#fic: hush my darling (don't fear my darling) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelwithdemonictendencies · 6 months

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every love i've ever known has been drenched in blood; teach me how to unfurl these fists, show me where to put down this knife.

ax72 x reader: the fireman feels like something special.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), hair pulling, oral sex (f on m), biting (briefly, okay?), crying, dirty talk (tasteful but serious. i'm not kidding), just all my typical stuff (and all my usual ax72 stuff - so legs and limbs and size and the like). don't read if you're not 100% sure).

(a/n: my favorites! thank you for being patient with me. for your reading pleasure, may i present to you a ax72 fic in which he is a volunteer fireman and you are plagued with fear and self-doubt! i'm joking, but not really. i couldn't not write something for him after the insane start to the season he's had - penalty minutes leader darling deserves a treat. obviously none of the details make sense, none of the dialogue is realistic, there are way too many dramatic speeches and angsty confessions, but you guys know that at this point. to anyone who may relate to what this main character is going through, please know you are not alone. it is very easy to push good things away because they scare you. but to be scared is to care about something. follow your fear, stalk it, don't let up on it until it leads you to something lovely, something real. pretty please tell me what you think. i think jh86 may be next but i'm still storyboarding. for now, i'm sending you and your snakes every single bit of courage and love i've got. go canucks. until next time).

that first night was cold like an absent mother. cruel and unforgiving, unavoidable.

the cold was weathered, however, but the hushed laughter and bickering amongst your housemates as you all exited the front door, smoke alarms blaring, loud and relentless.

"do we actually have to evacuate if we know there's not a fire?" your roommate asked, covering her ears with her hands.

another housemate sighed. "maybe we wouldn't have to if you hadn't left your curling iron on for three fucking hours."

your roommate grimaced. "my bad, guys. this one is on me."

you couldn't help a laugh as you threw an arm around her shoulders. "we know, sweetness. live and learn."

someone groaned. "it's frigid out here, jesus."

you nodded in agreement. the alarm had begun to sound at just after two in the morning, meaning everyone in the house was dressed for bed, all thin sleep shorts and fleecy sweatshirts, no where near enough to combat the brisk air, which was already starting to make your teeth chatter.

"great. here comes the government," one of your friends said, eye roll evident in her voice as the sound of the siren began to overtake the tamer sound of the smoke alarm.

you and your roommate giggled at her comment as you huddled together. as a polysci major, she had an opinion on everything, including all facets of the public sector. for example, the fire department, who pulled up to the curb at that moment in their truck.

"who's going to do the talking?" your roommate whispered to you.

"you?" you proposed, raising a brow. "it's your iron, hm?"

she groaned, but nodded. "this should be good."

three firefighters hopped down from their massive rig, looking even more menacing in their heavy fireproof gear.

"hello, officers," your roommate began, stepping forward and away from you to speak. your shoulders shook in a laugh.

"they're not officers," you whispered to her.

"hello, gentlemen," she corrected. "i speak on behalf of our entire house when i say we appreciate your punctuality."

one of your housemates hung her head in her hands. another one groaned.

"i'm gonna go out on a limb here and say there is no real danger?" one of the firemen said, his tone steady.

your polysci friend nodded. "correct, sir. your services are no longer required."

the three men now stood just in front of you, allowing you to get a true look at them.

the one who had spoken was older, probably thirty five, shorter than his coworkers but obviously the chief. he continued to speak with your roommate about the situation as the rest of you watched on.

the next in line was taller, lankier, with a goofy face and a goofier presence. he appeared unsure of his limbs, how to keep them still.

when your gaze drifted to the third, however, your breath caught, that familiar but long-forgotten whirlwind in your stomach. your eyes drank him in greedily, the way a child gulps down a soda at a friend's house. so similar, someone in your mind whispered don't tell mom.

he was the tallest of the three, and the broadest, too, his chest a wide expanse, arms and legs practically tree-like in his canvas uniform. it was his face that really had you, though. he was beautiful in a way you had never seen before, in a surreal sort of way. the kind of face that saved you in a dream, that you tried to conjure when you woke up but never could.

sharp jaw, sharper nose, the kind of cheekbones you had seen before only in a museum. full, pink, upturned lips, downwards sloping eyes that made him appear drowsy, like the personification of a midday nap. cheeks made rosy by the cold. even under his helmet you could see his thick, dark hair, so soft-looking. that was it, you thought. he just looked so soft, even though he appeared to be made of stone.

his presence made you shiver, which was only deepened when you met his eyes, dark and clear, found them already looking at you.

something in your gaze made him smirk, made your stomach drop. you crossed your arms closer around yourself, suddenly insecure under his scrutiny.

you hated the not-knowing, wished you could see yourself from his eyes, from the outside, so that you may correct yourself, angle and present yourself in some better way.

but his eyes only sparked with danger, not disappointment. cold? he mouthed to you, so as not to interrupt the conversation. his mouth formed the words slowly, deliberately, deliciously.

yes, you thought, half stunned he was communicating with you, the cold is why i'm shivering. definitely not you. definitely not your eyes.

so you only nodded slowly, felt your eyes widen as he walked towards you, shrugging off his jacket.

you stood, frozen in place, as he held it out to you in one huge hand. he offered it to you, someone he didn't know, someone who he owed nothing to, someone from whom he knew he could possibly receive nothing in return. and yet he offered it to you, regardless.

he was so close to you, now, just a step away. you tilted your head up to look at him. "don't you need it?" you asked, willing any squeak out of your voice. surely he would realize his mistake soon, realize you weren't worth it.

his chest shook in a low laugh. "what i need is for you to not freeze," he said, his voice much deeper, rougher, than you could have imagined. "just take it, darling, yeah?"

something in your mind screamed what do you want? at him in a voice dreary with fear, raspy with experience and expectation. what's the catch?

had you met him before? surely he couldn't be this sweet to you upon just seeing you, upon not even knowing your name. had you lent him notes in one of your classes, maybe spotted him a drink at a bar? you searched for an explanation that never came.

but at that point you probably would have done anything he asked, which you knew was not good. which you knew was very, very dangerous.

which was bad, but true, so you shouldered his jacket on, found it almost oppressive in warmth. "thank you," you told him, little more then a whisper, letting your voice trail off like a question.

"arber," he finished for you.

"arber," you repeated, knowing as soon as the name died on your tongue your mouth would feel empty, would long to form the word again.

he didn't walk back to his former place, either, instead electing to stay just next to you. just close enough to make you feel almost faint. one of your housemates wolf-whistled. you imagined the image looked fairly comical, a massive oak tree of a fireman with an 80's mullet and mustache combo next to a university pre-dentistry junior in pajamas, swimming in his coat.

but you couldn't think too much about that as you gave him your name, tried to keep your eyes trained on his face. a tough task, considering the way his arms looked unobstructed by his jacket.

everything about him was distracting. your heart was racing. how were you going to be able to get back to sleep after this?

"well, ladies, i hope you've learned your lesson," the chief said, appearing to finish a speech you had missed entirely.

"sure have, officer," your roommate said stoically.

"not an officer, miss," he corrected. the shake in his head was telling, made your housemates snicker.

"apologies, sir," she finished, giving him a salute.

"sorry you guys had to come all the way out here," one of your other housemates said.

"no trouble at all," arber said, his first time speaking to everyone. he was looking only at you. melting you like snow in the morning.

"until next time," your roommate said with a little bow, turning to go back into the house, now silent.

"there won't be a next time, sweetness," you amended, forcing your gaze away from arber. she waved you off.

reluctantly, you made to shrug off arber's jacket, hand it back to him as the other two firemen got back into their truck, your housemates walking back inside, leaving just the two of you.

"sure you don't need it?" he asked, the roughness in his voice somehow gentle. his words coming out in exactly the shape of the hole in your chest.

you gave a light laugh. "think i'll survive the trek back," you said, referring to the several steps between you and the front door. "thanks again, arber."

"my pleasure, darling," he said, and your cheeks flushed at the term. this brutal cold, you thought, making my face pink.

his lips quirked in a way that made your stomach flip. a way that made you so suddenly sure he knew exactly what effect he had on you. exactly how little the cold had to do with it.

"well," you said, your hands laced behind you, your voice taking on a melodic sort of cadence. "i guess i'll see you around, hm?"

"hope so," he hummed, something amusing in his tone. something careful. "sweet dreams, darling."

"good night, arber," you answered, dazed and blushy. like saying goodnight to an old friend, to a middle school boyfriend, to someone who knew you too personally to be real.

but somehow, it was saying goodbye to someone whom you had known for only moments.

the truck pulled away, you shut the front door behind you.

"should i just leave my iron on 24/7?" your roommate asked immediately, not giving you a moment to catch your breath. "maybe throw some rocks in the microwave?"

you rolled your eyes at her. "oh, please," you said.

"don't worry," she finished, an impish smile on her pretty, round face. "i'll wait until you're in the shower, next time."

you playfully slapped her arm as you made your way back into your room, not bothering to stifle both of your giggles.

you went to sleep that night with mirages of dark brown eyes and corded shoulders in your head. you swore you could smell smoke, could feel flame, could sense danger.

the feeling stayed with you, settled like ash in your bones. a heat, a skepticism, a want, a worry. you halfway hoped you would never see him again, because when had one person ever had such an effect on you? when had you let them?

you halfway hoped you would never see him again, but as soon as you did see him again, you knew that hope had been a complete and utter lie.

it was only a few days later, in the middle of your serving shift at the pub close to campus. only a wednesday, so nothing too busy, just a regular shift. your regular black uniform, long braid down your back with black ribbon, everything the same as always.

and then he was in a booth, practically taking up the whole bench, his deep laugh at something one of his friends had said making you dizzy.

surely it's not him, you thought as you took out your guest check pad, it couldn't be him. how could you have gone twenty one years without seeing him once, then see him twice in a week?

what trickster god was toying with you, now?

and then you were standing in front of his table, and it couldn't be him, but it was. of course it was.

but you didn't know if he would recognize you without your pajamas on, couldn't fathom that he could have dreamed of you with the vigor you had him, so you went on, business as usual.

"hi, guys," you said, your customer service voice ringing through the air like a bell. muscle memory had you placing napkin coasters down in front of each person. "can i get some drinks started for you?"

you took the orders of the others before finally locking eyes with arber. it wasn't any easier than you remembered. it wasn't any cooler, didn't feel any less like being engulfed in flame. "and for you?" you asked, hating how you couldn't just admit to recognizing him. hating how your mind preferred crafting protective plans to just being honest.

but he upended you, as you should have perhaps expected. his smirk was subtle. "am i that forgettable, darling?" he asked, like it was just the two of you.

the answer was so obvious you could have rolled your eyes, but you just cleared your throat and choked on a laugh, happy to have an excuse to show your delight. the insecurity in your head sighed in relief.

"arber!" you exclaimed, clicking your pen nervously, "thought that was you."

he nodded towards your general figure. "good to see you warm," he said with that rough voice you could feel in your chest like a bullet.

you hummed. "good to see you," you said, not bothering to add a condition.

something he noticed, something that made him smile, therefore something so, so worth the risk. your grin overtook your face all at once, toothy and real.

it appeared to shock him as much as you, his expression suddenly one of wonder, of awe.

you cleared your throat again, rediscovered the other people at the table, went to get everyone's drinks and then ran their food orders to the kitchen.

and you tried not to dwell on the way his hand looked around a glass, like it was kid's toy in a play kitchen, tried not to zone out on his lips as they formed words, not to blush whenever he looked at you.

you only laughed, mumbled a thank you when he joking said this was the best service he had ever had.

when he asked how you day had been, you had just blushed, muttered something affirmative, tried not to drop the glass you were holding, hated how anyone's attention, never mind a man's, could render you so helpless.

it was a whole lot of trying, a whole lot of awareness and controlling your own limbs, your own reactions like a marionette puppet. this way, you guided your arms, lined with plates of food. that way, you led your legs. these words, no, not those ones. no, no blushing, no not like that.

your marionette puppet appeared defective in many ways, many frustrating ways.

it was the slowest shift of your life. you felt oh so tired by the time arber's table asked for the check, felt oh so embarrassed by how hard you had been trying all night, hated how it was impossible for you to hide your effort.

it was all over you. it was in the slight sheen of sweat on your upper lip, in the strands of hair that had come free from your braid, in the way your voice shook when he spoke to you, the wobble in your knees when your eyes met.

you were trying so devastatingly hard, and you knew he could see, that everyone could see. was it terrible, was it so naive of you to hope maybe he wouldn't mind? that maybe the effort would flatter him instead of scare him away?

when you came to give back the card and receipt, his friends had gone. it was only him, taking up all that space in the booth.

he smiled when he saw you. it was soft. he was soft, this marble man.

you placed the check on the table. "there you are," you said, threading your empty hands together behind your back, part of you scared their idleness would lead to reaching for him. "thanks for coming," you added, then physically cringed.

thanks for coming? what, like this was some party you'd thrown?

he laughed, low and gentle, at your expression. of course, he was laughing at you. how could he not, with how you were acting? your head dropped like it was full of bricks as you flushed, as hot shame began to pull at the edges of your face.

but then you felt him take your chin in one of his large, rough hands, tilt your head back up high to meet his gaze. there was nothing but softness in his hands, in his eyes. no judgement, nothing of the sort.

his touch felt like drowning in flame, even in this small dosage, and you knew immediately it was too dangerously good. you swallowed.

when was the last time someone had touched you like this and you hadn't secretly wished they would only just leave you alone?

"thanks for inviting me," he said, playing along with your words so mercifully. "think maybe you'll have me again?"

you nodded, couldn't stop your shy smile. "maybe," you said, your voice a breath.

too soon, his hand was gone, leaving your face cold, lacking.

"can i tell you something?" you asked, quiet and hopeful.

"'course," he said, like he would never deny you such a request.

"i sort of feel like i've met you before," you said.

"i don't know," arber said thoughtfully, "think i'd remember someone like you."

your mouth ticked. "someone like me?"

he tilted his head, just looked at you for a moment, his gaze comfortable in its greed, its genuine appreciation. "why do you think we've met?"

you shook your head. "something about you," you said, trying to figure it out yourself. like i dreamed you up, you thought, are you real? are you sure?

his smile was subtle. "hope it's something good, eh? something like you?" too soon, he was signing his receipt, and then he was up, walking towards the door, to his waiting friends. "sweet dreams, darling," he said, like there was no one else in the pub, in this universe.

if he had told you as much, you would have believed him.

after a moment to catch your breath, you took the receipt from the table, found not only a generous tip but a phone number and a child-like scrawl that read coffee?

your head bowed in delight. when was the last time someone had asked you out? had not texted you deep into the night, at the time when the parties were ending and something much more terrifying was just beginning?

when was the last time you were nervous for a date, but the innocent kind of nervous?

you were that innocent kind of nervous when you approached the agreed-upon coffee shop several days later, at the middle of the day, between your classes.

there he was, standing in front of the cafe, hard to miss in stature and presence.

you had spent a scary amount of time deciding what to wear, eventually landing on what you wore everyday. you gave him a timid wave, were met with a confident wave back.

do i shake his hand? you thought. no, i've worn his jacket. maybe a high five?

your overthinking was quickly overwhelmed by the realization that he was pulling you in close for a hug.

you froze for a moment, your mind short-circuiting, your body uneasy, unused to such casual gentleness, ease.

your head against his chest, his arms all the way around you, you probably could have passed out. your mind mumbled something about cardiac arrest as you slowly hugged him back.

he smelled like the forest, like dull smoke and wooden fog.

"swear you get prettier every time i see you, darling," he said as you both pulled away, his eyes full of sweetness.

you had to close your eyes as you breathed out a laugh, already turning pink. "you sure know how to embarrass me," you said, teasing, trying to recover.

he held the door open for you as you both entered the cafe. "it's too tempting," he argued, smiling. "that blush you get..." he trailed off as if lost in his mind. sparks, smoke, flame, ash.

you knew the feeling.

he ordered some kind of sugar-bomb, practically a coffee milkshake, you ordered your usual flat white with soy milk.

and you were out of practice when it came to first dates, but it didn't seem to matter. he didn't seem to notice the pauses you took to think about your words, or if he did, he didn't say anything.

you learned that he was on the hockey team, that he was a volunteer fire-fighter for the school, about where he was from and his family.

he asked about your family, about your studies, about your job, what you did for fun.

and when you told him how much you loved your pre-dentistry classes, he made a joke and popped his fake tooth in and out, which made your laugh come so easy.

you told him how much you looked forward to seeing your sister, how funny your shift the day before had been, how much you loved your house's movie nights.

he asked about you, and it dawned on you that your last boyfriend had never truly asked you simple questions like that, and he certainly had never cared about the answers.

you had sudden flashbacks, you and your ex in bed, you asking him about his week, him giving you some dismissive response as if you had asked him if you could take out some of his teeth sans anesthesia.

how, towards the end, it had felt as if you were engaged in some kind of corrupt exchange, sex for tolerance of your curiosity, sex for tolerance of you.

the memory sent a shiver down your spine, a wave of shame. you could not go through that again. you refused to put yourself through that again.

through the relentless begging for something, for attention? no, begging to be treated like a person? like a girlfriend? begging for him to just be a little more gentle. yes, that's it. you had gone months feeling like nothing but a burdensome bag of stones he had reluctantly agreed to carry around, and you refused to feel that way again.

you just wanted gentle. you just wanted soft, and when arber waved a hand in front of your face to break you from your trance, you realized it might not be crazy to think you were close.

"you okay, darling?" he asked, concern lacing his expression. "lost you, hm?"

"'m okay," you said, shaking your head. "sorry, just thinking."

"'bout what?" he asked.

your heart jumped at the intimacy of being asked such. of someone wanting to know what was going on in your head.

so, you decided to be honest, to an extent. "'bout how 'm very happy to be here, with you," you said, looking him in the eye. feeling no desire to look away.

his face was so utterly pleased. he looked so beautiful then, the sun drenching the side of his face, lighting him up. "makin' me blush, now, darling," he said, and his tone made you swoon.

"sorry," you said, an instinct that made you want to smack yourself.

"don't apologize," he said immediately, "i know i'll get you back."

talking with him felt just so easy that you were again struck with a disbelief that you had only known him for a few days, had only spoken with him a couple of times. you felt like he was inside of your head, like he always had been. something you had never felt before, something that had you saying yes much too quickly when he asked if you wanted to come skating with him that weekend.

you had never skated before, but you were sure if he had asked you to watch paint dry, you would have said yes, because it would have been with him.

but the rational part of your brain was currently overwhelmed by fear, by insecurity, by the terror that you would lose this great thing before you had ever really had it.

"what was i thinking?" you said to your roommate as you struggled to find something to wear. "i have no idea how to skate! i'm going to look like an idiot!"

she waved you off. "you won't, you know you won't. deep breath."

you both took a breath together, tried to exhale some of your nerves.

the quiet that followed felt like another friend. you sighed, sat down on the edge of your bed, held your head in your hands.

"i can't keep thinking like this," you said to her and yourself. "i can't be so fucking scared all the time."

"c'mon, love," she said, sitting next to you and holding you tight. "what will feel better, do you think? coming home after avoiding rejection, walls intact?" she squeezed you. "or maybe coming home with another person to lean on?"

you both knew the answer. you wanted so badly to act accordingly, hoped your overactive mind would let you.

so, when you showed up at the rink, you made the ittiest-bittiest promise to yourself that you wouldn't let your fear get in the way.

if only you knew he would never have let you. that he could never be so easily scared.

he greeted you with a hug once again, and you held him tighter than you had the first time. "thanks for coming," he said, a spark of a shared inside joke in his eye.

"thanks for having me," you replied immediately, a mirroring smile on your face. "'m gonna be honest with you-"

"please do," he said immediately, and you could have melted.

"i have no idea how to skate," you rushed, "so i'm going to be very slow and probably fall and it's probably gonna get ugly."

he let you finish, an amused sort of smirk overtaking his mouth.

"what's so funny?" you asked, furrowing your brow.

"i think you're funny," he said, simply.

you scrunched up your face. "you makin' fun of me, arber?"

he laughed, then, low and rough and grumbly as he reached his hands around you and settled them on the small of your back. "oh, pretty baby, promise 'm not, yeah?"

you pouted, but rested your palms on his chest nonetheless.

his gaze cut through you. "don't expect you to be good at everything, okay? i'll help you," he explained. "just think it's funny you think anything you do could be ugly. imperfect isn't ugly."

"i'll prove you wrong," you said immediately, although you were flushed already, could feel yourself soften, your walls crumble just a bit.

his shoulders shook again. "promise you'll stick around long enough to?"

you had nothing to say to that. what could you ever say?

and then you were out on the ice, more off-balance than you had ever been, and not just because of the skates.

he held your gloved hands in his, tight but not restrictive, keeping his eyes on yours. you willed some of the steadiness in his gaze into your body, found stability in him and let it flow into you like water. he was basically pulling you, but you were moving, and you weren't falling, so you took it as a win.

"'atta girl," he said when you made a turn, soft, proud, and you could have laughed. surely he knew what he was doing, no?

your eyes darted up to his, found a lazy smirk, found your answer.

you shook your head, continued to push with your legs, gaining confidence, gaining balance. "turn off the dream boy for a second, would you?" his smirk deepened. "'m tryna focus, here."

"my fault, darling," he said, false apology saturating his voice as he suddenly dropped your hands. "by all means."

you stumbled forward into him immediately, your body unused to the ice without him to ground you.

you narrowed your eyes at him, looking up at his face, your palms against his chest, his arms around your waist. "not funny," you said, giving him a playful slap. "i could have broken something."

he shot you a look. "you honestly think i'd let that happen?"

your gaze dropped for a second. "no," you sighed. "no, i don't." a revelation in itself.

he pulled you closer, pressed his lips to your hair in a kiss that singed. so quick, you could have missed it. maybe you would have, if you hadn't been so unconditionally in tune to him, to everything he did, to every breath that shook his chest, to every quirk of his mouth and glint of his eye.

your heart sang at the affection you had been so lacking, had somehow missed even though you had never really had it.

so, of course it was a no-brainer when he asked you to come to his next home game.

"i'd really like if you were there," he said as he untied your skates for you, bent on one knee in front of you.

"then i'll be there," you said, flushed, because it was the easiest answer you had ever given. when he gave you that big smile in return, so genuine and goofy, you knew you would have a hard time saying no to anything he asked. just keep smiling at me, your mind begged him. that's all i ask.

the game came quickly, suddenly, after a busy week of shifts and school and everyday things. before you knew it, the day was here, and then you were in the stands, watching him skate like it was second nature, like it came easier than walking.

you had been able to tell at your rink date that he was steady on his feet, but this was different entirely. this was like seeing him at home, like watching him fall asleep.

and it beautiful, it was lovely, it was so intimate until two players started to fight and you realized one of them was him.

one of the people throwing punches that looked lethal, taking fists to the ribs, to the jaw, one of the people with a bleeding nose, a gashed lip, one of the people with blood running down his knuckles - that was your arber. your dream boy.

it wasn't, but it was you - you were the one throwing the right hook, you were the one doubled over, you were the one spitting out blood. you were equally the one punching and being punched. you had set the flame, you were burning.

was it terrible that you felt a little sick to your stomach? you clutched at the edge of your seat, exhaled a short breath, immediately decided you would rather leave than watch blood run down his face on the jumbotron.

as you left the arena, got into your car, drove back to your house, someone in your head was screaming at you, someone with a shrill, panicked voice was screamed scared, scared, scared, scared, scared and you didn't know how to get them to stop.

why are we running? you asked the voice in your head, what are we so afraid of?

what are you so afraid of?

because it wasn't him, you explained to your roommate at some later time, maybe the next day, after the desire to bathe in silence had been overcome by the desire to tell just about anyone.

you were not afraid of arber, knew there had never been anyone in the world more gentle with you. no, there had never been someone who had treasured your heart so truly, who had wanted to understand you to an almost scientific extent, who had dropped into your life like an asteroid and blown it apart just as similarly.

if not him, then what is there to fear?

what is there to fear, if not placing your beat-up heart in his bloodied hands? what is there to fear, if not the desire to press your lips to each of his cracked knuckles, the urge to know him to the point of no return, the want to feel his teeth on your neck, his fingers in your mouth?

sirens went off in your mind. scared, scared, scared.

scared of you, yourself, of offering yourself up to him, to being devastated by him. scared of being so completely vulnerable, of taking all your armor off, finally.

in the end, you were terrified of how scared seeing him hurt made you, because that meant you cared much more than you thought, perhaps much more than you had ever before.

how come no one told you that as much as being scared for yourself hurt, being scared for someone else, that was real fear, pure and undiluted.

a fear captivating enough that you decided to just not deal with it for days, to ignore his texts even though it hurt like a dagger to the chest.

he'll lose interest eventually, you thought, he'll leave me alone eventually. then, finally, i won't have to be scared.

so why did that admission feel like being burned at the stake? why was some small part of you screaming at you to stop?

regardless, you held fast for three days.

and then your roommate put rocks in the microwave.

so you and your housemates stood in the front yard, the air deja-vu-inspiringly cold, the situation almost exactly the same as that first night.

"what's wrong with you?" you whispered-yelled at her. "how do you accidentally almost blow up our house?"

she waved you off, pouted for a moment. "you know how forgetful i get."

"yeah, i don't know if forgetful is the adequate descriptor here," one of the other girls said. "i have a few more specific words in mind."

"oh, come on," you roommate said to the group as the fire truck siren began to yet again overwhelm the smoke alarm. "god forbid a girl make a mistake around here."

you didn't hear the rest of the bickering, too busy sending up a silent prayer, begging some god, any god to listen. please, don't be him. please, if there is anything good in this world, it won't be him.

but, of course, as soon as you saw the massive figure climb down from the truck, you paled.

there might not be anything good, some voice told you then, but perhaps there is something right.

"long time no see, ladies," the same older fireman said, and that was the last thing you heard. the last thing that any of your senses consumed before all of them were so brutally and totally overwhelmed by arber.

because what was he, if not overwhelming? especially now, after having deprived yourself of him for days? how had you managed that?

seeing him here, in front of you, you had no idea.

because he was here, in front of you, this beautiful oaken man, and his hair was messy under his helmet, and his face was flushed from the cold, and his five-o'clock shadow made his jaw sharper, and you could feel his warmth from here.

because he was here, walking to you, right in front of you, dropping his giant jacket onto your shoulders silently, somehow, somehow he was still that kind, and then he was whispering to you.

"alive, are you?" he murmured, as if he almost couldn't believe it.

and you felt so selfish then, the guilt growing like poison ivy in your veins, up your throat, until you couldn't open your mouth for fear that only three-pronged leaves would come out.

you looked up at him, met his eyes, found them burning but unreadable.

a pause that felt infinite deflated as you struggled for words. "listen, arber-"

but he shook his head, almost looked sorry. "don't think i will, darling," he whispered, the name making your stomach sink. someone screamed in your head. "don't care much for hearing why 'm not worth a phone call."

you were shaking your head before he even finished. "no, no, arber, please, that's not it-" your voice was so close to cracking, splitting apart like brittle wood.

"what is it, then?" he said, and you noticed a quiver in his voice too, a warning, "because i've been trying to come up with something for days, and every option i've got hurts."

oh, good god, you had made him hurt? that alone was dizzying.

dizzying and so, so sobering, enough for you to mutter something aloud about arber helping you turn the smoke alarms off, pull him into your house, up into your room.

you barely noticed the alarms subsiding, him hitting all of the necessary buttons wordlessly on his way up the stairs.

and then he was in your room, and you two were alone, and he was sitting on the edge of your bed, taking his helmet and boots off, crossing his arms across his chest.

"by all means," he prompted. "tell me i'm crazy, darling, please, please tell me i've got something wrong."

you took a breath, set the marionette puppets strings down, finally. there was no leading your limbs anywhere, no running words over one million time in your head until you had the right ones.

it was finally time to set aside the fear, to unfurl your forever clenched fists.

your exhale was liberating as you approached him, not touching him, not yet, but close enough so that you could see his eyes, so that he could see the revelation in yours.

"you're not crazy," you said, the softness in your voice surprising you. "i've been trying so, so hard to make you think i don't care."

he scoffed, ran a hand through his messy hair, mercifully waited for you to finish.

"and i'm so, so sorry that i didn't call, and that i left during your game, and that i treated you like you were anything but special, arber."

he looked up at you then, and you saw a soft spark of hope in his eyes that spurred you on.

it was silent for a beat, and then he reached for your hand, held it in his grip, warm and consuming.

"i thought i scared you away," he said, vulnerable, completely honest.

you squeezed his hand, stepped closer, cupped his jaw in your other palm. "i was afraid," you admitted, and that alone felt like salvation. "but not of you." you swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb. "never of you."

with a single swift motion he tugged you onto his lap, both of his hand on your hips. there might not be anything good, that voice whispered like a gossipy teen, but perhaps there is something right. perhaps this is it.

"tell me," he said, not an order but a request.

you would have told him anything, then, as you reached up to loop one arm around his neck, use the other hand to twist one of his curls around your finger. "i hated seeing you hurt," you confessed, moving your fingers down to trace lightly over the greenish bruise next to his eye, the healing gash on his lip. "you give me so much more to lose, baby."

he was silent, still, so close you could feel his shaky exhales on your hand. you willed yourself to finish your thoughts, refused to leave him anything but completely certain, even if it was hard to focus with him under you, against you, all around you. even under the exceptional spotlight of his undivided attention.

"i was lying when i acted like i didn't want you," you said, your tone every bit as ultimate as you felt. "and i understand if you don't forgive me, and i won't hold it against you, but i promise i won't lie to you again, okay?"

you held his face like it was made of glass. his grip on your hips tightened, eyes bursting further into flame.

"let me convince you," you pleaded, willing every genuine thing from your bones into your words. "you have to believe me, baby, i care so, so much. a scary amount."

and something in you sighed, swooned, when you saw that amusement you had missed creep back into his gaze like a fog on the ocean.

his thumbs rubbed circles into the flesh of your hips as you relaxed further into him. "scary, hm?"

you nodded, peered up at him through your lashes.

"how about this, darling?" he offered, voice a tired rasp. "i'll believe you if you do one thing for me, yeah?"

"anything," you said, meaning it more completely than anything before.

the glint in his eye was dangerous as his grip turned firmer. he gave a hum of approval. "tell me something true."

after trying just so deliriously, terrifyingly hard for so long, nothing had ever come easier. with him, now, the truth was easy as breathing. "i want you," you breathed, running your nails lightly down his neck, relishing in his stifled groan. "so, so bad, arber. need you, please." your chest rose and fell in a hurried breath. had you ever been so free of fear? so buoyant with hope, with courage?

he hoisted you up on his lap, pulled you against his chest until it felt as if there was barely enough air to share between the two of you. "good girl," he said, a rough, low, rasp, and he caught your whimper in his teeth as your lips met his.

his kiss felt like molten iron, like forest fire smoke, like initials carved into a heart on an ancient oak tree. he felt like sun on your face and like drowning, drowning, drowning, this kind of torture one you would happily submit to over and over again.

you tangled your hands in his hair as he groaned into your mouth, pulling you up on his lap until you could feel him, so big and hard under you that you let out a gasp.

he smiled against your lips at your reaction, and you knew there would never be anything so glutted with bliss.

you kissed him harder, with the urgency of a thousand missed chances as he rocked you back and forth across his lap, slipping his hands under the waistband of your sleep shorts, his hands now scorching your bare skin.

"look so good in my jacket, darling," he rasped, "let me take it off, hm? want to see you."

you shrugged it off in obedience, placed both your hands on his chest and looked him in the eye, pleading.

one of his hands brushed your hair away from your face, gentle, soft, as you had always known him to be. he dragged his thumb down to your swollen lip, let it rest there for a moment.

"'f you want something, just ask," he grumbled, transfixed by your mouth. "know i'll give you anything you want 'f you ask for it, darling."

you pulled at his shirt, willed any oncoming flush or fear away. "please can i suck you off, arber?"

his smirk was devastating, delicious. "pretty baby wants me in her mouth?"

you nodded, a shy smile gracing your lips.

"course you can, darling, askin' so pretty for me, too."

you glowed at his praise, sunk down to your knees, admired him as he pulled away at his layers of clothes until finally you could reach for him, hold him in your hand, hot and heavy and just so big, so much so that you couldn't help your eyes widening, your mouth watering.

he groaned at your touch, tilted his head back and scrunched his eyes shut at the sensation of your soft palms on his cock.

you hid your grin, spit into your hands and pumped him up and down a few times before taking him in your mouth, making him moan, almost growl as he gathered all of your hair, wrapped it around his fist, the other hand bracing him against your bed.

"fuck, darling," he rasped, watching you bob your head up and down, "feels so good, so good for me, hm?"

you would have nodded, but instead you were overcome with a desire to take more of him, as much as you could. so you sunk your head down further, until your eyes watered, until air came in short spurts, until you gagged, felt him grow impossibly harder in your mouth.

he gripped your hair tighter, making you moan on his cock. "oh, darling, you want more, hm?"

you hummed, looked up at him through watery lashes, reddening eyes.

"want to take it all, do you?" he asked, "just want me to feel good, is that it?"

you moaned in affirmation, sunk your head down on him again, as far as you could go, relished in his groan, the way his thighs tensed, the way his forearms flexed.

already, your jaw was growing stiff, your shoulders strained, your knees warm from the carpet. too soon, though, he was pulling you up off of him, up from your knees back on top of him, wiping the spit from the sides of your mouth with his thumb, pressing a gentle kiss to your tired lips.

you pouted, wanting more still, and his shoulders shook in a low laugh. "not done, darling?"

you shook your head, ran your nails across his shoulders, down to his biceps, loved the way you could feel shivers erupt under your fingertips.

"i'll give it to you if you ask," he reminded you, simply, because of course it was that simple, that gentle.

you pressed your lips to his chest, his neck, his jaw, bit down softly on his collarbone. "please fuck me," you begged against his skin, "been wanting it forever, arber, need you to fuck me, need you to stretch me out."

in a moment he flipped you so that your hips were angled up to him, your chest against your bed, your cheek to your sheets.

"been waiting, have you, darling?"

you whined, nodded.

"no more waiting," he said, running his fingers through your folds, already so wet, "promise, no more waiting, pretty baby, okay?"

"please," you mustered, the end of the word becoming strangled as he began to push into you. it was altogether too much - every possible voice inside of you screaming too much and not enough in some cacophonous harmony.

his groan was raw, full of relief, release, confirmation. he held onto your hip tightly with one hand, the other wrapping around your stomach to keep you grounded, keep you here as you felt like you were floating away.

the pressure was dizzying, staggering, enough that your breathing was choked, your mind completely clouded, your already watery eyes just barely holding back tears.

you reached a hand back to grasp at his forearm as he pushed further, almost all the way inside of you. you whimpered as the stretch reached a peak, as he stilled, making the stray, warm tears finally fall down your cheeks, hang on your jaw before collecting on the sheets under you.

"so pretty when you cry, darling," he breathed, tight and short as you adjusted to him, and he to you.

"please, arber, just move, hm?" you pleaded. "need it, please."

his embrace around your middle tightened as he began to move in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, almost undetectable.

"so whiny, hm?" he bit out. "pretty baby knows what she wants?"

you nodded feverishly. "just give it to me, baby, please, just let me take it."

"don't know if you can," he said, and you pouted. "don't want to hurt you, hm?"

you clutched at his forearm, began to fuck back onto him, determined to get the motion and pace you needed so desperately.

"want it to hurt, arber, please, please give me all of it," you spoke with all of the greed of a sinner seeking salvation. "need all of it."

he abandoned any qualms about hurting you, immediately adopting a brutal pace, so hard and deep you swore your teeth began to chatter. you bit out a choked moan, grabbed at your sheets with your fist, scrunched your eyes shut at the pressure building inside of you.

his grunts grew rhythmic in time with his thrusts. "feel so good, know that, darling?" he rasped. "being so fuckin' perfect for me."

you hummed in response, gasped when he ran a hand across your clit, making you clench tighter around him.

he cursed at the sensation, continued to tease you as he thrusted deeper.

"like that," you breathed, growing dangerously close, "fuck, just like that baby, right there."

"gonna make me cum, darling," he warned, pressing his palm flat against your clit, the friction maddening. "feel too good."

"please cum for me, baby," you begged, your voice raw, "need it so bad, arber, need all of you." you moaned. "fuck, give me all of it."

he groaned as he came, triggering your own orgasm, an overwhelming wave of pleasure that consumed you utterly and entirely. you felt him collapse on top of you, barely registered him pulling you into his side as you both caught your breath in comfortable silence.

moments passed slowly, thick like aged honey, fragrant, sweet.

he lazily traced his thumb across your cheekbone, down your jaw, your collarbone. eventually, you looked up at him, found his eyes full of something homely.

you thought briefly about how you looked in that moment, what he was seeing - spit on your face, skin probably splotchy and red in places from wear, hair fussed and skin sparkling with sweat.

notably, though, the thought evoked no fear, not even for a moment. because you were beautiful like this, like always.

you exhaled a breath, soft, gentle, and buried some ancient curse with it.

the silence was blissful. eventually you heard loud footsteps on the wooden hallway steps, eye widening as you realized there were other people that lived in this house, in this room.

you pressed a hand to his chest to prepare him. "sweetness!" you called out. "do not come in here!"

"why?" came your roommate's voice through the door. "is there a fire?"

you exchanged a look with arber.

"kidding!" she added, her voice growing more distant. "i'll be in the kitchen. big guy, chief left without you!"

your shoulders shook in a pleased, peaceful laugh. he smiled at you, then, a warm, soft smile with teeth, and what was there left to do but smile right back? "what'm i supposed to do, darling?" he asked.

you got up, slowly, reluctantly, tied your robe from the bathroom around yourself, handed him his clothes. "c'mon," you said, "i'll show you the kitchen."

he leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to your lips before tugging on his clothes, grabbing his helmet.

i'll show you everything went unsaid by you, but not misunderstood by him.

he held your bedroom door open, holding your gaze with a goofy grin. "after you," he rasped.

you bowed past him and wordlessly told the picture frames in the hallway to behave, we have guests.

fin.

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intern-seraph · 10 months

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hush my darling, don't fear my darling

After an incident in Alchemy, you flee to the Botanical Gardens to have a breakdown in private. Of course, things don't go quite as you expected — but that's not always a bad thing.

i started this fic when i was in a pretty shit place emotionally+self-esteem-wise. finished it in a similar state. so this is literally just leoyuu hurt/comfort bc i needed another clinically depressed person 2 cuddle me. intended as romantic, but can easily be read as platonic as well :) read beneath the cut!

Originally posted on Ao3

CWs: some gross medical metaphors, low self-esteem, nameless nrc students being nrc students (rude assholes)

You hate it when you get like this. After 5 overblots, you should be tougher. Tougher than this, tougher than breaking down over some stupid comment from an asshole classmate. But, well, you can’t really stop the tears once they start, so all you want to do right now is find an isolated place to hide and cry it out. Showing weakness in front of your classmates is a no-go. You’ve only recently managed to earn the rest of the school’s respect. That would put you back at square one.

“Why did the Headmage let a useless, magicless klutz like you in?”

It’s not even the meanest thing you’ve been called in your time here in Twisted Wonderland. But something about the venom in your classmate’s words as you sat sprawled out in a sea of broken glass just made you crack. You let Professor Crewel chew out the boy after helping you up and checking you for any injuries and fled the room. Ace and Deuce and Grim didn’t have any chance to follow you.

He ran into you! It wasn’t even your fault! You scold yourself again for taking his insult so personally, but that only brings you closer to the brink of tears. Angrily, you mash the heel of your palm into your eyes to get rid of the tears threatening to finally slip free. With your free hand, you reach out and open the door to the botanical garden. There’s nobody here at this time of day, not unless Professor Crewel needs someone to grab ingredients.

Well, nobody save for one person. But Leona is probably outside napping in a patch of sunlight (like the big kitty cat he is); at least, you hope he is. You don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to see how pathetic you really are.

You duck under a mass of large, broad leaves. Your breath lodges in your chest, a hard lump of hurt that oozes out of you in quick bursts like fluid from a lanced cyst. Nobody’s here. You can cry now. The sobs you’ve been holding back make your body shake. Sharp, painful gulps of breath punctuate the thrum of your pulse in your ears. Clutching your uniform blouse, you fold in on yourself.

“... Hey, Herbivore.”

It sounds like you’re underwater. You move with the same sluggishness as you look up to meet Leona’s eyes. His face appears in blurry smears, though his frown manages to pierce through your tears.

“Oi. Hey. Quit crying,” he mutters, reaching out one hesitant hand while the other runs through his hair. “Look at me. Breathe.”

All you can do is wail even louder. He winces. Then, he seems to toss aside his reservations and touches your shoulder. In one sharp, jerky motion, you lurch into his arms. Leona hisses, but catches you nonetheless. Your trembling hands clutch at his vest as you cry into his chest.

“H-hey, whoa.” His hands fumble for only a moment before he wraps his arms around you more firmly. He pats your head with a distinct discomfort. “You’re getting snot all over me,” he says without malice. In one smooth motion, he scoops you up and cradles you like you’re made of porcelain. You let him carry you over to the shade of one of the larger plants and seat you on his lap. His touch grows more confident as he rubs your back and rocks you from side to side. “Breathe for me, Herbivore. Nice ‘n slow. I’ll do it with you, even. In… and out.”

You hiccup, but manage to mimic his slow, deep breaths. He scratches your scalp as a reward, the gentle scrape of his blunt nails helping to ground you.

“That’s better, yeah?” Without looking up, you nod. A slow sigh hisses through his teeth. “I hate seein’ you cry like that.”

“Sorry,” you mumble into his clothes.

“‘S not your fault. What the hell happened to make you cry like that?” He keeps scratching. You melt, sniffling but no longer sobbing. It takes a moment to put your thoughts together.

“It’s stupid.”

“So?”

“I-It’s really, really stupid. You’ll laugh.”

“Try me.”

You hesitate. With a slow, halting breath, you say, “There was an accident in Alchemy. One of my classmates yelled at me.” You don’t let him respond before you continue, “See? I told you it’s stupid.”

“An accident? Are you hurt?” Leona pushes you back so he can look you over. You bat at his hands and chest in protest.

“I’m not hurt! I swear! The only thing hurt is my pride…” You try to laugh, but it comes out as more of a croak. He scowls at you. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“You ��” he yanks you into his chest, hand curling around the back of your head and keeping you firmly in place “— are such a pain in the ass. How about you let someone else worry about you for once in your life?”

“Didn’t think you cared.”

He scoffs. “Idiot,” he mutters as he squeezes you. “You’re part of my pride. ‘Course I care.” A gentle rumble builds in his chest as he flops onto his back, bringing you with him. He buries his face in your hair, ignoring the way you squirm. “Quit moving.”

“Leona, I’m fine now!”

“So?” He rolls you both onto your sides. Peering over his shoulder, you can see his tail flick with contentment. “You interrupted my nap, so I’m keeping you until I’m done with this one. ‘Sides, aren’t you all tuckered out from all that crying?”

That kills any argument. Because you are tired. Exhausted, even. After all, you ran all the way here from the alchemy lab, and you cried so hard…

With a sigh, you relent and wriggle closer. You don’t miss his quiet, triumphant chuckle, nor the subtle press of his lips to your scalp. “Fine,” you mumble, “but only for an hour or two.”

“Sure, Herbivore.”

Several hours later, you wake up drenched in dew, but warm and safe in the arms of a slumbering lion.

#leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twst #twst x reader #twst fic #twisted wonderland #seraph speaks #my writing

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madlittlecriminal · 8 months

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Jonathan and a reader, gender doesn’t matter at all, who just kinda…attracts corvids. Like, they’ve formed bonds with several crows and ravens, to the point where they just spawn around them. Jonathan and his darling could be taking a walk in a park or something, and a random crow just hops onto readers shoulder, and they don’t react at all. It’s a normal thing at this point. I can only assume John, the freaking scarecrow, would absolutely love it.

Corvidae Magnet ↦ Jonathan Crane × GN!Reader

Warnings: Corvidae family, so if you have a fear of ravens, crows, magpies, etc., this fic is not for you, mentions of jonathan being a bit distant

i love how this request showed me that i make jonathan call the reader "darling" so much. idk, i just feel like it's both gender neutral and a nickname he'll call his s/o without a second thought.

You and Jonathan have been together for about a few months. However, he still had no idea you attracted corvids as you never told him anything. It was something you wanted few people knowing anyway, so you were just waiting for the right moment to tell him, but it never came. In your defense, if your boyfriend wasn't working at the asylum, he would be in his lab perfecting his fear toxin, so you didn't have room to tell him anything.

Then again, you weren't sure if you were completely ready to tell him. You shrugged and opened the window to your kitchen, causing a crow to stop by and sighing. "Unfortunately, I can't feed you anymore, little guy. I got fined the last time I did it and I'm not trying to get another fine." Did he understand you? Maybe. Did you care if people thought you were weird for it? No, they were just boring.

Did you know your boyfriend saw you talking to said crow? No.

As you grabbed a glass from the cabinet, the crow quickly left making you raise brow. You shrugged it off and grabbed the pitcher of lemonade from the fridge before pouring yourself a glass. "Darling?" You jumped slightly and turned around. "Dammit Jonathan!" He chuckled. "Sorry. Are you alright?" You nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, you were speaking to someone, so I had to ask..."

"Oh! Don't worry about it, Jon." You gave him a small smile before taking a sip of your lemonade. He sighs with a nod. However, his eyebrow raised when he saw a raven land on the windowsill as you walked past it. However, when the raven saw Jonathan, it flew away rather quickly.

"Let's go for a walk, darling. Being inside in the lab all day is hurting my head." You nodded before finishing your lemonade and heading towards the door with Jonathan right behind you. He took your hand and you both headed towards the park for a walk.

What you didn't expect though was the magpies and blue jays, crows and ravens to come towards you.

Ironic enough, a crow landed on your shoulder and crowed at Jonathan.

Your boyfriend stared at the crow in confusion while you continued walking as if it was nothing new. "Darling?" You turned around and the crow flew off to a branch. "You were talking to a crow earlier, weren't you?" You gave him a faint smile. "I didn't know when or how to tell you since you were always busy..." He sighed and pulled you into a hug. "I'm sorry, darling." You smiled. "It's fine."

"But crows?" You laugh. "Listen, you scare them, but I'm their buddy! If you don't like it, you can go!" Your teasing made him laugh. He planted a kiss on your cheek and held your hand. "I actually think it's unique. I love it, darling." You smile at him and squeeze his hand gently. "I'm glad you do. Someone has to comfort them when you scare them away." He fakes an overexaggerated gasp, resting a hand on his chest to add to his dramatic show. "You wound me, darling!" You shake your head with a smile before grabbing his hand. "Oh hush! Now come on, you promised me ice cream." He raised a brow. "I did?" You gave him a glare. "Yeah, you're right. I definitely did. Let's go."

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #scarecrow x y/n #dc universe #reader insert #x reader #asks #ask #anonymous #anon asks #anonymous asks

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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Yo if you don't mind could I please request a lady lesso X student!reader who is 18 where r is top of their class however they have a secret kid who they had when they were 16. Nobody in the school is aware of this fact until one day r goes to lesso's office for help as a last resort and accidently interrupts a staff meeting in tears carrying a toddler in their arms and explains that they are sick and have tried everything but their fever won't go down and how they are terrified because everything else comes so naturally to them but being a parent is so hard. Dovey helps the kid while lesso calms r down asking why r didn't come to anyone sooner because they would have been happy to help. Lesso gains a soft spot their kid plus crush on r after this moment and they become their own mini family.

Precious Angel|fluff h&c

*Authors note~ I love writing these kind of fics. Oc Delilah is mine, changed the age she gave birth for the timeline*

Trigger warnings ~ mentioned sexual assault resulting in a child, panic + anxiety attack

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^^^

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Being a teenager is hard enough, but being a teenager and a mother at the same time? Yet you seem to handle it. At the age of sixteen you experienced something you wished to prevent for your daughter in the future, something no girl should ever have to deal with. Clarissa was the only one to know of your pregnancy and was even there for you when you gave birth to your daughter at seventeen. Truly, you don't think you would've managed it without her support. She helped you heal from the assault and adjust to having Delilah rely on you constantly as well as keeping on top of school work. Although you had the option for help, you could proudly say you'd done everything you possibly could for Delilah.

Delilah wouldn't settle, no matter what you did or how hard you tried to soothe your baby. You rocked her humming to her, you'd given her medicine to try and combat her slightly warm temper, you fed and changed her and even tried pacing with her in your arms. Nothing was working now, your hushed whispered as you tried to soothe her and ignore the panic you were feeling. You were failing her, and that broke your heart. "Love bug, it's okay momma is here, please baby girl I'm trying my hardest lilah. I love you baby please shhh it's okay, you're okay, you're safe" you cooed over and over hoping somehow your voice would soothe your daughter but it seemed that she was just feeding off your panic.

You did the only thing you knew how, you grabbed her changing bag, her pacifier and favourite stuffed toy before setting off in search of Clarissa. Your daughter clinging onto your side her little chubby fits banging on your chest as she wailed. Your stress and panic only building when you didn't find her in her office, you could now feel the tears prickling in your eyes. What else could you do? But she needed help, you needed help. So you made your way to the only other Dean of the school, slightly fearful of her reaction but desperately trying to help your daughter.

You didn't even knock, the wails of your daughter was enough to alert the occupants of the room to your arrival. There stood a very shocked Leonora and a concerned Dovey, she instantly came to hold Delilah seeing how you weee seconds away from falling apart. "She won't stop crying, I'm sorry. I tried everything nothing works. God it's so hard why did I think I could be anywhere near a good enough Mother to her. She's had medicine, been fed burped and changed and I can't get her fever down. I'm falling her" you whimpered as sobs now wrecked your body.

Instantly, Leonora was up crouching down to gather you in her arms, "shhhh sweetheart it's okay. We can help, Dovey is soothing her love. You need to calm down she can sense her momma isn't okay darling" she murmured rocking you slightly, your eyes trained on Dovey now soothing your baby. Her wails eventually turning into whimpers and sniffles before she drifted off to sleep in Clarissa's arms. Only then did you fully allow yourself to break, turning to hide your face in Dean of Evils face. "Darling, you could've come to me, I would've helped like Dovey does, she's a sweetheart I can tell just like her momma" she whispered as you snuggled and wiped your tears looking at her seeing only truth laying there.

Days had passed since you had interpreted that meeting with Delilah, Lady Lesso popped by every evening, she would help you settle Delilah for the night, your daughter instantly obsessed with her, tugging on her bright orange hair and offering a cheeky toothy smile. It warmed your heart to see her like this with someone, not even Dovey was given the same pleasure. She loved Dovey but this was different, perhaps she shared your love for Leonora. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, your daughter being the reason why you got to tell Leonora of your feelings and thankfully she returned them for you and your daughter.

Life was a blissful kind of perfect you never thought you would have other than in your dreams, your daughter calling Leonora "ma" or "eso" and you "mommmamamam", when you had classes your daughter would either be in Doveys office or Leonora's, Delilah may have came about in an unfortunate way, her own father wanting nothing to do with the beautiful child but she had the most amazing momma aunt and ma to love and care for her no matter what. Raising Delilah with Leonora was a dream come true and you couldn't wait to see what the future would hold for your little family of three.

Word count ~ 1004

#fanfic #anon answered #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #lady lesso x you #leonora lesso x reader #dean of good #dean of evil #clarissa dovey #anon requested

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mollywall-e · 5 months

Text

WIP - Chapter Three of the Imodna Whitestone Date Fic (inspired by the NYCC Q&A)

As the winding corridor opens up into the opulent great hall of Castle Whitestone, Imogen feels the tension return to her shoulders. The room is bustling with important looking people, including Keyleth, in a hushed conversation with Orym.

Imogen couldn't care less about the lot of them, if she's being perfectly honest. Not right now. She's got her sights set on the door, walking intently towards it.

"Imogen." Laudna slows, pulling them to a stop in an alcove, just a few feet short of the door.

"Hmm?" Imogen glances over at Laudna, noting the look of concern on her face. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, darling." Laudna gives her bicep a squeeze, appreciative smile on her lips. "You know I appreciate you looking out for me, especially here." Her free hand, the one not currently looped through Imogen's, gestures to their surroundings. "But there's no need to rush out on my account. This place…it looks different, now. I can handle it."

"I know - I know you can," Imogen shrugs her shoulders a bit, pulling her lips into a crooked smile as she continues, "I'm just…excited to get goin' on that date, I reckon."

Laudna quirks a brow.

“I am!" Imogen huffs.

“Imogen…” Laudna starts, in that fond but tired tone of voice.

"I've got bad memories in this place, too. Alright?” Imogen snaps. She deflates, breaking eye contact with a wide-eyed Laudna, gaze flitting over to a shadowed corner of the great hall. "I'm sorry. It's just that - we brought you here, last time. Before we went to Ms. Trickfoot, I mean.”

“Oh.” Laudna hums in thought. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn't realize.”

“You couldn't have known. You were…” Imogen pinches the bridge of her nose, trying desperately to ignore the increasing buzz of the surrounding conversations, ricocheting between the stone walls.

“You can talk to me about it, you know.” Lauda prods softly. “What happened while I was dead.”

Imogen flinches.

Laudna grabs her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You shouldn't have to carry it all on your own, darling. I know it’s been weighing on you.”

And it has been. Wrapping around her aching chest like a too-tight corset. Pressing on her shoulders, riddling them with tension. Always present, always aching. The loss, the fear. It's been eating her alive.

“Lord Percival, he made us - " Imogen cuts herself off, closing her eyes. Laudna, lying on the stone floor of the great hall, unblinking eyes peeking out from the unwrapped shawl. Too cold, too stiff, even for Laudna's standards. She shakes her head after a few seconds, as if to physically clear the image from her mind. “I can't - not right now..”

“It’s alright. I’m sorry for pushing, dear.” Laudna reaches out to stroke Imogen's cheek, frowning as her fingers come away damp. “Whatever that man did, or made you do, it doesn't matter anymore. It's over now.”

“You're right,” Imogen sighs. “M'sorry Laudna. I finally get the chance to take you out on a date and I've already managed to mess it all up.”

“Don't be silly,” Laudna tuts, twirling her fingers with a flourish. Any trace of tears clinging to Imogen's cheeks is quickly replaced with a gentle warmth. “There! Good as new, darling.”

Laudna stares at her for a moment, the fond look in her eyes warming Imogen's cheeks even further. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind Imogen's ear, spindly finger tracing the shell of her ear, leans in and whispers, “And gorgeous as ever, might I add.”

Imogen fails to suppress a shiver as Laudna's cool breath dances across her neck, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. Laudna notes her reaction with a curious hum and steps closer, angular hip bones pressing Imogen into the stone wall behind her. Imogen's hands gravitate towards Laudna's waist, scarred fingers clutching at the fabric of her blouse as cool lips press against the delicate skin beneath her ear. The lips linger for a moment, and then pull away.

Before Imogen has a chance to be disappointed, Laudna presses another kiss just below the first. Then another. And another. By the time the kisses reach her pulse point, Imogen's heart is racing and Laudna knows it, can feel it thrumming under her lips. One of Laudna's hands drifts up to Imogen's neck, thumb tracing the bone of her jaw.

Imogen nervously glances around the room, but no one seems to notice the pair tangled together in the alcove. No one except for Orym, who dutifully looks away as their eyes meet, a light blush clinging to his soft, but angular features.

#imodna fic #imodna #critical role #my fic #imogen x laudna #imogen temult #laudna

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nyx-aira · 2 years

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Private matters

| Lady Lesso x Professor Dovey |

Summary: Professor Dovey and Lady Lesso are the respective deans of the School for Good and the School for Evil. Definitely not secretly married and having a quickie before their next class starts.

A/N: I'm gonna be posting my fics on here and on ao3 (and yes I've seen your requests and yes I'm loving all of them KEEP SENDING THEM IN)

As I have started to write smut as well please tell me if you don't wanna be tagged in these kind of fics and I'll only tag you in the ones without. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable!

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

PSA c/@ynscrazylife

Hushed voices and stares followed her, as Lady Lesso walked down the corridor to her fellow deans office. Some evers stared at her in fear and she gave them her most evil smile, as she hurried down the corridor that was way to bright and way to pink for her liking. Her heals echoed on the perfectly polished floors and she knocked sharply on the door to Professor Doveys office before she entered.

Her fellow dean sat behind her desk and was going through some papers when she heard her enter and looked up. Almost instantly a big smile formed on Professor Doveys face and she put her pen away to give the other woman her full attention.

"Lady Lesso what a lovely surprise. What brings you here?"

The witch gave her a sly smile as she turned around, locked the office door and pocketed the key.

"I have some private matters to discuss with you, Professor." She said in a low voice, and slowly walked over to the desk, her cane in sync with her heeled boots.

Lady Lesso leaned her cane on the edge of her desk, and came to stand behind Professor Dovey, her hands on either side of her. A typical teacher thing some of her students would say.

She saw the shivers that went through the other woman's body and leaned forward, her lips brushing Doveys ear.

"Be quiet, my darling, or we'll need to change locations where you can be as loud as you want." She whispered and placed a kiss just below her ear, earning some more shivers from the woman in front of her, who was blushing fiercely.

Clarissa loved this side of her wife, but it always made her blush like a very unexperienced teenager. You could never know what was going on in that woman's mind.

Lady Lesso placed some more kisses on her neck and sunk her teeth into the delicate skin just above her collar bone. This was going to leave some marks, surely. Professor Dovey tilted her head to give the other woman better access and felt a cold hand down her back, where swift fingers tried to find the laces of her corset. Why was this woman always cold?

She felt the tugging and pulling of the laces and smiled as she heard Leono - no Lady Lessos annoyed growl as she struggled with the dress.

"Get up!" She ordered and pushed the other woman out of her chair and towards the couch, that was standing in the middle of the room.

Professor Dovey felt two strong arms wrap around her ways, and a body that pressed against her. Her heart was beating faster and faster as she was pressed against the other woman, who was working one hand along her body opening laces, and getting off layer after layer, while the other was holding her in a firm grip. All the while there were still these dammed lips that were driving her insane as they turned her neck and and the skin that was already exposed into a painting of pink and purple.

Layer after layer of her golden dress fell to the floor as Lady Lesso worked her magic and turned her into a blushing mess before she truly started touching her.

"Couch." She ordered between kisses, and Clarissa all but fell backwards into the mass of cushions that were decorating said lavender couch.

"Oh what am I going to do with you, my darling?" Lady Lesso said with a sultry voice, and slowly removed her coat as she stared at her wife with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Oh what she could do with that goddess of a woman.

The hair was dishevelled, her skirts all carelessly dropped to the floor and only a thin underdress in the same yellow was hiding the body underneath.

Lady Lesso kneeled onto the couch, towering over her wife who was watching her every move out of these innocent eyes that were driving her crazy. She brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face that had gotten out of the elaborate updo, and tucked it behind her ear. She cupped the warm cheek that was so in contrast with her cold fingers and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

Lady Lesso felt a hand dig into her waistcoat and broke the kiss.

"Who said you could touch me, princess?" She asked mockingly and pinned her hands above her head.

"Those stay there." She ordered and began to leave a trail of kisses down her neck and her décolleté, making Professor Dovey sigh with pleasure as she kissed her way down, the thin silk of the underdress not stopping any sensation from getting through.

Clarissa saw her wife settling between her legs, a knowing grin on her face as she pulled the fabric away leaving her completely at the mercy of Lady Leonora Lesso, dean for the school of evil and her incredibly wicked wife.

"Quiet now, love, or do you want your students to know how good evil can feel?" Lady Lesso said before she pushed her legs further apart.

Cold fingers teasingly made their way up Clarissa thigh and she knew how much her wife loved to tease her but now was not the time. They didn't have much time anyway as class was about to start soon and all she wanted right now was for her wife to stop teasing and to make it hard and fast.

"Leonora!" She whined as a finger brushed her for a moment exactly where she wanted it to be, before it went back to teasing her.

"Wrong name, my darling, or do you want me to get the cane?" The woman in front of her said with a low voice and surely must have felt the beating heart of Professor Dovey.

"No, Lady Lesso." She answered, a wave of pleasure pulsing through her. Oh how her wife loved the idea of power play and oh how she loved it as well.

"Good girl."

Clarissas whine turned into a gasp as she felt those cold fingers inside her, burning again the warmth of her and moving in a slow but steady rhythm hitting the right spots and making it very hard to keep quiet as she had been ordered to. Lady Lessos thumb was circling over her clit giving her that extra stimulation that made her want to moan and grab onto her wife. Both things that were forbidden for her.

Clarissa dug her fingers into one of the cushions as Lady Lesso sped up her rhythm and leaned down, making her go crazy even more with the help of her tongue. Together and each on their own they brought her closer and closer to her climax, her legs shaking and small moans escaping her lips.

"Please!" She whined as the pleasure rose higher and higher, her heart beating faster and the heat in her belly turning into an inferno.

She heard and felt Lady Lesso chuckle against her and with one flick of her tongue and the right twist of her fingers she made Clarissa topple over the edge.

She tried to muffle her moans into one of the cushions but she was fairly certain her pleasure could be heard outside of her office as well. Hopefully the students were all on their way to their next classes already. She felt how Lady Lesso pulled her fingers out of her and watched as she sucked the evidence of her climax off of her fingers, the witch staring into her eyes as she did so.

Lady Lesso leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss onto her forehead that was gleaming from the exhaustion and cupped her face again.

"I think we need to practice being quite a bit more, don't you think, my darling?" She asked while pulling the bunched up fabric down and smoothing out the wrinkles.

Professor Dovey reached out her hand and Lady Lesso intertwined their fingers as she pressed soft kisses all over her face. Her wife might be rough sometimes but she always made sure she was well after that. If you didn't know her you would never think that Lady Lesso was one for aftercare but the countless times Clarissa fell asleep in her arms and woke up in her bed, wrapped in blankets told another story.

Professor Dovey got up on still shakey legs and went to collect her skirts, all under the watching eyes of her wife, who had gotten her cane and coat and was now leaning again her desk. Lady Lesso watching her as she got dressed and pinned her hair back in place, feeling the lingering looks and knowing exactly where her eyes went.

"Stop staring." She said as she tied the last of her laces in place and went up to the other woman, and gave her a short kiss.

"Never." Lady Lesso replied and unlocked the door, holding it open and hearing footsteps scurry down the corridor. Well so much on the students being on their way to class.

"Don't worry, darling. They are far to scared of me to ask any questions."

And with these last words and a pleased look on her face Lady Lesso made her way back to her school and to her class.

Oh how she loved driving Clarissa crazy.

-----

Taglist: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @ynscrazylife @sokovianheadtilt @wandaswifeyforlifey @scarthefangirl @rxcently @sapphic-stress (btw taglists are open)

#the school for good and evil movie #the school for good and evil #sge #lady lesso #leonora lesso #professor dovey #clarissa dovey #lady lesso x professor dovey #leonora lesso x clarissa dovey #lesso x dovey #dovesso

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magpiefngrl · 2 years

Note

B? 😁

They are interesting questions! Thank you for asking <333

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

No plot of mine is drawn from life. However, a lot of scenes/descriptions/images/themes are based on my experience. I write a lot of clubbing scenes, inspired from my days dancing in London clubs back in the heyday of rave/dance music. I tend to write HP characters going to the pub because that's what I used to do when I lived in the UK. The pub is where people go on dates, not restaurants, or at least that's what happened when I lived there. I don't write happy families because I grew up in a dysfunctional one. So although I can't say I had a particular experience that I then turned into a story, most of the elements in my fiction are very much me.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I love writing dialogue. My most fave dialogue scene is from my creature fic Hush, darling.

Draco’s eyes are burning in the night. ‘You shouldn’t trust me.’

‘Too late.’

With a sudden snarl, Draco shoves Harry on his back and straddles him. He pins Harry’s wrists on the bed and leans over him. ‘You were always reckless, Harry. Everyone else would run in the opposite direction, but no, not you. You are here, placing your faith in me, knowing full well how badly I can hurt you.’

‘But you won’t.’

Draco ignores him. His hair falls on his face, his voice husky. ‘It’ll feel good, I promise. I can give you the orgasm of a lifetime.’ He accompanies his words with a sinuous roll of his hips, setting Harry’s nerves alight. ‘I can make you writhe, and whimper, and come five times in a row while I suck the life out of you. Is that what you want, sweetheart?’

‘Is that supposed to scare me?’

Draco’s hands tighten on Harry’s wrists. ‘Don’t challenge me.’

Harry’s temper flares. ‘Then stop pushing me away. You’ve been holding back in bed ever since the first time. I could tell. You’ve been actively trying not to cause me any harm.’ Draco glares at him, and Harry glares back. ‘All I see is your fear talking.’

‘You see nothing. I take, Harry. That’s what I am. I take and take, and sometimes — sometimes it’s hard for me to stop. And you make it harder. You make me want to ravage you. I want to put my mouth on you and suck your bones dry. I want to use you up.’ Draco’s gaze is feral, his mouth a snarl. ‘All my instincts scream to take from you.’

Taking advantage of Draco’s distraction, Harry rolls them on bed and pushes Draco on the sheets. He pins him down and leans over his startled face. ‘Well, I have a lot to give.’

This is the emotional confrontation of the characters in that story and I'm really pleased because it reads natural and it conveys their character and state of mind at the moment but it's also kinda hot :) It might not seem like it, but it took me hours of revising and editing.

The sex scene that follows ends with a few lines that I'm very happy with and which have been quoted back to me a lot. That small exchange is prob my fave ever, but it works much better in context.

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

It's never the plot because I don't plot; I'm very much a pantser. In fanfic, the characters are a given, so it's usually the spark of an idea, an image, or a vibe that inspires me. The idea might be a concept such as "What if the mirror of Erised was a portal into a different universe?" (Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There), or a scene (in the opening of Hush Darling above, Draco loses money in a poker game), or a vibe (I wanted to write a gothic mood in The Unquiet Grave).

In original fiction, I tend to learn my characters as I write them so what inspires me to begin is either a concept or mood again (writing a gothic romance, for instance), or a worldbuilding element. In fact, I love creating new worlds; coming up with names for cities, imagining their culture and religion and food and everything. That's the most fun for me and it's one of the aspects of writing that often comes first.

Characters come next, but it's the ones that require the most work, and the ones I eventually pay the most attention to.

fanfic ask game

#inbox #drarry #hush darling

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bumblebear30 · 3 years

Text

Oops

Rita Calhoun x Casey Novak, Established Calvak

A wee comfort fic for these two as I totally love them.

Warnings: mentions of Casey's office attack, migraine / mild medical concern. Side effects of getting older. No smut but alluded to. Happy ending.

Please let me know if you have any other prompts or requests for these two. Happy to try write more for them.

Oops

"You did it again."

The accusing tone made Casey's head snap up from where she was nestled on the couch. She could feel the light crust of dried drool on her cheek where she'd pretty much passed out into the pillow and rubbed at it with the cuff the sweater she was wearing in the hopes that her always immaculately dressed girlfriend wouldn't notice,

"Did what again?" she finally mumbled in response, a heavy pout in place as she scrunched her eyes against the bright light streaming in the apartment windows.

Rita sighed huffily as she perched on the back of the couch and busied herself with finishing taking off her earrings for the day. From there she finally caught sight of the sleep befuddled Casey - the creases of the pillow evidently pressed into her cheek, hair all mussed and cocooned in softest of old sweaters that Rita owned as the redhead obviously tried to drag her lagging brain through what it was she had done wrong this time.

Her expression immediately switched from frustration to concern as she reached out to card her fingers through Casey's hair, the younger woman automatically leaning into it and shifting closer to where Rita was sat,

"You left files that I shouldn't see on the breakfast bar again. We got a place with room for two separate offices for a reason darling."

Casey winced and opened one eye to finally look up at Rita as she apologised,

"Oops, m'sorry babe, I genuinely didn't mean to. I just needed different light. "

Rita tilted her head and gave a small sympathic noise as Casey burrowed her head against the back of the couch,

"Migraine again sweetheart?" Casey nodded groggily where she lay, loathe to commit to any movements that required further effort. Seeing her so forlorn pulled at Rita's heartstrings and she quickly got up and shed her shoes and jacket onto a nearby chair as she came round to the front of the couch to join Casey, "That's the third bad one this month..."

Hearing the familiar sound of Rita settling next to her Casey shifted to lay her head in her girlfriend's lap, wordlessly requesting for the attorney's always slightly cool hand to run across her forehead and circle at her temple as she'd done before by simply tipping her chin just so.

Of course Rita automatically took up the action, also using her free hand to run her nails in soothing circles across Casey's lower back.

The redhead let herself just bask in the attention and comfort. She'd felt instantly a bit better as soon as the scent of Rita's expensive perfume had reached her - always accompanied by the faint smell of coffee, ink and paper, a lawyerly smell if ever there was such a thing. That and the almost pavlovian way her body responded to Rita's touch, practically commanding her to relax with the lightest of pressures, also helped ease the residual pulsating ache at the front of her brain.

Afterwards she'd been sulky for days, which had drawn further unimpressed looks and rolled eyes from Rita. Eventually she'd pulled her head out of her ass and apologised with a gorgeous bouquet and an evening of pampering - cooking Rita's favourites for dinner, making the effort to use the good china and having candles on the table followed by a super indulgent bubble bath for the brunette (the rose petals may have been overboard but she knew Rita secretly adored them.)

She knew where Rita's comment was leading though. They'd had this argument discussion the last time too and she was not wanting a repeat of that general fiasco and to ultimately wallow in her own grumpiness yet again. It was worse because she knew Rita was right, and was only concerned and fussing simply because she loved her. But she had still been in residual pain and exhaustion from the migraine in question as well as licking her wounds from losing the most recent case to her lover too.

All that had only been a week ago, meaning it was less than fourteen days since she'd last had to abandon her work to lie in a darkened room with a cold compress across her eyes and an ice pack wrapped up at the base of her neck. It wasn't sustainable, and she hated being sick all the more because she knew Rita was always more worried than she let on.

She sighed lightly and wriggled her head back so she was pressed more closely into Rita's ridiculously soft silk blouse. The brunette had lifted her hands away as Casey moved but seeing her settle let them resume the gentle caresses. Noting that Casey hadn't immediately started arguing with her Rita decided to press her case once more,

"I just think given that you have such a bad head injury in your past, " Casey couldn't suppress the fearful shiver that ran down her spine at the memories - and lack of them - of her office attack, "that it would be sensible to get a doctor to run some tests and check what is going on."

At still receiving no response from Casey Rita tried to push just that little bit more. She gently ran a finger down the elegant slope of Casey's nose, booping the tip of it which made Casey start and turn onto her back to smile softly up at Rita. Holding her gaze Rita matched her with an indulgent look as she tucked some hair back behind Casey's ear,

"It's just that I'm rather fond of that brain of yours sweetheart, I'd hate to think anything might be wrong." She finished her plea by cupping Casey's chin and running the pad of her thumb over her lips as their positioning meant she couldn't reach to kiss them.

Once again Casey closed her eyes and leaned into the touch,

"And here I thought you were with me for my 'cracking bod', " she grinned as she felt Rita's entire body move as she laughed, "But I know. You're right. As usual." Her admission made Rita smile in victory, Casey's quip pulling another knowing chuckle that rumbled through her,

"Good, I have the number of an excellent neurologist, I'm sure he'll be able to see you by the end of the week."

Casey shot her a look that screamed incredulity,

"He wasn't a client was he? I'm not sure how comfortable I would be with that."

The experienced attorney did laugh at that,

"No, no," she continued to play with Casey's hair, "although he has maybe been an expert witness on several occasions but he's only ever been the utmost professional." she paused for a moment as Casey considered her options. "So what do you say darling, let me call and set up an appointment for you?"

With one last resigned sigh Casey nodded,

"Okay," honestly she was prepared to go through nearly anything if she could stop feeling so accutely crappy whenever these migraines came along, or stop them from happening in the first place.

"But," the smallness of her voice and demeanour, so unlike the usual strong confident persona of the prosecutor, brought out Rita's overprotective side even more, "But what if there is something wrong? Like-"

Deciding to quickly end any spiralling Rita pressed her finger over Casey's lip to hush her,

"Shh, then its better to know and we'll deal with whatever it may be together as best we can."

Suitably mollified, Casey rolled once more so her nose was buried against Rita's stomach, so much so her voice was muffled when she finally spoke,

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried."

"I know darling, but it may just be that you need glasses or something like that now, you know?"

The scandalised and affronted noise that escaped Casey made Rita laugh once again,

"I've always thought you'd look very sexy in glasses you know..."

The low purr of her voice drew an instant reaction from Casey, it always did. Like a siren's call she opened her eyes, feeling better enough to shoot a flirtatious look up at her love as she arched her eyebrow as seductively as she could manage in her prone position,

"Is that so?"

"Hmm hmm," Rita's affirmative humm came as she matched Casey's expression with one of her own, "You could totally pull off the sexy librarian look darling."

"Librarian!?!"

In her offense Casey finally sat up to lightly glare at Rita on a more equal footing. She lightly trailed her hand up Rita's thigh, so overly unsubtle Rita knew she was just winding her up. Still she enjoyed the attention nonetheless. "What if I wanted to go for the sexy lawyer in glasses look? Could I pull that one off too?"

Rita tipped her head to the side as she squinted at Casey, umming and awwing for extra effect,

"I'm sorry love but I think Cabot has got that niche locked down tight."

Casey couldn't help but gasp at the teasing and swat at Rita's thigh in retribution,

"Rude!"

Rita kept cackling with laughter, simply relieved to see Casey's usual firey playfulness was returning,

"Well if you get glasses you can work extra hard to prove me wrong, no?"

With a knowing smile Casey leant forward to press an adoring but chaste kiss to Rita's lips,

"Sounds good to me, thank you for helping me feel better."

Reaching up Rita cupped Casey's chin and drew her face back to her for another kiss. Or two. Maybe three. She just loved how they felt against her own.

"I'm glad I could help. Now do you want to go lock those files away whilst I give the doctor a call? We can then get an order from Chengs if you'd like?"

Casey was already making the effort to stand, holding herself still for several moments to ensure her balance was set after feeling so woozy earlier. Finding herself steady she smiled at Rita once more as she started heading for the kitchen,

"As long as there is lo mein I don't mind!"

A couple of days later Rita answered her ringing cell automatically, not even looking away from her inbox as she barked her usual response,

"Calhoun, who's speaking."

"Hey sweet thing," instantly Rita's entire posture melted, Casey's voice and determination to use ridiculous pet names totally always got her,

"Darling, how'd the appointment go." she'd swung her chair away from the computer screen, her entire focus now on Casey,

"Well you were right."

"I usually am, remind me what I was right about this time?"

"Scans and everything came back clear but I've got glasses to wear now... " Casey paused long enough for Rita to both sigh in relief and laugh,

"Oh is that all?"

"Well, he advised I change to a different type fo light bulb where possible, and definitely to wear glasses when looking at screens as they'll filter that blue light thing? But that and some proper rest and it should all help."

"That's great news sweetheart, I'm so relieved." Truly Rita felt like a knot she hadn't known was there had been released in her chest,

"Yeah, so in the spirit of medical necessity, I think we should schedule a trip up to the house in the Hampton's." Sometimes Casey still would catch herself after saying such a thing. A house in the Hampton's. Their house in the Hamptons. Quite ridiculous.

Rita chuckled but instantly swept round to open their shared calendar to look for potential timings,

"An excellent idea darling, I could even ask Danielle to get the boat ready for us? I know you love to play at being Captain."

"Please, you just want to lounge about in your bikini in front of me don't you."

"Well with your new glasses we'll have to test how much better you can see me. I do love putting on a show for you."

The flirtation made Casey gulp, images of Rita enjoying herself nearly overwhelming her,

"You always do have the best ideas, I propose we do lots of testing."

"For medical necessity?" Rita's smirk was clear even though Casey couldn't see her face,

"Exactly, you always know how to take the best care of me baby..."

#Fanfic #My writing #Rita Calhoun #Casey Novak #Rita Calhoun X Casey Novak #Calvak

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murderousginger · 4 years

Text

You Don’t Want A Nice Man

Michael Gray x reader

Warnings: Sass. Alcohol. They’re criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 2,452

Note: This is for @blinder-secrets prompt. It was too hard not to make an entire fic. She sent: could i request some Michael angst with “Don't you ever do that again” and “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?” love u. I hope this makes you bark. I’m not sorry. Not one bit.

"Stop being so childish about this," he scoffed.

Your fork that had been pushing your food around your plate during the entire conversation froze as your head shot up to look at the man in front of you.

"You don't want a scene, Michael?" You dangerously chirped.

His blue eyes were cold and steady as his jaw ticked. You smirked as his eyes widened for a split second. The tables around you hushed and other guests glanced furtively in your direction. You dropped your fork onto your half-eaten plate with a loud clang.

"You expected me to be docile," you sneered as you pushed back from the table, "that you could take me to a nice dinner and tell me--"

"(Y/N)--"

"I don't want anything serious--" you mocked his voice.

"(Y/N), darling--"

"And I'd fold like a deck of cards. Like I'd be happy being with the decadence of the snow and the nights out--"

"Hush your voice," he demanded as he glared at you and threw his napkin onto the table. "You're making a scene."

"You're telling me I'm just a good time for now and not worthy enough to date the great Michael Gray," you pouted angrily as you crossed your arms.

You seethed and shook with anger. A child. He sighed and ran his tongue along his teeth.

"Look," he said as he leaned forward and stretched his hand out, gesturing for your hand. When you didn't move, he sat back up in his chair.

"We're young," his jaw worked as if he chewed on his words, "I'd hate to tie you down with false promises of a ring if all we're doing is a bit of fun."

"A bit of fun," you hissed as your eyebrows shot up and your mouth went slack. "You've no problem tying me down the past month."

"(Y/N)," he sighed again as he rolled his eyes.

"No," you stood and gathered your things, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'd hate to tie you down with this dinner. Goodnight, Michael."

You quickly walked away, clutching your purse to you as you walked to the front and asked the host to call you a car. The host dipped his head and murmured his platitudes before he left to the back to make the call.

You shuffled in place, fighting yourself if you should look behind you or not. Curiosity got the better of you and you quickly looked up at the table you left to see Michael watching you intently. His elbow rested on the table, a lit cigarette held between his fingers as he stared you down. Smoke lazily left his lips to be inhaled through his nose.

He had a way of looking down on people, on making them feel small. He was looking at you like that now. Like you were no longer worth his time. You shivered.

"Ma'am," the host said as he touched your elbow. "There is a car for you outside, let me walk you."

"Thank you, sir," you answered softly, allowing him to turn you toward the door and lead you away.

----

It had been nearly two weeks since the dinner and you had hidden yourself away, refusing to go out in fear of seeing him.

You had met in your favorite club, and although London wasn't small, you had your favorites and he knew almost all of them. The few weeks you had seen each other had been filled with you showing him your favorite hidden gems, and Michael taking you to places he thought would astound you. His every choice was more extravagant than the next.

The drugs, the alcohol, the places; they were all a blur of long nights of laughter and Michael's warm hands roaming your body. You hadn't cared where he took you, or the dresses he brought you before dinner -- always wrapped neatly in a box with a bow tied around it, under the crook of his arm -- his warm smile that cleared away the cobwebs of the passive brooding look he always seemed to have.

You thought it meant something. Obviously you were wrong. No matter, it was time to move on.

There was a man who had been interested in you for ages but you had always smiled and brushed off. He was nice enough but you were always more interested in someone else. You finally agreed to have dinner and drinks with him tonight.

Henry was everything Michael was not. When Michael was quiet, Henry was loud. Michael was a businessman that enjoyed nice places. Henry was a worker with rough hands that snagged your dress when he guided you through your favorite club to your seat at an empty table.

"Nice place," Henry yelled as his dark eyes bounced around the loud room and all its inhabitants.

He took a chair and moved it beside yours as he dropped into it beside you like a bag of potatoes, his big arm circling your chair as he leaned in to talk over the music.

"What can I get you darlin'?" He asked. "Gin?"

"Whiskey, neat," you smiled as his eyes widened.

"Yes ma'am," he whistled before he waved a waitress over.

Talking with Henry was easy. There were no games and the conversations were always very plain. You could breathe without feeling like one move would give him the upper hand. It was nice but not exactly thrilling.

He was a comfort, a relaxing night reading a book by a fireplace. Michael was a roaring bonfire in the pitch black, the way his eyes flickered through the calm expression masked on his face, only revealing the tics of real emotion he felt as the mask slipped. He still haunted you. You still wanted him.

After a few drinks, you relaxed. Henry leaned you into his side as you both watched the stage as the band roared a tune. You felt restless, sitting as the room grew raucous, so you twisted and grabbed his arm that rested around your back.

"Dance with me," you laughed and pulled him to his feet as he protested.

You pouted and he relented, both going into the middle of the dance floor. The room felt hot as you both danced together in the pit of bodies writhing to the music. Your laugh carried as you pressed against him, his rough hands along your hips. You continued through two, three, four songs.

The band finally relented and played a slower tune. Henry pulled you close as he panted, sweat appearing along his temple from trying to keep up.

"Excuse me," a deep voice broke your trance. "May I cut in?"

Your head shot up to see Michael, his un-calloused hand reaching for your elbow, a smirk on his face. Henry's face was twisted into a scowl as he looked at the pin-stripe suit beside him. Your face slacked in surprise.

"We're in the middle of a date, pal," Henry protested, smacking Michael's hand out of the air before he could touch you.

"What does (Y/N) have to say?" Michael said as he looked at you, completely ignoring Henry.

"Do you know this guy, (Y/N)?" Henry asked as his eyes danced between you both.

You pressed your lips together, frozen in place between these two men in the middle of the dance floor. Henry's face was confusion and anger, sputtering and growing red on his ears and neck. Michael was perfectly collected, his gaze on you steady as if he already knew your answer but required you to say it so Henry would know, too. Amusement glimmered in his eyes as your breath caught in your throat.

"Henry, give us a minute alone, yeah?" You said, a tight smile spreading across your face as you looked between the men. "Get me a drink and I'll be right over."

Both men froze at your words, confusion etched across their brows before Michael's face returned to a smirk and he reached out for you again, gently prying you from Henry's grip. You let him swing you away from your date, his hands placed firmer than Henry's on your back, but your dress not catching under his grip. His other hand laced his fingers with yours and he pulled you in as your date stomped toward the bar, his face red with embarrassment and anger.

"You looked bored," Michael said flatly as he looked through you to the other dancers. "Thought I could interject."

"Henry is a perfectly nice man," you spat.

"But you don't want a nice man."

Your eyes widened at his candor as he looked coolly at you. It wasn't a suggestion or a question. You opened your mouth to object but only choked on the air.

"You were angry at dinner," he said as his grip tightened on your waist and his eyes wandered away again. "I'll forgive the scene this once."

You tensed as if he slapped you as his words ran you cold.

"Excuse me?" You said through gritted teeth.

"You're forgiven this once," he said as he spun you before he pulled you close again. "I don't like scenes."

His hand let go of yours and found your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek idly before his fingers squeezed the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. You were pliant, shock and adrenaline coursing through you. And lust. His tongue easily parted your lips and you were dazed; the softest moan echoed into his mouth.

He pulled back and chuckled darkly as he kept his forehead to yours, one eyebrow cocked as the pad of his thumb pressed against your lips.

"THAT'S MY DATE" Henry roared as he pushed through the dancefloor with his arm cranked back.

Henry pushed you away roughly and slammed his fist into Michael's face. You screamed and stumbled back a few steps and the men hit the ground together. The crowd swallowed you as they circled the fight, pushing you away as both men yelled over the music. You hit a table and fell backward onto the floor as more people rushed forward. You scrambled onto your feet, hand to your mouth, and ran to the bathrooms.

Fear jolted your body as you slammed the bathroom door behind you and sat on the floor as your heart raced. You didn't know what to do or what was even happening. You cradled your head in your hands and brought your knees up, pressing your forehead into them as you erupted into tears at the violence you just witnessed. Henry's brutality absolutely rocked you. You feared him, and for him. You had never seen Michael angry, but something in your gut told you that you never wanted to.

You couldn't trust either of these men, you realized immediately. You had to get away.

You clambered to your feet and tried to take a breath to pull yourself together. You looked yourself over in the mirror and expertly cleared the tears from your face without disrupting your makeup before you pulled at the door and walked back outside.

The music had stopped and the room was loud with people talking over each other as you ran for the door. You refused to look, afraid to catch the eye of either men. Instead, you took the nearest available car outside of the club and asked the driver to take you to a little hole-in-the-wall bar neither knew about in hopes a drink and a calm atmosphere would hide you away long enough to calm your nerves.

----

A few hours later, and late into the night, you decided to finally make your way home. When you walked through your door, you froze when a shadow loomed larger than usual near the dining room table. You sighed as you realized who it was.

“Are you hurt?” you bit your lip as you shut the door and watched him lean forward in the chair from the dark shadows in the dining area.

“No.”

He placed a cigarette between his lips and struck a match. The flame illuminated the cuts and bruises along his face as the cherry glowed and he inhaled the tobacco.

"Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

Michael's eyes roamed freely down your silhouette as he exhaled.

"Your friend Henry packed a punch," he said as he stood from the shadow and walked toward you in his rumpled suit. "But I won in the end."

Your eyebrow raised.

"He's alive," Michael said as he brought the cigarette to his lips for another pull. "I doubt he'll answer your calls."

"Are you going to fight every man that looks at me?"

You tensed, stamping down the urge to touch his bruised, cut up face. He stepped directly in front of you and your back hit the door behind you. He blew the smoke into your face as he pulled the cigarette away.

"No," he said. "Just the ones that touch you."

He placed a hand near your head on the door and leaned in to you as you stilled under him.

"You were the one that said it was a bit of fun," your voice wavered as you stood in his shadow. You hated yourself a little for it.

"I did," he brought the cigarette back to his lips and inhaled the smoke, idly watching you tremble in the silence as you waited. "I said I wasn't ready to tie down, not that you could date other men."

The edge in his tone sent you to shivers but the anger that bubbled in your chest won out.

"If I'm not tied down you have no say, Mr. Gray," you challenged as you raised your chin in defiance.

He left the cigarette in the corner of his mouth as his free hand rested firmly on your collar bone. His fingers traced it before he lightly squeezed the base of your throat. He leaned closer, softly rubbing his nose on yours.

"Mister," he rumbled. "I like that."

He pushed off of the wall and pulled the cigarette from his mouth. He dabbed it out on your door as he pressed closer, practically on top of you. The hand on your throat pressed up until he was holding your face, his thumb pushing your lips apart. His blue eyes danced between his thumb on your lips and your wide eyes.

"Your heart is pounding," he growled. "But not from fear. You want to be a good girl. I can feel it."

You let out the smallest squeak as he brushed his lips across yours and traced his tongue along your bottom lip. He was right. God, was he right.

“Don't you ever do that again.”

Masterlist

#peaky blinders fanfic #storytime with murderousginger #michael gray #peaky blinders #michael gray x reader #promptmurderousginger

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