepsiboyy @braindead4l @mxqdii @fawnchives @hearts4chriss @certifiednatelover @nmegamett20 @imaslut4kehlani @dominicfikue @wovenribbons @streamermattsgf @pr1ncessmatt @pinksturniolo @yourfavoritefangirl @nickmillersn1gf @freshxsturniolo @sturniolobltch @mattspolitank @lookingformyromeo @alorsxsturn @imwetforyourmom @kiarastromboli @sleepysturnss @mattscoquette @sturncakez @inkyray @simply-a-simper @lanas-doll @wh0resstuff @hypnotizedsturn @riowritesitall @kitaysworld @h3arts4harry @fikefries @conspiracy-ash @matty-bear @always-reading @thehighgrounds

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kentopedia · 1 day

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა skin — chuuya nakahara

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. chuuya's acting different… but you brush it off and don't think anything of it.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. fluff, suggestive but sfw, f!reader, domestic life, established relationship, implied dubcon, open ending, horror/mystery elements, wc: 2.5k

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. i'm a bit nervous to see how this will be received, so pls reblog or drop a comment if you enjoy <3

part of my summerween series !

the scent of freshly brewed coffee and your favorite breakfast food are the first things that you smell when you wake up. for a few moments, you think it’s a dream — when’s the last time chuuya cooked this early in the morning? you half expect to walk out there and wake up again later, finding that you’d never opened your eyes at all.

but when you roll out of bed, tug a robe over your shoulders, chuuya is there, a presence larger than life, almost, standing in front of the stove, and you are undeniably awake.

you wrinkle your eyebrows together, glancing at the plates scattered across the counter. in your two years of marriage, this is the first that you’ve seen such a display. chuuya isn’t a morning person, he never has been, and usually something quick is enough to settle his stomach for a while.

“chuuya?” you asked, sitting at the table, his back still turned to you. he’s fully dressed, hair falling in loose waves over his shoulders, burning brighter from the sun filtering in through the window. “what are you doing?”

your husband turns, smiling at you over his shoulder. as always, it takes your breath away. he is so handsome, sometimes, it makes you forget yourself. “can’t i cook for my beautiful wife?” he asks, sliding a cup of coffee to you on the tabletop.

you smile, as his hands graze your temple, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you never cook breakfast. you don’t like it.” besides, this is far too much for two people to enjoy.

he laughs, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then the small, confused wrinkle between your eyes. it slips away as you sit up straighter, capture his lips with your own, tasting the coffee on his mouth.

“but you do,” chuuya says.

you’re honestly indifferent towards breakfast, but you let it slide, tucking your chin into your hand as you watch him work away. if he wants to do something nice, you’re not going to stop him. “weren’t you supposed to leave for a job this morning?”

chuuya shrugs, “i’m reassigned, i guess the boss wanted to send akutagawa instead. i’ll be staying in the city for this one, so you won’t get the chance to miss me.”

it makes sense now, why he had so generously made you breakfast. you stand, taking a longer sip of your coffee, before going to wrap your arms around his stomach, smell the hot food that wafts from behind him. “oh, so you had some time to kill?” you tease, running your hands across his abdomen. “and you decided to cook instead of doing… something else?”

your fingers trace a pattern around the zipper of his jeans, which are steadily growing tighter. chuuya grabs your wrist, tugs your hands away with a pointed look. “yes,” he says, through his teeth. “and you’re making it difficult.”

you lazily grin back, pressing one last kiss to his jawline before grabbing your coffee again, and standing beside him at the counter.

chuuya cooks with a precision that you’re not sure you’ve ever seen before, delicately measuring each ingredient, tapping them into the bowls and pans. usually, he goes by his own instincts, and while he is by no means a great cook, he pulls things together in a way that only he could do. now, though, he seems almost uncertain, like he’s silently praying that everything will turn out alright.

“chuuya?” you ask, watching him carefully. his face contorts strangely as he looks over at you, but then it clears up, and he smiles, looking just as warm as he did the moment you walked into the room.

“yeah, baby?”

you want to ask him if he’s feeling alright—but that would shatter the mood, wouldn’t it? the serene morning bliss that has settled between you, as it so rarely seems to anymore. and it’s a blessing, not to have to watch him walk out that door and put himself in danger, able to spend more time with you.

shaking your head, you smile, and kiss him on the cheek softly. “never mind. i love you.”

“love you too.” he says it back immediately, which is also a little unlike your husband. there is always a pause before, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to maintain this sort of affection, like it’ll be taken away if he dares to speak the truth. he cherishes the love he has for you in that tiny pause, before relinquishing it, shoulders only relaxing when he sees you standing there, safe and sound.

but it’s been years since you’ve been together. you’re married, settled down — as settled as he can be as a mafia executive. perhaps he’s just relaxed into the fact that your love is eternal, and he's more confident in the notion that it won’t be taken away from him.

the rest of the morning passes quickly, when you and chuuya find yourselves back into bed, mouths still tasting of coffee, the windows open just enough to clear out the smell of sweat between you, and the pans that have not fully been scrubbed.

at some point, you feel asleep, and you wake back up, overheated from the sheets tucked closely to your naked body. the sunlight filtering in through the glass is worse than metal of a furnace. your hair sticks to your scalp, and you spend the next half hour in the shower, dreading the looming months of summer and the heat that comes with it.

although there’s plenty of things for you to do while chuuya’s gone, you don’t feel like doing much of anything. just one of those days, you reason, even if it’s hard to rationalize that, when chuuya’s out there risking his life, and you’re inside, mindlessly scrolling through your phone and the picking up books you can’t bring yourself to read.

it’s a blur of a day, between very slowly making your way through the pile of laundry you’d forgotten to fold, and cleaning the sheets that had been washed just a few days earlier. chuuya returns, and suddenly, your foul mood caves into something much more pleasant, that pit in your stomach dissipating.

you still worry about him, constantly, even though you know he’s chuuya nakahara, and there are very few things on this earth that can challenge him. still, he’s your husband—you can’t help it.

chuuya kisses you as he returns, smiling into it, his fingers curling into the hair behind your ears.

“i can make dinner tonight,” you say, even though you don’t really feel like it. but he sees right through it, just like you knew he would. you can’t hide much from him.

“it’s okay. i’ll pick something up. know you haven’t been feeling up to it this week.”

you smile and kiss the palm of his hand, the leather of his glove cool against your mouth. how nice it is to be so loved by him, to be seen, for even the simplest of signs. “okay. thanks.”

he nods, leaves to retreat into the bedroom and change his dirtied shirt into a clean one. it’s then, that you notice he’s laid his coat across the back of one of your chairs — unusual, for him to wear it so far into the house.

you furrow your brow and pick it up, planning on hanging it on the rack by the door. but you notice, then, that it’s an older one, different from the coat he normally wears. the designer is the same, but there’s a hole in the pocket, which tells you he didn’t care enough to have it fixed.

an odd feeling twists itself inside you again. a bout of paranoia, likely. that’s all, isn’t it? you’re just having an off day, an off week, and you’re projecting that onto your husband, for no reason at all.

a sigh escapes you, and you shake your head, simply hanging it back up on the coat rack, when you notice his hat isn’t there either.

you frown, glancing back over your shoulder to the chair, the rest of the room. chuuya hadn’t been wearing it when he’d walked in, and you can’t remember seeing it on the rack before he left this morning.

which was odd. chuuya never went anywhere without it.

you jump, a vibration pulling you out of your thoughts, your cell phone ringing, buzzing on the table right by the doorway. it’s chuuya’s name flashing across the screen, a photo of him bright under the glass.

“hello?”

“hey, baby.”

you release a breath at the sound of chuuya’s voice. it instantly relaxes you, even though you, really, have no reason to be so alarmed.

your shoulders sink down, the tension draining from your body, and you smile instead, amused that he’s calling you from just one room over. the affectionate name twists your stomach up in butterflies and knots, and you roll your eyes. “hi, chuuya.”

“you have time to talk right now?”

“i suppose.”

“you suppose,” chuuya replies, snorting. “and here i thought you’d be happier to hear from me. i was about to apologize for not calling you earlier and everything.”

that’s a weird thing to say, you think. “chuuya, you know, you didn’t need to call. you could’ve just walked back in here.”

there’s a pause on the other end, a muffled sound in the background, like he’s getting out of a car. “what do you mean?”

“i mean you could’ve just walked back in here.”

he doesn’t seem to understand, and fakes a laugh. “very funny.” there’s a voice on the other end, and chuuya says something to the sound, before turning his attention back to you on the phone. your brow furrows, eyes drifting over to the door. “anyway, i only have a few minutes, but—”

“chuuya,” you say, feeling a tiny rush of fear swallow you. something is wrong. there’s no one in your house besides you and chuuya, and he’s been in your bedroom for minutes. you turn back around, facing the front door. "where are you?”

“huh? i’m in osaka, remember? i told you about the entire thing last night.” he sighs, something between irritation and amused fondness. “we had a pretty long conversation about it.”

“osaka?” you repeat. “but—i just saw you. just a few minutes ago. just this morning”

there’s silence on the other end of the line, as chuuya breathes, gathers his thoughts. you can tell, even within a second, that he’s either trying not to panic, or let his confusion give way to anger. “no, you didn’t. i left early this morning, you were still sleeping—”

“who are you talking to?”

you freeze. it comes from chuuya, but the chuuya that’s behind you, not the one you’re talking to on the phone. there’s a pinched look on his face as you turn, pretending like nothing is wrong. a guarded expression that wasn’t there before.

your mind goes blank as you stare at him, mouth growing dry. “i—”

“say dazai,” chuuya says through the static of the phone. you’re not sure how he heard the imposter at all, but it settles you, snapping you back into action.

“dazai?” you nearly spit.

it’s not often you chat with dazai, of all people, on the phone. you’re not particularly close. but it’s a good call by chuuya. dazai wouldn’t be keeping tabs on the port mafia member’s whereabouts, wouldn’t know that chuuya was out of town, and akutagawa was never reassigned. but he’s still dangerous. still someone that could be a threat to whoever is pretending to be your husband.

“dazai," you continue, recovering from your questioning response smoothly. "can i call you back later?”

chuuya speaks to you the other line, playing along. “i’m going to call someone to come over there. pretend like nothing’s wrong. everything will be okay.”

you feel tears prick the back of your eyes — you don’t want chuuya to hang up, but if the fake chuuya finds out you know, it could be an even worse outcome.

“okay. got it. i'll call you tomorrow then.”

“i love you.”

you resist the urge to answer the sentiment, and hang up the phone.

the fake chuuya stares back at you, as intently as you stare at him, neither of you blinking as you put your phone back into your pocket.

“what did dazai want?” he asks, standing straight, his back tense as you take a step forward.

there are a lot of weapons hidden around this house—chuuya has more than a handful of enemies, and wants to be prepared in case they ever find where he lives. where you live.

you’d thought it overkill. now, you’re grateful to have at least a fighting chance; if you can only get to the pistol that he keeps in the closet, at the end of the hallway.

“he’s working on a case. thought i might have some intel. i told him i’d look over the details tomorrow.”

“i see.” chuuya — not chuuya, you remind yourself, even though he’s wearing his face — nods. he watches you walk closer the closet door, eyes darting between the handle and your body. his eyes flash.

“you know,” he says, crisply, stopping you in your tracks. “i thought the phone might cause some issues. should’ve blocked the number this morning. amateur mistake on my part.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean your husband called, didn’t he? the real one.” not chuuya smiles, but it’s ugly, almost as if it’s contorting, melting off his face. “you know he’s been gone all morning. it wasn’t him who made you breakfast, took you to bed after.”

nausea fills your gut, and you look away, swallowing down the disgust that you feel. you can’t think about that. not now.

“although, you wouldn’t have known by the way i touched you, would you? how i knew exactly what you enjoy. i have every one of chuuya’s memories now. i know all about him, all about you.” he takes a long stride. you’re both just a pace away from the door, from the gun. if he has any of chuuya’s strength, you’ll lose—you’re no match for that kind of power.

you just need to hold him off, long enough for whoever chuuya sends over to help you.

“and also,” the fake chuuya continues lazily, a laugh clipping at the end of his words. “i know about the gun you’re looking for.”

there’s a dark grin on his face that propels you into action. you lunge towards the closet door, throwing it open, and chuuya lets you. he laughs darkly, doesn’t make any attempt to stop you from fumbling around the inside of closet for a gun that he put there. it doesn’t take you long to figure out why.

the gun isn’t there.

thank you so much for reading! ❤︎ title and inspiration come from ep 1.06 of supernatural- tag list: @little-miss-chaoss @erebus-et-eigengrau @soleelia @k0z3me

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worldofkuro · 2 days

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XIV

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Hello my dears. This chapter is a bit shorter. I'm not very satisfied with it but next chapter would be better. Please enjoy this chapter and share your thoughts. TW: Slight racism.

You were cooking with your mother,Alice and Alyzée trying a new dish you were having trouble to make but ended up succeeding it. Of course, you were talking about your future wedding. Alastor has come to your father and mother, days ago, explaining how he wanted to marry you as you were the only one he esteemed to be by his side, that he would make you happy and you wouldn’t need to worry about money.

Your mother has been supportive since the beginning of your friendship with Alastor and your father, even though he wasn’t happy about letting his little girl go, was relieved that the man you would wed was Alastor. They both shook each other’s hand with confidence. You were so happy.

“ Dearly listeners, for your entertainment it’s my pleasure to introduce you to our latest arrival, our new radio host, Alastor!”

“ Hello, it’s nice to meet you!”

It was Alastor's voice. Alastor was on the radio. You turned up the volume screaming at your mother and Alice to stop yelling even though you were the one making the most noises.

Alastor's voice was coming through the radio.

Alastor was on the radio !

You listened, not even caring about greeting your father who was coming back from work, entranced by Alastoir’s voice. He was broadcasting with the other host, clearly taking full control of the emission. You bit your lips, trying to contain your smile. Finally, Alastor was living his dream freely.

You flinched when you felt your father’s hand on your shoulder making you turn around. You smiled at him, bouncing on your feet.

“ Are you hearing this? It’s Alastor!” you smiled with a beaming expression. You saw your father's expression relaxed a little before nodding. You took off your apron before running into your bathroom, shouting at Alice that you needed to go out. You changed your dress and did your makeup before rushing out of your house, leaving Alice and Alyzée with your parents.

They were used to you just running out of the house because an idea stuck you.

You wanted to wait for Alastor in front of his new workplace. Maybe you should buy him something new? You grinned before hitting a chest in front of you making you fall on the hard ground.

“ Oh, I’m so sorry Miss, are you alright?” said a man, helping you stand up. You thanked before feeling another pair of hands on your shoulders.

“ You should be more careful, you could have hurt her.” you turned your face and saw John.

He was staring at the man who excused himself before leaving. You step away from John, staring at him.

“ You shouldn’t have been so harsh with him. He was already apologizing before you stepped up.” you crossed your arms on your chest. John’s cheeks flushed before looking away, he always was the timid type so hearing him acted up like this was unusual. “ But I guess I should thank you… How are you John?” you smiled at him, maybe he was having a rough day.

“ I’m…not doing my best right now. Could we have a chat around a cup of hot chocolate?” he asked you with a weak smile. You frowned, worried. John wasn’t the type of asking for help and you knew that Alastor should finish working late in the evening. You nodded and you both walked toward a coffee not too far.

Once you were both settled inside and had your drinks you stared at him. He was looking at anything but you. You were wondering what was going on. Did something happen with his friends? You began to talk about what was going on in the city, you wanted him to feel a little more relaxed before jumping straight into deeper subject. You talked with him for about an hour or two, when you looked at the shop’s clock it was already 5pm.

“ I… I heard rumors about you and I wanted you to tell me if they were wrong, they also included Alastor.”

Your grip on your spoons hardened.

Did he know about your crime? How? Alastor and you, mostly Alastor, made sure to cover your tracks. You needed to convince John to shut his trap or…

Kill him?

You gulped as you were shocked about your own thoughts. You were considering killing a friend? Were you going crazy? What was worse was that a voice in your head was telling you killing him would be too risky, you needed to find another way to get rid of him.

“ Are you both really getting married to each other?”

…

You laughed happily, hiding your smile behind your hand. You needed to relax. Nobody would find out what you did.

“ Oh yes, look at my ring!” you giggled as you showed off the ring that Alastor had given you. John stared at it, his jaw clenched. You tilted your head, was he upset because you didn’t tell him? John was one of your oldest friends with Alice, he wasn’t as “important” as her, but he was still a friend. Maybe he was angry that you didn’t tell him and he found out by someone else. You wondered who?

“ It looks cheap.”

…

“ Pardon me, I think I heard you wrong. Care to repeat?” you smiled at him, flinching when he took your hand in his, bringing your hand closer to his face.

“ It looks neat.”

You frowned, taking back your hand. He was looking away, seeming hurt.

“ Look, I’m sorry I didn’t celebrate the news with you, it was very sudden but you could be happy for me. Aren’t we friends?”

“ Are we? I… Dang it, I wanted to be more with you, since childhood actually, and now I find out that you are getting married to some… black man?” he spat, gripping his tea cup. “ You deserve someone better, with a higher social position, someone who will give you children that are being raised.”

What did he say?

You stared at him, your mouth slightly opened. You didn’t hear those words coming out of John’s mouth. He didn’t say those words. You didn’t hear it from a friend. You felt sadness before fury took its place.

Who did he think he was? What you shared with Alastor was beyond what his simple mind could comprehend. He didn’t know what Alastor had traversed. What you both have to do to be free together. He thought you wanted a man like him? You almost scoffed at the idea, the only man in your mind since childhood was Alastor and no one else.

“ Mhn… It seems like we have nothing more to say to each other, sir.” you stood up, taking money from your purse. You were going to pay for your drink, walk out of the coffee shop and wait for Alastor. You won’t make a scene, there were too many people. You didn’t need everyone’s attention on you.

“ Wha- wait! Please, at least consider my offer!” he stood up, trying to grip your elbow. You took a step back, giving him the coldest stare you could conjure, whispering menacingly, what offer could he even think of?

“ Sir, I will ask you to never meet me again and furthermore, if I hear you badmouthing my future husband once again…You won’t have to worry about giving a poor unfortunate lady your children.” you smiled at him, putting on your best innocent face. “ Have a fine day!” you paid for your drink and left the coffee shop.

You were fuming. How come you've never seen the truth behind John's smile. He was as disgusting as the rest of those men who thought they were better because of their social position or skin color. You didn’t know why, you felt tears in your eyes.

Why would you cry for a man who didn’t deserve any of your tears? Come on, you weren’t a weak lady! You’ve killed someone ! You were stronger than this!

And yet, why did it feel more painful to lose a friend in such a way? John wasn’t dead, you would meet him in the street, maybe in an event but yet… You knew that the part you cherished about John was dead. You would never want to meet him again, his encouraging advice, his support, even his annoying story about his father. You would miss it but never want it ever again.

You stopped walking when you realized you were in front of Alastor’s workplace. He should come out soon enough. You sat on a bench and stared at the dark sky.

Was Alice thinking the same about Alastor? You scoffed, Alice was the only one who would mock Alastor in front of his very own self. Most people would find Alastor intimidating which could be understood. He was always smiling, never showing any others emotions on his face

And yet, you have seen a side much darker from him. And you didn't run away from him. Heck, you embraced him! You accepted him in the deepest part of yourself, body and soul. You looked at your ring, now that you thought about it, Alastor never told you if he had made the voodoo’s spell on you. You would have to ask him.

“ What is a breathtaking lady like yourself doing outside ? Shouldn’t you be home?”

You smiled before looking up at Alastor.He was smiling bending his slim body to be face to face with your eyes. You kissed him softly on the cheeks and you knew he was already observing you to see why you looked upset. You were always such an open book for him.

“ If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine my dear, I just need a name.” he winked at you making you laugh. You stood up, placing your hands around his already waiting arm. You both began to walk toward your place.

“ Well, the name which is going to be on everyone's lips is yours, Alastor. I heard you on the radio!” you beamed at him, trying to forget about John. Alastor stared at you for a few seconds before smiling at you, talking about how exciting this was to finally be a radio host. Listening to him talk about his passion made you forget this afternoon’s incident.

You both arrived at your parent’s place, you quickly opened the door and almost shouted from fear when you heard yelling.

“ Congratulations to the both of you for finally being together !”

You blinked as you looked at Alice and Alyzée who were throwing confetti at the both of you, Marie who was holding a camera in her hands and your parents who were clapping. You were so confused. What?

Alice laughed at your face as Alastor took off confetti from his hair.

“ You really took your time, you lovebirds.”

You laughed before hugging the person present. Minus Alyzée, they have been the one watching you and Alastor getting closer and closer but you didn't expect them to be this happy because you were getting married to each other.

“ And we also want to congratulate Alastor for his first radio broadcast!” Your mother said with a beaming smile, complimenting Alastor on his voice and his presence through the radio.

You looked at Alastor who thanked your mother with a little bow and couldn’t help but laugh. The food you made was already on the table, you just needed to sit down. Of course, you sat next to Alastor who held your chair for you under Alice’s teasing glances. Since she came out to you about her feelings about Alyzée you were trying to make the lady comfortable around you. That is one of the reasons why you have invited Alyzée today to your usual cooking session, you didn't know she accepted because they were all preparing this surprise.

“ So, now, are you going to buy a house?” your mother asked, making you blushed. Really? You didn’t even have your dinner’s first bite !

“I’ve looked a bit, but I would like my future wife to be with me if we were to buy something.” Alastor said with his usual smile. You looked at him, he had looked out for a house for you to move in? Was he more excited than he was letting on? You couldn’t help but grin at this news.

“ Yes but Alastor just began to work, maybe it would be wiser to… to try to wait a bit?” Ask your father. You almost laughed out loud when you saw all the females turn their heads to your father. The poor man was trying to explain himself as all the women were telling to stop his nonsense.

“ Now that I think of it ! You know, the little cottage my family owns?” you nodded, that was a very precious place for you, this is where Alastor has bared his scars to you for the first time. “ I’m going to sell it, why don’t you buy it back?” Alice smiled, excitedly.

“ Alice, your family is rich. I don’t think we could buy it from them.” you smiled sadly at her. You wouldn’t doom your future because you wanted to be sentimental.

“ I’ll give you a price !” she whined, making you smile. “ I don’t want anyone but you to have it!”

“ How much would it cost?”

You turned your head toward Alastor’s confident expression. He seemed so sure of him, like he could just throw the cash at Alice’s face.

“ Wait, wait ! You can not take my little girl yet!” your father stood up. You looked at him amused. So, that’s what it was about, your father didn’t want you to leave the house just yet. As the women teased your father you heard a knock at the front door. Being the one the closest to it, you stood up, leaving the animated room before opening the door.

“ Good night ma’am. We are sorry to disturb you, I’m officer Jeff, I would like to talk with your father, is he here?” you stared at the policeman, before letting him enter. He was one of your father’s colleagues, you didn’t like it when he came, your father would stop smiling and would often leave for work.

You took Jeff to the living room, where everybody was waiting for you to return and as expected, your father’s eyes darkened when he saw Jeff. Your father stood up and left with Jeff as you sat back down.

“ Who was it ?” Asked Alice. You answered her briefly, there wasn't really much to say. After half an hour of talking and eating, Alyzée and Alice were on the sofa with your Mother while Marie was taking the dessert she had made from the fridge. You were washing the dishes with Alastor by your side. Your father came back with a grim expression, closing the kitchen door.

“ Marie, Alastor, I… I have bad news.”

You turned off the water as Alastor and Marie looked at your father.

“ We.. We might think something happened to your husband. He hasn’t been to his usual bar for a week.”

You froze. You could feel yourself getting paler. You looked at Alastor and Marie whose expressions didn't even flinch. Alastor was still smiling and his mother was looking calmly at your father, listening to him.

“ A friend of his asked my colleague, Jeff, to find him because he was getting worried and because we are close, I asked him to give me this case.” your father looked at Marie and Alastor. “ Is it usual for him? To just.. disappear for a week?”

“ Oh trust me, he would disappear for months sometimes, you shouldn’t worry. He will come back.” said Alastor. You couldn’t perceive a hint of deceiving on his face. He was talking about how his father would get drunk and go to town to drink even more. His mother and himself were used to him not being home. “ But please, if you think there is something strange, do take the case. Knowing that my soon to be father-in-law is taking care of this is reassuring.”

“ If you need anything, please ask us,” said Marie with a calm smile.

Your father nodded with a smile, promising he would find Alastor’s father before leaving the kitchen. You turned your head slowly toward Alastor and Marie, almost as if moving too quickly would make too much noise.

Marie was smiling at you before leaving the kitchen with the desert in hands.

How could she be so confident? Your father was in on a case of murder you committed !

“ Darling, dear, you look pale. You should sit down.” you heard Alastor say before forcing you to sit down on a chair. You stared at him, your hands shaking. “ There is no worry. Trust me.”

You looked into his eyes, calming yourself. You wouldn’t be a burden for Alastor. If your father was on the case, it would be easy for you to know if they found anything that would be dangerous for you. You would calm down, your father would never suspect you. Never.

“ I saw John this afternoon.”

Alastor tilted his head, observing you carefully. He took your hands in his bigger one, caressing your skin. How easy it would be to just go in your room and lay on his chest to fall asleep and forget.

“ He.. He was upset about something so we went into a coffee shop and he asked about us getting married. I confirmed it, and he .. He said..'' you frowned. “ He said that..I deserve someone better–”

“ Someone like him? With a higher social position, someone with money?” Alastor laughed as you nodded, scaredly amazed he was so spot on on what John had told you. “ Dear… I knew from the very first time that John had those thoughts about me. I’m not surprised.”

“ Why… Why did you not tell me then?”

“ Did you want me to? Wasn’t he your friend?”

You frowned. Yes, he was but…

“ Alastor, if there is someone who would disrespect you or your mother, even if they are friends of mine, you have to tell me. I don’t want such persons in my life.” he hummed with a smirk.

“ Even Alice?”

“ Alice doesn’t like you because you are you.” you smirked as he rolled his eyes. You knew that they liked each other at least a little ! They just didn’t want to show it.

You both came back to the living room. As everyone was talking with each other, you were thinking. Alastor didn’t seem angry about what John told you, was he not affected at all? Was his trust in you this strong? You hoped it was.

As the night went on, you decided to bring up some wine, after all, you were all celebrating yours and Alastor’s union. You were all gossiping, Alyzée and Alice talking about what was going on with the big personas of New Orleans. Alastor seemed really interested…

Around midnight Alice and Alyzée left after one last bottle of wine. You were a little tipsy or maybe more. You didn’t even remember when your father left the house to begin his work on his new case. Which is how you ended there, sitting on the bathtub’s edge, in your nightgown with Alastor kneeling between your legs, removing your makeup. You were looking at him, always so composed…

“ Have you done your voodoo’s spell?”

He coughed against his fist, staring at you eyes wide open, his smile twitching. Come on, you wanted to see him lose his composure…

“Have you?”

“ It’s a spell that needs time… I need to carve runes and other things that your drunk brain would not be able to understand.”

You caged his head between your thighs with a big grin when you saw his pupils dilated. Good. You squeezed his head while he was staring at you, not moving. You shivered, that feeling once again… Feeling like a prey.

“ Other things?” you asked, your eyes half-closed, staring at Alastor with, you hoped, an sultry expression. “ Like what we have done after our hunting session?” you bit your lips, feeling Alastor’s hands pulling your nightgown up, revealing your soft legs, his eyes never leaving yours. “ Where are you going to carve runes?” your breath hitched as you felt his lips against your skin. He was putting one of your legs on his shoulder, kissing your legs, moving toward your thighs. “ Are you to carve them into the woods… Or skin?”

You arched your back when you felt his nails dig into your skin.

“ Darling… You’re playing a dangerous game.” he said, his voice dangerously low. You bit your lips, you wanted to keep playing.

“ If I were to carve a rune into you.. It would be in your head. You are always so composed, so calm, like… your heart doesn’t need to exist.” you gasped as he bit your thigh making you look at him.

“ I would carve a run right above your heart, darling.” He moved toward your chest and bit your breast softly through the nighgrown. “ So every beat from your heart, would be a reminder that I’m the one who owns it.”

“ I would let you.”

“ Darling..” he moaned as his head dropped against your breathing chest. Were you crazy? You wanted Alastor to carve himself into you, for him to be attached to you in a way you wouldn’t be able to run free from him. “ We’ll talk about it later, when you’re sober. For now, you need to rest.”

You almost pouted but accepted your fate as he carried you to bed. You looked at him as he went into the bathroom to change. You opened your arms when he came back, making him chuckle.

You smiled when you felt him against your body.

“ Alastor, my father is going to work on the disappearance of your father.”

“ Mhn.”

“ Aren’t you scared?”

“ Is it going to make you leave me?” he tilted his head with a mocking smile, already knowing the answer.

“ No.”

“ Then I’m not. Let the show begin.”

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 days

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it hurts me. the chaggie hurts me s o good

Vaggie having been such a great murder soldier (one of the best exorcists) (battalions worth of dead souls piled under her lost wings)

but Protect Charlie and Support Charlie became so important to her (the revelation of reaching out to strangers to heal hurts instead of causing them) she for real got out of practice with actual physical fighting bc she was busy helping Charlie with the emotional battles instead-

it feels so good.

it's such a big and happy difference, from vaggie the exorcist

she's fighting for her girl every time she holds Charlie's hand and it's NOT what she's trained for or is always good at, solving people problems without just stabbing anyone who hurts Charlie or gets in Charlie's way- soldier life bleeding through even when Vaggie tries so hard- (a life lived with the kind of people who would use cutting out someone's eye and ripping off their wings as a solution to a problem)

but she says herself she wants to be Charlie's ARMOR. she could have said spear, could have said she wants to be the blade that cuts through all Charlie's problems-

she doesn't want that. Amor, something that stays close, something not meant to hurt, something that isn't a weapon. not anymore

even if it (she) isn't used to that yet

and you know what. maybe that's what getting saved by Charlie actually meant.

Charlie didn't pull her down from heaven- she wasn't the reason that Vaggie looked at a kid in hell and couldn't go through with sticking a spear in them

but without Charlie, Vaggie could still have been a spear raised and redirected towards heaven. even after years in a peaceful life Vaggie still reaches for her spear so quick, how fast on the draw would she've been if Charlie wasn't there? hadn't been there?

(if kindness hadn't pulled her out of that alleyway, would the chance for revenge at the next extermination day have gotten Vaggie moving instead? would the first dead angel have been found years earlier- or would it have been her- a loose end that didn't unravel quietly getting neatly cut away?)

that didn't happen. Charlie was out looking to help people on extermination day. she did find Vaggie

and with Charlie, the spear is a prop more than anything else. part of Vaggie yes, probably forever- not a NEEDED one though. an old instinct always at the ready while not having to be used much anymore.

life with Charlie is Vaggie carrying a spear, sure.... and also growing out her hair. not being used to fighting with it long, because she hasn't had to be fighting

she's still been able to fight for girlfriend anyway

Charlie isn't asking power or wins from her. that's not what the princess of hells needs.

Charlie needs the hand that holds hers during a hard call with her dad, the hug waiting for her when she comes back after a bad day, the soft smile not judging her for telling herself stories when she's sad- likes that side of her, actually-

the woman who knows every embarrassing personal thing about Charlie because Charlie trusted her not to make fun of it, trusted that Vaggie loved her

Charlie needs the push of Vaggie's words telling her it's time to make that hard call to her dad in the first place, the later unshakable reassurance from Vaggie when Charlie breaks down crying before the battle (breaking down over not being able give Angel Dust the better life she promised, everyone in even more danger now instead)

and Vaggie (pragmatic, realistic, honest Vaggie) does not tell her that things will be okay and they'll win their upcoming fight- but that Charlie has already done so much.

if for no one else, then at the very least for Vaggie

Charlie really has, hasn't she. 'just' by seeing Vaggie as a person she saved her from being nothing but a soldier, a weapon, the hair trigger response of someone who learned trust on a battle field and had her body torn and scarred by the people she trusted-

but now Vaggie does the worst damage to the people who hurt her when she holds her girlfriend's hand. she grumbles but gives people chances, often stressed but just as often smiling in her new life with Charlie. she goes back up to HEAVEN (even though she really really doesn't want to) because her girlfriend takes her hand and askes her with big soft eyes and says they're partners- it's such a change from being a soldier following orders.

partnership is all Charlie's asking for

and fucking HELL if Vaggie hasn't answered by being there in the darkest moments, tugging Charlie gently back into the light of their shared dreams and the reality of having someone there to share them with

and uh, also getting charlie to call her dad

....and.... yeeting random lit bombs out the nearest new hole in their hotel, when someone hands it to her gf and charlie gets sidetracked trying to politely juggle the thing...

.....

how DID charlie manage before she equipped the smol spear gf??

#habin hotel #vaggie #charlie morningstar #chaggie #hmmmm gay thoughts hmm #deep down vaggie will probably always kinda wanna stab ppl #BUT #holding the gf's hand is more fun~

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disneyprincemuke · 2 days

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you don't get to tell me about sad * fem!driver

outtakes of her year that i didn't know where to fit lol so this is the last(ish) angst installment

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver

notes: iM BACK BABYYY

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

so she runs from her garage again. just another weekend where everything has skewed from what was discussed and there is no reasoning to be done.

she finished the race damn near last over a pitstop that ran longer than it should have.

the minute sebastian could not spew an excuse she would hear out was the minute she stopped listening to him during the race. and honestly, it was the only way she could salvage not finishing last of the pack.

“let’s talk about it,” sebastian says, hurriedly chasing her down as she storms into the racing home, her presence immediately silencing the chatter in the room. “let me talk you through what happened. it’s not your fault.”

“i know it’s not!” her distress is made known, echoing in the air of the room. she stops in her tracks and turns to face sebastian still by the door, flinching back. “how could that be my fault? i was doing my end of the bargain as a driver!”

he takes a deep breath. “rocky, just listen to me, okay?”

“it’s not fair! none of this weekend was my fault!” she shrieks, turning back around and trudging up the stairs loudly. “the team fucked me over, that’s what happened! i can’t possibly think of a reason you could come up with to excuse what happened!”

“i’m not excusing it, i’m just–”

“oh, god, sebastian!” she stomps her foot on the ground to demand sebastian’s attention. which surprisingly works. “just admit it — the team fucked me over. point blank period, that’s literally what happened.”

sebastian sucks in a deep breath. “yes, we did. and we’re extremely sorry. but–”

“’but’ again,” she laughs dryly, rolling her eyes. she makes a sharp turn for her driver’s room and holds a hand up to stop the step he tries to take towards her. “take your apology to the headlines being drafted about me as we go in circles over this, sebastian.”

“you know i’m not breaking up with you,” matt says amidst the silence that they’ve been sitting in as he packs his bag. “i just need a break.”

“from me,” she points out shakily, dropping her head low.

“from this cycle.” he lifts his head and sits back to look at her.

she sits on the edge of her bed, feet hovering slightly over the floor. she watches her feet swing slightly, counting in her head, desperate not to lose the last remaining sanity she feels she has.

initially, she sat in the vacant room in tears, refusing to watch him pack up to leave her all alone in her apartment. she wallowed in her woes in a dark corner before she eventually dragged herself back into her bedroom.

she’s been sitting here watching him in silence ever since, trying to find the words in her head to say something to him.

maybe he’ll change his mind; maybe he’ll stay if she says the right thing.

“yeah, i get that.”

“i don’t think you do.” he stands from his position on the ground and walks over to her on the bed. he takes the empty spot next to her, resting his hand above hers that grips the mattress tightly. he feels her grip loosen slightly. “i still love you, bub.”

she shakes her head with a sigh. “i would have stopped a long time ago if i were you. i’m not very nice.”

“it doesn’t work like that,” he squeezes her hand, “you’re having a hard time. i get that and it’s okay. but i want you to want the help i’m giving you. i’m not going to force it on you if you’re just going to keep pushing me away when i try.”

“i don’t know why i keep doing that,” she admits with a scoff. she drops her back on the bed behind her and looks up at the ceiling of her bedroom. “i’m not usually like this, i promise. i’m better than this.”

“i know.” matt mirrors her actions and drops himself on the mattress.

she wants to say she’s sorry and that she’s thankful for him sticking around longer than he had to. it’s at the edge of her tongue but she simply cannot get herself to admit that she’s wrong. that perhaps this time, someone is finally right about her.

“do you, really?” she hums, “i’m the worst.”

“i think you should give yourself a little more credit,” he sighs, reaching out for her hand again. this time, she moves her hand away before he can grab it. “i’ll come home soon, okay? i’ll come back for you, i promise.”

she repeats in her head the gameplan she’d drafted with sebastian. the one that seemed so foolproof all weekend that made her believe she could turn it all around.

instead, she’s standing on the grass next to her wrecked car, another unfortunate mishap she’s sure would make her talk of the town again.

she puts her hands on her hips as her eyes trail over to her blown tyre. then she remembers that her crash wasn’t caused all by herself.

“are you alright?” charles asks softly, slowly approaching her as he takes his helmet off. “unlucky weekend.”

she glances over her shoulder where he approaches her. she forces a small grin to her face and tries to wave his concerns away. “i’m fine.”

her chest starts to hurt slightly, tears prickling at her eyes.

this is not the time and place to be breaking down. especially not at someone like charles because surely, something went wrong with her that caused this.

“it’s my fau–”

surely, it can’t be his fault. there’s no way that the person she’s looked up could cause this crash.

but there’s also a voice in her head telling her to believe charles. he wouldn’t be apologising if he didn’t actually think that he caused it.

“unfortunate,” she chuckles. she swallows the scream threatening to make itself known and shrugs at charles. “i’ll see you in the paddocks, mate.”

“thought i might find you here.”

“fuck off, max.”

the older driver laughs, walking over to her with hands in the pocket of his jeans. he drops himself on the little platform she’s resting on.

“everyone’s looking for you,” max chuckles, innocently taking a sip from his water bottle. “i heard seb panicking and sending out a search party to get you.”

“i know,” she snorts, “i heard him screaming and delegating people to find me.”

the only reason max knew where to find her is because he is the one who introduced her to this place. he had found her holding her tears in at some point last season walking around the paddocks and he whisked her away without another word.

it’s a pretty obscure location in the paddocks, one that max often resided in when it got too chaotic and loud. she’s the only one he’s ever given this sort of information to.

“how’s everything?” he asks with a sigh, leaning back on the wall behind them. “matt flew back to the states already?”

she nods and drops her head, picking at the grass beneath them. while she truly tried to keep her problems to herself, max approached her a week prior when he saw her entering the paddocks all by herself.

he had asked why the man, typically found on her arm every race weekend, was not with her today.

she softly admitted that they’re on a break, prompted by her reactionary behaviour from how her year is going so far. still, she tries to keep the confession minimal.

it’s hard enough to watch your boyfriend pack his things in silence to leave you behind. it’s even harder to admit that there’s nobody else to blame but yourself.

her mishaps every weekend on the paddocks, she can point all the fingers she wants. but when it came to her matt, there was nobody else she could pin it on. there were 2 people in that relationship and she knows that she’s the one that’s burned it down.

“i’m so sorry,” max sighs, resting his cheek in his hand. he props his elbow on his knee as she leans forward. “that must be really hard for you.”

she shrugs. it’s really not that big of a deal. or, at least, it shouldn’t be to somebody else in a happy relationship of his own. “it’s my fault, anyway. i don’t blame him.”

“you can still be upset about it,” he mutters. “i know you love him, so i don’t imagine any of this is making you feel better at all.” he puts a hand on her back and rubs circles, something he honestly wishes someone had done for him when he was younger. “it’s just me, mate.”

“it’s alright, but thanks for trying to be there for me,” she grimaces, turning momentarily to give him a small smile. “but i don’t reckon i get to feel bad for deliberately pushing him over the edge.”

she’d been fine all day. she thought she was genuinely getting better: she’d even gone for a walk in the sun and felt enlightened most of the hours she’d been awake.

that was until she had sat down at her dining table with dinner, consumed whole by the silence and emptiness of her apartment. without understanding why, she lost her appetite as her stomach started to churn.

her heart feels like it’s skipping beats from how unwell she suddenly felt.

she finds herself on the floor of her bedroom, phone pressed up against her ear as the ringing pulls her in and out of her trance.

her world has spinning for the better part of 5 minutes, her chest feeling like it’s closing in on itself and the framed picture in her peripheral vision taunts her.

there’s no climbing out of this rut; she’s almost sure she will be stuck in here forever. she either lives with the fact that she’s a failure or it’ll someday kill her.

“hello? is this really you?”

tears she hadn’t realised were there start to fall out of her eyes. the sob she didn’t know she had in her throat fills the room as she drops her head into her other hand.

“i don’t know why i called,” she pauses with a soft sob, “sorry, i should go.”

“no,” a firm voice demands, “just stay on the line.”

“okay.”

she had just spoken with matt this morning, on a short 5-minute welfare check video call. she told him she was feeling slightly better with the biggest smile on her face.

now she doubts herself if she’d even meant it. if she was truly better, she wouldn’t be here on the floor feeling worse than when she woke up this morning.

going backwards isn’t supposed to be the way she’s going.

it’s always forward. if there’s no progress towards the betterment of her situation, then she’s simply not trying hard enough.

she should try harder. it’s the only way.

“hey,” matt coos softly to catch her attention. “if you need me there, just say the word. i’ll come home.”

she wants to say yes. she even wants to break into a louder sob and admit that she misses him; probably might even be going crazy without his presence as of late.

she hasn’t got anything figured out.

but instead, she says, “i’ll be okay.”

being alone in her hotel room is the last thing she wanted for herself, the silence too overbearing for her to handle. though asking to hang out with her friends she watched leave together to get dinner wasn’t an option either.

so she opted to lock herself in her driver’s room until someone chases her out. perhaps she’ll sleep over without anybody finding out.

she’d coddled herself up in her beanbag under a blanket, reading away furiously on the things people said about her.

sure, she shouldn’t be on these sites speaking ill of her, but there’s nobody to stop her. she’s fallen down the rabbit hole of everyone’s opinions of her once more and she can’t seem to stop.

she’s stooped even lower this time: she’s on social media reading what the public has to say about her.

it’s not just about whoever in the industry is saying now.

she never tried to let anyone’s opinion of her, in forms of tweets and social media posts, get to her much.

but a post highlighting about the two mere instances where she had unintentionally lashed out on matt in the paddocks did it for her. and the one time she had a disagreement with sebastian in her racing home after a pitstop mishap.

“for fuck’s sake,” she cries, throwing the blanket off her.

she can’t throw her ipad. she starts to heave, feeling it all coming down on her once more.

she grabs the closest thing to her. and unfortunately, it’s the very mug she’d gotten 2 years ago as a present for sebastian.

you know, the matching mugs she got as a celebration for scoring points as a race engineer and driver duo on the grid.

and it does what a mug would do if you threw it against the wall: it shatters. into pieces.

it’s repairable if she really thought about it rationally. the handle has popped out along with another large piece straying by its side.

only then she realises what she’s done.

“oh, fuck.” she sits hurriedly and brushes the stray hairs from her face. “oh, no.”

she scrambles from the ground and runs over to the other side of the room where her favourite mug sits in 3 separate pieces, tears prickling at her eyes as she realises what she’s done.

she gathers it into her hands with a heavy cry, dropping her hands into her lap. if she’d known sooner that this mug was what she’d grabbed out of fury, she wouldn’t have chucked it across the room.

“come on,” she whispers to herself, trying to fit the pieces together as if it would magically mend itself. “fix yourself. be a mug again?”

“i thought you were back at the hotel– are you okay?”

“i didn’t mean to do it,” she cries at the familiar voice and accent, lifting her head and hands to show him what she’s done. “i didn’t mean to, i didn’t even realise what i was throwing until it broke into this many pieces.”

“hey,” sebastian coos, softly closing the door behind him. he walks over to where she kneels on the ground and grabs her shoulder. “you’re okay. it’s okay.”

she shakes her head profusely and rests her head on his shoulder. “i didn’t mean it. i didn’t want to break it — i still like you, i promise. you’re like my dad when we’re on the road. i’m s– i didn’t mean it.”

“relax.” he squeezes her shoulder, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. “it’s just a mug. we’ll just get a new one, okay? don’t even worry about it.”

he waits for a second as she processes his words, slightly hesitant to agree with him. she nods slowly, “are you sure? you’re not mad?”

“i’m not mad,” sebastian hums with a smile. “let’s get you back to your hotel room, okay? i was just about to head out.”

“okay.”

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eraenaa · 14 hours

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Loathe to Love

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader

Synopsis: Seeking forgiveness is not a thing Aemond bothers himself with, but that quickly changes when he deeply offended you.

Warnings: ¿Softer Aemond?, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Targcest, Not Proofread

Word Count: 6,411

A/N: Based on a request where they wanted "Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, who, like her brothers, doesn't have Valyrian characteristics. A scene like at dinner, in which Aemond accuses his nephews of being strong and, consequently, his wife too." (!Not related to the past two fics that were Aemond x Reader Wife!)

A blessing or a curse? Neither of you knew how to take and label this marriage devised by your grandsire. It was a final plea to unite your estranged family, offering you as Aemond’s bride because the King’s fading mind was still set on how you and Aemond were entirely fond of each other in childhood. However, that sentiment had completely changed during the fateful night in Driftmark. Whatever fondness you and your uncle had in childhood had rolled away with the tides in your supposed father’s home. Affection turned into animosity, and animosity quickly turned into resentment.

However, with the marriage you and Aemond were succumbed to, you both tried your most ardent effort to work through past differences. And with half a year since your union, you and Aemond had almost fully buried the grievances you harbored against each other. Gone now was the reluctant prince who stood by the end of Sept waiting for his bride, who was practically dragged down the aisle. Looks of unbridled hatred had faded and turned to looks of passion and longing. Deep-rooted loathing was slowly fading into love that both of you had yet to admit to the other.

You broke fast in the gardens with your husband, a daily tradition that you and him established since the first days of your marriage. Most of the time, it would be just the two of you, but on some days, you two would be joined by his siblings and his mother, who surprisingly did not hold such great bitterness for you when compared to other members of your kin. And on a day such as this, you were joined by the queen and her only daughter, Helaena. “I saw the maids preparing some of the guest chambers. Are we to host a lord and their house, my Queen?” You asked your mother through marriage with a tilt of your head, your hand intertwined with your husband’s under a table, hidden from anyone’s view.

Aemond raised his eye from the book he was reading and placed it on his mother. “Not particularly guests… your mother and your brothers are set to visit,” She replied, and your brows shot up in surprise. Aemond turned to you, plush lips agape in shock. “Did you not know?” The queen asked, and you shook your head. “No… they had not written to me about such matters,” You said, your lips twitching into a smile of excitement as you had terribly missed our family. You turned to your husband; whatever reaction he had was hidden behind his ever-stoic expression. However, you did feel his hold on your hand grow tighter. Though his animosity towards you had died with every kiss shared and every hour spent in each other’s arms, you could not say that that would be the case for the other members of your family. You could practically feel the tantalizing anger within radiating off him.

“I’m going to the tiltyard,” Aemond suddenly announced and abruptly stood up, making you sigh. His mother and sister nodded, but before his departure from breakfast, you felt him place a chaste kiss on your temple before walking off. Leaving you wide-eyed and blushing before his kin for neither of you had displayed such affections so openly. The touches and kisses and pleasures you shared were saved for the privacy of your marital chambers, and to have him do such an affectionate action in front of others was completely uncharacteristic of him. You lower your head as you feel your cheeks burn red, but if you had kept your head held up high, you would see a small smile on the queen’s lips, for she too was shocked and amused by her son’s actions. Never had she imagined for her favored son to find a wife that would bring out the warmth and tenderness in him that everyone believed to be lost the day his eye was taken by your younger brother.

For the rest of the day, you were busied with your engagements with the other ladies of the court to the point that the day had faded into the night. It was past the usual time of your supper, and you were certain your husband was preparing himself for bed, which is why it was a surprise when you entered your marital chambers with Aemond seated by the table where a meal for both of you lay, untouched. “You still have not eaten?” You asked as you stood behind your seat that was across your husband’s. “I was waiting for you,” Was all he said, as he motioned for you to sit. You blinked at him; the warm, flickering light of the fire illuminated his silver locks that were unique to your house but you had not inherited. The silhouette cast made his angular, Valyrian features more prominent, and you could not help but feel a small pang of jealousy, for you were never blessed with such acclaimed features that your house was celebrated for.

You licked your lips and removed your gaze from your husband’s lilac eye. You took your seat and quietly watched him as he placed items of food onto your plate. “You should have eaten earlier,” you said quietly, knowing that Aemond’s last meal was the one you shared in the morning, for your husband did not eat luncheon nor any other small meal to aid him between the morning and the evening. “Like I’ve said, I was waiting for you,” He said as he poured wine into your chalice. You flashed him a small smile of gratitude, and like always, he gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. “How was your day?” You asked before taking a bit of the temped meal that had been waiting for you along with your husband. “Fine. I trained, I read, and then accompanied my grandsire with business,” he said and took a sip of wine. “And yours?” He asked, and you smiled as you began to recall your day.

Aemond nodded along as he ate, and you went on to tell him about your day. He had no intention of telling you, but this was his second-most favorite time of each day. He quickly had gotten used to listening to you babble and tell him about the ventures you had just hours before. He had no particular care about the subjects of which you spoke of; all he cared about was hearing you speak. Watching you as you would reenact your encounters or how your expression would change when you told him about the latest gossip in court. He would always note how your voice would grow an octave higher when you spoke of an event you found most entertaining or exciting, and he loved gazing into your beguiling, brown eyes that would twinkle in the candlelight.

“Will you accompany me tomorrow?” You asked as you had finished retelling your day to your husband. “To where?” Aemond asked as he was slightly disappointed that you did not have many anecdotes to share that night; you would usually have prolonged stories that Aemond would listen attentively to until he had fished his meal. “To welcome my mother, father, and brothers by the pits when they arrive,” You say and play with the peas on your plate. Aemond was silent for a moment; you took in a deep breath and thought that perhaps your request was a bit much for him. Though you expected him to act civilly with your kin, wanting him to join you in welcoming them was perhaps a bit much. “Nevermind… I ca—“ Your husband interrupted your sentence. “I shall join you,” he said, and your lips agape in shock once more.

Aemond bit his tongue to hinder himself from smiling widely at the expression that flashed before your pretty face. His urges announced himself as his eye caught your plump lips parted; amusement and arousal swirling within him. “You will?” You asked, making certain you had heard no false agreement. “My lady wife had made a simple request; of course, I shall oblige it,” He answered and felt his heart flutter as a beaming smile spread to your lips. Aemond felt fire in his veins as you stood from your seat and went to him to place a supposed chaste kiss on his lips, but Aemond wanted more. You gasped as you were pulled to sit on his lap, your kiss deepening with each moment and your body aching with need as Aemond’s hands were holding your waist and the other cupping your cheek. You feel your husband’s need through his trousers and through your dress.

You moaned at the taste of wine on his tongue. His hand traveled toward your bosom, cupping your tit through the bodice of your dress, his fingers undoing the laces of your gown but the two of you never parted your intertwined lips. Aemond groaned as you accidentally bit his lip, but you would take it that he liked the occurrence as you felt his hips buck upwards and seek friction. Aemond reluctantly parted your lips to gasp for air; he watched you pant, eyes filled with longing and lust, lips swollen and shined with a glossy shine of him.

You yelped as your husband punched you on the table, sweeping away the meal you two had just shared, the plates and cutlery falling onto the floor with a loud noise, but neither of you heard as you two were completely lost and dazed with want for each other. You pulled Aemond towards you as you wanted to feel his lips once more. Aemond had fully undone the laces of your gown, and you felt the sleeves of it draping off and the hem of it being risen by your husband. You hummed in question as you felt Aemond push you to lie down on the wooden table. You propped yourself by your elbows to see what he was doing. Your eyes locked with his lone one as he sank to his knees. The hem of your dress had bundled up to your waist, and Aemond placed his cold hands at each of your thighs.

You bit harshly at your lower lip as he placed kisses on each side of your thighs, nipping the soft skin making you whimper at the stinging pain that he would immediately soothe with his tongue. “Aemond,” you called as he continued to tease you, his tongue licking strips upward to your needing heart but would abruptly stop before inching closer towards the place you need his tongue most. “Yes, wife?” He hummed, and you huffed as you sensed tease in his voice. “Please,” You pleaded in ancient tongue, and there was a long pause before he obliged your request. You breathed heavily as Aemond sucked on your delicate pearl, him humming in delight as he tasted your essence and as well to add to your pleasure.

Your moans accompanied the crackle of the fire as Aemond inserted two of his fingers, him curling the calloused digits and spurring you quickly to your peak. You could not understand how he was so skilled in such endeavors, able to make you quickly come undone even though he confessed himself that before you, he had only laid with a woman once, on the behest of his older brother.

Aemond smirked as he gazed at you laying on the table you two had your meals on, your pretty face that everyone tried to sell as plain still contorted in pleasure that he was the cause of. Aemond brought his fingers to his lips and sucked the essence of you clean, his other hand undoing the laces of his trousers as his cock painfully sought to be inside you. Aemond had always believed himself to be indifferent to the acts of intimacy, but he quickly learned that that sentiment was completely false when it came to you. On the night after your marriage, he had no plan to partake in the marital act, ready to cut his palm and pretend he beaded you so the court would not have a new gossip piece in the morning. However, that plan was quickly forgotten by just the sight of you undressing behind a divider. The candlelight illuminated your form and created a silhouette of your frame undressing and caused Aemond to need greatly. And ever since that night, the pleasures of the flesh he always thought he was indifferent to quickly turned, and he now harbored the same needing patterns he saw in his brother that he used to frown upon.

Aemond locked your lips and assisted you off the table, you had thought he would lead you towards your bed, but you frowned through your kiss as he turned you around in his arms, your back resting against his chest, his pulsating length resting against your still hiked up gown. You feel Aemond’s lips move from your lip to your neck, his cold hands forcing your gown downwards and letting it pool at your feet, leaving you exposed. You whispered as his hands made their way to cup and squeeze your breast. The sensitive buds grew taut at the coldness of touch. You hear Aemond take in a deep breath of your scent, and you let out a bubbling moan as his length is placed in the crevice of your bottom, Aemond letting it glide in between your bum.

You gasped in shock as you felt Aemond push you down onto the table, bending you over the sturdy wood and abruptly entering you without warning. You let out a wry moan as you did not know if you should focus on the pain or pleasure he gave. Aemond bit harshly at his lip as he was incredibly pleasured by the new angle he was taking you in, as well as the sight of you bent over the wooden table. He bundled your dark hair into his hands, feeling the soft silky waves and pulling on it and earning a moan from your lips and caused a further tightening in your cunt. “It would seem that my wife likes to be fucked like a common whore,” He gritted in between thrusts. Aemond knew he pleasured you well, but with this new position, your moans had only grown louder than the past times you had laid. Your cunt grew tighter and more wet, and you were quicker to come undone once more.

“Yes… yes, Aemond! Don’t stop, please, don’t stop!” You cried as he pounded at you from behind. Aemond griped the plump flesh of your behind, watching as the skin grew red from his hold; he moved his hands to your waist as he felt the urge of release coming to him as well. Your moans rang louder in his ears, his name slipping from your lips, urging him to come quickly than past nights. He groaned out your name as he spilled his seed deep inside you, hoping that his seed would finally take as he was already zealous with the thought of you swole with his child. Your dazed mind could barely comprehend Aemond assisting you up from your bent position because all your body could focus on was the peak you had reached and his lips against yours once more. You let your husband carry you to bed, him tucking you in his arms like always, and you drifted to sleep wholly satisfied.

Aemond placed his gaze upon you, who was practically bouncing in excitement at your spot next to him. You two stood by the pits as a welcoming party for your kin. Aemond placed great restrain upon himself to not let his animosity show when he spotted your brothers landing your little dragons. “Sister!” He heard the boy who took his eye scream, and Aemond felt you let go of his hand to run to your brother. He did not want to entertain the small pang in his heart as you readily let go of his hold to run and warmly embrace the boy who had maimed him beyond repair, but he knew that with your marriage, whatever fondness and understanding you and Aemond had and will develop will be divided with your love for your true family.

“Oh, I’ve missed you!” You gushed and kissed Lucerys’ cheek; you smiled widely that even though your brother was on the cusp of adolescence, he melted of talc and your mother’s oils. “Your favoritism is showing, sister,” You hear Jacaerys tease, and you sigh in amusement, letting go of Lucerys and moving to embrace your older brother.

Aemond watched you as you greeted your family with such open warmth and love that he and his kin were never accustomed to. Aemond shifted his gaze to your younger brother, who had a wary look in his oak eyes. Aemond bit his cheeks as he stared down the boy who cowardly shifted his gaze and went closer to you, like a little scared pup hiding behind Aemond’s wife.

“Where are Baela and Rheana?” You asked as you let go of your embrace of Jacaerys, looking around the pits. “They went on the ship along with Joffery and the babes. They shall reach by nightfall,” he answered, and you nodded. Your brother’s gaze shifted between you and your husband, who stood by the side, “How… how are you, sister? Is…” He trailed as Aemond challenged his gaze. You gave him a small smile, “I’m fine, Jacaerys, perfectly fine, better now that you are all here.” You said, and Jacaerys hesitantly nodded, not completely believing your sentiments. “Tala,” You hear yourself being called by your stepfather, who stands beside your mother, and you hurriedly go in their direction. “My sweet girl!” Your mother smiled and kissed your cheek as you went to embrace her. “You look more cheery since we left you. Are they treating you well? Or do I have to behead that cunt of a husband that you have?” Daemon asked, and your smile faltered at his words. “Father,” You warned, and you heard him sigh. “They are treating me perfectly well,” You said, and just like Jacaerys, Daemond gave an unconvinced nod.

You turn to Aemond, who still stands idly by the side; you make hastened steps towards your husband as members of your family remove their riding gear. “Do you wish to return to the keep?” You asked, learning he had grown bored and impatient. He turned his body to face you, his brow raised in question. “I could ride with them in the wheelhouse; you can return to your training if you wish,” You smiled. Aemond studied your eyes; he knew that the words you uttered were for his benefit, but he could not help but think it was you driving him away as you would rather spend time with your family than him.

“It is not that I wish for you to leave, but if you would rather return to your training or reading, I would completely understand,” You added, and Aemond froze at your words; it was as if you could read his mind. He did not know how you did it, but you had this ability to know things about him without him even saying them out loud. He was quick to learn that you could see past his hardened exterior and see the intent and thoughts he kept to himself. You were the only person who knew him with such a deep level of understanding. “It is fine. I shall wait for you, and we could ride back together to the keep,” He said, and his cold heart ran warm as you flashed him with your beaming smile.

“What did they do to her?” Jacaerys asked as he stood near his brother and parents. “That last time we were here, she was completely ready to sail off to Essos just to escape him,” he added, and Daemon shook his head, removing himself from the conversation as he, too, was perplexed at how you completely turned your views towards this marriage. “I believe that is what love does,” Rhaenyra sighed, and Daemon scoffed in ridicule from a distance, and Jacaerys quickly shook his head. “Love? You practically had to drag her down the aisle! That is not love… that is some work by a potion slipped into her wine!” Jacaerys disagreed, and your mother breathed out a laugh. “Believe what you want, but your sister is stronger than to let a potion alter her emotions; that affection is brought by love,” She sighed as she, too, was surprised by the outcome of this marriage but was entirely pleased to learn that you found love in a person that all believed had none.

When all of you returned to the castle, your husband went straight to the tiltyard whilst your parents set off to visit your grandsire. You, however, accompanied your brothers as they wanted to tour around the keep that was once their home. Throughout your whole tour, you could not help but grow curious at the curious and prying glances thrown at the three of you that had faded during the moons of your return to the Red Keep. “They keep staring at us,” You hear Lucerys whisper to Jacareys, who still kept his head held high despite being in the den of vipers.

“Ignore them,” You whispered to your younger brother. You smile as Jacaeyrs pulls Lucerys towards the tiltyard, hurriedly going down the steps to explore the place they used to frequent as children. You stood by the railings, your eyes catching the flutter of silver hair, your husband training with his sword along with Ser Criston, whom he battled with. You stood steady by your spot by the balcony that overlooks the tiltyard, leaning in on the railing as you watched Aemond impressively train with his sword. It was truly a wonder to watch Aemond with his sword; he was able to command the room with each swing and movement he did. Captivating everyone as he simulated the battlefield, even your brothers stopped their reminiscing to watch him train. Far was he from the little boy he tripped over his wooden sword and struggled to even keep it upright.

“Well done, my prince, you will be winning tourneys at no time,” You hear Ser Kristen compliment the prince he had molded into a warrior as the tip of Aemond’s sword placed at the knight’s neck. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” You hear your husband reply as you descended down the stairs, making your way to your brothers. “Nephews, have you come to train?” He asked as you paused behind Lucerys and Jacaerys. Aemond’s challenging gaze turned to you, who announced her presence. You stared into his lilac eye and saw it somewhat softened. Aemond clenched his jaw and lowered his sword as the crowd that surrounded him began to dissolve. A clear path leading to you was made, and Aemond crossed it, forgetting about his want to challenge his nephews.

“You were most impressive with your sword,” You complimented lowly as you felt Aemond guide you to the side, and he placed his hand on your lower back. “I am glad that you found that impressive, little wife,” He hummed and wiped his sword, ignoring the stares of your brothers who stood by the side. “Perhaps I should wonder more often to the tiltyard; I would not want to miss an opportunity to watch my husband best the most acclaimed knights of the realm.” You feel your heart flutter as Aemond’s lips twitch into a small smirk. “Perhaps you should,” He said, unable to control the amusement that laced his voice and shinned brightly in his eye.

“Do you believe what Mother says? That they are in love?” Jacaerys whispered to Lucerys, who looked at you smiling upon your husband, “I… I do not know, perhaps,” he whispered as he noted that the smile on your lips was no pretense nor was it forced. And the gleam in your eyes could only be translated into love. Lucerys shifted his gaze back to his brother as you walked off and Aemond returned to training. “But how? How could our sister love someone like him?” Jacaerys asked incredulously, his voice growing a bit louder.

Aemond clenched his jaw as he heard your brother’s words. It was a danger to all that rage was quickly bubbling inside him, and he had a weapon in his hold. The one-eyed prince took in deep breaths to calm himself, reminding himself that you were just by the side waiting and watching him.

But a gnawing feeling in his gut had settled, and he too started to wonder as to how you could ever love someone like him. It is no secret that you and he were raised with opposing views of the world and even clashing families as well. His mother never approved of how your mother had raised you; everything about yours and your brother’s conception and upbringing had brought shame upon the Targaryen name and reputation. And the years before were nothing short of hatred. Yes, the both of you were fond of each other in childhood, but is that enough to undo the following years of animosity and contempt? Will these past moons that were filled with shared understanding and longing be enough to undo the resentment of the past?

It was enough for him. You were enough of a reason for him to let go of the grudges and grievances harbored. By some divine, paradoxical power, your blessed touch was the only touch that could tend and stitch Aemond’s broken past created by your own kin. Even with all the traditions and honor that were desecrated by your mere birth, Aemond could not help but love you, even if he had not said it out loud. No matter your differences, no matter the truth of your illegitimacy, he loved you truly.

However, that overflowing affection he had towards you was for you and you alone. The civility he knew that he should display was slipping out from his hold as old hatred for your brothers was starting to wake, and Aemond was not entirely certain if he could control the burning rage in his veins once more.

You sat next to your husband for a rare family dinner; it was the first time the whole of your clan had been together since your and Aemond’s wedding. You smiled fondly as Baela and Rhaena had already arrived along with your youngest brothers, who were now fast asleep in the nursery. You kept your secret hold on Aemond’s hand as the dinner proceeded, your heart full of joy as you wanted to erase the emotions you were feeling the last time the whole of the family was together with something more pleasant. Gone now was the hatred and agony you felt in your heart as your grandsire ordered your marriage with Aemond. The only thing you now felt for your husband was love. It could be considered ridiculous that with just half a year of marriage, all the deep-rooted anger and ire from the past had completely decimated and turned into blooming love, but that was the truth of it.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table.” The king said “The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.” His final plea for peace was supposed to be yours and Aemond’s marriage, but that seemed to do little for the others to bury the grievances made years before. Your hold on Aemond’s hand tightened as you Grandsire removed his mask and exposed his decaying face. “My own face is no longer a handsome one… if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king… But your father.” He said and turned to his children, “Your brother,” the king turned to Daemon. “Your husband,” he said to the queen. “And your grandsire.” He finished turning to you and your siblings. “Who may not, it seems…walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts.” He ended.

You were so entrapped by the speech given by your grandsire that you had not even realized that in the midst of that heartfelt moment, your husband was having a contest of stares amongst your brothers. Not a word by the king affected nor lessened the hatred in their hearts for each other.

You watched and listened intently as toast from both sides of your families started to circulate to the table, obliging the king’s request for civility and the possibility of unification for your house. By the end of the toasts, the intimate feast once more commenced, and your smile only grew with each passing moment of peace. However, it was quickly taken from you as a roasted pig was placed in front of you and Aemond, our gaze flying to your younger brother, who snickered as he recalled the cruel jest they made at Aemond’s expense years before. “Lucerys,” you hissed sharply in warning. Your heart skipped a beat as your husband let go of your hold and slammed his clenched fist on the table, rendering the room silent. “Final tribute,” He announced, the attention of the entire room upon him.

“To the health of my nephews. Jace… Luc… and Joffery,” He began, and you felt your hands grow cold at his words, already knowing where this would lead. “Each of them handsome, wise…” He trailed, catching your eyes that pleaded for him to stop and not speak of offense. He, however, ignored your pleas. “Strong,” He ended, and you feel your heart painfully pit in your chest. Your gaze flew to your lap, and you softly shook your head in disappointment, for you had foolishly believed that your husband would at least grow somewhat sensitive at the matter of you and your brother’s true paternity. “Come. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys!” He announced, and you felt a painful twist in your stomach.

The peaceful meal between your kin that you had longed for had turned ugly and violent; you shook your head as your husband and his brother, along with your brothers, waltzed back into old patterns and began to brawl and fight each other. You shook your head and stood from your seat, quietly exiting the room and leaving the fight that the other tried to break up. Aemond watched your departing figure, disappointment oozing off your frame as you exited the hall. He turned to your brothers' red and angered faces, and it only dawned upon him the severity of his offense. He was ready to go after you, but his mother pulling on his arm hindered him, the queen scolding her grown son as if he were a boy.

Moments after, Aemond rushed to your chambers in dire need to speak with you, but you were not there. Aemond walked the darkened corridors of the keep, searching every spot you would frequent but to no avail. Aemond halted in his steps as he heard footsteps and voices approaching. “I’ve told you that they were not suited for each other,” Aemond heard your stepfather say, voice enraged. “You saw how openly he disparaged and humiliated her and her siblings— what more if they were behind closed doors?” Daemon seethed, him having half the mind to march to the king and demand an annulment of your marriage with Aemond.

Aemond clenched his fists in anger as he heard how low the opinion of your stepfather had of him, but that anger was being overpowered by guilt as he recalled your pleading face earlier as you quietly begged him not to speak offense. But Aemond could no longer control himself as being in the presence of your brothers brought back the uninhibited rage he genuinely thought he could control for your sake. Aemond took in a deep breath and stomped off, determined to find you. He scoured the entirety of the keep in search of you, with each passing moment that you were not found added to his guilt and the pang in his chest. It was nearing the hour of the wolf, and Aemond still had not found you. Aemond rarely felt fear; he refused to be in fear of anything, but just by just the mere hours of your absence had him drowning in dread and despair.

Aemond thought of retiring back to your chambers and perhaps try to find you when the sun had risen, but his body could not physically rest without your presence. Aemond found him straying towards the gardens, his feet carrying him towards the weirwood tree that you two had often frequented in childhood. He halted in his steps as he heard quiet sobs and sniffling, his knees growing weak at the sight of your body curled upon the trunk of the tree, your face in your hands as you tried to stifle your sobs. Aemond made cautious steps towards you, swallowing thickly as he had never succumbed to such guilt and pain before; it was unbearable to see you cry— more so for he knew that the reason for your tears was him.

Aemond felt his breathing caught in his throat as you lifted your gaze, and your bloodshot eyes met his. “Why?” You managed to ask, your voice hoarse and filled with emotion. It was too much; Aemond wanted to fall to his knees and ask for your forgiveness; he could not take the way you stared up at him with such great sadness. “Why… why would you do such a thing? Why could you not l…” You could not even make yourself finish your words as a bubbling sob of angered sadness took over you. You tightly shut your eyes as Aemond fell on his knees before you, trying to take hold of your hand, but you over away from his touch.

“I know of the resentment you have for my siblings— for me because we are bastards and because Lucerys had taken your eye. It was foolish for me to think that with our marriage, perhaps that enmity in you would lessen or at least be concealed enough that you would not seek out revenge so… so openly and as well as disparage me and my honor,” You say, your voice shaking as you try to take hold of your cries. “I did not mean to offend you; that was not aimed toward you,” Aemond said, and you shook your head. “They are my brothers, Aemond. Questioning their paternity means to question mine as well. Wounding them would be wounding me as well,” You countered and shook your head as Aemond moved to take hold of your hands.

“I… I know it is difficult for you to be subjected to a room with my kin— especially my brothers, but could you not have let this one-night slide past peacefully? I am not seeking out your forgiveness; I was just hoping for something that resembled peace, just for one night,” You said lowly, voice trembling with your sobs and the cool night air that gusted around the gardens. Aemond sighed and rested his head against your clasped hands, still on his knees as you sat before him dejectedly. “I’m… I’m sorry, my love,” He whispered, and you froze, trying to decipher if you had heard him correctly. Never once had you heard him apologize nor use such an endearment.

“I apologize. I was consumed by my anger, and I could not control my rage. I should have kept my composure,” He said and looked up at your face, tear-stained cheeks flushed with sadness, bloodshot eyes in question, and pink lips agape in mystification. “I’m sorry,” Aemond said once more and placed a kiss on your knuckles. The word felt foreign on his tongue, but at the same time, it rolled effortlessly as he knew it would be his saving grace not to lose you. You sat quietly, uncertain what to reply, though you had been enveloped in rage and sorrow, by Aemond’s actions, it somehow miraculously faded by his words and touch.

“You called me ‘love’,” was all you could manage to say, the word still ringing in your ears even though you knew you should focus on the other matter. Aemond scrunched his brows as he gazed at your face, “I… I suppose I did,” He said, not even realizing the word slipped out his lips. He had been wanting to call you that endearment for weeks now, but he thought you would not take it well or that the softness and affection of it would lessen his stoic exterior. “Do you love me?” You could not help but ask, preparing yourself for the blow if it proves that your judgment was false. Aemond’s cold hands turned a degree colder as you asked the question. With each moment of silence, you feel your heart pit further, your mind scolding you for asking such a query. After another moment of prolonged silence, you sighed and were ready to stand, ready to mourn a different type of sadness.

“Of course I do,” Aemond finally spoke, “I love you,” He added, determined for you to believe his words. You were stunned at his confession that words eluded you, and all you could do was pull him close and kiss his lips. “I do not care about your paternity. I don’t think I ever truly did… I only acted as such to appease my mother and her father. And I know I have played the part well, acting as if I harbor loathing for you ever since childhood, but I could never resent you, not truly.” Aemond sighed as your lips parted, and you smiled widely against his lips. Tears of melancholy turned into tears of glee.

“You love me,” You mused as you cupped his cheeks, your thumb gently brushing the raised skin of his scar. “I love you.” Aemond confirmed, and he hummed as you kissed his lips once more. The events at supper were long forgotten as you and he finally shared the affection you both harbored long ago but were just too afraid to say out loud.

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li0nn3stuff · 17 hours

Text

Kiddo

Chapter four

Kiddo masterlist

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader

•Chapter warnings: obsession, stalking•

A month after the encounter.

She used the bike to get to the train station.

She liked it, it was obvious she did. No matter the weather, she always smiled when she got on her bike. She always waves to all of the people she sees during her ride, always gentle and sweet, smiling softly.

People liked her, it was clear, she had the ability to make a homeless person smile in its worst day with her sweet face.

Her clothes were always a second hand, she never had something new. She looked beautiful, riding in the street between the fields.

She attracted.

She took the train early in the morning.

Her foster family was composed mainly of kids, she was the older one.

Her foster mother was around fifty-six years old, she started adopting with her husband when they were around forty-five.

His girl was their first.

On paper there wasn’t much about the relationship between Mrs Beckham and Miss Beckham, or their relationship with his girl.

Mrs Beckham died when his girl was ten. Miss Beckham kept adopting children soon after, one after the other.

The house was big, yes, but full, placed out of the city, surrounded by nature for miles.

Off the train, she would get back on her bike and get to school.

Her light darkened in the city. It was not something she changed, it was the people who surrounded her. The way they looked at her, just because she didn’t dress like a slut. If she wore a skirt, it covered her knees, if she had a cardigan with a bit of cleavage, she always had a shirt underneath.

She always wore that necklace. The one Aemond touched. He felt proud of having touched something she wore everyday. It was a golden silver chain that held a piece of sapphire. The gem hadn’t been levigated nor shaped, it was natural.

When she was in the city, and she was alone, walking, she always put on her earpods.

Aemond asked himself why multiple times. Maybe she just didn’t like the sounds of the city.

Aemond closed his tascable notebook and hid it in the pocket inside his suit jacket, leaning back on his seat. He looked at her one last time, as she walked inside the school, until he wouldn’t be able to see her anymore.

It took him a while to accept it, but in the end, there was nothing he could do.

He was obsessed with her.

He was obsessed with a kid.

No. No, no no. He just had to meet her. Once he’ll know her, she will disappear from his head.

Despite that should make him feel ashamed, and he tried, he didn’t feel it. The only shame he had was not having been able to make her his, yet.

Not have talked to her yet.

To be fair, Aemond didn’t know how. He met new people, clients, but that approach was something purely professional, and he couldn’t present himself like that to his girl.

He had approached women at bars before, when he was younger, but that was only for a quick fuck to relax him. Though, it had been a few years since he actually put effort to hit on a girl, now they just kept coming to him themself.

She wore a white skirt as always, long to her knees, and a thigh shirt.

Aemond looked at her form disappear inside the school.

It was unusual of hers. It showed her curves perfectly.

Aemond didn’t like it. He didn’t like people looking at her when they didn’t know she was his.

He didn’t like people looking at her at all.

Aemond started the engine and drove off the school, trying to not be seen much.

Did she want to impress someone at school? Did her friends trick her into something else?

He had to make sure she would be fine. He looked at his watch as he got out of his car and walked to the elevator, going up to his company offices.

“Floris, what’s my schedule for today?” He asked his secretary as he walked towards her.

Floris, his efficient secretary, greeted him with a professional smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Targaryen. Your schedule for today includes a meeting with the board of directors at 2 p.m. followed by a conference call with potential investors at 4 p.m. And there's a dinner reception hosted by the Chamber of Commerce at 7 p.m."

Aemond nodded, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of the girl he had just seen. "Cancel the dinner reception," he instructed firmly. "I have other matters to attend to."

Floris raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden change in plans, but she knew better than to question her boss.

"Of course, Mr. Targaryen . I'll take care of it right away."

As Aemond settled into his office, he found it difficult to concentrate on the tasks at hand. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to let his personal feelings interfere with his work. But deep down, he knew that he couldn't shake the sense of responsibility he felt towards her.

After all, he had taken an interest in her life, even if it was from a distance. And now, he couldn't help but feel a sense of obligation to ensure that she was safe and happy.

At the end of the day, she was his girl.

But as much as he wanted to be a part of her world, he knew he didn't belong there. He was a man consumed by darkness, by ambition and desire, and he knew that he would only bring her pain and suffering if he allowed himself to get too close.

Or maybe not. Maybe he would be able to help her.

And yet, despite his best efforts to stay away, he couldn't resist the magnetic pull she had over him. He wanted to protect her, to shield her from the harsh realities of the world, to be the one she turned to when she needed comfort and solace.

But he knew that he could never be that person for her. He was too damaged, too broken, too consumed by his own demons to ever be worthy of her love.

Or maybe she could fix him. She could be the one to help him.

As the day wore on, Aemond found himself growing increasingly restless. He needed to do something, anything, to ease the turmoil in his mind.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. For the first time in a long time, Aemond felt utterly powerless. And he didn't like it one bit.

As the conference call with potential investors was coming to an end, Aemond felt the urge to run away even stronger.

“We are happy about how this conference turned out, Mr. Targaryen.” Harwin Strong said, smiling.

Move your ass.

“We will let you know what will be our decision, but I must admit, you are simply perfect, just what we need.” He kept talking.

“A pleasure.” Aemond nodded, and got up before Harwing could add anything more, extending his hand to shake his. Harwing hesitated for a fraction of a second, surprised, but he immediately recomposed and shook his hand.

“Pleasure for us as well, Mr. Targaryen.” Harwin walked out of the meeting room. Aemond sighed, as he rubbed his temples.

He needed her. Even if he could only watch her from a distance.

He needed to know if she was fucking around, because his girl could never.

He sighed and got up from his chair, going into his office, he put his laptop in his bag, then he quickly walked out of the office.

He had five minutes from the bell at the end of the school day.

He usually got there in ten.

If he loses her movements when she gets out of school, he is fucked. He had to get there in five minutes. No matter how.

Whatever reason why she was dressing up like that, he had to know. He tried to drive as fast as possible, trying to surpass some vehicles when he could. He felt his head numb. The only thought he had was her, he could almost smell her perfume. Her smile, her eyes. Her body.

He stopped the car just in time. A young guy was throwing insults at him from inside his car, as he drove along the crossroad.

He looked at the time, and he realized he was late. school has just finished. He groaned, and he clenched his hands on the steering wheel, looking ahead of him. He sighed and looked at the traffic light, red. He was about to cause an accident.

Something was seriously wrong with him.

He could have repeated it to himself a thousand times more, but still, if what was wrong with him was her, he wasn’t ready to fix it.

Then he saw her.

Y/N.

She was there, standing outside a bar.

He saw the boy reaching her, coming from the backside of the pub.

The boy that he almost ran over.

He wished he had run over him.

The traffic lights turned green, and he quickly tried to find a way to park the car as close as possible.

He parked behind the bar beside the one where his girl was, and quickly got out. He walked to the front side, and he lit himself a cigarette, acting like he was just waiting for someone as he looked at his girl.

The boy approached her, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Aemond felt a rush of anger, he felt his hands shaking, and he almost dropped the cigarette on the floor.

He will kill him.

If not, he will make him suffer for touching his girl.

The boy was wearing the school jacket, and he had all the aspects of “the popular school kid”. He was probably the best player at football in their school.

Aemond remembered high school times. He remembered when Daeron, his little brother, blatered to him when he was in high school. It was always the same.

Guys like that don’t date girls like her.

If not to play them.

Despite his anger, his jealousy, Aemond had no idea of how to stop that… that date. How could his girl date someone when she was his?

He saw them getting inside the bar, and he was actually concerned for his girl.

He won’t let anyone hurt her. He looked around the bar, looking for security cameras.

There weren’t.

He walked back to the back of the pub, going to his car. There was a sign that said that the parking lot was not watched. No cameras on the back of the pub, covered by the sight of people or cars passing by. The parking lot was completely isolated.

Rectification. He knew how to stop the date.

He looked around again, to be sure no one was there, he tied up his hair, and grabbed a hat from his car. He looked down, grabbing the keys from his pocket and started striping the car.

The noise was not too loud, but it was disturbing, and it was giving Aemond a headache, but he kept going. He had no time to do research, but he was about 76% sure that boy had at least one enemy. Someone the boy would blame, because he would never suspect him.

Maybe.

Aemond crunched down and hit a wheel, enough to pierce it. At last, he hit a window, so the theft protection would start ringing. Aemond quickly moved away, reaching the front of the pub, hiding his hat in his pocket.

He saw a few people outside looking around, confused by the sound, then he finally saw the boy running outside, along with his girl. She was looking at him worriedly.

God, she was beautiful.

He wanted to touch her, now, while she wore that pretty outfit.

She should have worn it only for him, not for some stupid boy.

She tried to follow him when he went to see the car, but the boy abruptly stopped her, saying something he could not hear, he only saw the way he spoke to her, harshly, angrily.

His girl stepped back and nodded, going back inside the bar.

He should have left.

He just committed a crime, only so she would not be on a fucking date.

He just committed a crime, and he had to leave, at least before the police would show up.

He went inside.

He looked around and he saw his girl sitting at a table, alone.

Her head leant down, reading the book she always had with her.

He wanted to approach her, touch her.

He wanted her to see him.

He turned and walked to the bar counter, asking for a bottle of water.

He had to get out. Go away. Quickly.

He quickly paid for the wanted and turned to go away looking at her one last time.

He stopped all his movements.

She was looking at him.

She smiled.

She had been looking at him.

Tag: @zenka69 @blaustappen @julczimozart @diannnnsss @i66cilla @odeioemail @queenofthekeep @summerposie @tssf-imagines @vaylint @sweet-nothings-s @esposamultifandom @av989436751 @ladythornofrivia @xcinnamonmalfoyx @deliaseastar @kotadislikesthissite @nebulamorada @madelynwal @shari-berri

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cameronspecial · 1 day

Note

cpuld u do an angst to happy ending with rafe where like there could be a bet that he dates the reader kind of like the plot of ‘after’ if youve seen or read it and when she finds out shes like “youre breaking my heart” like that scene from padme and anakin but it ends up happy? MEERY CHRISTMASSS

You're Breaking My Heart

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

A/N: Merry Christmas to you too! I'm so sorry this is late.

Masterlist

Y/N should’ve known he was going to break her heart. He isn’t meant to be in a relationship; he isn’t one to be tied down. What she heard just proved it. “I bet that I can have her wanting me by the end of the year,” he says in the video coming from her phone. It was sent from an unknown number to her and Rafe, yet it doesn’t matter because the damage is already done. The front door opens and he comes through the door with the takeout he went to get. His grin is wide as he looks at her, setting the bag on the table. He notices her sombre mood and hurries to her side. “What happened?” he asks, holding her face between his hands. She steps out of his grasp and escapes his touch every time he tries to approach. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he repeats. She lets her tears brim at the corner of her eyes, refusing to look at him. “Tell me what happened!” Having enough of his questioning, she whips towards him with anger. “You’re breaking my heart. That’s what’s wrong,” she yells, staring daggers at him. His frustration grows as he tugs at the end of his hair, “What are you talking about? What did I do, Baby?” She shoves his phone into his chest. “You went down a path I never thought you would. You are a liar and a cheat and I hope I never see you again,” she mumbles, picking up her purse and storming out.

His phone screen lights up and he sees a text notification. He opens the video attached, not needing to see more than a second of it to know what it is. It’s a video of the night he said something he never should’ve said because now, it ruined the best thing he ever had.

———

The tears haven’t stopped pouring in hours and she doesn’t know how to stop it. The knock at the door pulls her from her bed cocoon. She pads towards the door and swings it open, immediately trying to close it when she sees who it is. His strong hand stops her and he pushes his way in. “I don’t want you here,” she sniffles, turning away so he can’t see her vulnerable state. His heart aches at her pain, “I know, but we need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to a liar and to someone who doesn’t even love me.”

By now, he has cornered her against the wall and she has to crane her neck to look at him. His fist slams against the wall, “Don’t say that.” He takes a deep breath when he sees her small jump in fear. He brings his hand up to place on her cheek but second-guesses himself at the memory of her removing herself from his hold. The new tears that begin to crop up make him hate himself even more. He runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sorry. Can we please just talk?” “Okay,” she mumbles, a little afraid of what he may do. Although, deep down, she knows he would never hurt her. She holds her hand up with her palm up for him to begin. He takes a step back and lets out a breath. “I do love you. And I know I should say the bet was a mistake, except it wasn’t,” he begins. She chuckles, “That is a horrible way to begin.” He rests his warm hand on her cheek. “Because without it, then I wouldn’t have been able to get to know how amazing you are. And that is a thought that kills me,” he states, drawing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Why would it kill you?” she mutters, letting her heart lead the conversation. He lowers his face closer to her, “Because you are the only thing in my life that has ever made me feel alive. I will understand if you can never forgive me and I will forever be sorry for the pain this bet has caused, but I will never be sorry for making it because it gave me my time with you.” Her heart tells her to jump into his arms and forgive him, yet her brain tells her to slow down. Sweet words don’t mean all is alright. So, she settles for something in between. She holds him above his elbows and looks into his eyes. “If you really feel that way, then I guess we can try again,” she offers. The excitement he shows is cut short by her continuation. “However, you have a lot to do to gain back my trust and we can’t pretend you never hurt me.” He nods like a madman, “I’m fine with that. I would rather have to walk on broken glass without you if it leads me to your trust than to lose you forever.” She wraps her arms around her waist, bringing him down for a kiss.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

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leilanihours · 2 days

Note

can you write something based of so high school about Caitlin?

# SO HIGH SCHOOL

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

word count: 1290

warnings: drinking, suggestive content

summary: caitlin’s drunken actions have you feeling like a lovesick teenager

from lani: hi anon! hope you like this! it’s my first time writing for caitlin sooo enjoy!

FRESH OFF IOWA’S final four win, the girls are all drunk off of cheap liquor and post-game adrenaline. after beating uconn in the march madness semi-finals, the group of young hawkeyes decided to celebrate by going out to one of their local bars.

when they practically begged you to join them, you insisted against it. but there’s one girl that you would follow through a storm, so there’s no questioning how quickly you agreed to come along the second caitlin joined in on the begging.

the whole night had been a rollercoaster of emotions, thus far consisting of a childish game of “marry, kiss, kill” (a result of gabbie having one too many drinks).

———

“hey guys, what was that one game people used to play as teenagers?” gabbie wondered out loud.

“you’re gonna have to be a little more specific, babe,” jada responds, giggling at her friend’s state.

“the one where you, like…pretend to marry someone?”

“gabbie…what?” kate chimes in.

you and caitlin had been listening in on the team’s conversations from the table next to theirs, but not being entirely present. if you were completely honest, you had no idea what was happening. the drink in your hand and caitlin’s sculpted hand on your upper thigh definitely didn’t help.

“oh! ‘marry, kiss, kill!’” she recalls finally.

“oh my gosh, i haven’t played that since i was like, what, fifteen?” jada comments.

“can we play it?” gabbie exclaims, “pleaseeeee.” she was quite a character whenever she was drunk (because how can someone so tiny hold in so much alcohol?).

after some laughable convincing, you and caitlin ended up sitting at their table ready to play along.

“okay, kylie,” gabbie starts, “marry, kiss, kill jada, kate, and hannah.”

“hmm..” kylie hums, “marry kate, kiss jada, and kill hannah. sorry, hannah. if fuck was an option i would definitely pick that for you, don’t worry,” she finishes with a wink towards her.

“wait you have a point. let’s replace kill with fuck. we can do that, right?” gabbie rambles.

“whatever you want, girl,” jada laughs, sipping on her drink.

“okay, okay,” gabbie scans the group in front of her, choosing her next victim, “caitlin! marry, kiss, fuck…taylor, me, and y/n.”

are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

your eyes can’t help but shoot to caitlin’s as soon as you hear your name. for a split second you hold contact, but she breaks it as she looks up in thought.

everyone had always sensed a tension between you two, especially after seeing you engage in a nearly 2-minute long hug after the game. but no one knew that behind closed doors, you two were locked in.

you subconsciously bite your lip waiting for caitlin’s response. it’s just a game but you can’t help but picture you two in each scenario, the last one leaving a subtle blush on your warm cheeks.

it’s just a game, but really

“um…” she starts. and it’s like she has the same brain as you because you can’t believe it when she’s smirking saying, “can i pick all three for one person?”

i’m betting on all three, for us two

———

which brings you to now, only a couple hours later, where your freshly manicured fingers are laced with caitlin’s long ones under the table. you’ve been deep in thought, practically psycho-analyzing cait’s prior response.

and in the brink of a crinkling eye, i’m sinking, our fingers entwined

she had to be talking about me, right? you think.

you had been together for nearly a year, but you still feel slightly unsure in your relationship. before you can spiral into a cycle of overthinking, you feel a set of lips inch close to your ear.

“are you okay?” you hear. turning your head slightly, you are faced with your girlfriend’s familiar smile, a small glint of concern in her eyes.

“mhm,” you nod, “all good. are you good?” you can tell she’s getting tired; after the insane game and the so-called “after party,” you notice a more relaxed slump in her posture and a couple eye rubs every now and then.

“definitely,” she says, her eyes scanning your face.

she scoots even closer to you (if that’s even possible) and without regard for her teammates just across the table she puts her face in your neck. you’re now practically 100% sober, but the feeling of her lips ghosting your skin could get you drunk in an instant.

“you ready to go home?” she whispers, “wanna spend some alone time with my girl.”

if you weren’t blushing before, you had to be bright red now. how could you say no to her? that word wasn’t even in your vocabulary when you’re with her.

cheeks pink in the twinkling lights

“‘course, babe,” you reply, bringing up one of your hands to rub her arm.

after you both bid goodbye to the rest of the group for the night, you pile into caitlin’s car. you insist on driving as your girlfriend was in no shape to be in control of a moving vehicle.

———

you dig your hand in caitlin’s jacket pocket in search of your apartment keys. she’s almost putting her entire body weight on you, heavily influenced by the sleep dragging her under.

you successfully unlock the front door and pull her inside taking off her shoes and jacket, throwing them somewhere random. you then urge her into your shared bedroom, sitting her down on your bed as you retrieve a set of sweatpants for her.

neither of you have said a word since you left the bar, as caitlin fell asleep on the ride home and you were still processing her answer to gabbie’s question.

pulling off caitlin’s jeans, you notice a suggestive smirk on her face as she observes your position. for what seems like the hundredth time tonight, you blush feverishly at the hands of your girlfriend.

standing up to change yourself into some pjs, a hand pulls you back. suddenly you’re stuck in between caitlin’s long legs as she sits at the edge of your bed with both her hands on either side of your waist.

“hi,” she smiles sleepily.

“hi,” you reply.

“can i tell you something?” she asks. you hum. “i really like you. like a lot.” you giggle at her confession.

“yeah? how much?” you decide to play into her theatrics.

“so much. was thinking of you when we were playing that game earlier.”

“were you really?” thank god.

“‘course i was. i think you might be it for me. i mean, you got me feeling like we’re in high school the way you look at me. taking such good care of me all the time.”

‘cause i feel so high school, every time i look at you, but look at you

you smile sincerely at her answer, mentally laughing at yourself for ever doubting her love for you in the first place. you haven't had many relationships with girls, so you’ve never felt for someone the way you do for caitlin.

no one’s ever had me, not like you

you place a quick kiss to caitlin’s lips in response, then tell her to get into bed with promises of cuddles. you change into your pjs and crawl next to her under the blanket, feeling her curl into your warmth immediately.

with her head on your chest and your arms engulfing her toned frame, you feel yourself surrender to your exhaustion. but before you can fully fall asleep, you hear caitlin make one more comment that would never have you questioning your relationship again.

“i’m betting on all three for us, you know,” she mumbles into your shirt (her shirt), “two down, one to go. just you wait.”

you already know, babe.

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ovaryacted · 3 days

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MDNI/18+. NSFW. | CW: Joel Miller x fem! reader; smut WC: 1.0k

I don’t know where I was going with this but it just came to mind on the fly and I felt the need to share before I went to bed so yeah. We are simply here for the vibes.

It was a mistake initiating this, that much you knew but you stopped giving a fuck after the second beer you downed. The transitions from point A at the Tipsy Bison to somewhere else for Point B seemed like a blur, a stop-motion film of your bad decisions playing before you on an endless loop.

Not that you cared enough to stop and watch.

Strong calloused hands dug into the skin of your thighs, nails pressing into the thick muscle and pulling you forward, ever closer. Needy fingers reached downward between your legs to grip onto graying curls and tugged with a soft yank, the other gripped on the old sheets underneath that smelled faintly of pinewood.

You could hear him, the loud slurping bordering on obnoxious with the circular movements of his tongue against your cunt. His grip was harsh if it wasn’t deprived, and as your heart pounded in your chest you finally opened your eyes to look at the culprit.

Joel Miller.

They warned you that he was dangerous, a man of terrifying stature. You heard stories about him in passing as if he were some folktale told to scare the children before bed, envisioning a boogeyman without a soul. It wasn’t until you arrived at Jackson and met him face-to-face on your third assigned patrol that you realized just how wrong they were.

Sure, the warnings matched somewhat. He was ruthless, a man with impenetrable skin despite the multitude of scars you counted from afar. You watched in awe at how efficiently he could bring down a clicker, or how the blade of his knife stained with crimson as he cut through a raider’s throat from behind.

There was a darkness in him, reminiscent of someone who had been tormented by his own demons for years. In a world like this where one already had so little, you took what you could get, and this wasn’t any different. He commanded any room he was in even if it were unintentional, it simply came with his reputation.

Joel made his bed years ago, and now he has to lie in it. But with you lying alongside him, the sentiment was preferable.

It should scare you, the twisted edge you could feel wash over him in waves with every step he took. You spotted it earlier when he walked through the doors of the bar and quietly sat himself down towards the far end. The last thing that should’ve happened was you striking up a conversation, attempting to grab his attention.

That darkness shone bright like a beacon in the night, and you were merely a moth to a flame.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned out loud, guiding his head right where you needed him and shifting your hips against the faded cut on the bridge of his nose.

He groaned against you and sucked harder at your clit, fingers working in tandem to bring you closer to the precipice and drink more of you. You tasted better than the stale beer he drank, and he ignored the bubbling guilt tearing at his gut by digging his face into you with an intense hunger.

Joel didn’t know how this happened, not that he was complaining. One minute, you were talking to him with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes that sent all the blood in his body drifting South. The next, he found himself plucking at the top of your shirt, meshing his lips hard against your mouth and grinding his hips with force.

Regardless of his rough exterior, he was a weak man to your charm and intrigue, and perhaps that constituted him as a selfish one too. But in this reality, the only thing one could do was take and take and take.

Another soft cry filled the four walls of his bedroom, huffs of your breath on par with the flicks of his tongue against your aching core. You were so close you could taste it, the pleasant contrast of Joel’s facial hair rubbing into your pussy making you crave more. You silently hoped to leave your mark and claim him for yourself, praying that he could still feel your presence when you left in the morning.

Two fingers thrust into you then, back arching off of the bed at the intrusion. They curved into a come hither motion, finding that hidden spot tucked away inside you with shocking precision, focusing all of their attention on pressing right there nonstop.

“Joel,” a broken gasp of his name drew his blackened hazel eyes to take in the bliss written over your features. He hummed in acknowledgment, trained ears playing the sound of your voice endlessly in his head. He couldn’t get enough, and from the way your lower stomach flexed, he knew you were about to cum by his touch.

“C’mon, give it to me sweetheart,” it was an order, a command, a dying man’s last wish. You couldn’t help but oblige.

Your thighs shook on his shoulders the moment your release hit, hands clutching at his scalp as he ripped one final moan from your throat. A feeling you’ve almost long forgotten coursed through you from the balls of your feet to the very top of your head. Like a tide hitting the shore, it flowed over you in calming motions until the water stilled and the pleasure simmered into numbness.

Joel placed a soft kiss against your twitching pussy one last time as you basked in the aftershocks, kissing your thighs and hip and trailing a path up your body before his lips met your own. You could taste yourself on the entirety of his upper lip, and as he grinned at you, your gaze held the same satisfaction he carried.

Who knew a bad idea could have such a pretty face?

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #joel miller drabble #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou smut #ovaryacted drabbles

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daisyblog · 8 hours

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Perfect

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Harry and YN’s “first time” together.

Requested by anon.

Warning: swearing, fingering, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, mention of body confidence

Harry followed behind YN as they walked through her front door, a pink blush on their cheeks from the breeze that surrounded them on their walk around the Heath.

YN was mindlessly talking about her never ending list of things she needs to do for the florist, but Harry was lost in her. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way her eyes went wider as she spoke, or how her hips swayed as she walked or how her jeans held the right amount of curve.

He was trying his best to listen but his mind wondered to other things. The strain covered by his own trousers were making it harder for him to concentrate. They hadn’t gone any further than the odd touch whilst getting carried away as their lips melted against each other.

YN lips twitched into a grin, as she held her hands on her hips with sass. “Are you listening to me?”.

“Sorry!”. Harry chucked as he moved towards her, pulling her closer by the loops on her jeans. “You’re just breathtaking and distracting right now.”.

As his arms snaked around her hips, his hands landed in her back jeans pockets. “Oh really?”. YN’s voice held a suggestive tone, one that told him she was wanting him just as much as he wanted her. Her hands looped around his neck as she pulled him closer so their lips touched.

They’d shared many steamy kisses and let their hands wonder above clothing, but tonight felt different. The way Harry’s hands wondered underneath the back of her jumper, feeling the warmth of her skin, and the way YN pulled him closer and moved her front against his to earn a deep moan, made it clear that they were both craving more.

Harry trailed his wet lips down her neck, gently nibbling as the move. YN’s eyes involuntarily closed as she soaked up the moment that she hadn’t felt for years. A soft hum left her lips as Harry nibbled just below her ear. The sound only fed his ego and encouraged his movements. He placed his lips back on hers, their tongues finding each others with ease.

As they craved more, their lips become messier, sloppily moving with urgency. Harry found her jeans button and popped it open before pushing his hand inside her pink lace underwear, and earning a heavy moan as he rubbed his two fingers against her core.

“Fuck…you’re all wet for me.” Harry’s fingers continued to move in a rhythm. YN rested her head against his shoulder as she felt his fingers up the pace. Noticing her breathing becoming heavier, he moved his fingers faster against her. “Come for me baby!”. He spoke into her ear, earning a loud moan from her lips. The faster his fingers worked, the more her hips bucked against him.

“Ohhh f-fuck…I..I..I’m..I’m gonna cum!”. YN closed her eyes as her fingers gripped onto Harry’s t-shirt, her hips buckling as she moved them against his fingers and when the feeling hit, Harry felt her thighs squeeze together as his fingers worked her through the high.

Harry removed his fingers from inside her underwear, and held her body to him as she breathed heavily against him. He placed a peck to her sweat covered forehead. “Well that was fun!”. He chucked as he broke the silence.

YN lazily lifted her head to look at him, her eyes still hazed as she tried to catch her breath. “I’ve never come like that before!”.

“Really!”. Harry could feel his shoulders straighten with pride. Especially when began to leave small pecks down his neck, before making her way down his jaw and kneeing down on the cold kitchen tiles. Harry knew where this was going, as much as he wanted her to, he didn’t want her to feel pressured. “YN..baby..you don’t need to-“.

As her hands unbuckled his belt, she smiled up at him. “I want to.”. Harry could feel himself get harder against his jeans, but he let out a breath of relief when YN pulled his jeans and boxers down to realise him.

He looked down and watched as her hand wrapped around him and started to pump slowly on the tip. Harry took small breaths as he felt her hand start to move a little faster down his lengths. After a few more hand strokes, he closed his eyes when he felt her lips around his tip and his length slide down her tongue.

“Ohh…ohhh….that pretty fucking mouth!”. Harry dared to take a look down at YN, as his length disappeared in and out her mouth causing her lips to swell. Between his thoughts and the feeling of sucking on the tip as she twirled her tongue, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

Not wanting to come too soon, he reached down to the side of her neck and gestured her to stand back up. “C’mere!.” He kissed her with force as he reached down to hold the back of thighs, YN taking the hint to jump up into his arms.

“You’re so beautiful!”. He whispered on her lips as he blindly walked up the stairs, being careful not to fall as he did so.

“You’re the beautiful one!”: YN spoke back in between kisses. Her hands finding themselves slipping through his curls.

As they reached YN’s bedroom, Harry gently laid her down on the soft white duvet. He could see a change in YN’s confidence, she wasn’t as eager as she was before. He could see her having a fight with herself.

“Hey…we don’t have to do this.”. He reached down to press his lips to her for comfort. “You can be honest with me”.

YN nibbled on her lip as she debated telling him the truth. She could see Harry’s eyebrows frown with worry. “I…I…”. She took a deep breath to calm the nerves. “I just want to prepare you…I haven’t got the perfect body..or…or…perfect skin…I’ve had a baby…I’ve got stretch marks and loose skin and yeah”.

“And who said that’s not perfect?”. YN was taken back by Harry’s response. She’d expected him to leave and say he wasn’t interested anymore, but his next move made her fall deeper than she already did. “Your body is perfect…your skin is perfect…your body created a life and I want to show you how perfect you are”.

YN pulled him down to meet her lips half way, their mouths were messy, eager and full of want. Their hands kept themselves busy as they removed the rest of their clothes, leaving them both bare as they were tangled with each other.

As they continued to move their lips together, like their lives depended on it, Harry checked they were both happy without a condom. YN agreed as she was on birth control.

Harry reached between them and lined himself up with her entrance, sliding it up and down covering it in her arousal and earning a happy groan from YN. After seeing the wetness covering his length, he moved it back to her core. “Ready?”.

YN nodded as she anticipated the uncomfortable ache she was about to feel, after not having sex for so long. She watched as Harry involuntarily closed his eyes as he slowly pushed into her. A grunting moan left his mouth, as she let out a hiss as she felt her muscle tense.

“Breathe…breathe for me baby”. Harry leaned down so their noses were touching. “I won’t move until you’re ready”. He was desperate to move his hips but he stuck to his words.

After a couple of minutes, the ache disappeared and YN gave Harry the go ahead. He gently pulled out, before he moved his hips closer to YN. “Fuck…you’re so big”. Her words shocked Harry but it only turned him on more.

“Ohhh…fuck me!”. Harry didn’t hold back as he felt the build up in his lower stomach. “You feel so good”. His movements were quick as he slid his length in and out, his breath was fast as he felt himself get closer.

YN’s hands scrunched the sheet in her fingers. “Go faster!”. She encouraged his fast thrusts as she felt her own build up. Harry knew he was close so he placed his thumb on her bud and rubbed as he continued to thrust into her. “Ohhh…yeah…right there!”.

“Come for me baby…c’mon come against my fingers again”. YN could feel it in her tummy, the excitement growing with both his thumb moving in circles and his length hitting the spot.

Her hips bucked up, her hips lifting off the bed and Harry let go himself and came at the sight of YN coming against his fingers.

As they both came down from their high, Harry flopped down beside YN on the bed, wrapping his arm around her bare waist as he did. “You alright babe?”.

“I’m fucked!”. YN breathed out as her eyes were still closed and limbs weak. “Quite literally”. She let out a laugh as her own joke.

Harry got up from his place and walked into the en-suite and switched the shower on. YN was still in the same position but now her eyes were open watching his move.

“C’mon…let’s get you showered before bed”. Harry placed his hand under her legs and the other under back as he picked her up in his arms with ease.

“You’re too good to me”. YN held onto his shoulder as he walked them into the now steamy bathroom. Harry let YN down as they both in the shower. The water covering them as they stood underneath. YN eyes screamed tiredness as the water washed down her face.

“C’mon sleepyhead…turn around”. YN followed Harry’s instructions and turned so her back was now facing him. The feeling of his fingers massaging her head surprised her as she felt the shampoo bubble on her hair.

It was the first time they were silent all evening as Harry continued to wash YN’s hair with conditioner. They both shared shy glances as they washed their own bodies, and sweet kisses as they stood under the water.

After their shower, Harry helped YN dress into her pyjamas and he put on a clean pair of boxers. YN sat in awe at how Harry found her hairbrush and hair dryer, and brushed through her wet hair before drying her hair.

They crawled under the duvet, YN was quick to find her new favourite spot on Harry’s chest with his arm wrapped around her. “Thank you”. Her words were quiet as her eyes become heavier.

“For what?”. Harry questioned as he pressed his lips to the top her freshly washed hair.

“Accepting me”. YN’s words were a whisper as she quickly fell asleep with her ear pressed against Harry’s chest.

“I adore you, Golden girl”.

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @vikiii07-blog @sleutherclaw

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worldofkuro · 1 day

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile XVI

<- Previous Chapter I

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Well, well. This chapter might be difficult to answer, so don't hesitate to ask question, unless they spoil the story, I'll answer them. Hope you enjoy what is coming next.

The next morning,you were walking with Alastor into the woods you have grown to know like the back of your hand.You had to insist for Alastor to bring you with him. He wanted you to stay with Alice but you were having none of it. You didn’t really know what just happened at Alice’s, you were feeling exhausted and a bit scared.

“ So, you couldn’t hear me or Alice, and then you heard footsteps and the noise of a shovel digging into the ground?” asked Alastor, keeping his rifle in his left hand, the other keeping yours.

“ Yes… Do you think I’m crazy? Maybe I fainted for a moment..?” you turned your eyes toward Alastor, wishing to be reassured. You almost thought you would see him looking at you with pity but he just squeezed your hand tighter, never stopping smiling.

“ No, dear. We can’t be both crazy, this town wouldn’t survive it. No, no, I’ll look into it, okay?” he smiled at you with a soft gaze. He kissed the back of your hand. “ Don’t think you can run away by pretending to be crazy, dearest.”

You smiled at him before stopping abruptly. There were footsteps on the ground, and from how deep into the mud there were, you knew the person was probably running. You let go of Alastor’s hand, the both of you investigating around. You were looking at the floor and crouched, frowning. What was it…? They were tiny … was it..?

“ Dog’s paws..?” you tilted your head. It clearly looked like a dog's paws. You called out to Alastor whose smile turned into a grimace.

“ They really brought the mutts out.” he sighed before looking around.

“ You don’t think it could be an unlucky hunter, right?”

“ Unfortunately, no. This part of the forest belongs to my family, which means, if they took that path down the forest, they came from my house, which is illegal. So it can’t be a hunter, but policemen use dogs don’t they?…”

“Yes, but they can’t just enter someone's property like that. My father would never.”

Alastor’s smile widened as he tapped his chin with his finger. He seemed to enjoy himself.

“ Let’s follow the trail, we’ll make a conclusion when we see where it ends.”

You walked, trying to ignore your growing headache. You sighed in relief when you felt Alastor’s hand on your waist. You both stopped when you reached the place where you’ve killed for the first time. You looked at Alastor as he gently tugged you toward a big tree and just as you expected, it seemed like someone had tried to dig up a hole.

“ Mhn… They didn’t dig up deep enough.” said Alastor with a mocking tone. He walked around the hole before pointing his gun toward a noise. You smiled when you saw a deer, staring at Alastor then near his feet. You began to walk toward him but Alastor stopped you with his hand. “ Don’t come any closer, there is a bear trap.”

You choked on your own saliva when you saw a bear trap, hidden by leaves, centimeters away from Alastor’s right foot. If he had kept walking, he would have been stuck inside it. You stared at the deer, dumbfounded. Did the deer.. warned Alastor? Were you losing your mind?

The deer stared at Alastor before leaving in the forest.

“ Well… That was odd. But more importantly, a bear trap? Seems like someone really wants to catch us.” he laughed as he crouched in front of the trap. “ Did they not dig deep enough on purpose so we would lower our guard and get caught by the bear trap..?”

“ Do you think they are still here?” you looked around.

“ No, darling. The forest is noisy and I don’t feel eyes upon us. We’re clean, for now. But what is amazing is that.. You saw it coming. You knew that someone was trying to dig up my father.”

Alastor walked toward you.

“ Darling, is there anything strange that happened to you during this week?” You blinked at him. The strangest thing that had happened this week was seeing your best friend making a contract with your future husband to kill someone she was supposed to marry. “ No apparitions?”

“ Alastor, what in the sweet hell are you talking about?”

“ Well, I’m trying the soul bounding spell. It can take several months to be able to bound a soul to another one, and I was worried that maybe I did something wrong which could have.. made you have that vision.”

You smiled at him, before kissing his lips. You were curious about his voodoo’s spells, but it was an unknown world for you, you hoped one day Alastor would teach you.

“ No Alastor, I didn’t see anything worth mentioning. What should I be worried about?”

“ Nothing serious, if there is something anormal, you would feel it.” he touched your forehead with his own, staring into your eyes. “ So… Do you have an idea how to kill Alice’s future husband ?”

You laughed as you felt Alastar’s arms wrapped around you. You kissed him several times, savoring the moments.

“ Mhn.. What about this? This weekend, we will go to Alice’s cottage and spend the days together, just the two of us thinking about murder?” you teased him, sliding your hands on his torso as you bite your lips. “ You could show me some techniques…”

“ I could show you how to tie someone so they can’t escape.” he smirked as he loomed over you. “ But it is a great idea, darling.” he kissed you twice before walking toward the bear trap. “ Also, I’m taking this to your father.” you tilted your head. “ Of course, dear. Someone trespassed into my domain and even put on a weapon that almost wounded me! If this is a policeman who has done this, your father would know. “

“ But.. They would want to understand why it was near a hole, they are going to investigate the forest.”

“ I’ve never said I found it there, dear.” he smirked at you and you couldn’t help but laugh.” The only person who knows where we found the bear trap are you, my darling , myself and the one we want to catch. I’m just going to provoqued them a little bit.

You laughed as you went back home. Alastor had to go to work and you didn’t want to stay all alone at home. You took a bottle of wine and some pastries and went out. Maybe talking with Alice about everything that happens could be great. You were sure she had a ton of questions to ask you.

You stopped walking when you were in front of the park, you couldn’t help but look for your new friend. Well, he wasn’t a friend but maybe a confidant ? You smiled when you entered the park and saw the old man sitting on his usual bench. You sat next to him.

“ Hello sir.”

“ Hello little lady.” he smiled warmly at you.

You began to talk about your days, the man still listening to you quietly. You looked at him, trying to see if he had any signs of religion on him but you couldn’t find any.

“ Sir, you believe in… spirits?”

“ Yes, I do.”

“ I … I have some questions” you looked around, making sure nobody was listening, but no one was taking notice of you" “ I think I fainted and I might… have seen a scene that was happening somewhere else?”

“ Oh, it’s interesting. How did you feel?”

“ Tired. I had a headache all night until… recently.”

“ Did you talk about it with your husband ?” he asked, looking at the people walking in front of you.

“ Well, yes ! He was worried but it must be my imagination.” you laughed. You were sure about what happened.

“ Does that make it any less real?” he tilted his head, his gentle expression still there, with eyes so gentle and wise you wondered what kind of life he lived.

“ Well..” you groaned as you held your head, your headache was coming back full force. You closed your eyes, trying to contain the pain. Gosh, it was so painful.

“ Waking up might be painful this time, little lady, I apologize.”

You tried to open your mouth but you felt like something was tearing you apart from your own body. You could feel the tears from pain whelming up in your eyes. What was happening ?

“ Hey! Look at me !”

You opened your eyes, gasping for air and looked at the man who was shaking you by your shoulders. Did he think you were sleeping? God, your head was hurting so bad and now you could feel something sliding down your nose… you tried to focus your vision to see the man’s face, his voice was familiar.

�� John…?”

And that’s all you remember before your vision turned black.

You could hear people talking around you. They were so noisy… You couldn’t open your eyes or move your body. You felt so tired, even more than usual.

“ She was talking all alone while sleeping, sitting on a bench! I’m not lying, and then when I woke her up she had a nosebleed and her eyes seemed red– ”

“ Aah… Thank you, John. I’m going to stay with my daughter, we’ll meet after this okay. Thank you for contacting me.”

Why would your father meet with John? Even if you didn't tell him why you stopped being friends with him, you didn’t think John would still reach out to your father. You forced your eyes to open and you found yourself staring at a white ceiling. wait.. Were you in a hospital? You sat up slowly as your father ran at your side.

“ Slow and steady, sweetheart.” He put his hand on your back, helping you stay steady on the hospital’s bed. “ Alastor is on his way.” you felt your body relax at the new. You looked at your father who was already giving you food, the one you made for Alice.

“ What happened ?”

“ You were talking to yourself like a madwoman. I had to shake you forcefully for you to wake up.” you looked at John. He was staring at you, seeming worried but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to be near him. “ Hah, being almost married seems to do wonders for you.”

“ Get out.

“ Is there something I should know about..?” asked your father, looking at the both of you.

“ Nothing worth mentioning.” you spat, glaring at John who seemed hurt by your reaction. Did he really think you were going to thank him because he.. did he even help you ? What happened to Legba? You groaned, your head was killing you.

“ Darling, I’m here.” Alastor walked past John, going straight to you, taking your hands between yours. You relaxed immediately, going into his arms. What was happening to you?

“ You should take better care of your future wife. She is going insane, talking to herself on a bench.”

You felt Alastor’s body tense. His smile was still, as usual, as he turned his head toward John. It seemed like he didn’t even notice John when he entered your hospital’s room. You wanted to punch John in the face, who did he think he was?

“ From what I have seen, my fiancée is feeling bad when you are around, should I get rid of you?” he smiled with a beaming expression making your father chuckle.

“ The day I see Alastor being violent, is the day I stop working!” he laughed before standing up. “ But John, boy, let’s talk outside.” your father said with a cold expression. You smirked, your father hated when you were being disrespected. You watched as the two men left your room before feeling Alastor’s hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“ Darling, what happened ? Talking alone?”

You shook your head slowly, caressing his cheeks.

“ No, I was with a new acquaintance of mine. I think you should meet, he is very interesting, he is very old though…But then my head started hurting so bad I had to close my eyes and hold my face to calm myself. He must have see me when I was trying to smooth the pain.”

“ Yes, darling, I’ll meet everyone you want.” he sighed while stroking your hair. “ What is the name of the gentleman who stole my darling’s attention?” he teased you as you stuck your tongue at him.

“ Legba.”

You felt Alastor's body freezed, the temperature dropping. You blinked at him, looking at his frozen smile as he stared at you without showing anything.

“ Do you know him..?” you asked. Maybe they have already met but couldn’t get along?

“ I… I know his name, yes. What do you talk about with him?” he sat next to you, his expression back to usual.

“ I’m the one mostly talking. And we share food! Now that I think about it, I didn’t have the time to give him something to eat today…” you gasped as Alastor helped you stand up. He smiled at you.

“ Let’s see if he is still where you left him! I really want to meet him."He kissed your cheeks before taking your things. You nodded, you didn’t want to stay here any longer. You both left your room, never meeting your father or John. You brought Alastor to the park, hoping to see the old man. You hoped John hadn't been too rude to Legba.

You smiled, feeling relieved as you saw him sitting in his usual spot.

“ It’s him, do you see him, Alastor?” you walked toward the old man who lifted his head up once you were close. “ Well, hello once again.”

You sat next to him, Alastor sitting next to you silently. How weird, most of the time he would try to make himself see.

“ You are back early, are you alright now?”

“ I’m doing great, thank you. I hope the man that bothered us wasn’t too rude to you.” you relaxed when you saw him shake his head. “ I came back because I realized I didn’t give you anything to eat and I wanted you to meet my future husband, Alastor!”

You saw the man’s smile widened as he looked at Alastor.

“ Aah, the famous Alastor… “ you smiled before giving the man a pastry. You didn’t know why you felt like you had to give him something in return for his presence…” Seems like you won’t be left in the dark anymore.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ You didn't want me to meet Alastor in particular, it’s Alastor who wanted to meet me, right?” you nodded, but was the difference so important? “ You shouldn’t stay out too long, night is coming soon, I will have to go back.”

You looked at the darkening sky. How long were you out? How long did you stay in the hospital? You nodded at the old man, feeling better. You stood up, stretching your body.

“ See you soon, then.”

“ See you again, little lady.” said Leba as he stood up and walked away with his cane.

You turned your head toward Alastor, who was staring at you, his smile twitching, his feet tapping the floor nervously.

“ Why didn’t you speak to him? Didn’t you want to meet him?” you crossed your arms on your chest, raising an eyebrows.

“ I’m.. going to explain everything as soon as we get home.” he took your hands and made you walk quickly toward his home. When you entered Marie’s home, it was already dark. You didn’t have the time to say hi to his mother, Alastor was dragging you into his bedroom. He was being so weird.

“ Alright darling. When did you meet this man?”

“ What are you playing at?” you asked, sitting on his bed.

“ Please, answer me.”

“ It hasn't even been a week yet.”

“ What does he look like?”

“ You saw him! He was sitting next to me!” you threw your arms in the air, feeling agitated. Why Alastor seemed to be excited and worried.

“ No, darling, you were sitting alone.”

…

“ Alastor,” you laughed nervously. “ you saw me.. I was talking with him..”

He approached you and kneeled in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“ You sat on the bench and then closed your eyes. It seemed like you were asleep to me but you were whispering some sentences, I couldn’t hear everything unfortunately.”

You paled. What was going on? What was he talking about? Were you crazy? Would you be thrown in an asylum and die there?

“ Darling, keep your eyes on me. It’s… It’s my fault I think.” he bit his lips while staring at you, you weren’t aware you were clawing at his hands, shaking. “ I told you I was practicing for our bounding soul spell, right?” he waited for you to nob before continuing. “ To be able to perform spells, you need one spirit in particular. His name is Papa Legba, but he never showed himself to me.”

“ Alastor… What are you trying to tell me..?” your voice was shaking, you didn’t understand a word he was saying.

“ Papa Legba is the guardian of the crossroads, he embodies the communication and access to the spirit world. Darling, it’s… it’s very amazing for such a spirit to be near you but also dangerous. You aren’t the type to just give food to someone you don’t know, yet you did it, you know why?”

“ I don’t know.. I just felt like it, as a thank you for his presence.”

“ That’s what we call an offering. But you need strong sacrifices for those spirits to stay and give you what you asked. I don’t think you asked him anything, did you..?”

“ I ask for his advice..” you whispered, trying to understand everything Alastor was saying. You wanted to know more about voodoo? Well, you didn’t expect to have that knowledge so fast in this situation.

“ I see.. From what I saw, when you talk with him, you go into a trance. When John woke you up by force, it broke your connections and I know for a fact that it can be very painful. Furthermore, you didn’t give him any sacrifices and nature always takes back what you didn’t give.”

“ So… Because I didn’t give him something in return for his presence, they took back..?”

“ Your energy.” he nodded, still caressing your hands who had stopped shaking. “ But I don’t understand why he came to you and not me when I’m asking for him… I did find other ways with another spirit but still..”

“ When are you summoning him?”

“ When I come home, mostly when my mother is asleep.” he sighed, looking away, seeming in his thoughts. You tilted slightly your head, looking at Alastor.

“ I think…Maybe he doesn’t like being summoned at night? I.. He was the one who left today when he saw the sky getting darker, I would feel the need to go home when night time was coming and I was talking with him..”

“ Mhn.. Maybe we’ll try to summon him tomorrow with a good sacrifice. I’m working with another spirit right now but working with Papa Legba could be useful.”

“ Who are you working with?” you tilted your head, curiously, if Papa Legba was the spirit to make spells, who else could do it?

“ Some people say it’s his other side. The one who reigns on the night.” he sat next to you with a smirk. “ Names are important dear, we don’t call spirits just like this.'' He waited for you to nod before standing up. “Until I tell you otherwise, don’t speak, okay? Well, please, meet..” he stared at you, almost waiting for you to back down.

You stood up, staring at him dead in the eyes. Universe could bring men, women, spirits, gods, you would follow Alastor in Hell. He smiled when he saw your expression.

“Kalfu.”

You felt shivers as the room turned cold. You look around and put your hand on your mouth to muffle a scream that would have come out. Behind Alastor, his shadow was moving like it was its own person. You looked at Alastor and your eyes widened as you saw his eyes being red. He was staring at you, observing your reaction.

Alastor’s shadows moved on the walls curiously, looking at items, then he went toward you and you flinched when you felt its touch on your legs. It was.. a strange feeling. It didn’t seem… bad. You approached your head toward its head and smiled softly as the shadows let itself be touched.

“ Of course, as I told you, there is a price.” you nodded as you looked at him. “ For this power, I need to kill Alice’s blackmailer. Before you stress out, no, the spirit doesn’t force me to do it. We just.. Think the same.” he smirked as he crossed his arms on his torso, its shadow nodding at Alastor’s side with a hideous big grin.

You nodded once more, observing him. His eyes were red but beautiful. You walked slowly toward him, raising your hand toward his cheek before kissing him. You felt Alastor’s body relax as he wrapped his arms around you, pressing you against his torso.

You leaned back to watch his eyes that were slowly but surely taking their natural color back. The room wasn’t as dark as a moment ago.

“ You can talk my dear.”

“ I need to sleep.. “ you closed your eyes, feeling exhausted. You fell asleep as soon as your head hitted the pillows, Alastor didn’t even try to stop you from changing into your night clothes.

You woke up the next day, with Alastor arms wrapped around you. You smiled softly as you felt his breath on your neck, his torso against your back. You sat up, slowly, trying not to wake up Alastor.

You walked toward the mirror, looking at yourself.

What the fuck happened yesterday?

You were having a powerful spirit by your side, you didn’t know why, he would eat your energy if you didn’t give him anything to.. eat? You sighed, trying to clear your thoughts. But, right now you needed to have answers…

“ Papa Legba.” you whispered.

“ Yes, little girl?”

You almost punched the mirror as you saw your reflection bending and twisting into unusual angles before taking the form of the old man you used to know.

“ Seems like you are no longer in the dark.”

“ I.. I still feel lost.”

“ No wonder you asked for me, I’m used to taking care of lost souls.”

“ Why … Why did you appear by my side when I never once tried to summon you? I didn’t even know you existed.”

“ Well, this is Alastor’s fault. When he tried to summon me the first time, he had a tissue tainted with your blood. I think he wanted to make a soul bounding spell, but he is still experimenting. He should ask advice from his mother.”

“ You.. You worked with Marie?”

“ Alastor’s mother asked spirits' help to protect Alastor from danger. She mostly worked with Gran Bwa. But you’ve seen him already.” you shook your head. “ The deer that warned Alastor about the bear trap.” your eyes were wide open. “ And many other times, his mother did a lot to protect him. Do you really think he would have made it to your home with you that time you almost drowned? I was the one who showed him the way to the cottage, if not, you both would have been dead because of the cold.”

Marie was working with spirits… Well, you weren’t that surprised, if Alastor was working with them, it meant that he had it in his blood but… But what were you doing here?

“ So, because Alastor has my blood on a tissue, you went… to meet me?”

“ It’s more complicated than that.”

You nodded without being sure of understanding anything that was happening.

“ Are… Are you a good spirit?” you looked at him as he laughed, taping his cane against the mirror.

“ Well, I try to be. I can help you work with good spirits, those who want to do good in the world.” he nodded. You bit your lips and then opened your mouth.

“ Alastor is working with a spirit… Is he a bad one?”

“ Mhn… Alastor is working with him, hn? Kalfu controls the evil forces of the spirit world. He allows the crossing of bad luck, deliberate destruction, misfortune, injustice. I control the positive spirits of the day; Kalfu controls the malevolent spirits of the night.”

“ Is he in danger?” you asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“ No, Alastor and Kalfu will enjoy each other's company I think, keeping themselves on their toes.”

“ And I? Where do I stand here?”

“ Well, because or thanks to Alastor, your blood and your soul is being changed by him. Which, for now, makes you capable of talking to me. Even working with me, you accepted that vision almost perfectly.”

So it was Papa Legba’s power that time? You tilted your head, making the old man follow your movement in the mirror.

“ Do you think I could… work with you to protect Alastor..? From what I understand, bad spirits aren’t there to protect but kill or harm. If Alastor is bound with them, can I help him by … I still don’t know how it works but, can I help him in any way?”

“ Mhn, little lady. You are an odd one. Your blood wasn’t made to work with Voodoo, but you have potential. You are connected to the energy on earth, and sensitive to the spirit world, if not you wouldn’t have been able to talk to me all that time. It would be a pleasure to work with you, but do you understand what it means?” you shook your head, feeling your body tense itself. “ That means Kalfu will want to work with you. Just like I would have wanted to work with Alastor. If you were to work with my.. twin, I would stop our deal.”

You nodded before pausing.

“ Won’t they be angry that I work with you? Won’t they try to separate us?”

“ Oh no, little lady. Not a chance, because for us, like for them, your duo is unusual. We wouldn’t want to destroy that, au contraire.” You nodded, feeling better but also you could sense Papa Legba presence having more pressure on you.

“ What.. What should I bring you, as a sacrifice ?”

“ Rooster.” he smiled warmly at you. “ But for this time, I shall accept something sweet.”

“ Okay… One last thing, what is it going to be like working with you?”

“ I can call another spirit's power to help you, but depending on the power, the offering will get bigger and bigger. But for now, we’ll work slowly together, if that’s what you want.” he smiled when you nodded, sure of yourself. “ Now, I think most of the power I’m going to use with you will be through your eyes. But we’ll talk about it later, I’m getting really hungry.” You went downstairs without making a noise, you felt like you were half asleep. You took a piece of Marie’s cake before walking back toward Alastor’s bedroom.

“ Oh, I recognize Marie’s cooking.” he laughed when you put the plate on a table, in front of the mirror. “ You should talk with Marie about all of this, the both of you.” Papa Legba said before disappearing from the mirror. You turned around and saw Alastor behind you, his eyes red, staring at the mirror.

“ Well, well, well.. Do my eyes deceive me ?”

“ What are you talking about?”

He smiled at you before hugging you from behind, nuzzling his head against your neck, staring at the mirror.

“ Red is really our color, right?”

You looked back at the mirror and two red eyes were staring back at you.

Your eyes were red.

Just like Alastor.

As both of your eyes started to turn at their usual color you couldn’t help but sigh, you needed to have a discussion with Marie.

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icallhimjoey · 1 day

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tubelift!joe was a sweetheart & reallllly wanted to find out what happened after they went separate ways !!!

jfc it's been a whole YEAR since tubelift!joe, thats insane! but here you go, have some of him! its only short, but hope you enjoy! (a/n: this story will make little sense if you've not read between floors and feelings) Wordcount: 1.8K

---

Funny Story, Actually

It had been ages, but you could still sense it every time. When you'd get onto the tube together, Joe's shoulders would tense as he'd look around the car, scanning his worried eyes over every single person there.

It was just to check. Just to settle something inside of him that was a little impossible to settle, you thought.

You remembered being one of those people, but witnessing it now, knowing what you knew, traveling through peak hours with him was hell.

You noticed how his knuckles lost all colour as he tightly held on to a handrail overhead, his lips all tight, his jaw clenched.

He looked hot.

But that wasn't the point.

"Hey," you poked Joe softly in the side to get his attention. "Did you say you had been to this place before?"

You knew he had been, but it was an easy way of distracting him from trying to make eye-contact with everyone, which he only did just in case he could see something there to worry about.

It literally helped no one, you knew.

"Oh, yea. Couple of times. You know how there's places that exceed your expectations every time you go? Very rare, that. This is one of those."

You smiled. He'd told you the exact same thing about four times, using a different way to describe how much he loved this restaurant each time.

You'd happily listen to him tell you again and again.

"Yea? What did you have last time?" you asked, softly, because not many others needed to hear you ask, or hear Joe's answer for that matter. To be fair, you didn't even need to hear it. You just needed Joe to step out of his tube-anxiety. It was only one more stop.

"Um, I had..." Joe narrowed his eyes for a second, thinking. And then, before he even remembered, he realised what you were doing. He let his breath escape him in a chuckled sigh and reached for your hand. Gave the tube car a last glance before fully turning towards you and giving you a silly face.

"You're a menace."

You scrunched your nose at him, knowing glances shared.

Joe kept hold of your hand when you got off the tube and made your way towards street level. When you were lead into a corridor of which the dead end just held the stainless steal doors to two lifts, you gave each other a look before turning around and finding another way out.

Absolutely no way you were risking it.

Ever since that one night, neither of you had ever stepped foot inside of a tube lift again.

You'd rather race each other up the Cover Garden tube station steps, all 193 of them, than get into an underground confined space like that again.

Even after the one you'd been stuck in had been fixed.

Even when you were in a group and your friends would go for the lift.

You'd go, "Loser gets the bill tonight!" and set off running up the steps, hoping you'd beat the elevator. You rarely did. And even after a while, it would still leave you out of breath. But getting a little exercise would forever win it over having to pee into a water bottle, so it was fine.

You'd take the stairs.

You easily found escalators that time, and you both went to stand on the right to let the system take you up. You turned around and let Joe curl his arms around your waist for a moment, tilting his head back and smiling up at you. It made you swipe at some worry lines that were permanently etched into Joe's forehead whenever you were underground before leaning down to give him a small kiss.

You beamed big smiles at each other, and you weren't sure what prompted you to join the crowd on the left side of the escalator, but you were quick as a flash as you stepped to the side and started bolting your way up the moving steps.

Joe followed just behind you, and you laughed as you felt him try to hold onto your coat in an attempt to keep up.

Happy.

There was just something about knowing you'd make it up and out without getting trapped for hours, you know?

After you touched-out, Joe turned to you slightly out of breath and said, "Maybe we need to start using car service to go places, because–"

"And give into the fear?" you scoffed. "Come on," you held up an arm and humorously flexed a non-existent bicep. "We're stronger than that!"

And you truly believed that, but you felt every single bit of strength leave your body when you got shoulder-checked hard enough to slam the air right from your lungs.

"Ahh," you immediately winced, spinning on your feet from the clash. Joe's hands were quick to find you, steadying you and preventing you from stumbling and falling.

"Sorry, so sor–..." a throat got cleared. "Sorry..."

The woman who had just roughly knocked half her body into yours looked down at her feet as she slung her bag back onto her shoulder, and, oh, my God, you couldn't fucking believe it.

"Linda."

Your former boss.

You sounded more surprised than anything else, because this was something you had dreaded for a while. Running into her. You'd heard that your ex-boyfriend had gone and moved in with her after he'd moved out of the studio you had shared, but that it had only lasted for a couple of weeks.

Served her right, you thought.

"Oh my God. Hi, I'm– sorry. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you?" Linda let a polite hand hover in front of your shoulder - the one you were still holding onto yourself - and gave a regretful smile.

Linda did hurt you.

A little now, but a lot before.

You know, back when you found your boyfriend making out with her in her office and you learnt from you colleagues that the affair had actually been happening for a while but they'd been too afraid to tell you because she was their boss too.

Vile wench of a woman.

You'd gotten your revenge though.

You still weren't proud of it, but... if you could do that night over again, the only thing you would change is that you would make sure you'd actually empty your full bladder into her bag that time.

You gave her a blank stare and then let your eyes drop to her bag.

Holy shit.

There was no way.

"I'm fine." you said coldly, but kept your eyes on her bag.

She saw, and it made her shuffle a little awkwardly

"Good. Okay, good. Sorry. I'm in a rush. We should catch up, soon. Sorry, again." Linda finished her sentence as she ran off, and you stared at her as she tapped-in with her phone and then disappeared down an escalator.

Huh.

Wow.

You felt weirdly okay about all of that, unexpectedly so.

You were definitely not going to be catching up with her soon, though.

When you turned to Joe, he gave you a worried little smile.

"There you are."

"Huh?"

"I asked you a question. Are you okay?"

You blinked up at him and realised you were stood in the middle of a busy bit of tube station. It was the exact wrong place to stand still, so you were quick to move with the crowd. Joe followed, hand on the small of your back.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, sorry. Um. That was Linda. She used to be my boss." you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. "Remember my boss? How I caught–"

"I do." Joe cut you off, no need to repeat the painful story. He had remembered it fine from when you'd first told him, dirty wedding dress and crackling intercom as the background noise and all.

But tonight wasn't about awful memories.

You were about to have dinner with some of his friends - ones you'd met just once in brief passing but had never had a proper conversation with, and Joe was excited. You were going to love them, and he was sure that they were also going to love you.

"Wow... that was... that was weird. She fully crashed into me."

"Yea it was quite the collision, you nearly fell over."

"I'm okay." you assured him you were fine. The clash of shoulders had only hurt for a second.

Joe reached to hold your hand and threw you a warm smile as you made your way down the pavement.

"That's good."

"I think..." you started, eyes narrowing as you tried to remember. "I'm not joking, but I think she was carrying the bag that I... you know."

Joe's eyes bulged at you as his smile grew.

"What?! No way."

"That was the bag." You knew for sure. Kind of hard to forget the bag that you squatted over to piss right into. "I hope she got that professionally cleaned though, why the fuck would she even– wait, why did she keep that?"

Joe laughed at your outrage. He agreed though.

"Maybe she never noticed." he reasoned as you reached the restaurant. His reasoning made you frown at him though because, "Joe, I pissed over everything she had in there, there is no way she didn't–"

"All right, all right, keep it down, will you? This is a nice place." Joe laughed, helping you out of your coat as the host asked if you had a reservation.

Linda.

You couldn't quite get over how weird it was to be running into her in the tube with Joe there. It was almost kind of funny.

It felt like a weird full-circle moment, especially because you knew that whatever she had taken from you hadn't worked out for her in the end. Lost out on a star-employee (you) and on a mediocre boyfriend (your ex).

Maybe the bag was a good reminder for her.

Maybe it kept her grounded.

You had no idea.

The loud greetings from Joe's friends who were already there snapped you out of your thoughts. The restaurant was nice, and Joe's friends were lovely. It was nice to get to know Joe better through other people, but you kind of forgot that you were also a whole new person for others to meet. A person to ask questions about.

You weren't sure why you hadn't anticipated anyone asking the most obvious question you could be asked, but it nearly made Joe choke on his first sip of his drink.

"So, how did you two meet again?"

Joe looked at you over the table after making sure he didn't have any wine dripping down his chin, pursing a smile before giving you a tiny nod.

Joe's friends looked between the two of you, confused eyes darting back and forth because clearly they were missing an inside joke, or whatever.

Before anyone could ask, you cleared your throat and said, "Funny story, actually..."

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

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@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

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@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #between floors and feelings #tubelift!joe #funny story actually

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