#never a dark moment without at least a tiny bit of hope

[writella]

Thinking about Rick and slightly innocent, touch starved, virgin, fem!reader— ♡

Just smut this time, 18+, mdni, wc: 1.8k.

“I usually just touch myself at the top,” you explain, verbalizing your actions as you rub your clit with your middle finger, your pointer and ring brushing up against either side of your lips. You’re breathless, already panting. Doing this in front of him was too much. You just couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was here watching, enjoying. “Barely even put my fingers in- I get nervous- never feels good.”

“Never?” There’s a bit of surprise in Rick’s voice, but the grin he’s hiding loves every second of you showing him how much you need something- something bigger, something or someone like him and his fingers— his cock.

You pout with a hmph, “No,” you whine, your eyes trailing desperately. “They feel like nothing when I do it. And I don’t know how to make it feel good.”

Your actions, your words, it makes his tongue peek out of the side of his mouth. It’s only just a little, but a tiny bit drool is at the edge, almost rolling down and onto his chin. He licks it away before it falls.

His eyes are dark and lustful, dazed with the sight of you in only a shirt, underwear discarded, rubbing your puffy, wet pussy so fast right in front of him. He had been talking to Daryl outside the house, came up to get you for dinner at his, but then he caught you. He didn’t mean to, but the door was just a crack open: with one eye he could see your legs dangling off the bed, nose and eyes scrunched so tightly as your fingers played with yourself, whispering his name. That’s what set him off, the sweet little “Rick… Rick, Rick,” pants that came out of your mouth. That’s what made him come in without knocking. He told you not to stop.

And now, he stands right in front of your bed. Any closer and he’d be in between your legs. He can see you staring down every inch of him, eyes so wide, hopeful yet hopeless. You’re pathetically whimpering and whining at his own— those sparkly blue and wandering ones. He’s just as invested in the sight as you are.

You look at his pink parted lips and his tongue you want so badly in your mouth, and lower too, so much lower. You see his slick, curly hair, and that scruffy beard— you wouldn’t even care if it would make your sensitive lips burn down there. You want it. So bad. Your eyes go down further, seeing the way his hands are placed low at his hips, his groin jutted forward… Fuck. You need to see what’s underneath.

You rub your clit faster with two fingers now, biting on your bottom lip, looking at his fat bulge and wondering if he’s just getting hard or if it’s always looked big like that. It makes you feel like this one of your daydreams… you don’t know if your mind is enlarging it, but wow it looks good. You’d honestly sit on him right there, jeans and all with your bare pussy. Who cares if he’s been working all day, dealing with God knows what outside these walls. You’ll take anything. You bet even the littlest bit of something from him probably feels better than when you’re alone doing this anyway. You were tired of it, you wanted to be touched; you wanted to be fucked— fucked by Rick Grimes.

Rick finally sits on the bed. His face closer to you now as he asks, “You’ve ever made yourself cum, sweetheart?”

You're hesitant to answer but you shake your head, shy and slow. You feel embarrassed.

A chronic overthinker you were sometimes, you could never be in the moment and finally get yourself over the edge. Thinking about Rick always led to thinking about how you shouldn’t be doing it. He was the leader of your group, he had a daughter and a son, ones that you were far older than, but just enough to not possibly be their mother… at least not the eldest, anyway. This was wrong, but there he was: watching, staring, gazing. It only made you more and more wet, you almost couldn’t breathe.

“Poor baby,” Rick drawls and you whimper at the phrase.

He decides to relieve you, but only just a little bit by brushing his hand on your leg, stroking your thigh as he finally sits down next to you. It makes you gasp as you continue to pleasure yourself. Reaching lower to collect wetness to put over your clit. Your back arches at the feeling of him.

The sight makes him grin, laughing endearingly. Just that— just his hand, not even on your pussy and you’re already reeling.

“Such a pretty little thing, and no one’s ever made you feel good…? Can’t even do it to yourself either?” He tisks at the thought. “It’s a shame, honestly.”

All you do is whine. You want him to do it but you’re too scared to ask. You want him to want to do it, without asking, go all in and make you his. Why won’t he? It makes your moan, mix with a groan as you think about it.

You look up as his hand moves higher to your hip and his name comes out all desperate and needy as you plead, “Rick-”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

He ignores you. “Put a finger inside yourself. Let’s try again, okay? How about that?”

You whine his name again, but you still do as he says. Your hand trails lower, inserting your middle finger into your wet hole.

“Start pumping… and how ‘bout this time you try to curl your finger upward after you go in, hm?” You try, humming in response to his voice and his hand moving back to your leg, softly rubbing up and down your thigh as he watches you.

He notices your breath hitching. “Good girl,” he coos, “add another.”

You attempt to pump yourself faster now with the two fingers inside of you, looking up at him. Your pussy twitches and you jut upwards at the sight of him licking his lips. “Just pretend it’s me,” he tells you, “And don’t stop. I wouldn’t.”

His hand rests back on your hip, fingers daring to reach your mound as they slide slowly, but he’s hesitating. He wants you to do it all by yourself, but he sees your face, sees what just his voice and his watching does to you. You were always a good listener, a team player, never skipped on doing your part when he asked it of you, but this, this new power he had over you? It was something else. He can’t help but want to see what happens when he gives you just a little more.

His fingers now lightly ghost over your lips and your eyes implore. Your gasp is shaky. You’re almost holding your breath waiting for the full press but… he doesn’t do it yet.

He’s being a fucking tease.

The cockiness is evident in his voice when he asks, “Want me to?”

“Yes,” you moan, loud and instantly. It’s pitiful, you’re a mess and you want him so bad you couldn’t help it, but the beg worked. Right after, he starts rubbing harsh circles into your clit, making you vibrate.

“Oh- ohmygod, Rick.” You try to keep pumping yourself but it becomes hard. You’ve dreamed about his hands, right there on your most intimate parts, making you feel good and showing you how it’s supposed to really feel. And finally. He’s doing it. His rough fingertips felt like heaven.

Your own fingers stutter. His hand and yours are just too much for you, especially because of how deep and fast he’s rubbing against your skin and bone. “Rick, please,” you want him to go lower, take over, and he notices how your fingers slow.

“No,” he warns. “Keep goin’.” His voice is stern, stopping you before you do, he takes your hand and helps you pump your fingers into yourself before letting go. “You’re doing that yourself. Go faster.”

Your cheek falls to the opposite side of the bed, whimpering sadly at his words, but you continue.

“You got it,” he encourages. “Put another finger in.”

“Another?” Your voice incredulous as you ask.

“Gotta train yourself with your fingers before you get mine.” He pauses. “And before you can get up to my dick… How do you think it’s gonna fit if we don’t open you up?”

You let out a moan, it’s the kind that you had only heard on tv in the past. Just the sheer thought of him insinuating that soon he would put himself inside of you sends you spiraling. You add a third finger, it feels tight, but good, especially with him there.

“There you go,” he says, stretching out the syllables. He feels his jeans tighten further as he watches you.

And you only get wetter. The squelching sounds from below are nothing you’ve ever heard from yourself before. Your pussy shakes and sucks your fingers below with Rick rubbing and pinching your clit at the top. You speak between pants, moaning again, “Rick… Rick, its too much.” You’re trying to keep up your pace but you feel your energy withering again. You close your eyes.

“That means you’re making yourself cum soon. Keep going.”

“It hurts, I can’t do it!”

“You can do it,” he nods, “and if you don’t… I’ll just leave you here.”

A quick, “No!” and a string of “mmms” come out as you whine. You don’t want him to go, so you try, you keep up.

Rick lets go of your clit and it makes you gasp sadly at the loss, but he’s pushing up your shirt, exposing your breast. He takes one hand to rub your clit again and another to roll one of your nipples. “This is the only extra help you get,” he tells you. “Now are you going to cum for me?”

You nod, “Yes, yes,” you chant, “I can do it for you, Rick.”

“Show me.”

You continue to pump fast, curling your fingers as he suggested before. You find a spongy part that makes you feel extra tingling in your lower stomach and you keep trying to push up against it with each pump of your fingers. You decide to open your eyes again to watch Rick as his eyes trail between your breasts to below, you choose to focus the way your fingers look as they go in and out of you and how his hand rubs and shakes you at the top. Indescribable noises come out at the sight. “I’m losing it,” you tell him.

“Just keep goin’,” he tells you. “See it through.”

You start panting in between your stringy moans, it’s breathy and hurried and long. You force yourself to not stop. “I’m gonna cum, Rick. I’m gonna make myself cum!”

“I know, sweetheart. I know you can. Be a good girl for me, you got it.”

And then you do. The butterflies spring. You continue to pump as you ride your high and then it’s done. You came.

Rick smiles, licking his fingers filled with your wetness. He stands up, knees making their way between your own that lay on the bed as he starts undoing his belt. As he drops his pants and his boxers you see his cock spring up. It’s glossy at the tip and although you haven’t seen many, you’re completely sure it’s longer than most.

But it gets you scared. There’s worry in your eyes. Your lip quivers despite the drool that comes out on the side. How’s it gonna fit?

“You ready?” He asks.

“But I thought you said your fingers first.”

He kisses your lips, fingers caressing your cheek as he whispers, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go slow.”

Then he pushes himself in. Right to the hilt.

He didn’t go slow.

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Art of Hospitality (yan!Nanami x fem!Reader)

Nanami comes home to his favorite roommate. He is hurt and tired...but he knows who will instantly make him feel better. Tags and CW: Yandere, mild dub-con, non-consensual masturbation, Nanami is a panty stealer, light age difference, power imbalance, housewife kink, groping, praise kink AO3

You accidentally took his shirt from the laundry. Nanami thinks it’s an accident – he isn’t sure that you’re dumb enough to genuinely not realize that you were wearing a man’s clothes for a while already, but he doesn’t think you’re brave enough to flirt with him like this either. You’re stuck between being dumb and being too abrasive in your act – and honestly, Kento can deal with the dumb ones. Always a pleasure to spend some time with a person who knows when to shut up. 

You look simply divine like this – tugging a shirt that is too big for you in your tiny shorts, carefully rolling the sleeves up so they won’t get splashed while you are doing the dishes. Nanami never asked you to pull up with so many domestic responsibilities – but it was expected. He already allows you to live here without paying rent, so…only natural you’d be his housewife in everything besides affection. He knows how careful he must be – you’re innocent, as some college dropout can be, and you don’t really think of him like that. At least, he thinks you aren’t – he is sure that were you a bit braver, you’d already sleep in his bed instead of a tiny guest bedroom. If you’d wear his shirt on any other day of the week, he would simply note this in his head and proceed with his day. Maybe stare a bit, imagining your curves hidden by the baggy fabric, catching glimpses of skin whenever you roll it up a bit too high. If it was on any other day, he’d just smile and proceed to go to his study.

But you had to pull his shirt out of the laundry on the exact day when he dragged his body home from a particularly nasty fight with a curse. The thing was defeated – something about fear of bug larvae, the sound it made while being dissected by his knife was something that Nanami wouldn’t forget for a long time, even with an ample amount of alcohol. You just had to be cute and adorable and domestic and wear his clothes on a day when he wanted it most. Where all of his desires of retirement amplified, pushing for a fantasy that was just out of reach. 

Until he saw you cleaning the dishes with the tenacity of a proper housewife. Nanami knew he had to keep himself in check – knew how much he’d scare you with this. Still, at that moment, he wanted nothing more but to push you on that kitchen counter, roll his shirt even higher on your body, and use you like a proper domestic wifey you are. 

— You did the laundry? 

He slips right behind you, hands on your waist. It’s a gesture that cannot be mistaken for anything other than affection – and you get stiff immediately, not sure of what to do. He hopes you’d be a smart girl and won’t defy him. He doesn’t have patience for brats right now – no matter how adorable they might look. You take a deep breath and release it, relaxing in his hold. He squints, a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. What a boedient thing you are. 

— I did the dark ones, yes. I wanted to do the whites as well, but there wasn’t enough, so… You trail off, your hands shaking just a little bit. Nanami notices and leans on you a bit, pressing you against his chest. Your breath hitches again, panic evident in your body. He wants you to relax – and so he slips one of his hands across your waist, pressing you even closer to him. You have to get used to the heat of his body eventually. Nanami isn’t known for charity work and you’d have to pay him back one way or another – and currently, you only have one way of achieving this. 

Nanami pressed his hand more firmly against your waist, squishing you between his body and the counter. You are forced to relax into his touch – with no way of getting out, it’s only obvious why you’d be this scared. Poor, dumb girl. No idea what is coming to her. — You washed my things as well? You put the dishes on the drying stand, wiping your hands with the nearest towel. There is a certain clumsiness in your actions – like you were trying to remember how to act properly on the go. Like you tried your hardest to be a perfect housekeeper without looking too desperate. Although he likes that air of eagerness around you. 

— I wanted to do something for you, sir. While I can’t get a proper job. The little snag didn’t go unnoticed. Every time you try to convince him that you finally got some part-time position, something minimal wage and extra working hours, he will always say that working like this would be useless – that you need a real job if you truly want to build up your experience. After some time, you stopped even looking for openings, instead marinading yourself in your meager savings and looking after the house. Sometimes you wondered if he just wanted to get a free house worker – but then again, he let you live in this big house without paying rent or even groceries. The only reason you’re still here is because he is generous…and you don’t want to think about the reasons behind it.

Spending time around so many people with loud personalities, Nanami craved someone simple. Easy. Nice and quiet – and a girl who is too helpless to survive on her own is just that. Some people are not meant to survive on their own, and there is a certain dignity in relying solely on help from others. 

He caresses your hands – you don’t understand why is he suddenly so affectionate after spending months not even bothering to learn your last name, but then you notice the smell of blood. Scratches on his hands. Something that smelled like wet dirt and metal. 

You turn away, bumping your nose into his chest. Kento looks…disheveled. With his tie lost, a few buttons were torn off from his perfectly ironed – you ironed it just a few days ago – shirt that was now covered in soil and blood. He looks like he just got into a fight – with no indications of who was on the winning side. You weren’t sure where he worked exactly – something corporate, you think, some cushy position that allowed him to escape overtime and get home at 6 PM sharp every day. Corporate people usually don’t return home looking like something tried to chew on them. 

— N…nanami, what…what happened? He sighs, rubbing his forehead. It seems like your question somehow irritated him – you don’t want to be like this, don’t want him to hate you. Yet, it’s almost like your worry is making him insanely angry somehow. You bite your lips, face scrunched in a worried expression. You don’t want him to die – or even just get slightly more injured. 

— Got into an accident. There is nothing to worry about. 

You’re definitely not buying it. Kento likes seeing you gushing over him – but knowing how anxious his little roommate can be, you’re certainly not going to let it go so easily. And he has no intentions of showing you the secrets of the world of jujutsu right now. If ever. 

— You got run over?! — No. 

— A dog attacked you?! — No. 

— Oh. You were robbed..? He sighs, thinking of how he still hasn’t come up with an excuse. He should have – but the fight was hard already, and the energy he spent working overtime on that curse didn’t make anything better. He loves your worry and your kindness, but he can’t deal with it right now. Somehow, he has to divert your attention. Somehow, he has to take this comfort he wanted from you and your body. 

— You’re wearing my shirt. 

Your eyes widened, heat spreading across your face. He sees that he has successfully distracted you – your hands are coming to cover yourself immediately, tugging on the wrist of the shirt as if trying to see if he is right. Seems like you really didn’t notice you were wearing something that belonged to him. God, what a dumb thing you are. What did he do to deserve such a blessing? You take a step to the side, trying to escape the trap of his hands – but Nanami is not having it. With a grunt, he is forcing you in front of him again, making sure you’re set here, nice and comfortable. Trapped close to him – like he’d ever let go of someone as precious as you. He might be a lot of things – a workaholic, an extremely tired individual with love for useless and dumb sunshine girls, but he is not stupid. Letting you go now will only increase the gap between the two of you – and not even in a sense of age. 

— I’m…oh. I’m really sorry, sir, it must have been mixed in the laundry and… He snorts. The sound is weird, alien to someone like him – you look up, surprised he even bothered to listen to you. You really got him acting so weird…it’s almost an achievement. Somehow, you don’t feel like you won something. 

— You didn’t even notice it was too big? 

— I have some oversized clothes. — Something that your ex left you? 

You find yourself wordless at the accusation. It doesn’t sound too weird at first – but the harshness in his voice is making you shiver. His hands are on your waist again, holding you in a gesture that can’t be platonic – and this is the first time he paid so much attention to you. You feel uncomfortable. You feel desired, somehow. Nanami smells of blood and you find yourself aroused at it. Are you really that weird of a person? Fighting the urge to press your nose in his shoulder and breathe in his musk, mixed with blood, sweat, and that wonderful perfume he is using? The scent of which was traveling with you the whole morning ever since you took the shirt out of the laundry. Did you truly not know it was his? Somehow, you aren’t so sure now. 

— I…I guess I just wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry, sir, I will…

You insist on calling him “sir” despite your age gap being not that terrible. He couldn’t be your father – yet he has this aura about him that makes you a bit afraid. Just a little nervous whenever he raises his voice or hums disarmingly. You don’t want to disappoint him, anxiety filling every bit of your existence when you think about this – he is doing so much, he has serious work and all you do is gush over housework and trying to play a role you were not made for. Never thinking how hard being a housewife might be. 

— You’re going to just take off it now? 

You freeze in place, not sure of how to answer. Nanami chuckles. You don’t want him so close to you, touching you like you’re in love – but he is hurt, stressed and covered in blood. He is  lonely man, you can understand this – who else would invite a girl to live with him because he spends so much time working outside of the house, he’d disappear for days on end and someone had to take care of the house? if he had a partner then, surely, you wouldn’t be here. It must be hard, for someone like him – but he seems so nice, so hardworking, despite the initial strictness…why is he single? 

You don’t feel comfortable with his chin resting on your shoulder, but you’re forcing yourself to relax. He had such a hard day, and he is still hurt. You might as well indulge him a little. 

— I don’t think it would be polite.

— Why not?

His hands slowly unbutton the lowest part of the shirt, the one that is hanging way below your stomach. He is not revealing any skin – but the feeling of his calloused fingers even through the fabric is a bit much to handle. 

— I’m a guest at this house. Wouldn’t want to embarrass the owner, right? His hand goes to grasp a few more buttons, making you stiffen. You don’t…don’t particularly want his hands in that area – almost under your chest, with a single brush of fingers enough to make you feel hot. Throbbing. Enough to make you question everything you know about him and…other things. You want to be a good guest, to not overstay your welcome – but it seems like the lines are getting more and more blurry each time. — I wouldn’t mind seeing you without it. — I’m really sorry I took it without asking you…

— You can get punished for it later. But…

Nanami presses his mouth on your neck, inhaling your scent. You smell like him – his cologne, his shower gel, the fabric softener he uses for his shirts, all the expensive things he knows you don’t have money for. You’re relying on his kindness and, well, he can be kind…if you’re willing to be good to him, of course. Good, obedient, and pretty girls deserve their rewards, after all. He has the perfect idea for just the one right now. You whimper when you feel his lips on your skin, when he nibbles on the sweet spot at the back of your neck. It can’t be mistaken for normal affection now – not with the way he keeps unbuttoning your shirt until there is barely enough to cover your breasts. His hand lays on your stomach, warmness spreading across the skin…there isn’t a lot you can do now. Your thoughts are mixed now, not sure of what to do to make him stop or to let him keep going. — Nana…no, Kento, I’m not really sure about… — Quiet, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes, okay? 

You sigh, allowing him to just…touch you. Get sated with the feeling of your body in his arms – you don’t know how much time had passed, but he just rubs soothing circles into your stomach and breathes, occasionally peppering your neck with kisses. 

You want him to go further. 

You want him to stop. Maybe, it was just a few more minutes. Maybe, he took his time – you on;y woke up from that hazy, dream-like state when he suddenly yanked the rest of your shirt off, revealing your braless chest to the cold air of the house. You wanted to cover yourself – but your slow motions didn’t do you enough justice, as he easily grabbed your wrist in one of his hands. 

He kisses you again, and you move your head to the side to meet his lips. You don’t know what you want – you want to help him, to make his worries go away, but he is still smelling of blood and rust and you’d like to draw him a bath first. Maybe take care of him there. Maybe grab your things and run even though it would mean you’d be homeless. You can feel his erection pressing to the curve of your ass and you move involuntarily, sliding up and down – maybe in an attempt to escape, maybe in an attempt to allure. You want for him to say something, to command you to do something – be more forceful, be more kind, make everything better, and then do it much, much worse. You sigh, trying to just…

The phone is ringing. 

You manage to read the name. You wonder who the hell is Gojo Satoru. — I apologize for this. – Nanami whispers in your ear, getting away from you. Still keeping a hand on your waist, holding you down as firmly as possible. Not that you have any strength left in your legs to go anywhere. You’re waiting for Nanami to finish the call. Something is telling you that he just found a way to make you pay for staying with him for so long.

[imaginesheaven]

Lonely Water (GN!Reader x TF141)

Lonely Water

GN!Reader x TF 141 (platonic)

Summary: You crash into the ocean with a helicopter during a mission. Waiting for your hopefully on time rescue you relive some of your favorite memories of your team. Kind of inspired by the song “Hold Back The River” by James Bay.

Callsign: Phoenix

Length: Around 2.3k words

Warnings: Swearing as always, angst, mentions of injuries, drowning

“Mayday! Eagle 3 is coming down in the middle of the ocean. The pilot is dead and I have no fucking clue how to fly this thing! … Oh, fucking hell…”

There is nothing but darkness around you. The mysterious but dark night sky with thousand shining stars above you and the deadly ocean lurking beneath you. The water is just waiting for you to lose the last of your endurance so you can sink into its cold embrace.

“I’m stronger than you think”, you hiss at the tiny waves of dark ocean water, but you are actually not sure how much longer you will survive. The cold of the sea comes creeping in what feels for hours now. It made itself a home in your bones so deeply freezing that your lips have turned already blue. The feeling in your arms and legs starts to fade just like your will of survival.

The helicopter sunk within minutes after the horrific crash into the water. There was literally nothing left to cling onto. You wouldn’t be Jack clinging for dear life onto a wooden door, while your true love stays safely above the freezing water.

The thought of the Titanic brings a weak smile onto your lips. At least you still got your humor with you to keep you company.

Darkness fills your mind with the sinking dread that your team probably wouldn’t be fast enough to rescue from this death trap. Your form floats on the water like a dead man hoping to delay the bitter end for just another few minutes.

The exhaustion slowly takes over as your eyes flutter shut desperate for a moment of rest. Cold water comes rushing over your face since the ocean was waiting for its chance to drown you in its embrace. The water is merciless. Adrenaline rushes through your vein bringing back your will to fight. You swim with weak strokes back to the surface. How much longer can you keep up against the sea?

“Oi! Not so fast, Phoenix!”, a familiar voice behind you yells out. The dirt beneath your shoes crunches as you jog through a patch of trees. Wait, a minute. The water surrounding you has vanished? This can’t be real, right? It hast to be a memory.

“Too bad you are so slow, Soap. You could easily catch up with me if you would work out a bit more”, you reply to the familiar voice behind you. Soap stares at you speechless for a second before he speeds up to catch you. Laughing you send him a wink and even put more speed on to outrun him more than easily.

Soap grunts with exhaustion ready to bring you down with him. He jumps forward his arms stretched out. This man is an open book for you for years now. Still grinning you make a step to the side completely out of his reach. Soap falls to the ground without you.

Absolutely pumped you start your little victory dance knowing exactly that in the distance Price, Gaz and Ghost are watching the two of you with binoculars. “That was quite a fall Soap took there”, the Captain comments the downfall of the poor Scott, “Pay up, Gaz.” The young soldier lets out a groan but always pays his bet debts.

“Phoenix could outrun us all, Gaz, never think otherwise”, no matter how often Ghost sees you running he is always mesmerized by your endurance.

“How can you be so damn fast?”, Soap can’t believe he lost once again. You give him a half shrug with your shoulder, “I imagine Death chasing me and what do we say to Death?”

“Not today”, you whisper smiling. The thought of your teammates brings you pure joy despite the fact you are probably going to drown. The only family you ever had and ever needed. For a second you close your eyes hoping to see more memories.

“So, your callsign is Phoenix. What’s the story behind it?”, Gaz asks you with a bright smile on his lips. Sometimes he reminds you of a little boy in a candy store. You can’t believe how much happiness his happiness can bring you.

“Well…”, you start your not so exciting story, but Soap interrupts you immediately: “Phoenix survived a car crash with a big explosion and came back out of its ashes like a Phoenix. Tada! The callsign was born!”

The silence in the room is deafening before you burst out with laughter, “What the hell, Soap?! No, that’s not what happened!” Everyone except Gaz gets a good laugh from this story. He looks so terribly confused and kind of intimidated at the same time.

“Poor Gaz is probably traumatized for the rest of his life. I like to burn things and someone else already had the fucking callsign Pyro so I had to improvise”, you explain him the situation with a few words. The young soldier rolls his eyes. Still a tiny smile on his lips can be seen.

“Have you any idea how hard it was to get Phoenix and Soap as both demolition freaks on the team? Explosions. Fires. Laswell was not happy at all”, Price recalls his quite one-sided conversation with her. The only thing she said was “NO!” over and over again. Well, she also said “FUCKING HELL FOR SURE NOT!” once. But Captain Price gets what he wants in the end.

A tiny tear rolls down your face, but you can’t feel anything anymore. The cold crept into every single fiber of your body.  In the end it doesn’t matter anyway. You are still surrounded by water so what matters a single tear escaping? It’s the only one. Way too tired you can’t share more than that tiny tear with the ocean.

“Are you fucking serious? You could have died!”, you hiss angrily at Ghost as you patch the bullet wound in his side up. The tough soldier keeps quiet letting you work. “It’s like I’m talking to a brick wall without a single thought behind those eyes. Except for sacrificing himself for someone else”, you keep going with your monologue. No one dares to speak like that to him. Except you. It’s always you.

Ghost can’t see how your hands are shaking. How the fear takes over your already worry-ridden mind. How you blame yourself for not being fast enough in the end. You could have prevented this from happening.

But Simon knows you better than you yourself sometimes, “Not for anyone. Only for you, Phoenix. I’m sorry, but please stop worrying. Stop blaming yourself. In the end it was my decision. That’s what we do for each other. Keeping each other safe, right?”

Not answering you put away the first med kit finally done with patching him up. Ghost isn’t the one with the soft side, but with you it is so easy to feel safe for once. You stand up hoping to run from this conversation. His hand stops you dead in your tracks as he grabs your wrist, “Right?”

A slight smile appears on your lips still not turning around to face him, “Of course… but you are still a brick wall.” Simon can’t help himself but smile too behind his mask.

What have you done? If Simon would be here with you, he would hold this whole conversation against you. It’s the same reason that has brought you into the middle of the ocean. You wanted to keep them safe. Your team. Your family.

The helicopter was loaded with explosive meant to kill. Bombs. Soap’s favorite. There was no time to defuse them. You had not a single second to think about it. Just enough time to act on impulse. What a great idea to bring the helicopter down over the ocean far away to hurt someone else. But what about you?

“No, you are not stronger than me, Gaz”, Soap puts down the money for his bet. There is never a dull moment with those clowns. A tiny smile appears on your lips as you nurse your lonely drink in your hand.

“What’s so funny?”, Price notices your rather happy facial expression. “Nothing, just happy to be alive”, you reply simply. The Captain doesn’t need an explanation what you mean exactly. He just knows. You don’t need to elaborate how they give you a feeling of being home. How they are like the family you never had before in your life. They are everything you need to be happy.

But now it is time to let go.

Tired you keep your eyes closed as the cold water pulls you down into its embrace. You are not scared anymore to give up this time. Only gratefulness and happiness are present in your heart and mind. The joy you experienced is more than enough for a whole lifetime.

For the last time you open your eyes to see the darkness around you. It was the only friend you had the last few hours. The tiny waves trying to lull you into a memories-filled sleep. The cold making it easier to let go. You have been tired for so long already. Tiny air bubbles escape and leave you behind.

The darkness lurks beneath you, but above the water surface shines a strange light. Is that the beacon of hope you were looking for the whole time? There are voices too, but you can’t understand what they are yelling. You are sinking further and further. Far away from the light.

Above the lonely water your team is looking for you desperately.

The thought sends a surge of energy through your body. As hard as you can you wave your arms and legs completely uncoordinated. Still the movement brings you closer to the surface. You can’t give up now. Not so close to them.

Your whole body is numb and hurts at the same time terribly. The ocean gives its best to keep you to itself. The cold clouds your mind. Are you paddling into the right direction? Are you going further down?

Then your arm breaks through the surface. But that’s all you had left in you.

Something grabs your hand so tight you almost screamed out loud because of the pain. Your head is still underwater. There is another tightness in your lungs screaming for just a tiny bit of fresh air.

Slowly you get dragged out of the darkness. Leaving the ocean behind. You take a gasping breath. The world outside the water is so overwhelming. The lights blind you for a moment. The loud noises roar in your ears. Pure chaos. For a moment you miss the calming darkness of the ocean.

A slight smile would appear on your lips as you see the faces of your teammates, but that’s too much for now. Gaz and Soap have their hands tightly on your arms, while Price and Ghost try to heave you into the helicopter by your tactical vest. All your gear got extremely heavy soaked with ocean water to the brim. You wish you could help them out, but you reached your limit of energy a long time ago. They lower you to the ground finally freed of the water.

“We got Phoenix. Go, Nik”, Price gives his order to Nicolai. Your favorite Russian pilot. Ghost and Soap try to get rid of your tactical vest together. Gaz stands ready with a blanket to warm you up. They keep talking to you, but you can’t quite follow their words. Your mind still frozen in place.

“Hey, hey. You broken?”, John puts his hand on your ice-cold cheek to get your attention. This time you can manage a weak smile, “Define broken, Captain.” He lets out a deep sigh full of worry but more than happy to hear your voice once again.

“Don’t ever do this again, muppet. You were out there the whole night. We- … We literally thought you were gone. Want to sit up?”, Price grabs your shoulder softly too scared to hurt you after what you went through. Ghost on the other side helps you too to sit up.

The sun starts to rise on the horizon bringing another day to this earth. Another day you are able to see. Another day to be alive.

“You damn lucky bastard. The endurance from your jogging probably saved your ass out there”, Simon can’t believe he gets another chance to see you again. It breaks his heart to see you beaten up and weak like this, but you are alive.

“What do we say to Death?”, Soap asks you grinning like always. “Not today”, you reply enjoying the little inside joke the two of you have.

Price puts his leg behind your back so you can relax yourself against him. Ghost rests his hand on your shoulder letting himself feel grateful to have you back. Soap sits next to you. Shoulder against shoulder. Just like out in the battlefield. Gaz holds one of your hands in his to get them back to normal temperature.

Your little family.

Lonely Water

Let us hold each other

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 12

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: You and your husband adjust to life with Jake in the mix and Marc gone quiet.

Pairings: Steven Grant x gn!reader, Jake Lockley x gn!reader, Marc Spector x gn!reader. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3k

Content: fluff, some angst, spicy times (more under the cut)

Warnings: cursing, references to Marc's trama/past, food prep and talk about food (I know this can be triggering for some) sex implied, foreplay, handjob, but language is not overly explicit and is gn. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Steven arrived home from work, having narrowly escaped a London downpour. Setting his bag down right inside the door, he shed his damp jacket and kicked off his shoes, thinking Marc might pipe up and scold him at any moment.

Marc was the neat one. Like military neat. Like, don't leave a mess or mom will make you regret it, neat. Like erase your existence from your alter...from the authorities...from the world, neat.

Steven was the messy one. Scatterbrained, he'd been called by a boss or two. It wasn't so much scatterbrained as it was a bit of unaware brain sharing.

But he hadn't shared much of anything with Marc lately. Not since Khonshu had stripped him of his armor mid-fight and almost gotten him killed. That was two weeks ago.

Padding over to his fish tank, Steven placed his hands on his knees, bending forward to take a look at his tiny little school. There were four fishies now, which almost seemed appropriate. One for Steven, Marc, you and now Jake.

Narrowing his eyes, Steven scrutinized the colorful little creatures before reaching for some fish food.

"All right then, time to eat," he chimed. Dumping a few flakes into the water, he smiled at their eager nibbles, until his eyes caught his own reflection.

"You there?" He asked, not actually addressing anyone, but definitely thinking of Marc. "No? ...didn't think so."

With a sigh, Steven sauntered to the kitchen to start the kettle. The flat was dark - the thunderstorm outside made sure of it, and he worried, for a moment, about you trudging home in these conditions.

"Should be alright," he mused to himself, the way he was prone to do. "Not due home for a couple hours yet."

He stopped short when he saw a note on the kitchen counter. It was not unlike the several notes you had left for Jake, on the bedside table. Same envelope at least.

"What's this, then?" he mused, picking it up.

The letters, displayed in your handwriting, spelled 'Marc'.

"Hm. Left you a note. Best come read it," Steven tried to tell his alter. Hearing nothing, he chewed on his lip for a moment before turning the envelope over in his hand.

The contents really did belong to Marc, but Steven felt that maybe had had the best chance of actually communicating with him. So he opened the letter and began to read aloud.

"Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to be reading this," Steven said to no one, because apparently no one was listening. "If you're not going to look at it, you should at least hear it."

'Dear Marc, I can't remember the last time we've gone so long without seeing one another, or at least speaking. Even on your longest missions, it never felt like this. If I could go back to the last time I saw you huddled on the kitchen floor, I would have never let you out of my arms. I would have never ranted about what Jake should do, or how much I hate Khonshu. I would've just held on and told you the truth over and over - that you're everything. That it didn't matter to me if you wore the suit again without telling me because I trust you, and because you can make your own decisions. I've always trusted your judgment. You are the real Moon Knight and you had every right to put on the suit if you felt like you wanted or needed to. I would have told you I support you 100%, that you're needed, that you're loved - that my anger and my bright ideas about how we should march right up to Khonshu and punch his bony beak didn't matter, not when you were feeling so shut out, so displaced, so thrown backwards in time, made to feel any less than. You are not less than Steven. You are not less than Jake. Or me. And you sure as hell are not less than an ancient deity who needs a modern day human body to roam the streets of London. It is he who needs you. And I need you. I need you, Marc. I need to see you again so badly, I can't even breathe sometimes. Not at night, after Steven falls asleep, not in the shower sometimes, or at work, when someone asks after you. I need you so much. Please, this isn't about making you feel guilty. You're my husband. You are the love of my life. I know you're resting now. I know you're taking the time you need. Steven is taking good care of you. But when you're ready, please, please come back to me. I love you so much.'

Running a hand over his chin, Steven folded the letter and put it back where he found it. Peering at his reflection in the microwave, Steven waited...hoping...

But it was quiet.

The next night, you made it home first. Steven had spoiled you rotten the previous, stormy evening. He claimed he was treating you to some warm soup and a hot bath because you were drenched when you arrived home.

But you knew it was because he read your letter and wanted to cheer you up. In fact, you believed that Steven missed Marc too. They didn't always co-front - you typically were only with one of them at a time, but they did talk all the time, and what you had sworn to Marc one afternoon on the rooftop was true: he was Steven's best friend in all the world.

So, a comforting bath and cuddles in bed made you both feel worlds better.

Tonight you wanted to show Steven a little love right back. It was really too bad that you found yourself elbow deep in making vegan fajitas when you heard the front door, because you desperately wanted a big hug.

"I'm in here, babe!" You called, dripping your way over to the sink to wash up.

Steven would have normally spouted off a greeting, two terms of endearment and one fun fact by the time he reached you, but as you turned to see him leaning against the door frame, you only heard the sound of your name...in an American accent.

Your heart rate tripled - your face flamed hot...then you saw your husband's dark curls were covered by a flat cap.

Holy shit. "Jake?"

"Hola," he winked, folding his arms over his chest. Noticing your apparent distress - and automatically assuming he was the cause, the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"Mi amor?" He questioned, his eyes going wide like a child getting in trouble.

"Jake!" You breathed, rushing up to throw your arms around him.

His body sagged in relief, melting into yours until he found the strength to wrap his bigger, stronger arms around your frame.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you gasped, gripping him desperately. "You're here, I can't believe it."

Surprised but thrilled at how relieved and happy you seemed, Jake nuzzled the spot right above your ear, running his hands up and down your back soothingly.

"I hope it's all right," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear.

Easing back, you gazed up into his deep brown eyes. "What do you mean? Of course it's all right."

Chewing on his lip worriedly, he shrugged one shoulder adorably, still holding on to you. "It's not a bad time, is it? You're not...supposed to be with Steven? Or anyone?"

You melted. "Baby, it's your body. If you're here, you're here. You don't need my permission." Gently caressing his cheek, you shook your head in wonder. "I just - I don't think I've ever seen you before midnight."

Glancing down at his outfit, you realized you didn't recognize his clothing as Steven or Marc's. Your heart swelled, seeing this new piece of him - a faded, denim jacket over a striped t-shirt.

"And I've never seen you wear anything except Steven's PJ's or your driving uniform," you added, brushing your hand over his.

"Or nothing at all," he cheekily added, biting his lip, waiting for your reaction.

You grinned like a fool, giggling as he swooped you up into a tender kiss. He sampled your lips one at a time, sucking gently, taunting you - until you licked hotly into his mouth, sinking your fingers into his curls. This knocked the cap off his head, which made him growl in response.

Two strong hands dragged your thighs around his waist and in a few long strides, he planted you on the countertop with an 'umph!'

"Sorry," he murmured, his forehead touching yours affectionately as he squeezed your hips, settling right between your spread thighs.

"Was that an offer?" you whispered, referring to him wearing nothing at all. Peppering his smiling lips with little kisses and driving him absolutely crazy, you added, "Is that why you're here?"

Easing back slowly, he swallowed. "I just wanted to see you," he earnestly admitted, a little uncertainty creasing his forehead. "I thought...maybe we could have dinner together. Is that okay?"

He was pretty new to this whole...you thing. Being married...sort of. Making an effort to...be with you. And not just sleep beside you. So he wasn't entirely sure if he was barging in to a special evening with Steven. He also wondered if you were hoping he was Marc. Actually, he was pretty certain that the surprise on your face when he first called your name was you mistaking him for Marc, for just a second.

"Come here," you softly cooed, pulling on his jacket to drag his mouth back to yours. Brushing your lips over his, you used your legs to urge his body flush against your center. "Yes, we can have dinner together..." which reminded you - you were mid-fajita prep when Jake arrived.

Tapping him cutely on the nose, you kissed his mouth one more time. "To be continued."

As you carried on with food prep, a different energy sizzled in the kitchen with Jake, most notably because he was a different person. Marc cooked with you plenty of times. In fact, he probably cooked more often than anyone and he was pretty good at it.

Cooking with Marc was precise, detailed - he knew what he wanted to do and you willingly played a supporting role. The two of you moved with practiced synchrony, like a well-rehearsed dance.

With Steven, it was all about experimentation. As a vegan, Steven was used to substituting ingredients and making things up on the fly. He also left a huge, hilarious mess behind, and typically ended up wearing a portion of his recipe.

For this reason, you had bought Steven an apron that said, 'Team Herbivore' which made Marc roll his eyes every time he saw it. Not because of the slogan but because it had three cute little veggies with smiling faces on it.

With Jake, there was no precise exchange of places, nor an experimental mess. Jake moved right with you from behind, loosely caging you in, picking up a spoon you would set down, stirring while you reached for a knife. You chopped and he added spices. He didn't even ask.

Once your hand was knife free and scraping veggies into the skillet, he was nuzzling into your neck and humming.

You lost your concentration a few times because he was just so close.

"This okay?" He would ask periodically, slipping his hand around your waist to sway with you.

"Where did you learn to cook?" You giggled, melting at the sound of his apparent singing voice?

He paused, going a little stiff.

Hoping you hadn't hit a nerve, you turned around slowly to find him smiling wistfully. "I used to watch my mom."

Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out what to say. Marc had never mentioned cooking with his mom, or her really cooking much at all. He had mentioned going to bed hungry though.

"I know...how she was," Jake softly interjected into your buzzing thoughts. "Especially with Marc." His gaze dropped as he eased back a step. "But sometimes, she would sing in Spanish. And cook. Sometimes I helped."

Reaching for his hand, you gently squeezed. "I didn't know you guys spoke Spanish until we met," you admitted, trying your best to connect a little more with Jake. "That sounds like a wonderful memory."

"One of the few," he sighed. Almost shyly meeting your eyes, he smiled warmly. "I've never told anyone that - or anything...about her."

Using your hold on his hand to pull him closer, you slid one arm around his waist. "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed back, nodding over your shoulder toward the sizzling skillet. "Better stir, mi vida."

Jake's seasonings were totally on point and dinner was delicious. The two of you cleaned up the kitchen and headed to the living room to relax. You noticed Jake sat a little awkwardly on the sofa - in total contrast to the smooth, panther like movements you were accustomed to, late at night, in your bedroom.

"Jake, you okay?" You asked him, grabbing your current reading material and settling down beside him.

He nodded unconvincingly. This was wildly foreign to him. Jake only did a few things in this world: protect, kill when he had to, serve Khonshu, sleep and fuck. He didn't even eat that often - his alters usually saw to most of the body's physical care.

"What...what do you do? At night? What should I do?" He adorably asked.

You almost laughed, it was so cute, but you didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Well...Marc and I play card games or do puzzles. We watch baseball games or old action movies - "

"You like baseball?" He asked, his eyes lighting up.

"I do," you confirmed with a smile. "The time change is a little weird from here to Chicago or New York, but we watch some afternoon games, or we watch older games."

He nodded, absorbing the information as you went on.

"Steven and I read together, or he reads to me. We like documentaries too. Sometimes I help him study for school." You chuckled, wondering if this all sounded boring to such a night owl like Jake. "Sometimes we have word search races - like, to see who can finish the fastest."

"I do crosswords in my car sometimes," Jake shrugged, as if he totally understood the appeal. "Do you like crosswords?"

"Mm-hmm," you grinned.

It was on. The two of you found a crossword website online and printed out two copies of the same puzzle. Turning on your phone's stopwatch, the race was on.

Jake kicked your ass.

"Let's go again," he chimed, finding another crossword on the laptop. "Loser has to take of their clothes."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Mr. Lockley," you playfully scolded.

Hearing you call him Mister anything had him shutting the laptop and scooping you up in his arms, almost racing to the bedroom. "Fuck it," he chuckled. "I surrender, I'll take off my clothes."

You howled with laughter as he deposited you on the bed and kicked off his shoes. Next came his socks - then he went for his belt. Shit, he wasn't kidding.

Crawling backwards on the bed, you settled back to enjoy the show, propped up on a pile of pillows.

Jake had peeled off his jacket while you were cooking, so once his pants were loose, he tugged off his t-shirt. You licked your lips at the way his abdomen flexed at the motion, and almost mewled at the way the shirt's collar mussed his curls. Then he paused, checking for a reaction before removing his pants.

"Don't let me stop you...Mr. Lockley," you teased, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The corner of his mouth curled as he pushed his pants and boxers all the way down. Leaning forward to kick them off his feet, a loose curl fell across his forehead.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him naked and ready for you. Climbing onto the bed on his hands and knees, he hovered over you, reveling in the way your eyes devoured him.

"Your turn," he purred, teasing you with a nibble to your lips.

Running your hands all over his smooth skin, you felt between his legs, teasing his length with your fingertips.

Hissing in pleasure, he more than willingly allowed you to have your way, licking wickedly into your mouth while grinding into your palm.

"Do you really read and study all the time, mi vida?" He groaned out, rolling his hips in time with your strokes. "Or is this more your idea of fun?"

"Definitely this," you breathed against his mouth. "A fucking lot of this."

Spending the evening with Jake was a balm to your tender heart. You had seen him since the night Khonshu healed him - since your first night together - but only late at night, for a quick conversation, or for a repeat performance.

So spending an entire, domestic evening with him, ending up between the sheets for hours, before falling asleep draped across his naked body - you were in heaven. Maybe Jake really was going to ease into your life - actually be in a relationship with you.

Your heart swelled with love for your husband - for all the lovely, wonderful parts of the system he was. You would have to grab some extra ingredients from the store and plan another vegan fajita night for Steven, since Jake enjoyed the first batch. Not that Steven minded, angel that he was.

Which only left Marc.

Even with your heart so full and alive, there was still a gaping hole. As always, you tried not to put the other two in the middle of any situation, or treat them like messengers to try to get to Marc. But they were more than ready with updates.

Steven had confessed to reading the letter, and trying to talk out loud to Marc several times a day. Jake said the same, finally asking you if maybe it was his fault that Marc was so absent - so silent.

The three of you agreed that Marc just needed some time. As always, you decided not to take it personally. This was about him.

You beat Steven home again the following evening, and this time, waiting on the kitchen counter, was an envelope bearing your name.

next->

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean @peregrine-nation @local-mr-frog @ren-ni @valkyrie05x @randomhoex @tsukkie-daisuke @flyestvenustrap @spxctorsslxt @cicithemess2000  @bitchotine 

dividers by saradika

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

HAPPY 1K!!!! That's SO exciting and well deserved!!

Might I humbly request a ficlet with...

Z. "You'll do anything for attention, won't you?"

and ⭐Celebrity AU

Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! 🍓

I'm celebrating 1k followers, requests are open

Just how much I'll do

Rated: M

Words: 989

Tags: Celebrity AU, modern AU, rockstar Eddie, nepo baby Steve, fake dating, sexual tension, finger sucking, enemies to lovers

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“Ah, there they are,” Eddie says. “Took them long enough.” 

Steve stops chatting with the waitress to follow his gaze. Something is glinting beyond their window, in the tiny space between two cars on the other side of the dark street. A camera. The waitress hurriedly puts down their dessert and scurries off. Steve watches her go with a disappointed frown. Using the moment of distraction, Eddie reaches out across the table and tangles their fingers together. 

The frown melts into a bitchy scowl and Steve flinches like Eddie’s hand is something gross. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Eddie laughs, loud and unashamed in the hushed quiet of the restaurant.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he coos. He flips their entwined hands so they’re facing the window, running his thumb over Steve’s knuckles in a slow, deliberate motion. His smile is wide and teasing as he leans over the table and into Steve’s space. “I must admit I’m a tad bit insulted. I make an effort to look nice for you, take you to the fanciest restaurant in town, and you’ve got nothing better to do than flirt with the waitress all night? Why, Stevie, do you even still love me?” 

“Quit it, Munson,” Steve snaps, trying to yank his hand away, but Eddie holds firm. A few quizzical heads turn in their direction and he’s quick to stop struggling. When he speaks again, his voice is a low hiss. “You know as well as me that this is all a publicity stunt. Don’t forget about the deal.” 

“Sure,” Eddie drawls, snatching a chocolate-coated strawberry from his plate and popping it into his mouth. The chocolate bursts between his teeth and tangy, juicy sweetness explodes all over his taste buds, making him hum in pleasure. The place may be way out of his comfort zone, markedly different from his usual dark and edgy night clubs, but at least the food is excellent. “We go on a few dates together, let our friends out there take their little photos, write their little news stories. After a few months, we break it off amicably - no hard feelings, you’ll always be special to me, yadda yadda. My label gets off my ass about my ‘out of control’ lifestyle, your old man gets to beat those completely unfounded allegations of homophobia just in time for the big election. Look how supportive he is of his queer son, after all. A true champ, a beacon of tolerance and open-mindedness, a shining example for all of us.” 

Steve, who has just taken a sip of his wine, snorts so hard, Eddie’s surprised it doesn’t come shooting out of his nose. He has a nice laugh - pretty like the rest of him, but there’s a bitter little twist to his mouth that never seems to quite disappear. Eddie catches himself wondering what his smile would look like without it. 

“Please,” Steve sneers, putting his glass back down with a bit too much force. A few drops of wine splash over the rim, staining the table cloth red. “My dad’s a bigoted old asshole and we both know it.” 

The hand that’s still tangled with Eddie’s tightens, almost painfully. A small part of Eddie imagines the things Senator Harrington must call his darling son behind closed doors. 

“Makes me wonder, though,” is what he says, “why you agreed to play along in this little farce? Why help him out if he’s such a douchebag?” 

For a second, something pokes through the facade of bored indifference on Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable and honest. Eddie wants to grab a hold of it and pull it all the way to the surface, lay it bare and never let it go again. But it’s gone as quick as it came, slipping through his fingers like mist. 

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and the bitter curl returns to his lips. “Not like you’d get it.” 

He's right, Eddie thinks. He probably wouldn't. He hasn't seen his own sperm donor in twenty years. He doesn’t know what it's like, growing up in the shadow of an overbearing father, constantly forced to uphold your family's image, to live up to expectations. 

But something in the way Steve says it, all haughty and derisive, like Eddie isn't even worth an explanation, makes something ugly stir low in his belly. 

“Oh, I think I get it,” he says, plucking another strawberry from his plate. Steve watches with a furrowed brow how he lets it dangle between them, waving it idly about as he speaks. “I think it must be hard, constantly begging for daddy's love and acceptance, but only ever being fed the scraps. Always so eager, always so willing, but never quite good enough, you poor boy. You'll do anything for attention, won't you?” 

Steve's eyes go wide, perfect lips parting around a punched-out little sound. Eddie grins triumphantly, lifting the strawberry to his mouth. 

But he never makes it there. 

Steve surges forward, fingers closing around Eddie’s wrist. Eddie watches, heartbeat pounding in his skull, how Steve sucks the fruit into his warm, wet mouth. How pink lips slip over his fingers, all the way down to the first knuckle. Chocolate cracks and a thin rivulet of red juice trickles down Eddie's thumb. Steve darts out his tongue and catches it, never once breaking eye contact. 

“Holy shit,” someone whispers. It takes Eddie a moment to recognize his own voice. He knows it's impossible through the glass and the distance, but he swears he can hear how the camera shutter on the other side of the street goes crazy. 

Steve releases his fingers with a slick sound, tongue licking over plush lips to gather the last traces of strawberry and chocolate and Eddie still clinging to them. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse, breath cool against Eddie’s wet skin. 

“Let's get outta here … and I'll show you just how much I'll do.” 

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And then they went home and had hate sex. The end.

[headfullofpresley]

𝐓𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐨 𝐔𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 4,1K

Summary: Your bacholerette party gets crashed by your fiancé in typical fashion, but even though the party is over doesn't mean that the night is.

Warnings: Elvis being jealous, reader not being jealous at all, strong language, alcohol consumption, smoking, Elvis being a lil tipsy, Elvis punches... someone 👀, sexual innuendos, i guess a teeny tiny bit of smut if you squint real hard (barely), fluff, small mention of Gladys and Jesse.

A/N: there's so much more in this story than the summary states but i suck at writing summaries woops. this was requested by my lovely @marriedtopresley, i hope you like it bby!! <333

masterlist

“We get the suite,”

“Nope,”

“Patsy, this wasn’t the deal- the boys get the suite, you girls get the streets,”

“Poor choice of words, West,” your husband’s-to-be cousin pointed out with a frown of her eyebrows before a smile returned to her features. “The answer is still no,”

You watched as they stood in the middle of Elvis’ suite, facing each other down in hopes the other one would break. You knew Patsy was just as headstrong as Red- it was like watching two wild animals circle around each other, waiting for the right moment to attack. It was downright fascinating.

“They’re still goin’ at it?” Elvis chuckled as he appeared next to you, fixing the collar of his dark crushed velvet coat. He had been wearing a full blown leather outfit minutes ago, similar to the one he wore for the special back in ’68, but he soon realised it was too hot for the Nevada climate. The velvet wasn’t much cooler but at least he was able to take some pieces of clothing off without being half naked- something he’d never do unless he was alone with you.

You were still in a bath robe, a glass of champagne in hand- it was only seven o’clock, but it was your bacholerette party… if Red and Patsy would ever give in, that was.

“Yup, and it looks like Patsy’s winning,” you chuckled as you noticed some hotel employees wandering in, beginning to build a tower out of glasses. Elvis let out a laugh as he slipped his arm around your waist, kissing your temple.

“It’s okay, I’ll tell Red you and the girls get the suite. Might do me some good to get out of this place on my last night as a free man,”

You knew he wanted a better reaction out of you other than the grin you gave him, but the thing was.. you weren’t jealous. Despite the amount of female attention Elvis got, it never bothered you. This irked Elvis more than he’d like to admit or that you were aware of, mostly because he could be jealous. Really jealous.

“Thanks, Elvis- now you guys leave, so we can get this party started!” Patsy exclaimed happily as she heard what he said, patting Red on the back who groaned and made his way over to Pat, his wife, to kiss her goodbye for the night.

“Wait, I don’t get to see what you’ll be wearing?” Elvis turned to you, pouting playfully as he circled his other arm around your waist as well to pull you against his chest. You shrugged, laughing as you hung your arms loosely over his shoulders, kissing his lips before you spoke.

“It’s just a simple dress- now the one I’ll be wearing tomorrow is way more fascinating. Patience, my love,”

He rolled his eyes as you tapped his cheek gently, grinning as he went in for another kiss. This time he parted his lips and you gladly welcomed the feeling of his tongue by doing so as well, deepening the kiss. He tasted like bourbon, which Sonny had made him take a shot of earlier, and cigars- it had you craving for more. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were ripped away from each other sooner than you liked but you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the guys pulling Elvis out of the room and to God knows where.

 

The guys knew Elvis didn’t like to be away from you for too long and in order for him to not turn grumpy, they kept pouring shots down his throat. He hated drinking, hated the taste of strong liquor, but after a few rounds the god awful taste simply wasn’t so awful anymore. He was actually having a good time.

After seeing Tom Jones’ show at the Flamingo Hotel, Tom joined their rowdy crowd and he was more than happy to drag Elvis along to the stripclub Sammy Davis Jr. who was present too pointed out. Now if Elvis would’ve been completely sober, he didn’t think he’d spend the night before his wedding in a stripclub in Vegas because he didn’t even like normal parties but he figured for once it would be fine. His friends seemed to have a good time and although he couldn’t stop thinking about what you were doing right now, the drinks caused him to let loose a little and not worry so much.

Until Red had to open his big mouth.

“Ah c’mon, EP- loosen up!” the ginger haired male laughed loudly, leaning back in his seat as he had a girl grinding herself down on his crotch, just like Elvis had. The only difference was that Red was greatly enjoying himself and Elvis was tensed to the bone, giving Red a glare instead of looking at the breasts that were right in front of his nose. Any man would consider him a nut job for not enjoying himself right now. “Y/N probably has a fireman’s ass in her face right about now,”

The rest of the group laughed along with Red, but as soon as they all saw the look on Elvis’ face, the laughter died down and the mood quickly shifted. It was obvious to the dancers too, who quickly sneaked away from the group of men.

“Strippers? There are strippers at that party?”

Elvis' hair was sticking up as if he had just got out of bed because of the girl that had been on his lap running her hands through it and if his voice hadn’t dropped a few octaves, the guys would’ve laughed at him. But they were all very aware of his jealous nature, especially when it came to you.

Sonny cleared his throat a little, planting his hand on Elvis’ shoulder as he let out a soft awkward chuckle. “It’s her bachelorette, EP. I’m sure she’s havin’ a blast and so should you,”

Elvis’ jaw clenched involuntarily as he whipped his head around to look at the man on his other side, pushing his arm off of him roughly. He shot up from his seat, fixing his hair by running his hands through it.

“I told you to have Patsy cancel that shit- I can’t believe she actually went through with it,” he exclaimed angrily, pacing back and forth in their VIP section. Most of the guys stayed silent, trying not to show their annoyance for having Elvis ruin the night because they already knew what was coming.

“We’re leaving,” Elvis barked, ripping open the velvet rope that separated them from the public. Joe immediately got up to follow, as did the others, because it wasn’t exactly safe for the singer to wander out the club alone, let alone be on the streets. He couldn’t even use a public restroom on his own due to crazy people hiding in every corner.

“So, what are you gonna do, huh?” Red sighed deeply as they all climbed into the limousine, looking at Elvis who poured himself a glass of champagne, downing it while scrunching up his nose. “Crash the girls’ party? You’re not even supposed to sleep next to Y/N tonight- you’re gettin’ married tomorrow, man,”

“To hell with all that traditional shit,” he grumbled, reaching for the bottle again as he tore off his glasses and put them atop his head- something he never did but now that he was slightly intoxicated, he didn’t care it made him look silly. “I’m sleepin’ next to my wife tonight, whether she wants me to or not,”

“She ain’t your wife yet,” Tom grinned at him, but before Elvis could comment, Red quickly pushed the champagne glass to raven haired man’s mouth, giving Tom a glare that made him shut right up.

 

 

You figured your bacholerette party would be small. Just you, Patsy, Pat, Judy, Barbara and the rest of the Mafia girlfriends, but an hour after you got dressed the champagne tower started flowing and more people started to arrive in the hotel suite. They were all female, such as Nancy Sinatra and the girlfriend of the hotel’s director, so you didn’t mind it all too much.

Compared to Elvis, you liked parties, so it didn’t take you long to get in your usual party mood and were steadily on your way to get intoxicated. But even if you were sober, you would’ve been just as excited about the stripper that barged into the room.

Your fiancé was going to have a whiplash if he was aware of your current activities, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

The stripper was hot, naturally, and you happily welcomed it when he pushed you down on a chair in the middle of the room and danced to the music blasting through the room. All the other girls were happily cheering and snapping pictures of the moment the man in front of you grabbed your hands and ran them down his muscles and down over his crotch which was still covered by a pair of firefighter pants. You screamed in excitement, hiding your mouth behind your hands as he took the little crown you were wearing off your head and replaced it with his hat before he pulled his suspenders down his bare shoulders.

You happily obliged as the stripper grabbed your hands and moved them to his pants, signing for you to do undo them. Your fingers moved swiftly as you flicked the button open and pulled the zipper down, Nancy cheering you on as she stood behind you.

Not long after the pants were off and your hands had been forced onto the man’s ass, it sounded like the door was nearly kicked in, followed by gasps coming from several girls in the room.

 

As soon as Elvis stepped into the room, followed by a panicked Memphis Mafia, and saw the stripper wrapping your legs around his waist, he felt anger boiling in his veins. Red and Sonny weren’t fast enough to hold Elvis back, because he was already striding toward you- you gasped in shock as the stripper was ripped off you and you were pretty sure your eyes were the size of saucers at the sight of Elvis’ fist connecting to the other man’s jaw.

“Elvis!” you screeched as you shot up from your seat, nearly stumbling on your heels as you grabbed his jacket and pulled him off the dancer. The half naked firefighter got back on his feet, grabbing his pants to get the hell out of the room. Elvis noticed the hat you were wearing and pulled it off, throwing it after the stripper- the plastic hit him right on the back of his head.

Joe quickly followed the poor man to do some damage control.

“Everybody out!” Elvis yelled, the volume of his voice roaring above the music and making everyone shoot into action as they left the room as quick as possible. Patsy flashed you an apologetic smile and you responded to it with one of yourself, signing to her that you’d call her later.

Red was the last to leave the room, which he did with a deep sigh and a roll of his eyes, which Elvis luckily didn’t see.

 

You didn’t want to laugh, honest to God you didn’t, but you couldn’t hold it in due to the drinks you had consumed tonight. Not only did your party last only about two hours, the man that you were marrying tomorrow had just punched a stripper. How in the world could you not laugh?

“I don’t think this is funny,” Elvis snapped at you as he threw his coat on the bed before sitting down at the end of it.

You placed your hand over your mouth as you sat down next to him, giggling in your palm. “I mean..” you inhaled a deep breath, putting your hands in your lap as you looked at him. “Aside from the fact that you ruined my party, it is kinda funny,”

“Did you know there was gonna be a fuckin’ stripper? You knew, didn’t you? And you let it happen anyways,”

You raised your eyebrows at him, even though he barely looked at you. His rings that he was twirling around his fingers repeatedly seemed to be more interesting to him at the moment. You could see by the way his jaw was clenched so tightly and the angry frown on his features that he really did not think this was funny. You knew he was jealous, no matter how silly it sounded in this moment, and while you usually teased him with it you knew that wouldn’t be the best option right now.

But he really did crash your party and you were genuinely having a good time- now you were getting a little annoyed as well.

“No, I didn’t know, Elvis- that’s the whole point of a bachelorette party. The girls took care of everything,” you told him, crossing your legs and folding your arms as you looked at his glasses on the floor which he lost when he took a swing at the stripper. “And you smell of booze and cheap perfume, it’s not like you and the guys were having a cup of coffee downstairs,”

Elvis turned his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. He moved closer to sit up against you, his arm snaking around your waist to let his hand rest on the side of your thigh. “Why? Are you jealous?”

You snorted, looking at him as you tilted your head a little. He leaned down into you a little more, his grin growing wider as a smile spread across your own face. As soon as you spoke, that smug grin was wiped right off his face.

“No, baby, I’m not,”

“Why not?” he exclaimed in frustration as he watched you get up and kick your heels off, picking up his glasses from the floor.

“I don’t know, I’m just not,” you shrugged a little, putting on his glasses as you turned back to him and pointed a finger in his direction. “But I do think it’s unfair you crashed my party and act like a baby just because there was one stripper here while you were in a club full of naked ladies,”

“So you are jealous?”

“No,”

He groaned as he let himself fall back on the bed, his arms spread out as he looked up at the helium balloons that floated against the ceiling. You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you walked over to him, making him look at you as you crawled on top of him and straddled his waist. You pushed the sunglasses up in your hair, placing your hands on his chest as you smiled at him.

“Why do you want me to be jealous so bad, El?”

He sighed deeply as he placed his hands on your thighs, fingertips disappearing underneath the fabric of your short dress so he could let his digits absentmindedly caress your skin.

“It’s not like I want you to be-well… sometimes. Damnit honey, I don’t know. Bein’ jealous means you care and I guess I just would like to see the roles reversed sometimes,”

You laughed softly as he pulled his hands back and pushed his elbows in the mattress, looking up at you with a slight pout on his face. You bit your lip as you suddenly slapped him across the face- not hard enough to leave a mark or anything, but enough to make him look at you with wide eyes and shock written over his features.

“What the fuck was that for?!”

You climbed off of him, pacing the room as you threw his glasses on the couch by the tv. You still weren’t jealous, but if acting as if you were was going to make your man happy, then that’s what you’ll do.

“You went to a stripclub?” you exclaimed in feigned anger, making sure it looked as real as possible. You seemed to be a good enough actress because Elvis sat up again, gawking at you in confusion. “You’re disgusting, Elvis- I don’t believe you! How was it, huh? Did you touch any of them?”

You walked over to him, taking him by surprise once more as you grabbed his hands and placed them on your breasts. “Did theirs feel.. better? Bigger? No, don’t tell me- I don’t think I can take it,” as soon as you put the back of your hand against your forehead dramatically and looked away from him, the both of you couldn’t hold back your laugh. Yours was interrupted by a squeal as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down on the bed with him.

“You little shit,” he laughed as he hid his face in your neck, trapping you underneath him on the mattress. “I hate you,”

You giggled as you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him in your embrace while trapping him just as much by snaking your legs around his waist. As he pulled his face out of your neck, you moved your hands down his shoulders and to his chest, opening a few buttons of his blouse.

“You don’t hate me- you love me and I love you, El. Just because I’m not jealous doesn’t mean I don’t care, you know that, right?”

He nodded, smiling down at you as he caressed some hair out of your face before kissing your lips. “I know, baby, I was’ just bein’… stupid,”

“That’s what you get for drinking whiskey,”

He frowned, laughing softly. “How’d you know?”

“I can taste it and you got a mean right on whiskey,”

A smirk spread across his face as he thought back about the stripper he knocked down without blinking a little while ago. He was sure Joe would take care of things and that fucker deserved it, touching his lady the way he did, so Elvis didn’t really feel guilty or whatsoever.

“I got him good,” he wiggled his eyebrows playfully, making you laugh as you tilted your head a little, welcoming his lips in your neck. You grabbed his hand, letting it wander down in between your thighs and right into the panties you wore underneath your dress.

“That good, huh?” he grinned against your skin, a moan rolling off your tongue as he did not wait for a response and slowly pushed a long finger inside of you, making you forget all about your friends who were probably continuing the party elsewhere.

 

“What if we got married right now?” Elvis questioned, blowing out the smoke from his cigar in circles before tapping off the ashes in the ash tray in your hand.

You frowned as you looked at nothing in particular in front of you, resting against the man’s chest while taking a drag from your own cigarette. You turned to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table, laughing softly.

“It’s 2 in the morning,”

“So? We’re in Vegas, there’s a chapel on every corner,”

You slowly sat up to turn around and face him, pushing out your cigarette in the ash tray. You exhaled the smoke in the other direction, still holding up the sheets to your chest.

“We’re getting married in a few hours, El,” you reminded him to which he laughed at softly, shrugging his shoulders as he placed his cigar in the ash tray and took it out of your hand, placing it next to the alarm clock.

“I know but tomorrow’s gonna be so busy with everyone there and we have this damned schedule to follow- tomorrow won’t belong to us alone, but we still have the night,”

The excitement of his crazy idea was rubbing off on you and as he slipped his hands into yours, you shook them wildly.

“You’re right, you’re so right but.. is this even possible? I mean, legally,”

“Baby, this is Las Vegas,” he reminded you again with a laugh. “Anything is possible,”

You nodded as you laughed, kissing him over and over again. “Okay, let’s do it. Let’s get married,” you said as you jumped up from the bed, running into the walk-in closet. “I have the perfect outfit!”

 

You wore a short baby blue skirt with a matching long sleeved blouse, putting the hood on and letting your hair drape over the shape of your breasts. You had a traditional dress for tomorrow, but what you and Elvis were doing right now was anything but traditional and you were excited about it- maybe even more excited than for the big day tomorrow.

He wore his crushed velvet outfit, including big golden belt and sunglasses and all- true Presley fashion.

Despite the excitement of it all, you tried to convince Elvis to bring one or two of the guys for safety, but he wouldn’t hear it. He didn’t want anyone else but you and him to know about this- tomorrow he was going to officially promise his loyalty to you and make you his wife in front of family, friends and probably way too many reporters. He was pretty sure everyone would want his attention at all times and he wouldn’t spend the amount of time alone he wanted with you until the honeymoon, so this little pre-wedding was going to be good and it was going to happen.

He had made up his mind and he wasn’t going to change it.

And you didn’t want him to, and even if you did, it was too late now. You and Elvis were already sneaking through the hotel and into the garage like a couple of teenagers, driving off to a chapel that wasn’t crowded by drunk people who were going to wake up married to a stranger tomorrow morning.

You and Elvis found one that seemed quiet enough way on the other side of the city, close to the desert. There were barely any people around and you were surprised they were open and doing services at all, but the few people that worked at the chapel sure as hell weren’t going to close up shop now that Elvis Presley walked in.

Getting married in a tiny chapel in the desert was hardly a girl’s dream, but you were over the moon as you got married to the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You’d have your ‘real’ wedding tomorrow and although you didn’t have rings to give each other now, you didn’t care where Elvis and you would promise your love to each other.

You’d follow him anywhere he’d go and you were hundred per cent certain he’d do the same for you, because it simply didn’t matter where in the world you were- as long as you were by each other’s sides.

 

“Sorry about the lack of cake, Mrs. Presley,” Elvis grinned from beside you as you sat on the hood of his car, looking up at the stars that twinkled in the dark sky. There were two that flickered extra hard and both you and your husband had decided those were Gladys and Jesse, watching over you and being part of your silly and chaotic night.

You laughed softly as you handed the bottle of champagne the workers at the chapel gifted you to him. “There’ll be plenty of cake tomorrow, my husband,”

He smiled down at you as you hooked your arm through his and snuggled up to him, putting your head on his shoulder. He took a few small sips from the bottle, kissing your head as he pushed it back in your hand. He did not like the taste of champagne at all and he already had too much of it tonight, so you were the one who drank most of it.

“I like the sound of that- my wife,”

“Me too,” you grinned as you raised your head to look at him, pecking his lips. “I love you,”

“I love you more,” he said in between kisses, pulling your legs across his lap before resting his hand on your thigh. You placed the bottle behind you, folding your hands behind his neck as you wrapped your arms around him.

“How much more?” you smiled playfully as you looked at him when he pulled his head back in his neck a little, pretending to think about it as he looked up at the sky.

“To the moon,”

“And back,” you immediately responded with a giggle, kissing him once more as soon as he turned back to you.

He didn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

When it came to you, Elvis never hesitated- out of everything in his life, you had always been the most steady and you were always going to be.

Just like that big, bright moon above that shone on you and him in this moment, you were his rock and he was yours.

 

The vow goes; “to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

But for you and Elvis, you wholeheartedly believed that you’d be together even after living out a happy and adventurous life- with your souls entangled the way they were, it was inevitable.

taglist: @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @woundmetender @returntoelvis @prayerstopresley @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @wonka-gifs @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley

[wwinterwitch]

questions — joel miller x fem!reader

summary: after a night at the bar, joel walks you home and you finally confess what has been on your mind since the night everything fell apart pairing: joel miller x fem!reader word count: 3.9k warnings and tags: doesn't really follow canon but sill minor spoilers for ep. 6 i guess?, angst with a good ending, alcohol consumption, reader is drunk, joel being joel, miscommunication, sharing feelings go wrong, i'm not used to write angsty fics i'm sorry if this sucks author's note: omg omg happy finale day!! i wrote this listening to question...? by taylor swift so that's what inspired this concept, also this was supposed to be a tiny little blurb idk how we got to almost 4k words but okay i guess

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

navigation | pedro's characters masterlist

Before tonight you were fine.

You barely even thought about him in that way. You barely remember the way his skin feels against yours, or the way a simple kiss from him would leave you begging for more. It was like all those nights you two would stay up talking about whatever, his arms around you and your back pressed against his chest, never existed.

Training your heart not to long for him and your brain to keep him out of your thoughts was no easy job at first. It was almost impossible for your body not to want him close. Not being able to talk to him about whatever was on your mind and knowing he no longer will reach out to share even his most profound secrets was absolute torture. Walking next to him all day without being able to reach out for his hand or stop for a quick second just to hold him close to you was a living nightmare that you couldn't wake up from.

Because how could he be so easy to forget? Joel Miller. The first and only person you've fallen in love with. That special someone that opened up a door to a whole new world that you never realized you were dying to discover until he was standing in front of you, his extended hand being an open invitation to walk all these unfamiliar roads and witness the beauty of it all together.

It was new and scary and beautiful. You were addicted to loving him before you even realized exactly what it was. From the moment you were able to put a name to this new feeling he taught you, you vowed to be his for as long as he'll have you- but what a shame it was to realize that the ending to a seemingly long story was already written at the very back of the page.

Perhaps your love blinded you enough to believe he had fallen just as hard, only to realize he was still standing at the edge of the precipice, staring down as you fell into the darkness of the abyss. Perhaps it's the fact that death is all around that makes it impossible for anything to be born. Why would you be able to live a fairytale in the middle of a horror show? What could possibly make you so special?

At least he doesn't seem to be affected by the fact that you two drifted apart. It's not like he's the best at sharing his feelings to other people, his ever-frowning gaze always present in his face no matter the circumstance, but you were still hoping that maybe he cared enough to show you he's hurting even just a little bit.

That should be comforting, right? To know he's perfectly fine and that you never cross his mind in that way. He doesn't have the need to apologize or make it right. He doesn't regret what happened and it never plays back in his head as he curses at himself for not doing things differently. You and your...relationship? are that easy to forget.

No. It's not comforting at all. If anything, it makes everything worse.

You can still remember the night you told him you loved him. A moment in your painfully short history together that you wish you could erase. A disappointing ending to what could've been an absolute masterpiece.

Ellie was already asleep and the two of you were keeping watch. He insisted you should get some sleep but you wanted to stay with him. He wasn't a fan of showing you any type of affection since Ellie joined the two of you, so the nights are the only chance you have to be closer. It was like the moon and stars were your best of friends at that point, because they meant he could finally be yours.

The confession slipped from your lips in a quiet whisper. A simple and timid "I think I'm falling in love with you" was all you offered. It's not hard to remember the way your hands would slightly tremble, or the rapid beating of your heart. It's as unforgettable as the confidence you were feeling because despite being so nervous, you were certain that he'll say it back.

He never did. He didn't say it back that night, or the morning after, or any other morning that followed.

It was embarrassing to look back on it now that you know what happened next. You were snuggled up next to him, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders. His eyes were fixated on the fireplace that helped to make the chilling air of the night a little more tolerable.

Staring at his handsome complexion without his permission was probably one of your favorite things to do. He had confided in you a couple of times that he couldn't understand why you enjoy it so much. That he's not this breathtaking sight that deserves to be contemplated in the way you do.

Truth is, he's the most hypnotizing sight of all. You didn't care about the roughness of his features or the years visible in the corner of his eyes, hair and beard. He's gorgeous and unique and yours. You could stare at him for hours and never get tired of it.

Like many times before, he caught you staring at him. And just like those times before, he made a gesture that should tell you he disliked that habit of yours, only to be betrayed by the smirk timidly forming on his lips not so long after.

It was then, with his eyes staring back at yours, that the verbal proclamation of your love for him invaded the quietness of the night.

And that's when his smirk magically disappeared. His eyes became dark with something you couldn't quite decipher at the time, still staring back at you but not really. It was clear he wasn't there with you anymore, too lost in his own thoughts to truly acknowledge your presence anymore.

Before you could even think of saying something else, he surprised you with an almost robotic "I think you should get some sleep".

Feeling more heartbroken and confused than ever, you did exactly that. You got up and joined Ellie, cuddling up in your sleeping bag with your back facing him. It's still a mystery to you how you were able to cry yourself to sleep that night without making a sound. How you were able to control the hurricane of emotions after telling the love of your life how you feel and him not caring about it in the slightest.

And suddenly, being in love was still new and scary but it had turned into something horrible.

You had to spend every second of every day with him after that, pretending nothing ever happened. He never brought it up either, so you decided to ignore it to avoid making a fool of yourself again. His reaction was enough to let you know he never really loved you, so you ran with it and tried to continue knowing whatever you two had or could have was no more.

But it was still difficult at times. Ellie kept asking you questions regarding you and Joel even weeks after the incident. She's not stupid. She could see you two weren't exactly friends, no matter how hard Joel tried to convince her otherwise. She's also not someone who settles for made up excuses or half truths, which made her push the subject until she got a good enough answer. That's why she continued coming to you for answers, because she knew he'll never talk about it.

It was only when you explicitly confirmed you two weren't just friends before quickly telling her it was completely over that she eventually let it be. After that, she also started to pretend nothing happened.

Jackson became pretty much the light at the end of a pitch back tunnel you thought was never-ending. You were excited to meet new people and have new things to do during the day, knowing it'll help to keep you busy, forcing Joel out of your head.

It was so exciting in fact, that it helped to make it seem as if the quick "she's the one I've been traveling with" that Joel used to introduce you to his brother wasn't that terrible.

Tommy, who much to your luck was nothing like his big brother, made sure to show you around and introduce you to a few people. He got you a house so you and Ellie could settle in and helped you find a job at the local library, officially starting your new life that didn't revolve around Joel.

In time, you found your place in the commune (as you and Ellie love to call it to tease Tommy). Joel was slowly becoming just a bad chapter in a much bigger story that you started to write for yourself, and you're loving the new plot that's unfolding across the blank pages.

However, all of that progress came crashing down tonight. Tommy's birthday was being celebrated at the local bar and there was no way you would ever miss it. Not only has he become a very good friend, but you also needed the distraction.

The familiar faces, the food and drinks made you forget about Joel's presence for most of the night and you barely made the effort to acknowledge his presence. Without being able to prevent it, your eyes accidentally met for a few seconds. It was almost sickening that everything about that half-a-second-look was so much like a movie. You were laughing at something a friend had said before you finished your third drink of the night, casually scanning the room to catch Joel already looking your way.

He smiled and you barely smiled back before focusing on the conversation with your friends again as if nothing happened. The alcohol might have motivated you enough to just not care anymore. To show him you really couldn't care any less to try to be nice after he was such an asshole when you were completely vulnerable before him.

The idea of not caring seemed tempting. Thinking the alcohol was helping, you continued drinking until you forgot about pretty much everything- which didn't take that long considering your alcohol resistance wasn't that good after a long time without drinking. You don't care about Joel, or the hours passing by, or the fact that you're probably making a complete fool of yourself giggling and dancing with a few friends that are probably as drunk as you are, if not more.

All the hype from being intoxicated started to wear off after a while, becoming more and more sleepy until you were practically dragging your feet towards the exit, putting on your coat and hat to prepare for the cold night outside.

"Looks like you had a good time," you hear Tommy comment in a mocking tone, sending a sympathetic smile your way.

"I did! Thanks for inviting me. And happy birthday to you again!" you exclaim cheerfully. "I hope I didn't make a fool of myself tonight."

"Oh, you definitely did," he mocked, chuckling lightly. "But hey, those dance moves you were pulling off back there? Best birthday gift I'll ever receive."

You looked positively embarrassed after his comment, but managed to laugh it off. "I guess that's good."

"It is," he immediately reassures you. "Let's get you home now, okay?"

"Oh, you don't have to go with me. You can't leave your own birthday party. It's okay, I got it."

"I want to make sure you get home safe. It's fine."

"Tommy, please. You should stay and have fun."

"I won't have fun if I'm worrying about you all night."

"I can take her," you suddenly hear Joel's voice behind you, which immediately made you roll your eyes because you really didn't want him around. He noticed the gesture but didn't seem to care about it in the slightest, putting on his jacket. "I was heading out anyway."

Tommy couldn't have known you really didn't want to be around his older brother, completely unaware of your history with him. Perhaps if you told him, he'll insist on going with you or find someone else that could walk you home. But you never told him what happened, so you're stuck with Joel. "Okay, great. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Thank you for coming," he says, allowing the two of you to leave.

The first few minutes outside in the snow have got to be the most awkward minutes of your entire life.

You tried not to stumble despite still being a bit drunk, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him. You're mad that he's here with you and you can't stand being alone with him.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

Oh, and of course he had to open his mouth. Because when has Joel ever done what you want him to do? It seems like he'll always do exactly the opposite of what you expect from him.

"Yes," was all you said.

"Just yes?" he tried again.

"Yes."

You heard him sigh. "So, no talking?"

"I'd really like that, actually."

The tone of your voice would've been enough to make him shut up for the entire walk. Even he seemed to be a little taken aback by the honesty of your answer because you could feel him staring at you for longer than usual before he focused on his boots as they left marks on the snow.

He didn't ask what was wrong because deep down he must've known. He can't not know. And in that drunken state you allowed yourself to be pity as you wished that he thinks about it every single day. That it tortures him. That he despises himself for breaking your heart and not doing something to make it right. That he looks back on it and hopes that he could go back.

But does he? Does he actually think about it every single day? Does he regret what happened? And if he does, why is he not trying to say he's sorry? Does he even want to say something at all?

It was almost as if the alcohol betrayed you. Or maybe it was your head that just allowed every barrier you have built these past few weeks to crumble down. Not caring turned into caring way too much and it was like you couldn't stop thinking about a hundred questions without being able to find a single answer to any of them.

Joel turns to look at you once again when he notices you stopped walking. Your head is spinning as more and more questions fill up your mind and you get frustrated because you know there's only one person who has all the answers.

Should you say something? Should you make a fool of yourself once again? It shouldn't be you. Why is he not doing something? How come you're the one who has to speak up about this? It's not fair.

But it was late, cold and you were just so drunk. And you know that no matter how much you try to move on, you'll never be truly okay until you hear an explanation as to why he broke your heart in such a vicious way. Even if he lies or tries to sugarcoat it, you deserve even the tiniest of explanations.

"Is everything okay?" he eventually asks, which only frustrates you more.

"Do you ever think about that night?" you let out almost immediately after, feeling the way your heart was beating faster than ever. As fast as the time you confessed your love for him.

He was quiet, so you decided to continue. "Do you ever wish you could go back and change the way it ended? Does...does it ever cross your mind or you seriously don't care?"

After those questions, Joel seemed to finally react. "Are we seriously doing this now?"

"If not now, when? You were clearly not going to say anything," you accused him, leaving him completely defenseless because he was very much avoiding ever bringing this up and you just called him out on it. "I just need to know why, Joel."

"I don't- let's get you home, okay?"

"Stop doing that! Stop trying to avoid this!" you exclaimed with obvious exasperation, feeling the corner of your eyes burning due to the tears that would surely roll down your cheeks at any point. "I was in love with you and you weren't decent enough to at least tell me you didn't feel the same way! Don't you think I deserved at least that?"

"We can talk about this tomorrow..."

"No, fuck that. I waited long enough," you quickly interrupted. "I was so patient with you. I gave you your space when you said you weren't sure about us, I respected your decision of being discreet in front of Ellie, I stood up for you countless of times when I shouldn't have. I did so much for you and you can't even look me in the eye and give me an explanation!"

"It's not-"

"You've got to be the biggest asshole I've ever met. And you know what's the worst part of this? That I'm still expecting shit from you. I still hope that you'll say you're sorry for breaking my heart and acting like you never did something wrong. I'm so fucking stupid to believe that you actually-"

"I was afraid!" he practically shouted, hoping that would stop your rambling. It seemed to work, because you were silent as soon as he said that. "There. Are you happy?"

"Don't put this on me," you immediately snap back.

Joel sighs yet again and takes a second to calm down, knowing that if he gets defensive this will end much worse. It's time to accept he fucked up and stop trying to act like he didn't.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "For this and for what I said that night. I should've been honest with you."

Now it was you the one who was silent, taken aback by his reaction. Usually, he'll try to come on top by creating any type of argument until he's able to get the last word. An actual apology was definitely not something you were expecting.

"I don't like people. I keep my distance and everyone else stay away from me in return. I like distance," he explains. "But then you came along and it was impossible to stay away. No matter how hard I tried, I'd always come back to you. I started to need you and it was scary because I should be keeping my distance."

Silence. Absolute silence. You were surprised to hear him being so honest with you, but you were also feeling a bit nostalgic because deep down you missed being the person Joel would go to when he needed someone to talk to. Even when it was difficult for him to open up, he always tried his best to rely on you whenever he needed it. Needless to say, it made you feel very special.

"When you said you loved me I didn't know what to do. It felt so...definitive. Because I knew that deep down I was falling for you too and if I said something that'd mean I'd never be able to let you go. And it was so scary to think of giving in to that feeling because...because I couldn't allow myself to care again."

You knew exactly what he meant by that. His daughter is not a topic he particularly enjoys bringing up, but you've heard a few things about her. And honestly, you couldn't really blame him for being scared. Despite all these years, losing his kid in the way he did has got to be the worst pain he'll ever experience. Of course he'll want to run away in the opposite direction when he starts seeing the similarities.

It doesn't excuse the fact that he avoided you, but you would never pretend like his feelings weren't valid.

He was scared of loving you because with love comes the inevitable attachment to that person forever. You care so deeply, the mere idea of ever losing that person shatters your world completely. And he knows what that loss feels like. He couldn't experience that again.

"Besides, you know me. You know I'm a mess. I couldn't let you ruin your life by loving me, because I'd just let you down- which I did, so I was right. So instead of saying something, I just said what I thought would help to make you not love me anymore. If I couldn't keep my distance, I had to do something so you'll want to stay away from me."

Once again, Joel was doing exactly the opposite of what you expected. He poured his heart out to you, sounding so honest and vulnerable. You've only heard him being this sincere whenever he would mention Sarah or that one time when you both stayed up talking in depth about your relationship with Ellie.

Tears started to roll down your cheeks as predicted as you stared at him. You don't know whether to hug him or punch him at this point.

"You're such an asshole," was all you could say.

The comment made him chuckle, but it was evident he was holding back his own tears. "I know."

"But that's exactly why I loved you. I know what you've been through, I knew you were a challenge and I was willing to work on it for as long as it would take us. The decision of whether I wanted to love you or not was never yours to make."

"I was trying to save you from having to deal with me."

"What if I didn't want to be saved?"

"Well, I think it's already too late for that," he replied. There was another pause that encouraged him to ask, "Is it? Too late?"

"I don't know," you replied. It was the truth.

"I can work with I don't know."

"What does that mean?" you asked curiously, wiping your tears away.

"It means I'm willing to make it right this time," he replied. "If you let me."

You frowned just a little, failing to hold back the smile that appeared on your face just seconds later. "You know you'll have to really try if you want to fix this, right?"

"I know. It's okay. You're worth it."

So far, so good, you thought.

"This means no more hiding, no more trying to push me away, talking about your feelings..."

"I can handle it."

"Can you?" you asked in a much more serious tone. It sucked not being able to fully trust his word, but you both know you had your reasons not to. "I just don't want to get my hopes up again over nothing."

You watched as Joel took a step closer to you, reaching out to grab one of your hands. He examines your face, making sure you're okay with him touching you before he brings it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. "I promise you this time will be different," he says, and he's looking at you with so much affection, it's impossible not to trust him.

[g0kotta]

Without you

Kanto Manji members (Mikey, Kokonoi, Wakasa, Benkei, Kakucho, Shion, Mocchi) x gn!reader

pt. 1 with Haitani brothers, Sanzu, Hanma

They ruin your relationship and then regret it, but it’s too late.

Mentions of drugs, blood, toxic relationships. A tiny bit suggestive in Shion’s part

♫ Now playing: 21 Savage - ball w/o you

~I thought it was a love, until I woke up

And had an epiphany~

Kokonoi Hajime

You runnin' 'round drinkin' liquor

Takin' pictures 'cause you miss me

(I know you miss me)

Kokonoi finished his fifth glass of liquor and took a look at his surroundings. His head was feeling fuzzy and he was starting to feel a little sick. He was never really a fan of alcohol, since it was a distraction from his main goal in life - money. He had to be sober and levelheaded to get as much as possible. But this time it was different. He ruined the best thing in his life and now he was drowning in his thoughts, hoping to come up with a solution to fix his problem.

Just last week he raised his voice at you, but that wasn’t the worst part. All of the anger and stress that built up from Kanto Manji problems made him blind and he let out all of his dark emotions on you. And you just stood there and listened. It wasn’t the first time and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. So without a word you went into his room and took all of your belongings, putting them in a bag.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Kokonoi punched the bedroom wall. His heart was beating extremely fast and he didn’t know what to do.

“What I should’ve done a long time ago.”

And now all he could do was take a picture of a random person and hope that you at least get jealous and decide to text or call him.

Sano Manjiro

It don't take much to love

You can love somebody just by being attached

/ I just wish your love wouldn't fade away

Mikey was lost in his own head. He didn’t feel any emotions anymore, numb to everything and everyone. In the moment he felt like it was the best choice for the both of you. You were just a distraction in his eyes and his main goal was to make sure that Kanto Manji would be on top always. So he packed your bags for you and left them in the bedroom. When you came back and saw everything you just shook your head and left with everything that you had. You knew this relationship wouldn’t work for too long. Mikey wasn’t Mikey anymore and you fell out of love a while ago.

Now Mikey sat in the meeting room and stared at the wall in front of him. Once again lost in his own thoughts. But this time they were all about you. He missed you. He needed you by his side. But as much as his hands itched to grab the phone and call you, he still knew that this was for the best. At the end of the day he only caused you pain and put you in danger.

Wakasa Imaushi

You crossed me once, it's fuck you forever

Wakasa’s head was in his hands. There were bottles of alcohol laying around his living room and Benkei was sitting near him, letting out a displeased sigh. Ever since the day he decided to betray Senju and join Kanto Manji Gang, you hadn’t spoken to him. Benkei couldn’t blame you and neither could Wakasa. The both of them knew how much Senju meant to you. She was like your kid. You were the first one to get your Brahman uniform, because Senju cherished you so much. Wakasa tried to get another can of beer, but Benkei stopped him.

“This isn’t going to help you, y’know?”

Wakasa thinks about the day you left. How heartbroken you looked even though you tried to hide your pain. But the glow and pain in your eyes showed different. You called him a lot of different names, pointing a finger at him and calling him a disgusting monster, telling him how he fucked up by losing your trust. And he knew it was true. Earning your trust was a difficult task. And he couldn’t believe that he actually managed to break the bond that the two of you had. You were and still are his world. And to you he’s just a memory.

Arashi Keizo

You could find love, get married, have kids

I'd still be realest to hit it

Benkei was a family guy. He dreamt of having a big family, wether it was by adopting or having his own kids. And he always dreamt about that future with you by his side. But that changed after he joined Kanto. The gang was way different that all of the gangs he has been in before. Except his own. The old Benkei was coming back and he knew it himself. You knew it. Everyone knew it. The blood on his hands and face was a clear sigh of it. And that caused a lot of problems in your relationship. He became cold and distant, making Kanto his priority. After the sixth fight between the two of you in the same week, you packed your bags and left him. The both of you were tired and being together only made it worse. You said that this would only be a break. That you needed to be alone for a while. But Benkei knew the truth. You weren’t coming back.

Shion Madarame

I was gettin' some head earlier

And you crossed my mind

Shion was enjoying himself after the breakup. He went to clubs with the Haitani brothers and Hanma, he did random drugs people gave him, he had one night stands. It was fun at first, doing everything he thought about doing while in a relationship with you. He was free, no one was stopping him from anything. He didn’t have to message you or call you, he didn’t need to see your angry face when he came back late, or missed a date. But after a while it got lonely. He had everything he ever wanted, but there was no you in sight. He missed the feeling of your arms around him, he missed how worried you always were when he came back home bruised and bloodied.

And while there was a person laying next to him after another one night stand it all seemed so dark and quiet. He turned his head to the side and took in the features of their face. They were similar to you. Not exactly the same, because no one could ever be you. But right now it was enough. And then something clicked in his brain. He’ll never have you again.

Kakucho

When it came to havin' your back, I'm so real

I prolly would've gave you my spine

You were Kakucho’s world. You were there when Izana was alive, you were there after his death when he was in the hospital. You were with him when he was beat up by South and had to join his gang and you were there when he joined Kanto. No matter how many stupid and dangerous mistakes he made, you were always there. You extended a helping hand towards him with the biggest smile on your face. But he was so lost in the gang life, he didn’t see how he never really did the same to you. He always left you hanging. And now he couldn’t turn back time and change the things he did. How cold he treated you. A few tears run down his face and he hopes you can forgive him. He knows you won’t take him back, but he still wants you to know that he only wishes the best for you.

Mochizuki Kanji

I'm as solid as they come, but you crossed the line

Yeah, you best start keepin' it real, I can see the signs

Mocchi was always known as a scary guy. His build and height increased the fear for other’s. But he never scared you. No matter how many people he beat up with ease, how he could easily break you without even trying. You never feared him. You held respect towards him, knowing his life wasn’t easy. And with that knowledge he used you. He used your love, since he knew you would do anything for him. But what he didn’t know was how you knew all of that. He used your kindness and then was left without it. And now he had to see you give your heart to someone else.

[redbleedingrose]

Always ~ Part 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?

Epilogue

A/N: Hello my lovely readers! Happy Friday! I want to start with apologizing for the wait that part 7 took, but it is the last part of this fic and I wanted it to be good and long. I was also struggling with some minor writers block and I had finals happening at the same time. I stayed up all night trying to write this out, so I hope that you all love this part. I also wanted to mention I will be having an epilogue posted sometime this weekend for Always as well as an Eris x Reader oneshot. As always, please leave a like, comment, and reblog. I love to hear your guys thoughts and the interaction always makes my fucking day.

Azriel’s grip on your fingers tightened, almost cutting off the circulation, as though he was frightened you would winnow away at any moment if he let go. His shadows were swarming around you both, enclosing you into darkness with only flickers of light from the hearth bleeding through, panicked from the entire aspect of you leaving him for good. He paused, listening to your breath mix with his, trying to formulate the words that he wanted to use to plead his case, to explain everything. To explain the pain he had caused you, to explain why he had hidden the mating bond that had snapped itself into place so long ago for him, to explain his friendship (if you could even call it that) with Elain, to explain why he had distanced himself from you. 

That is what hurt the most. The fact that he distanced himself. It made every muscle in your body ache, every doubt and worry flooded itself into the striations of the cells that make up your heart. After all this time, after everything you had been together, it was the thing you least expected coming out of him. For years, even before under the mountain, you had prayed that the precious bond would snap into place. And when the fifty years of pure despair happened, the thought of seeing Azriel once more was the only thing that kept you going most days. But he had known. He had known about the mating bond. He had held feelings for you before all of this. He had known since before Amarantha even. And yet, he never said anything. Not a single word. Not even a tiny whisper. 

“A little bit before Under the Mountain.” What the fuck did that even mean? How long had he hidden his feelings, if he even had any. Why didn’t he tell you then, and why didn’t he tell you after being away from him for fifty years without any contact? Had that lost time meant nothing to him? Had he even missed you while you were gone, suffering under Amarantha’s reign while the rest of the inner circle was allowed the peace of Velaris. In all honesty, you had felt cheated. Cheated out of what was supposed to be a beautiful moment between two best friends who had fallen in love. Cheated out of what life could have been, if only Az had told you. If only the bond had snapped into place for you at first, before him.

It was as though the spymaster picked up on your thoughts, the perceptive male he was, and tugged on the bond, trying to send all of his love and devotion down the tight golden string that held you both together as the shock of this night was starting to wear off leaving only confusion and hurt in its wake. His eyes, once more, locked onto yours, glinting with determination and truth, as he straightened his back and rustled his wings into a taut position. This would be the moment of truth, both of you knew that. Both of you were aware of the gravity of the situation. And you knew, somewhere deep inside you, that both of you wanted to walk away from this unharmed. But you also knew, you weren’t sure if Az could pull it off. 

Despite all the pain Az had caused in a short time, your feelings for him were stronger. The moments where he would take care of you when you were sick. The moments when he would hold you when you were upset for some reason, any reason, and would whisper words of affirmation. The moments where you two would get drunk and spend the entire night gossiping about the inner circle and giggling at each other, with each other. The moments where you would stay up late into the night and read to each other. The moments you would almost set the house of wind on fire because of your efforts to bake together. The moments where you would comfort him and kiss his hands to reassure him that he was worthy of every good thing that has ever happened to him and every good thing that will ever happen to him. The little moments. The big moments. Any moment you shared before any of this still meant something, everything, to you. And you whole-heartedly believed they meant something to him too. 

Azriel sent another tug at the bond before he began, “Do you remember when we first met?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond, smiling softly before continuing, “Rhys was practically forcing Cass and I to Windhaven; we had heard rumors that Devlon was planning a mass wing-clipping of the female babes at the camp, and we couldn’t let that happen. I was dreading it, Gods, I mean I was furious and was ready to rip off Devlons head. But we were dreading that we might’ve been too late. That we would walk into the massacre, and those female babes would suffer for the rest of their lives. As soon as Rhysand had informed us of our mission, Cass and I had left, flying as fast as we could to try to warn anyone who was willing to listen. Rhys had promised to come with something, or rather, someone for reinforcements, I suppose. And that was you. And you fucking stole my breath away when Rhys landed, carrying you in his arms. I had never seen someone as stunning as you.” He chuckled, clearly returning to the memory as his eyes glazed over, “Cass nearly knocked me over with a slight punch in the arm because I was so distracted by you. I was trying to commit every part of you to memory, and then Rhys told us you were there to heal any babe if our efforts weren’t to be a success, a preemptive measure he said. Cassian tried to impress you with his smooth talking, and you took it in stride and flirted right back, clearly unbothered. I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say to you. I was so anxious that I would say the wrong thing, so I just kept staring at you, and you didn’t say one word to me, Y/N. You just looked at me, eyes shining like the moon on winter solstice, and nodded in greeting before moving onto preparing for whatever was to come. You didn’t say one word, but you didn’t need to. I knew I was completely and utterly fucked, and I think Cass and Rhys knew too. They teased me for fucking hours.” 

You couldn’t help but cackle at the memory, humor seeping into you, slightly dissolving a small bit of the pain. Of course Cassian and Rhys had teased Az. The busybodies had nothing better to do with their time. You remembered every moment of that day. You had met Rhys prior in an off-chance encounter. At the time, the high lord was settling into his new role and would spend his nights walking the streets of Velaris thinking of his responsibilities, the loss of his mother and sister still fresh, and the darkness that was slowly creeping over Prythian. He had come across you stumbling, drunk beyond belief after an extremely difficult and long day, and helped you sit down in a cafe near the sidra and bought you a coffee to help you sober up before he would walk you home. All your inhibitions were lowered and you hadn’t recognized the high lord, and so, while you sipped away at the sweetened mocha latte, you rambled about your day healing the most complex patients you had seen yet. And Rhys had been too kind, too patient, and was looking for anything to take his mind off his duties, and thus, had spent the entire night listening to you. It was only when the sun was beginning to rise that you became sober and aware of who you were speaking to; you had been so embarrassed, that even when you think about it now, your pointed ears flush at the tips. Rhys had only chuckled and waved off your embarrassment as you tried to apologize profusely before scrambling away, without a goodbye, citing that you needed to return to the clinic to prepare before it opened. That night, that conversation, had been enough for Rhysand to drop by your clinic every once and a while to take you out for coffee and to listen to the complexities of your job, becoming one of your best friends in the process. 

One morning, before you had opened the doors to the clinic, Rhysand had winnowed in. He expressed his concern about the plots for the mass-clipping, describing the situation as quickly as he could, as the situation could have become dire at any moment. You hadn’t hesitated, urgently grabbing any supplies you would need to help the female babes in case anything were to happen, and practically yanked Rhys outside so he could fly you both out there. Meeting Cassian and Azriel had been as expected; the high lord outlined their personalities well during your conversations over lattes, and sometimes wine even, and had told you mid-flight that you would be in their presence. He also informed you the spymaster was to not leave your side as Devlon might plot to take out any and all healers in the region to prevent any sort of wing-saving measures. 

When you landed, you were blown away by Azriels beauty, the rumors across Velaris of his darkness, his hazel eyes, his windswept hair, the cool look of indifference that was usually plastered across his face, had not done him justice. Nothing had ended up happening that night, Devlon’s plans had been unfoiled by the illyrian brothers, but by no means was the night considered wasteful. That night, you impressed all three males with your experiences and storytelling, and despite Az not saying a word to you that night as he analyzed you from a distance, the two of you had become attached at the hip once you returned to Velaris. 

He drew you from your thoughts, “I knew that I couldn’t let you go. That first night, I didn’t get a wink of sleep because my thoughts kept drifting off to you, and my heart ached knowing that we wouldn’t have a lot of time together in Windhaven. And then we returned to Valeris, and I thought maybe because I wouldn’t be seeing you, that I wouldn’t be consumed by you. But then it became me thinking of you when I woke up, thinking of you when I went to bed, thinking of you in my dreams, thinking of you when I needed to work, thinking of you during meetings, to thinking of you at every moment of every day. 

And I couldn’t hold back anymore, and so after a week of not seeing you, I decided I would stop by your clinic every day and ask if you needed anything to try and get you to talk to me, acknowledge me, even if it were a couple of seconds. And you would always be kind and smile so softly, in a way I didn’t deserve, and thank me for my efforts. And then it slowly turned into walking you home from work, to going out for drinks after work, to grabbing lunch from nearby food carts, to going shopping together for Mother knows what. And I was fucking hooked, dove, I couldn’t get enough of you. Mother knows, I tried to hold back, because I don’t deserve you. Not after everything I have done. Not after everything these hands have done,” Azriel paused, eyes filling with disgust as he shifted, staring down at his marred hands that had continued to grip onto yours. His hold loosened, as if he didn’t want to dirty your hands with whatever he did for his job in protecting the night court. But you didn’t let him let go completely, intertwining your fingers with his tighter, squeezing at the knuckles, a habit that you had picked up in the years of your friendship in an effort to urge him to stay and carry on with his explanation. 

“Any time Rhys would send me on a mission for a period of time, I would feel sick to my stomach the entire time I was away and the feeling was only soothed when I would return and find you asleep in the comfort of your own home. And that's how it continued. Because having you in any capacity, whether it was just acquaintances or friends or best friends should have been enough. But Gods Y/N, it wasn’t. You deserve someone who is good, just like you. Someone who helps heal people, someone who is perfect in every way just like you. Someone who isn’t me, someone who isn’t riddled with self loathing and despair. But if I am one thing, it is that I am fucking selfish male. For years, I held myself back from becoming anything more than best friends. But then two years before Amarantha, on the winter solstice, the bond fucking snapped. I don’t know if you remember anything about that night, but I remember every moment.” He peaked up at you through his eyelashes as he paused, his pink tongue poking out to lick at his dry lips. You had been incredibly drunk that night, drinking the expensive wines of the high lord with the rest of the inner circle as you played group games before opening up presents, high on the fact that everything had been at peace. There had been no problems with the Illyrian war camps shockingly, the patients who you had been looking after for the most part were thriving, there was a peace over Velaris and Prythian. 

“You were wearing this silk fitted blue gown that stopped right at your knees and was sleeveless, one that matched the color of my siphons. Mother fucking above Dove, I nearly dropped to my knees when you walked in with your cheeks flushed and eyes shining so bright, I thought Rhys had plucked the stars from the sky and placed them into your irises. And then you looked around the room, and when we caught eyes, you smiled so hard and I was the first person you came to. Me. Not Rhys or Cassian or Morr or Amren or whoever else was there. You walked over to me, and you hugged me so tight and whispered ‘Happy Solstice Az,’ and I couldn’t breathe. You literally stole my breath away, the breathtaking lady you are. I clung to you the entire night, and you- you let me…  

I didn’t want to spend a single second away from you, we sat together the whole night, drinking whatever wine Morr would pull out from the cellar and whispered about anything and everything that came to mind. And then we were pulled into playing games, and we first played mafia which we won together, and then charades where we were partners and nearly beat Cass and Morr even though they were absolutely fucking cheating, and then we all exchanged gifts and I didn’t have any from you in my pile. I thought you hadn’t gotten me anything and my heart nearly shattered, but I hated myself because I knew I was wrong to be upset. Because you deserve better than what I could ever offer you. When you opened my gift and gasped, I was so fucking nervous, I couldn’t help but second guess if it had been an appropriate gift to give you.” 

“A gold locket,” you blurted out. You remembered your heart beating so fast when he had handed you your gift, silently watching your reaction as he leaned back into the couch and drank from his bottle. You shakily unwrapped the box, trying to save every piece of paper that had been delicately placed to cover it. The locket was the most beautiful gift you had ever received to date. It had a constellation carved into the front, and on the inside had poetry written in some ancient language with Illyrian roots that the shadowsinger had refused to translate for you, even to this day. But you wore it. Morning, noon, and night like clock work you would wear it. In fact, you rarely took it off, feeling panicked any time you couldn’t feel the cool metal resting against the warm skin of your collar. When you had been stuck under the mountain, you had hidden it within your shoe because you feared it would be taken. And it had been the only real connection that you had to Az at the time. You often held it in your fist on the night that insomnia racked you, the small object bringing you comfort in ways you could never elaborate on. And you still wear it to this day, even right now, you can feel the necklace grow heavy on you. 

“That night, when everyone had passed out from drinking, you and I stayed up. And we sat out on the balcony on the swing and just enjoyed each other's presence. And you leaned your head against my shoulder and I almost blurted it out in the moment how I felt about you, I didn’t want to hold back anymore, no matter how selfish I was going to be. I wanted, no I needed you. You shifted away for a second, and pulled something out of your pocket before silently handing it to me. I remember staring at the little box for a couple of minutes. My mind had gone completely blank from the disbelief that you had indeed gotten me something… I was so confused when it turned out to be this lotion that smelled heavily like lavender, and you picked up on that even though you were almost asleep, and you mumbled out, ‘It is a balm I made for your hands from herbs in the garden. It has a cooling sensation whenever you apply it, and is supposed to help with falling asleep.’ and the cap had inscribed, To keep the nightmares at bay, may you only find peace in your dreams. -Always yours, Y/N

Mother fucking above, in that moment, I fell in love with you all over and that was the moment. I felt the bond fucking snap. And I was so fucking elated, and when I turned my head to look down at you, you had passed out. And I waited for hours, holding you close, trying to calm my nerves and slow down my heart because I thought I would go into cardiac arrest. And in those hours, I thought about telling you. I thought about how fucking happy I was that you were mine, because from the moment I met you, I was yours. And there was just nothing to do about that. Fear and anxiety started to creep in as the sun rose, at this point we had both shifted to laying down, and I just held you to my chest, breathing you in, smelling your scent, watching you sleep so peacefully, and I couldn’t ruin that. I was and still am the spymaster of this court. I have done a lot of evil, things that are unspeakable, for the sake of protecting Velaris, for the sake of protecting this court. And that has brought me a lot of enemies, enemies that would gleen at the thought of you. At the thought of taking you away from me. Because if that were to ever happen, I think I would die Y/N. I couldn’t let any harm come to you. I couldn’t ruin your peace. I couldn’t ruin your happiness with my bullshit. And so I promised to myself and you that I would always protect you, I would never let anything happen to you, and I would try to be a better male. That way, you would be proud to have me as a mate. That way, you would never look back and having me as your mate.” 

Grief pulled at your heart strings. All this time, lost. All the hurt and pain was for nothing. The image of Azriel sitting in front of you pausing in his explanation blurred from the burning tears that were making their way down your cheeks, connecting at the bottom of your chin, collecting before dropping onto the sheets beneath you. It was certainly no excuse for Azriel not telling you, but it was an explanation. You thought back to all the times the shadowsinger had expressed his hate towards himself, whispering his darkest thoughts to you in the middle of the night where no one else would hear, as he raised one of his hands that had been locked with yours, and allowed the pads of his fingers to run across your cheeks, brushing away your tears in the process. 

You took a shuddering breath as he pressed his soft palm into your soft skin, his voice hoarse with sorrow, “I am sorry sweetheart. I cannot express enough how much I regret not telling you that very night. I regret not waking you up. I regret all the moments that came after that ever made you doubt our friendship, all the moments that ever made you feel like you were not deserving, all the moments that ever had the thought that I didn’t love you cross your mind. It is the biggest regret of my life, but I needed to protect you.” 

A part of you understood his reasons, understood his fears. Azriel had hidden a lot of aspects of his work from you out of fear that you would one day find yourself horrified by his actions. But inevitably, you would hear the rumors that patients would speak and through that, you seemed to have a small idea of what types of methods Az would use to get the information he needed. You never held it against him. And you made sure he knew that any time he had the slightest hint of concern shown in his eyes. But Azriels issues with himself were not yours that you could solve, you could only help him bear the load. The rest, he would have to figure out on his own, with time and acceptance of the past and present. The fact that he tried to work on himself for you was no small feat. You rested your head against his hand, scooting closer to him, desperate to close the gap even though he hadn't finished. Desperate to get the comfort you usually felt whenever you were close to him. “Every day after that solstice, I tried to work up the courage to tell you. Every time I was around you. Every minute I wasn’t working, I was thinking about flying over and just telling you. But every time I worked up the courage and would find you, it would dissipate. Every fucking time. I would take one look at you and I would fear that the way you would see me would change, that the friendship that we shared would be ruined. I was fucking terrified of you not wanting me. Of you hating what fate had decided as your mate. And I was a fucking coward. I couldn’t take the risk of losing you… and just like that, two years had passed and Starfall was coming up. I had told Amren of my predicament and she-” 

“Wait. Amren knew?” You were flabbergasted. Of all the people you had expected Az to confide in, she was not one. Rhys or Cassian, or even Morrigan. But not Amren. You were almost certain Azriel still didn’t trust Amren after all these years of her being a part of the inner circle. 

“Yes dove, Amren. I knew she wouldn’t tell you before I had the chance. But I swear she almost tore my balls off for not telling you the night the bond snapped.” Azriel’s wings quivered at the thought, loosening from their tight positioning to snap together behind his spine. You snorted as you tried to imagine Azriel facing the tiny beast and speaking his deepest secret to her, only for her to threaten him with castration. He bumped his shoulder against yours, grinning softly at you finding humor in his story, “If I could continue please, I am not finished.” You raised an eyebrow lifting up your arm to gesture in front of you, “By all means shadowsinger.” 

He cleared his throat at your approval, “We basically spent two months planning out this elaborate surprise for you, mainly me of course. But of course, Amren added her input where she saw fit. I was going to take you dress and jewelry shopping, then to dinner at our favorite restaurant where we would eat the first meal we shared together and drink our favorite wine, and then I would dance with you under the falling stars and I would whisper into your ear my love for you and I was going to ask you to marry me. About a week before Starfall, you and Rhys went on a mission,” your muscles spasmed. He was going to ask you to marry him? Dread filled you. You knew where this story was going to end. That Starfall never happened. Not for you and Rhys. 

“A mission that neither you nor Rhys returned from. Gods Y/N. I felt it. I felt the moment when Rhys cut off any connection from all of us. I felt the wards of Velaris being put up into place, locking us in for fifty years to protect us from whatever had gotten you and Rhys.” He croaked out, “I felt our bond dulling Y/N. I thought you were fucking dying. I panicked. I threw myself at the wards, pleading to be let out. I- I tried coming for you. But you and Rhys were gone. Stuck. For fifty fucking years. None of us knew what was happening, only the rumors from refugees were available in terms of gathering information. Beyond that… I didn’t fucking know whether you were dead or alive. And if you were alive, I didn’t know what you were going through. It- Y/N. Y/N, it was the worst fifty years of my existence. Every day spent without you was like a thousand spears being shot into my wings and being pulled out. It- it felt like I was burning, not just my hands this time, but my entire body. I felt like I was burning alive for fifty years without any respite. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t move. I was fucking paralyzed. All I could do was wait.” 

His grip on your fingers had gotten impossibly tight as he pulled you into his grasp, wrapping his arm that once laid on your cheek around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He buried his face into your hair, taking a deep inhale to allow your scent to calm him, as his body began shaking from quiet sobs. You could feel his hot tears landing on your scalp and you held him right to you, rubbing his spine between his wings in comfort with one hand and tangling your fingers into his hair with the other. You turned your head into his neck, allowing for your soft breaths to press kisses into the tattooed skin, shushing him with soft murmurs of “I am right here and I am not going anywhere ever again.” A promise that you had to repeat a number of times before he was able to calm down. This night had left you both emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. Whatever was to come in the next couple of hours, at least you could hinge on the fact that you both would probably pass out from exhaustion into a dreamless sleep. The cool wisps of Azriel’s shadows snaked around your arms, wrapping around you for the first time since he began telling you his side of the story, their presence offering you their silent support. 

The next part of his story came out as whispers into your hair, your pointed ears straining to listen, “When Feyre killed Amarantha, everyone in Pyrthian felt the shift in power. The extra wards that had been placed around Velaris fell at once, and the connection between Rhys and the rest of us was suddenly humming. And I could feel you baby. I could feel you for the first time in fifty years after thinking you were dead. And I was on a fucking high. I was going to drop to my knees and tell you that we were mates the second you walked through the doors of the townhouse. I was fully prepared. But you didn’t come walking in. No. Rhys fucking carried you in, looking the most pale I had ever seen him. You weren’t moving. You were- Gods Y/N Morr immediately burst into tears and I could only stare and watch when she screamed out for Majda as everyone rushed to gather around you. You were so pale and you were skin on bones. There were bruises covering your body, you had a broken nose, and the skin around your eyes were swollen and blackened. The second Rhysand had set you down, I grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him into the wall screaming at him, screaming at him to tell me what had happened to you. Amarantha had ordered you to be beaten to death because you had been healing some of her victims under the mountain. Rhysand had gotten to you in the nick of time after Feyre killed Amarantha. He said he ripped off the heads of the soldiers who were trying to kill you. You were asleep for a fucking week, healing from all the physical trauma.”

When you woke up from your sleep, you had tried to be elated over the fact that you were back home in Valeris. But the events that occurred under the mountain had left you truly empty. At first, you hadn’t even been able to look anyone in the eyes except for Rhys. You hadn’t been able to speak, or eat, or sleep properly. You felt like an empty shell, and Rhysand was the only one who could possibly understand why. The bond that you two had grown under the mountain was as close to brother and sister as one could get without being biologically related. He had ensured your safety for the most part, and you were his rock when he had to suffer through Amarantha’s torture. You and him were the only ones to know what the other had truly gone through, and both of you had an unspoken agreement to not speak of the trauma to the others, despite the begging of Morr and Cassian. Azriel and Amren were the only ones who didn’t dare to ask, and now you were understanding why. Unconsciously, some part of Azriel had known what had happened to you. There was no need for him to ask. And maybe, probably, he didn’t want to know what happened. Maybe, probably, it was too much to bear to know what had happened all those years you had been stuck. 

“You weren't okay dove. You weren’t okay for a while, and I couldn’t just drop this information on you like it meant nothing. I couldn’t drop this on you because if you didn’t want me in the form of a mate, I didn’t want you to feel like you had lost me completely. I didn’t want you to feel like you went under the mountain and came out without your best friend to be by your side. I just… I just wanted you to be okay. So I shoved all my feelings aside and I was there for you in the best way I knew how to be, I was your best friend. I picked up any of the pieces that were your heart and did my best to put it back together. And just when you were starting to get better, just when you were beginning to smile and laugh and talk and whisper to me and cuddle with me, it was made clear that Amarantha’s reign was only the start of what was going to be a long battle against Hybern.” Azriel scoffed at the end of his rant, clearly frustrated by how the timing of everything had worked out. Most of the inner circle had believed that under the mountain had been the worst thing that we had ever been through as a team, but fate had a funny way of throwing things into your face and telling you to deal with it. 

When Rhysand had figured out Hyberns plot, he brought Feyre to the night court from spring. Your friendship with Feyre had blossomed under the mountain when you would sneak into her cell after Rhysand would leave, and would work on healing her. Speaking to her, stroking her hair as she would cry into your lap. You forget that she was only human when the fate of Pyrthian was placed on her shoulders. And her humanity was stolen from her as she died for the high lord of spring who had done nothing to help or protect her while she faced Amarantha. When you got to see her after months, she had been in similar shape as you, suffering from the trauma that Tamlin had brushed aside. You hated the high lord of spring for that, and made clear to Feyre that you were here for her and that you would help her in any way you could. Through that, you both helped each other get through the darkest parts of your lives. The war on Hybern was another source of trauma, not only inflicting the inner circle, but this time, including Feyre’s sisters. 

When you had first met the two, you couldn’t help but hate the both of them. Letting their youngest sister go into the woods alone to hunt for their family, and treating her so poorly when she returned as a fae had bothered every member of the inner circle. But then Tamlin and Ianthe had dragged them to the cauldron and turned them fae against their will; their screams echoing in your nightmares. Nesta was still working through her trauma, continuing her training as a valkyrie and bettering her relationship with Cassian and the rest of the inner circle. She had definitely grown on you, asking you a little bit about the healing techniques that the valkyrie warriors used to use during battle. Elain had taken up gardening, and your feelings towards her had not changed. Her trauma does not excuse her from being held accountable from her past actions, no matter how merciful Feyre has been towards her sisters, you haven’t forgotten. And neither has Rhysand, though he tended to focus on his anger towards Nesta, partially because both are hot headed whereas Elain had proved to be very sensitive. The other reason you had been bothered greatly by her was obviously her affections towards Azriel, but beyond that, the way she disrespected Lucien at every turn had left you feeling extreme heartache for the male. The redhead was constantly turned away despite his best efforts, and at this point, it just felt like she was stringing him along with his hope that maybe she would warm to him. Your feelings towards Elain had only been amplified when Azriel had taken a liking to Elain, helping her through her trauma and essentially left you feeling gutted and alone. A feeling that the spymaster had been actively trying to avoid by not telling you about your mating bond. Your patience was wearing thin, you wanted Azriel to stop beating around the bush. Even if it would hurt, you needed to know what he had been thinking this whole time in regards to Elain.

“Cut to the chase, Azriel.” It came out sharper than you had intended, pulling away from him. This was it. The root of your problem with Az. The explanation that would be make or break for your relationship with him. The spymaster seemed to not want to break off the physical contact between you to despite you pulling away, he brought his hands down to yours, fingers playing with yours. He also picked up on what you were referring to, he had to have known. He had to have fucking known how much he was fucking hurting you. There is just no fucking way he didn’t. And did he fucking want her? A lump formed in your throat, creating a burning sensation that spread down to your heart as the thought made you sick. She was extremely beautiful and soft and gentle, and she was a lot different than you in terms of personality. None of these doubts or worries had truly been addressed by his ramblings. Even though they had given you a lot of context to why he had hidden the bond. 

Before you could get lost in the feeling of doubt, Azriel gave a strong tug at the bond, sending down feelings of adoration and reassurance before rasping out, “Y/N, I want to start off with I am so sorry. So fucking sorry for how these past months have made you feel. How I made you feel. I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive myself. The next thing I want to say is that I have no feelings for Elain besides the platonic friendship. She means nothing to me, Y/N, not like that. I am sorry I did a piss-poor job showing it to you. I am sorry that the way I acted made you think differently. I- When I first met Feyre’s sisters, we, Cass and I, made this promise to them that no harm would befall them. And then they were drowned in the cauldron and turned to fae, and it was just this huge blow. Cassian especially I think because Nesta trusted him deeply to protect her, and he felt like he had failed. And I felt the same way. I felt the same fucking way with you Y/N. I had promised, sworn up and down and left and right that I would always protect you. It felt like… it felt like I had failed you once again. This time, through Elain, in this weird projection thing. I think in my head, when I looked at Elain, I was thinking of the you before Amarantha, and I just wanted to prevent anything from happening to her, because in the end, I wasn’t able to protect you. I failed you. I failed you when you went under the mountain, and again when we couldn’t protect Nesta and Elain. It felt like I failed you again. And then Feyre left to spy in spring court, and we were left to deal with the aftermath of Hybern. So Rhysand asked Cassian to look after Nesta and he asked for me to look after Elain. And I threw myself into it, because if I didn’t, then I would think about all the ways that I was and am an incompetent piece of shit mate. And in the process of trying to make sure Elain was okay, I unintentionally neglected you. Part of me just wanted to believe that you were okay, and you didn’t need me. Part of me wanted to believe that we were okay. That nothing had changed between us, and that once Elain was okay, we would figure things out between us with all the time in the world. That I would tell you of the mating bond, and you would accept it. That we would take our mating vows, and Rhysand would be the one officiating them because Cassian would fuck it up with his crying.” 

You huffed out a laugh as sobs began to bubble from your throat, “I really needed you Az.”

Azriel had squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the sounds of your sobs as if it were causing him physical pain. “I know Y/N. I am so fucking sorry. There isn’t any excuse,” his own sobs tearing their way through his throat. He swallowed once, twice, three times before opening his eyes to focus his hazel irises into yours. “I can only promise to never do this to you again. I want- no- I need you to understand, no I need you to know that it’s you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Always. I need you to believe me, sweetheart. And if you don’t…If you don’t, then let me show you. The right way. The proper way. And if by the end of it, you don’t want anything to do with me, then I promise you, I will leave you alone, even if it fucking breaks me. Because I just want you safe and happy and loved the way you deserve. That is all I have fucking ever wanted since the moment I met you.” 

You pressed your lips together, nodding along at his promises. There wasn’t any excuse for how he had treated you. But there was an explanation. Azriel was taking responsibility, he was acknowledging his wrongs, and he was promising change. And after all this time of loving him, that was enough for now. “Az, I can’t accept the mating bond.” His entire body seized up, freezing, waiting for you to deliver the final blow where you would reject him and the bond. “Gods, Az, I want to. I have been in love with you for fucking years. But, I can’t accept it right now at least. I need to take things slow, and see the change first. I need to heal and I think you need to heal too. I need you to be my best fucking friend again. I need you to be there for me. I need you to love me.” Hope shone on his face, his lips quirking up into a soft smile as he huffed, a single tear streaking down his cheek. “How about this dove, how about we promise to each other that we will always love each other as best friends, that we will always put each other first, that we will heal each other, and that we will always come back to one another.” He held up his scarred pinky finger up to you, patiently waiting to see if you would grab on, giving you the option either way. At your hesitation, he whispered gently, “I promise Y/N.” A watery grin broke out across your face as you reached up to link your pinky with his, your own matching tear streaking down that he wiped away with his free hand, “I promise Azriel.”

Taglist: @paasrin @positivewitch @fieldofdaisiies @judig92 @sv0430 @highlady-ofillyria @wrensical003 @brekkershadowsinger @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mrs-azriel @cityofidek @nova-stardragon @thewarriormoon @ilovespideyyy @azzydaddy @bookish-dream @nobody00sthings @marigold-morelli @solossweater @rubygirly @hanasakr @ellievickstar @shadowcrowsworld @lucyysthings @cameronsails @peachycandy10 @bruhhvv @flyingsquidsgrowwings-blog @adreamerforthestars @lahoete @mis-lil-red @his-sweet-nightmare @esposadomd @blurredlamplight @elizarikaallen @tiffthebookworm @valeridarkness  @wifeofcamillamacaulay @everyonehatescarmen  @grungy-blue-hipster @azriels-favorite-simp @goldentournesol @mariana468 @elsie-bells @slvetherinseeker @cafe-inaaa @honeyrydernot

[lavenderdreams22]

A Court of Dawn & Dusk - Azriel x Reader (Part 9)

Summary: Rhys and Y/N receive an unexpected invitation. Azriel tries and fails to come to terms with a decision that Y/N makes.

A/N: I hope you guys like it. As always, comments and feedback are always welcome!

Warnings: cursing and a bit of angst, but I think that's pretty much it. Quickly edited.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

*****

She hadn’t looked up from her book yet. Azriel wasn’t even sure that she had seen or heard them come in, but that was perfectly okay with him. She poked her tongue out as she scribbled something down on a piece of loose parchment and he felt his heartbeat pick up just at the sight of such a simple thing. She had turned him into a lovesick fool, and he couldn’t have been happier about it if he tried. 

Amren sat across from her at the table, her own book flipped open and her own piece of parchment sitting out. Her hand was poised over it as if she were about to jot down a note, but her knuckles were white as she gripped the pen so tightly. Azriel was sure that if he listened hard enough, he would hear the way the metal and plastic groaned under the pressure. 

Why are we standing in the shadows? Rhys asked, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes alight with amusement. 

Just wanted to look at her for a moment longer. Azriel replied, not bothering to hide his emotions from his best friend, his brother. 

Rhysand turned to him, searching his eyes for a moment before offering him a small smirk. 

You can stand here and watch her for as long as you want. Rhys’ voice was gentle.

Before either of them had a chance to step out from the shadows, Amren let out an annoyed sigh and looked into their dark corner with narrowed eyes. 

“We know you’re there.” She snapped. “Come out before I drag your asses out of the shadows myself.”

Azriel shuddered as Rhys let out a nervous chuckle. Amren, though tiny, was terrifying. They stepped out together, making their way slowly to the table the two females occupied. 

“About time.” She grumbled. “I was beginning to think that you would continue to creep around for the rest of the afternoon.”

Y/N snorted as she watched Azriel over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised in a silent question. She had pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to hold in her laughter. He pulled her into a kiss as soon as he was close enough to touch her, relishing in the way she always seemed to taste of strawberries. 

“You’re addicting.” He murmured against her lips. 

She giggled against him, and he filed the sound way in his mind as he had done with every other laugh or smile that he had earned from her. Because it wasn’t just her kisses that were an addiction. It was also the way that warmth spread through his chest every time she touched him, making him tingle from the very top of his head down to his toes, or even the way that she made him feel safe. Made him feel as if he had finally come home. 

That’s what she was to him. She was Azriel’s home. And he had never truly had one of those before, at least not in this sense. The House of Wind, or even the townhouse, had come close. But now he knew, without a doubt, that he had somewhere he belonged, even if every building in Prynthian burned to the ground. As long as she was with him, he was home. 

Everything about her was his and everything about him was hers and neither of them blinked at any of the terrible things the other had done. There was no judgment, only love and unbridled acceptance and so much warmth that he worried that it would burn. It was as if he had been dunked head first into a vat of sunlight after years of being frozen solid in the thickest, most impenetrable ice. Even his shadows seemed to calm their frantic whispering in her presence. 

Amren cleared her throat, and his surroundings rushed back into his peripheral. He hadn’t realized that he had still been kissing her. From the looks of her swollen lips, it had been more than what he had intended. He always seemed to lose track of time and space whenever she was around. 

Azriel shook himself from his thoughts and finally pulled away from his mate, the love of his life, the future mother of his children. The loss of her warmth made him want to light himself on fire to feel it again, so he pulled a chair close to her side and plopped into it, laying a hand on her thigh so that he did not have to go another moment without touching her.

Rhys rounded the table to sit next to Amren. 

“What have we found?” He asked, his violet eyes scanning both of the females faces. 

Y/N pushed her piece of parchment towards him. Rhys plucked it from the table to look it over, his face carefully neutral. 

“Nothing much. Nothing that we didn’t already know, anyway.” She shook her head and worried her lip between her teeth, the gesture so different from the way she had bit her lip only a few moments before. 

The worry in her eyes had Azriel on high alert. Sitting straighter in her chair, he squeezed her leg in an attempt to calm her. When she offered him a small smile and placed her hand over his, he relaxed, but only by a fraction. 

“Amren?” Rhys asked, turning in his chair to give her his full attention.

Azriel tried to listen, he really did… But the feeling of his mate’s hand on top of his made his head fuzzy, full of thoughts of her. 

It never mattered how much time he spent by her side, every smile and laugh and touch felt new. He looked at her, his eyes full of love. 

I wish I had found you sooner. 

She grinned at him, bringing his hand to her lips for a quick kiss as if to return the sentiment. 

Before he could tune back into the conversation, a disheveled Cassian appeared beside the table.

“Rhys, Y/N… You two got an invitation.” Cassian started, refusing to meet Azriel’s eyes. “Delivered to Hewn City by a Hybern soldier.”

Azriel straightened his spine again, all of the ease bleeding from his body. The lovesick look slipped from his face and was replaced with the cold mask of the Shadowsinger. 

“Us?” She turned wide eyes to the High Lord. “Why would we be the only two invited?”

Cassian shrugged before passing the envelope to Rhys.

“You’re not going.” Azriel growled, not bothering to wait and see what the invitation was for. 

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but Rhys cut her off with a raised hand as he opened the letter with the other. 

“I agree with Azriel.” Rhys stated, keeping the unreadable mask in place as he scanned over the invitation. “If something goes wrong, which it most likely will based on their track record, I do not want you in the crossfire.”

Again. The word went unspoken, but Azriel knew that it was implied as Rhysand’s eyes flicked up and met his. 

“Will you at least tell me what the invitation is for?” Y/N asked. 

Rhys cleared his throat. “I hereby invite Y/N of the Dawn Court and Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court to the first annual Masquerade. Hosted Under the Mountain.”

“Amarantha?” Cassian asked, though everyone already knew the answer.

“Yeah, she’s signed her name at the bottom.” Leaning back in his chair, Rhys eyed Y/N. “You’re not going.”

Azriel grumbled his agreement, his grip on her thigh tightening. 

“You can’t do this on your own.” Y/N said, her own voice hard and unmoving. “And you can’t really stop me. I was invited, too, after all.”

Azriel felt his mouth go dry. He knew that tone, the way her shoulders and jaw were set. It was the same way she had spoken to him the day he had been too injured and she had almost died.

“I’m coming with you, then.” Azriel ground out, his teeth clenched so hard he was surprised he hadn’t cracked a tooth. “If you’re so determined to put yourself in harm's way.”

“You weren’t invited.” She snapped, shooting him a glare. 

He laughed, the sound low and dangerous. He felt the shiver that ran up her spine as he dipped his head closer to her ear, his breath fanning over her. Normally the reaction would have caused a different feeling to erupt in his chest, but right now all he felt was anger and dread. 

“I don’t care.”

Her breath hitched in her throat.

‘’Let’s come up with a plan instead of arguing the matter like a bunch of children.” Amren stated with a roll of her eyes. 

*****

I flopped on the bed, bouncing Azriel a bit as I let out a sigh. He tossed his boots across the room, anger radiating off of him in dangerous waves.

“Can you just look at me for a moment?” I asked, placing a hand on his back.

His muscles tensed under my touch.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Azriel grumbled, taking a deep breath. 

“I know you do, but I’ll be fine.” My words didn’t sound as reassuring as I hoped they would.

“And how do you know that?” He asked, meeting my eyes over his shoulder. “How do you know they won’t try to gut you again?”

“Because Rhysand will be there. He would kill them all before they could raise their swords.” my hand trailed up his back to his shoulder. 

He turned away from me, staring at some unknown thing in the distance that only he could see. His shadows grew, blocking out bits of my view of him, their whispers getting louder as if the thought of me being out of their sight was painful for them, as well. 

“I can’t protect you if I'm not there.” He said, his voice breaking on the last word. 

I tucked my feet underneath me so that I sat on my knees and pressed myself against him. His wings relaxed under the weight of my body.

I didn’t have the words to tell him that everything would be okay. Deep down, I knew he was right. Something was… off about this invitation. Amarantha had proved to us all that she had less than pure intentions since she had stepped foot in Prynthian. 

The longer the silence stretched on, the more I could practically hear the wheels turning in his mind. 

“Talk to me, Azriel.” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his wing. 

“I can’t let you just waltz back there.” He turned again, looking at me over his shoulder. 

“Short of locking me in the house, I’m afraid you can’t stop me from going.” I kissed his wing again. “I don’t want Rhys to go by himself. Someone needs to look out for him.”

“He can handle himself.” He growled. “You’re not going.” 

Even though he sounded angry, I could hear the desperation and breathless agony that laced each word. 

“The last time you were anywhere close to a Hybern soldier, you almost died.” He turned fully, taking my face in his hands. “I can’t lose you.”

“I was chosen by the mother, the cauldron, or whatever other powers in the universe to be your mate because I am your equal in one way or another. I can handle myself.”

He just stared at me, his eyes growing sadder as he looked me over. It was almost as if he were committing this moment to memory. 

“We will go, get the information that we need, figure out what the hell she wants, and then we will leave. And I will come back to you in one piece. I swear it.” I placed a hand over his heart, resting my head on his shoulder as he pulled me into a bone crushing hug. 

I wasn’t sure how long we had sat there, tangled in each other's arms.

“It will be fine.” I kissed his shoulder and then his neck, pushing the rising sense of dread that had started to wrap itself around my own heart to the recesses of my mind. 

I, too, had a terrible feeling about this.

*****

Three days later, Azriel and I stood in a small dress shop on the Rainbow, sorting through racks and racks of different colors and materials. 

He had barely smiled since I had told him that I was going to go and he didn’t have a choice.

“What about this one?” I asked, pulling a black silk slip dress from the rack and holding it up to myself. 

He looked it over, his eyes darkening as he pulled his lip between his teeth. 

I chuckled and cocked my head to the side. “Words, please.”

He gulped, the fire in his eyes remaining. “You’d look beautiful in this… Dangerously beautiful.”

He shook his head to try and snap himself out of his lust, but I didn’t miss the change in his scent. Just as I was sure he didn’t miss the change in mine.

“I wonder if there’s a mask that would go with this…” I mumbled to myself as I ran a finger over the material.

As if I had summoned her, the shopkeeper appeared at my side, scaring the living hell out of me. Where had she come from? I whipped my head around, looking for any hiding place in the vicinity.

When my gaze landed on Azriel, he was holding back a laugh with a hand over his mouth. I resisted the urge to reach over and smack him. He had probably known she was close by.

“Mask, you say?” She hobbled back to the counter, seeming not to notice that she had almost given me a heart attack, and beckoned me with one wrinkled hand.  “We have several back here.”

Ariel followed behind me silently, a hand on my lower back. He tried to always keep some sort of contact with me. It always brought me comfort, but for the last few days, I was sure the contact was more for him than it was for me.

I took a quick glance over my shoulder, and I could still see the humor dancing in his eyes. I shot him a smile, and his face changed to one of soft adoration.

When we approached the counter, she lifted two black masks, holding them up to her face in turn so I could get a good look at them. I snuck another look at Azriel over my shoulder.

His shoulders were tight as he stared at her. I had no doubt that he had just remembered what we were shopping for in the first place. When he met my gaze again, the look from before had vanished and he forced a another small smile that looked more like a grimace.

I gestured to the woman, asking him without asking to choose one of the options she had in her hands. 

“The one on the left.” He said, his voice tight. 

I turned back to look at his choice. It was a simple black silk with an overlay of lace. The swirls reminded me of his ever present shadows. 

“I’ll take that one.” I nodded, lifting the dress to the counter. “And this, please.”

I moved to take out my coin purse, but Azriel stopped me with a hand and a shake of his head.

“Add it to my tab, Irene.” 

“You have a tab in a dress store?” I asked with my hands on my hips, my tone laced with unnecessary irritation.

The lady behind the counter shook her head, tsking at Azriel as she took the dress from me and put it gently into a garment bag. 

Azriel only chuckled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my temple. 

We were halfway home before he started laughing again, drawing the attention of people that were milling about nearby. The sound was magic to my ears.

Gods, how I had missed his laugh the last couple of days. 

“I’ve bought you three or four dresses from that same shop, you know.” 

“You have?” I stopped, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yes.” He eyed me for a moment before clearing his throat. “Do you remember that cobalt blue dress that Mor had you wear to the ball?”

“Of course, it was beautiful.” I said, before adding under my breath, “if not a little revealing.” 

“Well,” a grin broke out over his beautiful face. “I bought that one. Wanted to say sorry for being such a prick… Also, a pretty big part of me wanted us to match. Thought it might repel any potential competition while I tried to get my shit together.”

I leaned into him, grabbing his free arm and nearly swooning at the hard muscle underneath.

“You’re such a softy.” I grinned.

He shook his head, still grinning. “Only for you.”

*****

Tomorrow… Tomorrow was the day that she went into the one place he never wanted her to set foot in again. Tomorrow was the day that he would figure out if this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach was either proven right or that he had been worrying for no reason. 

He trusted his intuition. He had to, especially since he had become the High Lord’s Spymaster. He was rarely ever wrong about these things. 

The inner circle sat around the table for dinner as they always did, and Azriel tried his best to shake the feeling of dread that had been following him around like dense fog… One that only seemed to get thicker with every passing moment. His shadows were louder than usual, and he was almost surprised that no one else could hear their constant worrying. 

Well, no one other than his mate. Who could somehow hear them on a typical day. She hadn’t asked, but there had been moments that she flinched when they got particularly loud as they reached out for her. 

Cassian waved a hand in front of his face in an attempt to snap him back to reality. He hadn’t noticed that he had been spacing out, but when he shook his head and glanced around, he saw that every pair of eyes was turned towards him, full of worry.

“You alright?” Rhys asked, his spoon full of soup paused halfway to his mouth. 

“Fine, just tired.” Azriel picked up his own spoon, staring down at a plate of lettuce and various other vegetables.

When had the plates been cleared? A quick glance around showed that everyone but him had soup in front of them.

“He hasn’t been sleeping well.” Y/N said from beside him as she handed him a fork.

“I’m fine.” Azriel said again with a little more conviction. 

“Maybe we should turn in early tonight?” She asked, leaning forward to catch his eye.

Azriel felt bad for not confiding in her, for not telling her that the idea of her leaving made him feel like his heart was being ripped from his chest, even if it was for just a single night. 

How would he even broach the subject without sounding like he was trying to control her and the situation? Or without making her feel like he didn’t believe in her?

“Good idea.” He pushed back from his spot at the table too quickly, the scrape of the chair making her flinch.

He wanted to slap himself for putting the look of worry on her beautiful face.

He was moving before she had the opportunity to stand, but she followed, bidding everyone goodnight. 

When they reached their room, he spun on her and pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she breathed. “But please talk to me. You’ve been distant since we got that stupid invitation.”

His heart ached for her. She had gone days thinking he was mad or upset with her. So, instead of talking, he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I’m just scared.” He whispered. 

“Scared of what?” She pulled away to meet his eyes.

“I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, my love.” She pressed a kiss to his chest. He felt the heat from her touch through his leathers. “We’ll go and be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“Impossible.” He pulled her closer to him. “I miss you always.” 

“Azriel….” She tried to pull out of his grasp, but as his eyes filled with tears, he held her tighter to keep her from seeing them.

He knew she had to be sick of hearing about how scared and worried he was. Hell, he was tired of feeling that way… But until he had her safely back in his arms, he wouldn’t know peace.

“Y/N, listen to me.” His voice cracked and she stilled against him at the sound of it. “The first sign of danger, you winnow as far away as you can and then you make your way back to me.” 

“I will.” She squeezed him tighter. “I swear it.” 

*****

The next night came far too quickly, and he wished that he had spent more time with her and less time brooding. His hands slipped over the silk that covered her beautiful body as he kissed her lips.

“I’ll see you in a few hours.” She said between kisses. “I love you.” 

“I love you, Y/N.” He said, his heart warring with his head. “I’ll see you later.” 

And with that promise hanging between them, she stepped back to Rhysand’s side and took his hand. Azriel’s arms were still outstretched when they disappeared into the night. 

*****

Cassian shook him awake. He wasn’t sure what time it was, or when he had fallen asleep, but the look on his face had Azriel sitting straight up in his bed.

“What happened?” He asked.

Cassian just shook his head, his brows pulling together. Azriel felt his heart pull, the bond growing tight and then dimming.

“Cassian… what-”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mor threw the door open. She was in her pajamas, her long blonde hair tied into a knot on the top of her head. Her eyes were wild as she met Azriel’s stare.

“She trapped them.” Her voice was thick with tears, and he felt his own well in his eyes.

“What?”

“She trapped them. Rhys sent word, we’re to protect the people and Velaris until they can find a way out.” Cassian said, his voice surprisingly clear.

“I… I have to get her out.” Azriel started to move, but Cassian clapped a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

“Magic has been dwindled down to nothing.” Cassian shook his head. “We need to reserve our power.”

Azriel was shaking with unreleased sobs. He knew this had been a bad idea. He knew he never should have let her go. But he had listened to her, not to reason, when she had told him she would be fine. And now she was trapped… in enemy territory. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He hung his head, letting a sob break free. Cassian sat on the bed next to him, his own tears sliding down his face as he slung an arm around his shoulders.

She wouldn’t want them to fall apart. Rhys had given them orders. Rhys had given them something to do. And he desperately needed something to do, or he would fly there, magic be damned, and tear the entire mountain to the ground.

But she wouldn’t have wanted him to fall apart and because of that, he wouldn’t allow himself to. So he steeled his nerves, pushed back the sadness that was pounding in his head, and cleared his throat.

“Someone get Amren.” Azriel muttered. “We need to have a meeting.”

*****

Taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @mis-lil-red @judig92

[huhjxn]

a soulmate who wasn't meant to be

jeon heejin x fem!reader

warm hugs that lingers a bit too long and loving gazes that seems more than friendly. all the hints told you that jeon heejin liked you back, or that you have a chance at least. so why are the both of you hurting? roughly inspired by the song of the same title by jess benko.

! : angst, betrayal (leading someone on), rejection, heejin why???

2.7k words

It’s so frustrating.

Perhaps it is the worst decision you’ve ever made.

And unfortunately, you can’t take back what you’ve said.

You could feel the tears that are continuously streaming down your face but you couldn’t care less at the moment; you felt so vulnerable, so weak, so small in front of her.

The girl who you thought had shared the same feelings as you did.

And so you ran as fast as you could, and in no time, you reached the comfort of your home. You were heavily panting as you felt a crushing sensation in your chest.

"Y/N?" Your roommate approached you, wiping her eyes and she yawned. She took another good look at you when you didn’t respond and gasped softly at the sight of you.

"I don’t want to force you into anything," You said shakily, "Because I know that wouldn’t be fair to you."

Heejin’s eyes start to get glossy; she had seen this sight before, but this time, she’s the one who’s causing the damage.

You closed your eyes shut and inhaled deeply before continuing "...But if there’s even just a small chance that this could work…"

"There isn’t," Heejin said sternly. She really hates that she had to be brutally honest with you and cause more of your tears to fall, but she believed that she had no other choice.

It’s for your own sake.

She was just sparing you from a bigger heartbreak.

All of a sudden, you could feel the familiar pain in your chest. "Right… I’ve been here," You thought.

You stared at your feet and attempted to wipe the tears on your face, and you can’t help but chuckle sarcastically at the absurdity of the situation that you were in, "I guess I never learn."

Heejin was about to reach out to you, her concern growing every second that passes; you’re her best friend after all.

But before her hand even gets to brush yours, you took a step back like her touch was the most dangerous thing in the world. Although at this moment, it really seemed like it was.

Heejin’s eyebrows knit together as she stared at your frame, "Y/N…"

"I’m sorry," You stated without meeting her eyes, "For taking advantage of your friendship…" You trailed off. Heejin shakes her head, the guilt is starting to eat her alive, "No, Y/N it’s–"

"I’m sorry," was all she heard before seeing you flee the scene, and in an instant, you were gone.

All she could do was stand there and hope that you would get over her and find someone who would love and appreciate you the way you deserved.

Heejin was dragging her feet as she went back to the dorms. The first one to greet her as she opened the door was Sooyoung, who smiled warmly at her, but the smile immediately fell as she saw how worn out her friend looked.

Sooyoung hesitates for a second, but she asks cautiously, "Heejin, are you okay?" Their members’ eyes landed on them as they heard the girl’s concerned voice asking that question, and they stared in shock at how the dark-haired girl looked.

Heejin leaves her shoes by the doorway before heading in the direction of her room, ignoring her unnie’s question and her members’ stares altogether.

As she finally arrives at the safety of her room, she immediately lies on her bed, hoping that when she wakes up, everything will be fine; that everything that had happened beforehand was all a cruel nightmare.

She hoped that she hadn’t just broken your heart into millions of tiny pieces. "There’s nothing else I could do," Heejin thought to herself.

All Heejin wanted was to close her eyes and forget about the events that occurred earlier, but unfortunately for her, she wasn’t able to get any sleep that night.

You could not believe how it all went downhill so fast. Heejin has always been there for you ever since you were kids, and you made sure that you'll always be the person that she'll run to when she's faced with problems.

Back in the day, the problems that you would talk about are not having enough money to buy the candy bar in the convenience store which turned to not getting enough rest and having a math exam the next day, which also turned to Heejin doubting whether she has what it takes to debut as the first member of LOONA, until the problems that the both of you discussed relatively developed as the both of you matured.

Jeon Heejin was your best friend before anything else. She's the friend that you would always lean on, and you were most definitely that person for her as well, even when she was met with eleven other girls that seemed as though they were destined to be together.

Naturally, she became preoccupied when she debuted as an idol, but somehow, the girl always managed to find time to hangout with you and to catch up, feeling as though something's missing when she doesn't get to spend time with you, and frankly, you felt the same way.

While Heejin followed her dreams, you tried to achieve yours as well, staying at the same school which you and Heejin attended, until eventually, you had to transfer to a university and attain higher education.

Sometimes, you felt that it was so overwhelming; having a famous friend is proven to be a struggle especially when hanging out with her in public, which was why both of you agreed to meet up in your apartment instead or go out during the evening whenever the both of you wanted to hangout.

In all honesty, you couldn't really remember when you started harboring feelings toward your friend, all you remember was that she had always been the person that you cared about the most, and you only confirmed your attraction towards your friend when you saw that she was being shipped with one of her members named Hyunjin. Although you know that the pair were nothing but friends, you couldn't help but feel the slight possessiveness especially knowing that they spent more time together than Heejin did with you.

But even as a friend, Heejin never failed to reassure you that she's there for you despite all the demands of being an idol. You felt guilty because for some reason, it felt wrong to be attracted to a friend like Heejin when she is being the best friend anyone could ask for, so you tried to find someone else.

"Are you sure about her?" Heejin asked, looking skeptical.

"Look, Heejin, you don't have to interrogate me," you said, trying to ease your friend's worries, "She's cute, she's smart, she's talented, she can literally do everything!" You exclaimed, and Heejin kept eye contact with a sour look on her face, "I mean, she's been giving me all these signals, so it might be safe to assume that I have a chance."

The girl sighed, and you had no idea why she was suddenly being so protective and pessimistic, "But what if she's playing you?" Heejin asked bluntly, "Look, I'm sorry, but I really don't trust this girl."

"Why not?" You inquired, Heejin took a deep breath before replying, "Because I don't know her," the then blonde replied truthfully, her right hand grabbed one of yours then placed her other hand on top of it, "I just don't want you to get hurt, Y/N."

The simple and harmless action made you blush profusely, feeling your face heat up at her words and her actions, but you tried to play it off, shoving her before replying, "You don't have to worry about me, I can handle myself."

However, you definitely couldn't. That night, you came back to your apartment with tears slowly streaming down your face, and Heejin was there to hold you. Most of the time, she wasn't, but she was usually just a call away.

Rubbing small circles on your back as she held you close to her body, she tried to comfort you, "Hey, it's alright, I'm here, I won't leave you."

You couldn't help but sob at her words. Truthfully, you really did find the girl attractive, but you didn't like her the way you did for Heejin; no one can compare to her. But that doesn't mean that you didn't feel betrayed by the girl you confessed to, because you did and it hurts.

It turns out that she was not attracted to girls at all; the reason why she acted like she was interested in you was because she wanted to get back at you, despite not doing anything wrong. According to the girl, her boyfriend that she was dating in secret seems to be attracted to you, so she wanted to get her revenge.

After hearing your explanation, Heejin rolled her hands into a fist, wanting nothing more than to confront the girl that messed with the person she cared about the most.

In all honesty, Heejin was unsure whether her feelings toward you were platonic or if it were something more, but she knew better than to do something about it. She doesn't want to ruin the years of friendship that both of you built from the ground up, and if something does happen, she fears that things might go wrong and everyone she cares about would be negatively impacted by it—if somehow it all becomes public, she's afraid that it might hurt LOONA's reputation, and people including her 'supporters' might come after you.

As a result of those fears, she tries not to think about the uncertain emotions that she feels and simply protects you from the harshness and cruelty of the world, not knowing that someday, she will be the one causing you immense pain.

Heejin woke up the next morning with a heavy heart, the things that had happened the night before evoked different emotions from her, and now she feels emotionally drained, and although she has her members with her, she still craves for your presence.

The girl got up and reached for her phone. The time 2:58 p.m. greeted her harshly, remembering how she was only able to fall asleep at dawn. Heejin had a problem sleeping all night, thinking about how she hurt you, but she kept repeating the same thing in her head: she's doing this for your own good.

She heard a soft knock on her door and saw Haseul's head peeking in.

"Hey, are you up?" The leader asked. Heejin nodded her head before stretching out her arms, "Yeah, I'm sorry, I overslept."

Haseul smiled at the younger member, shaking her head, "Typical Heejin," she thought.

"You don't have to apologize, Heejin," The leader said softly, a gentle smile drawn on her lips, "I heard something happened," she tried to open the topic as she cautiously sat on the girl's bed, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Her leader's voice and comfort was enough to break down the walls that Heejin built as the tears started falling, her palms immediately finding their way to cover her eyes, curling up on the bed.

Haseul looks at the girl with concern laced in her features, she scoots closer to the younger girl then wraps her arms around the poor girl's body, "I'm here, Heejin. All of us are. If you need someone to lean on, we're here to help you."

"I know," Heejin's voice sounded so broken, it made the leader felt more protective of the girl, "But Y/N," Heejin sobbed, and that's when Haseul knew that something bad must've happened, "I can't say the same thing about her, not anymore."

"What do you mean? What happened?" Haseul asked anxiously. Everyone in LOONA knows just how much the both of you treasured each other, so Haseul couldn't help but get worried at her member's words.

"I messed up, unnie," Heejin cried harder. Haseul tried to comfort the girl by drawing circles on her back, but they both know that no matter how hard they try, Heejin's heart was already broken.

As much as you tried to forget about your ex best friend, it proved to be an impossible task. Partly because almost every little thing reminded you of her; clothes, pictures, restaurants, parks, heck even your own room. It also doesn't help that she is gaining more and more attention in South Korea, increasing her brand deals which means that you could practically see her everywhere.

You checked the time on your wrist watch before hurrying to leave. It has already been two years since your last encounter with Heejin, but everyday without her hurts the same. You thought that maybe after you graduate from college and start getting preoccupied with your career, you would finally move on from her, but you couldn't be more wrong.

Walking through the busy streets of Seoul, you tried to hurry so that you wouldn't be late for work. However, the sight before you caused you to stop walking altogether.

There she was, as beautiful as ever, the woman that your heart ached for.

Heejin was standing three stores in front of you, wearing a uniform that the shop provided which means she's probably shooting promotional content as she works part-time for them.

"What are the odds?" you thought, as you felt the cracks on your heart shattering once again. Seeing her bright and beautiful smile gave you so many memories that it felt overwhelming, suffocating even, and that's when you realize that all those little things and places that reminded you of her as well as those posters of her that you see on the streets were nothing compared to actually seeing her in the flesh.

As much as you want to move and run as fast as you can just to escape, your body seems to forbid you from doing so, your eyes still locked on the figure of your past.

And without realizing, your eyes started to become so glossy that you could barely see the girl's features. All of a sudden, all those feelings of regret started coming back to you, wishing that you could go back in time to the day the two of you met, wishing that you could simply ignore her as she tried to befriend you, wishing that you could retract all your steps and erase your history with the girl because you knew that it was the only way for you to move on from the hurt of the rejection you faced.

Because now, as you look into her eyes, you realize that she's simply someone that you used to know; a stranger who knows all your secrets, someone who can make you and break you.

Even as you tried to stop it from happening, you felt the tears cascade from your eyes as you stood there, still frozen on your spot.

You dropped your gaze to the ground and wiped the tears, hindering it from falling any further, and just as you did, the woman responsible for your heartbreak glanced at your direction, squinting her eyes as she saw a familiar figure standing at a distance, then her professional grin gradually dropped, realizing who she was looking at, especially as she figured that you were indeed crying, in public—something that you hated doing.

Heejin is once again reminded of how she was the reason why your friendship ended. Yes, you were the one who confessed, but your confession does not have to put an end to your friendship—it was all on Heejin. At that moment, she was reminded of how you gave her the world and she broke your heart in return; how she let her fears overcome her and how she chose her career over you.

And as you returned your gaze on the celebrity, you realized that she was already aware of your presence, staring at your figure. In a split second, your eyes met, but it didn't feel the same way it did before. Everything felt wrong. And just like the speed of her rejection, she immediately broke eye contact, smiling at the camera as they were about to shoot.

[writing-sideblog-behind-books]

Tgcf au where they time travel to the moment that changed their lives

A suspicion blooms in mqs mind and he tries something. "How old are you?" Fx startles clearly not having expected the question. "I was born in the blorb year of the xianle dynasty" His response isn't an answer but its a hint. Fx is a straightforward person and would've said his age if were as simple as mq thinks it isn't. "Why?" Clearly fx isn't willing to risk his secret as easily as that. "I was just wondering if our age was something shared" well neitger is mq. The ball is back in fxs court. "Well how old are you?" Fx seems to be catching on that this might be a secret shared. Something glints in his eyes. Something like hope. "Not sure. What's the year" the glint dies and mq realizes why his answer was wrong. Mq genuinely doesn't know what year it is. He know he was born in year blorb of xianle but hes unsure when exactly his father was killed and he accepted into xie lians service. He only knows it was somewhere after 10 and somewhere between 15, but age has blurred the memories of his time at the palace. A pretty and young person without power doesn't have it easy. Ten would have been too young, too close to fx coming to the palace. Fifteen was when his mothers health took a turn for the worse and he had already been at the palace.

Bit fx doesn't know that fxll think that mq is a disoriented from his time in poverty, aware of how it makes time crawl and extend and diminish one's understanding of it. Mq also refuses to risk it in case fx doesn't share his secret so he tries something else. "You know i used to have a friend." The abrupt change in the conversation seems to confuse fx but for now he keeps listening "his name was nan fang. Sometimes you remind me of him." No one in this time could truly understand what he means by that without knowing the context of the future. Fx gets it. "Well you remind me of fu yao. I uswd to spar with him." A smile emerges on his face. "Im glad you're here. It's been so lonely here." Mq understands not being seen for who you are and having no one by his side. "How long have you been here?" "Since i was accepted as xie lians companion at eight, five years ago. You're 13 btw. You just arrived?" "Yeah. This morning."

* When hc falls once again during the parade and xl catches him fq force the parade to continue and xl backs them. Hc is a tiny dirty child and he looks terrified but when xl presses him into mq's hands during a moment they are close enough for the action to be overlooked he doesn't struggle. Mq hides him as best in his dark, flowing robes - the are supposed to resemble a horrible night where the monster lurks. And as xl deals the "killing blow" he hides him in the folds. Xl makes a big show of his skills and while he draws the attention mq vanishes to the guards. He hands fx the tiny hc. "At least five." He nods to fx a reminder of their earlier promise before quickly changing into another stashed mask and getting a different sword, then returning to the stage. It was never the plan for xl to only face one demon during the ten rounds. It would habe gotten tedious and there were many more stories of jun wu's glory to act out. For thw first round mq is to play different ghosts jw beat. At round six there will be dancers to tell another of jun wu's tales while xl gets a break. in round eight xl will fight against eight, then nine then ten. Standing the victor in the last round. All but their fight scenes are carefully choreographed, the steps having been decided on months ago. Technically they also have a Skript to follow but that went out the window when they began fighting for real in round two. They keep going and by the time the dancers get their turn mq has changed mask and weapon two more times. His body is burning and his spiritual energy straining. He feels so exhausted he doesn't know how xie lian plans to manage the last three rounds. He's exhilarated. Maybe they shouldn't have fought for real but it was so much fun. Xl is sweaty and flushed as he sits down and starts drinking from the prepared glass. There is an exhilarated air to him too. They have about two sticks of incense (30 minutes) before its xl's turn again and mq gets to work immediately. He fixes any one xl's hair that got loose, layers his clothing new so it doesn't look as disseveles. And re does his makeup. Xl asks about the child and mq tells him he gave them to fx and they can look after and xl concedes easily. When the time is up xl looks as refreshed as he did that morning and mq is pleased with his work as re refixes tge mask, sturdier this time. So it won't fall of again. Then the dancers are chased away by "ghosts" and xl gets back on stage to "defend them. Following the pre planned steps perfectly. Mq changes out of his billowing robes into the dark grey, tight ones the others have and grabs a mask and sword identical to theirs then jumps in when round nine begins on his cue.

When the parade is finished and hailed as a big success xl is celebrated by the court and chewed out a bit for the stunt at the beginning and what happened in round three but praised for everything after. Mq stands in his shadow and he can feel how impatient they both are to get away. Finally everyone has congratulated xl and they are free to leave. Fx and the tiny hc are waiting for them in blorb. Hc still looks distressed and immediately starts clinging to xl and bawling. Mq is pretty sure this didn't happen the last time. But more he feels awkward and pitiful at seeing a child so young in distress. He looks to be around ten and while mq knows the potential the child has to grow he doesn't look like that now. He just looks like a tiny, distressed, terrified child. Fx had the foresight to clean him a bit this time but he's still to dirty to be clinging to xl's robes and bawling into them.

Hc it terrified. Hes small powerless and there are people all around him. Then there's a push and he falls. Its a feelig so familiar. Then there are warm arms enveloping him and his highness smiling down. Warmth fills hc but there is no recognition in his highness eyes and he's still tiny and powerless. Then there are swords clashing, his highness face hidden by a mask and suddenly he's pressed against the chest of a masked actor. It's all to much. Then they move fast enough the world blurs and the actor speaks revealing himself the traitor friend as he presses hc into the others arms. Then they are gone. The other friend tells the guards to ensure the parade continues and they follow. After ensuring the parade continues he takes hq to blorb where he blorb. Then after hours of this finally his highness returns, flushed and beautiful. Something in hc snaps at the sight of him and as soon as he feels his touch again he's crying.

"You can't stay at the palace." Mq tells hc "you wouldn't want to." Hed be seen as a stain on xl as a pity project and with daily meals and weekly baths he'd soon enough be pretty for horrible rich people to take a liking to him. Mq wants to spare him that but he also knows hc has no where to go and wants to stay with his highness. Fx is the one to get the solution and break the stalemate on mq's side but not against hc. "You mother." Mq hates it but it would be a great fit for their problem. Hc would get a home, mq's mother a helping hand, mq could easily visit them both. Hc wouldn't nessecarily get to see his highness but it would be the ideal solution. If it did not involve crimson rain sought flower living with his mother. Still, in the end there doesn't find itself a better answer so mq consedes. Hc is powerless and if he grows fond of mqs mother maybe hell be alright to help her when mq isn't able to get the time during busy weeks.

Hc isn't entirely sure why he agreed but now he's living with the traitor friends mother. She tries to raise him and he is instructed to bring her her medicine and make sure she eats. It's not all that bad, her hands in his hair comforting and her voice soothing. It's been to long since his mother died and even throgh this time distortion she's alteady dead. He missed her by two months. Weekly mq comes and brings money, cherries and a bag of rice he bought. Sometimes fx comes with. Xl never does - too busy and too under guard - but grudgingly they tell him how he fares and what he's doing. It's a huge step down from his time as a ghost but so much better that when he was alive. Hc is content. Much to his surprise. He's not as obsessed with xl, though he still loves his highness above all. He hadn't realized how much being a ghost changed him. He'll thinks maybe he doesn't want to die but gamblers den and ghost city need to be build and ni mortal and no god could hold it.

[artedimichelangelo]

Hi! if your taking requests I’d like to request something! Could you please write a Jaime Lannister x fem!reader in which she’s his friend and has always had feelings for him, and she’s one of the few people who has never called him kingslayer because she couldn’t believe he was a bad person even if she didn’t know the whole story. And maybe after he loses his hand he comes back to king’s landing and he feels worthless (cause he can’t fight anymore and everyone even cersei is treating him badly) but reader stays by his side and reassures him. So he notices that she’s the only one who’s always been there for him and in a moment of vulnerability he tells her the whole mad king story. And she feels really bad for what happened to him also because she sees how it’s something that still haunts him so she hugs him and he has someone to comfort him for the first time. He’s been though so much and I just want him to have someone who’s there for him because they genuinely care 🥲.

I hope what I said made sense because english is not my first language. Anyway feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t inspire you! :)

For the first time - Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader.

Author's Note: Hii! Thanks for your request, I hope this fic is to your liking and if maybe you wanted something different, please feel free to tell me.

Also, I think I got carried away with this one, let me know what you think.

Plus, if there is something in the warnings or in general that I forgot to mention, you can tell me without problems.

Oh I also recommend the song For the first time by Mac DeMarco for this one.

Pairings: Jaime Lannister x Fem!Reader, mentions of Cersei Lannister and Bronn.

Warnings: English is NOT my first language; possible grammatical errors; not very much proofread; a tiny bit of angst; mentions of blood; fluff.

Word Count: 3710.

As the sun set, the Red Keep was under surveillance of the royal guards, even more so than in the morning.

When the servants lit the lanterns, Y/n knew that her watch had begun and she would have to keep an eye on the corridors of the king's residence.

By now she knew her shifts by heart and had got used to them, as she had been serving the royal family as a knight for years.

Her father was an old acquaintance of the king, so it was not difficult to obtain this role in the fortress.

Y/n was the only woman among all the other knights; she had to protect others but also herself, as many of the men she worked with were uncouth and often disrespected her.

However, she unfortunately had gotten used to it and had her reflexes ready for any hypothetical attack.

Whilst wandering through the corridors faintly lit by the flames of the torches, she could only hear subtle whispers, precisely of two voices overlapping, one interrupting the other and not even giving each other time to breathe.

As she proceeded, Y/n had to take great care not to make noise with her armour, which barely scraped the walls against which she had flattened herself so as not to be seen.

By doing so, she was able to see who the voices corresponded to: one belonged to Cersei Lannister and the other to Jaime, her twin brother and a close friend of Y/n's.

"You're ridiculous, it's as if you're betraying me." Said the queen with venom, lowering her clipped voice even more after hearing a footstep around the corner of the hall. "Know that if I fall into the void, you come down with me."

With such words, or rather threats, she left the golden-haired knight on the spot, his gaze lost in the darkness..

Jaime was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not even notice the presence of his dear companion, at least not until he heard her voice muffled in his ears.

"Is something troubling you?" Y/n repeated for the umpteenth time.

She had only eavesdropped on a minimal part of the conversation between the two siblings, but from the expression on the man's face before her, Y/n could deduce that it was not particularly pleasant.

"To tell you the truth, yes.'" The young Lannister replied, his arms crossed against the thick metal of his golden breastplate. "Our days are so hectic that we haven't even had time to exchange a few words today, I have truly missed your suave voice."

"I see that flattery never lacks, what an honour." Y/n said snarkily, a hand on her chest as noble women do when they receive compliments from high-ranking lords. "Don't make me blush with your beaming smile, I don't think my heart can handle that."

Actually, Y/n really liked her friend's compliments, they made her feel important and her princely smile always gave her goosebumps. But she would never confess that to him, she had no intention of inflating the man's ego.

"Seriously though, I know when something's wrong, Jaime, I can see it in your sad eyes."

At that point his gaze lowered to the stone tiles on the floor. No matter how hard he tried, his friend was capable of reading a person as if they were a young lads' book.

"Nothing relevant, simple bickering between Lannisters, you know how it is by now." He laughed it off, but Y/n could swear she saw the man's eyes glaze over, as if he was exhausted and wanted to cry cascades.

Instinctively, she embraced him, and the clash of metal protecting them could be distinctly heard in the cool night.

The so-called Kingslayer was taken by surprise, but he did not budge; on the contrary, he reciprocated this action that was almost foreign to him, as it was full of affection.

He had not received such intense and warm hugs since he was a toddler.

"It is not fair of me to insist on this subject, however, know that you are not alone and that you are loved." She breathed into his ear, her voice like a sweet melody he wished he could hear every morning.

Y/n loved the man and would have given her own life to make him realise how remarkable he was.

Jaime's hand covered by his thick leather gloves moved to the woman's shoulders, as if to attract her attention. The golden knight almost wished he could caress her scarred face from the past, yet he considered it might be an inappropriate move.

"You know, from a distance you definitely look shorter." He received a hearty chuckle from the brave woman in front of him. "Glad to amuse you so much."

"Let's say you can be hilarious at times, if you don't wake up in a bad mood." She sneered, the muscles in her face almost hurt from how much they tightened, but she couldn't stop laughing.

And it was in that pleasant moment, that Jaime had the desire to capture Y/n in a painting, for in her simplicity and modesty, with her hair dishevelled and a few wisps surrounding her face, the blond lion saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. As he had thought the first time he saw her.

"Do I have something on my face?" Once again she roused him from his thoughts, Jaime's eyes constantly lit up with every interaction with the well-known cunning knight. "This is not the time to be distracted, Ser Jaime Lannister, the long night awaits us and we must remain alert for the coming of morrow!"

"You're the one who talks in circles and makes me lose focus, don't talk bollocks!" He replied, patting her on the shoulder, thus beginning a brief fight of playful shoving, their thin laughter heard only by the stars in the dark blue.

Gathered in the courtyard of the Red Keep were the royal knights, led by Jaime Lannister, ready to move on the new enemy, Robb Stark of Winterfell.

"If we follow the plans, we will be able to trample that brat and prevail over his soldiers." The golden knight's voice boomed against the walls, making it impossible to miss. "And if all goes as planned, we will be able to return to King's Landing with victory in our grasp."

As he concluded his speech, his gaze crossed Y/n's confused one on the other side of the yard.

"I didn't think there was a gathering, nor that we had to leave." Said the woman as soon as the young Lannister reached her.

"That is because I did not actually mention it to you."

"It doesn't matter, it happens to anyone to make a mistake, so around what time of day is the departure?"

Jaime looked at her as if in sorrow and in order to speak to her privately, he gently took Y/n's wrist and led her to a hidden corridor, away from prying eyes.

"I did not mention it because you are not coming with us." He grimaced, feeling guilty and expecting a strong disappointment from his friend.

"But I cannot stay here and do nothing while you fight, it is not fair for you to lose your blood out there while I am safe in here." The brave young knight felt the world falling on her, she could not just stand there while the others left, only to perhaps not return.

The woman’s glazed eyes met Jaime's again, her lip quivering to prevent her from shedding any tears, and that heartbroken expression made the blonde-haired knight's heart ache.

"I want to come with you."

"No, no, no, no, Y/n, I implore you." Instinctively, the young Lannister captured the lady’s face in his hands, holding her firmly by the cheeks. The warmth of her skin made his palms tingle almost in a pleasant way. "I have not made this decision to make you grieve and distress, not even to invalidate your abilities. I did it for you, Y/n, for you are as dear to me as the Moon is to the Stars."

Was it strange on the lion's part to find the doe's face extremely bewitching during her cry?

The usual strands of hair escaping from her ponytail were now as if glued to her cheeks, tears and sweat had held them against her rosy, freshly sun-kissed skin.

And Jaime had never felt his stomach in a knot, as if thousands of butterflies were flapping their wings inside it. Often blinded by the presence of his twin sister, he had never paid attention to how much Y/n truly cared for him and loved him, perhaps even more than Cersei.

"Listen to me carefully, hm?" The knight before him nodded, so that he could proceed. "I will return to you, I promise and I mean it. You know well that we Lannisters always keep our promises."

Without debating Y/n moved closer to the crook of Jaime's neck, so that she could feel his scent and the warmth of his body a little closer, as if her mind had to remember those minor details so that she would not be feeling lonely in the days when the blond knight was absent.

Oh, how she longed to confess all her love and adoration to him, and how she wanted to hurt those who called him terrible names without even knowing the truth about his past.

"Know that I will wait patiently for your return, and I swear by the seven kingdoms that if you do not make it back, I will come directly to get you from the depths of hell where you will end up."

They both smiled sadly, as if to relieve the tension of the moment.

"Make a safe return, Ser Jaime Lannister, and know that, even from afar, I protect you." Y/n recomposed herself and the two shook hands for the last time, him putting more pressure as if he did not want to leave her there, but duty awaited the man.

That was the last time Y/n saw Jaime Lannister in King's Landing, still intact and with every piece of his shining armour on his shoulders, his golden hair only barely concealed by his helmet, and his friendly voice overpowering that of all the other men as he made the way to their destination.

On a particularly heated day in the blazing sun, Y/n had obtained a free morning off of duty, so she took the opportunity to read some old letters sent by her father.

Sometimes she missed her hometown, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting up to her chamber window and the voice of her father commanding everyone around him with his booming voice.

Immersed in the words of ink on the thin parchment, the knight had not noticed a presence under the archway at the entrance to her chamber.

She was so quiet and beautiful, as if he had seen her for the first time.

"Y/n." Faintly from the man's cracked lips came the name of the woman, who turned around, stunned, as if she had seen a ghost.

As she rose from her bed, she dropped all the letters on the ground, but it mattered little as seeing Jaime Lannister again after so long made her fling herself at him.

"Are you real? Who did this to you? I convinced myself you were never coming back, I thought... I thought you were dead." She asked frantically, but received no reply. "Does Cersei know of your return?" She questioned again, helping him reach the masters so they could tend to his wounds.

"No, you’re the first person I wanted to see." He managed to say, and if it hadn’t been for Y/n, his face would have collided with the red rock tiles of the castle, as his legs were giving out and he was about to fall.

After the proper care, Y/n offered to help Jaime take a hot and relieving bath.

It would not have been an uncomfortable situation, since they had known each other all their lives and she was there especially to protect him in that vulnerable state.

"You should not be here to assist me, I have never deserved any kind of attention from you." He murmured in a grimace, as his friend poured warm water on his head. "This water is boiling, do you perhaps wish to see me bald?"

"Nonsense."

And Jaime did not understand if that reply referred to what he said first, or to his complaints.

"I promised you I would come back and here I am in the flash, or at least most of it."

"Also thanks to Brienne, because your tongue could have stopped you from returning to King’s Landing." Y/n responded seriously, her calloused hands massaging oils through his now dirty blond hair.

He bent his head back to glance into the woman's sweet eyes.You should have seen the look on her face. The look I've seen for 17 years on face after face." He bent his head back to glance into the woman's sweet eyes. "You are the only exception and this makes me feel less of a human shit… but everyone else? No, they all despise me. Kingslayer. Oath breaker. Man without honour. Ever heard of wildfire?"

"Of course."

"The mad king was obsessed with it. He loved to watch people burn--the way their skin blackened, blistered, melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn't like; he burned Hands that disobeyed him; he burned anyone that was against him." The weak lion shook his head as his past resurfaced before his eyes, he remembered it all as if it had occurred the day before. "Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere, so he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city: beneath the Sept of Baelor, the slums of flea bottom, under houses, stables, taverns, even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally, the day of reckoning came."

Y/n was somewhat shaken, but this did not prevent her naive curiosity from knowing more about the story.

"What happened afterwards?" She asked timidly, moving in front of the man, as if to show she was all ears.

"Robert Baratheon marched upon the capitol after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the mad king as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the king didn't listen to me, didn't listen to Varys, who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that grey sunken cunt."

The woman shuddered at the name of the Grandmaster. She never liked him, and he was merely a court rodent who should have been eliminated a long time before.

"He told him that he could trust the Lannisters, since they have always been loyal friends of the crown. So, we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Fucking imbecile." He laughed bitterly. "Once again I came to the king begging him to surrender. He told me to bring him my father's head. Then he turned to his pyromancer and told him to burn them all. "Burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds." He ordered him… tell me, if your king commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women and children were burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then?"

Jaime looked straight into her eyes, but he did not really need an answer, for he already knew it. Y/n would never have let that happen and would have made the same decision as the young Lannister.

"So what did I decide to do? First, I killed the pyromancer, and then when the king turned to flee I drove my sword into his back. "Burn them all," he kept saying. "Burn them all." I don't think he expected to die. He meant to burn with the rest of us and rise again reborn as a dragon and turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen."

"And that's where Ned Stark found you." It was not difficult for the clever woman to put the pieces of the puzzle together, thus revealing why the lord of Winterfell loathed and despised Jaime so much.

"Exactly. That's where Ned Stark found me."

"If this is true, why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell Lord Stark?"

"Stark. You think the honourable Ned Stark wanted to hear my side? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me. By what right does the wolf judge the lion? By what right?" The man suddenly stood up, ravaged by fury and anger.

By then, the bubbles in the tub had vanished and the water had turned cold, like a winter's night.

In order not to disrespect her superior, the woman turned away, subsequently handing him a bathrobe to cover himself.

"I believe you and I guarantee that I have always been on your side, and always will be, for better or for worse. I know there is little I can do, for the damage has now been done, but I have no intention of ever leaving you alone." She promised Jaime, slowly ushering him towards his chamber.

Y/n's hands gently held the figure at her side, as if she had become accustomed to its fragility.

She was used to holding her sword firmly and tightly to unsheathe it against her enemies; but with the man she loved, her hands were tender and cautious, as if he were the feather of a dove.

Settled in his bed and wrapped in the soft sheets, Jaime could finally rest, or at least recover before getting back into the swing of things.

"Get some proper sleep, you and I will have a lot to do together over the next few days." Y/n gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead and bid him a good night.

"See you in the morrow." Whispered the knight, more to himself, touching the spot on his forehead that was graced by the most exquisite lips he had ever seen.

"You are very clever Bronn, but not clever enough!" Y/n exclaimed in amusement, and between laughs continued to smack her friend's backside as spite.

Joining the two on the shore of the beach was Jaime, and every time he saw her, he could swear it was like seeing her for the first time, in which he was completely dumbfounded by her persona.

"Look who's here, finally the princess has joined us."

"Funny Bronn, really, I didn't think you could be so funny." Replied the blond sarcastically, already having his sword drawn in his left hand.

"I'll leave you two alone, be sure to knock her ass out, avenge me my friend."

And so it was that the two companions were left alone, the waves of the sea the only audible sound other than the clashing metal of their swords.

Jaime Lannister was visibly tired, although training had only just begun, but he wasn’t used to sparring with his left hand after losing his dominant one.

"I believe in you and I know you can do it, just a little more effort and we’re done." Y/n encouraged her friend, not to annoy him or rush him, on the contrary, she wanted to help him believe again in his strengths and abilities.

With one blow forward and too many steps back, the lion tripped and fell on the sand, too exhausted and out of breath to get up.

"I am not as strong as before, Y/n, I am no good to this world."

He gave up all too soon and she couldn’t accept it, not when aware of his immense potential.

"Listen to me carefully, your attitude won’t help. I know how you really are and I will help you recover, even if I have to wait a lifetime to see you getting your ass off the ground. Have I made myself clear enough?"

Initially Jaime was stunned and taken aback by her words, but his astonishment turned into a smug, satisfied grin.

He was completely enamoured with the wonderful woman before him.

"I love you," Those two words slipped from his lips very clearly. "But not like I love my family or my dear twin sister. No. I truly love you, Y/n, and I was a fool for not admitting it sooner. Or I have my vulnerable state to thank for prompting me to confess my feelings for you."

"Apparently I should push you more often into situations like this, if they allow you to talk and allow me to find out what is always running through your mind." Y/n smiled sweetly and slowly kneeled before him, to reach his eye level, as he was still sitting on the grainy sand. "But I love you too, silly man."

Y/n gently caressed Jaime’s chin and then his cheek, the newly grown beard tickling her hand, but that did not bother her at all.

The blond, with some of the courage he had left in his body, took the sweet woman’s hand into his and left a short trail of kisses across her palm.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to taste your lips that night under the stars."

"What’s keeping you from doing it now before the sunset?"

"Always so clever, are we?"

And so their lips finally met. It was as if they were destined to touch sooner or later.

It was an intense and extremely passionate kiss, they had lusted after each other for so long that they couldn’t even get enough of it.

At that very moment, Jaime Lannister said to himself that, perhaps, despite all the misfortunes, he deserved a happy ending.

[blainesebastian]

blowin’ smoke (ccg universe)

words: 1,401 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (Bri requested) can I request some Austin smoking/vaping whatever it is he does in CCG universe 👀 notes: probably occurs between pt6 and 7 of ccg--not wildly important but just figure earlier in their relationship, while Austin is still on set for Elvis. you also could read this without any context of ccg, if you wanted warnings: shotgunning  tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylesmendeshearted

The stress, anxiety and toll of being in a film that has so much riding on it is something that you can only imagine. They mix with the positive emotions too—the excitement, thrills and passion but that doesn’t make it any less overwhelming. Your dream is to write, to actually put something down on paper that makes people feel and you hope to do that one day in which it can successfully transfer to screen. You’re not about to stop holding your breath, writers are a dime a dozen in this industry. But you definitely find yourself some nights, on your very tiny balcony of your apartment, drinking a tall glass of wine as you consider what your future might be (or sometimes worse, what it might never be).

Everyone has their own set of vices, so it doesn’t surprise you in the least that Austin smokes every so often.

He doesn’t do it a lot—he’s not a singer outright or anything, but he also knows how important it is that he maintains his voice for this role. He is in the recording studio and singing live and the drawl he’s worked so hard to perfect is nothing he wants to mess up. He had to hire a dialect coach in the first place and honestly, he might have to hire another one at the end of the film to ‘un-Elvis’ his voice.

Though, to be fair, you actually kind of like it…and wouldn’t mind in the least if it stuck around.

While the concept of Austin smoking doesn’t surprise you, it’s something you have to get used to when you see it. It just…Austin feels like someone who wouldn’t have a nasty habit, though you can’t outright say that drinking a half a bottle of wine isn’t either. Regardless, you’re not about to judge him or nag about it—the smoke makes you sneeze sometimes and you’re not a fan of it sticking to Austin’s clothes. He knows better than to try and kiss you afterwards too, even though that’s not something you can always hold up.

The man himself is addicting.

Stepping out of your car on a cooler night, you promised Austin that you’d meet him at a bar he’s hanging out at with a few castmates. It’s later than you wanted to be out, but, admittedly you were trying to wait until most of them had gone home already. Your relationship with Austin isn’t public and while he doesn’t seem to care if some people he works with knows about it? you’re a bit uneasy. Austin’s a private person, he’s not about to shell out his business, but…it can be happenstance that a few other people from set have wandered to the same bar Austin and his castmates are at. Happens all the time, the bar is pretty close to set.

While hanging around Austin sounds nice for a few beers, keeping your hands and mouth to yourself will prove to be the more difficult thing.

Pulling your sweater tighter around yourself, you should have worn an actual coat, a soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth as you stroll up to the bar and see Austin outside of it already. He’s leaning against the brick wall near the front door, black jeans and a black leather jacket that goes far too well with the inky darkness of his soft curls. His eyes feel so much of a sharper blue because of it. He’s got his hands cupped around his mouth, lighting a cigarette, the warm orange glow of the embers flickering a moment before they disappear.

He takes in a long drag and blows the smoke out, turning his head a little and spotting you. He gives you a soft wave with his hand, reaching for you once you’re close enough to wrap an arm around your waist. Glancing around, you figure the street is pretty empty—

“Paps aren’t out,” He assures and he seems pretty confident, “Sometimes my agent will ‘leak’ out spottings or my agenda.”

You raise your eyebrows, “And they don’t catch on that you’re not actually there?”

“Sometimes I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” Austin smirks, licking his lips as he taps ash off the cigarette.

Humming lightly, you lean into his side, “So your agent is like Gossip Girl.”

A laugh tumbles out of his chest and he shrugs his one shoulder, squeezing your hip. “Not as glamourous.”

Pulling a little away from him, you look towards the entrance of the bar as it opens but no one you recognize comes out. These people don’t give you a second glance, which is actually kind of comforting. Running a hand through your hair, you debate whether you want to grab a beer and tug Austin back inside or just head home. There’s always the great idea of getting late night food and wandering back to his trailer.

The wind changes direction and you crinkle your nose as a small cloud of smoke lingers around you. Austin moves his arm and dissipates it with his hand, “Sorry, I know you it bothers you.”  

“It’s alright,” You smile a little, “I’ll live.”

And the thing is, which is probably so messed up to think about? Is that with this whole black on black look, the booties, the leather jacket, the dark waves in Austin’s hair, the whole smoking thing is kinda working for him. It’s utterly distracting to watch his lips wrap along the canister, slender fingers with a few rings pulling it away to tap ash off.

Austin notices you watching but he misreads your thoughts, “Have you ever smoked before?”

“Yeah, I mean—handful of times in college,” You shrug, “Maybe once in high school.”

Austin smiles, adjusting his leaning on the brick wall, “Oh so you’re a rebel?” He teases, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why couldn’t you tell? Thought it was pretty obvious.” You throw back with a grin and he chuckles, stealing a quick kiss to your cheek.

There’s this thought lingering along the iris of his eyes, you can see it, contemplation as he turns the words over in his mind before he finally says it, “Have you ever done shotgunning?”

You narrow your gaze, “I am not about to do that with you.”

Austin chuckles and geez is he a bad influence. You roll your eyes, trying to pretend you’re not going to do this even though you think both of you realize you’re going to. It’s not even that big of a deal, him blowing smoke into your mouth. Doesn’t work as well with cigarettes as it does other things you can smoke but…the effects are still there, the sensation of drawing smoke, the feeling of his lips on yours. Heat begins to gather between your legs as you consider it and you blame the draw of Austin’s entire being, the want to have him that much closer.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you know he already has you, “You’re the worst.”

Austin hums, shrugging his one shoulder as he lifts the cig and takes a small hit. Leaning down, he cups your cheek and you open your mouth slightly as he moves to kiss you. There’s a smoldering ache that happens in your lower belly, seeping downward, and you breathe in as Austin blows.

Your eyes kinda water but you give yourself kudos for not automatically coughing, letting the smoke settle in your lungs before blowing it out. Your head spins, it’s definitely a small rush from the nicotine. Austin looks far too pleased with himself, running his thumb along your lower lip as he drops the cigarette and crushes it with the toe of his boot.

Before you can say anything, he leans down to kiss you again, properly this time. His lips move along yours and neither of you seem concerned at pulling away any time soon. Once you do, he brushes your noses together in a bunny kiss.

“Trailer?”

You run your hand along the lapel of his leather jacket, nodding, “Read my mind.”

Austin smiles, moving to slide his jacket off so he can wrap it around your shoulders. You lean into the warmth of it surrounding you, his arm settling along your shoulders as you begin walking. Taking a small breath in, you catch the scent of leather, Austin’s cologne, and a twinge of smoke.

--

Took a slightly different take with your request but I hope you still enjoyed it! thanks to anyone who reads, comments, likes or reblogs. Appreciate you!!

[gravegroves]

I've been spending quite a lot of my time in hospital lately, it's not been a fun time. I recently saw a post floating around about what would have happened if Billy had died the night he was injected (if anyone knows of it, feel free to message me so I can properly credit). Seeing as I have nothing but hours laying in hospital beds, I wrote this thing.

Where Billy basically turns into a vengeful ghost. Not happy, you've been warned. CW: death, disturbing imagery, revenge, vengeful ghost!Billy

*****

They drag his body out into the woods.

No one cares to check to see if he's even still breathing. The blue of his lips would have been a dead giveaway, but the dark of night hides a lot of things.

Like a goddamn body.

He walks beside the kids, watches his own booted heels carve a groove into the earth because even between the four of them his body is too heavy to lift, so they drag him through the undergrowth like a sack of shit.

Not far. But far enough.

Maybe they do know he's dead. Maybe Max meant to kill him all along.

They get his body away from the house and the road, deep enough into the woods that no one would have a hope in hell of spotting him unless they went looking.

And they leave him there.

"Asshole can walk home when he wakes up." Max pants before they sprint back the way they came without a backwards glance. Billy wants to run after them, scream, demand that they come back and do something, but he knows with a soul deep certainty that whatever force is keeping him in this limbo is also keeping him tethered to his body. Knows this because the second he woke up in this new state he immediately tried to turn around and leave. Got as far as the driveway where the groove of Harrington's ass-print was still visible in the dirt, when he'd realised he had walked through the Byers's front door, right before he then walked into an invisible but impenetrable wall.

He'd gone back inside —through the door again when reaching for the handle had been the same as reaching for air— just in time to see the little shits preparing to drag his body out into the woods.

No one had noticed his entrance or the screaming that followed.

He wonders if they'll drag Harrington out to join him. If they'll remember that the night is fucking freezing and to bring Billy back a jacket. If he wasn't already dead he could've easily died from hypothermia.

They never do.

He hears the distant sounds of cars occasionally, of people, of things he can't quite place.

But no one comes back for him.

Not for a long, long time.

*****

The circle gets wider the more his body decomposes.

He can't stand to look at it. The sockets sunken. His long eyelashes fanning over milky, half-lidded eyes staring unseeingly up at the treetops. Gangly, awkward sprawl the same as the day he'd been left there. The cold winter does a good job of preserving his body. No roiling maggot infestations or flies to drive him more insane than he already feels.

When he stops actively working against it, his apparition changes to match that of his physical body, slowly rotting along with it. Losing pieces of himself.

Every time he feels a loose bit of skin sloughing off, it takes everything in him to force his form back to the one he had on the might of his death. He'd joke about looking his very best that night, that at least he had that going for him, but all it takes is for his mind to wander for a moment and the effect slowly wears off again.

Nowadays, Billy's mind does almost nothing but wander.

He's circled the impenetrable wall more times than he can count, looking for a weakness, a tiny crack that he might dig his rotting fingers into and tug to grant him an extra bit of freedom. Every time he walks out to check again, the circle is a couple of inches further out.

Weeks pass.

The circle gains six feet.

He's going fucking insane.

With nothing but anger and betrayal and his own rotting fucking corpse for company, he stews in a broth of raw, hateful emotions for so long it feels like there isn't much left of him besides the fury and the need to check his circle.

He won't see California again for sixteen-and-a-half thousand years at this inch-an-hour rate.

Billy calculated that.

He cries. He begs. He screams. His throat never tires and he never runs out of air, and the forest simply continues to calmly exist, undisturbed, because Billy Hargrove is a goddamn ghost.

And ghosts can't do shit.

*****

It's a particularly fucked up kind of torture that Billy can hear the louder going-on's at the Byers house, a tantalising break in his monotony hovering just beyond his reach. He can't see the house for the thicket yet, instead he stands as close as the ring allows him when he knows the mother —Joyce— leaves for the day to go to work and again when she comes home. Or when her eldest boy Jonathan plays his music loud enough to be heard throughout the entire area.

Billy hopes every time to hear even just a hint of something to keep him grounded in reality.

It doesn't work. (Jonathan's taste in music is pretentious at best, depressing at worst, Billy almost prefers the silence.)

One time he thinks he hears the kids —MaxMaxMAX— come to visit Will and he howls in anger, throws himself against the circle and claws at the invisible limit to get at them all.

I'm here! I'm here, right where you left me you fucking shitheads!

No one comes to check, which means that no one hears him.

Billy thinks about what he's going to do to them all once his circle is wide enough.

He smacks his head violently against the invisible wall.

There is no pain.

His teeth sure do look white against rotted leaves, though.

*****

By the time Hopper finds him, his circle is about to breach the treeline by the road.

Billy feels the man the second he steps into the circle, like a spider's Web, the very air buzzes closest to where he pushes into Billy's territory, needling at his mind until he goes to check on the intruder and does something to make it leave.

Make it stay.

Make it pay.

He's been so focused on that widening ring —staring at the last mark he dug into the ground to indicate his limits and checking obsessively for new inches gained— that he hadn't even heard the new car pull up into the Byers' driveway.

He moves back from the treeline —so tantalisingly close to where he might get to see people and cars again— and stalks through tree trunks, branches and leaves without disturbing a single one and finds police Chief Hopper bent over something on the forest floor.

"Hey!" Billy barks, momentarily stunned by the warped tone of his own voice. The man doesn't react, still bent over what Billy now realises is the matching heel grooves from when Billy was dragged into this torturous corner of the shittiest town in America.

Hopper's eyes follow the trail until it disappears behind a tightly knit group of trees and looks tempted to follow it.

Billy almost vibrates with excitement.

"That's it piggy," He hisses, voice the groan of trees cracking in a storm, circling the oblivious man like a starving lion with no teeth or claws to make a meal of him. Blood oozes from his gaping maw like drool.

"Follow the fucking trail and get me the hell out of here!"

The man doesn't hear a word of course, and he sure does take his sweet time. Checking the trees of all things —for what, Billy doesn't know— and using a stick to poke the dirt in front of him like he's expecting it to cave under his weight. Slowly, though, he makes his way closer to where Billy's body lies forgotten.

He's so close.

Just a bit more.

"Don't you leave me here you dumb bastard, don't you fucking leave me here," Billy rattles over and over again, a curse and mantra all in one, anger turned to simmering. If the cop doesn't find him now, it may be months or even years, before someone comes this way again and Billy doesn't know how much more of this hellish existence he can take.

He wonders if Max really could be stupid enough to think he'd wake up and simply run away without the camaro.

She must know. She left me here without even coming back to check. She knows where I am and told NO ONE.

Just a little further...

Hopper stops again.

The anger boils over.

Billy strides right up to the man and lashes out, but his hand connects with nothing. Billy howls in frustration, but watches as a meaty hand comes up to absentmindedly scratch at the place Billy had tried to tear open with his useless ghost hands.

Something cocks it's head in Billy's mind.

But then Hopper turns the corner.

And things go pretty quickly from there.

*****

The chief calls in his find to the station.

He doesn't touch Billy's body, but he doesn't leave him there alone, either. Billy appreciates it in a way, it feels like something he would do when he was alive, yet it does nothing to calm the ever burning pit in his belly.

Hopper sits himself down on a fallen log and stares down at Billy's corpse with tired eyes and Billy can't tell if they're sad or if the man is simply annoyed about the extra hours he's gonna have to pull tonight.

It doesn't really matter.

Billy begins circling him again.

It feels like Hopper is prey, but Billy still can't quite figure out how to eat him.

The pit burns hotter. The anger yawns wider.

Hungry.

He brings up a finger to dip in the blood around his mouth and grins wider than humanly possible, splitting the sides of his face when a bloody B.H. slowly stains black against the dark blue of the back of Hopper's officer jacket.

Billy can work with this.

*****

The morgue is a dismal fucking place, filled with geeks too excited about dead people for Billy to stand hanging around, no longer than it takes for his body to get stored away with a tag around his big toe.

His circle thankfully keeps it's distance and continues to grow.

It almost feels like tending to a garden, the way he runs his palm against the smooth surface of the invisible wall as he walks along it, encouraging it with soft hisses of the names of all the people who are going to pay for what has happened to him.

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOM—

On and on it goes.

He checks out the neighbourhood after another round along the circle's edge, weeding out the people all buzzing in his web. None of them ping his radar quite like Hopper did, but they are more than good enough for a little practise.

Billy needs to be ready.

*****

"He appears to have been injected with quite a high dose of sodium thiopental. The extremely high dosage coupled with a quick injection can cause extreme respiratory distress," A bead of the mortician's sweat makes its way down his face towards his nose to hang precariously at the tip.

If it lands on Billy's body, Billy will have another name to add to his garden.

"He suffocated before the drug overdose even had the chance kill him. Then he was left outside with barely any clothes in the winter. This kid was triple dead. If it wasn't one, then it was the other two."

Billy watches Hopper massage the bridge of his nose for a while, his shoulders slumped. Then the man seems to pull himself together with monumental effort and reaches for a folder marked with Billy's name.

"Billy Hargrove. Age 17. Lived with his father, step-mother and step-sister at 4819 Cherry Lane. Last seen by Karen Wheeler on the night of November 5th getting into his Camaro and heading out to the Byers residence to pick up his step sister Max Mayfield. According to the family, the car has been outside of their residence since the day after he was last seen."

"Last seen by Max Mayfield, dead in the fucking woods," Billy spits. A tiny droplet of blood sprays onto Hopper's face. The man absentmindedly wipes it away, unaware of the streak it leaves behind on his cheek.

He flicks to the next page. Clears his throat.

"Drag marks at the crime scene indicate he was dragged from the road into the forest and then dumped..."

"Liar!" Billy roars, "they led into that goddamn house, you know they did!"

He sweeps a hand over the scalpels and instruments lying on a tray next to the guerny and watches in fascination as they all go tumbling to the floor.

Hopper and the sweaty mortician freeze in place.

Oh.

After a second of stunned silence, Billy pounces.

Hopper takes the full brunt of his attack right to the chest, toppling backwards and landing half on top of Billy's corpse while Billy's spirit sits on his chest and squeezes down on his throat.

"Liar!" Billy wails, "you fucking LIAR! Why are you lying?! They killed me! You know they killed me!"

Liar Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Liar Liar Liar

Beside them, his corpse opens it's mouth and screeches with whatever vocal cords it has left.

"LIAAAARRHGG."

"Jesus Christ!" The mortician stumbles back into the corner of the room where he cowers in fear. "Chief Hopper, are you--"

The lights start flickering.

"Let's see how you like it," Billy hisses and squeezes down as hard as he can.

The hunger is worse than ever, he needs to...

All of a sudden, whatever source of power Billy manages to tap into vanishes, leaving him standing half inside the guerny and half inside Hopper who is gasping for air and clutching at his throat.

Billy reaches out as if on instinct and plunges his claws into Hopper's very soul. Latching on like a fucking parasite and begins to feed on the fear he can feel coursing through him.

Billy laughs.

Oh yes, this he can definitely work with.

*****

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMHOPPER—

*****

His circle is still there. Ever-growing. Calling out to him, but Billy can leave it now if he attaches himself to someone else, someone living who leaves it.

He digs his claws into Hopper with a fierce cruelty, sits on his shoulders and hopes the man can feel the weight pressing him down like gravity.

Like a bad conscience.

Hopper knows something is wrong, but he seems to be determined to power through the incident at the mortuary. Billy can feel the weariness. Maybe he's been through something like this before?

Billy doesn't care.

He can manipulate his world now, as long as he maintains his hate with every fibre of his being, he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Easy fucking peasy.

*****

Hopper drives to Cherry Lane and Billy howls with hunger the entire way there, digging his fingers deeper into Hopper with excitement, enough to have the man rubbing at his shoulder every few minutes.

They're almost there.

He can't wait to stuff his fingers into Neil's mouth and rip his jaw from his face. Tear his heart out and smear it along the walls with dents in them that perfectly match parts of Billy's body. Maybe make Susan scream before he rips out the tongue she never did find a use for when it counted.

And Max...

She answers the door when Hopper knocks, looking so fucking normal it burns Billy to look at her.

You killed me and left me where no one would find me and told NO ONE.

He decides she will be first after all.

And slowly let's himself be revealed to her.

She stares at him, perched on Hopper's shoulders, coiled around his head, twisting his neck unnaturally to whisper spitefully into the man's ear.

Hopper rubs at his neck.

Billy makes sure to catch Max's gaze, lets her see his form morphing, slowly rotting to match that of his corpse, blood dripping from his mouth down onto Hopper's shoulder, milky eyes staring at her with all the hatred she left him to stew in, boiled down to a lava-like sludge in the pit of his soul, about to set hard like glass and shatter just as sharp.

Max gasps a sob.

Billy smiles and lets a few teeth scatter to the floor.

This is where it'll start.

MAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMMAXNEILSUSANHARRINGTONSINCLAIRHENDERSONWHEELERKARENMOMHOPPER—

They're all going to fucking pay.

Billy pounces.