#himself because he even had to open his mouth&state that he chose not to watch rebels to “respect the character”. im salty.)

[seth-shitposts]

We finished the Obi-Wan Kenobi Series

There were a lot of things I was/am endlessly frustrated over

But there are also many bits and choices that were made that I have an appreciation for too.

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 5 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 (here)

You honestly, truly didn’t want to bring up the negatives because it’s been so long since everyone was gathered here. You merely wanted to celebrate the achievement some of your Elites have done and reward them accordingly, then you’ll move on to another topic

But no, those three sinners sharing the title of Overlords just couldn’t fully grasp their situation and keep their mouths shut until they were back in what tiny territory they have. You’ve overlooked their words since it was their privacy

However, not when they bring it to the open

Everyone tensed up when the glass shattered in your direction. Slowly, their heads turned in your direction. On another occasion, they’d melt under your gaze as it wasn’t always that your eyes were visible

Yet this was not such a time. They felt caged and suffocated, the air around them pressuring them to be more compacted. The smile you had was long gone, now replaced by a slight frown and your eyes were sharp, cold and cruel. They could see the shadowy wisps around you while your hair floated in the air

You stood from your seat, glaring down. Your surroundings molding to match your aura and deathly wrath and rage towards souls that you deemed to be placed in your Elite Collection

The other Overlords regained their composure and sat in their seats with their heads slightly bowed, the Vees were in a different state

Their arms up and heads tilted to the side as though they were puppets on strings. The slight shake in their limbs suggests they were fighting the power that held them in such a humiliating place. Velvette and Valentino started to choke as though the air was sucked out of them, while Vox’s screen face cracked more and more from the pressure

“How brazen of you to judge your fellow Overlords in front of me.” Your voice roared even though it was soft and gentle. “I will have to remind you that it was I who chose them to be under my wing, that includes you.”

What a front. What a misleading trap. You’re not one to initiate fights, but you do provoke fights to give yourself an excuse to let out some steam. That’s to the other demons and sinner, not your Collection, as you give them their chances to change and correct their way on their own. Like how you let Zestial and the others warn the Vees before something triggering happens. 

“Brazen. Brazen.” Cages appeared around the room, some perched on the top of the chairs, some on the table, and some hovering around you with their wings flapping. “Disrespectful. Disrespectful.”

“No, wait, I…” Vox raised his hands, trying to explain himself but words fall short from his speakers. 

“You have no right to say they are ganging up on you three when you have been acting as a group since the beginning. You have no right to say they are not fighting because where were you when Carmilla and Rosie were providing support and Alastor was fighting on the front lines?” You laughed dryly, “Yes, I recall…”

The Vees’ bodies tensed up even more, twitching like branches in the wind. Your dear Cages flew over to them, pecking their bodies with their beck and clawing their flesh with their talons that were coated with angelic steel, courtesy of Carmilla. 

“You were safe in your little bunker and watched the entire battle like a show. Don’t make me start with you three using the souls you own as meat shields and bait!” Your eyes narrowed, then you raised your hand with your palm facing upwards and her fingers curled inwards a bit. “You certainly have no right to bet your soul because it is not yours to use anymore.” You growled, “If anything, you should be ashamed of sharing your title as an Overlord with others.”

At your last words, the deafening, crunching sounds of bones and metal started to echo in the silent room. Zestial closed his eyes, opting to drink from his cup. Carmilla sighed, exasperated, while her head shook from side to side with the smallest of motion. Zeezi gulp at the scene with fear, but she can’t help but smirk a bit. Rosie watched in fascination with the most intrigued expression. And Alastor peeked over to your glorious form.

Vox, Velvette, and Valentino’s bodies were squished and squeezed into the shape of a ball at the slow forming of your fist. Their screams muffled by your powers, their lips were sewn shut with a glowing silver line that appeared along with more silver strings that held them up. Only broke when their bodies were reshaped into balls and dropped on the table, noticing that Valentino’s size was even smaller than what his other two partners have. Their blood spread across the table, but nothing was dirtied by the liquid.

Your beloved Cages flew to what was your Overlords, some ripping pieces of meat as much as they could with their beaks and claws and some licking the blood on the table. 

“There is so much more that I could pick on you three for, however, I want to have you three know it was never my intention to keep everything this dark.” You sighed and massaged the side of your head with a finger. Your eyes glowed with an aura around them, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll correct your current ways before my patience is gone. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.” Vox was quick to mutter out despite his current state.

“Crystal clear… Master.” Velvette followed after.

“I’m s… sorry… Master.” Valentino whined out.

With the snap of your fingers, they were back to their normal form. They gasped and patted themselves, their minds reliving what they had gone through. They bowed before taking their seats, “Thank you for your mercy, Master.”

Your eyes closed and a smile reformed on your face, “Well then! Let’s move on to something more fun!”

Just like that, the meeting’s main agenda was finally mentioned. You needed your Overlords to dominate the lowlives that were claiming to be Overlords and trying to take territories for themselves

The hologram changed to the landscape of the Pride Ring, and the signature colours of the Overlords marked their respective territories. An eerie black colour mixed with silver marked those that were occupied by self-proclaimed Overlords

You had already checked that there were no Overlords worthwhile to add to your collection, so you gave your Overlords the chance to claim more lands, as well as the opportunity to impress you with their ability to perform a given test. There was a lot of land to cover, so you sat back and let them divide it amongst themselves

It was almost laughable how docile the Vees were acting now, if they had been like so in the first place, then your hand wouldn’t be forced. Still, with some demons and sinners, if they aren’t reminded what real power looks like, they’ll never learn

Their discussion was civil and structured, with Carmilla marking down and arranging the biggest threat and size of new territories. You trust in her judgment. Most picked their preferred land as it was near what territory they have, the ones that benefit most from this was the Vees as they needed to win back your favour in order to wipe the slate clean of their mistakes

While they did so, this time without the arguing and fighting since they had been warned. You petted your Cages one by one and let them return to where they came from, continuing to serve you until you saw they could help more in their former bodies or a humanoid one. You played around with their claws and wings, even feeding them with the everlasting snacks that you summoned when there was no need to

A smile graced the peaceful scene as you sighed in relief over the cooperation they are capable of. You see them working together, it’ll be better if they could set aside their differences and help each other grow

However, you also know it’s impossible for such an idealistic fantasy to come true. This was Hell, no matter how well you have them under your control, they have free will, therefore, free thought. Lucifer’s right when he believes the people of Hell to be awful, even thinking his daughter was wasting time helping them

You’ll have to deny it because Princess Charlie’s redemption worked. For you were approached by the true Ruler of Heaven in regards to a soul needing to leave Hell and go to Heaven. Similar to your role, they reminded in the background and not rule over the souls of Heaven. The only difference was that they were more mischievous in their actions to prove the high-ranking angels wrong

It’s not your business. So you didn’t care. You let that soul leave your realm either way

Still, the individuals before you wouldn’t be able to leave Hell. Never. You won’t allow it since they have sold their souls to you. Even if they are redempted, you won’t let their soul leave and Heaven’s true Ruler knows better than to fight you on that. You’ll let other souls go, but not ones within your Collection

“My Liege, we have divided our work.” Alastor brought you out of your thoughts. 

You looked over to the other Overlord, who all nodded, showing willingness and agreement to Alastor’s words. You smiled. Yes, if only they didn’t sell their souls to you. “In that case, that’s all for this meeting. I know you won’t keep me waiting or disappoint me.”

“Yes!”

You return to the hotel with your disguised form already taken place when you teleported back. Alastor was such a dear to offer making you a meal to relax and rewind after a long meeting, so you went and sat down, waiting patiently in the dining room with a book in hand

While your eyes seem to be reading the words on the page, you were keeping an eye out for Overlords

Zestial had gone back to his home and reorganize his knowledge and information collected. You have a feeling he’ll be giving you a report some time soon. Since your little absence, he has been diligently working away with what he was provided. He was an Overlord to not much of you until you gave him, after all. Yet he produces excellent results all the same. Very outstanding

Camilla was preserving the room you have significantly changed to the point that nothing would be changed, now you know where to go when another meeting were to take place. You have a good chuckle when you saw Odette and Clara take turns sitting where you sat like schoolgirls with their idol or crush

It’s good not to be feared. Of course, you understand that they weren’t in a contract with you unlike their mother, so maybe that element of fear wasn’t present as they won’t offend you anyhow. You adore those two and secretly put a little protection charm on them when they left before the meeting started. Seriously, them meeting other demons and sinners while delivering weapons is dangerous

Rosie, being the dear she is, went back to Cannibal Town and retold her people the joyous news of your visit. While it was never specified when, they were already preparing a grand welcome for you. Now, you’re feeling a bit awkward since you didn’t plan an exact date. You thought just a spontaneous visit would do

As if sensing your thoughts, Rosie reminded everyone there was no set date or time you’ll be visiting. The cannibals were forced to stop their rushed preparations, but some still prepared all the same. You seriously couldn’t help but smile at their exchange. You do enjoy how Rosie treated you normally at casual times and wasn’t always as a superior

Zeezi was quick to start in her assignment. Immediately acting after mobilizing the souls she owned, the marked territories she was to take over were swiftly put into her hands and her power did grow. Of course, you saw growth in her. Before, she’d be charging head-first into battle. Here, she studied her target from afar for a while then she hunted them down

Now the Vees, they were recovering from their little ordeal. The wounds done on them from your Cages’ angelic touches weren’t recovered by your recovery power, licking their wounds, they made sure to reevaluate themselves and watch what they do. Valentino received quick the shouting from Vox and Velvette, but he shouted back, in the end, it turned out to be a bit of a blaming-on-each-other shout

You had hoped this would be a push for Vox and Velvette to step away from Valentino, to isolate him because there wasn’t much contribution he offered the two. Vox and Velvette can go hand-in-hand and you don’t mind it, they complement each other and their dynamic could be something like Zestial and Carmilla or Alastor and Rosie. But you know it was a stretch to expect them to do so now

Time will tell how your little Overlord group will go

“And now, we change the layout. Remember the bar was in the lobby before? Well, now it’s next to the kitchen and we have a giant dining room where everyone can have meals together! Oh oh! We can even host parties here and feasts!” Charlie’s voice became louder and louder. You figure she was giving a tour to another new guest and minded your business.

“No way…” Now that was a familiar voice.

“Yes way! We can totally host—” Charlie cut off, and her tone became confused. “Uh, dad, where’re you going?”

When the thought registered, Lucifer was already sitting in front of the empty seat in front of you with a bright smile, “My golly! It’s you!”

You smiled politely, keeping up an act, “Yes, greetings, your highness.”

Lucifer laughed, waving his hand like a slap to dismiss it, “Oh, come on! Where’s the familiarity? I owe you so much! Teach!”

Your smile twitched as did your eye, “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“Charlie!” Lucifer called over his daughter. Your smile widened as you felt like screaming into the void. “Meet my lovely teacher that helped me become the man I am today, King of Hell and all that! This is The Collector, or Silver!” He whispered, “A bit shy on the name, or it’s a taboo to say it. You know how it is.”

“Collector!?” Charlie exclaimed with wide eyes, doubling back and forth from her father to you. “But. But! Guest? How? Huh!?”

Husk spit out his drink from what he heard at the bar, immediately wiping his mouth when he looked over to the commotion. “Oh sh*t…”

You sighed and glared at Lucifer with a twitching smile while still in your disguised form, “You…”

Note: And that concludes the meeting~ No tease this time~

I'll be moving back to {Unwanted Soul} plotline (I think), so in the meantime, you guys can send in some scenes you want for this, and I'll see how to write them or treat it as trivia~!

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

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[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: seven months after his defection, you run into dazai osamu by sheer chance. you know in your heart what you should do—traitors are to be disposed of, regardless of any previous relationship you might've had with them... but can you bring yourself to do what must be done? or will you be more driven by the questions you desperately need answered?

(wordcount: 7.1k; fem!reader, pm!reader, angsty (i promiseeeee i have some happier ones coming up with pm!reader and pmzai), alcoholism, dazai is in a particularly bad mental state)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: this one was suchhhh a doozy. the third installment of my pm!reader & pm!dazai universe, this is why i had to retcon he's my collar because originally pm!reader didn't see him at all during the 4 years but i got the idea for this fic like 2 ?? weeks ago and it was too good to not use - tomorrow i think i'll put up the masterlist for it so you guys can see the chronology and planned installments

Against all odds, you run into Dazai Osamu seven months after his defection.

You should put a bullet in his skull. You watch absently from the mouth of the alley as the ex-Port Mafia executive groans, trying to push himself to his feet only to crash back onto the pavement, blood smeared across his face from a crooked nose and split lip, bile pooled on the ground where he’d landed.

Gross, you think, lip curling up in disgust as his lithe fingers smear through the vomit, blunt nails scraping against the pavement as he attempts to push himself up again but fails. His shoulders are heaving, breath slow and labored as he lets out another wretched sound, crumpling back to the ground. 

You click the safety off of your gun, pulling it out of your pocket as you quietly make your way deeper into the alley, over to where he’s still struggling to get off the ground. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence until he hits the ground hard again after nearly making it to his feet. This time, he falls onto his shoulder and gasps in pain as he rolls onto his back, blinking up blearily through glazed-over eyes that can hardly focus on you or the gun pointed at his head.

You should just get it over with, pull the trigger, and leave the body for cleanup to handle. It’d be a better fate than he deserves, cleaner and quicker than he’d ever give himself, and not even half as painful as it’ll be when the Port Mafia inevitably get their hands back on him. 

You’d be sparing him, really; it would be a mercy.

And it’s what is expected of you. Letting a traitor as high profile as Dazai Osamu go free when you have a clear chance to execute him would be more than enough to have you stripped of your rank and thrown into the torture chambers, body dumped in the river when the Port Mafia is done punishing you. 

But still, for some reason, your finger hesitates as you move to pull the trigger. 

“You…” His voice is so slurred that you can hardly make out coherent words, but you use his words as an excuse to bide even more time, curious to see what he’s going to say. You can smell the whiskey on him from where you’re standing, his skin is paler than it usually is, and you notice, idly, that the bandages on his right eye are gone and you wonder when he chose to shed them. “You’re not real.”

Your eye twitches in irritation. 

You pull the trigger. 

If he was sober, he would have expected the reaction from you and dodged the bullet, but he’s not sober, so his eyes fly open in shock as the bullet grazes his ear and embeds itself in the pavement next to his head. He doesn’t look any more sobered up by the pain, which you suppose is a testament to how drunk he really is, but he does look significantly more confused. 

“You shot me,” he says, pale lips parted as he stares up at you—too pale, you notice absently, brows furrowing a bit as you try to consider what to do.

“Yeah,” you say, voice rough with irritation. “Real enough for you?”

Dazai blinks, you don’t even think your words are registering and you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. 

Get it over with, you tell yourself again, this time positioning your gun over his forehead. A clean kill. You won’t move it to the side at the last minute again. You remind yourself that this is what he deserves—he’s a traitor to the Port Mafia, to you. Killing him now would be a mercy compared to what the Port Mafia would do to him, compared to what he’d do to himself. 

He stares up at you, brown eyes wide and glassy. He parts his lips to speak but you can’t give yourself the same excuse; you don’t wait for his words this time. 

You pull the trigger again.

But Dazai is moving. He rolls over onto his side trying to push himself back to his feet and the bullet lodges right into the ground where his head had once been lying. You stare down at it in disbelief, gun falling to your side as your fingers start to feel a bit numb and clunky, breath catching as you realize what you’d almost just done—what you tried to do. 

Dazai makes it to his knees and he tries to reach out for you but you step back out of reach. His brows furrow before he keels over again, dry heaving now—there’s enough bile around him for you to realize he’s probably thrown up everything in his stomach and then some. He leans against the wall, the glassiness of his eyes spilling over his cheeks as he continues to dry heave but your gaze is still trained down on the ground where the bullet is embedded in the ground where his head had just been laying. 

You just tried to-

You think you’re the one who feels sick now. The dinner you’d had out with Chuuya and Kouyou rises to the back of your throat as you take another step away from Dazai. Your vision blurs as your gaze turns to him again, but instead of the tattered and vomit-stained clothes he’s wearing now, he’s back in the dark suit you’re accustomed to, crumpled on the ground still, but not because he’s drunk because he’s been wounded on a mission that he took on so you wouldn’t have to. 

You just tried to kill Dazai.

Dazai, who’s been your closest friend since the two of you were sixteen and at the center of the most violent conflict to rock Yokohama’s foundations. Entirely inseparable, forever entwined since the moment the two of you met; the type of instant click that most people could only ever dream of experiencing in their lives. 

You almost killed Dazai.

Dazai, who promised to put a bullet in Ace’s head if the man ever came near you again after he found out the newly promoted executive had insinuated putting one of his collars on you during a confrontation between the two of you. He knew that even he would face consequences for threatening another executive, that he would face even more if he dared to follow through with his threat, but he didn’t care and he had every intention of following through if it meant keeping you safe.

You would have killed Dazai if not for sheer luck. 

Dazai, who used to kiss you with trembling fingers and quivering lips, because for as much as his reputation as the Demon Prodigy had spread throughout the country, he was still just a teenage boy who’d never had his first kiss until the two of you got drunk on champagne after a successful mission when he made the mistake of admitting to you that he’s never kissed anyone before. The two of you’d spent the entire night giggling between chaste kisses, getting through just about two bottles of champagne before you started throwing up.

He held back your hair and laughed at you as you leaned over the toilet, miserable. But he was gentle with you in a way that Dazai Osamu is never gentle with anyone, fingers carding through your hair, rubbing absent circles on your back to soothe you as you choked over sobs and gags. 

Then there’s you. You, who not only a moment ago, looked down at him with your lip curling up in disgust, unable to hold your grimace at the way he laid in his own vomit. You lifted the barrel of your gun in his direction not once, but twice, and you pulled the trigger not once, but twice.

When you showed vulnerability to him, he showed you a type of tenderness that everyone thought was long lost to the notorious Demon Prodigy. 

When he finally shows vulnerability to you, you only show him cruelty in response.

You try to convince yourself that it’s different, that the circumstances are different now but the words ring hollow in your head, taking no root, because you think the circumstances shouldn't matter. This is Dazai. Dazai. There are no circumstances that justify executing him.

Your head spins and you take another step away, you don’t know where you dropped your gun and you don’t want to know. You don’t want to look at it. You don’t want to touch it. You’ll send someone else after it later. You blink, and for a moment, you can visualize what almost happened: you can see Dazai motionless on the ground, blood pooling around his head and a bullet wound piercing through his forehead. You gag, pressing your hand to your mouth as you force back the bile that nearly comes up. 

“Wait,” Dazai garbles out, pushing off the wall toward you but he propels himself right into the ground again, face first, scraping his cheek on the concrete. “Don’t leave again.”

Again? The word nearly pulls you out of your daze, the bitterness that’s poisoned you for seven months returning with a vengeance as your eyes focus on him. 

Dazai, who left you without a word or a warning. Not even the slightest goodbye. He abandoned you like you meant nothing to him. 

“I need to-” he gags again as he pushes himself to his knees. He tries to reach forward again but his whole body sways, eyes half-rolling back as he tries to steady himself, on the verge of passing out. “I need to tell you this time. I need to-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, slumping back over onto the ground unconscious—in a puddle of his own blood and vomit, naturally. The logical part of you knows you should just leave him there. You’re already playing with fire by not executing him on the spot, but you also know if you leave him here, it’ll be as good as a death sentence. If he doesn’t die on his own from alcohol poisoning, then he’ll certainly be found by the Port Mafia patrols. You think Dazai is a fool for drinking so much so deep in Port Mafia territory, for not being careful enough to make sure he didn’t wander out in the open. 

He should know better. 

He does know better.

A part of you wonders if it was intentional, if he thought that he’d stumble into Port Mafia territory and he’d run into someone eager to lay claim to the fame of being Dazai Osamu’s executioner.

If that’s the case, he nearly got his wish—that thought alone almost sends you spiraling over the edge again, having to shove away more nausea. You force all thoughts of the Port Mafia and betrayal to the back of your mind as you fall to your knees next to him, gathering him up into your arms and pushing yourself back to your feet. He curls into you instinctively, even while unconscious, smaller than you remember, smearing blood and bile all over your suit. Your grip on him tightens, a shaky breath escaping your lips when you realize that this is the first time you’ve touched him since the night he left. 

You shake your head to clear your mind, desperately trying to focus. You can’t stay out in the open with him for long otherwise you’ll risk someone seeing you with him, and that’ll open a can of worms you’re not prepared to deal with.

You’ll drop him off somewhere safe, and then you’ll get back to base.

That’s all.

That is not all.

The safehouse in Sakae that the two of you would run to whenever you wanted to avoid Mori is just how you left it the last time you spent the night with him there over half a year ago. One of his jackets is still draped over the couch, one of your ties thrown haphazardly on the ground—you remember the night vividly, the way he smiled against your lips as he lead you into the back bedroom, stumbling over each other and fumbling with buttons as you tried to undress the other while walking to the room, high off the success of a mission that everyone had said would fail because the odds were so stacked against the two of you. Even Chuuya had laughed in your face when you said you’d take the mission, but you knew so long as Dazai had your back on it, it would work out in your favor. 

He’s woken up several times, you don’t even know what he’s saying in his incoherent babbles. Every time he wakes back up, he’s calling for you, stumbling out of the bed you laid him in after getting him cleaned up and crashing to the ground before he reaches the hall. It’s irritating, you have to go back to help him back into the bed every time and he starts babbling again, passing out before you can figure out what he’s saying. You finally had to move yourself into the back bedroom with him so he didn’t try to get up again.

You don’t know why you’re still here. 

You lean your forehead against your hand as you sit on the bed next to where he’s lying, one leg tucked beneath you while the other hangs over the side. You tell yourself it’s because you don’t want him to get up drunk trying to look for you and then crack his head open, but it’s a weak excuse because Dazai Osamu is not your issue anymore. It’s not your job to watch over him when he gets shit-faced drunk, it’s not your job to patch him up when he gets hurt, it’s not your job to look out for him. 

He left you, not vice versa, You don’t owe him anything. He lost that privilege when he betrayed you. Fuck the Port Mafia, he betrayed you when he left without a word. You deserved better than that. You deserved a goodbye. You don’t owe him shit. You should leave him here to rot in his own vomit and blood but-

But you won’t.

Your gaze drifts back over to him. He’s still out cold—cleaner now, because it had never just been ‘get him somewhere safe and then go back to the base,’ as soon as you got him into the safehouse you wrangled him into the bathroom to clean him up. He was uncharacteristically pliant as you manhandled him into the shower. You suppose it was because he was unconscious for half of it but even for the moments where he was awake and blearily blinking the water out of his eyes, looking up at you through wet bangs with those stupid big eyes of his, as if he was still unsure if you were actually there.

Instinctively, you reach out to brush the back of your knuckles against his swollen, split lip, wondering if it was just from him being clumsy while drunk or if he’d managed to piss someone off at a bar. Both are equally likely—Dazai is a rather cantankerous drunk when he’s alone and drunk on whiskey, and even after cleaning him up and dousing him in soap to get out the reeking scent of his vomit out from where it’d sunken into his skin, shoving a toothbrush into his mouth to brush his teeth and scrubbing so they don’t rot from the bile, you can still smell the whiskey on his breath.

You wonder how much he drank. His skin is still pale, his breath shuddered, and he’s shivering even though you wrapped him in three thick blankets. Some degree of alcohol poisoning, that’s for sure. You tell yourself that’s why you’re not leaving—you don’t want to leave before you’re sure he’s pulled through the worst of it. You’re not going to admit to yourself that you don’t want to leave because you’re worried it’ll be the last time you see him for real this time. 

You hesitate right before your knuckles brush his skin, swallowing thickly before you withdraw your hand back into your lap, eyes sliding shut as you sigh.

What the hell are you doing?

If anyone from the Port Mafia knew what you were doing right now, you’d be hunted down right alongside him, branded as a traitor and sentenced to death. Chuuya would kill you if he knew what you were doing right now—and not because you betrayed the Port Mafia by helping Dazai, instead because you’re a fucking idiot. You’ve done a lot of stupid things in your life, but this might take the cake for the stupidest, sticking your neck out for someone who didn’t even care enough to tell you goodbye. 

You rub your forehead, tired. You try to summon the anger you felt when you first found out he betrayed the Port Mafia from Mori and Chuuya—from the hot fury you felt in the direct aftermath, screaming and breaking everything you could get your hands on as you cursed his name and burned everything he left in your apartment to the cold rage you felt when you finally calmed down, bitter and lonely and betrayed by the one person you never thought would betray you—but you can’t. And you think it’s pathetic because what use is all of that anger if you can’t utilize it when the reason for it is lying right before you?

If Chuuya were here right now, he’d drag you out by the hair and leave Dazai to suffer on his own. You left your phone in the kitchen after turning off your location, because he was already buzzing incessantly wondering where you are. You’d told him that you wanted to stop by one of the fishing ports in Kanazawa to check on a small weapons shipment that should’ve arrived earlier in the night before heading back to your shared apartment—you’d moved in with him after Dazai’s betrayal. He made the executive decision himself, not giving you a choice in the matter because he realized that you living on your own in the apartment that Dazai had practically moved into with you was not conducive to you healing from his betrayal.

Plus, you think he was lonely too without Dazai around anymore, but he’d never admit that.

You should’ve been back an hour ago. You’re sure that he’s getting suspicious and it’s only a matter of time before he tries to track you down. You don’t think he knows about this safe house in particular, Dazai had threatened you with piling up mission reports onto you if you told him about this one, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Chuuya learned about it through other means—somehow, he always seems to know everything. 

You sigh again, heavier this time as you try to figure out what to do. You know what you should do, but you also know you’re not going to do that. Your gaze drags back over to him and your breath catches when you realize he’s awake again, bleary brown eyes trained on you, brows furrowed. 

His lips part to speak again and you tense, waiting for whatever he has to say, unsure if you’ll even understand it.

“You… came with me. You never come with me. Are you… really here?” 

Even though his eyes are still glazed over and muddled, his voice is less garbled than it was before. You think that’s a good sign, but even so, you let out an even heavier sigh, this one more irritated, and a bit confused because you don’t even know what that means: you never come with me. 

“Yes, Dazai,” you say sharply, but then you let out a puff of air. The same memories that hit you before coming right back to you, remembering all of the nights Dazai would stay up having to take care of you, patient in a way that he never was with anybody. You soften your voice a bit as you say, “Yes. I’m here.”

Dazai looks at you like he doesn’t believe you. He blinks once slowly, then his brows furrow deeper and his lips turn downward.

“You don’t call me Dazai.” He speaks the accusation slowly, as if to make himself sound more coherent, but you can still hear the clear slur in his voice. “You never-”

You turn away because if you don’t, you think you might lose your temper. He’s drunk, you remind yourself, but he’s still ripping open wounds that never properly healed, because how dare he expect you to still call him by his given name after everything. It had taken months for you to get used to calling him Dazai again and-

You feel your chest start to cave in again and your throat spasms. Your eyes flutter shut and god, you want to hate him. You thought you did hate him, you convinced yourself of it in all of the bitter rage and acidic betrayal you’ve felt the past seven months but now that you’re confronted with him again, you know that it was never hate. You could never hate Dazai Osamu. You'd just missed him so terribly that the pain was easy to mistake as hate; love and hate has always been a treacherously thin line, and Dazai more than anyone else wavers on either side of it.

Your heart feels like it’s about to leap from your chest and crawl right back to him, you have to physically place your hand over your chest as if to hold it in place, to make sure the traitorous thing can’t go back to the very man that tore it shreds. You force yourself to breathe, in and out, steady, trying to settle down. 

This was a mistake, you realize, this was a mistake. 

Just as you’re about to push yourself up, you feel lithe fingers curl around your arm. You freeze, not even daring to glance back at Dazai. You can hear him pushing the covers off of him as he crawls closer to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His movements are unsteady, and you can’t bring yourself to push him off of you when you feel him slump against your back.

His weight is familiar, comforting in a way that it shouldn’t be. If you close your eyes, you can imagine that you’re back at the Port Mafia base seven months ago and Dazai is draping himself across your back, complaining about being overworked by Mori and trying to convince you to take over his paperwork. You’d have to drag him halfway across the base trying to get to your office with his dead weight hanging onto you, you remember all of the wary stares from your subordinates as they try not to let their gaze linger on the two of you but let their curiosity get the best of them regardless.

You hate that you don’t push him off right away, that you’re letting yourself indulge in his touch again. You’ve moved on from this—from him. It’s been seven months. You’re over all of this.

“You… understand, don’t you?” 

You barely hear the words muffled against your back, but you do and you can’t help but stiffen at them. He shifts against you, fingers biting into your skin as he pulls himself up a bit more to bury his face in the crook of your neck, arms looped around your waist as he leans all of his weight onto your back. You can feel his breath warm and shuddered against your neck, making your hair stand on end, and his hands are limp in your lap now, fingers brushing against the material of the clean slacks you’d pulled on after getting Dazai showered.

It’s all so familiar that it could make you sick.

“How could I?” you ask bitterly, even though you know you shouldn’t take out your resentment on him while he’s so drunk; he probably won’t remember any of this in the morning anyway. There’s no point, you’ll just be wasting your energy.

His arms tighten around you, breath hitching against your skin. “I had to, Odasaku-”

The noise you let out is such a sharp scoff that you can feel Dazai flinch behind you. You almost shove him off of you but you refrain, taking in a deep breath to calm yourself down. You never really had any feelings about Odasaku—he was always just there, you heard about him from Dazai occasionally and he seemed pleasant enough the few times you encountered him—but after all of this, you can’t help but hold a grudge against him, irrationally blaming him for Dazai leaving you.

“Odasaku wasn’t your only friend,” you say tightly. “You had me. Chuuya. You-”

“It’s not the same,” Dazai protests, clinging to you as if he hadn’t just driven a knife right through your back into your heart. 

This time you do shove him off, barely sparing him a glance as he lets out a surprised yelp, sprawling back onto the bed. You push away the mistiness that threatens your eyes, breathing in and out slowly to try to keep yourself calm. It’s not the same, you repeat his words, bitterness poisoning your blood and clouding your head. What the fuck does that even mean? You know logically you should take his words with a grain of salt, that he’s so drunk he probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying, but you just feel so angry that it’s hard for you to keep that in mind. 

You hear him scrambling behind you: a thump as he hits the floor hard and then a rush of movement as he pushes himself to his knees. His fingers curl around your ankle before you can get further away and you have a half a mind to kick him off of you and leave.

You don’t.

“Don’t leave,” he pleads. He drags himself to his knees, pulling at your pants and it takes all of your self-control to not look back down at him. “I didn’t-it came out wrong. I didn't mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it then?” you ask him, even though you by all means should not even bother to hear his shitty explanation.

“I just-I didn’t mean it like that.” You’ve never heard Dazai’s voice crack before, but it does now. “Don’t leave. I miss you.”

“You miss me?” you spit out, and you finally turn to look down at him—a mistake, of course, because he’s on his knees in front of you, looking up at you with those stupid, big brown eyes and you almost let your anger fizzle away at the sight of it. He’s drunk, you remind yourself again, but it doesn’t stop you from snapping at him. “You left me, Dazai. You have no right to miss me.”

“But I do.” His fingers fumble for your hand, grabbing one of yours with both of his. “I miss you so much, I think about you all the time.”

His lashes flutter, fingers brushing along your forearm as he presses his lips to your knuckles and then to your pulse point before leaning forward to rest his forehead on your thigh. You can’t even look at him, keeping your eyes trained on the wall, because your lashes feel wet and heavy and you know that you’ll give into him if you look at him now and he doesn’t deserve that.

“I couldn’t go to you before I left,” Dazai whispers and he sounds oddly coherent now even though you know he’s not. “I would’ve asked you to come with me.”

For some reason, that hurts worse than if he’d just admitted he didn’t care enough to say goodbye. Because what does that even mean, I would’ve asked you to come with me, would that have been so bad? He didn’t want you with him? Why wouldn’t he have wanted you with him? If you had left, he would’ve been the first person you ran to, begging him to come with you.

“How terrible that would’ve been,” you say, and you’re proud that your voice remains cold and steady, not betraying the hurt ripping through your chest.

“I wouldn’t have been able to handle it,” he says, voice breaking over a hiccup. “Odasaku had just died and-”

He cuts himself, and you dare to look down at him when you feel him lift his face from your thigh. You regret it immediately. Glassy, glazed-over eyes beg for you to understand, and you scare yourself because you want to understand when he shouldn’t even matter to you anymore. You’ve moved on. You have. It’s been seven months. He left you without a word. So why do you care so much for what he has to say right now?

“You wouldn’t have come with me,” he says, shaking his head. “You would’ve said no. You never would have chosen me over the Mafia.”

Your lips part to deny the allegations, to say that of course, you would have come with him, but the words fizzle out before they even form on your tongue because-

“You can’t even bring yourself to deny it, can you?” Dazai asks, and although he sounds more cogent now, you can’t help but notice that he’s starting to look sick again, the back of his throat making that faint clicking sound it always makes when he’s about to throw up. “You never would have chosen me.”

You would choose Dazai Osamu over a lot of things. You would choose to save his life before yours if put in the position, and you would choose to trust him over anyone else in the whole world. You’d follow him to the depths of hell and deep into the shadows, until your blood is black and corrupted and you’re entirely irredeemable, but you can’t follow him into the light. 

You can’t choose him if it means betraying the Port Mafia. With his defection, the two have become mutually exclusive: Dazai or the Port Mafia, there’s no way of having both anymore. The boy you’ve come to love or the only home you’ve ever known. The only family you’ve ever had. A shitty family maybe, but a family nonetheless. If you don’t belong with the Port Mafia, you don’t belong anywhere on this earth, and as someone who’s always had a desperate fear of alienation, the thought makes you sick.

You stare at him, throat tight, and then you say, colder than you intend for it to come across, “... If that’s really why you didn’t say goodbye, then I’m glad you didn’t put me in that position.”

The expression that crosses Dazai’s face is something caught between ruin and shock—and you can’t help but wonder if he held out hope, thinking maybe he was wrong in his assumptions. That there had been a chance that you might’ve chosen him if he’d given you the option. That he’s been living his life in the what-ifs for the past seven months and now that he’s finally gotten the chance to bare his heart to you, you’ve crushed it.

Your chest tightens, your throat spasms and it takes all your self-control to not immediately take back the words, regret flooding you so intensely that it nearly makes you physically stumble. Because it’s true, you never would have picked Dazai over the Mafia, but he didn’t have to know that—especially not now, when he’s drunk and vulnerable in a way that he’s never allowed himself to be before.

You hope, for his sake and your conscience, that he doesn’t remember any of this in the morning.

His lips part to respond again but his hand is flying to his mouth instantly, doubling over, and you’re cursing, reaching for the trash bin you’d brought into the bedroom and falling to your knees next to him, helping him kneel upright and holding the trash bin in front of him as he starts gagging again.

“I would’ve-” He’s still trying to talk through the bouts of nausea, gasping over air, body trembling as he leans into you for balance.

You don’t want to hear what he has to say.

“Dazai-”

“I would’ve chosen you,” he finally forced out, voice breaking over the words and you’re not sure if it’s a sob or another heave that escapes his lips as he continues. “If the positions were reversed, I would’ve chosen you.”

Oh.

The words echo in your head so loudly that it makes you want to cover your ears even though you know it won’t do anything. You want to accuse him of lying, tell him that he’s full of shit and just trying to make you feel guilty, but you don’t think he’s capable of lying right now and you don’t think this is anything Dazai would have ever admitted to you if he was sober. He guards his heart more carefully than anyone you’ve ever met—in the two and a half years you’d known him, he never admitted he cared about you. You knew it just from how he treated you, but you think he might’ve ripped his own tongue out before actually admitting it.

You wrap an arm around him as his whole body shudders through another gag and he tries to push you off—angry, upset, you don’t know what he might be feeling because you’ve never seen him like this before—but your arm only tightens around him and Dazai crumbles.

He heaves again, clutching the small garbage can to his face as he throws up all of the water you’d managed to get in him before he passed out earlier. Tears spill over his cheeks, his face is pale and his lashes are fluttering again, on the verge of passing back out. You swallow thickly as he leans into you, letting him collapse into your chest after he’s finished vomiting.

“Will-” he tries to say, but his voice is slurred and weak. He’s desperately trying to stay conscious, you can tell, but he’s fighting a losing battle. “Will you be here in the morning?”

No.

You don’t want to say it, you think you’ve done enough damage for the night, but there’s no need. As soon as the words leave his mouth, Dazai is slumping over unconscious, head laying limp on your arm, lashes brushing his cheek. You sigh as your grip around him tightens before you adjust him in his arms to carry him back into the bed, laying him comfortably beneath the covers.

You don’t linger for long after that. After another hour or two passes and Dazai doesn’t wake up again, you make your way back into the bedroom, raising your hand to his face to brush away the dark locks in his eyes before cupping his cheek. Even in his sleep, he leans into your touch, and it makes your chest feel so agonizingly tight that you think you might be having a heart attack.

You lean down to press your lips to his forehead, to his nose, and then to his lips, indulging yourself one last time. Your forehead rests against his as you consider your words—there are a million things you’d like to say to him before you leave, but you don’t have nearly enough time to get them all off of your chest.

Instead, you tell him softly, “I hope you don’t remember any of this in the morning.” You don’t move your hand from where it’s caressing his cheek as you stand straight again, thumb drawing absent circles on his skin. Your voice is thick with emotion, eyes welling with tears that don’t spill over. “We’ll meet again one day.”

Dazai wakes up the next morning with a hangover so bad that he thinks he might die.

He sits up in bed and is instantly groaning, hand flying to his forehead as his brain throbs inside of his skull. He needs to figure out where he is—the last thing he remembers is…

The bar?

His eyes slide shut as he tries to think, but it only makes his head hurt more. He flops back onto the bed, arms splayed out. He still feels nauseous, he can feel it rising to his throat and he desperately does not want to throw up again—it’s one thing vomiting when he’s too drunk to remember, it’s an entirely different thing to vomit while he’s sober and conscious. 

Dazai thinks he might rather die. 

He lets out a heavy sigh as he begs the nausea to go away, breathing in and out deeply. He lifts his hand to brush a lock of hair away from where it’s tickling his ear and-

Ouch.

Dazai’s eyes fly open again, confused now, as he rips his hand away from where he’d touched his ear to stare up at the ceiling. He’s used to waking up with odd injuries after a night of blacking out at whatever bar will still have him, but his ear is a particularly strange place to be wounded, isn’t it?

Driven by curiosity now, he forces himself into a sitting position, and it’s only when he pushes himself out of bed, does he finally start to recognize the room he’s in. His lips part in a distinct mixture of shock and confusion as he looks around the room slowly, making his way over to the mirror.

The safehouse in Sakae?

His chest feels heavier instantly, and a tight feeling rises to his throat as he catches sight of an old jacket of yours draped on the desk chair, the one that had ripped during the last mission you went on together—just the way you left it the last time the two of you were here. A pair of his old dress shoes are lying haphazardly outside the closet door, he’s sure that if he peeks into the closet, all of your suits will be hanging there because you refused to share the closet with him so all of his spares are stuffed in the dresser. Dazai suddenly feels sick again and he doubts it’s from the hangover this time.

How did he get here?

He needs another drink desperately.

But first… Dazai leans over the dresser to look into the mirror—a bit dusty after so many months with no one stopping in—he lifts his hand to brush his hair behind and then-

What?

His jaw drops and his brows furrow, his fingers graze over where the top of his ear used to be, only to find the whole upper quarter of it missing. 

What the fuck? He mouths as he stares at the missing cartilage, and then he looks back around the room, and just as his eyes catch a trash bin that should be in the bathroom, his vision blurs, and his head is aching. He’s suddenly stumbling down an alley, he’s lying in a puddle of his own vomit, unable to stand up straight. He can hear someone approaching and he knows he should get up, find some dumpster or crevice to wait out the night until he’s sober enough to get the fuck out of the heart of the Mafia’s territory in Yokohama, but he can hardly move.

He can lift his head from the pavement just enough to-

Just enough to see you.

Dazai can hardly cope with the emotions that rattle his chest. Longing, because he’s missed you so terribly the past seven months. Disbelief, because you shot his fucking ear off. And… and Dazai isn’t quite sure what the other emotions are. They’re heavy and light at the same time, his chest feels bubbly but his ankles feel chained—it’s a weird mixture of hope and dread, he thinks, because the safehouse is eerily quiet, seemingly void of any life other than Dazai himself, but the chance that you might still be here…

“Will you be here in the morning?”

The faint memory of the last words he spoke before he passed out the last time rings through his head, and his feet drag against the ground as he forces himself to move from the bedroom into the main room of the safe house. His fingers hesitate against the wood of the door—scared that he’s going to open it and you won't be there, scared that he’s going to open it and you will be there. He doesn’t remember the things he said to you last night, but he knows that he’d been staring at old pictures the two of you took before he blacked out. He can hardly imagine the things he might’ve said to you when given the chance.

It takes all of his strength and all of his willpower to push open the door. 

It takes even more to actually step out of the bedroom.

The safe house is empty.

You’re nowhere to be found.

Dazai’s feet are moving before he’s fully even registered what’s happening.

He makes his way into the kitchen to rummage around for another bottle for him to drown away his sorrows, but he doesn’t pull out the untouched bottle of his favorite whiskey he knows is sitting in the cabinet—he goes straight for the wine fridge. He nearly shatters three bottles of whites before he finally gets his hands on your favorite red, the one you’d asked him to stock up in there for you three days before he left, knowing that the two of you had a mission coming up and you’d be celebrating here, as always. Not knowing that he’d have betrayed you by then. 

He struggles to uncork it, the frustration causing his headache to return with a vengeance. It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time for him to finally get the bottle open, but when he does, he brings it to his lips immediately, eyes sliding shut as he downs a few generous gulps.

The taste is familiar. Pleasant. It makes his heart ache with such an intense longing for you that it nearly makes him throw up.

He can almost imagine that he’s tasting it off of your lips instead.

He leans over the counter, elbows digging into the marble as he tries to push away the ugly feelings ripping apart his chest. He can’t. He never can. He hasn’t been able to since the day he left you behind seven months ago. He can only numb it.

With a hand closed around the neck of the bottle, Dazai slides down the cabinet to sit on the ground. His cheeks feel wet, but he doesn’t dare lift his hand to acknowledge the tears sliding down them.

Instead, he lifts the bottle to his lips again and drowns himself in the memories of you for another night. 

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 5)

paring: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 5 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

in twelve short hours, you were everything from drunk to lonely, to desperate to scared to anxious to content to happy to scared once again. it didn't help that lando was with you to experience all of it, it was worse that he still chose to stay

word count: 6.7k tags/warnings PLEASE READ: some mature themes including alcohol consumption, reference to not being in control of your body/surroundings, faint anxiety, subtle references to non-con situations (but no actual non-con acts, dont worry)

Lando held out his arm for you to use to balance yourself as you pulled your heels off. You tossed them to the side and sighed happily when your soles pressed against the hardwood floor. 

“Come on,” Lando encouraged, hand going to your back as he led you down the hall, “let's get you to bed.”

You had practically passed out in the car when Lando picked you up. You desperately wanted to stay up and talk to him, but you were drunk and tired and keeping your eyes open in a moving vehicle wasn’t doing anything for your intoxicated state of mind.

And now Lando was pushing open the bedroom door, keeping his mouth shut at the state of the room and the sight of your clothes piled up in the corner. You wanted to apologise for the mess but in your defence, no one was supposed to be here except you. 

“I’ll go get you some water, okay?” Lando waited until you were situated on the edge of the bed before leaving the room. You knew this was probably the best time for you to change out of the dress and put on something more comfortable but when you reached for the zipper that rested halfway down your back it became very clear that you could not rid this dress from your body alone. 

You weren’t sure how to ask Lando how to help you without him getting the wrong idea. It wasn’t that you wanted to strip in front of him but you also weren’t about to fall asleep in the dress you’ve been wearing for sixteen hours.

When Lando came back he put the glass of water on the bedside table, stepping over a curling iron that you had dangerously left in the middle of the floor. You watched silently as he adjusted the pillows against the headboard, fluffing them out for you. 

He glanced over his shoulder, probably wondering why you hadn’t moved an inch since he had left to get water. The way you sat there with uncertainty told him that the contents of everything you ate and drank were about to work their way up.

“Do I need to go get a bin for you?” Lando asked.

“What?” Your eyebrows pinched together. “No, no, I’m okay, I just-” you pointed to the back of your dress, “I need help.”

Lando was about to ask for clarification but then his gaze landed on the zipper. He let out a very quiet, ‘oh’ before walking towards you and helping you stand up. Your eyes locked for a second and even in the dimly lit bedroom, even when you needed a second to focus, the mix of green and gold in his irises had you forgetting what it was you just asked for help with. 

He probably got the hint that your request had vanished from your mind because Lando took it upon himself to gently spin you around. He collected your hair that was pinned back in a high ponytail and rested it over your shoulder. A chill travelled through you when his thumb brushed against your bare skin before he took hold of the zipper. 

There was a very strong chance he could hear your heart racing in your chest. 

Staggered breaths hit the back of your neck as he pulled the zipper down about halfway. His other hand found a home on your hip, his fingers lightly pressing against the silk orange material. 

“You do look stunning in this dress,” Lando whispered, eyes raking over the indents in your skin, the freckles on your back that he had never noticed before. 

“Oh but let me guess,” you rolled your eyes and attempted your best British accent, “It’d look better on the floor?” 

Lando laughed and your stomach turned in knots when he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your neck and it took everything in you not to reach up and tangle your fingers through them. His grip on your side tightened, only for a moment, before he inhaled quietly and lifted his head. 

You turned around and his hand on you loosened, but he didn't drop it from your side. You tried to focus on keeping eye contact with him, but your line of sight kept dropping to his lips.

Did you want him to kiss you?

Even if you were waiting for it, that moment wouldn't come. Not in the state you were in currently in. The most he did was lift his hands to cup your cheeks, dipping your face enough so he could kiss the top of your head.

And just because you were drunk and didn’t know how to react to a gesture as soft and caring as this, you relied on your usual banter to get you past this blurred line you found yourself standing on.

“That counts as one of your seconds.”

Lando dropped his hands from your face and stared at you, confusion written all over his features. Now that the material of the dress wasn’t constricted against your body, the straps hung loosely over your arms. It would take you less than a second to slip out of the garment, but that would be the alcohol making the decisions for you. 

“It absolutely does not,” he argued, not daring to let his eyes drop from yours, even if the loose dress hung lower on your chest than it was before.

“Yes it does.”

“You won’t remember it in the morning.”

“Yes I will.”

Lando didn’t believe you. He’d seen you drunk only twice before and that was at the club after the Miami grand prix, both this year and last. Which was horrible because you were technically underage at the 2022 event but with your brothers and the drivers keeping an eye on you, you knew you were fine.

Last year, you were a wild card. Switching from dancing one minute to chatting up strangers the next and everything in between all night long. The next morning, Lando had overheard Charles telling Carlos that you didn’t remember a thing. 

This year was no different. You let loose in Miami and the following morning, you had no recollection of anything that took place after the race. 

But you weren’t as drunk now as you were then. Or at least you thought that to be true. You were still in control of your actions. You could tell a bad decision from a good one. You knew that standing this close to Lando after missing him for the last week and half wasn’t a good idea but acting on the pull you felt towards him was an even worse one.

Lando lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face, the same strand that kept getting caught on your earring all night. 

“You are…” he took a deep breath, you couldn’t even begin to guess how he would finish that sentence. He might have wanted to compliment you again. Or he could have made a ridiculing comment about how he couldn’t handle you. The way he looked at you hinted towards a mixture of both sweet and sarcastic. 

But he didn’t voice the rest of his thoughts. Instead, Lando shook his head slowly and gave your hand a gentle squeeze before he stepped back.

“Get some sleep, yeah?”

Roles reversed when you found yourself refusing to let him go. The second his hand fell from yours, you grabbed it again and kept him from heading to the living room, undoubtedly where he was planning on spending the rest of the night. 

Because of course he would give you the bedroom, his bedroom. 

Lando cared about you more than you wanted to admit because that would mean you’d have to admit that you also cared about him. 

“Can you stay?” The question slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself. Maybe you weren’t in total control of your actions. 

“We both know that’s not a good idea.”

Lando was thinking clearly. He might have wanted to share a bed with you, but he knew how incoherent and intoxicated you were and if he was going to spend a night with you, the first night, he wanted you both to be sober for it.

“I think you should get ready for bed,” he changed the topic before you could fight him on his decision. Lando backed up and headed into his closet, grabbing one of the hoodies, his hoodies, from the hanger. He handed it to you, but didn’t stay, instead walking into the ensuite. “Do you have- oh, yes you do.” Lando walked back into the room holding a package of makeup wipes. He pulled the wrapping back to pull out a damp tissue.

Lando put the makeup wipe in your empty hand and then gestured with his chin to the hoodie, wordlessly reminding you that getting ready for bed was probably, definitely, the best thing for both of you. 

You nodded and walked into the bathroom to change. Lando wasn’t going to give in to what you wanted, but you were surprised to see him leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone when you walked back into the bathroom, fresh faced, in an oversized hoodie, and still quite drunk.

“Okay,” you flailed your arms to the side and Lando looked up, placing his phone on the tv stand. You’d be lying if you said you missed the way he smiled when he saw you in one of his jumpers, something that he thought he’d never see. 

“Water’s on the table,” he pointed out. “Try not to throw up in the bed-”

“I’m not going to throw up in the bed.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“I’m not that drunk,” you scoffed, but as you crossed your arms over your chest, you nearly lost your balance. You caught yourself, thankfully, but it only further proved Lando’s point that you were most likely not able to control whether or not you got sick during the night.

“Come on,” he pushed himself off the wall and stepped around you to pull the covers back on the bed. He nodded his head towards the very inviting mattress, “Bed, now.”

“I don’t need you to parent me.”

“I’m not parenting you, Y/N, it’s 1:30 in the morning and we should both be sleeping,” his little laugh that followed told you that he wasn’t all that mad about being awake right now, even if there were dark bags under his eyes and a couch that was calling his name.

You slid into the bed and pulled the blanket up to your chin. You were about ten seconds away from falling asleep, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to go. Before Lando could leave you for the rest of the night, you stuck your arm out of the blanket and grabbed his hand.

“I’m not staying,” Lando said with a soft laugh, already knowing what you were going to ask of him. 

As much as Lando wanted to crawl into bed next to you, he knew you’d regret it in the morning. You were drunk, you weren’t thinking straight, you just wanted company and you missed Lando and now that he was right in front of you, you didn’t want to let him go. 

But you wouldn’t want this if you were sober. You would be kicking him to the couch before he could even think about sliding into bed next to you. You’d be making a joke about how this would be the one and only time he’d ever help you undress. There would be more banter, more sarcasm, more eye rolls. 

Drunk you was funny, adorable, irresistible, even, but it wasn’t you. And Lando knew you too well, respected you too much, to take any sort of advantage over this scenario, even if you didn’t see it as such.

You covered your mouth with your other hand as you yawned and asked, “What about just until I fall asleep?”

That was the compromise. Much like how you could give him thirty seconds of pretending he wasn’t a driver instead of two minutes, you were hoping he would stay until your eyes closed. After that, he could go. It wasn’t like you’d be awake for much longer anyway.

“Please?” god you were begging now. That’s how Lando knew you were well past the point of intoxication. You’d rather die than ask him for anything. 

But maybe that’s why Lando eventually gave in, because this would be the only time you’d ever ask him to lay with you. There was a very strong chance this would be the first and last time he’d be able to crawl into bed and hold you against his side as you fell asleep with your head on his chest. 

Lando sighed quietly and nodded, trying not to let his happiness show when your face lit up as he walked around to the other side of the bed. He didn’t get under the blanket, he was smarter than that, if he let himself get comfortable he’d never get up. 

So he got on top of the blanket as you curled yourself into his side. Lando rested one arm behind his head and used the other arm to pull you closer. Immediately, you abandoned the pillows he had so nicely fluffed for you and used his chest as a pillow instead. 

You could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek and found comfort in it, much like how he found solace with each breath you took as your eyelashes fluttered shut. 

He gently played with your hair and his fingers against your scalp had you smiling as fatigue took over your body. 

Lando kept his gaze on you the entire time. Waiting to see if he could tell when you fell asleep, hoping to find out if you were someone who snored or spoke when you were sleeping. 

You twitched against him, indicating that you were definitely no longer awake, but Lando stayed there for an extra minute or two to make sure of it. He wished he could have stayed there all night, but you would lose it on him in the morning if you woke up next to him.

It didn’t matter how bad you wanted him now, it wasn’t real. 

And that was the reality that convinced Lando to carefully slide out of bed. He didn’t even allow himself to sneak one more look at you before walking out of the room, dragging his hand through his hair and wondering what it would take for you to want him like this tomorrow and the next day and every day after that.

——————

You wished you knew how you ended up back at Lando’s place last night, but the details were fuzzy and your head was still spinning as you slowly came to that morning. 

You remembered saying bye to the bride and groom before getting into a black car. Did you order an uber? If yes, what else did you buy last night? You wouldn’t have been surprised if you asked the driver to stop at a drive-thru for a late night burger and fries. 

Reaching towards the bedside table, you blindly searched for your phone and was met with a glass of water instead. The force of your hand knocked it sideways and you sat up in a panic. 

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing a pillow to cover the spill up. You weren’t an irresponsible drunk per say, but it was unlike you to pour yourself some water when you came home after a night out. 

You rubbed your hand over your face, fully expecting to see mascara smudged on the pads of your fingers when you pulled your hand back, but it was clean. You had absolutely no recollection of taking your makeup off before bed. 

And then you noticed the baby blue sleeve covering your arm. You pulled at the material against your chest and made out the white Quadrant logo printed on the jumper. This was Lando’s hoodie. 

There was no fucking way you went into his closet and willingly put it on. 

You climbed out of bed, ignoring the faint pounding happening in your head and praying it would go away after you made yourself something to eat. You were lucky, you didn’t struggle too badly with hangovers, instead you struggled with filling in the gaps of what happened the night prior. 

You made your way down the hall with the sole intent of making a plate of eggs and bacon and then crawling right back into bed. There was a carton of eggs in the fridge and you already knew where everything in the kitchen was after making the most of it and all of its spacious glory these last two weeks. 

So you grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and cracked an egg into it. After tossing out the shell, you grabbed a second egg.

“Morning.”

And then you used that second egg as a weapon.

You spun on your heels and threw it in the direction of where the voice came from, which just so happened to be from the hallway right outside the bathroom door. A normal reaction would have been to scream or jump at the thought of an intruder being in the home, but no, you relied on a goddamn egg to save your life. 

At least your aim was good. It hit the ‘intruder’ right in the chest but you covered your mouth with your hands when you realised who you had just gotten egg yolk all over. 

Lando stood there, yellow staining the cotton in the centre of his shirt as yolk dripped to the floor. A few broken shells clung to him, but the majority of it was on the floor near his feet. 

Any other day, you would have apologised for the mess you caused. 

But any other day, you probably would have been made aware if you were in the same room as Lando.

“I prefer my eggs scrambled, but sure, this works,” Lando nodded, accepting that this was the reality he had woken up to. He stepped over the eggshells and reached for the roll of paper towels that was in the corner of the kitchen. 

All you could do was stand there with your back against the fridge as you tried to piece together the events of last night.

Did Lando pick you up? You didn’t even know he was in London. This flat only had one bedroom, you didn’t share a bed did you? Maybe he showed up this morning, but why would he show up unannounced? 

You yanked on the collar of your jumper, his jumper, “Was this your doing?” 

Was that really the question that took priority right now? 

Lando barely glanced up from trying to clean himself off, “You’re asking if, in your intoxicated state, I got you naked and forced a Quadrant jumper on you? Yes, Y/N that’s exactly what I did.”

Now that you heard it out loud, the idea was pretty preposterous. Lando was annoying in plenty of ways, but he wouldn’t cross a line like that. 

But he basically confirmed being with you last night.

You dragged your hand through your hair, still attempting to put the pieces together yourself as you grabbed a towel from the drawer and held it under the stream of water from the kitchen skin. 

“Did you pick me up last night?” You asked, crossing the kitchen and walking over to him. Lando tossed the crumpled paper towel on the counter and didn’t say anything as you dabbed the cloth over his shirt, trying to get the egg out. 

“You asked me to,” he answered, already sounding defensive. 

“When did you get to London?”

“I arrived in the UK a few days ago, but I just got to London yesterday.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” You stretched out the material of his shirt, trying not to notice his tanned skin underneath or the fact that he had a v-line that disappeared into the hem of his grey sweats. 

“I did tell you,” he chuckled. “When you called me last night.”

“I called you?” Your eyebrows pinched together, trying to focus on the yolk stain but the timeline of events slowly being put together was a bit distracting. The frustration that you couldn’t remember any of it but Lando could was being taken out on his shirt. “Why would I call you?”

“I don’t know, but it was right after I commented on your post.”

You remembered posting the three pictures, but didn’t remember any notifications that followed, “What did you say?”

“That you looked good in orange.”

“Why did you-” you cut yourself off, annoyed for a handful of reasons and you threw the towel on the counter beside you. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t care!” You forced yourself to smile, wanting to make the best out of this situation but Lando saw right through it. You backed up, glancing between his eyes and the stain on his shirt, “You should throw it on the wash.”

“Oh if anyone needs to do laundry, it's you,” Lando laughed, “I saw the pile of clothes in the bedroom. Have you done any washing since you’ve been here?”

He was in the bedroom with you?

Lando meant it as a joke, trying to poke fun of the mess you made in his home, but the instant he saw the panic sink in, he knew he said the wrong thing. 

“Woah, hey don’t worry, nothing happened last night,” Lando quickly assured you. Still, your heart was racing and it only intensified when he stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulders, “I promise, Y/N, nothing happened. I didn’t even sleep in the room, I wouldn’t do that, you were drunk. I like you but I’m not- I wouldn’t have dared try anything,” he painfully swallowed at the thought that you might not believe him. “I gave you the jumper and those cleaning wipe things, you changed in the bathroom, I laid with you for like five minutes until you passed out and then I left. I slept out here. I promise.”

You still felt uneasy at the idea of Lando being with you when you were in such a vulnerable state. You had no control of your actions, no memory, just his word that nothing happened and you wanted to believe him, but you weren’t an idiot. You were a girl and you needed your walls to be up, it was the unfortunate world you were brought into. 

You had heard horror stories of friends thinking they could trust the guys they were with only to be proven wrong in the worst ways.

You shook Lando’s hands off of you, putting space between your bodies again.

Lando watched as you turned your back on him to try and go back to making your breakfast. He noticed your fingers trembling as you grabbed another egg and cracked it into the bowl. A couple shells landed with the yolk and you swore under your breath. 

He approached you hesitantly and when he put his hand on your back you flinched and tried to step away from him again. 

“Don’t-” you tensed. “Please, Lando just don’t touch me right now.”

He held his hands up defensively and glanced at the eggs, “I was just going to say I can do this. Go take a shower or go back to bed for a bit, let me make breakfast.”

“Breakfast in bed isn’t going to make me trust your word,” you said. Your stomach twisted, but not in the butterfly kind of way. It was the kind of knot that made you feel physically sick. “You don’t get it, Lando, this probably isn’t something you’ve ever had to worry about. But I don’t remember anything from last night and I’m just supposed to believe that you didn’t do something? I didn’t even know you were in the city until right now, I can’t-” you shook your head. “I want to believe you, really, but when I woke up this morning I thought I was alone in this flat so already this is not off to a good start.”

You grabbed a fork from the drawer and tried to fish out the broken shell, ignoring Lando just watching you. When it was clear that you were too anxious and on edge to try and make breakfast, you dropped the fork to the sink and declared you were giving up. You didn’t even let Lando get another word in before you walked down the hall towards the room, slamming the door after you. 

You peeled the quadrant hoodie off of you and threw it in the corner of the room. You felt gross and even if he really hadn’t done anything, there was a sickeningly crawling feeling that spread through your body. 

A shower was the first step to get rid of it. Rid yourself of last night, of the wedding, of everything that was said or done within the last twenty four hours. You turned on the water and stepped in, letting your senses drown in the steam and scalding hot water.

You rubbed your hands over your face, taking in a few deep breaths before reaching for the bar of soap. 

The longer you stood there, the more you thought about how you might have overreacted. 

You had every reason to be paranoid. Every person who woke up in that same scenario would be, but it was Lando. 

Lando wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or betray you. He wouldn’t take advantage of you. The worst he might do is take a photo of you blackout drunk and use it as black mail, but he would never, ever put you in an unsafe position.

Even in your drunken state, you must have known that. Why else would you have called him? You weren’t someone who ever went home with a stranger or had one night stands with a person whose name you would forget in the morning, but you called Lando. 

He was the one you wanted to be with at the end of the night. 

You didn’t know what time you left the wedding, but you could imagine it was late. It wouldn’t have surprised you to know that Lando didn’t hesitate before grabbing his keys to drive to you because he’d rather take you home than let you get in a car with a stranger. He was letting you stay at his flat for christ sakes, this man would do anything for you. 

He was wholesomely trying to work his way up your driver ranking, slowly, cautiously, all while gaining more and more of your trust as the days went on. He wanted you to like him. He wouldn’t jeopardise your friendship by any means. 

Also, he’d have 19 drivers on the grid to answer to if he ever did try anything. And some team principals. And your other brothers. 

Lando liked you and there had been a few blurred lines within the last couple weeks, but he wouldn’t dare cross one like this.

When you finished showering, you were a bit more clear headed than you were after your alarming first few minutes of being awake. You took your time washing your face but decided to let your hair air-dry. His hoodie in the corner of the room wasn’t one you reached for, but it didn’t cause you to tense up when you looked at it. 

You put on a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt instead and after telling yourself one more time that Lando was someone you could trust, you walked out of the room. 

His back was towards you as he sang along to whatever song was playing on his phone. He had cleaned up the mess that was on the floor and changed shirts so there was no trace of the egg you had thrown at him.

He didn’t hear you leave the bedroom, too engrossed in putting the finishing touches on breakfast. He had pulled out everything he could from the fridge to make a few omelettes. You saw two plates each with toast already on them and from the smell of it, it seemed like he was about done.

Lando then heard your quiet footsteps as you approached and he glanced over his shoulder to give you a shy smile, “Hey, sit down, breakfast is about ready.”

But you didn’t sit. Instead, you walked right up to him and slid your arms around his waist to hug him from behind. You pressed your cheek to his back and let out a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

He hesitated. You weren't usually one to make any sort of move like this towards him, but then rested his hand over yours and chuckled softly. He could feel your hair dampen his shirt and he was a little constricted in his movements as he tried to finish cooking, but he didn’t care. 

You were hugging him. That’s the only thing that mattered.  

“I’m not going to apologise for reacting the way I did,” you whispered. “But I know now that you wouldn’t ever-”

“I kissed the top of your head,” Lando interjected. You could feel his body tense as he inhaled a sharp breath.

You lifted your head from his back right as Lando turned to face you. You could see the guilt painted all over his face. He looked as though he was confessing to a crime.

"You-" there was no memory of that exchange. "You did what?"

“You asked me to help you with the zipper on your dress and I did but then I kissed the top of your head and I know I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry,” Lando admitted. “And then you told me that it counted as one of my twelve seconds, which I think is a little dramatic, but I’m still sorry."

"Lando, if all you did was kiss the top of my head, I think we're fine," you assured him, your words were followed by a light hearted laugh, but he still wanted to apologize.

"I didn’t even think about how you would react this morning seeing me and I understand now why you acted the way you did, I wouldn’t trust any person who was in my house if I woke up after a night out either." He didn't even want to put himself in your shoes. "I promise, next time you call me at midnight to pick you up I will take you straight home and I’ll walk you to the door but I won’t come inside because-”

“Next time?” your eyebrows furrowed together. Granted, that was not the most important part of his little ramble, but it was the part that stood out. “You think there’s going to be a next time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Lando answered too confidently. “Because you know I’ll drop anything for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. All you could do was look up at him, trying to tell if he was being truthful or not. 

You laughed it off, “No you wouldn’t.”

All Lando did was raise his eyebrows. He wasn’t going to try and convince you he was being honest, he was going to let you believe what you wanted to believe. He turned and grabbed the handle of the pan to slide the omelette onto a plate before handing it to you.

You took it without exchanging another word and went and sat down at the dining room table. Lando joined a minute later with his own plate and added salt and pepper to his. You grabbed a forkful and waited for it to cool off before eating it, pleasantly surprised at how it tasted. 

You thought you were a better cook than Lando, but you might just be wrong.

“So,” you quickly swallowed, “If we were to date, who would do the cooking in the relationship?”

“Don’t,” Lando barely looked at you before he stood up to grab a few glasses of water.

You put your fork down and stared after him, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t tease that,” He clarified with a faint laugh. “Don’t tease a relationship.”

“It’s a hypothetical question, I’m not teasing anything.”

Lando rolled his eyes as he sat back down, sliding you one of the glasses. He took a large sip before finally answering, “Fine. Hypothetically, we would both cook.”

“And the cleaning?”

He took a quick look around the flat. He didn’t have to say anything, you got the hint. You had stuff thrown everywhere. Shoes, jackets, empty bottles of sparkling water. You didn’t pack much for this trip but surprisingly, none of it was in the suitcase anymore or properly put away. This wasn’t your flat but you sure made yourself at home.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, you’ll do the cleaning.”

“Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically,” you agreed. 

Lando took a few more bites before he kept going with this topic, “Would you come to the races?”

“I already do.”

“As my girlfriend,” he added, speaking with his mouthful. “Not as Charles’ sister.” He took another bite and then finished with, “Hypothetically.”

You inhaled a breath, leaning against the back of the chair. You avoided his eyes as you picked at the food on your plate. 

It wasn’t a genuine question but at the same time, you both knew it was. Calling it a hypothetical was a safety net. Something to fall back on if one of you said something that the other didn’t agree with. Or worse, if you both said all the right answers. 

“I think it would be like shared custody,” you eventually said with a hint of a smile. You kept the tone playful, but still answered as truthfully as you could, “One race with Ferrari, the next with McLaren and I’d keep going back and forth.”

Lando rolled his eyes and scoffed, “I don’t want to share you.”

“Hypothetically,” you included at the end of that sentence because he seemed to forget that this scenario wasn't real.

Lando’s eyebrow twitched as he took a sip of water, not agreeing to that final word. Hinting at the fact that maybe he was telling the truth in that sense. He didn’t want to share you.

He didn’t want you to hang out in the Ferrari garage. He didn’t want to see you flirting with Carlos. He didn’t want you spending your nights in hotels or air bnb’s away from him. He would never say that out loud, knowing how possessive it would sound. But what you didn’t know wouldn’t kill either of you. 

“Hypothetically, I’d be able to kiss my girlfriend for more than twelve seconds,” Lando said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. 

You pointed your fork at him, “You mean eleven?”

“Oh so you are counting the head kiss from last night?”

“Yes.”

He nodded with a sigh, “I understand.”

That’s how the rest of breakfast went, trading hypothetical questions that held a bit more truth to them than either of you were willing to admit. He finished eating before you did, but sat at the table and waited for you to finish. He laughed when he pointed out you had spinach stuck in your teeth, but he quickly stopped laughing when you threw half of your toast at him. 

When your plate was empty, Lando grabbed it and made a comment about how he would do the cleaning, remember? You followed him to the kitchen and tried to help him with the dishes but he just playfully pushed you away. When you tried to remind him that he cleaned up after you made pizza that first night and it was only fair that you help this time, he pretended to be deaf. 

Lando held out his arm to block you from grabbing the used pans and when you tried to step around him on the other side he just backed up and kept backing up until you were fully out of the kitchen. 

“Sit down,” he demanded, trying to sound as stern as possible as he pointed at the couch. 

And just because he was really cute when he tried to sound intimidating, you held your hands up in surrender and sat down on the couch. You watched him clean for a bit but then you spotted your phone on the coffee table, surprisingly not dead. 

You answered Charles’ text asking how the wedding was and Arthur’s message asking for a life update because you had accidentally ignored the his last four calls. You texted him and promised that you’d call him later, not even annoyed that he was checking in on you so much. You were lucky to have such protective and caring brothers. 

You didn’t let yourself think about how livid Charles would be if he knew where you were right now. 

There was nothing on social media about you being spotted with Lando, so you were in the clear for the time being. But if you left the flat with him, surely people would find out.

“What are you doing today?” You asked, looking up from your phone screen to see him finishing up. He wiped his hands on his sweats and had to think about it for a second. 

“Whatever you’re doing,” he landed on. 

He walked to the back of the couch and leaned forward, dipping his head next to yours. You had to crane your neck to meet his gaze and you were momentarily caught off guard by the way the sunlight seeping through the window hit the side of his face, more specifically showcasing the stunning array of colours in his eyes. 

“Tu as de beaux yeux,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. Lando gave you a look of confusion before you realised that you had complimented him in French. Maybe that was for the better. If you had complimented him in a language he understood, he’d hold it against you forever. 

But it was true. He had beautiful eyes. 

“What did you just say?” Lando asked quietly. 

“I said you smell like eggs.”

Lando rolled his eyes and tugged on your hair, knowing that you were not only lying, but trying to be annoying as well. 

“I have a proposition for you,” he then said, clasping his fingers together over the back of the couch. “We can do whatever you want today, if you let me plan what we do tomorrow.”

“What makes you think I want to hang out with you tomorrow?”

“Hypothetically, my girlfriend should always want to hang out with me.”

Your eyes widened for a second at the mock arrogance as you turned back to your phone, “Someone’s a little full of themselves today, hey?”

Lando snatched your phone out of your hands and tossed it onto the loveseat, ensuring he’d have your full attention as he jumped over the back of the couch to sit next to you. You expected some banter to follow after that comment, but when you met his eyes you could see a deep weight of concern in them.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line last night,” Lando said quietly.

“By kissing my head?” You asked and Lando nodded. He was so sweet. You reached forward and rested your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I like to think your intentions were good.”

Of course they were. He made sure you had changed out of your dress and washed your face before crawling into bed. He got you a glass of water. You still couldn’t get over the fact that he picked you up from the wedding in the first place.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you told him. It was genuine appreciation. Usually you were on your own. Sometimes if you were with Charles or Arthur during a night out, they’d walk you to your room but they’d make a joke about how you were an idiot for drinking so much. They wouldn’t stay longer than they needed to. 

“I like taking care of you.”

You rolled your eyes, covering half of your face with your hand as you rested your elbow on the back of the couch, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

Because then you’d really start to like him. Because then you’d rethink your no dating drivers rule. Because then all of these hypotheticals would turn into the real thing. It was bad enough that he already made you feel uncharacteristically giddy in his presence and that he had a calming aura that pulled you to him when it was just the two of you alone.

You pulled your eyes from his and inhaled a deep breath, reaching for the remote to turn the tv on, “You just can’t.”

Lando couldn’t say things like that because what started as meaningless flirting was now starting to sound real. He was only supposed to work his way up your driver standings, not work his way into your life, your thoughts, your heart. He had to tone it down before it got any worse.

But deep down, you feared it might already be too late. 

masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia @alesainz @fandomxs1 if i missed some people im so sorry

[didishawn]

@kiki1803

Red bikini (Gavi x Reader) smut

Warnings: smut, some Spanish

Masterlist

You wanted the tiny, skimpy bikini to be a surprise, making sure to cover up before your boyfriend saw, he didn't think anything weird about it, looking back, he should have suspected by the smug look you had the entire time.

The piece of cloth fits you like a glove, your tits almost spilling out, ass looking so fucking delicious, red si pretty on you, he can't keep his eyes from you the entire time you swim around together, get out from the water looking like so perfect.

He is always around you, almost guarding you he wants the view to be for his eyes only, and it makes him angry whenever he catches any of his friends watching, shit, even Sira is staring, that's how good you look.

His hands are on you the whole time, you can feel his boner against your back, grinding into it, then leaving him.

This happening one time, then another, then another, always walking off before spinning around and smirking at him.

He is desperate, so fucking hard, and he can't get out of the water or everyone will see his cock pushing against his swimsuit, body filling up with jealousy when he sees you and Pedri, his friend chatting you up -that fucker.

As soon as there is no one paying him attention, he is fast on his feet to occupy the bathroom, swimsuit soon pushed down and dropping to his ankles, hand around himself -since you are such a big meanie, he will have to do the job himself.

The hold he has on himself is tight, he knows he will have to be fast, difficult, as only you can have him cumming at such speed.

He jerks himself off, hand moving up and down, playing with his tip, the other going down to stimulate his balls, so heavy and full after literal hours of not meeting his sweet release.

He is silently moaning, praying no one is near to catch him as he feels his release approaching, thrusting hard against his own hand, and just as he finally cums, stomach painted white, the door opens and he jumps on his place, eyes meeting yours.

You look him up and down, eyes fixated on his softening cock, the remains of his fluids.

You smile sweetly -but he knows you are not sweet at all, at least today, you are nothing but cruel.

You take a step closer to him, dropping to your knees, his eyes widen as you grasp his cock, bringing it closer to your mouth, tongue sticking out and licking his tip, making him tense up and moan as you enjoy the taste, tongue then going up and cleaning his tummy.

"Sabes muy bien, Pablito" (tasting really good, Pablito)

You stand up again, enjoying how his cock grows back up.

"Tomate tu tiempo, llevas esa cara que siempre pones tras correrte" you kiss his cheek, and like the cruel minx you are, leave him alone with his boner again. (take your time, you have that face you always have when you cum)

You are cuddling in bed, after stating to be too tired to help him get off again -a lie, you both know it, you just want to make him crazy.

You are fast asleep, and he is still fucking horny, looking so pretty in the lingerie you chose to use as pijamas because you are a tease.

He stares at you, hearts on his eyes-he can't help but hate loving you so much because right now he wished he could hate you after all you have made him, go through today.

He looks down, you nipples hard against the thin cloth that makes your tits look so plushy and big.

He is tired, tired of being so horny, so there is no regrets in waking you up.

You are woken up in the most delicious way that exists, your boyfriend's cock grinding against your tummy, his lips attached yo your nipple through the beautiful fabric, the other being pinched.

"¿Enserio?" you, ask him, and he just grins. (seriously?)

"¿Qué te esperabas? Después de haberme dejado con ganas de más todo el puto día" he groans, finally feeling you against him makes Gavi realise he won't last at all "Por favor, déjame follarte, aunque sea solo la punta, no necesito mucho para correrme, lo prometo" (What were you expecting? After making me horny the entire fucking day. Please, let me fuck you, even if it's just the tip, I don't need much to cum, I promise)

You sigh and roll your eyes, acting annoyed even if you both know there is nothing you want more right now that having him inside you, filling you up as he ruts into you.

You turn around, and he takes it as his signal to push your panties aside, your leg raised up as he slams into you -not just the tip, that was a stupid proposal and you both damm weel knew it.

He appears to be in heat, thrusts so fast, so hard but not controlled at all, the only purpose of this is to finally get to fill you up with his cum.

His hand goes to your front, teasing your clit, he likes how you tighten up, your moans and whines are breathy, he grunts with each slam of his hips into yours, teeth buried into your neck marking you down -the same marks are on your tits, but it won't be until the morning that you realise this.

Your face turns to his, lips smashing into his, tongues playing with each other as you feel him tense up, quickly filling you up with his cum, but his hips won't stop until you too reach the sweetness of extasis.

It doesn't take long, moaning into his mouth as you cum around him, both of you tired to move at all.

He drops your leg, but doesn't take his cock out from you.

"Por favor, ponte ese bikini todos los días" (please, put that bikini every day)

You smile, ass grinding once more back into him, but it won't be until the morning that he makes sure he gets his revenge, fucking you so hard you won't be able to walk.

[mrswint3rs]

haiiii!! i was wondering if you be willing to write step dad whesker x reader where you come in from college for a family reunion and he takes you out back behind the building to feel you up, and as he does someone catches you and he continues to fuck you as the family tries to get you both to stop. :3

𝐀 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 ❦

pairings - Stepdad! Wesker x Fem! Reader

a/n- this is definitely the darkest fic i’ve written so far😭 thank you for the ask!! hope you enjoy (as usual, not proofread so lmk)

𝐂𝐰- Step-cest, exhibitionsm?, cheating, fantasizing, taboo relationship, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Wesker is 48), mild daddy kink, use of praise and pet names, reader is a virgin, unprotected sex, dumbification?, breeding kink if you squint, dacraphylia ꨄ

༺

“It’s so good to have you home, hon!” your mother exclaims, suffocating you with her usual greeting of a hug.

It had been a couple of years since you’d been home. You chose to go to a college a few states away, which your mother absolutely despised. But as an adult, you’re responsible for your own decisions and that’s where you wanted to go.

It was far away, but you could still visit whenever you wanted. Though, simple face-times were more convenient in between those timeframes.

You couldn’t make it to last years family gathering, mostly because it’s on the most random day of the year and you had exams. So this year, you make the effort to come visit.

It was nice to get a break from the burdens of school.

“It’s good to be home,” you reassure your mother with a few awkward back pats before pulling away from the embrace.

“Albert set the TV back up in your old room for the week.”

Convenient. You had almost forgotten about the man your mother married. Or rather, tried to force yourself to forget him.

Wesker came into you and your mother’s life out of nowhere, quickly becoming head of the household. And taking over your thoughts entirely.

He was a fickle man, something about him just always seemed off in a way you couldn’t quite decipher. He was just eerie. Somehow, that was appealing. You found yourself wanting to get closer to the man.

But you would never do that to your poor mother. She loved him a lot, so it seemed. So you just pushed him out of your memory when you left. It was nothing that serious. Never even discussed out loud. Hell, the two of you hardly ever spoke, always awkward around each other.

Especially now, as you pass by on your way to your room.

He just watches, as if inspecting you under a microscope. Not saying a word, just staring all open mouthed like he was going to.

You force a tight lipped smile, directing it to him as a hello. Some things just don’t change. Not even your old bedroom.

But you sure did.

Wesker couldn’t help but notice your major change in wardrobe. He always saw you as the sort of insecure and self conscious type. Now you fully displayed yourself without shame, wearing tighter, more revealing clothing. Shorts so short your ass hangs out around the edges. And your makeup, less minuscule. To say you grew into your looks was an understatement.

You completely changed appearance wise, even if you remained the same inside. He felt like he was looking at you for the first time.

He liked what he saw. A little too much. He knew how wrong it was to see his own stepdaughter in that light, but as he takes in every inch of you, all the blood rushes from his head to his cock, making him shift uncomfortably as his pants suddenly grow to be too tight.

He just leaves without greeting you, welcoming you home like he wanted to originally.

Hopefully you didn’t take it the wrong way, he just desperately needed to relieve himself. To get those dirty thoughts out of his head.

He rushes off to the bathroom, dropping his pants and boxers down to his ankles and immediately gripping his cock. He closes his eyes as he fucks into his hand, using the thought, the image of you in his mind.

Something was seriously wrong with him.

It only took a minute or two before he made a mess of himself, cumming in bursts he’d never experienced. He had never gotten off that fast, or released that much. But with the thought of you, it felt completely different. Completely wrong and so damn good. Was he really that depraved?

Usually he goes back to normal after he finishes, but not this time. It only made him want more.

As he starts to go again, he’s halted by the sound of your mother’s voice. Dinner was ready. She planned all week for this, making sure to make your favorite meal for your first night back.

With a frustrated sigh, he washes the filth from his hands, looking at his face shamefully in the mirror before pulling up his pants again, making his way to the dining room.

You’re already there, sitting quietly at the table. He sits opposite of you, trying to remain as far away as possible. Trying to pretend he didn’t just jerk off pathetically to the thought of you.

“So, Wesker…” you speak up, almost giving the man a heart attack. “Mom told me about the new job you started.”

It takes him a minute to process your statement. He realizes you’re attempting to make conversation with him, clearing his throat before replying. “Yes, pays quite nicely.”

Was that too bland? He shouldn’t have to think this hard for a simple discussion.

“Do you like it?” you try to continue.

He freezes up as you start eating, lips wrapping around the spoon, making direct eye contact with him. He zones out, imagining those pretty lips around his cock, struggling to take him down your throat. Shit. When did he become this desperate?

Again he shifts, feeling that familiar tightness. “I like it just fine. I get a decent amount of time off.”

“Are you looking forward to the cookout tomorrow? Your favorite aunt will be attending I’ve heard.” he continues, hiding the tremble in his voice.

You nod, “It’ll be nice to have everyone together again.” and the conversation ends there, leaving your mother to carry it on throughout the rest of dinner.

He tries his hardest to be normal, refusing to look your way. But he can’t help it. He continues stealing glances at you throughout the meal, writhing in his chair every time you meet his gaze.

By the end of it, he’s in the bathroom again, unable to calm himself down. Meanwhile you’re going to bed without knowing at all.

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

The following day is even worse. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the day without doing something. Let alone the rest of the week that you’re staying.

Half of the family is over, completely taking away any chance of privacy for his restroom breaks. He would just have to deal with it.

That was going to be completely impossible though.

It’s a hot day, you’re dressed in a tank top and an even shorter pair or shorts than the day before. With your hair up, unkempt and out of your face, smiling and laughing so sweetly with the others. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of your exposed skin.

He’s struggling to keep up with his role with the grill, almost burning the food an embarrassing amount of times.

He wanted so badly to slip away again. But even then he wouldn’t be satisfied. Not until he got to have you the way he wanted.

If he was going to survive this family reunion, that’s what had to happen. He just didn’t know how he was going to pull it off. He had a feeling you might be attracted to him, but he was never certain. You hid your feelings better than even he could.

When he notices the grill is running low on charcoal, he sees it as an opportunity. “Could you help me out with getting these bags from the shed? Could use an extra pair of hands.”

Being the good girl you were, you drop everything you’re doing to help him out, following him towards the other side of the house.

He didn’t at all need help. Before you know it, you’re pinned to the wall, silenced by his rough lips taking over yours. He forces your shorts down with ease, dipping his hand directly into your bare cunt while the other holds you there.

You go completely dizzy, not fighting against him. Instead you’re kissing your stepfather back, letting those urges take you over, all the pent up tension that built over the years.

You whimper into his mouth as he rubs at your clit like a mad man, already making you quiver. “What if we get caught..and the neighbors…if they-“

“Let them. They can watch for all I care. I need you, now.” he interjects, and you submit.

He discards his pants, hooking his arms under your thighs to hold you up and aligning himself with your entrance and shoving all the way in, balls deep.

You let out a guttural squeal, clinging onto him with tears welling up in your eyes.

“Holy fuck…” he growls almost animalistic, “So fucking tight. Are you still a virgin?”

You nod. Well, you were. And now your first time was his. Knowing that drove him over the edge. “It’s alright, daddy’s got you. I’ll take care of you, my darling.” he croons.

But that was partially a lie. As much as he didn’t want to end up hurting you, he couldn’t control himself. He tried his best to slow down, but his hips thrusted into you on their own. The head of his cock jabs at your cervix, over and over.

Your nails dig into his back seeking stability and he does his best to hold you.

You’re sobbing, from pain or pleasure he can’t tell. All he knows is it’s turning him on even more. Everytime you whine, it brings him closer.

“You’re okay.”

“Such a good girl, letting me have my way with you. You’re taking me so well.” he coos softly, continuing to fuck up into you ruthlessly. “Daddy’s gonna fill you up, you’re going to take it like a good girl, hm?”

You can find the words to speak, only mewling out needy and incoherent attempts at his name. It’s enough to push him over. He cums deep inside, not even attempting at pulling out.

Instead, he continues, stuffing you full of his seed.

His pace doesn’t even slow during the second round, steadily pumping his cock into your walls. You suck him in so tightly as he splits you open mercilessly. As much as he cared for you, nothing was going to stop him from fulfilling his needs.

Not even favorite aunt who’s horrified at the sight in front of her. She grows to be heated, preaching on about how disgusting he is, pleading for him to separate from you.

It goes in one ear and out the other. He doesn’t even pause to look at her, keeping his eyes on yours. He wasn’t going to stop until he was fully satisfied.

“Just look at me baby, don’t worry. We’re in this together. Daddy’s got you…”

You’re feeling completely humiliated, guilt churning in the pit of your stomach, his cock only stirs it further.

Your aunt fades out to the background, your ears start to ring and your vision goes hazy. You climax so hard you can’t stop your shaking. You tighten up around him in the process, completely draining him into you.

Again he sounds a carnal growl, feeling that sweet release he’s been yearning for.

When he pulls out and sets you down, you’re clinging to him like a whipped dog, soaking his shirt with your tears. It wounds his heart to see you so upset.

He pulls his pants back up, yours as well, zipping up your shorts and buttoning up the button for you. He runs his hands through your disheveled hair and wipes away your streams of tears.

Whatever the consequences were for his actions, he wouldn’t let you go down for it.

The two of you could run away together if needed, he hardly cared all that much for your mother anyway.

Not when you were in town.

mlist

[azul-marie]

leon. (dolor)

fem. reader. angst with comfort. mentions of trauma.

he stands at the bedroom doorway, brows tight and tense the way they get when he’s lost in twilight thoughts.

he doesn’t walk in. he doesn’t quite look at you. just stares at the visage of you sitting up in bed, curled up under blankets and clean duvets, cuddled into dovefeather pillows. scrolling through your device, observing whatever it is you’re talking to him about lately. that show, that book you’re into. maybe some hobby you’re getting better at.

leon, for a good long while, stares into the mundane of the room.

you don’t say anything. you don’t insist, or inquire, or shoo away. you know this is how he gets sometimes. you know it’s because of everything that’s happened. everything, everywhere, everyone that resides behind those sky blue eyes, hollow and sunken, deciding to visit him every now and then, even on good days like today. even on days when earlier he’d looked at you like a man falling in love for the very first time, all over again, whose handsome face twinkled with mirth and stars and the kind of youth he may have once had when he was a boy.

leon stares. strong, safe body frozen at the door. tousled hair. roaming eyes. if you look closely enough, you may be able to see the growing desperation to ground himself. to ground his mind, at once racing with repressed memories but blank with numbness and nothing. there’s so much. so much yet so little he can manage to think out, to put into concept, perception.

it must show. it must because you finally lift your head up and force his eyes on yours, and you’re so sweet and beatific and good he wonders why you’re even here, when did you get here? between the blood and bites and flesh and bones and mama and dad and the city and spain and luis and jack when did you show up? when was it decided that you’d love him and stay? after everything he did, after everything he didn’t, why was it you chose him?

something burns down the sides of his face. one by one by one something burns after the other, but he doesn’t move. doesn’t make a sound. he just stares, stares and hopes you don’t notice it’s a bad one this time, hopes you notice he wants to talk now, he does, but he can’t, he can’t because nothing is coming out and his mouth is open but he can’t he can’t—

“sit with me, sweetie. keep me company.”

you pat the space beside you. the normal, cheery way you do. if he looks too close, he’ll see the calm look of worry you wear. but he doesn’t, because he might start hiding everything away again if he realizes the state he’s in. reminds himself it’s okay though. it’s okay, because it’s you, no one else, no one to hide from like so many times before.

leon finally moves. he watches himself from somewhere high up above the ceiling, climbing into the place you directed him to. he’s shaking. he looks a mess. but the feel of cool sheets and soft pillows brings him back just enough. enough to catch his breath, to try to organize a racing mind.

your hand sticks out. not too close, not too far. a noncommittal invitation. i’m here. it says to him. i’m here if you want. only if you want.

leon curls himself into your lap, taking the both of you by surprise.

the back of his head presses into your stomach. his nose pokes the soft of your thigh. his hair falls over his tear-striped face, shoulders trembling with silent sorrow. his hand frantically searches for something up above.

it lands on yours. without a word, he sets it over the hairs of his head, and silently motions for you to pet him.

“please.” is all he says.

you listen.

teardrops cascade down the expanse of your skin, each one a memory unspoken. uselessly do his hands cup his cheeks to catch them before they bloom, before he remembers the reason behind their fall. they will not stop. his silence becomes that of weeping whimpers, low, deep, from the cavity of his chest.

your fingers are featherlight across his scalp, a cautious touch in the wave of emotion. you say nothing only because you know he needs this, the physicality of affection, for words and sentiment are lost on deep dark hurt, unable to comfort like the caresses from a lover.

the two of you stay like this, for a long while. waiting for the tide to change, the storm to pass. until his tears lessen into saltskin, until he blinks fog away from damp lashes and loose strays of hair. you pull strands away from his rosy, tear stained cheeks to tuck them behind his ear. you run a gentle hand down his jaw, to the aching bob of his throat.

“my love, my boy.” you say softly. “you’re everything to me. nothing will change that. it’s been so hard for so long, i know. you’ve been strong all this time, leon.”

“what if i can’t do it? what if it’s not enough for you?”

“you’re more than enough, lee. you’ve been trying your best, don’t forget that in these moments. you’re home and life to me, always. love, darling, would i lie to you?”

his answer is immediate. “never.”

and he takes comfort in the pressing of your lips to the shell of his ear, the curve of cheeks and tissue scarred by the past. eyes shut tight, basking in the waves of gradual calm over him, keeping back the dark for the time being.

but he knows there’s too much to heal with simple kisses or honeyed words. plenty things he can’t bring himself to speak aloud with you. perhaps that’s where he’ll start, find somewhere to go, someone qualified to talk to. take the load off his back, and keep from worrying you, too.

he entwines your fingers together. brings them up for a kiss to your knuckles. “i love you. i’d do anything for you. anything.” hoarse his voice may be, he speaks strongly, clearly to emit his conviction. leon presses kiss after kiss across your fingertips, heart caught in his throat by how gently you cradle him into your bosom.

the warmth of your love lulls his fatigue into a dreamless sleep; his last thought is full of you and you alone.

[mythicalmyles]

ghost!proxy fucking you asleep one night and you waking up in your "dream" cockwarming somebody you can't see... fucking yourself back onto their cock and moaning half-asleep and needy into your sheets, saying how you need them to fuck you, how much you wanna see them, it only spurs them on to flip you onto your back fucking into you fast, now with multiple hands teasing your nipples etcetc while you still cannot see them but can see how much their cock gapes your hole <33333

UGHJFF another ghost proxy joining in and fucking your mouth ohnngghhhgof or even double pen,,, HOT

there is much to think about myth

– 💤 anon

18+, dubcon, based this off of some of our old asks i kept

(Name) smiled up at his new house, it was a little run down but nothing dedication couldnt fix, besides, his boyfriend was pretty handy. (Name) quickly made his way up the stairs and opened the door. The house was stuffy and almost felt suffocating, as if he was encroaching on somethings turf. He shook his head, hair flailing. It was an old house, no one had lived in it for quite some time.

(Name) gazed blankly at the boxes thrown around his new home, he felt exhausted after the long train and taxi ride. He shook his head and b-lined to the couch, flopping his body down and passing out almost instantly.

——————

“Aaah!” (Name) shot up only to be shoved back, pleasure wracking his body as he felt something fucking into him. His shocked eyes gazed at nothing, he could feel the hands pinning his stomach down but there was no one there. All he could do was lie back and moan as he was fucked raw by an invisible figure, he’d never felt this good before. His body felt like it was on fire, moaning with every thrust.

“Shhh, be a good boy and go back to sleep.” The voice was dark and shook him but he couldn’t help but close his eyes as the thrusts sped up, his body bouncing with every slam of its hips.

—————

(Name) shot up on the couch, darkness filling the outside. He checked over his body to see nothing, a sigh left him. It must’ve been a dream he convinced himself. He picked his phone off of the floor, checking the time. His boyfriend would be here soon.

He shoved himself off of the couch, he couldn’t be bothered looking for his cooking equipment. Instead he chose to ring up a take out, he almost hurled when they told his it could take up-to two hours due to his secluded location.

He let out a sigh before sitting back down, his dream running through his head.

He mustve zoned out because his boyfriend clapping his hands shook him, eyes immediately darting to the other. “Oh, (b/n).” (Names) voice was drowsy and his eyes were drooping, his boyfriend chuckling at the state of him.

“Come on.” He muttered softly as he scooped (Name) into his arms, chuckling as he carried them upto their room.

—————

(Name) tried his best not to sigh as his boyfriend rolled off of him, he came but he felt so unsatisfied. The images of his earlier dream swarmed his mind, helping him cum. Usually he took forever, his mind grasping at thoughts to help bring him to the edge.

As much as he loved his boyfriend he was just too sweet for his own good, (Name) craved desperately to be thrown down and taken like an animal. He worried he just wasn’t attractive enough to bring out that side of his boyfriend but he always shrugged the thoughts off.

He tried not to sigh too loud as he closed his eyes, hoping sleep would take him quick.

—————

(B/N) woke up to the sound of moaning, shocked eyes landing on another man sliding his cock into his boyfriend. All he could do was gape and stare as he watched his boyfriend moan the loudest he ever had, pleasure filling his voice. Large hands slid up (Names) chest, lifting his shirt. Hands played with his nipples as he was ground into the bed. “Pleeease, stuff me.” (Name) mumbled out, half awake and tongue hanging out mouth.

(B/N) couldnt believe his eyes, he’d never seen (Name) like this. “G-god harder! Please!” (Names) eyes finally opened, looking behind him and seeing no one. His shocked eyes landed on his boyfriend. “A-aah, (B/N)!” (Name) moaned as he was fucked deep, eyes staring at his boyfriend across the bed. “I-im sor-sorrry.” He slurred out through moans, eyes hazed.

“Have you ever had him like this? Moaning like a bitch in heat?” Masky’s words had high pitched moans pouring from (Name). It felt too good to be true, it had to be a dream (Name) thought. He couldn’t see anyone behind him but he definitely heard and felt them, their cock filled him up, easily slamming into his prostate.

He came after another few thrusts, eyes rolling back and his back almost snapping as he arched. “He’s a good little puppy isn’t he?” Masky smirked as (Name) whined, huffing as he came down from his high. Masky’s hand wrapped around (Names) neck, pulling him flush to his chest.

Masky’s other arm restrained his arms, keeping them pinned to his sides as Masky continued to fuck him, except now his boyfriend could see everything going on. (B/N) couldn’t help but stare as Masky’s cock continued fucking into his boyfriend, going as deep as he could. (Name) whined at the overstimulation, lungs gasping for air. “Come play with his nipples.” Masky sounded more like he was ordering, (B/N) couldn’t help but comply, his cock straining hard against his pants. He looked into his boyfriends desperate eyes, finally clicking in his brain. (B/N) really liked seeing his boyfriend like this, he wanted to see that look on (Names) face again.

More moans poured from (Name). “Ah, please. N-no more.” He begged weakly, voice cracking. “You’re going to be a good little doggy and take all the cock you’re given like the good little whore you are.” (Name) groaned, chest arching into the warm mouth that had attached to one of them. (B/ns) tongue rolled around (Names) nipple, flicking the bud as his other hand teased (Names) other nipple between two digits.

(Name) felt his mind liquidate under the pleasure, another orgasm quick to tear through his body. A loud scream left (Name) as he was forced through another orgasm, his mind blank as he flopped back against Masky. Cold filled him and he let out a shocked moan, whoever inside of him pulling out.

(Name) tried to apologise to (BF/N) and instead was silence with a kiss, his boyfriend pushing him into the mattress. His boyfriend moved him until he was on top, grinding their hips together as he looked up at (Name). He grinned up at (Name) before pulling him down onto his cock, throwing his usual care out the window. (Bf/n) slammed (Name) down onto his cock, intent on drilling every moan he could from his lover.

(Name) let out a moan of pain, the sudden feeling of a hand yanking his hair making him jump. Wide eyes staring at nothing. He felt something cold press to his lips and catiously opened his mouth, only to choke when what he could only assume was a cock, was shoved into his mouth.

The cold sensation was a huge contrast to how hot (names) body felt, sticky with sweat as his boyfriend had him ride him. Choked moans left as another orgasm washed over (name), body shaking as he ground down on his boyfriends cock. (Bf/n) came clenching (names) hips, leaving indents and bruises. He lay panting after, watching as someone transparent fucked (names) mouth. (Bf/n) bit his lip as he watched (name), eyes fixated on his throat.

(Name) let out a load whine as he was pulled off, cringing at the taste in his mouth. (Bf/n) was quick to pull him into his arms, cuddling him close.

[lokisprettygirl]

Utopia (Modern! Daemon Targaryen x female reader) (Non Canon AU) (18+)

Read chapter 7 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 8

Summary: It's Daemon's birthday but you get a surprise instead.

Warning: 18+ sex ,period sex (if it bothers you skip the scene) death and destruction that comes from a ship wreckage, smut, sex, menstrual sex, unprotected sex. Some inconsistency with ship sinking, i researched as much as I could

Note : I tried something new with this chapter.. you'll see 🙈

“Did you recognise him?” You asked Daemon as you tugged his arm lightly so he looked behind but Danny had driven away already.

“No..did you?” He asked you with a look of confusion on his face.

“That was one of the crew members on Utopia” You muttered causing Daemon to respond with a knowing smirk,

“How do you even remember that?” he asked you so you slapped his arm playfully to stifle his amusement.

“It's nothing like that..he tried to hit on me once..but that's all” he couldn't help but chuckle as you said that. A hint of jealousy crept in anyways, you were a gorgeous woman, of course men were flirting with you onboard the ship but you chose to sleep with an arse like him. Everytime he remembered that morning when he was so cruel to you he wanted to turn back the time and take it all back.

As Lily opened the door, she was moving with the help of a crutch, she greeted Cole and wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace, then she hugged Aemond, and Emma even but she completely ignored Daemon and you ofcourse.

“Daemon can I talk to you for a minute?”

Well that didn't last long.

She asked him so he looked around the group and nodded eventually. A wave of sympathy washed over him at the current state she was in, the old him that was devoted to her would have been here all day long like he had been before everytime she got sick and injured but he knew his actions would have gone unnoticed in the long term.

Despite the fact that he was no longer interested in her as a potential romantic partner, he still cared for her deeply as a friend. The memories they shared and the bond they had forged still meant a great deal to him, and he couldn't help but feel concern for her well-being.

“I'll be right back” he caressed your cheek with his thumb before he leaned down to kiss you softly.

As he followed Lily to her bedroom With a faint smile, you moved to the couch and sat down. Emma was perched on Aemond's lap on the other side and they were both watching you intently, while Cole seemed quite uncomfortable, shifting his gaze about the room as if not knowing what to do with himself.

“Well this is so comfortable and not awkward at all..so glad we came”

You mumbled in your mouth so Emma chuckled to cut the tension. The thought of Danny crossed your mind once again. Did they stay in touch after the incident? What was he doing here? The manufacturers of Queen Utopia blamed the sinking on unexpected hardware defaults, but something happened that shouldn't have happened that night. How could a ship like that get breached so easily you wondered?

“I feel like I need to take an appointment to even see you these days” Lily spoke to him so he sighed in response, her voice carried a hint of annoyance and sadness at the same time.

“You don't need an appointment Lily.. once you're healed we can start performing again, I think we all need to do that sooner or later”

Her eyes teared up as the casual tone of his voice broke her heart. There was a time when she had been his world, the center of his attention, and his priority, even more so than his music and she knew she was the only one to blame for why Daemon had drifted away from her. She was selfish and wanted to enjoy her 20s with no restrictions because she always felt that at the end she'd find her way back to Daemon and he'd take her back.

“You say that as if we can be in the same group with so many differences” she mumbled sarcastically so he crossed his arms defensively. Her words didn't sit right with him.

“Why not? We have done it before while you were flaunting other men right in front of my eyes” he snapped bitterly and that only raised her temper. What was she doing wrong? She had tried to do everything to bring him back but it was as if he saw nothing beyond you anymore. What had you done to him?

“As if you didn't sleep around with other women, you always speak of it as if i cheated on you”

She raised her voice at him and he knew her voice would reach to your ears, he didn't come here for this, he just wanted to check up on her as a friend, as someone he had spent a decade with but perhaps he needed to maintain his distance from her for her own good and his own sanity.

“How long will you punish me for picking myself that night? When I realized what I had done and what I had lost it was too late..but can't you just give me another chance at this? Do you have any idea how guilt stricken I was when I realized you weren't going to come back? But somehow you did and I still lost you”

She asked him as she wept so he just shook his head in response.

Daemon's thoughts drifted to the impact their soured relationship would have on the band. Music had always been his greatest passion, something he had dedicated his life to, and it was all he could see himself doing. It was true that he would likely never be the next Bruce Springsteen, but his main goal was to make enough money to live comfortably and keep you happy by his side because he had spent the majority of the fortune on that thing already.

As he turned around to leave she said something that made him stop in his tracks. God dammit Cole.

“I heard that you're writing a song…about her..a love song” her voice trembled both from envy and hurt as she spoke so he turned to look at her, his own eyes were teary now,

“10 years you have known me and you have never written something so personal for me..she's your muse now isn't she..I don't even get to be that anymore, do i?”

“I'm sorry, nothing that I'm doing is to hurt you here..i have changed, she has changed me and for good, I'm not the same man anymore and I'd never want to be, I can't be the Daemon you were used to ditching as you wished, even if I try so just…forgive me okay?”

With those words he walked out of her room, took your hand in his, and led you away from the house. You muttered a half-hearted goodbye to the others, not wanting to be impolite.

“You don't need to see her ..ever again” he said to you as he tied your seatbelt for you so you cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly.

“Are you okay?” You asked him as you pushed back the hair that was falling all over his forehead and instead of answering you with words he brought his lips to yours and kissed you as lovingly as you had done before.

He was okay, with you by his side he almost felt invincible.

Not for a single moment he ever regretted the decision he had made to be with you, he had tried to move on before to get over Lily and find someone who wouldn't push and pull him again as they pleased but he never could. Until you came along and showed him that a relationship didn't have to be so self-serving.

Later that week as he packed for his trip to meet his family in Northampton, the thought of him getting on the plane filled you with unease. You held your breath until you heard from himself that his flight had landed safely, as you didn't want to experience another tragedy like the one that happened on that ship. You were going to be scarred and paranoid for life, that you knew.

How unlucky you had to be on a ship that sunk to the bottom of the ocean? Now you were afraid something horrible could happen again but he was safe and that was all that mattered to you.

And you missed him terribly. You missed being around him so much that it was driving you crazy in all sorts of ways, a part of you feared that you were too attached to him but then what was wrong with that you wondered. He wouldn't hurt you, that you knew, he wouldn't turn his back on you in the middle of this relationship and find someone else, your insecurities stemmed from the past wounds but deep down in your heart you knew he was it. He was your man, that one man you had been looking for all your life.

Maybe there was some truth to his theory about you two being fated to be together.

“Hey gorgeous” he mumbled as he laid down on the bed with the phone pointing right at him.

“Heyyyyy handsome..how was your day today”

He was shirtless, freshly showered, he had been working out lately to get back to his healthy weight and you were starting to see the effect it was showing on his body. You wanted him to come back so you could cuddle against him and bite those developing pecs between your teeths.

“Ahhhh tiring, went out fishing with Viserys then we hiked for a while” his accent was thick and heavy as he spoke, very posh, being around family must have brought his inner posh boy around..

“Mmmmmm weren't you scared of the waters?” you asked him so he gave you a tight lipped smile. He always felt that as a man he didn't have to be so vulnerable and show his fears but you never shied away from making him want to open up to you.

“I kind of was at first but then I pictured you holding my hands and it turned out fine”

“You're cute aren't you” you giggled and he shook his head in response.

“I miss you my brave girl..what did you do today hmm? Feeling okay?” he asked you so you nodded but you weren't feeling okay.

“Then come back because I miss you” he smiled as you mumbled softly, he seemed tired from the day and you had this incessant urge to coddle him to sleep. Your body was burning just for a touch of him.

“Soon baby..I see the necklace you have on and the peach shirt that you stole from me” you bit on your lip as he said that. It was the shell necklace he had gifted you and you were definitely wearing his shirt as you missed his scent around you. You didn't want to get so emotional but your eyes teared up and he noticed it immediately.

“What's wrong hmm?”he asked you so you took a deep breath and sighed.

“Nothing I'm just..i feel like I'm too dependent on you and it's going to annoy you sooner or later”

His brows furrowed as you said that as if you had said something so completely absurd.

“Annoy me silly? I like it that you feel that way because that's how I feel too..if I was there I'd be all over you and in you right now” he whispered the last part and your face flushed immediately.

“Really?”’

“Don't make me catch a flight in the middle of the night”

“That makes me feel better”

“Mmmm your look is doing things to me baby..”

And now he was purposefully using his bedroom voice on you.

“Mmmmhm?”

You watched his free hand lower down as he rubbed his cock from over his briefs, the look on his face was familiar, lust so transparent in those beautiful irises.

“I'm counting minutes until I get to touch you again” he mumbled so you got up and placed the phone on the bedside drawer, the bedroom light was off but you kept the candlelights on to give him a soft sensuous view and because you were obsessed with that hue. Reminded you of the bonfire on the island.

“I'm not used to being desired this way”

You mumbled as you walked a few steps behind as you fiddled with the buttons of his shirt.

“I am going to use you until you're used to it and I'll never stop”

Your face flushed at the remark. He was so dirty and you loved it. Your Cavemon. “Show me something baby I'm starving..” his voice came out in whispers as he pulled his cock out of the confinement of his pants so you twirled around a little before you unbuttoned the shirt one by one..your naked thighs was a vision already, he desperately wanted to have those gorgeous legs wrapped around him.

You turned around as you took the shirt off and showed off your naked body for him, you had never been so abashed before but it felt free and liberating, him being so far away and yet being able to see you like this was sexy. He made you feel beautiful even when you were at your worst on that Island so right now in the comfort of your room you felt like an absolute goddess in front of him.

“Good gorgeous girl..you're so fucking beautiful” you moved towards the bed and turned the phone so he had access of you on your bed before you laid down on your back.

“I wish you were here baby.. fucking me with your thick hard cock right now”

You mumbled as you spread your legs apart and played with your clit, he almost dropped the phone as he heard your sultry voice melting in his ears, the sound of his fist pumping his own length was loud and clear, and so were the moans and groans erupting from his throat, he was the sexiest man you had ever known of, especially when he was in the throes of pleasure..

Didn't take long for him to splatter his cum all over himself as he cried out your name in ecstasy.

Safe to say you both slept very easily that night.

The very next day however Emma informed you about a very public post Lily had made on reddit, acting very heartbroken and talking about how her ex boyfriend chose to abandon her and moved on with someone else while she was still dealing with the trauma of ship sinking. People knew about you and Daemon and local people knew about Lily as well because of the band but the way she had spun the story in her favor was completely one sided and unfair especially to Daemon.

When the gossip reached his ears Daemon seemed unfazed and asked you to stay calm and not worry about it as he didn't really care what other people were saying about him.

The time on the island has taught him that none of these things would matter in the end or would hold any value in the laws of nature.

As his birthday arrived you woke him up with morning sex and then you cooked a hearty breakfast for him, later that evening you put on a beautiful a line dress as he took you to the paradise and told you that there was a surprise for you.

“It's not fair you know..it's your birthday and I'm supposed to give you surprises” he chuckled as you said that before he pulled you closer to kiss you.

“You have all the time in the world to do that my love”

After a few minutes he excused himself and Emma made you sit down with her, then it went completely dark, but the lights on the center stage began to flicker. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Daemon appeared, clutching his guitar. The rest of the members of the band stood behind him, except Lily of course.

You really thought that was the surprise, him singing again and you were exceptionally happy about it but what he said next fastened your heartbeat.

“We always play famous songs and you guys enjoy it alot, but this song is a bit special to me. I wrote this for the love of my life”

The audience broke into cheers, but you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the sudden revelation. Love of his Life? Did he mean You? Well you hoped so but Oh god..

“Okay here it goes.. darling this is for you” he looked you right in the eye as he spoke. The people yet again burst into applause and hoots as Daemon began to strum the opening chords,

“I’ve been foolish, been so dumb, chasing feelings that had me numb, Then you came for me.. like an angel,

To save me cause I wasn't able”

Your eyes teared up immediately as he looked at you and sang, his fingers moved softly over the strings of his guitar, singing straight into your heart. It was a moment you knew you would never forget, a moment that would be etched in your mind forever.

Never in your life you ever thought anyone would care enough about you to even do this. You stood up from your seat and walked closer to the staging area as you couldn't resist.

“So why does it now surprise you baby, I feel vacant when I'm not inside you lately,

My time goes still when I'm not around you, around you, around youuu”

You didn't want to cry but you were going to.

“Darling I want to put our pictures on the wall one day, dancing around with you and making love all day,

So I can look back.. at our time together, cherish kisses shared with one another.

The end of us would be the end of love for me…

As I love you and you will be my only.”

You quickly wiped the tears that fell down your cheeks, you had no intention of crying today but you were over pouring with emotions at that moment. This was too good, too pure and too much for you. You had done nothing to deserve this.

“When we were sinking down so fast

You held my hands under the deep water,

When the darkness whelmed it's cast

You shined on me like a burning ember,”

His voice trembled as he sang that part but he recovered quickly and gave you a smile.

“So why does it now surprise you baby

That i can't even be without you lately

And My heart goes still when I'm not around you, around you, around youuuuu..

My Darlin' I wanna put our pictures on the wall one day, As we grow old, gray and dull someday,

So I can look back at our time forever, soaking every tear we shed together

The end of you would be the end of love for me…

Cause I love youuu and you will always be my only..

Yeah I promise you…you'll forever be my only”

You heard the roaring of the crowd as he finished the song and he put his guitar down and looked you right in the eye, he was nervous and afraid that you'd not like it or that you'd feel ashamed of him.

He was unsure of how you would react.

All you wanted to do was to run towards him, pull him into your arms and never let go. But instead, you found yourself suddenly filled with a surge of emotions, and when it became too much, you turned around and ran out of the club.

Did he say that he loved you? That he was in love with you? He wanted to Grow old together with you? Did he see you two making it that far together? Did he feel for you as strongly as you did?

You took a deep breath as you stepped out in the fresh air, your tears didn't stop rolling. A moment later you felt his presence behind you so you turned around to look at him.

“That bad huh?” He chuckled even though his eyes were teary, so you walked closer to him.

“Bad? Bad? You think that was bad and that's why I ran out?”

You asked him so he shrugged “Do you mean it all? Everything you said.. about us getting old and-- together--” you spoke again so he gave you his sweetest smile.

“Each and every word darling I promise”

You closed the distance between you two and grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss.

“How come you became the best thing to ever happen to me Daemon? How dare you?” You mumbled against his mouth before you kissed him again as passionately as you could.

And then you ran again. This time back into the club to yell from the top of your lungs that you had enjoyed the sweet surprise so much that you had to go jump his bones immediately and treat him like the king that he was.

When you came out again his eyes were teary, you looked like a child high on a sugar rush and his heart warmed at the sight, he wanted to keep you happy this way, always. You grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest way, giggling all the way through, he pressed you against the wall in that darkened alley as he kissed you, his hands sneaked under your dress so you held his hand and stopped him.

You turned him around so he was up against the wall and you nipped on his neck before you kissed down from his chest, his heart skipped a beat as he realized what you were about to do

“Are you sure about this ?” He asked as you went down into a squat position.

“Would I be undoing your buttons already if I wasn't sure?”

You winked at him as you took his cock out. You were going to blow his mind like he had blown yours and sure you did, he was a mess of mumbling moans and sweat by the time you were done with him and you swallowed each and every drop he had spilled in your mouth.

If you thought him writing a song for you was the end of what he could do for you then you were mistaken completely, that was just the beginning. What he had planned for you next was something you never could have imagined even in your wildest dreams.

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

Note : I hope the lyrics aren't complete shit, I'm not a songwriter ofcourse, I'm barely a writer 😅 and i know Daemon would write a kick-ass song but let's pretend it was good 🤣❤️

Taglist

@mcufan72 @123forgottherest @shuichiakainx @stupidthoughtsinwriting @tmlbdv

@ammo23 @anukulee

[maries-gallery]

Chevalier had never been one to grace mornings with open arms. Reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of his sheets, to be met with yet another day of dealing with his brothers and political issues. 

The peaceful land of dreams, his only respite from the weight of the crown and the duty ancred in his blood. 

But mornings grew easier on him when the two of you started sharing the same bed. His heart swelling with warmth in his chest, first thing when he opens his eyes to be met with your serene features and the steady rise and fall of your chest. The sight of life right under his eyes. The sight of what some would call his weakness but that he finds to be his balance. 

Between the Beast and the Human inside of him. Between Rhodolite’s interests and his own desires. 

Sometimes he collects you in his arms, dipping his head in the crook of your neck and bathing in your scent. And he can spend hours watching you sleep. Either until you wake up or he falls back into Morpheus’s embrace. 

Nothing but you and him, nothing but the soft lullaby of your beating heart and steady breaths. 

But on other occasions, Chevalier has different plans for the both of you…

Cold blue eyes fly open, stirred from slumber by the gentle morning light filtering in through the curtains. Warmth spreads on the both of you, sweet as honey as Chevalier’s gaze falls to you. Peacefully asleep in his embrace, your back to his chest, his arm draped over your waist. 

His features soften with the hints of a smile as he gazes down at you, torn between the desire for this moment to last forever and the wish for you to wake up and greet him with the smile that never fails to make his heart flutter. 

The smile that never fails to remind him he has a heart. Not made of stone nor ice. But made of blood and flesh, and one that beats strong and warm in his chest. 

But on this day a bigger part of him finds himself at peace with admiring you at your most vulnerable. So irresistible in your most defenseless state. And sometimes he wonders what he did for you to trust him so completely, for him to win your heart. 

Beauty and the Beast. A cold hearted monster touched by the warmth of a woman who should never have crossed his path. But chose to stay. 

And maybe you should have fled when you still had the possibility, when he was still willing to let you go. Because now the beast aches for a taste, aches to devour you whole. 

His lips glide on your soft skin like silk, tracing a path of gentle open mouthed kisses from your bare shoulder to your nape and jaw. Teeth softly grazing the skin. And he knows if you had been awake you would have shivered under his touch. 

A loving smile graces his features, eyes soft with tender affection as you stir with a breathy moan. 

“Good morning.” He whispers against your skin, arm tightening around your waist, bringing you closer and closer still. Voice deep, a soft rumble in his chest, like a purr.

He stifles an amused smile as you mumble a reply, still half asleep. 

A hand trails down over your stomach to dip lower. A soft sigh falls from your lips as lithe fingers smooth over your inner thighs, caressing the soft skin there to light it on fire and build pleasurable heat in your core. Attentive to every shift in your features. Another kiss falling on your shoulder as a light frown creases your brows. Hips unconsciously bucking against his. 

A moan of his name falls from your lips, no more but a whisper. 

And his heart swells at the knowledge that you always want him. Even in the depths of your dreams. 

A smile curves his lips, fingers padding at your entrance, revealing in the wet warmth of your willing core. Until a pleasured sigh falls from your lips and he slowly slides them between your slickened folds, dipping inside of you. 

His thumb traces tight circles on your clit, eager to make you writhe under his touch as his digits caress your plush walls and tease at your sweet spot with calculated strokes. 

“Chev?” You shift in his embrace and turn to him, voice laced with sleep and gaze carrying the clouds of a dream. A mischievous smile curving his lips as your eyes flutter open. 

“Good morning, simpleton.” He greets you, nose nuzzling the skin of your nape, strands of gold tickling your cheek. And you lean into his touch, legs parting for him under the sheets. A silent approval, a silent demand for more. 

“Please, don’t stop.” You whimper, an arm flying up behind his neck for purchase. 

And Chevalier needs little else to continue his ministrations, slower this time, determined to make this last, to make you lose your mind until you beg him to grant you sweet release. He knows it is selfish. But he wants more, so much more of your walls sucking him in, of your core burning up in a melted fire for him. 

His digits curl inside of you, caressing your sweetest spot as his palm grinds over your sensitive bud, earning a flow of moans from you, each one more desperate than the last as he brings you closer and closer to your high. Your hold on him tightening as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap. 

His pace slows, purposefully missing the spot that has your toes curling as he places a soft kiss to your cheek, soothing your soft whimpers as frustration bubbles up in your veins. 

“Ah-! Please, Chev-! I need to-” You choke out through lustful sobs, hips rolling against his hand to try and pursue your release as it slowly ebbs away from you. 

“You will.” He reassures, “Be patient. I promise it will feel good.” 

And he takes his time with you, bringing you so close to the edge of your orgasm over and over again. Bathing in your cries of his name and the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Praises and encouragements falling from his lips as another release is stripped from you. 

“You’re doing good so far. I know you can take another.”  And you nod, too lost in your own frenzy to do anything else. Mind blurred from both pleasure and a burning need to burst.

But you’re so sweet as you tremble and thrash in his hold. Your back arching off his chest and your eyes rolling to the back of your head once he gives it to you. Pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave as your vision goes white.

“Don’t think we are done here, simpleton.” He says, kissing your jaw as his fingers dance inside of you and his hips thrust up against yours. “We have only just started.” 

taglist: @aquagirl1978 @randonauticrap @pockcock @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @ikemen-writer @veervers @xenokiryu @ikesimp100 @skoetiepoetie​ @syneilesis​ 

mdni interact banner made by the talented @/saradika

[thefuseoftemptation]

requesting eddie munson with shy!reader. I've been seeing a lot and I'd like to see how you would put it!

Well thank you. Let’s see what I’ve got.

—SO, THERE’S A GUY

EDDIE MUNSON X GN!READER

WARNING(S): uh nothing? brief second hand embarrassment if that counts. NOT PROOFREAD.

—

Every time Eddie stopped by the library, he had to be sure to get a quick look at the one behind the counter. Whether it was the first thing he did when he came in or the last whenever he left. And even if he had yet to get a few words from you, he’d still taken quite the liking.

He’d watch you from over the book he held and just stare at you, only to turn suddenly when you happened to look his way. He wasn’t the most subtle…..

–

Every time that guy stopped by, you’d be sure to get a quick look before he left. Trying to get a little glimpse of those curls that could be seen from between the shelves or over the book he held up.

You’d watch him from where you were behind the counter, sometimes even looking out for him when you were putting the books backs in their spots, only to fuckin chuck yourself to the floor when he happened to look your way. You weren’t the most open….

And honestly it was a little much and maybe self-humiliating, seeing as you could’ve just gone back to stocking the shelves as if he hadn’t seen you or you know, leave. But no, that wasn’t the case.

By now, you chose to let it be known. No matter how much it made you want to curl up in a hole and cry because why were you like this?

You were behind the counter as usual, waiting for someone to come up when they were ready to check out or if they needed to have their questions answered. It worked out well for you to be in the library because it required very little, if no talking.

Though even if you had to talk to others, most of the time it was just you murmuring or giving short responses much to their dislike since they couldn’t understand a word you just said. 

But it seems like today wasn’t one those days since he had come up to you…

—

Eddie had been trying to get the nerve to go up to you. Well, it wasn’t really nerves per say, at least not all of them. It was just him trying to know what to say without having you run the other way. So, rubbing his hands together, he stepped up.

“S’cuse me?” Eddie wasn’t sure why he had rung the fuckin bell there since you already seen him, but he did it anyway. Briefly shutting his eyes at the gesture before pulling it away and clasping it to the other. 

“Uh, could you tell me where I could get” Eddie set the piece of paper that was tugged from his pants on the counter “this book?” He pointed to the crudely written words he thought of last second. To be honest, he knew where it was, but it was all he could think of that could get him close to you.

“S-Sure…” Your voice was so small, so low, that if it weren’t so quiet in there, he wouldn’t have heard you. He waited as you typed it in the system so it could be pulled up, his fingers thrumming on the surface before he leant over to see. Which resulted in you holding your breath at the closeness, his breath basically on your ear.

“So, books huh?” Your brows pulled together at the question, or at least you thought it was.

Eddie should just clap his hand over his mouth. Who says that? Why say that??? Ugh he could just throw himself on the street and curse for how his mouth had a mind of its own. 

Honestly, he wasn’t thinking when he spoke, hence the fuckin question. He was just trying to make conversation with you. He just wanted to talk to you, get to know you, but of course he fucked that up.

“Uh, yes?...” You stated unsure of yourself, not even looking at him because you knew if you did, you’d crumble underneath those huge eyes of his. Not that you noticed…

Eddie went to speak again, though he hadn’t gotten the words out before you were handing him the paper back. “Here. It should be further up to the side– sort of in the corner.” That was the most you’ve spoken, from what he knows, but he took it for what it was and nodded his head.

“Thanks.” Eddie turned to leave, slapping his hand to his face as he went. 

“Y-You’re welcome.” You sighed.

–

You were seated at one of the tables on your break with your nose in a book. Repeating the words under your breath as you went, too into it to see, much less hear, someone come up beside you.

“Hello.”

The book was clutched to your chest, gasping at the unexpected and sudden voice. Staring wide eyed at Eddie, who held a look of guilt.

“Sorry, I thought you heard me…” he thumbed in gesture behind him, the other hand holding the latest finding he had asked about previously.

“Um, i-it’s okay.” You mumbled, clearing your throat.

“Could I…?” He asked, tilting his head to the empty seat next to you.

His eyes looking expectantly, the underlying desperation for you to give him to thumbs up. But he wasn’t trying to cross any lines, so if you had told him to leave, he would’ve. Even if it left him feeling like he lost again.

You nodded, unable to get the words out because the guy you’d been watching these last few weeks wanted to sit next to you. You.

The closest you got to uttering something was an ‘okay.’

And knowing you were the one to cause his mouth to stretch up as he pulled the seat out, had you matching his features. Though yours weren’t as huge, it still sent Eddie.

The whole time there, it was spent with unsubtle quick glances. And after a while, it sort of turned into a little thing you guys did. You’d look and then he would, and when you both stared at the same time, you’d throw your books up as if you hadn’t just been caught by the other watching. Eddie broke the silence a few minutes into it.

“So, books huh?”

He swore the second you showed those teeth of yours as you threw your head back at what he said, it’d be his favorite thing to hear from then on.

—

A/N: feedback and reblogs appreciated.

[sopeiism]

“CRY FOR THE CAMERA.” : CHOSO KAMO !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ “AY, PAPITO, HOLD STILL.”

⠀IN WHICH .. choso is feeling needy for the day. he wants no one but his lover who would do anything to help the man with the sultry lifestyle he chose to live; the woman aiding her man’s needs.

⠀GENRE .. camboy!choso xx dominant!reader. established relationship. smut. drabble (1.1k).

⠀CONTENTS .. mdni. nsfw. no plot/plotless. unprotected sex. bondage. gagging. choking. overstimulation. crying. voyeurism. handjob. blowjob. pet names (papito & baby). malebottom. femdom.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀WHIMPERS AND cries of ecstasy muffled against the woman’s lips whilst her tongue roamed the inside of her lovers mouth. Their lips moved in sync with one another, as if they were handcrafted just for each other.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Saliva coaxed their mouths like no other, Choso attempting to deepen the kiss any chance he got. Yet, [Y/N]’s stern grip on his collar held him against the leather seat of his desk chair. The way they were intertwined felt as if there’d be nothing that could pull them apart.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀How her fingers interlocked with the collar she buckled around his neck, pinning him beneath her with minimal strength; yet, he could barely fight against it. How her intoxicating scent clogged each and every sense of smell he had, nothing but pure coconut filling the aroma.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The way she towered over him would be considered threatening, yet the man loved every bit about it. He adored the way she made him feel smaller, wanting nothing more than such.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀She was slouched above him, one hand’s finger curled into the collar he wore, her lips never leaving his as his tears stained his adorably bright red cheeks. Her opposite hand was grasping at the base of his dick, maneuvering up and down while precum trickled down the sides.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The base of her thumb would rub through the slit of his tip, Choso’s mouth falling open ajar from the euphoric endurance it put him through. Each time her fingers glided across the prominent veins on his erection, his eyes would roll back even farther than before.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Cold shivers swirled up his spine anytime she caused any sort of friction against him, the man struggling relentlessly against the firm ropes that held his limbs in place; along his bare body. He’d cry and squirm in his chair, [Y/N] simply tugging on his collar each time, alerting him to behave himself for the camera.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Ay, papito, hold still.” the woman slurred against his lips, her voice alone causing more precum to find its way all over her fingers.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Tugging his bottom lip between her teeth just after, [Y/N] released her finger from the chain; smoothly wrapping her calloused hand around his neck and planting one last stern kiss against Choso’s lips.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pulling away from the oh so desperate man below her, [Y/N] observed how he tried to follow after her lips— slyly grinning and pulling the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. It surely was a sight for sore eyes how the man was a breathless mess, along with being tied up so intricately.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His arms were pulled behind his back, broad chest and shoulders heaving up and down with every breath he took. It was picture perfect within [Y/N]’s eyes.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Glancing over at the camera Choso had delicately set up on his desk, [Y/N] reached for it and pulled it to her, showing off Choso’s state for all of his viewers to see. They were paying big bucks to watch her tease him, so she was going to make sure they got their fair share.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“Just look at him. Crying because I won’t let him cum. Ay que lindo.” ( Oh how cute ) [Y/N] proded, biting down on her index finger’s nail while moving the camera close to Choso’s face so the viewers saw exactly how rosy his cheeks were.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀After a moment, the woman gently placed the tripod back on the desk and shoved the cloth back into Choso’s mouth, kissing his cheek just after.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[Y/N] began to gradually lower herself on her knees in front of Choso, her hands gliding down his thighs with the tips of her acrylics grazing his blazing skin ever so slightly. The soft touch of them had Choso subconsciously bucking his hips, whines dragging out of his mouth all the while.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀His moans and groans were muffled by the cloth [Y/N] shoved into his mouth, the man biting down on it whilst he watched his lover tease him more than she already has.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Once the base of her tongue made contact with the bottom of his dick, the cold metallic ball of her tongue piercing shot needles through the man’s skin, sighs of relief mumbling between the ruffles of the gag. [Y/N] giggled to herself at the reaction she earned from her simple action, proceeding to drag her tongue along his erection.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀When she got to the tip, she only took half of it in her mouth and allowed her tongue to swirl the slit of it. Gazing up at Choso through her lashes; the rest of her hands pumping and twisting the base of his dick. It was thick, veins coating it and protruding the sides, the length anything but small.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀The woman kept her throat nice and relaxed for her man, taking him deeper and deeper in with every other head bob. Slick began to build up all along the sides of his length, the liquids causing [Y/N]’s fingers to glisten under the LED lights that decorated the office room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀”O-Oh- fuck! baby! P-P-Please- A-h p-please let me come. Please, oh- fuck! Please!” Choso managed to cry out in pleasure in between moans after alas pushing the cloth from between his teeth.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀All [Y/N] could do was laugh at the man’s patheticness, watching as genuine tears rolled down his burning face that was beat red.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Each time the tip of his dick hit the back of her throat, her gagged reactions would cause vibrations to ricochet all across Choso’s length, earning hip bucks in return. The reaction would proceed to cause [Y/N] to continue to gag, the cycle repeating itself whilst she repeatedly moved her head along his erection.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Before the woman had any time to react to such an abrupt hip buck from Choso, his hot sticky substance decorated all over the inside of her mouth and traveled down her throat. His load was huge, thanks to all the teasing and taunting caused by yours truly.

© S0PEISM — do not steal my works. all rights reserved. likes and reblogs appreciated !

[timaeusterrored]

(The Fever)

V was laid out in the back of his car, a headache had hit him and he had to pull over. Now, he was writhing in pain in the back seat with his head rested in Johnny’s ‘lap’.

“Call Ker.” Johnny repeated for the fourth time, knowing this was more than a headache. V’s temperature was slowly rising and it was making Johnny sweat.

“Don’t wanna bother ‘im.” V whispered back, content to lie in the back of his car with Johnny until he was well enough to drive again. He was having the thoughts again that Johnny didn’t like, ones of his time being soon. Johnny would drag his ass to the cure if he had too.

“Then call Vik.” There was no reason he couldn’t call Vik, but Johnny knew V would find a way to excuse why they couldn’t call Vik.

“‘S late-“

“It’s his job, V. Call him or I will.” Johnny knew he should not be taking over V’s body right now, not in the state he was in, but he had to do something or else they were just gonna lie here in misery. And he knew V was just gonna chose to lay here.

V opened his eyes and frowned, leaning into Johnny’s hand. He thought about it for a moment before nodding. Finally, some sense.

He called Vik up, and no surprise, the ripperdoc answered on the first ring and could see the state of his adopted son. And that was that, V needed to get his ass to the clinic immediately, or Vik would come and find him. V admitted it would probably be safer for Vik to come find him.

Johnny knew V hated admitting defeat.

It took no time at all for Vik to find his son, and Johnny felt grateful for once about this. Vik’s ability to just find V anywhere came in handy once or twice.

Vik got him back to the clinic, V was more or less asleep. Vik was gentle, trying to be careful even with a full, chromed up, grown man leaning on him. V woke up enough to help try to lug himself into the chair, looking over when Johnny appeared next to him.

“I feel like ass.” V’s mouth didn’t move, but a smile formed when Johny snorted

“You look like ass.” Johnny wished in this moment that he could comfort V. That why he had wanted him to go to Kerry, for comfort. Vik could hopefully fix whatever the issue was no problem, but he knew from personal experience that Kerry made any illness feel like nothing.

“J…”

Oh fuck, here they go again.

“V, I said stop it-“

“Just shut up and listen.”

Johnny obeyed, because he didn’t want V to get worked up while Vik worked on something to make the headache go away. A cold shower would have broken the fever, again something he would have rather done at Kerry’s.

“I’ve worked too goddamn hard on this body, don’t you fuck it up.”

Johnny nodded, letting V have his little rant.

“You don’t have to keep the hair dyed, I think it’s part of my charm but it’s a lot of up keep. The good stuff, not whatever the fuck you used back in the day.” Hey it got the job done.

“Check in on uh…” Johnny’s heart dropped. He knew who he was about to say but V didn’t seem to remember for a moment.

“Judy. Check in on Judy once in a while.” He frowned a bit, as if wondering why he struggled so hard to remember her name.

“And Kerry. You gotta go back to him… you make him happy-“

“Alright, I got it. We’ve been over this five times now… get some rest, baby.” Johnny ran his hand over V’s hair and frowned, watching him open his eyes to look at him.

“Promise me.” He whispered out loud, his voice weak and exhaustion laying heavy on his bones.

“I promise you, V. Told you I wouldn’t fuck us up.”

Johnny decided then, in that moment, if he ever took V’s body, he’d never be ‘I’ again.

[punk4ndisorderly]

light on

The one where Y/N is the daughter of a legendary Team USA coach and used to attend the development program with the boys. 8 years after they last saw each other in person, a reunion brings Jack and Y/N back into each other’s lives... and hearts.

if you keep the light on, i'll keep the light on

VIII IX - conversations with my 13 year old self X

“So I hear you and Her Royal Highness are no longer a thing.” Ed commented, trying to make it sound casual.

“Subtle.” Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

“News travel fast. Especially when you are famous and were dating the princess of pop.” the director shrugged. “The car’s right there.” he pointed to the powder blue Fiat 500 parked outside.

“Remind me again why you bought that car?”

“Shut up, it’s a nice car.” he feigned hurt. “It’s mostly for the wife to drive so I let her choose.”

“You let her choose or she chose it and you wanted to make her happy so went with it?”

“Shut up, Hughes.” Ed scoffed, shoving him.

The sun was shining as bright as ever over LA and Jack contently took it all in, a sudden crisp draft making him shiver.

“I see you still refuse to dress accordingly to the weather.”

“I brought warmer clothes this time. They’re in my bag, alright mom?”

“They’re no use if you don’t actually wear them, you know…” Ed pointed out, popping the trunk open for Jack to store his large suitcase in.

“Yeah… That’s not going to fit in there.” he stated, resting his hands on his hips.

“That’s what she said.” the brunette man chanted, earning himself a glare from his friend. “Oh, come on, don’t give me that look…It was highly suggestive.”

“I guess I kind of had that coming…” Ed acknowledged, picking up his luggage, trying to get it in the trunk. “See? There’s no way you can take this here.”

“You’re seriously underestimating my Tetris skills.”

His friend raised his eyebrow, folding his arms in front of his chest.

“Okay, let’s see what you can do, then.”

Jack smirked, rubbing his hands together and proceeding to try to force the trolley in, failing miserably.

“I’m going to wait inside, Tetris master.” the director laughed, patting his friend’s shoulder and climbing into the small car.

Ed turned on the radio, as Jack took his phone from one of his pockets and switched it back on, receiving a text from Trevor.

Say hello to the Mrs. from me ;)

“Dick.” the Devils' players smirked, scrolling through his recent messages, only to find himself reading Y/N's once again.

Hope to hear from you soon. Love, Y/N.

He smiled at the thought of seeing her again in a short span of time, as Cat Steven’s The First Cut Is The Deepest started playing through the speakers. He immediately traveled back to the day he heard Y/N play it for Alex and Cole in the common room back in Plymouth. Jack remembered how excited she was about having learned how to play that song on her guitar and how beautiful her voice sounded while singing it. They had made her play it over and over again because their reactions made Y/N smile so big they couldn't help it but want to see it show up on her face again. It was one of his fondest memories of their days in camp.

Once he heard beeping he snapped back to reality. That simple task was taking him too much time so he just swung one of the back doors open, throwing his suitcase inside with a loud groan.

He climbed inside as Ed slid the keys into the ignition. A large shit-eating grin formed on his friend’s face but, before he could even get a word out of his mouth, the hockey player pointed his index finger at him, menacingly.

“Don’t.”

*

Y/N snuck behind her daughter’s back, holding her hands gently over the big beautiful eyes that mirrored her own. Joey was sat on the couch, watching cartoons and eating a slice of cake.

“Guess who?” she half-whispered.

“Mommy!” the little girl giggled, placing the nearly empty plate on the small table in front of her and running to hug her mother.

“How did you know it was me?” the doctor pretended to be intrigued, holding Joey tightly, showering her with kisses.

“I’m five, you know…”

“That’s right, you’re a big girl now… I can’t really surprise you anymore, can I?”

“Well, no, not really, mommy. Ms. Penny told me that I’m a very smart young girl.”

“Of course you are, Jo. Never doubt that for a second.” Y/N said, standing back looking at her child and seeing her whole world looking back at her with such adoration she felt it could make her heart burst. “Where is your nana?”

“In the kitchen.”

“Alright, baby, I’m just going to give her a hug and then we’ll be on our way. Do you have your overnight bag ready to go?”

“Yeah, it’s upstairs.”

“Go pick it up, please. And don’t forget to take the plate back to the kitchen when you’re done.” she warned, leaving the five-year-old in the living room and padding to the kitchen.

Her mother was cleaning the oven, failing to hear her come in.

“I see you still do anything to avoid watching My Little Pony with my child.” Y/N smirked, leaning against the kitchen island and crossing her arms over her chest.

Y/M/N jumped slightly at the sound of her daughter’s voice, accidentally hitting her head inside the oven. She quickly got up, cleaning her hands on her apron and rubbing the sore sport in the back of her head.

The doctor moved to hug her mother, leaving a soft kiss on the injured area.

“Here, all better.” she cooed jokingly.

“You scared me, young woman!" cried out. “And I could not power through another episode of magical talking ponies going on adventures. A woman can only take so much, Y/N.”

“You wouldn’t like to live in my house, then.” her daughter declared, getting down on her knees to inspect the appliance her mother had so dutifully scrubbed off. “All clean. Where’s Dan?”

“He went out for dinner with the boys from work.”

“I don’t think they can be qualified as boys if they’re over fifty, ma .” she teased.

“Oh shush, you!”

Y/N stuck her tongue out, jokingly mocking her mother.

“Anyway, I’m heading home now. Thank you so much for looking after Joey over the weekend.”

“I thought you were having dinner here tonight…” the older woman frowned.

“I know, but I’ve hardly slept these past couple of days, I’m really looking forward to lie down and actually rest. Did Jo…”

“Yes, she had dinner over half an hour before you got here. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I am. Thank you, though.”

“Alright, alright… But before you go…” she began, pulling out her phone from the pocket of her apron and handing it to her daughter. “What is this?”

“Oh, you saw the picture.”

“I saw it, alright…” Y/M/N pressed her lips into a thin line, furrowing her brows. “I think I’m framing it!” she cheered.

“Ma!” the teacher moaned, rolling her eyes.

“Jack looks sexy!”

“Saints…”

“He is quite a sight for sore eyes. Don’t play innocent, young lady.”

“Why are we having this conversation?”


“Because I was informed he is now single and ready to mingle.” her mother stated matter-of-factly, nudging her side. “And you two have always looked impossibly cute together. Do you have anything you want to tell your dutiful mother?

Y/N sighed dramatically, feeling like she was reliving her teenage years all over again.

Y/M/N had always felt at ease when it came to talk to her daughter about anything and everything, overlooking the fact that it was award for her to discuss certain subjects with her mother.

“Can’t you just act cool for once?”

“Of course not, baby ! I mean, have you seen that picture?”

“I love you ma, but I’m exhausted and I am dying to get to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” she moved to kiss her mother’s cheek.

“Y/N Y/L/N, don’t you dare to…”

“I’m ready, mommy!” Joey chanted, holding her bag with one of her tiny hands and an empty plate with the other, standing on her tiptoes to leave it on the counter.

The doctor looked at the older woman, shrugging.

“Saved by the bell, hu? Baby, give nana a kiss goodbye.”

*

“So, how is everybody?” Ed inquired, pulling up on set.

“Alex and Z are still the same dumbasses that share one braincell, Quinn is still moaning about us not visiting him enough, Luke is apparently nominated for an award for his volunteer work, Cole is thinking of getting a new dog… Basically, everyone’s being themselves, doing their thing.”

“Y/N?”

“What about her?”

“You didn’t mention your girl.”

“Oh… Y/N… Y/N, you know? Breathtaking, witty, funny…” Jack babbled, not noticing the sly smile on Ed's face.

“Single…” the director added, giving him a knowing look, twirling his car keys on his index finger while they walked inside the studio unit.
“Here we go again…” the Devils' player sighed, shaking his head while running his hand through his brown hair.

“I’m just saying…”

“How do you know these things? You’re not even on social media.”

“I have my sources.”

“Trevor told you about it.”

“Trevor told me about it.” he confirmed.

“Figures.” he grumbles. “So, so which part are we shooting first?”

“The kissing scene.”

“Not awkward at all, then!” Jack hooted, raising his fist in the air.

Everyone gathered around on set, the crew setting up the cameras and the remaining equipment so they could get through the first scene of the day for the ad of a perfume Jack was the new face of, alongside with his popstar ex-girlfriend. He spotted the woman he had been dreading to see in the back, chatting with her agent. Why had he let her convince him to do this? Right, they were dating. And he signed a contract.

Ed called out for the actors and the crew to get ready to start filing, making the singer look his way, noticing the brunette man awkwardly standing next to him. She excused herself and waltzed over to the pair.

“Good morning!” she smiled gingerly, glancing at her former boyfriend through her eyelashes.

“Hey Stevie…” Jack greeted, leaning in for a small hug.

“God, babe, do you need a nap? You look tired.” Stevie prodded, grabbing his chin and inspecting his face. “Lighten up, okay? It’s show time!”

He sighed heavily when she turned her back on him, which Ed seemed to find extremely amusing.

“Get to work, man.” the hockey player huffed, moving to find his dressing room so he could get dressed before getting on the makeup chair, do what he came to do and leave as soon as possible.

The first few takes made the whole scene feel completely fake, almost like the two exes were robots.

“Guys, this isn’t working.” Ed declared, pushing himself off his chair and heading towards the two people lying in bed. “It doesn’t look like you two are about to make devour each other, it looks like you’re being forced into it. Trust me, if I’m not buying it, the audience won’t either.”

“Well, Jacky could always hold on to me a little tighter.” Stevie suggested.

“Can we try again, please?” the brunette man asked, ignoring his ex’s flirty tone.

“Boo, you’re no fun.” the singer pouted, leaving the bed and returning to her initial position behind the bedroom door.

It took them three more takes to get it right, or at least for Ed to think it felt genuine.

I do NOT snore! You, on the other hand, talk in your sleep. Ha! I’m actually on set right now, filming an ad We had to shoot it eight times. I’m exhausted. Did you get home safe? J. he typed on his phone, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Any news?” Stevie inquired, smirking.

“Hmm… No, just replying to a text.”

“Alright. Listen, I’d really like to have a word with you after we wrap things up for the day. Meet me in my dressing room?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

  *

They finished shooting in the middle of the afternoon due to Ed's busy schedule, much to Jack's dismay. Wrapping up early meant having to stay for another day. A full-on conversation with his ex awaited him, and he couldn’t think of a good excuse he could use to avoid it. He went through his notifications one more time before he got up and made his way to the star’s private room.

He reluctantly knocked on her door, only to find himself being pulled inside and pushed against the wall, instantly feeling her lips on his. It took him a few seconds to process what was actually happening, returning her eager kiss in the meantime.

Stevie tasted like a mix of alcohol and chocolate, something he had grown accustomed to when they were dating.

The Devils' player let his mind wonder off down memory lane, getting interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his back pocket.

Y/N. Wait. What the fuck am I doing?
“Stevie.”

“Mmm..” she moaned into his now lipstick-stained lips.

“We need to stop.” Jack pleaded. “I’m serious Stevie, stop.”

The singer pulled back, stunned by his blatant rejection.

“I want us to get back together, Jacky. This whole break-up thing was stupid. I miss you.” Stevie disclosed, her fingers running under his shirt.

He took a deep breath, moving her prying hands away from his toned abdomen to drop at her sides.

“It wasn’t a stupid idea. We both know we aren’t right for each other. We’re better off this way.”

Stevie shook her head in disbelief, sitting down on her black leather chaise. Her former boyfriend took a seat next to her, snaking his arm around her shoulders.

“You deserve someone who will give you the moon and the stars and I don’t think I’m the one who’ll do that for you. I just think it isn’t fair for either of us to drag this out more than we already have. I don’t want us to end on bad terms.”

She paid attention to his words, nodding while he spoke, but as soon as the room went quiet she got up, picking up her phone from her purse, fumbling with it for a bit, shoving it right in his face once she found what she was looking for.

“Is this about her?” she hissed.

“What does Y/N have to do with any of this, Stevie?”

“That’s what I’m asking you! You couldn’t wait to break up so you could finally get into her pants, hu?” she barked. “I knew it! I knew you were hung up on her from the minute I saw you staring at that picture of her on the wall at Trevor's house! I can’t believe I let you convince me it was all in my head!”

“There’s nothing going on between Y/N and I! Do you really think I’d be fooling around with her behind your back? I would never do that!” Jack yelled back, standing up to his full height.

“Yeah, right… You know what? I gave you another chance to get back together and be with me, and you refused to take it. I hope you and Y/N live happily ever after, you jackass!”

“We aren’t…” he began, being interrupted by the slamming of the door behind Stevie. “Fuck!” the brunette man cursed, hitting the large mirror on the wall with his fist, dozens of shards of broken glass dragging through his knuckles.

He took a look at his bloody hand, wincing in pain.

“Shit.”

*

“Little red berry, little red berry of mine! In the garden is a little berry…”

“Your little raspberry!” Y/N sang.

“No, mommy! It’s my little raspberry!” the little girl corrected.

Y/N looked at her daughter through the rearview mirror, smiling softly.

“I know, I know… How was your weekend, baby girl?

“It was great. Pop Dan took me to the park and we had ice cream, but nana doesn’t know about that part, so don’t tell her, okay?”

“Okay.” the doctor chuckled in response to her daughter’s request.

“Then pop and nana watched My Little Pony with me and pops even let me paint his nails bright pink!”

“Oh I would have loved to see that!”

She pulled up to her house, climbing out of the car and waiting for Joey to do the same before locking up and leading her inside.

“How was your weekend, mommy?” the five-year-old tugged on her mother’s dungarees to get her attention.

“It was very nice, thank you for asking!”

“I was worried about you…” Joey stated, following Y/N.

“How come?” her mother inquired, furrowing her eyebrows, carrying her luggage upstairs.

“Nana told me it was going to rain really hard in Michigan. I know you get scared when you’re alone during storms…”

The doctor stopped dead on her tracks, dropping her suitcase and getting down on her knees, facing the little girl.

“You don’t need to worry about that, baby . I had a very good friend there with me.” she winked, kissing the tip of Joey's nose. “Do you mind sleeping with me tonight, though? I think I might get scared again…”

“Don’t worry, mommy, I’ll protect you.” her daughter assured her, wrapping her small arms around Y/N's neck. “Always and forever.”

 *
“Woah, that’s a lot of blood, dude.”

Jack looked up from his lap, glancing around the nearly empty private hospital’s emergency room to find whoever spoke up in a valley accent. His blue eyes landed on a boy, who sat three seats away from him.

“Yeah, I guess.” he mumbled, forcing a pleasant smile through the pain, taking a glance at the small towel wrapped around his injured hand, almost soaked in blood.

“I’m Ryder.”

“Jack.”

“Fuck, man, how did you do that?”

“Punched a mirror. What are you here for?”

“I’m diabetic. Mom freaked out about my blood sugar levels so here we are.”

“That must suck.”

“Not really, I get to skip school and avoid my dick of a History teacher. And I can use that whole hold on sugar, I’m diabetic line on girls. Plus, I think I’ll make it to basketball practice on time, so I’m good.”

“Don’t you guys prefer to skate over here?” Jack asked, genuinely intrigued.

“We're not all the same, dude."

“Sorry.” the hockey player chuckled as the boy scooted a couple of seats closer to him.

“There's a lot of guys who skate or play football, but I’m tall and I have a great jumpshot, so…” Ryder shrugged. “Anyway, back to you. What’s up? Do you have a habit of punching mirrors or…?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m pretty sure it involves a girl.”

“Two, in fact.”

“Nice!” the boy snickered sarcastically. “Are you dating two at the same time? That’s messed up, Jacko.”

“No, I’m not. I broke up with my girlfriend not too long ago and I spent the weekend with a friend at a reunion.”

“Let me guess: you like your lady friend.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t really know how I feel about her. I definitely feel something, but I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, you know?”

“What’s her name?”

“Y/N.”

“Is she hot?”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“Is she nice?”

“The nicest.”

“Does she like you?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, you better figure it out then. It’s not that complicated, really. My dad told me the good ones aren’t available forever and you should never keep a lady waiting. Basic etiquette right there. Go for it, bro. Carpe diem.” he said, patting the brunette man’s back.

The Devils' player knitted his eyebrows together.

“How old are you, Ryder?”

“Thirteen.”

“You’re a smart kid.”

“Thanks.”

“Alright, punchy. They say they can take a look at your right hook now. Come on.” Ed announced, coming from the infirmary.

Jack got up, holding his left fist out for Ryder to bump.

“Nice meeting you, Ry. Shoot some hoops for me at practice today.”

“I will.” the boy smiled. “You’re a nice dude, Jack. You’ll get the girl.”

-

Y/M/N - your mom's name

Dan is Y/N's totally made up stepdad - Y/N's parents are divorced, coach lives in Michigan, mom lives in NY

Ed is a random producer/director that has worked with Jack before. Totally made up.

Stevie is the fake popstar I made up as well. Named her Stevie bc I love Stevie Nicks and Stevie is a great name.

[alessiathepirate]

Post-Now You See Me 2

RIFFLE SHUFFLE: Dylan Rhodes / Shrike x fem!reader

Summary: Waking up next to her was something Dylan Shrike liked to experience.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: nothing at all, just some soft fluff

•••

It's been a while since Dylan Shrike woke up peacefully, his eyes opening slowly, trying to get used to the light.

It still felt unusual. After all those years, working for the FBI, waking up when every other person on Earth was still sleeping -- waking up to the annoying buzzing of his alarm, hurrying through chaotic mornings and then getting to work...

This felt nice. This was something he could get used to. Slow mornings, soft ones - where he doesn't have to drink strong coffees and quickly dress up.

It felt nice, because his bed wasn't empty like it used to be in the past.

Dylan turned around, facing the other side of the bed, the side of her lover, as he was still hugged by the duvet. As his eyes examined the other side, the state of it and the person sitting up with her back to the headboard, he couldn't help but smile.

Really smile.

It was nice too. Smiling this quickly after waking up.

There she was, the love of his life, the only one who really knew him ever since the beginning, who chose to stay with him and love him even after the case with Marby. She was sitting, her thighs still covered by the duvet as she played around with a pack of cards, her eyebrows moving with her thoughts, focusing on trying to do a trick right.

Dylan didn't say a word. He didn't open his mouth to say 'Good morning' like he always did, he didn't get on his elbows to lean over and kiss her like he loved to do. No, instead he kept on watching her, his smile widening every time the cards fell out of her untrained hands, landing on the duvet. But regardless of her failures, she picked them up one by one and tried again.

She tried to do a riffle shuffle. The simple, pretty much overused trick Jack did a few days ago. Her attempts weren't overly bad. They were quite nice if Dylan wanted to approach it from a professional point of view. She could divide the pack into two different decks and then make them fall interleaved. The difficult part for her was the 'bridge'. The cards always fell the wrong way when she tried to do that.

"Almost..." she whispered to herself as the cards landed on the duvet once again.

"That was a pretty nice try." Dylan finally spoke up, making her realize he was awake. He smiled when her hands shook in fear. "Just keep a more firm hold on the cards. And don't be afraid to use your thumbs when you're making the bridge."

His voice was still rough from sleep. Even he felt that, but if her sudden smile and adoration was anything to go by, then she liked it that way.

"You're up..."

"I've been up for a while." he said honestly, pushing himself up to lean toward her and press a soft kiss to her lips. "And I enjoyed the sight."

"Stop it." she whispered shyly, her cheeks running pink.

"No, I mean it. I like waking up next to you."

She smiled at that as she started to pick up the cards and after Dylan found a comfortable position he helped her too.

"I can say the same." she started, her lips forming a smirk as she continued: "And I gotta say, waking up before you and seeing you sleep peacefully- You're adorable when you're asleep."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." she answered shortly.

"Well don't you forget that I had many chances to wake up before you to admire you and then be late because of it." Dylan said, remembering her sleeping form trapped in sheet and duvet, her arms tight around one of his, her face soft and stressfree.

"And what's the conclusion?" she asked, her voice had a teasing edge. "I'm adorable too?"

He leaned closer to her, as if he'd like to share something confidential with her. "More like gorgeous, darling. The most gorgeous woman I've ever seen." he smirked when her cheeks reddened once again. "Even if you snore."

"Hey!" she shouted, laughing. "I don't snore!"

He laughed too as she leaned away from him in fake anger.

"You most definitely do."

She threw a card at him and it landed on his chest. "I tried to be nice, but if you want to play dirty- Just so you know, you snore a lot too."

He handed her the thrown card with a wide smile and watched her complete the deck, putting every card in place.

"It was cute, you know. You trying to do a card trick." his voice became softer again, trying to make her understand that he means what he says.

"I want to know a thing or two as well, you know... I don't want to be the only unskilled one." she whispered back to him, her tone changing to a serious one.

"You are skilled. Believe me, Jack wouldn't be able to model a theatre, no matter how hard he tried." he said, trying to make her see her own importance.

"Yeah, but- I just want to know stuff. The very basic stuff. I like making the models for you, but I want to know the tricks you do too."

Dylan looked at her, her features, her small pout, all the small gestures she tried to hide. He loved her. He loved loving her. He loved watching her work on the miniature models of theatres. He loved seeing how focused and interested she was.

He tilted his head.

But watching her do more card tricks would be something he'd love too.

"All right, darling. Take a look at this, okay?" he saw her nod as he gently took the cards from her hands. "You're doing the first part really well. Getting half of the deck in each hand and then mixing them. You can get your hands closer here too, see? The cards will interleave better." he started to explain as he did a very slow version of the riffle shuffle she tried to learn. "Now here, don't be afraid to hold the cards and remember that your thumbs are important. You form the bridge and then push down with your thumbs and- there you go." he finished as the cards landed in a singular perfect deck. "You finished a riffle shuffle."

He watched her smile closely, enjoying her shiny eyes and her barely open lips. Yes, teaching her magic would be something he could really get used to.

"And then-" he continued playfully. "You can pull the card which describes you most." Dylan pulled the card he previosly shuffled to the end of the pack. "Queen of Hearts, at least you're definitely the queen of mine."

She laughed as he handed her the card and he chuckled at the state she was in.

"God, that's such a Daniel Atlas move." she teased him with a giggle.

"Come on, don't be rude." he played along.

"I'm not. Believe me, no matter how many times you play me with a flirty magic trick, I always find it appealing."

"You better."

They smiled at each other as she leaned in to kiss him, her lips soft on his.

"I love you." he said lovingly, his hands finding her, touching her cheek and waist.

"I love you too." she said it back, but her soft gaze once again turned into something playful: "Just wait 'til I learn how to pull out the King of Hearts from your pocket."

Dylan laughed as he gently squeezed her waist.

He couldn't wait...

[biillys]

was always firmly on the what the fuck was billy’s mum thinking abandoning billy with neil train etc but then dacre went and opened his big mouth at that one con and said the they moved to hawkins to keep billy and his mum seperate and then [gestures vaguely to everything else he’s said about billy and his mum] so obviously my mind was like. okay well now i need to know everything. i need that backstory. and we’re never gonna get it until dacre drops the 237 hour long Life of Billy documentary. so for now we are just grasping at straws, and this straw i could not un-grasp. i hate myself. 

anyway.

billy's mom leaving, not by choice, but by force.

her and neil started with a whirlwind romance, neil with his clean cut up bringing and military service. her from the wrong side of the tracks, running wild and free, happy to be neil's spot of rough for a few weeks.

but then weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. neil stopping by to see her, and only her, when he was home on leave, and she felt so fucking special because of it. it didn't even matter on the days he got quiet, withdrawn, mad. he always came home to her.

she could deal with anything, everything, as long as he chose her.

loved her.

she was barely 22 when she found out about the baby, and suddenly the walls were closing in, and neil was ringing around and organising a wedding, and the feeling of trapped set in permanently.

she tried so hard to make it work, but her own parents were barely existent, and neil's parents had frowned upon her since the moment they met her, and any hope she had for role model options of an upstanding mother and wife had been dashed before she even knew she needed them.

but then billy was born, and he was in her arms, and she promised herself that she would never give up, that she would try, and they'd both make it out of this alive.

neil was gone a lot for the early parts of billy's life, leaving just her and her son alone, and slowly the trapped feeling started lifting, leaving behind nothing but love.

she was there for his first smile, was the first one to make him laugh, was there to watch him take his first steps, there to watch him take off running. heard his first word, and then every word after that. neil popped in and out, coming and going between tours, but billy was a mumma's boy through and through, and neil could never bond with him the way she could.

he tried, she'll give him that, but all efforts were quickly given up on, and it wasn't long before neil started in on being the firm parent, talking about how some kids just needed some tough love. stating that there was no reason billy should need to be sung to sleep anymore, that he was 2 years old, he should be putting himself to sleep by now, staying in his own bed the entire night. that he should eat all the food on the plate in front of him, and if he doesn't, then he can go to bed hungry. that tantrums and meltdowns and wrong doing's need more than a simple time out, that's the only way he'll learn.

and then neil would disappear again, and it would just be her and her little boy, and he'd sleep in bed with her all night, and he'd get dessert even when he didn't finish his dinner, cos 'no one likes carrots, baby, i just thought i'd let you try them', and when he draw on the wall with markers he wasn't meant to play with, she talked him through what was wrong, put him on time out, and then they went secondhand shopping for old used couches to cover up that section of wall.

neil never found out.

but then she gets the call, and her chest freezes, her hands white-knuckling the phone cord, because neil's coming home, and this time he's not leaving.

he's coming back for good.

she puts on a brave face, and makes the most of the last few days of peace with billy while she can. spending every moment she can with him by the water, spinning around and playing in the sun, walking to and from the beach on their usual route, billy having the corner shop owner wrapped around his little finger and getting a free lolly each trip.

doing her best to prepare for whats next, promising herself that no matter what, she can handle it. that for billy, she can handle anything.

except then neil's home, and he's everywhere. he has opinions on everything, and nothing she does is right, nothing billy does is okay, and neil use to sometimes be mad, but now he's angry. he's angry at the military for writing him off over an injury he claims he could've walked off, he's angry at her for fucking up their son, he's angry at billy for being a child, he's angry at the entire fucking world.

the first time he hit her, they weren't married. billy wasn't even a thought. she let it go, thinking it was just a one off, a heat of the moment thing, brought out only because of their fight. and after months of no repeats, she figured she was right to let it go. but then it happened again, just before she found out about billy. then again, just after. again, just before billy's arrival, again, just after, again, and again, and again. but she never worried too much, because neil always left, and she always had a count down, a light at the end of the tunnel, a fail safe.

then she didn't, and neil was back, for better or for worse, and there wasn't anything she could do.

but she tried. he got angry, and she tried with everything she had to make sure billy was safe, that it was just her that got hurt. that billy would never know this side of his father. but as billy got older, and as neil got colder, firmer, she could only protect him from so much.

it felt like she was holding him, just a baby a few hours old in her arms one moment, then she blinked, and suddenly he was six, and scared, and so so brave, running at neil to try protect her, trying to tackle him to the ground.

her and neil's fights got louder, more frequent, more physical, and billy got quieter, more withdrawn, terrified.

the fight that broke them was over billy, naturally.

she came home from a shift from a local little clothes boutique where she'd picked up some part time work, only to find billy sitting at the kitchen table, head down, sniffling, doing his homework, and neil standing at the stove and stirring a pot, his eyes never leaving his son, looking at him the same way he looks at her when she accidentally fucks up dinner.

"you okay, honey?" she asks as she cards her hand through his hair. he sniffles again but nods, still not looking up.

she doesn't believe him even for a second, but she knows what it's like to have neil's weighted stare sitting on you, so she lets it go for the moment and leaves to get changed.

when she comes back, neil's finally turned around and focused on the stove, and billy's packing away his maths worksheets. she sits in the chair beside him and resumes running her hand through his hair.

"how was your day, baby?" she asks softly.

billy finally looks up at her, and the second her eyes land on the marks around his neck, the dried tear tracks all over his cheeks, his damp and shiny eyes, and the wince he doesn't even think to hide when he shrugs, she's out of her chair and grabbing neil by the arm and spinning him around within the second.

"what the fuck did you do?" she hisses at him, and neil has the nerve to continue fixing dinner, like their son isn't in pain, crying, just a few feet away from them at that very second.

"he needs to grow up, no more childish games. no more kid stuff," neil replies calmly, like billy isn't an actual child.

"he's six!" she stresses, because he is six, he's just a baby. he's her baby.

"he's old enough now to not-," neil starts, before getting cut off with-

"he's a child!"

"he doesn't need-"

"he is a kid! he is just a child, neil!" she yells, and part of her's worried about scaring billy, but neil hurt him. neil can lay his hands on her all he wants, but billy's always been off limits.

until today, apparently.

"he's our child- my child! you can not fucking touch him, ever."

it escalates, as all their arguments do, and before she realises what she's saying, she's threatening to leave, to take billy and never turn back. it’s not the first time she’s said it, but this time it feels right, feels like something finally settles into place.

neil waits calmly for her to finish her tirade before bringing reality down.

"you're gonna take my son away from me, huh? and what judge, in their right mind, would leave billy with you, a mother who can't even hold down a full time job, with a police record, and barely a handful of savings."

neil waits her out while she scrambles to find an answer, but that trapped feeling she had all those years ago comes back full force, and the only thing tethering her is billy, whose come up behind her and has buried his face into the small of her back, his hand gripping hers.

"i'm his mother," she breathes out, "courts favour the mother," she settles on, even though she knows that if this ended up in court, neil would fight her every step of the way, and a sinking feeling in her gut tells her he would win.

he always wins.

in the end, it's neil that takes her to court.

it's barely a custody battle. neil's always been good at putting on a show, winning over a crowd, turning on the charm. it doesn't seem to matter that she's the mother, that she finally landed a stable full-time job, that billy wants to stay with her. neil talks, and twists stories, paints an entirely different picture of their home life and situation than the reality; before she knows, he has everyone eating out of the palm of his hand before she can even try rebuttal anything.

he's given full time custody.

she's given nothing, not even contact, unless approved by neil himself.

neil never approves.

billy sneaks one call in though, because he's just like her, and he never gives up.

her heart feels like it’s breaking right down the middle, never to be repaired, and she knows he's too young to understand or comprehend, but she doesn't know how to explain to him the gravity of the situation. doesn't know how to tell him that if someone found out they made contact, that her chances of overruling the court order could be jeopardised. so she takes a page out of neils book, even though it tastes like acid in her mouth and makes her cry herself to sleep, and makes her voice as firm as it can go, tell's him that she had to go, to not call her again.

she'll hear billy crying 'i don't understand!' until the day she dies, she knows.

she works and fights for years. learns more about divorce and the child's court system than she ever expected to know, and tries everything she can to finally see him again. has long since moved on from the pipe dream of full custody, and is now just trying for visitation rights.

slowly, she gets somewhere. unfortunately, everything she gets approved for has to go through neil first, and neil blocks her at every turn. he answers every call, and hangs up every time. all letters are returned, unopened, never making it to billy's hands.

(billy completely unaware of everything. forbidden to answer the phone, never seeing any mail addressed to him. isn't even aware that his parents are even in contact, let alone at war.)

before she knows it, he's lived more life without her than with her, she's missed more birthdays with him than celebrated, and soon he won't even legally be a child.

sometimes she thinks maybe if she just waits ‘til he's legally an adult, then she can try reach out, and neil won't have any leg to stand on. her and billy will be free. but then she remembers neil, she remembers how he tried to raise him, how the purpose of this arrangement wasn't for neil's benefit, but for her and billy's punishment's. she remembers billy's voice on the phone, crying, begging her to take him too.

she promised herself she wouldn't give up, and she won't.

she writes him another letter, but instead of folding it up and putting it in an envelope, hargrove residence address dotted on the front, she simply folds the piece of paper, writes 'for billy' on the outside, and calls in an old family friend. someone that was around in the early days of her and neil, close enough to still probably be in town, but distant enough to hopefully not be too chummy with neil. it's risky, but she's desperate.

luck seems to be on her side though, because she barely explains the situation before he's nodding along and taking the note. promises her that he'll have it delivered asap; neil won't know a thing.

she hugs him and thanks him repeatedly before she sits and waits. takes a moment to think about how this might take more than a few hours, but like fuck is she gonna miss whatever happens next.

-

billy and max are hanging out at the skate park on a sunny as fuck day when it happens. billy's sitting at the top of the half pipe, legs dangling over the edge while he has a smoke, when he hears his name get called out. he looks over to see some old guy trying to get his attention, nodding his head over and holding up a piece of paper, and billy's two seconds away from telling him to fuck off, except he looks vaguely familiar in a distant kind of way, and billy kinda wants to know what the fucks up. he grabs his board before sliding down and cautiously walking over, glaring at the guy holding out the letter. billy reaches out and grabs it.

"good luck, kid," the guy says, then walks away.

"the fuck?" billy stares after him as he goes, then looks back down at the letter in his hand. he flips it over and reads the neat and cursive 'for billy' on the front, the flips it open.

max takes one look at his face, which has lost all it's colour, and chooses that moment to wander over and try to casually take a peek. the second he realises he's got an audience, he quickly shoves the note into his pocket and wipes a hand over his face, quickly pulling himself together.

"fuck off, shitbird," he basically growls.

max levels him with a glare but takes off on her board, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. she didn't even get a chance to read a single word.

billy shoots a look at a bunch of middle schoolers hogging a park bench that’s mostly secluded, and after they all flee, takes a seat to read the letter properly in peace.

the letter doesn't say too much, just that his mom's fighting for him, and she's never stopped fighting for him. that she loves him, and she's sorry it's taken her so long, and that she promises, soon, they'll see each other again, if that's something he still wants.

it's been 9 years, give or take, since he's seen his mom, and the longer it's drawn out, the angrier he's got. he's well aware he's got abandonment issues, and he's pretty sure they all started with her, from the very second she told him to stop calling her, and they’ve only grown with every second she hasn't been in contact since.

but the second he reads the letter, the moment 'i've never stopped fighting for you' digs and etches itself onto his brain, the anger he has just drains out of him, and suddenly he's seven years old again, desperate to see her.

he folds the note as small as he can, and slips it in the smaller hidden pocket of his jeans that he's never known a function for, and guards that pocket like it's his only hope. scrubs at his face with his hands to make sure there's no evidence of any tears, and schools his face into the usual scowl.

he hangs back and chills on the bench until max is ready to go, in absolutely no hurry to get home, then spends the entire trip back ignoring her and her 50 questions. max gets pissed pretty quickly with the silent treatment, and within two blocks has turned the silent treatment back on him.

later on, while billy’s finishing a late assignment under neil’s watchful gaze and max is helping her mom out in the kitchen, things fall apart.

susan asks how max’s day was, and before billy can even attempt to signal for her to keep her mouth shut, she’s telling her mom about the weird guy giving billy letters at the park. susan turns to him and starts talking about stranger danger and accepting things from people he doesn’t know in public places, and billy has no choice but to nod along and agree. he casts a glance over at his dad and finds him looking straight at him.

billy swallows and wipes his hands on his jeans before trying to focus back on his school work and prays his dad will drop it.

billy’s never that lucky.

he hears his dad stand up slowly from his armchair and make his way towards the kitchen.

“what’s this about a letter?” neil asks casually, walking up to the table.

billy glances at max and susan, then back to his dad.

“nothing,” billy grips his pencil tightly and makes sure his voice keeps steady. “just some guy trying to get people to go to his band’s gig. he handed out flyers to the whole skatepark.”

he makes sure to not break eye contact and hopes it’s enough.

“he called you by name, and you were the only one who got a note,” max points out, looking at billy like he’s lost his mind. billy kinda wants to fucking strangle her. he swallows, and continues to keep eye contact with neil.

“most guys know my name there, it was noth-”

“where is it?” neil cuts him off.

“where’s what?” playing dumb hasn’t really worked for him before, but billy’s willing to try again.

“where’s the letter, billy.” neil’s not asking anymore. billy can feel his palms getting clammy.

“i threw it out.” billy wishes his voice didn’t waver, that he could keep his shit together, but he can feel himself breaking under the weight.

neil looks at him for a second longer before walking with purpose straight to billy’s room. billy quickly pushes his chair out and follows him, almost running into his back when neil stops dead in the doorway.

“you tell me where the letter is, or i tear apart this room until i find it. your choice, son,” neil doesn’t even bother turning around to say it to his face.

billy closes his eyes and thinks about the letter currently burning a hole in his pocket, ‘i’ve never stopped fighting for you’ flashing in his memory, and suddenly the anger that left him earlier is back full force.

“I don’t. fucking. have it,” he spits out.

neil finally turns to him and raises an eyebrow, a silent ‘you sure you wanna do this’ look, and- fuck it. his mom basically fucking hand delivered a letter to him just to tell him that she’s still out there, and she’s coming for him.

billy just raises an eyebrow back then throws his arms out in a ‘be my guest’ gesture. takes a step back so he can lean against the doorway and watch.

neil upturns everything he can get his hands on, breaks his flimsy bedside table, rips the sheets off his bed, empties out all his drawers, pulls out all his clothes. throws all his records and knickknacks on the ground. comes up empty.

billy can feel the anger running through his veins, watching his dad destroy his room and all his possessions. max and susan have came over to see what the commotion’s about and are watching on in horror.

“give me the letter, billy,” neil says slowly, breathing heavily, getting right up in billy’s space, “now.”

billy looks him dead in the eye.

“no,” he breathes out, no hesitation.

“give me the letter, now, billy!” neil slams his hand against the doorway, just above billy’s head, finally losing any calm he had.

"no," he repeats, leaning right back into his dads space, a half feral smile starting to spread across his face. his dad's so fucking mad. billy usually doesn't get this far under his skin on purpose, but god it feels good to be in control for once.

neil slides a hand down his face and takes a deep breath before straightening up, focusing back on his son.

"give me your car keys," neil says, holding his hand out expectantly.

billy grinds his jaw before reaching a hand around and grabbing his keys from the shelf by the door, smacking them down in neil's hands.

neil shoves past him and makes his way outside, the whole family following. billy catches sight of max's face, her wide eyes, and clenches his hands at his sides. if she had just kept her fucking mouth shut.

by the time billy and the girls make it out the front, neil's already tore into every compartment of his car.

"i told you, i don't have it," billy repeats again.

"neil, honey, he say's he doesn't have it, maybe-," susan tries, but neil's not having it.

"empty your pockets," neil says, climbing out of the camaro and walking right up to billy, leaving barely a space between them.

"empty. your. pockets," he repeats, slowly, quietly, dead calm.

billy lifts his chin a bit, glaring defiantly, but he can feel his heart pick up the pace, and sweat start to gather on his forehead.

he empties his pockets.

places his pack of smokes, his lighter, a two day old receipt, and a ring that he took off earlier onto his dads hands. waits.

neil looks down at what billy's discarded and silently fumes. billy clenches his jaw, then breathes out a quiet, "i don't have it."

his father holds his gaze before nodding.

"okay."

he moves past billy, past susan and max, and heads back to his armchair.

"fix up your room, it's a mess," then looks at susan and gestures to the fridge. she instantly gets the message and quickly moves to grab him out a beer.

max looks between them all like she doesn't understand what just happened, and billy can't fucking deal with this. he heads back to his room, getting ready to try salvage what he can.

doesn’t dare bring the letter out from its hiding spot, doesn’t even touch a hand to that pocket, just in case his dad can just sense it.

thinks, prays, that that’ll be the end of it. that neil would actually let it go.

he should’ve known better.

they sit down for dinner the next night, and no one’s mentioning what happened yesterday, but it’s sitting heavily in the air. max still looks like she’s trying to figure out what the fuck happened, susan looks like she’s trying to pretend everything’s normal, like nothing’s out of the ordinary, and his dad digs into his food like he does every other night, like he didn’t lose his absolute shit the night before. billy falls for it, believing for just a few minutes that his dad’s moved past it.

it’s when his dad’s finished his dinner that the other shoe finally drops.

“i talked to my boss today,” he starts, “and there’s a job opening in a different warehouse. we leave on friday.”

susan looks speechless, and max looks livid, but billy can feel the floor slipping out from underneath him.

“neil. what-” susan starts, before trailing off uselessly, before finally picking her next question. “where?”

“hawkins,” neil responds, wiping at his face with a cloth before pushing his plate away, “indiana.”

“what the fuck?” billy drops his knife and fork and throws a hand out, “indiana?”

“indiana? indiana?” max yells, completely disregarding neil and throwing all her anger at her mother.

“neil, we should talk about this, i mean-” susan tries, but falls silent when neil shoots her a look.

“we move,” he levels them all with a look, one at a time, “on friday. no questions.”

“what about my dad? what about my friends?” max bites out, levelling neil a look right back.

billy feels like he can’t fucking breathe, wants to tell her that neil doesn’t give a flying fuck about her dad, couldn’t care less about keeping them separated - just look at the situation they’re in now - but theres a lump in his throat, and he doesn’t think he could talk right now if he tried.

“phones exist, maxine” neil responds, ending the conversation there and then, pushing his chair out and heading to the living room.

susan has her head in her hands but quickly picks herself up and tries to do damage control with max, even if max doesn’t seem to be having a bar of it.

billy’s fucking shaking. doesn’t even know where to begin to fix this. there was no phone number in the letter, no forwarding address, no contact information. just his mom telling him she’s trying, she’s doing everything she can.

there’s only gonna be so much she can do if neil drags him half way across the fucking country.

he’s only had the hope of his mother coming back into his life for just over a day and he’s already grown so attached to the idea that the thought of it no longer happening has him spiralling in ways he’s never felt before.

fuck.

(they move on the friday. arrive on a sunday. billy builds his new room from the ground up, his bed frame and mattress along side a few items of clothes and bedside table objects being the only survivors of neils rampage. everything else he improvises or goes without. 

him and max are on the outs. billy unable to see past his own rage and grief, and so so quick to blame, and max just as angry and emotional as he is, but with only half the picture, fully ready to give it right back.

billy hoping and praying that somehow, his mum figured out that neil moved them. that she knows where he is, how to find him. but the longer he goes without another letter, the more it sinks in that it’s too late. the small window they had is closed. 

neil watches him like a hawk now, makes him chauffeur max around town, keeps on top of him about his grades, his extra curricular activities. their new house in hawkins is bigger, but billy’s never felt so trapped.

max has a bat in her hands, and billy was standing, but now he’s on the floor, and there’s other kids around cheering her on, there’s blood on his hands, and this isn’t the night billy had planned, but this is the night billy got. he listens to her tell him to stay away, watches as she swings the bat, hears her yell ‘say it’, can feel whatever the fuck she injected him with running though his veins, and wants to scream.

he didn’t realise how much of neil got to her, too. wishes neil got to her in the same way he got to him, that she would just fucking understand, then hates himself for it. 

that’s the one thing that him and sue can agree on, that max stays out of it.

they settle on a truce eventually. billy so fucking tired, can’t hold onto the constant anger anymore, and max never really knowing the real reason they were fighting to begin with. the older she gets, the more of the picture she sees, but they never show her all the colours, and she’s already discovered her own monsters in this town, she can’t handle the idea of them living in her own home, so she tries her hardest to look the other way.

it’s not easy though, and it doesn’t take much for the illusion to shatter.

her and billy going from having a truce, to having an actual understanding. she’s still none the wiser about his mother, and billy’s never gonna just open up and spill his guts, but she knows enough. has had one or two of her own run-ins with neil. knows how to read the room now from the second she steps in the house, the way billy’s always been able to. 

he’s not actually that bad of a brother to have, now that she’s finally getting to know him.

that’s the only thought going though her head, when she watches him stand up to the mindflayer.

she watches him take on an inter-dimensional monster, a monster that el can only fight with her supernatural powers, that will had to get burned out of him, a monster that can tear apart the literal fabric of the universe, and thinks, he was never actually that bad of brother, when she finally started to understand him. 

sees him use nothing but his bare hands to fight back, to save el and her, to save all of them, and wants to throw up. her minds screaming at her to run towards him, to pull him away, for them all to run, but she can’t fucking move, all she can do is watch.

the monster finally falls, but so does billy, and when max’s feet finally find movement, she’s running to his side as fast as she can. she begs and pleads and cries, trying so fucking hard to help get him through this, but all he does is look at her, tears in his eyes and and covered in blood, and chokes out an i’m sorry. 

max feels his last breath leave him, and feels the second his heart stops beating and thinks, i’ll never get the chance to fully know him, now.

billy’s written out to be a hero in the local news reports, saving them all from a tragic fire, and everyone around town offers their condolences every chance they get. max wants to hit something. she dreads going out, doesn’t wanna see a single pitying look. has stopped answering the front door, doesn’t wanna eat another fucking casserole from patricia, who lives two houses down, who’s married to harry, who accused billy of stealing his garden shit like once a fucking week, getting billy in the shit with neil, constantly.

a month passes, and things are tense. neil’s drinking more than ever, having lost his job just two days after billy’s funeral. her mum’s trying to keep things together, but there’s only so much she can do when nobody else is willing. 

max sure as fuck isn’t about to try and play happy families.

it’s on a thursday night when the doorbell rings, and max tightens the grip on her fork.

“you’d think they’d have run out of recipes to try on us,” max mutters dully, before shoving some mash potato in her mouth.

“ignore it,” neil says to susan, completely disregarding max, before going back to his own dinner.

the doorbell rings again, and then again a third time, and a fourth time. susan grows tenser with every bell that chimes, and max looks between both adults, waiting to see who’ll break first.

neil slams his knife and fork down on the table before shoving his chair out and storming towards the door, ripping it open. susan follows quickly, and max rolls her eyes before following as well. it’s been at least a week since the last neighbour tried to shove food at them, and maybe it might be some baked goods from mrs. taylor this time. at least she can actually bake.

max doesn’t recognise the person at the front door, but it’s clear neil does.

she has long wavy blonde hair, terrified eyes, and looks like she’s ready to go to war.

“where is he?” she asks, her arms folded and hands white knuckling in their grip. “he’s eighteen now, you can’t keep me away.”

max feels her stomach sink.

“he’s been eighteen for months now,” neil says back, monotonous.

max watches the terrified look get overshadowed by anger.

“do you have any idea how long it took me to find you, to find him, after you up and left?” she takes a stop forward and throws a hand out, giving neil a filthy look before breathing out and looking away.

her eyes have turned to water, and max watches as she wipes at her eyes the exact same way billy did when neil got him to turn to water at the kitchen table.

“well,” neil starts, some emotion creeping back into his voice, “you’re too fucking late.”

neil slams the door in her face.)

(billy’s mum sticks around, because she refuses to leave without answers, not after searching for her baby for almost eleven years, and now, finally getting so fucking close she could touch.

she can’t touch, though, because there’s six feet of earth between them. her baby boy’s in a wooden box, buried deep underground, with dead flowers at his grave- flowers that have probably been there since the day of his funeral - because no one’s been to visit him.

she touches his headstone gently, traces the words ‘gone but not forgotten’ with her fingertips, and she’s spent the entire time since susan tried to brokenly explain everything denying it, but right here, looking at his grave, she can’t anymore. once the first tear slips, they don’t stop.

susan stands a small distance away, max just beside her, and feels the guilt and smallest hint of relief crush her. 

guilt at never knowing who this person was, never even knowing she was trying to reach out. guilt for accepting everything neil every told her without question or fight. guilt for every occasion she looked the other way, the way she complied every time neil said he’d parent his son, and she’d parent her daughter. 

guilt at the bone-deep relief that it’s billy in the grave, and not max. 

susan still doesn’t know what happened for sure that night, all the details never quite adding up, but the only solid thing max would give her was that billy saved her. billy died to save them all.

one time, susan spent some of their savings on fixing the kitchen sink. when neil got home and saw the little money jar on the bench emptier than when he’d left for work, he instantly accused billy. it has been the last day of school that day, with no commitments to be at for at least a week. 

neil didn’t hold back. 

billy tried to reason that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and steal money from the extremely obvious savings jar, especially when he already had a job and income of his own, but the more billy denied it, the angrier neil got.

neil didn’t get violent with billy in front of her often, but he seemed to be on a hair trigger that night, and susan didn’t know where to even begin to try stop it.

she tried to step in gently, to tell neil that it was her, that the sink needed some maintenance. he didn’t listen to a word she said. she gave up without a fight.

it wasn’t until later that night that susan found out that neil’d got his second warning at work, one more warning and he’d be fired. he claimed he didn’t deserve the warnings, that saving money didn’t mean cutting corners, just meant he knew how to do his job efficiently. his boss didn’t agree. 

she tried to justify it to herself that billy probably would’ve copped it that night either way.

billy came out to the kitchen the next morning with a swollen face and a barely noticeable limp and got himself a glass of water. turned the tap on with extra force since it’d been fucking up lately, only for it to turn on without any effort at all, no noise or clunks either. he turned to look at susan, look at the money jar, then clenched his jaw and abandoned his still full cup in the sink, and locked himself up in his room, his music blaring just a second later. 

he barely acknowledged her for a week.

now, as she stands back and watches his mother weep, she thinks she may never be able to forgive herself.

thinks that if someone ripped max away from her, and she finally found her again after searching for basically max’s entire life, only to find her in a casket, after living with someone so spineless they couldn’t even protect her, that she would never be okay again.)

(max not knowing how to talk to billy’s mum. leaving the room every time she enters it. not knowing how to handle the fact that she’s alive, and billy’s dead, and she just stood back and watched. 

just wanting to go to sleep and never wake up on the nights she stays up too late thinking about how she stood by and watched him die a slower and more painful death long before the mind flayer ever came into the picture.

billy’s mum’s not having it, is the thing. 

she’s read the articles, listened to the towns people talk. heard all praise about her sons heroics as well as the quiet re-tellings of his delinquent ways. listened to the whispers about his reckless california driving, his dangerous and careless attitude, only for them to paste a sympathetic smile on their face when she rounds the corner, muttering about how he died too young, was taken too soon. the police telling her how this town lost a lot of people that night, but her sons final actions saved more than he could ever know, except they say his name like they’re pushing it through gritted teeth, and she wants to scream. her baby boy died to save his little sister and her friends, and this town will never forgive him for being the teenager he was raised to be. 

she tries so fucking hard to talk to max at every given chance, just so she can hear about him though her eyes.

max cracks eventually. she leans into the part of her that billy carved out and shaped himself, the side of her that jumps straight to anger and rage and disbelief. yells at his mum for leaving him in the first place, of fucking up her only son beyond belief, then after watching his mum take it so fucking gracefully and so fucking deeply, turning on herself. spits out about how much of a shit show this family really was. how she was just his shitty little sister. how they hated each other most days, and had only just started to get along. how she never should've been in that mall in the first place, and billy sure as hell shouldn’t have been there either. how he never should have died, especially the way he did, because he was never meant to be a part of it to begin with. how it’s her fault. how she could have, should have, saved him, but she froze up, because she was scared, she was fucking terrified, and so billy took it, and now he’s dead. and it’s all her fault.

when she finally looks back at his mum, there’s tears streaming down her face, and she has a hand over her mouth trying to stifle any sobs, but she’s still looking at max with such fucking soft eyes, and then she’s slowly walking towards her with her arms open wide, and max is falling into them and breaking down before she can think of running away.

billy’s mum carding a hand through her hair and telling her that it’s okay, that she’s gonna be okay, that it’s not her fault. starts telling her about how billy’s always been a do first, think later person, that he’s had the biggest heart she ever knew since the second he came into her life. how he use to try and protect her from neil, no matter the consequence. that he’s been protecting his family since before he even knew what it meant, or that he was even doing it. it was just how he was. how that’s how she knows max must’ve been important to him, because she still doesn’t quite know what happened in that fire, but she knows in her heart that billy knew exactly what he was doing in his last moments, and it was making sure max got home safely, and that’s probably all that mattered to him. that max made it home.

she was family to him, and therefore max was family to her.

she’s gonna spend the rest of her life with regrets and a sadness so deep that it’ll never be moved, but she got to meet the person, and the people, that billy died saving, and it’s never gonna be the same as the future she had dreamed about, the one she’s spent the past eleven years planning, but this is all she’s got. she’s gonna miss her son until her last breath, but she’s so so so fucking happy that billy had someone in his life that he cared about so deeply, he was willing to give it all up for her.)

(billy’s mum visiting his grave every chance she gets, and starting off every visit with an apology. telling him about the first time she held him in her arms, how he changed her life forever, and how she promised him that they’d both make it out of this life alive. how she’s so so so fucking sorry she failed him, and she was gonna spend the rest of her life making it up to him. 

updating him on max and susan, about how neil left, just fucking walked out one day, taking most the money with him, but it’s okay, cos she offered up the spare room and the pull out couch in her trailer to them, and max is now claiming part time custody of the neighbours dog. 

tells him about how max told her about the time he tried to teach her to surf, and she was so so so bad at it, but he kept dragging her out into the waves after spending what felt like hours on the shore teaching her the steps, and finally it clicked, and max still remembers the look on billy’s face the first time she caught her first wave. remembers how he fucking laughed at her when she inevitably wiped out.

tells him how susan seems to walk on eggshells around her, thanking her everyday for giving them a place to stay, and how once she’s back on her feet, they’ll be out of her hair. how she has her suspicions about why susan looks at her with such guilt in her eyes, but she knows what it’s like to be married to neil hargrove, and while there’s a part of her that’s so so so angry, she fucking gets it. she understands it in the most horrifying way possible, and she’s already made her peace with it.

she’s just so fucking sorry that billy spent so long thinking it was him against the world. that she abandoned him, that max had someone love her enough in the house to keep her safe, but billy believed he had no one.

she tells him that max gave her his jacket, and after not being able to hold it without crying for the first month, she finally had a proper look at it. how she found the note in a secret pocket on the inside of the chest. the letter she wrote to him, what feels like so long ago now, looking a little worse for wear, like it had been folded up and clenched tightly every single day, a couple of watermarks blurring some of the words. pulls out the only picture she has on him from when he was so so little, a toddler on her hip, them both grinning in the sun and sand. how its creased to hell and back and so fucking faded that you cant even tell the colour of her hat, but his smile lights up the picture anyway, and how most days, it was the only thing getting her through. how she hoped with everything she has that he was happy, but that if he wasn’t, that she gets it. and she’s so fucking sorry. and that one day, she’ll see him again, and she can’t fucking wait.)