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serpentandlily · 8 days

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Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth Part II - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine.

Warnings: smut (minors dni), reader is a prostitute, uncomfortable situations (nothing extreme)

a/n: thanks for all the love on the first part! Hope y'all like this one just as much!

➻❥ Part I

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part II

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“You look well rested.”

Cashmere winked at you from her seat in front of her vanity. She was brushing out her long hair, getting ready for the evening. You let out a sigh and plopped down at your own vanity in the dressing room.

“I am,” you replied. “Someone bought out all my nights this month but no one’s shown up. It’s…strange, don’t you think?”

Cashmere shrugged, going back to looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Seems to me like you’ve got yourself a secret admirer.”

You began putting on your makeup for the night, not that you’d have any clients. But you were still expected to be in the Courtyard for a bit. “Secret, maybe, but they're definitely not an admirer. If they were, why wouldn’t they come get what they paid for?”

“Some of these Lords just throw their money around to impress us. I wouldn’t think too much about it, Serenity,” Cashmere said. You fought the urge to cringe at the fake name. “Consider it a vacation of sorts.”

“Until Lydia finds out,” you snorted. “Then she’ll probably double book me.”

“Just rub some kohl under your eyes,” Cashmere suggested. “Make it look like you’re still having sleepless nights like the rest of us.”

“Not a bad idea.”

More girls walked in and you fell silent. Telling Cashmere about your current situation was one thing. You trusted her as a friend. But some of the other girls would likely pass on the information to Lydia and that’s the last thing you wanted.

You finished your makeup before shrugging on a new lingerie set with a dark pink silk robe over it. You followed the girls to the Courtyard, ready to perform your nightly duties so you could retire back to your room for another peaceful night alone thanks to your mysterious donor.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your vacation was short lived because the next day, Keir showed up and requested sixteen specific girls, your name included, for a party that was being hosted in Hewn City with some elite nobles. Even the High Lord and Lady would be present apparently. Not that you’d be allowed to approach them. Every time you worked these kinds of events, all the girls were given strict instructions on how to dress, what to wear, and what Lords to entertain.

A dress was waiting for you in the dressing room. It was a long black dress that fell to the floor with two slits on the side to show off your legs. It was backless with a few thin straps that criss crossed on your lower back. Sitting beneath it was a pair of silver heels and on your vanity sat a matching silver jewelry set.

You had to forgo your bra for the dress, likely the reason it was chosen. You did a sultry smokey eye and dark red lip for your makeup before you pinned your hair into a pretty updo to show off the back of the dress.

By the time you were finished getting ready, the other girls were too. It wasn’t long before you were being led into the throne room. During parties like this, only the elite and those invited had access to this room in the castle.

The ebony floors were polished, the carved pillars spanning so high you could hardly see where they connected to the ceiling. Various nobles mingled together, sitting on settees, smoking cigars, with glasses of wine and whiskey in their hands.

The High Lord and Lady sat on their thrones on top of the dais at the front of the expansive room, dressed finely in all black with their crowns on their heads. Standing next to the High Lord was the General, the big, brutish Illyrian. Next to the High Lady stood the Shadowsinger, his eyes scanning the room. You’d seen the Shadowsinger plenty of times during the occasional trips your High Lord and Lady made to Hewn City. But that night he had walked through your doors in The Labyrinth, you had been taken aback by how beautiful he was.

Memories of your night with him flashed through your head and you tried to fight off the blush and heat that started coursing through your body. Azriel had been a generous lover. Far more generous than your other clients, that’s for sure. He had actually cared about your pleasure. Not to mention he was the hottest male to walk through your doors.

It was a pity that he had disappeared so quickly and never returned.

“Alright, girls, you know what to do,” Lydia hissed at the group of you. “Do not embarrass me. Anyone who steps out of line will receive a new mark.”

That was the last thing you wanted to do. You looked down at your hand, at the small tattoo on the inside of your ring finger. You only had two more marks left. Two marks and then freedom would be yours.

You started mingling with the various Lords, pretending to eagerly listen to them brag about the most mundane things like their latest hunt or new investments. Servants meandered around, filling wine and whiskey glasses.

When you were younger, you had accepted them like most of the other girls. Having a little alcohol in you always made the night easier. But you were going to steer clear of it—not wanting to jeopardize your progress with Lord Keir and Lydia.

You started making your way towards the front of the room. You had to steer clear of the High Lord and Lady but the wealthier and more important males always sat near the front. And if you caught the attention of someone Keir wanted gone, that would be just an extra bonus to the money you’d be making off them.

You were used to eyes trailing after you everywhere you went, but something else was tugging on your senses, making you feel not like you were being ogled at like always but watched.

Your eyes darted around until they landed on a familiar pair of hazel ones. Azriel hadn’t moved a single step from his post but his eyes were on you. Your steps faltered for a second, taken aback by how intense his stare was.

Was he scared that you would out him? Address him in front of his High Lord? He should know that you couldn’t. The same way he couldn’t mention anything that took place in the Labyrinth.

Your name being called shook you from your thoughts.

Your attention was pulled to a handsome male with long, white hair that matched his equally pale skin. Lord Thanatos’s golden eyes were running up and down your body as he sat sprawled in an armchair like it was the High Lord’s throne. He beckoned you to him with two fingers.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you had no other choice but to go to him. He was your least favorite client but he had a weird obsession with you. It was rare for him to choose any other girl in The Labyrinth besides you. You gave him a seductive smile, slipping into your role for the night. “How may I help you, my Lord?”

You let out a small gasp as he latched onto your wrist and pulled you onto his lap. The Lords around him all snickered. He brushed your hair to one side before whispering in your ear, “You’re going to be helping me a lot tonight, sweetheart.”

Your insides shriveled up. Lord Thanatos was your least favorite client because of how rough he was with you. But he paid a lot of money so Lydia and the guards often looked the other way, only sending a healer into your room once he left.

“I’m looking forward to it, my Lord,” you purred, resting a hand on his chest. You weren’t, of course. Not even because of the pain he’d inflict on you but more so because Lord Thanatos was Keir’s secondhand man and closest confidant. Which meant those two lines tattooed on your finger would still be there when you woke up tomorrow morning.

Lord Thanatos went back to chatting with the various nobles seated on the couches and settees around him. If it wasn’t for his wandering hands on your body, you would’ve thought he was ignoring you. His hardening cock that was pressing into your backside had you shifting as much as you could to his thigh. You glanced around the room only to find Azriel’s eyes still on you. His fists were clenched, his face frozen with a hint of anger. Anger and something else that seemed suspiciously like longing.

You shifted again in Lord Thanatos’s lap for an entirely different reason now.

Cashmere happened to be walking by when Lord Thanatos grabbed onto her wrist and yanked her down to sit on his other thigh, forcing the two of you to share the small space.

She giggled. “Two of us? Don’t tell me you’re getting greedy, my Lord.”

You exchanged a small look with her. It didn’t happen often but sometimes clients wanted to take two girls at once. You preferred when you were chosen along with Cashmere, because you two were close friends which made it less awkward.

“I think Serenity wants someone to play with,” he smirked, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Anything for you, my Lord,” you smiled. “You know how much I love to please you.”

He leaned back in his chair and tossed his arms behind his head like he commanded the room. “Go on then. Kiss.”

You glanced at Cashmere who gave you a dip of the head so you reached forward and hooked some of her ginger hair behind her pointed ear before kissing her lightly. She tasted like cherry wine. You pulled back after a second and for some reason, your eyes caught Azriel’s. He was closer now, leaning on a pillar, wreathed in shadows—watching. He twirled his dagger in his hand with ease.

“Oh come on, Serenity. Don’t play coy,” Thanatos laughed. “I know that mouth can do better than that.”

Cashmere grabbed your face lightly, her eyes shining with a look that urged you on. You kissed her properly this time, caressing her face. This time the two of you gave the Lord what he wanted. But you could feel Azriel’s overwhelming stare still on you.

It wasn’t until your lips were swollen and you were panting that you finally let up. You could feel your lipstick smeared all over and wiped it with your hand.

“Oh, she’s made such a mess of me, my Lord,” you pouted. “Will you excuse me so I can fix myself up?”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said, pulling Cashmere closer to him. “But don’t keep us waiting.”

“Of course,” you said with a nod, rising from his lap.

When you glanced at the pillar Azriel had been leaning on, he was still staring. It was a bit unnerving. You let out a shaky breath and quickly hurried out of the throne room and into one of the bathing chambers down the corridor. You rested your hands on the edge of the sink, staring down at the basin. You just needed a breather. Just a second to collect yourself.

Not a moment later, you felt a prickling sensation on your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck rose. Your head shot up and you left out a gasp as your eyes met a pair of hazel ones in your reflection.

Azriel stood behind you, his shadows swarming him.

You whirled around, backing into the sink.

“What are you doing here!”

Azriel took a step forward, out of the darkness.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he stated in a low voice that had goosebumps rising on your skin.

You crossed your arms, staring up at him entirely confused both by his appearance in the bathroom of all places and his remark. “Shouldn’t be where? In the bathroom?”

“No,” he growled, stepping closer. “You shouldn’t be here, at this party.”

“What do you mean? You know what I am. We were hired—” You cut yourself off as you had a realization. “It was you, wasn’t it? The one who booked up all my nights?”

Azriel said nothing, gave no reaction other than his large wings twitching. You swallowed thickly and turned back around, away from his daunting stare, finding it easier to stare at him through the reflection on the mirror. You summoned your small clutch with some magic before pulling out your tube of lipstick.

“Look, Azriel,” you began, starting to apply your lipstick. “You’re not the first male to feel ashamed after sleeping with me. If you’re doing this to absolve yourself from whatever guilt you have, consider it forgiven.”

Azriel stepped closer, his face darkening. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood my actions. I do not feel ashamed because I slept with you, angel. I’m ashamed that I made you sleep with me.”

You shoved your lipstick back in your purse, turning around to face him. “You didn’t make me do anything. I knew what this job entailed when I signed up for it, okay?”

“But is it…is it what you want?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I can’t say it’s been a dream of mine. But it's a hell of a lot better than being sold off to some male and having all my freedoms taken away.”

Azriel ran a hand through his dark hair, tousling it. “Those shouldn’t be your only two choices.”

“Well, take that up with our High Lord, Azriel, I don’t know what to tell you,” you sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my client is waiting—”

You went to brush past Azriel to the door but he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Don’t,” he breathed, “Don’t go. I know you don’t want to be with him. I could see it in your eyes.”

“I don’t have a choice, Azriel,” you snapped, trying to pull your wrist free. “So let me go.”

“Sounds like you’ve already had all your freedoms taken away,” he bit back, his grip unrelenting.

“You know nothing,” you argued. “If this is the one thing I have to sacrifice to keep all my other ones, then so be it. Besides, I’m almost—”

You cut yourself off, cursing in your head at your slip-up. No one could know about the deals the girls at The Labyrinth had with Keir. If word got out because of you…

“Almost what? What were you going to say?”

Azriel’s eyes were pleading with you, like he was hanging off every word that came out of your mouth. You let out a shaky breath and shook your head. “Nothing. Nothing, forget it. Now, please let me go. You’re going to get me in trouble with Lydia.”

You tried to leave again but Azriel pulled you back. “I can’t stand to see you look so miserable with him. Please, let me help you. I paid for you tonight; I’ll go tell Lydia that I’m taking you back to the—”

“She won’t care. She’s just going to give you your money back,” you cut in. “Lord Thanatos pays a lot of money to have me. More than whatever you gave her.”

“Then I’ll pay twice as much as him,” Azriel stressed. “Or whatever I have to in order to make sure he doesn’t end up in your bed tonight.”

“I take my orders from Lydia. What she says goes.”

“Fine, give me five minutes,” Azriel said with heavy resolve. “Just avoid him for now and I’ll sort it out.”

You looked at him closely. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t…don’t ask me that,” Azriel murmured before he disappeared in a whirl of shadows, leaving you stunned and confused.

You left the bathroom finally, making your way back to the throne room. Your mind was screaming at you to go back to Lord Thanatos before you got in major trouble, but something else in you wanted to listen to Azriel. You had no idea why. You grabbed a champagne flute off a tray from a server and made yourself look busy near a pillar that concealed you from Lord Thanatos’s view.

Five minutes passed and you were beginning to lose faith in Azriel, resigning yourself to the night with Thanatos when he stepped out of the shadows behind you. You let out a gasp of fright, spilling your full glass of champagne. Azriel grabbed the empty glass from your hand and set it on a table before taking your hand in his and guiding you away from the pillar.

“I sorted it out,” he whispered under his breath to you. “But Lydia seemed…suspicious of my interest in you.”

“What do you mean?” You hissed back.

“She’s wary of you being a spy for the High Lord,” Azriel answered, quickly.

You held back a laugh at that. “Then I guess we’ll have to make her think you’re interested in me for…other reasons.”

Azriel stopped and pulled you close to him, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Don’t get me wrong, angel. I am interested in you for all those other reasons, too.”

A chill skittered down your spine and you looked up at him with a coy smile. “Good, that’ll make this easier than.”

“Make what easier?”

“The show we’re going to put on for her,” you whispered.

Azriel’s cheeks turned a bit pink and you just knew you were going to have fun with him.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel found an armchair next to some empty couches in clearsight of Lydia and sat down, spreading his legs apart in invitation and patting his thigh. His face was unreadable as you sat in his lap, tossing an arm around his neck and throwing your legs over his thigh, leaving them to dangle. He placed an arm around your waist, his hand lying flat on your stomach, and pulled you closer to him.

Azriel leaned in, whispering, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t,” you replied, honestly.

His eyes searched yours for a second before he nodded. You placed a hand on his chest, running your fingers over his leathers. “Aren’t these a little constricting?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly. “I’m used to them.”

You hummed, your eyes darting towards Lydia to see her watching the two of you. “Well, I much prefer you out of them, shadowsinger.”

Your words had their desired effect. Azriel’s chest rumbled with a quiet growl, his hand caressing your waist. You giggled, pressing a few kisses to his jaw. His scent of cedar and night-chilled mist seemed to envelope you. He gripped your dress in his fist, his entire body tense.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered, lowly. “Anything.”

“What do you want to know?”

Azriel nudged his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. His breath ghosted over your skin, causing goosebumps to spread. “Something real.”

You were never very forthcoming with your clients, always keeping your personal details secret and making up stories and lies to feed their curiosity. But something made you not want to lie to Azriel.

“My name is Y/n,” you started, shifting closer to him so no one else could overhear anything said. His hand that was on your waist slipped to the exposed skin on your back, his fingers lazily trailing up and down. “I was born to a low-ranking noble and his bitch of a wife, my mother. I was going to be sold off like cattle to some Lord who had already gone through three wives—you can guess what happened to them—but my friend, the one you saw me with earlier, helped me escape.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened, pulling you flush against his hard chest. You melted into the heat of his body, the thin dress you had on did nothing to keep you warm. The hand that was on your back slipped to your thigh, parting your skirt so he could touch your smooth skin. Your heart jumped in your chest.

“Tell me their names,” Azriel growled into your ear. “Tell me their names and consider them gone.”

You laughed, darkly, twisting your arm around his neck to stroke the hairs at his nape. “No need for that. They’ve been…taken care of.”

Azriel’s other hand drifted up to your throat, grasping it lightly and tilting your head back so he could pepper his own kisses along your jaw and neck. Your breath hitched and you found yourself grinding down on him, gasping as you felt his hardening cock. Suddenly, none of this was pretend. Had it even been pretend in the first place? No…no, it hadn’t. You had been burning and burning for him since the night he had stepped into your room.

“I’m sorry—”

You turned to look at him and kissed him firmly before he could finish his sentence. He groaned as your lips met his and you pulled away entirely too soon, lingering only centimeters away.

“I’m not,” you purred.

Whatever resolve Azriel seemed to have, whatever dignity of yours he was trying to preserve, all of it was forgotten in the moment. He lurched forward and kissed you again, his hand on your throat angling your head to his liking—the rings on his fingers were cold against your heated skin. You moaned at the feeling of his soft lips, at the taste of him.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you gave into the subtle request, parting your lips for him and deepening the kiss. The hand that had been rubbing circles on your thigh slipped dangerously close to the place between your legs that seemed to be begging for him. You’d never been so turned on in your life. The thrill of knowing eyes were on you and the feeling of Azriel consuming you caused your brain to numb all thoughts.

His hand on your throat slipped down your side, his knuckles running along the side of your breast. You arched into his touch with a mewl and he answered with a small huff, his wings twitching. Meanwhile his tongue was still exploring every inch of your mouth, claiming you in a way that had you throbbing in his lap.

Azriel pulled away, leaving you panting for air as he began to trail kisses down your jaw and neck again. His wandering hand landed flat against your stomach, pushing you farther into him until you were flush against his body, your legs falling open to either side of his thigh. Your half-opened eyes darted around the room.

It seems Lydia had lost interest in the two of you but another set of eyes were on you.

“The High Lord’s watching,” you murmured as he tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

“I don’t care,” Azriel growled, his mouth moving to nibble on the delicate skin of your throat.

“He’s not going to get mad that you're allowing yourself to be seen with Hewn City scum?”

“Fuck him,” he snarled, biting down on your skin and causing you to gasp. He soothed the mark with his tongue before kissing his way up to your mouth again. “Stop talking about another male while you're sitting in my lap.”

“Yes, sir,” you smirked before he kissed you again, his hips thrusting up into your backside. You groaned, your core rubbing against his thigh with his movement and causing a strike of lightning to flash through your body. The need for him was overwhelming. You’d never felt this way towards anyone.

His hand drifted higher on your thigh, until his thumb traced the inner junction between your thigh and hip and felt the wetness that had started to spread there. A small whine came from the back of his throat that had butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach. You pulled away from his kiss to stare up at him with lust filled eyes, his own full of hunger and craving.

“Azriel?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Get us out of here.”

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice. His shadows engulfed the two of you and transported you to your room in The Labyrinth. You were on your knees before him not even a second later, overcome with the need to taste him, to touch him, to devour him whole. You pulled at the laces on his pants, your fingers working quickly. Azriel’s hand slipped into your hair, fisting your locks in between his fingers.

“Angel, you don’t have to—”

“Azriel,” you cut him off, staring up at him with hazy eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

Before he could reply, you yanked his pants down causing his large member to spring up, already hard and leaking. You nearly groaned at the sight. He was so big, so big and thick. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the head of his cock and he hissed, his fists tightening in your hair.

You stared up at him as you took his cock in your hand and licked up his entire length. He let out a loud moan, tossing his head back at the pleasure. You smiled at the sight, your other hand sliding down your body between your legs, hoping to relieve some of the throbbing.

But Azriel growled and yanked your head back.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” Azriel commanded. “Only I get to touch you there.”

If it had been any other male saying those words, you would’ve laughed in their face. But it coming out of Azriel’s mouth only made your throbbing intensify. You whined, but listened, grasping his cock with both hands and finally taking him in your mouth.

“Fuck,” Azriel hissed, guiding your movement with his hand in your hair. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.”

Your thighs rubbed together at his praise and you continued to bob your head back and forth, swirling your tongue under his cock and running it along his veins. His hips began to thrust in time with your movement, his hand guiding you to take more and more of him in your mouth until he was fucking your face.

“You’re taking me so well,” he moaned, thrusting into your mouth. “Good girl.”

You choked, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks. Normally you would hate a client treating you like this but with Azriel it felt different. Maybe because his rough taking of you was coupled with small words of praise and encouragement, urging you on.

“Just like that,” he groaned. “Fuck, angel, you look so pretty with your lips around my cock.”

You whimpered, taking more of him until his cock was hitting the back of your throat. Your hands jerked the part of him you couldn’t take because of his unbelievable size. His groans and growls kept you going, kept the fire between your thighs burning. You needed him more than you needed air.

Azriel yanked you away from his cock by your hair and you whined at the loss of contact. He pulled you up off the floor, his eyes nearly black with lust. “Take off your dress,” he ordered.

You maintained eye contact with him as you quickly stripped yourself before him. The air around the two of you was intense, the need for one another so tangible. In this moment, you weren’t Serenity, the prostitute who worked here. But Y/n. The girl underneath the mask.

“Get on the bed,” he demanded. “On your knees.”

You scurried to the bed, doing as he asked. You were entirely exposed to him in this position, your arousal dripping down your leg. You could hear him taking off the rest of his leathers and waiting in anticipation until his hands fell on your hips, rubbing them softly.

“Gods, you are so beautiful,” he murmured, one hand trailing up your back and gently moving your hair to one side so he could see your face. His cock rubbed against your folds, gathering your wetness. “Fuck and so ready for me.”

“Azriel, please,” you begged. You could feel yourself gripping around nothing, needing to be filled by him and him only.

“One day, I’m going to worship your entire body,” he grunted. “But I need you, angel. I need you right now.”

“Please,” you begged again. “Take me. I’m yours.”

Azriel slammed into you so quickly, it knocked the breath from your lungs. You moaned at the feel of him, at being stretched so thoroughly. He waited a moment, his breathing labored, allowing you to adjust before he slid back out and roughly thrust back in.

“Say it again,” he growled, taking a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over again.

You whimpered, “I’m yours.”

“Again,” he snarled, his pounding into you causing the whole bed to shake.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the intense pleasure. Your whole body was tingling at his touch, at his words. “I’m yours, Azriel. I’m yours.”

One hand stayed on your hip to help keep you in place while the other slithered up your back and into your hair, fisting it again. He pulled your head back, exposing your neck as he drilled into you. Your back arched as you cried out at the feeling. You had already been so turned on, your orgasm was quickly building.

“More,” you groaned. “More, Azriel, please.”

He growled and yanked you up by your hair, pulling your body flush against his. The new angle felt deeper, his cock brutally hitting you in that sweet spot that had you seeing stars. His hand traveled from your waist to your breasts, squeezing and caressing them. Your head fell back against his shoulder as your body arched into his touch.

He released your hair to rub circles on your clit, leaving you both breathless and screaming.

Your body was entirely his in this moment. He controlled every ounce of your pleasure, every cry that came from your lips. You had never reveled in giving yourself up like this before. Not until Azriel came.

“Azriel…I’m gonna….I’m gonna,” you panted, the lewd noise of skin smacking together the only other sound in the room.

“Be a good girl and cum for me angel,” he whispered, huskily, in your ear.

His words pushed you over the edge and your orgasm slammed into you. Your entire body clenched around him as waves and waves of pleasure crested through you. Your vision went white hot with it. Azriel’s name fell from your lips like a Devil’s prayer.

“Fuck,” he hissed, fucking you through your orgasm. Until you finally came down from your high, your body slumping in his hold. He let you fall to the soft bed, your face smashing against the cushions as he held you up by your hips. His rhythm became desperate, feral until he finally came, burying himself in you with a loud growl.

You were both still panting as he slid out of you with a hiss and fell to the bed next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled your body on top of his, letting his wings stretch out. You laid a cheek on his chest, feeling safe as he wrapped both arms around you.

“Don’t leave this time,” you whispered.

Azriel kissed the top of your head. “I won’t.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Three days later, you were sitting in Lydia’s office, your nightgown covered in blood, a numb look on your face. Keir was standing before you, leaning against her desk with his arms crossed as he sneered down at you.

The burning on your ring finger was lingering, one of the tally marks gone.

“Lydia tells me that the shadowsinger has taken a special interest in you,” Keir said, stroking his jaw. Your eyes remained distant, staring past him to the wall.

The blood was still warm on your skin and you knew the body lying in your bed hadn’t even stiffened. You knew better than to talk during these meetings, allowing Keir and Lydia to converse with each other while you sat there.

“Show me your hand,” Keir ordered.

You lifted your arm, holding it outstretched to him. He took it, twisting it to see your ring finger.

“She only has one mark left, my Lord,” Lydia added from behind her desk.

“I see that,” Keir said, letting your hand drop. “Your last target is the shadowsinger. Kill him and you will have completed our bargain and will be free to go.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your eyes going wide as you finally looked at the male standing above you. “W-what?”

“You heard me, girl,” he snarled. “Kill the shadowsinger and you’re free to go.”

Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go. Kill the shadowsinger and you’ll be free to go.

Keir’s words played in your head over and over again as you made your way to the bathing chambers to finally wash the blood of your latest target off you.

Kill Azriel and you’d finally be free to leave this place. Finally free to take all the money you’d been saving up and leave this damned court to build a new life for yourself. The dream you’d had all along. Kill Azriel and your dream of being free would finally come true.

Kill Azriel.

Kill Azriel or…don’t and end up stuck here, lost in The Labyrinth forever.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel x y/n #azriel spymaster

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running-with-kn1ves · 2 months

Text

Drunken Stupor

A/N: this is based off of that drunken yan gangster idea that I couldn't get out of my head. I might rewrite it or do it differently but this is 4 u my 1 gangster lovin' anon for now!

OG Yandere Gangster Drabble (nsft) w/ da Yan Gangster Ramble

TW: kidnapping, drunken yandere, noncon kissing (no nsft), threats, toxic behavior,

Puzzles, accompanied by whatever news channel you could get through. Paint-by-number pictures, and shitty DVD’s from another time. Horribly thin sheets and an aching back--- you were completely, utterly, and seemingly irrevocably, isolated. The tight handcuffs around your feet only allowed you to hop around the house, barely making it to the front door before you tripped over the rug and nosedived into the cold, black floor.

How long has it been? When was the last time you felt the spring wind on your face? You weren’t even allowed to open the windows, out of your captors fear of you screaming for help, even with him right next to you. He gave you countless things to keep yourself entertained, whether they be knitting grandma-like sweaters or taking up a different artistic hobby, anything that could keep you in one spot for long without the need to move or the option to hurt yourself.

You were tempted to scream, to throw your half-finished puzzle at the wall and destroy the nice room set up for you that once belonged to the lone bachelor-- who, was much later than usual tonight. Your throat was too sore to keep up with the screaming however, and you pushed it to the back of your mind to try again tomorrow. If he came home all of a sudden and found you screaming at the ripe hour of 11 PM, he might do more than just threaten with one of his switchblades.

You hated being around the bastard, feeling so terrified and weak like maybe today would finally be your last-- but at this point, you were going insane being by yourself for so long. Even a nice screaming match with him until your voice finally left you would more desirable than watching another 80s thriller that would haunt your dreams, alone. For someone who wasn’t home very often, he certainly had an extensive collection of old gangster movies, romcoms too even. But you couldn’t put Sixteen Candles on again without wanting to rip your eyes out-- not even one of his five million copies of The Godfather. Who needs that many copies of the same movie?

Your exhausted, beaten-down brain jolted at the sound of someone jerking at the door handle. The door practically thumped with the lock against the wall, dust raining as it was violently ripped back and forth. But then came the familiar jangle of an overloaded key ring, one you had heard most nights for what you can only assume has been the past month.

Finally, your spiked anxiety crashed when you saw those familiar, much-too-shiny-for-a-gangster-to-be-wearing black leather shoes thump inside. You peaked your head out from your sitting position near the opened bedroom door, trying to get a glimpse without getting up and alerting him of your presence. It was inevitable for him to come to you, his kidnapee, but you tried to postpone the smothering for as long as possible. Maybe now was the time to chuck that puzzle.

“You reallyyy gotta hold *hic* on mee…”

Mismatched footsteps trudged, stopping first to hit the corner of what you could only assume was the livingroom loveseat.

“Move outa ma way, couch! ..Even though you… treeat me *hic* badlyy..”

You heard the raking of fingernails on the couch cushions, the clink of a bottle rolling on the ground back and forth. You didn’t dare look back through the door crack. Maybe you should shut it? Lord knows what that would cause him to do, though.

“You still gotts’a hold on me…”

The sing-songy voice came closer, belonging to the madman you dreaded the return of. Within the crack of the door you saw a dark silhouette, the TV casting a face-shadowing glow that made you just an inch more terrified.

“Hey, baby…” He hiccuped.

“Well that’s new,” You started, looking away from him back to your puzzle. “When did I become your ‘baby’?”

He moaned thoughtfully, thinking about your rhetorical question. “After you kidnapped me, I suppose?”

Maybe it was wrong to poke the beast, especially because he smelled like dirty whiskey and had three buttons too loose on his dress shirt, showing a deep scar betwixt his faint chest hair. A vulnerable image he’d never let you witness soberly.

“Hrmmm….” He pushed his entire weight on the door, letting it creak open as he looked at you with a smile.

“I dunno…maybe.” He laughed a little, giving a small snort like a schoolboy hearing his first nasty joke.

You rolled your eyes. Damn, as if you weren’t on edge before, now you were going to have to deal with the equivalent of a murderous toddler who’s been threatening to hurt you ever since you were first brought here. Drunken fools were best left at the bar.

But your icy demeanor didn’t sway his unsettingly good mood, the gangster opening the door all the way to flop onto your (unwillingly) shared bed. He dug his face into the sheets that smelled like you, looking at the back of your head that was pressed against the edge of the mattress.

“Was thinkin’ bout’cha…” He murmurs, tugging at a strand of your hair from behind. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ to the boys, ‘bout how pretty you are..”

The short yanks at your hair to get your attention were becoming annoying, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of glaring face-to-face.

“Told em’ how nice you look when yer sleepin’, when ya brush ya teeth, sayin’ that they’re not allowed to have ya....”

You hummed in response, trying to bend away to get closer to your puzzle. But you could sense the bubbling in your stomach, could feel that something was coming. Whether it’d be a bunch of slobbered kisses or your early demise, you couldn’t tell.

“Oh really?” You asked, knowing he’d been adamant on not saying a word or letting make a peep about your existence in his gang-funded condo.

“Yah, I did. Don’t believe me? Said i’d cut their fingers off, like boss does when some’n fucks up. I’d slam into em, make em watch while I...”

He went quiet, and you thanked whatever made him. Whatever he said, you didn’t want to know; you’d already had enough of an unwilling look into his violent thoughts.

“Well, doesn’t matter now, right... ‘cause now I gots’ya here. Mmph,” You hear him kick his shoes off, his face coming up to bury in your hair. “Smellin’ so good, lookin’ so nice fr’ me… wanting you so bad.”

The sound of him inhaling you, his nose pressed to your neck as he shimmies his head deeper against you like a cat is uncomfortably warm. You feel two hands creep up, looking for your shoulders to push you back and make you more accessible.

The gangster wasn’t normally so affectionate, so quiet and simple when he spoke. You were waiting for it to be replaced by his normal, angrily resentful behavior, the type that’d pull you by the hair to kiss you, that’d rant about the idiots he’d had to deal with for the day at you. But maybe, just maybe, you were in the clear for now?

“You’re acting weird,” You try to jerk away. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you, okay? Just, let me do my puzzle in peace. Go take a shower or something.”

He’s quick to respond, wrapping veiny arms around your shoulders and dangerously close to your neck.

“Nuh huh, not unless yer comin’ with me, wanna show how much I loove you,” His head pops up closer to yours, the stressed crinkles under his eyes making him look older. “Cuz’ baby, you reallyy gotta hold on mee..”

“Stop stop stop.” You couldn’t take the second-hand embarassment of listening him to try to sing again, horribly off key and far too confident in each drawn out word. “What do I have to do to stop you from singing again?”

“I can’t hold it in though. Love’s too strong for you, love.” His disheveled hair, once slicked back in an oily black, now strewn about across his forehead as it nearly covers his eyebrows. He presses his forehead towards you. “Lemme kiss. Told the boys you give the best kisses, lemme prove it..”

“Prove what-- they’re not even here!” You try to go under his arm-barricade, only to be stopped as he practically puts his full weight forward, dragging him with you each time you move.

“Lovin’ you for so long, jusst a kiss, just one kith..” He reaches for your cheek with his lips, ignoring how you whip your head around in retaliation.

“No, no! You stink like a bar and ciggarettes, get off me.”

He grunts in frustration, biting down on his lower lip as his dark, full eyebrows furrow together.

“Let me kiss or i’ll.. I’ll gut you like a fish, my lovely..”

You stopped at that, looking out of the corner of your eye to his pink-tinted cheeks and strong neck that sweated at the sight of you.

He puts a ringed knuckle to your cheek, huffing as his eyes go half-lidded. His suit was all wrinkled from rolling around on the bed, dirty with the day’s work and bar-stench as he forced you back against the end of the mattress.

“C’mon, don’t make me say stuff like that just for a kiss…” He whined, scooting closer. “Maybe I’ll start singing again, y’knoww, if y’don’t come close.”

“Please just… don’t hurt me.” You mumbled, trying to avoid that blank, dark look he often held that came crawling back a moment ago. You didn’t want that sober side right now; this was somehow easier to handle, even if it meant losing your dignity.

“Don’t wanna, never will,” He hums, staring unbothered at your lips, as if he wasn’t holding you tight enough to suffocate. “S’just kiss me, need it bad..”

You looked around, as if there was anyone else looking, trying to avoid the task that made you shiver inside.

But you didn’t get a chance to reject the drunken gangster again, his wet lips coming against the side of your face. He poked the tip of his tongue out, flicking against your lip before going tongue-first into your surprised mouth.

Anytime he had tried to kiss you, to do anything overtly intimate, the most he released was the silent huffs of a man too wrapped up in himself to let you hear anything of pleasure. But now, you witnessed the lewd shlops of his lips against yours, the neediness of the back of his throat, groaning to be deeper inside of you.

One of his heavy hands cradled the back of your head, his stupor not caring (or rather, not noticing) how little you moved, how you seemed to be backing into his large palm that massaged your hair.

“Loved’ya forever, so happy you were so stupid…” He mumbles between licks to the corner of your lip, diving back into the sticky warmth of you. “What kinda… mph, idiot, doesn’t..hugh, report to the police..?”

With his arm once wrapped around you, the gangster takes your limp wrist to his collar, bringing it to hold his loose tie. He makes you drag him closer, guiding your slow and frowning lips in his one-sided makeout session.

“Not’ma fault, making your life so much better now.. N’now, you’re mine.” He grins, a stupid little grin from the alcohol and delusion swarming his head as he consumes you, fingers coming to fiddle with your cotton T-shirt as he draws lines down your chest. “My sweet sunshine, all mine, forever n’ ever.”

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loveliestlovelygirl · 2 months

Text

tangle of strings

pianoteacher!anakin x student!reader

synopsis: mr. skywalker has been your piano instructor since you were fourteen years old. from the moment you met, you knew he was the one. he never expressed his feelings for you vocally, despite all the time you spent together. but after you turn eighteen and prepare to leave for college, he changes his tune.

w.c: 6.9k

warnings!! {minors dni}, dark content, grooming heavily featured, sexual content occurs after the reader is 18, p in v, fingering, oral, fem!reader, gentle dom!anakin, sub!reader, "loss" of virginity, jealousy, religious themes

the content you consume is your responsibility ♡

The piano is the only thing Mr. Skywalker told you that he loved.

He was never spotted with a girl or anyone for that matter in a romantic sense. He was always single, which never made sense to anyone in your small town because he is handsome. He’s always been handsome. His yearbook pictures from high school proved it.

When you would go over to his house for piano lessons, he would show you many things from his life, like his award cabinet, filled with every trophy and certificate he’s won from piano competitions or his yearbook photos. Those photos were one of the first things he showed you. It was one of your first memories of just you and him.

Mr. Skywalker takes a big stack of books off the shelf in his library all at once. Using his strength to balance the dusty books on his arms, he brings them to the reading table where you sit. He takes off the top one and opens it up before you.

Eventually, you find his picture. You cover your mouth as you giggle. He had thick glasses making him look like a nerd. But he was cute. So, undeniably cute to you. You wish he could be the same age. You would want to be his friend. You would want to kiss him.

If you were the same age, he could be yours.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he muses, his large body looming behind you as he looks over your head to gaze at the picture. “I used to be the kid everyone picked on. When I’d get home, I would write a song about how I was feeling. Some of those songs inspired the ones I play at my shows.”

When he talks, you gush. His warm voice is safe. He’s the kind of person you could tell all your secrets to.

And you did tell him everything you couldn’t tell your parents. You’d tell him your deepest secrets. Like the boys you crushed on. Or your new feelings of lust towards them that caught you off-guard as a teen. He understood you like no one else in the whole world. He was the first to know about your first kiss when you were sixteen. And he seemed… jealous when you told him.

“I don’t know how it happened,” you say. “One moment, we were talking and laughing. And the next thing I know, Drew is pushing me down on the bed to kiss me!” you squeal. “But don’t tell my parents. They’ll think I’m a whore.”

Mr. Skywalker pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry. I always keep your secrets. Drew is the boy in your history class, correct?”

You nod, amazed that he would remember. The last time you spoke of Drew had been several months ago. But he always pays attention to even the smallest details. That’s how you know he cares.

“I don’t know if he’s good for you,” he mutters, noticeably bitter about something. “Does he really know you? I think… he doesn’t. He’s probably just trying to use you.”

Mr. Skywalker is much older than you. And wiser. So you take his advice to heart. Maybe you shouldn’t see Drew tonight after all.

“How many times have you been kissed?” you ask him, your voice all innocent. Although your motives were anything but pure. While you might have just shared a kiss with Drew, there is one man who is truly the object of your greatest desires. You just haven’t found a way to tell him.

He shakes his head. “You know I’d rather talk about you.” That’s what he says when you pry too deeply into his private life, which only adds to your secret obsession

Anakin has always been the one thing that rivals your obsession with your instrument of choice. And it’s the only secret you kept from him all through high school because you knew he couldn’t possibly feel the same way about you.

Even if the small touches, the secret looks, and long hugs seemed to indicate otherwise. You were too afraid to ask him what it all meant. He never gave that kind of attention to anyone else.

And as an awkward teen, you were furious that you couldn’t express your love to him directly. You kept telling yourself that you would when you’re older. When you turned eighteen, you would confess to him.

Since you couldn’t tell anyone, even him, about this secret, you’d use the piano to share your soul, to put your feelings out into the atmosphere. When you play, no matter where you are, you feel him sitting on the bench beside you, watching over you.

He taught you everything you know now. He’s the reason you chose to major in Piano Performance in college to the great horror of your parents. But what did they expect? They watched you sacrifice your youth for excellence in your craft. The nights were filled with pools of tears, cries, and screams as you played until you got the part, section, or note just right.

When your fingers rest on the ivory keys, you feel him and nothing else. He’s your muse in every song you write.

The piece that won you a full scholarship to your dream university, you wrote it while thinking of Anakin. Your beloved piano teacher. Your closest friend. Your secret love.

He’d been in your life for so long, giving you lessons when you first showed an interest in music. How could you not love him?

He went to the same church that your family attended every Sunday. He played piano sometimes during worship service if the music minister was out on vacation or fell ill. Church was how your father met him, and they became good friends. He often came to your Sunday lunches.

Your mom always cooked fried catfish or fried chicken because that’s what your dad wanted. Mr. Skywalker, as you called him back in your high school years, would eat two plates of food. He’d say things like “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in years,” even if he was at your house just last week. You would laugh the loudest at his jokes. As you think about them now, you realize they weren’t funny, but you’re in love with him so it doesn’t matter.

After lunch, your parents would take care of the food and dishes, giving alone time with him. Like a young pup, you’d follow him outside on the back porch where you’d sit side by side on the creaky old swing.

“Do you cook or bake?” he asks you.

You haven’t the slightest idea of why he’d ask such a thing. You still lived with your parents. Your mom does most of the cooking. Your dad grills sometimes. “No. I get scared that I’ll burn myself.”

Suddenly, he reaches over for your left hand, the closest one to him, from your lap and holds it between his great palms. “Cold,” he whispers. He massages your fingers to revive them. “I wouldn’t want you to burn your hands. They’re so perfect… for playing.”

Anakin looks down at what he’s doing to you and his expression sours. At the time, you don’t know why. You wonder if you said or did something he doesn’t like because the mood changes instantly. He drops your hand and pats your thigh.

“You have piano hands, remember?” he reminds you. He smiles at you, and you feel secure again.

That’s exactly the thing that you always tell him. His hands spread out further than a whole octave, while you struggle to hit the two octave notes simultaneously without pulling a muscle. His fingers are long, and his palms are wide. You can’t compete with that.

You wonder what other things he’s good at with hands like those.

For the entirety of your high school existence, you pined and pined after him. He was always on your thoughts every minute of every day. You never grew sick of daydreaming about him. And on occasion that was reflected in your grades though you maintained a high GPA regardless. Every week was just your going through the motions of life mindlessly, only waiting for two short hours out of the week on Friday which was when you took lessons with him.

You lived solely for those two hours in which he gave you piano lessons free of charge. He said it was because you had such potential, but still to this day, you like to think he reciprocated some of your feelings even before he actually made a move on you.

For those two hours, you would sit right up against him on the leather cushion of the piano bench and play for him whatever pieces you were working on or things he assigned you from the previous week. He was never harsh with you even when you weren’t getting something.

You throw your hands on the keys, striking a dissonant chord that makes you both wince. Mr. Skywalker instantly pulls your hands away.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he said with concern. “I promise you’ll get this. It just takes time. I know you practice too much as it is.”

“I want to be good! I want to be a star!” With that, you break down instantly and cry. He never minds when you cry in front of him.

“One day, you will be. I believe in you,” he soothes you, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head as if you belong to him. He hugs you. “We can try again when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” you say, leaning against him to hear the echo of his heart. His heartbeat is sensual to you, even at sixteen. You can’t explain it. These stupid hormonal feelings you have for him are so wrong. But when you look up into his passionate eyes, you see the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. You have to marry him. You have to.

From the time you were five, you were afraid of thunder and lightning. Terrified by it actually. The fear is still with you today. But it was so much worse in middle school and high school. You started taking lessons from Anakin when you were fourteen years old. And you were still such a child then. You remembered the time it stormed so hard during your lesson that you had to spend the night at his house because it was too dangerous for your mother to come pick you up. But that also meant you couldn’t hide your abnormal fear of a thunderstorm from Anakin.

He had this giant plush rug under the piano. When you asked him about it, he said that it caught the sound. At the tail end of your lesson, the night you had to stay over, lightning struck close to his house and spooked you so much that you shrieked and slipped under the piano, curling up on that soft rug like a scared puppy.

Anakin was such a sweetheart because he followed you there.

“Hey,” he whispers, rubbing your back, “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You cry into your arms, hiding your face. “I know! I know it’s stupid of me. I just—”

“It’s not stupid. We all have different fears.” After he says that, he lies on his back beside you. “But I won’t let the storm hurt you, okay. We can stay here all night.”

And that you did. You cowered under the grand piano in his parlor all night long. That was the first time you ever cuddled with a boy, only he was a man almost twice your age. But that didn’t bother you. And it seemed not to bother him. He let you hold onto him through the night and squeeze him a little harder when you heard thunder. It has been one of your most precious memories of your piano teacher.

You had always known Anakin could be a little jealous. Any time you would mention your school friends the air would get tense, as if he didn’t want you to have anyone else in your life but him. He never said that, but he didn’t have to. There was always rage somewhere beneath the still blueness of his eyes, but his rage was never directed towards you until you told him that Drew wanted you to be his girlfriend.

You were seventeen. And you were so excited to have your first boyfriend even if you weren’t in love with him. At least people might not tease you for still being a virgin because it wouldn’t be so obvious. Anakin never did make fun of you for your innocence. He always said that it’s okay to wait until you’re ready or for the right person.

Immediately after you share the news of your official relationship with Drew, he freezes and closes the lid to the piano keys.

His jaw is tight. His voice is tense. “Maybe... we should be done for today.” He doesn’t even acknowledge what you said, as if he’s afraid to.

But you have no one else to celebrate with. Drew is a secret you keep from them because he’s not involved in church. “Did you hear me?” you press.

He grinds his teeth hard, and you hear bone against bone. Anakin nods. “I did.”

You nudge his arm. “Well?”

“Well what?” he snaps bitterly. He turns slightly to glare at you. “You know how I feel ab—about him.”

You roll your eyes. Anakin is a dramatic guy sometimes. “Drew isn’t that bad. He can be sweet. And he’s going to take me to prom!”

Anakin rises off the piano bench and pats down his black slacks. “So, you don’t care what I think then?” He’s staring down upon you with overwhelming disapproval. The muscles of his arms bulge when he crosses them over his chest.

Palms against the leather cushion, you hold yourself up. You notice yourself trembling when you realize that he’s not teasing you. He’s very upset... with you. Why would he be—does this mean—does he feel something after all?

“Of course, I do, Mr. Skywalker.”

“I told you not to get close with him!” he shouts. You’ve never heard him raise his voice at you. “He has bad intentions. He’s just a dumb kid. What does he know about loving you?”

You start to sob. “I’m sorry. I thought you might be... happy for me?”

He scoffs. And it sounds like you disgust him right now. “I don’t want to hear about him ever again. I don’t want to know anything about your little boyfriend. Do. You. Understand?”

Having him speak to you that way made you feel like a little girl. And you hated that feeling more than anything else. You knew that you were innocent, and you hated yourself for it because it made you feel inadequate to love the man you really wanted.

But now you’d do anything to have that innocence again. You didn’t realize at the time how free you once were. Growing up was harder than you thought it would be. It almost broke you.

You were lucky to have someone like Anakin to build you back up again, even if he was the one that tore you down that time.

After he yelled at you, you rushed out of his home as quickly as you could. The silence lasted a day. And then he drove to your house and knocked on your door. He held in his hands a bouquet of white roses and on his lips was the apology you were waiting for.

Nothing changed between you after that. Until your next birthday came around.

Up to your eighteenth birthday, your interactions were mostly harmless. But when you turned eighteen, an official adult, the tension between you had changed. The energies you both entertained shifted and became... dare you say... sexual to a degree. Anakin seemed to treat you a little differently now that you were fair game.

To celebrate your eighteenth birthday, he was there. In fact, he was the only one you insisted that mother invite. Not Drew or any of your school friends. Just Anakin. And he had to be there because he really was your one true friend. You couldn’t imagine celebrating your birthday without him. He was always a guest at your birthday parties, but he gave you a special gift this year, one so unforgettable that sometimes you hear it clear as day.

Anakin wrote you a piano solo. One that was simple, sweet, and addicting. You told him to play it again and again. After cake and presents, you made him teach you how to play it. You were very proficient now, and often could play things just by hearing them once. But the chords he chose for your song were unique and shouldn’t have meshed so well together. But they did. Just like you and him. Unlikely friends. Star-crossed lovers in your head.

The two of you stayed at the piano all evening, messing around with the song. By the end, you both had figured out how to layer the notes and chords in an even more perfect duet. Playing piano with him was almost the best birthday gift in the world to you. But it was not what you wished for.

You wished for a kiss.

But that would mean you’d have to tell him how you felt. And you were terrified. As an adult, now you could. It was more empowering than you thought it could be.

But you never did find a chance to tell me on your birthday. You were too afraid to ruin your night with a love confession. You know he would do the right thing and reject you, but that didn’t stop you from dreaming for the impossible.

When you walked him outside to his car—you insisted—your secret birthday wish came true. Not in the way you expected. But a kiss did happen. Your piano teacher kissed you on the cheek. Your face burned the whole night through. You couldn’t sleep because you wanted to know what it meant. He had never used his lips to touch any part of you before.

Physical contact had always been an important part of your bond with Anakin since the beginning. There were always the hugs that lasted just a little too long. And he seemed to always find an excuse to hold your hand. But he was your piano teacher, and the hand-to-hand contact always felt necessary and never strange.

But following your very special birthday, you found him staring at you a little longer, a little more deeply, and he seemed to always find an excuse to touch you, not in a sexual way but in a way that led you to believe the attraction wasn’t one sided.

He’d tuck your hair behind your ears, brush the side of your arm, and sit impossibly close to you that you swore you could almost hear his heartbeat. Anakin had never been hesitant to touch you before, but if there were any boundaries before, they were forgotten by him. And you enjoyed it. His new attention made you feel special and wanted. And that was all you ever wanted.

You began to touch him too. And seek physical attention from him. You would nuzzle his arm. Slip your fingers between his. Tap your shoes against his. He’d always notice, and he always hugged you or kissed your cheek in response.

You two were getting closer than ever before. Sometimes... you would barely touch the keys, getting lost in conversation. At this point, Drew and any other boy you were interested in before might as well have been dead. There was only room in your heart for Anakin.

And you had discovered a way to tell him without using your fragile words.

You sit on the bench waiting for him to get off the phone with his mother. She called him shortly after he let you in. About ten minutes later, he comes back.

“Sorry. I was worried she was in trouble,” he says, taking his spot beside you. “Now, where were we last week?”

“We... didn’t really go over anything.”

He bites into his full lower lip with a mischievous look in his eyes. “What are you paying me for then?”

You laugh because you’ve never once paid him for his time. You nudge his thigh with yours. “Honestly, I don’t really think there’s much more you could teach me.”

He raises a brow. “Oh really?”

You nod. “Actually, I’ve been writing something for you.”

His jaw lowers, and his mouth hangs open slightly. “How long have you kept this secret?”

“Since my birthday.”

He slips his arm around your back and rests his hand on your hip. “I’m impressed. Show me?”

You gulp heavily. That had been the plan today. It is ready for him. He’d never judge you even if it were bad. But you know that it’s not. You know that he’ll know what this piece means. He knows you too well. He’s too perceptive of everything. You wrote it in his favorite key, C minor.

With your hands a little shaky, your fingers glide softly across the piano and press down powerfully in chords. Through music, you profess your love. Anakin sits beside you and waits for you to finish. When you do, he’s waiting, staring with tears thickening his dark eyelashes. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything, but you know... he knows how you feel.

You tug on his shirt, drawing him closer. A war of heart and mind reflects on his face. He’s doubting what he wants. His resistance is half-hearted. It isn’t long before he scoops you up in his arms and kisses you. This time his mouth is on your lips, wetting them, and tugging them apart to fill you with his tongue.

Drew was never this good. His mouth was sloppy and tight. Anakin kisses like he’s done this a thousand times before. And he kisses like he wants you. Like he’s wanted you for such a long time, despite how wrong you both know that is.

He holds you down in his lap, and you hug him tightly, carding your fingers through his dreamy hair. You start to feel lightheaded because you haven’t been able to breathe, but you don’t want to stop him. If you stop him, he might think and realize that he doesn’t want you anymore.

But you’re dying. Turning blue. You tap his shoulder. And he stops devouring you. His lips sparkle when he smiles. “Too much for you, baby?”

You sharply inhale, finally catching your breath. You shake your head. You want more. You need it. More isn’t even enough.

You spend the whole lesson entangled with one another until your mother comes to pick you up.

For the next month, that’s all you did. Kiss and kiss and kiss. Breathe and breathe and breathe. And kiss some more. You wondered why he was waiting to take you to his bed. You wanted that with him, but he never asked you to go that far. He seemed afraid. Even when his affection was overflowing in passion as you always knew it would be, it was clear that he was holding himself back. Did he need you to tell him what to do?

Your make out sessions extended beyond just your lesson time. Whenever he would come over to your house, he would go upstairs with you to your bedroom, and you’d end up tangled in the sheets. Though with every item of clothing on. Your parents never suspected anything was happening to their young, virtuous daughter. They trusted him completely. And so did you. You would have done anything he asked of you no matter the risks.

Even at church, he’d find a way to get you alone. In the girl’s bathroom. During the preacher’s sermon.

Anakin lifts you onto the sink and spreads your legs out so that he can fit between them and get close to you. Thumb under your chin, he tilts your face up to his. He grins before going in for a kiss.

Your lavender baby doll dress rides up your thighs as he inches closer. He presses up against the crotch of your panties. The dampness is cold against your tender flesh. His erection only grows as the friction between you builds, your bodies rubbing against each other in a clothed attempt to satisfy yourselves sexually.

And now you’re glad you waited and didn’t mess around with Drew like he wanted when you were together. Because that means Anakin could be your very first.

He freezes up when you try to unbuckle his big belt. Anakin looks at you strangely, almost disturbed by your actions.

You lean to his ear and whisper, “I. Want. It.” You had thought your seductive voice would be enough to cast him off the edge of all hesitation, that he’d bend to your will and give you what you want.

But all you did was kill the fire.

Head shaking, he backs away. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

And you didn’t see him for nearly a month after that. But you don’t regret what you said. You were tired of just endless make out sessions. It seemed so immature, and you knew you were ready for something real.

All of those memories, those beautiful capsules of your favorite times with Anakin, are the reason you find yourself on his doorstep, a quarter till midnight in the pouring rain.

Complete desperation.

You took your moms car without permission just to drive over despite the threat of a storm. And you’re still deathly afraid of them. But you came anyway. Because tomorrow, you’re leaving for college. You might not get another chance to fix things. Death would be better than living another moment without him.

“You haven’t been answering my texts or my calls, Anakin.”

The door is barely cracked open, just enough that you can see his pale face. Dark circles surround his rainy eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, not even making eye contact.

Thunder echoes behind you. The wind blows your hair around. Leaves rustle, filling the silence between you both. It’s going to storm soon. You had been stupid enough to drive to his house just before a storm. But you couldn’t take not knowing what had happened to him and why he was dodging your calls.

The eyes that used to linger a little too long won’t acknowledge you even as you stand in front of him.

“Why are you being like this? This isn’t you!” you nearly scream. You’re so afraid that he’s not only pushing you away but also ejecting you from his life completely, as if the memories you share can be erased. He’s engrained in almost every memory you have.

“It can’t happen. Go away.”

He tries to close the door on you, but you stick the toe of your right shoe in the crack before it shuts.

“Please… please don’t do this.”

Anakin’s eyes are bloodshot as if he’s been crying. “What I want isn’t right. I can’t do it. I don’t know if I could live with myself after.”

Does he really hate me so much? Is that the truth? Perhaps it’s your naivety, but you won’t let him go so easily. You have suffered in silence for nearly a decade, pining after him, waiting for him to reciprocate the depth of your feelings. Your hands shake as you reach out to him. If he would just… hold your hand like he used to, then maybe everything would be alright.

Your fingertips brush against each other. You feel the spark instantly, and it travels down your spine, leaving you wanting to touch him more.

“What about what I want?”

Anakin blinks several times before he speaks. It’s as if he didn’t consider your feelings in this decision. “You’re… not in a position to see things clearly. You’re—”

“Don’t say it!” you exclaim, squeezing your fists. “I’m not a child. I’m all grown up. And you know it. You see it.”

Anakin sighs a long time, his eyes scanning down your body. “Of course, I see it. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

Though you can never overpower him, you still try to force the door open. “Just let me in. We can talk. Just let me talk to you.”

Anakin’s frown is firm, and his stillness enforces that he’s not backing down. “I don’t know. If I let you in… if you cry… I’ll want to hold you. Then things might happen. I don’t know if I can control myself around you.”

Hugging yourself, you gaze upwards, into eyes that finally meet yours. His eyes reveal his mourning, his grief, his lust. It’s the latter that sends shivers through your body. The knowing that he wants you is more than you can take.

“I don’t want you to.”

There.

You said it.

You have told him exactly what you want. And if you hadn’t made it painfully obvious before, he knows now that you’re no longer thinking like a little girl.

Following a sigh of defeat, he backs away from the door, and you move in.

All the lights are off in his home. He must have been sitting in the dark like a vampire. The piano lid is open. He never left it open unless he was actively playing.

Anakin strides across the room to seat himself on the piano bench. He taps the spot next to him. “You’re right.... We should talk. Talk. Nothing more.”

Sitting beside him here feels like the most natural thing in the world. Here, you’re not afraid to speak from the heart. He’d never judge you even if he disagrees. But you’re not so sure he disagrees this time.

He wants you too.

“I couldn’t let you go back. I can’t believe you drove in the rain.”

You shrug. “It’s just rain. The storm hasn’t—”

The windows flash like they would in a horror flick, and thunder comes after. With a whimper, you grab onto his arm.

“I can drive you back home once we talk,” he says emotionlessly, gently pulling you off him.

But you double down and grab his arm, tugging him back again. “Don’t push me away.”

He doesn’t do it again. He stills. And sighs. “That’s the last thing that I want to do.”

With your chin resting on his sleeve, you look up at him, wide-eyed. “Just kiss me like you always do. And don’t think about it.” You stretch your arm out and fiddle with the top button of his dress shirt. “I’m not thinking.”

His chest rises and falls with his breaths. He doesn’t stop you as you unbutton his shirt.

When you rise on your knees, you’re at eye level. He’s so much bigger than you even now. He makes you feel so small. Holding onto his arm, you lean close and peck his clean-shaven cheek. He winces as if you pricked him with a needle.

“Angel, I shouldn’t.”

You kiss him again, closer to his lips, almost tasting him. “It’s me. Don’t you want me?”

Finally, he turns and looks in your eyes. Then at your mouth. “Don’t tell anyone. You... understand how this might look. What they might say about—”

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” you whisper. “What’s one more?”

You finish unbuttoning his shirt for him. Taking care of him feels good. You run your fingertips down his chest and his abdomen. His bare skin. It’s soft and warm. Suddenly, he grabs your wrist.

“Cold hands,” he murmurs. He takes your hands between them. He rubs his hands over your fast to warm them with friction.

“Sorry.”

Still rubbing your hands, he stands and leads you to the back of his grand piano near the flashing window.

Any other time, you would be trembling in fear because of the loud storm, but tonight you’re trembling because of the new feelings bubbling inside you. You’ve never been so aroused before.

“Can I hold you?” he says as pulls you into his embrace.

You can hear his steady heartbeat and feel it pumping right against your sensitive ear. Your piano teacher holds you against him and tangles his talented fingers in your hair. He sniffs your neck before taking a bite. His teeth pinch your flesh, and his tongue soothes you. The pain he leaves in several spots along your neck means that he’s marked you as his.

Your own heart is racing at lightning speed. You can’t think. In his arms, you’re helpless to his whims. You need him to tell you what to do. All you want is to please him.

“I’ll do anything,” you whisper to him so weakly you question if he hears you.

Anakin slowly unzips the back of your dress. “Consider this a teaching moment.” His voice doesn’t sound like it usually does. The undertones are sultry and possessive. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to—” He stops to pull down your dress, and his eyes wander over your pretty body. You wore transparent lace underwear and a matching bralette. He can see everything you hide from the rest of the world.

And he tells you, “You’re perfection.”

That makes you want to kiss him so badly. You try to lift yourself to reach his lips, but he’s too tall.

“Be patient,” he chides. “I want you to lay down first.” He guides you under the piano.

You lie down on your back atop the giant rug. Instantly, relaxation takes over as you remember all the times you used to lie here with him, hiding from the storm. Never did you think this would be the place where you’d give yourself to him. This must be meant to be.

He follows you after fully undressing. His body is every inch a man’s. His size makes you feel so small. He runs the risk of crushing you with his weight.

Lying on his side, he looks down at you, watching his own fingers running under the elastic of your lacy panties. “Take these off and spread your legs.” He whispers kisses to your cheek. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Nodding, you do as you’re told and wiggle out of your underwear. He snatches them from you and crunches them in his hands before throwing them over his shoulder. You proceed with fanning your legs open. The air is frigid as it touches you.

Anakin is looking where no one else has. “I’m so proud of you for waiting. Saving yourself just for me.”

You gasp as he kisses you between your legs. He kisses you there for a long time. It feels strange and wonderful. The feeling building inside you makes you moan and your toes curl. You feel so good your body aches. You hear your own heartbeat. You breathe but can’t find relief. Nothing soothes the need inside you but his mouth, his lips, his tongue. And before long you hit the breaking point, pleasure storming through your body from your place beneath him. Your cries are dampened by the thunderous sounds outside, but he hears you. He stops to look at your face. Making eye contact with him heightens the vulnerability of the situation. The intense way he looks at you burns. He notices every little change in your expression.

Anakin knows he made you feel good, but he still asks, “Did you like that?” He brushes the wild strands of hair away from your face. You know you’re precious to him. He sweetly kisses your forehead. “I like your taste.”

Your cheeks are seared by that comment. You cover your eyes, not wanting to let him see how he’s affecting you. “I did like it.”

“Do you want to do more?” He kisses your lips this time, and you taste yourself. “I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready!” you lift your head up and cup his cheek. “Don’t make me wait longer. I’m leaving tomorrow.” You bite your lip, knowing how dangerous what you’re about to say is because of who you’re saying it to. “Do you really want some college guy to be the one who gets me first?”

As if trying to reject the image you gave his mind, he closes his eyes and tightens his jaw. “No,” is his short answer. From the way his lips are pressed together, you know he wants to say more, but he’s saving you from his own selfish anger.

“Me either.” You rub his cheek with your thumb. “Anakin,” it feels right to call him by his first name instead of Mr. Skywalker, “I’ve waited for you. I always knew this would happen.”

He chuckles lightly. “I never gave you permission to use my name. Don’t forget—” he grunts as he slides two of his fingers between your slick folds and pushes them inside, “your manners, young one.”

These same fingers were the ones that rested atop yours when you were first learning to play piano. They pointed to the right key when you played the wrong note. They pointed to the sheet music to guide you along for all these years. They held your hands when they were cold.

And now he’s using them to teach you something new. But he’s just as skilled at fingering you as he is with music. You’re like his new instrument. He’s plucking all the right strings in just the right way to make you cry out for him. With your body pliant, he controls when you come. He doesn’t make you wait for it. He uses his thumb too and nudges until you come. It’s wetter than the last. And he instructs you to lick his fingers off when he’s done.

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks again. “Don’t hate me for asking.” He hangs his head a little.

What he doesn’t understand is how insatiable he’s caused you to be. There were so many times you thought you might explode from how desperately you wanted him. But now it’s okay if that does happen.

“Keep going. Please,” you beg. You’re not ready to stop. You’ve waited for this moment since you were fourteen years old. If it were up to you, you’d live here forever.

“If that’s what you really want,” Anakin moves from lying at your side to settling himself between your legs.

“It is,” you reassure him. Holding onto his neck, you pull yourself up a bit. “Can you kiss me too?”

He grins before pushing you down, his large hand spread out over your soft stomach, and he chases your lips as you fall. You’re partially distracted by his mouth as his cock slides inside you. You had expected it to be more of a challenge, all things considered. Throughout high school, your friends always complained about how much it hurt their first time. Some girls bled too. And that had scared you, which is one of the reasons you never took Drew up on his many offers of a “good time.” Deep down you knew he wouldn’t treat you right. But Anakin clearly is experienced with having sex. Maybe he wasn’t as alone as you thought he had been all those years.

This being your very first time, it does sting when he fills you completely, his bony hips pressed against yours. You feel the tightness and the stretch. But you enjoy how it feels. You’re so close to passing out just because this is as close as you can get to someone.

Anakin rocks in and out slowly. Maybe he can feel that you’re tired. He’s being gentle with you despite how much he wants to rail your cunt to shreds. You can tell when he’s holding himself back. He has that weary, pained look in his rainy eyes. A part of you wants to tell him that it’s okay. Let go. But you both know that you couldn’t handle the full extent of his lust.

“Can I come inside you?” he asks before sinking his teeth into a bruise along your neck.

Short of breath, you answer, “I said... anything.”

“Okay,” his shaky voice whispers. He buries his face into the curve of your neck and moans your name into your skin. He pulls your hair gently as he finishes, his heat spreading through your core. It’s so much that you feel it leaking out.

After, he holds you there all night long. He doesn’t let you leave. And you wouldn’t want to escape.

The three words he says to you as you leave his house the morning after, you realize that he’s lied to you all the years you’ve known him.

The piano isn’t his only love or his only obsession.

It’s an outlet, and yet a mask for his sin nature which you understand more deeply than any other girl ever will.

He’s kept his real obsession hidden from everyone but you.

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rafesapologist · 3 months

Text

the set up — rafe cameron; part twenty

summary: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: a lot of angst, mentions of mental health issues, time jump

author's note: good luck

It's been six months since you last saw Rafe Cameron.

The last conversation you both had was anything but pleasant, the words still stinging in your mind. The truth spilled out of you like a dam breaking, revealing the set-up against him that you and your friends had concocted. He pleaded for you to stay, his heart shattered into tiny pieces, and against your better judgement, you spent the night with him.

But as the sun rose and reality sank in, you knew it was best for you to leave before he woke up. You made a promise to give him space, hoping that he would come around on his own. But as days turned into weeks and then months, you never heard from him again.

Unable to face him at the golf course where he frequently visited, you quit your job there and found a new one at the Beach Club alongside JJ. The long hours and minimum wage were far from ideal, but it was enough to sustain you and JJ as you waited for your friends to return from hiding. In those moments, JJ became your lifeline - the only person who could make this unbearable situation even slightly bearable.

Each day seemed to drag on forever as you waited for that phone call from Rafe, hoping against all hope that he would forgive you and start fresh. But it never came. Slowly, a deep depression began to consume you as every day without him felt like a lifetime of agony. When you weren't working at the club, you locked yourself away in your room, trying to shut out the world and its painful reminders. Life lost its meaning as each day passed without any contact with Rafe. It felt like an endless cycle of loneliness and despair, an endless punishment for your foolish mistake.

"Hey there, how's it going, kid?" JJ inquires, coming up from behind with a pair of glass cups in each hand, interrupting your usual daydreaming routine. You straighten up your posture and forge a smile his way, watching as he scurried around the kitchen.

"Doing alright," you reply with a semi-flat tone, still somewhat detached from reality. "Is it a large gathering or something?" You motion towards the numerous cups he tossed into the sink, remnants of beer and liquor leaving their mark at the bottom.

"It was a damn party with sixteen people," he huffs, blowing loose strands of his blond hair out of his face. "Kids, parents, the whole shebang. It was a complete disaster."

You chuckle at his remark, shaking your head. "You'll have that, I guess."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all." You keep your statement brief, hoping to sidestep any further scrutiny from JJ, who has a knack for probing. You're aware that his concern stems from witnessing your gradual downturn since the breakup with Rafe. Every agonizing night, he'd pass by your room in the hallway, hearing the stifled sobs, mistakenly thinking you were keeping it quiet.

The sound of clanging dishes fills the air as Sofia, your coworker, enters the kitchen. She balances a stack of dirty plates in her arms and greets you and JJ with a wide smile. Her eyes sparkle mischievously as she poses her question, "Hey guys, am I missing out on some gossip in here?"

You shake your head, amused by JJ's usual grumblings about customers, "Not much besides JJ venting."

Sofia playfully rolls her eyes and lets out a giggle at JJ's never-ending frustration with their clientele. But then her expression turns more serious as she shares her news, "But hey, I wanted to let you guys know there's gonna be a huge bonfire at the boneyard tonight. You should come."

You hesitate, unsure if attending such an event is your thing. "We'll be there," JJ interjects confidently, nudging your side with his elbow.

You turn to him with a shocked expression, surprised that he would answer for both of you without consulting you first. But JJ just looks back at you with a smug grin, knowing that you would have declined the invitation if given the chance. After all, spending your nights locked away in your room was your preferred way to unwind after a shift.

"Great! I'll see you guys later then," Sofia beams at JJ's agreement before leaving the kitchen and heading back to the dining area. "Really, JJ? You know those kinds of events aren't my thing," you scowl at him, crossing your arms over your chest. If looks could kill, JJ would be dead by now.

"Well they used to your thing," JJ retorts, his tone firm but laced with concern. "You used to love going out, having fun, being around people. It's been months since...well, since everything happened with Rafe. And honestly, I'm worried about you. You've been shutting yourself off from the world, and it's not healthy."

You stare at him for a moment, his words sinking in. Despite your initial annoyance at his presumptuousness, you can't deny that he has a point. Since the fallout with Rafe, you've become a shell of your former self, hiding away from any social interaction and drowning in your own sorrow. As much as you hate to admit it, JJ is right – you need to start living again.

"Fine," you finally concede, sighing heavily. "I'll go to the bonfire tonight."

JJ's face breaks into a wide grin, relief evident in his eyes. "That's the spirit! Trust me, you'll have a good time. And who knows, maybe it'll help take your mind off things for a little while."

You can't help but feel a flicker of hope ignite deep within you. Maybe JJ is right. Maybe getting out and being around people again will help you heal, even if just a little bit. You try to push away the thoughts of Rafe that immediately flood your mind, but they still linger, like an unwanted guest overstaying their welcome.

As the day wears on, you find yourself in a state of nervous anticipation. You carefully pick out an outfit that strikes the delicate balance between casual and put-together, not wanting to draw too much attention but also wanting to feel good about yourself. When evening falls and the sky is painted with hues of orange and pink, you make your way out to the boneyard.

The beach is alive with activity as people gather around the roaring bonfire. The sound of laughter and music fills the air, and you can feel the vibrant energy pulsating through the crowd. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and step into the midst of the festivities.

JJ appears by your side, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Ready for some fun?" he asks, his voice barely audible above the clamor of voices and music.

You nod, summoning all your courage. "Yeah, let's do this."

As you navigate through the throng of people, you catch glimpses of familiar faces from work and around town. Sofia waves at you from a group near the fire, her smile infectious. You offer her a wave in return, grateful for her invitation tonight.

As you approach the fire, the heat washes over you, and you feel its warmth seep into your bones. The crackling of the flames is hypnotic, luring you closer like a moth to a flame. You find yourself drawn to the dancing shadows that flicker against the night sky.

JJ leads you to a group of people gathered around a makeshift bar not too far from the fire. The air is thick with laughter and conversation, and the scent of toasted marshmallows mingles with the salty sea breeze. You feel a sense of belonging in this moment, as if the weight upon your shoulders is slowly being lifted.

Sofia greets you with a hug, her cheerful demeanor contagious. "I'm so glad you made it. We were starting to think you might bail!"

You laugh nervously, feeling a surge of gratitude for these people who have accepted you into their circle without question. "No chance of that now," you reply, trying to match Sofia's energy.

As the night unfolds, Sofia guides you through the lively crowd, introducing you to various friends and acquaintances. The beach is bathed in the warm glow of the bonfire, and the sound of laughter and music fills the air. You start to feel a sense of belonging, appreciating the distraction from the weight of your thoughts.

Sofia eventually leads you towards a group of people gathered near a makeshift bar. The atmosphere here is electric, with the scent of salty sea breeze mingling with the aroma of toasted marshmallows. You watch as a skilled bartender whips up drinks, and the chatter around the bar is animated.

As Sofia continues with introductions, you exchange pleasantries with the friendly faces around you. The nervous anticipation begins to ease, replaced by a growing sense of enjoyment in the company of these new friends.

Suddenly, Sofia mentions that she wants to introduce you to her close-knit group of friends, and she guides you through the crowd towards a more secluded area. The noise from the bonfire and the distant waves becomes a distant hum as you navigate through the lively gathering.

Sofia's friends are engaged in conversation, their laughter punctuating the night air. You offer polite smiles as Sofia introduces you to each person in the group—Topper, Kelce, and then, the name that makes your heart skip a beat, Rafe.

The moment your eyes lock onto Rafe's, a wave of emotions crashes over you. His appearance, altered since the last time you saw him, is evident in the buzzcut that replaces his once unruly hair. His eyes, once filled with a youthful spark, now carry the weight of experiences and challenges. They appear more mature but also worn down, leaving you to wonder if the breakup and its aftermath have taken a toll on him.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing the unresolved feelings and unspoken words between you two. The unrelenting gaze he holds sends shivers down your spine, a mixture of nostalgia and regret flooding your senses. It's as if time stands still, encapsulating the raw essence of the moment and the complex emotions entwined in your shared history.

Sofia, oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere, continues with the introductions. "This is Y/N, she works with me at the Beach Club. Y/N, meet Topper, Kelce, and, of course, Rafe."

You offer a polite smile, trying to maintain composure despite the tension emanating from Rafe. The silence stretches, and the unspoken words hang heavily in the air. Rafe remains silent, his intense gaze locked onto yours. The once-familiar connection now carries an undeniable weight, and the emotions between you are palpable. The distance between you and Rafe feels both vast and intimate, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. His silence speaks volumes, and the unspoken dialogue between you becomes a poignant narrative of the time that has passed.

The sight of Sofia walking up beside Rafe, followed by his embrace, sends a sinking feeling straight to your heart. A knot tightens in your stomach as you watch the two of them, and Sofia's words hit you like a sudden storm. "Y/N, meet my boyfriend, Rafe," she says, her voice filled with happiness.

Shock sets in, and your world seems to tilt on its axis. The revelation that Rafe, the person you once shared everything with, has found solace and companionship with Sofia creates a sense of nausea. The emotions swirling within you are a tumultuous mix of disbelief, betrayal, and a deep ache that seems to resonate with each beat of your heart.

Your gaze remains fixed on them, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before you. The bonfire's glow casts a surreal light on the trio, emphasizing the complexity of the situation. Questions flood your mind, and you find yourself grappling with the harsh reality of Rafe moving on while you're still entangled in the aftermath.

With a flat tone, you manage to say, "We've met before," acknowledging the shared history that once connected you and Rafe. The air grows heavy, and his jaw clenches even tighter, creating an unspoken tension that hangs between you two. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions lingers in the air, creating an atmosphere thick with discomfort and uncertainty.

Sofia looks between you and Rafe, sensing the tension but not fully understanding the depth of your past connection. She decides to change the subject, suggesting that you all grab drinks and join the group by the bonfire. The invitation hangs in the air, leaving you with a choice to make – whether to navigate the night alongside Rafe and Sofia or find a way to retreat from the situation.

Despite the internal turmoil, you manage a strained smile, agreeing to join the larger group. The trio makes their way toward the makeshift bar, where you can't help but feel Rafe's eyes on you. The silence between you is deafening, each step echoing with the weight of unspoken history.

As you reach the bar, Sofia engages in casual banter with the bartender, leaving you and Rafe standing side by side. The awkwardness is palpable, a silent conversation unfolding between stolen glances and lingering tension. The air becomes charged with the ghosts of memories – the shared laughter, the whispered confessions, and the painful parting words.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the discomfort, a familiar one calling out to Sofia. She excuses herself, leaving you and Rafe alone for the first time since your worlds shattered. The seconds stretch into an eternity as you both avoid direct eye contact.

Finally, Rafe breaks the silence. His voice is low, tinged with a hint of regret. "It's been awhile."

Rafe's comment about the passage of time lingers in the air, a subtle acknowledgment of the distance that has grown between you. You keep your gaze fixed on the ground, finding it too painful to meet his eyes. The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy between you.

"Yeah," you murmur, your voice barely audible over the surrounding noise. "It has been a while."

A heavy pause follows, filled with the unspoken truth of your separation. The mention of time only serves to underscore the absence of communication, the unanswered questions, and the silence that has defined these months of solitude.

"You never called," you say, your words tinged with a mixture of hurt and frustration. The memories of that night resurface, the promises unfulfilled, and the subsequent silence that followed. The pain of that unanswered call echoes in your voice, a testament to the unresolved emotions that have lingered for far too long.

Rafe's jaw tightens as he absorbs your words. The unspoken tension in the air seems to thicken, heavy with the weight of unaddressed issues. The crowd around you continues to buzz with life, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Rafe. It's a moment suspended in time, caught between the past and the present, with the possibility of either reconciliation or further divergence.

Rafe's silence lingers for a moment, and just as the tension becomes almost unbearable, Sofia reappears at his side, seemingly oblivious to the underlying dynamics. She takes hold of Rafe's arm and playfully insists he joins her in the revelry. He glances back at you, his expression a mix of regret and something else you can't quite decipher.

"See you around, Y/n," Rafe says in a voice that carries a tinge of sadness before he's gently pulled away into the crowd by Sofia. The moment hangs in the air as he disappears, leaving you with a whirlwind of emotions. The reality of seeing Rafe after all these months hits you, and the weight of the encounter settles heavily on your shoulders. The bonfire blazes on, the crackling flames providing an ironic backdrop to the unspoken turmoil within.

The air is thick with a mix of emotions as you hastily navigate through the crowd, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill over. The vibrant atmosphere around you is now a blur as you search desperately for JJ, the only anchor in this sea of turmoil. Your heart pounds with a sense of urgency, the need to escape the situation becoming more palpable with each passing second.

Finally spotting JJ near the makeshift bar, you approach him with a sense of desperation. His eyes widen in concern as he takes in your tear-strained face. "Hey, what happened?" he asks, his voice a soothing anchor in the midst of chaos.

You grab his arm, almost pulling him away from the crowd. "We need to leave, JJ. Now," you implore, your voice choked with emotion. He doesn't ask questions, simply nodding and following your lead. The two of you slip away from the bonfire, leaving behind the flickering flames and the haunting specter of a past you weren't ready to face.

As you retreat from the beach, the distant sounds of laughter and music fade into the background. The cool night air offers a temporary reprieve from the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you. JJ walks silently beside you, giving you the space to process whatever had transpired.

As you and JJ continue to walk away from the beach, the words tumble out of your mouth in a shaky confession. "He's dating Sofia," you manage to say, the weight of the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. Before you know it, the tears you've been holding back begin to stream down your face.

JJ's eyes soften with understanding, and without a word, he wraps his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The sobs escape from deep within you, each one carrying the pain of witnessing the person you once loved move on with someone else.

You let the waves of emotion crash over you, leaning into JJ's support. His presence is a balm, a reminder that you're not alone in this difficult moment. The two of you stand there, the night air filled with the sound of your quiet sobs and the distant echoes of the beach party you've left behind.

In that vulnerable moment, JJ remains a steady anchor, offering solace without the need for words. The weight of heartbreak is momentarily eased by the warmth of his embrace, and for now, you find comfort in the friendship that has become your lifeline.

taglist: @ellesalazar, @champomiel, @vadinaleme, @kys4-20, @gills-lounge, @allsmilesreally7, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @sp00ky-spr1te, @bibliophilewednesday, @haroldpotterson, @i-love-rafe, @ellesalazar, @calmoistorm, @abundantxadorations, @fals3-g0d, @gillybear17, @oiiviagrande, @hockeybabe87, @augustlikesdeath, @wpdailyminimeta, @palmwinemami, @loxleys-blog, @ikisscline, @flyestvenustrap, @ilovesteveharrngton, @ijustwanttoreadlols, @fastlovela, @wickedlovely121, @fals3-g0d, @givemylovetoall

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader

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ladykailitha · 6 months

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Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 6

And we're back on this story. I didn't get as much Halloween stories in as I wanted, but there is still a week and half left in the month so I might get a couple of one-shots out before the big day. I have one with the older teens dressing up as RHPS characters for a midnight showing I'm part of the way through that might get done in time. We'll see.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

***

Eddie hadn’t seen Steve in close to an hour and it was starting to worry him.

He been bombarded with commiseration after commiseration from friends of his grandma and their families. All the Munson family was already here.

Almost.

As far as Eddie knew, Al Munson was still in some jail in Texas for grand theft auto. His third strike in the state of Texas. Who knows how many strikes he had in other states. Wayne wasn’t telling, and Eddie wasn’t asking.

He was standing there in his best jeans and nice black button up. It wasn’t what he was going to wear to the funeral, Wayne had raised him better than that. But he thought it was nice for a wake.

And it wasn’t as though Steve was dressed up either. He was wearing khakis and a grey Henley.

But all around him Eddie could feel the eyes of the other mourners, looking at him, judging him, and absolutely finding him wanting.

He stood in the corner, sinking further and further from view as he felt assaulted by their glares.

Suddenly there was a warm hand on his back and voice in his ear telling him to take a walk outside with him.

He let Steve lead him out of the house and onto the porch.

Steve pulled out a cigarette and lit it, handing it to Eddie and then lighting one of his own.

“You grandma must have been one hell of a lady to have that many mourners at her wake,” Steve said after a moment or two of smoking in silence.

Eddie snorted. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, pretty boy. This is just close friends and family. Tomorrow’s gonna be the real shindig. It’s going to be standing room only in the church.” He paused. “Ah, shit. That’s going to be okay, right? Going to a Catholic church?”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah, that’s fine. Not religious myself. Kinda hard to be when you’ve seen the worst of humanity and actual fucking monsters.”

Eddie look a long drag of his cigarette. “I feel that. Stopped believing in God when I heard that AIDS was one of God’s modern plagues against the unrighteous.”

Steve shook his head. “That fucking blows. I figure if there was a Jesus, he was like El, you know? Just extra human, no God required.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah. I bet that’s what it was. Thanks for that.” He raised his cigarette. “And this.”

Steve bumped their shoulders together. “No trouble, Eds. I could hear what they were saying about you behind your back and I thought you could use the break.”

“You thought right, Stevie,” he agreed. “Not a Christian heart in a single one of those church goers.”

Steve hummed. “This is what I’m here for on this trip, okay? I will put myself between you and those hateful people.”

Eddie laid his head on Steve’s shoulder. “God, it’s on top of everything else, you know. The six hour drive yesterday. My aunt being a bitch to you even though you didn’t deserve it. Putting on my second best clothes and still not being good enough for them.”

“They look at you and see your dad, huh?”

Eddie froze bringing the cigarette to his mouth and turned to Steve in shock. “How the hell did you know that?”

Steve shrugged. “My parents used to throw these big parties for Christmas and their anniversary. Like BIG parties. Blow your uncle’s yearly wages on a fucking party, big. The last was when I was sixteen, right? And I could hear all the whispers about how much I looked like him and how I must be just like him. Booze, women, and lavish parties full of people that wanted to kiss my ass.”

The cigarette fell out of Eddie’s mouth and landed on his lap. He brushed it off quickly, cursing and patting at his crouch so that he wouldn’t get burned.

Steve laughed.

“Fuck you.”

Eddie stomped out the cigarette to ease his bruised ego. He huffed out a sigh. “Is that part of the reason for the attitude change? Because everyone credits Nancy and Jonathan for the cognitive readjustment, but it started before that.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Before you started dating Nancy, you stopped the big parties at your house,” Eddie said. “Hagan told me it was because your dad caught you, but that wasn’t it, was it?”

Steve’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. “Holy shit. I didn’t even realize.”

“You started to clean up your act for Nancy, sure,” he continued. “But you started down that path before you started dating.”

Steve stubbed out his cigarette. “I saw you listening to Depeche Mode earlier when we had finished cleaning up the house...”

Eddie straightened up. He had listened to the tape. The song Lauren had queued up for him, especially. That one over and over.

“You into BDSM there, Stevie boy?” he said with a teasing grin.

Steve laughed. “Oh god, that one. Yeah, no, man. You know the song I mean.”

“You want to tell me what went down there?” Eddie asked. “Don’t spare Nancy for the sake of my feelings, okay? You’re more important to me then some chick.”

“She had a thing for Jonathan,” he explained. “Broke up with me for a month and then came running back. I didn’t think too much of it, you know? I was just happy that she was back. I tried to be the best boyfriend I could. I don’t think I succeeded. Then I made the mistake of using the words ‘normal teenagers’ because I wanted to go to some Halloween party.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “She started drinking heavily that night. Like more than someone her stature should. I tried to get her stop and I spilled the drink all down her white dress. So we went to the bathroom to clean it up. She called me bullshit. Said our relationship was bullshit.”

“Holy fucking hell, dude,” Eddie whispered.

Steve shook his head. “I thought it was just a bad fight. Even though everyone at school was calling it a breakup. I didn’t believe it. I bought her flowers to apologize. Fucking roses.” He was on his feet and pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. “But she wasn’t home. Oh no. Her and Jonathan were on a fact-finding mission. And a fuck finding mission, apparently.”

Eddie leaned forward in shock. “She slept with Jonathan?”

Steve stopped, frozen still. He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I still thought we were dating. She didn’t. It’s why I don’t tell people. Because she thinks she didn’t cheat on me and I think she did.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at his stark white tennis shoes in utter despair.

Eddie was on his feet and giving Steve a huge hug. “Thank you for telling me. I get why the music spoke to you and I won’t begrudge anyone loving music that helped them through rough times, okay?”

Steve nodded into Eddie neck, trying to not to sob.

When Aunt Penny came out a while later she found both boys just crying into each other’s arms.

“Boys,” she said gently. “It’s time for the toast to Gina.”

They reluctantly let go of each other and wiped their faces with their hands.

Wayne handed them glasses when they entered the front room. Penny picked up her glass.

“To Gina Munson!”

“Salut!” they all cheered.

Eddie and Steve knocked back their drinks with the rest of them.

There was more socializing after the toast, but this time Eddie had Steve at his side and every time they glared at Eddie, Steve would wink at them causing them to flush in embarrassment and turn away.

Finally everyone had gone, the food had been cleared away and the mess cleaned up.

Eddie and Steve silently made their way to the room they shared.

“I wanted to thank you for earlier,” Eddie said as they slowly got ready for bed.

Steve straightened up from where he had been pulling on his pajama bottoms. “For what?”

“For everything, I guess,” Eddie murmured. “For fending off bullshit...not even relatives, but friends of the family, I guess. For telling me about Nancy even though it was clear you didn’t want to. For coming on this trip in the first place. I probably would have thrown hands already if it wasn’t for you.”

Steve pulled up his pants and padded over to him to pull him into a hug. “I do it for any of our friends, Eds. But I’m glad I’m helping. I’m glad that you told me you needed me for this.”

“Single best decision of my life so far,” Eddie mumbled into Steve’s neck. “Wayne thinks so too.”

Steve laughed. “Well if Wayne says so it must be true.”

Eddie chuckled. “He is pretty smart.”

They crawled into bed and faced each other under the blanket.

“What’s really bothering you, Eds?” Steve whispered. “I can tell there’s something bothering you, but I can’t figure it out.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “It’s the stares and snide remarks, I guess. I know that like back home they all think I did it. That I killed Chrissy and Patrick and Fred. That I’m just like my dad. Maybe even worse.”

Steve pulled him close. “We know the truth. Wayne knows the truth. The people that love you know the truth. You’re a bona fide hero, Eddie Munson. They can all burn in hell if there is one.”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s more than that, I think. It’s that despite seeing me for a month every summer, that they would even think me capable of such violence. I had grown up with these people. How could they think that of me?”

“Small-minded people will always think the worst of you,” Steve murmured. “I know, it sucks. But here’s the best part about being an adult. If you wanted to, you never have to see them again in your life. You can cut them out and that’s all the say they have in the matter.”

Eddie sighed. “Thanks.”

Steve just held on until they both fell asleep.

The day of the funeral dawned cloudy and grey as if nature, too, grieved the loss of Gina Munson. Cherished wife, beloved mother, and devoted grandmother.

Eddie and Steve dressed in solemn silence. Eddie pulled on a pair of black high-waisted trousers that he had found at a thrift store before they left. He put on the black button up from the night before and rolled up the sleeves. Over the top went a nice dark grey vest. He wore his nice, white sneakers. He strapped on bracelets and bangles on his wrists and chains and necklaces around his scar on his neck.

His wasn’t as noticeable as Steve’s but he had had enough of his grandmother and aunt’s friends eyes flicking toward it and sneering last night to last a life time thank you.

Steve was dressed similarly. The nice black slacks, the black button up (buttoned neatly at his wrists), a dark grey sweater vest. He wore a suit coat over the top and nice silver tie. His shoes were shined mirror bright and his hair artfully done.

Wayne, Steve and Eddie decided to all go in Steve’s car to the funeral. They pulled into the spots reserved for family and made their way into the church. As Eddie predicted it was standing room only. They walked all the way up the aisle to where the first row had been designated for the family, too.

They sat down and the service began.

Eddie sat there, tears streaming down his face, tucked into Wayne’s arm. Steve took his hand and held on as the Father droned on and on about the life of a good woman.

The pallbearers stood up. Wayne, Oliver, Eddie, Danny, and two good friends of Gina’s lifted her coffin onto their shoulders and marched down the aisle to “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” played on the organ.

They carried the casket out into the cemetery and slid her gently onto the straps that would be used to lower her into grave.

Eddie moved back to stand next to Steve and looked out into the crowd.

He stiffened as he spotted someone near the front of the throng of people paying their respects.

Steve followed his eyes to the man standing next to a portly fellow in a black suit.

He had dark curly hair shaved on the sides. He had a neatly trimmed beard that highlighted the sharpness of his jawline. His cheekbones were as hard as his jaw and eyes. It was the eyes that really struck Steve. They were the same color as Eddie’s but so, so cold.

He bowed his head and Steve could see that his hands were clasped in front of him.

Or so he thought.

The cold man shifted from one foot to the other and Steve could see the glint of the handcuffs.

There was no doubt on who this was now.

Allen “Al” Munson had been allowed to come to his mother’s funeral.

***

Pt 7|Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #minor character death #dealing with grief

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anton-luvr · 6 months

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# WHAT'S THE TIME WHERE YOU ARE?

⚝ ceo!wonbin x ceo!reader | angst | right person wrong time au ⚝ note ; first part of my 'something to give each other' series! + feedback would be highly appreciated ^_^

Wonbin taps his feet against the tiled floor, arms folded.

Irritated, he takes a glance at the gleaming Rolex strapped to his wrist.

“We’ve been waiting for four minutes.” he scoffs, glaring at his assistant. “I hired you to prepare everything for me, didn’t I? Couldn’t you prepare the SIM card before this?”

Terrified, Wonbin’s assistant shakes his head and is quick to bow in apology. “My apologies, sir. I forgot about this, I’ll try to get it as fast as possible.”

Annoyed, Wonbin simply tuts and rolls his eyes.

For anyone who knew how busy Wonbin was as the CEO of one of Korea’s largest companies, they would think he had urgent calls and emails to attend to.

But deep down under those layers of annoyance, was desperation.

He had just landed in Tokyo for a three-day-long business conference and product launch, and what was supposed to be a fourteen hour flight from Milan to Tokyo had been delayed to a total of sixteen hours.

And that two hour window that had been stupidly wasted because of bad weather was the only time Wonbin knew you were going to be free this week before you flew to Paris for a shareholder’s meeting.

As the CEO of another successful company yourself, messaging each other was the only way for you to keep in touch. Endless meetings that took forever and getting on flights like these always got in the way, and Wonbin hated it.

There was nothing he wanted more than to spend more than an hour with you, even if it had to be over text.

He didn’t care for money or fame.

He just wanted you.

It’s been months since he last saw you, and the desperation was settling in even harder.

Your genuine smile amongst the crowd of fake ones at the national business conference was what that had caught his attention, and there was just something so attractive about the way you carried yourself.

Your laugh was the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, and he prides himself on the fact that it was thanks to a silly story he told you.

Confidence and charisma oozed from your aura, and yet there was so much love and humility in your voice while the both of you talked for hours on end that night.

And for the first time in almost forever, Wonbin felt alive again.

He could feel the connection between the both of you, and he knew you felt it too.

“Sir, your SIM card.” his assistant says, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Without wasting another second, Wonbin swipes the card from his hands and is quick to slip it into his phone.

He power walks to the entrance while waiting for the SIM card to activate, sparing no time for his bodyguards and assistant to catch up.

Wonbin’s heart speeds up when he settles into his limousine, opening up his messaging app.

‘just landed in tokyo’ he texts, furiously typing away. ‘hbu?’

You reply almost immediately, and Wonbin can't help but smile.

‘boarding my flight to paris right now :(‘ your message read, and Wonbin’s smile drops.

He lets out a defeated sigh as he rests his head on the cold window, replying to you.

‘ahh i see’ he texts. 'have a safe flight! lmk when you land’

He can only sigh again when you reply with a 'yup! have fun in tokyo :p'

Now, no matter how strong the connection, Wonbin knew it wasn't going to last long if texting each other sporadically throughout the month was your only way of staying in contact.

He’d try to switch things up by sending gifts to you time to time, surprising you with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers sent to your hotel doorstep when you were in Germany, or reminding you to take care of yourself with a selfcare set worth thousands sent straight to your office.

But there was nothing more he could do about it.

He sighs again, leaning back in the leather seat and closing his eyes.

Maybe that’s just the way love goes.

Wonbin can't remember the last time he's been to an afterparty this bad.

Sure, the DJ was playing great music, but the atmosphere of the entire party made him shift in discomfort.

Everyone was socializing, but only with the motive of landing a new business partner, name cards given out like propaganda five minutes into each insincere conversation.

He glanced at the small stack of name cards that he'd collected over the past hour he'd been here, and he frowned in disgust.

Making sure no one was watching, Wonbin chucks it all into the nearby dustbin.

He just wanted to get back to his hotel and sleep all his exhaustion away.

To make matters worse, his latest message of ‘how’s paris?’ to you from four days ago was still left on sent.

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, but in moments of longing like these, it made Wonbin’s heart ache just a bit more.

All of a sudden, his phone buzzes to life, and he squints at the screen.

His eyes run over the contact name, and he almost drops his phone as he scrambles to answer your call.

“Hello? You’re calling me?” he asks in disbelief, a smile on his face nonetheless.

“Yeah! I’m free right now, so I thought I’d call you and give you a little surprise." you giggle, and Wonbin's heart warms at the sound.

‘Well, I’m definitely surprised.” Wonbin chuckles. “How’s Paris? What’s the time right now?”

There’s a short pause from your side as you check your watch.

“It’s two in the afternoon here, so I’m gonna go out for lunch with my team in a bit. How about you?”

Wonbin leans against the wall, sighing as he glanced across the crowded hall. "It's almost eleven here and I'm stuck at an afterparty." he whines.

"Just talk to someone, you'll be fine." you suggest, laughing at how childlike Wonbin could be sometimes.

"But I don't want to! Everyone keeps wanting to talk to me, and I'm hiding alone in the corner right now." he complains.

"They just love you too much, hm?" you tease.

Wonbin sighs again, shaking his head even though you couldn't see him.

"I wish it was you talking to me here." he says softly, the energy of the call immediately shifting.

"Well, I am talking to you." you reason, thankful that he wasn't able to see the crimson blush on your cheeks at his words.

"But I wanna see you." Wonbin mumbles. "I miss you."

It's the first time he's ever told you that, and neither of you say anything for a moment.

"I wanna see you too, but we both know that's impossible." you whisper. "We're both so busy."

"And I don't mind waiting. I'm okay with waiting for you after all is said and done, promise." he says, determination in his voice.

It's your turn to let out a sigh as guilt creeps into your heart, and you close your eyes as you lie down on your hotel bed.

"I don't want you to do that. You'll have to wait for literal months just for us to squeeze in a call like this."

"I really don't mind." Wonbin insists.

"But I do. It's not fair to you." you groan.

Wonbin pokes his tongue into his cheek, anger starting to build in his chest.

"Come on," he reasons. "I already told you I don't mind. I really don't."

"But we’ll be so tired and so busy… won’t it get worse if we’re together?” you continue, starting to get upset too.

The terror of realising he was losing you made Wonbin's heart pound, his hands sweaty as he tries to convince you to stay - or at least give this a try.

"Hey, if we never try, we'll never know." he points out. "Please? Can't we just... try?"

His question is left hanging in the air as you stay quiet, a million thoughts rushing through your mind.

It just seemed so impossible and so impractical to you.

What's the point of being in a relationship when you'll never have the time to be with each other?

"'I don't know." you lie, feeling a headache set in. "I need to go now. I'll talk to you next time."

"Oh." Wonbin whispers, his voice choking up. "Okay."

"Bye." you say softly. "I'm sorry."

Your apology does nothing as the repeating echo of you ending the call rings in Wonbin's ears, his eyes filling with tears while raw pain tore at his heart.

He knows you want more.

No, he knows you need more.

He knows you need someone to offer their shoulder for you to cry on, someone to welcome you home with warm arms every night.

He knows he can't do that.

But couldn't you just give him a chance?

Wonbin can only slowly sink to the floor as tears start to flow down his cheeks, the loneliness and desperation burning into his shattered heart.

He'll never get to love you.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @junhuiste-ficrec @numberonetaleprince @chwenott @shawyle @yenart (tags in bold couldn't be tagged)

#riize #riize angst #riize fics #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize drabbles #riize x reader #riize wonbin #wonbin #wonbin riize

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hungermakesmonsters · 2 months

Text

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Nineteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Chapter Rating : R - some smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] There's some smutty behaviour and vague descriptions of a panic attack. And lots of angst. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : ~3.9k

A/N : Five weeks after the heartbreak of the last part (sorry again for that). As always thanks so much everyone who's reading every week and all the new people, you're all awesome!

Chapter Nineteen

The next week passed as something of a blur.

After leaving Anvil, Karen had taken you back to her apartment and, after listening to you sob for an immeasurable amount of time, she led you to her guest room. And that was pretty much where you stayed for days. Your phone rang and buzzed; he tried to call hundreds of times, sent countless messages before Karen took your phone and blocked his number because, despite how much he’d hurt you, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

A couple of days later he turned up at Karen’s door - she didn’t let him in and you didn’t speak to him, you just heard them arguing while you fought back tears.

You hated him for how broken he’d managed to make you feel, how pathetic and weak you felt because you’d been stupid enough to believe that he could ever feel anything for you. But, as much as you hated him, there was a part of you that still loved him; a part of you that would always love him, a part of you that was worried about him, about how he was handling all of this.

After the first week, you managed to pull yourself together enough to go back to work, knowing that you needed to start earning back the money that you’d given to the PI. You stayed with Karen a little while longer before she told you that you could go home, that Billy understood that you didn’t want to see him and he wouldn’t bother you anymore. That didn’t stop you from changing your phone number though.

The welcome home you received from Tammy was awkward at best but, to her credit, she tried to make you feel better. And, soon enough, you fell back into your old rhythm of working all day and spending your evenings alone in front of the TV. After three weeks, it almost felt like the last few months had never happened and that Billy Russo had been nothing more than a fever dream.

Eventually, things got easier; you didn’t cry yourself to sleep every night and didn’t wake yourself reaching for his body beside you. It still hurt to think about him - you were certain that it would always hurt - but it became easier to not think about him at all.

Until it came to pick the photos that you wanted to print for your show.

You’d wanted to just cancel the whole thing, but you knew you needed whatever money you could make from it. And there he was, one of the best candid shots you had, catching him as his lips were pulling into a smile - he’d been laughing at something Karen had said during his interview all those months ago. You didn’t want to use the picture but you couldn’t not, not when it was technically one of the best photographs you’d taken recently. Karen had given you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and, somehow, you managed to not break down.

Your brother had asked you to go to Connecticut to stay with him for a while and, without Billy as a reason to say no, you found yourself agreeing. A fresh start was just what you needed, but first you needed money, and that meant using that photo, even though it broke your heart every time you looked at it.

By the time the show rolled around, it had been almost five weeks since you’d last seen Billy so, really, you weren’t expecting what came next.

Things had been going well, the first hour of the show had been good, everyone seemed to like your work and, for the first time in weeks, you felt almost good about yourself, like things were finally starting to get better.

And that’s when you saw him.

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the sight of him, standing in front of a photo of himself, his back to you. His shoulder ticked upwards and, from nowhere, you felt that pang of sorrow in your gut, remembering how his shoulder had been hurt. But there was something else about him, something that felt off. He seemed almost slouched, he looked defeated already before anything had even been said.

Karen appeared at your side, her eyes quickly finding him.

“I’m sorry, I already told him to leave,” she tried to explain, keeping her voice low, obviously trying to avoid causing a scene, “I can get Frank to come get him so you don’t have to deal with him -”

“No,” you caught yourself saying, shaking your head, “it’s - it’s fine, Karen.”

“You don’t have to talk to him,” she offered softly.

“I think I do. I need this to be over.”

She looked at you for a moment and, obviously, she still had plenty she wanted to say to you but, for whatever reason, she decided not to. She just gave a nod. “I’m here if you need me.”

You hoped that you wouldn’t need her, you hoped that the small amount of peace you’d managed to cultivate over the last five weeks would be enough to face him and finally draw a line under everything that had happened so you could both move on. Moving slowly, you approached him and stopped beside him.

He gave you a cursory glance before letting his gaze drift back to the photograph.

“You’re the only person who’s ever made me smile like that,” he told you, already sounding defeated, like he wasn’t there to fight you, or fight for you.

“Maybe you’d be able to smile more if you weren’t always expecting the worst from people,” you answered softly, finding yourself looking at the picture, at the lit-up and carefree expression on his face. It made your heart ache to know he was hurting now, even if he did mostly bring it on himself.

“Yeah, that’s what people keep telling me,” Billy sighed.

A silence fell and you both let it linger, neither seeming to know what to say to the other. It felt like there was an insurmountable chasm between the two of you, instead of just three feet. You had thought that you would have more to say to him, you thought you’d vent your anger and frustration, and tell him all the things you couldn’t quite say the last time you’d spoken but, now, you just felt empty. It felt pointless. Billy had left a hole in your life and you weren’t sure you’d ever recover from it.

“I’m sorry,” he finally muttered. “I know it doesn’t mean anything now and it doesn’t fix what I broke, but I - I shouldn’t’ve jumped to conclusions, I should’ve talked to you first.”

“Is that all you wanted to say?”

“No,” he hesitated awkwardly, finally forcing himself to look at you, “I thought you should know that I read the file...”

It should have surprised you half as much as it did - you’d left him with a file containing decades worth of information on you, of course he looked through it. But, still, the thought made you feel light headed. Even now, when he no longer meant anything to you, you didn’t want Billy to know about your past.

“I need some air,” you muttered, turning and heading towards the fire escape. Billy waited for a moment before deciding to follow.

You pushed the heavy door open and stepped out onto the metal balcony, shivering the moment the cold air hit your skin. Billy followed after, letting the door close behind him and, suddenly, everything felt so quiet. You looked down at the street below and, then, looked up at the ominous clouds - anything to avoid looking at Billy.

“I would have helped pay off the PI if you’d told me,” he finally broke the silence.

“I told you, there are things about my past that I didn’t want you to know,” you pulled your arms across your chest as you turned back to finally face him, trying to ward off the cold.

“You didn’t have to tell me about any of it. I still would have helped.” He told you with that oh-so familiar stubborn tone. “There’s nothing in that file that changes how I feel about you.”

(Feel. Present tense.)

You shook your head.

“It’s not that simple, Billy. That file doesn’t tell the whole story and even if it did, I didn’t want you to know.” As much as you might have wanted to, you couldn’t keep the frustration from slipping into your tone. But, still, you were taken aback - you’d always assumed he’d want nothing to do with you if he found out anything from your past.

“I’ll never ask. You never have to tell me, I -”

“Billy -” you tried to interrupt him, tried to stop that train of thought before he got too carried away, but it was already too late.

“Just tell me how to fix this. I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t think you can fix this.” You told him and your stomach knotted when you saw a flicker of pain on his face.

“So you won’t even let me try?”

“I think it’ll hurt too much if you do.”

Another silence fell and you watched as Billy struggled, obviously fighting with himself, trying not to say the wrong thing and ruin this. You hated seeing him like that; you’d never seen him look so uncertain and unsettled.

“You’re not the only one in pain,” he finally muttered, “what you said, about me being able to turn my emotions off, that - I can’t do that, not with you. Not with us. Not having you in my life hurts too much; I can’t sleep, can’t eat. I keep playing that moment over and over, wishing I’d done things differently...”

“I don’t want to make you feel like that but -”

“I know I fucked up, I know I promised you that I wouldn’t but -” for a second he looked like he was really struggling to get his thoughts in order and force the words from his lips, “- but you don’t know about my past and the shit I’ve been through either. It’s hard for me to trust people.”

You realised that he was right; you didn’t know much about his past, not really, and you’d never really asked. Beyond the snippets that he’d told you about his childhood and his mother, and what little you knew about his relationship with Krista, you never really tried to find out anything about him. Honestly, you’d always just assumed that he was like you, that he wanted to keep his past in the past.

But, looking at him now, maybe that wasn’t the case.

“Maybe that’s why this would never work,” you sighed.

“Don’t say that,” his eyes found yours and he looked at you like it was the only thing he was certain of, “just because this isn’t easy doesn’t mean we should just give up.”

“You did give up, you thought I -”

“I was wrong, and I’m so fucking sorry, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop fighting for you.” He dared to take a step closer to you.

The way he was looking at you caused a shiver to run up your spine. You could see the desperation in his eyes and, a part of you, still wanted nothing more than to reach for him, to just give into the moment. But you had too much self-respect for that. (Or maybe it was fear, maybe you were just scared of taking him back and him hurting you again?)

“You said you loved me,” his voice turned softer and the space between you seemed to shrink even more.

“I shouldn’t have told you like that.”

“You didn’t mean it?” His voice threatened to break.

It would be easy to lie, to say you hadn’t meant a word, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him like that. You stayed silent for a few seconds, letting the question and your indecision hang in the air between you.

“Of course I meant it, I just - I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that,” you sighed heavily, “I was hurting and I said it because I wanted to hurt you back.”

“It did hurt,” he confessed quietly, “but it hurts more knowing that you feel like that and don’t even want to see me.”

“Billy -” you tried, but there were no words. There was nothing that you could tell him to change any of it or make either of you feel better, it felt too late for any of that.

“I can’t let this be over,” he told you, and the silence that followed felt deafening. The air between you seemed to crack with the sort of tension that you wanted nothing more than to ignore and push aside. Despite everything you’d told him, something inside you wanted him to fight for you, wanted him to prove you wrong and show you that he could love you despite what he now thought he knew about your past.

When you didn’t immediately tell him no, when you didn’t tell him that things were over, you allowed him hope that prompted him to move.

Before you knew what he was doing, Billy had cleared the small distance between you, kissing you so suddenly that all you could think to do was respond. You got caught up in the moment, fingers tugging at his hair, pulling him against you. It felt so good, so right to be in his arms again, that you barely noticed him lifting you, sitting you on the cold railing. Your legs parted instinctively, letting him press closer still as the kiss turned hungry and desperate, and you could feel how the moment was already affecting him.

You didn’t even realise that he’d undone his zipper until you felt his cold fingers slide beneath your dress and up your thighs, pulling your panties to the side. Every shred of common sense you possessed told you to stop, to tell Billy to stop, but when you felt his cock start to nudge its way inside you, all you could do was moan against his lips and grip his shoulders as he filled you inch by inch.

Of course, you knew it was wrong to give him any hope that he could repair your relationship - just one more inch, you told yourself, then you’d tell him to stop - but it wasn’t long until every throbbing inch of him was buried inside you. And it felt good. It felt better than it should. Even the ache of your walls stretching to accommodate him after so long without him felt amazing. You’d missed the feeling almost as much as you’d missed him.

“Billy -” you uttered breathlessly against his lips, not getting the chance to say much more before his tongue slipped between your lips again. You let him kiss you, let him slowly draw back his hips before pitching forwards again and drawing another moan from you, your walls slickening around him, coating his cock and letting him move with ease. “Billy,” you tried again, tugging his hair, trying to make him look at you while your pussy continued to tremble as he moved, “Billy, we can’t -”

“Yes we can,” he kept moving, the wet heat of your body betraying you. Your mind wanted to say no, but your body and the way it moved against him said yes. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

He kissed you again and, this time, it was almost enough to break your resolve, the steady thrust of his hips filling you with his cock so deeply that you almost lost your mind. Moaning against his lips, your back arched, legs wrapping around his hips as you took him deeper. Yes, you wanted to moan, fuck me harder.

“Billy, stop -” you managed to gasp, finally coming to your senses.

Billy stopped immediately and you felt his body tense beneath your hands. He didn’t pull out or put you down but, similarly, you didn’t release your hold on him. You could still feel him throbbing, just as unfulfilled as you were.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he repeated, his forehead pressed against yours, lips lingering so close that every word he spoke caused them to brush against yours. “Tell me you haven’t missed me.”

Of course he wanted to try and talk while he was still inside you and all you could think about was how you were practically dripping all over his cock. It wasn’t fair - it almost made you want him to finish before having the difficult conversation with you, but you knew that if he came inside you, or if he made you come, you’d never be able to turn him away.

“Of course I missed you, Billy,” you sighed, “but you hurt me, and fucking you isn’t going to fix that.”

“Then tell me what is,” he asked in an anguished tone that you’d never heard from him before.

“Put me down.”

Finally, he relented, pulling out and lowering you back to the ground, leaving your body aching and empty, unfulfilled and wanting. He turned from you to fix his clothes and you did the same, waiting for him to turn back, but the moment never came.

“You said you loved me,” his awkward and broken tone said it all, betraying his agony, and your heart sank, knowing that you’d just let things become a hundred times worse.

“I do, but what you did was -”

“You think I don’t know how fucked up it was?” His breath caught uncomfortably and you saw him shudder as his fingers ran through his hair. There was shame in his voice as he continued; “when Frank told me he caught you paying the PI, I felt like I was dying, it hurt so much. I thought you were -”

Another ragged breath escaped him and his hands moved to grip the railing.

“I told you that I couldn’t do this if you didn’t trust me,” you told him, trying to fill the awkward silence.

“I know and I’m so sorry,” his voice turned strained, like he was struggling to speak, and not just because of how upset he was.

You’d seen this before, that night in his bedroom. Panic, anxiety; he was struggling. But, as much as you wanted to reach for him, to hold him until it passed, you knew he wouldn’t want that and that it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t keep doing this.

“Tomorrow at noon, meet me at the coffee shop you took me to the day we met,” you offered as calmly as you could manage. “We can talk then. I can’t promise that things will go back to how they were, but we can at least talk, okay?”

“Really?” He still kept his back to you.

“Really,” you told him, knowing you needed to leave before you dared to reach for him. “I need to go back inside, are you gonna be alright?”

“I’m fine,” he forced the words in one shuddered breath.

“You’re not fine, Billy. And, I think maybe that’s something we need to talk about tomorrow too.” He didn’t answer but you heard him force another breath. “Just... go home and take care of yourself, okay?”

Billy grumbled something that you didn’t quite catch, but you knew you couldn’t stay any longer; for his good and your own. But, still, against your better judgement, you reached for him, softly placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. For a split-second, you were sure that you felt him relax, but the moment you let go, that awkward tension filled his body again.

Between that moment and pulling open the door, you changed your mind about leaving him at least a hundred times, hating leaving him like that, not knowing how long the episode would take to pass or if it would pass at all. But Billy wasn’t the only one who was hurting, and all the pain and emptiness that you’d spent weeks trying to overcome came flooding back, leaving you feeling more broken and miserable than ever.

The door closed behind you, separating you and Billy, and leaving you feeling just as alone as you’d felt after leaving Anvil that day. You froze, torn between going back to Billy and walking away, filled with an aching and a longing that only he could cause, and stuck with a terrible realisation; you still loved him, you were still in love with him, and no amount of pain or heartbreak would ever change that.

“Are you alright?” You didn’t notice Karen at your side until she spoke and you struggled to think of a way to answer her. Her eyes drifted to the door. “Is he out there? What did he say to you? Did he upset you? Do you want me to -”

“No,” you finally managed to force the word, “it’s fine he just - he needs a minute and then he’s gonna leave.”

As shaken as you were by everything that had happened, you didn’t want Karen marching onto the fire escape and making Billy feel worse.

“What did he say to you?” She asked, placing a hand on your elbow and slowly leading you away from the door and towards the bathroom so you could pull yourself together in private.

“He said he wants to fix things and that he’s sorry.”

“Did you tell him about Connecticut?” She asked as the bathroom door swung closed behind you both.

You let out a sigh, leaning against the sink and looking at yourself in the mirror for a moment. It hadn’t even crossed your mind to tell him that you were planning to leave New York and, once Karen had mentioned it, you felt sick. You’d agreed to meet him for coffee tomorrow, you’d given him a reason to hope, and that had been needlessly cruel of you.

“No, I didn’t...” you reluctantly admitted.

“You need to tell him,” Karen told you with an enviable certainty, “I know he hurt you, but it’s not fair to let him think he has a chance to fix things when you’re leaving.”

“I know, I just...” you shook your head, “what if I’m wrong about him? What if leaving is the wrong thing to do?”

“Only you can decide that. Billy is - he’s complicated and I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I can’t tell you what to do, but I know you shouldn’t stay unless you’re certain.”

“You’re right,” though your tone gave away how much you hated it, “I can’t keep expecting him to change for me.” You took a few deep breaths and returned your attention to the mirror, taking a moment to fix your hair. “I guess I should get back out there and try to sell some pictures.”

“Atta girl,” Karen smiled, “you get back to selling and I’ll go see what’s left behind the bar for us.”

When you stepped out of the bathroom, your eyes moved the fire exit for a second, wondering if he was still out there, but you quickly pushed the thought away; you’d see him tomorrow and, this time, you’d tell him that you were leaving and that it was over between you. The thought made your chest ache, but that ache was bearable, unlike the pain he’d caused you.

Forcing a smile to your lips, you started doing the rounds, talking to anyone and everyone who wanted to know about your work, distracting yourself from thoughts of Billy and tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty

END NOTES : I can't say anything because I don't want to spoil anything that's going to happen. But, if anyone is interested, this fic is now about 80k long and there's only (maybe) five chapters left (which is to say I have five planned but whether or not some of those will need breaking up into smaller chapters idk).

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this part and that it caused less emotional whiplash than the last one (sorry again for that). Thanks for reading, and thanks as always for the likes, comments and reblogs. And, if you're new to this story, hello and thanks for giving it a look! <3

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

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neonghostlights · 9 months

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A/N: So, here’s the final chapter. I just want to say thank you to those who have stuck around through this story. I read every comment I get and I’m truly appreciative of the support. We're picking up right where the last chapter left off.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Warnings: Natural disasters, Crying, Mentions of a Coma, Goodbyes, Parental death, Readers mom, mention of finances/money, not a whole lot of dialogue mainly just wrapping things up 18 + Only, Minors DNI

Wordcount: 3.5k

Part Sixteen

“Marry me,” was all he said before kissing you again.

Those words lit up your mind, making your heart skip a beat before speeding up again. Your knees felt weak and if it wasn’t for Eddie holding onto you so tightly you thought you might drop right there.

You broke apart, resting your forehead against his. The pressure of your body leaning onto his felt right. Like you were always meant to be touching Eddie in some way. You think you always knew that, even when you didn’t have your memories.

You didn’t know if anyone else in the room was speaking or if it had just been hushed to silence. Your ears rang a high pitched squeal and you weren’t sure if it was from having the Vecna shaped parasite ripped from your brain or the shock of Eddie’s sudden proposal.

But it wasn’t really a shock. Not now that you had your memories back and could remember Eddie and everything that you two had shared in the time you had spent together.

Your Eddie. The man you loved for all these years and planned to have a life with. Every moment that was stolen from you had been given back like a gift. This time, you weren’t going to let him get away. You weren’t going to let anything else ever rip you and Eddie apart.

You opened your mouth, prepared to say yes. Prepared to tell him all of the things you’d been dying to tell him. How much you adored him and never wanted to live a life without his love ever again.

This place could be your home together like you had always planned it to be. You remembered the days you would spend daydreaming how you and Eddie would decorate this house to fit the both of your personalities. Would you come back here on your wedding night with you still in your dress and him still in his suit?

But before you could say anything, the earth started to shake beneath your feet and someone started to scream.

January 4th, 1987

You walked through the empty house, making sure there was nothing forgotten.

You struggled with the feeling of forgetting things. It made you anxious. It didn’t happen often though and it was never anything significant. It was normal to misplace your car keys or not be able to remember what shirt you wore to the grocery store a week ago. But every time you realized you were forgetting something it sent you into a spiral. It made you afraid that he was coming back to haunt you again or maybe there was some sort of irreversible damage done to you that no one could ever fix. That wasn’t the case though, you were fine now. You were safe.

It was weird seeing nothing in your grandma's house; a place that had once been a home to you. But the damage was already done and you couldn’t fix it and bring it back to its glory like you had once planned to.

The second earthquake that ripped through Hawkins almost three months ago destroyed the town more than it already was. Vecna had truly planned to take this town down with him and he did. The cracks in the earth opened more upon his death, swallowing houses and buildings. Homes that were already unsettled from the initial quake crumbled even further.

Your grandma’s house was thankfully spared from collapsing but the damage was too much to fix and it was now deemed unsafe to live in. You had no choice but to sell it to the government for a criminally low price that left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn’t like you had a choice. They were taking over the town and closing it off due to “environmental reasons.”

You knew the real reason. No one was sure if the upside down was completely gone after Vecna’s death. Not even El could come up with an answer for you. Did the upside down exist before Vecna did or was it something that was attached solely to him?

None of you planned on sticking around to find out.

But the cracks in the earth still glowed red and the plants were still dying. So it was safe to assume something was still alive down there.

Today was the last day you could be in Hawkins, the government having cracked down after only giving the bare minimum amount of time for people to pack up their whole lives and find other places to go. Anyone caught here after midnight would be arrested for trespassing on federal property. You’ve already had that happen once and didn’t want to do that again so you were getting the hell out of here.

You had been living with Eddie and Wayne the past few months. Wayne was ecstatic when you showed up on his doorstep with your memories back and welcomed you in with open arms. He said he didn’t want to know the details, already too scarred from Eddie telling him everything that happened back in March. Thankfully, the trailer was far enough out of town to only be a little rattled. It was okay to live in until you found another place.

Wayne was like a father to you and you were so thankful for him taking you in. Him, your grandmother, and your dad had all given you so much parental love in a lifetime that it almost made up for all the shittiness your mom put you through.

Your grandma would raise hell if she saw the way you would tear up at the thought of closing the door to the house and walking away forever. She would tell you it was just a house and the memories were more important. It wasn’t your fault that you had been extra sentimental lately, wanting to hold on to every reminder possible just in case the memories slipped out of your grasp again.

You spun the engagement ring around your finger a few times. A new nervous habit you picked up since Eddie pulled it out of his pocket and slid it onto your finger those few short months ago.

You remember the day you spotted it in the antique store like it was yesterday. You couldn’t believe he had held onto it for so long. Even when you weren’t yourself he had kept it in hopes of things going back to normal one day. You weren’t sure if either of you would ever reach normal with having seen the things you had both seen but you wanted to get as close to it as possible.

A wedding date wasn’t set quite yet. The first order of business was getting the hell out of Hawkins. You had pooled what you had left from your father’s inheritance and did a little digging to find out you had been left way more than you were originally told.

The money had been hidden from you by your mom. She had played you, only giving you enough originally to pay for your schooling but the total amount that had been left to you from your dad’s life insurance policy was much larger.

It was so much that it didn’t seem like your dad had left her anything at all. She hadn’t spent it, so you weren’t quite sure what she was saving it for but it was a much larger amount that you would have expected. This was something she had hidden from you even before you lost your memory. It truly seemed like losing your memory was the best thing that ever happened to her. It made it easier for her to lie and easier for you to be controlled like a puppet.

You had gone to confront her one last time after you had gotten your memories back. The house you grew up in was spared by the quake and the inside was just as eerily clean as the last time you saw it despite the disaster that was happening in the rest of the town.

The meeting with her had gone as well as you had expected with a lot of false tears and denial on her part. That was until you threatened to call Hopper and get a fancy lawyer involved. She silently got up from the table without saying a word after your threat. You had thought that maybe she had suffered a mental break, maybe snapping at your words. But instead she silently retrieved a folder from her safe that had all of the information for the money that was rightfully yours, the deed to your house, and all of the documents you might need to live an independent life.

You didn’t take Eddie with you when you went to talk to her. He wanted to go, practically begging you to take him with you. You were pretty sure you heard the van circle block a few times outside while you sat at the table talking to her. It made you smile knowing that he was looking out for you just in case. He would never trust your mom, and with good reason not to. He was concerned that she might hurt you if you pushed her too hard. You were concerned too but it was a risk you were willing to take. You knew she wouldn’t answer any questions if Eddie was there. It would just end in another fight.

Where your mom was planning to go after the forced evacuation was none of your business. You saw her out in public only once after your meeting while you were donating some clothes to the emergency shelter they had set up.. She walked past you like she didn’t even know you. You wondered if one day you’d get a phone call or letter from her apologizing for what she had done to you and the way she had used you. You decided not to hold your breath or spend any time waiting for that to happen.

You heard a board on the porch creak from right outside the house, pulling you from your thoughts. You walked outside, locking the door behind you one last time. Eddie stood there waiting for you with a sad look on his face. He knew how hard this was for you. You wanted to walk the house one last time, but based on the state of it and the fact that Hawkins had something crazy happening every five minutes neither of you felt comfortable with Eddie going far while you were inside.

“Everytime I go in there it’s like I expect this to be a bad dream and all of the damage to be fixed,” you admitted as you took his hand.

You had to be careful walking on the porch, some of the boards were weak and there was a step missing. Eddie helped guide you down with a firm grip until your feet were both safely planted on the grass.

“I know it won't be the same but maybe you’ll end up loving the new place just as much,” Eddie offered, trying to make you feel better.

You sighed, thinking about all that you were leaving.

Steve and Robin were going to Indianapolis together. They would continue community college there and even got a job together at a record store. Robin had to vouch for Steve once again to get him the job.

The Hendersons were going to another town up in northern Indiana. It wouldn’t be too much of a drive for Steve to come visit them whenever he had the chance.

The Byers and Hopper household were going back to California together. With the exception of Nancy and Jonathan who were still on their college journey and had already gone back to school so they weren’t there to say goodbye to you with the rest of the group.

The Wheeler’s were going to Michigan where some of their cousins lived.

The Sinclairs were going to Florida. Lucas’s dad got a well paying job there and their house was close to the beach too. You knew Erica was excited for that.

Max and her mom would be going to California too to be near some family they had there.

You remembered getting the call from Steve only the next day after you killed Vecna that Max had woken up from her coma. It was a shock that none of you had expected. She still needed some physical therapy, and her eyesight would never be the same but she was alive and that was what mattered. Her and Lucas planned on doing long distance from their opposite ends of the country. It hurt to know that they were going to be separated again so soon after being reunited.

It was a relief when you saw her sitting up in that hospital bed once you got your memories back. There was an overwhelming sense of guilt that followed. You should have been there everyday visiting her while she was in that coma. It was hard to imagine the time when you had no clue who she was.

She was shocked to hear about a month after she woke up what had happened while she was out. She was mostly upset that she didn’t have the chance to kick Vecna’s ass before you killed him. She also promised you that if she was around for all of this then she would have had you fixed within a day. You had no doubt that she was telling the truth.

You had said goodbye to all of your friends yesterday. It was hard. How could properly say goodbye to all of the people you fought with and saved your life? El and Max were both the little sisters you never had. It was hard to remember that El’s presence had once made your skin crawl. But that was all Vecna’s doing because now that you were you again, you adored her.

Saying goodbye to Steve was hard too. You had grown up with him and considered him your best friend at one point. You hoped that one day your relationship could be repaired but it was still hurtful to think of the way he treated you when you didn’t have your memories. You knew he was just trying to do what he thought was best, but it still felt like he had replaced you with Robin. Even now, it seemed like they were way closer than you two used to be. You think that maybe that’s the way it had been for a while, even before you lost your memory and you didn’t even notice it happening.

“Got everything?” Eddie asked in a soft voice.

You nodded, wiping under your eyes as you looked up at the house behind you.

It was dark now without any light inside. The cracks in the foundation looked like spiderwebs crawling up the house. The inside was way worse off with deep, jagged cracks in the walls and a gaping hole in the bedroom ceiling.

It was time to let it go.

You followed Eddie silently to the van, the dead grass crunching under each step you took. Both of your belongings were already piled up in the back. Wayne had already left early in the day and would be meeting you at your new home. He didn’t plan on living with you for long, just long enough until he got his own place or “Wayne’s future bachelor pad” as Eddie liked to call it, teasing his uncle until he was red in the face.

You and Eddie had found your new home the reasonable way. And by that you mean you both closed your eyes while Eddie threw a dart at a map that he taped to his bedroom door. It landed on a small town on the east coast. You would be close to the shore which drew in a lot of tourists and you could already envision the life you could have there.

You and Eddie had already driven out there a few times since deciding that would be your future home. You found a place to live there and got registered to finish up your education degree in the fall. Eddie found a small mechanic shop that miraculously pays more than what he makes in Hawkins. For now he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stick with mechanics or venture into something in music. You told him that it didn’t matter what he chose, that you would stick beside him no matter what.

You both got into the van, hearing your things jostle in the back from the vans movement. You weren’t concerned about anything breaking. You had already tripled checked the bubble wrapped duck figurine to make sure it’ll arrive at its new home in pristine condition.

You glanced at where your car still sat in the driveway. You weren’t worried about taking it with you since it broke down again despite Eddie working on it constantly. It would be too much of a hassle to tow it.

“I’m not sure what to do now,” you admitted to Eddie once you were both buckled in and the van started.

Eddie thought for a moment. “I think now we just take things one day at a time. Or maybe even just one moment at a time.”

“How do we do that?”

“I think we can start by letting you pick the road trip music,” Eddie said with a smile, leaning over to you to nudge your shoulder.

You faked a gasp. “Me? Eddie Munson is letting me pick the music? It’s a miracle.” You placed your hand over your mouth in fake shock.

Eddie rolled his eyes and shook his head, putting the van into gear. “Don’t make me regret it,” he teased. You both knew he would be bobbing his head to Madonna before you even made it out of Hawkins.

Eddie backed away from the house slowly, like he was giving you time to give one last mental goodbye. You turned your head, not wanting to look at it anymore. Eddie noticed, deciding to speed the van up to get you out of there before you started to break down.

There weren’t many cars leaving Hawkins, only a few stragglers like yourselves but there was still a line built up by how slow you had to drive on the ruined roads. Most people left town as soon as the second earthquake happened, wishing they had left after the first one.

Seeing the destruction made you feel guilty. If you had known that this would be the outcome of getting your memories back then you weren’t sure that you would’ve gone through with it. You had to remind yourself daily that something good did come out of this. Max was awake and Eddie was alive beside you.

You still hadn’t told Eddie that the reason you lost your memories was because you made a deal with Vecna to save his life. It was all over now and he didn’t need to know that piece of information. You didn’t like hiding secrets from him but it would only make him feel guilty and you didn’t want that. As far as he knew, Vecna just chose you as a random, vulnerable target. Maybe one day you would break and tell him but it wouldn’t be today. Perhaps some day far enough in the future when all of this just sounded like some made up story.

Most of the roads in town were closed, leaving Eddie to have to maneuver through the dedicated detours with precision. A few government officials lined the roads, watching everyone leave their homes with blank stares. Eddie flicked them all off with a ringed finger.

You covered your laugh with the palm of your hand. Eddie smiled over at you when he heard it.

You followed the stretch of cars through the town and out the only open road that lead in and out. The trees were bare, leaning over the road in a threatening way. This winter hadn’t been kind to the people or nature of Hawkins.

Eddie looked over at you before speeding up when he spotted the sign.

You stared at it as you passed. The “Leaving Hawkins Hell” sign that they never fixed since it was vandalized in March. You hated to say that you agreed with it now. This place did become Hell.

You breathed a breath of relief as Eddie continued down the road. You felt the weight lift off your shoulders as you spotted Hawkins now in your rearview mirror. You looked at the profile of the man beside you, taking in the features that you had spent all this time relearning. It made you ache with the thought of how much he loved you. He loved you so much that he stayed in a town that hated him just because you were stuck there.

“I love you,” Eddie said, probably thinking the same thing you were.

And you could admit it now, with everything inside you and every broken, fragmented piece of your mind, that you loved him too.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson series #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst

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lunarfleur · 10 months

Text

Promise ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Tagging: @hiyaitssans @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @ggucafe

Warnings: low-key toxic relationship

A/N: inspired by Promise by Laufey. There’s some translated Spanish in here (not from Google Translate) so please lmk if anything of it is wrong 🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is x gender neutral reader!

I made a promise

To distance myself

“Baby, don’t you dare do this to me.”

You stood out like a sore thumb in his bedroom, his hoodie hanging loosely from your body. Your hands sat limp at your sides, watching Miles’s expression change.

“Miles, this…isn’t working.”

“What? We been working perfectly fine.”

His eyes bore into you, giving a silent plea. You watched as tears threatened to spill from his eyes, the same eyes you’ve grown to love.

But he knew you were right. He was so busy all the time, doing things that were beyond dangerous. He’d flake out on dates constantly. Some days, you’d wake in his bedroom at 3:00 am, completely alone.

“I’ll be better,” he always said.

“I’m sorry Miles.”

“But-but I love you, you know I do.”

“I know, Miles. This just isn’t right.”

“No me dejes, please.”

(Don’t leave me, please.)

“I’ll see you soon.”

Took a flight, through aurora skies

Honestly, I didn't think about how we didn't say goodbye

Just see you very soon

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

——————————————————————————

“Miles, man, how you doin?”

So I didn't call you

For sixteen long days

Miles didn’t answer. For a little over 2 weeks, he did nothing but stare at his ceiling. His bed, somehow, still smelled like you. There was a hoodie draped over his desk chair, the same one you wore when you left him.

He wasn’t upset with you. No matter how much he ignored it, he still knew he was ruining it, ruining you. Someone was bound to get hurt. More than anything, he was glad it was him.

And I should get a cigarette

For so much restraint

No matter how long I resist temptation

I will always lose

It was for the better, right?

In the 8 months you had been dating, you always somehow managed to end up missing Miles more than you could love him. Too many nights, you woke up alone. Too many of your texts had been left on read. No matter how many times he came back, he always left again.

You still had his hoodie, his favorite one. It no longer smelled like him, was no longer warm like him. It was nothing more than a reminder of everything you did, and everything Miles couldn’t do.

So, it was for the better, right?

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

Yet, you couldn’t forget about the nights he’d come back to you. Sneaking in through your window, trying his hardest not to wake you as he slipped into your bed.

Every time he held you, it was tight and close and warm. Every time he kissed you, it was sweet and loving. So many nights, you sat in his lap, kissing the night away until neither of you could breath.

“I’m yours, amor.”

I've done the math

There's no solution

We'll never last

Why can't I let go of this?

——————————————————————————

So I broke my promise

“Hi, Miles.”

I called you last night

“Y/N?”

I shouldn't have, I wouldn't have

“Hi.”

If it weren't for the sight of a boy

“What-what is it?”

Who looked just like you

“I’m sorry, really.”

“It’s alright. You deserved better.”

“But I-”

“Don’t. It’s ‘aight. You should be out there, living your life. It ain’t fair the way I made you worry about me.”

“I can’t stop, though. Funny as it is, I’d rather live my life worrying with you than not worry at all without you.”

Standing out on Melrose Avenue

“Volver conmigo. Please, I swear I’ll be better this time.”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

“Miles, those 8 months were-”

“Awful. I know.”

“You said you’d be better. You never were. How do I know you’re not just gonna break the promise again.”

“Cause, before, I guess I didn’t realize how much I had to lose.”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

It was all for the better. Right?

#Spotify #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #atsv #across the spider verse #laufey #promise by laufey #x gender neutral reader

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lavender-romancer · 5 months

Text

I'd Do Anything

Part Four Tommy Shelby x Reader

You met when you were sixteen and from there, your lives ebbed and flowed closer and further away from one another but there was always something that brought you together.

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

previous chapter

September 1918

It had now been three and a half years since you'd seen Tommy in person and some parts of you debated whether you fit into one another's lives anymore. Whenever you would eventually be reunited, nothing was guaranteed. The love you had before wouldn't be the same, you wouldn't be the same people or know how to interact like you did before. Everything would be so different. It was incredibly daunting but you didn't give too much time to those thoughts. You knew being close to the front of the second 1918 battle of the Somme was as close as you would get to Tommy for a while now. Assuming he was even in those trenches, the two of you hadn't spoken through letters for so long by this point.

You'd been writing to Polly the last few months. After many attempts to create a dialogue between you and Tommy you gave up, he wouldn't write back and soon you lost track of where his battalion was stationed. It seemed futile to try anymore so you wrote to others who wanted to hear what you had to say. Polly told you to focus on your work and not think about him. But it seemed harder with every day that passed, the more you felt disconnected from him. The string that had attached the two of you together since you were young felt like it was fraying.

Every small thing that had happened in your life felt insignificant when you looked into the eyes of soldiers. Your pain, your anguish paled in comparison to theirs. Even their eyes looked haunted, it was the worst at night on the ward when men would wake up screaming and then they would be sent back to the front once again. Sometimes they would beg to not be sent back, praying to God for their death to be quick and every night you seemed to be haunted by the possibility that Tommy longed for the release of death.

He didn't think he would be so close to the same front for so many years. He was only 25 miles away from where the Battle of the Somme had taken place. Digging out trenches for infantry and doing all the grunt work tunnelers preferred to their normal role underground. Tommy was just glad to not be back in La Bassée digging deep concrete dugouts during the cold winter last year. He was lucky he hadn't got frostbite on most days, it was relentless hours with few breaks and the constant anxiety that they would hit a mine or a water source that would flood the dugout.

Tommy never thought he'd be glad to be digging out trenches but he was, there was order and a method to all of it. After the Germans stabilised their trenches clay-kickers and engineers were ordered to dig stronger defenses with even deeper dugouts. All he could do was pray to a God he knew didn't exist that they wouldn't put him back underground. Mines weren't being used anymore but Tommy wouldn't believe he was free of the torment until the war was over. He couldn't do it again, he refused to hear the shovels again.

The Second Battle of the Somme ended in early September and you were reassigned to Hèbuterne. As you approached late October there were more and more whispers that a peace deal might be reached- irregardless of how impossible that seemed with the amount of casualties being reported.

The unlikely outcome of peace talks was reaffirmed when you were relocated again to Cambrai. There to give medical assistance to the allied forces pushing the German forces using tanks and other heavy machinery. In two days 12,000 allied men lost their lives and it was a victory. This fatality toll was better than earlier battles and you couldn't quite believe the brutality of it all. Soldiers recovering discussed how they had breached the Hindenburg Line. You wished you could talk to Tommy about it all, where was he? No one knew where tunneling units were given; it was supposed to be more secretive.

Your station didn't change for a while, you were to act as a walking wounded CCS and also a rest station for the XXII Corps. You always hated being a walking wounded CCS, it often felt like sending lambs out to slaughter after you had looked after them. Looking into those soldiers' eyes as you cleared them for duty after stitching them back up when all they wanted was to go home. Their eyes would plague your dreams more than when they would plead for a quick death, some of these men you had seen multiple times and by this point they wouldn't even plead.

After a week or so you walked into the huts to check on new patients as walking wounded was essentially a rotating door.

“Bullet only grazed you I see?” you asked, walking up to the first man.

“Y/n?” The voice asked and you looked up from your tray of sterile needles and implements. It was Arthur. The Arthur who had teased you and treated you like a brother for so many years, he looked like a frail shell.

“I-” you faltered before your eyes began to well up, it had been so long since you had seen anyone you loved that you didn't know how to react. Arthur just reached out and held your shaking hand.

“Come on, let's get this sorted and we can talk.” Arthur said softly, in the kindest voice you had ever heard. It refocused your brain, you went into an autopilot state of mind. You became a sister again, devoid of identity and there to help. After he was patched up your hands started shaking again and you both walked out to get some extremely watered down tea-it was essentially hot water.

The two of you sat down on a bench together, your dress covered in mud and a bit of blood on your sleeves, Arthur didn't look much different. There was a respectable distance between the two of you but you wanted to hug him so badly it was infuriating.

“I'm so glad you're alive.” Was all you could say.

“I could say the same for you. A lot of these places get bombed.” Arthur stared out at the littony of men under makeshift tents on stretchers.

“I'm not unfamiliar with it.” You paused, “Where have you been? Do you know where the brothers are?”

“I've been all around it feels like. Pulled from one place to another getting patched up and sent out again, it's a never ending cycle until I finally get shot on the head.” He spoke plainly and without emotion, every now and then bringing the mug to his lips.

“Cigarette?” You asked, offering him one. “I'm not exactly supposed to smoke but I don't know if it will matter after long, we could all be dead tomorrow.” Arthur brought out some matches and lit both of your cigarettes as you simultaneously breathed out smoke.

“I'm glad you're not in the trenches. I'm glad you're here but not any closer. I don't think I could take losing someone else, I haven't seen either of the boys in months, maybe years I can't remember.” Arthur looked up at the sky and placed his empty mug next to him on the bench. “It feels like time just throws you along, I don't think I've felt like a person until this very moment. I know I'll have to go home at some point but I don't think I'll ever feel human again.”

“Don't say that.” You turned to him.

“There's never just one direction, it's this fight then, this battle, then this wound, then this hospital and all of it round and round and round. My life is stuck in this fucking loop and my head… my head can't fucking live with it, I- I think I might be broken, Y/n.” Arthur looked at the ground with a sad expression, maybe it was pity for himself you weren't sure.

“There's rumors of peace talks.” You offered and he scoffed.

“It's just more fucking words. Words won't save anyone until they fucking mean something.” Arthur stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. “I need to report back, I think-” before he could finish you enveloped him in a hug that was so tight you thought he might burst. You held you close and sighed.

“I feel like a child when I hug you, like it all goes away and we're playing together in the street again.” You said quietly before drawing apart.

“It will never be like that again, Y/n. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can try to live.” Arthur said with such sadness in his eyes before turning and heading towards his commanding officer to report back.

It was only a month later when the bloody thing ended. Even later than the 11th of November when you could finally go home. Transport was full, boats even fuller and you feared catching some sort of illness so you stayed. Liaising with nurses near Cambrai to help locals with any medical issue, writing to Polly and even traveling around in a mobile medical vehicle to make sure no one was left behind. It took close to two months and you all but forgot that you'd missed Christmas when you arrived back in Birmingham.

At no point had you ever taken leave. You didn't see the point since you knew you wouldn't want to go back to the front and it was your duty to be there. What could you do in Birmingham? Run the betting shop? What would be the point when everyday people were dying and you could have helped prevent some of it? No, you had made the right decision.

Tommy didn't know what to do with himself. He stared up at his ceiling with a blank mind, his eyes sunken with dark circles. How could he sleep when he heard the same thing, the shovels. The war hadn't killed him but he was convinced that he could be the one to do it.

“Thomas,” Tommy heard Polly call “Come downstairs.” He regrettably stood up and rubbed a hand down his face before walking downstairs, hearing surprisingly happy voices.

“I thought you'd never come back!” Finn yelled excitedly before jumping into someone's arms.

“She wasn't going to leave any of us, were you dear?” Polly asked with a raised eyebrow and then he heard your laugh- there was less emotion behind it.

“How could I ever leave such a troublemaker like you! Someone's got to give Polly a break.” You put Finn down and smiled at him.

Your gaze rose to the man in front of you, Tommy. Your Tommy. He didn't look like the man you remembered but you didn't care, you walked toward him and enveloped him in the same hug you gave Arthur months ago.

“I'm so glad you're alive.” You whispered close to Tommy's ear and his arms wrapped around you timidly at first before pulling you even closer.

It was your smell that made Tommy emotional. Not replying to letters kept home at an arm's length but when he had come home for a weekend's leave it would always be Finn asking for you that left a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew it was wrong to thrust you away with a lack of replying but he just couldn't do it.

“Tom, where is she?” Finn asked in a quiet voice as Tommy sat by the fire still in his uniform taking his boots off.

“She might not have been allowed to come home yet.” Tommy answered.

“But you're here? Are you not together?” His eyes looked even sadder.

“We both have important jobs but they don't work together,” Tommy paused. “I miss her too.” He replied looking into the fire.

“Why couldn't you come home?” Tommy buried his face in your neck and his words were slightly muffled. Polly pulled Finn by the hand and took him into the kitchen to give both of you some time.

“What did you say?” You asked softly, pulling back slightly. Tommy's head was bowed a small dim beam of light highlighting his jaw perfectly- his hair flopped over his face and you noted to take him to the barbers soon.

“Why didn't you come home?” He asked quietly and your breath hitched in your throat. “I understand what it's like out there. Polly and Finn won't understand but I do, even more so and I came back.”

“I couldn't bear it.” You said after a few moments, you walked forward and sat down on one of the steps of the creaking stairs. “I didn't know if any one of you was alive, I couldn't face this house without any of you. If I focussed on my work, on my routine, then I didn't think about if you were dead.” You looked at Tommy as he sat next to you, “You stopped writing. I thought you might be dead and Polly didn't have the heart to tell me.”

“Writing to you gave me solace at the start. When we all thought it would be over soon with some fucking diplomatic intervention,” he laughed coldly. “The further it got into the nightmare the more I didn't want to bring you into it.”

“Everything has changed from who we were before. But we can trust one another like never before.” You put your hand over his.

“And why can we trust one another more than before?” He asked with a slightly concerned face.

“Because at one or multiple points in the last few years, we have seen death or thought we were about to die. We're both broken.” Your finger traced up and down the top side of his hand.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, until Tommy turned his head to look at your face and the both of you hadn't realised how close you were. You had both aged and matured in different ways, both of you had a sadness behind your eyes that had never been there before. Being plagued by memories of such intense suffering had an impact, long hours and lack of proper nourishment making the two of you look very different to how you remembered. But it didn't matter, you were each other's person in one way or another. Leaning your foreheads against one another, your head's went quiet for a moment- you couldn't hear the screams of agony and Tommy could no longer hear the shovels.

Peaky blinders taglist: @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315 @lovemisshoneybee Series taglist: @swordofawriter @jessimay89 @globetrotter28 @marcysbear

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby angst #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfic #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinders tommy shelby #peaky blinder imagine #pre war tommy shelby #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby fiction

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adaptacy · 6 months

Text

A Found Flame {Pt.2}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: Gonna cross-post this to AO3 eventually once I have more of an idea of how the plots gonna go cause you all have convinced me to full-send it and make it a longform thing. just adding it to the list of wip.... a sincere apology to my tcm fics.... anyways! i love my little depressed magic-cancer nerd and im glad im not the only one. here's more of him :) [it wont all be angst, but i gotta set the scene and the stakes, yanno...?] ALSO 'a found flame' is just the working title, idk what the official one is gonna be but i'll let yall know when i figure that out

Word Count: 3.1k

Stepping outside grants you an opportunity to taste the last flavors of the fading winter, only feeling the quick spikes of a chill every few minutes, and even then, it’s only thanks to the setting sun. You still wear a purple velvet shawl, as per the request – well, demand – of Gale. He insisted many moons ago that you shouldn’t ever risk getting sick when you can take measures to avoid such a fate, and you’d decided it was much simpler to go along with it than to argue your safety. That plan was cemented when he purchased you a finely tailored purple shawl, the edges of the hood and cloak lined with lynx fur, dyed a dark pink to complement the thick purple velvet that made up the majority of the shawl. A gift that nothing short of surprised you, even had you fooled into believing you’d been dreaming when he presented it to you. Why he was so particularly fearful of the cold, you weren’t sure, but you deeply appreciated the gift, and even if you did enjoy winter’s nip, the shawl was both gorgeous and comfortable, and you’d be insane to leave it behind.

Gale was also particularly sensitive to cold weather, from what you could tell, which likely had a role in his passionate bias against the chilliness of post-snow air. Frankly, you were fine with the occasional runny nose in exchange for a chance to wander down a snow-dusted forest trail, and you didn’t mind a shiver here and there while you caught free-falling flakes that Waterdeep was ever so rarely granted.

The garden, however, was much like Gale – hardly a fan of the cold. Gale did not have a green thumb, but he still shared similarities with the plants you tended. Those plants that, currently, were dead and buried. While you’d managed to convince him to try his hand at herbalism and gardening, he had more of Bhaal’s touch with the sprouts than the ‘magic’ touch he so often joked about. It was amusing, and a little pitiful; the exasperated sigh and the troubled frown that followed your breaking of the news, that his poorly packed and overwatered plants had passed. He was dramatic, and managed to find the humor in the situation, though vowed to let you handle anything to do with seedlings and crops from that point onwards.

It was unfortunate, as you appreciated his entertaining company (even if it came mostly in the form of griping, displeased that he had to get so up close and personal with dirt and worms) around the garden beds, but it allowed for moments like these. Truth be told, you had no intention of gardening. You would have to wait another twelve dawns until any useful plants would be back in season, so planting anything this late in winter would be a waste of both time and resources.

Instead, you aimed to explore a small forest trail that you’d just recently discovered, not far from the tower you stayed at. To say you lived there felt like too strong, too certain, of a term. It was the only place you slept, and nearly all of your time was spent there, but you knew it wasn’t home. It was Gale’s home, and you were a mere guest. A sixteen-month-and-counting guest, but a guest nonetheless. You worked, your apprenticeship laboursome and sometimes really quite demanding, and Gale repaid your loyalty and assistance by giving you a place to stay. You’d just never planned to stay so long.

In all honesty, you expected it to be a very temporary arrangement. You suspected Gale felt the same way. But circumstances changed, and so did minds, and you didn’t see yourself leaving anytime soon. It helped that you got along quite well with your boss-slash-roommate, despite the differences in personality and age. You were comfortable with the way things were, and Gale had just recently begun to sprout ideas of passing his own spell-casting knowledge on to you, with today’s lesson being a prime example. When you weren’t helping out around his home, or running errands for him, or tending to the garden, you were most usually subjected to reading long passages from books that were once very far above your understanding.

If Gale was a master of anything, it was surely knowledge. You’d found it odd, at first. Spending all of his days wasting away in his tower, just reading, rotting into a hermit, you’d assumed. But you’d soon gained an appreciation for his boundless mind, and felt almost honored that he’d decided you worthy of learning from him. Being a wizard’s apprentice had never been in the plans, not even as a fleeting hypothetical, and yet you found yourself in that exact scenario – and enjoying it nonetheless!

Glancing down at the small woven basket hanging from your arm, you frowned, lost in thought. Gale taught you a lot, and he still had plenty left to teach, but by no means did that translate over to you really knowing the man you shared a house with. He taught from books and scrolls, and on a few spare good days from his own vast experience. Even with all of the lectures he gave, you found that any details about him that weren’t related to magic, or your lessons, were all quite lacking. What you did know about his personal life was almost purely from observation.

Well, a few times when Tara had made a passing comment about some personal detail and surely was later scolded for it, but those were few and far between. If anyone were to blame for your curiosity, it was most certainly the man himself. He loved preaching the importance of curiosity, exploration (despite rarely leaving the confines of his study), and seeking knowledge, and you’d be a rather poor apprentice to disregard such lessons. Or, arguably worse, cherry pick when you applied those lessons to real world scenarios.

Most recently, your nose for curiosity had picked up on the notably pungent scent of Gale’s behavior. It was unusual, slightly withdrawn, perhaps a little panicked if you truly squinted between the lines. Gale was predictable, for the most part – it was one of his traits that had earned him your trust in the first place. Though as of recent, he’d been rather strange. And not the typical Gale kind of strange – an unsettling, uncharacteristic strange. One that you knew better than to ask questions about, but one that certainly sprouted confusion.

You neared the edge of the forest, giving the pale trees a smile as if to promise your peace. Pausing just before the tree line, you peered into the woods, interested as to what you might discover. You proceeded, following a very faint trail into the woods. You had a pretty solid confidence in your navigational skills – otherwise you most definitely would’ve gotten completely trapped in the maze of a city that was Waterdeep every time you ran any sort of errand – so you weren’t particularly concerned with getting lost.

Allowing your thoughts to return to Gale, you reminded yourself that you weren’t really lying to him. You definitely weren’t going to the garden, but you still planned on harvesting plants. You’d known him for almost a year and a half, and you knew the gist of what he’d been through, what with his mentorship from Mystra herself – which was so cool, and he was way too casual about it – and his strange appetite thanks to the Netherese orb that had become one with him. All that aside, however, you didn’t know many details about his past. For as chatty and sarcastic as he was, you couldn’t shake the feeling he had a good number of secrets he withheld from you, and big ones at that.

Of course, Gale was entitled to his privacy, and you didn’t want to intrude or push his boundaries, but it was impossible to ignore the signs of unease. His constantly drifted mind, his long breaks between lessons, his increasingly frequent requests. Or the way that he’d direct you to read a passage from some folktale or other, only to remain silent for several moments after you finish, gazing longingly past his balcony. He’d been consuming more artifacts than usual recently, and gained a sudden eagerness to push real world practice into your schedules. Not that you minded the inflow of new information, but it didn’t seem to come from a place of excitement. Instead, you figured anxiety; judging based off of the common rapid bouncing of his leg, the messy-and-messier spread of his books and trinkets – especially when compared to how well-kept the place always was whenever you’d started working under him – or his new tendency to forget what he had and hadn’t asked of you, or which lessons he’d already covered, or hell, where he had last placed his staff.

Well, what better way to get someone to open up and relax than with a hand-picked bouquet and some herbal tea?

Even if he didn’t spill his guts to you, he certainly needed a pick-me-up. Sure, you already did a lot for him, but he did a lot for you, too. Maybe even more than he realized. He deserved a treat.

– – –

“Though it may be bold of me to say, I estimate they’ll be a fine caster someday.”

“Bold indeed, Mr. Dekarios. Awfully bold. They quite nearly began trembling at the idea of a mere fire bolt!” The small beast chirped back, seated firmly atop his desk, pawing at a small fuzzy ball that swung from a thin string, easily entertained by the simple contraption.

“Even I stumbled; all beginners do. Time is all they need. ‘Time heals all wounds’, is that not how the scriptures read?” He asked, sticking his tongue out and running the tip of a long harpy feather over it.

As he dipped that same tip in a vial half-filled with a thick, clear liquid, Tara quickly outstretched a wing, the end of it not-so-accidentally hitting her companion in the face. The startle nearly caused him to knock over the bottle of magic ink, his torso leaning forward as he just barely managed to steady it with both hands, and he glared at his familiar out of the corner of his eye. She merely stretched out her other wing, feigning obliviousness before eventually looking back at him. “You are still the same fool who summoned me all those years ago. You are a prodigy, Mr. Dekarios! You were half their age then; to compare your ‘stumbles’ to the incompetence of a commoner such as them is exhaustively inconceivable.”

“Tara, I implore you to exercise patience. They are a fine apprentice, and they certainly have the potential for brilliance. Am I not a competent mentor?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, intending the question to be at least somewhat thought-provoking, but the only reaction he received was Tara turning her head away and murmuring something too quiet for Gale to hear. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he knew her well enough to predict it was something snarky, and he didn’t bother investigating. He dipped the large quill again, unable to recall if he’d already wet the tool, and the liquid dripped off of the tip, shimmering in the glint of the fading sun as it rejoined the rest contained in the bottle. “Why is it that you repudiate all of their attempts to bond with you? Surely you don’t think them ill-mannered?”

“‘Ill-mannered’, he says,” she mocks, her tail flicking in irritation. “It is not their civilities that I have quarrels with. It is the expectations I deplore.”

“Expectations?” Gale repeats, his palm flattening against his desk, pressing out the sides of a contorted scroll, the tip of the feather hovering over the yellowed paper.

After solving her own deliberation, the tressym turns around, her wings folding against her sides, her tail curling around her paws. “Have you no fear that your confidence is misplaced? Mr. Dekarios, do you not worry that they may fall short in your plans for them? That they are not up to the task you have decided to burden them with?”

Gale’s irritated gaze softens, his hand relaxing, coming to join his other hand in resting on the desk. The clear liquid on the quill drips onto the parchment, becoming a black dot in an instant, the weave-infused iridescent ink soaking seamlessly into the paper. “I fear nobody could ever truly be capable. But my options are limited, and my few select choices are each disheartening in their own cruel ways.”

“Evidently, you have already made up your mind. Why is it that you allow them to remain oblivious? You know better than anyone how dire the circumstances are.” Tara’s paws slide forward, her belly laying flat on the desk, and she plants her head atop of her mitts.

Gale moves his hand, letting the paper curl up without the weight, to gently scratch Tara’s head, her pitying purr drawing a sigh from his own chest. “I am but a ticking time bomb. Hardly much of a man these days,” he chuckles dryly, looking around the dust-riddled mess that he still called a study. It would be nothing short of anarchy if it weren’t for his apprentice, and he’s seen it in far worse shape, but it doesn’t quite shake the quiet guilt that rocks in his stomach at just how far he’s fallen. Gale is usually quick to excuse his carelessness as an incurable consequence of his age, but he’s well-aware that his energy is not merely being lost alongside his youth.

The artifacts he consumes have only ever satiated a part of the orb’s appetite. Never quite satisfied – a commonly reoccurring trait of those Gale finds himself engaging with – the sortilege feeds off of him as well. The incantations he recites and the thaumaturgy he practices only grows stronger – more powerful than Gale could have ever predicted or wished for – while his body withers away as though his very anatomy is actively being shredded, and relentlessly so, to make room for spells that he now dreads casting.

It doesn’t help that his learned reliance was only ripped away from him when he truly needed assistance. When the man who once considered himself the smartest in all of Faerun was clueless about his own condition, the only person who could possibly have the answers disappeared.

Now, Gale was left to clean up the pieces. He understands this is his own doing – that he was, and still is, a fool. Once blinded by greed, a greed that led him to being blinded by love, a love that led him to being blinded by desperation, a desperation that led to him being trapped by fear. A fear that now has settled, more or less. Present as ever, but no longer unfamiliar, no longer a new addition to Gale’s emotions.

His hand returns to the paper, and Tara steadies her sights on the bottom of the quill, watching as it twirls, imprinting promises and bittersweet apologies onto the scroll. Words he couldn’t possibly utter aloud, but words that couldn’t be more genuine. The recipient deserves more than a written explanation and cursive laments, and he’s aware of the injustice he’s manufacturing, but he is a terribly faded man who is cursed by a deficiency in time and yet finds himself with so much left to do. He decides it is better a raven on her doorstep than his ghost, lacking any explanation.

Each day, he wakes to find his chest a little warmer, his hands a little shakier, his hair a little thinner. And each day feels like his last. He is entirely helpless to the foe that resides inside of him, of all places. Incapable of defending against something that has already breached his castle walls, and even more useless as it has latched under his skin, reducing him to nothing more than a habitat. He hosts an aberration that has grown far, far too large for its enclosure, and who threatens to rupture its cage with every breath that he dares to draw.

He’s held out for long enough. He’s lived longer than he ever imagined possible, but he knows his limits. The truth stings in places untouched by the Netherese’s reaches; his forced composure starts an ache in his face, but he knows better. With a sharp inhale, Gale rolls up the paper, setting down the large brown feather as he retrieves a thin, fraying string, tightly wrapping the letter up. He even finishes it off with a neat bow, a force of habit, and he sets it aside, leaning back in his chair.

The moon is just barely visible now, approaching the stars and creeping over the mild coverage of the stone railings on his balcony, and the wizard watches the white giant rise. Some unburied, deep sense of longing reflects in his eyes, where the moon also resides, though she is much smaller and much dimmer. There’s movement on the desk, but Gale’s eyes aren’t yet drawn away from the beauty of the night. Then there’s a weight in his lap, and a purring against his stomach, and he lowers his hand to rest on Tara’s back, gently stroking, enjoying the silent tranquility.

‘Mystra’s moon’ he used to call it. He’d tell her he could see her in the shadowed curves, but he isn’t sure if he ever really did. Maybe in a dream, long lost to him now. The moon that watched over him tonight was certainly not Mystra’s. It was bright, encasing the room in a beautiful blue, and the gaze it returned was a soft one. Free of judgment, free of stress, free of difficulty.

“I reckon I’ll be up there soon,” he exhales, feeling his familiar curl up in his lap. “Ruling my own section of sky. Perhaps I’ll even have purpose. I can’t help but wonder what it’s like.”

“Peaceful, I suspect. An eternity of peace, at that. What a prospect.”

“You’ll join me some day?”

The feline purrs out a quiet chuckle, her tail curling around her body so the tip rests on her nose, bundled perfectly atop his thighs. “Of course. I can only go so long without a self-warming bed.”

Gale smiles, his hand falling still on her back, though his thumb continues to run up and down her fur. “Give them a chance, will you? They can’t do it without guidance.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Tara reassures, her tone much softer now than when she spoke of his apprentice earlier. “Do wait for me up there. I’ll be by your side before long, Mr. Dekarios.”

“I set out tomorrow night. I’ll inform them of what they need to know.”

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #gale dekarios x reader #gale bg3 x reader #gale dekarios angst #gale bg3 angst #gale dekarios x reader angst #tara the tressym

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st4rboyhere · 1 year

Text

Moonslight 2

The outsiders Master-list

Dally Winston x male reader

@saaiimaakii @multiple-godgasm @tomdayasdaughter @jamesisbisexual @milos-a-bitch

A/n: I wanted to give this to you guys as a Christmas present but it didn’t work out so here’s a new years present ig??

Idk man I’m really tired 😭

This gotta be the shittiest smut I’ve ever written.

Happy new years though!!

Word count: 1,615

Summary: After a heartfelt conversation with Dally, the two of you yearn to see each other before the morning comes.

Warning: This is a MLM fic!! Those under sixteen, use she/her or she/they pronouns and Identify as a female please DNI. You will be blocked.

Not spell-checked!!

This one-shot contains:

Talk of Homophobia, public-ish sex (parents are below reader), hair pulling, slight frotting, dry humping, blowjobs (Reader receiving) making out, top and bottom aren’t specified but Id say they’re both switches, both characters are above the age of 18 because Dally Winston never died. L bomb.

—

You let your back fall onto your mattress, holding the phone close to your chest, your heart thumping.

You tried your best to calm yourself down but you couldn’t control the giddy smile that formed on your lips at the previous call. You felt like you were on the clouds, the feeling of being aware that Dally really did share the same the same feelings as you.

And now the two of you would finally see each other after months of not talking.

Holy shit you were going to see him.

You jumped off of your bed, rushing towards your closet to get a coat.

The phone dropped onto the floor and you tripped over the cable, falling and not hurting yourself too much, making a loud thump that you prayed your parents didn’t hear.

The last thing you wanted was for them to come up to your room and ask what exactly you were doing up so late.

By the time you zipped your jacket up, you realized you hadn’t exactly planned a place to meet with Dally and it wasn’t like you could call him and ask since you were highly doubtful of the possibility he was still in a payphone booth.

There was also a problem with going outside too, either it is peeping neighbors or the possibility of running into another soc who would most likely be drunk and you wouldn’t want to explain to them exactly why you were walking the streets late at night.

You felt dumb and rethought everything you said on the phone, wishing you set another date to see him instead of being so impatient and hanging up so quickly.

Even wishing you had rejected him fully.

Falling back onto your mattress, you looked up at your roof and tried once again to calm the feeling in your heart.

Second thoughts on the whole situation began to form in your mind and you started to feel better that Dally wasn’t coming.

You prayed it was truthfully a joke to play around with your feelings. After all, why call after ignoring me for weeks?

So many girls would feel lucky if they ever found out Dallas Winston had them in their hearts but you were the exact opposite.

And you were no lady.

Of course, you couldn’t deny your everlasting love for the man but there was a reputation you needed to keep up.

As much as you loved Dally with all of your heart and the time you’ve spent together is the most wonderful moments you’ve ever had, you didn’t like the thought of having to hide it from everyone.

A Greaser and a soc already weren't a good match, but a boy and a boy would get a riot out of the town.

You’d hate the thought of having to be separated from Dally, but maybe it would be better that way.

The sound of a small tapping you assumed to drizzle coming from outside sweep away your thoughts and you realized you had left your window open earlier today.

Not wanting any raindrops to get through you went to close it before just falling asleep and looking for Dal the next day, if he still wanted to see you.

You moved the curtain to the side, jumping back just a little when you were met with Dally's eyes, almost falling back onto your floor. He gave you a cocky grin when you looked at him in pure shock at his appearance.

Opening your window just a little bit more so he could get inside you hit him on the side of his head and he cackled, grabbing into your sides to keep his balance.

His lips instantly found yours, brushing against them and wasting no time to use his tongue to part yours for you.

Before he got any further you pushed him away, head practically spinning at your first half-kiss.

“C'mon, what’s the problem,” Dally asked, taking a small glance at your eyes before looking down at your lips and pouting.

“Dal, my parents are downstairs-”

Said you wanted to see me though,” he said, pushing you down onto your bed.

His hands continue to examine your body as if they had been waiting their whole life and you began to realize that may have been the case.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he touched you like this though, the only difference was his hands were sliding under and his intentions were as clear as day.

“Hey man seriously,” you say as you get up from your bed, reaching under your shirt and holding Dally's hands in place, “my parents are downstairs and I don’t wanna wake them up.”

He thought for a while, letting his hands slip off your skin.

He paced the room for a while, shaking his head up and down comically before tapping his foot on your floorboards as hard as he could.

You glared at him while he pressed his ears onto the ground, listening for anything.

But the house remained still and with that he tackled you back onto your bed, kissing you once again.

His fingers eagerly reached for your zipper, pulling it down along with your pants.

You sighed and threw your head back, hands finding themselves entangled in his hair, your palm rubbing his scalp as you watched him pull your boxers down just enough for your cock so spring out.

His hands felt so much softer than you imagined, and even though he was just pumping your cock it was so much better than when you were doing it yourself.

“Fuck you’re so pretty..” he whispered almost to himself, bringing his head down, slightly licking your tip.

You could feel yourself about to burst but you tried your best to hold it, too embarrassed to cum early.

His bludge was almost as painting as it was for you not being able to cum as it was for him to have to deal with it.

You reached your hand through your body and reached for his cock to palm him through his tight jeans, relishing in the gasp he let flow through the kiss when your hand squeezed it.

Dally pressed down on your pubic bone, hand leaving your cock to keep you still, not letting you move. He smiled at the playful whine you let out in frustration.

God, he just wouldn’t stop slurping on your balls and it was becoming hard to hold it in.

It would be worse to cum on his face and gross him out.

You took a hold of his hair again, trying your best to pry him off of you. He let out a sound similar to a whine when you pulled at his strands, letting your cock out of his mouth pop out of his mouth and smack against your stomach again.

His tongue remained extended on your head, reposing there. Cupping his cheeks, you lifted him off.

“I think we should stop,” you asserted, mind still filled with previous pleasure, sure that your sentence came out wobbly.

He looked at you, obviously confused and awaiting an answer, which you weren’t sure you could give.

“Do you..not want this?” He asked, distancing himself away from you but keeping his hands leaning on your sides.

“Maybe not with my parents in the house,” you slightly whispered, giving him a small smile.

You wanted this but the fear of someone catching you disturbed a potential orgasm you were dying to release.

“I need you though.”

It was hard to deny Dally of anything, especially when he was staring at you with those gorgeous eyes.

“I mean I guess you could just grind on me..”

It sounded stupid, you knew that. There was no chance in hell that he would take up that offer and climb out with cum stained pants-

“Sure.”

Your mouth nearly dropped to the floor, quickly clenching when he pushed you down back into your pillow, grabbing onto your chest, straddling your hips.

Without wasting a moment, he started to move his hips up and down, not bothering to pull your pants back up, the friction provided by the fabric against your cock feeling heavenly.

One of Dally's hands left your chest, moving to your face your cheeks, and squishing them together to bring you in for a kiss, sucking on your tongue.

You wrapped your hands around his waist, squeezing tightly onto his flesh as you bucked your hips in time with his.

He dragged his tongue on your lips, panting and smashing his hips into yours for a stop. A loud moan escaped his lips while he rutted into you.

His cum drips down to your thighs, cold and slick as it continues to fall down your thighs and onto the bedsheets that you had just recently changed and knew your parents would question why you were changing them again.

You rutted your hips as much up as you could into Dally with the pressure he was exerting, practically screaming so loud he had to smash his lips into yours as you came onto his jeans, some mixing with his and running down your thigh and leaking into his pants.

Reaching between your bodies one last time, you put your hand into his pants, rubbing your fingers against his tip.

He hissed, too sensitive from just cumming though he still ground into your palm.

Taking your fingers out of his jeans, you brought your fingers to your mouth, licking his cum as you stared him in the eyes. He let out a laugh before flopping onto his side.

He kissed your other hand bringing it to his face and resting on it.

“I love you.”

#dally x male reader smut #dally winston x male reader #dally x male reader #dally winston #smut #x male reader smut #x male reader #outsiders smut #the outsiders

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hexalianrebel-blackfeathers · 1 month

Text

Squid Surge

Panda’s Notes: We all know Olivia Octavius is prime ler material, but in 6 whole years, I haven't seen a thing. So here's a thing. >w< Blame @carrie-tate for this one. I love this picture.

[Ao3] || [Cookies Found: 0] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

There’s something about staring into the pulsating epicenter of an interdimensional rift that changes you.

There’s something about losing your lab’s main source of funding that changes you too, but that’s neither here nor there.

The last few months were spent on research. Peter Parker had reportedly been 26 years old when he died…Spiderman had only appeared in the city about a decade ago, give or take. It had been barely a year after that first appearance when she and Spiderman became recurring enemies.

Sixteen years old. Maybe seventeen. She’d been fighting over and over—reworking and redesigning machine after machine—to fight a child. It was a bit funny, to say the least; in fact, it explained a lot. His terrible humor; his exaggerated voices for those first few years; his…unorthodox plans.

…She would miss him. In a sense, of course.

The universe is a funny thing though. Hardly a day after Peter was gone, three entirely different Spider-characters had given her a hell of a fight in the woods just outside of Alchemax. One of them being a nearly-identical—not counting the obvious difference in age—Peter Parker, and another with the ability to turn completely invisible. Now, that was something.

The one with the invisibility power; he’d first appeared in the Alchemax building alongside that second Peter, in a terrible store-bought spider suit and barely able to use his ability consistently. It was kind of adorable, like watching a kitten’s first attempts to climb. In the heat of the chase, it touched something human deep inside of her—She’d have to make a note to fix that—and she couldn’t help teasing him a bit in the moment.

The next day had been the collider’s final one. Six Spiders in total, five of which disappeared through the fluctuating rifts. She’d made the mistake of believing the smallest one—who showed up in a black-and-red suit after showing off his invisibility—was a seventh variant, but it’d only lasted a moment. The others had recognized him; they were so happy to see him. It might have felt nice to kill him, in that moment.

But she hadn’t; she honestly didn’t fully remember what happened. She awoke on a hard surface, her pneumatic arms clutching for purchase on something. Blood was running down her face and some bone somewhere was definitely broken. The whole chamber was filled with light in colors she had never imagined. The air was being pulled toward one of the portal generators; the temperature shifted wildly as everything swirled, and for just a fleeting moment, she had a glimpse into a web of something infinite and indescribable.

So, yeah. Minor Existential Quandary. No big deal. Not an issue at all.

Recovery was an interesting time spent between different casts and braces, readjusting actuators and programs. No one took much notice; lying low between the chaotic moments was something she took a sort of pride in. The news droned on in the background every time; the word on the street was a particular, brand-new black-suit Spiderman. She was curious about him; she admired his sacrifice. But days turned to weeks, turned to months. He didn’t disappear; he didn’t falter; if anything, he was improving quickly for such a small thing. He was supposed to be here, in this dimension.

That brings us back to this. She’d wracked her brain trying to remember that night. The whole week had become a bit fuzzy with the head injury, but something stuck about. Miles. Spoken like a name. She’d heard it a few times during the encounters they’d had. They were all just so talkative, weren’t they?

Hacking into databases wasn’t necessarily a strong suit of hers. Not to say that it’s hard, but it’s nowhere as easy as robotics. Miles is an interesting name to search for too, all things considered. Not common enough for her to scrap the search entirely—Like Peter, funny enough—but not so rare that the hunt was a simple handful of clicks. And she adored a good puzzle.

Now, how to narrow this down… If the precedent held true, the kid would be under 20 years old. Great. That removes…40% of the results. That’s still a few dozen in the area though, less puzzling now and more downright luck.

…Olivia doesn’t really believe much in luck. What she does believe in is probability. Such as, if someone were to, say, spread an itty-bitty little rumor through the proverbial criminal grapevine about a new secret project Doc Ock was working on; well, then the probability that such information would get to Spiderman was nearly 100%. And then, the probability that Spiderman would simply have to infiltrate Alchemax to confirm such a rumor was…

Actually, that brings us to the present. The brace on her leg kept the occasional aches from distracting her; the one on her wrist had just become a habit from weeks of routine. She stood in her personal lab, making a few final calibrations. Frankly, the timing was impeccable. The tablet beside her, showing schematics and diagnostics for the mechanism on the table, had a small grid of dots in one corner that shifted from green to red in a sort of line before only one dot stayed red. She tapped the grid, making it the focal program on the screen, and she smirked to herself as she lifted the apparatus enough for it to attach itself onto her back. It felt lighter; less metal hidden in the tubes definitely helped. The arms lifted her weight off the floor easily; that part hadn’t needed any changing.

“One last thing.” She finally spoke, pulling her glasses off while one of the arms passed her goggles into her hand. “I’ll need to test the new program; it’d be so nice to have some assistance~” She pressed the red dot on the tablet, and a loud hiss suddenly came from the ceiling behind her, quickly followed by a startled yelp. She turned with a grin, finding a flailing partial-silhouette made of fire suppressant powder. “How nice of you to drop in, Spider-Man.” She taunted playfully, lashing an arm across the room toward him.

He dodged to one side, perching himself on a table as he let himself become visible again. “I-I—How…?” He stammered out, ducking away from another arm trying to grab him.

“It’s a temperature detector, sweetie, not a person detector. In fact, I had to increase its sensitivity just for you!”

He glared at her—Don’t ask how she can tell—before lunging to one side and attempting to rush at her. She had lifted herself up and backwards to stand on the workbench, and Spider-man flinched as all four arms lashed toward him. He fired off a web, attempting to pull himself out of the way, but she managed to catch him by one ankle and drag him close enough for another arm to coil around his wrist. The claw shoved into his hand, blocking the trigger on that web shooter as he flailed nervously.

“Huh, the speed adjustments paid off too.” She grinned, tapping her chin as she watched Spiderman grab at the plastic tubing.

“This is the secret project I heard so much about?” He let out a huff, and she could feel the air tingle as sparks started to jump off of him. “Can’t say I’m impressed.”

Her smirk didn’t falter at all. “Sorry, Miles; I made a point to keep this design completely insulated from electricity.”

He froze up completely. Oh. She actually hadn’t meant to let that slip so early. But given his reaction…

“I don’t—” He tried to speak, but the new anxiety was dripping from his voice.

“So that is your name!” Olivia laughed. “Honestly, you Spiders really should work on keeping your mouths shut during these little fights.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Octavius.” He growled, looking away and prying harder at the claw on his wrist.

She eyed him skeptically, shaking her head. “You can play tough if you want, but I do have to tell you: You were wrong earlier; my secret project is actually this little program.” She emphasized the statement by running the command, leaning casually on the workbench as she was set back on the floor. Two of the remaining arms moved suddenly, the claws squeezing gently at his sides. The reaction was instant and, frankly, hilarious.

Spiderman let out a panicked sort of noise, his free hand grabbing at one of the offending claws. “A-Aye, watch it; tell your vacuum tubes to keep their hands to themselves!”

Olivia let herself chuckle, twirling her finger casually in the air as the claw on his other side mimicked the motion. “Oh, come on now, Spiderman; you think I’ve never heard that one before?” She taunted, smirking as she watched him squirm. “Besides, it’s not like they’re doing anything; you’re fine.”

She waved her hand dismissively, pretending to turn her attention elsewhere while both claws suddenly moved faster. The gentle squeezes became very purposeful kneading from his hips to his ribcage, and Spiderman—Miles—kicked wildly as a startled laugh managed to escape. Olivia glanced back at him, crossing her arms and hoping her sarcasm didn’t show too much. “You still alright up there?”

Miles was definitely glaring at her if his tone was any hint. “You’re doing this on purpose…” He tried to growl, but it sounded a lot more like stifled giggling.

“Doing what~? I’m not doing a thing. The program is just a maintenance tool. Keeps all the joints working, like cracking your knuckles.” She tapped her chin. “Unless, of course…”

“Shut up.” He snarled, trying to scrunch himself up as both claws crawled tauntingly slow up his sides.

“…You’re ticklish.”

There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other, and electricity jumped off of Miles’ hands again.

Olivia sneered as she let the claws strike; one of them resumed the pattern of squeezing up his side while the other tickled mercilessly under the arm he was dangling by. And wow, it really shouldn’t be this easy; this was just unfair. Miles actually burst out laughing, his escape efforts redoubling in the form of much more aggressive kicks. Olivia simply kept her distance, chuckling as she pulled the tablet on her desk closer to make a few notes.

Reaction times were good; pressure calibration seemed accurate; minute motions were apparently quite realistic, if that squealing was anything to go by.

“Are you having fun?” She taunted, reaching to sneak a poke on his stomach and snickering when he nearly connected a kick through his laughter. “I think this is fun. Now…” She tapped her chin as she examined her notes…

Logic and Opportunity… In a situation where a problem is presented, these two will balance in some way. Most people, when an opportunity presents itself, will try to logic out the surrounding circumstances to decide if the opportunity is truly worth taking at the time. A computer, however, gathers all the logical information it has, determines an optimal solution, and when an opportunity to perform that solution appears—

…This is all to say that Olivia finally lashed out with her remaining actuator, the claw snatching Spiderman’s mask off of his face.

Oh…This feeling again.

Spiderman—Miles—looked shocked for a second, the momentary joy in his eyes giving way to a panic that was…primal, to say the least. Fear that everything was going to fall away. The sight of impending death, and the knowledge that you aren’t ready.

Olivia hesitated. There’s something about staring into the eyes of the kid you had made deliberate plans and attempts to kill that changes you.

Both of them were frozen; his face was hard—determined—but it didn’t disguise the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. His mind was completely blank.

What was she thinking? She realized quite suddenly that she hadn’t fixed that pesky humanity. His face softened as she thought; her expression must have changed.

What had actually changed was that her arms had lowered him closer to the floor, the grips of the claws loosening enough for—Right, they were fighting. He wrenched his hand, opening the claw on his wrist enough to pull free, and he broke into a sprint the second he hit the floor. She reflexively pulled herself out of the way, stumbling slightly as her legs hit the workbench. Olivia looked quickly around the room, only to find herself alone. His mask had fallen to the floor; he wouldn’t leave without it. She was about to adjust her goggles to shift filters, but a familiar crackling over her shoulder caught her attention. She felt a hard shove, most of the electricity absorbed by the apparatus as the arms moved to keep her from falling. Static tingled through her shoulders as she turned to face the boy standing poised on her desk. She could handle this; she just needed to focus.

[ERROR!]

The message flashed in the corner of her vision, and Miles squinted at her, apparently spotting the backwards text through her goggles. She fell suddenly to her own feet, the actuators shifting as the device on her back sparked. A dull ache shot through her spine; they weren’t responding to the neural link. Not really a great time for that, but nothing she hasn’t dealt with before.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t prepared for two of the claws to start tickling her sides, and Miles stifled a laugh at the giggling snort that escaped her. Yeah, actually, forget that poignant revelation she just had; she’s still going to kill him.

“You little brat!” She barely managed to get out, her tone nowhere near as accusatory as she’d wanted through her own growing laughter.

He stepped back slightly when she staggered forward, and he crouched on the desk, resting his chin on one hand as he watched her crumble with a slight smirk. “Y’know, you’re right; this is kind of fun.”

Now, he was the one to hesitate, not that she was able to focus fully on him or anything. She heard his web shooter fire, and the mask was snatched off of the floor. There was a faint tapping before he gave an exasperated sigh. “¿Cómo encuentras algo?” He huffed before, suddenly, the actuators went mostly still. They still spasmed occasionally, and when they attempted to retract back into the apparatus just left three of them deflating on the floor.

[EMERGENCY OVERRIDE ACTIVATED, SHUTTING DOWN]

She’d barely caught sight of the message through the slight haze in her eyes just before her goggles darkened and deactivated. She took the time to catch her breath before she pushed herself up, one of her hands moving to rub her side as the giggles faded away. Spiderman was gone, as far as she could tell—Smart kid—but her glasses had been webbed to the ceiling. Smug little brat.

Olivia fished one of her many spare pairs out of a drawer on her workbench, sighing as she pulled the tablet closer and flicked through the different programs. A thirty-character access code later, she was scrolling back through the security footage for this room. One of the angles had a crystal-clear shot of Miles’ face. The ideas that must have been running through his head to put that much fear in his eyes…

No one else had access to these records until the security backup at the end of the night. Olivia valued her privacy more often than not.

Logic and Opportunity. When a situation presents itself, a computer will logic out a solution and perform immediately when the opportunity arises.

Olivia took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. She deleted the footage.

A dot on the grid program shifted subtly from red to green, and she smiled.

There’s something about humanity that changes you.

#tickling #a panda writes a thing #miles morales #olivia octavius #spiderverse tickle #itsv tickle #atsv tickling

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noellerain · 10 months

Text

• Arabella [Luca Kaneshiro x fem!reader]

Warnings: smut, spitting, huge age difference (sixteen years), curse words, vague mentions of violence in Luca's past, implied sexual acts in ShuVox's part, Alban is Luca's nephew lol [please let me know if I missed some! Thank you!]

MINORS DNI!

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

It’s a summer night and the wind is hot and dry. Had he known how disastrous that date would be, he would’ve ditched it and opted to stay home with his little nephew. They would watch cartoons all night, or maybe set up the toys he bought for him a few days ago after a job well done at school. He’d be in his sweatpants, sipping root beer and he’d watch the little boy run around the living room, letting time pass by. Maybe– just maybe– you’d be there too.

But nope. He wore his best suit, and asked you to babysit his nephew until he comes back. He could only groan in regret while he walked briskly down the sidewalk. You came on time, just as you always did. You were out with your friends, you said. But you came as soon as he called. And while he subtly stared at your black crowning glory, a few strands caressed by Midas’s selfish hands, your round eyes that possibly held all the secrets of the universe and the way you bore your entirety with such grace, confidence and innocence… As if that wasn’t enough, you stood close to him, fixed his necktie and when he took a deep breath and smelled papayas in bloom, he swore that it made his head spin.

It’s wrong. He knows damn well it’s fucking wrong. You’re sixteen years younger than him, fresh out of college with your life ahead of you. And he’s old, way past his prime. He knows that and he sees that the first thing in the morning when he looks at his reflection on the mirror: his salt and pepper hair that he dyed a few times before eventually giving up, the wrinkles surrounding his eyes that were testaments to the laughters he had throughout his life, and even the tattoos that are symbols of fearlessness and his dominance in his organisation as a mafia boss had started to fade. The multiple scars, wounds and scabs he got on the job that represent each trial he had surpassed were now deeply embedded in him. So much that those became one with his skin.

He had a fair share of experiences when it comes to women. But what we had with those women is something different. Being the leader of his organisation, he had no time nor could hardly care less for a serious relationship. Those women were a one-time fun. Flavours of the month. Beautiful and confident women who knew what they wanted and who knew what he wanted. And the most important requirement? No strings attached.

He may sound crazy, and no one might believe him but the moment you moved in next door, befriended his menace of a nephew and could easily go inside their home and hop around the house wearing his large apron, clean up after the little boy and make his life bearable… no. Not bearable. In fact, in the last years he spent with different women who only wanted his deep pockets, women who slept with Mr. Kaneshiro and woke up with Luca, only you made life thrilling again.

He raked his fingers through his long, blonde hair before pressing the doorbell button situated at the side of the large gates. He glanced at his wristwatch that read 7:30 PM and he thought… Surely, they aren’t doing monkey business up there, yet?

He had been friends with four men for many years. They were there through the bestest and the toughest of times.The only thing is that three of them are now facing the greatest challenge in a human being’s life: the incessant and non-stop ticking of time.

The infamous detective had retired, enjoying the rest of his time. Every now and then, authorities get caught up in hard detective work and that’s when he’s summoned. The novelist is now living in a province with the love of his life. He’s still writing stories under aliases, his craft getting better like fine wine.

The other two… well, there’s a little secret about them.

“Good evening, Luca.”

He looked up and saw Shu. Unlike his physique that had seen better days, Shu still looks the same after all these years. Beguiling eyes and smooth porcelain skin… except now that he’s standing in front of him, wearing a loose haori in black and red ombre. His neck and collarbone were littered by red and purple marks, some of them are even bleeding. Luca could only groan and shake his head in disbelief.

“Shu, it’s freaking seven in the evening!”

Shu could only rub his forehead in embarrassment and chuckle lightly. “I’m sorry… it’s just, you know, Vox’s been–”

“I don’t want to know the details. Please– Please spare me from knowing, Shu.” Luca pleaded. Shu just nodded shyly and opened the gate a bit wider for Luca to go in. However, the blonde man seemed to hesitate.

“Nevermind, Shu. I… I’ll just…” he took a few steps backward, and that’s when Shu reached out his hand and squeezed Luca’s shoulder tight.

“Come on, Luca. Get in. Let us know what happened.”

This is not his first time visiting the household. But he always got chills whenever he stepped inside and saw the red and black interior of the house, with a touch of violet on the decorations. Their other two friends might have gotten used to what is now the status quo, but Luca is still adjusting and still can’t wrap his head on how, why, where and when his demon and sorcerer friends started knocking boots.

“Hello, big guy!” Vox greeted when he stepped out of the master’s bedroom, wearing a matching haori. His arms were widely opened when he walked towards Luca, immediately wrapping the blonde man in his arms. Luca shivered. He’s still cold to touch even after so many years but the embrace was tight and sincere, reminiscent of his father’s.

And just like Shu, Vox still looks the same. Smooth, porcelain skin, long black hair with streaks of red but this time, his eyes are in the pinkish colour rather than the usual red. When they met each other’s gaze, Vox’s eyes went soft. Just by the exhaustion plastered all over Luca’s face, he already had a gist of what happened.

“I’ll go get you some whiskey. Vox…” Shu looked at Vox. The demon immediately turned to his lover whose brows were deeply furrowed and his hands were clutching the sleeves of his haori. Vox could feel his tension hence, he gave him a reassuring smile before cupping his cheeks and planting a long kiss on the forehead to which Luca smiled at. So many years had passed… yet the love and warmth he felt from the two remained the same. He felt at home with the familiarity and kept it close to his chest.

“I got it from here, darling.” he whispered.

You were in the deepest part of the ocean. No, you weren’t drowning. You were just slowly being carried away by the currents, sinking deeper yet never reaching the rock bottom. You continued to drift in the darkness alone with the beating of your heart. It has always been like this, you thought. So often that you’ve become one with the darkness, and the water could no longer knock your breath away.

But suddenly, a light appeared at the surface. A hand dipped down the water, and using its firm yet gentle grasp, it held and pulled you up. Your eyes shot open, consciousness gradually coming back to your body. You looked up and saw him. You felt his hand on your shoulder, thumb pressing on the straps of your summer dress. He’s blocking the harsh light coming from the lightbulb, and in his position, little strands of hair that couldn’t be tied in a ponytail, were falling.

Luca. The voice inside your mind rolled his name out gently. Your mouth hung ajar, taking little sips of air to fill your clenched lungs.

“Good evening. Why did you sleep here? You could’ve used the guest bedroom, you know.” he asked, his voice the perfect amalgamation of hoarse and smooth. Deep and light.

You looked around and saw that the television was still on… Oh goodness. What time is it? You brought your hands to your eyes and rubbed them while you slowly stood up. He retracted his hand on your shoulder and sat down next to you on the sofa, watching every little move you make.

“I was just watching this… uh, drama while waiting for you. I didn’t even notice that I fell asleep already.” you explained in the middle of a yawn. “Alban has been excited since I came to babysit. We played all day and he helped me cook– oh, right. Did you already have dinner? We cooked some tonkatsu.”

Luca looked at you for a few seconds before he slowly shook his head, a shadow of a smile appearing on his lips. With that, you stood up and went to the kitchen to heat up leftovers. He stayed on the sofa, eyes following every sway of your dress’s hem, while the conversation he had with Vox kept playing in his head over and over and over again.

“I knew right off the bat that all she wants is money.” he explained to Vox while he sipped on his glass of three fingers of rye whiskey.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Luca.” Vox gently said. “Would you perhaps want me to ask my beloved to make you a love potion?”

Luca fell into a pit of laughter. “What?”

“No, I’m serious. We can talk to him right now and he can make you a potion that could attract women who are dead serious in finding love just like you. My darling is that amazing.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t want that, Vox.” Luca told him, shaking his head. “I… you know. I want what you have.”

The sudden confession made the demon’s eyes go a tad bit wide. He pursed his lips, contemplating his friend’s words while Luca downed the rye in one go. Moments passed and the demon uncrossed his legs and walked towards Luca, who was leaning against the counter.

“You know…” Vox trailed off, looking quite unsure on where he should start. “That was flattering. It really is. But for me, buddy, I think… I think you already have it. I think you’re just looking at the wrong places.”

Luca felt his heart skip a beat. He knew what and who Vox was talking about. Slowly, then rapidly, he shook his head, shutting down the possibility as quickly as possible. “No, Vox. It’s just… you know. It’s awkward. She has a life ahead of her. I don’t want her to be with a pathetic old man like me. Everyone is going to say something. There’s only so much I can filter and protect her from.”

To which Vox replied with a smirk, “Luca, I didn’t mention anyone.”

The demon patted the blonde’s shoulder, whose lips sealed in an instant, and said, “I know. Everyone is going to say something. It’s natural, especially we’re beings that are capable of thinking. And just like me, there’s only so much I can protect my beloved from. But you know… I would rather die protecting him than not being by his side at all.”

“Luca?” You called out while waving your hands in front of his face. He seemed to be in a deep thought for a few seconds before he finally blinked, and looked at you with those soft, jet-black eyes that made your heart squeeze.

“I… the food is ready. Don’t you wanna eat?” You asked. He didn’t say anything. He just smiled and stood from his seat. You swallowed the lump in your throat and boldly grabbed his hand that was limply hanging on his side.

“Come on, it’s good! Alban said he made it with lots of love!” you exclaimed and dragged him towards the kitchen, pushing down the bubbling giddiness and warmth surrounding your stomach. His hands were bigger than yours, rough and coarse. But they felt warm, comforting… safe.

“Sit, sit, sit!” You urged him to the table where a plate of steaming rice and tonkatsu sat, waiting for him.

You noticed that he remained standing, looking at you. For the past year that you’ve moved in and became close with his nephew and him, you’ve always thought that there’s something about him that’s so bright. The brightness that reminds you of the sun each day you wake, its beautiful and majestic beams pouring through your window.

He may be a tall, large man who intimidated Alban’s playground friends, but he is the same man who gave up many things just to keep his nephew safe. You know what he’s capable of– heck, he was a mafia boss. He sat down with you on the sofa and confessed what you needed to know over glasses of white wine a few months ago. And though you may not know how the mafia works, you know that it’s dirty business, and a roll of dice can cost you more than you paid for. You’ve seen enough movies and read too many books to have an idea how dangerous and dark it is.

But he was a mafia boss.

It was in the past. Bygones be bygones. Because right now, he’s just the fun uncle who accompanies his nephew to school events, joins the mom community in their zumba and yoga sessions, and the neighbour who was kind enough to help you unload boxes during your moving day. He was the one who helped you with your resume and recommended you companies to apply for, the one who made sure you walk on the safe side of the road, the one who ditched his date just to fetch you from work while it was raining and the traffic was heavy, the one who takes note of the little things about you and remembers them, the one who makes you laugh with his incredibly different sense of humour, the one whom you can sit with for hours, talk with or be with in a comfortable silence just watching TV or watching Alban play, and the one who sat down and opened his heart to you– took your hand, and walked you through his past that was inked with blood, the stench of sins that were masked by the scent of lavender and baby powder. He showed you how the big transition of his life took place and told you about the peaceful future he’s working on.

God, the urge to say out loud to him how much you wanted to be a part of that future he’s talking about. To stop looking for someone because you’re right here.

“I see you,” he whispered. You looked at him, face contorted in a frown. You didn’t quite catch what he had said. He only smiled and said once more, “I see you, my Arabella.”

Then he brought his face close to yours. Your eyes almost crossed by the proximity. You can smell the pungency of alcohol, and his scent of musk and wood. And in a matter of four deafening heartbeats, you felt his lips softly land on yours.

Your head spun. What? What was happening?

He wanted to say sorry. Sorry for not being able to keep it in but he also wants you to know that he tried his best for the past months. How it took him almost everything to stop his fingers from tracing the curve of your nose, the bow of your lips, and your nape down to the arch of your back.

He ran his fingers on your scalp, your hair gliding in between his fingers. Your lips tasted of strawberries and rosé, a flavour so intoxicating and dizzying. He cupped your jaw, pressed harder– wanting more and more of that sweet taste while he whispered, “Sorry, ‘m sorry, baby.”

You’ve always thought that it must’ve felt like seeing stars. Blinding light in your eyes, your tight grasp to rationality slowly letting go as you transcend higher to the skies, away from the ground. You couldn’t be anymore wrong.

It was messy. Your lips were swollen by the time you felt the cushion behind your back. The hair tie that was keeping his hair in a ponytail was long gone, strands of his golden locks tickling your flushed skin while his lips smothered wet kisses on your navel. Your summer dress was discarded on the stairs, and he impatiently ripped the white, button-down shirt he’s wearing. He threw it across the room, left to gather the floating dust coming from the moonlight spilling through the window.

It was uncomfortable. Your arms were crossed, legs shut. Your eyes were closed, not daring to look him in the eye. This isn’t how you imagined your first time to be. You wanted it to be certain, and you laid there with a bit of sanity left, wondering in fear of what happens after.

“Hey, hey.” he called, his voice gentle and soft. His hands cupped your jaw, thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.”

And you did look at him, threatening tears blurring your vision. You put your hands on top of his, cheeks snuggling to the base of his palms. “I… I just don’t want to give you something–”

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I love you and we can stop here if you want. It’s okay, baby. I love you and we’ll figure things out, okay?”

You felt hot tears sliding down your cheeks, his fingers were quick to wipe them away. Without inhibitions and hesitations, your hands reached out for his jaw, his stubble tickling your fingers. You pulled him close and kissed him ferociously and longingly. Your legs started to relax and soon felt yourself open up, his chocolate-dipped fingers leaving butterfly kisses on your inner thighs. You felt him in, and you fought real hard to hold his gaze. Memorise him. Take pictures with your mind, prove to yourself it isn’t a dream.

He wanted to seize you with his hands and embed his body in yours. Til your bodies become one– he would crawl on your skin and bask in your warmth, be close to your heart and savour its every beat.

His hands situated on the plush of your thighs, fingers squeezing the smooth, plump flesh. His eyes were in daze, staring at you while your lips went down on each wound and scar that he once tried to hide from you. Yet here you are, planting light kisses on each one, reminding him that those scars are his and that there’s nothing to be ashamed of because regardless, he’s loved and accepted. Your fingers delicately traced each line and curve of his tattoos which are symbols of his bravery and the representations of his positions in that society, a world you’ve never been before.

He sat up, held you by the waist and pulled you close until your bodies were almost combined. His lips sank into the nook of your neck, each suck and bite knocked your breath away. Your fingers combed his long hair and gathered a few strands once you reached the ends. You brought those golden strands to your lips, gently pecking and inhaling their scent. You lightly chuckled once the sweetness of the flowers wafted through your nose.

“Hmm?” he hummed after hearing your small laugh and feeling the light vibration of your body. You shook your head and pressed a kiss at the top of his head.

“Nothing, sweetheart. For a big, tough man, you smell rather sweet.”

“I’m a big tough man?” he asked, eyes shining in awe. It reminded you of an adorable and energetic golden retriever. You threw your head back in laughter before nodding, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yes, you’re my big, tough man, Luca.”

His eyes were tightly shut, his body almost close to convulsing while he held the back of your knees while your feet were hung in the air. Fuck, fuck. Strings of profanities bombarded his mind while he held you close, trying his best to calm down and not scare you. But how the fuck could he do that when you’re this fucking tight? He held to that last string of sanity he has like his life depended on it, reminding himself to take it easy.

“Slowly, please…” you begged, lips buried on the flesh of his shoulder. Your hands are on his back, freshly-painted nails digging his skin. In the middle of it all, you have half a mind to suppress the noises coming out of your mouth, in fear that Alban, who was sleeping next door, might hear.

But there’s only so much you can do. Because when his hips started to snap, and your breath was knocked away, body bobbing up and down– fuck– you lost it. No, there were no stars that appeared and shone brightly in your eyes. What you’ve seen were his jet-black eyes that held your gaze while he continued his ministrations slowly.

“Come on, baby. Hold on to me, yeah?”

“Hmm.” you hummed and melted into his arms, your hips started to snap in sync with his. You heard him groan, which– heavens above– made your insides clench. You took it as a cue to continue and go faster, meeting him halfway through.

It was too much. By the time you reached the one hour mark, the blanket you stuffed in your mouth was dripping wet. Your voice is long gone at the back of your mind, throat dry from the lewd noises that never faltered to slip out for the past hour. Your head is spinning, body spent and filled to the brim. But you refused to let go, legs tightly wrapped around his waist while he bent you in half, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept a faster pace and rhythm. His one hand was encircled on your neck, while the other was cupping your cheeks.

Your throat started to itch and in a desperate attempt and twisted plea, you opened your mouth wide, tongue slipping out, begging for a drop of water in the middle of Sahara. He understood, puckered his lips and spitted. The thick blob of saliva fell on your tongue– tastes like whiskey– and you swallowed hard, an act that made him go even more feral.

You laid down on the bed, time suddenly became an unknown concept while your eyes went in and out of focus. You heard the door creak, and you wanted to turn your head and look at him but your body felt like it wasn't yours anymore: tear-stained cheeks, limp arms, sore legs and aching back. The euphoria was now dissipated, replaced by the kind of silence that was slightly nagging, begging to be acknowledged. He came into your vision and even though it hurt, you couldn’t help but to smile. He reached for your hair and fixed some of the mess before wiping your entire body with a wet cloth.

His hands, big and calloused, dipped in experience and blood suddenly became like Alban’s. Clumsy, shaky… heck, even a little queasy. While he was washing the cloth, he still couldn’t believe what just happened. He could still feel the softness of your lips, the intensity of your gaze, your scent all over him that smelled like ylang-ylang. And heavens… the small whimpers and moans that he had secretly wondered and thought about before… Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was supposed to be one kiss and a confession. How did it end up like this?

“Sorry.” he whispered while he wiped your stomach using the warm cloth.

“Hmm?” you hummed, way too out of it to even comprehend what he had said.

He retracted his hand and looked at you again. God. Even if your hair’s a mess, your body is marked with his tattooed kisses, you still look so beautiful. A goddess. Or maybe an angel sent from above that he doesn't deserve. In a low whisper, he said: “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” you asked in a tiny voice, your eyes starting to blink slowly. Hypnos had arrived, and was slowly cradling you in his arms.

“I didn’t… I’m sorry. I really am. I wanted you to know how much I love you yet–”

“I love you too.” You said with what’s left of your voice. Once those words came out, your heart almost burst into millions of butterflies, lifting the heavy load up, up and away.

His eyes went wide, mind slowly registering what you just said. Soon, a smile slowly creeped in on his face. You couldn’t help but break into a smile, too. God. If you could only move your arms, you’d pull him in for a tight hug and whisper to his ears that you love him, how much you care for him and Alban, and that he made you feel so, so loved and cared for tonight more than all of the men you’ve gone out with for the past years combined.

“So don’t say sorry, okay? I’m really, really tired and sleepy, Luca… but I love you, okay? I love you and we’ll figure it out…”

Those were the last words that came out of your mouth before you slipped into the darkness and fell. He pulled the blanket up and laid down next to you. Strange. The bed used to feel huge, and no matter how much he covered himself using either a blanket or a duvet, it never felt this warm.

Your hands immediately grabbed onto him, your cheek pressing against his chest. And when his palms held the arch of your back, you felt cold to touch. He pulled you even closer, tangled his legs with yours… Then while he waited for sleep to come, he stared at your peaceful sleeping face, in awe of how tiny you looked in his arms.

Finally, after so many months of hesitations, and searching in the wrong places, he finally has someone whom he shall treasure with the entirety of his heart, along with Alban. Someone who listened to him, didn’t berate and leave him even after knowing his past. He finally has someone who cares for him and Alban, someone he’d be delighted and absolutely honoured to care for, love for, and spend the rest of his life with… oh, wait. That’s looking too far in the future. But he’d let you know tomorrow morning how he intends to make it come true.

He pressed a kiss at the top of your head and inhaled your scent, wishing it would linger on the sheets, on the pillowcases and on him.

“I love you. I love you and thank you, my Arabella.”

•••

Noelle: AO3 saw this first teehee :D [inspired by the song Arabella of Arctic Monkeys]

Thank u for reading!!! 🥹

©noellerain

#luxiem x reader smut #luxiem x reader #luxiem x fem!reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader smut #shuvox #shu yamino x vox akuma #alban knox #luca x reader #luca x reader smut #[noelle's works (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)]

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