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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

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Come Home Chapter Eight

Joel Miller x F! Reader.

Some soft moments with Joel and Ellie that are interrupted by ever-expanding memories of the past. Warning for description of a panic attack.

Word count: 4975

There is a slight spoiler for how Ellie chooses to cover her bite in the second game. Nothing major. I also want to re-iterate that this work is primarily based on the games. The outbreak here occurred in 2013, not 2003. Pop culture references are of that time.

Come Home

Chapter Eight - Hold On

The grumbling is helping you to feel slightly better about your arduous and slightly disgusting task. Rather than visit the laundries in the centre of Jackson, you had decided to stay in and wash your clothes free of the blood and gore that killing the infected had splattered upon you. The repetition of soap-scrub-rinse-repeat was helping to relax your mind, and every time a wave of grime was added to the water in the tub, it added to your sense of satisfaction.

“Goddamn…fucking…urgh. Fuckinnnng piece of shit…”

The body had been burned at the front of the outpost building, the room put back together as best could be, though the carpet had some stains that were probably permanent. After logging your visit and the fact that one infected had been killed, Joel had insisting on sweeping a wide circuit before heading back to Jackson to try to establish where the victim had been taken down.

“Look, see?” he had said as he raised the trouser leg of the corpse. You saw. The blistered bitemark was in the meat of the calf. “Woulda taken a day or so to turn. Let’s try to see where he came from.”

“Least he gave as good as he got,” Vanessa had murmured before beginning to collect up the more useful items that were lying around.

A forlorn little camp was discovered a little over an hour later half buried under the snow. When you uncovered the scene you discovered the tent partially burned, possessions scattered and a dead runner lying in the middle of it all.

The sky had been a deep lilac and swirled with grey cloud as you had re-entered Jackson, barely beating nightfall over the town. Luke had taken the horses to be stabled, Joel had gone to report to Maria, and Vanessa had briefly come to visit your house for a cup of tea before pleading tiredness and bidding you farewell. You had turned your lamps on again and built up the fire, bathing the living room in a comforting glow before deciding to do something productive and wash your clothes from the day. The gloves and jacket had borne the worst of it, and you’re just hanging them close to the fire to dry when a knock comes at the door.

When you open it you’re greeted by the welcome sight of Ellie, almost hidden behind a large cardboard box in her arms. You take it from her and bid her come in.

“Thanks,” she gasps gratefully. “That thing was kinda heavy.”

You place the box carefully on the couch, curious as to what’s inside.

“Go ahead. Look,” she says with a small smile.

Sparkles. Glitter. Frivolous beauty. You can’t help but mirror her smile as you draw out a long string of silver tinsel.

“Christmas decorations? Where did you get these?”

“They were in the garage when we moved in. I kept ‘em around. Wasn’t really sure why but I just liked ‘em. And when I saw you at the tree the other day I figured maaaybe you’d wanna decorate?”

Her voice is hopeful and her eyes more so as you look up at her.

“Well… you’re right. I used to love this stuff. But don’t you wanna decorate your place? Or Joel’s?”

She makes a dismissive huffing sound as she sits next to the box on the couch. “I already picked some stuff out to put around my place. And Joel’s a grumpy old man who doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“He did.”

“He said no?”

It is fun. You forget the dark corners, the bloodstains that won’t come out. You ignore the bad memories lurking out of sight upstairs. For a long while it’s just you and Ellie and warmth and laughter. She’s incredibly smart, with a sense of humour that spans from terrible puns to dry wit and everything in between, and before long the house is a glorious mess of mismatched decorations. She’s also eager for stories of how Christmas used to be, and you find that the memories aren’t so painful when she reflects their joy back to you.

“-and office parties. Oh Christ, they could be bad! Someone would always get too drunk or hook up with someone they shouldn’t or both and then they’d have to face the music come the next work day –“

Another knock at the door interrupts your reminiscing, and when you open it, Joel is on the other side.

“Hi,” he says, looking effortlessly handsome with one arm casually leaning on your doorframe. “You seen-“

“I’m here,” interrupts Ellie as she comes to the door too. “See. Someone appreciates the decorations!”

“I can see that,” he says, eyes twinkling as he steps inside and looks around with an amused expression. “Like a goddamn Christmas shop in here.”

“They had Christmas shops?”

“All year round in some places,” you smile.

“Well, I hate to break up this party,” Joel intercedes before Ellie can gush excitedly about this new piece of information. “But it’s time for dinner. And I think you’ve disturbed this poor woman’s evening enough.”

A rush of eagerness for them not to depart seizes you.

“Actually if you guys wanna stay for dinner here, I can offer…uhhh canned peaches. And also…canned…peaches?”

“Well now lemmie see if I can add to that fine selection of food.”

You can practically feel Ellie’s pleading gaze directed at Joel, silently begging him to accept your invitation, which he does with a low chuckle.

The fire is in its embers when Ellie begins to yawn hugely, and Joel insists it’s time to finally leave you in peace. After they depart you realise that the soft smile upon your face isn’t going anywhere soon, and rather than battle with your demons tonight you resign yourself to a bathtub sleep again, not wanting to disturb the peace and happiness that this evening has brought.

He brings some homemade leftover chicken noodle soup and a half loaf of bread back with him and with the absence of a dining table you instead sit cross-legged on cushions around your table near the fire. Conversation is light, frothy. You talk more about Yuletides past and discover that Joel firmly believes Die Hard to be a Christmas film whereas Tommy disagrees vehemently. The subject of the upcoming winter dance comes up when you mention that you’d seen it advertised on flyers around the town, and you learn both that it’s a staple of the calendar in Jackson and that Ellie is looking forward to going to her first one. At one point she retrieves a battered old book from an inside pocket of her jacket to much protestation from Joel, and he and you groan together at the terrible puns that emerge.

The next morning dawns steely cold and grey as flurries of fat snowflakes rain from the heavens and you debate what you want to do today. Staying in by the fire seems like the best idea, but you wonder if you would be imposing if you called on Ellie. Maybe to cook, or read, or just chat. You assume Joel will be busy, but their company had been so welcome, such a balm to a wound that had been open for so long you had near forgotten it was there, and you already missed the spark of warmth that had been ignited within you by their presence.

You bundle yourself up and open the door to traverse the brief distance between the houses only to startle back when you find Joel right outside, hand up as if to knock and with a look on his face like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh. Hey,” he says, bringing his raised hand around to rub the back of his neck instead.

“Hi,” you reply, the warm smile from last night returning easily to your lips. “Come to try some more of my gourmet cooking? My can opening abilities are second to none as you know.”

He returns your smile and snorts a small laugh. “Actually, I-er-I was wonderin’…”

He trails off and you get the impression that he’s anxious about something. Seeing him that way causes you to frown slightly with worry. He’s always so in control, so self assured. Something must be up. You wait patiently, wondering what could have got him worked up, but he seems to be struggling to articulate what he wants to say.

“You wanna come in?” you ask, thinking that might help.

“Naw, I gotta go down to see Tommy for a bit. But thank you.” Another pause, and then he draws himself up more fully and takes a breath. “Actually I need to see him about you.”

Your frown deepens as worry begins to sneak into your own stomach. “Nothin’ bad,” he hastens to add. “I was just wonderin’ if you wanted to go and scout that town we were talkin’ about yesterday. Since you’re so new I gotta clear it with Maria, but I think it will be okay. This particular place has been investigated twice already. Once before I got here and once at the end of summer, so we already have a fair understanding of the layout. But it might have some new “residents” by now, y’know? And there’s a clock tower in the centre where we’d need to drop off some supplies. But it would mean a coupla days away from Jackson instead of a coupla hours, so I understand-“

He's babbling. Much as you had when you first had a conversation with him, and while you didn’t really understand why given that he was usually so sparing with his words, you had an urge to save him from himself.

“I’ll go.”

He stops, looks up at you as if seeking assurance that you mean what you say. “You sure?”

You lean against the doorframe and steel yourself to answer. You don’t want to offend him, but you do want to nip this need for constant affirmation that you can actually do what you say you can in the bud.

“Joel, you keep asking me that. And I get that I didn’t make a great first impression with you here, but I promise you, I can take care of myself.” You look down and scuff the wooden planking of your porch with your foot before deciding to take the plunge and elaborate. “Its…easier out there, somehow. Mentally at least. You expect the shit. You know something’s gonna happen so when it does you just…deal with it. Here…I guess…I guess it’s a place I should feel safe but I don’t entirely. Yet. And the last actual house that I actually lived in…well…it was mine. Before.”

His brow furrows in mild confusion. “You never lived in a QZ?”

“Oh I did, but it was small. Very small. We all lived in tenements. Squats, almost. Lots of people all crowded in to each apartment. No real room of my own. I haven’t lived like this“ - you gesture behind you – “since I was in my twenties. Before I met-“ You break off abruptly and take a shuddering breath of freezing air. Too much. That was a step too far.

Comprehension dawns over his handsome features and he nods both his appreciation of what you’ve told him and acceptance that you can’t finish your sentence.

“Well…that makes some stuff a lot clearer. Gotta be weird to be alone after so long.”

“You can say that again.”

You smile sadly at him and he returns it, his handsome, whiskered face full of soft understanding.

“So,” you continue more briskly “Yeah, I’d like to go scouting. Well actually I’d like to go to Disneyworld but this will do. Christ,” you add, wrinkling your nose. “Can you imagine Disneyworld now?” A shudder creeps down your spine at the thought.

“Well, I like to imagine Mickey’s kicking ass somewhere. In full costume, you know, for protection. I bet those things are hard to bite through.“

Your shudder transmutes to a chuckle at the thought.

“Sometimes I like to guess which famous people survived,” you confess. “I bet Woody Harrelson made it.”

“Hell yeah, man’s a badass,” Joel agrees. “And that girl who played Arya in Game of Thrones. Man, I wish we’d got to see the end of that. It was gettin’ good.”

You chortle softly, and a slightly awkward silence falls between you. There’s a sense that Joel hasn’t quite said all he wants to, but before you can ask him about it he’s bidding you farewell.

“Well I’ll let you get on. And come back to you with what Maria and Tommy say about the trip out. See ya.”

And with that he walks down your porch steps and away. You suddenly remember your half-formed plans for the day and call after him.

“Wait, Joel?” He turns back, shielding his eyes from the falling snow. “Would you mind if I went over to see Ellie? Is she in?”

Even from this distance you see the warmth of his smile. “Man, you’re a glutton for punishment,” he jokes. “Sure, go right on through the backyard. Gates unlocked. She’s in there.”

He raises his hand in a final farewell and departs properly into the hazy, freezing grey landscape.

When Ellie flings open the door to the garage after you knock, she appears to be partway through a conversation.

“Jesus, Joel! I said-! Oh hi.”

“Hi,” you repeat. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Oh no, you’re not! Its just that Joel kept on about me coming out to Jackson with him today. “You ain’t been outside for a while, Ellie. You need some fresh air, Ellie!” Its fucking snowing for Chrissakes, who wouldn’t wanna be inside?”

Her mimicry of his gruff tone is entirely accurate, and you chuckle as you answer.

“Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over and hang out. But inside, for sure! And if you’re busy, I understand.

She beams at you and shakes her head. “No, no. I was just sketching. Let me get my stuff.”

She closes the door softly as you turn away to look up at Joel’s house. The snow is still falling softly from a dove-grey sky, a gentle blanket covering the backyard and the rooftop and the world beyond. The silence is peaceful rather than eerie. No cars running, no crunching of the snow underfoot, no children playing-

Your thoughts suddenly enter a new track and a sly smile curves your mouth as Ellie reappears behind you.

“Hey, what did you call Joel yesterday cause he wouldn’t let you decorate the house? A grumpy old man?”

“…Well he is!” she said, defensively.

You hold up your hands in mock surrender. “You know him better than me, I’m not arguing. But what if we made another kind of decoration? Although…it would mean being outside for a while.”

Ellie’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

A couple of hours later you’re standing proudly in front of your handiwork. Ellie’s cheeks are pink with cold and exertion, and she steps forward to adjust the scarf that had been retrieved from your upstairs closet and that now decorated the neck of one of the snowmen on Joel’s front lawn.

“Not bad for my first try,” she remarks as she steps back in line with you and scrutinises them.

“I think they look really good,” you reply. “If only we could make them look a bit more like you and Joel. Though I don’t think he’d appreciate us digging around to use his clothes on them.”

“Probably not. But maybe…”

She breaks off as she rips up tufts of grass from the exposed patches where you had rolled the snow together and pats them on to the chin of the larger of the pair.

“It’s got a beard. Now its definitely Joel.”

You relocate indoors to the welcome warmth of your fire, your fingers tingling even within their gloves. Ellie lights the lamps to combat winter’s gloom, and you take stock of what you could whip up to feed a hungry teenager and yourself. Some vegetables, some milk, some tins and not much else. You’d have to get some more supplies soon.

“Sorry to make you eat out of a can again, but I’ve not got a lot. Does stew sound good?”

“It does, actually,” she says as she comes through to your kitchen.

“I’ll make some mashed potato on the side to make it marginally more interesting. If only I had some cheese. Cheesy mash is one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

“I think Joel might have some.”

“Much as I’d love to treat Joel’s fridge as my own, I don’t think that’s okay given that I’ve only known him a few days. Let’s give it a week at least!”

Ellie helps you to peel and chop the potatoes, and while they’re boiling away and the stew is heating up you chatter about everything and nothing. You ask her about her artwork and she coyly mentions that she’s getting better and that she thinks she would like to design a tattoo for herself one day.

“There’s a tattooist here?!”

“Kinda,” she says, and to your surprise a blush surfaces on her face, tinging her cheeks and the tips of her ears pink. “Her name’s Cat. She’s an artist, but I know she’s tattooed a couple of people around town. And herself. And she’s given me some guidance on how to get better with my drawing. She’s…she’s pretty cool.”

A small smile surfaces on your lips at the obvious crush Ellie is harbouring on this person. “Well, I’d like to meet her at some point. Might be nice to add to some of mine if I can ever find a way to pay her.”

“Did they hurt?”

“Some of ‘em. Depends where you get ‘em. The one on my back is pretty big and it hurt going over my spine. Not so much over the muscle.”

“Do you have any on your arms?”

“Chosen your spot already, huh?” you ask with an indulgent smile. To your surprise she clams up, her body language closes inward, and you wonder what you’ve said wrong.

“Yeah, I…yeah,” she mutters non-commitally.

To cover her awkwardness, you pull back your sleeve to reveal cascading patterns of concentric circles and lines spiralling around your forearm and disappearing upward.

“Oh cool!” she exclaims. “…What is it?”

“There was a TV show I was very much a fan of about a time and space travelling alien. This was the written language of their species.”

“So…this was a quote?”

“Yes, but not from the show. This is by John Keats, one of my favourite poets. If I ever find a bookstore or a library that isn’t totally wrecked I’m gonna try to find a collection of his work.”

“What does it say?”

“It’s from a letter he wrote to his next door neighbour. He was very much in love with her. It says 'My love has made me selfish. I cannot exist without you. I am f-forgetful of everything but-' "

Your breath catches. No, you can do this.

“ 'But s-seeing you again. M-my life seems to stop there. I see no further.' ”

You clutch the kitchen counter top, grip it so tightly that your knuckles whiten. You hadn’t thought about these words for a long time. Such a long time. So many years, so much pain in between. They had hung in some dusty corner of your mind, covered with old cobwebs and half-forgotten until this moment. Deep breaths. Get through it.

“ 'You have absorb’d me.' ”

Your voice is a husky whisper and you realise you’re staring blankly at nothing. Those words. So much meaning then. So much more now. Your throat is tightening with tears and your heart is racing. Fuck. You let your guard down. Too fast. Too far. And now you’re falling.

Dimly you can hear Ellie calling your name and with an effort you swivel your head to look at her. Her mouth is forming words, but that buzzing is back in your head and you can’t make them out properly. “I’m sorry,” she seems to be saying. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s..not…you,” you rasp out. “I just…I can’t. I haven’t for…And I can’t. F-fuck.”

You dazedly push yourself away from the kitchen counter and stumble to the living room where you sit down heavily on a chair. In your peripheral vision you see Ellie pad over, soft and skittish as a feral cat and sit on the sofa opposite you. You put your head in your hands and try to regulate your breathing. From your left, you hear Ellie speaking again.

“Hey. Stupid question, but are you okay?”

The dark corridor

“Y-yes…no.” Yes and no. Not with this. Never with this.

Torchlight shadows cast upon a wall sprayed with blood and bullets

Oh fuck, no. Not now. You don’t want her to see you like this.

Poor kid. You can hear her panicked tones even through the rush of the blood through your ears. She sounds so very far from you – on a boat bobbing out to sea. Your breath is shallow again, an elastic band tightening its grip round your head.

Your eyes roll back in your head and you close them.

“I’ll be fine,” you gasp as you raise your head from your hands and try to focus your vision, desperately wanting to reassure her. “Panic…attack. Just let it…pass.”

The lanyard.

The lumpen, misshapen figure ahead.

The clicking...

The clicking.

Something is slammed with force upon the table in front of you and your eyes spring open to see a glass of water.

“Drink” demands Ellie, and you recognise the wisdom in her suggestion.

You reach for it with shaking hands, slopping some on the tabletop and down your clothes before the ice cold of it washes through your mouth, over your teeth and down your throat.

Again.

Breathe.

Settle.

Breathe.

Shaky, fragile, tenuous calm.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” you stammer out. “I didn’t want you to s-see…I h-hate when-“

She soothes you, her calm child-like voice finally breaking through your layers of panic and worry.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You think I’ve never freaked out? That Joel’s never had to wake me up from nightmares? You think I’ve never had to wake him?”

A weak smile touches your lips. “Never thought…he’d be one for them,” you joke feebly.

She doesn’t smile. “He mumbles in his sleep sometimes. About…well we’ve all been through a lot. Have to if you’ve made it this far.”

“True. Thanks.”

“Not a problem. Look, I’m gonna deal with those potatoes. Just…sit for a while, okay?”

She shouldn’t have to do this. She’s just a kid. She shouldn’t be taking care of you. As quickly as you’re able you stand and go back to the kitchen where Ellie is mashing the potatoes with some force. As you enter she turns and holds out the fork toward you in a mildly threatening way.

“Don’t apologise,” she commands, as if she somehow knew that would be your first response.

Nodding, you join her at the counter again. “Okay. Thank you. Again. And I just wanna say…” Be brave. Take the plunge. “Obviously that quote was very dear to me once upon a time. Me and my-my wife.” A half formed thought crosses your mind of a bloated, disgusting shape and you shove it away with as much force as you can muster to focus on Ellie, to try and put some distance between what has happened and where you are now.

Her head snaps up again from where she had resumed her task, a tiny crease between her brows. “Your wife? So you’re-“

“Bi. But…I understand what it’s like to navigate certain feelings. So. If you want to talk about anything, I’m happy to listen. I uh…I dated my first girlfriend when I was about your age.”

Ellie’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow with guarded suspicion. Clearly she hadn’t thought you had picked up on her earlier behaviour.

“Hey, its okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Joel?” You’re taken aback by the force at which she hurls the question, and make sure your voice is gentle when you respond.

“Of course not. I won’t say anything you don’t want me to. But…why don’t you want Joel to know?”

She drops her head to avoid your eyes, scuffs her shoe along the floor and you worry that you’ve pushed her too far, that she will close down completely.

“I dunno, I just…worry what he might think? I don’t know how he’d react.”

“You know he loves you right?”

“Shut up,” she huffs in an embarrassed way, a slight flush grazing her upper cheeks as she begins to shove the fork into the potatoes again.

“He does. And I don’t know how you two came to be here together, and I don’t know him as well as you do, but in this case that doesn’t matter. Love like he has for you is acceptance. I’m not saying you should tell him anything if you don’t want to. I’m just saying that I wouldn’t stress too hard over his reaction.”

“Any time.”

Ellie looks up and holds your gaze firmly for a moment, seemingly searching for any trace of falsehood, then visibly relaxes and looks back down at the countertop. “Well…thanks. I guess it’s kinda good to know there’s someone who understands.”

Dinner is served and conversation drifts back into the banal, the easy. You hope that you didn’t freak her out too much, but she seems to be more comfortable with the aftermath of your panic attack than discussion of her feelings toward Joel or Cat or anyone else and you can’t really blame her. In a small community like this, stakes were high in that regard. You couldn’t up and leave if a relationship went south. And while you held on to the belief that Joel would love and accept her no matter what, the same might not be said for everyone in town. Though you wouldn’t put it past Joel to kick someone’s ass if they were cruel to Ellie. You wouldn’t put it past Ellie to get there first either. There was steel at the core of the girl, you could see it in her eyes. The protection of Jackson’s walls (and presumably Joel himself) was allowing her to be a teenager as much as anyone could be in this world, but it was obvious too that she had seen some shit, been through the wringer just as much as anyone in her short life.

You sigh as you survey the sad bed in the bathtub and then climb in, too emotionally weary from keeping those memories at bay to wrestle with anything else. The bed could wait.

She departs a couple of hours later with a promise that she wouldn’t tell Joel about what had transpired and though you hadn’t asked for any such vow, hadn’t wanted to burden her with any kind of secret keeping, you were secretly glad. After having told him you could take care of yourself, hearing about this was NOT the way to cement that notion in his mind.

The house seems a little suffocating again the next day and you decide to go into town, to pick up some supplies, to take a walk, to partake in a small change of scenery. The snow has stopped again, but the sky is still grey and heavy with its promise. You visit the stables, check up on your horse and stroke over the velvet of his neck, bury your face into his comforting scent before brushing him down yourself. You visit the blacksmith, marvel at the rendering of metal that seems like such magic to your uneducated fingers. You stop off at the town’s library, peruse the small selection of DVDs and books and ancient magazines that tell of mindless frippery that is long dead. There is no Keats, but you do find a copy of the Hobbit that you gladly borrow. The person who had filled your bookcase had either really loved romance novels, or had been desperate to get shot of them. Either way, it wasn’t really your first choice of genre.

As you stroll along the main thoroughfare, clutching your precious book to your chest with your gloved hands, you see Maria coming the other way and stop to chat with her.

“Morning. I hear Joel’s planning to take you out once the weather permits,” she says without preamble, vaguely gesturing with her head in what you assume is the general direction of the town outside the walls. Her eyes rake you downward, assessing, calculating, though for what you cannot tell. Its slightly disconcerting and you stumble a little over your words.

“Uh yeah, he mentioned that supplies need to be delivered to the clock tower there.”

“Yup, and to check its not gotten overrun again. If it has, it will be a short trip for you. You’ll have to come back with a larger group.”

You feel the incomprehension clouding your face as you frown. “Well obviously if there’s a swarm we wont be taking them on, but even with a small team of us we can at least try to-“

Your eyes grow wide and she grins more widely as she departs, wishing you luck on your journey, and leaving you standing in the middle of the crowded street with excitement shrouded in apprehension in your heart as you watch her go.

A tiny, knowing smile graces her lips as she interrupts. “There won’t be any team. Joel said it should just be you and him.”

Next chapter

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kingandfireheart · 3 years

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The Lady of the Autumn Court: what the fuck is happening in Autumn (part 2)

As I said in my Eris Vanserra post, it seems that the Lady of the Autumn Court is a bigger piece to the Eris and Lucien puzzles.

We don't know what the fuck has been happening in the Forest House but we do the following:

The Lady of the Autumn Court is/was extremely powerful

Lucien (and to some extent Eris) are mama's boys (even though Lucien has been exiled for centuries)

The Lady met Helion before she was married to Beron

At least one of the seven brothers - Lucien - is Helion's child, but Helion saved the Lady after she had already had some kids (so Eris probably isn't his, even though they both have amber eyes)

The Lady chose to stay with Beron

Beron is aware of the affair between Helion and the Lady

Beron is physically abusive towards the Lady and had tortured Eris

Helion does not know Lucien is his heir, but Eris seems to know Lucien isn't Beron's son

Things that aren't mentioned below the cut, but are interesting:

Eris is the ringleader of the brothers, the commander of Beron's forces, and is Beron's most trusted son (the other three don't even have names)

In ACOWAR, Eris says has never denied Beron anything - except to save Lucien - but is angling for the throne and betraying him in ACOFAS and ACOSF (this reminds me of Lorcan betraying Maeve for her own good in TOG)

Beron wanted to kill Lucien for wanting to leave Autumn and marry Jesminda (this doesn't seem like a good reason if he isn't in line for the throne - or isn't part of their bloodline, but I guess Beron doesn't need a reason to be cruel)

Helion alludes to having trouble at home in ACOSF

The remaining unnamed brothers are all angling for the throne (this reminds me of the Khaganate in TOG and the Cruel Prince)

I got a little carried away with the color coding, but here's every major scene involving and discussing the Lady of the Autumn Court (and some breadcrumbs because I'm convinced SJM is purposeful in her writing)

Rhysand uses the Lady of the Autumn Court taunt Lucien in ACOTAR:

Rhysand’s venom-coated smile grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leached from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin who answered. “Put your sword down, Lucien.” Rhysand ran an eye over me. “I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you’d actually dabble with mortal trash.” My face burned. Lucien was trembling—with rage or fear or sorrow, I couldn’t tell. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”

The Lady of the Autumn Court also helps Feyre with one of her tasks:

A door clicked open somewhere down the hall, and I shot to my feet. An auburn head peered at me. I sagged with relief. Lucien— Not Lucien. The face that turned toward me was female—and unmasked. She looked perhaps a bit older than Amarantha, but her porcelain skin was exquisitely colored, graced with the faintest blush of rose along her cheeks. Had the red hair not been indication enough, when her russet eyes met mine, I knew who she was. I bowed my head to the Lady of the Autumn Court, and she inclined her chin slightly. I supposed that was honor enough. “For giving her your name in place of my son’s life,” she said, her voice as sweet as sun-warmed apples. She must have been in the crowd that day. She pointed at the bucket with a long, slender hand. “My debt is paid.” She disappeared through the door she’d opened, and I could have sworn I smelled roasting chestnuts and crackling fires in her wake.

Rhys (while wearing the mask of hte High Lord) uses her to taunt Lucien again in ACOMAF:

“Little Lucien,” Rhys purred. “Didn’t the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?”

“Prick,” Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. “You filthy, whoring prick.”

Lucien explaining how he was treated since Beron may suspect he's Helion's heir and as we know from Tamlin: future high lords have physical markers:

His jaw tightened. “As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

“I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.”

A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

This may not relate to the Lady of the Autumn Court's relationship with Helion, but I'm gathering all the crumbs (why does Eris hesitate before calling his brothers brothers?)

“You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”

Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.”

Eris has no love for Beron (he literally asks Rhys to kill him), but he does seem to protect the Lady during the High Lord's Meeting:

“If you want proof that we are not scheming with Hybern,” Rhysand said blandly to them all, “consider the fact that it would be far less time-consuming to slice into your minds and make you do my bidding.”

Only Beron was stupid enough to scoff. Eris was just angling his body in his chair—blocking the path to his mother.

Helion and Lady of Autumn lock eyes:

The violence simmering off my friends was enough to boil the pool at our toes as the High Lord of Autumn filed through the archway, his sons in rank behind him, his wife—Lucien’s mother—at his side. Her russet eyes scanned the room, as if looking for that missing son.

They settled instead on Helion, who gave her a mocking incline of his dark head. She quickly averted her gaze.

The High Lords discuss the past war:

(also reminder: Eris has Amber Eyes like Helion)

Helion shrugged, the sun catching in the embroidered gold thread of his tunic. “Indeed, though it seems Tamlin is already ahead of me. The Spring Court must be evacuated.” His amber eyes darted between Tarquin and Beron. “Surely your northern neighbors will welcome them.”

Beron’s lip curled. “We do not have the resources for such a thing.”

“Right,” Viviane said, “because everyone’s too busy polishing every jewel in that trove of yours.”

Beron threw her a glare that had Kallias tensing. “Wives were invited as a courtesy, not as consultants.”

Viviane’s sapphire eyes flared as if struck by lightning. “If this war goes poorly, we’ll be bleeding out right alongside you, so I think we damn well get a say in things.”

“Hybern will do far worse things than kill you,” Beron counted coolly. “A young, pretty thing like you especially.”

Kallias’s snarl rippled the water in the reflection pool, echoed by Mor’s own growl.

Beron smiled a bit. “Only three of us were present for the last war.” A nod to Rhys and Helion, whose face darkened. “One does not easily forget what Hybern and the Loyalists did to captured females in their war-camps. What they reserved for High Fae females who either fought for the humans or had families who did.” He put a heavy hand on his wife’s too-thin arm. “Her two sisters bought her time to run when Hybern’s forces ambushed their lands. The two ladies did not walk out of that war-camp again.” Helion was watching Beron closely, his stare simmering with reproach.

The Lady of the Autumn Court kept her focus on the reflection pool. Any trace of color drained from her face. Dagdan and Brannagh flashed through my mind—along with the corpses of those humans. What they’d done to them before and after they’d died

After Nesta makes her speech:

She looked to Beron and his family as she finished. Only the Lady and Eris seemed to be considering—impressed, even, by the strange, simmering woman before them.

After Azriel attacks Eris:

Beron struck—only for his fire to bounce off a hard barrier of my own. I lifted my gaze to the High Lord of Autumn. “That’s twice now we’ve handed you your asses. I’d think you’d be sick of the humiliation.”

Helion laughed

---

Eris, wisely, averted his eyes. And said, “Apologies, Morrigan.”

His father actually gawked at the words. But something like approval shone on the Lady of Autumn’s face as her eldest son settled himself once more.

Thesan rubbed his temples. “This does not bode well.”

But Helion smirked at his retinue, crossing an ankle over a knee and flashing those powerful, sleek thighs. “Looks like you owe me ten gold marks.”

Feyre loses her shit:

Beron shielded barely fast enough to block me, but the wake singed Eris’s arm—right through the cloth. And the pale, lovely arm of Lucien’s mother.

---

The Lady of Autumn was clutching her arm, angry red splattered along the moon-white skin. No glimmer of pain on that face, though. I said to her as I reclaimed my seat, “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes lifted toward mine, round as saucers.

Beron spat, “Don’t talk to her, you human filth.”

Helion tells the story of the Affair:

Helion tapped a finger against the carved arm of his couch. “He played games in the War and it cost him—dearly. His people still remember those choices—those losses. His own damn wife remembers.”

Helion had looked at the Lady of Autumn repeatedly during the meeting. I asked, carefully and casually, “What do you mean?”

Helion’s jaw clenched. “The Lady of the Autumn Court was sent to stay with her sisters, her younger children packed off to other relatives. To spread out the bloodline.” He dragged a hand through his sable hair. “Hybern attacked their estate. Her sisters bought her time to run. Not because she was married to Beron, but because they loved each other. Fiercely. She tried to stay, but they convinced her to go. So she did—she ran and ran, but Hybern’s beasts were still faster. Stronger. They cornered her at a ravine, where she became trapped atop a ledge, the beasts snapping at her feet

Helion didn’t so much as shift in his chair. “She was still young—though she’d been married to that delightful male for nearly two decades. Married too young, the marriage arranged when she was twenty.”

---

But it was Mor who said coolly, “I heard a rumor once, Helion, that she waited before agreeing to that marriage. For a certain someone who had met her by chance at an equinox ball the year before.”

I tried not to blink, not to let any of my rising interest surface.

The fire banked to embers and Helion threw a half smile in Mor’s direction. “Interesting. I heard her family wanted internal ties to power, and that they didn’t give her a choice before they sold her to Beron.”

“How long did the affair last?” I asked. That withdrawn female … I couldn’t imagine it.

Helion snorted. “Is that a polite question for a High Lady to be asking?”

But the way he spoke, that smile … I only waited, using silence to push him instead.

Helion shrugged. “On and off for decades. Until Beron found out. They say the lady was all brightness and smiles before that. And after Beron was through with her … You saw what she is.”

“What did he do to her?”

“The same things he does now.” Helion waved a hand. “Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them.”

I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face.

“Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.

I didn’t back down, didn’t apologize. “You barely even looked at her today.”

“We have more important matters at hand.”

“Beron never called you out for it?”

“To publicly do so would be to admit that his possession made a fool of him. So we continue our little dance, these centuries later.” I somehow doubted that beneath that roguish charm and irreverence, Helion felt it was a dance at all.

But if it had ended centuries ago, and she’d never seen him again, had let Beron treat her so abominably …

The Lucien Paternity Revelation:

While we spoke, I said down the bond, Helion is Lucien’s father. Rhys was silent. Then— Holy burning hell. His shock was a shooting star between us.

I let my gaze dart through the room, half paying attention to Helion’s musing on the wall and how to repair it, then dared study the High Lord for a heartbeat. Look at him. The nose is the same, the smile. The voice. Even Lucien’s skin is darker than his brothers’. A golden brown compared to their pale coloring.

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much—why they have tormented him his entire life.

My heart squeezed at that. And why Eris didn’t want him dead. He wasn’t a threat to Eris’s power—his throne. I swallowed. Helion has no idea, does he?

It would seem not.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

Beron must have discovered the affair when she was pregnant with Lucien.

He likely suspected, but there was no way to prove it—not if she was sharing his bed, too. Rhys’s disgust was a tang in my mouth. I have no doubt Beron debated killing her for the betrayal, and even afterward. When Lucien could be passable as his own of spring—just enough to make him doubt who had sired his last son.

I wrapped my head around it. Lucien not Beron’s son, but Helion’s. His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him.

His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

You never suspected?

Not once. I’m mortified I didn’t even consider it.

What does this mean, though?

Nothing—ultimately nothing. Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir

#LONG post #lady of autumn #lucien vanserra #autumn court #beron vanserra #eris vanserra #helion spell cleaver #acotar #lady of the autumn court #forest house #a court of wings and ruin #high lord's meeting #a court of silver flames #kp analysis #acotar series #mtp

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wind0wg0blin · 4 years

Text

Wolf Predator x Reader

Gender Neutral Reader

You accidentally befriend Wolf. An AvP Requiem Fix it fic if you will.

Also I didn’t beta read this & I wrote it on my phone so like, if theres a bunch of issues you know why lmao

It had almost been a full week since you had been kicked out of your house. You had decided to come clean to your parents about how you truly felt and the things you had been doing and they did not take too kindly to this. Being far from the perfect Christian child they wanted they simply threw you out with only the clothes on your back and the things in your pockets.

You had been lucky enough to couch surf at some friends houses for the first few nights but now your luck had run out. Now you found yourself trudging through the sewer system in one of the larger tunnels that ran under the city. You had gotten a tip that a group of homeless people often stayed down here during the colder nights and if you wanted any long term chance of living on the streets you would need to get in with them.

You had little more than the light from your lighter to illuminate your path. The already pitch black darkness only seemed more menacing with each scuffle coming from within it. You knew better than to be put off though. As nothing down here could truly hurt you. Or at least, this is what you thought.

The tunnel you had been traveling through eventually came to an end. Opening into a rotunda, where multiple tunnels came to an intersection. You were still a few meters away from the true end of the tunnel when you heard strange inhuman sounds. Then came the gunfire and screams.

You couldn't help the startled jump as you drove down trying to hunker against the side of the tunnel. You could see the large silhouettes of some creatures ahead of you. It was clear that they were fighting. It was also clear that one was losing.

Massive black snake like monsters swarmed after a more humanoid but still oddly reptilian creature. It was outfitted in some kind of armor that seemed to be doing little good as one of the black serpents sunk its teeth into his leg. You wanted to look away, you wanted to turn and run. Yet something in you compelled you to stay, it made you want to help your fellow underdog.

Crouching, you rushed forward to the edge of the tunnel following the pathway to stay out of the sewage. A piece of copper piping was laying propped up against the flooring of the sewer. The perfect way for you to make a distraction.

Your plan was to get the attention of the monsters saving the other and allowing them to escape possibly killing you in the process. But in the end you would rather die knowing you saved another life than to not try at all.

Taking the pipe in both hands you slammed it into the metal wall beside you. The reverberating Tang was more than enough to garner their interest but not their attention as the largest of the serpents continued its assault on the now struggling humanoid.

Without thinking you blindly charged forward and brought the pipe down as hard as you could on the serpents back hearing a satisfying crack as it hissed in pain turning now to face you. You acted on instinct as you turned your grip and swung the pipe like a bat striking the monster across the face knocking it away from you. The other smaller monsters that had been lurking in the shadows watching you took this opportunity to lunge.

Dropping to your knees in the filthy sewage you braced the pipe against the floor and using the creature's own momentum against it. It leaped directly onto you and appropriately directly onto the tapered end of the pipe driving it into its chest. Green blood leaked out from the wound as the pipe hissed and you stumbled back as it ate through it like acid and finally cracked.

Just as you fumbled to get away from the dying serpent. The other smaller one darted out to attack you from behind. You had no idea this was even happening until you saw a ball of white hot energy fly past you and incinerate the creature.

You couldn't help your ragged breath as you looked back to the humanoid. The largest of the monsters had vanished during your fight most likely fleeing back to the surface. Leaving you and the reptilian humanoid remaining. They stood before you now and in the moonlight you could make out their visage.

A large mask covered their face. They were gauntlets and some kind of full body fish netting. Multiple gadgets covered their wrist and belt. They easily towered over you. The emotionless eyes of the mask glaring down at you as you suddenly realized that this had been a very very stupid thing to do.

Your moment of terrified silence was broken when you heard distant screaming and the cries of that monster.

All in a moment an object was being thrust into your hands and you were pulled to your feet. As you looked down and processed that a much too large spear had been placed into your hand, the creature strode a few paces away from you before quite literally punching through the ground above you.

You stared in stunned horror for a moment before you watched the monster clamber out. When you slowly approached you could see that he was standing there looking back towards you expectantly.

You couldn't help but yelp as you were once again manhandled being hoisted up by your forearm.

Before you could even question what was happening your accidentally acquired partner was leading you away towards the town.

-----

You had been following Wolf, what you had nicknamed the lone hunter, all over town chasing down this alien as you have come to understand. Your chase has led you all over town and now finally to the hospital where it seemed to be making its final stand against the two of you. It had always managed to slip away at the last moment in your previous interactions though this time you were certain you would not allow it to escape.

As you made your way through the hospital you tried your best to ignore the trail of carnage that was left in its wake. Soon enough you found yourself outside on the rooftop of the hospital. You were surrounded by people from the town that had somehow found their way here as well as a swarm of aliens. You couldn't tell which was worse as stray gunfire threatened to off you just as much as the aliens stalking you in the shadows.

Wolf had the predalien busy for most of the fight as you and the other towns folk focused on picking off the rest of the swarm. Things eventually came to a head as the once formidable swarm of aliens now dwindled in number and the townsfolk were clambering into the helicopter as it prepared for take off. Wolf though was nowhere to be seen.

The only sign you had of his position was the deep roar that sounded out through the worsening rainfall. Stumbling over the slick roofing you forced yourself to move as fast as you could in the direction you heard the fighting. With the spear gripped tightly in your hand you could see just vaguely through the veil of rain that Wolf was pinned with his back to the wall.

Panicking you did the only thing you could think of in that split second. Smashing the blunt side of the spear against the exposed air conditioning unit you screamed out towards the predalien in a means to draw its attention towards you.

In all honesty, you had done this as a desperate attempt to draw it away from Wolf not expecting it to actually work. You felt your heart stutter in your chest as suddenly the predalien was charging at you roaring over the thunder of the storm. You screamed now this time in true terror as you threw the spear at it.

The spear sailed cleanly over its shoulder clattering somewhere beyond it as the predalien now leaped for you. With nowhere to run you ducked back and forced yourself between the air conditioning unit and the wall of the hospital. You were able to squeeze down just out of the predalien initially swipe as it now tore at the metal of the unit to get to you.

As you stared up at the hideous beast you honestly hoped this would not be the end of you. Everything had just seemed to be getting interesting for you.

Closing your eyes you held your breath as you prepared for pain as the top panel of the unit was torn away exposing you to the predalien. Though just as you feared your end was upon you it was the aliens screams that filled the air and not yours. You were yanked back as the aliens blood splattered the ground where you had stood moments before eating holes through the flooring.

The alien staggered a moment before collapsing into a pool of its own acidic blood. A spear protruding from the carapace of its skull. Wolf was standing behind you, his hand still firmly on your upper arm as he stared down at the body of the alien.

You felt as if you didn't have time to do so much as catch your breath. Wolf was already moving, ushering you to follow him as he pressed buttons on his wrist thingy. You all but ran after him, his strides normally dwarfing your own but now his hurried step left you behind.

You stopped and watched him feeling more than a little frustrated as to why now he had a sense of urgency. Wolf all but yanked his mask up off the floor before pointing at you forcefully and motioning hurriedly for you to follow.

Though obviously you were not moving fast enough for him as he doubled back and threw your soaking wet form over his shoulder. You feel like you didn't protest as much as you really should have as you watched Wolf take what looked to be a step straight off the edge of the building. Though instead of plummeting to your death, his feet found surface on something you just had yet to have seen.

Your eyes widened in shock as a spaceship materialized around you. Wolf dropped you down in a much too large chair as he sat down in a matching one to your left. The dash in front of you lit up in an array of switches, dials and buttons. Wolf hit something and suddenly the view of your hometown from the front window slipped away and transformed into the night sky. All in the matter of a night your life up until that point disappeared. Leading you to where you were now. Sitting in the pilot's chair of an alien spacecraft with an alien you accidentally befriended soaked to the bone.

So much for being the perfect Christian child huh?

If you enjoyed please leave a like and reblog! Thank you so much <3

#Wolf Predator #Predator #Yautja #Yautja x Reader #Yautja imagines #avprequiem #avpr #tw religious mention #long post #fix it fic #x reader #reader insert #Killer Queue

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reylofanfictionanthology · 4 years

Photo

TO FIND YOUR KISS IS NOW LIVE!

Authors will be revealed next week! For now all fics are anonymous. Treats can be posted through author reveals on 2/21. We will post an updated masterpost at that time.

To Find Your Kiss collection on AO3 | Treats Masterpost

GIFT FIC MASTERPOST

- Reap the Stars for abbytheatre08

The prompt: After Ben's death, Rey goes mad and turns to the dark side. Only Ben's not dead anymore. ----------------------- She is consuming fire, magnificent in her rage. She will burn the galaxy to its foundations, until the ashes rain down and pile high as mountains. She will gather them into bouquets and scatter them like petals upon his grave.

He will be remembered, and they will not.

Call him The Light Bearer and Joy Giver. Call him He Who Loved and Laid Down His Life. Call him Ben.

- we are question marks that hang above the endless unexplained for AlwaysEverlark

The first time she walked into his club, she was looking for a job. Kylo took one look at her—the stubborn pout of her lip, the determined glint in her eyes, the ruddy glow of her face where the sun had kissed it—and swallowed a lump in his throat that was shaped like the words you’re too good for this place.

They needed a singer. Kira Johnson could hold a tune, knew the old standards, and had a knockout pair of tits to boot. A few slinky ballgowns and a touch of lipstick, and she’d more than do the trick of distracting suckers long enough to part them from their money.

The club solely needed to break even; anything they made on top of the Syndicate’s cut was gravy, and Kylo Ren had been lining his pockets with his own take for long enough that he could see Kira for the lump of clay that she was: rough-hewn, misshapen, but soft and supple and sure to curve under his touch.

- Eighty Bucks Says Sweetheart for Amoreusou

Ben likes puzzles. Rey needs help with a bunch of them. Good thing it's a slow day at the office.

- Seldom Visions for Andrina_Nightshade

After visiting an old Sith temple, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has fallen into a deep sleep when he pricks his finger on the point of a red crystal. Rey become is the first to find him, but his rescuer isn't just any general or pilot, it's the woman he shares a soul with, who haunts his waking hours, who still sees him even in his sleep.

- The Dyad for aneighthdomain

Based of the Prompt: Groundhog Day scenario. Ben and Rey keep getting sent back to the first time they met and no matter what they do, Ben always dies so they stop trying to change events and just live a life time in the year between and couple of weeks and run away together.

- Saudade: The Love That Remains for AnneAnna

- The Delegation for aNerdObsessed

A humanitarian delegation from Naboo arrives at Niima Outpost. Rey is skeptical, to say the least.

- i don't want you like a best friend for anopendoor

It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming—Rose told her weeks ago that he was invited. It was an inevitability Rey was always going to have to face, she just didn’t think that Rose would be so merciful as to also give every guest a plus one.

But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocally not upset—that Ben's bringing someone because, well.

She is, too.

- Love is Weakness for bittersnake

“He’s someone I found on my recent trip to Corellia,” Rey replies placidly, her face practiced in its boredom. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Love is weakness,” her grandfather reminds her, the way he has for years. It’s why he doesn’t love her. He will not be weak. It’s why she doesn’t love him, either.

- in sickness and in health (with health being less likely) for BlueButterflyKisses

Deciding to spend the rest of their lives together is the easy part for both Rey and Ben; the trouble is in how to propose.

- Snowed In for Blueyedgurl

Never in her wildest dreams did Rey Johnson think she would ever get to meet her favorite other Kylo Ren. She also would have never entertained the idea of the scenario she found herself in. How did a hike in the woods lead to a snowstorm and taking shelter in a remote cabin in the woods? The idea was so ridiculous but had become reality. Stuck inside with a handsome stranger surrounded by a winter storm, Rey wonders what will happen with no power and only one bed. Will they be polite co-habitants stuck in a strange set of circumstances or is there room for something more?

- Curses, Comforts and Capybaras for Bombastique

Arrogant CEO bites off more than he can chew when he angers a witch... And suddenly finds himself transformed into a capybara. Can kindhearted wildlife rehabber Rey Niima help him break the curse?

- To Heal a Broken Soul for Cat2000

Ben survives the fallout of Exegol, but his connection to the physical world is in danger. Rey tends to him as she searched for a way to heal him.

- holding me like water in your hands for Ceallaigh

After Hux finds out Ben killed Snoke, Hux encases Ben in Carbonite. Rey refuses to let Ben stay frozen forever so she mounts a rescue.

- Like a Thief in the Night for chagrins

Their bond won't let them be alone. At least this time it's the middle of the night and they can't get into a shouting match.

- The Chance for Crysania

When Rey and Ben, long time co-workers who have never been able to admit their feelings to each other, go on a weekend retreat to work on a movie adaptation script together, a Nor’easter leaves them snowed in. On Valentine’s Day.

- Awake for cuddlesome

Something inside him is awake, and something inside her is about to wake up.

An alternate interrogation scene.

- darkness rises, and light to meet it for czechia

After the throne room, Jedi Ben Solo and Kira Ren meet again a year later.

- Not Quite a Fairytale for DarkMage13

Rey lets a stranger use the phone of the café she works at late one night. It changes the whole course of her life.

- You Won't Escape Me ('Cause I Set You Free) for DoorKeeper9

- The Canvas of Your Skin for darlingreadsalot

She was incapable of touching him without drawing blood, it seemed. Lines like vermillion paint streaked where her fingers sketched down the contours of his face, his back, and now his chest.

In which a Force bond is splintered, a resurrection goes wrong, a kiss is forgotten, and two almost-lovers avoid speaking for the better half of a year.

- Fleeing the Storm for driverfever

As the granddaughter of an merciless aristocrat, Rey’s life hangs on a thread at the hands of the French Revolutionaries. When her childhood friend, Ben, offers to platonically marry her in order to take her to his home in England to safety, she has no choice but to accept.

But her suitor and revolutionary Hux won’t give her up so easily. Hounded by revolutionaries and falling in love, Rey and Ben must use all their wits to flee Paris and make it to England.

- Equal Measure for dustoftheancients

When Princess Rey of Coruscant calls upon the cursed Sir Kylo Ren to help her escape her grandfather the emperor’s political machinations, she discovers freedom in the ancient familial magic that binds them together.

- Benimina Solo's Late On-Set Force Ability for Evangel10n

Benimina Solo has never, not even once, had an ounce of Force Sensitivity. She's done a great deal to move on with her life after failing out of her uncle's Jedi training school. So when Rey Palpatine comes into her life and suddenly everything changes, she's not a happy camper.

- Splatter for expendable

“You’re Palpatine’s girl,” he says coldly.

“His chief of staff, yes.” Rey’s eyes narrow. “And you have your hand on my ass, Kylo. Kindly take it off.”

“Or what?”

AKA powerful corporate rivals Kylo and Rey put the hate in love/hate.

- The Haunted Mirror for FangirlintheForest

When Rey travels to UK to attend the reading of his grandfather will, a grandfather she didn't know existed until that very moment, she finds a house, and a old story that will haunt her...

- i'm your secretary for firelord65

Kaydel pressed her lips together in a thin line, passing a pile of datapads over the desk. “I don’t know what that pretentious nerf herder has put into your brain, but these are tales of the key roles women have played in past rebellions.” She stood, tapping the pile. “They’re great reads,” she added, with a pointed raise of her eyebrow.

- and they danced across the sky for flipflop_diva

When he was still a child, he constantly watched the blue butterflies as they danced in the sky.

They seemed to be calling him, aiding him each instance that icy-cold darkness flowed through his very veins. The magnificent creatures saved him from the voices. They drowned out the incessant chatter in his head. Temporarily cleared away all the anger. During those brief respites, watching those blue wings flutter in the sky, Ben felt free.

But that’s another life. Another world. Another time. Another, another, another.

And Kylo's no longer a child.

No. He welcomes the darkness now. Embraces it.

- Finding The Answer for FrenchMartiniPlease

Rey pines for Ben Solo…so why does her soulmate mark always drain of colour whenever she gets close to him?

- Almost Unforgettable for HopeRebel

The woman in the mirror has blood on her clothes, cash in her bag, and a letter from her husband telling her it's better to forget. Well, he got his wish. She forgot everything-- including her name. And she wasn't the only one afflicted.

It'll take the combined efforts of gumshoes, a flatfoot, a washed-up Hollywood starlet, and more to get to the bottom of this bad business. In the end, these things always come back to the beginning.

- The Curl of a Sigh for irridesca

During the last song in Maxine’s set, a song she announces is called “Soul Companion,” Ben heads back out to the lobby to look for Rey. He finds her not with his eyes but with one broad shoulder, when he bumps into her and knocks her gig bag out of her hands and onto the plush carpet.

- and they were roommates for Lady_of_Haven

When Ben loses a bet to his roommate, Rey, he has to eat her out for 30 days.

- torn away from you (my heart is broken) for lakerose

The Force binds more than minds.

- If You Take Me for literallynoonecares

She sighed wistfully as she watched her two friends lean in toward each other as they danced, their lips meeting and melding together as they seemed to become one person instead of two separate beings. She had seen them kiss so many times, but this kiss … it was special.“I just want someone to kiss me like that,” she mused softly to herself, her eyes not leaving her friends.“I could make that happen if you wanted.”

- 3 Days in Vienna for Like_A_Dove

Kylo Ren, trained mercenary Alpha assassin, is on a mission—assassinate Chancellor Palpatine and bring his underground authoritarian regime to an end. It’s what the First Order demands, for the better of society.

It should be an easy task. He’s been getting close to the Chancellor and his cronies for years. So how is it that the unexpected appearance of an Omega, with a seemingly similar mission—and a wholly inconveniencing scent—become a distraction he hadn’t accounted for?

- Confidence and Desire for LittleLostStar

“Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually, the confidence will follow.” - Carrie Fisher

- Love brightens even the most monstrous parts of ourselves for LRRH17

No one knows since when the giant, black bear has lived in the forest near Theed. Many stories about the origin of Kylo Ren circulate in the small village. After Rey has run away from Jakku, and arrived in Theed she has heard them all of, but has never actually meet the creature. This changes when her and her friends get attacked by bandits on their way back from Otoh Gunga.

- Your Sweetness Comes With Sugar on the Side for Lutrosis

Rey's daughter loses her mother as she wanders around the Supermarket. Ben finds her and the two connect over both being Type 1 diabetics. They find Rey, and Ben and Rey are instantly smitten. As they date and fall in love they discover that Jade and Ben are connected more than they thought and healing is brought to the Solo/Skywalker clan.

- Allegories, or Allusions to Real Life for maq_moon

“Boys, please stop arguing.” Rose rubbed her temples. “Poe, we get it, you’re childhood best buddies, you’ve got a better grasp on his character than some rando of a rando you met at a party. Finn, for fuck’s sake, we’ve been working with Ben for months. I’m pretty sure if he’s a serial killer or whatever, it would have come out by now.” Finn sat back in his seat, grumbling. “Not how serial killers work.” Rey was going to have a headache if this continued any longer, so she lied through her teeth at the reality of a new player joining their D&D party. "He seems nice." She didn’t trust a single inch of skin on that man. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

- A Mad Man, with a Box for MBlair

Rey and Ben meet, move in together, get engaged, and marry.

- Invite the Wild In for midwinterspring

Kylo Ren, the mysterious senator who appeared from out of the deserts of Jakku and somehow brought them back to life, has spent a long and unproductive session on Hosnian Prime. Now, it's time to go home. After all, there's someone waiting for him and so much for them to do together.

(The ancient Sith had some interesting rituals.)

- Purim Party for MissCoppelia

Rey goes back to visit her foster mother for a Purim celebration. She meets Ben Solo who's visiting his parents, who are friends with her foster mother. They have an attraction to each other right away, but try to play it cool.

- The Banished Heart for misszeldasayre

On Rey of Niima’s nineteenth name day, Jakku gains a new wizard.

Jakku is a withering outpost of the kingdom, and its people hope the new wizard - the mysterious Kylo Ren - will bring them the rains the land needs to heal. Rey is a lonely, clanless girl living in Niima, and she has a secret. One she hopes the wizard will be able to help her with too.

- The Smuggler's Bride for MyJediLife

Miss Rey Nemo is the new mistress of Manor Takodana, left to her by the late Lord Skywalker. When a strange man named Kylo Ren appears on her doorstep, she decides to hire him as her new groundskeeper. As Rey faces sinister threats and secrets are revealed, Kylo Ren may be the only person who can save her.

- Annabel Lee for myownlittleinfinity

Rey keeps finding these ... notes in her locker. She doesn't quite get them. They seem like love notes, but she doesn't know who they could be from. Meanwhile she's paired up with Ben Solo (who hates her despite her gigantic crush on him) for this English assignment. Who knows how THIS will go.

- with my body i thee worship for niennathegrey

- the losing game for no_big_deal

Sith Princess Rey Palpatine is given a peculiar gift for her Life Day: a Jedi. Not only that, one who is boorish, spirited, and stubborn. But, he presents an opportunity: one that could liberate her from a life under the thumb of her grandfather. She has seven weeks to change his heart before all her freedom is taken from her - forever.

- standing right in front of you for notkellymarie

When Senator Solo's engagement is pushed forward, he and his Jedi bodyguard, Rey, travel to Naboo alone for the announcement ball. The pair despise each other, constantly bickering and disagreeing with each other, which makes spending extensive amounts of time alone together all that more difficult. Until of course, one of them breaks...

- the good, the bad, and the smuggling for OccasionallyCreative

Ben Solo is a seasoned smuggler. And he’s not bad at it, either. But when bounty hunter Rey offers him a temporary partnership he can’t refuse, Ben will find himself pushed to the limits of his skill, patience, and resourcefulness on a job that’s dangerous enough to be his last.

It’s like his dad used to say: bounty hunters are nothing but trouble, kid.

- Whatever our souls are made of...his and mine are the same for Padawan_Writer

Ben and Rey meet only after Kylo has defected from the First Order and returned to the Resistance and his mother. Will the dyad still find a way to be?

- They say that only the dead have seen the end of war for politicalpadmé

“He traded his life for mine,” Rey choked, stomping back and forth in front of him so fast he could barely keep track of her. “He died. He died so I didn’t have to—and it’s not—it’s—after everything he’s gone through—it’s not fair.” Tears were running down her cheeks now, and Poe wanted to do nothing more than hug her, but there was nothing he could say—nothing she would want to hear. Poe remembered all the people he’d lost, all the times he had raged and screamed and cried about the unfairness of it all. “Leia sacrificed herself to bring him back,” Rey declared suddenly, ceasing her constant pacing around the fire as she looked straight at him. “And he sacrificed himself for me—and now no one’s going to know. All he’ll be remembered as is Kylo Ren, but he was—he was so much more.” She exhaled with a shudder and whispered, “He was a part of me, and I—I don’t feel whole without him.” ~

A Force Ghost Ben/Rey love story, with a side of rebuilding the galaxy.

- Cicatrix for Priestly

Getting cut up by Rey on Starkiller awakens something in Kylo.

- I Will Always Be With You for Prix

But she wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy for much longer. She was starting to show, and her friends would start asking questions. She would have to give them answers, some of them would not understand, and none of them would accept.

She carried his child. The tiny spark of light woven with darkness, just like her. Just like his father.

—————

The world has gone dark More times than you Or your mother Or your grandmother Can remember. And every hurricane That was meant to be The end of it all Had instead ended In sunshine again.

So believe me When I say; You will survive this And the next one too.

World’s End—Nikita Gill

- all my daydreams are disasters for QueenOfCarrotFlowers

During her search for the infamous Luke Skywalker — the man who predicted a devastating earthquake in New Madrid, Missouri — Rey finds herself entangled in Luke’s family history and with his brooding nephew, Ben Solo.

- on what ground I was founded (when I first saw you) for redbelles

Kylo dreams of Rey after the Battle of Crait. And the yearning is mutual...

Some Force Bond dream smut inspired by "Shrike" and "NFWMB" by Hozier.

- Last Summer for Reykenobi68

Rey had started to get used to Ben not living next door anymore by the time the holidays came around. Then he's back for the holidays. Rey is really expecting things to go wrong after the way he left at the end of the summer. ut is it really going to be that bad.

- The Long Way Home for reylotrash711

In the aftermath of Exegol, Ben and Rey are divided by misunderstandings. It will take time and danger for them to work things out.

- Under the moonlight for shariling

I don't know why I followed you here. She wanted to reply. Maybe because you're so tall I couldn't help but notice you. Maybe it's because of your hair or the way you move, or maybe it's because of that kind of melancholic look in your eyes. There is something about you that I find terribly attractive and I don’t know what it is: maybe the moon or the alcohol or the wolf I have met before infected me with some strange parasite and now I am hopelessly attracted to dogs, I do not know. She could have said one of these things, any of them, instead she said: “I've never bitten anyone before, and I want you to be my first.”

- Fallen for shipperofdarkness

Prompt: Devil!Ben and Angel!Rey or Angel!Ben and Devil!Rey. How do these two on completely opposite sides fall in love and defy worlds to be together?

- come away with me for silentfleur

Rey owns a tinker shop, but her life changes when she meets Ben Solo and is cursed by a witch. Not necessarily in that order.

- A Picture of Me Without You for SpaceWaffleHouseTM

"I suppose I'd somehow struggle through / But I'd hate to picture myself without you."

It's impossible not to have a soulmark. It's not a big deal, not in the lax and gin-soaked speakeasies of 1920s Manhattan, but it's still a heavy weight to bear, as Ben Solo and Rey find out side by side.

- Lips Raw With Love for stellardarlings

Their kiss on Exegol wasn't their first kiss...

Nor would it be their last.

- Everyone Makes Divine Mistakes for Takekurabehime

Jedi Knight Ben Solo is sent to Naboo on an errand of mercy (and to visit his grandparents). He arrives in springtime; but will he be able to complete his mission without finding himself distracted and bewildered when love and intrigue waft through the fragrant air?

- Glitter & Gold for TearoomSaloon

Rey is lead singer in an up-and-coming glam metal band. They've finally got steady performances, but that means playing at the same club as the Knights of Ren, whose lead singer definitely isn't interested in any competition.

- To kiss like lovers do for the-reylo-void (Anysia)

Ben and Rey spend their formative years growing up together in Medieval Scotland and it looks like they will end up together. Circumstances intervene and Rey loses her chance to be with him. Devastated, she carries on until the day clan Ren attacks Castle Jakku lead by the notorious killer Kylo Ren.

- Snow Turns To Rain for thehobbem

For a moment, he wanted to ask what she meant, but if he was being completely honest, he already knew. He asked himself that same question over the years, and none more often than tonight, since seeing her again. Was leaving worth it? Was going their separate ways worth leaving each other?

“I’m not sure,” he said finally, shaking his head. “I’m happy...” he said, and she tensed a little, so he continued, “with my work. I’m glad I’m doing what I love, but....”

“But?”

“But it wasn’t the only thing I loved.”

- Change the Dance for theresonatinglight

- Meet Me in the Woods for thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)

“What do you mean no one goes in there?” A chuckle. “It’s haunted. People see all sorts of weird things in there and some don’t ever come out. You’re better off living with your curiosity.” Rey wakes in a shadowy forest with no memory of where she came from, only her name. With the help of the resident guardian she takes a journey to figure out her past, and maybe even discover her future.

- permanent calligraphy (your name on me forever) for Thursdaygirl

As they continue to work together, two things become clear. One: Ben Solo is an enigma. He’s preppy yet humble, privileged yet introspective. He’s the opposite of lazy; she kicks herself every day for assuming otherwise. And two: Ben Solo will never love her.

- show me the stars. for tmwillson3

“I don’t hate Christmas, I just don’t love it the way you do.” Lifting his head, he pulls a face, loosening up a tangled ornament of a poodle with pink, curly fluff. Rey snatches it from him possessively, tossing it back to the cart. “No one loves it the way you do, to be fair.”

“Now that’s the truth,” says Poe, who Finn invited about half an hour ago to keep him company.

“People have bad taste, I don’t know what to say.” Huffing, Rey scrolls through her phone with more intent. “Neither of you are helping me, anyway.”

“What’s the problem?” says Poe.

“Rey thinks her hot neighbor hates her —”

“He does hate me.”

“ — When really he’s been flirting with her for the past, oh I don’t know, how long have you lived there?”

- I realized that I need you, I wondered if I could come home for VR_Trakowski

Rey is doing exploration work for the Resistance, searching for force sensitive planets so any force sensitives that they find have a place to train.

One day, midflight she finds a slip of paper with the elegant scrawling words of the ones that came before. The ones that she found when Ben still roamed the galaxy.

When she lands on a dark and barren planet she is forced to face the feelings she thought she buried.

- Shadows of the Moon for walkingsaladshooter

The hallways got darker, the corridors grew longer. Shadows stretched across the walls. The ghosts of Breha Manor grew each night.

Rey clutched her necklace. Ben met her gaze.

And every night, there was weeping.

- show the way (the world could be) for writergenie

In the aftermath of the Battle of Crait, Rey struggles to find her place among the Resistance. However, her lingering Force bond with Kylo— Ben— whatever name he calls himself— complicates things, blurring the line between friend and foe.

When the tension threatens to boil over and a desperate plan goes awry, Rey begins to wonder whether there really is a line between light and dark after all.

(Stars do burn brightest in the blackness of space.)

- why don't we go (somewhere only we know) for XarisEirene

The bond snaps back into place, even stronger than before. He is here. With Rey, yes, but with Luke - Luke, who is looking at them now with that same dangerous glint in his eye that haunts Ben’s dreams.

- renewed, transfigured, in another pattern for yodalorian

Rey mourns on Tatooine while Ben is stuck in the World Between Worlds. But neither of them are alone, and blue butterflies light a path back to each other.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #rffa writers #to find your kiss #master post #mod post #photo edit

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diavolosthots · 3 years

Text

DARK DECEPTION CHAPTER 18

READ CHAPTER 17 HERE

Warnings: fights, violence, blood, death

Pairing(s): lucifer x reader, diavolo, the brothers

Authors Note: this IS the climax but unless you want to deal with kinda graphic depictions of someones death, maybe skip this one if thats not your cup of tea.

Diavolo’s words didn’t register. Family? His family is fighting out there, somewhere. Leviathan will manage, he’s sure of it, and even with the piercing tip of his own blade against his throat, Lucifer knew he could manage as well. “I will find her, with or without your help.” No, he won't, Michael promised to keep you safe and that’s all that matters to him right now. “I will tear this world apart brick by brick.” Lucifer felt the blade leave his throat, feeling it drag through his wings instead; another cry. “Too bad you have to suffer for it. I really did like you, Lucifer.” The blade was digging into his upper left wing, way too close to the base and Lucifer could practically feel the blood gush out, forming a pool right where he was laying. “And I know she liked you too… I hope you said your goodbyes to her.” Goodbyes? Lucifer watches as Diavolo draws the sword back, an evil grin forming on his face but that’s when Lucifer remembered. “No… I promised.” A glare formed on his face right as Diavolo was bringing the sword down and Lucifer rolled over just in time, feeling Diavolo pierce his wing instead.

“I promised!” Anger rushed through him and although every ounce of him was in pain, fearing the stability of his wings, Lucifer’s anger made him push through and fly up, using his full body weight to come down at Diavolo. The King grunted, falling down to his knees, but he still had the sword and he drew it back once more, “bad idea.” “No. It really wasn’t.” That last voice caught both of them off guard and they both turned their heads to see an angry Satan standing mere feet from Diavolo’s head. A growl escaped the latter and he’s quick to use his own magical powers to try and throw Satan back, “this has nothing to do with you, Satan,” but he dodged it just in time. One could see the anger radiating around him, forming a deep red hue, “this has everything to do with me.” Lucifer was proud, of course, but he also feared for the safety of his brother. Diavolo yanked at Lucifer’s hurting wing and yanked him off only for the eldest to be caught by Satan.

“Listen to me. You need to put your all into this.” “what?” He glared at Satan this time, about to ask what the hell he meant when Satan yanked him back up on his feet and grabbed his hand tightly. “Just focus! I don’t have time to argue with you!” Satan’s tail wrapped around Lucifer’s waist, pulling him against his side as Satan mumbled something; a spell. Diavolo got up, growling and snarling at the two in front of him. The King barely had any scratches on him and he could see Lucifer was losing a lot of blood; he’s too weak to properly make out a spell. “Give up, Satan. He’s as good as dead.” Anger rushed through the fourth born and strangely enough, Lucifer felt all of it. The eldest was already angry, riled up from everything. “Think about what he did, Lucifer… hold onto that anger.” “Satan…” “Hold onto it!” Easier for him to say than for Lucifer to do, but the more he thought about everything, the more he thought about the fear and sadness in your eyes, the more he thought about what Diavolo did to you, about what he saw on Leviathan’s screen… the more he remembered Levi’s bleeding form in front of him, tossed carelessly by Barbatos… was he even still alive? Lucifer didn’t know. He’s been too focused on Diavolo.

“Hghn…..aaaaahhh!!!” He cried out, almost animalistic. His deep voice resonated around the Devildom and it seemed more like a shrill echo bouncing off around him. He could feel Satan’s anger, his wrath, mixing with his own, and for a moment, it felt like Satan was back inside of him. All the anger, all the emotions he had surpassed for the past eons are bubbling over as he charges at the Demon Lord with enough force that sends a shock wave through the entirety of the Devildom. It sounded like a hammer coming down on a metal shield, a blast so strong not many could survive it, and not many did. Lucifer practically pushed Diavolo through the ground, creating a crater that the Demon Lord fell into. His wings, all four, snapped in half as Diavolo broke into the ground. Bone and blood were peeking out and he’s sure Lucifer broke more than that. The tightness of his best friend’s hand around his throat along with the pure hatred, the pure guilt, and the pure wrath inside Lucifer’s eyes, had Diavolo’s own eyes wide with fear and angst.

“L-Lu….cifer….” The demon gasped out, but Lucifer’s grip only tightened. He’s sure that he broke at least a few of Diavolo’s ribs and there’s at least some internal bleeding, considering the blood that’s flowing out the Demon Lord’s mouth. And yet, none of that was enough for the eldest. “You took everything from me! You took my sister, my freedom…. You made me your pet!” Lucifer growled, his eyes flaring red as his hand continued to squeeze. His nails were digging into Diavolo’s flesh, who struggled to try and move away from the Demon above him, to no avail. His whole body ached. The force Lucifer used was too great and it could’ve killed him, “but none of that was ever enough for you, was it?! You got off on having me, the eldest, the Avatar of Pride at your disposal. You used my own guilt against me to reign me in… and you could never have me be happy. Happiness, to you and not for you, meant that I could leave… and father forbid I left, just like everyone else left you.” His words stung. Diavolo clenched his teeth, still gasping for air. Blood began to drip down Lucifer’s fingers, his nails having successfully dug themselves through Diavolo’s neck.

“You took her….. You used her…. You forced yourself on her…” Anger rushed through him again and another shot of force rushed through him, “and you deserve to die for that…!” Another scream escaped the eldest, emotions rushing through him as he tore at Diavolo’s neck. The latter screamed, alerting all the demons not affected by the force that was used earlier, but it was too late. Lucifer practically ripped his head off, blinded by sheer rage and vengeance. Blood splattered his clothes and face as the King lay dead before him, his decapitated head in his hands. Demons gasped, Barbatos stopped in his tracks in shock and fear at the sight in front of him. This wasn’t Lucifer, or at least, this wasn’t the Lucifer everyone knew. This was a man blinded by rage and love, fearing for his lover’s safety and life. This was someone who’s many years of guilt and sadness, of grief and desperation finally spilled over and was let out in one of the most gruesome ways. But it was worth it.

The head fell from Lucifer’s grasp and Lucifer fell sideways as the surge of wrath finally left his body. Exhaustion took over, the bloodloss his wings had suffered has started to become too great. “Lucifer…” He could faintly make out Satan’s voice behind him, his head barely turning to watch the fourth born crawl toward him, obviously exhausted as well. A smug grin tried to form itself on Satan’s face and only now has Lucifer noticed the many scars and bruises on Satan’s body from the fight earlier. Lucifer reached out his hand, a soft smile forming on his own lips, “what was that…. Satan….” but the blond shook his head, reaching out his own hand to brush along Lucifer’s fingers, “ a last resort…” he felt weak and he could see that Lucifer felt the same. That took everything out of both of them. Two forces that should’ve never been separated and lastly, should have never been united again. “I’m sorry….” It was a whisper, barely audible by Lucifer. Tears stung in the corner of his eyes and he wasn’t sure whether it was from the sheer amount of pain or the fact that he feels like all of this could’ve been avoided. “Not your fault…” And even so, Lucifer felt like it was.

He didn’t know where anyone else was and frankly, turning his head the other way to see everyone else would have used too much of his already low energy. He didn’t know if anyone else made it. He didn’t know how many were dead, either. All he knows is that he freed you from your prison and he feels no regret toward that. Demons are ruthless and he always knew that, and yet, he has never experienced such betrayal and ruthlessness first hand. “Satan….” Lucifer pulled at the blond’s fingers, the latter only responding with a groan, “Satan…!” he feared the worst. Has this taken too much out of him? Was this too big for both of them to handle? He could feel his own energy fade as well…“Lucifer!” that sweet, sweet voice. His eyes felt heavy. He couldn’t keep them open. His hand still held onto Satan’s as he tried to concentrate on the air entering and exiting his body. He tried to focus on anything other than the pain and exhaustion.

Just a little… rest…..

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #asmodeus obey me #obey me scenarios #simeon obey me #barbatos obey me #belphegor obey me #mammon obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #beelzebub obey me #obey me lord diavolo #dark deception #tw blood #tw violence #tw death

114 notes · View notes

heavenbarnes · 4 years

Text

it's not a threat, it's a warning

Margot Robbie x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: porn without plot (literally sex scene after sex scene), adultery, dry humping, titty sucking, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, pregnancy, semi-public sex, swearing, dirty talk, gentle degradation, riding (sex toys),

Word Count: 7,606

what’d that pretty girl from stranger things say? “ask for forgiveness, not permission” so this is me asking for forgiveness and just reminding you that you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to x

Your universe started and ended with Margot, that was for sure.

The moment you took the job on this film, and you saw your co-star sitting across the long table from you, your world would never be the same again. You’d known it from the moment she’d grinned at you, teeth pressed gently against a polished nail.

Your heart had leapt straight into your mouth, though you wouldn’t let it show. You channeled your most courageous smirk, letting your eyes cast over her, unabashedly.

From then on, things only continued to change and you found yourself measuring your time on this planet in before Margot and after Margot. The newest turn of the century.

Playing “the girl’s best friend” by her side was both a blessing and a curse. To get that close to her, to mimic the confidante and the one to see her vulnerability was a prize you’d hold close to your chest. But how do you act away the raw feeling of heat that pulls you towards her whenever you see her.

You find a way, you suppress it, well enough you would say. Nobody else seems to notice, and that’s exactly how you want, how you need it. You felt as if your emotions were wound together in a tight bow and she had each end in two of her slender fingers, ready to pull you apart whenever she felt.

Margot saw right through you, she saw the way you battled each day to keep your thoughts down your throat. However, she’d grown bored in the past few months and was steadily on the look out for her newest interest.

Her interests looked an awful lot like you.

You couldn’t lie, a part of you also knew exactly what she was doing. You weren’t dumb, you let her pick you apart and play to each of your hidden desires. Who were you to deny a woman like her?

You were the glass, and she was the blower. You let her ignite you with molten heat, moulding you into whatever she needed you to be.

A hot day, set in the middle of a cornfield, frustrations were running high. The heat whipped past your face, tendrils of hair stuck to your forehead against the beads of perspiration. You felt a mess, crawling in your skin, wanting nothing more than to peel off each layer until you felt the cool relief.

Of course Margot looked not a hair out of place, standing on her mark and ready to have you all speechless with a performance for the ages. What would go down in your history books is the way that single bead of sweat rolled down her neck and past the collar of her shirt, you wanted to chase it.

It was that scene, she goes back to find her childhood home but it’s gone. She collapses, screaming into the void. You cling onto her as she falls into the crops.

Knowing your bodies would be pressed to another as you held her weight. Knowing the way the silk of her skin would feel against yours. Her scent would overwhelm you. It was nearly too much.

But here you were filming it, going like clockwork as you meet your marks each time. She launches herself into your arms, and she fits like a glove. It was like your hands were made to hold her. You don’t feel a strain.

This was where she was always made to land.

As soon as you hear that cut, you’re on a war path to your trailer. The more you’re out here, the harder it is to think. You need to be locked behind a door where you cannot make choices that might ruin lives.

The cold water you snatch from the basket on your way saves a life. Slamming the trailer door shut behind you and plopping yourself down on the window seat at the end. The water runs down your throat and cools your heart.

You’re allowed to think for a moment, think about anything other than-

Her figure appears in the doorway of your trailer, closing it shut softly behind her. Everything about her is soft, her movements, her voice, her skin under your hands. She makes a quick stride in front of you.

“How are you?” She plays with the robe of yours that hangs on the wall beside her.

“I’m good, how is your husband?”

The chirp of a giggle sounds from her lips, eyes rolling as she funnels the silk between her fingers. She brings the fabric to her face, running it under her nose. The thought of her taking in your own scent? Your moving the water bottle between your legs to cool down.

“I don’t think you give a fuck?”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

She takes the garment off the hanger, sliding it over her shoulders. She dips her head back, long hair brushes against the back of it. Is she marking your belongings? What is she playing at?

“Then why do you ask, baby?”

Your fingers squeeze tighter around the bottle, almost enough to have it bubbling over. You watch her tiptoe around your space, taking in everything, taking up everything. There isn’t a square of space that she hasn’t made her own.

“I thought it’d be a deterrent.”

“And that’s what you want, for me to be deterred?”

“Fuck off, Margot.”

Her giggle was disarming, you physically felt your muscles loosening with the melodic sound of her existence.

“Come on, you don’t mean that!” She cooed, walking towards you. “You get mean when you’re defensive.”

Your clothing, on her body, billowed behind her as she made her way over to you. Your eyes found the bottle in your fingers, desperate to keep your attention on anything else. Her fingers came into your view, taking the drink from your grasp and into her own.

Your gaze traveled up and to the crisp white blouse she was wearing. Without a flinch, she tipped the drink straight over her chest, the water saturating the fabric and splattering as it hit the floor of your trailer.

Your gulp was the next most audible thing in that small space, just slightly louder than the blood rushing in your ears. You knew what was about to happen, and you knew that you weren’t going to be strong enough to stop it.

“Oh no, this is ruined.” She threw the bottle over her shoulder as she looked down at her front. “Help me take this off?”

Your hands moved at the speed of light, coming up to her and gripping the damp fabric in your hands. In one motion you pulled her towards you, and in the other you tugged outwards. The buttons flew into the air as the most gentle skin was exposed to you.

Margot fell forward into you, shuffling the clothes off her arms and into a pile on the floor. Your hands secured onto her waist, pulling her into your lap and flush against you. You moved up to her chest, cupping her through the padding of her bra.

“My husband is good, but he’s never this good.”

“Shut up.”

Your growl brought a smile onto her lips, baring those perfect teeth to you as she wiggled her hips. Your fingers gripped the cups of her bra, pulling them down swiftly and exposing her chest. It was her incentive to reach around and un-clip it, you were busying yourself with the taste of her mouth.

Her tongue slid soft against yours as your lips met, her mouth so hot and wet and undeniably perfect. There wasn’t a lot in her that couldn’t be described as perfect. There was no reason on earth that someone should look like, act like, feel like this. But here Margot was.

Your fingers twisted around her nipples, tweaking at them to elicit a squeal from her. That kind that made her rut her hips against you, reminding you of the dangerous heat that was just radiating in your trousers.

Margot’s fingers threaded into your hair, nails dragging against your scalp and making you purr. She pulled your head away from hers, getting a good look at your blown our eyes and reddened lips.

She pushed your head down, bringing your lips to her nipple for you to latch around. Her head tipped back, a delicious moan slipping out and filling your ears. Her idea of paradise, you hot against her whilst you suckled at her breast.

Your hands fell to her ass, gripping at her gently so you could pull her even closer to your core. You just wanted to feel her grind against it, give a little friction to your clit, put you out of your misery.

A rap of knuckles at the door was sure to poke holes in this one.

“Mmph!” You called out, never releasing her from your mouth.

“Girls, we’re lighting the next scene, we need you out here!”

It wasn’t a groan of pleasure this time, frustration filled you as you were forced to pull away from her honey-sweet skin. She patted your hair back, soothing you quietly before stepping off of your lap.

You stood as she did, reaching over the back of a chair to find her a shirt. She slipped it on, your eyes trying to avoid how sweet she looked bathed in your clothes. She stepped forward, nearly nose to nose with you.

You couldn’t help but jump, her hand moving swiftly to cup your cunt through your trousers. A pathetic whimper fell out, earning a cheeky grin from Margot.

“Girls night tonight?”

And the girls night went well into the morning, visions of pillow flights and rolling about in cotton sheets. You sat back against your headboard, glass of wine in one hand, your other arm draped around Margot’s bare shoulders.

Her head lay against your chest, rising and falling with each breath. Her soft hair tickled you gently as you lay in silence. So much of your time together lay in silence, unable to say what you possibly needed to.

Margot sensed a change in your breathing, a change in the way your heart beat within your chest. She rose slightly, gazing up to meet your eyes. Her gentle smile subconsciously drew one to your lips.

“You think too much, lovely.” She sighed, fingers drawing back to gently rub against your stomach.

“You give me too much to think about.”

She huffed a breath out her nose, shrugging in halfhearted agreement. She shuffled against you, rolling so she lay between your legs. The glass of wine was taken from your grasp and placed on the side table.

Sheets were peeled back, leaving you exposed to Margot. The air of the room pricked against your skin, raising bumps against it. She was quick to sate the chills, moving down the bed till she was eye-line with the meeting of your thighs.

Long fingers came to grasp your thighs, pushing your legs up till they bent at the knee. She kissed along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, leaving your thighs shaking just enough for a trained eye to notice.

“You smell like honey, honey.” Margot giggled, eyes meeting yours for a moment before dropping back to your heat.

She drew in a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your clit, listening for your reaction. You let out a long held breath, relaxing back into the pillows, sinking further into the mattress.

Your fingers lifted to her hair, curling into it and massaging gently in appreciation. She hummed as she licked gently, collecting your wetness and moving it to your clit. You rolled your hips up to the meet the movements, chasing the feeling of her mouth on you.

Her hands moved off your thighs, sliding up to your chest to tweak at your nipples as she worked. This was her in every sense of the word, ensuring there was no aspect of you that she hadn’t covered. You had to be wholly hers.

How much of her was yours?

“Stop thinking and start pulling my hair.” She spoke against you, the vibrations of her words making your knees falter.

You took a good grip and tugged her closer, forcing her tongue further into your core. You let out a satisfied moan, her ministrations speeding up the more force you gave her.

You couldn’t help but slide down the sheets, bringing your wetness to her mouth, hand delivered for her taking. You were more than willing to give her whatever she could want, whatever she could take.

She was spurred on by the growl that omitted from your chest as she nipped at you, ever so gently. It made her fingers grip just that bit harder, her tongue just a little bit more deft.

That was just how it worked, you both fed off of each other. From the moment you both met, it became obvious that your existence had become a reaction to the other one’s being.

The air on your cunt drew you out of your thoughts, that and Margot coming up on her knees and crawling towards you. Her hands came to your face, gently moving her fingers against your skin.

She kept your gaze for a moment, holding you steady in her grasp. You felt a sudden crack against your cheek, her open palm colliding with you and reddening the skin in its wake.

Her other hand closed around your chin, pulling you in closer until you could feel her breath fanning over you.

“Will you get out of your own head and fuck me already?”

You were the quick draw this round, launching forward and having her back against the mattress in a matter of seconds. The salacious grin that painted across her face had your mind on one thing only.

You drew your knee up, pressing against her pussy, feeling her already wet against you. Her mouth fell open with a cheeky giggle, finally getting exactly what she wanted out of you. Attention.

“That’s more like it, was that all I had to do, get a little rough with you?” Her words were clipped by breathy moans.

“When will you learn to keep this mouth shut?” You nipped gently at her lower lip, whispering into her mouth.

You drew back your knee to be soon replaced by two of your fingers plunging into her core, earning you a reward, a generous moan erupting from Margot’s chest.

“If this is what I get, I don’t think I ever will.”

In your perfect world, you’d have Margot everyday of the week. Your sheets would stay warm with the heat of her body every minute of the day, just waiting till she slipped back into them.

In reality, that’s just not how things could ever be, not as long as you lived like this. You could go days, the longest being a whole week, without having her grace your home.

For those times, you’d steal touches in the cover of your trailer. Your hunger would be sated by lifting her onto the makeup counter, slotting in between her thighs. Burning hot stolen kisses when a spare moment could be found.

Those periods of time where you couldn’t have each other alone at night, Margot was near wild by the time you got to her. She’d spend the days teasing, riling you up, doing her best to get a rise out of you. She missed it just as much as you did.

Constant craving, in it’s truest form. Neither of you would ever truly get exactly what you wanted, not with all you had at stake. Gambling with a losing hand, that’s what this truly was at the root of it.

Having her in secret always came with the territory, and there was an undeniable thrill to it all. She breezed into your trailer easy enough, the sound of the door closing sent you into motion. Your hands had learnt over time the quickest way to rid her of clothes.

There was nothing that displayed your primal instincts for her than when you were fully clothed and she was as naked as the day she was born. She never minded, if you asked her it actually made her wetter than before. That and the way your hands guided her to the seat under the window.

The window that looked out to an empty field, completely barren for miles, where nobody went. You hiked her knees up onto the bench seat, running your fingers from her knees up onto her hips. Your chin rested on her shoulder, whispering your desires into the air.

“You want me in this hot little cunt?” The filth of your words a stark contrast to the purity of her beauty.

She groaned in response, pressing her bare ass back against your crotch, answering your question for you. You slid your hands forward, holding them flush against her tight stomach.

You slid them down towards her pussy, rubbing over her mound and towards her slit. You dragged two fingers along her, collecting her wetness and spreading it to her clit. You soaked your fingers in her sweetness, reveling in her cries.

So responsive to any touch you could spare, any bit of attention you could give her. She rolled her heat into your hand, daring you to slip your fingers up and within her.

You never were strong enough to say no to her.

So you had her wrapped around your fingers in a moment, muscles clenching tights around them and willing you to pump them harder and faster. You slipped your free arm tight around her waist and pulled her into you.

The soaking wet sounds you elicited from her had your thighs clenched together, the pulsing between your legs a direct result of the way she felt under you. Her own hands tweaked at her nipples.

“I’ve never been touched like the way you do.”

You desperately wanted to ask “so how does he touch you, then?” but you knew better than that. You knew you didn’t want to even think of him touching her. But it should would be nice to solidify that you did it better.

The way she rode your hand, flexing her hips against him, eager to make her way to orgasm, that told you in no uncertain terms. Everything she did drew you in closer and made you want to explore more of her.

In the quiet of your trailer, where only the two of you knew, she came with a shout of your name and a strong grip on your wrist. Once again, you’d been enough for her. More than enough for her.

Days on location were even harder, less hidden space for you both to slip into. You weren’t in control of your surroundings, you couldn’t know where someone might come from. God forbid you got caught, the fine line you both walked each day.

This time you were mid-city, streets blocked off so you could do this scene in a car. A ‘67 Chevy Nova with the top down, the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on the both of you. You drummed your fingers against the steering wheel, watching Margot fidget in your peripheral.

Pushing your sunglasses up your nose, you watched the crew rush around you as you did all you had to do, sit still and look pretty. You sunk down in the leather seat, Margot’s constant movement agitating you.

You reached your breaking point as she huffed for the eighth time in a minute. Your hand shot out, gripping her thigh and anchoring her to the seat. The corner of your eye caught the small smile that found its way to her face.

“Are you finished, miss?” You sighed, knowing she’d gotten exactly what she wanted.

“Eh, I’m sure I’ll find something else.” Tilting her head towards you, you saw the smile spread across her features.

Your natural reaction was to match her expression, something you’d never been able to control. She’d won again, just collecting winning after winning when it came to you.

The feeling of Margot’s fingers against the skin of your hand drew your attention to her lap. You loosened the grip on her thigh as you felt her starting to move your hand at her discretion.

As soon as you felt her moving it upwards, your heart nearly beat out your chest. The soft cotton of her skirt was drifting over your hand as she placed it on her upper thigh. You darted your eyes around, checking to see if anyone was paying attention.

Tapping two of your fingers against her thigh, heat rose within you as you felt her spread her legs for you. Her complacency, when she wasn’t testing you, could have you soaked in seconds. You moved in, gently wrapping your fingers under her heat.

You were expecting to feel resistance from a pair of cotton underwear, but were instead met directly with her slit, which was already wetting your fingers. You snapped your head in her direction, watching the way her eyes rolled back in her head as you dipped your fingers in.

“You’re such a naughty little slut, aren’t you?” You spoke nonchalantly, so not to draw attention to yourselves.

“Got to get your attention some how, right?” Her words were clipped with whimpers as you played with her.

“I give you plenty attention, it’s just impossible to keep you satisfied.”

If anyone was to watch, you’d just think it was a conversation between two friends. You’d both become awful good at keeping it cool, however, just under the surface you did have the tips of your fingers sinking into her tight heat.

“Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of it now.”

“So all I have to do is keep my fingers buried in you at all times? Easy done.”

You cut off her next bite by curling your fingers up, pulling forward and watching her mouth drop open. You pumped them steadily, listening for those tiny cries that she was trying so hard to to keep down.

“Quit being so naughty and touch your clit for me.”

She was quick to follow instruction, bringing her hand under her skirt to rub furious little circles. You felt her hips roll forward into your hand, bucking up with every pump.

You felt her restricting around you, quickly finding her way towards her peak. She bit her lip, gripping down on your wrist and digging her nails in tight. Her pussy felt like a vice around you, soaking your fingers and the top of your hand.

“You going to be good?”

She let you have your hand back, drawing it out from under the skirt and raising it to her mouth. She wrapped her lips around the fingers that had just been inside her, cleaning them off with her eyes on yours, doing nothing for that heat between your legs.

“So good that I’ll even ride you tonight, my tits in your face, just how you like.” Her voice never breaking, like she was reading her grocery list.

The moan you choked back hurt like hell, shuffling against the sticky seats. It’d gotten hotter in those past moments and you were beginning to stick. You settled with a nod, willing the hours to pass you by and get you the fuck home.

You were home soon enough, maybe because you packed in as soon as you’d heard Margot’s offer. Admittedly, you were probably a shit to work with that day, wanting nothing more than to get behind the door of your bedroom. It had you on edge, cutting everything short in hopes it’d get you home quicker.

As soon as you crossed over the threshold into the promised land, you were sure to take her up on that promise. You walked backwards until your knees hit the bed, pulling her forward with you as you went.

Her front hit yours, the weight of her dropping against you. As you released your breath, you felt her sink into you, molding into the shape of your body. Her weight on top of you, the feeling of her against your body, this was how it was always meant to be.

She pushed up against you, moving you back up the bed until she could sit up. Her fingers were quick on the buttons of your shirt, yours just the same. The clothes flew off the bed, a tangle of moving to kick them away. Your base desire to have her bare skin against you, making itself known.

Margot situated herself back on your hips, rolling her own into you. The feeling of her skin against yours, in the most sensitive areas had your eyes rolling back in your head. Your fingers gripped onto her hips, pulling her in harder to you.

“Sit back against the pillows, I’ll go grab it.” She whispered, leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours for a moment.

You complied, shuffling back and sitting up so you could have her in your lap. She returned with your strap, passing it forward for you to put on. She sat in between your legs, looking up the length of your body with something in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

It was there every time you were alone, something like hunger, but something like she was ready to risk everything to have you in her hands. She bent down, grasping her hands around the length of your strap, wrapping her lips around the tip.

Brushing your fingers through her hair, you pulled it round to the side, grasping it into a bunch in your hands. You guided her as she sunk her mouth down around it, the sounds driving straight to the heat in your stomach.

Her eyes drifted up to yours, locking in your sights as she took it right down her throat. You couldn’t help but let out a groan, the sight of her between your legs and taking you so nicely, what did you do in another life to get this lucky?

You brought your hands down the length of her neck, feeling her shiver under the feather-light touches. You drew them against her shoulder blades, coming to her underarms to lift her towards you.

“You look awful pretty with my cock in your mouth but I heard I was getting tits in my face?”

She giggled, sitting in your lap, still softly stroking the silicone in front of her. She lent into you, hovering her lips just moments from yours.

“And you say I’m the one who can never get enough.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Watch how I move.”

And with that, she was lowering herself onto the strap, her fingers spreading her pussy apart so you could see where you sunk into her. The gasps and whimpers that fell from you were entirely unintentional, but well received by Margot.

She rocked forward, the end that was snug inside you shifted and forced your eyes to roll back. Margot let out a stuttered groan, bracing her hands on the headboard above you.

True to her word, she lent forward until your face rest between her breasts. Your hands came up to take one in each, rolling the soft skin in your palms before you tweaked at her nipples. She cast her head back, rolling her hips against you as a soft call of your name spread around the room.

She pulled herself up to only sink back down, taking your strap right to the hilt. You tilted your head to take her nipple in your mouth, the sweet scent of her skin enveloping you entirely. With her against you like this, all your could see was the expanse of her skin.

Just like that she’d done what she was so good at, made sure that she was the only thing that existed for you.

Margot tired of the slow and sensual and within an instant she was bouncing in your lap and leaving you breathless. She drew her chest back from you, allowing your hands to slide up her sides as you watched in awe.

She brought her own arms up, tousling her hair and stretching her hands towards to ceiling. She looked as if she was celebrating, her girlish giggles screamed innocence whilst her actions painted her as awfully naughty.

You could only look on in amazement, this girl that seemed to hold the world in the palm of her hand, but chose to hold onto you instead. Your arms wrapped around her waist and you forced yourself out of bed.

Pressing her back to the mattress, legs flung over your shoulders as you made the split decision to rail her. There was no such thing as restraint when you were dealing with a girl like her. There was no time to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself.

The way that she moved, she spoke, it all set your soul alight and had you aching to release the carnal desires that swirled inside of you. Margot had no qualms, a scream omitting from her as your angle hit it just right.

“Oh god, just like that baby.” She squealed, hands reaching around to squeeze your ass.

All your power and energy went into pounding her through that mattress. An awful lot like how every part of you went into her, God created you to keep Margot interested.

You lowered your head, eyes holding tight with her own gaze. Those big eyes blinked up at you, tears pricking the corners from the pleasure coursing through her.

Your lips connected with hers, anything to stop you from saying what your instincts were trying to force out of you. Her hands moved up to your head, holding you mouth against hers as her tongue slipped inside.

Passion like this is not coincidental, it is never a mistake that a fever like this breaks the moment you lay eyes on each other. What you are doing might not be right, but you cannot say that it is a mistake.

The day they told you that there was another shoot on location, you had to stop your eyes from rolling. But when they told you it was out of town, you felt Margot’s eyes practically burning a hole into the side of your head.

You knew what it meant, a different city, a hotel room with hallways that could be crept through without anyone knowing.

And that it certainly was.

You were only away for a week, but that week saw a knock at your hotel door every night. This evening, there was no exception.

You opened it to Margot, beautiful as always with a grin, but there was something different. This grin had secrets behind it, secrets different than usual.

She was also wearing a coat indoors, one hand rested on the tie that kept it shut. She stepped through the door of your room and closed the door behind her.

You were forced to step backwards and let her into the room, not that you were complaining. She held onto the end of the tie, tugging gently as it came away. She took on side of the coat into each of her hands.

She pulled the open and presented herself to you, bare naked aside from the heels that adorned her feet. Your tongue came out to swipe along your bottom lip. There she was, always finding something else to drive you fucking crazy.

“You walked through the halls of this hotel with nothing on underneath that?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Where anybody could’ve caught you?”

“Not worried somebody could see your treat, are you?”

“Get your hands against the window, I’ll be back.”

And for once in your life, Margot had listened to you without an argument. Maybe it was the tone in your voice? The “don’t fucking question me, right now” kind of tone.

You stepped back into the main part of the room and there she was, hands pressed to the window that overlooked the city. You came up behind her, bending slightly to trail your hand from her ankle, up her leg until it came to rest on her hip.

You brushed her hair to the side, nestling in her neck and kissing it just gently. You pressed into her behind, letting her feel the silicon of your strap that was now resting between the cheeks of her ass.

Your foot came out and kicked her legs open just that bit further. Wrapping your palm around the strap, your drew it against the wetness of her slit.

“W-what if somebody looked in and saw?” You’d never heard her so hesitant before.

“Oh, so now you care about somebody seeing whats mine?”

“Yours, your right, it is yours.” Her moan was intoxicating, her head falling forward to rest against the glass.

With one dip, you sunk the strap all the way into her. It knocked the breath out of her, making her shoot one hand back to grip your own hip.

You took it in your hand, bringing it back to the window but keeping your grasp around it. You pulled her hips back slightly so we was almost bent over.

Rocking your hips forward, you created a rhythm that had desperate cries tumbling from her lips. You gripped her tighter, with every thrust you pulled her pussy back against you.

Your gaze lifted up to the city in front of you, buildings across from your own. Anybody could be looking in and watching the way you blew her back right out. You never let slip that it only spurred you on.

For so long you’ve wanted to tell someone, anyone, that this is exactly what your nights looked like. That those moans and cries were courtesy of the way you fucked her nicely.

You made her legs shake and her toes curl, you were able to make her gush around your strap. You wrapped your fingers in her hair and pulled her back up against your front.

Your fingers moved down to wrap around her throat. Her own hands quickly clasped around your wrist and held you there, willing you to squeeze harder.

“Nobody on this earth will ever fuck me as good as you do.” She gasped, throwing her hips back against your own.

“Tell me more.”

“Before this started, I would touch myself and think about how good you’ll feel on me.”

“More, give me more.”

“You want the truth?”

The spin of the world slowed down, everything shut down and the sound of your own blood pulsing in your ears was all you could hear. Your hand around her throat locked tighter, your hand on her hip moved to her clit, your lips rested so close to her ear.

“Tell me the truth.”

Her head turned to the side, her hips rolled back against you, just like that she was right back in control of everything and anything that happened between the two of you.

Her lips pursed and that wicked tongue darted out before speaking in a whisper so low, you felt it resonate within you.

“I think about you when I fuck my husband.”

You spun her round so quickly, hand on her back and bending her over the arm of the couch. The scream that ripped from her was feral as you plowed straight into her with a relentless pace.

Your world was spinning again, but as usual, it was orbiting right around the girl under your fingertips.

The day Margot came into work and just seemed, tired? Her opting to rest her head in your lap, let you play with her hair as she dozed. She didn’t look ill, if anything her skin was more radiant than usual.

Her hair was softer, and she just seemed to be brighter. But she was tired, and seemed to long for a softer touch. It didn’t mean she was any less all-over-you, whilst her energy was down, that seemed to have increased tenfold.

“Baaaaby.” She called out, stepping into your trailer with her shoulders dropped.

You looked up from your notes and gave her a kind smile, ushering her over with outstretched hands. She fell into your lap, her back pressed up against you and head tipped back on your shoulder.

“What’s got you down, buttercup?” You asked, wrapping your arms snug around her waist.

She groaned, unfolding your hands and slipping them up the sweater she was wearing. She’d rid herself of her bra and left your hands resting on her breasts. She wiggled against you, spurring you on to start massaging her gently.

“My tits are so sore, and I’m just so fucking tired.” She complained, melting into your touch.

“Well lucky all I am is a pair of hands.” You jested, rolling the tender skin in your palms.

The gentle sounds that fell from her were bliss, that paired with the fact she was quietly grinding herself into her hand whilst you worked. You hummed, pressing kisses along her jaw and let her enjoy herself.

It made a hell of a lot more sense those couple weeks later.

The day she ripped into your trailer like a hurricane and proudly lifted her shirt in front of you. You stepped back in shock, the shock of being greeted by her entirely bare front.

“Good morning to you too, honey.” You couldn’t help but laugh, and admire the sight this early in the day.

“What do you see?” She asked, the glee imminent in her voice.

“I see your body, baby.”

“Well you’re not wrong about the last part!”

“The last- wait, what?”

She pulled her shirt back down, a bright grin stretched across her face. Your eyes narrowed, brows shot up to your hairline. Suddenly the smile transferred to you, your body sending you across the room to pick her up in a spin.

“Margot! Congratulations, this is incredible!” You cooed, you took your hands from her waist as you placed her down and brought them to her cheeks.

It was her that pulled you in for the kiss, the clashing teeth and tongues kind of kiss. The ‘please don’t let this end’ kind of kiss. The kind you’ve become all too familiar with.

It was also her that drew back from you first, laying her head against your collarbone and humming gently in time with your heartbeat. You ran your hands down her back, holding her close against you and enjoying the happiness.

“You’ll still like me when I’m round?”

“Something tells me I’ll even find it sexy.”

And like most things, you were right.

The sun cast through the window of your bedroom and drifted over Margot’s form as she lay back against the plush pillows. The sun glimmered against her like it rose just for her. You couldn’t tell if you were witness to a “pregnancy glow” or if that was just something that was always within her.

Your eyes ran from her toes, up her long legs, across the swell of her belly, her breasts, and up to that smiling face. Her eyes looked hazy, blinking gently as she enjoyed the way you stared. Her fingers rose to beckon you close, the invisible string she kept on you drew you in.

Your fingers traced up the soft skin of her leg, nails grazing just enough to bring goosebumps to the surface. You continued up across the skin of her stomach, moving gently across her breasts and stopping to cup her face.

Margot sighed into your touch, leaning up to bring her lips to yours. The kisses weren’t hungry and feverish, there was time for these ones, an unlimited time for you to savor her taste. She took your hand from her face, lowering it to rest between her legs.

She pressed your hand against the apex of her thighs, allowing you to feel the dampness that you caused. You chuckled into her mouth, your tongue moving in further and eliciting a moan from her at the feeling.

“You want to come for the 4th time today? It’s only 9am.” You mumbled, ever so slightly rubbing your fingers against her clit.

“It’s not me, it’s the hormones.” She retorted, pulling your face closer to her.

“As if you weren’t this insatiable before hand.”

“Please, honey, I need it.” The pull in her voice had you clenching around nothing.

“Keep talking.”

You drew back from her lips, as much as you could’ve come just from the way she moved her tongue against your own. You positioned yourself against her side, fingers still slow between her legs.

“All night, all I could think about was riding your fingers whilst you sucked on my nipples.” Her breathy moans hit you right in the gut. “My tits are so sore, I need you.”

There was no more persuasion needed, if Margot said she needed you, she got you.

You sunk two of your fingers into her, immediately curling them up and eliciting a filthy cry from her. Your thighs clamped together, grinding down as she huffed out moans of your name.

Lowering your head, you closed your lips around her nipple, sucking gently against it. You felt her clamp around your fingers, hips rolling forward to sink deeper onto them.

Your tongue swirled around the hard bud, teeth gently grazing around it. Margot wrapped her hand around your wrist, pulling your hand in closer. At that point, she was essentially using you for her own pleasure, and you couldn’t have been more willing.

Deep down, you hand no issues with her using your body to get herself off, and there had been the occasional time where she had. She tugged at your wrist, thrusting her hips as she did, fucking your fingers. You added another finger, a cry omitting from her as you stretched her out.

Her response to your motions had you sucking her skin just a bit harder, you were put on this earth to draw those cries from her lips. You were here to make her wet, to make her come, to have her writhing under your hands.

She was so wet, you could feel it against your hand, you moved your thumb up against her clit. Her head shot back and the way she shouted your name had a whimper dropping from your lips.

You furiously rubbed at her clit, fingers curling up with the motions and making her hips stutter against your hand. She wrapped her hands around your hair, stroking your scalp as you switched to her other nipple.

Her breathing was unsteady, clipped words from her brain trying to process what to say. She resorted to just calling your name, focusing on chasing the orgasm that was threatening to erupt at any moment.

You gently bit down on her nipple, curling your fingers up at that moment, and all hell broke loose. Her hands moved to your shoulders, nails sinking into the skin as she gripped you tight to her.

Her hips lifted from the bed, a near scream drifting across your bedroom. She rode your hand through the hot flashes of pleasure that took over her all at once. You felt your hand become soaked, the wetness cascading across your fingers and palm.

She came down slowly, her thighs shaking and breathing still choppy. You drew your fingers out, slowly rubbing her clit as she came back to earth. Her breasts still glistened with the traces of your mouth, but your lips were now pressed to her cheek.

You cooed to her gently, just how pretty she looked, how sexy she was with a round belly. She relaxed into your arms, breathing slowing down as her legs started to un-tense.

“You want to know something else I’ve been unable to get off my mind?”

“Enlighten me.”

“How about you come sit on my face and I’ll show you.”

You sat on the balcony of the hotel, the afternoon sun hot against your skin, Margot laying between your legs. The view overlooking the park below you, both so high up that nobody could look in.

Your robe barely covered you and she opted for her usual, nothing.

The warm air drifted over you, the silence welcomed you in and kept you safe. Safe from saying what your heart wouldn’t let you get out.

“What a ride this has been.” Her sweet voice drifted from below you.

Your mind cast back to that morning, your last interview for the press tour of this film. It was done and dusted, this was done and dusted.

Your flights left early the next morning, you were to return to your homes, your live reset back to normal.

But what was normal now that you knew the shape her mouth made as she called your name? Now you knew the way her legs shook as your fingers rested between them?

There was no denying that she’d done what you always knew she would, walk straight into your life and turn it upside down, before walking right back out again with a breathy laugh over her shoulder.

You knew if she looked up, she’d scold you for thinking too much. Your mind always seeming to be somewhere else. Somewhere with her.

Shutting down every thought that chipped away at you, reminded you that everything would soon come to an end. You shut that away, there was only one thing you could be certain of, any way.

Your universe started and ended with Margot.

That was for sure.

#margot robbie smut #margot robbie x reader #margot robbie fic #margot robbie x female reader

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chispas-and-broken-bindings · 3 years

Text

I really wanted to get the next chapter of Nothing Sacred, All Things Wild up this week, but work was crazy and I also got caught up in another story (I can’t control my muse)...so instead I’m offering up a long snippet of the dystopian/space colonist fic I started off a prompt I got a while ago for an “Arranged Marriage + a/b/o” request I got from an anon.

A/B/O is not my cup of tea, so I twisted it into an arranged marriage by an artificial intelligence instead:

He wakes up angry, sweat soaking through his pillow, heart racing, stomach cramped. The alarm is buzzing from somewhere beneath the bed, where he must have knocked it.

“Turn it off,” Ygritte mutters into his shoulder, before rolling away with the rest of their thin blanket.

He complies, letting the shock of the cold floor against his feet spur him into full wakefulness. “I take the test today.” It’s raining. He watches the drops splatter against the small window near the ceiling, and he wonders if Ygritte remembered to check the bucket beneath the leak before she crawled into bed the night before.

Their garden apartment doesn’t do well in the rain. Jon still doesn’t understand why it’s even called a garden...there’s nothing green about their cramped basement residence, besides the mold growing beneath the sink.

“Oh yeah. Happy birthday...we’ll get drinks when you come home.”

“If I come home.” He could be part of the one percent, after all. That is the Institution's promise. Everyone is SOMEONE. Anyone can be part of the 1%. Are YOU?

Jon knows it’s unlikely. How could he, an orphan from Mole’s Town, have the magic combination of pheno-, geno-, and personality type to be chosen for the Colony? No...he’s just another loser of the 99% who will waste his twenty-first birthday behind the Brutalist concrete walls of the Institution’s testing center, playing lab rat for the day, until the examiners come to the inevitable conclusion that he’s just another nobody.

They’ll spit him back out on the street, leaving him free to carve out a pathetic existence on a slowly dying planet.

He doesn’t bother washing. It’d be a waste of precious water when he knows full well they’ll scrub him down at the testing center. Instead he spends his last moments at home drinking a pot of weak coffee, trying to remember anything he was taught in the schools he barely attended. His energy would be better spent bracing for the coming indignity of having every part of his body and mind exposed and dissected.

“Is the area of a circle, two pi times the radius? Or is that the circumference?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ygritte lights a cigarette at the stove before joining him at the table. “It’s not that kind of test.”

He knows that. It’s another Institution promise. The Test doesn’t ask WHAT you know. It asks who YOU are. Are YOU the 1%

How the fuck would Jon know? It’s easier for him to remember that the area of a circle is actually pi times the radius squared, than it is for him to explain who he is. He has no idea. That’s kind of what being an orphan is all about.

Ygritte could at least throw him a bone and tell him what the test is like. She took it two years ago, though she won’t talk. Most people won’t. There are no rules against it, but The Test is treated like dysentery. Unless you live behind the gates, you’re going to get it at least once in your life, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna go around describing your diarrhea to the world.

Grenn went to White Harbor for the test a month ago, and though Jon had to buy him six beers and two shots of whiskey before Grenn would shut up about his first-ever train ride, he did give Jon a few insights into the rest of the experience.

Not that the train isn’t worth the excitement, especially when the ride is paid for (another Institution promise. No matter your means. No matter the distance. EVERYONE makes it to the Test. Are YOU the 1%?) Technically, Jon has taken it once before, from Winterfell to Mole’s Town as a baby, but he doesn’t remember.

Now he can’t believe anything that moves so fast could feel so smooth. He’s topped out at ninety miles per hour on the best snowmobile Donal Noye patched together, but that left his teeth rattling and his ears buzzing for hours afterward. The train is moving at double the speed, but he could be in the godswood, for how quiet the near-empty economy cabin is. He shares it with a twitchy young man who never looks up from a cheap tablet, and a black raven perched in a large cage who spends the entire ride staring at Jon with one eerie black eye.

The testing center is located just across from the train station, in an intimidating building that used to have a name. Jon has a vague memory that it was a prison before the Institution took it over. Before that it was something else.

He doesn’t balk when a masked orderly leads him to a small room, tells him to strip, and then takes off with his clothes. He knows they’ll be returned at the end of the day. Of more pressing concern is the man and woman who enter talking too quietly to make out at the other end of the room, while a nurse rolls in with a small cart covered in collection tubes, gauze strips, and butterfly needles.

Everyone wears surgical masks, latex gloves, long white coats, and black clogs.

Jon remains naked beneath a small paper covering.

He has given blood before, and the messy, life-saving transfusion Mance performed to save Tormund three years ago was far scarier than the rapid, methodical draw that's taken from him now. Still, it’s disconcerting to think of the secrets the Institution will glean from his blood. He’s uncomfortably aware that they’ll know who his parents are before the day is over, even as he’ll continue living in total ignorance.

Another Institution promise. The Institution values EVERYONE’S right to privacy. YOU control the right to tell the world who you are. Are YOU the 1%?

Before he’s finished the recitation in his head, five tubes are full, and the nurse pats a cotton ball and a band-aid over his arm. She tosses a granola bar on his lap before rolling out of the room with her cart of samples.

Next comes a physical exam, where the other two examiners speak only to each other as they record his height, weight, blood pressure, and note his every blemish and scar in flat affect.

“Post-burn contractures across the palmar and dorsal aspect of the left hand, adduction and extension in the metacarpophalangeal joint of thumb fall outside normal range of movement.”

“Keloid scarring along the right gastrocnemius muscle, five point three centimeters in diameter.”

“Slightly hypertrophic scarring beginning at left brow and running medially down across the left orbital cavity to the cheek. No ptosis noted. No apparent damage to the eye.”

He should feel worse beneath the weight of each fault. Instead he relaxes. He was nervous for nothing. Failure was always inevitable. The Institution would never invest in a malnourished kid with a burned hand and a badly healed leg wound. They are famously secretive about their selection process, but some reasons for failure are common knowledge. As the crows like to say, no cripples, bastards, or broken things.

So, he chews his granola bar slowly and even closes his eyes for a bit, letting the examiners move his limp limbs as necessary for their measurements. He imagines himself a cadaver during the early stages of an autopsy.

As long as they don’t cut me open….

When an white-haired man enters and lays out what look to be a series of tiny torture devices, Jon wonders if he stopped caring too soon. He white-knuckles it through an excruciating dental exam that ends with his first real exchange of the day.

“Have you ever been to a dentist, kid?”

There is still a tube in his mouth, sucking up his spit and a hook pressing at his gums, so Jon just shakes his head. There are no dentists in Mole’s Town. Just Chett, who used to work at a slaughterhouse down south and will pull a rotten tooth for the price of a bottle of whiskey. Jon wouldn’t give the creep the lint in his pocket, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let him near his mouth. Instead he brushes his teeth so hard his toothbrush regularly snaps in half, and prays something else kills him before gum disease has a chance.

“You’ve got better teeth than I see behind the gates, boy,” he pulls the hook from Jon’s mouth to dictate into a small microphone hanging from his mobile workstation. “Review DEFB1 on ID 17630343BA. At some point the focus will need to expand beyond the holy 22 and get back to the basics. Who is going to care about neuron growth if every fourth planter is born with anodontia?”

Jon understands little of what the man is saying, but he’s heard enough to know he’s at least got as good of teeth or better than some of the rich tossers who live within the heavily guarded gated communities where the Colonists are actually culled from. Behind their high walls, wealthy sons and daughters of the only one percent that really matters, spend their youths preparing for the Test in homes and classrooms pumped with filtered air, where the water runs clear, and no one ever goes to sleep with their bellies cramped from hunger or disease.

The Institution promises that ANYONE can be the 1%, but EVERYONE knows that's a lie.

---

The physical exam ends at last, after several more rounds of sterile humiliation. Jon isn’t sure which was worse; having to lie within a noisy cylinder while a disembodied voice reminded him not to move, or being asked to run naked on a treadmill, wired with electrodes.

When it’s over, the last examiner provides him with a sweatsuit that is softer and better-made than anything he owns, and he wonders if there is any way he can smuggle it out with him at the end of the day. Another orderly comes in with a waxy crisp apple that hardly seems real even as a spray of tartly sweet juice hits the back of his tongue. He’s given a pill as well that he swallows down with a cup of water so clear and so cold, it’s an act of incredible will-power not to ask for more.

It’s only after, when he’s led to a small room with two chairs, a table, and a pulsing white orb in it’s center that he thinks to ask what it’s for.

“This will make the answers come more naturally during your interviews,” the man explains before leaving him alone. “We want you to answer as truthfully as possibly, but we understand that can be difficult under the stress of the Test.”

He supposes people lie all the time on the Test, trying to game the system, though Jon doesn’t have the first idea how he’d go about doing that, nor does he have any reason to try. He’s not going to the Colony. This is all just a spectacular waste of time, and it’s a race day, which means he’ll have to pull extra shifts at the Rookery to make up for what he would have made beyond the Wall.

By the time a petite woman with a neat low bun, and cracking, grey scar across half her face and neck enters, Jon is reckless with anger.

“I’d like to go home.”

“Hello, Jon,” she smiles as she sits across from him, and she’s the first person he’s seen since he entered the building who isn’t wearing a mask. She’s also the first person to call him by his name. “My name is Shireen.”

“Where’s your mask?”

Her smile dims slightly, but she maintains her gentle tone. “I’m here to facilitate the interview portion of your Test today. Before we begin, is there anything you need to feel more comfortable? Something to eat, drink, a bathroom break? Should the temperature be adjusted?”

He’s sour with anger so he takes everything she offers, suddenly eager to make everything as inconvenient as possible for the Institution. Shireen takes his requests with an easy smile, however, escorting him to the restroom herself. When they return to the room, there is a bowl of hearty soup with a chunk of bread that is soft and airy beneath it’s golden-brown crust. Beside it is a tall glass of water and a smaller cup of green liquid that Jon eyes suspiciously.

“What’s this then?”

“I thought you might like some juice. It’s mostly apple, with some kale, cucumber and celery in it as well, I suspect.”

It’s the best thing Jon has ever tasted, and while part of him wants to fling the rest of it at her frustratingly serene face, it’d be a horrible waste, and he’d be the biggest loser. So, he takes his time, savoring each bite and sip, rolling the bright flavors across his delighted tongue.

“Feeling better?” she asks after the tray is cleared.

“Is that an official Test question?”

“No.”

“Let’s get on with it then. I can’t afford to miss the train home.”

“As you may know, it is not individuals who decide the 1%. Our artificial intelligence algorithm, The Seven, determines who is the best fit for the Colony. That is how the institution guarantees objectivity in its selection process,” she taps the pulsing orb on the table. “Though we find people are more comfortable responding to another person, so I will be facilitating our discussion as The Seven records and analyzes your responses. Are you ready to begin?”

He shrugs.

“I’ll start with a series of statements. After each, please say a number to indicate the degree to which you agree with that statement, wherein one equals strongly disagree and five equals strongly agree. Three indicates you neither agree nor disagree. Do you understand?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Statement Number one: At social events, you rarely try to introduce yourself to new people and mostly talk to the ones you already know.”

Jon knows everyone in Mole’s Town, and he doesn’t want to socialize with most of them.

“Two.”

This goes on for a while, each statement absurdly divorced from anything relating to Jon’s life, but the numbers spring easily from his lips as he relaxes under Shireen’s soothing voice, and kind face, and the lovely feeling of a full belly and soft, warm clothes.

It’s when the format shifts, that he begins to feel strange. Shireen starts with questions that are easy to answer. Where were you born? How many years of education have you completed? What was your favorite class and why? What do you do for work? Describe your strengths. When are you most satisfied in your job? Do you live alone or with others? How many others do you live with? What is your relationship to the person you live with?

At this point, the questions grow more invasive; more personal. A voice tells Jon that the Institution doesn’t need to know how many times he and Ygritte fuck a week...but the answer escapes all the same.

“Four or five times a week.”

“Do you use contraception methods?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to have children with your partner?”

“No.”

“Given your age and your partner’s, without contraception, given your regular intercourse the odds of conception are--”

“She’s sterile.”

“How do you know that?”

“Most everyone in Mole’s Town is. It’s something in the water, or the air, or our weak genes. It doesn’t really matter the cause. If it’s not the one; it’s the other. She’s been fucking since she was fifteen, and nothing’s ever caught.”

“How do you know that you aren’t the sterile one?”

He shrugs. “I probably am too, but I’m not her first partner as you say. I’m not her second or third either.”

“How does that make you feel?”

He glares, and Shireen clarifies.

“Your partner’s sterility?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” he pushes back from the table, letting his chair lean back on two legs.

Shireen only gives him a minute shake of her head, and waits for him to answer the question.

“Angry. I feel fucking furious about it.”

“So, you would like to be a father?”

“I’d like the freedom to choose. I’d like Ygritte to have that freedom.”

“What is your least favorite thing about humanity?”

She can’t be serious with that question. It’s like asking him to name all the stars. He takes a deep breath. Shireen waits. He stands up and paces. Shireen waits. He finishes his water and asks for another. Shireen calls for a refill. He drinks that too. Shireen waits.

“My least favorite thing? That we’ve given up. We let this machine,” he points at the orb, “decide who doesn’t have to. It’s like….it’s like the men in Mole’s Town who wander into the snows when winter grows too cold, and there’s not enough food or warmth to go around. Grown-ass men who could be fixing furnaces and braving the cold to find the resources their families so desperately need. Most of the time they don’t even have the fucking guts to tell anyone what they’re off to do. They just wander away one day, and winter takes them.

That’s what the fucking Institution is. We’re all those men in Mole’s Town who’ve just given up, despite the blood still pumping through our veins. We’re sitting around, waiting for winter to kill us, so that a few can live. And there’s no one left to be mad about it either, because it’s a fucking machine that decides our fate. It’s like being mad at the wind. What’s the fucking point? But just because there is no one to be angry with, that doesn’t mean the rage goes away...and winter isn’t killing us fast enough."

“So you want to live?”

“I want humanity to want to live. I want humanity to want most of humanity to live. I want us to care about more than the one percent.”

It feels radical, saying it here; behind the walls of the Institution. It feels like he’s put the last nail in his own coffin. Shireen watches him as he cracks his knuckles, one at a time, waiting for her to say the interview is over; it’s time to go home.

Instead she asks an even crazier question.

“Do you think there is an essential connection between the morality of an action and the morality of the intentions behind it?”

#my writing #work in progress #jonsa fic #jonsa dystopian au #kind of inspired by songs of a distant earth #when I get to the new planet #whenever that happens #shireen!

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sevlgi · 4 years

Text

don’t want to see you

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: jennie x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: fashion designer!au, rough breakup

warnings: none

synopsis: After your terrible breakup 4 years ago, you’re the last person Jennie wants to see at her dream job.

a/n: I accidentally did 4 years instead of two but eh... I’m glad you enjoy my writing!

word count: 2.4k

“This is it, huh?”

Jennie laughs as Jisoo wipes a fake tear away, pouting as she opened her arms for a hug. “Stop pretending to be sad, unnie, you know you’re glad to be rid of me.”

“Never!” the older girl protests, arms wrapping around Jennie. Under the cold winter sky, Jisoo is a source of familiarity and warmth that’s all too hard to let go of. “But I am glad you got this position. It’s been your dream for such a long time, and you gave up your first opportunity for… her.”

As soon as the mention of you slipped out of her mouth, Jisoo winces; she knows that over 4 years after your breakup, Jennie’s still not over you, not in the slightest. The younger girl forces a smile, hitching her designer bag up her shoulder a bit as she detaches herself from her friend. “Yeah. Thanks for sending me off, I’m off to be a successful adult now.”

“Rude!” Jisoo calls out, hands on her hips but a smile beaming across her face. She hopes that Jennie isn’t too affected by her words, and that nothing spoils the day her friend has been looking forward to for years. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly successful actress!” She continues waving until she’s just a tiny dot, her younger friend passing through the building’s gate.

Even the air smells fancy, Jennie notes as she steps through the revolving doors. She’s glad she wore an expensive outfit, no matter how cold the skirt is-- name brands are practically glued onto every person in the building. Filtered sunlight shines off of silk scarves and glimmers over fine dresses, heels clicking on the glossy marble floors. Various colognes and perfumes mix in the air, and Jennie inhales with a grin. This is her new life, the one that she’s wanted and worked for ever since she was a child.

The elevator ride up is lonely, of course, but she recognizes the frosted glass door she passes through to reach the office of the man who interviewed her for the position in the first place. “Ms. Kim,” Taehyung greets her, his voice deep and gentle. “Good to see you.”

“You too, Mr. Kim,” Jennie bows politely. Despite the fact that she’s only a year younger than him, he’s interestingly intimidating. “Ah, I thought you said my partner would greet me today?”

Taehyung nods, hands fidgeting with the Gucci blazer he wears. “Yes, we decided your new partner yesterday. Y/N’s just a bit busy, though, so she sent me to greet you first. Come with me to the elevator, your studio’s on another floor.”

Y/N. Jennie’s blood runs cold at your name even as she scurries to keep up with the man’s long legs, memories of screaming and slamming doors suddenly fading into her mind. She does her best to shake it off, though; it’s not like you’re the only person ever with that name. The world doesn’t revolve around her, never mind her shitty relationship from years before. “Oh. I see.”

Professional chatter about work fills the elevator ride; Taehyung’s already a senior at the company and a prodigy with fashion. Honestly, he could be a model as well as a designer, Jennie thinks as he smiles politely, opening her new office door for her. “Please.”

To no surprise, the studio is gorgeous, with floor-to-ceiling windows and sparkling modern furniture. Gorgeous swaths of fabric are displayed on benches all over the room, golden mannequins draped with clothing. Jennie doesn’t stop an exhilarated gasp from escaping her lips as she reaches to touch one of the designs splayed out on the table, and she also doesn’t stop the horrified one when she recognizes the signature on the paper.

Just in time, Taehyung’s deep voice sounds behind her. “Y/N, glad you could make it.”

Jennie turns quickly to face the doorway, and her heart leaps up into her throat as a far too familiar face greets her.

You look a hundred times better than the last time Jennie saw you, she has to admit that. The fancy outfit, probably something you made yourself by the looks of it, suits you perfectly, and your makeup is probably professionally done.

At the sight of her, your jaw drops, though you recover quick enough that your shared supervising officer doesn’t have a reason to suspect anything out of the ordinary. “Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you introduce yourself as you stick a hand out to shake. “You must be Jennie Kim.”

“That’s me,” she breathes, still a bit horrorstruck at the sight of you. It’s so difficult to pretend not to know you when Jennie still remembers every inch of you; she almost shudders when she remembers the way your skin felt under her fingertips. “You’re my new partner?”

“Yep,” you nod, biting down on your lip. Jennie remembers that habit of yours; it got annoying sometimes, when you tasted of blood. “I am.”

Taehyung smiles, “Y/N, I expect you to take care of Ms. Kim. I think the two of you will get on well. For now, I’ll leave the two of you to become acquainted, and Jennie, take all the time you need to become comfortable. Please, ask me if you need anything.”

As soon as the elevator door closes again, Jennie relaxes and you go rigid. Her eyes widen as she hisses, “What’re you doing here? Since when are you a fashion designer, Y/N?”

“Oh, good to see you too,” you scoff, turning away and plopping into your desk chair. To her annoyance, you’ve already occupied the side of the room with the better lighting. “I see you’re just as rude as when we broke up, Jennie Kim. No tact or professionalism at all; how did you even get hired?”

“For my talent,” Jennie scowls, crossing her arms defensively. “And you really expect a hello after that disaster? Remember when you got me evicted from my apartment, and we fought for days in a row?”

You sigh and pinch the area between your eyebrows. “I told you time and time again, that wasn’t my fault. It’s just like you to blame me for your own failures, no wonder I got your dream position years before you did.”

An incredulous gasp escapes Jennie’s lips as she tosses her bag down on her desk. From the start, it was an insecurity of hers that you were more accomplished, more successful than her, and she still never expected you to throw it back in her face. “Real mature, Y/N. Did you really usurp my position just to spite me? How childish.”

“I didn’t usurp anything, Jennie.” Standing suddenly, you’re eye-to-eye with Jennie, and she can smell the familiar perfume you’ve always worn. Your eyes are narrowed in anger, nose scrunching in anger. “I have my own dreams too, aside of you, but you’ve never seen that. You’ve always seen me as an object, without my own capability of thought.”

“That-- that’s not true.” She curses herself for stuttering, drawing her chin up. You’re barely inches away from her face, nails digging into your biceps with your arms crossed. “You know what, Y/N? I hoped you changed in these past 4 years, and I hoped that we could stay civil, but you obviously have remained just as much of an asshole as you always were.”

Rounding her desk and sitting down in her chair with a huff, Jennie pulls her computer closer to her. It’s just her luck to see the person she never wanted to see again on her so-called perfect day.

Weeks pass without you and Jennie holding a real, full conversation; to be honest, she knows that any single word out of your mouth would sound rude and conniving, even if you didn’t mean it that way. You fight over the stupidest things- did Jennie take your stapler? Did you take hers? What about that nice sweater you left in the office overnight?

Suffice to say, it’s nothing less than miserable.

Jennie finds solace in Joohyun, who was the one to recommend her for the job. The older woman knows plenty about the disastrous breakup years ago, and is a perfect source of good advice.

“Are you sure you’re not still harboring feelings for her?”

Okay, maybe not-so-good advice.

Spluttering, Jennie coughs on the sandwich she was eating for lunch, Joohyun’s gentle taps on her shoulder not really helping. A few other coworkers stare as they pass by in the cafeteria. “What?”

The other woman shrugs, delicately sipping at a cup of coffee. “You’re obviously not over her, and she you, if you’re still fighting over stupid things. If you didn’t like her anymore and simply hated her, you’d just ignore her existence.”

Jennie scowls, patting at her lips. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We were miserable in our relationship, Joohyun unnie, and she broke my heart.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t still love her.” The brunette sounds sage, as wise as the demure blue silk blazer she wears. “You need to have a good talk with her, without shouting or arguing. Get your feelings out in the open, no matter what they may be.”

The younger girl pouts, chewing contemplatively. It’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever agree to a talk with her, as hostile as you are. Maybe Jennie’ll just have to survive like this, arguing with her partner.

She can survive anything for her dream job.

Jennie stares in shock at the huge pieces of fabric missing from every single one of the 5 dresses she was working on, skirts and bodices alike ripped to shreds. “What. In the hell?”

She slams her coffee down on one of the desks, not caring of the brown liquid splatters all over the papers that just happen to be yours. Her eyes sweep the room, narrowing in rage when she finds all of your projects completely untouched.

“Holy shit,” she hears behind her, and swirls to find you standing in the doorway, mouth agape in shock. “Um, that’s an… innovative design?”

Lunging forward, Jennie’s hands connect with your chest, pushing you into the wall. “Did you do it?” she shouts, barely noticing that you flinch when she raises her voice. “I thought you were better than this!”

“I…” You’re lost for words, seeing the sheer anger in your ex-girlfriend’s eyes. “I didn’t! I swear! You have to believe me, Jennie, I wouldn’t stoop so low.”

Her forearm slams into your chest again; you wince, not at the pain, but just at how evil of a person you must be in her eyes. “I don’t.” Her voice is flat and cold as she seethes, “I get it if you hate me, but don’t sabotage me like this. You know better than anyone how important this job is to me.”

She lets go, stumbling back a bit as she stares at her hands. Your sound raw when you ask, “Is that what kind of a person you think I am? Jennie, I may have hurt you, but I’m not evil.”

The other girl bites her lip; some part of her wants to apologize, and another part of her- damn. Maybe Joohyun was right after all. “I don’t care. Stay away from me, Y/N. It doesn’t matter if we’re partners, I don’t want to see your face.”

“Ms. Kim?”

Taehyung knocks on the open door of the studio, stepping inside. His eyes widen at the sight of the fabric shreds that Jennie sweeps into a dustpan. “Ah.”

“Please, call me Jennie.” The girl bows and attempts at a professional smile, though she’s sure that anger still twitches in her eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?”

“Taehyung, then,” he says kindly. “Someone reported that your designs were destroyed? I came to take a look and evaluate what should be done. This is much more serious than I thought it would be.”

Jennie frowns; she doesn’t believe that it wasn’t you, but she also isn’t the kind of person to be so petty as to ruin your career. “Yes. I’m not sure who did it, and I’d like to know who.”

Holding a shred of fabric between his forefinger and thumb, Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have any suspicions at all? Not… your partner, perhaps?”

“Why would you say that?” Jennie lowers her dustpan, schooling herself to look expressionless as she says, “Y/N is just my partner. I have no history with her whatsoever.”

Sighing, the tall man turns with his hands in her pockets. “Jennie, Y/N came clean as soon as Joohyun suggested you for the position. She told me that you two have… a past, and that she feels terrible about it. She requested you to become her new partner, actually.”

Silence falls between the two designers, Jennie stepping back as if to shield herself from information she doesn’t want to know. “What? You must be mistaken. If Y/N told you that she’s my ex, you must know that she hates me.”

Taehyung walks a bit closer, a soft smile on his face when. “Look, Jennie, I know her. She regrets hurting you, I promise, and she’d never want to sabotage you like this. You need to talk with her.”

His shoulder just barely brushes up against Jennie’s as he walks out, pausing at the door to reassure her, “We are reviewing security footage, though, and I promise we’ll have an answer for you soon.”

Once he’s gone, Jennie’s left alone, staring at the shredded remnants of her projects on her desk.

Can it really be that you don’t hate her?

Jennie stares at the bowing employee, Taehyung smiling cheerfully at his desk. You avoid her eyes, counting ceiling tiles where you sit. “This is him, Jennie. He sabotage you. Would you like to tell why?”

The employee looks almost scared as Jennie crosses her arms, eyes flicking to yours and Taehyung’s. “I… was jealous. I wanted to be Y/N’s new partner. I should’ve been the first choice, not someone random that a senior recommended!”

Even as he explains himself, Jennie can only find herself staring at you; when your eyes meet, Jennie’s struck by just how much she’s missed you in the past 4 years. A soft smile from you elicits a feeling she hasn’t known since you left her, a feeling other than heartbreak or anger.

Taehyung fires the employee on the spot, and Jennie feels like she’s in a daze the entire time. After being kicked out of the office so that Taehyung can work, she avoids meeting your eyes in the hallway. “So…”

“I hope you don’t still believe that it was me,” you interrupt, stepping a bit closer to Jennie. “I know I hurt you, Joohyun told me how heartbroken you were. I’ve changed since then, Jen.”

The nickname’s nostalgic, and Jennie is startled when she feels a tear pricking at her eye. “I… I know. I’m sorry for thinking it was you in the first place, I should’ve known.”

Your hand brushes under her chin, tilting Jennie’s face up so that she can meet your eyes. Your expression is soft, no longer guarded, and emotion pulls at the corner of your lips. “I don’t blame you. Breaking up with you was the worst decision of my life, Jen. If you’d let me, I’d like to make it right.”

“What, you want to be together again? It doesn’t work like that, Y/N.” The other girl wipes furiously at her eyes with her hand, not caring if her makeup smears. “You might regret it, but you really did hurt me.”

“Yeah. I did. And I’m not asking to be together again.” You inhale, the corners of your own eyes a little bit wet. “I’m asking for you to forgive me, with time. Give me a second chance, just let me become your friend again. That’s all I want.”

A second chance. Do you even deserve a second chance? Jennie wonders. After everything you did to her, do you deserve to be let in her heart again?

But as you search her eyes for an answer, suddenly so much older and wiser than she remembered you, Jennie knows.

Her hand reaches for yours, soft fingers curling around yours as she smiles, “I’ll try.”

374 notes · View notes

douxspider · 4 years

Text

— 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. (3)

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) — Waking up at Reader's place, we finally get a glimpse at Arvin's POV. Though, while their relationship seems to be moving forward, it seems like the whole 'running away into the sunset' deal only happens in fiction.

+ this is the third part to peachy keen! (ao3 link)

warnings: angst, almost smutty but nothing explicit is written, mentions of murder, preston teagardin lmao, rated mature word count: 4,244 published: 9/24/20 ao3 link — part 1, 2

— — • — —

When Arvin woke up leaned against you, he felt his face turn into a beet shade of red. Slowly parting from your leaning form on the couch, he rubbed his eye, unaware that he had an actual decent rest in such a cramped position. He hardly ever felt comfortable enough to sleep in his own bed. Usually, attempts at sleep were mostly met with staring at the ceiling blankly, recalling haunting memories on repeat in his head.

His thoughts were blank when he fell asleep. Arvin was met with nothing but the television’s staticy audio and the sound of your quiet breathing.

He looked over to take in your features— what amazing features, he thought— and found his hand carefully creeping to the side of your face to brush the knuckle of a finger near your ear, tucking a strand of hair behind it lovingly.

Arvin loved you.

He knew he shouldn’t— he knew he had no idea what love was— but within the few months spent together, Arvin knew he liked you too much to be calling it ‘liking’ and ‘platonic’.

That one stormy evening alongside memories of beating the hell out of Lenora’s bullies, blood and bruising splattering his knuckles like paint, he needed a place to clear his head. He needed a place that was quiet in every way shape and form. Arvin had been driving with a foggy haze before his eyes had locked onto McCann Boys. Arvin wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t anything, he just needed to sit somewhere other than a damn car where he could swerve into a building and die.

When he stepped in, the immediate smell of sweetness overloaded his senses, and he found himself hesitantly sitting down in a booth, wringing the cloth against his knuckles in a patterned fashion.

Then you approached.

And by God, had you been the prettiest sight to see. If it were on any other day, Arvin would’ve been sure to come up with better words than asking if he had to buy anything.

That’s not how you talk to a pretty face, his father would scold in his head, y’wanna smile at ‘er, and make her feel all sorts of butterflies. Y’gotta make her feel like the only girl in the world, son.

Arvin often had his father’s coaching in his head when it came to things like this. Though, it didn’t really make sense most of the time. His father didn’t live long enough to meet Arvin in his ‘girl phase’. This was more than a phase, he promised himself, looking at your resting form. And my, had the universe been so forgiving of him, making sunlight drawing from blinds rest on your features, highlighting your skin and making you look like a pure, unadulterated angel.

He wanted you.

Arvin bit his bottom lip. He wanted you so bad. He wanted to keep you forever. He wanted to take you away from this lowly place in Ohio and bring you somewhere nice, somewhere with beaches and sunshine, away from disgusting preachers, dried blood and judgmental eyes.

Realizing the first time you went to that church, Arvin could see the way that no-good priest looked at you. He knew what that man did to Lenora. He knew everything. Arvin got up from the couch, his fists turning stark white as he paced towards the apartment door, red building at the sides of his eyes. Arvin had to protect all the girls in town. He had to. For Lenora, for Y/N. He had to go and—

“Arvin?”

Hearing a voice that reminded him of bells, Arvin turned around, seeing you slowly rise up from the couch and looking over to make contact with him. “Where are you going?”

Your sleepy tone was so amiable. Your eyes were so dazed, blinking as you gave a small sniffle, scratching at your shoulder.

“I was…” Arvin trailed off before coming back towards you, kneeling in front of the couch and giving a smile as he took your hand. “I was gonna get you breakfast. As a thank you.” A lie, but it was fine. He was planning on watching the priest. Though, breakfast didn’t sound too bad. Time with you was worth more than anything else. You were all he had, next to his grandmother and uncle.

You smiled. He melted a little inside.

“You don’t need to get me anything,” you murmured as you clutched onto his hand. Your eyes were studious, flitting around his body, and he suddenly felt small. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about the sleeping stuff… if your neck was stiff, I mean, I’d feel bad—”

“Y/N,” Arvin spoke sternly, “that was the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your eyes turned round, diluting slightly once they met the sunlight.

Arvin could hear his father’s berating tone in the back of his head. Say it. Be a man. He looked at the ground, holding onto your hand for dear life, uneasily balancing his weight on his knee. Though, Arvin couldn’t say anything. Nothing was coming out. There you were, waiting so patiently, being so patient with him, and he was at a lack for words.

Words wouldn’t fix this. Only action. Action would fix everything, Arvin knew this. He was taught this. He was always better physically expressing his thoughts and feelings than vocally or emotionally.

Releasing one of his hands from yours, he curved one underneath your palm and pulled your soft, untouched knuckles against his lips, giving a kiss. These knuckles have never hurt a soul. This being had never hurt anyone. Arvin would make sure it would stay that way.

He glanced upwards, his cap altering his view slightly, and he could make out the way your cheeks turned a different shade, inviting lips gaping slightly.

Smiling against your skin, Arvin moved his free hand to the top of yours and gazed at you. To his surprise, he watched as your thumb rolled circles against his own. You were smiling, and it was a smile to take in. Oh, it was.

“You’re sweet, Arvin,” you giggled so beautifully and he wanted to listen to his name coming out of your mouth on repeat, “...I kinda want donuts.”

Arvin couldn’t help but give a laugh under his breath at the change of moods. He stood up, continuously holding your hand as he refused to let it go, and said, “Let’s get donuts, then.”

—

He was angry. He was a pot boiling. Staring at Preston from afar, he watched from his car as the man interacted with a female shopowner who was fresh out of highschool. Arvin’s leg bounced within his vehicle, the sun setting, and he continued to survey.

Preston would interact with girls other than his wife. He would bring girls into his car and do unspeakable, unlawful things with them, then proceed to go back to the place he calls home and force himself onto his wife.

Arvin clutched onto the wheel.

While Preston was a horrible man who deserved the worst punishment from all graces of any lord, he found himself growing frustrated. Not even just about Lenora or all the sweet innocence the man took, Arvin found himself growing frustrated at his own damn self.

He would think about Y/N.

No, not doing such acts as those forcefully, imagining the same power dynamic, he would never. He meant it when he said he didn’t hurt girls. Arvin despised the man. He despised him and he wanted him gone. He wanted that man to suffer for what he did to his sister. Though, at points, he would drive up to your apartment and stare at the window that belonged to you. He would lick his chapped lips and his hand would shake as it reached the door handle. Then, Arvin would grow a clear sense of mind, he would receive clarity, and he would drive to the opposite side of town just to avoid even thinking about touching you in such a passionate way.

After a few days, Arvin decided.

He’d have to leave you behind.

He loved you, but he also loved Lenora, and Lenora deserved justice. Arvin could hear her voice already, pleading for him to let it go. To just let the man be. To leave. Do anything else. Settle down with you somewhere far, far away, start a life, start a family. Be free.

“I ain’t ever let anything go, ‘Nora.”

The priest was dead.

Arvin’s blood rushed through his veins as the sun set on the horizon, him zooming through the city streets, eagerly approaching your apartment.

God, it was a thrill. The adrenaline coursing through his veins after watching the damned predator fall onto the church floor bleeding from his wounds was cathartic. It made Arvin’s head whirl and turn dizzy. He had no moral thoughts, he was no longer moral, no longer a man that could be forgiven. Arvin felt the rage that built up within him for years be released with three gunshots, the guilt and agony of being alone and misjudged by any person left behind within the church.

Sitting in the car and hearing the blinker click at him, he turned it off once pulling into the lot. He took off his cap, carding his fingers through his hair, debating if he was really going to let you go.

Y/N offered a future he couldn’t take. It hurt more than anything.

Arvin glanced up at your patio, seeing you move from behind the window. You were only a silhouette. You were yet to be discovered by him in this manner, this new Arvin Russell. You wouldn’t recognize him, he thought, he wouldn’t recognize you.

It would be a completely different take on his life. He was no longer himself. Was he better, or worse? Was he a criminal, or a vigilante? Arvin didn’t know what to do. It hadn’t set in yet that he was no longer only capable of beating bullies shitless. He was so much more than that. He was more.

Arvin could do anything.

It was dark out. He finally found the courage to yank open the door handle and step out of his car. He didn’t bother to lock it, he had nothing to lose.

Entering the apartment’s doors, smelling various spices of cooking or hearing children laughing from very muffled walls, Arvin found himself stomping up the steps, his heart beating against his ribs uneasily.

Staring at the room, noticing that the others around were vacant, Arvin could just about do anything. No one would know.

He clenched his fists a few times before finally knocking on the door with his knuckles. It was like the first time you two had met, his very knuckles expressing his pain and anguish, and you read onto the signs of a lonely man seeking solace. Arvin was still bruised and broken; just not in any place where you could see it.

You opened the door, and your mouth opened before closing abruptly. Arvin knew he must’ve looked like he just killed someone. Well, he did, but you didn’t know about that.

Arvin wanted you. Though, he’d be careful, you were the one delicate thing in his life. He had to treat you with care. He had to treat you so gently this night, for it would be your last with him.

Taking a step inside, he moved his hand up and cupped your cheek, moving his thumb— once holding a gun used to kill— so that it wiped gingerly beneath your bottom lip. Your jaw fidgeted slightly as you were attempting to find words. Though, your hand didn’t disagree with his actions. Instead, it met the back of his palm, planted gently on top of his own hand that held your cheek.

Confident, Arvin moved in closer and pulled you towards him, meeting your lips with his. You made a soft noise in your throat and it set Arvin’s mind on fire. Flames danced between your faces, and he felt you eagerly kiss back, your arms snaking across his shoulders as he found himself kicking the door with the back of his heel to close it shut.

Your hands found themselves on the surface of his head and pushing off his cap to knot fingers in his hair. Arvin didn’t even care. His body was burning underneath your touch as he found himself pressing you against the nearest flat surface, which was your dining room table that held a vase with hand picked flowers resting inside and a sweet floral mat keeping it level. You were so adorable, he swooned in his head, you were so precious to him and oh so good. You’re so good.

Wife material, Arvin’s head was screaming, he wanted to steal you away and marry you. You were lifted onto the mahogany table, Arvin’s tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You were so good, submitting your mouth to him, letting him roam the inside and clutch onto your hips so tightly it could bruise. Feeling your soft, untouched, blessed hands clutch onto his belt line had him push his pelvis closer to yours.

“Arvin—” you attempted, but he wouldn’t let you. No, he wouldn’t let you worry. You didn’t need to worry about anything, not with him around. He was your protector, he would keep you safe, he wouldn’t let you die or leave. He wouldn’t let you be hurt by anyone. Thinking about keeping you close to him in his arms, just this close, making you sigh from pleasure as Arvin plastered kisses down your jaw and to your neck to test the waters of what made you quiver; it was enough to drive him insane.

He found his teeth scraping at your flesh and you gasped, arching your body upwards and he felt your hips grind against his middle. It made him give out a guttural growl of need.

“Arvin, wait— wait, honey, stop—”

Arvin didn’t want to. Though, he would, just for your sake. He lifted his head up to meet yours, and once you made eye contact with him, your expression changed from flustered to concerned. Nurturing. Your hand met his cheek, your thumb gently rubbing itself underneath his eye, and he moved a hand to hold your wrist and gently kiss your palm.

Your voice was so soft, so sweet, as if you raised it any further it would blow Arvin away. “What’s going on?”

He wanted to tell you everything. You were so kind, you were everything, you were the sun and stars and sky. Nuzzling into your hand, he murmured, “Nothin’...”

“It’s clearly something if you come into my apartment and start kissing me like this, Russell,” you spoke, his last name strong in your city accent. Your voice was so stern, so dead set on uncovering him, and Arvin gazed at you, still high from revenge and loving you.

He hesitated. Arvin pinched his lips together, licking them faintly, still tasting your lip scrub on them.

Your warm hands met his burning face, handling them so sweetly. “You don’t need to give me specifics,” you started, “...just give me something, Arvin, so I know you’re in your right mind.”

Your name made his eyes flutter shut, nudging his nose against yours. “Say m’name like that again, sweet girl…”

“Arvin.” Your tone was more of a warning. It pulled him back from the sea of desire.

Arvin sighed, mumbling, “I had a revelation, darlin’…” his thumb rolled circles into your wrist, “I had a good day… ‘m a free man, Y/N. I wanna share this with you.” He opened his eyes to see you gazing at him so sweetly. “Let me have this night with you, pretty girl. I wanna make you feel as good as me. I’m sober, I promise, ‘m just intoxicated by the thought of you.”

“Such a flirt,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt himself smirking.

“Only for you.”

Your beautiful, reflective eyes stared into his. Then, they shut, and you moved your head forward to slowly encapture his lips. Arvin was more than eager to requite this. Fervor filled his loins as he clutched your thigh once it was squeezing against his side.

“Sweet baby girl,” he whispered into your ear, “Can we move this to your bed?”

—

When Arvin woke up, he had never felt more exhausted. He was hit with a newfound clarity. There was a soft gray shade leaking from the windows, and he squinted at the clock from across the room— wiping the fogginess from his eyes— and took notice that it was in the early hours of five a.m. Arvin went to move, but was barricaded by something clinging to his side.

His eyes were round as saucers as he took a hold of your nude bodies entangled.

Flushed, he quickly whipped his head back ahead, staring at the ceiling.

The confidence he had last night was almost embarrassing. Though, he licked his teeth and looked back to you, his fingers carding through your hair. Your hair was so soft to the touch, so perfect for someone like you, never missing the latest trends.

Arvin gave a hum of contentment, taking in your features in the early morning. Last night was full of unbridled desire, a fervor that the both of you had been bottling up for who knows how long. Perhaps, since that rainy day in the bakery, there had been that weird spark that compelled you both to do this.

He buried his nose in your sweet scented hair, pressing his lips against your warm forehead, hearing you shuffle and murmur under your breath. You were still very much asleep.

Taking in your sleeping face for the last time, Arvin gave a pained smile. He didn’t want to leave you at all. He wanted to keep you forever— he wanted to wake up to this every day— but he couldn’t let you become an accomplice. Arvin had to protect you.

With that, he managed to sneak his way out of your koala arms and legs and get dressed in his old clothing. Reading over the letter he wrote yesterday, Arvin felt his heart break with each word. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved better than him— someone who could keep themselves together, who wasn’t so haunted by the past. You came to this city to escape yours, and he couldn’t drag you into his. He had to escape too. Some part of him knew you would understand that with time.

Arvin had stopped by a bakery quickly, ordering a lemon and poppyseed muffin with the most bittersweet feeling, coming back to your room to see you were still dead asleep.

He placed the muffin box down on the nightstand and folded the letter so that it stood up with your name on a proud display. Arvin’s hand wringed its way through his hair before he stared at his ragged blue cap for a moment, placing it alongside the muffin and letter.

Arvin leaned down to kiss you on the lips briefly, you giving a sleepy hum, pursuing your lips lazily before drifting unconscious again. He noticed that the sun was just rising.

The sunset brought a bit of hope. He watched you sleep for a bit, the purple turning into a golden on your features, before he made his exit.

—

Your body felt like jello. Giving a groan, your hands scavenged the sheets for the warm body that accompanied you that night, but you were left with a cold absence. Cracking your eyes open and grunting at the shine of the sun, the clock spoke nine a.m, and you were surprised Arvin was not with you.

You licked your lips and sat up. Stretching your spine, you noticed you were nude and blushed, pulling the sheets up your chest. “Arvin?” You called, noticing the lack of your friend— lover? Boyfriend? Friend with benefits?— and gave a long exhale. Luckily you had the day off, as convenient as that was.

Looking over, you noticed the hat, muffin box, and letter. Your name was in bold pencil, and you tilted your head curiously before leaning over and peering through the plastic cover. You smiled and saw the dark spots of poppyseeds on the treat. It was sentimental, and your heart nearly burst.

Gazing at the hat, you were inquiring if he just managed to leave it behind.

You decided to take the letter, opening it up and not preparing for what you’d read.

Y/N,

You’re probably wondering where I am right now. I am too. If you asked me right now, I wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

I did something that can’t be forgiven. Maybe not by the Lord, definitely not by law, uncertain by you. I don’t want you to worry. I’m safe. I can’t come back. I can’t give you a number or address. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know who I will be.

The world ain’t been kind. I know it ain’t been kind to you either. I don’t want to make things even worse for you, sweet girl. You’re everything I didn’t deserve. You said to me a long time ago that I deserve good, but I don’t. You are such a good girl, so much so I can’t have you. A part of me wants to be selfish and keep you. I know I can’t. I can’t do that to you.

You’re gonna hear about that preacher man. You’re gonna hear things about me, probably. I just want you to know I did it because I had to. You need to know that. I couldn’t be alive knowing Lenora wasn’t and he was. I’m sorry, baby.

I’m sorry for leaving you. I don’t want to. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be with me right now, pretty girl. I’d give everything just to see you every morning, every afternoon, every night. Ever since that day where you forgave me for the first time for my sins, smoking and drinking black coffee, I know what else I could fight for. I know what I could have just for myself. The sad part is, God is a sadist, and he won’t let me have you.

You asked me if I like Puppy Love, and I do. I’m listening to music for once as I write this, and I understand all the stuff they cry about on the radio. I know what it means to love. My heart ain’t ever been this broke before, sweetheart.

I love you, Y/N.

As I said, we’ll be seeing each other again. Look out for postcards from my initials.

A.R.

When you finished, wet spots had been dotting the paper, and the last two initials were the final nail in the coffin. You let out a choked sob, leaning over to clutch onto the paper close to your chest. You collapsed onto the sheets, weeping, unable to comprehend. You kept asking why, why, why, even though it was right in front of you.

You flipped the page, noting the sweet lyrics on the back.

I cry each night, my tears are for you, my tears are all in vain, I hope, I hope and I pray, that maybe someday, you’ll be back in my arms once again.

Sniffling and wiping at your nose, you gave a few sobs, pressing your palm against your damp cheeks until they turned red.

You folded the paper and placed it back on your nightstand, curling in on yourself, clutching your sheets that still had Arvin’s presence lingering on them. Pressing them against your wet, hot face, you gave a few soft wheezes.

How could you tell Arvin you loved him, too? How could you write back to him? How could you sleep at night, not knowing he was okay? That there was no way you could tell him you’d wait forever for him?

You must’ve managed to doze off, as the sun was no longer as golden as before. The skies were a clear blue, and you managed to tug on tolerable clothes. Standing on your patio, you clutched the metal railings, staring down at the town with dismay. He was no longer here. This town no longer held that charming spark that you’d learn to love.

Walking back inside, you gazed at the letter, muffin, and hat. Leaning over, you grabbed the blue cap and rubbed your thumbs against the torn fabric, pressing the lid against your lips and kissing it. At least you had this— something you rarely saw him without. He gave you this, and your heart soared at the thought. Placing it on the top of your head, you took the lemon and poppyseed muffin and headed towards McCann Boys.

Marilyn perked at your presence, speaking, “Sweetpea, it’s not your workday.”

“I’m here as a guest,” you murmured, gazing at her, and Marilyn’s eyebrows rose at your expression. She gave a sorry nod at you, continuing to swipe down the counters.

You sat in the booth you and Arvin met at, and you took your seat, gazing at the ashtray emptily. Picking at the muffin, you fixed your cap to hide your face.

The radio near the coffee player began to sing. Your heart dropped, and you recalled the oh-so familiar lyrics.

...This is not a puppy love.

#arvin russell #arvin russell x reader #the devil all the time #arvin #reader #reader insert #peachy keen #sfw #M #my writing #douxdamian #fic #tdatt #tom holland #multichap

178 notes · View notes

billcpher111fics · 4 years

Text

I̴̤̫̿̕ņ̵̺͔̱̮̈́̈́̋ş̸̠̠͍̈́̽̒̕͝e̷̔͌́͜c̷̫̗͚͛u̷̧̨̺͇̞̍̋͠r̵̫͑ì̷̡̳͔̓͜t̶̛̬͎̔̎y̵̹̬̥̒̍̃ ch1

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Fully detailed version on Ao3

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Roman wasn't doing too well after the most recent episode. He had locked himself in his room for the last several days and had been pushing himself to the edge with pumping out new content for Thomas. He didn't eat, he barely slept and he refused to talk to anyone or take a break. He couldn't help but heavily nitpick his work. If the idea wasn't perfect, then it was scrapped altogether. He was horribly stressed and couldn't stop the cascade of horrible thoughts bouncing around his mind.

It's not good enough...

You could do better...

It's not original...

Thomas deserves better...

R̸͙͂̊e̵̥͛́m̴̗̕ủ̷̼̙̚s̷̯͚͂̓could do better than you...

They'll never forgive you...

It was all your fault...

You're the one who decided to make fun of his name...

He had every right to defend himself...

The more he listened to these thoughts, the worse they got. Throwing around his worst thoughts and feelings back at him. The worst part? He knew that they weren't wrong. He was the one who messed everything up. He was the one who chose his actions. Those were his mistakes. He only hoped that if he worked hard enough and pumped out enough good content, that would at least give him the opportunity to try and make things right.

That will never work...

All he needed to do was work a little harder. It was the very least he could do after being such a pain for the other sides to deal with.

They're probably happy that you never leave your room anymore...

He would be able to apologize to J-... Deceit. For his actions and making him out to be the villain...

You have no right to say his name after what you did...

He would apologize to Patton for putting too much pressure on him.

You expected too much from him. Driving him to his limits. I wouldn't be surprised that he would have finally lost his patients to deal with you...

He would apologize to Logan for always being so uncooperative with him.

All you do is bother him with your nonsense and ignore him whenever he isn't relevant to your own selfish wants. How horrible does that make you? He does his best for Thomas and all you do is mess things up? How can you look him in the eyes after treating him so horribly?...

And he would apologize to Virgil. For... Everything. And he wouldn't expect him to forgive him.

You don't deserve forgiveness...

He didn't deserve Virgil forgiveness... Or anyones. But he had treated Virgil the worst, by far.

From the beginning, you gave Virgil nothing but a hard time. You made him into the bad guy for you to fight against to make yourself feel better. You're pathetic. He had never done anything wrong to you but you insisted on bullying and degrading him. Your probably the reason he ducked out. If not, at least a big reason why. All Virgil has ever done was try and keep Thomas safe. But you just had to put your own selfish desires above his. Didn't you?...

Then he would apologize to Thomas. He deserves so much more than...

A pathetic and self-centered Creativity who couldn't- Wouldnt stop thinking about himself for five seconds to see how much he was hurting thous around him? A Mistake? Someone not deserving of the title Hero?...

Him...

He also needed to apologize to... To...

You can even say it. How pathetic. After everything you've done to make everyone else the bad guy but your self, you still can't even say his name and admit you were wrong. You're always wrong. When have you never not been wrong!?

You were wrong about Virgil...

You were Wrong about Janus...

You were wrong about the wedding...

You were wrong about everything...

They're probably mad at you...

I wouldn't doubt it...

Your the one who had messed up...

You don't deserve them...

You don't deserve to be here...

They would all be happy if you ducked out...

Janus was right...

You're the evil twin...

All Remus has ever done was to do his job as intrusive thoughts...

Your the one who had hurt the ones you had 'cared' about...

Your no hero...

You don't deserve to be a hero...

Your not Thomas' hero.

Roman gasped and grabbed at his chest in pain. It hurt. Almost as if someone was stabbing him in the chest. He looked down to see that there was a small dark patch that was barely covered by his sash. It almost looked like a splatter of ink, staining his previously white and pristine princely outfit.

You don't deserve the title of 'Prince'...

Roman gasped in pain, not noticing that the spot had grown slightly at the hurtful comment that plagued his mind.

Then he had felt a slight pulling sensation. He was being summoned. By Thomas. Dammit!

Roman quickly ran over to his mirror, looking himself. He looked horrible. His hair was a mess, his eyes had dreadful bags underneath them, his clothes were terribly wrinkled. He was a mess. In a rush, he tidied his hair and quickly applied some concealer then with a snap he removed the wrinkles from his clothes. Another look in the mirror had him frowning. His hair still looked like a mess.

They were going to notice...

The concealer was sloppy at best.

They were going to know how tired he was...

His suit was looking... Better... But the black 'ink' blotch was still there and nearly visible from behind his sash. He could do better.

He felt another tug.

He didn't have time. He rushed to grab a stack of papers filled with his approved ideas and quickly sunk out.

"Greetings, plebeians!" Roman greeted, posing in his typical manner.

God. Could you go one day without acting like a pompous prick?...

He flinched slightly at the pain but dug his nails into his fists as to not react.

"Roman," Logan began, "It had taken Thomas calling you more than once for you to arrive. What were you doing?" He questioned. He didn't look mad, but he wasn't the one for flaunting his emotions.

He's mad at you...

You know how important punctuality is to him...

Roman forced a smile threw the pain. "My apologies, Dear nerd!"

You cant go 5-second without making fun of someone, can you?...

How pathetic...

"I was just a bit... Fashionably late! Tis all!" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Janus staring at him. He felt dread pull into his stomach.

Logan hesitantly nodded, appearing to take that as an answer. "Alright, let's get back onto the current topic." Logan excepted that far too easily. Usually, he would ask for more detail or lecture Roman on showing up on time but he had just... Excepted his answer?

He didn't want to waste any more time on you than he already hast to...

You really do get in the way...

"As for the current issue...Patton? Do you mind addressing it? You're more suited to deal with more... Emotionally based issues?" He asked awkwardly. Clearly uncomfortable with the current topic that Roman was still in the dark on.

"Oh!" Patton started. "Well, Roman? We've been talking lately...and well..." He paused, trying to work out his sentence. Romans' stomach was in knots and his heartbeat raised.

They don't like you...

They're going to make you apologize for making their lives miserable...

They were going to ask you to take a step back and stay out of the way...

You're always in the way...

Romans' nails dug tighter into his palms. A trickle of blood making its way down his hand. Virgil was starting to look at him worried. Why on earth would he be worried about him?

He didn't deserve it.

You don't deserve it...

"Well... We've just been wondering... Are you-"

"Are you ok!" Virgil blurted out. Blushing furiously when everyone turned to look at him. "Sorry..." He muttered quietly. "The suspense was driving me up the wall... anxiety and all..."

"That's alright, Virgil." Thomas reassured calmly, "But that is what we're here to talk about. Are you ok Roman?" He asked, turning to the fanciful trait.

Roman was... confused, to say the least. His fists relaxed and unfurled and he looked baffled at the others. They were asking if he was ok? Why did they care? Weren't they mad at him? He had messed up big time and they weren't even going to comment on that? "Uuh... Sure?... Why?" He asked hesitantly.

"You haven't left your room in over a week, kiddo," Patton said, playing with the sleeves of his cat hoodie like he did when he was upset. "We were worried bout you."

They don't mean it...

They're only doing this to show face...

Why on earth would they worry about you after all that you've done...

"Well, I am fine, padre," Roman answered, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest. "I have just been in my room working in some ideas for Thomas' videos. That's all." He answered. They all looked around at one another, clearly not believing him.

Why would they belive you?...

What have you done to make them believe you? Let alone trust you?...

In fact, they believe that lying snake more than you...

"Oh, Roman," A hiss rang out that sent chills down his spine. "For an actor, you are such a 'good' lier..." Janus said, looking at his gloves like he could examine his nails from underneath them.

"I have no idea what you mean," Roman said, doing his best to keep his mouth in check.

God, how horrible of a person do you have to be to have to try and not be an asshole...

No wonder they hate you...

Roman let out an involuntary flinch, doing his best to ignore the stares he was receiving from the others. "Seriously," Janus said softer, "Are you ok? You've been avoiding everyone."

Grate, now you've gone and upset them...

Roman's hands were back into tight fusts, trying to block out the pain. "A-and you look a mess," Virgil added quietly. "Your concealer is patchy and you look exhausted. Have you even slept?" He asked.

"Of course I have! I-"

"Lies," Janus stated simply.

How stupid can you be to think you can just lie like that with Janus here...

Roman flinched back at the comment, his nails digging further into his palms and drawing out more blood. "Roman, are you ok?" Logan asked, "You seem to be in pain. Are you hurt?" He asked, moving closer to Roman to see if he could find any injuries.

All you do is cause problems for them...

Roman quickly backed away, "Of course I'm fine!" He insisted, continuing before Janus could interrupt him, " "But, yes, I haven't been sleeping too often because I've been working on these ideas!" Roman said, holding up his small stack of papers.

How pathetic...

A creativity who can't even come up with enough good ideas...

Are you sure you've earned the title 'creativity'...

Roman's forced smile flickered slightly at the pain. Blood lightly smearing onto the stacks of papers he held in his own hand. "You shouldn't overwork yourself, Roman." Thomas softly scolded. "I know that things have been stressful lately-"

All because you can't keep your stupid mouth shut...

"-But you need to take a break and go easier on yourself."

"I'll be fine!" Roman insisted, "I just needed to pump out a few more ideas and the ill take a break! I promise!"

You should no better than to make promises you can't keep...

He bit back a flinch, hoping the others didn't notice. But they did. They looked back and forth at each other wondering what they should do. "Well..." Thomas paused. "Then... Let's see your ideas."

"What?"

"Let's see these ideas you've been working on."

"Um- Well... Uh..."

They're not good enough...

They're going to hate them...

They will hate you if you show them these ideas...

You spent so long on horrible ideas...

What will that make them think of you?...

You should have done better...

They're not good enough...

You're not good enough...

Thomas would be better without you...

They all would...

Romans' hands were now lightly shaking, but he didn't seem to notice. "I d-don't think that's the best idea. They still need revised and worked on some more before there more... Presentable?" He said hesitantly.

"We can help you review them," Logan suggested. "You are far too overworked to have to handle them on your own."

Roman sifted from one foot to another, "Yeah... But like you said I am a bit overworked, so most-"

All...

"- of these ideas might not be so good. I still need to revise them and touch them up a bit before I can show you guys..." He answered.

"Just let us help you, kiddo." Patton insisted.

Virgil nodded in agreement, "You have been overworking yourself to the point of exhaustion. We can take some of the load off." He promised, "Just trust us..."

Roman still looked rather hesitant. "I'm not sure. The ideas are... Not so good at the moment..."

Janus spoke up, "Oh Roman. There is no reason to be so insecure about your work, I'm sure whatever it is we will all love it."

Insecure...

I̶̲͌n̵̨̓s̵̞͌e̵̛̱c̴̭͠ȗ̵͍r̷͎̀e̴̪͘.̷̛͕.̷̨̋.̶̣͒

"I am not Ḭ̴̧̡̧̟̥̮͓̥̜̪̯̭͈̬͍̔̉̈́͋͂̑̈́͒ṇ̶̭̙̼̭̭̱̦̽̉̂̓͊͌̍̍͐̈̔̄̃̚ş̷̡̢͙͔̦̙̳͙̖̪͖̲̝̥̪͂̆͗̇̊̾͛̔̃͐̊̏̕͝e̸̢̪̟̣͇̖̖̯̅̈̈̽̀̈́̂c̷̹̫̭̘̤̺̳͓̺̊ų̴͎̲̱͚̮̮̏̄̃̊̿̀̔̈́̑͛́̑͘r̶̹̳̘̤̟̙̬͓͙̩̭̟̫͇͖̦̲̍̉̀̃͗͊̏̿͊̋͋͛͜e̷̛̖̩̗͔͑͂͌̉̂̾̕!" His voice shook the room.

He let out a shocked gasp and slapped his hand over his mouth as the others looked on in startled shock. He felt like was shaking down to his very core. "Roman...?"

"I-i am sorry! I- I have no idea what that was...": he insisted softly. He looked confused when everyone looked at him even more concerned. Glancing down at his hand, he finally noticed the blood seeping out of the cuts made by his nails. He was stunned for a moment before quickly whipping the blood off of his face using his sleave.

Logan was quick to his side, examining his hands. Causing him to drop his papers and scatter them across the floor. Logan was talking as he cleaned Roman's hands before bandaging them. But Roman didn't hear anything. Just the ringing that echoed on his own ears.

You've really made a mess of things now...

That last comment tipped Roman over the edge, causing him to gasp out in pain. Nearly sinking to the floor if it wasn't for logan at his side, quick to help him keep steady. He tugged lightly at his sash, the pain quickly spreading like a burning fire.

The tug on his sash revealed the far larger black stain that had nearly filled the space behind his sash and was quickly spreading.

Janus and Virgil gasped. Horror seeping into there expressions as they realized what was happening to Roman. They were both quickly at Roman's side. The next thing he knew, Romans was sitting on the ground, struggling to breathe threw that pain. Virgil and Janus' hands held onto him comfortingly as they talked to him along with the others.

But Roman felt far-off at that moment. Like he wasn't in the room. Or as if he was a spectator, watching this unfold with an equally horrified expression. So he didn't hear a majority of what was said to him or the others.

"... Safe...ho-... Long..."

"...Roman?..."

"...-Breath Ro-..."

"...-man's falling..."

"...falling..."

Romans breathing grew more erratic once he looked down to see the black spot spiderwebbed out further, staining more and more of his once crisp white suit.

Then there was a hand in his hair and a few holding his hands and rubbing soothingly over his back and someone whispered calming words to him. Wanting him to follow there breathing. It was a struggle, but eventually, he managed to get his breathing slightly under control.

"-oman... Roman... You need to remain calm." Virgil said softly. Roman's head jerked as he nodded. Focusing on his breathing. "Do you know what's happening?" Virgil asked. Roman shook his head. "Your..." Virgil hesitated. "Your falling..." He said, "To the other side. So you need to keep calm and breath so we can help you..."

Romans heart figuratively stopped beating at the news. He was... Falling? Everything started to feel foggy and distant again. Like he wasn't there. He didn't want to be there. Sitting in front of the others. Vulnerable and in pain. Having the others watch his humiliating downfall. How low must they think of him now? How weak was he in their eyes? How pathetic was he in Thomas' eyes...

His chest suddenly shook as all the air seemed to leave his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He could vaguely hear Virgil's voice become more panicked and others began chiming in. But he was far to gone to understand it at this point. He needed to leave.

He needed to leave.

He wanted to leave.

He couldn't breathe.

He just needed to leave.

Leave.

Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Leave.

A rush of airbrushed past him as he managed to force himself to sink out to a far side of Thomas' mindscape where they would never find him.

He curled up into a ball, squeezing his nails into his palms, and cried in pain.

#roman sanders #roman angst #insecure roman #sanders sides angst #thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #my fanfiction

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confusednarcissistwrites · 4 years

Note

okok hi so basically I’ve been working on this lil blurb but idk I think maybe you might be much much better than me for it , ur writing slapssss, but basically it’s a Daniel Middleton piece based off the song Lost by frank ocean where the reader is part of their dealing ring and is in love w danny and gets too wrapped up in the business but danny is too busy with his crush on mckayla to notice ? Idk I know it’s super specific but just a thought I had

OKAY SO

I took a LOT of liberties with this request, but I did it for a reason. PLEASE WRITE THIS FIC. I guarantee that no one else could write it better than you, okay? Also, I’m SO sorry this took me ages to finish and apologies to all my other requests as well. I’m really going to try and get more work out to you guys in the next few weeks.

Alright, without further ado, I hope you enjoy this raunchy ass fic lmao

Third Wheel (D.M.)

(smut, angst, blood, violence, cheating, cursing)

The Bonnie and Clyde of Cape Cod.

You and Hunter Strawberry had been together for as long as anyone could remember. Even in elementary school, you two had reigned over your peers with an iron fist; no one fucked with either of you in fear of pissing off the other. As you both got older, your relationship progressed from a platonic partnership to a romantic one. This often entailed hot and heavy sightings at the drive-in, and mangled noses on faces of guys who decided to look at you just a little bit too long.

You had been happy. He was your constant. You both had an undying loyalty to each other as business partners and lovers.

But then came Danny Middleton.

Danny was a scrawny boy from nowhere who didn’t belong anywhere. Perhaps it was fate that he would meet Hunter that hideously hot day in 1991 in that little convenience store. People didn’t notice Danny until he started running around with Hunter.

You were hesitant, bitter even that Hunter let someone else on the team without talking to you first. You were more of a distributor than a seller, but you had thought you were more involved than to be excluded. The more you heard about Danny, the less Hunter asked you to make drop-offs. You felt you were getting wedged out.

The first time you met Danny was a whirlwind. He’d claimed a cousin of his had a hookup across town, but the rendezvous went south quickly. You vividly remember stepping in between the two, your fist meeting the side of the guy’s jaw with a sickening crack. He didn’t do much to fight back as he was pretty doped up, but you weren’t about to take any risks when he pulled a gun from his belt. Danny sat cornered and slack-jawed as he watched you wail on the man he’d been threatened by just moments before. Once you got him onto the ground, you knocked the pistol from his hand and straddled his middle, slamming the butt across his face. Adrenaline blurred your vision as blood splattered, your relentless attack not stopping until he quit moving. You lifted yourself up, meeting Danny’s terrified gaze for a brief moment before walking out of the house, him tailing behind you.

Hunter was furious when you both got back into the car. “What the fuck happened?” You were both visibly bloodied.

“I took care of it. Let’s go,” you replied calmly, handing him the piece. Hunter looked up at you and then at Danny in the back seat, handing him the gun wordlessly before speeding back to the garage.

When you got back, you sat up on the counter, your head back against the cupboards. Hunter dabbed at your swollen knuckles with a soapy cloth. “You okay, doll?” he asked quietly, looking up at you through his blonde lashes.

“Mhm,” you nodded, watching as he bandaged you up. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before helping you down and walking with you to the seating area where Danny was sat, his head in his hands still lost in thought. Hunter sat down on the sofa and you laid down with your head in his lap.

“You will never pull anything like that again. You hear me?” Hunter’s voice was calm and chilling. “Do you understand me?”

Danny nodded, standing up. “We’ll find another way.”

“Are you even fucking listening to me? I just said no-“

“No, look, you’re upset, I get it. But we’ll find a way to work this out if you just let me-“

“Drop it, Middleton. Go home.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, willing the pounding in your skull to ease. You listen as Danny walked out of the shop, the bell chiming above the door as he left.

“He’s reckless,” you mumbled, opening your eyes to look up at Hunter.

He just nodded, his fingers brushing over your collarbone as he stared into space in thought.

You didn’t like it. Nothing would change your mind. The business was for you and Hunter, and that was it. Danny was only trouble. And Hunter probably would have agreed with you if the next few days had played out differently.

••••••

In the course of a week, the group was making quadruple what you were before. Contacts were made, deliveries were driven, and money was counted in a circle every night, going three ways. It was the kind of summer we watched in movies, and now you were living the dream. The three of you spent evenings together getting high surrounded by cash; it was unreal. You all grew quite close through inebriated conversations about life and the world. You felt you could rely on either of them for anything you needed at any time.

It was because of this you didn’t speak up despite your growing insecurity in this situation. You’d felt Hunter rarely had time for you anymore, as though you were becoming a third wheel to him and Danny despite your relationship. But who were you to allow your insecurities to get in the way of the biggest break he’d had in his life? So you stayed quiet. Perhaps that was why the resentment building in you grew so poisonous.

You and Danny often jabbed at each other, usually scuffling over little bullshit that didn’t really matter. Hunter acted as a mediator when things got too heated, much to your irritation. He rarely defended you, sometimes even siding with Danny when he was feeling ballsy. You could feel the problems piling up. The rift between you and your boyfriend growing wider, and you couldn’t help but to notice that everything had been fine between you until little Middleton had shown up.

••••••

It was an especially hot August day when everything went to shit. It seemed everyone in town was a bit more irritable when the sun was beating down incessantly, an unbeatable oppressor. You could feel sweat against the small of your back, even as the wind whipped through your hair as Hunter drove across town with the top down. Danny was sprawled out in the backseat, his feet hanging over the rear passenger door. It irritated you to see him take up so much space like he owned the place. Granted, pretty much everything he did irritated you.

You arrived back at the shop, this week’s product in hand. You placed the duffle down on the coffee table, Hunter unzipping it and reaching in to retrieve an order he had to run. “I’ll be back in an hour. Try not to kill each other,” he called, hiding the weed in his bag and heading back out to the car. This wasn’t unusual, but Danny usually left right away, either running his own deliveries or just getting away from you. But today he lingered.

“Y/N, can I talk to you about something?” He sat on the arm of the couch while you fixed a pot of coffee, your back to him.

“Uh, sure?” you replied, not turning to face him. Despite knowing practically everything about each other, he rarely made conversation with you.

Danny looked down at his hands, fumbling with his fingers for a beat before speaking. “Well, you see, I just- I have this thing for this girl. And- well, not just any girl. She’s kinda just-“

“Spit it out, Middleton,” you sang, quickly losing patience with his childish ramblings. Was he seriously coming to you for girl advice of all things?

“Fuck,” he sighed frustratedly. “It McKayla. I’ve been.. talking to her, more or less, for awhile now and-“

He’s interrupted by your laugher. You finally turned around, hands behind you against the counter as you shook your head at him. “McKayla? As in McKayla Strawberry? Are you kidding?”

He gives you a look of offense, his brow drawing together. “Yes, that McKayla. Why else would I be talking to YOU about this?”

You shook your head, pinching your brow. “You’ve done a lot of stupid shit, but this really takes the cake.”

“Listen, I just-“

“After all Hunter has done for you? You’re really going to throw that all away for some girl?”

“She’s not ‘some girl,’ okay? I really like her!” Danny insisted, standing up off of the couch defensively.

“You’re right; she’s your so-called best friend’s sister! I know for a fact he’s told you to stay away from her. But you can’t keep in your pants can you?” You were angry. After all the time you’d spent being loyal to Hunter, he was ignoring you for this kid who wouldn’t even respect him enough to stay away from his little sister.

“This isn’t even about McKayla is it?” Danny jabbed, stepping closer as he threw his hands up. “You’re just jealous I’m into someone and not following you around like a puppy like everyone else, huh? Is that why you’re so shitty to me all the time? Are you into me?”

You snapped, your white-hot temper taking control. Without hesitation, you stepped up into his face, your hands clenched right at your sides. His eyes widened, reflexively stepping back, but you follow. “Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re doing,” you growled, poking him in the chest.

“Just admit you want my attention, Y/N.”

The resonance of your hand colliding with his cheek travelled through the room before you even could think. His back was against the wall, his eyes round, jaw hanging slack, and his hand on his cheek. You both stood and stared at each other for a moment, the sound of the slap still resonating in your ears along with your pumping blood as you waited for him to move. He knew this and unabashedly glanced down at your lips.

You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his throat. You’re not sure why you do it, but you were unable to resist; you needed to put Danny Middleton back in his place. What you didn’t expect was the full-fledge moan that left his parted lips. It startled you for a moment before going right to your head, power-lust settling into your veins as thick as syrup. You smirked, pressing a bit harder to watch the way the scrawny boy’s eyes fluttered and his jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to speak, but you weren’t having any of it.

You crashed your lips into his. Despite knowing there was no turning back from this, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. ‘Take that, Strawberry.’ Danny’s hands flew up to grip your hips, your kiss all tongue and teeth. It was ravenous, angry, and made you ache between your legs in a way Hunter never had, in a way that came from you knowing you were in control.

“Y/N.. what about.. Hunter?” Danny managed between kisses. He was sweating bullets, but the tent in his jeans told you he had no intention of making you stop.

You pull back half an inch, your grip returning around his throat. “I don’t want to hear anything out of that fucking mouth other than ‘yes’ and ‘no’, am I understood.

He listened to you with doe eyes, pupils blown out. “Yes, Miss.”

You smirked, leaning in and catching his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a tug. “Good boy,” you praised.

He practically went limp at your words, another whimper escaping him. You both moved in a blur back to the couch, stripping clothes off with each stumbling step. You felt drunk without a drop of liquor in your system. Tomorrow would bring hell, and you knew it, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was then and there and making a statement.

You fell heavily into his lap, both of you clad in just your undergarments. Danny’s length prodded insistently at your thigh, and you remember recognizing that he was a lot bigger than you had anticipated. His hands gripped your waist while you ground your hips against his, kissing him ferociously. You listen intently as soft moans are pulled from his throat.

“What is it, Danny Boy? Never touched a girl before?” Your words were snide, full of contempt despite the ache that was building in you for more. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head in response.

You just smirked, shifting down to yank his boxers down. “Well, well, well. Looks like this is where you get all your nerve, huh?” His erection stood rigid and leaking against his navel, visibly aching to be touched. Danny bit down on his tongue, his hands tugging at his hair as he fought to keep quiet. It was bad. It was so so bad, but he knew there was no stopping you; not that he had the willpower to make you stop anyway.

“I asked you a question.”

“Y-Yes, Miss.”

You made quick work of your bra and panties, feeling his eyes on you the whole time. When you finally looked back, you were greeted by this desperate, open-mouthed, horny expression taking over his face. Feeling a surge of power run through you, you placed yourself in his lap. Danny let out a soft cry and his hands flew to your hips as you rocked your hips, sliding his length between your slick folds. It was then you came back to yourself, realizing what exactly you were about to do. It took weeks for you to realize it, but you knew your life had slipped out of your hands. Never again.

Raising your hips, you slid him inside of you. You cursed softly as the very welcome stretch made you see stars. “Fuck, good boy,” you praised.

Danny was a fucking wreck. He was gasping for air, hands gripping your hips in fear of moving anywhere else, but needing to touch you. Your praises turned him on in a way he didn’t know about before. He was reduced to a trembling mess, and you loved every second of it. If someone had held a gun to his head asked him about Hunter right then, he wouldn’t have even recognized his name.

You closed your eyes and began to rock your body, focusing on the feeling of him inside of you. He was forbidden fruit: a new sensation you’d thought you’d never experience. Little did you know how much was out there for you outside of Hunter. Your palms laid splayed out against his chest as you found your rhythm, both of you cursing like sailors.

Eventually, Danny built the courage to shift his hips, beginning to meet your thrusts with his own. You cried out, feeling him brush against your most sensitive places. “Danny, fuck, that feels so good,” you whined, hair falling around your face and swaying in time with your shared movements.

“Y/N..” Danny groaned, an edge of warning to his voice. His hands now roamed over your middle, thumbs brushing against the undersides of your breasts.

“Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum in your partner’s girl?” you taunted him cruelly.

Danny gasped, letting out a higher moan. “F-fuck, yes. I’m gonna cum,” he warned.

You reached between your bodies, rubbing quick circles against your clit. Whimpers of your own increased, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the small room.

That was when Hunter walked back through the door.

#timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet smut #timothée chalamet request #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet smut #timothée chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chamalet #danny middleton x reader #danny middleton imagine #danny middleton smut #hot summer nights imagine #hot summer nights #confusednarcissistwrites

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chicksung · 4 years

Text

One Last Time || Park Jisung

Genre: Fluff, best friends to lovers!au, nonidol!au. Part of the @neo-the-stars-net halloween collab

Pairing: best friend!jisung x fem reader

Word Count: 2.9k (I didn’t intend for this to happen)

Warning/s: Mentions of fake blood (red paint), singular mention of alcohol (not consumed by either party)

Synopsis: Senior year. Full of teenagers trying to pack the most into their last year of high school to make it memorable. You and Jisung have decided that this year will be the end of your tradition, trick or treating. Better make it count, right?

A/N: I was so happy to be able to be a part of this collab and a special thanks to @ncitythoughts for letting me bounce ideas off you. I really appreciate it, elle! This concept also one my favourites. I also couldn’t find a gif of it but the costume that jisung is in is his one from Halloween 2018! Enjoy, spookies!

Adding the final touches to your makeup, you smiled brightly at your mirror image and stood up, looking the same reflection up and down at your costume. You had recently found your obsession with Stephen King horror movies, your favourite of which being It. You knew that was basic, but the character design of Pennywise was something that continued to fascinate you. So, with your slowly growing sewing capability and enough dedication, you created your genderbent Pennywise cosplay. White top with ruffled sleeves, ruffle white skirt, a lot of white, but for a bit of fun (and what was pretty much canon) you had splattered the clean material with red paint, creating fake bloodstains.

Now your face was coloured white and your lips were shaded into the creepy and sinister smile that Pennywise always harboured. Once satisfied with your reflection, you turned to your best friend. “What do you think?” You called out to him, drawing his attention away from the whiskers he was drawing on his cheeks. He looked you up and down for a moment before smiling.

“Truly terrifying.” Jisung smiled, turning back to his reflection to add the last whisker. He placed down the eyeliner pen and stood up. Jisung’s costume was also mainly white, but his taking on a more animalistic and innocent portrayal, polar opposite to your ‘blood’ splattered clothes.

“Look at you, Jwi. So cute.” You said, playfully pinching his cheeks, causing him to groan.

“Y/N stop~ We’re not five anymore.” He stated.

He was right. You weren’t five anymore. You were both eighteen and in your final year of high school. Funniest thing about this whole thing is that you didn’t even know Jisung when you were five. The two of you didn’t meet until you were eleven and the seating plan the teacher had set up had graciously introduced you to Jisung, the soft spoken, gangly boy who spent way too much time in the gymnasium for your liking, yet the two of you became inseparable.

To be quite honest, you had no idea how it happened, it just did. Asking for solutions for the math homework ended up turning into the most important friendship you’ve made.

“Y/N! Y/N! Are you ready?” Your little sister, Gyuri squawked, running into your room in her cheap Halloween store Princess Aurora dress. The young girl was six and only came up to Jisung’s knee, but her excitement was measured to approximately seven feet tall. It was the first year that your mother had let her go trick or treating but only if you went with her, and knowing Jisung, he wasn’t going to mind the girl tagging along. You knew he was very much whipped for Gyuri and she looked up to Jisung like the older brother she never had.

“Give us a minute, GyuGyu. We’re almost done here. Why don’t you go and get the little bags I bought. They’re the purple and black bags I put on the kitchen table. There’s one for each of us, and our names are written on them. Can you do that for me?” You said, slowly shrinking down to her level so she hopefully wouldn’t be to intimidated by the creepy clown makeup, but thankfully she remained bubbly.

“I can do that!” She said, her hands curling up into little fists before running back out the door she had entered not long before.

“Does she ever just...stop?” Jisung asked. He was honestly jealous with how much energy the six year old had. You shook your head, a reminiscent shine glazing over your eyes. You didn’t recognise the trance you were in until Jisung was waving his hands in front of you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N? Do you copy?” Jisung huffed, his big brown eyes almost touching your own. Your eyes finally snap back to now and you see how close in proximity your face was from his.

“Yes, I copy. Now get out of my face.” You rolled your eyes, shoving Jisung away from you. He chuckled and stepped away from you, a warm feeling buzzing in his chest. A buzz he recognised way too well, and one he only felt when he was with you.

“Okay you two, stand in front of the door. I think you know the drill.” Your mom smiled, camera clamped firmly in her hand as she gestured towards you and Jisung.

Another one for the scrapbook

You shuffled towards the tall boy, looking towards your mom and smiled. Jisung did the same. His heart shaped smile revealed his teeth and gums to the camera and your mother couldn’t stop herself from fawning over him a few seconds after the shuttering of the camera was heard.

“Aww, Jisungie, dont you just look adorable?” She cooed, making you roll your eyes. “Mom, stop it~ It’s embarrassing~”

“What? Am I not allowed to compliment someone?” She teased back before you rolled your eyes and strutted over to see the photo, a soft smile gliding across your face. This was really the end of your tradition, huh?

You and Jisung retreated back to your bedroom and from under your bed, you pulled out a scrapbook with its spine cracked from how many times it had been opened.

It had been your mother’s idea to scrapbook your friendship. Although you thought it was dumb at first, you’re really glad she had suggested it. Calling for Jisung to pass you one of your many orange gel pens, you made small decorations in the page before writing ‘Halloween, Senior Year’ at the top in cursive and glued the picture onto the page.

You couldn’t help but flick back to your very first Halloween together, you dressed in a cheap princess dress and crown (very similar to your little sister’s), and Jisung in an equally as cheap vampire costume, complete with fake teeth. Your pumpkin shaped candy buckets clutches tightly in your hands.

The more pages you flip, the more you watched yourselves grow. Jisung went to being shorter than you to being five feet taller than you and you grew into your body and developed as every girl did.

“God, I was so cringey back then.” Jisung groaned when he saw what picture you were looking at.

“And what makes you think you grew out of that?”

“And what makes you think that...that...” He tried to find something to fire back at you but all he came up with were bent bullets.

“Better luck next time, Sungie.” You smirked slyly, your hand creating a ‘V’ on his face and squishing his cheeks. He puffed his cheeks out and stood up, walking towards your little sister, who was busy imitating a spinning top in her dress.

“Gyuri! You silly, if you keep spinning like that, you won’t be able to come trick or treating with us!” Jisung told her, placing his hands lightly on her back to stop her. Gyuri stumbles for a second when she stopped before smiling up at Jisung.

“I’ve stopped now. Can we go?” She asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her heels and with a singular nod from your mother, she squealed (which rang through room in a pitch you didn’t like to think about) and grabbed her little black and purple bag and raced to your side.

“I take it you’re ready to go?” You asked the little girl, who nodded her head enthusiastically. You looked back to Jisung, but his eyes were trained to your sibling and an unconscious smile touched your lips.

“Have fun, kids!” Your mother voice broke your train of thought and you nodded.

“We’ll see you later, mom!”

As dusk turned to nightfall, you, your best friend and your little sister went to the doors of the decorated houses, which broke the familiarity of the normal picket fences neighbourhood. The excited rap on every house’s door was opened with an equally excited parent, placing candy into each of your buckets. There were a few who questioned you and your friend, asking if you were too old for dress up.

“It’s been our tradition for years. It’s what brought us closer together.” You would always tell them before taking Gyuri’s hand and skipping back up the path and onto the next house.

By 9pm, Gyuri was in Jisung’s arms, fast asleep, her pudgy cheek squished up against her eye. The stars were out now and the moon’s reflective rays were the only thing that lit up your path aside from the occasional streetlight. You opened up the front door, Jisung pushing passed you to deliver the six year old to your mother.

“Are you two going to stay out a little later?” She asked the boy. He nodded. “Yes, we are but not too much later.” He promised. Your mom smiled. If there was anyone who was just as whipped for Jisung as you were, it was your mother.

“Alright but no later than midnight, alright kids?” She called out as Jisung made his way to the door. With a call of reassurance delivered, you and Jisung left the house once more and began to wander the streets.

The memories from the past seven years crashed over your mind like a tidal wave, images of a younger set of best friends, running like crazy through the streets, playing chasy with all the other neighbourhood kids while the parents sat around and drank and conversed. The memories of your younger self. A younger friendship, a younger mindset, a younger crush.

Neither you ever confessed your feelings but you lost count of how many people (particularly adults) who assumed you were a couple.

“Do you remember when I would sleep over, if the sky was clear, we would say we would sleep under the stars but chicken out and just sleep in your room?” You reminisced on the story aloud, Jisung giggling in return.

“Yeah. We were so scared something like a cougar was gonna eat us or something.” His laughter picked up again, his eyes squinting as he did.

“The wild imagination of a child, I guess.” You concluded, falling back into comfortable silence before stumbling across a part of the neighbourhood that was all too familiar.

The woods.

Many games of hide and seek and murder in the dark were played here, the latter being played with other friends and children on the same street. You remember the nights of giggling until your sides ached, hiding until you had to find the seekers, being too good that you were always made the seeker.

“We basically know every inch of that wood.” Jisung cocked his head to the side, trying to peer into the wood, seeing if there were any creatures of the night lurking around. There weren’t but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

“I remember making so many cubby houses with Yuna and Seulgi. You, Renjun and Chenle wouldn’t let us into yours so we made our own. Turns out ours was much more stable when it came to windy days.” You teased, letting your shoes tease the edge between the woodly maze and the street. Jisung scrunched his nose up and folded his arms, mumbling something about Chenle being dumb and Renjun being just as dumb when it came to stability.

Jisung stood there for a second longer, before his eyes lit up with an idea. “We should play hide and seek.”

You snapped your head towards him so fast, it almost gave you whiplash. “Huh?”

Jisung looked at you and felt his chest was about to explode from the warmth inside it. “I mean, if we’re stopping our tradition tonight, might as well finish it properly. Let’s play hide and seek one last time, before we become boring adults stuck in office jobs and getting more paper cuts than hours of sleep.”

You couldn’t see why not

“Since it was your suggestion, you’re the seeker.” You declared as you dashed into the woods, looking for the same pile of old plywood that you would hide behind and no one could ever seem to find you. Jisung tried to protest but you were too far into the wood that his complaints fell onto deaf ears.

You could hear Jisung’s footsteps approaching and distancing themselves from the spot you sat. ‘Even after all these years, that idiot still can’t find me.’ You thought to yourself. You checked your phone and you had been crouched in the same position for ten minutes.

“Y/N! Y/N! Where are you?” You heard Jisung’s voice echoing from the other side of the wood.

“Over here, you stupid!” You called out, knowing that he was nowhere near close to finding you. He dashed back to the centre of the forest, looking around and trying to pinpoint where your voice had called out to him moments ago.

“Where’s here?” He asked, but this time, no reply. He groaned before calling your phone. You were quick to decline the desperate boy’s plea and watched as he tossed his head back in annoyance. You watched him slowly make his way closer to you, and you were in perfect alignment with his ankles. Yes. Yes. This is what you wanted.

One step. Two steps.

When he reached his third step, you grasped his right ankle, causing the boy to screech in a high pitch and high decibel rating. You were laughing your ass off, while Jisung calmed his racing heart (mind you, you were dressed as a psychopathic clown). You pouted at him before wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m so sorry. I saw the opportunity and I had to take it. Please please forgive me.” You pleaded, squeezing him tightly and listening as his heart slowed, but his heart still had a skipping rhythm to it.

“I suppose I can. But I can’t promise anything.” Jisung sighed out, plonking down at the base of a thick oak tree whose branches reached over the night sky, obscuring the stars that dimly shimmered above. You sat down beside him and sighed, your head resting against the tree.

Jisung watched over your smiling form, your fascination with the stars saving him from being caught staring at you. His heartbeat quickened once more and unbeknownst to him, a soft pink hue poked at his cheeks and reddened his ears.

“Y/N?” He called out to you, pulling you from your starry trance. You caught the flaming red that flowed on the tips of his ears.

“Yeah, Sungie?”

“Can I tell you something? Something I’ve been hiding from you?” His question was hesitant and his tone was shy, like he was scared of your reaction.

“Jisung, we’ve been friends for years. You don’t need to ask me to tell me something.” You chuckled, nudging his arm to try and get him to lighten up. The blush in his cheeks darkened crazily fast and he sighed.

“I’velikedyouforareallylongtimebu-” His words were jumbled and close together and you couldn’t understand anything he was saying.

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, Jwi. Take a deep breath and try again.” You reassured him, turning your body towards him and rubbing his shoulders. Jisung followed your instructions, sighing out his breath and trying again.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time but I didn’t know how to tell you. I felt like tonight would be my last chance before I chickened out again.” This time, you understood him and you couldn’t quite still your pounding heart.

“You don’t have to accept and I know this might ruin our friendship but I had to shoot my shot, you know and Haechan said-”

“I like you too.” You interjected, your own cheeks dusting pink. There was a silence, filled with processed emotions and spiked heartbeats.

“So...”

“Guess Renjun was right.” Jisung snapped his head towards you. “What do you mean?” You chuckled at the boy’s confused face and hummed.

“He said that if we didn’t like each other by the end of high school, there was something wrong with us.” Jisung scrunched up his face and mimicked the words you just, imitating Renjun’s voice. “Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong.” You smiled, picking yourself up and dusting off your knees and butt.

“How long have you liked me?” Jisung asked, standing up himself as the two of you started to wander aimlessly. You looked up to the sky in thought, the stars helping you connect the question to the last seven years.

“Since I was like...13? 14? We had been friends for a while but I kept it quiet because you were still dating Heejin.” You could hear Jisung audibly cringe at the name of his ex-girlfriend. Yes, he and Heejin were only together for two months but she was awfully clingy and had tried to drive you and Jisung apart.

“You know what’s good about this though?” Jisung said, looking back to you, still seeing the sparkle in your eye despite it being almost pitch black.

“What?” No sooner had you said that, you felt Jisung’s lips touch the burning skin of your cheeks and your face flushed red. He laughed at you before pulling your arm towards the street once more.

“I should get you home. Your mom said to be home by 12, didn’t she? Don’t want her thinking I’ve Up and left with her daughter.” He smiled at you.

As the two of you walked side by side, like you had done for years, your pinky fingers wrapped around each other as you set off home. Down the same road you had walked for years, with the person you loved more than anything.

#kpop #fanfiction #neothestars #kpop fanfiction #kpop fluff #nct fanfiction #nct fluff #nct dream #nct dream jisung #park jisung #nct jisung #halloween collab #halloween #nct dream fanfiction #nct 2020 #jisung pwark

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bytheangell · 4 years

Note

Hey!! Can I request a Thomastair angst <3 feel free to ignore this if you want too!! But the fics you write always give me feels 💜💜

Progress Is a Process (Read on AO3)

Alastair hangs back with Thomas while Matthew and James walk ahead down the streets of London. While he’s doing his best to enjoy the time spent with Thomas, even if it is time on patrol, the fact that Matthew and James continue to glance back at them every five seconds with cautious, narrowed eyes, leaves Alastair feeling far from at ease.

“They hate me,” Alastair says quietly so the words don’t reach the other two down the narrow street they just turned into.

“They don’t,” Thomas insists. “They just don’t know you properly.”

It was Thomas’ suggestion that Alastair be put on more patrols with him and the other Merry Thieves, hoping through sheer exposure the others would come around to him. It isn’t going well.

It took long enough for Alastair to smooth things over with Thomas, someone who wanted to forgive him deep down. He isn’t sure the same will be possible with the others. Thomas’ friends don’t even know that the two of them have started dating - so far as they know Thomas just wants to be Alastair’s friend, and even that they barely tolerate. Alastair doesn’t want to cause any waves, he and Thomas only just began dating and if it came down to Thomas having to choose between the Merry Thieves or him, Alastair’s relatively confident he wouldn’t win.

But while Alastair certainly doesn’t want to put Thomas in an uncomfortable situation with his friends, he’d also really like to be holding Thomas’ hand right now, instead of just walking close enough that their arms occasionally brush.

Alastair gives a noncommittal noise and turns the conversation back to a book the two of them were reading through together, ignoring Matthew and James’ looks and focusing entirely on Thomas.

...perhaps too entirely on Thomas. He doesn’t hear the sounds of something following them until the shadow crossing over Thomas alerts him to the demon’s close proximity. Alastair spins, shouting, “Thomas, watch out!” with just enough time to turn and grab Thomas’ shoulders, pulling him to the side.

Alastair winces at the feeling of claws breaking through the clothing and skin down his right side, from just under his ribs down to his hip bone.

Ahead of them Matthew and James hear the shout and turn, only to be faced with four demons of their own, boxing the four Shadowhunters in.

Thomas’ eyes drift down to where Alastair clutches at his side instinctively, but another demon leaves them no time for an iratze as they draw their weapons and begin to fight. There are eight demons total, Alastair notes after a quick assessment, and though they’re outnumbered two to one they seem to be doing alright… until Alastair hears the clattering noise of a dropped weapon - Thomas’ bolas. He turns in time to see Thomas fall beside it, unmoving. Fighting the panic he feels at the sight Alastair throws his spear from where he stands, piercing the demon that moves to descend on Thomas, dispatching it in a splattering of ichor. He moves as if possessed now, protecting Thomas and killing both of their share of the demons in order to sink down to his knees beside his fallen boyfriend.

Thomas is still breathing, and in fact, doesn’t appear to have any cuts at all. An unlucky blow must’ve knocked him out, perhaps? Before he can say any of this, Matthew is beside him, followed by James, both of whom crowd around Thomas and effectively box Alastair out.

“Let me help,” Alastair insists, stele out.

“Why start being useful now?” Matthew snaps, already moving to the other side of James so each of them can support one side of Thomas to carry him back. “Just go home, Carstairs.”

Alastair is tempted to follow, but he doesn’t want to cause a fight - more importantly, he doesn’t want to delay them leaving with Thomas and getting him help. Without another word he turns and leaves, planning to go home, heal himself up and change, and go back to check up on Thomas afterward.

Now that the rush of the battle is wearing off, however, Alastair can feel something’s wrong. The sudden pain in his stomach and rush of dizziness hit him at once, and it’s all he can do to change his course, spot a shadowy section of a small side street for cover, and fall back against the wall of a building, sliding down to the ground as unconsciousness takes him.

---

It takes him a few disoriented moments to place where he is when Thomas wakes up in the Infirmary at the Institute. Blinking slowly he tries to remember what happened to land him here - the patrol, talking with Alastair, and then-

Alastair. Thomas looks to the beds beside him, but they’re empty.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Matthew’s voice sounds from the far side of the room.

“Where’s Alastair?” Thomas asks immediately.

“Not here,” Matthew says, sounding pleased about that fact as he makes his way over to Thomas’ bedside.

“He didn’t come back to get his wounds looked at?” Thomas frowns. He’s a little disappointed that Alastair wasn’t there for him, but at the very least he should be here for himself.

“What wounds?” Matthew sounds confused. “I told him we didn’t need three of us to carry you back and sent him home. Honestly, I don’t know why you’re so insistent on trying to befriend him, I-”

Just then Cordelia arrives in the doorway looking panicked. “Where’s Alastair?”

“Why is everyone asking me that tonight,” Matthew mutters. “I told him to sod off. I can promise all of you that if you’re ever looking for Alastair Carstairs you will not find him anywhere in my general vicinity, at least not willingly.”

The words would sting more if Thomas wasn’t distracted by his immediate panic, matching Cordelia’s. “He didn’t come home?” Thomas directs the question to Cordelia.

She shakes her head. “He was due back hours ago. I thought maybe he’d be here…”

“He was injured, during the patrol. He got hurt pushing me out of the way, I-” Thomas pauses to focus beyond the fear the strikes him, attempting to take a calming breath. It doesn’t help. “The demon that attacked us, it had claws, there might’ve been venom. Poison. If he never made it home…”

Alastair could be anywhere.

Alastair could be dead.

“We need to find him. I’ll go back home, get something of his to track, maybe-” Cordelia suggests, but stops as Thomas shakes his head.

“That’ll take too long,” he says. Though Thomas sounds hesitant, he only pauses for a moment before making up his mind.

Thomas reaches a hand down the front of his shirt, pulling up a necklace hidden under his clothes. At the bottom of the silver chain rests a ring with a recognizable C and the Carstairs sigil around the sides. It is, unmistakably, the Carstairs family ring. Alastair’s ring.

“Here,” Thomas says, holding it out. “Use this.”

Thomas catches the flicker of recognition in Matthew’s face before immediately looking away.

“Thomas…” Matthew starts, but Thomas doesn’t even have to stop him because Matthew stops on his own, at a loss for words over the revelation.

“Find him,” Thomas begs, knowing that he’s in no condition to try a tracking rune just then. “Please.”

Matthew nods, taking the ring out of Thomas’ outstretched hand. “I’ll get James. We’ll track better together.”

Thomas closes his eyes in the silence that fills the room once more, but knows he isn’t going to sleep again any time soon.

---

It’s an hour later that Matthew, James, and Cordelia return with an unconscious Alastair in tow. They remove the top layer of his clothing to reveal the blood-soaked fabric beneath and 4 angry cuts running down his side.

“He seemed fine when he left,” Matthew insists. “He didn’t say anything about being hurt, I swear it.”

“That’s because he’s a stubborn ass,” Thomas points out. “Who would want to make sure you take care of me first instead of wasting time fighting with him.”

Thomas rises from his bed, ignoring the way the pain in his head throbs from the sudden movement, and stands besides Alastair. It’s easy to see where Cordelia already marked two iratzes when they found him, and Thomas pulls out his stele to go over them again for good measure. Only then does Thomas drop his hand to the side to rest over Alastair’s cold, unmoving fingers.

“Dad is getting a salve for the wound and a potion to help with the demon toxin,” James says.

None of them make eye contact with Thomas so he can only hope they don’t see the shine of tears that threaten to fall for a moment before he gets control again.

“Thank you,” he says, turning back to them, but in such a way that his hand drifts behind him to remain over Alastair’s. “I know you’d just as soon leave him for dead, so...”

“We would never,” James insists.

“Especially not knowing he’s… uh... important to you,” Matthew says, sounding unsure of what he should be saying here. Thomas hasn’t actually said anything on the matter of him and Alastair yet, not that there’s much left to guess at now, but he doesn’t want to get into it with Matthew and the others just then.

“I’ll stay with him,” Thomas says instead, his tone making it clear that this isn’t a request. “We can talk later?” He adds to James and Matthew, knowing that he owes them some sort of explanation but hoping they’ll be willing to wait.

“Yeah, of course,” James says, and Matthew nods in agreement before they both turn and leave.

Thomas sinks into the chair next to Alastair’s bed, thinking of all the things he plans to say the moment Alastair wakes up. He’s relieved but also filled with regret, his mind full of every moment he and Alastair could’ve greeted one another with quick a kiss, or held hands, wondering if they hadn’t still been a secret if Alastair would’ve come back to the Institute rather than leave himself alone and vulnerable.

Wondering if taking so long to realize just how important Alastair is to him, even if their relationship is still relatively new, could’ve been the thing that lost him forever if Cordelia hadn’t come when she did.

He’s so deep in thought he doesn’t notice that Cordelia moves to take the chair opposite him until she speaks.

“I thought he’s been happier lately,” she says, handing Alastair’s ring and chain back to Thomas. “I was glad to see it, and even more pleased to find out the reason.”

Thomas doesn’t have to ask what she means - he only smiles as he puts the necklace back on, taking what comfort he can from the knowledge.

---

Alastair barely has the chance to blink once before he feels someone’s hand squeeze around his at this first sign of consciousness. His eyelids flutter open slowly to reveal what he already knows by the increasingly familiar touch - that Thomas is with him.

“Thank the Angel,” Thomas sighs next to him, and Alastair notes that he looks tired and wary, all the way down to his bones.

“Are you okay?” Alastair asks him.

Thomas pauses, then laughs incredulously.

“You pass out in an alley on your way home and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

Alastair cringes at the memory, then at the pain in his side as he shifts to try and sit up in the bed.

“Careful,” Thomas warns, placing one hand on Alastair’s shoulder and the other behind his back to ease him down again. “Cordelia will return any minute and if she thinks I let you re-injure yourself she’ll kill me.”

Thomas gives Alastair a brief summary of what happened, including the fact that their relationship, while never officially declared, isn’t quite secret anymore either.

“I’m sorry they found out,” Alastair says at the end. “I know you didn’t-”

“No, I’m sorry, Alastair. I’m sorry I didn’t tell them sooner. I was a fool for trying to get them to like you more first. I don’t care if they like you. I like you, and that’s all that matters. Forgive me for not realizing that sooner?”

Alastair smiles. “I think I can manage that.”

Thomas smiles back, relief flooding through him as he leans over Alastair for a kiss. They’re both dimly aware of the sound of approaching footsteps and, as neither of them break the kiss, have both decided to embrace showing just how much they care about one another, no matter where they are and who is around to see.

They’re done hiding and they couldn’t care less about who the footsteps belonged to just then.

...that is, until the person clears their throat and speaks in the unmistakable voice of Mr. Herondale.

“I see both my patients are feeling better,” Will says, and Alastair can feel the grimace cross Thomas’ lips while they’re still pressed against his, just before Thomas pulls away with a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Much better,” Alastair confirms.

In fact, injury notwithstanding, this is the best he’s felt in a long time, and he has a pretty good reason to believe that things will only get better from here.

Alastair glances to his side and grins at Thomas, watching as that reason smiles back at him.

#thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #thomastair #tsc #tlh #thanks for the request!#i hope you like it! <3 #also immediately after I finished this I thought of MORE ANGST so there will likely be a second (unrelated) angst fic sometime in the not-s #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #herstarryways #ask rune #elle talks too much #long post

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