#And didn’t torment your sibling like she did

[wool-string]

Can’t believe Kei got beat by a 14 year old girl.

First he gets hit by a truck. Then beat by an old man. And now by a little girl 😭 there’s no winning for him

[igotanidea]

Too much : Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Request: yes! Anthony and his wife having an argument.

***

„My lord.”

One of Bridgertons’ most trusted servant knocked on the door of his office and was bold enough to enter inside without invitation.

„I specifically told everyone to not disturb me.” Anthony muttered, not giving his man more than a grunt of annoyance.

Viscount’s sudden change of attitude has been the talk of the whole house lately. After months of sweetness and caring and love between him and his beloved wife Lady Y/N Bridgerton of house Y/H/N something has switched.

For worse.

Man of the house has became distant (again), leaving his wife to tend to herself. Suddenly, his duties, his visits to the sibling’s, social activities (which was a synonim of spending hours at gentleman’s club) and travels to the other parts of the kingdom (seemingly to inspect the state of assets) took most of, if not whole of his time.

Everyone’s noticed.

And even without the viscount and his wife ending up on lady Whistledown’s latest brochure.

But truthfully with lord Bridgerton’s stubborn nature and finality there wasn’t much anyone could do, even considering all the sympathy for his young wife.

„I’m afraid you have a very important visit my lord.”

„Just tell whoever it is, that I’m not taking visits at the moment.”

„My lord -”

„Thomson, did you not hear what I said?” finally Anthony raised his gaze on the poor servant.

„It’s the viscountess, my lord.” the other man stuttered.

‘My mother?”

„Your wife, sir.”

„Oh, right....” of course, now Y/N was the viscountess, but somehow it was easy to forget she has been holding that title.

„Shall I - shall I tell the lady to come back another-?”

„No. No I’ll see my wife now.” Anthony sighed and since there was no other word from him the butler froze, unsure of how to behave „Well? Let her in, will you?” there was the annoyance again.

The door was opened and there she was.

Y/N. In all her glory, looking beautiful as always, wearing that dress that always took Anthony;s breath away since she nearly glowed while walking. Her smile did not even falter for a second as she nodded to the servant in a silent acknowledgement, but her eyes were cold and sad, uncovering she hasn’t in fact been well lately. Regardless of the rumours, allegations that the viscount stopped loving her after no more than a year since marriage and got himself a lover (please don’t let it be Sienna all over) she held her head high and kept the appearances. No one had to know that the cheerful, graceful viscountess Bridgerton were spending her nights alone in a cold marriage bed, tossing, turning, tormenting herself with thoughts and longing for the embrace of the man she loved with all her heart.

‘Husband.” she said calmly once the door closed behind her, leaving her just standing in front of him awkwardly.

„Wife.”

„I didn’t have the faintest idea I do need to announce my visit in advance. I shall correct that mistake in the future if that’s your wish my lord.”

„Is there any specific reason of why you’re here Y/N?”

„Is my presence here this disturbing to you my lord?”

The scribbling on the paper was the only answer she got and it finally broke all her inhibitions and pretences.

"Anthony!"

"What?" he snapped looking up at her from the pile of documents on his desk.

"Talk to me!"

"I'm busy!"

"And I'm lonely! You've been spending time with Benedict and Colin and Daphne and your siblings and god knows where else but not me!"

"They are my family, Y/N."

"I am your family! This is not what your mother-"

"Don’t you dare-" he stood up abruptly almost tripping the chair, throwing daggers at her. "Don't you dare say a word about my mother!"

Now that's a drama the whole household heard.

„Your mother-” she tried again, this time more sternly taking one step forward „showed me nothing but kindness. Your whole family showed me nothing but kindness. All of them. Except-”

„Don’t finish it.” he warned but it came much more like a spat.

„-you.”

„Well I didn’t force you to marry me!”

The silence that fell between them after that one sentence was deafening. Nothing has ever hurt Y/N this much in her entire life. Never before Anthony has let himself say such cruel words in the moment of weakness and anger. All because he felt too much, because he needed and loved her too much.

„No.” she said with a tiny voice, her face going as pale as the wall behind her. „no, you didn’t force me. Not sure if you didn't do it to yourself.”

‘Y/N....” Anthony took a step towards her reaching his hand in a poor attempt to form a word that would remedy the situation, help him explain himself and bring her some comfort. „I didn’t mean-”

„I’m sorry I’ve seemingly ruined your life, my lord.”

„That is not-”

„Please accept my deepest condolences and apologies for ruining your blooming love life with that actress you knew. Know. Shall you remind me her name?”

„Y/N!” he shouted in pure desperation.

„Her name, Anthony!” now she was using her noble voice, leaving no word for discussion even to the viscount.

„No.”

„Sienna.” Y/N hissed through clenched teeth, her behaviour far from lady-like. „That’s her name isn’t it? Sienna?”

„You can’t help but remind me of the past mistakes, don’t you, my lady?” her husband  growled turning her back to her not wanting to see her face anymore. „You’re the one I vowed to.”

‘Forcefully, apparently. Maybe the only mistake you made was letting me walk the aisle and taking my hand while saying I do.”

„Maybe it was! Maybe I didn’t give enough thought to it! Perhaps I didn’t consider that seeing you every day, walking the rooms of my house, using the title of my wife, naming yourself viscountess Bridgerton will be too much to bare to my heart!”

What Anthony did not consider at that moment was that Y/N would take it way differently than he intended.

He was merely thinking that it was too much too handle cause he was not used to being so attached, so dependant, so - well,forgive me the word - needy. Of her, her touch, her words, her presence, her everything. Hence the distant he put between him and his wife. Perverse nature made him run away before loosing her.

Ironically, causing her to turn away, barely holding back tears, instead of falling into his arms. (such a surprise, right?)

„Forgive me my lord, for keeping your mind occupied with my humble person for too long. I am but nothing if not a modest woman, unworthy of the attention of the viscount.”

Oh god, what did he do...?

„You are -”

„Below you. Obviously. Perhaps I should have considered your coldness and self-isolation as well. I don’t -” she gulped „I don’t understand what happened to you, Anthony.”

„I-” as pathetic as that was her husband was trying to explain himself to her.

„Feelings overwhelm you Anthony.” that was something he could not disagree with „Now, my lord, if you’ll excuse me, I shall leave, since as you said - you’re busy and I clearly bring you this much displeasure. I shall not bother you again any time soon.”

Before he could stop her Y/N bowed to him in a way more formal and distant way Anthony would wish for, and simply walked away. Leaving him frozen, desperate and broken with the urge to run after her, apologise and reason with that fiery woman who always knew how to make his blood boil. He wanted to hold her, love her and whisper sweet nothings into her ear while feeling her in the most intimate way a man and a wife could ever be together.

But did nothing while she disappeared behind the door.

„Prepare my carriage” she  commanded the first servant that came her way.

„Yes, my lady, may I ask to what destination?”

„I’m going to visit my sister-in-law.”

„Certainly lady Briderton. It’ll be ready for you.”

„And not a word of it to my husband.”

„But my lady -”

‘Not a single word. This is an order, not a request.”

She needed a word with the only person who could possibly understand.

part 2 possible... (I think ;) )

edit: not enough

[magics-neptunes-things]

Ready, Aim, Shoot (2)

Hi guys !

I hope you are fine. I’m still struggling with writer’s block but I tried some things to get over it, so here is my new creation.

It’s a mix from a request I had here, and for asks from the prompt that you can find here and here.

It’s the second part of Ready, Aim, Shoot but I tried to make it understandable even if you didn’t have read the first part.

So please enjoy ♥

TW : Mention of accident, coma, injuries, blood. But it will get better.

Prompt : 22 (I won't anyone lay an hand on you) & 28 (Why are you bleeding?)

PART 1 | PART 3

____________________________________________________________

You never felt as weird as Alexia takes you home from the airport. Barcelona doesn’t have change in any way, it’s still the same streets, the same traffic jam, the same scents, the same laughs and happiness of people. But you, you have changed. What you have to get through make you change. You’ve learned the death of three of your colleagues. They are dead and you are not. Some of them had kids, lovers and they are dead. Why you, aren’t you dead? Why did you survive the bomb, your injuries when others didn’t?

Alexia puts her hand delicately on your knee and you jump, returning to reality. She looks at you with concern and you try to give her a smile, but you fail.

“It’s going to be alright, mi Amor. You are not alone. I’m here so is your parents, your siblings and your friends.”

“I know” you confirm quietly. “I’m sorry”

“You don’t have to be for anything mi Amor.”

You put your hand on Alexia’s, stroking her fingers with your thumb while looking outside. The sun is shining and you’re pretty sure that all the beaches are crowded with people. You always loved going there but with Alexia’s popularity you have to find more quiet beaches. Which you don’t mind. As long as you’re with her, it’s all that it matters.

At home, you are greeted by your cat who comes to rub himself against your legs while meowing, until you lower yourself to carry him. The movement makes you wince in pain, which Alexia doesn’t miss. But you assure her it’s okay, squeezing Diabolo against you. He let you do it for some minutes, before leaving your arms to go back to sleep.

“Glad to see that some things will never change” you roll your eyes.

Alexia laughs slightly, coming back from the bathroom where she putted your suitcase that she didn’t let you carry. She takes your hand in hers, taking you gently against her.

“If you hug me, you’ll see that I will never let you go”

“Take that Diabolo.”

You smile, getting as close as your injuries let you do it. The painkiller seems to start to stop working and you surely have to take one soon. But first you need to take a good shower, you’re not allowed to take a bath because of your scars.

“I’m going to take a shower” you inform your girlfriend.

She nods, kisses your cheek and follows you to the bathroom. You started to get off of your clothes, before stopping. You usually don’t mind Alexia’s presence in the bathroom when you take your shower, it’s a moment where you talk a lot about things. Sometimes she showers with you, other times she does different facial or hair treatments or she just sit on the toilet lid.

But today, you have way more scares than before and you’re not sure that you want Alexia to see it. The blonde sees you looking at her through the mirror and bites her lip. She immediately understands your torment.

“I’ll leave if you want. But I want you to know that it won’t change the way I look at you or the way I love you. No matter how your body is, you’re still you. And I will always love you.”

You nod, but you’re still nervous. Like if she doesn’t want to scare you, Alexia come to you slowly, surrounding you with her arms.

“Let me help you?”

She’s looking at your eyes in the mirror and you nod one more time. You let her take off your shirt and pants. She had done that a thousand times, but always with teasing hands or eagerly. Today, however, her hands are sweet and caring, as if she wanted to heal you with them. She also removes the protection on your knee and shoulder, with a thousand precautions.

She frowns when she sees your injuries. Your nose doesn’t look broken anymore, but you still have bruises and cuts. You swallow but then you see that she’s looking at one of your scare on your stomach.

“Why are you bleeding?”

You follow her eyes and shrug lightly.

“This one seems to have difficulty to heal” you mumble.

“I’ll take you to the Barca’s medic tomorrow. But now, you have to take your shower and get some rest.”

********

Alexia takes you to her favorite medical team and they work their magic. You still have pain sometimes, especially on your shoulder, but you are getting better. You filed your resignation some days after your arrival at Barcelona and it’s not a surprise for anyone. Some media tried to talk to you about what happened, but you shut them down every time. It’s too soon.

You’re pretty great during the day, you keep yourself busy with things. Alexia is almost always there with you and when she isn’t, you have friends or family visiting. Alexia takes you to walk in early morning for Nala’s stroking, every day. She’s an angel of patience, always kind, caring and loving. You cook for her every night, following her diet with attention. This allows you to occupy your mind and hands.

Your girlfriend and family insist that you go to see a specialist, to talk about what you’ve been through. You hate this. It’s always hard for you to talk about all this. You beg almost every time Alexia to not make you go, but she’s determined, confident that it will help you get better quickly. The worst thing is that she’s right.

At nights, however, it’s more difficult. You have trouble to fall asleep even if you avoid naps during the day to help you falling asleep. But it doesn’t work well. You stay still in your bed for hours; you don’t want to wake Alexia up. She takes so good care of you, she deserves her beauty sleep.

And when you fall asleep, you have a lot of nightmares. It’s normal and a process to get better if you listen to your psychoanalyst. But it’s still terrifying. For you and your girlfriend.

Once again tonight, Alexia is awakened by your scream of terrors. You’re still asleep in your nightmare when she sits on the bed. You’re turning around, the sheet wrapped around you, fighting against your nightmare. It’s always difficult for her to wake you up, she scared that you hurt yourself when you’re jiggling like that, but she’s scared too that she might hurt you.

So, she takes your face between her hands, calling you several times before you finally open your eyes.

“Alexia” you call her, terrified.

“I’m here mi Amor. It’s ok. You’re ok.”

You sit down too, looking around you. You become aware of the bedroom you share with Alexia and her presence at your side. She’s stroking your arm lightly, looking at you patiently.

“Ale” you mumble this time.

“I’m here. You’re safe. I won't anyone lay a hand on you.”

She takes you on her arms, making you sit on her lap. Letting yourself go against her. She strokes your back this time, rocking you softly. You let your breath slow down, very aware of your quick heartbeat.

“I’m sorry”

Alexia takes the time to kiss your jaw, your cheek several times and your forehead before answering.

“You don’t have to be.”

“Yes, I do, Ale. I’m a mess. I can’t sleep and I can’t do a lot of things alone because of my injuries. I keep waking you up almost every night because I can’t get better. I should have listened to you and stay at Barcelona. I’m so so…”

But Alexia doesn’t let you finish, putting a finger on your lips to stop your rambling. Tears are in your eyes again but for now you managed to keep them inside your eyes.

“You’re getting better, Y/N. You don’t zone out like you did when you came back. You smile more, your injuries are getting better, and I see you smile way more than before. No one expects to you to heal in two days, especially not me. You took so good care of me when I was injured, now it’s my turn.”

She puts a hand on your cheek, making you look at her. Her hazel eyes are looking at you with so much care and love that it took your breath away.

“What if the nightmares never end Ale?”

“We will find a way to heal you, mi Amor. I swear.”

You believe her. She seems so sure of herself that you believe her. She kisses your cheek again and when you turn your face, she kisses the corner of your mouth first and then your lips. One time, two time and the third you press your lips a little longer against her.

********

Alexia was right. You get better, even if it takes time. You still have nightmare sometimes, but you manage to not wake Alexia up every time. She’s not happy when you don’t though, wanting to be there for you as much as she can.

When your shoulder is better, she lets you come back to look at her games, as long as you are with her sister or her mother. She’s way too scared that someone push you and hurt you again to let you go there by yourself. You feel bad for Alba or Eli, given the imperious tone with which Alexia orders them to watch over you. But the two women don’t seem to mind, looking at you like you are the most precious thing in the world. When you joke about it with Eli one time, she answers you that you are the most precious thing in Alexia’s word. You didn’t know what answer to that.

Alexia always takes a thousand precautions with you, whether you are at home or outside. She doesn’t hesitate to scold someone who approaches you too much or to carry you from one room to another to avoid working your knee after your physiotherapy sessions. Which she wants to take you every time, by the way.

And the best thing about all of this, she does all of this without being intrusive. On the contrary. Her presence reassures you and is a strength for you. Your recovery without her would have been very much longer.

Tonight, she’s not taking you at home immediately after the game like she did the other times. Instead, she takes you with her in the lobby where the families are going after the games. There you met her friends, that you also appreciate very much too.

“Take it easy, Lucy, you’re going to hurt her.”

Alexia practically teleported to your side when she saw Lucy take you in her arms to greet you.

“I’m careful Capi, don’t worry.”

You smile at Lucy after she told you she was happy to see you again. You’re seeing many of Alexia’s teammates you haven’t seen since you returned to Barcelona. But your girlfriend never walks away from you, except to get you something to drink. And when you start to get tired, she sees it immediately.

“Do you want to go home?” she whispers in your ear.

You smile softly, letting yourself go against her. She passes delicately her arms around your waist and put her chin on your shoulder.

“You’re having fun, we can stay a little bit longer if you want.”

“How is your knee?”

“I’m fine, Cariño.”

She hums and keep you against her for a few more moments, kissing softly your cheek.

“Five more minutes and we go.”

“Alright Capitana” you smirk.

She snorts, pinching your rib lightly, surely not to hurt you. You can’t wait for your bruises to completely disappear, so that Alexia can start touching you again like she used to. Her love language being touching, you sometimes feel like she has to restrained herself.

That’s what you’re thinking about in her car when she takes you home. You’re thinking about it when you prepare yourself to go to bed too and when you’re in her arms in your bed you start to overthink it maybe a little too much. What if she never touches you like before, because all she’s going to see from you is this wounded woman? What if she finds someone else wit who she wants to share this kind of moment with? Alexia saw that you were a little lost in your thoughts when you came home, but she didn’t push you to talk about it.

You just have to look up to know what she’s peacefully asleep. Her face is completely relaxed, and her chest rises peacefully to the rhythm of her breathing. Yours is quite complicated, so you choose to escape her arms to take refuge in your balcony, hopping the fresh air will help you.

Sitting in a chair, you put your head in your hands, trying to collect your thoughts. Alexia promised to never let you down, but how can she be certain that her feelings will never change?

You don’t know how many times you are staying here, but Alexia’s voice almost makes you fall from your seat. You’re so surprised that you don’t understand what she says to you. You just blink at her as she’s looking at you with a worried look.

“You will freeze to death, come inside please.”

You take the hand she hands you to help you get up. And she wraps you in her arms in a protective way as soon as she closes the door. The warm of her skin makes you realize that you are, in fact, very cold.

“Were you trying to get pneumonia or something?” she asks, frowning.

“I couldn’t sleep” you mumble.

She sighs and she doesn’t have to say what she’s thinking. You already know that she’s not happy that you didn’t wake her. She doesn’t bother to tell it to you anyway.

“Do you need a hot shower, or can we go to bed?”

“We can go to bed” you sigh.

She seems upset and you hesitate to lye against her, but she takes you back in her arms.

“Did you have a nightmare?” she asks, some minutes after.

“No” you simply answer.

“Why couldn't you sleep so?”

“I don’t know.”

Alexia knows that you’re lying, and she hates it. But she doesn’t say anything, knowing that you will talk about it when you are ready. Some minutes passes before you talk again.

“I’m just scared” you whisper in the darkness of your room.

“About what?”

Her voice learns you that she’s not sleepy at all. Maybe she decided to stay awake as long as you’re not sleeping. She raises herself a little bit, to have a better look at you.

“Losing you”

Your voice is a whisper, but Alexia reacts like if you were screaming, almost jumping from her place in the bed.

“Why would you lose me?”

You shrug, but Alexia doesn’t have it. She looks at you, waiting for you to give her a proper answer. You take your time to choose your words, scared of starting a fight. You try to escape the real discussion once again.

“I don’t know, it’s just my insecurities I guess.”

“Talk to me, mi Amor. Please”

You look at her and sit down, feeling like you have to look properly at her for this kind of things. Alexia sits too, her beautiful eyes looking deeply at you.

“I’m scared to never be enough for you again. I’m not saying that I was at one time, but right now… What if you never se me again like someone… I don’t know how to say it without being cringe.”

You roll your eyes, tired of yourself. Alexia shows you once again how much she can be patient though, taking your hand in hers to interlink your fingers together.

“I don’t want to be your poor injured girlfriend for the end of our life. I want you to see me as someone who can take one of our long walk again, someone who you can do everything you want with. Someone you can touch the way you like without being scared of hurting.”

Alexia is looking at you closely, listening every one of you word with deep care.

“When I hurt my knee, were you seeing me like someone reduced?”

“Of course not” you frown.

“Well it’s just the same thing for me. I don’t see you as my injured girlfriend, I see you as the love of my life that I almost lost some weeks before.”

“But my body isn’t the same anymore, Ale”

“Your scars will only remind me everyday how lucky I am to have you and how much I love you. And I will kiss them everyday to remind me of that.”

Raising slowly her hand on your cheek, she starts to stroke it softly, but her eyes are full of love when she looks at you. Deep, sincere love. Then she kisses you before taking you slowly in her arms again, making you lye on her.

“You can sleep tight mi Amor. I’ll always be here.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Jack & Coke - Eddie Munson x Reader

Collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs

Summary: When your best friend Eddie betrays you, you head to The Hideout for a drink—and maybe something more.

Note: This is what comes from late night conversations and texts that say “I had another angsty eddie thought.”

Warnings: angst, family issues, smut, p in v, age gap but both parties are well over 18, oral, m receiving

Words: 4.8k

“And then you put your middle finger riiiiight here,” Eddie explains patiently, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth as he adjusts your grip on the guitar neck. “Perfect. Now, give a little strum.”

The A-chord doesn’t sound as good as when he plays it, but it’s an improvement since you’d started this impromptu lesson half an hour ago.The fact that butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach every time he touched you didn’t help your concentration, either. 

“I still like it better when you play,” you tell him shyly, lifting the guitar and handing it back to him. “You’re, like, a natural-born rockstar.”

Eddie grins, leaning back against your bed. “Yeah, well, you can’t teach this kind of bad-assery,” he teases, booping you on the nose playfully and inadvertently sending a shockwave of shivers down your spine.

You’re about to muster up the courage to nudge him back when you hear the front door open.

“I’m home!” Andrea shouts obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes. You miss the initial flash of fear that washes over your best friend’s face, mistaking his grimace for a mutual dislike of your older sister.

You know that everyone has issues with their siblings; even ones that are close-knit still have their share of rivalries. But your relationship with Andrea goes beyond the usual bickering. Since you were very young, Andrea has bullied and tormented you incessantly. As kids, Andrea would break her old toys and tell your parents that you did it, that way they would buy her newer and better toys. From the moment that Andrea hit puberty, she was the “hot one.” Never mind not being the “pretty sister,” you had to deal with being invisible because all eyes were glued to Andrea. Then you practically were invisible when you started high school and Andrea pretended she didn’t even know you. It didn’t matter that you’d never ratted her out for all the times she snuck out of the house after your parents went to sleep. But any little thing you did wrong, Andrea went straight to your parents and snitched. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if you squealed on your sister anyway since she was quite obviously your parents’ favorite.

When boys did talk to you, it was because they wanted to get to your sister. Some of them thought treating the little sister as a charity case would get them into Andrea’s pants. The only time it was ever different was when Eddie Munson started talking to you your freshman year. He plopped down next to you at your lunch table and started talking to you about the copy of The Hobbit you had been reading. At first you thought this was another ploy to get to Andrea through you, but the longer he talked about things far nerdier than the book in your hands, you figured this guy might actually just want to talk to you. It was an odd and gratifying feeling. The first time you’d mentioned that you were Andrea’s sister, Eddie actually seemed surprised. “You two share blood?” he said. “She’s a goddamn tornado that destroys everything in its path. And you…you’re like a rainbow.” It’s the greatest compliment you’ve ever gotten. 

As your friendship with Eddie grew, you began to tell him more about how Andrea treated you. How she’d hurl the meanest, most vile words your way with no provocation. You didn’t need to provoke Andrea, she was constantly on the offensive. “Why does she treat me like shit all the time?” you’d ask, and Eddie would reply, “She doesn’t need a reason. There’s just venom in her blood.” 

Andrea was the walking embodiment of those luminescent fish that were so beautiful and shiny on the outside, only to lure the smaller, weaker fish in so that it could crush them. Her jet black hair was always shiny and never a strand was out of place. No blemish ever dared to appear on her skin, leaving her with the smoothest, most glowing complexion. Her curves seemed to be perfectly sculpted, defying anyone to not look at her and either want to be her or want to be with her. Obviously, it was impossible for you to keep up with her current flavor of the week. 

“Are you going to play for me?” you ask as Eddie just sits with the guitar in his lap. You scoot until your thigh is pressed up against his. It would be so easy to tilt your head and rest it on his shoulder. The comforting scent of cigarettes, Old Spice deodorant, and a hint of weed floods your senses as you try to be as close to him as you can—without being creepy about it, you remind yourself. 

“I, um,” Eddie mumbles, his eyes watching your bedroom door intently. “I thought you said your sister wasn’t going to be home?”

“I didn’t think she was,” you say with a shrug. “But you know Andrea, she does whatever the hell she wants. Maybe she met her quota for making children cry today and decided to come home early.” 

Eddie nods and looks back down to the guitar in his lap. He swallows so loud that you’re able to hear it, which has you raising your eyebrows. 

“Look, I know she’s demonic,” you say. “But she probably doesn’t even know we’re in here. Besides, if she was going to torture someone, it would be me, not you.”

“I don’t want her to hurt you. I’d rather she hurt me, actually,” Eddie says, still looking down at the guitar in his lap. More words rest on the tip of his tongue, but the bedroom door flying open stops him. 

“I said, I’m—oh, hi, Eddie,” she trills, giving a tiny wave. “Come back for round two?”

Round two? You glance over at Eddie, waiting for an explanation, but he just turns beet red and sheepishly drops his gaze. 

Andrea takes in the puzzled look on your face and laughs harshly. “Aw, did your best friend not tell you?” There’s nothing but malice in her tone, and you feel like a rock landed in your lower abdomen. “Well, let me fill you in.”

“N-No, I should…” Eddie starts, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I swung by yesterday…I forgot you’d picked up that extra shift…”

Andrea rolls her eyes impatiently. “Write a goddamn novel, why don’t you?” she snaps. “I’ll summarize: you weren’t home, I was, and Eddie and I hooked up.”

“H-Hooked up?” The butterflies now have lead wings, and you feel the bile rising in your throat. 

“We slept together,” Eddie clarifies softly at the same time that Andrea quips, “we fucked.”

You try to blink back the tears that mist over your eyes. Your sister knows how you feel about Eddie; you weren’t naïve enough to tell her, she snooped through your diary and has been teasing you about it ever since. And while Eddie has no idea about the massive crush you’ve been harboring, he certainly is aware of how awful your sister is. His betrayal stings one thousand times worse. 

“Your bed is really great for sex,” Andrea sneers as you stumble to your feet. “Not that you’d know.”

This has to be a nightmare. You’re going to wake up at any moment, and the idea of Eddie and Andrea sleeping together will be a figment of your overactive imagination. It has to be, there’s no other explanation. But when you glance down at Eddie and see the shame that fills his face, you know. It’s real. Your best friend betrayed you in possibly the worst way he could have done so. All to get his dick wet.

“What the fuck?” It’s all that you can get out of your mouth. You suddenly feel like you’ve run ten miles. You’re lightheaded, your pulse is racing, and sweat is beginning to break out along your hairline. Eddie sets the guitar down and stands up. He reaches for you and you flinch away and pull back from him. The look of hurt that flashes in his eyes would normally make you want to wrap him up in your arms. But now? Now that you know that he fucked your sister in your bed, you don’t want him to ever touch you again. 

“Sweetheart, I’m—”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you snap. Looking past him, you can see your sister’s face is full of glee as a self-satisfied smirk settles on her lips. “What was in it for you, huh? Just to hurt me?”

Andrea scoffs and brings a hand up to her chest, reminding you of a southern belle clutching her pearls. “Are you insinuating that I don’t have feelings for dear Edward?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Eddie, you want to say, that’s the girl you slept with. 

“I would never insinuate that you have any feelings at all. Pretty sure you were born with a lump of coal in your chest instead of a heart. Come here, I’ll stab you with my letter opener and we’ll see the black blood come fucking rushing out,” you seethe. 

“Always so dramatic,” Andrea says with a sigh. “That must be why Eddie doesn’t reciprocate the silly little crush you have on him.”

Eddie’s eyes snap to you, and at any other time, you would’ve said him finding out is the worst possible thing to happen to you. But that’s been usurped now, so you really don’t care how he’s going to react. 

“Must be,” you retort, “or maybe he’s only into psycho bitches.” Clenching your fists, you turn to face Eddie. “I hope her pussy was worth it.” You storm over to your bedroom door, pushing past the both of them. Before you leave, you spin around to face the traitors. “I never want to see either of you again.” You don’t wait for either to respond; you just grab your bag and rush out to your car. 

You’re not sure why you drive to the Hideout; maybe it’s because you still want the comfort of Eddie, but you tell yourself it’s because the drinks are cheap and payday isn’t until next week. 

“I’ll take a Jack & Coke, please,” you tell Lou. The bartender nods, and you add, “you can put it on Eddie’s tab.” He is the reason you’re drinking, after all. 

The thought of their bodies melded into one, him holding her the way you’d only dreamed he’d hold you—it’s too much to bear. And now, like an idiot, you’d left them alone to do it again. 

Lou slides your drink over with a small smile, the most affection you’ve ever seen from the usually stoic man. You down the drink, and then another, frowning when you get the urge to break the seal. 

“Be right back,” you mutter to no one in particular, hoisting yourself off of the barstool and traipsing towards the restroom. You get a decent glimpse of yourself in the mirror: eyes still slightly puffy from when you’d been crying in the car, mascara smudged and smeared. A flick of the makeup wand has you looking a bit perkier already, and you practice your smile a few times before walking back out. 

Lou has another drink ready for you, cocking his head towards the other side of the bar. “Paid for by that gentleman over there,” he informs you, raising his eyebrows. 

You look to where he’s motioning and see a gorgeous older man giving you a little wave. His black t-shirt clings to his muscular frame, and you can’t help but notice the way his biceps ripple with each small movement. He looks to be in his mid- to late-forties, but his hair doesn’t show any signs of thinning. Short brown curls cover his scalp, cropped closely at the base of his neck. His upper body is covered in tattoos, and you immediately wonder where else he has ink. 

You saunter over to him, batting your eyelashes flirtatiously, just as you’d watched Andrea do countless times before. “I guess I should be thanking you for this drink,” you say, giggling and taking a sip. 

“Pleasure’s mine,” he offers, grabbing his green Heineken bottle and taking a swig. “Looked kinda sad, and pretty girls should always have a smile on their face.”

“It worked.” You rest your hand on his bicep, surprising yourself with your own brazenness. Or maybe it’s just tipsiness?

“You gotta name, pretty girl?” the mystery man asks, and you tell him. “Pretty name, too. Damn,” he muses. “I’m Jack. Just, uh, moved back to Hawkins a coupla days ago.”

“Moved back? So you don’t need the welcome tour?” you pout, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Pretty girl, I’ll take you up on anything you offer.”

You consider his proposition. “Let me finish this drink and we’ll see.”

His hand rests on your thigh as he tells you that he’s got a job lined up at the local power plant—immediately reminding you of Wayne, but you push the feeling down. You allow yourself to get lost in his sky blue eyes, somehow both haunting and comforting. 

You kill out your third drink, contemplating ordering one more. Either Jack was paying, or Eddie was, so all you had to worry about was how drunk you wanted to get. 

“What had you all upset earlier, hm?” Jack asks, running his thumb along the denim above your knee. “Don’t tell me it’s some stupid boy.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you then.” You giggle again—you can’t seem to stop giggling around him. “He’s not worth the time.”

Jack shakes his head. “He’s not. You don’t need to play his games. What you need,” he says seriously, “is a real man.”

“And where can I find one?”

His lips crash against yours hungrily, gently parting them with his tongue. He tastes like the hoppiness of beer and stale cigarettes, but you don’t mind. 

“That tour you mentioned earlier,” he murmurs in your ear, “can the first stop be my place?”

You give him a pout, leaning forward into his space, just enough for him to get a peek down your shirt. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

Jack looks around the bar, doing a doubletake when he sees the bathrooms in the back corner. He slides from his seat and takes one of your hands in his. There’s a smirk on his face as he walks backwards towards the bathrooms, tugging you along.

“Just as impatient as I am,” he says. “We shouldn’t wait any longer then.”

Without taking notice of if it’s the men or women’s room, you follow Jack in as he nudges a bathroom door open with his elbow. He’s quick to lock it behind you and his hands are instantly on you, grabbing at your waist as his mouth finds yours again. The kisses are urgent and sloppy, no teasing, just devouring one another. Your hands move down to his beltbuckle, making quick work of it and working on the button of his jeans. Strong, large hands grope over your chest as you shove his pants down, but just as you break from the kiss to get down on your knees, there’s a loud banging on the bathroom door. You’re startled and grab onto Jack’s arm, and he’s quick to wrap it around you reassuringly.

“Not in my bar!” Lou shouts through the door. 

Well, you think, can’t show my face at The Hideout again. Your face is burning in embarrassment as Jack huffs an awkward chuckle and resituates his belt. 

“I guess my place is the first stop on the tour then. That is, if you still want to?” Jack’s eyes meet yours, obviously wanting to convey that if you’re no longer interested, that’s fine. But a little embarrassment was nothing compared to how you felt earlier in the day.

“I want to,” you say. For emphasis, you grab the back of his neck and give him a kiss that proves how much you want him. When you pull away, there’s a dazed smile on his face that may be the most endearing thing you’ve seen all day. He takes your hand in his and slowly opens the bathroom door. Luckily, Lou isn’t standing on the other side of it, but you’re sure he’s not far off, watching to make sure the two of you leave. 

You force yourself not to look over at the bar as you and Jack head towards the door. It’s not like you think the bartender will tell anyone, but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at the moment. Jack’s car isn’t the nicest, but that’s not something you ever cared about anyway. If it gets you from point A to point B, that’s all that matters. The gentleman that he is, he holds the passenger’s side door open for you and you slip inside. He practically runs around to the driver’s side and it makes you let out a soft giggle. When’s the last time someone seemed this eager to spend time with you? And seem to be genuinely enjoying it?

The ride to his place is only about five minutes, and Jack makes sure you stay in the car until he can come around and open the door for you again. The apartment complex isn’t the nicest either, but what was in Hawkins? His place is on the first floor and you watch his hands as he fumbles with his keys. They’re large, calloused, from what you can only assume is years of work. Staring at them just makes you want to have them all over your body even more. 

As soon as he swings the door open, he’s all over you again. Frantic kisses keep his lips connected to yours as the two of you clumsily make your way to his couch. The material is worn, but not dirty, and you find yourself once again fumbling with his belt as he sits on the cushions.

“Picking up where we left off?” Jack teases, throwing his head back in ecstasy as you get back on your knees and take him into your mouth. The saltiness of sweat and pre-cum hits your tongue, his cock edging towards your throat when he brings his hands to the back of your head and helping you find the perfect rhythm.

“J-Jesus Christ,” he hisses, bucking his hips slightly and watching the tears involuntarily pooling along your lash line. “First time back in that dive bar in years, and I managed to find the girl who gives the best head in Hawkins.”

As if to prove his point further, you cup his heavy balls as you lick up and down his shaft. You keep at it for a few minutes, swirling your tongue around his overly sensitive tip before he pulls away.

“You’re good–too good; but ‘m not gonna lie to you,” he admits when you stare up at him with a puzzled expression, “I don’t bounce back as fast as those college guys you’re probably used to, and I gotta be inside your pussy tonight.”

You nod, tugging your shirt above your head as he helps you shimmy out of your jeans. “Like what you see?”

Jack doesn’t answer right away; just unhooks your bra and watches it fall to the floor. His gaze immediately snaps back to your bare breasts, beckoning you over to straddle his waist. His hard length presses against your lace panties, and the two of you moan in tandem.

“I don’t think you need these,” he mumbles, running his thumb over the lace before tearing them off completely. His middle finger easily finds your clit as he makes slow, deliberate circles.

You can’t help the way you grind against his touch, begging him to stretch you so good. The finger drags through your folds before he slips it inside you.

“So wet already, hmm? Pretty girl must need another finger.” You cry out in pleasure as his forefinger breaches your hole, pumping faster until you feel the familiar tension building in your core.

“N-Need your cock inside me,” you manage, barely able to formulate a thought, let alone a coherent sentence. 

He reaches into the pockets of the pants he discarded and fishes out his wallet to grab the foil-wrapped condom tucked away. Your eyes watch hungrily as he slips it over his cock, fucking his fist a few times to make sure he’s ready for you. His other hand grabs your waist and helps guide you until you’re hovering over his cock. Slowly, you begin to slide down, both of you letting out a groan as he first enters you. The stretch feels so good and from the way Jack’s squeezing his eyes closed and biting at his lower lip, you’d say it feels good for him as well.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Gives the best head and has the tightest pussy.”

Your only response is a whimper as you lower yourself even further, letting more of his cock fill you up. Once you no longer need your arms to steady yourself, you brace your hands on Jack’s chest. When your hands meet the fabric of his shirt though, you frown. Unable to form words as he finally bottoms out inside you, you tug at the dark material of his shirt, hoping he gets the hint. Reluctantly taking his hands off of you, he maneuvers out of his shirt and tosses it on the floor with his jeans. Most of his chest is covered in ink and you find your eyes trailing the different designs as you rock your hips back and forth. You slide your hands down to rest on his abdomen, since there’s no tattoos there, and you can get a better view of the artwork above. A snake is curled near his right collarbone and a little beneath that there are some sort of wings, but you’re not sure if it’s meant to be an angel, a bird, or something else. On the left side of his chest there is a bird, and it looks like a crow. There’s also a small “E” down near his heart that you can only assume is for an old girlfriend. 

Jack starts rocking his hips up to meet yours and it has your mind completely forgetting about the tattoos as you close your eyes in pleasure. His hands feel rough where they rest on the skin of your waist, but it feels so good when he slides them around to the front and grabs your breasts. You give a particularly hard thrust of your hips when his thumb grazes over your right nipple. There’s a breathy chuckle below you as he sees how sensitive you are to his touch. 

“Feel good, huh?” Jack asks. Breaths becoming more shallow, you nod your head. That’s not good enough for him, though. He gently pinches your nipple, just enough to get your attention, not enough to hurt. “Use your words for me, pretty girl.”

“It’s good,” you say. “So fucking good.” 

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So deep,” you say through a moan. “You’re so big. I feel you everywhere.” It’s true. He’s definitely the largest you’ve ever been with, and in your position, it feels like he’s splitting you open. His arm wraps around your middle as he adjusts himself so he’s sitting up more, your faces closer together this way. As your eyes slip closed again, his lips settle on yours, licking into your mouth hungrily. His teeth graze your bottom lip and it causes you to moan into his mouth. 

“You’re close,” he says. It’s not a question, but a bonafide statement; he already knows your body all too well. “Cream my cock, pretty girl. Just let go f’me.”

The coil snaps as he thrusts into you harder and faster than before. He spills into the condom with a groan of your name but doesn’t pull out right away. You keep him inside you as the two of you catch your breath, coming down from your highs.

“I should go,” you murmur, realizing that there is no way in hell that Andrea won’t rat you out for coming in late and smelling of sex. “Could you give me a lift back to the Hideout so I can get my car?”

Jack nods, discarding the used rubber in a nearby waste bin as you get dressed. You start to look for your underwear before remembering how he destroyed it, and it has you getting wet all over again. 

He kisses you one last time in the bar parking lot. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around for round two,” you tease, “but maybe I’ll catch you here another time?”

“I sure fuckin’ hope so.”

You’re in your bedroom a few days later, frantically searching through your cassette collection for your favorite AC/DC tape. It’s not in the “As” section, where it would normally be, and you realize with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you’d left it at Eddie’s a few weeks ago.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter. He was the only one allowed to borrow it–you’d gotten it signed by Angus Young when you saw the band in concert, and it meant everything to you. You needed it back.

The drive to Eddie’s trailer seems to fly by, now that you’re dreading facing him. You knock on the door once to no answer, but his van is parked in front, so you knock again, louder this time.

“I need my AC/DC tape,” you snarl as soon as he opens the door.

He rubs his face, combing his fingers through his hair. “Can I drop it off later? And then maybe we can talk?” he asks meekly.

“No.” You shake your head and put out your hand. “Go get the tape and give it to me now.”

Eddie glances around the trailer nervously, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look,” he starts, “now’s really not a good time…”

You scoff. “Why? Are you fucking another one of my family members? A cousin or something?”

A brief look of hurt flashes across Eddie’s face. He shakes his head and looks down at his feet before meeting your eyes again. “No. No, I wouldn’t…” he trails off with a sigh, sensing it’s useless—and he’s right. “My dad’s here.”

That’s one of the last things you expected to come out of his mouth. Your eyebrows raise in shock as you stare at him. Eddie hadn’t seen his father in years. Didn’t want to, according to him, no matter how many times his dad reached out. The relationship was tumultuous to say the least, but you felt you never had the right to offer any advice since you couldn’t relate to his situation. And Eddie never asked, so you weren’t going to say anything. 

“Your dad?” you ask, just wanting to clarify. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He keeps speaking, but movement in the trailer behind him catches your eye. You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing what you think you are. An airy giggle bursts out of you, drawing both the attention of Eddie and the man in the living room—Eddie’s father, apparently.

“What?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing in confusion. He looks behind him to see his dad, then back to you, unsure of what is making you laugh. “What’s so funny?”

Eddie’s dad stares at you, eyes widening as he comes forward to stand next to his son at the door. The shit-eating grin on your face must be confusing both of them, but it’s wholly impossible for you not to find this whole situation highly amusing. 

“Eddie?” his dad asks. “How do you know the pretty girl from the bar?”

Your ex-best friend’s gaze shoots to his father, head moving so fast that the curls whip around his head. Seeing them next to one another, you can see the resemblance. About the same height and build, same nose, and both covered in ink. Their curls are roughly the same color even if one has brown eyes and one has blue. 

“W-What?” Eddie asks, looking from his dad back to you.

“Hi, Jack,” you say, giving the older man a wink. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Eddie asks, the color draining from his face. You wait a beat while the realization sets in. “She’s…he’s…” He turns back to you. “You fucked my dad?”

You laugh, shrugging as you reply, “Guess so.” You waltz past your bewildered friend–ex-friend– grabbing Jack’s hand as you lead him back to Eddie's bedroom. 

“Wanna help me look for my tape?” you ask, hooking a finger through his belt loop and you bring your lips to whisper in his ear, “and maybe we can see about that round two?”

Jack grins, grabbing a handful of your ass as he follows you. “Looks like we found the next stop on our tour.”

[venusphoriia]

— Drunken Tears and Soft Confessions

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Clarisse La Rue x Fem! Dionysus! Reader

─ you drink away the pain, hoping it will eventually fill the void. It never does.

cw ཿ⠀ friends to lovers (high key implied), self harm, alcohol abuse, depressive thoughts, hurt with comfort, angst to fluff, not proof read. 1.9k words.

ପ a/n ; requested! please read the cw! took a lot longer than I expected, sorry (＃＞＜)♡︎ The ending didn’t come out like I hoped (╥_╥) I hope you enjoy anyway !

The alcohol burns your throat bitterly, the taste just as awful. Normally, pouring yourself a glass would be in honor of celebration or simply a time to enjoy yourself—unfortunately, as of late these times have been different. Instead of laughing joyfully, tears slip past your eyes with each sip you take.

A dull, itching pain worsens as you mindlessly swish the liquid in the glass. Fresh bandages hide deep crimson cuts, results from practice you’ll say, but anyone with the patience to care enough would know better. A quiet sob leaves your lips as you pull your knees closer to your chest.

This torment nearly drives you mad. You drown yourself in liquor, praying it would fill this feeling of emptiness that plagues you each night. You try to cut away at the anxieties, the fear of wasting away into nothing. You try to pinpoint the source of your anguish. Perhaps it was the lack of the will to live, maybe it was the disappointment of never feeling like you’ve done quite enough—or maybe it was the yearning for acknowledgment from the only parent you had left.

You lean back against the wall, tossing back the rest of your drink—a burning distaste following after. It does so little to quell the depressing feeling. You felt pathetic. You stare blankly at the nearly empty bottle before you, your thoughts becoming louder—drowning out all other senses. You’re falling, back into a time you begged you could forget—back into memories you tried desperately to avoid.

Footsteps approach, but they don’t completely break you from your trance. You assume it’s one of your siblings checking on you like they always did. Perhaps, they came to snatch the bottle from you to stop you from sinking deeper into your despair.

“(Y/n)?” The oddly soft, concerned tone of voice pulls you back from your drunken stupor. You recognize her voice—how could you not? But for the sake of what little remains of your pride, you try to delude yourself into thinking it wasn’t. You probably misheard or maybe you’ve truly gone mad; hallucinating her as a form of comfort in such desperate times.

And when she doesn’t speak again, your delusion seems plausible. Your tense body relaxes a bit, and you begin to sink back into your drunken mind. That is until you see her hand gingerly grab the empty glass from your hand, placing it alongside the bottle of liquor. Her fingertips brief brush against yours as she does so and it’s then that you realize she was no figment of your imagination.

She takes a seat next to you, on your disheveled bed, mindful to keep a bit of distance out of concern for your comfort. Although, your comfort is very little as you become painfully aware of your own pitiful state. Your hair a mess, your body felt uncomfortably filthy—you wanted to crawl away into a deep, dark corner and never be found again. This embarrassment made your body language more tense and withdrawn, subconsciously moving a bit farther away to maintain more distance.

She frowns softly. You see her expression out of the corner of your eye and turn away. You’ve seen the same look far too often these days, it was the same one your siblings would give you every time they came to snatch the bottle from your hands. It was a look of concern, unsaid words that drove daggers in your heart. You want to ease their worries, you want to get better, but you can't find the strength within yourself.

A few moments of silence follows. She gently grabs your hand, but you’re quick to pull away. The shame of being seen in such a drunken state by her was too much to bear, “Clarisse, please—”

Your voice comes out weak, your pleading tone wraps around her heart tightly. When you quickly try to pull away, her hand wraps around your wrist firmly. The tight grip immediately makes you wince, a small hiss of pain slipping past your lips. Clarisse loosens her grip with a look of confusion on her face before looking down at your wrist.

She attempts to pull back your sleeve. You quickly reach out to stop her, your free hand grabbing her wrist, briefly stopping her movements. She looks at you, your eyes meeting hers for the first time since she’s walked in. Neither of you speak, but within the same breath, neither of you look away.

You can almost hear your heart beating loudly through the silence, your thoughts in shambles trying to figure out what exactly is she thinking about. Her perception of you is ruined—your mind is convinced—there is no forgetting something like this. The urge to cry is slowly crawling up your throat as her eyes finally break away from yours.

Your hold around her wrists has loosen greatly, she slowly pulls back your sleeve, careful not to hurt you like she did before. She turns your wrist over, seeing the fresh blood that stained the white bandages. She doesn’t need to remove them to know what’s underneath.

“It’s nothing,” You mumbles softly, breaking through the silence as you watching Clarisse stare wordlessly at your bandaged wrists; your intoxicated judgement finds it best to play naive, feigning innocence in hopes to repair this uncomfortable tension in the air.

Clarisse sighs softly, her brows furrowed a bit in irritation, but she remains mindful of her tone. She looks back at you, clearly not buying your words. Her voice is soft, yet firm as she speaks, “Bullshit.”

You roll your eyes, letting go of Clarisse’s wrist before trying to snatch back your own, “I’m fine, it’ll practically be healed by tomorrow.”

A lie. And you both know it. Clarisse allows you to snatch your wrist back, watching quietly for a moment as you gently rub it in a poor attempt to soothe the pain. Clarisse’s quietness breaks your attention away from your wrist, glancing towards her in confusion. You had expected her to say something, anything by now—perhaps even a small petty insult.

She doesn’t. Instead, she stares at you, patiently waiting for you to admit that your anything, but okay. You click your tongue in annoyance before mumbling a few curses under your breath. You realized it was pointless to keep up this act with Clarisse, knowing she could see right through your lies.

“I’ll be fine, this is just…a small setback,” You said perhaps a bit too lightly as you see Clarisse grow a bit more irritated at your poor attempt to lighten the mood. You force a small sheepish smile in hopes to ease the tension a bit. It doesn’t.

“A small setback? Is that really what you want to call this?” Clarisse retorts, a little harsher than she intended. Her eyes don't break away from you once, noticing every little change in your movements. Your gaze becomes much more avoidant, your hands fidgety, and your body language tenses—she realizes she’s coming off too harsh.

Another sigh leaves her lips and she looks away from you. You fall silent, feeling more awkward than anything at the moment. Clarisse isn’t sure of the right thing to say or do, she’s never been good when it comes to emotions or being vulnerable. She’s the daughter of Ares after all.

“You should speak to your father,” Clarisse advises, running a hand through her hair as she looks back at you. She can’t help, but glance between you and the self-inflicted wounds on your wrist. The soft look of concern and—perhaps even—sympathy.

You scoff, a bitter chuckle leaving your lips at Clarisse’s words. In all truth, you would rather be burned at the stake than to speak to him about this. There wasn’t a cell in your body that believed he would even care enough to pretend to listen, “Like hell I will.”

Clarisse finds herself getting annoyed at your dismissive tone, quickly becoming defensive like she normally does, “Well, it’s better than nothing.”

“Look—I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine,” your words sound far from grateful, completely falling short of how you truly felt. You become a bit harsher in return, building your walls higher as you wish for this whole conversation to be done with. You look down at your hands, biting back tears—not wanting to look any more pathetic than you already felt.

Clarisse falls quiet. She knows she’ll fail at words if she tries to speak and she doesn’t know what other words of advice to give. But still, she wants to comfort you, hating the fact that she’s been too ignorant towards your state for this long.

Hesitantly, Clarisse gently grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. You looked up at her confused, you had a feeling of what Clarisse was attempting to do, but you struggled to fully believe it. She watches you carefully for any sign of resistance or discomfort, you remain placid and she continues to pull you closer.

She hugs you close, wrapping her arms around you firmly. Your whole body tenses, you bite your lip harshly to silence the sobs clawing at your throat. The taste of iron is bitter on your tongue as you struggle to hold back your tears. Your drunken state only makes your emotions feel stronger.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse whispers softly, her voice oddly tender and endearing. Her touch is gentle and comforting, her body is warm as you listen to her steady heartbeat. She holds you tight enough as if afraid it might be the last—and yet her touch remains cautious as if you were the most precious thing she has ever loved, “I’ve got you.”

Her words break you. Your walls crumble completely as you begin to sob heavily. You grab onto her tightly as you cry into her shoulder. She quietly lets you, listening as your tears break through the silence. Her heart aches when she hears you try to mumble indistinguishable words through your broken sobs. Your pained filled rant simmers down into apologies, guilt washing over you in waves.

Clarisse remains quiet, her hand rests gently on the back of your neck—while the other rubs soothing motions on your back. Your cries begin to soften after a while, fatigue slowly creeps through your body. Your breathing heavy from the once harsh sobs that tore through you. Your voice was hoarse as you tried to weakly mumble one last apology.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, pretty girl,” a small, sad smile slips onto Clarisse’s lips, she gingerly kisses away your tears. Your heart flutters softly at the endearing act, a soft chuckle slips past her lips and you swear your heart nearly skipped a beat, “It’s okay, I’ve gotcha.”

You smile softly, too tired to give a response in turn. A few quiet moments pass, your eyes feel a bit heavier and your breathing becomes a bit more relaxed. Clarisse doesn’t mind, shifting into a more comfortable position for you. You grumble softly, causing Clarisse to roll her eyes a bit before placing one last kiss on your forehead.

Clarisse leans her head back against the wall, sighing deeply. She feels your soft breath brushing against her skin, feelings she’s tried to keep buried crawl up to the surface. The words slip past her lips without her notice, a soft confession barely above a whisper. It wasn’t until she felt you smile against her skin that she realized you felt the same.

© venusphoriia 2024 — do not copy or repost any of my works on any other platform, please and thank you !! ( ˘ ³˘)♡

[theodorecanaryhood]

Platonic

Jason Todd x Male reader

Family functions were the worst, you had no love for them at all. Your parents knew but still forced you to be there.

You were the youngest son, and your parents and older siblings always tormented you for the fact you hadn’t found anyone yet.

You stood in your bedroom staring in the mirror, holding up a red tie and a blue tie.

‘The red ones nice’ Jason said as he walked in the room.

His white shirt and black suit pants complemented his body, he’d agreed to go with you as your ‘boyfriend’ for the night.

You’d forewarned that the two of you would be sharing a room as it was overnight at your parents house.

‘Great, red it is’ you said, throwing it around your neck and tying it.

Jason smiled a little as he put on his black blazer, picking up his mustang keys.

‘It’s a long drive, you ready?’ Jason asked as you smiled.

‘Yeah’

The two of you drive to your family function, you dreading that you agreed to go. You didn’t like the fact you were flying to your family about having a boyfriend. But you also couldn’t bare the stress of having your singledom thrown in your face again.

‘Right, before we head inside. Is there anything we should do?’ Jason asked as he parked the car. You looked at him confused.

‘What you mean?’ You asked, Jason smiled.

‘We have to convince the family we’re a couple, also I have to convince them I’m gay’ Jason made his point.

‘Maybe just hold hands …. I guess I can hold onto your arm’ you suggested. Jason nodded.

‘What about kissing?’ Jason asked, you raised an eyebrow.

‘If you’re comfortable, but we don’t have to’ you said.

The two of you got out of the car, walking toward the venue. Jason smiled as he took your hand in his, preparing himself for the charade you two would put on.

You’d been friends with Jason a few years now, he had no issues at all with you being gay. But, he also didn’t like the idea of you being picked on by family for still being single.

He happily agreed to be your pretend boyfriend for a night or two.

The two of you stepped inside holding hands, both suited up as you walked towards your parents.

‘Mum, dad?’ You called out gently as they turned around and saw you, both smiling.

‘Y/n’ your mum cheered as she hugged you. Your dad doing the same.

‘And who’s this?’ Your father asked, looking Jason up and down.

‘This is Jason, my boyfriend’ you smiled as Jason introduced himself to the parents.

It was a busy event, and you gladly paraded your ‘boyfriend’ for the night. Your siblings meeting him too.

There was never an issue of running into the family while being out as you lived in Gotham City, they lived in Metropolis. It was a long way for them to travel to even see you.

Jason did a really good job at pretending he was with you, you didn’t think he’d be as into it as he seemed to be.

‘How am I doing?’ Jason asked you as the two of you stopped for a drink.

‘Great’ you smiled, your parents looking at the two of you from across the bar.

‘Your parents are looking’ Jason whispered, not wanting to make you anxious.

‘Do they seem suspicious?’ You asked curiously as Jason nodded a little.

‘Think so’

You thought maybe you’d been caught out and that was when Jason took a leap, holding onto your face and giving you a kiss. A few seconds, but it was deep.

‘Still looking?’ You asked as Jason peaked, he smiled a little as he nodded.

‘Yeah, not suspicious anymore it seems’ Jason said as he realised he was still holding onto your face.

The two of you had a drink together before you both got alerted it was coming to an end. Jason opted to drive the two of you to your parents house .

‘You ok about sharing a room?’ You asked him as he stopped outside your parents house.

He just nodded in response, opening the car door and the two of you heading into the house.

It was a nice house, too many bedrooms for a small amount of people. Much like Wayne manor. Jason was impressed by it, more so the artwork on the walls.

‘Y/n, why don’t you show Jason your room?’ Your mum said as you took Jason’s hand and lead him upstairs.

Giving Jason a tour of the house that was too big, too flashy and far too loud with artwork on the walls.

Jason sat with you drinking tea with your parents, him getting to know the family better. He found it quite funny how they were being so nice to you considering the stories he’s heard of what they’re really like.

It came to bedtime, Jason went to your room with you as you stood in the room.

‘Thank you again, for doing this for me. It’s a lot to ask I know’ you said as Jason shook his head a little.

‘Don’t sweat it, it’s great’ Jason smiled as he stripped his suit shirt and pants off. You doing the same.

‘You can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor’ you said as Jason took your arm.

‘No, please. You can sleep in the bed too’ Jason spoke quick as you looked into his eyes.

‘You sure?’ You asked as he nodded. You got into bed and lay next to him.

Jason fell asleep pretty quickly but you didn’t, your head raced. You kept thinking about the kiss you shared.

You know Jason is straight and has no interest beyond friendship with you, but you couldn’t help it. You’d never seen this side of him before.

Once you managed to fall asleep, it wasn’t long before the sun was up for its rounds. You groaned at the sight of the it as your bedroom door creaked open slowly.

‘Morning, you want coffee?’ Your mum smiled as you nodded.

Looking and seeing Jason still fast asleep next to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time your parents were this nice to you, you wondered if it was only because you’d brought a guy home.

It didn’t matter as it was time to head home after a couple of hours, Jason was smiling and holding your hand to the car.

Giving you a small kiss in the cheek as you got into the car. Once off your parents property and headed back to Gotham City, the charade would be over.

Jason hummed a little to the tune on the radio, eyes focused on the road. He suddenly turned to you.

‘If you need to do this again, let me know’ Jason suggested.

You smiled as you nodded, Jason went back to looking at the road. He was your saviour for the weekend. And you would never be able to thank him enough.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | Two

Word Count: 6.2k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex

Series Masterlist  ​​

Hedi had noticed her praying more often, with soft tears in her eyes.

 But no matter how much Hedi asked her what was wrong, the little maidservant would shake her head and insist that she was merely homesick having sent a few copper coins to her siblings.

 In the room she shared with her fellow maidservant, Alanna, who luckily worked quite the opposite shift to her, she would sit on the stool before the pale of water, scrubbing at her skin to wash herself. Trying to rid her mind of the experience altogether. The taste of his spend on her tongue. The uncomfortable prod of his cock at the back of her throat. The way his voice sent a jolt of both fear and a thrill through her. It made her question everything about herself. That perhaps she didn’t know herself as well as she thought. And it was this fact that disturbed her the most.

 That she was beginning to lose touch of herself.

 She’d not said a word to anyone. And when she attended to him in the mornings as she usually did, she tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping that if she hugged her arms around herself tight enough, she might actually begin to disappear. Prince Aemond had almost pretended as if nothing had happened, with his usual one word answers, faint hums and lack of presence in his chambers.

 The little maidservant wondered if she had done something to irk him, or if he had not enjoyed the experience and wished not to repeat it. Secretly, she hoped so. Hoped that he would lose interest and slowly slip into the old habits, ignoring her completely. Then she could go about her life, picking and cleaning up the royal Prince’s mess, and hers into the bargain as well. She thought that royals such as him do not think about the messes they make.

 In that way they are like children.

 She wondered if anyone, in Prince Aemond’s life, had ever told him no.

 It was doubtful.

 Perhaps that was why he felt entitled to torment her in the way he had. Perhaps it was the effect of privilege in the pursuit of pleasure.

 It was a morning like any other and she dressed in silence, careful not to wake her fellow colleague whom she shared a bed with. Alanna was a night owl, through and through, but it did not mean she was not exhausted after performing her night shift duties and when she had come back in the early hours, it was like a prod for the other little maidservant to wake for her morning duties.

 Who she saw in the looking glass looked very much like her, but didn’t feel like her.

 The weather was pleasant enough, warm with a cool breeze as she carried Prince Aemond’s breakfast tray, a heavy bubble in her gut at the thought of seeing him again.

 She’d turned at the call of her name. The young boy who served alongside the staff rushed up to her carrying a scroll.

 “What is it?”

 “Message from your family, miss” the boy’s voice broke as he spoke, he could not have been older than three and ten and still had that nervous wide look about him.

 The little maidservant swallowed nervously and gestured for him to read it. She recognised him as the son of one of the staff, almost born for the role of being a hasty little messenger, and thus he was taught to read. Perhaps a benefit of his sex and his environment.

 The letter read:

Your pestilent brother and sister are well, but their stomach’s are never full and the boy in particular has almost completely cleaned out the pantry. I will, for the love I had for your mother and father, continue to look after them, however I must request three additional copper coins per week to fund their insatiable appetite. Otherwise I shall be forced to send the little beggars on their way to earn their own coin, the young girl is certainly old enough.

 The maidservant delivered a large sigh, an uncomfortable weight that was already on her shoulders was becoming heavier the more the boy read on.

 “Thank you” she nodded to dismiss the young boy, only allowing herself to breathe a shuddered breath once she was alone. She told herself to not panic, to not cry and that everything would be alright in the end. But there was a small piece of her inside that allowed herself to be a child again, wanting the comfort of a mother and father. She wondered how she would be able to come up with 3 additional copper coins a week and still be able to feed and clothe herself.

 Steadying her breath to keep herself from becoming emotional, she knocked twice and was allowed to enter when she once again heard the muffled tone of his voice.

Tray on the nightstand. Draw the curtains. Tie them back. She kept going over what she was going to do in her head, eyes downcast the entire time, not wanting to look at him.

 And yet in her peripheral she saw him rise from his bed as she tied the curtains back

 Her heart lurched into her chest when she saw his arms hook underneath hers to lean against the windowsill in front of her, and then when his bare chest had nudged against her back. She felt as if she could not make a sound and so she didn’t even acknowledge it at first, screwing her eyes shut to draw in a shaky breath. Aemond had smirked behind her, knowing what her reaction would be and his finger once again came to the little curl at the side of her head that perpetually made itself free of her braids.

 “My little maidservant is shy today” he said lowly, pressing his form tighter against her back, thinking about how if he bucked his hips just a little, his hard arousal would prod against her dress-clad backside.

 He looked down as she purposefully did not look back at him. He watched the way her lips were slightly parted, as if so afraid that she had to breathe through her mouth, albeit quietly. He chuckled at the effect he seemed to have on his little maidservant, smoothing his finger over her hair, then her neck, which he can tell made her shudder slightly.

 “Tell me, sweet girl, do you still taste it…” he whispers in the shell of her ear, looking down he can see the shadow of her skin beneath her dress, but it becomes too dark to truly see anything. He allowed himself to wonder what her bare form would look like.

 Would she have small, well-rounded breasts, easily fit into his palms. How he thought he'd grip them so tight he wouldn't let go, intent on making her at least whimper at the pleasurable pain.

 Would she have a smooth curve to her hips, the line leading down to her cunny, to where he imagined that little patch of hair would welcome him.

 Would she have supple thighs, ones he could leave bruises and marks all over. Perhaps even a bit of blood. The thought of smearing blood over her skin thrilled him more than he thought.

 He remembers how she'd told him she'd not been with a man. Would she bleed so nicely for him, once he'd taken her maidenhead, be good and muffle her little whimpers of discomfort into the pillow. Or rather, he wondered if he'd quite like to hear them, while curling his fingers around her throat and squeezing tightly.

 It was getting harder to breathe for Aemond. And unbeknownst to him, it was increasingly so for her as well. Frozen in absolute fear.

 “...do you still feel my cock in your throat, hm?”

 Yes, she thought, with a shameful twist of her stomach. She could still feel his hands holding her face, forcing her to take him as deep as he wanted, still feel every thrust of his hips against her, his fist tightening in her hair, tugging.

 He released one of his hands on the windowsill to rest on her waist, making her inhale sharply. He’d not touched her intimately, only solicited the use of her mouth on him that one time. Aemond felt the movement of her ribs beneath her dress with her breathing, as if he’s just realised she was a living, breathing person before him.

 “Have you touched yourself, sweet girl” he asks.

 She managed to gather all the courage she has inside her and cleared her throat, “I…am not sure what you mean, your grace”

 Fucking cock tease, Aemond thought. But she had really not known at all what he’d meant. Of course she had touched herself, to bathe herself, to brush her hair?

 “I mean…” he starts, his large hands moving to gather her skirts in his fist. And this time she did shudder when the air hit her legs, skin that outside the boundaries of her own bedroom, should never be seen, “...have you touched your little cunt for pleasure”

 She clenches her fists when his palm runs up the side of her thigh. It’s so wrong. So, so wrong for him to touch her like this.

 Aemond breathes hot against her neck at the feeling of her soft skin. Just like how he'd imagined it. The curve of her hip, so feminine and squeezable in his hand. He thought of the way he would grab at them to fuck her, for leverage, using her body the way he sees fit. And now that he'd done so with her mouth, he thought of the rest of her little holes and how they would squeeze him too.

 “Bought yourself to peak with your fingers…”

 She could cry. She thought she’d lost his interest. Thought she might be free of it. Calm down, is all she kept trying to tell herself. She counted in her head, trying to ground herself.

 He squeezes her hip tightly when she doesn’t respond, “Answer me now, or I will not be so nice”

 “A few times” she admits, voice thick with tears, “a few times, your grace…”

 But never to peak, she thought, embarrassed.

 She spoke like she may have been in trouble for it and dreaded what he might do now that she’s given her answer.

 “Hm” she chuckles, giving the skin of her hip one firm squeeze, one that is so tight in his palm it almost makes her whimper in pain. He lets her skirts fall as he moves away from her, looking much pleased with himself, smirking like he knows a secret.

 “Go now” he orders, still with that gravelly authority but ever so slightly softer, now that he'd been thinking of her cunt. But the softer tone does nothing to calm her and if it were possible, she guards herself even more, keeping her eyes to the ground. She doesn’t even look back when he says, “I shall see you tonight, sweet girl”

 She did not want to know what that meant, if it meant anything at all.

 Aemond watched as she left, scared completely out of her senses.

 Good, he thought. He loved that terror-stricken look in her eyes, the sharp taking in of breath when she was trying not to cry in his presence. He’d remembered wiping her tears away when he’d fucked her mouth so ruthlessly in search of his own pleasure, the way the slickness of it had smeared across her face. Aemond found that he wanted to know what she tasted like, every single bit of her. She would be so sweet…his virtuous little maidservant. He had to make sure she was entirely his, so that she knew nothing else but him.

 Young women like her are so helpless in the hands of amorous men.

 Whatever words were said to them, whatever touch and manipulation on their bodies seemed like love to them, the poor, silly little things.

 He would make sure that whatever words, whatever touch inflicted to his little maidservant would be sweet, delightful torture.

All the while she was dismissed until the evening, she busied herself with such menial tasks such as helping the others with the laundry for the day. It was nice to get outside, free from the suffocating confines of the Keep, even if it was just for a moment. The hallways now served to remind her of him, dreading the moment she would be walking down them and he would round the corner, with that predatory gaze he always gave her.

 It was a calm day, so she revelled in the lovely breeze for a moment, allowing herself to be happy.

 There was some relief in the idle chatter of the other maidservants, as she scrubbed the white bed linen against the washboard, her sleeves turned up to prevent from getting wet.

 “I hear the Princess Rhaenyra very well may be returning to King’s Landing soon”

 Freiya was a little younger than the others and as such, had a wandering imagination, a large mouth and a bit appetite for gossip. So it was no wonder she’d already managed to receive the latest even if it was barely early afternoon.

 The other, who went by Mari, also probably short for something but she would never tell anyone, rolled her eyes at the younger woman. Mari was one and twenty, but her mind was mature beyond her years.

 “You must not believe everything you hear, your ears will fall off one day, you little tyrant”

 Freiya pulled an offended frown, “No! I heard such news right from the source, while I was attending to the Queen. She said herself that the Princess will return to contest some…birthright or something like that”

 The little maidservant raised her head and gave Mari an amused look, “You should not be listening to them while you attend to them”

 “You get away with it if you pretend you’re not listening at all” Freiya snaps back with a mischievous smirk, “the Queen is understandably not thrilled with their arrival”

 Mari huffed a laugh, “Neither are the Princes”

 “Why is that?” she asks with a confused lilt of her head,

 Despite being younger, Freiya talks over Mari when she’s about to open her mouth. Such a carefree little thing, it made her laugh. She cared not about such hierarchies.

 “Supposedly they are here for the little Prince Lucerys’ ‘right’ to Driftmark”

 Mari wrinkles her nose in distaste, “Prince Lucerys? The…”

 “Exactly” Freiya responds,

 “What on earth are you two talking about?” she asks, completely lost.

 Mari sighs, “Prince Lucerys is the one who took Prince Aemond’s eye all those years ago, both merely children” she explains, folding the damp cloth in her arms, “the Queen was so distressed for her son, she barely allowed him from her sight”

 For a very split second, something akin to sympathy washes over the little maidservant. But then underneath that is another feeling still. Something questioning.

 “When are they to arrive?”

 “Allegedly, within a few days” Freiya responds excitedly, ecstatic to receive some drama in her no doubt monotonous maidservant life.

 For a man who had been so wronged in his past, with such a traumatic past, to turn into the person he was today. Someone who could be cruel, taking the little power she had in her own life into his own, greedy for more. She had done nothing to him but merely exist and attend to him, as was her job. And she wracked her brain about it. What had she done to incite such cruelty in him, if anything at all? What harm could she do to him in her position, that he had not done to her a million times over.

 With her heart weighing heavy in her chest, after scrubbing the living daylights out of the linen, she carried the dirty water back with Freiya, chatting idly. She was good company, she had to admit, even if she was obsessed with the inner workings of the royal’s lives. As melancholic as the little maidservant felt, she let out perhaps her first genuine laugh when Freiya ‘accidentally’ bumped some of the water over the front of her dress. She’d given the young girl a friendly swat and told the little tyrant to scarper.

 If what Freiya and Mari had said was true, there was a possibility that his typical Targaryen temper could possibly become worse. Perhaps irreparably so.

  She waited in his chambers until it was impossibly dark. Later than usual, Aemond eventually returned, in a much more sour mood than this morning.

 She’d knelt in front of the fire, placing more wood on it to heat the room in the cold that had captured it now that the sun had gone down. Was this how it was to be now? In the morning, he was one person, not burdened by the mood of others and his own not dependent on what had happened during the day. And at night, after the weight of his day had weighed heavy on his tired soul, his desire for release, of any kind, was insatiable.

 “Your grace” she greeted with a bowed head, her soft, fearful voice barely carried above the crackling of the flames. Quite the opposite of the other night, while he was still angry, he let the door shut softly behind him. She just stared at his legs as they made their way towards her, and a flash of her pushing against his legs, in an attempt to push him away from her zips through her head. He was so much larger than her, she thought. It would take no effort on his side at all to subdue her.

 She notices how he stands before her, fists clenched white.

 “My little maidservant does not meet my eye today” he says with a hint of irritation to his tone, “Why”

 She swallows nervously, trying desperately to regain her breath “Apologies, your grace.Just some problems at home that are of no matter”

 When he remains still and quiet, she worries for a moment that she’s overshared, spoken too much and that depending on what mood he’s in, she might have set him off.

 “What problems” he asks, and despite him asking, she gets the impression from his tone of voice that he is completely and utterly unbothered about the reason and just wants to hear her speak. She looks up to meet his eye and immediately wishes she hadn’t. His gaze is cold, uncaring, dark, like she is an annoyance.

 “My…siblings, your grace. I am required to send them more coin, to pay for their support…” she replies nervously, insistent that she has shared too much information and that he very much does not care. She sees this, because his cold expression does not change.

 His eyes roam her face, seeing the discomfort there at her situation. But he cannot find it within himself to care. All he cares to remember is how her smooth hip felt that very morning, how hard he had squeezed it, how he had dreamt for his fingernails to create little indents in her soft skin.

 “You do not smile in my presence” he says simply.

 At this, her lips part in shock. What did he mean? And also, what reason would she have to smile in his presence while attending to him?

 “Pardon me, your grace?” she says in a quiet voice, immediately sucking in air as he steps closer to her. Her feet didn’t move from their spot.

 “With the other maidservants, you smile so widely and yet in my presence…” he hums, his finger reaching out to twirl the little piece of hair at the side of her face once more, as if obsessed with it, “...I believe you fear me, sweet girl”

She could say nothing but try and keep her breath steady. He was right, he frightened her. But what woman would not be frightened at the way he leered at her, kept her in his sights firm and unyielding.

 Only a woman who would want it, she thought.

 “But no matter,” he says, his hand trailing to her the buttons of her dress at the top of her chest. Undoing the first…then the second…”I will have your fear if I can have nothing else” he smirks only slightly.

 Her brain was all over the place. He said it with such conviction. Uncaring if she had wanted any of it or not. She could feel her stomach bubbling in her gut, feeling as if she might either cry or vomit. Aemond could not help but smirk at her efforts to keep herself calm, and failing miserably. His hand barely floated over her chest, over her clothed nipple and she’d flinched only slightly, with a slight inhale of her sweet, hot breath.

 He had seen how she had smiled with her fellow maidservant, the way her dimples had shown on the upper apples of her cheeks, the pink that coloured them when she laughed. He had seen the way the little cock tease had water splashed down her front, turning her dress completely dark and sodden. Aemond would not be able to rid his mind of the image of her hardened nipples beneath the fabric for days, weeks, months to come.

 “Sit” he gestured to the end of the large bed, while Aemond stalked to the fireplace for a moment.

 She gathered her skirts in her shaking hands and sat herself down, closing her eyes to catch her breath, feeling as if the walls were closing in, and that the air was becoming difficult to breathe.

 When Aemond turned around, his eyepatch had been discarded and he was shucking off his leather doublet, with the cream undershirt the only thing beneath it. He walked with such purpose towards her, until his tall, broad form was completely staring and looming over hers. His sapphire eye caught the light of the fire and at this moment, he looked almost possessed.

 “I do not want your hair up when you are in my chambers”

 There was a beat of silence, timed by the beating of her heart.

“Well?”

 The intensity of his voice seemed to wake her from the impregnable fear for just a moment, and her shaking hands reached up for her hair again, quicker about her movements than she had been the previous time he’d aske-no, demanded for her to do so. It was wrong firstly to have her hair loose in his presence, but if anyone

 “Look at me”

 With her hair now falling in their waves down her back, she barely has time to look up before his large hand flies to her jaw,  fingers squeezing painfully at her cheekbones, almost bruisingly. He pulls at her face slightly upwards and towards him. Aemond revells in the shocked and doe-eyed expression on her face and the way her skin blossoms pink under his firm, hard touch. His lips are drawn into a tight line, as if getting angrier by the second, and in his grasp he felt her tremble.

 “Did you enjoy my cock in your throat” he says, his thumb drawing across her bottom lip, only slightly dipping inside into the warm embrace of her little mouth. He can see that she’s too shocked to say anything, her pupils shaking.

 “Did you enjoy swallowing my spend…” he goes on, his thumb pressing against the wet muscle of her tongue, emphasising where his spend had been before he had demanded her to swallow it.

 If he dipped beneath her skirts, would she bet as wet as her mouth? Accepting his digit so willingly.

 “I think you did, sweet girl”

Did I?

 He collects the wetness of her mouth on his thumb, still grasping her face tightly. When she briefly looked down, she saw how hard he was beneath his breeches and the memory of how he had felt in her mouth, heavy and hot. As well as how he’d tasted. At this she feels her gut tighten.

 He pulls his thumb out her mouth, again, smearing the wetness over her lips and then her face as he grips her tightly once more.

 “Do you like this job, sweet girl” he asked and her heart froze in fear.

 “Yes, your grace” she whispered back,

 “Then you will do as I say if you wish to keep it”

 He quite forcefully pushes her back, making her support her torso on her elbows, looking over to the bed with parted lips when Aemond kneels on the floor, his eye forever on her face as he rucks up her skirts. It’s here she realises what he may intend to do and goes to shut her legs tight against each other.

 “Are you going to be a good little maidservant and be quiet?”

 She nods, voice failing her. Not that she would trust it to be steady at the moment.

 If it were possible, his mood flattened completely. Aemond growls and hooks both his hands under her thighs and pulls her closer to him, his fingers digging into her bare, soft skin.

 “Your grace, I-” she starts. Aemond glares right at her, forcefully parting her thighs and painfully squeezing the meat of her legs, emitting a whimper from her.

 “What did I fucking say about being quiet” he snarls, hooking his fingers into her smallclothes and ripping them down her legs. She would shut her legs tightly if Aemond were not so strongly holding them apart, and she feels her heart going fast when she feels his hot breath on the juncture of her thigh. His tongue runs over the line there, inhaling deeply the heady scent of her sex, which he has no doubt is seeping with arousal.

 “Stay still while I taste you, sweet…sweet girl”

 He dips between her thighs and sees her bare cunny before him. It was just as he’d imagined it, the luscious hair framing it just for him was waiting there, his thumb ran over her lips, parting them to brush his thumb over her clit. She was wet. So wet. Her slick aided his movements and when he’d brushed over her swollen bundle of nerves, she’d released a shuddered breath, tensing up somewhat. Aemond was tempted to reprimand her, but now faced with her perfect cunt right before him, ready for his taking, he cannot find it within himself to care.

 He dives in, flattening his tongue against her sex and he feels her body jolt beneath his hold, fingers curling into her hips.

 “Mm…” he hums. She tasted so sweet for him, the intoxicating taste of her arousal flooded his tongue, waking his nerves and something deep, dark and ancient within. His eye opened somewhat to look up at her, being so good and quiet for him and he smirked against her cunt, quickening his motions when he saw that she’d laid back, keeping her hand over her mouth to obey him. Aemond watched as her chest and body writhed with each movement of his wet muscle against her clit, her other hand fisted the bedsheets and he could faintly hear her whimpering behind her hand.

 Aemond pushed her legs further apart, granting his tongue access to her wet and waiting entrance, he dipped inside, using it to fuck her repeatedly. The only sound in his otherwise quiet chambers was slapping of his mouth against her cunt, lapping up her juices with a new vigour. He thought, the longer he continued, the more addicted he would become to it. He wanted to have this sweet cunt for all his meals; it gave him life and sustenance.

 But it wasn’t enough.

 His little maidservant was not letting go of herself enough. He could not bring her to peak like this.

 He wanted her climax on his tongue, like she had his.

 Aemond moves his tongue out of her, running up slowly to her bundle of nerves and sucks eagerly, giving her a new, deeper sensation in her gut that makes her hips buck against his face against her will. A new sound floods out her mouth against her hand that has Aemond’s ears perked up and his lips turn up into a smirk. He briefly breaks his contact with her to pull her hand from her face, pinning it by her wrist to the bed harshly.

 “I want to hear you when I make you peak”

 Her eyes are shut tightly, but Aemond doesn’t wait for an answer and goes right back in, licking and sucking her clit, one hand forever at her thigh to keep her open for him. He can feel her body trembling beneath him and the little sounds of her breath as she tries to keep it under control, and now that her hand is not muffling her sounds, he drinks in the various whimpers and tiny, tiny moans with renewed purpose.

 She lets out halfway between a choked whimper and moan when Aemond mercilessly thrusts one finger into her, he moans against her sex at the tightness of her, and how she would feel when she was finally wrapped around his cock. How she’d squeeze him as he used her body for himself and milk him for his spend when her cunt convulsed with the force of her climax.

 Aemond moved his head side to side against her sex, licking every bit of her he could as her moans had become louder. Stray tears ran down her face at the foreign feeling. It was strange and slightly unpleasant, as she’d never put anything inside her before. But his finger crooked up inside her slightly, rubbing against somewhere she never knew existed and it gave her the urge to move her hips, searching for something.

 Uncaring if she was ready, Aemond hastened all his movements and inserted a second, stretching her little cunny with his long, thick digits. He thought she would need to be prepared, for when he would eventually have his cock inside of her.

 It would hurt. It would be painful.

 And it was this that excited him the most.

 As he fucked her with his fingers, focussing his tongue on her clit quickly, he noted the way her body began to spasm in his grip. She was close, just that bit more.

 He loved it when her pink lips parted to give him a quiet moan. It was like praise. And when he concentrated the pads of his fingers against that rough spot within her, her back began to move off the bed, her breath coming in hurried pants. Her tears joined the rest, sliding down her face at the absurdity of the feeling she was having. What was this? Was this pleasure? What everyone else sought so much? It didn’t feel entirely pleasurable, she thought. But there was something deep, dark about the way it was being drawn from her that set shame heavy in her.

 “Come on, sweet girl…” Aemond murmurs against her, “come on”

 He keeps his mouth on her the entire time, body wracked with painful pleasure. So much so that even her voice doesn’t manage to form coherently and her mouth is slack open, frozen in place as the warmth floods her body against her will.

 “That’s it…” he coos, all while his tongue earnestly laps up every single bit of her climax from her, drinking it down like the air he breathes. Aemond can’t help but smile, now that he’s tasted her, seen what she looks like when she comes apart. He can’t not have her and fully intends to have her little cunny at his disposal. One hand dips beneath his breeches, to pump himself, feeling that he did not need much friction to climax himself.

 Her body slumps against the mattress, limbs now entirely limp and feeling both warm and empty at the same time. She eventually cracks her eyes open when Aemond delivers one more warm, stripe upwards, collecting what little is left of her. She looks up to the ceiling, to the canopy and realises her vision is fogged with tears and her hand comes up to wipe at them, now being able to feel the wetness of them against her cheeks.

 Aemond had travelled up her body, still furiously stroking his cock, aching for completion.

 “Do not let it go to waste” he ordered, holding his manhood close to her mouth as he fisted it furiously, fingers once again running through her hair to grip harshly as he pulled at the back of her head.

 Without warning, he shoves his cock into her mouth, prodding the back of her throat and moaning loudly when she splutters around it, having not been prepared. She could smell his musky scent, now even more amplified from his efforts on her previously and it completely flooded her senses. Not a second later, was the familiar flood of his spend into her mouth as he softly thrusted into her, wanting to prolong his friction.

 He took one long breath and pulled his cock from her mouth. But her eyes were firmly shut, whimpering as she swallowed the thick, bitter substance. Again.

 She had a strange thought. That there may have been more spend than food in her belly. And it rattled her beyond comprehension.

 Why am I crying, she thought, having not felt them even come. Her body felt strange, like she was on the outside looking in at herself and she wondered how pathetic she must look. She wondered how other people would look at her if they saw what trouble she’d gotten herself into. What other people thought…

 …it frightened her.

 Regaining her strength, she finally sits up, looking around bleary-eyed to see Aemond, on the other side of the room, already seated in his armchair with a cup of wine in one hand, watching the flames of the fire in front of him. She could see from this angle that his lips and the skin around it was glistening and his other hand was at his lips, smearing whatever wetness was there more over them. She wondered how long she had been laid there.

 In the soft light of the fire, he almost looked handsome. She thought that he, Aemond Targaryen, would be remembered as a skilled swordsman, rider of the largest dragon in the world, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. History books would record him for centuries to come, on his skills, his wit, his fearsome victories.

 And she…

 …She who had been owned first by her father. And now owed her life to servitude under him. She had always been owned and perhaps always would be. Any husband would own her as well as her money and her children, doomed by the determination of her sex to perform the duties of them for the rest of her life.

 History would not remember her. It would scarcely even know she existed in the first place. Even her own name would not even be remembered by those she worked alongside, she feared. Those she called her friends.

 Forgotten. Replaceable.

 Gathering her breath and wiping her face, she’s unable to control the soft pants of her weak cries and pulls her dress back over herself. Aemond turns, but does not look at her straight on.

 “Leave” he orders flatly.

 She would be shocked, if it hadn’t already happened before. So she took shakily to her feet, feeling entirely degraded and empty within, despite the hum of pleasure still present inside. He didn’t say anything else as she struggled out of the door, her hair still loose around her shoulders.

 It was only when she was in the lit safety of the hallway that she finally allows herself to comprehend what happened and a few more fat tears make their way down her face and her neck.

 Am I his maidservant, or his whore.

Maidservant.

 Whore.

 Whore.

 The way back to the staff quarters was long and wracked with quiet sobs.

 She’d brushed Hedi’s shoulder as she walked past and Hedi had looked wide-eyed at her, as if only just recognising her with her hair down. Hedi’s face immediately fell into a sombre, sorrowful one,

 “Child, what is wrong?” she says, cupping her face in both her hands and looking over her for any sign of injury. She simply shook her head and hastily wiped her cheeks til they were red,

 “I am just tired, please Hedi I-”

 Hedi pressed a hand to her forehead, acting very much like a mother, despite the age gap being small between them, but she found no fever there and she was only very warm from all her crying.

 “Why is your hair down, child?” she asks hesitantly, her eyes darting about her face in search of a clue. Hedi had noticed. Her loose hair, her two undone buttons, the shake of her hands.

 “Please, I just need sleep” she insisted unconvincingly, tearing herself from Hedi’s grasp to wander through the halls to her own quarters, intent on scrubbing herself raw once again with the brush. Desperately trying to erase any memory of touch.

 Hedi had watched her disappear, the other few maidservants followed with their looks, cementing their thoughts in their sour expression.

 “Whore”

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise​ @valeskafics​​

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles  @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr   @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx  @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid​ @thedamewithabook​ @hiatuswhore​ @apollonshootafar​ @ladymarg0t​ 

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[kywaslost]

Good day! Could you make a Ciel x reader where the Ciel has a crush on the reader who is Lizzy’s sister (for the sake lest say Lizzy and Ciel ended to engagement) the thing is the reader is the only one in the Midford family to have dark hair (from a grandparent) and she gets very insecure about it, feeling like a black sheep in her family. Lizzy and everyone is very kind to her it’s just she constantly feels left out because she has a very different personality compared to her sister and brother. She feels very out of place during photo’s with her family. And especially during parties when people talk about her either being adopted or the cause of her mother being unfaithful. She just is naturally much more moody, and she doesn’t have as many friends unlike Lizzy because she just brings the mood down.

Sorry if it’s a lot, have a good day!

Odd One Out - Ciel Phantomhive

A/N: I decided to post this one a day early! I only have one class today and have a lot of free time at the moment. So sorry this took so long!

Not gonna lie, I had to do some research for this one. I’m a sucker for genetics, and so I got super excited for this one. Blonde hair is an autosomal recessive trait, meaning both parents have to be blond. Since both Midford parents are blonde, all of their children have to be blonde, that’s how I learned it. But I did some research to see if there’s mutations or something that can cause dark hair in children born from two blondes. I’ll try my best to simplify what I’ve found. 

Melanin is a polymer, and it is most often known as the polymer that gives skin, hair, and eyes its color. By what I can understand, there are two types of melanin: eumelanin and pheomelanin. Lots of eumelanin produces black or brown hair, whereas pheomelanin produces red hair. Blonde hair is produced by very little eumelanin. Melanocortin 1 Receptor (MC1R) is responsible for determining hair color. Mutations in the MC1R gene can cause red or auburn hair. 

For the sake of this fanfic, let’s just say there’s a mutation in the reader’s production of eumelanin cause I can’t find any way for two blonds to produce a dark-haired kiddo. And yes, I know this is a fanfic but listen people my love for science is strong so fiction or not I’m gonna make my details as accurate as possible. Anyway, hope you enjoy, and here are my sources <3

You were the black sheep of the family in every way possible. Literal or not, others found great joy in pointing out every difference between you and your siblings, especially when it comes to your appearance. It’s difficult to explain to others why you bear little resemblance to your family. Sure, you had your mother’s build and your father’s eyes, but that was as far as it went. You didn’t have the same hair color as your parents and siblings.

It’s common knowledge that two blonde parents bear a blonde child, yet you had dark auburn hair. After years and years of torment and rumors of your mother being unfaithful, or that you were adopted, you began researching why you were the way you were. There wasn’t much out there, but you did discover that you had some type of genetic mutation dealing with hair color. That’s why it was so difficult to explain to others why your hair was so different from your family’s, they didn’t have the same extent of knowledge as you did. 

It didn’t help that you were also extremely different personality wise. Your sister Lizzy was very outgoing and extroverted, never hesitating to host parties or to meet new people. Your brother Edward, on the other hand, was very stoic and serious. He didn’t tolerate much of anything, and was very protective over you and your sister. But you weren’t much like your siblings. You often kept to yourself, only spoke when spoken to, and were generally just very independent. Growing up, the only real friends you had were your siblings, and your twin cousins.

Now that you’re older, you are even more independent. You spent less and less time with your family, often opting to stay in your room or going off on your own into the city. Your family constantly tried to get you to go to events with them, such as going to balls, parties, and even things as simple as family outings, but you couldn’t help but feel out of place. People constantly stared at you, and you couldn’t help but notice their hushed whispers as you walked by with your family. 

You were grateful that your family didn’t see you the same way the rest of the world did. Your parents treated you no differently than your sister and brother. If anything, they tried their hardest with you to try and make you feel more comfortable and confident in yourself. Lizzy constantly wanted to be with you, doing your hair and makeup to spend some quality time with you. She took you dress shopping, and tried to cheer you up in that sort of way. 

Because of your discomfort around your family, you often spent a lot of time with your cousin Ciel. His servants never treated you any differently than they did the rest of your family, and the boy’s Estate overall felt like a safe place for you. Ciel was always willing to let you vent to him, whether it be about how people had been treating you or how you were thinking of yourself, he always had advice to offer. 

What he never would confess, however, was his feelings for you. His engagement with Lizzy ended just over a year ago, and it was all because he realized he had feelings for you instead. Watching you change throughout the years broke his heart, how you became more independent and less willing to socialize and go out. 

You were staying a few nights at the manor to spend some time with Ciel. You had been having a particularly hard time, and you thought it best to spend some time with the boy. He greeted you with open arms, and immediately ordered Sebastian to prepare your favorite meal for dinner. You fell into your cousin’s arms, tearing up as he held you tightly. 

“May I ask what brings you here?” CIel asks calmly as he hugs you. He can feel your tears soaking into his shirt and he becomes even more worried. 

You sniffed as you pulled away from Ciel, wiping at your eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a really long week.”

Ciel frowned, gently taking your arm and leading you inside. “Come, tell me about it.” You were led inside the Estate and to the sofa beside the fireplace. Ciel draped a light blanket over your shoulders as he sat beside you. Taking your hand in his, his blue eye met your E/C ones. “What happened?”

You began to cry harder as you recalled the events of the past week. Ciel listened as you told him about the hushed whispers and not-so-hidden stares followed your every move at a ball you attended with your family. Then how you stepped out of your comfort zone to speak to girls your own age at said ball, and how they giggled to each other as they ignored you and walked away.

Ciel wrapped you tightly in a hug, pulling you so your legs are draped over his lap and your face is buried in his shoulder. “Look at this,” you sniffle, reaching for your bag at the end of the couch. Ciel released you from his arms as you dug through your bag, pulling out a photo. You replaced yourself on CIel’s lap, handing him the photo. His warm hands brushed against your own as he took the image.

“This is a lovely photo,” he smiled softly. It was a printed image of the most recent family photo taken three days ago. Your father held your mother’s waist, Edward on his other side and Lizzy standing beside your mom. You were beside your sister. Ciel was right, it was a lovely photo. But the longer he looked at it, he noticed everyone’s bright smiles, and then you. It looked as if you were near tears, barely able to hold your smile long enough to take the photo.

“Honey,” Ciel coos quietly. This was very uncharacteristic of the Earl. He never showed this much empathy and emotion towards someone before.

“I hate this photo,” you cried as you rested your head on his shoulder once again.

“Why?”

“I look so out of place!” You pointed to yourself in the picture. “I hate that I was born this way! Why did I have to have this mutation?”

Ciel set the picture aside, wrapping you in his arms again and running a hand down your back. “I think you’re beautiful,” his voice was soft as he whispered in your ear. “Genetic mutation or not, I love the way you look, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.” CIel continued to hold you until you fell asleep in his arms. As he carried you to your designated room, he whispered to you. 

“I don’t understand why others treat you this way, and I wish they would stop just as much as you do. But I love you, Y/N, and I would give everything to have you in my life. Genetic mutation or not, you are beautiful just the way you are.”

[elliespeach]

tear you apart mini chapter | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"because you need me." ´ˎ˗

pairing ellie williams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. wordcount: 1k warnings: ellie manipulates reader a bit, readers depressed, other than that nothing. this is lowkey soft. an: so sorry to do this to yall, but have this while i take my leave! short but sweet :)

a week had passed, and ellie’s plan had worked better than she expected. being with you that night had formed some sort of bond between you and ellie. you never wanted to leave her side, and ellie had to keep reminding herself to not show that she was over-the-moon about it. ellie mostly stayed at your place, allowing herself to finally tidying up the small apartment. she also got you blinds. 

you didn’t protest to any of it, you didn’t do much of anything actually. you slept, a lot, ellie waking you up for meals and to stretch your legs. but you’d always find yourself back in bed within the hour. you spoke a few words at a time, slowly like you were trying not to sob with every movement of your mouth. if ellie hadn’t known the extent of your relationship with suzanna, she’d be more concerned. 

you have barely reached out to shauna, who has been texting you every day, each text sounding more condescending than the last. ellie usually deleted them while you slept. you didn’t need to be bombarded while you grieved, and ellie knew you were in no position to talk with anyone but her. last night, you even said as much. 

ellie was finally curling into the soft sheets, after finishing the dishes from the dinner she had made for you both, which you barely pecked at. you turned over from the endless stare to the wall and looked into her crystaling green eyes, “why?” 

it was so soft, so innocently spoken that ellie choked back the lump building in her throat. her callosed hands reached up, softly brushing back hair from your face, “because you need me. because i want to.” 

the lines have been blurred, as to what ellie felt was appropriate. if it was up to her, she would kiss you until she stopped breathing but she knew it wasn’t the time. that you’d likely stop her advances and finally tell her to leave. but now that she knew what is was like to kiss you, to taste you on her tongue, to feel your hands rustling through her hair, it was torture. her own specially devised torment, one that she would endure for you. 

anything, for you.

you nuzzled into her, as you did every night. this is as far as you’ve gone with her since that night in the bar. allowing ellie to feel the warmth of your skin, but nothing further. she relished in it in, fearing that after your grief subsided, you’d discard her. no. no, you wouldn’t. 

ellie pondered in your silence, your head resting lightly on her chest, likely feeling her heart beating for you just under her skin. ellie knew she shouldn’t know about suzanna, and what she meant to you, maybe it was in her best interest to ask. casting a line out, and she hoped you’d latch onto it. 

“what was she like?” ellie said into the darkness of your room, brushing a hand over your back for comfort. you sighed, and ellie opened her mouth to apologize for bringing her up, for shattering whatever walls you had spent the last week building up. you beat her to it, and ellie was relieved when your voice was still soft, warm even. 

“motherly, in all the ways that mattered. my own mom was a wreck, cared for my siblings more but suzanna, she always made me feel like i mattered–” 

“you do matter,” 

“i know. but, to be told and to believe it is different. she made me believe it.” your hands resting atop ellie’s stomach started to fiddle with her shirt. 

“you two must have been close, then.”

“more than you know,” you exhaled with a quick chuckle. one that ellie had not heard in days, a smile tugged at her lips. “can i tell you a secret?” 

ellie prepared herself, of course she already knew your secret but hearing it come from your sweet mouth was different. you explained everything, how you and suzanna came to be the way you were, how she had made you fall in love and then discarded you when once she was done. how she toyed with your emotions but still, you loved her. ellie bit back anything she really wanted to say. 

she tricked you. she knew you felt abandoned and still pursed you, only to leave and come back as she pleased. used you for your body, your kindness. 

“i could never tell shauna, and i think hiding it from her was part of it. the fun. it sounds horrible, i know. but i really did love her.” 

ellie chose her words wisely, “i’m sure you did.” and then, an idea. “what would shauna do, if she found out?” 

“i’m never telling her–” you started, a little defensive. ellie knew she was pushing it, this conversation, but she was hopeful you’d forget it in the morning and only remember that she held you till you fell asleep. 

“no, i know. but, if she did, i mean how would she even react?” 

“she’d likely never speak to me again. i don’t think any of my friends would. i mean, i’m a homewrecker.” your voice cracked and ellie pulled you closer to her. 

“technically, you’re not. no home was wrecked by you.” because it was me, i’ll happily carry that burden for you. a yawn escaped you, and ellie pondered how you could be tired after laying in bed all day, but instead of questioning it, instead of pushing further, she nuzzled down into the bed with you. “don’t worry, your friends will never find out. get some rest,” 

so you did, feeling safe in ellie’s embrace. while you slept, ellie formulated her plan. your friends would indeed find out, if ellie had anything to do with it. your friends, especially shauna, had to go. they didn’t care about you, not in the way ellie did, not in the way you needed someone to care about you. she knew the risks, the fallout of you losing all your friends, but she’d be here for you. she would be enough for you, she’d make herself enough.

-----

taglist: @aouiaa @kissmxcheek @spaceshipellie @strgrlxox @machetegirl109 @uraesthete @mousymaven @ucannotcompare @imahallucination11 @thatgiraffefromtlou @cjrights @sc0ttstre3ted @nicolicht @p1llowthoughtss @ellabsmasc

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 27

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

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Jason knew it was going to be an interesting day when loud knocking woke him up way too early than when he was supposed to wake up.

He glanced at his phone, wondering if one of his more annoying siblings had decided to torment him for fun, but there were no new messages.

“I know you are there! Open up!”

Jason had half a thought to ignore Danny until he gave up. Or phased through the door—

“You know I can just phase through this thing, right? I’m being polite— this is me being polite and respecting boundaries. So open this door and let me in!”

He groaned loudly and sat up on his bed. “Whatever, man. Come in or welcome to my abode or whatever you guys need to access.”

Surely enough, after a few seconds Danny walked in looking at him with an eyebrow raised. He wasn’t even fazed by his naked chest and the scars on his skin.

“Did you just call me a vampire?”

He shrugged. “Jazz was a bit weird about permission to enter the first time she came over.” He yawned. “And made the same face when I asked about the vampire thing.”

“That’s because Vlad is a creepy vampire wannabe.” Danny crossed his arms and leaned on the doorway of his bedroom, watching him get up and walk to the bathroom to freshen up. “Ghosts can be weird about entering territory when it’s about a haunt, but you are too weak to make a claim yet.”

Jason hummed, washing his face and deciding to talk about his ghostliness later. Maybe this could be a good chance to bring up the idea of that visit to the yetis.

“In any case, Jazz has no actual reason to be weird about coming into your apartment… apart from the fact that she likes you.”

Jason looked up and glanced at Danny’s reflection in the mirror, watching him with a small smirk. Was the shovel talk going to happen now? He sighed. Better get that over with.

“Why are you here, Danny?”

The younger man uncrossed his arms and glanced away, thinking. Was it that bad?

Finally, he looked at him with new resolve, his blue eyes steeled with determination. “You are treating me to lunch.” It wasn’t a question.

“Am I?”

“Yes. We are going to this Batburger place that everyone talks about online.”

Jason walked back to his room and picked up his phone. It was almost one in the afternoon. No wonder he was hungry. He shrugged and went to get some jeans and a shirt, ignoring the burning stare of his guest on his back.

Soon they were on the move to the nearest Batburger that was just around the corner. It was the only one that ventured into the Narrows and it showed — Red Hood had stopped a robbery in this place enough times that he knew the day and night shifts by name, and had gotten enough free burgers as well.

Danny was quiet the whole way, checking his phone and humming and/or groaning at the texts on the screen.

Once at the Batburger, both placed their order and Danny abandoned Jason to pay as he searched for a place to sit down. Jason didn’t miss how the chosen booth had perfect vision of the exits and was away from any windows or prying eyes from the staff.

He checked his phone one more time, but he didn’t magically have more messages from Jazz that could offer a light on what Danny intended to get out of interrogating him. He was pretty sure by now that a shovel talk was not the goal of the conversation, which opened the question, what the fuck was Danny’s deal with the silence and seriousness.

Finally, their order was done and he brought everything to their booth, noticing that Danny left him the disadvantageous seat that made him face only Danny and give his back to the door. He didn't like it, but would survive just this once.

“Okay,” he didn’t beat around the bush, “whatever it is, just say it.”

“How do you know I have an agenda?”

Jason didn’t even grace that with an answer. Surely Danny must know his poker face was non-existent. He had seen Jazz make better faces, and she was the one who body slammed a thug in front of one of Gotham’s vigilantes and then pretended to be a normal human.

“Okay, okay. World’s best detectives.” He made a dismissive gesture and shoved a bunch of jokerized fries in his mouth. “Hm. These are good.”

They were good, despite the name. Jason loved the damn fries. Still looking Danny in the eye, he picked a fry and slowly bit into it.

“This is not a shovel talk.” Danny started, carefully sipping his drink. “I don’t— Jazz can date whoever she wants and unless you give me reason to think you’d hurt her in any way—”

Jason kept his face totally blank, flashes of her bruised wrist coming to the front of his mind, but Danny narrowed his eyes and stopped eating, interlacing his hands instead.

“I see.”

Jason swallowed. Did he know? How much did he know?

“Jazz told me. About what happened.”

“And?” He tried to act nonchalant, but he knew if Danny could read him when he kept a blank expression, he could see through his attempt.

“Relax. She barely said anything about you. Which,” his eyes glowed green, “tells me more than what she could actually say in words.”

“What do you mean?”

He took his time, grabbing his burger and taking a bite of it. He also chewed slowly, smirking, knowing that he was being a little shit by making him wait.

Finally, he swallowed. “You are not going to eat? The burger is pretty good.”

Jason picked up his burger and bit down, eyes fixed on Danny and his little smirk, waiting what he would do next. He somehow didn’t feel like it was an interrogation and more like he was being watched by a predator taking its time to delight in their prey’s fear.

“I know about the gun.” Jason choked. Danny didn’t move or showed concern. “I know about Batman’s and your interrogation. I know how you treated her.”

Jason felt cold, but kept it together and took a sip of his own drink trying to recover from almost choking to death.

“I—”

“I’m the one talking.” He leaned in, picking another fry and putting it in his mouth. “Again, Jazz didn’t tell me much but I know her and I know how to read her.” He chewed, eyes still glowing green. “I need to know what happened.”

“But you said—”

“I need to hear it from you.”

Jason could almost visualize the crown burning over Danny’s head. He was talking to the King, not his girlfriend’s younger brother.

He briefly considered trying to hide, or maybe offer a shitty excuse, or maybe a watered down version of the facts — but Danny had already let him know he had ways to know he was bullshitting him.

He sighed and bit more of his burger.

He knew Jazz valued Danny’s opinion, but in the case of the young king deeming his acts enough to keep them apart, would she go against his wishes and still want him? There was a real possibility that after this conversation their already complex relationship became even more impossible.

He felt a pinch in his chest, the familiar resentment he felt the previous night coming back full force. Was all of this worth it? Was she worth it? Worth of being stared down by this unnerving creature, ruler of another dimension, who could easily smite him out of existence?

He watched his hands, almost feeling the touch of her skin. His scarred knuckles softly caressed by her fingers as they watched a movie. The familiar weight of her hair as he pushed it aside to kiss her.

Jazz was… She was… Jazz made him feel wanted. No conditions, no fine print, no agendas. After thinking about it, he was more and more convinced that Jazz was not the kind of person who hid a secret plan or exit strategy. That she was as broken as he was, forced to be a warrior since teenagehood and stumbling through life searching for purpose.

He understood they weren’t so different after all, so maybe she understood that side of him too.

Jason looked up at Danny, who patiently waited for an answer. His small smile betrayed that he knew about his internal turmoil, and was just humoring him while he gathered his thoughts.

“I love her.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He nodded. “I don’t— She and I—” He grumbled, one hand ruffling his hair. “I have been betrayed before, and when Bruce came forward with all that stuff… I thought I was being deceived again.”

“You didn’t ask Jazz if it was true.”

“I didn’t. It was just too perfect. Made too much sense.” Danny narrowed his eyes. “I understand now that it was all bullshit, but I found out then that Jazz gave me that damn green stuff and I don’t how much you know about me, but me and the Lazarus Pits don’t have a good history.”

Danny nodded and bit his burger. His eyes also stopped shining. “She saved your life, you know.”

“I know.”

He remembered waking up and finding her eyes watching him. He dismissed them at the moment, but they had been clearly shining green. If he wasn’t so focused on the euphoria of being alive and with her, he would have stopped and accepted that there was a lot more than meets the eye with Jazz.

It didn’t make sense to dwell on that now.

“I already owe her too much.” He admitted after a moment. “But I will repay her with my life if needed.”

Danny’s eyebrows went to his hairline and he started laughing. He slapped the table, laughing so loud that the other patrons of the Batburger were looking at them now.

He sighed. Danny found that even more hilarious and continued laughing.

“Oh man, that’s… You don’t need to be cute with me.” He wiped the few tears gathered in his eyes. “And no need for such declarations of love. Or staking your life on it, pal. When you die, your ass is mine. With how contaminated you already are, and with a previous resurrection, you are definitely one of my subjects when you die.”

Jason had suspected it, but this confirmed it. He wouldn’t know peace even after he died.

Okay.

Whatever. He would deal with that later.

“Jazz and I talked, after what happened. I apologized. I— I won’t do that again. I don’t… I know I’m not exactly—” He stopped to glare at his food. He wasn’t getting anywhere. He breathed in and tried again. “I’m not boyfriend material. I'm a crime lord. I can be violent. When I came back to Gotham, I introduced myself to the criminal Underworld by arranging a meeting with all the lords and giving them their second in command’s heads in a duffel bag.”

Danny nodded along but didn’t say anything. If he was judging him, he wasn’t showing.

“Jazz says she understands my work and from what we learned yesterday maybe she does, but still —”

“Why are you dating my sister, Jason?”

He looked up, and somehow he couldn’t see anything human in Danny. It wasn't just his eyes, it was… everything. Shadows coalesced around him and the bright fluorescent lights from the ceiling blinked in and out of existence. Danny himself looked older, bigger, sprawled on his seat like he was sitting on a throne and lazily watched him from above.

If it were another situation, he would have tried to find out what tricks he used, what kind of magic he possessed to do this to him and not raise alarms in the Batburger.

“What do you mean?” He cleared his throat, feeling it dry, but couldn’t move a finger to reach for his drink.

“If you are such a dangerous man… If you understand you are not ‘boyfriend material’ — “ he made the air quotes “ — and cannot provide the stability or security my sister needs… Why are you still with her?”

Because he loved her? Because she understood him? Because she wasn’t trying to change him, like everyone else?

He couldn’t choose which one to say. And somehow he knew that “love” wasn’t a good enough answer for the Ghost King.

Danny’s left eye twitched. He leaned in. “What tells me that you won’t wake up one day and realize she’s not worth it, Jason? That one day you won’t think that you actually want to go back to the severed heads and the recklessness?” Jason felt his breath leaving him with every pointed question. What was Danny doing? “How can I be sure that my sister is a priority for you?”

As the King leaned back on his seat, Jason could finally take a much needed breath. He pondered the words, how familiar to his own thoughts they were. He had decided that he would let the insanity of Jazz’s life permeate in his, that it wasn’t such a big deal, that they would deal with things as they came.

But was it ever so simple?

Nothing was simple with Jazz. Or with him. He knew that he could never have any resemblance of a normal relationship with a civilian, and even hero relationships had a high chance to fail — the Mission, after all, took place over everything else. Bruce had taught him that, on top of his crime fighting knowledge.

He had already given up by the time he met Jazz, but he said yes because she was supposed to be something simple, something temporary. Mundane.

Was she really those things? Simple? Temporary? Mundane?

No. That’s not what she was, and that’s not why he got into a relationship with her.

Danny’s eyes followed him as he controlled his breathing, the green changing colors as he probably followed his inner turmoil.

“So?”

Jason licked his lips. Why was he staying? Why was he willing to try?

“She chose me.”

Danny arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that answer.

“She wants me. That day, when I—” he swallowed “ — When I pointed a gun at her and asked her questions like she was some kind of criminal,” he closed his eyes, haunted by her hurt eyes while he accused her, “she was honest when she said she wanted me. Everything else I could easily tell she was hiding something, but about her feelings… there was no deceit.” He remembered her phone, the lock screen picture, his smile. “It could have been anyone else, could have been my own brother, but she chose me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It does. It really does. I hurt her, I questioned her, I threatened her, and yet she wanted me. She wanted to give me a chance. I won’t let it go to waste.” He let his shoulders drop, trying to ease the tension. “Not going to lie, I am… wary of this whole Ghost Royalty business, and I know it won’t be easy, but nothing has ever been easy for me.” He shrugged. “I have always had to work harder to get what comes easy for everyone else. I was born here, in the Narrows, and I grew up on the streets.”

“Bruce Rich Dude adopted you.” Danny nodded and looked aside, and the death grip the young man somehow had on their surroundings was eased. The lights stopped flickering.

Jason rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “Yes, but it was short lived. Just like me.” He smiled at Danny’s chuckle. Jazz wasn’t kidding about the death jokes being a norm in her life. “I was murdered at fifteen years old. When I came back, Brucie had another kid taking my place.”

“That’s rough buddy.”

The illusion was completely broken. They were back at the Batburger and Danny was just a guy eating his lunch again. No more eldritch horrors.

“You said this wasn’t a shovel talk.” Jason pointed out, reaching for his drink.

“I wasn’t intending to, honest.” Danny shoved the last of the fries in his mouth. “It’s difficult, you know — being her brother and the King.” He said as he chewed. The contrast of the Ghost King threatening him and not even five minutes later loudly chewing fries without any care wasn’t lost on Jason. “I just…” He made a vague gesture.

“It’s nice that you care.”

Danny glanced at him, surely noticing how charged that sentence was, but didn’t comment on it. “I’ve never seen her be so… careful.” He tilted his head, just like Jazz does. “No. That’s a lie. The last time she behaved like this was when she was covering for me.”

“Covering?”

“Protecting me from our parents.” His eyes glazed over a little bit, remembering. “She doesn’t appreciate dishonesty; but she would cheat, lie and fake smile to Jack and Maddie to keep them away from me.” His eyes were bright blue when he focused back on him. “Just like she tried to pull with me to protect you, bird boy.”

Jason chose to ignore the blooming warmth in his chest and finished the rest of his burger. Danny chuckled, probably knowing what he was thinking. It was getting annoying not being able to hide like he was used to.

“I appreciate your honesty,” the younger man said, placing his head on his hand and resting his elbow on the table. “Your story checks out with what she told me.”

“So you are fine with it?”

“No. Not in a million years,” his smile was definitely threatening, “but somehow you are what my sister wants and she was willing to fight me for you so… you have my interest.”

“Not approval?”

He hummed. “We’ll see about that.” He looked down at the table and lazily pushed aside the empty box. “Keep making her laugh and I will reconsider.” Maybe he noticed Jason’s confused face because he added: “I haven’t heard her laugh in ages.”

“You are joking,” he rolled his eyes, “she laughs and giggles all the time.” Danny wasn’t smiling. “What—”

“You don’t know how she was back there.” His smile turned sad. “I didn’t know how much she was hiding— No, I did know, but I didn’t want to think about it. My sister… She told you about David, but she didn’t say what happened after that. What happened after she killed for the first time. After… everything.”

Danny’s eyes became watery. “I didn’t ask and she didn’t tell me. Every damn time she came back, gave a report and pushed through. I kind of got used to her not coming to me for all this stuff, so I never…” he looked away. “I should have done something. Especially after David. I knew shit went down but I didn’t know it was… that.”

“And what happened? Did she swear off romance?”

“Nothing. She did nothing. She powered through it like she does with everything else — she says she is ‘fine’ and focuses on everyone else, bottling up her emotions, and crying alone when she thinks nobody hears her.”

“Why? Because it's a weakness?”

“Because right after she broke up with him, we had a Siege. I feel like the worst brother ever, but we couldn’t afford her being out of the battle, and then we just… never talked about it?”

Jason hummed and picked up what remained of his burger, shoving it into his mouth as he considered the new piece of information.

He didn’t know how much she wasn’t sharing about her past; but again, there was a lot he wasn’t talking about his. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to be ignorant of aspects of her life at this point.

“In a way,” Danny interrupted his thoughts, “I think it is a good thing she ended up with someone like you.”

Jason lifted an eyebrow. “Someone like me?” A vigilante? A zombie? A criminal?

“She always waited for Robin to fly in and sweep her off her feet. I know this. I’ve read her diary.”

Jason froze. “I’m not Robin.” He growled.

Danny lifted his eyebrows. “You are Red Hood, which is way cooler.” Right. Danny was a fan. “And the Gotham hero she likes the most.”

“I thought you were the fanboy?”

The other chuckled and leaned in. “She had been researching you guys for a while before coming here. Boards, papers, internet forums — anything you can think of, she got her hands on it. She tried to hide it, but her rants about Red Hood were significatively longer than the others. She always said that the finesse and smarts of the execution of Red Hood’s exploits in Gotham were fascinating.” He sipped his drink. “She didn’t mention a duffle bag with severed heads, though.”

Jason didn’t even try to hide the blush. What was the point?

“It’s not public information. The others don’t know about this.” He considered it better. “Or I think they don’t. Bruce is not very keen on sharing with the class if he does.”

“But he has to if he wants us to work together.” Danny continued, eyes fixed on something behind Jason. “Tonight we are going through all the prep for the Justice League meeting… and meet up with the Spirit.”

Jason perked up. “Tonight?”

“Yep.” Danny sipped his drink, but there was nothing else but ice. He looked displeased.

“Can I join?”

---

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[igotanidea]

Rom-com, doubts and older brother complex : Dick Grayson x sister!reader

„Hey you, how was the movie?” Dick grinned with the brightest smile upon seeing his sister back from the cinema. Said sister however was far from being happy. “Y/N?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, sure, hi Dickie. It was fine, I guess.”

“Oh no.” he muttered

“What?”

“You got that face.”

“What face?!” involuntarily she glanced at the mirror just to check whether her older brother was serious or just trying to prank her.

“Please tell me you are not psychoanalyzing the movie.”

“Psycho…..? What? Me? Pfff, never.” She scoffed

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m sorry, what is your problem here, Grayson?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. “Honestly I came home hoping for some peace and quiet and I feel so attacked right now.”

“Are you doing this… what was it called….?” Dick scratched his head searching for the right word “watcher insert!”

“IT’S READER INSERT!”

“Well, it was a movie, so definitely watcher insert. And you practically admitted you do.”

“I DID NOT SAY A THING LIKE THAT!”

“You didn’t have to. Like I said, you got that face.” He shrugged, absolutely not convinced and unimpressed by her yelling.

“Ugh! You are insufferable!”

“Part of my charm, you know that. Now come on, come sit here and tell me what got you spinning, huh? As a big brother…..”

“Please, spare me the talk about oldest sibling and all the duties that come with it. I can handle my own shit.” She hesitantly perched on the armrest of the sofa, but Dick was not satisfied with that and grabbed her by the waist pulling next to him.

“Come on, sis, don’t be stubborn” he pinched her stomach getting a slap on the hand in exchange “that hurt.”

“Serves you well!”

“Ok, I’ll stop. Jokes aside. Get out of that head of yours and walk me through it ‘cause I don’t get it. You went to the movie theatre to have some fun ….unlike someone we know….. and came back stuck in thinking and, let me put it simply, melancholic. Not really a normal reaction after a young adult movie. It’s young adult, right?” he frowned

“You got that one right.” She sighed “I … I don’t really know. I mean, this movie was as cliché as possible and only confirm my belief that it’s not for me.”

“How come?”

“You know… nice girl, A-grade student, not knowing the bad side of life changes the surrounding, most likely moves out of the small town.  And in the city, she meets a guy, a well-known trouble-maker and more often than not, a womanizer. Of course, she swears she wants nothing to do with him but after an hour or so, couple of fights and few misunderstanding they end up together, most likely in a X-rated scene. And after another half hour, some family drama or demons from the past emerges, but all ends well and you get those fucking singing birds, shining sun, doves and all that shit. I’m so too old for that. And I think I’m starting to get bored with such films.”

“Are you?” he looked at her carefully, voice turning soft not to startle her.

“Yes.” She made a face at him

“Y/n. You say you hate it, but …”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she jumped on the couch and jabbed his chest “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I won’t. I’ll leave that to you. Come on, say it out loud so we can process that. No one else is here.”

“I’m sorry, since when are you my therapist?”

“Since Bruce provided all his kids with trauma and forgot to equip them with the specialist to fix it. Say it.”

“I wish I have a cliché love story.” She looked down and hid face in hands because of the embarrassment. “But I’m not exactly a material for it.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, grabbing her hands and making him look at her ‘is it because you have four vigilante brothers? That can go well in a movie.” He grinned “I bet Bruce would love a cinematic work of art about himself. Can you imagine the movie “Batman?” Two and a half hours of him brooding on the screen and saving Gotham, all while looking like a sad, tormented cat” he laughed and waved his hands around

“I got this at the manor whenever I want. And when I don’t want as well. So hard pass on that movie, thanks. Jason would love it though. It would give him an opportunity to point out everything wrong with Bruce. And Tim…”

“Nice try, but stop getting off the track. Why do you think you can’t have a love story?”

“Cause I can’t define myself.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dick’s eyes widened in disbelief “you think you need to put a tag on yourself? My lovely, crazy, irrational, foolish sister…”

“Look Dick, I’m a mess, all right? I can do hundred different things, but cannot excel in one. I start so many projects I don’t finish. I am disorganized, got plenty ideas per minute and it’s extremely hard to keep up with me. I'm stubborn, hot-headed and always need to do things my own way. ”

“So?” he shrugged

“What do you mean by so?" Y/N frowned "I don’t have routine, and apparently I’m supposed to. I’m not the best version of myself, I hate motivational quotes and I’m not sophisticated or elegant or even close to it. Shit, I hate dresses and skirts, my make-up is limited to the most basic one and I don't feel like I'm woman enough.”

“Ok, stop right there.” He cut her off “that last one is bullshit and as for the rest, why in the world would you think that eliminates you?”

“I… It just does.”

“Why?” he insisted

“will you stop this interrogation! Let me remind you, you are not a cop anymore!”

“Old habits die hard.” He blew a raspberry.

“Be a brother Dick. Sock me for wasting your time or hug me, just don’t do this….”

“Do you need a hug?” he asked opening his arms

“Yes, please” she mumbled, diving into his arms and hiding face in his shirt, smelling that familar scent. “This feels nice.”

“Told ya! Oldest brother. Now, since we are taking the comforting approach to the problem… all the things you mentioned are those what makes you, you. All right, pumpkin?” he bopped her nose “you could adopt someone else’s lifestyle, but would you feel better then? Doing all those things that does not seem like they are yours?”

“No…” she muttered

“See? You just keep doing your thing, ok? Cause when you do something that makes you happy, even if it seems like you’re a mess, you’re just glowing and that is what makes you special, you know.”

“Example?”

“You were writing, last night, and you had that focus and spark in your eyes. Nothing but you and your ideas, put in words on the sheet. You were just beaming. That was you. You don’t need to put  a tag on yourself, believe me. It's not a competition or anything.“

"Really?" she pulled back and eyed him, raising one eyebrow "'cause you are absolutely not the one who would join The Bachelor, right?"

"That's irrelevant..." as much as he did not like it, her words made him blush a bit. (did she find that application form he hid under the bed?!)

"Let's agree to disagree" she grinned "I'll importune you for explanation on that matter later. And since we're on the subject, what about....?"

“Do you think me the role model on relationship advice?” he smirked, but a bit of sadness crept in “I made a lot of mistakes and speaking from experience, I can tell you just can’t hurry that. Just keep your mind open?”

"Did you just admit defeat in the romance matter, Dickie?" she mocked.

"Romance? Hell no! Just long-term relation..."

"Don't worry, big brother" she his his shoulder playfully "you keep my secret safe, I keep yours. But still, that’s the worst advice I ever got.”

“Maybe…” he tickled her tummy making poor girl squeal “think Damian would have better one?”

“He’s younger than me, sure as hell I’m not gonna ask him!”

“I’m serious, sis. Once you figure out who you are inside, even if it’s a bit complicated and come to terms with it, everything will fall in place.”

“Still the worst advice ever, but thank you for trying, Dickhead.”

“Doing my best for my little princess.”

“Ugh! Stop calling me that name!”

“You used to like it.”

“I was 7 years old!!”

“All right, fine, hold the fire” Dick raised his hands in surrender “Gosh, for someone who got so much fire inside, you suffer from too little self-value.”

“Four vigilante brothers can do that to a girl.”

“Y/N? I need you to promise me one thing.”

“Shoot.”

“When you get in a relationship you will let me act like big protective brother.”

“You may have to wait a while, but sure, it that’s your dream…”

“How about I play that role in a Nightiwng suit?”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY GRAYSON!”

[noyoyoy]

I figured I’d give SOME oversight on Simon and M/n since my blog will probably focus a lot on him.

If you’d like me to go into detail with the two, I will, just let me know.

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

Tw: mentions of abuse, alcohol. infidelity, age gap, blood, and murder.

Additional information:

While growing up, M/n hadn’t experienced love he deemed real. Parents always fighting, cheating on one another and screaming. Siblings never around, old enough and moved out already starting families, I guess it’s safe to say M/n was a mistake in his parents eyes. It caused M/n to hide in his room, isolate and never go out, failing school, no hobbies, just laying in bed all the time on his phone, sleeping, or crying, scared he’d one day act the same as the people he grew up with. You are your parent’s child after all.

M/n’s first ‘real’ relationship lasted more or less 3 years, it’s been so long he doesn’t remember how long he was with her. She was always talking to other guys and girls, arguing with him when she never did anything for him. But he was 13 when they started dating, 16 when they broke up due to her cheating on him. Yeah that didn’t feel good, he was always raised to be a man. Never cry, don’t show emotion, don’t be weak. But he was. M/n was sensitive by nature, growing up in a toxic environment didn’t help either, he couldn’t handle being yelled at, storms, loud noises, or confrontation without getting emotional, he couldn’t help it, he didn’t know why.

M/n and Simon overview:

When he met Simon at 18 after moving out, they bonded fairly quickly for growing up in a similar way (without the murder of his family.) They didn’t talk often, Simon being in the army was the main reason why, he didn’t have his phone often, but one perk is he let M/n stay in his home while he was gone since he had nowhere to go. Simon enjoyed coming home to someone, anyone, a friend he knew felt the same way. Since the incident when he was a teenager, he hadn’t felt any security other than the army. The blood, fighting, not having to care about what other people thought of him because he scared everyone away with his demeanor and stance. M/n made him feel again, he always had a smile on his face when Simon walked through the door, normally cooking or making Simons apartment more cozy and homey. (He asked don’t worry)

When M/n turned 19 Simon started to hang out with him more and more, talking together, cooking together, eating, even reading together in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. They both had to admit, it felt good to be at peace, no screaming, blood, gun fire. Just silence, the sound of pages turning and the smell of Pine in the house, curtesy of the candle M/n bought.

First realization:

M/n knew he liked men more so than women, his mother and last relationship blew that out the water for him. He had a fling with a man at one point during high school but it didn’t last long due to how his father acted when he found out. He was.. angry. He didn’t raise a .. homo as he would say, granted he didn’t raise him at all. M/n would never say that to his face. But with Simon.. he made him feel safe. Was it because he was older? Or the fact that he was capable of killing people as a living. Eh maybe both.

Simon never had a relationship. Growing up with a mother who worked all the time, mostly absent trying to provide for her family, while her husband and his father was a drunk who tormented him in any way possible. All he had was Tommy. Had. When he arrived home to the house disheveled, the tree knocked down, ornaments broken, glass on the floor. He knew something was wrong. And this wasn’t a ‘dad is drunk again’ wrong this was… wrong. Wrong. A wrong that made his heart sink to his feet, a wrong that made him sweat, and lose his breath. Walking through the house as quietly as he could, he stopped in the kitchen and froze at what he saw. His mother, lying on the floor, a hole in her shoulder and what looks like another wound of a knife in her side and chest. He stared at it for what felt like hours. He didn’t even want to go through the rest of the house, scared at what he’d find.

He doesn’t talk about anything else after that. Never going further and into depth about what else happened that night. Only saying that he fled and never looked back.

They might be broken and trying to piece each other together, but at least they are together. Safe, happy, and well, together. He vowed when they started dating that he’d never involve M/n into the affairs of the 141. The 141 would never know about him, no one would ever know about him. Unfortunately that changed when they got married. Having to talk to laswell about not telling price or anyone else about him. It took… much persuasion but she did keep her word. Blanked out the section where M/n’s information would go, before printing and putting it in his file.

He’ll be damned if something were to ever happen to M/n. He was his husband, and just because he doesn’t wear the mask around him, doesn’t mean he won’t bring Ghost into his life if it ment keeping him safe.

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

I write fast. I have nothing better to do these days.

[rogueolight]

erzajane headcanons…. i have Many….

-Erza suddenly just Remembers that she is ripped and can carry literally anything sometimes. And whenever she does she immediately picks mira up without warning. miras more of the Literal manhandler in the relationship (because that’s how you manage people when u have 2 younger siblings u literally had to raise) but erza is just like …. pick up wife……….. soican carry Her…….. 😊😊and mira is like WAAAH! she gets startled everytime.

-grey is their NUMBER ONE HATER. He gets forced to take pictures of them being gross together and every single time he is DISGUSTED! despite the show giving grey and erza unnecessary weird romantic tension that made no sense i think theyre super siblings & it’s really like watching your older sister be in love type of disgust. Cana was their number one hater when they tore up the guild in fights but now she’s like Awwwwww … Leave them be grey! theyre Cute!

-happy tried. So Hard to do the “she loooooves you” thing to them after they get together but theyre just like yes I do :3 and he gets really pissed off he can’t make either of them mad anymore after the YEARS of pining. and then he extra torments lucy

-any time erza and mira have a nice moment during their rival era natsu jumps in and is like AWWW! GROUP HUUUG! and ruins it

-lucy is sooooo jealous. imagine u have 2 GORGEOUS beautiful friends u lowkey want & they GET TOGETHER. she’s hyping them up but she wants to be both of them. she’s like that one picture “I'm Finna just join somebody else relationship..Bitch scoot over.. I love y'all..” She also spills all her relationship drama to mira (about natsu juvia cana whoEVER (she’s moronromantic)) and since erzas there too she’s like WHAT?! HUH? because her autistic ass had no idea about any of this. she’s like “Guys can i just join your relationship instead im so tired” and miras like Awww silly lucy 😊

-& as an extension of this mira starts spilling ALL. the tea. to erza. mira is the type to stir the pot unnecessarily because she’s bored (i.e her messing with lucy by saying grey and natsu like her) even when she’s absolutely positive something is just a false rumor. she’s been holding all that REAL shit in to herself and as soon as lisanna gets back she EXPLODES with gossip she’s collected to lisanna and erza whenever they get together. she’s a good secret keeper mostly but her sister and girlfriend Will Know. erza starts teasing people (subtly) much more as a result.

-elfever & erzajane in-law shenanigans. They stay over at each others places often all together (with lisanna too. freeloading on either of their couches) and cook dinner together…

-grief made mira give a fuck sooo much less. especially initially after someone would playfully make a jab and instead of dissing back she’d be like Oh you! but erza would get pissed off that she was passive and start fighting people for her. and then mira would just be like wow<3

-for most of their earlier days erza was almost always in a full suit of armor as a coping mechanism. despite really loving to dress up, she never really did it outside of her own room because she didn’t feel safe enough to, so that leads to mira seeing an ankle and being filled with lust like it’s the 1600s. over time she grows more comfortable and stuff but like. jus imagine u see ur crush out of a suit of armor for the first time and she is just absolutely RIPPED. cmon now. you’d die too

-if mira gets notes from secret admirers or letters from fans erza will proofread them. She is a living grammarly. she also just gets jealous

-through mira’s transformation magic she starts hiding her scars from battles when she starts modeling. erza doesn’t say anything about it but it pisses her off so bad because she thinks mira is gorgeous just the way she is. mira just tryin to make that bank now that she can’t work as a wizard 🔥 let her be

-they both dickride each other when they fight other people. especially in the grand magic games arc mira was picking everyone up and spinning them around and screaming BEAT THEIR ASS ERZA!!!!!! n meanwhile erza is just like Heh…. this was only 2% of her power… She could’ve PULVERIZED her…. like okaaay i see u!

[dreamwritesimagines]

my roman empire rn is what if clover and benedict didn’t happen and instead, clover and anthony fell for each other (in their own wicked - older sibling trauma bonding) and benedict was indeed courting charlotte

OH MY GOD

Listen, LISTEN-

Clover and Anthony are kind of my guilty pleasure and do you realize what you've done my love, we're definitely getting a HC with them now😂❤️

I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS ABOUT THIS!

So first of all, they would definitely have some enemies to lovers vibe 😁 She probably hated him because of his reputation and his arrogance, and he hated her because like, she did NOT hold back whenever they exchanged words 😂 So she could be invited along with other debutantes to the Bridgerton house by Violet and everyone else would be having fun and she would be in the corner, sipping her lemonade and sulking 😂 And the moment Anthony approached, she would be like,

"Walk away."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Do not talk to me and walk away."

"You do realize you're in my house right?"

"Your mother invited me, not you."

"I doubt it changes-"

"I don't want people to gossip about- ugh, too late. There you go, someone saw us talking. Happy?"

"You're a debutante, aren't you supposed to be nicer?"

"You're a rake, aren't you supposed to be in someone's bed?"

And of course Anthony would be very intrigued 😏 So the next ball, he would walk up to her and go like,

"Dance with me."

"Excuse me?"

"Was the orchestra too loud? I'm asking you for a dance-"

"That's not asking. It's not even a question, it's an imperative sentence."

"Fine. Would you like to dance with me?"

"Why on earth would we dance?"

"This is a ball. People dance."

"Yeah, go ask someone nice for a dance then."

"I'm asking you."

"I'm saying no."

"Why not?"

"The odds of you dropping dead in the middle of the dance are considerably low, and I wouldn't want to put myself through all that with those odds."

So during the next ball, he would try again and she would go like,

"I know why you're doing this."

"Why am I doing this?"

"So that you can torment me for being rude to you. People will see us and Whistledown will write about us dancing and then everyone will ask me one thousand questions about you."

"Ah."

"Am I wrong?"

"Not at all. It'd be quite entertaining."

"For you."

"For me, yes. So why do you hate me?"

"The ball will be over in two hours."

"So?"

"That's too short of time to tell you all the reasons."

[letmeliveinelfhame]

Jealous Intentions part 1

A Jude & Dain AU where Dain, who had never been murdered and is also unable to be crowned High King, is jealous of Jude and Cardan's chemistry because he lusts for Jude.

Fic requested by @imagaintionlover1234, I wrote this whilst severely sleep deprived and looking after my poorly bun. I hope I managed to write up your request to your liking!! Also, this is only my second ever fic, so if anyone has constructive criticism I would highly appreciate it!

Word count: 778

Rating: Mature, due to a couple of suggestive sentences

Will be crossposted to my AO3, LetMeLiveInElfhame

Fic below!!

Dain Greenbriar had once admired the mortal girl's will to find her place amongst the fae. Unlike her peculiar twin, her mirror, her double, she did not want to marry to be accepted. No, she wanted to fight. Dain had given her an opportunity as a spy in his Court of Shadows, an opportunity to put her ability to lie to use. She was good at it, until she threw it in his face.

Jude. Jude Duarte, no, Greenbriar. Jude Greenbriar. She had gotten herself further in life than she had planned. Not only had she married his youngest brother Cardan, the prince who was weak, cruel, foolish and drunken, but she had also become High Queen. Dain still felt the humiliation of the Blood Crown rejecting him as High King, still felt the confusion of how it could be the weakest of Eldred's six children whom the land accepted as ruler. Cardan, who was prophecised to be the destruction of the crown and the ruination of the throne. Cardan, who stole Jude from him. How could he have possibly been the most suitable ruler? How could the Blood Crown have rejected Dain and his 4 other capable siblings, leaving a temporary burn where it had been placed on each brow, and yet choose the least capable child of Eldred? It should have been Dain.

He secretly watched as Cardan gently pressed Jude against a wall and kissed her. She deepened the kiss, until Cardan pulled away slightly to press kisses on her neck just below her rounded ear. The expression on Jude's face was one that Dain had imagined he would be the cause of. He had imagined many lustful things about Jude; his body pressed against hers, the fullness of her breasts in his hands, the way his name would sound as a whimper coming from her lips. And yet it was Cardan who gets to experience it all.

The rejected heir felt the spark of jealousy deep within. He could not understand what Jude saw in Cardan. He had done nothing but bully and torment her during their time at school, and yet when Cardan offered for her to marry him and become High Queen rather than just a servant, she accepted. It didn’t make any sense. Dain knew Cardan had some form of romantic interest in Jude, but he thought Jude had hated Cardan and would have done anything to be rid of him in her life. Unless it had all been a lie from her. Still, Dain had been the one to have given her an opportunity that clearly led her to great things. He had even been the one to have given her a form of protection against being glamoured by placing the geas on her. And despite not being a spy for him anymore, the geas was still in affect to help keep her safe. What more could she possibly want from him?

He wanted Jude. He still wants her, despite her being married to his brother. He isn't the only one who wants her either, he knows that. There were plenty of fae who wished to have her, to have a taste of such a sweet mortal body. The fact that she is married and the High Queen cannot stop lustful thoughts. Dain often wondered if he could do what he did with Liriope - he had got her into his bed despite her being his father's consort. The matter of her pregnancy and death induced by poison was a small thing; he would just make sure he didn't make the same mistake with Jude. After all, if something were to happen to Cardan then there would still be a chance for Dain to be accepted as ruler by the Blood Crown.

Nursing a bottle of his favourite wine, he started to formulate a plan on how to get Jude to be his lover. He wanted a share in those soft, unguarded smiles, her captivating lies, her breathy moans. And then it clicked. 'If something were to happen to Cardan'... He would just have Cardan killed to quell the jealousy within him, to take Jude as his own. Of course, he could not commit the murder himself, it would just lead to the Blood Crown rejecting him again, but he could get one of his spies to commit the murder for him. It wouldn't be the first time. And if that wouldn’t be enough to make Jude his, he could just use his power over the geas he placed on her to command her to be his. His lips curved into a malicious smile.

"Sweet, sweet Jude, you will be mine…”

[yutahoes]

Caramel

(Part Seven)

characters: stripper! Yuta x female! wealthy! Y/N genre: chaptered, SMUT, FLUFF, angst word count: 5.8k words (apologies for the long read because I'm lost on what to do next and just dumped everything in this chapter) summary: Y/N has everything in her bitter life, not until she meets a sweet-looking stripper. warnings: matured theme, stripper au!, third person POV, mention of school bullying, implied incest, mentioned pedophilia, alcohol consumption, curse words, mentioned pimping, kissing, penetrative sex, horny thoughts taglist: @cherrymotodude @tenjyucat @justsomekpopstuff @ilhoonseyeballs Happy 8th Anniversary, 127!!!

Part Six

Y/N doesn’t want Saturday to end.

First, she was having fun hanging out with her youngest brother. They ate pizza then ice cream, and even tried roller skating and bowling. Junyoung is growing up so fast that she’s scared moments like this will lessen when the time comes. She also realized that like Jungwoo, her youngest brother had an amazing fashion sense. He chose the pastel blue knee-length halter dress for her wedding attire and white stilettos to finish the look. 

Second, she hated the idea of going to this wedding but knew she had to. Those girls would keep pestering her if she didn’t attend the so-called wedding of the century but what she hated the most was the possibility that she’d be alone in the wedding. Jungwoo knows how scared she was of these girls. 

Y/N was a transferee in that high-class private school in her last year of high school and she was easily tagged as the daughter of a gold-digger. During all those first months of tormenting abuse, she never said anything to anyone. She doesn’t want to be a bother to her new family. But one day, she went home with a wet uniform and a wide-eyed Jungwoo asked her what happened. They became inseparable ever since then. 

And now, she felt betrayed that the only ally she had was nowhere to be seen. The wedding ceremony was done and they moved to the clubhouse for the wedding reception. Unlike traditional weddings, there isn’t a formal program but a small get-together. Y/N just wanted to leave, wanted to get out of this hell hole before someone notices her. 

The first person who did see her standing by the corner of the room was a former classmate, a lackey of the bride from before. She drank a glass of champagne as a group of three girls approached her. “Y/N,” one greeted and she smiled, drinking a sip from her new champagne glass. “Alone?” Another drink and she mentally cursed Jungwoo for ditching her. 

“Jungwoo has a photoshoot.” She supplied with a smile. 

“Of course,” One girl claimed, “Maybe they wanted the money to run among the family.” 

Y/N raised an eyebrow at that. What does she mean by that? “I don’t think there’s a problem but aren’t you and Jungwoo siblings on paper?” The bride asked, drinking her champagne while walking to where they were. “Your parents were married, right?” 

Wow, Y/N thought. That was some weird idea. She and Jungwoo? She chuckled at that idea, how absurd. What the hell is running in these girls’ minds? She finished the contents of her glass before taking another champagne glass. God, they are very shallow. “Look..” 

“Oh my God, he’s handsome.” And they have such short attention spans. 

She tried to look at the person they were looking at and her eyes widened in surprise. Yuta? What is he doing here? She felt her phone vibrating from her purse and was startled that it was the same man who had his phone by his ear calling her. “Where are you?” he asked on the phone as the girl around her started looking at him and then at Y/N. When she answered that he should look to his left, they all watched as he walked to where she was with his warm smile. Why is he here? 

He was wearing a black suit with a matching blue tie, and hair slicked back that showed his handsome face. “I’m sorry I’m late.” The girl only stared at him in confusion. “I’m Yuta Nakamoto,” he introduced, then continued, “Y/N’s date for today.” 

The girls stared at Y/N in surprise. Her date? She might be dreaming. “Can I borrow my Y/N?” He held out a hand for her to take as he gently pulled her away from the group of girls. “Jungwoo was right, they do look mean.” 

Wait, Jungwoo? “Did Jungwoo send you here?” Yuta nodded which made her hiss, whispering that he’ll definitely kill Jungwoo later. “How?”  

“When I drove you home last Wednesday.” She looked shocked at that. She thought a driver brought her home that night. It was Yuta? “He told me not to tell you anything.” That’s why he ditched her? That guy, really. “You look a little drunk, do you want to go out for some air?” 

It is suffocating and she’s feeling a little woozy. Maybe three glasses of champagne is already bad. Yuta brought her outside the event hall and into the small garden with a pathway filled with flowers. It was a nice scenery, truly perfect for this wedding. The downside of this set-up, though, is the lack of benches in this so-called park. She wanted to rest her feet, why did she even wear these stilettos in the first place? 

“Does your feet hurt?” Yuta asked, glancing at her. Y/N only nodded, asking if they could just stand on one side. Standing is better than walking right? But the guy started taking off his shoes then crouching in front of her just to remove her shoes. “Wear mine.” 

Is Yuta out of his mind? Is he going to wear her stilettos if she wore his shoes? “I’m fine, you don’t have…” He even placed her hand on his shoulder even if she kept revolting. Yuta fumbled with the straps of her stiletto before offering his shoe. “Are you going to wear my shoes?” 

The guy laughed, standing up when she wore both his leather shoes. He held both her shoes, “And ruin your very pretty shoes?” He shook his head while laughing. 

“Your shoes look weird with my dress.” She teased before taking two steps. Yuta laughed at her statement. “And they’re so big. Why are your feet so big?”

The guy smirked, “You know what they say, a man with big feet also has something big hidden.” The girl laughed, lightly hitting his shoulder while whispering that he is a pervert. “I meant heart, Y/N. Who is the pervert now?” The girl giggled. 

She was waddling, giggling as she did so. “You look like a penguin.” Yuta transferred her other stiletto to his right hand before holding her hand with his left hand, threading his fingers with hers. “Hold my arm so you won’t slip.” 

“Will you be alright barefoot?” 

Yuta gave her a warm smile, “I have socks on, I’m fine.” 

Honestly, Y/N felt bad. But she has to admit that something about Yuta’s actions made her so fuzzy inside. Once again, she can blame it all on the alcohol in her system. But Yuta’s warm hand, the way he was walking with only his socks so she would be comfortable, the quiet strolling, and his sweet scent weren’t from alcohol.

It’s Yuta.

It was all Yuta. 

But she knew she couldn’t. 

This was Yuta’s expertise. This is his job. This is expected of him. She isn’t that special. 

“Did Jungwoo pay you to come here?” He shook his head but she pouted. Jungwoo surely must have done something. “You look good in your suit.” 

“Jungwoo chose it for me,” he claimed, “He was debating on a lot of suits that’s why I’m late.” They were together earlier? Is that why Jungwoo left early? When did he and Yuta become close? And why would Jungwoo ask Yuta to come with her? Does he hate these social events so much?

“Y/N,” he started nervously and she hummed in response. “Will your wedding be this elegant?” Jungwoo surely might have said something to him.  

The girl pursed her lips before shrugging, “It depends on how rich my husband will be.” 

Yuta had to bite his inner cheek, he didn’t expect that answer. “I thought you didn’t want to get married.” 

“But if my parents want me to marry someone, I cannot say no.” She lightly chuckled, trying to find some humor in it. “I just hope my future husband isn’t as old as my dad.” 

Yuta stared at her in shock. “That can happen?” Y/N nodded. She then pointed at the gray-haired man in a tuxedo talking to the guests, claiming that he was the groom and that he was thirty years older than the bride. “Isn’t that considered pedophilia?” 

The girl shook her head, “Not if you’re in the age of consent.” She smiled widely, “Welcome to the world of the rich and weird.”       

“No wonder Jungwoo is so worried about you.” She just confirmed it, Jungwoo did say something. “Do you want to leave? We could eat somewhere else, without all this fancy weird stuff.” 

The girl gave him a curious look yet nodded before they walked to the parking lot. Wait, that’s Jungwoo’s car, isn’t it? Is that Yuta’s ride heading here? “I’ll wear my shoes now,” Y/N claimed, reaching for her stilettos before Yuta held her waist and gently carried her to the hood of the car, letting her sit. He kneeled in front of her, taking off his shoes and wearing her shoes on her foot. Then did the same with the other. “You’re treating me like a princess. It feels weird.” 

“You are a princess.” 

Y/N hopped off the hood of the car, standing in front of Yuta. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not.” She walked to the passenger’s side, opening the door for herself. 

The guy only smiled.

In his story, she is.    

—--

The grilled squid was truly the best in this pub. Y/N was drinking her banana milk while Yuta had his orange juice. It is weird to see a guy fully geared in a dress shirt with a necktie and a girl in her high heels and short dress, with a male’s blazer covering her shoulder seated in a local pub. They were given curious looks from the customers but the two just shrugged, enjoying their meal. “Do you love seafood?” Yuta asked, which made the girl nod. “Should we get some crabs?” 

“If you let me pay.” But Yuta shook his head, already asking the auntie to get them crabs as an additional order. “You are very wealthy tonight. Is the club booming once again?” Yuta shook his head. That’s not the case. “Then Jungwoo might have paid you to act as my date?”

Yuta laughed, “I told you, he didn’t.” Then he stopped, gesturing to the blazer she was wearing. “Maybe the clothes are his payment.” 

It’s still a wonder why Jungwoo asked Yuta to accompany her tonight. At first, she was annoyed. Why bother someone’s time for that? But with the light conversation they had the whole day, she was thankful that he chose Yuta to come with her. She even remembered the looks of the girls when they saw the handsome guy entering the hall, then the surprise and confusion on their faces when they found out that the handsome guy was her date. A giggle escaped her lips, she couldn’t wait for their messages asking how she met such a handsome guy. 

“What’s funny?” Yuta asked, cutting the grilled squid into bite-sized pieces. 

Then maybe this would benefit Yuta in his line of work the most. “I should start bringing you to social events more,” The guy had a curious look on his face, eyebrows scrunched at the thought. “You know, to introduce you to younger women more.” 

“Like pimping me out?” Now that he mentioned it, it does seem like that. “Are you tired of me?” 

“What?” she asked in disbelief. Where is that coming from? 

“You wanted to introduce me to your friends,” He handed her the fork which made her pout. “Is that because you don’t want to hang out with me?” 

Is Yuta high or something? Why would he think of that? Is that how her words seem to him? “I just think you’ll earn more money if I introduce you to them. Have you seen how those girls look at you?” She asked, poking the grilled squid. “I bet you’ll be more famous than Johnny or Taeyong.” 

“I don’t need that much money, Y/N.” The girl pouted. "So just drop it." Alright. She pursed her lips at that. Why is he suddenly so mean? 

The crabs came and Y/N quickly pulled the plate in front of her, “I’ll crack the crab for you.” She started picking up the saucy crab, expertly removing the hard shell from the body with her bare hands. 

“Don’t you need some plastic gloves?” She shook her head, breaking the crab in half, and started pushing the meat out. Y/N handed it to Yuta, telling him to suck on the meat because it’s better like that. “Other than drinking, I now found one of your talents.” He teased which made her laugh, brushing her hair with her forearm as she removed the shell of the other crab. 

“I always do this for Junyoung,” she shared, breaking a crab leg. “This is the only way for him to eat seafood.” 

Yuta smiled, that was endearing. Watching her, a wealthy girl, doing something mundane without any complaints made him admire her more. She drinks however she wants, and chats with anyone as if she had known them for so long. She isn’t scared that someone will judge her, a young girl in an elegant dress breaking crab shells with her bare hands. Maybe she’s not as unattainable as he imagined her to be. “Right now, you don't look like a daughter of a rich man.” He whispered but regretted it as soon as he blurted it out. Isn’t that offending on her part? 

Instead, the girl smiled. “Because I’m not a rich man’s daughter, Yuta.”    

He wanted to reach his hand out to her. Wanted to feel her warmth. To assure himself that this beautiful lady in front of him is real and not just a figment of his imagination. That a person like him could have a slight chance to be with this girl, not just tonight but in the coming nights as well. “Then why would you let them force you to get married?” 

Y/N’s eyes stared at his dark orbs. She wished it could be that easy. But Yuta wouldn’t understand. He’s not a daughter, not from the same society as her. Not from the same world as her. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” She claimed then took a big bite of the crab meat. “But I’ll assure you that I’ll invite you to my wedding.” 

The guy shook his head, “You promised that you’d pay me for your bachelorette party.” 

Her face lit up, giggling. “Oh yeah, I did.” The girl then licked the juice of the crab from her fingers. Yuta had to bite his lip to stop himself from taking her hand and licking it for her. “Maybe then I can see you get drunk.” 

“I can show it to you tonight.” Yuta leaned in then very subtly licked her bottom lip. “I’ll pay up and we can drink at your place tonight.” Y/N nodded, gulping. She watched as Yuta approached the cashier holding his wallet. 

—----

Yuta has been to this place thrice already and the staff seemed to be familiar with him. He even spent the night once. Hopefully, he can spend the night this time as well. 

This is not only his hormones, not his horniness, taking control of his mind and body. He’s just simply attracted to her. A thing he cannot hide anymore. 

She’s a woman who knows what she wants and that pulls him in so bad. She’s very beautiful and elegant. He wants to do everything for her. “Can I kiss you?” he asked when they reached the door of her apartment unit. 

Y/N knew that she could easily say no. Tell him that tomorrow is Monday, a work week. But somehow, she doesn’t want to. She wanted to know how far this could go on. How far she can go with this attraction to Yuta. 

It’s something that she cannot hide more than she wants to. It isn’t alcohol. It isn’t loneliness. She’s just plain attracted to Yuta.   

Who wouldn’t? He’s physically attractive: with an angelic face, dazzling eyes, a warm smile, and a hot body. He looks so good with his white dress shirt and the loose necktie. He has a very charming voice and a very considerate personality. She loves how he looks at her like she’s the only one who matters to him. The only one he could see at that moment. 

Y/N knew she wasn't special. This is Yuta’s job, he’s probably an expert in this game. He might have done it to hundreds of girls. But she’s ready to be fooled by this man. 

She must be too attracted to him for her own good. 

His kisses were soft against her skin, fingertips warm against her body. Gently, he removed her dress as she undid the buttons of his dress shirt. Y/N was still fumbling with Yuta’s belt when he expertly unhooked her bra from the back using only his one hand. He’s so good in this game. 

The guy gently pushed her to bed, removing her underwear. “You’re very beautiful.” There was a faint embarrassment in her face before he leaned in to kiss her once again. Y/N was now fully naked, lying on the bed, but her body felt too hot for comfort. This is different from the first time they had a moment like this, very different from the first experience she had. This feels mind-blowing, to say the least. 

Her whimpers echoed in the room, his name coming out from her lips like prayers as he repeatedly kissed every inch of her skin. His bare torso was well-toned, the sweat forming from the grinding and humping making him sexier. Her finger grazed the butterfly tattoo on the side of his waist before trailing south to the colorful feather drawing on his skin. She wanted him. So so bad. “Yuta please,” she begged, breathless. “I want you inside me.” 

This is the type of danger Yuta is weak to. The danger of her erotic face with the pleas coming out from her lips, the skin of her fingers hot against his skin. He felt powerful. This gorgeous woman is begging for him. Wanted him. He’s not the only one who wanted this. Not the only one who needs this. 

Yuta kissed Y/N hard on the mouth, only pulling away to breathe. “Are you sure?” She bit her bottom lip before nodding. He kissed her once again, a quick smooch then another. “You cannot stop me if I begin though.”

“It’s fine.” she whispered, “I need you.” 

She needs him. 

Yuta pulled down his pants, taking a condom from his back pocket. Johnny’s advice proving very effective at this moment. “Can I?” she asked that made him laugh. He handed her the already ripped packet. Y/N’s fingers were shaking as she pushed the rubber to cover his length. “Am I doing this right?” He nodded, groaning at the warmth of her palm against his sensitive cock. 

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” The girl nodded. Yuta swiped his thumb between her lips, “Words, Y/N.” 

She panted, “Yes, Yuta.” 

Her nails dug into his forearm as he gently lowered himself to her, carefully watching her reaction as he inserted himself in her. Her lips were parted, eyes closed, as her body arched forward for more contact with him. A strangled moan came out of her lips, nails raking against his shoulder to his back. Yuta groaned in pleasure. She feels so hot even with the presence of rubber. Truly an addicting heat. 

The sound of the bed, their bodies against each other, and their moans resonate through the room. If Y/N had neighbors, they probably would complain to them now. Does the whole building hear their noises? That would be better, Yuta thought, everyone would know that he was making her feel good. 

One of his hands cupped her breast while the other started rubbing her clit. He wanted her to feel all of him, to give her all the pleasure she deserved. He carefully observed the small shifts in her expression but only felt turned on much more as her voice got louder. 

Yuta had done this a couple of times to know what gets a woman of, he knew the signs that a woman was nearing her orgasm. He thought he might get used to the feeling of making any girl cum but surely Y/N is different. Yes, he had imagined, a couple of times at that, how she would feel when she was having her orgasm. And this is way different. Unimaginable. Better, in all the right ways. 

Her body was shivering, hands gripping the sheets as if her life depended on it. She bucked her hips while wrapping her legs around Yuta. Her eyes were closed shut, lips parted as she moaned his name repeatedly. His movements remained at a slow pace, making sure that she could feel the orgasm rippling through her. 

It was a moment Yuta knew he would want to happen again. But next time, he doesn’t want anything blocking their skins from touching each other. 

“In the end, I didn’t see you drunk.” She claimed in between heavy breathing. “But you were right,” Yuta raised an eyebrow at her, “Men with big feet are hiding something big.” 

He chuckled at that, brushing his fingers along her cheek. “Take a rest, Y/N.” 

“You’ll stay the night, right?” 

“I’ll leave early tomorrow.” Deja vu. 

“Wake me up before you leave, hmm?” Yuta nodded, smiling warmly. 

The guy rolled on the bed and his back was flat on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. He quickly stared at the girl beside him and then covered his eyes with his arm. Is it possible to feel this delighted? Is it really possible for someone like him to keep her not only for this night but for the coming nights? Can this happen again?

Yuta shook his head. This is a fairytale. Truthfully, she is a princess but he isn’t a prince. He needed to wake up from this dream. 

--------- 

There was an incessant ringing of the phone that annoyed Y/N. What time is it? Why is someone calling her this early? In a sleepy state, she answered the call and her secretary was speaking in a hushed tone, “Sorry but are you coming to the meeting today?” The girl’s eyes shot open then stared at the small clock on her bedside table. It’s already past 7 am? “The president just wants to confirm your attendance, Miss Y/N.” 

Hurriedly, she stood up and ran to the bathroom. “What time is the meeting?” The secretary supplied that there is an hour left and she nodded, relieved. “Yes, I’m coming. Can you call for a driver here in the apartment?” The person on the other line confirmed as she started preparing for work. She finished her shower in record time, even brushed her teeth, and changed into her work clothes.

When she went out of the bathroom, Yuta was sitting on the bed. His bare torso was exposed, the blanket covered his waist while stretching his arms like a pin-up model. Y/N bit her bottom lip at the sight. He’s very sexy. Truly, a morning sight. The guy rubbed his eyes and she smiled, he’s such a contradiction. How does he possess an angelic face with such a sinful body? That should be illegal. “You’re early.” 

“I have a meeting in an hour,” she claimed, sitting in front of her dresser to apply light make-up. “I forgot it’s Monday.” 

Yuta nodded sleepily. “I’ll leave after I get ready.” 

She turned to him and Yuta quickly covered his naked body with the blanket. “It’s fine, take your time.” She stood up to put things in her handbag. “There isn’t any food in the kitchen but you can call the reception and ask for food delivery.” She reminded then grabbed a heeled shoe to wear, “There’s also an extra towel and toothbrush on the upper cabinet by the sink. Then if you need some change of clothes, Jungwoo has a drawer of clothes in the other room.”  

There was a knock on the door. Y/N had to lightly glance at the sexy man on her bed before deciding to walk outside after bidding him farewell. She hissed at herself as she walked to the elevator, the driver next to her with her handbag. Did she really leave the sexy, handsome guy just for work? She might be a crazy woman.  

Y/N was already walking in the lobby of the apartment building when she realized that she had forgotten something, Yuta’s payment for the night.   

The company’s Chief Marketing Officer wasn’t new with the contents of the quarterly meeting. Luckily, her department wasn’t the one in charge of today’s meeting or she would have been in huge trouble. While the designated speaker presented the progress of the company during the whole three months, Y/N’s mind seemed to focus on other things. At someone, specifically.   

Her mind seemed to drift at the sweet smell, the butterfly tattoo, and his husky voice. She stared at her fingers. She can still feel the warmth of his skin as if it were a ghost lingering on her. Her sense of smell was overwhelmed with his sweetness. Is it cologne? But even if he’s bare naked, he smelled like that. Is it possible that it’s the smell of his sweat? Y/N shook her head. That is so weird. Is Yuta even human? 

When she closes her eyes, she can see his toned body and the tattoos inked on both sides of his waist. Is there any story on why he has them? What do those tattoos mean? 

The moment she went back to her office, her mind started thinking of what happened last night. It was such a surreal experience. Although not her first time, that was undoubtedly the best. It was something Y/N knew she wanted to happen again. But will it be the same experience as any other else? Or is Yuta the only one who could give her that mind-boggling orgasm? He did it the second time, there’s no doubt that he can do it again. 

And somehow, she got excited about the possibility that there could be another chance for her and Yuta to do it. 

“Are you alright?” Doyoung asked as they decided to eat lunch together. “You look distracted.” Y/N looked at him in surprise. Usually, Jungwoo is the intuitive one. She just remained quiet, poking the steak on her plate. “Dad is worried about you.” That took her attention. Why? “He said you’ve been overworking a lot.” If only he knew that work is the last thing on your mind right now, you’ll definitely be in trouble. “You should enjoy life more, Y/N.” 

The girl gave him a grateful smile, “I’m fine, Doyoung. There’s just a lot in my mind right now.” 

He raised an eyebrow at that and she just shook her head to shrug it off. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me anything right?” The girl only smiled, she could not tell him about the amazing sex she had last night. That would be weird. “You’re still going to my stage play this Friday, right?”  

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

------

It's only Monday but Y/N’s body felt tired already. She just wanted to sleep, wanted to rest her aching body. Instead of the usual, she was the one who parked her car in the building garage. She glanced at the cars in sight for a specific one. Yuta might have returned Jungwoo’s car and his brother isn’t in her apartment as well. She walked to the reception, asking for her delivered mail when the manager told her about the guy who had taken the envelope she left. 

Y/N was wondering why Yuta would come back to her place after receiving the money. The manager even confirmed that he already left before noon which startled her. But when she entered her home, she did a double take on the floor she went to. She isn’t that messy, especially if Jungwoo comes by, but she’s not exactly that sparkly clean with her things as well. Then why is her place so sparkly? Did Yuta clean up the place? Why? Is she that messy in his eyes? 

When she went to the kitchen to get some water, she was startled that there was food in the fridge. A sticky note was on one of the Tupperware, ‘Auntie said you can cook this in the microwave.’ The grilled squid from the pub. Did he buy all these side dishes? But why? How? 

She quickly grabbed her phone but debated on what to say to him. Thank him? Tell him that she’ll pay him back? Why is this so awkward? She kept on texting but deleting the words she had typed. She’ll have to clear her head and sleep it off first. Then, she’ll message him.  

---------- 

Yuta stared at his phone. Should he message her? It has been days, two days to be exact, but she hasn’t messaged him at all. Should he make the first move? Is she mad? He did touch her things without her permission but she seemed too busy to clean up her place and stock food in her fridge. The flowers displayed on the vase in her service area were already wilted so he had to change it. The carpet in her living area needs a little vacuuming. One light in her room kept blinking so he had to replace it. 

Maybe she doesn’t want her things moved. He didn’t even ask for permission. She’s probably mad at him. 

He should just apologize to her. Treat her to dinner as an apology, perhaps. Yeah, he can do that. 

Before he could type a message, someone opened the door and he quickly stood up, hiding his phone. “I thought you had a client here,” the manager said which made Yuta worried. This is against the club rules, hanging out in the VIP room. And he’s using his phone, for crying out loud. “I didn’t know you have it in you, Yuta, but there’s a guy outside looking for you.”  

Wait, a guy? “Do you know who it was?” But the manager just shook his head, leaving him in the room. He’s not mad? And who is this guy? Why would a guy look for him in this place? 

It’s not possible, right?  

They found out where he was before. They can do it again, right? 

But he can’t be discovered like this. Not now. 

There was nervousness in each step he took. But isn’t this better? The club has some people. If he gets hurt, someone will definitely see him and the attacker. As he neared the bar, the fright was replaced with relief when he recognized the brown-haired guy talking to one of the bartenders. What is he doing here? “Jungwoo? You were looking for me?” 

The guy nodded. Is this about Y/N? Does he know what happened that night? “I don’t know who to give these tickets to so I came here.” Wait. What? “My sister raced me to get tickets for the family so here are tickets for my older brother’s musical.” Wait, they have another brother? Jungwoo handed him five gold tickets, “You can invite your family or friends.” 

But why him? Doesn’t Jungwoo have friends of his own who could take these tickets? But then, why is he complaining? It’s already free and it seems like premium seats with a good view. And maybe, just maybe, this will be his chance to see Y/N again. “Is Y/N coming here the past few days?” Jungwoo asked that made the other guy look at him in surprise. Yuta shook his head, claiming that he last saw her Monday. He hissed at the simple mistake but the other had a knowing look. “There will be a huge shuffle in the company so she’s probably stressed as hell.”

Oh. Maybe she is truly so busy that she didn’t have any chance to message him. But isn’t that considered neglecting herself? Has she been eating her meals? Is she taking proper rests? Maybe he really should have messaged her first to check on her. But he doesn’t want to disturb her or anything. Maybe he’ll just find out for himself on Friday. 

Part Eight