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takenbypeter · 1 year

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When Symbiote Meets Symbiote

Eddie Brock x reader

Words:1283

Author’s note: This isn’t exactly like the request there could be more arguing but I’ve been trying to write this for awhile and this is all i got and I’m tired of thinking about how to make this better so this is is it

Requested by anonymous: Obsessed with the thought of Eddie running into someone else with a symbiote, n y know they're alike in the sense that their symbiote is... well they're not as murder happy as Carnage n such, Problem is that Y/N's symbiote doesn't know that Venom isn't really a threat to their host, and Venom doesn't know S/N isn't a threat to him

It was one of those late nights…you know the kind.

Those kind of nights were only the overhead streetlights guided your footsteps and cars zoomed by despite how dark it was out. The kind that had some people clutching their purses, while others walked around with hoods over their heads while minding their own business.

You were a part of the latter, having to run a small sort of errand so late and were just about on your way home.

The past you would’ve been terrified roaming the streets but the present you? The present you, was just fine with it.

The present you had no fear.

Okay not no fear but let’s say less fear, but anyone with your…”condition” would feel the same.

Suddenly feeling a cold rush of wind against your face you felt the dryness of your lips starting to irritate you. Pulling out your teeny tiny chapstick, you yank the top off. Pulling it a little too hard, it drops and rolls down the sidewalk. Despite knowing you’re not going to use that again, you still refused to litter and you followed after it.

With a bend at the knees you reached for the small object but became easily distracted at the sound of the sudden thrashing you heard coming from the alleyway right beside you.

Then, you heard some yelling. Curiosity quickly took over you, you stood there wondering if you should go and help, or you should instead just go about your day and mind your own business.

The latter was always, always so tempting.

“What to do? What to do?” You whispered under your breath before you heard the familiar voice.

“Let’s go check it out! Might get some brains out of it!”

You rolled your eyes at the clear excitement in your symbiote’s voice.

Creeping closer to the chaos your eyes quickly turn attention to the shadow that’s illuminated on the wall across from you.

You didn’t know what you were looking at.

All you knew was that it was huge.

The shadow appeared to be some huge bodybuilder type, and in his grip looked to be a body.

You watched in slight horror as the giant mass of shadow’s mouth seemed to split open before it ate the small body’s head clean off.

Now, having lived with a symbiote yourself for some time now, this seemed like very very familiar behavior, you in fact have eaten a couple heads yourself. But not once have you met or even seen another symbiote.

“Oh my god is that—?”

“A symbiote.”

After seeing what you just saw you’re not sure how to react, but your symbiote, Abyss does, “we can take ‘em.”

You knew you had a very tight knit bond with Abyss, therefore making you very powerful together, however you weren’t so sure about this.

“Wait, let’s just see what were up against first,” you suggested.

“Our bond is so strong, we‘re more than half as powerful as I am on my planet. Let’s go now while they’re distracted.”

“Okay wait let's just…wait.”

Despite feeling different about the situation than you, Abyss listens and you try to figure out what was going on, as you did your best to creep along the wall discreetly, until you’re standing behind the black symbiote. Before you could get “geared up,” as you might call it, you see the body in its hand fall and the black ooze slowly seems to disappear inside of someone revealing a rather normal looking man.

You let out an, “oh my god,” not as discreetly as you probably should have, because the man turns around spotting you.

He doesn’t have much time to react because soon the dark purple color of your own symbiote begins to surround you, covering every inch of your body until you’re fully concealed.

The man is clearly confused at what he sees before him. “Who the hel—“

Before the man can finish that question Abyss’ purple material goes out practically body slamming him onto the wall.

Inside your jaw drops, “you didn’t even let him finish,” you felt like he at least deserved that.

You watch as the poor man struggles to get up, using the wall as a helper, “wait, I just wanna—“ another slam against the wall, this time a double hit and you almost feel sorry for the guy who seemed to pose no actual threat.

It seems like Abyss may have thrown one too many punches because a new voice, a deep and raspy one shouts, “that’s it,” before the man becomes engulfed in the deep black-like material once again.

You really didn’t want to fight the guy, but thanks to Abyss it seemed like you no longer had the choice.

“I’ll eat you up and spit you out for breakfast,” said Abyss, clearly taking a line from one of the many wrestling matches that you‘even heard before.

You didn’t even have a chance to hold back Abyss because soon, the two symbiotes were practically tearing each other apart. Hitting each other left and right, uppercuts, pinning each other to the walls, it was almost an evenly met match.

It came to the point where they were pushing each other, hand gripping hand, and you couldn’t help but wonder, why you were even fighting this guy in the first place?

While Abyss and this random symbiote were screaming in each others faces, you fought to have your face revealed, and you managed to get out, “time out, time out. Can we all just time out and talk?”

It was a stretch simply asking for that while the two were at each others throats and clearly the symbiote across from you didn’t favor the idea.

“Ha you must be joking if you think—“

“V,” came a voice as the man’s face pulled through, “V come on, they just want to talk.”

A second passes by and the symbiote he called, “V�� growls.

Taking this as a sign of hesitant agreement, you announce, “okay we’re backing down,” and although not on board with this, Abyss let’s go.

V doesn’t even let a moment pass before leaping and taking the opportunity to pin you by the throat. But before it can do any harm you hear the man shouting for it to let go and after struggling for a moment it lets go.

You grapple to collect your breath, as the two argued against the opposite wall.

“Venom, what the hell was that?”

“What? I thought it was a trick. How was I supposed to trust them? They tried to kill us first.”

Venom wasn’t the only one who was upset as you heard Abyss mumbling, “they’re distracted, why don’t we attack now and get it over with, they shouldn’t be here,” Abyss suggested.

“No Abyss, we’re just going to talk and figure everything out.”

Abyss, not really caring anymore, falls away flowing back into your veins and your skin. While the other two continue their dispute.

“Venom we’ll just talk, not everything has to be fought its way out.”

“Because bad people love talking so much.”

“How are we supposed to know if they’re bad if we don’t talk to them?”

“Don’t come to me when you’re lying in a ditch, I can just find another body to occupy anyway.”

“You know that’s not true.”

You almost don’t want to interrupt with how intense they were going back and forth but the man sensed you behind him, which interrupted their talk. Turning to you just human to human now, he asks, “do you want to get hot chocolate?”

And there’s really nothing else for you to say except, “I would love to get hot chocolate.”

#eddie brock x reader #eddie brock fanfiction #eddie brock fanfic #eddie brock imagine #venom x reader #venom imagine #venom fanfiction #venom fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #requests #request

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blue-jisungs · 2 months

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YELLOW CAB

author's note. i kinda slayed w the banner ngl

summary. 3rd time is a charm, right? especially when the guy whose ride home you stole is kinda (very much) cute

word count. 2111

genre, pairing. crack and fluff lmao!! graphic design hybe worker!yn x idol!seungkwan;; sassy kwan.

warnings. one or two curses, mention of throwing up

letting out a deep sigh, you stepped outside the hybe building. holding the file with your notes and sketches, you pressed it closer to your chest as you whipped out your phone. the weather was quite stuffy, air no better than in the office.

some of your coworkers passed you by and walked towards the parking.

shaking your head, with a few swipes you ordered a cab. living without a car was manageable but quite a pain in the ass, especially on days like this when you didn’t feel like taking the metro.

you stayed overtime, again. it’s really a bad habit, you should work on it. your eyes were struggling to keep open, even while standing. speaking of which, your legs hurt too – probably a result of sitting for too long. and your back; oh god, your back. leaning over the drawing tablet for the whole day will definitely cause you to have a hump… fun.

someone left the building and sat on the bench, doing something in their phone. it was good to know you weren’t the last one to leave. yawning loudly, you struggled to stand still.

then, you noticed a yellow cab arriving. finally! you marched towards it, absentmindedly. you opened the door and greeted the driver, sitting inside.

before you closed it, you heard an offended:

“yah! that’s my cab! check the number, miss!”

but the door closing shut the voice down as you muttered the address. letting yourself relax for a while, only halfway home you realized you just accidentally took someone else’s cab.

well, at least they won’t be left alone – in such case yours should be arriving at the hybe building soon.

you observed in deep thought the water droplets racing down the window. someone tapped your arm and you jerked, blinking.

“y/n, we’re leaving. you should too, tomorrow is an important day” your co-worker smiled gently and patted your arm “you should get some sleep, okay? i’ll see you tomorrow”

nodding in agreement, you waved them goodbye and started packing your things.

tomorrow you’re going to be presenting your new album cover and other details for seventeen’s upcoming comeback. you were nervous, you didn’t know if they were going to like it. considering the time you spent and how much tears, blood and sweat you put into the design you tried to be optimistic that they would enjoy it.

you left the office and already ordered a cab while in the lift. you hoped that because of it, you weren’t going to wait in the rain for too long.

a distant chatter echoed and bounced of the lobby walls, mixing with the elevator-type-of-music.

then, your phone dinged with a notification that your cab arrived.

taking a deep breath and putting your scarf around your head, you headed out. running towards the yellow cab in the rain, droplets hitting your face. water splashed under your shoes and in a few leaps you reached the car.

you decided to hop on the seat behind the driver, putting your bag on your knees.

“sorry for the mess” you breathed out and tucked the hair that got stuck onto your face.

suddenly the door opened again and someone entered the cab.

your eyes widened and you looked at the stranger. he blinked, flabbergasted.

then you yelped upon realizing its seungkwan. boo seungkwan. the boo seungkwan from seventeen.

you bowed yet were speechless, too stunned to mutter even a single word.

his brows knitted as he pointed at you.

“hey, you stole my cab last time” he grunted and ran his hand through his wet locks. your cheeks grew hot with realization, fingers nervously playing with the material of your bag. that’s not good. not good at all.

“i’m sorry i promise it wasn’t on purpose! i was just so tired and didn’t realize–” you started.

“are we going or what? it’s not a cafe to chat endlessly in one place” the driver grunted impatiently.

“yeah, right. um, i’ll just leave and you take this one. i’m deeply sorry, mr. boo” words spilled out of you like the rain from the dark clouds.

before you could open the door, seungkwan leaned and smacked your head gently. you halted in shock.

“are you out of your mind? i mean, respectfully. whatever happened, happened. just be sure to check next time… and let’s just take this one. i assume you’re heading home?” he asked, catching the driver’s annoyed look in the mirror “you should go first”

you nodded and after saying the address, the car started.

“do you work here?” seungkwan asked, interested. you felt a little shy – even though you knew they work at the same building, you never met an idol. and yet here you are.

“yes, i’m a graphic designer” you smiled politely “oh, i’m sorry. my name is l/n y/n”

the idol returned your smile and reached his hand out. you shook it and he hissed dramatically.

“aigo, your hand is so cold!”

you giggled and took it back.

the nervousness gradually left your body as you had some small talk with him (and he insisted not to call him mr boo or mr seungkwan as – quote – “that makes him old and he’s still young!”), genuinely feeling comfortable. he seemed not to be faking his engagement into the conversation either.

before you realized, you arrived in your neighborhood. it was pouring now but luckily the driver stopped quite close to the building. the driver asked for seungkwan’s destination, wanting to put it in gps already.

as he did, you reached for your card. then, you asked the driver how much it would cost to take seungkwan to his place. the man replied and the idol smacked your hand once again this evening.

“you are really crazy” he grunted and shook his head.

“no, no. let me pay, as a form of sorry for the last cab incident” you frowned, discreetly nodding to the driver. he nodded back and put the full price for the route; seungkwan didn’t seem to notice.

“no, i can’t allow that. it’s literally nothing, i swear i already forgot” he whined.

the driver handed you the terminal and you paid with a bright smile.

“okay, fine. um, thank you for the ride, seungkwan” you said and grabbed your bag “it was nice meeting you. have a good day!”

with that you left and seungkwan observed as you ran to the building, heavy rain slurring your silhouette. he kept his eyes on you as long as he could before the driver was too far away.

only then he noticed something on the seat.

worker id.

he huffed and took it in his fingers, not realizing he’s smiling. it must have fallen out when you pulled out your card.

“the lady paid for you, by the way” the driver said softly, glancing at him through the mirror.

seungkwan rolled his eyes, not sure why his mood is so bright now.

you dug through your bag, heart rate being faster than when you took your friend’s niece to the rollercoaster park. feeling the guard’s displeased sight on you, you decided to turn your bag around and spill the contents on the floor. then, you dropped to your knees and ignored the weird looks from other workers.

“i promise i have it! i have no idea why it’s not here!” you whined, glancing at the clock. 9:55am. you had about three minutes to enter the building and arrive at the meeting place since it starts at 10am.

and currently you couldn’t find your worker id.

“i can’t let you in on a promise. i’ll need to escort you if you don’t have it” the bodyguard said, unbothered.

you looked through all the papers and sketches that fell out, sweat dripping down your temple. that’s not how it was supposed to go.

with shaking hands you wiped a tear that gathered on your cheek and checked your wallet again. nothing.

a sudden pat on your arm caused you to turn around sharply and the person jerked in surprise due to your dramatic reaction.

it was seungkwan.

“now that’s just embarrassing” you grunted, blinking the tears away.

“are you looking for this?” he asked with a soft smile, reaching for something from his pocket. your eyes saw the goddamn plastic card “and before you think it’s creepy, you left it in the taxi. i figured i’d drop it off at your office but you’re here so…”

nodding your head vigorously, you gathered all your stuff and put it into your bag.

“thank you, thank you so so much. i was just about to be late for a meeting as if the meeting itself didn’t make me nervous as fuck” you breathed out and took the id “thank you…”

“i get it, i get it. now shoo, you can’t be late! and good luck, fighting!” he grinned and you sent him a wide grin.

seungkwan watched you disappear in the lift before a gasp ripped out of his chest.

“what am i even doing?! i have a meeting too–”

he rushed to get another lift and cursed underneath his breath when it came late. seungcheol will whoop his ass for being late but first of all, it’s only like five minutes. second of all, he was helping you.

the man pushed the door from the meeting room, sending all eyes on him. he rose his hands in a defensive manner and then bowed.

“i apologize for being late, there was a small… incident” he mumbled and before he looked up, he heard a voice.

“it’s alright, mr. boo. we didn’t start yet”

your voice.

his eyes met with yours, causing his face to lit up. some of the members noticed the strange exchange between you, especially when a shared smile bloomed on your faces.

seungkwan sat down next to minghao, earning a smack on the arm.

needless to say, everyone came to a conclusion that for the first time ever seungkwan was laser focused in the presentation. and you.

“i feel like i’m gonna throw up” you mumbled to yourself, squatting down on the sidewalk. hiding your head in your knees, you heard a chuckle.

“i thought people usually got nervous before presenting?” seungkwan’s voice reached your ears and you looked up with a smile.

“well now i’m waiting for the decision, it is nervous too” you sighed and stood up, raising an eyebrow.

“you don’t need to worry about that. i know those guys and they liked your project, a lot. and if they didn’t, i’d convince them” seungkwan grinned and whipped out his phone “cab? let me pay this time”

“aish, we’re gonna be pushing and pulling all the time?” you scoffed and shook your head “wait, did you like it?”

seungkwan nodded, noticing the yellow cab approaching. good thing this was a busy street and there were lots of taxis.

“obviously!” he grinned and led you towards the car, opening the door for you. once inside, he waited for you to tell your address to the driver and continued. “i really like your art style, it’s very unique and original. the colors fit well with the concept, as well as the design. did you create the font yourself?”

you stared at him in shock, causing a giggle out of him.

as you indulged him into the details of your work progress, you failed to realize how quickly you got home. not even done with explaining how you got the idea for the design, you saw a mischievous spark in his ebony eyes.

“let me pay, please” seungkwan pleaded and you huffed “and… if you want, i’ll let you pay next time. for coffee”

he stared at you hopefully (ignoring the fact that he obviously wouldn’t let you but he somehow wanted to have an excuse), seungkwan noticed a cute smile bloomed on your face.

“i’d love to. tomorrow? 3pm?” you asked, unable to control your face muscles from grinning. seungkwan nodded energetically “we’re set then. get home safe, mr boo”

you leaned in, led by an impulse, and tried to place a goodbye kiss on his cheek but you accidentally pecked the corner of his lips.

blood flowing to your face, you left the cab panicked, yelping a nervous bye!

“hey there, misses! what’s with your kisses?” he mumbled, fingers ghosting over the area your lips brushed against.

looking at the whipped man in the mirror, the cab driver smiled.

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

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7ndipity · 7 months

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Pumpkin Patch with Yoongi

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Just a lil blurb of you and Yoongi bickering while trying to pick out pumpkins

Warnings: swearing, terrible halloween puns(I’m sorry), lil suggestive

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! I’m sorry it’s short and terrible, I wanted to make it longer, but my brain just would not focus(Adhd is soo not fun).(Also, I kinda wrote this with the pairing from Take a Chance on Me in mind, but it can totally be read on it’s own.)

Masterlist

Requests are open

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“Okay, we’re here.” He said, pulling into the parking area in front of the barn/shop.

“Yay!” You cheered, excited. “Oh, wait!”

You quickly rummaged in your bag, pulling out a pair of matching knit cat ear hats. “Put this on.” You said, handing one to him.

“Why?” He asked, eyeing you skeptically.

“Because it’s Halloween and you love me?” You offered, smiling unconvincingly.

“Do you have any evidence to support that statement?” He smirked, quirking a brow up at you.

You frowned. “Just put the damn hat on, Min.”

“Alright, fine.” He relented, pulling the knit material over his hair as he mumbled under his breath. “So bossy.”

“I thought you liked that?” You teased.

“Not in this context.” He replied.

Halloween had always been one of your favorite times of the year, and since this was you and Yoongi’s first year together as a couple, you thought it’d be a cute idea to find some little traditions to do together, like picking out pumpkins. The only part you hadn’t factored in was the amount of bickering that the two of you added to any activity.

“My shoes are getting wet.” Yoongi grumbled several minutes later as he trailed behind you through the field.

“We’ve only been out here for like ten minutes.” You said, pausing to examine a pumpkin before shaking your head and continuing on.

“Which is about five longer than this should take,” He said tiredly. “They’re all the same.”

“They are not.” You gasped, turning to look at him, offended. “If you didn’t want to do this, then why’d you agree to it?”

“Cause you asked when you had your shirt off.” He admitted. “I would’ve agreed to anything at that point.”

You flushed slightly at his bluntness, glancing around quickly to make sure no one else was close enough to hear.

“Duly noted.” You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along with you.

As you wandered on, you couldn’t help stealing a few side-long glances at him. He looked so cute, his oversized hoodie making him look extra comfy, his hat slid slightly off center, causing the ears to droop endearingly, a small pout on his lips.

“Hey, Yoongi, are you a pumpkin?” You asked suddenly, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He looked at you, confused. “No?”

“That’s odd, because you make me so gourd damn happy.” You said, grinning at him.

He blinked at you. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Jin-hyung.”

“Oh, come on, that one was cute!” You argued, trying to make him crack a smile. “Wait, I've got another one!”

“Agh, please don’t.” He whined, covering his face.

“Why? I’m just trying to pumpkin-spice things up between us!” You snickered. “I can’t help it that I think you’re so bewitching!”

“Please, for the love of God, stop talking.” He cringed, ears tinting red in embarrassment.

“Fine, you sourpuss.” You caved, turning your attention back to the pumpkins.

“I like this one.” You finally announced, hefting one up into your arms.

“Great, now we can go.” He said, offering to carry it for you.

“Do you want to stop for dinner on the way back?” You asked as you walked.

“Nah, I’d rather go home and rattle your bones.” He said low enough for just you to hear, making you stop short as you looked at him in surprise.

“Excuse me?!”

“What? I thought you liked puns.” He smirked.

“I-” You blinked, caught off guard. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go, grumpy cat.” You grinned.

“Aaand you ruined the mood.” He said.

“What mood? We’re in the middle of a field!” You gestured wildly, finally managing to make him laugh.

“Alright, I’m sorry, let’s go and I’ll actually set the mood.” He said, smiling at you.

“You better.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi blurb #yoongi fluff #yoongi imagine #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi oneshot #bts blurbs #bts blurb #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts requests #7ndipity

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 8 months

Text

Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #night hunter

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year

Text

Title: If This Is Love, You Need To Mean It {3}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Heavy Angst, Plot Heavy, LOTS OF WORDS, Heartbreak, Cursing,

Words: 6.3k

Summary: The fallout of Lewis’ actions is real, as is the freeze-out. You’re fuming but brokenhearted. Not only do you feel like a fool, but you also feel used. Was any of it real? Making sense of this mess is the first thing you have to do.

Note: Part 3 is here! The plot thickens, as does the tension and angst. LOL. Part 4 is coming because it was too long.

Note II: Italicized text is a flashback/memory or someone’s words all from some time in the past.

As always, thank you all so much for reading. I truly appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous: If This Is Love, I Don’t Want It {1} | If This Is Love, You Need To Prove It {2} |

~~~~~~~~

-Lewis-

“Y/N.”

You didn’t respond. Hell for the last fifteen minutes, you’d been unresponsive and the longer you remained this way the more he panicked.

“Y/N?”

He gently shook you not wanting to be too rough. He was already in such deep shit that he didn’t want to make things worse. He always felt like he was one step away from just catastrophic failure. He had failed, he thought.

“Y/N.”

“Should we call 911?”

“No. The paps will be here in seconds. I don’t think she’d want even more stories about her out there,” Daniel replied ending Miles’ panic.

“Fam, just—let me—shit.”

He gripped his head and tried to think. Daniel was right. After the last week and change the stories running wild about your hospitalization had only increased and the longer you went without making a statement it only made them more brazen to make things up. He cringed feeling renewed guilt over the situation. It was his fault. It was all his fault. To think he’d only wanted to defuse a situation and keep you safe this entire time, but he hadn’t kept you safe.

“Lew,” Anthony began placing his hand on his shoulder.

“What do we do?”

He began to dig in his pocket ready to call your father. He’d have a lot to explain as to why you were there let alone passed out, but he didn’t see any other way. In the back of his mind he himself thought about the reason why you were there.

“Why was she here? How?”

“She was hiding behind the bar when you told us to hide,” Miles said.

“Hiding?”

“Yeah, with bags. Maybe she came to clear her stuff out.”

His chest tightened at the thought of that. Had you been there to get your stuff making this breakup final? He didn’t like that one bit. He didn’t want this break up; he never did. Renewed hatred for Aleeza sparked within him but part of him felt like he too held blame.

“She’s not waking up. What if she needs a hospital?”

Andrew sounded panicked now. Normally he and Daniel were the calmer ones. Their panic made him panic more. Maybe you were still suffering from whatever had landed you in the hospital. He pulled his phone then to dial your father, but a soft moan filled the room. All four of them hovered closer watching you closely. Again you moaned, then groaned as you shifted on the leather couch.

“Oh thank god,” Miles said dropping into one of the other couches.

“Angel Eyes?”

Your eyes opened and slowly focused. He couldn’t read you at all but after several moments your brows knitted together and you sprang up.

“Oh my god,” you groaned gripping your head.

“Are you all right, Y/N?”

“Should we call 911?”

Daniel and Andrew’s questions blended together.

“No,” you croaked out as your hands framed your face.

“Are you sure? You passed out just now. You were out for almost 30 minutes,” Miles inquired.

“And you were just in the hospital,” he said.

You looked at him then and if looks could kill, he would have been ten times over. Flinching, he looked away from you.

“I’m fine,” you snapped, swinging your legs over to rest on the floor.

“Can you guys give me some space—please?”

Getting the hint, they backed up. Daniel and Andrew joined Miles on the couch while he took a few steps back never taking his eyes off of you. He watched as you rubbed your temples with circular motions. It was an action you did often usually when you were trying to stave off a headache or trying to relieve stress or when you were trying to make sense of something.

“What the fuck is going on?”

It was an expected question at an unexpected time. Glancing at his boys, they exchanged looks of various levels of panic and confusion. When no one spoke you looked at them expectantly. You didn’t look at him, he noted.

“Hello?”

“We don’t fucking know. She shows up here and he tells us to hide then we see you hiding already and then we hear the biggest villain masterplan I’ve ever heard,” Miles recounted.

“What are you doing here?”

It shouldn’t have been his question but he wanted to hear the words from your mouth. You glanced at him but dropped your eyes after a few short seconds. You bit your bottom lip and then shook your head.

“That’s not important. I’m asking the questions. Why was Aleeza here waltzing in here like it’s not her first time and what the fuck were you talking about because—what the fuck!?”

“Fellas,” he began, ready to ask them to leave. “Maybe y’all can give us--.”

“No. They’re staying. Now explain.”

Your eyes were cold, and it broke his heart. You’d never looked at him like this before until that day in Monaco. The day he’d set all this in motion. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck and then began pacing. If you’d been behind the bar from the beginning then you’d heard everything. There was no point in trying to keep the details from you now. still, he hesitated not wanting to put you in any more danger or hurt you more.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, angel eyes.”

“Don’t call me that! And you don’t want me to get hurt!? That’s fucking rich, you’ve already fucking hurt me!”

You bolted to your feet, and he felt the heat of the flames of your anger. As if something inside him snapped he darted up seconds after you shouted.

“Do you think you’re the only fucking person hurting right now, Y/N?!”

He knew he probably shouldn’t have said it because you had every right to be furious with him right now, but he couldn’t stop the words. He was hurt too. You had no idea what it took of him and from him to put on that fiasco and live with the fallout. You had no idea what he’d been through, you had no idea how he felt during all this. Was it fair for him to be this angry at you, no, but in truth, he wasn’t angry at you at all. He was angry with himself, angry with the entire situation.

You stepped closer to him and threw up your middle finger at him, “Oh fuck you, Lewis! Don’t you fucking dare throw that at me. This was you! This was your doing!”

“Ehm,” Daniel cautiously began stepping forward and wedging himself between the both of you.

“Let’s all calm down.”

You spun around sharply then paced back and forth. He was very familiar with your anger, but this was different. He hadn’t ever seen you this angry before.

Daniel sighed, “Man, I think you should just tell her everything.”

“I second that,” Andrew added.

“Me too, cause I’m lost as fuck,” Miles finished.

He sighed then gripped his head. The slight force of his squeeze helped alleviate some of the pounding in his head but not much. Now that it had come to this, he had no choice so he conceded. Dropping down to the couch, he rested his elbows on his knees and then took a deep breath.

“Aleeza’s been blackmailing me for weeks.”

“Why?”

He dropped his head backward then steepled his fingers under his chin. “She found out we were together and has been using that to--.”

“From the beginning Lewis,” you hissed.

If he were a weaker man he would have flinched from the pure rage and venom in your tone.

“About a month ago Aleeza came over here with an envelope filled with pictures of you and me.”

“What pictures?”

He walked across the floor then into his office and unlocked the safe to pull out the dark yellow envelope then walked back out to you. He placed it on the table and waited for you to take it. You stared at it like it was an untrustworthy foe that could strike at any moment. He could guess what you were thinking. Rather than talking more, he waited for you to take up the envelope. A full minute passed before you did. Once you’d dipped your hand inside and came away with the stack of pictures, he watched your face closely.

He knew the photos well. They were of you coming over, leaving days later, you guys making out in the car, jogging together, a few of you having sex that he still didn’t know how she’d gotten. It still made his skin crawl from the level of the breach to his privacy he’d been victim to. However it wasn’t only his privacy, it was yours too.

“Shit,” you whispered.

He knew it was the picture of you on your knees in front of him with his dick in your mouth.

“How did she get these?”

“I don’t know,” he replied somberly. He knew what you felt. Violated.

After a few moments of silence, you slipped the pictures back into the envelope and then looked at him.

“Then?”

Your eyes were cold once again, he couldn’t decipher anything inside them, and it hurt more than knowing he’d fucked up. You were so, so far from him. He couldn’t reach out to you, but you were right across the room, close enough to touch. Only he didn’t dare try to.

“She said she’d show them to your father, so he knew that I breached my contract in a way that warranted immediate dismissal. She knew the specific details of my contract, she knew shit she wasn’t supposed to, shit only Toto and your dad should know. She said she would blow up my entire life and move on to Wednesday like Tuesday was nothing. I asked her why and what she wanted, and she said she wanted me to end things with you.”

“And you agreed,” you spat at him as if the words tasted like chewing tobacco.

“What! No! I told her no that there was no chance in hell. I told her I’d take my chances with your father and my contract. I told her I wouldn’t. I even went as far as to call your father then and there, but she snatched my phone away. I must have pissed her off with that because she saw she couldn’t control me, and I was ready to drop napalm on my life and career for you.”

He chanced a glance at you hoping his words were making it through the hard shell of your anger, but you gave nothing away. You still looked at him like he was a stranger you didn’t trust. Again he sighed, then shook his head.

“So her threat turned lethal. She said she would see to it that you had another accident that was worse than the one outside the gala that night. It didn’t make any sense to me how she worded it, but I didn’t put it together then. I didn’t think it was possible, that someone would be able to do something like that, especially to her husband's daughter. I just—I didn’t think. I did see that she was serious though and I didn’t want to risk you.”

“Why didn’t you tell my dad?”

“With what proof, angel eyes?”

“Stop!”

Clenching his jaw, he took a few calming breaths, “I had no proof. It was my word against hers. What reason would your father have to believe me? I couldn’t take the chance of that setting her off and her actually doing something.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep this as far from you as possible. I thought fine I’ll just end things in a way that I knew we’d find our way back to each other, a way that I knew wouldn’t mean anything because of what we felt for each other.”

Your eyes softened then but within seconds they hardened again. Had he really lost you?

“I thought I could handle it,” he said, his voice low.

You scoffed. “And handle it you did. Con-fucking-gratulations!”

“Y/N,” Miles cautiously said as if he was trying to cut through the aggression you were charging the air with.

You sat, crossed your legs and arms then glared at him.

“And then?”

He hated this part. “She said she wanted it done in a way that—that--.”

“Spit it the fuck out you’ve already done the deed, own it.”

“That’s not really fair,” Andrew piped up.

Your glare slid to him. “You can get the fuck out if you want Andrew.”

He lowered his eyes but didn’t speak again. You then brought your razor blade glare back to him.

“She wanted it done in a way that what?”

“That broke your heart, a way that you wouldn’t recover from.”

“Wow. I guess all those actors in Hollywood don’t have shit on you. Lewis Hamilton for best actor, best screenplay, and best heartbreaker,” you said in a condescending voice as you clapped loudly.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whose idea was it?”

Shifting his eyes to the ceiling, he tried to buy himself some time, however, your disgusted laugh filled the room. It went from disgusted to hysterical, almost like the Joker’s unhinged one. When he looked at you he could see your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Tell me? Who came up with the plan?”

This was harder than actually following through with the plan. Sitting across from you seeing the pain in your eyes, hearing the betrayal in your voice he wanted to do anything to take it away.

“Y/N,” he began on a whisper.

“Tell me!”

“Mine. I knew there was no way you’d believe anything less, no way you’d accept it, no way it would feel real unless it was this.”

“And how did you know that?”

Your eyes remained on his and you waited.

“Because of how you felt for me.”

It was then your tears fell and those droplets felt like ice shards embedding themselves in his chest. Daniel held out a box of tissues for you, but you ignored them and opted for the backs of your hands.

“Eh-em, so you planned that day in Monaco, planned it to perfection and had her there watching?”

“It was her idea. She wanted to see it to be sure it happened.”

You nodded.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It was hands down the second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I could barely get through it, could barely breathe saying the words to you. I—I didn’t fuck them though. I couldn’t do that to you—I wouldn’t.”

You looked dazed now and everything in him screamed to go to you. He stood and took a step to you.

“Don’t you fucking dare come near me!”

Just like that, he stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t your words, but the hatred in your eyes.

“And tonight she came to collect the rest.”

You snorted then wiped your cheeks again. “All of this for your overly used dick. All of this to be one of the many in a long, long line.”

“Okay look that’s not fair,” Andrew said standing.

“It’s all right,” he said trying to stave Andrew off.

“No, it’s not. Look, Y/N, I get this is a lot and fucked up on so many levels and you’re hurt—a lot--.”

“Hurt.”

You giggled. “Hurt?” More giggles came until they turned unhinged again. “Hurt? Stubbing your bare toe is hurt. Hearing someone you trusted telling the secrets you trusted them with hurts. Hearing the person you’d been spending the last 18 months with didn’t feel inclined to share something important with you hurts. Hearing that the man you’ve spent the last 18 months with may not be who you thought hurts. This? What he did, doesn’t hurt. It destroys. I am fucking destroyed. I’m gutted! You gutted me, Lewis!”

“He didn’t have a--,” Andrew began but he cut him off.

“No, she’s right Andrew. I fucked up. I’m to blame, no matter why I did what I did or my intentions, I fucked up. My actions—I’m sorry angel eyes.”

~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

You sprang up again and began pacing. It was then you flipped your switch. It was one of the many skills you’d developed being the daughter of Jordan Y-L-N. One of the skills you’d been trained in to prep you for living life in the public eye and being a constant target for any and everything. It was a skill you’d perfected when your mother passed. Each and every time you did it, you found it easier to separate yourself from your current reality to focus and dull every useless emotion.

All the pain, hurt, sadness, anger, and feelings regarding what Lewis had done were blocked off as you sequestered yourself far away from them. You knew you couldn’t handle them now, there was no scenario you made it through this without sealing yourself off. There was a bigger problem. Aleeza.

“She knew my mother and had a rivalry with her. A rivalry she lost. She made a plan to ruin my life using you to do it, the only person who probably had to power to do it. She watched me crumble, laughed at me in the hospital, then tried to convince my father I was at fault the whole time it was her doing. She was behind the accident at the gala. She wanted to kill me so she could be the sole inheritor of daddy’s estate when he died. Now she wants to fuck Lewis as a married woman and she’s sure he’ll give in because he’d lose his career if he didn’t, making him have lost me and his career—everything.”

Wow, you thought to yourself. This truly was insane. She was insane. You turned to the four faces on the other side of the room but blocked Lewis out completely.

“She tried to kill me.”

“That’s fucked up,” Miles said standing again.

“She almost succeeded,” you muttered.

“Well, we all heard her. She won’t get away with it,” Daniel said.

“Damn right she won’t,” Andrew said holding up his phone.

He pressed a few buttons and then placed his phone on the table. After a few seconds, Aleeza’s voice came on. Your eyes widened.

“Andrew, you--.”

“Recorded everything from when Lewis said hide. It was weird she was here. Something felt off.”

He took his phone up and stopped the recording. “I can text it to you.”

A wicked plan unfurled in your head, a plan that she deserved. She thought your mother was her rival. Your mother had never mentioned her, never dwelled on her a day in her happy life with you and your father. She was a speck of nothing in our lives. If only you’d been such a speck for hers.

“She wanted to destroy me. This bitch is going to finally understand the definition of destroy,” you said.

“What’s the plan?”

You looked over Miles, Andrew, and Daniel. They looked ready and eager to be a part of this like they planned on being involved no matter what.

“Look, y’all don’t have to be part of this any longer,” you began.

“Fuck that,” Daniel said.

“She came after the fam, and she tried to kill you,” Miles declared.

“She’s the one at fault for all of this. The way she hurt you—you didn’t deserve that. We’re in,” Andrew finished.

You clenched your jaw trying to fight off the barrier that was trying to drop so you were overwhelmed with everything again. You couldn’t afford that right now. If it did you’d be crippled with the pain, you’d be down for the count and right now you had a bitch to pay back.

“Andrew text me and email me that recording.”

“Got it.”

“What do you need from us?”

“I need the footage from the gala and the accident, I need to get the plates and anything I can so I can trace it. I can’t use my family’s investigator because there’s a chance it could get back to her.”

“I’m on that,” Miles said. “I know a cop who knows a detective.”

“Thank you, Miles.”

He nodded and took a few steps away pulling out his phone.

“I can use my company to dig into her some more,” Daniel offered.

His tech, cyber security, protection, and information agency would be good to handle that.

“Thank you Daniel.”

He reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. Again the barrier threatened to drop. You yanked your hand away and gave him a tight smile. Nodding, he quietly told you he understood. He stepped away and you watched as these three guys who didn’t owe you anything went above and beyond to help you. Three guys who owed all their loyalties to someone else were showing they were also loyal to you.

Emotion bubbled within you making you turn your back.

“Y/N,” Lewis began softly.

You froze, back tensing and heart pounding. You were not strong enough to do this right now. The only thing fueling you right now was the need for vengeance.

“What can I do? I want to—I need to help.”

You fought the sneer, but you couldn’t fight the words. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Just bask in the glory of my virginity.”

He sucked in a sharp breath and without needing to look at him you knew you wounded him. The part of you behind that barrier cared, the you with that switch flipped couldn’t. You stepped away and grabbed the bags you’d packed earlier then walked out the door without giving him a backward glance.

On the drive home, you took the long way passing it a few times driving clear to the countryside. Movement helped you think, movement helped you suppress the thing inside of you that was simmering. Every moment of inactivity made it reach a bubbling boil and you did not want to find out what would happen when it bubbled over. You knew yourself well enough that you knew it would be catastrophic.

So that was how you’d driven your tank empty three times and didn’t arrive back home until one in the morning. You couldn’t even stop to eat though you felt the hunger pains. Instead, you used the pains to fuel a workout. What was supposed to be maybe a thirty- or forty-minute run on the treadmill turned into a marathon sport event. Forty minutes at the punching bag, Thirty on the cycle machine, thirty on the rowing machine, twenty pumping weights, then an hour and a half on the treadmill.

By the time you made it to the shower, you were dead on your feet. Matter of fact so dead you dropped into your bed still wet and instantly fell asleep. The thing with the switch was, when you were awake it was easy to maintain, however, when asleep it was a bitch and a half. The nightmares were the worst because they never ended. They turned into terrors where you jumped up time after time after time only to realize that you’d done so in a dream and were still asleep and unable to actually wake yourself. Sleep paralysis. It was something you hadn’t experienced in years, and it was something you wouldn’t wish on anyone, except Aleeza.

So as you were paralyzed in this dream and unable to wake, you remained trapped in the nightmare of the day you’d walked in on Lewis. It played over and over and over. You would think the more times it played the more desensitized you were to it but no, it only intensified the pain you felt. No matter how you tried to run away from the scene or hide, it never worked. You were forced to live it again and again.

“Come out of it, angel eyes. Come on.”

You gasped loudly then sprang up panting for oxygen against the awful cotton mouth you were experiencing.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Lewis said.

You looked around the room, realizing you were awake. The sky was black, and the city lights twinkled around your condo.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your head to him, and everything flooded you again. Before you could stop yourself you wailed out as your body shook uncontrollably.

“I know you don’t want me to touch you, but I have to.”

Lewis wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you tightly to his body. He’d seen you like this before. You’d gone through this after the accident and during those long weeks he didn’t let you out of his sight, you slept beside him, so he was near when you had an episode. He even got trained in how to take care of you during one.

The soothing circles he rubbed into your back barely registered, but the effect was nearly instantaneous. So very slowly the shaking lessened, and your breathing evened but the tears continued.

“Tighter,” you whimpered hating that you needed his help.

How twisted was it that the person you triggered this sleep paralysis was the person you needed to help soothe them? Lewis’ arms tightened around you feeling more like being Shibari bound than hugged.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you angel eyes.”

You wept louder though you were biting your tongue trying to hold it back.

“I’m sorry, I swear I am. I never meant for any of this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you in any way. It breaks me, straight kills me to know this is my fault.”

With every word, his hold on you remained tight. With every word, his warmth seeped into your pores and rushed off the cold chill that had taken over your body. Slowly your body relaxed, releasing you for the after-terror. Your body wanted to stay wrapped in his arms so badly. It wanted to forget everything that had transpired but your brain didn’t know how, your heart refused to.

“Get off of me,” you said on a shaky breath.

Lewis sighed before he complied. When he had you realized then you were naked. Snatching the comforter away, you wrapped yourself in it and dashed to the other side of your bedroom.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Daniel, Miles, and Andrew have tried to get in contact with you for almost two days, but you haven’t been answering.”

You spun around to face him. “Two days? I’ve been here for--.”

You turned back around and tried not to panic. You’d been in a sleep paralysis episode for nearly two days. Fuck you said to yourself.

“When did your sleep paralysis come back?”

“None of your business.”

“Y/N. Come on I just want to help. Please let me.”

Spinning around to glance at him you lashed out, “I don’t want your help Lewis! I can barely fucking look at you!”

To prove your point, you turned away from him again, your mouth turned up in disgust. A few tense moments passed in silence where you fought the dizziness overtaking you until you lost your balance and went tumbling to the floor. Before you hit the hard marble surface, Lewis’ arms cocooned you in safety lowering you gently to the floor.

Three of his heads danced around the air making it confusing for you to figure out which was the real him and which were the illusions. Lewis sighed then spoke again.

“You may not want it, but you need it. When was the last time you took your medication?”

You tried to figure that out for yourself but after several long seconds with no answer Lewis sighed again, this one disappointed. “How about eaten? When did you last eat?”

You knew this answer, “Two days ago.”

The three heads drifted into one and you saw the look of horror on Lewis’ face. “Please tell me you haven’t been in sleep paralysis for two days.”

You didn’t bother lying, you felt too weak.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

With that, Lewis hoisted you into his arms and stood bringing you back to your bed. He tucked a few pillows behind your head.

“I don’t need you Lewis. Just go.”

“I’m not leaving you like this. I’ll get your meds and make you some food then after you eat and take your meds only then will I leave.”

You kissed your teeth annoyed with this chivalrous show he was putting on. At this point, you didn’t know what was the real him and what was a fabricated illusion made up by you or forced onto you him. Without waiting for you to object, Lewis walked over to the mini fridge you kept in the bedroom and took out a bottle of water.

“Here, hydrate. Two days of no water, your body needs it.”

You glared at him but snatched the bottle from him and took a few gulps. He remained there clearly unsatisfied with the small gulps you’d taken. You took a few more and only stopped when you drank half the bottle.

“Wait here,” Lewis instructed before he walked out of your bedroom.

You were so annoyed right now it was crazy. He had no right to be here, no right to want to take care of you, no right to even try to pretend like nothing had happened and he hadn’t completely gutted you in two flawless moves. That barrier you’d forced up was slowly cracking and you were more than terrified of when it crumbled altogether. Taking some calming breaths, you tried to focus on what needed to be done and the fact that you needed to be in the right state of mind to pull it off.

Before you realized it, Lewis walked back into your bedroom with a trey. The scent of tomato soup filled the room and your stomach rumbled.

“Garlic and basil tomato soup with a grilled cheese, a cup of chamomile tea, a little cantaloupe, honeydew, and strawberry salad. I was going to add a salad but maybe keeping it lite is best.”

He placed the trey at the foot of the bed and then bent to grab the portable table you kept under your bed. After unfolding it he put it over your lap then the tray on the table. It boiled your blood knowing that he still knew where everything was and was moving around like he owned the place like he was still welcomed.

When he came back and put your medicine beside the bowl of tomato soup you snapped again.

“You can go now. Don’t you have a deadline looming in a matter of hours? You should go prepare for your pussy appointment.”

Lewis sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn’t move. “You really think I’d sleep with her? You really think that’s who I am?”

You snorted, “I don’t know who you are,” you spat.

“Bullshit. You know exactly who I am. You’ve seen who I am over the last 18 months. You know everything about me. You know you are the most important person to me next to my family. You know you mean everything to me.”

Lewis reached for your hand, but you yanked it back before he could touch you. A defeated look crossed his face and a small part of you felt guilty for it. A very small part, but no matter how small, that part was wreaking havoc and prompting the fall of your barrier at a breakneck speed.

He pulled over a chair and then sat. “What can I do? Tell me what I need to do to make this right.”

“Nothing. There is nothing you can do. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know if I can ever believe anything out of your mouth again. I don’t know if I can ever trust you or rely on you. I just--.”

Shaking your head you took a deep breath and began eating.

“Please, angel eyes.”

You sighed. closed your eyes and squeezed the spoon. “Please stop calling me that.”

“No. You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do? You think I don’t know that you’re trying to push me away and compartmentalize the shit out of this situation so you can numb yourself toward me? I’m not stupid, Y/N.”

“You should have told me!”

You loud shout went everywhere. Lewis didn’t speak for a while but when he did his voice was low.

“I see that now. I swear Y/N, I was trying to protect you. I was trying to--.”

“Do what you always do, try to control everything and handle it all by yourself.”

He sighed then dropped his head. “I’m sorry.”

“What does sorry do now? The damage is done. Like I have never allowed any man in and here I let you in and you shattered me, ruined me, broke me. You did to me what I didn’t think any man had to power to do because I never allowed it, but I see now though it’s too late. I’d given you something no one had ever gotten.”

He looked guilty now. “Your virginity. I didn’t know before; I didn’t know fully until you said the words. I suspected but—.”

“You took more than that Lewis. You took all of me—everything.”

“Please, Y/N, let’s start over, let’s try again.”

“I don’t have anything else to give.”

“Then let me do the giving. Let me give everything to you. Let me love you because I do. I love you.”

You stared at him with your head cocked to the side. They were words you wanted to hear a month or two ago. They were words you were so sure he wanted to say one of the last times you’d had sex. They were words you swore he’d said in so many different ways but now he was saying the actual words.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything, I love you so fucking much I can’t breathe, so much I can’t do anything without thinking of you, thinking of keeping you safe, happy, and carefree. I love you so much that I can’t do anything without you in my life. I love you. Y/N. I love you.”

He clasped your hand between his large ones, and you sat there searching his eyes. Could you believe these words? Were they also lies to get you to forgive him? Could this be real? Uncertainty swarmed within you making it impossible to decipher what was real or fake.

“I don’t know what’s real and what’s fake,” you whispered.

He held your hand tighter. “This is real, I’m real, how I feel about you is real. The last 18 months were real, the depth of how sorry I am is real. Me being willing to end my career for you is real. Loving you more than my love of the sport—that’s real. Believe me.”

You pulled your hands free from his then averted your eyes to the food before you. After you focused for a few moments you went back to eating as if he’d said nothing. Your mother taught you that love was an action, not a word, and if the action was authentic the words wouldn’t be needed and if the love was genuine then it would be forever something you could bet on without hesitation. You didn’t know if you could bet on his “love.”

After about thirty minutes, you’d finished most of the food and taken the medication. You then looked at Lewis ready to tell him to leave. He held his hand up.

“You don’t have to say it. I’ll go.”

He stood, dug in his pocket, and held out a zip drive. “Daniel and Miles came through. They said if you need anything else call them.”

You took the zip drive and nodded. “Thank you.”

He nodded then somberly walked to the door. You watched him move. Before, he always had a pep in his step no matter what he was going through, now he looked just as broken as you felt. Fighting the urge to feel sympathy for him, you closed your eyes.

“Angel eyes.”

Your belly quivered at the sound of his nickname for you. It always quivered no matter if you were alone or in the middle of a crowd. You heard the name and your body reacted. He knew it very well and it was knowledge he capitalized on. It was a nickname he refused to give up on. You met his eyes cautiously.

“I could never and would never sleep with anyone but you. No matter what, from this day on there will be no one else. Just you. Even if you decide that you want nothing else to do with me, I will love you from afar, but it will still forever and always till my last breath, just be you.”

That was a bold ass declaration you thought. It came with a shit ton of implications and a shit ton of silent promises. The look on his face said he knew each and every single one of those implications and promises. Your body began to shake all over again only this wasn’t the aftereffects of the paralysis. This was the weight of his words seeping into your very being and attacking the barrier. You opened your mouth to speak but in a matter of seconds he was gone, and you were left with too much to think about.

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

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#lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #if this is love you need to mean it 3

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rayslittlekitten · 10 months

Text

You Won't Let Me

“Toff Girl” (aka “Damsel” Universe) Masterlist

A/N: I had a good chunk of this chapter written out even way before the last chapter was started. I got a little stuck on this but I think I finally got this to where I want it to be. I am sorry (not sorry) for all the angst in this. "You Won't Let Me" by Rachael Yamagata was the driving force behind this. "Under the Table" by BANKS was an inspiration as well (YT link for both below). Those are both beautiful songs and recommend checking them out if you're not familiar.

Rating: T/M (no smut, but some mentions of D/s dynamic/elements)

Word Count: 1,378

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!reader

Plot: Things don't go as expected when you thought you had it all figured out.

Contains: lots of hurt and angst, some mentions of D/s dynamics/elements, bratting, possible death threats?

Ray is sitting at the bar of Princess Victoria enjoying his afternoon tea while reading the paper. The pub isn't open for a few more hours for evening service. The quietness is interrupted when he hears the front door open.

"Sorry, we're not open--" Ray stops mid-sentence when he sees your reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

As you strut towards him, he spins around on his stool and is met with your lips crushing his. You grab his face and dig your fingers into his beard. You practically melt into him. Getting caught off guard, Ray allows it for a moment until he puts his hands on your waist and gently pushes you off as he stands up.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Ray asks.

"We had a problem you couldn’t solve and I just did that for you. For us.”

“What are you talking about?” Ray tilts his head, confused at what you’re referring to.

“Fletcher! He’s never going to blackmail us - I mean you and Mickey - ever again,” you tell him, unable to contain your excitement. “We can be together again!”

Ray quickly looks around the pub and the street right outside before locking the front door and pulling you into the dining area in the back where he and Mickey usually conduct their business for more privacy.

“What did you do?” Ray turns to face you with knitted brows.

“Let’s just say you and Mickey are not the only ones in London who have power and resources," you answer smugly with a smirk.

“For fuck’s sake!” He huffs and shakes his head. “That was my problem alone. Not yours to fix and I had fixed it!”

“God damn it, Ray!” You chuckle and shake your head. “I thought you would be happy about this.”

Your chin starts to tremble and you put your hand over your frowning mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” Ray breathes out as he helplessly watches you cry yet again.

You shove him, slap his chest and then start pounding on it. Why do you torture yourself like this? You must truly be a masochist.

“No, you’re not! Just tell me Fletcher wasn’t the problem. If you didn't want to be with me anymore, just tell me instead of fabricating this stupid elaborate excuse,” you shout.

“It wasn’t an excuse–” Ray starts.

“Then why can’t we be together? I handled the only thing that was keeping us apart!”

“Fletcher is a greedy, sneaky cunt and will find any and every opportunity to milk as much money as he can from anyone. You should have talked to me about this before impulsively doing that,” he scoffs.

“Like how you talked to me about ending our relationship before deciding that for us?” you jab back. “Well I did what I thought was best for us.”

“Would you stop being a spoiled brat for one fucking moment? So what if you’re filthy rich? Money can’t solve every problem!” Ray steps in and gets right into your face.

You stare at him and step in closer to him, your noses practically touching.

"Yes, I am a filthy rich spoiled brat and I would pay Fletcher off each and every time to keep his bloody mouth shut for the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for me to get what I want. What are you going to do about it, huh?" One of your eyebrows lifts slightly.

Ray glares at you.

“I already did what was best for everyone and there’s nothing more I need to do. If you want to continue to throw money away at Fletcher, that has nothing to do with me,” Ray shakes his head and crosses his arms.

You suddenly slap him hard across the face, nearly knocking his glasses off. He looks back at you in shock.

“What do you think you are doing?” He takes a small step back and adjusts his glasses.

“Being. A. Filthy. Rich. Spoiled. Brat.” You punctuate each word with a poke to his chest, making his eyes twitch.

“Stop it!” Ray snarls.

“Make me!” You challenge as you take another step closer to him and try to slap him again but he catches your wrist.

Ray’s eyes go dark for a moment, focused on the satin collar around your neck hiding slightly under your jacket collar, after hearing the sweet jingle of the bell. His favorite.

You stare back at him, anticipating his next move. His eyes move back to yours and his face softens. He then intakes a quiet sharp breath when you kneel down in front of him.

“Get up,” he commands.

“Make me!” You repeat.

“This isn’t a game!”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, shaking your head.

“Michael is going to be here any minute,” he spits, glancing at his watch.

“I don’t care! Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t love me anymore and you’ll never hear from me or see me ever again,” you tell him.

Ray adjusts his glasses as he continues to stare down at you, exasperated.

“You need to leave,” he says while glancing at his watch.

“Tell me you don’t love me,” you demand again.

“It’s… it’s complicated,” he answers, his eyes twitching again.

“No, it’s not. It’s either you love me or you don’t.”

“Be a good girl for me and get up,” he tries again, changing tactics.

“No! Not until you-”

“The only reason we’re in this situation is because I love you!” he finally says. “We shouldn’t have even started seeing each other in the first place and I can only blame myself for allowing it to happen knowing what the risks were.”

“I don’t care about the risks,” you tell him. “It’s worth it.”

“I care about the risks. This isn’t just about you and me,” he starts. “There are a lot of people - innocent people - who can get hurt including your family if the wrong people find out about us.”

“I’ll behave,” you plead as you crawl over to him and rub your face against his thigh. “I’ll be a good kitten. I promise–”

“Stop begging like a desperate fucking dog!” Ray snarls in disgust. “It’s pathetic!” he grabs your arm and yanks you up to your feet.

Normally, his degradation would turn you on, but his intentions behind his words feel far from playful and for once, it absolutely crushes you. Is that how he truly feels? Has he always felt this way?

“It’s over! You have to accept it!” he shouts.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Ray frantically takes a step back from you, creating distance and turning around to find Mickey walking in.

“H-hi, boss! Not at all!” he quickly spits out, feeling embarrassed.

“Uh, Miss–” Ray glances over at you and does a double take when he sees the hurt in your damp eyes. It wasn’t the same sadness he saw earlier when he shot down your idea, not even when he broke up with you. He didn’t just break your heart just now. He also broke your spirit.

His face falls, regretting his choice of words in the heat of the moment.

“I was just leaving,” you finish his lingering sentence, before rushing out the pub without saying goodbye.

For a moment, Ray reaches out for you when you walk pass him, but he restrains himself at the last moment. He didn’t want to leave things between you like this. He watches you as you make your way through the pub until you’re out of sight.

“Ray, I thought I told you to handle that,” Mickey says as he pulls out a chair and settles in.

“I thought I did,” Ray replies. “But I don’t think there will be any more problems.”

“Well, there better not be or I may have to handle this one myself,” Mickey tells him.

“Boss…you don’t mean–” Ray’s eyes start twitching.

“Ray, I’m not in the business of killing people,” Mickey cuts him off. “That is only reserved as a last resort for people really deserving of it.”

Ray lets out a breath of relief.

“But if I have to handle it myself, she’s going to wish she was dead. Do you understand?”

“Yes, boss,” Ray nods.

“Good. Now, where are we with the Sheffields?”

youtube

#Charlie hunnam #Charlie hunnam fanfiction #raymond smith x fem #raymond smith x you #raymond smith x f! reader #raymond smith x reader #Raymond smith #the gentlemen #the gentlemen fanfiction #d/s #Youtube

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basicbatboys · 1 year

Text

Part Two (Request for #32)

Here is the part two some of y'all requested! Thank you for your engagement!

Pt. 1

Pt. 3

Pt. 4

You tried to play it off, pretending like you didn’t know what he meant so you laughed lightly. “What? Jay, what are you talking about?” You asked. Your eyebrows knit together and you stood stone-still, afraid he could see how badly you were shaking.

This was it. You’d been so afraid of this moment and here it finally was. How he figured it out, you had no idea. You were freaking out on the inside but you tried to tell yourself there was still hope. Maybe he was kidding.

“You are Havoc. I don’t know what kind of sick game you’ve been playing but infiltrating my personal life is another level of evil. I’m going to take a lot of pleasure in killing you, but don’t let that fuel your ego.”

Your knees just about gave out. What the fuck was he talking about killing you for? You backed up until you hit the cabinets behind you with a loud thunk.

“J-Jason…” You sputtered. It was no use. From his waistband he pulled out a gun and began to load it. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. He was slow and methodical about his movements, knowing you weren’t going anywhere. You should run, you should do anything but you couldn’t find it in you to move at all. You were stuck.

“Don’t try anything Havoc. I’m not letting you go now that you know my identity. I can’t believe how stupid I am!” He laughed thickly, swallowing hard as the gun was finally loaded. He aimed and placed a finger on the trigger. “I gave everything to you. I gave you everything.” He reiterated. You could see the gun shake as he did, obviously tortured by the whole situation.

Some sort of hope blossomed inside of you and you took a shaky step forward. Maybe he could be reasoned with. “Jason. Please. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything. Please, please put the gun down.” You begged. It wasn’t until just now that you realized you were crying. You let the sobs wrack your body, hoping to appeal to his humanity. You were trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, trying to figure out how he knew your secret until it clicked.

Red Hood. Jason Todd was the Red Hood.

That’s how he figured it out, he had access to all of Batman’s technology and he had probably been digging for months trying to figure out who you were until he finally let himself realize the truth. You imagined how hard that must’ve been for him, how betrayed he must feel and you let yourself fall to the floor as the weight of guilt came crashing.

Guilt? Was it guilt? Were you capable of feeling guilt? You hadn’t thought so. You decided to override your emotions and turn on your instincts. This was life or death and no time for analyzing your silly ‘feelings’.

“Don’t play mind games with me.” He demanded, standing fast and letting the chair clatter to the floor beneath him. “You can’t escape this one. You’re dead.”

You covered your head with your hands, crying and screaming and praying this would just end soon because jeez your throat was starting to hurt. He was being so frustrating. Why, of all people, did Red Hood have to be the one to be following you? You should’ve moved to Blüdhaven, maybe then you wouldn’t be held at gunpoint in your kitchen.

After a moment, you wondered why he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. You looked up at him and realized the gun was down and he was staring at the ground, somewhere else. Slowly, you moved to a sitting position and waited for him to speak.

It felt like hours before he finally said anything.

“I love you, you know.” He choked.

You think your heart broke. God, was he getting you to open up?

Come to think of it, Jason was the only person who ever made you feel like, well, a person. Everyone else had kicked you to the dirt but Jason was always there for you. You saw a future with him. You saw a life worth living when you thought of him.

Fuck.

“Jason.” You whispered, slowly standing. You held your hands up, showing you meant no harm.

“It’s true. I am Havoc. I know you know but… Well, you’re right I guess. I don’t know. Listen, I’ll stop. I’ll give it up for you. Hell, I’ll even fight alongside you. I’ll… I’ll do anything. I just don’t want to lose you.”

Jason mumbled something you couldn’t hear.

“What?” You asked, taking a cautious step toward him.

“What about the people you’ve killed.” He bellowed, his voice unlike anything you’d ever heard.

You stumbled back in fear and again the tears began to flow. “Jason.” You sobbed, “Please don’t do this. I can be saved. I think I’m sick, I think there’s something wrong with me.”

He shook his head. “You can’t pull that card, you’ve been to Arkham. You had a chance at rehabilitation.”

You shook your head too. “NO! You don’t understand! Arkham is an awful place, they don’t care about the criminally insane, we’re treated like animals there. I was forcefed so many pills I forgot my name. That’s not rehabilitation. The doctors are no better than the people they ‘treat’.”

“You are not a person. Not to me.”

He unloaded the gun and stuck it back in his waistband. “Listen to me.” He demanded.

“I don’t want to see you again. Not as you, not as Havoc. You stay the fuck out of trouble and stay the fuck out of my life. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly, backing up toward the cabinet again. “I understand.” It was better this way. He should stay away from you, you were no good for him. He was right. You’re not a person.

But you might be someday. You were right too, the emotion you were feeling was guilt, and it was crushing.

-----

Jason left that day without another word and you collapsed back on your kitchen floor and allowed yourself to heave and sob and feel everything you hadn’t felt in years. Who knew all it took was a breakup with your true love to straighten you out?

After that, you kept your word. You went to therapy, real therapy, and got help. You worked on yourself. You became better. The best part?

You got really damn good at axe throwing.

#dc fanfic #x reader #fanfic #jason todd #angst #one shot #jason todd x reader

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garglyswoof · 8 months

Note

🦇 klaroline + per my last email

“Oh my god did they even READ??? What part of ‘Rooms are booked at the Aman Venice’ is difficult to comprehend?” Caroline yelled at her screen, leaning over the keyboard as she began exaggeratedly typing a reply. She was already irritated by Kol singing loudly in Italian somewhere downstairs - some opera that he claimed he had starred in in the 16th century. Honestly, at this point she was sick of this city and its thin veneer of charm holding back the rot.

“Per my last email, signora” She bit out, throwing up her hands. “Gahh!!” A muffled laugh behind her spun her in her chair, Klaus on the leather chaise smiling way too patronizingly at her for her own liking. “What?”

“Does that work for you?” At her confused expression, he continued. “Being passive aggressive? What do you think that will accomplish?”

“It will make her realize she’s stupid and she should apologize for being unable to comprehend basic sentences?”

“You believe that? Or will it just irritate her and worse yet, she’ll ignore it and learn nothing?”

Caroline stared at him. There was a logic to his words and she was having none of it. “Excuse me, but I’ve arranged the entire vampire consortium because your diplomacy skills range from death threats to stuffing people in boxes when they piss you off, so forgive me if I don’t take your advice on my emails being passive aggressive.” The last part came out in a hiss that she’d not be proud of tomorrow but for now it was effective. She watched Klaus’ face grow mulish, obstinate, and wondered if he’d pick a fight. Her eyes flashed because frankly? Bring it. She was surprised when he stood up, posture stiff with hurt, and walked out of the room, trailing a sentence in his wake.

“I’ll just get out of your hair then, shall I? Since I’m so clearly a nuisance.”

Caroline sighed as he left, his footsteps receding down the stairs. Kol’s performance cut off mid-word in a choked gurgle, Klaus’ voice a low tremor of rage as a door slammed so hard she could feel the displacement of air in the room. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, but honestly was she wrong?

She had little time to think about it, as Kol quickly transitioned from his operatic reprise to crunching obscenely loudly on an apple while staring into her office, and Caroline rubbed her temples. Vampires didn’t get headaches - unless they were witch induced, of course - but that didn’t prevent muscle memory kicking in from exasperation.

“What, Kol?” She bit out, waiting for the inevitable punch line.

“Just letting you know I’m headed back to the States.”

Caroline lifted her head, eyes bright with surprise. “Wait what? We’re in Venice for the consortium and you’re just jetting? I thought you were at least having fun annoying the hell out of Klaus?”

“Well that’s just it, darling. It’s been fun feeding into the chaos, but I’d much rather start it. He’s too easy a mark when you’ve upset him.” Crunch. He leaned up against the wall, and that casual pose belied a head full of mischief, she knew well. What was his deal this time?

“What do you mean?”

Kol pushed off the wall, tossing the apple core, and Caroline watched it curve in a perfect arc into the bin.

“Klaus is less fun with you around.”

Her brows knitted. “Excuse me? I'll have you know, Klaus is way more fun with me around.”

“Yeah you really don’t get it, do you?” Kol’s expression flickered, and for a moment the jester was gone, replaced with something almost serious, there and gone in a flash. “Everything he does. Even when he’s mad and stomping about the streets of Venice, you’re there. In his head,” He clarified, his hand waving about dismissively but doing nothing to lessen the gravity of his words. “All of it. Everything he’s thinking. It’s for you. So I can feed off that, use it, make fun of it endlessly, but after a while it gets old. Too -” He paused then, searching for the words as Caroline’s heart flipped.

He shrugged then, whatever he was going to say was lost in a decision made. “So I figured since it’s almost time for my semi-annual Jeremy torture I’d head back ‘cross the pond.”

Taken aback by the abrupt subject change, Caroline could do nothing but sputter. “Gilbert?”

“Of course. He killed me and all, feels wrong to just let that lie.”

Caroline spun the chair around, the email forgotten. “We may not be friends anymore but I’m not sure I can support torturing Jeremy.”

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t kill him. Hunter’s curse and all, been there done that, watched Nik get the T-shirt. No thanks. I just…mess around with him. Move things around in his apartment, seduce his girlfriend, give him explosive diarrhea at work. Enough small things to drive him absolutely bat shit crazy, which is usually when I leave. The paranoia is a gift that keeps on giving.”

Caroline was struggling not to laugh, knew that Kol saw it and that it was not only what he was looking for but needed, at least for now. She wondered at what he had almost said, something in her heart called out to it, and knew she would look at Kol differently now, behind the mummer’s mask.

He saw it in her face and closed off his own, began a refrain of the operetta as he spun out the door in full pointe, vampire’s grace a counterpoint to the calculated silliness. Caroline stared after him, thoughtful, his words sifting in her brain. Downstairs the main door opened and closed with the exaggerated creak of faulty jambs in this ever-sinking city. She turned back to the computer, the afternoon dimmed enough by clouds for the monitor’s glow to light the room. The cursor lay waiting.

She erased it all, wrote a quick note re-explaining the details. Clicked send, angrily still, one part hanging on to the feeling, one part over it, a whole entire rest of herself thinking about Klaus.

A few hours later she heard the door open, smelled the faint scent of blood. She hoped it was a least a tourist that had paid the blood price, this city was dying on its own without vampiric help. There was a moment of guilt, sharp and bright, as she knew whomever died was because of her. It's all for you - she heard Klaus say, Kol say, their voices blending together in words that spanned decades, and she got up and headed downstairs as her throat closed over her own words.

He was facing the fireplace, a glass of grappa that she just couldn't get the taste for in his hand, and he stood with the alert grace of his dual predators, waiting.

"Hey," she said softly, and his face turned in surprise. Her heart ached with his expression, guarded but searching.

"You were right." Three words to watch the light dawn across a face, his brow clearing, confusion to suspicion to delight as he saw the truth in her eyes.

Caroline held a hand up. "About the email. Not about threatening people. Just so we're clear."

"So Signora Rossini is not receiving an angry 'per my last email?'"

"Nope. Oh and," Caroline slid her arms around Klaus's neck, pulled him in close. "Kol's left for the states, so I guess we have this old building all to ourselves this evening."

The smile built slow and cut a dimple deep into his cheek, a hand circling to rest on the small of her back, the other sliding across a hip, her breath catching at the feel of it and the scent of blood that lingered on his lips. "Oh do we love, tell me, whatever shall we do with this extra time?"

She answered him with a kiss, the house quiet now, water lapping at its foundations, the sound of oars sluicing through the water mingling with the languages of a half-dozen countries. She kissed him and she thought of all she had ever wanted in this vampire life and before, and her lips curved in a satisfied grin.

-----

From my halloween extravaganza - send me a prompt or tell me something fun!

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #girl this was a hard prompt for me how to not make it too flippant and still have them be vampires thanks for the practice!

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kiryoutann · 2 years

Text

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

I appreciate the likes, replies, and reblogs! Thank you so much. You can buy me a Kofi to give me tip for my writings (no pressure!) I’ll forever be grateful to u! <3

You don't know whether it's too late to find someone or people simply hiding because they don't want to help you. God, you don't ask for much other than them turning on your fire and letting you sleep before morning comes.

These people are really something. You shouldn't expect anything from them.

However, just as you were about to accept your defeat and return to your cold room, you stopped walking when you found a familiar back facing you.

“Prin—Ajax?” You're not completely used to your new way of calling him.

The owner of that name stopped in his tracks, turned to you with wide blue eyes. Just like you, he did not expect to meet his wife in a dark hallway in the middle of the night. You two should be fast asleep in separate rooms instead of standing across while staring at one another like this.

As soon as he got in front of you, he opened his lips to ask: "Shouldn't you be enjoying your beauty sleep?"

"My fireplace went out."

Now that you've answered him, you can't help but wonder what reason he's here. There's not even the slightest hint of alcohol you get from him as an indication he just came back from a bar like he did yesterday.

“It went out? Hmm.. it’s a bit difficult to light the fire again.” Childe rubbed his chin in thought. He looks at you before offering, “Mine is lit.”

Your brows knitted in confusion, “What do you suggest?”

"I suggest you sleep in my room."

You don't know he's being nice or just mocking your bad luck. With his grin and slightly raised eyebrows, you don't want to expect anything from him. However, you’re really sleepy and being under a warm blanket would be really good.

"Are you fine with that?" You asked.

Either you were hallucinating or his smirk did grew wider. “Hmm, what do you mean? Of course I'm fine with that, you are my wife." He replied.

As a thank you, you gave him a half-hearted smile. “Then, what are we still doing here? Morning is coming, we have no time to waste.” You took the first step to leave Childe some distance behind you.

Childe dropped the fake smile he gave you earlier, a sigh escaped him. "At this rate, I’m sure I’m going crazy." He then follows you.

When you get to Childe's room, you're grateful he didn't lie about the fireplace. The big bed tempts you, makes you imagine what it would be like to lie there and then go to sleep. However, you end up not doing it from not wanting to be rude especially when he's being generous.

You turned to Childe "I will take the couch if that’s alright."

Childe looked at you skeptically, “That would be a problem for me. You should sleep in my bed."

It's weird, really weird. You know Childe is not the type to offer kindness with no intention of benefiting from it—he's a far cry from that. Then why is he being nice to you? You wonder what trick he's hiding under his sleeves.

Or..

Your heart is racing without warning. Cold nape even though the burning fireplace provides more than enough warmth for you. You see Childe drinking from his glass, his Adam's apple bobbing as he does so.

Maybe this is one of his attempts to get under your nightgown. Memories of your wedding night come to your mind again.

"Could it be.. could it be that you are trying to bed me?"

Childe spit out his drink in surprise. You saw the liquid run from his lips to his neck and then onto his shirt. He pounded his chest to get the remnants out of his throat before looking at you.

"I'm offended. Do you think I'm the type to take advantage of the situation?”

Yes, you are exactly that kind of a person, you want to say. However, you don't want to risk to anger him and throw you out of the perfect warm room. You shook your head in response to the man who was wiping his wet lips with a handkerchief.

It somehow makes the situation a bit comfortable for you to let out a genuine laugh.

"My apologies, I was just making sure." You smile at him. "I'll sleep on the bed then."

Without further ado, you climb into the soft bed and pull up the covers. You make sure to cover yourself from the neck down from concern about Childe rather than the cold. Your eyes peek at him who is still standing near the dresser before trying to close it. Before long, you have fallen asleep to replace the sleep you had lost.

The grip of his long fingers tightened. Childe glanced at where you were asleep, regretting that it only brought a bunch of unanswered questions to his head.

Why did he let you here? Even though he needs you to carry out his grand plan, he shouldn't have to worry about you sleeping in a cold room and waking up sick in the morning. He put his glass gently on the table, rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the moon shining outside the window.

"I guess I was trying too hard to make sure everything would go perfectly."

Childe mumbled to himself before bringing his legs to the door, disappearing behind it not caring if he had left you alone in the room.

As soon as morning falls on Snezhnaya, you wake up to your ladies-in-waiting standing in front of the tray that holds your breakfast. They line up while waiting for you rubbing your eyes while gathering full awareness.

"What's this?" You asked about the tray on the bed.

Sasha answered to you, “His Royal Highness Prince Childe told us to bring you breakfast.”

Your eyes scan the room and find no man spoken of anywhere.

"Where is he now?"

"We have no idea, Your Highness." Sasha tells you while bowing slightly.

Of course he had to go and disappear. The mysterious Childe. You don't even know where he went this time from so many places he might go. You're quite used to him treating you sweetly before erasing all traces of it later.

Something reminds you of the reason you were in his room in the first place. With your eyes on Laura, you painted a smile. Curious about her reaction when she found out her plan didn't work. Maybe she didn't think Childe would be this generous to you.

"This isn’t necessary, I will be joining breakfast with the others." You said as you got off the bed. "Let’s go to my chamber."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Your room is still the same as when you left it, cold and lonely. The difference is, the incoming sunlight no longer leaves a place for darkness to stay. You're trying not to glance at where your fireplace is from not wanting to mess up your own plans.

"Should I prepare the bath now?" You heard Sasha ask.

“No.” As you turned around, you smiled at your three ladies waiting for you to continue. “Actually I have something to complain about.”

Silence fell again in the room. Whether from the politeness of not speaking out of turn or the fear of making a mistake, neither of the women opened their mouths to ask. You turned around, opening the box that held your jewellery.

" Laura, can you close the door slowly next time you come into my room at night?" You said, watching how her body stiffened through the mirror.

Of course she would react that way. She didn't think you would know this, let alone talk about it in front of the other ladies-in-waiting. Unfortunately for her, this isn't the end of your game, oh, you still got a lot more to do so you don't have to get your hands dirty for Laura to uncover her own bad deeds.

“M-My apologies, Your Highness.” Laura hung her head lower than usual.

Your jewelry box is left open while you turn to look at your ladies-in-waiting. “Countess Sasha, did you order her to disturb my sleep?”

You never thought you'd see an expression that wasn't the cold face she usually gave you. Her dark eyebrows knit together, showing that she's confused by your question. Your eyes scanned every part of her face and made a conclusion all entirely on Laura.

“I did not, Your Highness.” She said, side-eyeing the younger one. "We ladies-in-waiting are forbidden to enter the royal family's chambers at night without requests."

Laura's hands that were intertwined with each other turned white as she tried to keep them from shaking. You feel a little sorry for her. She should have known better that you weren't the kind-hearted princess like ones in children's fairy tales.

"Ah, then I'd better ask someone else for an explanation." You chuckled as if that would ease the tension.

As you took a step closer to her, Laura was almost flinched in her stiff stance. You looked up at the top of her head which was clear from how low she looked down. The fireplace that you had avoided glancing at became where you stared before returning to her.

"Laura, why did you take my jewelry last night after putting out the fire?"

From what you said, Laura hastily denied it. She didn't take any jewelry—and you know that too. This is just one way for you to get her to confess her sin. After all, people can't help but correct misinformation, especially about themselves.

By bringing up bigger accusations than what she actually did, you know Laura will deny the false one but admit the other.

“Th-that's not true, Your Highness! I didn't steal any jewelry!” She screamed at the tip of her throat, face red from embarrassment.

If only you could compare Laura to a mouse that had been baited with cheese in a trap. You played your part by putting on an expression as if you were hurt by what she had done.

"So you're saying I was right about you putting out the fireplace to freeze me to death?”

In your words, Laura realized that she had exposed herself in front of three pairs of shocked eyes. Miraculously, the defensive words she had prepared disappeared, as if extinguished like the fire she splashed with water last night. She looks up slowly and finds your offended expression.

"I..I.."

“You plan to freeze me to death. Aren't I right?"

Sasha was about to open her mouth after hearing Laura intentions to harm you. However, you first raised your hand to stop her. Your lips are bent into a frown.

“I—I'm—!” Laura lost her ability to speak. So, all she did now was get down on her knees and pull your robe in desperation. “Your Highness! Please spare me!”

As if hurt, you put your hand on your chest. “Lady Laura, I never thought you would do something like that to me.” Your voice is like that of someone who has witnessed betrayal. But the truth is, you never even put your trust in anyone here to feel it.

“Your Highness! Let me teach her a lesson!” Sasha offers.

You ignored her, you were still fixing your eyes on Laura who started to shed tears. If she was this scared she shouldn't have done that. Hadn't she worked here long enough to understand that any attempt to harm the royal family would be severely punished? Even if she was lucky, she would still have to languish in prison for life.

“Bring me a poker.”

Laura gasped at your words, while the other two acted as if they had seen this coming. Even being hit with the firepoker that Ksenia gave you was the lightest punishment though it resulted in bruises on her hands later.

“Your Highness! Please forgive me this once!” Laura hasn’t given up on begging for your forgiveness, kneeling on your feet wet from her tears that keep falling.

"You two, get out." You gave firm orders to Sasha and Ksenia.

Both of them obeyed even though they hesitated. The door closed slowly, leaving you and Laura. She paled from your fingers that had gripped the iron firepoker. If you're going to hit her without warning, she doesn't know how to react.

"Lady Laura, haven't you thought long before you did that?" You ask, watching how she fails to put together the words to respond to you.

To her horror, her dark eyes follow your pacing feet without you removing your fingers from gripping the firepoker . She hopes you find a reason to forgive her. Laura swears she'll thank you for the rest of her life if that happens.

“Apart from the possibility of being in a dungeon for life, can you imagine what my husband would do to you if he found out about this?”

If Childe does something about this, you're sure he's doing it more out of humiliation than worrying about you being harmed. However, Laura didn't need to know that. All she needs to know is that there are many punishment options you can impose on her and yet, you're standing here with an iron stick.

Laura walked on her knees to you “Y-Your Highness, please forgive me! Don't.. don't let His Highness know about this—my God, what would he do to me if he found out!” She has no shame in trying to soften your heart. Oh, this time Laura would risk anything for you to give her a little kindness.

“Why should I forgive you? What can you give me that is so precious for me to do that?”

Laura was back on the verge of despair. What can someone offer to a person who can get whatever she wants with just a few words and a snap of her finger? Even if you asked for the cheapest jewellery, Laura knew her wages would not be enough to fulfill your request.

The least that can be offered to a person that great is their lives.

Laura's grip on the hem of your nightgown tightened as she stammered out: “M-My life! I will dedicate my life faithfully to you! Please, please forgive me, Your Highness. I'm sure I will be of use to you!”

This is easier than you think.

From the start, you have used your mistreatment as a ladder to get what you want—an informant. Countess Sasha will not be able to fill the role due to her aristocratic status among your ladies-in-waiting, making it very possible for her to act as a spy for someone who wants to know your every move. Ksenia on the other hand was too apathetic to immerse herself in gossips circulating in the palace.

Whereas Laura is the perfect one for it. In addition to her status as a commoner which makes her too far for the nobles to reach, she also likes to gossip.

Your face hosts a triumphant smile. You crouched down to take a closer look of her, cupping her small chin so she wasn't afraid to meet your eyes anymore.

"You're going to do that?"

Laura thinks of this as you softening for her. What she really doesn't know is that she stepped voluntarily into your trap. However, there is nothing for her to worry about as you will ensure that whoever stands by your side will be safe from harm.

They have to be.

“Y-yes! I will do whatever you ask! ”

Because you don't know what you will do if they don't.

The iron in your hand you tossed aside, clinking as it hit the floor. You noticed Laura's shoulders weren't as tense as before, her breathing wasn't as heavy as before. She watched you stand up and turn around, stroking your jewelry box.

"I don't think that's a bad offer." You smile at her through the mirror. “Prove how useful you are to me by telling me the latest gossip around the palace.”

You wrap yourself up as a woman who doesn't want to miss the talk around. Even if Laura is your criteria out of your other ladies-in-waiting, you shouldn't be too sure. By placing your trust in someone, it means that you have accepted the fact that betrayal will be as close as a pulse.

“… The latest gossip, Your Highness?” Laura made sure she had not misheard.

Now that she has dedicated her life to being loyal to you, the thing you want is as simple as her supplying you with all the gossip around the palace?

"Surely you can do that, right?"

Laura nodded quickly afraid you'd change your generous offering. “Of—of course, Your Highness!”

"Well. You can try to prove it from now on.”

Your lady-in-waiting's lips open and close like fish, turning her head to think about the latest, most interesting gossip she can give you. While waiting patiently, you noticed every inch of her slightly tattered dress. A frown manages to sit on your face from it. You'll do something about it later.

Laura looked up after finding something she was ready to tell you. “D-Duchess Anna!”

Your brow furrowed, “Duchess Anna?” Another familiar name you can't remember where you heard.

A nod from her before continuing, “She and the Duke are currently in the capital.”

You don't know what's so special about a duke and duchess visiting the capital. Did you miscalculate about Laura? A bit of disappointment crept into your heart from thinking she would give you more useful information.

"Then?"

“Earlier this morning, the maids in the kitchen were talking about Duchess Anna who had just doused her lady-in-waiting with hot water.”

You swear you've heard her name before. The more Laura mentioned it the more you tried to remember. Then, the memory of you, Duchess Rosalyne, and Lumine talking at your wedding reception replayed.

"Why would she do that?" You asked curiously.

"Some say it's because the lady-in-waiting doesn't turn to her even though she's been called twice."

Isn't that too trivial an excuse to hurt people? You didn't even have the intention of hurting Laura though she was planning to harm you. However, there will always be nobles like her, ones to act arbitrarily because they think they have authority.

Laura seemed to have noticed the change in your facial expression as she then added: "Duchess Anna is well known for being a grumpy person."

Grumpy person? More like cruel and ruthless, you think.

"Have I ever met her?" You asked for sure.

“The Duchess is invited to your wedding reception.”

That night, you met a lot of new people. However, you don't remember hanging out with the one named 'Anna'. So far, all you remember is Rosalyne—well, how could you forget her when she gave off that lingering charm when she first introduced herself to you.

Your lips pursed, "I don't think I've ever met her."

Laura nodded approvingly. “Besides being famous for her temperament, Duchess Anna has a husband that women often talk about. Some even said that he was the second most handsome in the aristocracy after His Highness Prince Childe.”

Your smile was almost replaced with a grimace. Of course, you also admit that Childe is an attractive man but, you didn't think people would make lists sorting them out like that.

Only out of curiosity you then ask: "What is her husband's name?"

From the blush on Laura's face before she managed to say it, you wonder how handsome this man is. “Ah, he is Duke Maxim, Your Highness.”

As soon as your ears perfectly caught the name, a chilling sensation struck you. Something fell before it was sucked in your stomach. You're disoriented as the memory of your most recent vision plays in the back of your head.

Duke Maxim. In your prophecy, he will be the one assisting Childe in the weaponry.

But, you have to make sure you don't mishear from hallucination. And so, with eyes watering from unblinking, you looked at Laura about to ask her again.

"Duke Maxim?"

Laura moved her head up and down in a nod. “Duke Maxim is in charge of Krykiye territory—”

"He's in the capital right now?" You interrupt rudely.

"That's right, Your Highness."

The waves of anxiety roll in bringing pain and a churning feeling in your stomach. The palms started to get wet from the sweat that suddenly came out. You feel like pins and needles are being stabbed in every part of you from wondering why Maxim is here.

Will the agreement be made sooner than you expected? Your vision does provide minimal information about when that will happen.

But, you haven't even prepared anything to thwart it.

"Do you.." You hate how soft your voice comes out. "Do you know why they're here?" You're trying to control the urge to pick on your fingers

From the expression Laura showed, you have concluded that she doesn't have the answer to your question this time. “Pardon my ignorance, Your Highness.” She shook her head, hanging her head low again from shame and fear.

This is bad, this is really bad. Laura did give you information but, not enough for you to know what will happen next. Even if Maxim isn't here to make a pact with Childe, that doesn't mean you have a lot of time to waste. You had to do something—you had to make sure in the future they wouldn't join hands.

So far, all you got was the fact that the temperamental and impulsive Duchess Anna was his wife. Secondly, Maxim is labeled as the most handsome man in Snezhnaya after your husband, making him always talked about by women as happened at your wedding reception.

You just realized something.

You realize you have the key that is likely to change everything.

Slowly, your breath feels less heavy. You took a deep breath before exhaling, sweeping away any remnants of your anxiety as you turned to your jewelry box.

"This is enough, you have proved you are useful to me." You take the red gem necklace that is now in your hand.

Laura's dark eyes followed how you turned back to her with a friendly smile. She notices the jewelry hanging in your hand, complimenting it in her heart of how beautiful it is when the sun's rays fall right on it.

You approached Laura. “As a reward, you can have this.” You said, extending your hand to her and watching the surprised look on her face.

"But, Your Highness—”

Laura stopped talking when you bent down to look at her still on the floor. “In exchange, I want you to find out if Lady Lumine of Monstadt is still in Snezhnaya.”

The necklace you handed over to her outstretched hand. Your back was straight before you turned around to close your jewelry box—where you had a chance to see the brooch Childe bought on the night of the Liyue festival. You can't help but taste bittersweet in that.

“I will be waiting for your result to determine if I want to have a tea party tomorrow. If so, make sure you send out invitations to her and to the noble ladies currently in the capital, Duchess Anna included.”

"Yes, Your Highness."

"You can prepare my bath now."

After receiving another order from you, Laura got up and walked towards the door to summon your other ladies-in-waiting. The room was quiet again. You stare at the fallen leaves outside the window even though your mind is elsewhere.

Whether your plan goes smoothly or not, you don't know. However, to find out don't you need to give it a try?

@thelovelydiviner @r0ttenhearts @tsunotaro-san @yguchild @a-random-bored-person @dandelimoonus @cherlynono @deemayaz @xalatus @meiraloves2dmen @bananazzzen @ajaxstar @sugarxbxby123

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surielstea · 3 months

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hi!!! before i dive into my essay of a request, i wanted to let you know that i adore your writing. it’s always a treat to see your work!

i just saw your post about requests being open and i’ve been dying for rhys fluff.

just for some backstory behind my request: i work at a tiny library in a super tiny town and the other day, my favorite tiny patrons hung out at my desk for almost two hours. we were just chatting about everything and one of them told me about how they crochet (i do too). she mentioned how it was hard to start circles and i said that i could help her the next time she came in. without wasting time, she ran to her grandma to get her supplies out of the car and sat with me for half an hour so i can teach her. i just thought it was super endearing!

i would love to see how dad!rhys would admire his family as they teach their little ones how to do something. it could be anything that their partner is passionate about (crochet/ knit, baking, dancing, etc.) and their little one takes an interest. like it’s just pure admiration on rhys’ end and how happy he is with his little family. obviously no pressure! i’m always happy to read anything you post!

You’re literally going to make me cry this is actually soooososos sweet oh my god thank you😭😭

That story is so cute I love when people are just so eager to learn something new, not caring if they’re judged if they feel comfy around their teacher so that’s just so endearing

But the request itself is utter perfection, I’m a huge sucker for a dad just staring at his wife with pure admiration especially when around their kids, so I’m so excited to write this !!

Should be out soon :))

Edit: posted here!

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #fanfic #sarah j maas #x reader #request #reqs open #anon reply #suriels tea #high lord rhysand #rhysand #Rhys

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tackytigerfic · 2 years

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WIP Snip

I was tagged by @shealynn88 who posted the most beautiful extract which you can read here

Still writing my long fic - it's slow going but at least it's going. This is a wartime AU where Harry is still fighting Voldemort, Draco joined the Order in Sixth Year, and then ran away to France two years later. Now, after five years on the run, he's back and working with the Order again, and their HQ is being attacked by Voldemort. Unedited.

Harry was running before he even realised, before he noticed the thump of his feet and the heavy crunch of something, maybe broken glass that must have come from some window shattering, and then he was down the stairs and sprinting back across the courtyard towards the building again, eyes fixed on the light in that tiny window high above.

“Potter,” he heard above the thunder of his own pulse in his ears, then a hand grabbed him, hard, around the upper arm, swinging him to a stop and hauling him backwards sharply. It was Malfoy, of course. He was softened, a dark shadow against the backlight, Harry’s glasses steaming up from his run and his panting breath.

“Potter,” Malfoy said again, “what is it?”

“It’s Rosie,” Harry told him, and heard his own voice crack on the words with the cold clarity of breaking ice. “It’s Rosie and Arthur up there. When she can’t sleep, he sometimes brings her up to watch cartoons on the Muggle tv screen. There are magic dampeners up there, so the electrics don’t get fried, so he won’t even have heard the wards. The explosion must have been the first he knew of anything happening. Oh god, the corridor—it’s probably blocked off. How are they going to get down, Malfoy?” He was clutching Malfoy now, both hands around Malfoy’s biceps, fingers working helplessly through the soft old wool of Malfoy’s knitted jumper. “How are they going to get down?”

Behind Malfoy Harry could just about make out the huddled knots of cadets, arms shaking as they held their Shields, and above them the constant spluttering light of the guns. Silhouetted overhead, in the lookout post, he could see Ginny and Kingsley.

“First things first, you’re going to calm down,” Malfoy said coldly. “I take it the anti-Apparition charms are in place here too? Right, well, that would have been too simple. And the wing has no other access point?”

Harry shook his head, dumb with fright, wretched with nausea and tiredness.

“Well, we need to get up there somehow,” Malfoy said briskly, then more kindly, “Potter, you’ll need to let go of me for just a minute, okay? Do not move, I’ll be back.” And Harry realised he was still clinging onto Malfoy, hands tight around his upper arms as though he was the only thing holding Harry up.

Up above, the Shield began to bulge again under a fresh onslaught, and one of the cadets made a surprised noise and fell heavily to his knees, though he managed to keep his part of the charm going.

“We can’t keep holding for much longer,” another shouted to Harry, and Harry felt his vision darken and tilt as he sought that thin light again, thinking for a moment it was gone before he found it again, a weakening beacon. And then Malfoy was back, looking into his face with an odd searching expression before seeming satisfied with whatever he saw and nodding.

“Right,” he said. “Do you think you’re up to it?” In one hand he held up a broom, which he must have grabbed from the shed near the gatepost, which meant it was old and rubbish and probably hadn’t been flown in however long. But it was something, at least, and Harry should have thought of it.

“Yeah,” Harry told him. “Yeah, I’m up to it. Thanks.”

Malfoy nodded again and dropped the broom, then in one smooth motion summoned it up and straddled it. “I’ll keep her steady while you get them out. Otherwise you might lose your equilibrium up there.”

He turned to the cadets.

“Hold that Shield,” he shouted at them. “Not long now, you can do it. All our lives depend on it.” Harry would never have said something like that, would have worried it would be too much pressure for such young kids, but when Malfoy said it like that, confident and reassuring, it seemed to make them more resolved, wands arms steadying, chins lifting determinedly.

Harry slid on behind Malfoy, but his words of thanks were lost in the sudden rush of sky as Malfoy pulled sharply on the handle and the broom surged upwards like a skittish horse.

Tagging @cluelesspigeons @lettersbyelise @lqtraintracks @maesterchill @rockingrobin69 @shealwaysreads @skeptiquewrites @sweet-s0rr0w @wolfpants and anyone else who wants to play.

#wip snip #six sentence someday #tacky's fth #drarry

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countrymusiclover · 4 months

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16 - The Future War

Part 17

Battle of Heart and Mind

Tag list - ask to be added (in my ask box please) @aintinacage @hiraethrhapsody @mostlymarvelgirl @importantgalaxyrunaway

Scribbling some random drawings on a page Erik had actually stayed in the room today since there had been a bug storm roaring on outside and it was basically below freezing in January. He was flipping through tv channels trying to find something to watch until he felt my eyes on him. “Why are you staring at me, Addison?”

“No particular reason, Lehnsherr.” I lied putting my attention back on the notepad in my lap. Moving the pencil across the page sparing glances at him every once in a while. “Eyes are a little bluer than I thought.”

He looked back at the tv until I made a curious noise. “Alright whatever are you doing?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” I stuck my tongue out at him in a challenge.

Erik warned me. “Don't start a fight you can't win, Shaw Girl.”

“I'm not afraid of you “ I scoffed, going back to my drawing.

Erik shifted his body on the couch standing above me where I lifted my gaze upward to his eyes. Lately I have noticed myself thinking that we could have normal lives once he succeeded in killing my father or just gave up on the idea entirely, which I knew the second option would never happen. “You should be very afraid of me, Addison.” He whispered under his breath and I could feel it on how close our faces were to one another.

“And why’s that?” I challenged the metal controlling mutant, hugging my knees to my chest so he couldn’t see the drawing.

Erik crawled right beside me and sat back down on the couch before he quickly moved his hands all over my body looking for my ticklish spots with such a wicked smirk on his face. “Erik!” I squealed when his fingers brushed over my hip bone and another went to the bottom of one of my feet.

“Ah there it is.” He teased repeatedly moving his fingers over those two spots letting my body twitch under his grasp.

I couldn’t stop laughing and I felt my eyes water attempting to push him off of me. But I was choosing to not use my powers as an easy way out to win. “Erik! Ah…stop. Erik….I can’t take it!”

“Do you cave, Addison?” He whispered in my ear causing a shiver to run throughout my entire body.

I gripped his forearms attempting to kick him away. He tightened his grip on my hips that he was tickling. He wouldn’t ever admit such a thing but he was finding enjoyment in seeing you like this. “Yes ... .Yes I cave. Just please stop it!”

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Oh and let me see this.” He snatched the notebook from my lap while I was catching my breath.

I cried reaching out for it. “Erik!”

“What are you so worried about hiding from me…did you draw me?” He knits his brows together glancing over at me, sitting the notebook in his lap. The sketch of his face is what I had been lazily working on.

Covering my face with my hands I wanted to run out of the room immediately so embarrassed at what he had found. I slid down to the edge of the couch feeling his eyes focused on me. “Yes I did. I just got caught up in the moment…thinking about what our kids would look like if we got together. Would our kids look more like me or like you?”

“I never imagined you would want me to take your virginity, kinky.” Erik sat the notebook on the table getting up and heading toward his bedroom.

Shaking my head I realized what he had just said and how my earlier declaration had sounded out of my mouth. “How the heck do you know I’m a virgin? I could have given it to a random guy when you left the apartment for hours.”

“You getting defensive makes it so obvious, Shaw Girl.” Erik clasped his hands behind his back walking backwards into his bedroom doorway. That teasing smirk plastered across his face. “Oh there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact I am all for helping you if you want it to be good.”

“God this is why I don’t tell you things.” I groaned, grabbing the closest object I could find which was one of his shoes and I launched it at his head.

He ducked, chuckling lightly and shutting the door behind himself. “You wouldn’t know what to do without me in your life, Addison.” Leaning back on the couch I huffed crossing my arms over my chest and I wouldn’t know it until years later that he was right the whole time. Erik and I needed the other more than we ever realized after the day we met.

I gasped, blinking my eyes opened and frantically looking around the room that I was in. I was laying on a cold metal table and my head still hurt a little when I tried to sit up. Sitting upright as much as I can without causing myself too much pain I turned my head seeing Charles laying asleep in his wheelchair right at my bedside. “Charles…Charles!”

“No…huh…Addi you’re okay.” He shifted in his sleep with me calling his name. Blinking his eyes it took him a minute to focus his clear attention on me.

I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. “What the hell happened to me?”

“Easy now my girl. I’m just relieved you are awake.” Charles rolled his wheelchair as close to me as he could possibly get. Reaching up he loops my right hand with his left, raising it to his lips kissing it.

I felt my face turn a light shade of red at the action. “Charles, you didn’t have to be so worried about me.”

“I’m always going to worry, dear. Even if you don’t share my feelings at the same level that I do for you I will say this has not changed. I love you, I love you so much and it won’t ever stop.” He declares to me, blinking some tears through his baby blue eyes.

Closing my eyes I parted my lips staring up at the blue ceiling. Moving one hand to my stomach I turned my head looking back at the professor needing some answers. “Charles, where’s Raven at. Do we know if Erik has done anything on the news?”

“Addi, you need to rest. Hank and I talked and he assumed you fainted due to stress and using your power when you are in the timeline to deliver your babies in a few days-“

“Charles, just answer the question. Where are either of them right now?” I cut him off not worried about myself right now, if the war happened my children would be in danger.

He clicked his tongue, sighing heavily. “I used Cerebro and she was going to the airport. I haven’t been able to find Erik but I must assume he’s going to Washington with her.”

“She’s still planning to kill Trask.” I mumbled under my breath. I grunted, removing my hand from his pushing myself to sit up on the table. “Ah!…We have to stop her before the war happens and we did nothing to stop it.”

Charles attempted to stand up but he fell back in the wheelchair. “Addison, you can’t. You need to rest. Hank said you could go into labor early if you put the baby into stress.”

“I will go to a hospital if that happens. But - uh we have to stop Raven now.” I winced pushing myself down onto my feet holding my stomach when I felt some shots of pain on and off.

Charles touched my shoulder entering my mind. “Don’t make me stop you, Addi.”

“Charles Xavier, I am not sitting on the sidelines. I may be pregnant but I’m not going to do nothing here. The world needs the X men and it’s just you, me, Hank and Logan to stop her. So either help m or get out of my way!” I growled at him getting in his face.

“Now there’s the ‘Amber’ Addi Shaw I know.” Whipping my head around I saw Logan standing in the doorway. “She’s right, Professor. If we don’t stop her now then I’ve come all this way for nothing.”

Charles ran a hand over his face covering his mouth with his right fist. “Just because someone stumbles and loses their way doesn’t mean they’re lost forever.”

“Where did you hear that?” I questioned him when I saw Hank enter the room.

Charles reached for my hand again where I allowed him to intertwine my hand with his. “Someone convinced me to change my mind. Ready the plane, we're going to Washington.”

The four of us had gotten on the plane and made the flight in almost complete silence. Charles got us through security and we all made our search for Raven. Pushing Charles' wheelchair forward he touches my hand making me pause in my step. “What is it, Charles?”

“Don’t overdo yourself. But here take it.” He offered me his hand, shifting his gaze from my eyes to his hand.

I clasped my hand in the one he held out to me. He parted his lips taking a breath with our hands turning red together. I throw my head back feeling his energy entering my body before I draw my hand away. “Now we have to stop her.” Lifting a finger up to my temple, Charles followed my attention.

“This is for you brothers and sisters.” I heard Raven’s voice.

Charles pointed with his index finger towards the left of the stage posing as one of the president's secret service men. “I have her. Left corner of the stage.”

Logan and Hank started making their way through the crowds of people. I tucked my hair behind my ear hearing the faint sound of metal moving right before the things that Logan called Sentinels were rising in the sky. Their arms that had guns in them pointed to the crowds of people. “Charles?” I called his name getting his attention.

“Addi, find cover now.” He warned me sensing something wasn’t right. The sentinels began firing on the crowd and everybody went running in all different directions. Charles screamed in my direction. “Erik! Addi go now!”

I began running as much as I possibly could with my nine months pregnant belly. My boots kicked the grass with me struggling to dodge the bullets. Yanking my head upward I saw a large stadium room hovering above the area we were in. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Ugh!…come on. Come on.” I grasped the metal coin necklace needing to have both Andries and Erik’s powers bed things got worse.

My hand turned red when I raised my freehand trying to hold the stadium up yet I groaned lower myself to my knees feeling some water coming from between my legs. “No, no, no, please. Not now, please not now.” Pain began shooting through my back where I landed on my knees groaning in discomfort.

“Charles!” Logan’s voice could be heard across the lawn.

Yanking my head in the opposite direction I held my stomach crying heavily through tears. The stadium still was falling down around us and stuff was falling out of the rooms. Charles was in his wheelchair on the edge of where it was about to drop on. “Charles!” I drew my other hand forward moving his metal wheelchair closer as much as I could until some objects fell around him.

“Erik!” I moaned through grunted teeth watching him hover down into the area now having everything he wanted trapped. He was wearing his red suit and cape along with the helmet meaning we couldn’t stop him.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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the12thnightproject · 11 months

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Chapter 7: Retail... Therapy? In disguise as "Kaya and Kyubei," Mitsuhide and Katsu make their first public appearance, and formally meet the merchant Shojumaru.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

Mitsuhide’s gaze slid over my Katsu drag, making me feel like a child who has been caught in mischief. I raised my chin. I had done nothing wrong, and I had returned by sunrise. Almost.

I held up my pack. “There were some personal items I had stored at Francisco’s that I wanted back.”

“Indeed. Did it occur to you that your master would prefer not to have you traipsing all over Sakai dressed that way?” Before I could react, he had confiscated my pack and my arsenal. “I believe I’ll store these for safekeeping.”

Aki’s letter!

Not wanting to let him know he’d taken something important, I faked a smile and asked, “Did it occur to my ‘master’ that he now has two operatives for the price of one?”

“That rather depends on whether your skill set matches your enthusiasm. Does it?” Before I could assure him that I had the ability to do what was necessary, he continued. “After all, it was your blundering about town that landed you in this situation to begin with.” He rooted through the pack and with one finger, lifted out the ugly brown kimono. “Perhaps you can console yourself with the thought that it will pain Kyubei to be seen with someone wearing this.” He tossed it to me.

Ugh. Fine. I bundled the offensive garment against my stomach as I waited for him to leave the room so that I could change.

“Dear me, is it your desire that I act as your personal maid? I do not recall that being part of our agreement, but if that is your wish, I aim to please.” He took a step toward me.

Ducking out of his way, I said, “I’ve been dressing myself since I could walk.” Since he still hadn’t left, I waved him toward the door. “I’m not performing in a peep show. Get out.”

“You’ve yet to prove you can be trusted next to an open window.” He pulled the Yokai panelled screen away from the wall, creating a tiny alcove. He took me by the shoulders and spun me to face the screen. “If you’re that shy, change behind this. Go on now.” He gave me a very gentle nudge in that direction.

It would serve him right if I treated him to a full out striptease, but that was too far to go to prove a point (not that I know how to perform one anyway). “As you wish.”

Behind the relative safety of the screen, I put Kaya’s clothing back on. Then, keeping a tight grip on the kimono and hakama I had just removed, I returned to face my new ‘master.’ If he meant to confiscate Katsu, the way he had stolen my bag, he was going to learn just how rebellious and stubborn I could be.

He reached out his hand, and I took a nervous step back. “My clothes stay in my possession.”

Instead of trying to steal my clothes, he took my hand and placed a little container in the center of my palm. When I didn’t immediately examine it, he removed the lid, revealing some kind of cream that smelled vaguely medicinal. “For your wrists.” He traced his finger along the abrasion left by the rope.

He scooped out a little of the cream, and lightly massaged it into my wounds. His touch, and the cream, were both cool on my skin, and though I hadn’t realized that the cuts needed treatment, I felt instantly soothed, like little bits of frayed nerves were knitting back together. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head, and then, as if it was the gesture meant nothing, continued in a conversational tone. “Did you discover anything useful? You were gone far longer than it should have taken to retrieve your belongings.”

That suggested that he’d been awake – or awakened – when I climbed out the window in the middle of the night. The fact that he hadn’t rushed after or stopped me meant that he had been reasonably confident that I would return. Or maybe just confident that he could find me and bring me back – possibly in those threatened chains. “Maybe? There is a warehouse that I am curious about because five years ago it held a shipment of probably smuggled Nanban muskets.”

“You know this… because?” He turned toward the futon, and then, unexpectedly took a moment to smooth out the sheets and blanket – just as smooth – smoother, in fact - than I had left it. Then he gestured for me to follow him out of the room. “That kimono truly is an affront. Your master intends for you to wear something that is less of a crime against nature.”

I didn’t argue that. I couldn’t. The brown kimono was something I had hated from the first time I’d been forced to put it on. But, for a housemaid, it was practical, and made me nearly invisible when I wore it. “The weapons? It’s kind of a long story.” One in which I was nearly killed and I haven’t had enough tea this morning to discuss it. “Short version – because I was in there and saw them. I’m not clear on who owned the warehouse at that time, but now I think it belongs to a merchant named Shojumaru.”

Mitsuhide stopped in the middle of the staircase, and I nearly plowed right into him. “Shojumaru?”

“Do you know him?” From that reaction, he obviously had heard something about this Shojumaru. I hadn’t known Mitsuhide very long, but even this short acquaintance was enough to make me realize that his brief pause was equivalent to anyone else’s ‘what the hell’ reaction.

“Suffice it to say that his name has come up in the past. But thus far, we have yet to meet face to face.” He continued down to the street level, then suddenly put his arm out.

Yeah. It’s your arm. What about it?

I must have hestitated too long for he said, “Put your hand on my arm, brat. Kyubei is about to have fun dressing his new concubine.” He drew his fingers across his lips, miming a smile. “Try for at least some semblance of enthusiasm. I was under the impression that women liked shopping.”

Right. In public, I had to pretend to be intimate with ‘Kyubei,’ and ‘outside’ definitely counted as ‘in public,’ though, actually there didn’t seem to be anyone paying attention to us. You agreed to this, I reminded myself again, as I lightly placed my hand on his forearm. His skin felt cool to the touch – like a snake’s - but I kept that thought to myself. “So, he’s a person of interest?”

“Who?” Mitsuhide strolled with me down the street, walking so slowly we might as well be going backward. “Person of interest? Sometimes you come up with the oddest way of phrasing things… almost like…” He trailed off. It seemed like the words had frozen in his throat.

I turned to look at him, trying to read his face, but his expression hadn’t altered. Still, there was something about the way he’d cut off his words that made me think he’d stopped himself, not to self-edit, but because the topic was painful to him. So instead, I pushed the conversation back to where it had been. “Shojumaru. Do you think he is involved in this?”

He didn’t answer.

Before we entered a shop that looked to be a storefront for a seamstress, Mitsuhide underwent a rather creepy transformation, somehow managing to turn what was normally an attractive profile (I don’t like him, but I can’t claim he isn’t good looking) into something dark and sneering. Having seen Aki perform similar tricks, I shouldn’t have been unnerved by it, but Mitsuhide’s ability to inhabit a character far exceeded Aki’s and this new creature seemed volatile and sinister.

He gave my arm a bit of a tug, pulling me off balance, causing me to stumble as we crossed the threshold.

“Graceless child. Did no one teach you how to walk?” The look of disgust he gave me was chilling.

But under that attitude and the dark wig, it was still Mitsuhide, and Mitsuhide had a way of always daring me to snark back at him. “Next time, don’t pull me off balance.”

He whirled suddenly, gracefully and his fingers gripped my chin. “Do not forget your place.”

The pinch didn’t hurt, nor had it hurt when he pulled me into the building, but the cold indifference when he addressed me created a different kind of pain. It told me I was worth nothing; that this man would toss me into the gutter at the slightest provocation.

He half-dragged me to a counter area where the proprietor was watching with appalled fascination. “This sorry creature needs a full wardrobe. I’ve been informed that you are a seamstress of adequate ability.”

The seamstress looked pissed at that insult to her skill but her expression changed when ‘Kyubei’ dropped a heavy coin purse on the counter. “Of course, my lord.” She let her gaze drift down my brown kimono and I could see her repress a shudder. “However, I do not sell fabric. If you have a preferred vendor, material can be sent to me, or for an added fee, I will purchase some.”

Mitsuhide gave the seamstress’s own kimono a long look and raised that eyebrow. Clearly ‘Kyubei’ thought he could do better on his own, although I have no idea what he thought wrong with her taste. Then again, I’ve never had the luxury of thinking about that – clothes were part of my uniform, they kept me warm, and that’s all they’ve needed to be for the past seven years. “I will have fabric sent to you. In the meanwhile, perhaps you have something already completed that I can purchase today. My pet’s,” he reached out a finger and drew it down the side of my face, “clothing needs to reflect her new position in life.” The slight emphasis he gave the word ‘position’ was a bit extra.

Yes, yes, I’m sure the woman already figured that I would be spending most of my time on my back.

The seamstress hesitated until more coins were laid upon the counter. “Indeed, yes, I might have something suitable.”

By which I understood that to mean some poor woman was going to have to wait much longer for her kimono.

“Good.” He turned to me and leered. “I do hope you will show proper gratitude for my generosity.” He hooked a finger around the edge of my kimono and pulled me closer to him.

He was acting. I knew this was a performance pitched specifically for the seamstress. He might tease and suggest, he might order me around, but he wasn’t cruel or sleazy. Or… was he? Maybe the Mitsuhide I knew was the act and this man was the reality?

But whatever this was, I didn’t have to reach far into my own acting bag to feel repulsed. I slapped his hand away. I might have agreed to play his concubine in public, but even the concubines I had seen around the city were not passive victims to this kind of behavior.

The seamstress looked horrified – whether it was on my behalf or because of a potential loss of sale, and before Mitsuhide… no, Kyubei, it’s Kyubei, it’s an act, as much as Kaya is, and Kaya needs to stop rebelling so overtly… before he could do more than reach for me again, she intervened. “My lord, I need to measure this one in order to properly fit her.”

Mitsuhide directed a look at me that clearly conveyed this matter wasn’t over yet, then waved at the seamstress. “Yes. Take that off. And bring her back in something that less offends my eyes.”

I gratefully followed her to a back room, where she silently began measuring me with leather strips. The physical measurements were neutral. The measurement of my character was much more scornful.

How should I play this? Kaya might want to run away, but this woman hadn’t given me any suggestion that she would be willing to help. Maybe she’d seen this scenario play out all too often. Maybe she felt like the concubines had brought this on themselves. Asking her for help wouldn’t result in any help… but I didn’t want help.

I wanted information.

And so, I lightly probed.

“I was a housemaid.” I put a note of defensiveness into my voice. “My lord and his wives were killed in the war and his castle was burned.”

She ignored me in favor of unwrapping an addressed parcel – that turned out to contain a peach-colored kimono that, as I had guessed earlier, had been destined for someone else.

“I was taken prisoner in the melee and sold to Master Kyubei.” Underneath my defensiveness was actual fear. Seven years ago, if Aki had not rescued me, this might have truly been my fate. I owed him everything. And if this masquerade with Mitsuhide was the way to find him, I needed to stop fighting it, and go all in. “But I’m a trained maid. Please do you know anyone who might need-“

She pinched my arm. “Do you think you were special? All over the country, people are starving. Be grateful you were sold to him, and not one of the dirty foreigners.”

“Could… that have actually happened?” I made an effort to sound suitably shocked. Now… now, please give me some useful information, lady.

“It happens all the time.” She yanked the brown kimono off me and quickly dressed me in the peach confection. There had been some matching hair pins in the packet as well, but when she unbraided my hair, she looked appalled.

Now she looks appalled. Sex slaves can’t shock her. Bad hair can. Good. To. Know.

And my hair was truly awful. It had never recovered from the time Aki’s chatelaine chopped the turquoise streaks out of it – and admittedly, I had not helped matters much, by sawing off chunks of hair with my dagger whenever I felt a bit falling into my face.

“What am I going to do with this?” She muttered to herself, then yanked it into a tight knot and shoved the pins in. I imagined that I now looked like a porcupine. A peach porcupine. And given my hair’s properties, it would likely succumb to entropy by noon.

Mitsu-Kyubei looked marginally less disgusted at my appearance when we returned. At his expression, pieces of my hair escaped the knot and spronged outward. He scowled at my hair, then turned back to the seamstress. “I will send materials to you. There is a bonus in it for you if you complete the order quickly.” To me, he simply offered his arm. “Come along, Kaya.”

I gave the seamstress one more not completely faked look of ‘help me’ (which she ignored), then took his arm. He waited until we were in the street before saying in quiet tones, “Dear me, if that was your idea of obeying me in public, we need to spend some time learning vocabulary.”

“I didn’t run away, did I?” More hair fell down as a pin bounced off my shoulder and clinked to the ground. “I decided my character Kaya is rebellious and hasn’t yet accepted her new life. That in turn allowed me to question the seamstress.”

“I stand corrected.” He gestured for me to pick up the hairpin. “And what did your rebellious ‘charade’ yield in terms of information?”

He could stand to be less sarcastic.

I grabbed the hairpin and randomly poked it into my hair. “Not much.” It hurt to admit that. “Just that our people are frequently sold to the Nanban… which, we already knew… and she personally finds her life easier if she ignores this and never thinks about it… oh, and besides… you didn’t warn me or ask me to give approval on your character either!” I couldn’t glare at him because we were in public. “That was disturbing. Where did you pull that character from – because if there’s a real-life model for him, I never want to meet him.”

“There is and you don’t.” He steered me around a pile of animal poo that some large beast had left in the street.

I waited for a longer explanation, and when I didn’t get one, picked up where I was going with my previous conversation. “I didn’t realize that Kyubei-the-merchant was such a …” I searched for a word that would be period appropriate and settled upon, “an abusive employer. Does the real Kyubei know how badly you slaughter his reputation?”

“The real Kyubei, which as it happens, is not his true name either, is happily ensconced in my manor, pretending to be me, and I’m certain he could, if he wanted, do equal damage to mine. He won’t, however, as he at least, understands the meaning of obedience.” He raised one eyebrow as the hairpin shot out of my hair again. “You cannot be making those fly out on purpose.”

“I’m not.” I again retrieved the pin and stuck it in my kimono – clearly it was not going to stay put. “My hair is impossible to work with.” With perfect timing, the whole knot unraveled, and my hair tumbled past my shoulders in its ragged, uneven glory.

“Do your best to fix that. Kyubei isn’t going to play lady’s maid in the middle of the street. Or even in,” he added, as we entered a fabric merchant’s shop. The merchant in question was deeply involved in a conversation with another customer and paid us no attention. “Here.”

My best was Katsu’s braid, but that wasn’t going to be appropriate for Kaya. And since I fully intended to go outside sometimes as Katsu, keeping our hairstyles as different as possible would likely be advisable. With a sigh, and to Mitsuhide’s silent condemnation, I grabbed my hair, haphazardly twisted it all up again, randomly sticking the pins in where it felt like it needed help in the structural integrity department.

“A maid would seem to be necessary. However…” He picked up my arm and resumed his ‘evil Kyubei’ character, just as the Merchant wound up his sale and turned to look at us. “There is the matter of privacy.”

Right. A live-in maid would mean we’d have to keep this charade up a lot more. Maybe all the time. Did Mitsuhide even have another bedroom in the townhouse? “Too bad I can’t just cut it off.”

“Would you be willing to wear a wig?” At what was likely my look of horror, he said, “I thought not,” then turned to the merchant. Without bothering to greet the man, he simply pointed to various fabrics. “That one. That one. And bring both of those down. I must examine those more closely.”

Since my opinion wasn’t needed (or wanted), I took the opportunity to look around. The store was well organized and it looked like – if my very limited knowledge of fabric was anything to go by – the stock was of very high quality. Probably imported from China or India. There even seemed to be some kind of fancy quilted (was that the word?) stuff that looked vaguely European.

Someone in the back of the shop waved impatiently to the merchant, but Mitsuhide was keeping him busy – making him pull out fabrics, them rejecting them all at a closer glance. Finally, the other person, an apprentice, it seemed, approached us to tell the merchant that a ship had recently docked in the harbor, and if he wanted to have his pick of things, he needed to go to Shojumaru’s warehouse immediately, before his rivals got there first.

Shojumaru!

The merchant seemed torn, but Mitsu-Kyubei flapped his hands at the pile of fabric and said, “we shall all go. If this warehouse has such high-quality inventory, then I must be the first to see it.”

That was the moment that I realized I didn’t know what Mitsu-Kyubei’s cover story was in terms of his own imports. Obviously not fabric. I asked Mitsuhide himself that very question, as we followed the fabric merchant (whose name, I had finally learned was Tadayo) toward the warehouses that lined the street closest to the docks.

“At the moment, it’s lacquerware as an export and spices as an import. The storerooms in the courtyard behind the townhouse are filled with both.” He again offered me his arm and I took hold of it easily – it was startling at how quickly we’d fallen into a pattern. “However, I’ve let it be known that I’m interested in acquiring Nanban muskets.”

That was a lot of trouble to go to in order to find two people and I wondered if there was more of a bigger issue behind the search. Then again, Nobunaga certainly had the personal resources to help create the background for this story – easy enough to acquire the spice in Kyoto and repurpose one of his armorers to create the lacquerware. I supposed if I went into the storerooms, I’d find examples of it all artfully staged in case anyone was suspicious enough of Kyubei to check things out.

The interest in muskets though? Was that why Hideyoshi and Mai had been in Sakai? My mind worked through the possibilities. Unfortunately, Mitsuhide was not likely to use me as a sounding board. I should have put “compare notes” in our contract. As a substitute for Aki, Mitsuhide was sadly lacking.

Realizing that Mitsu-Kyubei was making idle small talk with Tadayo, I tuned back into the conversation, just as they were in fact discussing Nobunaga. “Do the rest of the merchants also agree that Oda is a threat to Sakai’s self-governance?”

“For years, the Kaigoshu have collected ruled Sakai. We’ve needed no daimyo. Why then should we bow to the Oda?” Tadayo paused to allow a two-wheeled cart laden with crates to lurch past us.

“Why indeed? I’ve never tolerated interference in my own affairs.” Kyubei sent a glance my way – presumably he was warning Tadayo off me, but given that he was still unhappy over the Kennyo incident from earlier this year, it was an implied threat to me as well. “However, widening the moat appears to be a waste of time and resources, not to mention an unsightly blight upon the landscape.”

Tadayo laughed, having apparently gotten past his initial annoyance. “I’m in agreement with you there, Kyubei. But the advantage of self-governance is balanced by the difficulty of getting twenty-odd merchants to come to a decision on anything. Council meetings can be long and contentious – longer now that the Nanban merchants are permitted to attend.” He drew to a halt, and I realized we were in front of that warehouse again.

“You invite the foreign barbarians?” There was a note of incredulity in his voice, although I was willing to bet that this was something MItsuhide had known already. In fact, he’d probably been working toward this subject of conversation from the start.

Really… I could… learn a lot from him.

Tadayo gestured for Mitsu-Kyubei to go inside. Unlike yesterday, the warehouse was full of crates, several already open and being inspected. “They do not, of course, have any voting rights or privileges, but we determined that it was most expedient to get their information and thoughts when everyone was already gathered, rather than in fits and starts so that by the time it is all relayed to us, it has changed out of all recognition. Ah, good morning Master Shojumaru.”

Shojumaru (for that was indeed the man I had spied on early this morning) had changed clothes – not simply wiped the mud off – since the incident with the mud and the crate, so that my first close view of the man left an impression of crisp cleanliness. Even his white hair seemed to sparkle. When he saw Tadayo, he stepped forward to greet us, and in that moment he and Mitsuhide sized each other up like gladiators in a ring.

From my position clinging to Mitsuhide’s arm, I was momentarily ignored, allowing me the position of pure observer. He smiled at us, a polite, friendly smile. Nothing in that smile said, ‘I’m dangerous,’ in fact, the smile seemed to be going out of the way to suggest the opposite. And yet my pulse sped up like it did when it sensed danger, so much so that Mitsuhide had to have noticed. “Greetings Tadayo, as always you are bright and early to look over the newest arrivals… and whom have you brought with you?

Tadayo introduced Kyubei, stating that the man was interested in purchasing some fabric and would prefer to evaluate the material in person.

After a bow that was right on the line of being ingratiating, Shojumaru said, “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

Although completely innocuous, his words sent another jolt through me, and for a moment the room grew dim, and incredibly warm. My breath caught in my throat, and if I didn’t know better, I would think I was having a heart attack.

I did know better.

It was the beginning of a panic attack.

But just because I recognized it, did not mean I had the ability to stop it.

Breathe. Breathe.

This is nothing.

Was it simply being in this warehouse again, the building where I had been trapped five years ago, was enough to bring it all back?

Breathe.

You are safe.

I could hear my heart echoing in my ears.

Not now… not here.

@selenacosmic @bestbryn @mllorei @tele86 @akitsuneswife @lyds323

#10things #ten things i hate about mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen mitsuhide #ao3 link #ikesen fanfic #mitsuhide akechi #shojumaru #mitsuhide monday

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