#ash would offer a warm drink to her and drink the rest from the same cup and not even notice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kagedbird · 9 months

Text

(For the poll of who I'd be writing today: Lucien and Taliesin won. The setting is my own story with its own AU.)

Remember when I said I would write a short

Haha

Anyways-

[1,379 words 7,788 characters; Lucien Flavius, Taliesin, Allora, Dragonborn OC, Kaidan, Inigo]

It was that crisp nightly air that made him take in a deep breath. Skyrim, for all its bandits, necromancers, giants, skeevers, dragur, and now dragons, the air was so perfectly delicious, it just melted his stress away.

Add in his favourite company- his friends he'd made along his journey- and a hot fire to cozy up next to, it was his favourite time of the day.

Chatting and laughing, eating and having good drinks, before getting ready for bed was his new favourite routine. Especially since his best friend had started a routine of her own with them.

She was such a cuddle bug and shyly asked for someone to accompany her to snuggle up against to combat the chill. Not in that way, as she's stated multiple times before due to Taliesin's teasing, but just in a lovely snuggle session way!

Normally Taliesin would be the first to be at her side, demanding to be the big spoon- not that it was difficult with his height- and looking smugly at the rest of them as he claimed his spot for the evening, but the Altmer needed to switch up his routine tonight after a harrowing encounter in a crypt.

That may or may not have been Lucien's fault.

It wasn't harmful! A skeever merely got past Lucien and triggered a trap that set off a small rumble and coated the Mer in dust and ashes, after an urn nearby shattered.

It wasn't calculated in any regard, but Lucien wasn't above using this to his advantage.

Kaidan and Inigo had their fair share of nightly cuddle sessions with their friend as well, and Lucien was not going to let them sneak past him this time!

So as Taliesin left to get cleaned up in a nearby stream, Lucien shuffled closer to Allora and cleared his throat, catching her attention.

"Yes honey?" She asked immediately, looking up from where she was arranging their sleeping bags.

"I was wondering... that is... may I...?"

Oh fiddlesticks. He hadn't really thought how hard it might be to ask.

Allora's face was confused at first, before her eyes quickly flickered with amusement. He could feel his ears growing warm as he cleared his throat again.

"I-I would like to sleep with you tonight. If that's... I mean that is to say..."

"Sure honey," she chuckled, turning back around to what she called the 'sleeping bags'. "I'd love to cuddle tonight. Been a while since we've had a sleep over, huh?"

"Yes! Sleep over. Correct." Lucien stumbled over himself, clearing his throat again awkwardly. My, it was warm. Perhaps he'd stayed too close to the fire tonight.

Definitely not feeling awkward about sleeping next to his best friend. No sirree.

"Go on and get changed, then. I'll get in my nightgown after you." Allora offered, crawling back out of the tent.

He stiffly nodded and hurried inside, not knowing how long he had before Taliesin returned.

As he changed into his nightly attire, he peeked out of the tent to see Allora giving Inigo and Kaidan goodnight hugs, feeling soothed that she wasn't taking up any more offers to sleep next to them as well. Or at least, actively asking.

He'd been used to her wanting everyone to feel included, and thus, sharing with Kaidan and Inigo whenever they were doing something. But... at least tonight he wanted something for himself.

He stepped out of the tent and waited for her to get changed, struggling to keep himself from smiling widely. He did it! He managed to ask her for a sleep over! He was over the moon.

That quickly dropped as he saw Taliesin walking back over in the distance.

At the same time, Allora poked her head back out and smiled up at him. "Ready!"

Smiling nervously, not knowing what the Mer would do, he hurried inside and carefully laid down next to her, watching the other two pile in on their respective furs.

Allora gently pulled him closer and held him close to her chest, gently scratching and massaging his head with her nails. Stiff and bright red, Lucien couldn't figure out what to do from here.

It had been a while since they'd slept next to one another.

"You okay?" She asked quietly, pausing in her ministrations.

He let out a high pitched, 'Mhm!', remaining stock still.

But after hearing Taliesin shuffling outside of the tent, Lucien realized the Mer might try to talk the both of them out of it. Allora might mistake his nerves for discomfort and offer him an out- which would give Taliesin a chance to swoop in.

No. He needed to become comfortable.

Adjusting himself, he instead moved to lay against her stomach, wrapping his arms around her, and sighed. Hiding his face against not her chest was a lot more comfortable. For multiple reasons.

Her soft laugh came about and she resumed scratching his head in that relaxing way, carefully pulling her thick cloak over the both of them like a blanket.

And as he was almost perfectly settled, the tent flap peeled open to reveal Taliesin- who stared in surprise before it morphed into discontent.

"I cannot believe I'm being tossed to the side, merely because I needed to clean myself!" He huffed. He stuck a finger out at Lucien, scowling. "I believe you're in my spot."

"He asked first, Taliesin," Allora chided the Mer. "Maybe next time ask before you go off to bathe."

"Wh- the nerve!" Taliesin argued. "I go into dangerous caverns, nearly eaten by a skeever, and covered in only the Gods know what- to be denied my pillow?!"

"I am not your pillow," Allora muttered.

"You are often taking time with her whenever we set up camp," Lucien tacked on, willing himself not to wither under Taliesin's stare. "I asked and she accepted. I'm certain you'll be able to have your sleep over tomorrow night."

"'Sleep over,'" Taliesin rolled his eyes.

"That's what she calls it!" He argued in defense, feeling like Taliesin was mocking him.

"Fine! I suppose I'll have to go to my lumpy fur bedding-"

"There are no lumps," Allora argued monotonously.

"-Cold and alone-"

"We are right next to you," Inigo added.

"-Likely to have nightmares-"

"I'll become yer nightmare real fast if you don't shut up," Kaidan groaned, rubbing his face tiredly.

"-And only wistfully look at my friend sharing the evening with someone else," Taliesin dramatically finished, ignoring everyone.

"Jesus christ," Allora groaned above his head, leaning it back. "Fine."

"What?" He asked, popping his head up from her stomach. "But-!"

"It's just tonight sweetheart," she said, giving him an apologetic smile. "I'm really tired. And I just want to sleep."

"But I asked first!"

"And he's a whiney brat," Allora huffed, sparing Taliesin a dry glance. "Please?"

Lucien frowned. Normally he would be above arguing for the sake of helping create peace, but...

He asked fair and square.

"No. I don't think those who whine like a child should get what they ask for." He said, huffing angrily. Taliesin gasped, clutching a hand to his chest.

"A child?!"

"Yes. You're a child, who demands and demands until he gets what he wants. I won't agree to it." Lucien snubbed the Mer, settling back down and clung to Allora.

"How dare you-!"

"For the love of Christ," Allora swore, cutting him off. "I have two hands, god damn it! Just get over here! Either you both lay down next to me, or I'm sleeping by myself!"

The tent was silent as Lucien and Taliesin shrank at her threat, neither wanting to lose ground. Taliesin huffed and shuffled his fur over to theirs, quickly settling down and scooting under her cloak.

It just barely fit the three of them, with Taliesin's height. Lucien glared at the Mer against Allora's stomach as she reached around to tangle her other hand in Taliesin's dark locks.

Said Mer was glaring down at him where he was resting against her chest, just above her heart, as Allora resumed scratching Lucien's head.

Though a minor truce for now, neither Lucien nor Taliesin would forget this moment. They'd become bitter rivals for the honour of resting peacefully against Allora during the calm quiet nights.

At least until they fell asleep.

#Skyrim #Modded followers #Taliesin Skyrim #Lucien Flavius #Lucien Skyrim #Kaidan Khim #Inigo the Brave #Kaidan Skyrim #Inigo Skyrim #Allora #dragonborn oc #tesblr #tes #TESSDE AU

15 notes · View notes

adelha-mathilde · 2 months

Text

A Deadly Form of Love (Obey Me!) dark fic

content: Asmodeus comes to the aide of Adelha. The Avatar of Lust ensuring the one that harmed his beloved dragon maiden never does so again. Established relationships, angst, blood, injury, death. This fic has Asmodeus kill his enemies and go full demon dark so plz be warned ahead of time.

The cellar was dripping with blood. From the chunks of flesh still sticking to the walls to the stains of red on the ceiling as the floor ran with rivers of the liquid. Several shredded body parts scattered about as the demon walked with confident strides to the captive held there. Adelha had been crucified to the wall for her eyes to be blindfolded. Her nose bruised and bleeding for her lip to have a deep cut that was also slowly dripping down her chin. Her arms and sides looking as if someone had been filing against her scales to strip them from her body to collect. Yet the one rescuing her was gentle to remove the nails in her feet first. The nails in her hands soon removed for her rescuer to ease her shivering form to their knees. A soft cloak soon placed around Adelha's shoulders for her to lean into that lithe frame. A huff for air coming from the Fae woman for her to say, "I wasn't expecting you to show up, Asmodeus..."

The Avatar of Lust shook both hands to remove the still dripping blood from his fingertips before cradling Adelha close. His words silken yet deep to warn that Asmodeus was still in a dark mindset and mannerism. "As if I would keep a good lady waiting. If I didn't know better, I would be insulted." Asmodeus took care to open a small vial of magic healing extract and gently tip it up for Adelha to drink. His words washing against her silver white hair. "The others are hunting down the rest of the captives. Lord Diavolo gave us full permission to kill first and ask questions never. So we've been... Very busy tonight. To think some foolish demon nobles would try and eradicate so many of the Fae that moved to the Devildom like this." Adelha drank the offered healing extract to then cough a few times. Her own words pointed yet accepting. "The Fae clans would have done the same crusade as this. So I cannot complain. The Fae are a vicious species and tend to enjoy showing their power when the opportunity comes up. So this slaughter of fools would have happened regardless."

Asmodeus placed a kiss to Adelha's forehead to give a deep rumble from deep in his chest. A heat there in his voice as he speaks. "Addy. Would you be mad at me for keeping that blindfold on you? My hair and makeup are a mess. I hate to let you see me so disheveled." Adelha gave a huff of a laugh to shake her head. "I take it things got extra messy. All right. Let's pretend I was still out and didn't wake up until you get me down the street from here." Asmodeus lifts Adelha up bridal style to turn and slowly walk out of the cellar. The pause just long enough for Asmodeus to recite a spell that ignites everything in the cellar. The hungry black flames roaring to hungry life to begin consuming all. So Asmodeus waltzed out of the cellar with his precious dragon maiden to leave only ashes. By the time Lucifer caught up with them, Asmodeus had gotten his bloodlust tamped down so he was smiling sweetly. Reporting to Lucifer with that usual bubbly air and warm demeanor, "I found our favorite Dragon Vampire Fae lady! She only just came to! So I gave her that little gift Solomon helped her make last week! Would you be a dear and untie that blindfold for her, Lucifer? I'd rather not put the lady down and my nails already are cracked."

#Obey Me! Asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #Obey Me! fanfiction #Obey Me! fanfic #obey me shall we date #Obey Me! Shall We Date?#Obey Me: Shall We Date?#obey me one master to rule them all #Obey Me! One Master To Rule Them All #Obey Me: One Master To Rule Them All #Amsodeus goes full demon on his enemies #yeah Asmo's gonna need a new outfit after that lol #for the fanbase that wants more “dark” fics #here you all go enjoy Asmo on the dark side

1 note · View note

glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

I loved the Ashe, Sylvain, and Hilda modern-day HCs. So….can I ask for….Marianne, Dima, and Claude now? They’re so so good.

Here's a quick list of the places I've touched on ModernAU stuff with these characters before, for anyone who's interested! General Modern HCs (Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Claude, Dimitri) W/ insecure Reader (Marianne) Soft HCs (Dimitri)

I'll try not to repeat myself too much, but the SFW portion might be a little sparse because I've written a good deal of my thoughts on that already :3

Marianne, Dimitri, Claude x GN Reader

Modern/College AU headcanons

SFW (not sfw under the cut)

Marianne:

- Definitely a veterinary student who has an incredible, intuitive way with animals. One of those "gets along with animals better than people" types. As a result, many others in her classes see her as aloof or difficult to talk to. Fortunately, when Hilda drags her to a party one night, you notice her keeping to herself and come to make casual conversation. It takes a bit for her to open up, but she's soon grateful for pleasant, relaxing company in the midst of the loud chaos.

- She needs a good amount of reassurance in a relationship, as she's so convinced you could do better. Marianne is totally the type to apologize for not being good enough for you, then apologize for bringing it up, then apologize for apologizing. But her love and admiration for you are so very clear. She'll shyly take your hand in hers, and just the way she looks at you, it's like you're every star and every sunset she's ever seen.

- Marianne spends some of her free time volunteering at a local animal shelter, and one of your earlier dates would involve her introducing you to some of the animals in her care. Here, it's like you see a completely different side of her- she's so much more confident and firm when she speaks to the animals, and she smiles so brightly and laughs adorably as she watches you attempt to make a good impression on them.

Dimitri:

- We've chatted about Modern! Dimitri a good deal so far- but I will double down here on the fact that, while he's outwardly extremely intimidating to your friends when you first start dating, you know (and they learn) that he's absolute Malewife material.

- He loves sitting on video calls with you and just staring at your adorable, lovely face. He's an excellent listener, and will gladly hear about your entire day from start to finish, even if you insist it was nothing special. He's just so soothed by your voice, and the chance to see you. While he's honestly not very good at social media in general, he does have a couple hundred pictures of you saved. Not to post anywhere, just to look back at with a goofy grin on his face.

Claude:

- Claude is the guy on campus that everyone likes, plenty of people want, but no one can really nail down. He seems to know everyone, but he's only actually close to a few good friends, and for the longest time, even they assume that he's the "doesn't believe in serious dating" type. It starts much the same with you- he figures you're interesting and cute as hell, so he may as well spend some time having fun and getting to know you. And then... the feels TM creep in.

- You'll be caught up in a sort of... friendly flirtation with him for a while. The kind where it would be easy to play off all of the corny innuendos and knowing glances as "just kidding around." Then, one night, after a long group study session or just lazing around with drinks and games with his friends, he offers to walk you back to your dorm. When you get caught in a sudden downpour and have to duck under the nearest building's awning for shelter, he gives you a strange lingering look that's so much heavier than any you've seen. And without a word, he leans down to kiss you. When you part, he's wearing a slanted smile, but he's fidgeting a bit when he says, "Hey, uh, Y/N. I wanna be with you- for real. So uh... how 'bout it?"

- Claude is just the most fun boyfriend ever. He's got an active and curious mind, so he's always game to try anything you're interested in, and you'll never be at a loss for date ideas. He's the kind who gets okay grades, though nothing incredible, but his brilliance shines in how he latches on to new information, turning a topic around in his mind until he's seen it from every angle. It's especially charming when he asks to hear about your interests or areas of expertise- he asks all the right questions and the conversation becomes lively just about instantly.

NSFW 18 + v

Marianne:

- You're definitely her first sexual partner (she hasn't even dated seriously until you), and she's going to take a long time to get comfortable freely exploring the physical side of a relationship. She's a big cuddler, once you've assured her that you like it too- she finds it immensely soothing to rest her head on your shoulder or on your chest, just listening to your breathing and feeling you warm against her. But as for sexual affection, she'll start slow, testing things by letting her gentle hands tentatively wander just a little further than before, or deepening your kiss a little more than usual.

- Best practice with Marianne is to let her be the one to suggest or initiate things, but to respond enthusiastically when she does so she knows you're happy with it and you want her as much as she wants you. Your approval and encouragement fills her with warmth she's never felt before, and a sense of bold desire she hadn't even known she was capable of. There's plenty of communication with her- there has to be -but in a way, that becomes its own sort of eroticism. Soft murmurs of, "is this okay?", "does that feel good?", or "can you take more?" mix in with affirmative sighs and moans, turning the negotiation of comfort into a wonderful, slowly escalating path towards satisfaction.

- She's absolutely mortified by the idea of sexting or sending nudes, but if she sends you an outfit she's considering and reply with a coy "You look amazing- can't wait to take that off of you" (honestly the cheesier the better with the pickup lines- being too smooth would intimidate her)- she'll only respond with a single blushing emoji, but you bet she'll be wearing that outfit to your next date.

Dimitri:

- Everyone on campus, including your friends/roomates see Dimitri as such a pure cinnamon roll that you might be surprised to learn he has a rather healthy sex drive underneath all of that sweetness and affection. Granted, he's definitely most likely to desire you when he feels emotionally close to you- but that won't stop him from fucking you nice and deep until your bed creaks. The first time someone overhears you practically screaming out his name, rumors start spreading that your ever-devoted Malewife is actually legendary in bed. It's mostly a raunchy joke, but as far as you're concerned, they're not exactly wrong.

- He's too nervous to actually save any of the spicy pics you've sent him to his phone, but that doesn't stop him from regularly scrolling back through your message threads to find them. Masturbating to porn is fine and good, but when he can look at you biting your lip as you show off your body to him, he pumps his cock and bucks his hips against his hand until he cums far harder than he's used to. Dimitri especially gets a thrill out of the implied part of this- the fact that you wanted to flaunt yourself to him like this and made sure that he would linger on the sight of you.

- A very fun game is to comment or imply something about how good Dimitri fucks you while you're hanging out with his friends. He stammers and turns bright red when you mention how, "Oh don't you worry, Dimitri keeps me nice and satisfied, don't you babe?" with your eyebrows quirked playfully. His buddies nudge him and laugh, and as timid as he appears about it, he'll need you as soon as you're alone together, and he'll hold you extra close and pound into you a little harder than usual.

Claude:

- Alright. Claude is hot, and Claude knows he's hot, and he has no problem using this to his advantage. He'll absolutely send you gym selfies, or raunchy messages when he knows you're with friends or family. During minor disagreements or when you're pretending to be mad at him, he'll slip an arm around your waist and nibble at your ear, whispering, "C'mon babe, don't be like that..." before pulling you close and kissing you until you can't think straight.

- He absolutely doesn't care if people overhear you- in fact, he'll tease you about it, murmuring in your ear that you can't keep moaning for him like that or you'll be heard. But the fact that he's fucking into you harder and deeper as he says it tells you clearly that he wants you to cry out for him. In general, he's pretty shameless about your shared sex life if you allow him to be. He'll practically strut out of your room to clean up in just his boxers, not caring a bit if your roommates get an eyeful. He's handsy in public as well (again, depending on your comfort with it), and will absolutely grab a handful of your ass while you're on a date together, or trail his hand up your thigh during a movie.

- Claude is adventurous and open minded about sex in general, as I've mentioned a couple times. Hell, he'll even send you a porn clip or a bit of smut, along with a brief "we should try this ;)"- and he obviously loves when you do the same for him. He sees no reason to be shy with his partner about your mutual pleasure. Communicating your preferences will make sure you both enjoy yourselves, and the process of even talking about it can be pretty hot on its own.

#marianne von edmund #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #claude von riegan #marianne x reader #dimitri x reader #claude x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #feh #fire emblem headcanons #modern au #fluff and smut #fire emblem x reader #x reader

233 notes · View notes

besanii · 3 years

Text

shattered mirrors 73

[ set after #69 ]

He’s stumbling forward before he even realises he’s moving, knocking into the low desk with his foot and almost falling over if not for Lan Wangji’s steady hand around his elbow. His limbs feel like lead and his body moves as though wading upstream against a rushing river. His ears are ringing, his vision spotting at the edges, but through all of that he sees the person before him.

“A-Xian.” A sob bubbles up inside his throat at the sound of his name in her voice. “A-Xian.”

She too is stumbling towards him, arms outstretched and tears in her eyes. He wants desperately to fall into her arms, to bury himself in her embrace and let her warmth wrap around him and wash away the horrors of the last fourteen years. Pretend as though he is still Wei Ying, the ward of Yunmeng, her brother in all but name and blood, the little boy who had grown up as her second shadow.

Instead, he sinks to his knees at her feet and presses his forehead to the floor. Lan Wangji follows him to the floor, hovering protectively around him

“Your guilty subject pays respects to Gongzhu-dianxia,” he says. “I humbly beg Dianxia’s forgiveness for failing my duty to Yunmeng Jiang.”

There. He’s said it. The words that had been eating away at him all these years, the constant shadow of guilt lingering in the corner of his mind. His family had been tasked with the protection of Yunmeng and its royal family, it had been their job to gather intelligence and wield it in their defence.

He’d failed. And Yunmeng had fallen.

A strangled noise leaves Jiang Yanli’s throat.

“A-Xian, no,” she says. “No, A-Xian, there is nothing to forgive. Please, get up—”

She reaches for his hands, tugging at them to make him stand, but he remains resolutely prostrate.

“Gongzhu-dianxia, this guilty subject does not dare.”

Her hands tighten around his almost painfully for a moment before she sighs, her whole body sagging with the movement.

“You did everything you could,” she tells him. When he goes to deny it, she squeezes his hand again. “Look at me.” He reluctantly raises his head and sees her looking back at him with a tremble in the firm line of her mouth. “A-Xian, I would be dead—or perhaps worse—if not for you. You saved me.”

He presses his lips together in a hard line, his breath heavy through his nose as he struggles to keep the tears at bay.

“I could have done more,” he whispers. “I could have—”

“You did everything you could,” she repeats firmly. “A-Xian, there was nothing more you could have done. Not under those circumstances.”

A raw, wounded noise tears itself from his throat, through his tightly closed lips.

“I should have realised the reports were false,” he argues, hands twisting in the fabric of his robes. “I should have verified them personally, I—”

She takes his face between her hands, shocking him into silence.

There are new lines on her face, around her eyes and mouth, that hadn’t been there before; she’s older, he realises, and has had to fend for herself for many years. The Jiang Yanli before him now glows with health and vigour, dressed in the thick, coarse garments of the northern border tribes rather than the silks of the capital—a far cry from the sheltered princess from Yunmeng she had been in their youth. Her hands, still so small against his cheek, are rough and callused from hard labour.

“A-Xian, you did everything you could,” she repeats firmly. “It is in the past. Do not blame yourself any longer. Alright?”

He closes his eyes with a shuddering sigh.

And then he’s falling forward into Jiang Yanli’s waiting arms with an aborted cry, clutching at the back of her heavy cloak desperately. Her scent is different—the lotus blossoms replaced by something earthier and less floral—and the arms she wraps around him are stronger, the hug firmer than what he remembers. But the way her fingers run through his hair, the warmth of her body, the way she envelopes him in her embrace despite the difference in stature—there is no mistaking it. He would know it anywhere.

“Jiejie.” He’s repeating himself, over and over again, the way he has not done since they were children and it was still allowed. This is not a dream. “Jiejie, jiejie, jiejie—”

“A-Xian.” Jiang Yanli laughs, her voice thick with tears. “Oh, A-Xian, I’m so glad you’re alive. I’ve missed you so.”

He’s missed her too. There are no words to describe how much he’s missed her. So he just holds her tighter, buries his face in her shoulder as they sink to their knees in the middle of the study floor. He’s dimly aware of movement around them—the servants, perhaps, or Lan Wangji, stepping away to give them some privacy—but he doesn’t acknowledge them, overwhelmed by the fact that Jiang Yanli is here, in his arms, safe and sound after so many years.

“Fourteen years…” She pulls away, running her hands over his hair and face as she does, drinking in the sight of him. “A-Xian, you’ve lost weight.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.” He leans into the hand resting on his cheek. “You look good, Jiejie. You haven’t changed at all.”

It’s her turn to shake her head, falling so easily into their familiar banter as she admonishes him for lying.

“Nonsense. Look at me.” She sits back on her heels and raises her arms to show off the travel-worn garb beneath her heavy cloak. “I’m just a humble farmer’s wife now.”

At the word ‘wife’, Wei Wuxian is suddenly reminded they are not alone. His attention is drawn to the doorway where Jin Zixuan stands with his arm around a boy of no more than ten. Gone are the fine, embroidered silks and gilded jewels signature to the Crown Prince of Lanling. Instead, both are dressed in the same thick, northern-style robes as Jiang Yanli, both with the same broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin and matching vermilion marks between their brows. Jin Zixuan offers him a nod when their eyes meet.

“Wei Wuxian, it’s been a while.” After a moment, he hastily corrects himself and bows. “My apologies, I did not mean any disrespect. Jin Zixuan greets Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei.”

“Taizi—Jin-gongzi.” Wei Wuxian corrects himself quickly, returning his greeting with a short bow. “There is no need for such formality. It is good to see you all well.”

He is surprised to find he means it sincerely; there was no such goodwill the last time they had crossed paths, young and foolhardy as they were. But those days are long past. Gone is the spoilt young prince who had spurned the woman he regarded as a sister, buried beneath the cold ashes of a war that took everything from them in one fell swoop. This Jin Zixuan is a husband, a father, who had done the unthinkable—renouncing his claim to the throne of Lanling to search for Jiang Yanli without knowing whether or not she was even alive—and had been rewarded for his devotion.

Jiang Cheng, ah, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian thinks. I think even you would hold a bit of respect for him now.

Jin Zixuan’s eyes shift to Lan Wangji, standing silently behind Wei Wuxian, and offers a deeper bow, which Lan Wangji returns with an incline of his head. Jiang Yanli follows suit from where she is still on her knees with Wei Wuxian, bowing low at the waist.

“Jiang Yanli greets Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei,” she echoes. “Thank you for taking care of A-Xian. Yunmeng owes you a great debt.”

Before either of them can react to dispute her claim, she turns to beckon the boy—her son, Wei Wuxian’s heart leaps with realisation—closer with one hand, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of the other. She draws the boy closer, turns him to face both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji with a warm smile and a comforting hand on his back. The boy looks up at them with something akin to awe in his eyes.

“A-Ling, come and pay respects to Wangye and Wangfei,” she tells him. “They are our family’s benefactors. Without their help, we would not be here today, so we must repay this debt however we can.”

“Yes, A-Niang.” Jin Ling steps away from his mother, squaring his little shoulders in a way that reminds Wei Wuxian of his father when they had first met, trying to put on an air of importance despite his small stature; he clasps his fingers in front of his chest and performs a textbook-perfect bow from the waist. “Jin Ling pays respects to Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei.”

Wei Wuxian looks back at Lan Wangji, helpless in the face of their collective insistence, and sees the corner of Lan Wangji’s lips twitch. He sighs in defeat.

“Jin-xiao-gongzi,” he says, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Your mother’s family took me in when my parents passed, kept the roof over my head and the clothes on my back. Without them, I would not be here today. Whatever debt there is between us, let us wipe the slate clean now and start anew.”

He sees Lan Wangji incline his head in agreement, eyes soft as he holds out a hand to help him to his feet. His arm is warm and steady around his waist, his hand firm in his, holding him upright as he works to calm the storm of emotions warring within his chest. Finally, he gives the hand in his a brief squeeze and turns back to their guests with a bright smile.

“Now, let’s dispense with all this formality,” he says. “You must be tired from your journey—you must stay with us, here in Hanguang Manor. In fact, I insist upon it.”

Jiang Yanli exchanges a quick look with her husband.

“We do not wish to—” Wei Wuxian clears his throat pointedly, and Jiang Yanli falters mid-sentence, pauses and acquiesces with an amused sigh. “Then it would be impolite of us to decline such a generous offer.”

Translations

Gongzhu-dianxia (公主殿下) - Your Highness, the Princess

wangfei (王妃) - consort to the Duke, his legitimate wife/spouse

Notes

Approximately a billion years later!!!!

WWX called JYL jiejie as a child, before they got older and it was inappropriate to do so, after which he sometimes called her shijie in private, but mostly addressed her as Gongzhu-dianxia in public.

Any errors or inconsistencies will...be addressed at some point. It’s been a while and I need to revisit some things to remind myself what’s happened >_>

buy me a ko-fi!

more shattered mirrors fic | verse

#mdzs #wangxian #my writing #shattered mirrors fic #shattered mirrors au #lan wangji #wei wuxian #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #jin ling #🥢#wei wuxian arc #this got long #and i gave up trying to make it coherent #my brain is not working after the second pfizer dose

153 notes · View notes

seeyalaterinnovator · 3 years

Text

One For The Road - Alex Turner Imagine (NSFW)

Word count: 5.2K (part two to come...)

Rating: NSFW 18+!!!

Synopsis: You and Alex have been friends, but could tonight push that over the edge?

You peered into the mirror, swiping on the shiny gloss over the lipstick you had just put on, giving the subtle appearance of a pout before tossing the tube back into your purse. Nervously your hands tousled your hair which had been slightly messy from moving around throughout the night. As you analyzed your appearance you wondered what Alex thought of you tonight, and whether or not he was actually going to kiss you or if the night would get away from the two of you.

It had been two years of fighting feelings and biting your tongue each time he’d say something cheeky to you. Sure you had kissed a couple of times, but most of them were borne of whiskey fueled bravery. Tonight you weren’t sure which Alex was in your presence, respectful or brave, though you were praying for the latter. With one final adjustment of your shirt you left the sanctity of the bathroom and back out into the bar to rejoin your cohort.

“There she is.” Someone spoke as you managed to push your way back through various groups of people, claiming your place along the wall.

Your gaze wandered over to Alex who was sitting over at the table, hand wrapped around a glass of something that you hoped would be the liquid courage he needed tonight. He looked so handsome sitting there, lost in conversation with one of the others. “Here I am.” You chimed.

“This place is getting really crowded, anyone wanna pick somewhere else?” Someone asked.

You were inclined to agree. There were far too many people in this bar, you could hardly even hear what your friends were saying. Plus there wasn’t an open seat to Alex, which was the exact spot you wanted to be in. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands if you want something done. “We could go back to my place?” you suggested, knowing you had a fair amount of booze at your house to tide everyone over for the evening.

By this point Alex had invested himself into whatever you were saying, intently looking over at you. For a brief moment you locked eyes and for the first time that night you actually felt a flutter in your stomach. His gaze was so intent, a sly smile pulling at his lips. He clearly liked your idea.

“Y/n has a new place, don’t yeh?” Alex asked despite well knowing that you had moved into a new apartment a few weeks ago.

“Yeah, bit bigger. We can go back there and hang. At least we won’t be bothered..” You trailed off, everyone quickly began to close out their tabs.

The night had cooled off significantly. As you exited the bar you caught a gust of wind, sending a shiver through your body. A small, deep chuckle could be heard behind you, one from that all familiar voice. “Cold?” Alex asked, stepping closer behind you and running his hands over your arms to warm them.

“A bit chilly yeah.” You nodded. Before you knew it, Alex was pressing himself all the way to you, wrapping his strong arms around your body, sharing his body heat. His lips incredibly close to your neck, he turned his head so he could speak.

“Who’d yeh come ‘ere with?” He inquired, a calm yet suggestive tone carried his voice.

“Mallory, who looks like she is currently otherwise occupied.” Pointing toward your friend who was happily kissing her boyfriend just a few feet ahead of the two of you.

“Good,” He mused to you, “I’m takin’ y/n!” His voice got much louder as he announced to the group who were spread about over the sidewalk.

Alex led the two of you over to his car, opening the passenger door for you to slide in easily. He lingered for a moment as you stood there, impossibly close, his eyes followed your form as you slipped into the seat. He rounded the front and slipped in himself, turning the key in the ignition.

The ride had started off quiet save for some soft music that was playing in the background. Your head lolled to the side and you watched Alex as he drove, admiring the man beside you. This was the first time the two of you had truly been alone together tonight, but would it be the last?

At one point he lifted his hand from the steering wheel and you watched as he flicked through a few of the radio stations until settling on something a little more rock based. His hand paused and hovered for a moment before he casually reached over and allowed it to settle along your knee. Body slightly tense, you dared not move or flinch of fear that he’d move away. Instead you stared at his hand so gently caressing the top of your leg - it would remain there the rest of the drive. When Alex parked on your street he turned to you as if wanting to say something, but the words dried up in his mouth and instead opted to smile over at you.

“What?” You asked, curious of his sudden lack of words.

“Jus’ enjoyin the view.” He shrugged, his hand squeezing just a bit before releasing altogether.

“Cmon, let’s go inside.”

You let out a steady exhale to rid yourself of the nerves you had built up once you stood up out of the car. Not that you didn’t enjoy it immensely, but you clearly hadn’t psyched yourself up for the possibility of the brave Alex tonight. Once you rounded the corner, you began to rummage through your purse looking for your keys as you walked. That same warm presence filled the space next to you once again, this time with a steady hand to your lower back as you walked.

The gesture was small yet protective, almost possessive without being too aggressive. You swallowed thickly, telling yourself that you were only a few moments away from being able to down another drink to calm your nerves. The remainder of the walk his hand would stay glued to your lower back, and would go unnoticed by the rest of your friends.

Once upstairs you were met by a few friends who were lingering around in the hallway. Someone mumbled something about you and Alex, but you opted to ignore the comment in favor of focusing on opening the door to let everyone in.

“Sorry if it’s messy… wasn’t really planning on having company tonight.” You apologized as you swung the door open, allowing your friends to all hoard in.

Lingering around, you watched as all your friends began to settle around the living room, coats being shucked off and dumped on your spare bed. You took note of Alex’s leather jacket sitting on the bed off to the side, causing you to half wonder if he had planned on leaving earlier than the others. Everything seemed to be going well so far, at least you thought.

With a promise of drinks, you made your way off into the kitchen and rummaged around your cabinets and began to grab various bottles to set out on the counter. This moment alone allowed you to reflect on tonight thus far, and to worry about how the rest of it would go. He was here, so that was something. Alex could have easily gone home but he opted to follow you back to your place.

“Need any help?” Alex’s voice popped back into the room. He was smoothing back his hair when you looked back toward him.

“You could grab some glasses.” You suggested, pointing toward the cabinet the glasses were located. A smile had crept it’s way up to your lips, Alex had gone out of his way to seek out where you were. You had to silently scold yourself though, to stop acting like a giddy school girl and to play it cool.

The two of you met at the island in the middle, laying out different things here and there. His hand wrapped around the bottle of cinnamon whiskey as he eyed it, a devilish smirk evident in his features. “I know that look Turner, what are you up to?”

“Let’s do a shot, just us.” He said, already pouring the golden liquid into two shot glasses with a wink.

He pushed the glass toward you, a small bit spilling over the edge and onto the counter. Despite your better judgement, you took hold of the glass and clinked with his before downing the liquid down your throat. It burned on the way down and settled into your stomach, and soon that warm cozy feeling would start to take over your senses. You both chuckled as your glasses came back down onto the counter with an echoing clunk.

“Alreyh, I’m goin’ to go out for a smoke.” He announced

“I have a balcony off of my room, upstairs, second door on the right, you can go there.” You nonchalantly mentioned, though the thought of him in your bedroom made your stomach flip. “Door should be unlocked.”

“Thanks.”

Alex disappeared off and you busied yourself in making a few different drinks to bring out. You took your time, hoping that by the time you were done Alex would be back and hopefully you’d manage to plop yourself next to him again and savor whatever time you had left with him tonight. With a tray full of drinks, you made your way back into the living room and started to hand them out - quickly noticing that Alex was not back.

“I’ll be right back.” You excused yourself to make your way up the stairs quietly, heading straight for your room. You found Alex exactly where you thought, leaning over the balcony as puffs of smoke rose over his head.

He turned around once he heard shuffling behind him. To play it cool you headed over to your closet to grab a sweater, as if the whole reason you came up here wasn’t to see him. Large brown eyes blinked over at you as he settled against the balcony, this time facing you. “How’s it going?” You ask, looking over to him as you pull the cardigan over your arms.

“Good, wanna join meh?”

Without a response you shuffle over out onto the balcony next to him. He flicked his cigarette, ashes falling over the edge and flitted down to the ground slowly. You weren’t much of a smoker, at least not as much as he was, but you did partake occasionally, especially if he was offering.

“Want one?”

“Nah, I’ll just take a puff of yours.” You shook your head, taking the cigarette between your fingers and wrapped your lips around the end. Alex’s gaze fixed as you inhaled and watched the residual smoke waft around your face. Carefully you handed him back the cigarette as you exhaled, blowing to the side so that you did blow it all over him. Between this and the shot you downed earlier, you were feeling much more relaxed.

…..

When the two of you returned, all of your friends had managed to pair off with each other around your apartment. There were a few in the kitchen, some sitting along the couch, leaving you and Alex to yourselves once again. Was this fate or divine intervention?

The couch already occupied, you chose to just sit along the wall in the back and rather than finding someone else to chat with, Alex chose to follow suit and sit next to you - not that you minded one bit.

“So, working on any new music lately?” You made light conversation, though you were genuinely interested.

“Got a few things in the works. Miles and I wrote somefin’ just the other day actually.” He answered.

“Anything good?” You teased, praying he’d know it was a joke.

“It’s alreyt.” He shook his head, ever amused at your wit. “Wha’ bout yeh? Wha’s new?”

“Nothing overly exciting,” You shrugged, “Just been settling in here, work, the usual. Not all of us get to be fancy rock stars with exciting lives.”

“ ‘S not always as excitin’ as it seems, always bein’ gone. Don’t get meh wrong, I love it, jus’ wish to ‘ave a little normal sometimes.” He revealed and for the first time that night you wished you weren’t here with all these people.

“I bet, probably can’t be easy always, but nothing is.”

The conversation continued well into the night. Occasionally someone would join in the conversation and sit with the two of you before wandering off again. Gradually people would also leave, the crowd and chatter diminishing by the hour. Soon it would be just the two of you again.

At around 1am you peered over at the clock, surprised to see how late it had gotten. It was crazy how fast time flies by when you were occupied with Alex’s presence. By now there were only three people left including yourself. The last person had disappeared into the spare bedroom to grab their coat and said their quick goodbyes, stumbling out of your apartment while grumbling about having to work the next morning, leaving you and Alex officially alone together for good.

“God when did it get so late?” You groaned, looking around at the mess you still needed to clean up.

“ Not that late y/n..” He laughed, recalling nights where it wouldn’t be until 4am before he would return back to the safety of his hotel room while on tour. “How ‘bout another drink?”

You were hesitant, knowing that you probably had enough as it was, but the way his eyes pleaded made it near impossible to say no. You had half a mind to say no though, because you weren’t entirely sure that you would behave yourself given the opportunity. But there he was, standing there with that stupid sly smile and you simply couldn’t turn him away. “Alright, one more.” You sighed, motioning for him to sit on the couch while you went to pour one last round.

There was an anxious tremor that was present as you gripped onto the bottle, pouring two glasses of whiskey neat. Your stomach was in knots, but the kind that were of anticipation rather than being scared of something. Tonight had gone so well, well enough in fact that you wanted to finally share your feelings. “Here goes nothing.” you mumbled under your breath, making your way back to the living room.

When you emerged from the kitchen you found Alex lounging on the couch, seated back comfortably while he scrolled on his phone. He quickly tucked it back into his pocket though when he heard you return, happy to give you his undivided attention. You sat down, handing him the drink, fingertips brushing up against each other as you passed the glass.

You settled yourself alongside him on the couch, nestled carefully, deliberately close. You brought the glass to your lips and took a drink, knowing that it was going to be your final push over into dangerous territory. What drew your attention was the warm contact that brushed against your leg as you settled comfortably.

“I had a really good time tonight.” You mentioned, your tone happy and bright.

“Yeah me too. Been awhile since I got to spend the evenin’ with me friends.”

Friends. The word almost seemed wrong in this context. You seemed to be stuck in this zone of friends and friendlier, and you didn’t know how to get past that barrier. He wasn’t like this with all of his other female friends, and while he had a flirty streak in him, his actions tonight were far beyond flirty. Inhaling deeply, you grabbed your glass again and took a drink as your body stiffened, unsure if you had read all of his signals wrong tonight. The last thing you wanted was to make a fool of yourself.

Alex noticed the subtle change in your demeanor, and while small, he wasn’t quite sure what had happened. He stared at you for a moment, examining your eyes because he knew you all too well. “Wha’s the matter?” He asked cautiously, eyes narrowing while extending his hand out once again only this time it rested higher up on your thigh, gripping with a bruising pressure.

“You know Alex, I just can’t get a read on you. One minute you are being real handsy and cheeky, and the next you call us friends. Which is it? Because I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.” You blurt out, shocked at your own bravery. You stared at him, wide eyed, mouth slightly parted.

When he didn’t say anything right away, you knew you had blew it. Maybe you had thought all of it up in your head after all, and now you sat before him looking like a complete fool. The anxious bubble crept up your throat and in a desperate attempt to quell it, you quickly stood and began to take a few steps away from the couch. “God I’m crazy!” You sighed, rubbing your temple.

“You aren’t crazy.” He murmured, having stood himself and for the third time that night found himself pressed up against your back. Your eyes screwed shut, feeling his hand lift to push away the hair that rested along your cheek to tuck behind your ear. The tip of his finger trailed along the curve of your jaw and down your neck in a hot line, this touch burning and leaving a tingling feeling in its wake.

There was a pause before the warmth of his lips ghosted over the tender skin of your neck, finally planting firmly to press a hot - open mouthed kiss over your pulse point. Deep within your chest, your breath hitched and instinctively you tilted to the side to allow him better access. His other hand had snaked to the curve of your waist, gripping at your flesh to keep you in place. “I’ve thought ‘bout doin’ this since I met yeh.” He hummed lowly, the curve of his lip just barely brushing along the outer shell of your ear.

“Alex..” You breathed out, voice shaking.

With great ease, he spun you around in his embrace, now faces inches away from each other. His chocolate brown eyes were half lidded and glossy as they peered back down at you, something between lust and love lingering in his gaze. In order to steady yourself you placed one hand carefully on the center of his chest as you swayed in front of him, leaning into his touch.

Alex treaded lightly in his new territory. His hands were gentle as they explored around your body, places he’s touched a million times before but this time in a whole new light. One hand landed along the side of your neck and jaw, thumb grazing along the crest of your bottom lip. The other hand hung low on your hip, and as you moved, the tips of his fingers lingered dangerously along the exposed flesh as your shirt rose slightly. With the hand that was along your jaw, he tilted your head upward so that he had the perfect view of your soft features.

He leaned in, closing the gap and locked your lips together, kissing you with enough force to almost knock you off your feet. It was a deep kiss, one that you felt with a stiff ache in the knees and for a moment you weren’t sure if you were going to be able to stand anymore. Your chest pressed up against his, you wondered if he could feel how fast your heart was racing.

Once comfortable and sure that you weren’t dreaming, you began to kiss him back, bunching some of his shirt in your fist. He hummed contently against your chest, the tone vibrating against you. And for the first time ever, the two of you got lost in each other completely, forgetting about the world around you.

“Y/n.” He spoke between kisses, repeating himself until both of you were able to get a grasp on to reality. “y/n.”

“What…” You whispered.

“Should I go?” He asked, not wanting to get too carried away too fast. You dismissed the thought quickly, bringing your lips back to his, only to have him pause again. “Y/n, are yeh sure?”

“Alex I’ve waited two years for this.” you answered firmly, taking a step back so that he would really listen to you. “I’m sure.”

To solidify your statement, you reach out to grab his hand, lacing your fingers amongst his. Your palm felt clammy but your grip was sure and steady. Without another word you turned on the balls of your feet and began to lead him back toward the staircase, and he followed now sure of his position.

About hallway up the stairs he stopped in his tracks, pulling on your grip. Confused, you turn around to look back at him to see what was the matter. Nothing was wrong though, as he leaned in again to kiss you, this time with ….

“ “ave I told yeh how pretteh you are?” He drawled, taking in the sight before him.

When the two of you finally reached your bedroom you pulled him in across the threshold, not bothering to kick the door shut. It was just the two of you anyways. “I can’t believe this is happening.” You divulged, in awe that this scenario you had played in your head millions of times was actually happening this time.

“Well believe it, love.”

The gap closed once more for another kiss, bodies pressed together, fitting so nicely. Your hands wound their way into his hair, his gripping along the bottom of your blouse. He let out a muffled moan as if to ask if he could rid you of the fabric, deeming it unnecessary. A fervent nod allowed him to lift the material up and over your head to reveal a black lace bra that cradled your breasts perfectly.

The heat rose to your cheeks and down your newly exposed chest once his eyes scanned over your form. He shook his head in disbelief that he had someone so beautiful sprawled out before him. He felt incredibly lucky, and he was going to show you just how lucky he felt. The bed dipped as he hovered over you, his knee resting between your thighs, one hand on either side of your head. You stared up at him, lost in thought, noticing the bits of hair that had fallen in front of his forehead.

It wasn’t long before Alex was leaning in again, peppering kisses along your jaw in one languid motion. Lips gilded along delicate flesh carefully, giving full attention to the spots that elicited a soft moan or breathy gasp. He’d smile against you each time a little noise would slip past your lips, fully aware of the blissful state he was putting you in. There was one particular spot, the junction between jaw and neck right under your ear that you particularly enjoyed, and when he suckled at the tender flesh your hands reached out to grab at his shoulders.

You breathed in heavily, inhaling the scent that seemed more intoxicating than the liquor you had downed but an hour earlier. He smelled rich, notes of sandalwood and something along the lines of cinnamon, likely from the whiskey you took, and the remains of the cigarette you had shared. Alex soon found himself lost in the moment as he made his way down your throat, planting a hot kiss to the hollow dip in your neck before moving along to your collarbone. Swiftly, his tongue jutted out to lick a small stripe along the length of the bone before suckling at the skin once again.

Meanwhile one of his hands had crept up along to the curve of your exposed waist, gliding up to caress your ribcage, feeling the speed at which you breathed, speeding up and slowing down with the pace of his ministrations. The thrill of it all was exciting and new, but he wanted to savor this moment for as long as he possibly could - needing to make up for lost time.

“Alex...” You pleaded.

“I know.” He whispered like a vow against your skin, a hushed promise that he would care for you.

As you squirmed underneath his body, he continued at his leisured pace, this time nosing at your sternum. He loved to take his time, building anticipation as he worked you over lovingly. Occasionally his hand would slip along your thigh, kneading the muscle and grabbing, inching ever higher until his fingers lingered around the waistband of your jeans. Pausing to peer up at you through thick eyelashes, he waited for a green light.

Your nod wasn’t enough, he wanted to hear your voice, strained and needy, breaking as you begged for him.

“Are yeh sure?” He asked, his voice husky yet sure as he looked for any hint of hesitation on your face.

“Please..” The single word dripped from your mouth like honey, thick and golden, desperate and ready, and it was more than enough to reassure him that you were ready.

His fingers made quick work of the button of your jeans before starting to pull the fabric down your legs. To help, you lifted your hips to allow the fabric to slide down your thighs, revealing more expansive flesh for him to grab and admire. A low groan echoed in his chest as he looked you over, pulling back so that he could pull the fabric all the way off and discard to the floor. “Look at yeh.” He breathed out.

Your giggle echoed through the room when he wrapped a hand around your ankle, bringing his lips to the inside and made his way in a line of kisses all the way up to the inside of your thigh. You watched intently, finding it increasingly hard to remain still as he worked his way closer and closer to where you craved his touch. He stopped a few inches away from your hip to move back to your tummy, kissing the flesh just above the hem of your underwear.

A curved knuckle brushed down along your clothed core with just enough pressure to cause you to jump at the friction. He noted how wet the fabric was as his finger stroked back up and down, only fueling his desire to make you feel good. “All this for meh?”

You nodded fervently, wiggling your hips to try and get the slightest bit of pressure to satiate the burning feeling growing between your legs. “Yes all for you Alex. Only you.”

Leaning down once again, he slipped two fingers inside the fabric of your underwear and pressed them against your core. You let a breathy gasp slip, your hips adjusting to the new friction. “Relax for meh, princess.” He spoke in a low tone, staring up at you from between your legs.

It seemed a near impossible task, ‘relaxing’, when Alex was happily making a home nestled between your thighs. This was something you had played over and over, thinking about, dreaming about, not that you’d ever thought it would become a reality. You blinked up at the ceiling, half dazed the other half of you on edge from the way his fingers would brush over you with just enough pressure to electrify your skin.

You craved more. More pressure, more touching, more friction, more of him. “Al…” You whined, words drawn out long as you fought the urge to scoot your hips down against his hand. He noticed the small twitches, the slight tilt of your hips and retracted his hand away from your core, leaving you a whining mess. “Now, now… wha’ did I say?” He tutted, hand lightly tapping around the outside of your thigh twice.

“Relax.” You huffed in response, making it a point to take a deep breath in and out, willing your muscles to relax a bit. As you did this, his fingers curled around the fabric of your underwear, dragging the fabric down your legs and dropping them on the floor, leaving you open and exposed.

“Good girl.” His head dipped down, first pressing a light kiss to the divet where your hip met your tummy, then moving to hover over your core. His tongue licks languidly over your entrance, lapping over you. The warmth his mouth provided, along with the newfound pressure had your hands clutching at the sheets desperately.

This went on, the back and forth of tongues and fingers until you started to squirm more underneath him, wiggling around on the sheets as your muscles began to tremble and quake. The pit of your stomach burned and fluttered at the same time, tensing with each stroke against your clit.

“I,” You panted, chest rising up and down quickly, “Alex I’m close…” You tried to focus your breathing. Your whole body felt warm, a warmth that radiated from deep within you.

“Go on then, let go for meh.” He continued to rub his thumb in tight circles while his two fingers pumped in and out of you, curling and pushing to try and coax you over the edge.

A tight feeling deep in your stomach finally gave way, like a dam had finally let loose and the floodgates were the shockwave of your orgasm. You felt like you were floating through the air, warmth spreading through your veins as you rode out the euphoria. The edges of your vision blurred until your eyes screwed shut in pleasure. He continued to place a steady pressure against you, helping you through the height of it and safely back down into the present moment.

“Good girl.” He marveled, almost at a loss for words at how perfect it all was.

Your mind grew less fuzzy, but your body was still charged with an electric buzz. His hand connected with your thigh again, rubbing gentle lines up and down as you grew more aware of your surroundings, a sappy smile beaming up at Alex.

“Wow.” You said, rolling over slightly to face him better. You bit on the inside of your cheek as you propped yourself up on your elbows, eyeing his belt before reaching out to tug on it. He made no effort to stop you, watching as you began to undo his pants as he had done for you before, standing so that he could step out of them.

Adjusting yourself, there was a deep burning in the muscle of your inner thighs as you positioned yourself to sit along the edge of the bed. You brought your lips to his abdomen, kissing along the crease of his hip. “Are you going to fuck me?” You asked, feigning an innocent glint in your eyes as you looked up at him.

Tenderly his hand came to smoothing back the hair that had fallen in front of your face, revealing rosy cheeks and a longing look. He stopped only to cradle the back of your head, looking down at you with a loving gaze. “Only if tha’s wha yeh want.”

“I want nothing more.” You blinked up at him, leaning in to press your own lips to his hip.

(to be continued)

Author’s note: LORD this got long... thus the need to put it in two parts... Make yall wait for more smut muahahah! I kinda feel like this jumped around a lot, so I”M SORRY! BUt please enjoy my loves. I know I did.

#alex turner #alex turner imagine #alex turner one shot #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #fandom #smut #am period #am #arctic monkeys imagine #alex turner fan fic #smutty

539 notes · View notes

marvellovegalore · 3 years

Text

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

Part 3 -

234 notes · View notes

shotokimchi · 3 years

Text

Décapante

Pairing: Bakugo x F!Reader

Summary: After getting dragged to one of the most popular strip clubs in the town by his friends, a unique performer catches the ash blonde's attention. What about his feelings though?

Warnings: Aged up characters Bakugo's in his early 20s, Smuttish (READER IS A STRIPPER WHAT DID U EXPECT hUh?)

credits to the GIF's owner / feedback and reblogs appreciated cuz I'm insecure about my writing shalala~

You can listen to these when reading:

Doja Cat - Streets (Silhouette Remix)

Confident - Justin Bieber (feat. Chance The Rapper) (slowed + lyrics)

The warm night breeze that smelled like smoke filled Bakugo's lungs, he was having a difficult time because of his hero duties. He wasn't complaining he still had a long way to go but sleepless nights filled with paperwork wasn't really fun, so one of his friends (Mina) suggested to go out as a group and have some fun, his attempt to decline the offer was blocked by the social butterfly of the group 'Eijiro' so thats why he was in a white shirt and black ripped jeans right now, waiting in the line with his friends to get into the club.

"Ahhh yes, finally we're gonna have some fun as a group!" Mina chimed while bouncing on her high heels while Denki eyed some pretty girls drooling like a puppy. Eijiro confirmed her statement with a nod, Sero turned towards the blonde and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "It's been a while since this asocial individual accepted to hang out with us." Bakugo sneered at his friend's words and freed himself from Sero's arm. "That's how you achieve things tape arms, by working really hard." Denki rolled his eyes and the bouncer's strong voice caught their attention. "You guys have a reservation?" Bakugo raised a brow "The hell, is this a fancy restaurant or what?" Before the bouncer could say something Mina interrupted "Ah yes we do actually! It should be under the name of Ashido." The bouncer hummed while checking the list and show a small smile "Mrs.Ashido and her friends, you may pass." She quickly linked her arm with Kirishima's and called out to the other three "Come on guys!" Mina led them upstairs and all of them looked at her confused "You look like you know this place Mina." Denki said and she winked "Actually my friend is a performer here and we sometimes come here to watch the male strippers with the girls." Kirishima choked on air and Denki's loud 'Haaaaah?!" echoed through the walls of the club. "Girls?! As in Momo, Uraraka and the others right?" Sero asked and Mina nodded, Bakugo listened to their conversation with a neutral expression. "Ooohh~ I've never thought that the girls would be this naughty." Denki smirked and Kirishima sighed "They're adults y'know?" They sat down at a large table, the dark stage was visible from the balcony, the view was good, a waitress came to take their orders and Mina made quick conversation with her "Is Y/n gonna be performing tonight?" The waitress smiled and nodded. Mina rubbed her hands together with a mischievous look on her face then she turned to face Bakugo "Get ready bestie because you're gonna have the time of your life!" Only to be met with a signature scowl but she waved it off "She'll wipe that scowl on your face~" Just then the dark stage lit up with dim lights and a charming woman silhouette appeared, grabbing the pole with her experienced fingers she twisted and bent her body just the way everybody liked. "Yeeeeess that's my girl!" Mina cheered loudly and sipped her drink "Wow" Denki whispered, eyes wide with amazement. Kirishima tried to seem unfazed but failed miserably when Y/n started to spin with the help of the pole and let out a breathy gasp. Bakugo's hand gripped his drink with a little bit of force than before, he wasn't affected much compared to his friends but the way she moved was smooth and addicting to watch. People down there started throwing cash towards the beautiful woman, Mina's golden eyes looked at her blonde friend, eyes sharp and concentration gathered towards the performer, he was watching her perform without missing a single move of hers. Then the performer slowly raised her head and for a second the blond thought they made eye contact, he leaned forwards placing his elbows on his knees and intertwining his fingers together.

The performer grabbed the pole and turned towards the audience while using her curves to attract many looks from the crowd, then she kneeled and arched her back while crawling like a tiger ready to hunt her prey. Getting on her elbows and raising her body to the air, she spread her legs and earned some whistles and more cash; performing wasn't just about spinning around the pole and climbing on it, it was using the body to the fullest. Her charm was the way she presented her body to her audience that's why people usually crowded her side of the club. While her performer friends played with the poles for their main performances, she used the pole as an opening and used her body for the main show.

Bakugo was enjoying the show, to say the least but he wasn't gonna make it obvious to his friends. He waited for the performer to raise her head and lock eyes with him again, then the music started to slow down and the dim lights get brighter, she raised her head and now her face was visible to the whole crowd. Her make-up was professionally done, eyes shiny and lashes dark painted with mascara, peachy lips waiting to be claimed. She blew a kiss and got off the stage walking seductively then the employees got on the stage to collect the cash.

"Hey Mina, did you enjoy the show?" The pink girl's face lit up when she heard the familiar voice of her friend. "To say that I was enjoying it is an understatement, you were amazing as always Y/n!" Y/n gave her a smile and eyed the table, observing the guys head to toe but her eyes rested on the blonde's figure longer compared to the others. "We want a private show!" Denki raised his glass, his tipsy behavior showing itself. Y/n nodded and motioned Mina to open some space for her then she took a seat and ordered a glass of alcohol "Aren't you gonna introduce your friends to me Mina?" Y/n faked a pout and Mina linked her arm with hers "Of course baby!"

Y/n POV

"This is Bakugo, he's a work addict but we managed to drag him here tonight." Bakugo clicked his tongue and continued to sip his drink, your eyes followed his plump lips, glistening with lip balm. "Oh, really?" You raised a brow teasingly and waited for him to say something, he was the quietest one out of these four but his eyes were wandering on you for quite a long time. "I don't know why he's like this Mrs.Y/n he's usually either screaming or blowing up things." Denki said while doing fake explosion effects with his hands. You nodded "I saw him on TV he is quite popular nowadays, saving people and fighting villains that's impressive Bakugo." He smirked and rolled his eyes "These dumb fuckers think success comes while having fun." You supported his statement with your own words "I'm not a hero like you but being a stripper contains long hours of workout and practice, that's why I'm well known today." Mina rubbed her cheek on yours "Y/n is a really popular performer she even performed for some governors and celebrities!" you escaped from her hold and smiled "Ah you're flattering me too much, aren't you guys celebrities too I'm lucky to be performing for you guys." Kirishima wiped his invisible tears "Damn that was smooth and kind at the same time." You smiled at him and turned towards Bakugo giving him a playful look, you got up and walked towards his side of the table, motioning him to scoot over. "For a person who liked my performance, you are pretty silent." His ruby eyes met with yours and he smirked "It was okay." Your brow twitched and you cleared your throat getting Mina's attention then motioning Bakugo with your eyes, luckily she got the message and start insisting the others to get up and dance. Poor guys, in the end they followed her into the crowd and you were alone with Bakugo, grabbing his drink from his hand and putting it on the table "He-" Before he could say something you straddled his lap. "It was just okay?" You grabbed his chin and pushed yourself up with your knees, his eyes got blurry and he looked at you silently. "What?" You giggled, he was distracted by your closeness "My performance, was it really just 'okay'?" Then you grabbed his hands and guided them to your waist. A growl was heard from his throat and a smirk appeared on his lips "It was alright." If there's something you like, it was praise and when people teased you about your profession you either got ambitious or frustrated. "Oh really? Then..." You stopped your movements and comfortably sat on his lap, he let out a sound of protest and grabbed your thighs trying to make you grind yourself on him again. Your hands clutched his wrists "Stop." You got off his lap and his eyes slightly widened, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer, whispering in his ear "If you think that I'm gonna fuck you here, you are so wrong." A competitive look clouded his face "Who's fucking who?" You nibbled at his ear and he tensed, the heat of his skin was hard to ignore. "You either wait for me to finish my work or leave this club." His eyes narrowed and a dangerous look appeared on his handsome features, "Not going anywhere, no running away got it?" You nodded then bit his bottom lip with your teeth and murmured "See ya later." Just then his friends appeared in front of him and Denki pointed at his face "Dude you have some lipstick on your face." He panicked and aggressively tried to wipe it off, Mina giggled and looked behind her seeing you walking down the stairs while a smile appeared on her pink lips.

People left one by one some of them were drunk and some of them were sober but it didn't matter for Bakugo, the more of them left the more his smile grew. Mina looked at his friends and saw Denki snoring while resting his head on the table, Sero was having his nth shot and Kirishima was punching the wall completely drunk, he turned towards the blonde and smiled "I'm taking these messes home, night Bakugo." He acknowledged her with a nod and continued to sip the sparkled water in order to stay awake. His friends left then he waited some more, he tossed his head back and let out a bored sigh "Wow, I didn't think you'd wait." His eyes shot open and looked at her form, she was wearing dark leather jeans with a black crop top. Grabbing his hands enthusiastically she dragged him out of the club, then started to walk at the streets while holding one of his hands surprisingly Bakugo was too occupied by eyeing her form to shake her hand off. She turned her head and their eyes met, she smiled and he just looked at her with a haze in his eyes.

"This is yours?" He looked at the decent looking black car, you nodded and got in he quickly followed and they both fastened their seatbelts. He continued the examine the car and you giggled "If you work hard this job pays very well." He hummed and stared at the road, 20 minutes ago he was trembling with heat and lust but now he just wanted to know about her, since they were going to her house. Bakugo wasn't really into one-night stands he liked a serious relationship but since he didn't want a relationship and had his needs this was gonna be one of those fuck and leave kind of nights. "When did you start performing?" He asked genuinely, you turned towards the ash-blonde and saw him looking outside the window "You don't need to hesitate Bakugo, actually i studied engineering." He choked on air and looked at the woman, why didn't you get a stable job and decided to get into the nightlife? Bakugo didn't have any experience when it came to engineering but he knew that you needed high scores to study it. "So you were a nerd?" He asked and you let out a genuine laugh "You can say that." You looked at his features they were more relaxed compared to the second he got into the car. "After graduating from the university I got bored and dancing was one of the things that I liked the most, I liked the attention the way my body moved it felt amazing." He hummed while listening paying attention to your words "I am pretty curious about your job too but since you wanted to get away from it by going out tonight we should save this work talk for later." He raised a brow and gave a surprised look, the fact that you were being thoughtful left a good impression on him.

The car stopped in front of three huge buildings "Come on, or I'm leaving you here." you joked and he clicked his tongue "I didn't wait at the club for 30 minutes just for you to leave me here." You led him to your apartment and his eyes sparkled with curiosity this was a foreign territory. "Want anything to drink?" He shook his head and made a move to sit on the couch but your arms around his waist alerted him "You waited pretty long right? He let you lead him towards your bedroom, it was pretty big for a single person the bed was huge. "Don't worry I don't bring my clients here, it's my personal room." You touched his belt and started to undo it "Should i feel special then?" He asked with his husky voice "Well, if you wanna think that way." He huffed and you giggled. You pushed him onto the bed and got on top just like you did at the club "You know what, you should feel special because you're gonna get a private show for free." A mischievous grin appeared on the man's face and he grabbed your thighs, you placed your hands on his "My clients cant touch me but since you're special..." You tore his shirt off and attached your lips to his collarbone while your hands massaged his nipples, which earned you sighs filled with pleasure from him "Get ready Bakugo because we're gonna have a long night." Just when you were about to attack his neck his hand slightly pushed your tummy "Katsuki." He corrected you and you nodded with a small smile.

After your steamy night with Bakugo, he become a regular and joined his friends' nightly outings, he even bought VIP tickets and paid for your private shows. There were many strippers in the club but his eyes were on you and only you, when you finished performing you would pay their table a visit and he wouldn't let you leave, pulling you closer to him or ordering drink after drink your boss was complainant about it but he couldn't do anything because he was a pro hero and he was paying well, you weren't complaining talking with him was actually relaxing because even though he looked cold or harsh he was a good listener and he cared about the things you told him. Sometimes he came alone because of his loud friends and when they came as a group Mina would always eye you both from the other end of the table and shot you a wink. Bakugo was different from your other clients, he wasn't hiding his feelings, if he didn't like it or loved it he was always open about it but lately, you knew something was different. The way he looked at you, the way he joked around and flirted more openly there was a single answer explaining the change in his demeanor... He got a crush on you. You weren't sad or uncomfortable it was the opposite but dating a stripper wasn't a thing to be honored about if you accepted his feelings that meant spending the night cuddling together or laying in the same bed and you couldn't give him that. You didn't want him to sleep in the cold bed alone, waiting for you to come home, or you didn't wanted to dance on someone else's lap while you actually belonged to him, that's why you refused to acknowledge his feelings and continued to act like a dense and horny stripper.

It was a regular night, Bakugo took his usual seat and waited for you to appear on the stage. Lately, you were on his mind a lot and even though he knew the reason acting like it wasn't there was the best option, he was busy with work and had goals and by the looks of it you were just as busy as him. Plus, what would you tell him, would you even look at him, would you accept his feelings or shame him cuz he likes a stripper? He didn't know, he wasn't a coward when it came to villains or disasters but when it came to his feelings yes, he was a coward. His thought got interrupted by the click of high heels, he raised his head and saw the person he was itching to see, you. "I thought you were performing tonight?" He asked with a neutral expression and just when he was about to scoot over you grabbed his shoulders and plopped yourself on his lap "I came to see my favorite client." Then started to leave butterfly kisses on his face, he sighed with content; this wasn't lust, it was filled with care and longing. It felt like he came home after a long day filled with work to be welcomed by you and your warmth, he opened his eyes and saw you admiring his features with a small smile on your lips, it was now or never, he didn't care about your answer he didn't want to have any 'what if's or regrets in the future so his ruby eyes found yours and... "Y/n, got a minute to talk?"

A/N: ARRGHHH I'M SORRY THIS IS LIKE- RLLY BAD I HAVEN'T EVEN EDITED IT JUST STR8 UP POSTED IT SO IM SRRY IF I HAVE MISTAKES I'LL FIX THEM LATER. Anyways uuuh reblogs and feedbacks r appreciated teehe<3

248 notes · View notes

antariies · 3 years

Text

Visions of the Past: The Departing

Summary: The Commander never told Braham about their first death at the hands of Balthazar. Years later, he finds out in the worst way possible.

Characters: Pact Commander, Braham, Aurene, Balthazar

Notes: Commander’s POV (2nd-person); set before Jormag Rising; fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; 5.6k words, CW: blood, gore, character death, anxiety attack; the departing is and will always be one of my favorite instances and it sucks that we never got an emotional confrontation about it between braham and the commander. hope i did it justice. enjoy!

—

“Commander, can I use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” Braham asks one day, apropos of nothing, sliding into the seat across from you.

You slam your glass of water back down onto the table with a loud smack, screwing your eyes shut and leaning forward as you choke on your drink. After a few seconds of intense coughing and waving away Braham’s apologies, you finally clear your throat enough to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, squinting at him in confusion, “you want to… what?”

“Uh, use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Only with your permission, of course.”

“…Ah,” you nod slowly, letting the question fully sink in. You bring the glass of water to your lips again as you search for the right words. “That’s…”

A complete and total invasion of my privacy, your mind supplies helpfully.

“...a strange request,” you mutter into the cup. The only thing stopping you from shutting him down on the spot is the fact that it’s Braham. He wouldn’t ask this of you without a damn good reason. “And you want to see them because…?”

At this, Braham lights up, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what the lost Spirits said. About how I need to be a better leader if I’m going to beat Jormag, y’know? So I figured, since you’re the best leader I know-”

You can’t help the fond eye roll you give him.

“-if I got to experience some of your memories, then maybe I could learn from them,” he finishes, nodding once in determination.

“It’s definitely an unconventional way of learning,” you remark coolly, resting your chin on your hand as you level an even, challenging stare at him. You’ve cowed countless soldiers and politicians with this look alone, honed to terrifying perfection over the years.

Undaunted, Braham sets his jaw and meets your gaze dead on. “I know nothing can replace first-hand experience, but I think this would be a good way for me to practice without, uh,” his eyes flicker down for just a moment and he swallows hard. “Without the risk.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that, but you don’t miss the way he absently fiddles with something small and wooden in his free hand and-

Oh, you think, recognizing it and finally understanding. Oh.

It’s been months, but the memory of your first day in Bjora Marches stays fresh in your mind.

It had been freezing cold in the barracks of Jora’s Keep when you and Braham had gotten locked in, but the ice that froze in your veins when you watched him stumble upon the mangled body of his former guildmate was colder still.

“Alva,” he’d whispered, stricken with grief as he sank to his knees beside her body.

“I’m sorry, Braham.” The words sat like ash on your tongue, tasting the same as the first time you had ever offered your condolences and every time after that. You never really got used to it.

“Garm… used to rest his head in her lap.” Braham had pulled her head into his lap then, smoothing her hair out of her face with the utmost care. You turned away to give him as much privacy you could, but the dead silence in the barracks meant you heard every hitched breath and muttered prayer to the Spirits. When he returned to your side after a few minutes, he was clutching a small wooden figurine.

“It’s Wolf,” he explained softly when he caught you looking, “Alva made one for each of us, but I gave mine back when I left, I… I had no idea she’d kept it all this time…”

He carries it everywhere now: a constant, physical reminder of his failures as a leader and as a friend.

You know the feeling all too well.

Unbidden, an acrid tidal wave of bitter jealousy swells up inside you. It’s not fair. You never had the chance to practice leadership because you were thrust into your rank, your title, in the middle of a war. You had no one to guide you. Every lesson you learned was written in blood and people paid for your mistakes with their lives.

The wave reaches a roaring apex, then swiftly crashes and breaks against the rocks of your guilt and better judgement.

It’s not his fault, you tell yourself, that you were given the short end of the stick. If you had had the opportunity to practice, to learn from someone else’s mistakes without risking the lives of anyone under your command, wouldn’t you have taken it too?

Of course, you think, picturing the Pact Memorial that still stands in Caer Aval to this day, of course I would have.

“Of course,” you say, gaze and voice gentle, “I think that’s a great idea, Braham.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting- wait, what? Really?” He stares at you incredulously, the beginnings of a disbelieving grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I honestly didn’t think you would say yes so-”

“Well, now that you mention it,” you start mildly, before stifling a snort and shaking your head in amusement as he scrambles to retract his words. “Yes, Braham, I’m sure. C’mon, let’s go before I actually start having second thoughts.”

As he helps you clean up the remains of your lunch, you can’t stop your mind from dredging up every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in the past eight years. You shut your eyes in a fruitless attempt at blocking out the memories, a long-suffering sigh trapped in your lungs.

It’s okay, you reassure yourself, you’ll be in control of the memories you show him. What could go wrong?

“Hey, Aurene- oh. She’s not here.” Braham says, stopping at the entrance of Aurene’s lair.

You walk past him, a smile stretching across your face as you look around the room. It teems with plant life. Curtains of ivy hang from the tops of the room’s arches while giant Maguuma lilies and dozens of other flowers grow out of cracks in the floor, reaching toward the sunbeams that stream in from the open skylight. Clusters of Aurene’s iridescent Brand crystals cover the walls, filling in the holes left by years of neglect.

In the middle of the room, the Scrying Pool gives off a faint light of its own, its waters swirling lazily as you approach. The spot where Aurene normally sits is vacant, though, just like Braham said. Closing your eyes, you reach out to the bond you share with her. It hums at the edge of your consciousness, quiet and comfortable when you’re not actively talking to her. You give the slightest tug.

‘Just checking in. Where are you?’

A few moments later, a familiar sight flashes in your mind. A vast stormy sky, filled with blue-tinted thunderclouds and stretching as far as the eye can see. The Mists.

Then, Aurene’s voice in your head, clear as day. ‘Trying to figure out what Jormag is up to. So far… I still have no idea.’

“Are you talking to Aurene?” Braham asks. You nod. “Tell her I said hi!”

‘Braham says hi.’ you relay.

‘Hello, Braham!’

‘Alright, we’ll let you get back to it.’ You smile inwardly, a rush of affection warming your chest. ‘Be safe. I love you.’

‘Love you too, Champion.’ Aurene croons happily in your head.

“Aurene says hello,” you say, opening your eyes. “She’s keeping an eye out for Jormag in the Mists right now. I don’t think she’ll be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Braham says, slight disappointment coloring his tone, “Does that mean we can’t use the pool?”

“I’m not sure. Wouldn’t hurt to try, though,” you answer, walking over to it. Kneeling as close to the edge as you dare, you lean over to look into the waters. Your reflection wobbles with every ripple from the pool’s constant, self-sustained swirling and you study your distorted face until you catch some movement above your mirrored shoulder that doesn’t seem to be from the pool.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn lightly, tossing a flat, unimpressed glare over your own shoulder.

Braham, to his credit, looks sorry for maybe half a second before grinning in a way that is decidedly far from it. Still, he concedes and backs away from you with his hands slightly up in surrender. “Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I would never,” you lie, turning back to the pool so he doesn’t see your smile. You make a note to push him into it at the first chance you get. “I’ve used the Scrying Pool a few times now and I can tell you that it’s way easier to view your own memories rather than someone else’s. Feels different too.”

When you first used the Scrying Pool to view Ryland’s memories, it wasn’t anything like Kas’ glamour during the All-Legion Rally. You weren’t just wearing his face and spectating from inside his head, you were Ryland. You felt everything, including his thoughts and his emotions, as if they were your own. It had felt so real that after waking up, it took a few seconds for you to realize that you weren’t him. Aurene had to calm you down as you scrambled around for a flamesaw that was never yours and shouted for a warband you were never a part of.

You can only imagine the state you would have woken up in if you had overstayed your welcome in Ryland’s memories.

It was different with yours, though. Those were easier to fall into, like slipping into a dream, and you always woke up from those with complete clarity.

Speaking of your own memories…

“I think I know the perfect one to start with,” you say, dipping a hand into the pool and focusing on a memory you’ve already used it for. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to access a memory without Aurene here, never mind control it. You don’t even know if two people can go in together, or whose body Braham would end up in. So you start off easy. Something you both remember. The leather of Braham’s armor creaks as he settles down next to you and does the same. He watches on in awed silence as the water glows brighter, swirling faster and faster until a small whirlpool forms in the center and pulls at the lily pads closest to it.

A familiar darkness crowds the edge of your vision and you let yourself fall backwards into the memory.

It’s not hard to spot Braham when his blood-red hair contrasts so starkly against the bright, white snow that covers the land and comes down heavy from the sky.

That, and he’s also waving at you from where he stands outside the gates of Cragstead.

“Hey!” he greets once you’re in earshot, shouting over the wind, “Hey, thanks for coming.”

You glance around. “Just us, huh?”

Braham grimaces. “You heard what Brimstone and Whitebear said. I tried sending out notices too, but…” he shakes his head, determination hardening his features. “Nevermind that, we have to go. My friends are in there.”

Turning your eyes upwards, you catch sight of billowing plumes of dark smoke as they start to pour into the sky. A strong gust brings the stench downwind and both you and Braham wrinkle your noses in distaste at the same time.

“No time to waste,” you nod. “Let’s go.”

You tighten your grip on your weapons and follow closely behind Braham as he leads you through the driving snow to the heart of Cragstead, cutting a path through the strange alliance of Flame legion and dredge along the way.

This is an evacuation mission, first and foremost, you remind yourself. Your gaze sweeps over the empty lodges and homesteads, searching for people. It’s not so different from the evacuation missions you used to do with your order when Zhaitan was still alive and a threat, its Risen minions encroaching further and further into the homes of Tyria’s minor races.

You find the villagers soon enough, all rounded up into small groups in the center of the town and trapped inside shimmering domes of fire magic. An equal number of charr and dredge guard each dome, their mechanical weapons whirring and spitting the occasional flame.

Braham growls at the sight and hefts his mace, rolling his shoulders in anticipation.

“Wait,” you caution, throwing an arm out to stop him from charging in. “We can’t just rush in. We’re way outnumbered.”

“We took care of those other guys just fine,” he argues.

“Those were just stragglers we picked off,” you gesture at the domes scattered around. “Here? There’s a dozen of them and only two of us. We can’t take them all in an open fight-”

Braham makes a frustrated noise and you hold up your hand.

“-which is why we switch tactics,” you finish, flashing a sharp grin at him. “They haven’t noticed us yet. Here’s the plan.”

The thing is, you’re no stranger to being outnumbered. Your entire time in Orr was spent leading handfuls of people on high risk, high reward missions, after all. It was kind of your specialty.

So it’s with practiced ease and calm authority that you explain your plan now, laying out a classic divide-and-conquer strategy that’s gotten you and your small squads through countless skirmishes against all odds.

It’s a flawless ambush, all things considered.

You and Braham hit them hard and quick, fighting in tandem as you push the offensive and give them no time to react or warn their allies before you cut them down. And with the help of his protective guardian magic, you two manage to free everyone without a single casualty.

“Where are the others?” Braham asks immediately as he helps an older man to his feet.

Despite his clearly injured arm, the man pulls him into a quick hug before answering. “They were chased up the mountain, to the shrine. I wasn’t- I wasn’t fast enough…”

“It’s okay, Haslo, I’ll go. Will you be-”

“We’ll be fine, thanks to you.” Haslo claps him on the back. “You and your friend be careful!”

When Braham looks over at you, you nod. Of course I’m coming with you.

The trip up to the shrine is shorter than you expected, but you think that might have something to do with the lack of flaming charr or dredge along the way. That only puts you more on edge and you ready your weapons, wary.

You don’t hesitate for a second at the entrance of the cave, charging in to catch the massive Flame legion charr and his grunts off guard. You’ve only known Braham for a few days and fought alongside him for less, but you two fall into a steady rhythm almost instantly, barely having to exchange words. You make quick work of the goons, letting him take care of the hulking charr. Braham doesn’t even let him get a taunt out, stunning him with a shield bash before swinging his mace into the charr’s snout with a brutal, deadly uppercut, spraying blood across the cavern walls.

With the threat taken care of for the time being, you and Braham free the rest of the villagers and escort them down the mountain, dispatching any stray Flame legion or dredge who tried to escape in all the chaos. While there weren’t any casualties, fortunately, there are still plenty injured, so while he talks to some of the other villagers, you help tend to the wounded as best you can. They have a long walk to Hoelbrak ahead of them, and you don’t envy them the trip.

You’re tying off a bandage when you hear him call your name.

“There you are,” he says, stopping in front of you. “Hey, thanks for everything. Really, I mean, I don’t know if things would’ve turned out as well as they did if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Glad I could help,” you say, tilting your head at him. “What are you going to do now?”

“After we get everyone to Hoelbrak, I’m gonna find out where all these Flame legion and dredge are holed up so we can track them down.” He pauses, then rubs the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Uh, that is, if you still wanna come along…?”

You smile and cross your arms. “Guess I’ll see you soon, then?”

The pleased grin Braham gives you is warmer than any hearth and twice as bright.

“See you soon!”

“Oh no,” Braham mutters, the first thing you hear as you blink away the last of the memory. “Oh, Spirits, noooo.”

“Something wrong?” you ask, keeping your voice light even as you eye him up and down in concern. It was his first time using the Scrying Pool, after all. Had it affected him differently?

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, I just… I just can’t believe I used to wear my hair like that.”

You keep a straight face for an admirable three whole seconds before bursting into snickers. When Braham groans and buries his face in his hands, you only laugh harder.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, smiling, “I thought it suited you.”

He glowers at you. “You’re just saying that.”

You make a non-committal noise and wiggle your hand in a “so-so” gesture. He groans again, falling backwards onto the floor.

“That was really cool,” he says after a while, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. “Being in your head, I mean. I felt so… in control the whole time. Like I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Leaning backwards on your hands, you tip your head back and close your eyes. “You were impatient—well, you still kind of are—but you handled yourself better than some soldiers twice your age. And you’ve only gotten better since then. Give yourself a little more credit, Braham.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him flush at the praise, sitting up abruptly.

“Thanks,” he coughs into his fist, fighting a grin. “So, uh, any more memories you feel like sharing?”

You hum. “Several, actually. Ready to go again?”

You, grabbing the handles of a cannon with both hands and holding on for dear life as The Glory of Tyria lurches to the side, sending Destiny’s Edge, Pact soldiers, and Risen alike sprawling flat on the deck. When the airship finally rights itself, you waste no time, bracing your shoulder against the cannon and shoving hard until you have Zhaitan directly in its sights. The Elder Dragon is on the verge of death, pieces of its own body sloughing off itself as it clings desperately to the side of the tower. You take a deep, steadying breath and fire.

You, the only thing standing in between a crowd of fleeing civilians and a swarm of cutthroat Aetherblade pirates as they drop down from their airships. Lion’s Arch can be rebuilt, but lives can’t be replaced. You do a quick headcount, zero in on the weakest-looking one, and leap into the fray.

You, tracking down your teammates one by one as you tear through the dark, vine-twisted labyrinth under the Silverwastes, an undying behemoth of a Mordrem wolf hot on your heels. You lead them all safely through the maze, driven by the fierce desire to protect your friends. You will not lose anyone today.

You, the legendary Pact Commander, at your best.

After a few back-to-back trips down memory lane, you both decided to take a short break. For his part, Braham had opted to swing his legs over the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. When he asked whether or not it was okay to do so, you just shrugged and told him you had already cannonballed into the water before. Multiple times.

“How are you feeling? No headaches or anything?” you ask after a few minutes of rest.

“Nope. I do feel pretty commander-y, though.”

You snort. “Commander-y?”

“Mhm. I’ve been in your head too long. Any second now, I’m gonna start spouting a bunch of your expert advice.” Braham clears his throat and puts on an exaggerated voice that you swear sounds nothing like you. “‘Remember, it doesn’t matter how long the hog’s been dead. It doesn’t matter that it’s been sitting in a toxic cloud. You can always try to eat it.’”

You roll your eyes and swipe your hand through the water, splashing him. “Okay, that’s it, I’m revoking your pool privileges. We’re done here.” You pause, expression turning thoughtful. “Actually, I think we are done here. I don’t think I have any more memories to show you. None that would help, anyway.”

“Hmm, what about your time in Elona? I wasn’t there for that.”

“Uh, you definitely were,” you say, shooting a quizzical smile at him. “Or do you not remember storming Joko’s palace with me?”

“No, no,” Braham laughs, waving dismissively, “I meant before that. I wasn’t there for… ugh, what’s his name again? Balthazar?”

For a brief, blissful moment, you only recall the part where you killed him.

Then your free hand flies to your chest on instinct, ghosting over a wound that no longer exists.

“What about him?” you ask, a little louder than necessary. You cringe inwardly, but Braham doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, everyone told me you somehow took control of Joko’s Awakened army and got them to fight on your side,” he shakes his head, chuckling. “I didn’t believe them at first, but that sounds exactly like something only you could pull off.”

You can hardly hear yourself over the frenetic pounding of your pulse in your ears. “Did they… tell you anything else?”

“Not really,” Braham frowns, finally turning to face you. “Why, is there- woah, hey, are you alright?”

You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Commander?�� His voice spikes with worry.

Swallowing hard past the lump in your throat, you try again. Still nothing.

You’re so preoccupied with trying to force yourself to speak that you don’t even realize your other hand is still in the pool until you feel the tug of an old memory on your consciousness.

Ripping your hand out of the glowing water in a panic, you can only stare in horror as that does nothing to stop the ancient, powerful magic from pulling you helpless back into the dark.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It doesn’t.

You throw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging a fireball as it blazes past your head. Ducking behind a crumbling pillar, you press your back up against the stone and try to catch your breath.

You’ve bought yourself some time, at least.

This is a fight you know you can’t win, but the walls of flames surrounding the spire prevent your escape, so your only hope is to keep Balthazar distracted until reinforcements arrive.

“Any second now,” you mutter, and you don’t know if you’re trying to reassure or convince yourself.

You grit your teeth as another wave of pain wracks your body. There’s a nasty gash in your side, larger and deeper than the rest of your cuts, and it oozes sluggishly, soaking your armor in blood.

It’s bearable for now, but you can’t afford to be slowed down.

“Are you hiding, Commander?” Balthazar sneers, “How pathetic.”

Your answer to that is to dart out from behind the pillar, launching a flurry of attacks along his flank and back. When he twists around to send a volley of fireballs your way, you just tuck yourself into a neat dodge-roll, avoiding them all with ease. If you wince and stumble on the landing, you pretend not to notice and hope he didn’t either.

“Aw, you missed!” you taunt, sounding way braver than you feel, “How pathetic!”

Balthazar’s face contorts in fury. “Enough!” he shouts, and both the flames surrounding him and the spire seem to burn hotter than ever.

Before you can react, the ground beneath your feet erupts in a column of fire and you scream as your world is engulfed in a white-hot inferno. When the initial blinding agony finally passes, you find yourself sprawled out on the ground, pointed stones digging into your back and your weapons flung too far out of your reach.

Get up.

You only manage to twitch your fingers.

Get up. Now.

Your throat burns raw. When you try to speak, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a pained whimper.

GET. UP. BEFORE BALTHAZAR-

You sense Aurene before you see her.

“Ah, the scion, finally come here to defend her champion.”

Finally…?

It clicks. Your heart stops.

Balthazar’s been toying with you this whole fucking time.

It’s impossible for you to form words, let alone make any sort of loud noise, so you try to warn Aurene through your shared bond instead, panic rising with every passing moment that she doesn’t respond.

‘GET AWAY,’ you practically roar at her, ‘TRAP. IT’S A TRAP. YOU’RE FLYING RIGHT INTO A TRAP, TURN AROUND, PLEASE-’

And Aurene roars right back at you. There are no words you can hear—you don’t think she’s old enough for that yet—but she can convey her feelings through the bond and right now she’s drowning out your desperate warnings with them. She refuses to abandon you. You are her guardian and her champion and she loves you and you promised over and over to protect her so she promised the same and weren’t you the one who taught her about loyalty in the first place?

It takes one self-sacrificing idiot to know one. You would laugh if you weren’t so fucking terrified of losing her.

Your vision swims and you only catch glimpses of Aurene’s skirmish. She’s a bright blue blur, swerving expertly in the air as she dodges fireballs and lets loose her devastating dragon breath every time Balthazar tries to swat her out of the sky. Snarling, he launches some sort of phantasmal chains at her and-

No.

No, no, no, nonono-

“Aurene!” you scream. The exertion sends you into a coughing fit, but you don’t care.

You’re crying now, too. You don’t care.

Balthazar is saying something, but you stopped listening to him ages ago. It’s a monumental effort just to crane your head towards Aurene, your vision clearing long enough to see her staring at you, eyes blown wide in fear as terror rolls off her in waves.

She tries to apologize and you rush to soothe her.

‘It’s okay, it’s alright,’ you reassure, ‘you have nothing to be sorry for, I love you so much, it’s not your fault, never your fault.’

Maybe you’re projecting a little. Whatever.

You only stop when a giant metal boot steps squarely into your line of sight, blocking her from view. You glance up.

Balthazar towers over you, his giant, flaming greatsword hovering menacingly by his side.

The fear that lances through your gut is primal.

You can’t die yet. Not here. Not now.

He notices the way your wide eyes trace his sword and bares his teeth in a humorless grin. Oh, he’s enjoying this, relishing the power he has over you.

“I thought you would put up more of a fight, given your reputation,” Balthazar remarks casually, circling you. With a lazy wave of his hand, his sword floats over and suspends itself in midair right above your chest.

Your already labored breathing dissolves into short, shallow gasps.

You can’t die. You’re not ready.

He lets the sword hover for a few more seconds before grabbing the hilt with both hands, raising it higher over your body. His face twists with hate, eyes blazing molten gold as they bore hungry and vengeful into yours.

You don’t want to die.

The edge of the blade glints orange from an indifferent sunset.

Please.

There’s a sickening crunch as he swings it down hard into your chest, punching through your armor and sternum and crushing most of your ribcage in the process. Then the blade severs your spine and you lose all feeling in your lower body.

Distantly, you think you hear someone scream, high-pitched and anguished. Was that Aurene? Or Taimi? Maybe both.

Certainly not you, although you’d tried to. What remains of your lungs are filled with more blood than air at this point, and it pours out of your mouth when you open it.

I’m sorry, you think, but you can’t remember what you’re apologizing for. Or who you’re apologizing to.

You’re so tired of blood. Tired of pain. Tired of feeling.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It does.

The only reason you don’t wake up choking back a scream and clutching your chest like Braham does is because you’ve relived this in your nightmares far too many times for it to rip that kind of reaction out of you anymore. Still, it takes you longer than normal to push yourself into a sitting position and even longer for your pulse to even out. Fighting the urge to curl up and disappear from the world, you rush over to where Braham sits hyperventilating.

“Hey, Braham, hey, look at me, you’re okay, you’re okay. You’re here, you’re alive,” you reassure, and you’re surprised at how calm you sound. You work on getting him to match your breaths, counting out every inhale and exhale.

“Oh, Spirits,” he chokes out after his breathing steadies, his voice nearly cracking as tears prick in the corners of his eyes, “that was… how- h-how did you survive that?”

Your mouth shuts with an audible click. Biting your tongue, you look to the side, carefully avoiding eye contact.

You could lie.

Lie and tell him the airship made it just in time and the medics brought you back from the brink with a miracle. Another close call, but you pulled through like you always do. Spare him the pain, the grief. It’s been years, and there are more important things to worry about right now. It would save you both so much trouble.

“Commander?” he asks softly, earnestly.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I didn’t,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Deafening silence, for a beat.

Two.

Three.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Braham says eventually. When you finally bring yourself to look at him again, his brows are furrowed in confusion. He stares at you in concern, scrutinizing. “You’re… definitely still alive.”

“I sure am.” Neither of you miss the tired bitterness that bleeds into your sarcasm. You wince and sigh, running a hand over your face. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s a long story.”

And to this day, you still haven’t told anyone all the details. You’re not sure if you ever will.

“Who knows?” Braham asks.

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, Rytlock, Canach, and Kas were there when it happened. Taimi… overheard.” You don’t know which is worse: being the one to hear you die, or finding your body after the fact.

They’re not the only ones who know, but they’re the only ones who matter. Even then, you swore them all to secrecy.

“Taimi called me around that time,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “Did she…?”

Braham shakes his head. “She was crying too hard,” he says, speaking slowly as he focuses on remembering. “She said something about you, but she couldn’t get the words out. When I tried to ask her what was wrong, she just hung up on me. Then she called me back a day later to say it was nothing and to pretend it never happened.”

“Huh,” you say, because you can’t think of anything else.

“I always wondered what she was trying to tell me,” Braham smiles sadly at you. “Guess I know now.”

You swallow hard. “You’re… taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“I’m not the one who died,” he shrugs, even as his hand comes up to brush across his chest absentmindedly.

But you know how it felt, you think, How I felt.

The thought hangs in the air, unspoken.

“Are you okay?” Braham asks after a while.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, automatically, “I’m fine.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He looks pointedly down and you follow his gaze.

Your hands are shaking where they rest in your lap. Gritting your teeth, you clench them into fists. They don’t stop.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, more to yourself than anything. “I’m fine.”

The shaking travels up your arms until your shoulders are trembling as if under an invisible weight. This is so embarrassing, so humiliating. You’re pathetic. You-

You don’t resist when Braham pulls you into a warm embrace.

“It’s been years,” you mutter, blinking rapidly against the itchy heat behind your eyes. “I thought I’d be over it by now.”

“It always hits you when you least expect it,” Braham says quietly, “I’m sorry, Commander.”

The noise that comes out of you is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. You know he knows you hate pity, but this is the farthest thing from it. “When did you get so wise?” you tease.

“Learned it from you,” he says, voice tinged with pride, and now it’s your turn to flush. He squeezes you tightly once before letting you go. “Are you okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” you say, and this time you mean it. You breathe in deep, feeling lighter than you have in ages. “I’m okay. Thank you, Braham.”

“Glad to hear it,” he grins, and promptly shoves you right into the Scrying Pool.

His boisterous laughter echoes off the walls and drowns out your indignant spluttering. When you pull yourself out of the pool, drenched and dripping water everywhere, he scrambles to his feet and breaks into a dead sprint down the hall.

You chase after him, smiling, and leave your memories behind you.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fan submission #braham eirsson #pact commander #me finally posting another commander pov fic after three years: hiiii.... how yall doin....#anyway this fic has been rattling around in my noggin for eight months now. here u go take it from me #i will take a hammer and FIX the commander and braham dynamic #2k4s gc saw it firstttt #thank u pals for beta-reading ilu #if u enjoyed this fic! would u pls consider reblogging? :3c #my writing

333 notes · View notes

lovee-infected · 3 years

Text

Husband!Leona x Housewife!Reader: Birthday surprise

As you have your birthday today, Leona has a plan to prepare a party for his one and only beloved wife; however, uncle Ruggie and your babies almost burn the house down to ashes when you're out...

Happy birthday @jessamine-rose !♡ Now suffer-

Warning(s): None, just a review on Leona's chaotic father experiment trying to babysit his neko babies.

Note: This work is the continuation of a personal au I wrote for @jessamine-rose s/o and Leona have 3 adorable kittens (babies) in this au; The elder two are twins , a girl named Kaede and a son named Haruki while the baby gremlin is a sweet but chaotic cinnamon roll girl named Lucy (Lulu).

At last, it's here: The big day. Not only Leona seems have been expecting this day to arrive for months, or perhaps, he's been waiting ever since you had your previous birthday last year.

Not that you thought previous birthday celebrations with them lacked anything specific or was incomplete in a recognizable way; but it didn't change the fact that you didn't seem to have enjoyed them either.

Leona is the prince of the afterglow Savannah, after all. As her wife your birthday was nothing less than a national holdiday and he always tented to prepare royal celebrations ever since you married him.

But for some reason, that formal and majestic aura seemed to bother you in a way; perhaps because you preferred to be actually spending time with Leona and your family instead of having to stay in the same spot for hours with your back straightened as you greet thousands of strangers and the rest of the royal family.

Not that you ever spoke of how uncomfortabe and annoying all of those birthday ceremonies were, but you almost let out a relived sigh when Leona tells he isn't going to put out another of those extravagant celebrations.

The night before your birthday, Leona comes to you and mentions hoe it's been a while since the last time you had some time for your own, and he's right: From the day you gave birth to lulu you've been awfully busy with housework and caressing your babies; not that your life could be any sweeter than it is now but you had to admit- You somehow missed the old days when you had more time to spend on your own...

Leona recommends you take a day off, as a birthday treat! You're free to go shopping, take a short vacation to the beach or simply go to your favorite cafe and enjoy your favorite drinks and beverages in peace, meanwhile Leona would take care of the house and kittens so you can have today for your own and all~

Of course you accept his offer, you give him a small kiss on cheek and thank him, the two of you head to your bedroom and you are given the opportunity to sleep on Leona's warm chest for the rest of the night.

Thus you leave the house the next morning after, and now it's time for Leona's secret plan. He's already prepared anything, your favorite flowers, your favorite desserts and food, a very expensive perfume you had liked before, color-matching costumes for both him and the kittens, tiny cute accessories to decorate the house with and at last, tens of gifts from different things he sure knows that you'll love.

Ruggie is charge of cooking, so he gets to preparing muffins and cupcakes while Leona takes care of decorations: Designing the entire house with flower petals, baloons and colorful ribbons would've taken him hours if he were to do that by hand, but using his extraordinary magic skills, the whole house is perfectly decorated and prepared in a second *Chef's kiss.*

Just as Leona is about to let out a proud smirk and return to kitchen to see how Ruggie is doing with he cooking, he hears a sound. He turns his head to find no one but baby Lulu, chewing the decorations.

He runs to her and takes the ribbons out of her mouth, opening her mouth a second time and carefully look through it to see if she's eaten any of them or not. Oh God, he promised that he'd take care of everything when you're out, he just can't let you return home and find out that your baby has swallowed paper, what will you even think of him? Irresponsible partner? Unworthy father? No, he must make sure that baby lulu would be all same and sound until you return home.

He hugs Lulu and puts her on a corner with several baloons to play with, far from anything dangerous she could chew but then baby Lulu discovers a new hobby: popping balloons.

Her tiny fangs have just popped out and her gums often hurt, so she just wants to get her fangies on anything she could chew or bite and wow, this baby is not only totally unaffected by the loud sound of balloons popping right into her face but also finds it quite amusing. Baby begins to laugh loudly and chase after more balloons to chew as she has discovered a new hobby, and before Leona could've stopped her, she pops 5 more balloons with just one bite-

Leona picks her up immediately because if Lulu continued to chew balloons like this nothing of them would be left until you get home-

- But all of a sudden, he smells something rotten, followed by a trail of smoke coming from kitchen. He immediately puts Lulu down and runs back to the kitchen to see what in the great seven's name is happening there-

Leona jumps into the kitchen- just to find Kaede and Haruki screaming and crying as Ruggie's trying to take the black-rotten cupcakes out of the oven. Leona asks what the hell has happened and Ruggie explains he was too busy separating the twins because they couldn't stop arguing whether their mama would like caramel syrup as the topping or sprinkles, so Ruggie totally forgets about the overcooked muffins and cupcakes in the middle of their arguments.

Leona tells him to pull himself and start over- But Ruggie aruges that he won't be able to concentrate on both babysitting and cooking if that's how it's going to be. Leona growls and tell Ruggie to stop being such a wacky hyena and just get back to work without messing up again- And Ruggie explodes.

He starts shouting, Ruggie legit starts shouting in a rare, angry tune which terrified everyone even Leona. He roars that he won't be doing shit until Leona actually pays him for once, and the two start arguing. Just as the chaos is burning the kitchen down, Lulu decides uncle Ruggie's leg looks quite delicious to bite, and in a matter of second Ruggie is screaming as the baby lion's fangs literally pierced into his flesh.

The whole house is filled with smoke, Lulu has taken the entire decorations down and Leona's trying to seprate baby Lulu's fangs from Ruggie's leg. Twins are terrified, so the silently sneak out of the kitchen to call the right person to come for help...

It's past 10 pm when you're done with your day off. You've been giggling over how a day off was just what you needed after a long time, you had told Leona to call if anything went wrong, and thankfully, you didn't receive any calls from him while you were out. Leona really seems to have toughed it out as a father, huh?

You knock at the door, waiting for someone to open it. After a 3 minute delay you take a small look through the house and realize the lights are off. You just get in using your keys and suddenly, a loud "SURPRISE!" makes you jump back and the lights are back on, revealing Farena, Cheka, your kittens and very, very very tired-looking Leona and Ruggie standing in front of you. Leona gives you a weak smile as your confused gaze meets him, at last, they managed to clean the mess up before you got home.

Twins welcome you with a warm hug as they lock their tiny arms around your waist, digging their faces into soft fabrics of your clothes as if they hadn't met you in days, and of course, 12 hours of chaos without mama at home is enough to make them want to never be left alone in the house with uncle Ruggie and dad again-

Ruggie is trying his best not to be rude but he quickly approaches you, wishes you a very happy birthday and excuses himself saying he really needs to be home by this hour. You question the bandages wrapped around his leg, asking if he's alright? Ruggie just- Gulps nervously before turning his head back and stare at Leona who is holding Lulu... Ruggie nods quickly and leaves your house asap, poor boy... maybe you should call him sometime later and asking if he's doing fine?

Back to the party, Farena chuckles as he tells you how his younger brother has been DESPERATELY making plans for his beloved wife's birthday for nearly two months-! Farena explains that Leona even refused to accept Farena's help when he was firstly coming up with the plans, but Leona insisted that he wanted to manage everything on his own.

Aaaaaw Leona's face is a must-see now, his ears dropped down in mild embarrassment and frustration, feeling like a silly child in front of you. Damn- If it was on him he wouldn't have asked for Farena's help once in a thousand years even if if Ruggie and him had ended up burning the entire house; but he must admit, he's glad that twins asked for his help because- It would've been impossible to manange to do all the work on time without his help.

Aaah at least your birthday party didn't turn out to be a horrible mess, but at what cost? Great seven, he was supposed to be your one and only man tonight but right now he's nothing but a fuzzy cat wanting to pass put on his bed.

Yet he still manages to keep his eyes open, at least until you're done with the birthday party and Farena and Cheka are finally out; leaving him alone with you. Gosh, he looks so- you can't even find tje right adjective to describe this but all you can say for now is that you've never seen him this tired before.

You gently take Lulu, who has already fallen asleep in his arms and take her to her bed, asking Leona if babysitting her was difficult by any means. Leona tiredly shakes his head in a no, saying how much of a wonderful girl she was when you were away, and you can tell how much of an awful liar he is.

When the kids are asleep, you come to sit next to a lifeless Leona on couch, damn, just what happened to this household when you weren't around?

Leona's too tired to explain, he just sighs and apologizes for your birthday not being even *close to the best it could be, just to meet your laughter.

Oh lord, he is being quite desperate at the moment ha? Leona was always the dominative and demanding one, to have him serve ypu on your birthday... Oh dear, isn't that already the best birthday gift possible?

You excitedly start to tell him how this birthday was just the best you could've ever asked for: Freedom, A golden time to be spent for your own desires and not anyone else, and aside all of these, you return home just to face a secret party waiting for you!

But most importantly: He had gone through all of these... for you, to make you happy.

You tightly hug him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing his face closer to yours. Aaaa he looks so cute like this, just like a tired pouty can wanting you to spoil him and to be honest, he's going to need you spoil him for a week at least for him to recovers from that 12 hours of chaos.

It's been a long day, for both you and him. So he just kisses your forehead and bridal carries you to your bedroom afterwards; wrapping his strong arms and thighs around you and jailing you in his embrace. You gasp at the warmth, truth be told having your face burried in Leona's firm chest like this was something you never got used to even after being married to him for years. Damn lion knew how to leave a flushed mess out of you, huh? You chuckle as you struggle to release yourself but hell, the jerk simply pretends that he's already fallen asleep.

Just as Leona's arms are jailing you into his embrace he wonders, today probably didn't turn out to be as good as he'd planmed but well... at least you're happy. That's what he wanted when he whet out of his way planning for today, after all. But he can tell the experiment made him come to appreciate you even more, thinking that you've been caressing all three of your babies for years all on your own while Leona wouldn't have even made it for half a day if Farena hadn't saved him...

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucchi #f/reader #headcanon #Meh I was too lazy to proofread www- Will edit this later

334 notes · View notes

heartcal · 3 years

Text

“who do you believe?”; l.h.

Disclaimer: i didn’t want to write sierra as a bad person because i personally cannot see that, and i know there’s some discourse about her within in the fandom but i don’t want any of that here! so i named the girlfriend after a girl who bullied me in elementary school lol (but another disclaimer: i do not want to see any hate towards the boys’ s/o! pls don’t send any asks that talks bad about them, i will not answer them!)

thank you for requesting! :^)

a/n: while transfering this from microsoft word, the formatting kept screwing up for some reason so if there are some janky paragraphs, i apologize! not too comfortable with this one compared to my previous fic (this feels rushed) but it is long and i did not mean for that to happen lol. enjoy!

if there are any mistakes, please tell me!

pairing(s): not really a mention of luke hemmings x reader but it’s mostly luke hemmings x named gf (rachel/oc) (gender neutral but if i slipped up, please let me know!)

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

genre: angst, and mostly angst >:^)

warnings: swearing, luke’s gf being mean, bullying?

wc: 4,057 (she’s a long one)

my masterlist!

You don’t know when it happened, or frankly how it happened, but one thing is for sure: you don’t want to feel this way.

Was it when he bought you a stuffed animal version of a pet you had as a kid, one that you remember so fondly and still tear up about it to this day? Or was it when he would always bring back a certain candy you can only find in its country of origin, and bring as much as customs would allow? Maybe it was when he printed out every photo he could find from the beginning of your friendship to the present day (at that time) and made a scrapbook for your birthday since you cherish memories?

Whatever memory it was, you want to track it down and destroy it. It wasn’t fair that you developed such strong feelings for your best friend, knowing he doesn’t feel the same since he’s taken.

It’s not that he isn’t attractive – far from that because if anything, you wish you could draw just so you can draw him because there’s no way someone can look that good – but it’s more of the fact that he’s your best friend, someone you hold dear to you.

You two grew up together; saw each other’s worst phases, styles, and embarrassing moments (it was well documented towards the middle of the scrapbook). He was with you when you went through bad break-ups, and you with him. Throughout school, you two were inseparable, and when the band got big he made sure to keep you close and to never lose contact. It was hard in the beginning but you two managed.

Now finished with college, you’ve taken on the role of working with the team when they’re on tour and helping plan aesthetics for the next album. He offered the jobs after you struggled to find a job after graduation, and in the end, you enjoyed being with the guys and doing the tasks needed.

Tonight, the band was set to play their new album to an intimate crowd. It was to welcome back old fans and welcome new fans, introducing both sides to a new sound they worked hard on. You couldn’t be any more proud.

You sat on the couch as the guys walked around the room, pepping themselves up and hyping each other. You had finished doing your tasks with the crew and spent your free time watching the band prepare as the audience began to fill in the theater seats.

A nudge on your arm makes you direct your eyes from Michael styling his hair with a nervous expression to the person on your left.

“What’s up?” you asked, smiling at the curly-haired individual.

Luke shrugs, glancing around the room before his eyes land back on you. He has a small smile on his face as he leans back onto the couch, “Nothing.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a smile, “Yeah, sure, ‘nothing,’” you mimic, tilting your head to the side, “I doubt that.”

“What do you want me to say?”

You give him an incredulous look, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. You can tell he’s nervous, like the rest of the team and the band, but he won’t admit it. He’s always wanted others to view him as strong and unbothered, especially when those around him feel off.

He mirrors your position, a smirk on his lips because he knows you’re about to lecture him.

And he’s right.

“Your band has a new album out in a couple of days—an album you guys have worked hard on even when your management gave you shit, mind you—and you’re about to perform a majority of the songs in front of 500. Are you not nervous?”

He shakes his head, smugly smiling as he returns to his position leaning against the couch, watching Ashton dry the wet ends of his hair.

“Liar,” you mumble, uncrossing your arms and taking your phone out to check the time.

“Alright,” Luke sighs, giving in, “maybe I’m a little nervous, but I’m not a wreck.”

He’s still a liar. The success of their last album was astounding, so creating an album to reach that level and hopefully top it was hard enough. Playing it in front of an intimate crowd who may or may not like it was tough.

Luke isn’t cocky. He’s a humble man, but he likes to joke around in stressful situations. He’s used to concerts, so he doesn’t have any anxiety when it comes to performing. But when he is nervous for any reason, he won’t show it. He’ll act cool, completely collected with his head held high in confidence. If he needs to relieve the stress, he’ll either do it himself with a strong pep talk, or he’ll go to you.

“What are you nervous about?” You ask, wanting to make him feel better.

“Will they like it? Will it even chart? Is it too bold?” he continues listing out his insecurities about the album and the performance, finally lifting everything off his chest.

And you listen. The way his eyes stare into yours with slight confidence, covered by worry makes your heart sore. Luke’s kept everything inside and now that he’s listing his grievances, it makes you wonder just what else you can get out of him that he’s kept buried inside.

However, before you can give him your insight on this particular problem, “Luke!”

His head immediately turns to the door, the worry in his eyes fading out into sheer happiness and adoration. Something you’ve always wanted to see directed towards you.

Luke stands arms wide as he captures his girlfriend in his arms for a hug. Her arms wrap around his waist as his arms go around her shoulders, dipping his head down to kiss her on the head.

“I can’t believe you made it!” you hear him speak with excitement, expressing more words of happiness as he guides her to another part of the room.

You don’t miss the way her eyes glare in your direction, and you’re not afraid to give her a look back.

Rachel was nice when you met her. You actually liked her, despite your crush on Luke, and you were rooting for the two. But, a couple months ago during a stressful week, she turned on you. Her attitude towards you shifted, almost as if you had disrespected her and her bloodline. She would always act as if you weren’t in the room, and when plans were made with the boys, she would “accidentally” leave you out. It was embarrassing for you when you’d find out your friends went out, calling you to find out why you didn’t come. Due to the embarrassment, you would go along with it, making up some excuse as to why you were absent.

None of the boys, to your knowledge at least, have caught on to her antics, and you honestly hope they don’t. Whatever it is you did to her, you want to find out for yourself so you can fix it.

With a sigh, you stand from the couch, stretching your arms briefly before wandering to Calum, who stood in the shower room connected to the dressing room.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a warm smile.

He smiles back, finishing his drink before tossing the plastic cup in the trash. He grabs his bass, which was placed on the counter, and holds it out to you.

“You want me to see if it sounds out of tune?” you jokingly ask.

He nods, “Yeah, I feel like one of the chords might be flat.”

You chuckle as you pluck a random chord. His instruments are always tuned before it’s time to play. One of his pre-show nervous ticks was the constant doubt of his instruments being playable.

“It’s fine, Calum.”

The doubt shows on his face as he brings his guitar back to himself, putting it on and checking the chords himself, but it doesn’t last long as Ashton’s voice calls everyone to the center of the room.

Walking with Calum to where the rest of the crew was, you notice how attached Luke was to Rachel. Joint at the hip, arms wrapped around each other; it was annoying.

“Show starts in ten,” Ashton gains your attention, holding up a cup as Michael hands Calum a similar cup before doing the same to Luke. The three follow the drummer’s action as he continues, “let’s make this show fuckin’ awesome.”

The crew cheers, dying down quickly as Michael gives his thoughts, “We worked our asses off for this album, I don’t have any doubts about it. We got this, guys!”

The cheers resume as those with a drink take a celebratory sip before placing their empty cup on a surface near them.

Calum leaves your side to join Michael while Ashton heads to you.

“You excited?” he asks, putting his right arm around your shoulders with a large smile.

“Yeah!” you return the smile, “What about you? Nervous like the others?”

He shakes his head, crinkling his nose, “I’m not too nervous. I’m just happy to play again.”

You’re about to ask him what song he was the most excited to play, starting to get into the conversation but yet again you are interrupted by Rachel.

“Hey, Ash,” she greets him, Luke following close behind her as his arms make their way back around her shoulders again.

“Hi, Rachel,” Ashton nods his head at her – his eyes dance to Luke briefly before returning to Rachel’s, “didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Couldn’t miss your big show,” she smiles, looking up at her boyfriend as she pats his stomach.

Luke laughs, gently pushing her hand away from him, “I’m surprised, too—“ he grabs the guitar a crew member hands him, left arm lifting itself from Rachel’s shoulder as he slips the strap over his head, “—because her schedule did not look clear enough, but here she is.”

“Three minutes,” a different crew member rushes out, patting Luke and Ashton’s shoulders before rushing to tell the others.

“See you after,” Luke shifts his guitar away from Rachel before leaning down to kiss her on the lips – something you wish you didn’t see – and turning around to head out of the dressing room.

Ashton gives you a quick hug, “Excited for the lights,” he mumbles in your ear before turning to Rachel to give her a side hug.

It doesn’t go unnoticed how Rachel’s eyes glared at you by Ashton, but he doesn’t mention it as he heads out with the other guys towards the stage.

As a majority of the crew follow them out, you stay behind to clean up the empty cups and other trash, trying to occupy yourself as Rachel too stayed behind.

Her eyes followed you as you moved about the room, carrying the small plastic bag with you as it fills up with cups and wrappers. You could feel the glare burning into your side and back as you paid her no mind.

When it was just you two left, the bass from their opening song was heard and felt as you finished picking up the garbage.

“For how long have you liked Luke?”

You froze. Your head whipped towards Rachel, wide-eyed as you glanced around the room to make sure it was just the two of you.

“What…what are you talking about?” You can feel an extreme warmth rising up from the bottom of your back, all the way to your face, nervousness clouding your brain as she stares you down.

“Luke—,” she crosses her arms and moves to the couch, “how long have you liked Luke?”

“I don’t—I,” you stutter, your stomach dropping as you realize you’ve been caught.

His girlfriend knows you like him.

“Cut the bullshit,” she spits, “I can see it. You’ve been friends with him for years, you obviously caught feelings for him.”

You shake your head, standing up straight to give off the illusion of confidence. Turning your back to her and towards the door, “I don’t have to talk to you.”

You opted for walking out of the dressing room and go watch the band from the side of the stage, but you made a quick stop in the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

You did what you could to avoid her during their performance. You knew she was watching you, seething at how you ended the conversation so fast.

Rachel wanted to break you down, find the reason why you like him and separate you two for as long as it takes to make him fall in love with her. She finds you a problem in their relationship because of how close you and Luke are, because of how long you’ve known each other. A threat to her and her relationship.

An hour and a half later, the show is finished and the whoops and cheers from the crowd indicate the album was very well received. That thought swept the interaction with Rachel from earlier under the rug as the boys’ adrenaline spread throughout the crew.

Ashton was first to greet you, sweaty and ready to envelop you in a hug but you’re quick to avoid it, ducking down just as his arms closed around the space where your head was. He laughs it off, heading for his next victim.

Next was Calum, who grabbed a drink from Andy and gulped it down. He had a smile on his face after, only growing wider when he saw you. “I think they liked it!”

“Bass in tune, huh?” you return, patting his back as he passes you to go to the next person.

Michael is the third, taking off his hat (which made you question why he was so worried about his hairstyle that he spent at least fifteen minutes playing with before the show). He stops in front of you, phone in hand as he takes a picture of the two of you: a tradition he started a few tours ago as a joke.

Finally, Luke makes his way towards you, ready to ramble about the show but is brisked away by Rachel. He doesn’t even glance over at you after he’s taken away towards the hall.

Entering the dressing room where the rest of the boys sat, you saw Michael talking animatedly on the phone, Calum laying across the couch with an arm over his eyes, and Ashton wiping off excess sweat with a towel. He was the first one to notice you.

“Ready for that hug?” he asks as you approach him.

“Why not.”

You hug each other, smiling as you pulled away. In the distance, over the cool-down music, you hear Luke’s laughter in the hall. Knowing he’s with Rachel makes you wonder if she’s told him about her suspicions, and that thought alone makes you clam up all over again.

Ashton immediately notices, tilting his head as he asks you what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” you quickly reply, eyes focusing on him.

He notices how jittery you seem, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable so he says nothing.

“Guys,” Andy comes in with his camera in hand, “we need to take a few photos.”

The three agree and follow the photographer out. You move to the snack table for a bottle of water, but before you can take a sip, someone clears their throat in the doorway.

You roll your eyes immediately because you know who it is. You don’t pay her any attention and instead take the sip of water you need.

“We need to finish that conversation you oh-so rudely ended,” Rachel moves into the room, keeping her voice down as she crosses her arms.

“We don’t need to finish anything.”

She scoffs, “I asked you a question, and you were so quick to avoid it. I think you’re proving a point.”

“What point?” you turn to look at her, “I know you don’t like me but I don’t know why, can we start with that?”

“Like I said before, I know you like Luke. He’s my boyfriend, and I don’t like how he’s close to you.”

“We grew up together,” you state, standing tall as you glare at her, “of course we’re going to be close.”

“Well I don’t like it,” she huffs.

You shake your head with a sigh, closing the lid to the bottle as you turn your back to her. You were getting angry at the fact that someone who didn’t know Luke as long as you did was hinting that you should stay away from him.

“Stop hanging out with him.”

A curt laugh escapes you before you can stop it, “Are you jealous of our friendship?”

“No,” she smirks, “but I know you’re jealous of our relationship.”

She’s right; you’re only a little jealous of their relationship, but it’s not something you want to risk your friendship with.

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but you’re caught off-guard when nothing comes out. The one opportunity to make her believe you don’t like her boyfriend and you can’t say anything.

Giving up with sinking shoulders, you glance at the door before looking back at her. Grimacing at her knowing smile, “How did you find out?”

She hums, “It was easy. I love him, so I know what it looks like to look at someone you love. You made it so obvious, I’m surprised no one else found out!”

You grit your teeth. You did your damn best to make sure no one, especially Luke or Rachel, know how you feel about him.

“I’m not intimidated by you,” she walks closer to you, arms uncrossing as her hands move to her hips, “but I won’t deny the fact that you and Luke have chemistry.”

“What will it take—” you place the bottle back on the table, “—for you to leave me alone?”

“Do the same to him.”

“What?”

“Leave him alone, unfriend him,” she shrugs, “simple as that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you walk around her to the door, ready to end the conversation.

“Do that or I’ll tell him,” with a harsh tone she walks towards you, grabbing your arm to stop you from walking.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” another voice from the doorway makes the two of you jump, “that’s enough.”

Ashton walks into the room, grabbing Rachel’s hand and removing it from your arm.

“W—” she stutters out as she watches the tall man move to stand in front of you.

“I came back for my drumsticks—” his eyes shift to the object sticking out of his bag before dropping down to Rachel, “—but instead I find you, what, threatening a good friend of ours?”

Rachel is speechless while you’re frozen. It was embarrassing enough for one person to find out about your crush on Luke, but now Ashton might know and you want to go into hiding.

“Let it go,” you tug on Ashton’s shirt to get his attention but he doesn’t move.

“Telling someone who’s known your boyfriend longer than your relationship to just abandon him is low, Rachel. Don’t think the way you’ve been treating our friends has gone unnoticed.”

You hear more footsteps approaching the room, and now you wish the ground can swallow you up. You don’t want all this attention on you.

“What’s happening here?” Michael says as he peeks into the room, Luke behind him as Calum leans against the other side of the doorway.

“Nothing—,” Rachel tries to deflect but with four pairs of eyes on her, it becomes too much. Tears start pouring out, and you’re in disbelief.

How can she be the one crying after she was the one who was rude to you?

Luke immediately rushes in, creating a beeline right to her side to wrap her in his arms.

His eyes dart to yours, an emotion on his face of something you’ve never seen, but you know it’s not good.

“What did you do?”

You’re taken back by his tone and the way his angry eyes stare you down. It hurts because instead of staying neutral and finding out what exactly happened, he immediately chose a side: a side of someone he’s known for only for a short amount of time.

“Mate,” Ashton speaks up for you, “I think you’re asking the wrong person that.”

“No,” Luke’s voice raises, eyes moving from yours to stare into his band mate’s, “I’m asking the right person.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes welling with tears as the weight of everything happening within the last ten minutes starts to bring you down. Your eyes move away from the ones boring into yours, and with a tremble in your voice, “I didn’t do anything. She’s the one who started—.”

“Bullshit!” Luke’s roar cuts you off, “Absolute bullshit, because if she started it, then why is she the only one crying?!”

The two other guys move in to the room to mediate the situation.

“Luke, calm down,” Michael’s hands raise to the motion of ‘calm down’ as he tries to get Luke’s attention.

“There’s gotta be more to the story,” Calum moves to your side, checking on you briefly.

“Don’t,” Luke states as he watches Calum grab your shoulders to move you out of the room.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Ashton questions. He watches Luke soothingly rub Rachel’s back, wiping her tears with his free hand.

“My girlfriend is crying and you two were the only ones in here,” Luke replies, gently grabbing Rachel’s arms so he can look directly into her eyes, “what happened, babe?”

“I asked them—,” Rachel sniffles, continuing her façade, “—if they needed any help cleaning the room earlier and they yelled at—at me and told me to go away. Then after the show when you guys went for your photos, I came here to apologize to her, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.”

She was selling it; the tears, the sniffling, the stutters, and hiccups. A great actress who knows what she wants.

“That’s not true,” you inhale, your ears feeling warm and ringing, “she has had a problem with me lately and I don’t know why!”

Luke scoffs, shaking his head, wrapping Rachel in his arms again.

“C’mon,” Michael mumbles, wanting to leave the room.

Ashton turns around, watching your face go from pleading to blank as the tears fall from your eyes. He turns his head to face Luke, “You’re unbelievable,” he grabs your shoulders and starts to move you out of the room, “let’s go.”

Michael is already out of the room, the tension too much for him and ruining the after-show vibe. Calum is waiting by the door ready to help lead you out. Ashton has you turned around, pushing you towards the door.

“Wait, Luke,” you mumble, getting out of Ashton’s hold and turning back to face Luke.

He doesn’t look at you, sighing as he rubs Rachel’s head as it’s against his chest.

“Please,” you plead, begging him to look at you and when he does, you ask, “who do you believe?”

“What?”

“Who do you believe, Luke,” you gulp with a sniffle, “me or her?”

For a moment, you think you see hesitation. His jaw tenses as he stares you down, his best friend for years and someone he turned to when times got tough. He then looks down at the girl in his arms, someone he loves crying into his chest.

He sighs again, this time soft, before looking up to meet your eyes. He does notice the tears, the pain etched on your face as his other best friends watch them. “I believe Rachel.”

“This is fucking stupid,” Ashton mutters as he gently grabs your shoulders again to lead you out of the room.

You let the tears fall freely, not meeting any of the boys’ eyes as you kept your head face down.

You’ve lost your best friend. He chose someone else over you, a lie he chose to believe.

Whatever it was that made you catch feelings for your best friend, you wish you can find it and destroy it, along with any other memory you’ve made with him. After tonight, you want him erased from your cherished memories.

---

part two!

#5sos imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos drabbles #5sos one shots #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer blurbs #5 seconds of summer one shots #5 seconds of summer drabbles #luke hemmings imagines #luke hemmings blurbs #luke hemmings drabbles #req #5sos preferences #5 seconds of summer preferences #5sos imagine #5sos preference #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer preference

195 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Put On A Show

Summary: Cha-young goes to her high school reunion and brings a certain mafia guest.

Author's note: I heard someone wanted a on top and in control CY so here it is! I already had this idea about a HS reunion so I simply combined the two ideas and got this smutty brainchild. This is rated E for extremely dirty so read at your own discretion, I planned on writing more fics of them pining but I really do love a women in control so I took a break from my cockblocking to fill this prompt. Hope you enjoy ;)

Dear class of 2005,

That time has come once again, our class reunion! This year's reunion will be held in the Phoenix Hall in honor of us all rising from the ashes of this pandemic and being reborn stronger than ever before! Tickets available for purchase below. There are separate tickets for food and drinks and this year's theme will be luxury: a life of decadence. We look forward to seeing you all.

Cha-young skims the email that had initially landed in her spam folder, only the name of her old high school attached in the subject line catches her attention enough to make her open the otherwise nondescript email.

Another high school reunion.

She had been evading these gatherings like the plague itself, ever since the last time she'd made the mistake of going to one. She had just landed her job at Wusang Firm and finally felt confident in herself, in high school she'd always been the loud one and the weird one but now she was a lawyer and a damn good one if she said could say so herself. Nobody could dismiss her now or jokingly remind her of the bowl cut she had sported before, she was always the butt of their jokes and she was tired of feeling small beneath their condescending thumb. She finally had something worth bragging about.

She'd stepped in with a smirk on her face, tight black dress and heels clicking as she walked waving at people she knew but didn't deign important enough to stop her entrance for a chat. The buffet table was her sole destination but she'd been intercepted by familiar annoying high pitched voices, Chang Ae-ram and Bom Min-he, the popular girls in her school and the banes of her existence both rushed over to her with drinks in their hands.

They never had anything kind to say to her and seemed to seek her out simply to put her down or remind her of how much of a “pathethic loser” she was in high school, as if she hadn’t been the one living her life.

The verbal sparring began almost immediately, with them all battling for lead in the "my life is going great" contest, coyly listing their accolades and accomplishment and assertively she told them both about her new job at one of Korea's most successful and well known law firm.

"Oh." Ae-ram answered with a tight smile that pulled her surgically enhanced face into a wrinkleless grin.

Score.

She sipped her drink feeling victorious as they both avoided her brazen eye contact. She had just opened her mouth to make her leave when a vindictive smile stretched over Min-he's face, "A job is so important but what about a family? Surely you don't plan on dying alone, how come you never bring anyone with you? We're all so sad that you don't have anyone still." She gripped the stem of her wine glass at the fake concern, suddenly the group was larger and everyone was congratulating Min-he on her engagement, the other woman waving the huge diamond on her finger in her face.

It was so vapid and stupid and she knew that it didn't make her any less of a woman that she didn't have a man but those words still burned. She had noticed that everyone was paired up and she was one of the only people who came alone, she'd been seeing someone before the reunion but at her mention of the gathering he had told her that "things were getting too serious for him" rolling out of her bed while tugging on his underwear and that had been the last she heard from him.

She'd spent the rest of the night on the outskirts avoiding her college mates and later stumbled out on her heels unsteady from the amount of liquor she'd consumed.

That had been her last reunion. She'd pointedly ignored all the invitations since then, the shame of that night still stinging all those years later. They only served as a reminder that she still had no one and regardless of how successful she was at her career she would be deemed undesirable by others.

It was such a fucking joke but she couldn't shake the insecurity despite knowing how false it was.

The sound of keys jingling near the front door knock her free from her reminiscing and she spins around to the sight of Vincenzo struggling to squeeze through the entrance with several bags in his arms, he never wants to make more than one trip- the overachiever. She nods her head in hello before trudging over to him without closing her laptop, greeting him easily with a peck on the lips freeing a few bags from his hands.

"Did you get my cookies?" She asks again despite the various text messages she had sent reminding him about her sweet treats, he rolls his eyes at her again swinging another bag into her waiting hands.

"Here. When I told you to text me necessities, cookies are not what I had in mind." He flicks her forehead lightly silencing her cry of pain with a follow-up kiss to the spot, she grumbles but stuffs the soft baked chocolate chip cookies into her mouth, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk hoarding food for the winter.

Smooth as a well-oiled machine they put the groceries away, the sound of cabinets opening and closing the soundtrack for their movements. When everything is correctly put away, she makes her way back over to her laptop only then remembering what she'd been doing.

She stares at the screen contemplating her next move before she feels a familiar heavy weight on her shoulder, his breath is hot on her neck when he speaks, "What are you looking at?" He barely waits for her reply covering her hand on the sleek mouse, scrolling down to read the entire email. She waits anxiously in her seat as he reads the words out loud, obviously she had thought about him when she first received the email but her last experience had made her nervous about asking him to attend.

They hadn't been officially dating for long. They'd been too focused on taking down Babel and the aftermath had left them both with unanswered questions about the nature of their relationship.

Only this time when she asked him the same question she'd been asking since he crash landed into her life unexpectedly, after everything was over, he'd looked over at her and said in a small voice "Not if you want me to stay."

She'd been a coward and he had taken her silence as rejection and it had taken a dramatic and honestly cliché airport interruption, complete with her pushing past airport staff and screaming his name crying as they told her that the plane to Malta had already taken off.

She'd returned to her house with red rimmed eyes that widened into huge saucers at the sight of him in front of her house, large suitcase beside him.

Gasping she ran into his arms, as terrified as she'd felt that fateful night so long ago in the underpass.

"I couldn't go."

He tugged her closer, burrowing his face in her thick hair and breathing harshly his voice was raw and rough like he'd been crying too.

"Because of me?" She asked shock laden in her words and that's when he drew away to stare into her eyes and with a defeated nod he said, "Because of you."

The rest had been history. He came inside with her and he hadn't left since.

"Are you going?"

She stills at the inquiry, head dizzy from the memories racing through her mind.

"What?"

He places a finger on the computer screen, "This reunion. Are you going?"

She feels a small sting in her chest at his words, with a sad smile she starts to shake her head in decline but then he chuckles, "We should go. I'll be your arm candy." He teases wagging his eyebrows in her peripheral.

Oh.

"You want to come with me?" She repeats stunned by his casual offer, this seemed huge for some reason and she could feel her heart pounding erratically in her brittle chest.

He finally straightens up walking off to the kitchen grabbing a cup, pulling the fridge open.

"Yeah I mean unless you have another boyfriend you want to bring with you."

She laughs at his joke but internally her blood sings, she didn't want to get her hopes up but now she can barely contain her happiness.

She can always count him to have her back.

Slamming the laptop shut she circumvents the chair running over to him, he looks at her with a raised eyebrow prying the cup of water from his hands she pulls him down into a grateful kiss. He hums low when she slips her tongue into his lax mouth, this kiss vastly different from the peck she'd greeted him with at the door.

She can taste the caffeine on his tongue, the strong flavor of his favorite espresso swirling around her taste buds, pushing him firmer into the counter she laps at his mouth eager for a deeper exploration. He melts under her touch letting her manhandle him and move his head as she sees fit, his complete surrender makes her hot under the collar.

It's with reluctance that she pulls away from his addicting lips.

She smirks as he sways into her body as if intoxicated.

"Sorry. We have to go soon, it's game night."

It's a weekly tradition at the plaza, tonight they're playing Taboo, it had been announced in the group chat that Mr. Nam had forced them to join. It was chaotic with so many different voices there but it made her feel warm, like they were their own little family.

He groans disappointed but nods slowly, adjusting himself discretely but not enough for her vigilant eyes. She stares at the hardon visible through the thin material of his sweatpants.

"Let's go before you get me any more excited." He grumbles, picking up the snacks he'd purchased for tonight. She smiles triumphantly at his back still in disbelief that she has that kind of power over the great Corn Salad, Vincenzo Cassano.

Game night is a success, filled with laughter and playful arguing. They all work together in pairs and their team loses horribly with her accidentally shouting out all the taboo words every time it's her turn. Mi-Ri and Larry Kang- from the dance studio make a great team using dance moves and inside jokes to solve their words in seconds much to everyone’s shock, they both adamantly deny any change in their relationship at the groups subsequent teasing.

Nobody believes them.

Just like they hadn’t believed her and Vincenzo.

They get home at midnight and both collapse before they can finish what they started earlier in the kitchen, but cuddling is great too. He’s always the little spoon.

The reunion isn't a point of conversation again and she almost forgets about it completely until it's Saturday, the day of the event and she wakes up alone. It's not totally abnormal with him being a morning person but she still groans in annoyance at his disappearance. The bed is so cold without his body letting off heat like a human furnace.

The sun is high in the sky when she finally pulls herself out of bed much later, 12:45pm according to her phone and she sits up with a full body stretch, body popping and cracking.

"Vincenzo? Are you here?" She calls out to the empty house, receiving no reply.

With a sigh she goes to shower and brush her teeth, he should be back soon from wherever he went.

When she finally comes out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam following her she pauses at the package on the bed. A huge white box catches her eye, the gold silken bow striking across the large rectangle. Taking a closer step she runs a finger across the smooth material in wonder.

There's a note and immediately she recognizes the distinctive penmanship.

Open me.

Not needing to be told twice she tugs the bow watching it unraveling before lifting the top of the box, peering inside with glowing eyes.

She lets out a soft gasp at the sight of the piercing white material that is almost perfectly camouflaged in the matching box. She lifts it with awe, watching material unfurl until she can see it clearly. It's a dress made from expensive fabric based on the its luxurious feel in her hands and her eyes widen at the cape that hangs lower than the dress itself.

"He was listening to me."

She remembers her group chat with the ladies from the plaza, sending them different options for her reunion and letting them help to pick it her outfit. She wanted something that would garner attention but that still felt like her, and that's when she'd seen it. The new Alexander Wang collection, all white blazer dress with a cape and button details, it looked like luxury and she knew it had to be hers.

The ladies had all been in agreement sending her thumbs up emojis and demanding that she purchase the stunning dress. She'd quickly added it to her cart but much to her dismay as she'd been entering her card information, that dreaded message popped up at the top of her screen.

This item is no longer available. Sorry, try again.

Her heart had sunk and despite Miri's computer savvy and Yeon-Jin 's online shopping prowess they had not been able to locate the dress on any other site. It was sold out, everywhere.

Or so she thought.

Wordlessly she slips into the dress and surprisingly it fits like a glove, as if it was tailored just for her but that can't be.

"I'll zip that up for you."

She jumps at the dark voice behind her and then a chill runs up her spine at his fingertips on her bare back. He slides the thick curtain of her hair to the side to zip it up the rest of the way, their eyes meet in the full length mirror across the room.

"You look beautiful." He compliments easily, eyes caressing her body from her head down to her bare toes.

She feels like a goddess under his eyes.

"Where did you get this? It was sold out everywhere." She stares at him in wonder and he smiles at her gaping mouth, "I called in a favor. I knew a designer who owed me a favor." He shrugs as if it's nothing that he knows designers who are connected to the Alexander Wang, she's still not used to his influence.

Wait.

"Do you know Alexander Wang?" She shouts in surprise spinning to stare at him and his easy smile and open hand gesture is enough of an answer.

"I got your measurements from Mr.Tak. I wanted tonight to be perfect for you."

Her nerves have been shot all week, it's true that they haven't discussed the reunion at all but that doesn't mean it hasn't been on a mind even haunting her dreams.

She didn't want to be embarrassed again. She knew that she shouldn't let them get to her, she didn't have to prove herself to anyone but for once she just wanted to make them all eat those condescending words. She wanted to show them that she was the same weird girl from high school but she was even more now, also a successful woman and there was nothing wrong with being both sides of those coins.

Without her even saying one word he'd been able to detect how important this night was for her.

"Thank you." She breathes tears glistening on her eyes, he wraps both arms around her waist beaming at her in the mirror.

"Don't thank me yet you didn't even see the shoes yet."

Without waiting for her answer he steps away to lift a pair of sparkling shoes from the box, the red soles immediately notifying her of the exorbitant brand.

She gapes at the shoes and then a smirking Vincenzo and then back at the shoes, "Are you crazy? Are those Louboutin's?" She asks the obvious question turning the shoes over to stare at the vibrant scarlet soles. A certain Bronxite’s voice blaring in her head about blood shoes.

"They did say the theme was luxury. I thought these were just right for you." Squealing like a kid in candy store she sits down on the bed with both shoes in hand, but before she can slip them on he's lowering himself to his knees. The sight is enough to stop her in her tracks, her traitorous imagination running wild at the implications and possibilities. When he takes the shoes from her loose grip she merely watches as he slides the shoes onto her feet, just like the dress they too fit perfectly.

"I feel like Cinderella." She chuckles trying to break the tension and the swell in her chest but his bright smile only makes her chest constrict tighter, she doesn't know if she'll survive tonight.

"Hong Cha-young!" She freezes at the sound of Ae-ram's squealing voice only pausing for a moment before turning with a tense smile.

Here we go.

The woman is flagged by her usual posse and parrots, who are always ready to echo her biting remarks and she gulps down her dirty martini needing some liquid courage.

As if sensing her unease instantly Vincenzo takes the hand that was artistically placed in the pocket of his fitting white dress pants and curls it around her waist, grounding her with the simple touch. She turns to him and he greets her with a calming smile that she can't help but return.

I've got your back. He says with only a slight lift of his lips.

She takes a deep breath.

Ae-ram's smile dims as she gets closer to them, her eyes honed on the hand on her hip and she leans fully into the warm body pressed against her side.

Min-he speaks first, an equally constipated smile on her face, "Who's this? You've never brought anyone before. Is this a work friend?" She almost rolls her eyes at the ridiculous question, as if work friends would be this comfortable with each other. They're already finding excuses, grasping at straws and creating complicated solutions for something that is easy to understand simply because they don’t think she’s worthy of attention. That large hand tightens lightly before a light chuckle reaches her ear, “Vincenzo Cassano, lawyer and the lucky man who gets to call her my mine.” She fidgets in his hold blushing at his bold introduction and watching all eyes widen at them, nobody speaks at first clearly in shock at the revelation.

“Vinshenzo? What kind of name is that?” Someone harps from the back of the crowd and she feels her hackles rise, yes she might have struggled with the pronunciation of his name at first but it felt petty and intentional right now not an honest mistake like her mispronunciation had been.

But before she can unleash her anger, another old classmates breaks the tense stalemate.

“Oh you’re the Italian lawyer I heard about on the new, who took down Babel! Great job!”

She had also helped with that, them being a team but nobody seems to care about that all focusing on Vincenzo, all herding around her Italian like he’s a celebrity and she watches shock as he easily wins them over.

“Sì, ero io. Il piacere è tutto tuo.” Yes that was me, the pleasure is all yours.

The group minus Ae-ram and Min-he all oh and ah at his effortless Italian despite having no clue what exactly he just said, she too is clueless at the quickly stated sentence but the mischievous smirk on his handsome face informs her of all that she needs to know, he is mocking them right to their faces. She hides a smile behind her hands, pretending to cough into her fingers.

Wordlessly, the group separates based on sex-she watches helplessly as Vincenzo is tugged away in a boisterous discussion about the state of Korean football- and she is left alone with those harpies but unlike the other reunions suddenly she is the most interesting woman there, regardless of Ae-ram trying to steal the show with pictures of her new full breed dog. She watches amused as the other woman is pushed aside and she is accosted on both sides, questions firing off like rockets.

“Where did you meet him?”

“Does he have a brother?”

“When are you getting married? You have to marry him!”

“Does he always smell that good?”

She turns flabbergasted to hear that question coming from Ae-ram’s right hand woman, Min-he and Ae-ram glares at her looking betrayed before she storms off with her professional head shots of her dog. She expects Min-he to trail after the spiteful primadonna but to her shock the other woman moves in closer, joining the firing brigade with their million questions about the handsome Italian.

They all settle down when the man they are so curious about returns, hand back on her waist like that its resting place.

Her ears ring from their coos and shrill “awws” but she leans into him nonetheless happy to have him back, already exhausted dealing with these people.

Then she notes that the tone of the questions suddenly shift as they begin to bombard the Italian Korean all at once. There are....more flirtatious when speaking to him and she feels her blood curl at the unprecedented change.

“Are all Italians this handsome?” Her eye twitches at the bold inquiry, subconsciously she feels her eyes narrow into slits as she glares at the woman who was brave stupid enough to ask that. The bitch blanches at her sneer but still flutters her eyelashes at Vincenzo waiting for his response, she clears her throat loudly answering for him, “He’s one of a kind and fortunately all mine. “ She can feel the smug bastard preening next to her practically buzzing from her compliment, and she quickly makes their escape, “Please excuse us.” Vincenzo smoothly tips his drinks at the women, “Addio,” he bids farewell in Italian arm still hooked around her waist as she sashays away, Louboutin's clicking on the marble tile floor.

The scrap of Italian leaves them all in a frenzy, whispering wildly behind them.

She drags them to the bar, ordering two shots of soju and another dirty martini ignoring his examining stare.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She already knows the answer to her question, it’s written all over him and she tries to stifle the jealousy that wants to rear its ugly head.

He looks over at her with a lazy grin, trying to appear innocent. She isn’t fooled for one second.

“Me? I’m not doing anything. I’m only here for you.”

She scoffs at him, staring at his annoyingly handsome face and his gleaming white suit he discarded the jacket earlier and his arms have been distracting her all night.

“You love the attention.”

He rubs his neck before turning to her fully, leaning on the bar counter.

“What? Are you jealous of the attention I’m getting? isn’t that why you brought me to make you look good?”

She wants to deny it and laugh at him, but even now she can hear the voices in the distance all intrigued by the Italian and the bartender’s eyes linger just a minute too long as the smooth Lawyer throws his free shot back in one fluid motion. She should be used to it by now, everyone in a ten mile radius getting a hard on for the Korean Italian. She understands why he gets all this attention, he is gorgeous that was one of the many reasons that she had fallen for him too but sometimes it can be intimidating to be with someone that so many others desire and so obviously too.

She wonders if she even deserves him.

Was she enough for him?

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” He taps her on her forehead dragging her from her self-deprecation. “Do you know why they’re all so mean to you?” He suddenly asks and she stares at him before shaking her head no.

Probably because she’s a hot fucking mess.

“They’re jealous of you.”

A burst of laughter slips free at this speculation and she watches as his face tightens, “You really don’t know do you?” His voice is liquid fire, smoky and dark like the tendrils from a cigarette.

“What are you talking about?” She manages to get out despite being lost in his voice.

“How sexy you are.” He leans over to whisper directly in her heated ears, she moans lightly at his breath on her skin.

That is hardly ever a word that she has heard used to describe her, Hong Cha-young.

Clumsy. Forgetful. Selfish. Loud. Demanding. Too Much.

Those words she had heard all her life but never sexy. She was too strange to be sexy.

“You’re smart and beautiful and you have a successful career. You aren’t afraid to be yourself and now you have me on your arm. You have everything and they wish they were you, they’re jealous.” He repeats firmer this time, rubbing a large thumb across her bottom lip and grinning down at her with barely contained glee.

She starts to deny his claim but then she looks behind her and sees nothing but a sea of envy, women and men both looking at them and she notes not all eyes are on Vincenzo a few men seemed lost in the low cut dip of her dress and the miles of naked skin on display.

She gasps at the hard line that pokes at her bottom when he leans into her back, standing flush her back to his front. She shivers when he leans down to breathily say, “Everyone is watching, why don’t we give them a show?”

This is not like her, at all.

She has never been a fan of public displays of affection, even screaming at horny strangers in the past to get a room but she feels all that restraint leave her body at his challenge. Driving her body back into his jutting erection she slowly grinds in perfect rhythm to the song playing over the stereo.

undefined

youtube

She feels seductive as the music curls around her and she lifts her arms to wrap around his neck, bringing him ever closer and pushing back harder delighted at the groan that escapes his lips. He is coiled tightly behind her but he doesn’t move a muscle letting her have complete control over their interaction and she has never felt more powerful. Continuing to sway she leans back when he tightens his grip around her waist, mewling as his nose rubs at her earlobe and letting out a soft gasp when he blows on the tender flesh.

When she peels her heavy lids open, there are so many hungry and watchful eyes on them.

Ae-ram looks scandalized and she can see the woman pointing at them but she can’t hear a word that she’s saying the blood in her ears is too loud, drowning out all other sounds.

It must be the liquor in her veins because seeing all the voyeurs only makes her bolder, before she can second guess herself she spins around much to Vincenzo’s chagrin but she silences him with a finger on his lip.

“Follow me.”

He arches a thin eyebrow but eagerly obeys her command when she tugs him in the direction of the bathroom.

She hears several gasps behind her as she tugs open the door stepping inside, dragging him right behind her the silence is deafening when he closes the door behind them, turning the lock with a metallic snap.

Her breath comes out in hurried puffs.

What the fuck am I doing? She asks herself, wondering if this is what people call an out of body experience.

“We don’t have to do anything. Their imaginations will do the rest.”

He’s giving her an out.

Gripping his hands tighter, she pulls him over to the toilet which is thankfully clean using her feet to slam the seat down before pushing down him to sit. He looks up at her with inquisitive eyes, waiting for her next move but lets himself be manhandled the second time this night.

“Thank you for everything tonight,” she covers his mouth with her hands as she climbs into his lap, whatever words he had on his tongue evaporate when their groins meet.

“I know I don’t say this enough, but I love you.”

She has only ever said it once before and he’d been sleeping, they both knew he wasn’t truly asleep but he let her pretend and she appreciated it but there was no way she couldn’t say it now, tonight. He had been her prince charming when she had expected nothing.

“Are you serious? You say it to me in her-” She pops open his pants button cutting off his stunned response and he stares at her, making her feel hot.

“Talk later?” She begs and her request is backed by her hand disappearing through the slit in his pants and wrapping around his dick, the hot muscle twitching fiercely in her hold.

He chokes out word that sounds like a jumbled “yes” and that’s all the consent she needs to stroke him harder, using his precum to glide her hand down from the tip to the base and then back up again, he lets out a punched out groan at her purposeful handling of his imported goods.

Shifting back marginally, she gives herself more room tugging his pants down further to get a better look at the pretty pink cock, it’s standing at attention and weeping for her and rubs harder twisting in a corkscrew motion on the mushroom head much to his pleasure, he thrusts up into her hand and immediately she lets go.

“Please,” he whines so prettily and she tsks at him, “Don’t move, you can only take what I give you. You said you were mine right?”

She doesn’t know what has come over her but seeing all those women and men lusting over her boyfriend makes her want to remind them and him, just who he belongs to.

She expects him to put up some sort of fight, instead he nods eagerly at her command stilling his hip and she can see the strain in his white knuckled grip on the toilet edge.

“Good boy.” She praises and notes with stunned satisfaction the way his dick jumps at the praise too, interesting.

She starts with a light pace, stroking with the barest amount of pressure before she starts to grip him tighter when he groans at the dryness of her hands she leans over to spit on his head, this makes him hiss and fight to stay still in her grip she rewards him with a kiss to his flushed red head. The wet sounds of her hands stroking his hot meat fills the small space of the bathroom and lifting one hand she grabs his tie using it to yank him into a hard kiss, he opens up for her immediately letting her tongue explore his mouth.

She has never seen this mafia man so docile, it’s like seeing a lion behave like a house cat.

With a hard suck at his bottom lip, she breaks their kiss leaving them to pant into each other’s mouth harshly.

She didn’t know how far she actually planned on going but now nothing seems like enough, she needs more.

Staring deep into his eyes, she stands up releasing her grip on him and he sighs watching her confused before she slides both hands under her dress and slowly pulls down her panties, they are tiny, white and lace, matching her bra and he looks mesmerized as they are pried down her legs.

“Are you sure?” He’s still checking on her and she smiles at him, stepping out of the panties and cheekily putting them in his pocket, “Give them safe for me,” she doesn’t give him a chance to reply before sinking back down onto him, his dick is hard and thick but she’s so wet that he glides into her like they are two matching pieces of a puzzle. An erotic puzzle.

“Fuck!” He shouts when he bottoms out and his cock is completely encased in her tight walls, his voice echoes off the bathroom walls.

She grabs his tie, making his eyes pop open and she watches amused as he sputters as she stuffs the expensive material into his mouth.

“You’re being too loud.” She teases remembering all the times he had been the one admonishing her as she screamed beneath him.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” He echoes her words from spitting out the tie and she can’t deny it, so instead she rocks forward taking even more of him simultaneously shoving the wet tie back into his mouth listening to his barely muffled grunts. She rises up on the tips of her toes, her red bottoms giving her that extra bit of height, his hard tip popping free with a wet squelch before she slams back down onto him titling her head back and moaning to the ceiling.

He’s being so good, not moving at all simply letting her fuck down on him and she can tell his control is slipping every time he grips her waist too tightly, painfully.

She continues to ride him, chasing her own pleasure and whimpering when his blunt head slides across her engorged bead, rocking vigorously up and down as she feels the end drawing near. She tightens her hold on his shoulder, using him as leverage to ride him faster, his thighs tense under the weight of her body and her rapid pace.

The wet smacks fill the air filthily and she feels dirty, absolutely nasty but instead of shame an intense wave of pride barrels over her.

“You’re mine.” She whispers out loud to herself but he misinterprets the words and eagerly nods at the statement thinking she wants him to declare that he’s hers, “Yes I am yours, all yours,” and she loses her mind, pistoning herself rapidly on his lap before pleasure surges through her body, starting in her toes and curling up her thighs and she rocks her nipples into his chest through their layers of clothes, she muffles her cry in his throat roughly pulling at the skin there to silence her deafening screams.

It’s only then that he breaks the rules, reaching up to grab her shoulders and yanking her down to meet his vicious upward thrust and waves and waves of thick streams fill her up until she feels it leaking at the sides.

There is no sound besides their louds pants.

Then two loud knocks make them both jump from their wrecked state, his softening length falling from her grip.

“This is the only bathroom.” A voice calls out disgusted and with a gasp she stands up straightening her dress and running a hand through her hair before realizing that it’s still sticky, great.

Vincenzo is a puddle on the toilet, legs spread apart and softened dick not yet tugged away, he looks like sin reincarnated and it takes everything not to initiate another round.

“Come on lover boy,” she tugs him up pulling him up and zipping up his pants, then she moves him over to the sink washing her hands and making him do the same. Their eyes meet in the mirror and that’s when she sees much how debauched they truly look, when he turns to look at the hickey she sucked into his pale skin while trying to be quiet she finally feels the ability to be embarrassed returning.

it’s huge and red, almost purple, covering the thick column of his throat and he winces when he rubs at it.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.” She apologizes but its for naught because he grins at her proudly, “You were just claiming what’s yours.”

His words light another fire under her skin and it’s only the pounding on the door that stops her from jumping him again.

When they finally pull the door open, none other than a blanched face Ae-ram is on the other side. The woman looks shocked to see them both standing in front of her and the gears begin to slowly turn and a bright blush rushes up her unnaturally high cheekbones while color evacuates the rest of her face.

“Are you serious?!”

She doesn’t stay to hear the rest of the woman’s snide remark, all eyes are on them as she walks over to the bar to grab her discarded purse and Vincenzo’s jacket, the bartender winks knowingly at them looking equal parts aroused and jealous and she chortles, winking back.

He hands them two shots, “It’s on the house,” he looks them up and down languidly licking his lips and she slams back the bitter liquid before turning to Vincenzo, his lips are shiny and now wet under the bright lights.

“Let’s get out of here.” She slams the shot glass on the counter, pulling him out the door.

He hastily swallows his drink, letting her tug him out the door into the cool night air.

“You didn’t let me answer you before, but me too.”

She looks at him from the corner of her eye, the wind causing her to sober up and it takes a minute to understand what he’s talking about. She shifts awkwardly when she ultimately realizes nodding while looking away, their cab is three minutes away.

“I love you too, Hong Cha- young.”

As if she didn’t already know. It was too obvious after tonight.

#vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #rated E #smut with feelings #chayenzo #CCFC2021 #top CY

190 notes · View notes

canyouimaginethatstory · 3 years

Text

I Need You (Lucifer X Reader)

A/N: This was written for a friend that was inspired by an edit they made of Lucifer. I kinda tweeked history a bit but I think i worked. ENJOY!

Lucifer was sitting on the porch of a small little cabin that was hidden away. It was a cabin he himself had designed. True the devil didn't really need a house. He could go wherever he wanted. But after whats happened he couldn't bring himself to go anywhere else. But he also couldn't stand to go inside. The small building held good memories. It also held memories that crushed the celestial being every time he stepped inside. Especially since those events had happened just two days ago. The memories caused more pain to the fallen angel than even his punishment from his father. The day he lost the one being he had come to truly love. And to top it off she was human. Her name was Y/N and Lucifer knew for the rest of his existence he'd never love another. Lucifer snapped his fingers and a bottle of liquor appeared in his hand.

He downed a drink full as memories of her played in his mind. The archangel had met her shortly after returning from the alternate world. she was a hunter from that world. Lucifer couldn't explain it. The minute he spotted her standing in the bunker library he felt drawn to her. He remembered how confused and scared she looked. Over time Lucifer would come up with small things to say to her. To his shock unlike everyone else who glared at him or avoided him she didn't. Y/N always replied back. Always offered him a warm smile. He often found himself smiling back. Not his usual cocky, menacing smile. But a genuine smile. As time went on they spent more together. Lucifer found himself growing very fond of her.

Unknown to Y/N when she would go on hunts Lucifer always stayed close to her. She never saw him but he was determined to make sure she always returned safe and sound. During one hunt a wendigo managed to corner her. Before it could hurt her she watched as it poofed away into dust. Y/N was confused until she sensed someone standing beside her. She looked over to see Lucifer looking at her. She swore she saw worry in his eyes. He wasted no time making sure she was ok. Lucifer took notice that she was looking up at him kind of weird. He was starting to worry again when she gently grabbed his face and pulled him down enough to place a small, soft kiss on his lips. He gently wrapped his arms around her and happily kissed back. And that's when their romance was born.

In his eons of existence no one of any kind of being made him feel like Y/N did. Loved, wanted. Around Y/N Lucifer felt more like an angel than the monster most other humans and beings saw him as. He truly loved her. Every time that fact hit him he would chuckle. He had despised the human race and yet he fell hard for one of them. And this fall he enjoyed. Not to say that the relationship didn't come with worry. Y/N was a hunter after all. Lucifer knew she wouldn't give up the life. So every hunt he was secretly there with her. He smiled remembering how she always referred to him as her guardian angel. He loved how it sounded. She has had currently been on a hunt. Tracking what seemed to be a goddess of some kind. That had Lucifer on high alert. If he were to pick a being that annoyed him more than humanity it would be gods and goddesses. Y/N was slowly scoping the rundown house her lead had brought her to. When she rounded the something grabbed her and pinned her against the wall. She looked and noticed it was vines.

"Well what do we have here?" she heard a strong female voice say as a figure walked out of the shadows. The woman had long red hair with back roses braided into it and she was wearing a flowing black gown.

"Who are you?" Y/N asked.

"I go by many names," she said, "but I think your kind mostly knows me as Persephone,".

"The goddess?" she asked a little shocked. The goddess nodded.

"Why are you hurting people?" Y/N asked, "aren't you suppose to be good,".

"Oh I was," she said, "but then I was taken to hell. To be the dark princes' queen," Lucifer shuddered from the shadows he hid in. "Who knew I would actually fall in love with Hades,".

"Hades?" Y/N asked. Then her eyes widened, "You mean Lucifer?". Again the goddess nodded.

"I was given a special spell to enter his cage," she said, "but then one day he decided I needed to return to my family. I begged him to let me stay. I loved him. But he said he didn't love me,".

"So all of this for an eons broken heart?" Y/N asked.

"Oh no," Persephone stated walking closer to her, "it was to Lure you here Y/N Y/LN,".

"Why me?" Y/N asked.

"Because your the one he wants," she said coldly, "and I want my prince back,". Soon Persphone's hand was around Y/N's throat.

"Let her go Persephone," Lucifer ordered suddenly appearing.

"I will only spare her if you let her go," she said, "you belong with me Hades,".

"The hades you know is long gone," Lucifer said, "First to all of any kind Hades was a god. But I'm not a god. You gods and goddesses are lesser creatures than I. I am an archangel. We were only a thing because of one of my father's failed attempts at storytelling," Lucifer's eyes glew red, "Now let her go!".

"Fine," Persephone said, "but if I can't have you back. Have my throne in the underworld back. Then neither can she," Suddenly a bolt of light flew from her palm and hit Y/N full force. The pain through her body was so intense she couldn't even scream.

"No!" Lucifer screamed and raised the goddess up in the air by her neck. Anger fueled the angel as he slowly drained the life out of the goddess. And just let her lifeless body turn to ash in his hand. He snapped out of the state of red he was seeing when he heard Y/N gasping. Like she couldn't breathe. "It's gonna be ok," he said kneeling down beside her. He placed his hands on her and started letting his grace flow. But something was wrong. It's was like his grace was blocked. Y/N saw the fear in his eyes. He couldn't heal her. "No no come on," he muttered to himself. Trying so hard to get his angelic powers to work. "come on!" he yelled as he kept trying to heal her. Y/N gently grabbed his hands.

"Lucifer," she said to get his attention, "Just take me home,". Lucifer still determined to heal her gently picked her up in his arms and zapped to the little cabin. When things got serious between Y/N and himself he had conjured the small house so they could have a place to hide away together whenever they felt like it. He gently laid her on the bed in the small building.

"I'm gonna heal you just hold on Y/N," he assured her kissing her forehead. Again trying to get his grace to work.

"Lucifer," she said gently touching his cheek. The sadness and fear playing in his blues eyes broke her heart, but she knew for her this was it, "just sit here with me,".

"Y/N please," he tried to plead.

"There's no curing me," she said right before a small coughing fit hit, "whatever she did to me is stronger than your grace. And I can't fight it,".

"Y/N please let me try," he said. Tears clearly forming, "please hold on. I need you,".

"My guardian angel," she said placing her hand on his chest where his heart was, "you'll always have me. Right here,".

"I won't have a heart if I lose you Y/N," he said. She reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek as it slid down.

"Yes you will," she said taking a big breath of air. It was becoming harder to breathe, "I want you to do me a favor Lucifer,". He nodded. Clearly trying to hold himself together. "Don't let yourself be the monster other beings think you are," she gasped again, "be the angel I know you are,". He leaned down and kissed her softly.

"I love you," he said as he gently held her close to him.

"I love you too Lucifer," she said softly as she closed her eyes. And he knew. She was gone. She didn't witness the full blown angel meltdown. With tears freely flowing Lucifer took out his hurt and anger on the inside of the small cabin. Breaking and smashing anything in his path while letting a pain filled inhuman screech escape. And now he was sitting on the porch of that same cabin. it felt like years had passed by but had only been days since he lost her. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to give her the goodbye she deserved but what was it? Then a thought came to him. She was a hunter. Was. That word sent a bolt of fresh pain through the archangel as it reminded him that his true love was gone. Really gone. He finished the bottle of liquor and smashed it on the ground next to the countless others that he had downed before it as he stood up. He walked up the small pebble path that lead from the house to the road. And just stared at the place that for short while felt like a home. But it only felt that because he had her.

"I'm sorry," was all he whispered as he waved his hand and the cabin was soon engulfed in flames.

MASTER LIST: Here

PROMPT EVENT: Here

REQUEST INFO: Here

1K FOLLOWER WORD PROMPT EVENT: Here

#lucifer supernatural #luciferspn #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer spn imagines #lucifer supernatural imagines #supernatural lucifer x reader #mark pellegrino

106 notes · View notes

indigowallbreaker · 3 years

Note

Felix/Ferdinand for Felix feels?

(Last of the Felix Feels Frenzy prompts! Thanks again, everyone. This was fun! Maybe I’ll try again with others characters in future.)

Ferdinand threw open the apartment door, kicked it shut again, let his work bag fall to the kitchen floor, and crossed the small apartment to the couch. Rain water dripped from his hair, free from the ponytail he usually sported at the end of the day.

Felix paused his video game as Ferdinand sat heavily beside him. “Rough day?’

Ferdinand nodded miserably.

“Go change. Shut up, you’ll be uncomfortable until you do,” Felix added bluntly when Ferdinand opened his mouth to protest. Scowling, Ferdinand stood and shuffled off into the bedroom. Once Felix heard the sound of clothes rustling, he too stood up and moved into the kitchen to turn on their electric kettle.

A mug and some Almyran Pine tea leaves were already set out. When Ferdinand hadn’t come home on time, Felix had assumed his bad morning had become a bad day and prepared accordingly. The kettle did its thing while Felix briefly went back to the TV to switch to a different game-- an arcade-style fighting game with a soundtrack Ferdinand loved and weapons system Felix prized.

By the time Ferdinand emerged again, Felix had the tea waiting on the side table and was halfway through his second match against a high-level computer player. Ferdinand took his seat again, already looking less frazzled than before.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Felix asked, eyes on the screen.

“...No. Thank you for the tea.”

Felix leaned back into the couch, holding his arms a little higher. “It’s too hot to drink right now. Lay down.”

With a sigh that sounded close to a whine, Ferdinand did as instructed, resting his head in Felix’s offered lap and facing the game. Felix simply kept playing.

The second match finished with Felix as the victor, as expected, and the character select screen popped up for round three. Felix idly scrolled through the characters with one hand and tangled the other in Ferdinand’s hair. It was still slightly damp.

Ferdinand melted at the touch. He let out a content hum and tucked his legs closer, scrunched up like a lap dog. Felix held in a chuckle as the comparison leapt to mind. “Do you want to order dinner from Bergliez Bites?” He asked, petting Ferdinand’s hair. “Ashe sent me a coupon.”

“Mm, it was my turn to cook tonight. We must use that chicken before it goes bad.”

“I’ll throw it in the freezer.”

Unsurprisingly, Ferdinand didn’t argue the point further. “Very well then.” He twisted to look up at Felix. “I did not even ask-- how was your day?”

Felix shrugged. “Same old crap. Who should I play as next?”

Ferdinand’s attention went back to the game. Felix kept running his fingers through those ginger waves, hoping-- foolishly-- to soothe away whatever plagued his boyfriend. “The blue haired woman near the bottom. I forget her name. The one who wields the glowing spatha.”

Felix toggled over. “Can I use her masked alt?”

“As you like.”

The next round began and Felix let go of Ferdinand’s hair to play properly. They didn’t speak for a while. Occasionally Ferdinand let out a noise of approval when Felix pulled off a good combo, but otherwise they simply let the music wash over them as rain pelted the window.

After two more rounds, Ferdinand sat up. “I will get the menu.” He turned to Felix and kissed him. Felix hit the pause button blindly, leaning into the kiss and gratefully to feel some of the tension leave Ferdinand. “Thank you,” Ferdinand said against his lips.

“All I did was make tea,” Felix returned even as his cheeks warmed.

Ferdinand chuckled. “So you did.” Getting up, Ferdinand retrieved his mug from the table and went into the kitchen. Felix watched him for a moment, watched him smile softly as he opened the cabinet beside the fridge to find their menus.

Letting out a sigh through his nose, Felix went back to the game, confident that Ferdinand would soon return to his normal, annoying, lovable self.

#felix hugo fraldarius #ferdinand von aegir #ferdilix #fire emblem three houses #felix fire emblem #ferdinand fire emblem #yes thats lucina have i mentioned yet this week that i love her dearly #that may be the ship name it may not be who knows #flex #which is MY name for them #fe3h #felix feels frenzy #writing this made me want tea so guess what #okay there were too many little mistakes so i edited a tiny bit

25 notes · View notes

murderousginger · 3 years

Text

Standing in the Ashes

Angel on Fire part 2

John Shelby x reader

Word count: 3,214

Warnings: They're criminals, guys, they do bad things.

You fell into a comfortable silence next to John. His presence was an anchor in the crowded room and it annoyed you to realize it. You sipped your second drink, knowing that you wanted to stay a steady tipsy rather than belligerent. In all honesty, you would have preferred not to drink at all but choosing not to drink caused too many questions. Your nerves could not take it today.

John sat beside you, you both watching the other from the corner of your eye until you had Harry top off your glass. You looked over to John and tilted your head as you raised your glass.

"Been a pleasure," you said as he took a drink from his glass. "But I do believe I have some men to bait and your brother and Isaiah to entertain."

"I doubt there'd be an argument if you stayed sat with me."

You faltered, mouth open as the words swam in your head.

"You're kind, but the silence can't be that entertaining," you stammered. "I'm sure you have business or a missus to get back to. Finn talks about his wild nieces and nephew."

John's eyes softened and he tilted his glass in his hand, watching the whiskey roll about.

"Martha," he said loud enough to carry but only that, "she passed years ago. It's just me, the maid and my children."

"Oh," you dropped your eyes, "I'm sorry."

You weighed in your mind what to say next when his sad eyes flickered and he smiled.

"You can do what you want, (Y/N), I won't stop you," he said as he leaned back. "But my life is fuckin' screaming and chaos, so don't think I can't appreciate two people sitting in comfortable quiet."

You nodded as your lip curled up in a half smile. You gathered your drink, John offering you a quick nod before you disappeared into the fray.

The next hour or two you nursed your drink as you flirted and brought men to the boys, dropping them at the table for a transaction like a dog with a dove. When you sent about a half dozen to Isaiah's friendly and knowing smile, you decided you had done enough and took your seat back at the table.

"Decided to take the night off to snog Michael?" You shot at your friend, who hadn't moved from under Michael's arm all night.

"Don't be jealous, (Y/N)," Isaiah said loudly as he wrapped his arm around you before he pushed his nose through your hair to your ear. "You know they'll tire of each other in a week. Give it time."

You hated getting testy with her but she did this every time. She'd find a boy -- this time none other than Michael Gray -- and she'd lose herself and your friendship as she batted her eyelashes. And a few weeks later when she became bored or he did, she'd come back and be your best friend again. You'd grown frustrated with the cycle. Was she really a best friend if she forgot you so easily?

Just another reason the night scene made you so tired. As much as you adored Isaiah and Finn, none of them were around until the sun went down. No one visited or asked to spend your lunch with you. You only ever saw them under the promise of whiskey and snow and you had grown bored of both.

"Everyone that's not a Shelby or fucking a Shelby, get out of my bar!" Harry bellowed as he whipped a towel above his head to get everyone's attention. "That includes the young Peakys in the corner!"

"Harry I'm a fuckin' Shelby!" Finn yelled back with a laugh, his arms wide.

"When you get hair on your balls, you can stay like your brothers. Til then, out!"

The boys booed as they laughed and finished their drinks, slamming the glasses on the table. You froze as you felt hands wrap around the back of your chair and warm arms touch your back.

"You lot not ready to pack it in?" The familiar voice said behind you. "Tell you what, if you can talk Harry out of a bottle, you can use my kitchen to wind down. Play a round of cards, drink, whatever."

Finn squinted up at his brother from your side as you fought yourself from doing the same. You felt heated with him so close to you. Agitated by his nonchalance at pushing himself into your space.

"You've never offered before," Finn said. "Why now?"

You felt his arms move up against your back as you circled the rim of your glass with your finger.

"Kids are a bit older and your ruckus won't wake them anymore," John said as he leaned down around you to come face to face with his brother. "Pretty sure you could bomb the house and they wouldn't stir. But if you'd rather go sit on a bridge in the cold…"

"A bridge," your friend said as she crinkled her nose at the very thought and leaned further into Michael and whined. "It's so cold out, Michael."

"Then it's settled," Isaiah grinned. "We'll head over to your place, John. Thank you."

"What about you, (Y/N)?" John said, his breath hitting the top of your head. "You haven't said a word."

You shifted in your seat as everyone eyed you. You could still feel John's breath in your hair.

"I do have to work in the morning," you started, earning a groan around the table. "But I suppose I can go for a little bit. I really should be home before dawn, though."

"Relax," Isaiah said as he bumped your shoulder with his and winked. "I'll take you home when you're ready. Get you all tucked in proper for that job of yours in the morning."

You snorted a laugh as you rolled your eyes at him.

"Right," John cleared his throat as he let go of your chair. "I'll see you lot soon, then."

You felt the pressure leave and it made you feel a little colder.

----

You all sat around a small table, passing the bottle around as the boys played some sort of card game. Everyone was too drunk or tired for actual rules, so the game kept changing as it went.

John's kitchen was nice enough. It was mostly clean and had little remnants of the children, a colored wall here, a high chair there. It felt honey with it's white washed walls and cozy atmosphere. You were all just able to fit, a small walkway around the table to be able to access the rest of the house.

John had immediately left once you were all situated, telling Finn to lock up when you were all done. You would be lying if you said you weren't a bit disappointed. Conversation with John was at least tolerable. You settled in, realizing you'd be subjected to more bravado, yelling, and stories of conquest rather than a decent conversation and actual thought.

The boys had drunk about half of the bottle when the room was a loud roar. Finn and Isaiah kept knocking into you, teasing and taunting, as Michael and your friend got closer and closer into their own world across the table. The loud noises and the constant knocking about had set your teeth on edge. You needed away. You stood up and shot a look at your friend.

"I need to use the bathroom," you said pointedly as she tucked into Michael's side.

"So go, then," Michael chortled. "You need an escort?"

You glared at him before looking back at your friend, who wouldn't meet your eye. You sighed.

"Some friend you are," you mumbled as you rolled your eyes and left to go find the bathroom.

It wasn't as hard as you had thought, thankfully. Bedroom doors were closed for the night and the house was covered in toys but otherwise easily figured out.

You went into the bathroom and flicked on a light, looking at your tired eyes in the mirror. No one else seemed to notice the bags under your eyes as of late. To you they shone so clearly, but no one mentioned them once. You shut and locked the door before you closed the toilet lid and sat on it, head in your hands. The roar of your friends was muffled, and for once you felt relief. Quiet.

You splashed your face with cool water, taking one last look in the mirror at your haunted eyes, and walked out only to run into something. Or someone. You looked down to see a small girl in a large white nightgown frowning at you.

"Who are you?" She said groggily as she wiped at her blue eyes.

"Oh!" You stepped aside. "I'm sorry. I'm (Y/N), your um, uncle Finn's friend."

"I'm Katie," she said slowly, eyeing you closely. "Didn't know daddy had comp'ny."

"We're all in the kitchen," you offered as your hands started to fidget. "Did you need the bathroom? Or your dad?"

"I just wanted water," she said as she pointed to the bathroom. "I can get it myself."

"Right," you said as you stepped around her. "Well it was nice to meet you, Katie, I'll get back to the rest now. Sleep well."

"Goodnight Miss (Y/N)," you heard Katie's small voice say behind you as you walked away.

"Goodnight," you said over your shoulder as you disappeared back to the kitchen.

You had known there were kids there, but it didn't occur to you that you could be bothering their sleep. Guilt washed over you as you returned to the kitchen where the noise was a booming roar.

"I want to go home," you crossed your arms as you reached the table. "It's nearly morning and I'd like to sleep. Some of us have work during daylight hours."

"So go," Michael said from behind his cards. "I'll make sure your friend gets home."

"You lot want me to walk home, in the dark, by myself?" You growled.

You looked to each one, your friend hiding her face in the crook of a smirking Michael's arm. Finn and Isaiah both were scratching their heads, staring hard at their cards. For once, the kitchen was silent.

"Fine," you gritted through your teeth. "Some friends you are."

"Oh don't be like that, love," Isaiah said as he grabbed for your wrist. "We're not ready to end the night, that's all. Tell you what, you go snooze on the couch and when we're done I'll come walk you home."

"How generous," you snapped as you twisted your wrist from his grip. "I'll take my chances on the streets. A few hours in my bed before work sounds better than a couch next to a party of loud idiots."

You heard them call to you as you stormed out and slammed the door, but you didn't stop until you were a few steps from the garden gate. The iron gate had been carelessly left open against the short stone walls. You looked at the ivy creeping along the stones as you took a breath and hugged yourself, realizing you had left your coat inside. Your breath formed a cloud in front of you but you frowned when you realized a different cloud was coming from the other side of the stone.

"Do you normally smoke outside of your garden in the wee hours of the morning?" You scowled as you rounded the corner to see John leaning against the wall, one arm wrapped around a propped leg as his hand pulled a cigar from his lips as the other leg lay flat against the ground.

John blew the smoke under the crook of his arm before looking back up at you with his boyish smile.

"Well hello again, beautiful," John eased. "Why, hoping to catch me alone?"

You felt the rush of heat to your face as you looked down and bit your lip for a moment, trying to compose yourself. You finally looked back to him, tapping his foot with your boot.

"No, I was just heading home," you said. "You're avoiding the question, though."

"Maybe I was," he said, sitting up straighter and tapping the ground beside him until you sat. "I figured a house full of kids would alert me if my children decided to come join them. Decided to take the free alarm system for what it was and enjoy a few quiet minutes to myself."

"I shouldn't bother you, then," you said, moving to get back up.

John's arm wrapped around you, rubbing the goosebumps on your shoulder as he pulled the smoke into his mouth.

"I can be myself with you here," he murmured around the cigar. "I'm not the only one that craves quiet."

You started to protest but instead settled under his arm. You watched as the cherry burned bright, illuminated his face in the dark before he pulled the cigar away and let the smoke roll from his mouth, always careful to blow it away from you. You hesitantly reached for the cigar as John went to bring it back up to his lips. He let you take it. You brought the damp end to your lips and puffed lightly.

"Don't breathe in too hard, pet," he chuckled. "It's not a cigarette. You just roll the smoke in your mouth rather than inhale."

You smiled as you handed it back to him before you exhaled.

"I know," you said with the last of the smoke. "Pa used to smoke cigars. He said he only had one on good days, which usually meant a holiday. Pretty sure that's the same kind. I'd know that smell anywhere."

"Your Pa has good taste," John said. "Should have known that by one look at you."

You faltered, unsure what to say to him. You weren't used to the compliments, especially when they weren't paired with a hand grabbing at your skirts. John sounded genuine and it confused you rather than flattered you.

John cleared his throat as he looked around the wall to look back at his door.

"Where's my idiot brother or Isaiah with your coat to walk you home?" John turned back to you as the shadows danced across his face to enhance his knotted brows. "I figured one of them would have been out by now."

"No one's coming for me," you stammered as you moved to stand up. "I forgot my coat when I stormed out."

"You're not walking home alone," John scoffed as he stood with you. "I'll take you if the idiots inside won't."

"You really don't have to," you said shyly. "I wouldn't trust them in your house by themselves, honestly."

You both chuckled.

"Yeah?" John laughed as he put the cigar out on the wall and laid it on the stone. "Probably shouldn't. Finn would just as easily set the place on fire boiling a pot of water."

"I'm taking you home," John said, more serious this time. "I'll go get your coat."

"No," you said quickly as you grabbed his hand before he could step away. "I just…" you let go of his hand as he turned back to you, "I'd rather not have you go after my coat like I tattled. I'm sure they'll pick it up when they leave. I'll grab it from them later."

John sighed, annoyance rattling through his teeth.

"Fine," he said, "but we're taking the car if you have no coat."

"You really don't have to--"

"I do and I am," John said firmly as he took your elbow to lead you around the corner to the garage.

He opened the passenger door for you and you silently slipped inside, rubbing your arm to rid yourself from the goosebumps as he climbed inside the driver's side.

"Thank you," you said quietly as he started the car and made his way down the street.

"You're not a bother, you know?" John chuckled, eyes on the road. "You're so damn polite and you ask for so little, yet you're so surprised if you get it. Just relax. I'm not sure what you're expecting but it ain't me."

You shuffled in your seat, shoving your hands between your legs to warm your fingertips. John frowned over at you, taking your hand in his.

"You're right frozen, aren't you?" He said as he pulled your fingers to his mouth and exhaled warm air on them, leaving a different kind of goosebumps to cover your skin. "Here, hold on."

He slowed the car to a crawl and let you go, wiggling himself out of his coat to hand you the warm wool.

"Oh, I--"

"Just take the damn thing and warm up, yeah?" He said. "How are you this stubborn for help? I've already told you I'm not out to stop you."

"What are you out for?" You said, surprise caught in your throat. You hadn't expected to be able to actually say it. John sighed, tired rather than annoyed.

"I've seen you, (Y/N)," he said, glancing at you as you put on his coat before looking back at the road. "You used to enjoy all this. The tokyo. The alcohol. The long nights. You spun in circles like a top. Now you still spin, but the smile is fake. You've put on a mask."

You froze, your head swimming with thoughts. He noticed? He cared?

"So?"

"So I want to know why," John exhaled. "I want to know you. We aren't that different."

"We aren't?"

"No."

The rest of the ride was silent. John puttered the car down city streets until he reached your flat. You never asked how he knew where it was.

Peaky business, you thought. They know everything.

When he stopped at your curb, you moved to get out of his coat but he waved you off.

"Keep it for the night," John smiled. "I'll trade you for yours another day."

"Thank you, John," you said softly before you turned and got out of the car.

You were halfway up your steps before you heard a car door open and steps thudding toward you. You stopped and turned around to meet John eye to eye.

He had pulled a toothpick out and started biting on it as he smiled at you. You waited in silence as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Um," John said as he looked to his feet and back up at you. "Can I take you somewhere?"

"Where?" You cocked your head, amused by his sudden shyness.

"Well it's a surprise but," he sucked in his cheek, "you said you're working tomorrow, yeah? When's your next day off? We can make a day of it. Or an afternoon, if you'd rather."

"I guess I'm off Saturday," you said slowly. "But I'm usually selling nights on weekends."

"Don't worry about that," John said. "The boys give you trouble, tell 'em I got another job for you. It'll keep 'em off your back. You hate it, I'll bring you home and you can go sell or anything you want. Take a night in, even."

"We can leave anytime I want?" You ask skeptically, watching John's easy smile as he lifted his hands up.

"Blinder's honor."

Masterlist

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #storytime with murderousginger #john shelby #john shelby x reader #isaiah jesus #finn shelby #michael gray

269 notes · View notes

writer-ish · 3 years

Text

grace (Mason x f!Detective)

Some of you may know my new co-obsession (along with @playchoices) is @seraphinitegames‘ The Wayhaven Chronicles and one (1) grumpy Greek vampire in particular.

Anyway, this little drabble was in my head after completing the Book 3 Demo for the millionth time and now you all need to be subjected to it as well. Enjoy? (Takes place sometime after Book 2, but before “that scene” in Book 3)

tags: @utterlyinevitable , @ethansramsey , @otherworldlypresents , @aworldoffandoms , @raleighcarrera , @ejunkiet , @starrystarrytrouble , @terrm9 (reply or dm for add/removal!)

grace

Pairing: Mason x f!Detective (Grace Bennett) Length: 3.2k words | Rating: T (Language) Summary: A detective and a vampire try not to catch feelings for one another OR denial is not just a river in Egypt.

“It only ever works if one of you cares more than the other.”

It was something Tina had said once, in a rare, cynical moment, fresh off a break up.

The two of them had gone out for drinks post-patrol one night and, as the evening wore on, Tina’s mood had descended in direct correlation with the growing number of empty glasses around them. Still, it hadn’t been until the cigarettes came out that Grace had really known they were in trouble.

“Trust me, Gracie.” Her friend had punctuated her words with haphazard gestures, cigarette wobbling precariously between two fingers, a fine dusting of ash drifting down to the table. Taking a drag, she’d released a thick plume of smoke from her mouth and nostrils before continuing.

“There’s no such thing as equal when it comes to love. There is always the giver and the receiver. The one who cares more. Who loves more. And—”

At this, she’d pointed the glowing ember at the end of her cigarette right in Constable Grace Bennett’s face.

“—You better hope it’s them and not you.”

Former Constable, now Detective Grace Bennett hadn’t thought about those words much in the subsequent years. Relationships weren’t really her forte, after all. There had been the disastrous two years in college with Bobby — in hindsight, one could hardly attribute “love” to anything that had happened between them — and, more recently, a few first dates that sometimes turned into second dates before fizzling out completely.

Hardly the stuff of romance novels.

So it was unfortunate that Tina’s old advice had chosen to rear its ugly head in her mind now, of all times, when Grace had found herself in a—situation where love was the absolute last thing she wanted to consider.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about Mason. Of course she did.

What else would you call almost incurring the wrath of an entire civilization of ancient Estonian mirror creatures at the expense of saving his miserable life?

It was just that things were...

Complicated.

Leaning against her beat-up silver hatchback, she willed the pounding of her heart to settle as the night spring air enveloped her in its cool breeze. She took deep and even breaths in and out of her nostrils, contemplating just how complicated things were, exactly.

First of all, wasn’t dating a colleague generally frowned upon?

Grace had never broken that rule in all her years on the force and she hadn’t had any intention of doing it as a detective, either, never mind as part of her mother’s top secret supernatural government agency.

Not only that, but what if said colleague had also made it abundantly clear, in more ways than one, that they weren’t looking for anything exclusive or serious in any capacity?

Had, in fact, made it a point to preface almost every sexual encounter with some variation of those very words?

And to even further complicate matters, what if said commitment-phobe colleague also happened to be supernatural themselves? More specifically, a vampire who was a few years shy of his centennial?

What then?

And yet — bear with her, here — let’s say, said commitment-phobe centenarian vampire colleague also looked at her as though she were the only human on this planet that he gave a damn about, the only one who could make his smile curl up on both sides, the only one who warmed those steel-grey eyes into molten embers, the one who—

Her train of thought cut off abruptly as she heard the doors open to the police station. There was a thick fog cutting the night air, the warmth of the day lazily giving way to the coolness of the night, imparting an almost dream-like quality onto an otherwise ordinary parking lot.

Grace waited, peering through the haze, until the object of her musings appeared. His unruly dark waves swung around his cheeks, just barely brushing his collarbone as he stalked towards her, hands buried deep in his pockets. His shoulders were hunched up close to his ears, which she knew was scant protection from the cold he must be feeling.

Her heart inadvertently gave a little pang at the thought and she could’ve sworn she saw his gaze narrow slightly as it happened.

She continued to take him in while she could, eyes lingering on the crystal around his neck that seemed to glow from within, a warm cerulean pulsation, before drifting over his leather jacket, burgundy henley, and worn-in jeans, half-tucked into his partially laced boots.

“Thanks for waiting,” was the first thing he said once he was in ear-shot.

Any passer-by might have thought he was sincere: Thanks for waiting for me by the car. For not leaving when you could have. Thanks for offering me a ride.

Grace, however, understood the sarcastic undercurrent of his words. Thanks for leaving me in there to deal with your mother and the rest of the agents. Nate’s disapproving glances and Felix’s gleeful ones. Thanks for ditching me.

There was never any true bite to his words, though, not anymore—even the borderline derisive ones. Instead, he stopped about a foot in front of her and straightened, his full lips quirked slightly, an unlit cigarette dangling between them. She had to crane her neck to look up at him and his grin grew wider.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he murmured, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

She cleared her throat, unable to stop the blush from creeping up her neck.

Even after all they’d been through — all they’d done — she still couldn’t prevent the slow crawl of heat that always seemed to accompany his presence.

“Yeah,” she said gruffly, turning to open her door and hoping maybe this time he hadn’t noticed.

One glance at the way he rolled his lips, hiding an ever-growing smirk as he rounded the back bumper of her car to go to the passenger side, told her that there was no chance she had been that lucky.

They got in quietly and she started the ignition — on the third try, ignoring his snort and slow headshake — before they were off.

“You know,” she said after a beat, even though she kicked herself for always being the one to break the silence, “I don’t think I need a babysitter anymore. Things seem quiet now.”

Mason scoffed.

“Things are never quiet,” he replied bluntly. “There’s just the hurricane or the eye of the storm.”

She felt his eyes on her after a moment and she held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

“Why? Getting sick of my company, sweetheart?”

“No!” she blurted out quickly—too quickly. “It’s not that, it’s just—I mean, I feel bad for you, to be honest. I’m sure there’s other things you’d rather be doing—”

“There’s nothing — and no one — else I’d rather be doing right now.” He’d said the words casually enough, as though completely unaware of the tumult they would cause within her system, his head still tilted languidly against the headrest of her passenger seat as he watched her.

“Well—” She fumbled for words. “That’s—I’m glad.” Nice one.

He chuckled low in his throat. “What is it about you being flustered that just gets me going?” He shook his head. “I’ll never know.”

She couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her. “I hate it,” she admitted. “You make me feel like my brain is constantly short-circuiting.”

“I’ll take that compliment.”

She took her eyes off the road briefly to look over at him. Sure enough, he was still staring right at her with a little smile quirking the side of his mouth up. She couldn’t help the return smile that she felt crinkling up the corners of her eyes.

His face changed slightly, smile dropping.

“Jesus, sweetheart, keep smiling at me like that and you might need to pull over.” He fiddled with a fresh cigarette before popping it in his mouth. She waited a beat, but the lighter never came out.

“We’re here anyway,” she said, pulling into her apartment complex and finding a spot easily. “You’ve officially completed your chaperone duty.” She hazarded a glance over at him. “Did you…” She cleared her throat. Be bold, Gracie.

He’d already turned his whole body in his seat, one hand braced on the dash, the other elbow digging in beside his headrest. He watched her carefully, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Did I?” He pretended to mull over the incomplete question. “The answer is most likely yes, I have.”

He leaned closer until she could feel the warmth of his breath swirling in the space between them. No longer imbued with the scent of burning tobacco, instead it had a sweetness to it, a freshness that reminded her of an unopened pack of cigarettes before they had been tainted by a flame.

“I have, I would have, and I certainly will again,” he continued, leaning forward even closer.

Grace bit her bottom lip and his eyes shot down to it immediately, seemingly transfixed by her tooth caught in the flushed redness of her mouth.

“Finish the sentence, detective,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on her, the cool grey seeming to emanate with a glow all its own.

“Did you want to come in?” she breathed, her own eyes darting down to his mouth in return.

His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her dark hair as he pulled her towards him.

“Always,” he said against her lips before capturing them with his.

Grace felt herself drowning in the moment, the same rushing vortex of emotion she felt every time they kissed. She’d thought it would get easier — that it had to — that it wouldn’t feel so all-consuming, so vital each time.

But as his lips slid over hers, tongue stroking and tasting and always drawing more and more from her, as she carded her fingers through the tempting obsidian waves of his hair and tugged him closer still, the desire to devour him too persistent to ignore—

She knew she was in deep. Too deep. She cared—too much. And there would be no getting out this time — at least not with all her vital parts attached.

* * *

Mason never thought he would like anything more than fucking.

It was intrinsic to his very being, the combustive need for release at all times — not just sexually, but entwined within his very existence. A need to be released from the hold of his senses, from the overpowering strain of existence—the sounds, the smells, the sights. All of it.

His desire to remove himself from the harshness of reality was a constant endeavour — and sex just happened to be the easiest and most pleasurable way to do it.

But he had to hand it to his little detective.

The sex was good, that was for sure. No doubt about it.

But the kissing—

In his almost one hundred years on this planet — at least the ones he could recall — he couldn’t remember ever being this affected by goddamn kissing of all things.

It had to be the little noises she made. Murmurs and moans against his mouth that he wasn’t even sure she was fully aware she was doing.

Or the way she pulled at him, drawing him closer each time so she could press her body against his, feel the length of her torso flush with the entirety of his.

She reminded him of a little burrowing creature, nuzzling at his jaw and neck, gripping the collar of his shirt, squirming to get under, over, inside him.

He squeezed her tightly — moderating the full extent of his strength, obviously, but still forcing her to emit a small breathless gasp at the feeling — and pulled her across the console towards him.

“Settle,” he murmured against her ear, dragging her fully into his lap. It was an effort — her legs kicked the dashboard, the radio, and the glove box before she could tuck them under herself as she buried a giggle into his shoulder.

“This car is not made for that sort of lateral movement,” she informed him, shifting to try and get comfortable.

“Oof,” he grunted as her knee hit his midsection. “God, you’re heavy.” It was patently untrue, but he knew he’d get some sass back for a comment like that and he found himself eagerly anticipating it.

She didn’t disappoint. Leaning back, she braced her hands on his shoulders, a lock of dark hair obscuring half of one of her hazel eyes. A street lamp illuminated her cheeky, exasperated grin as she tilted her head and regarded him.

“Is that so?” She wiggled around purposefully and he groaned in unspent desire as her perfectly round bottom found all the right places in his lap. “Would you care to file a complaint?”

“Christ, no,” he muttered, pulling her towards him once more. “Let’s get out of this aluminum death trap and go upstairs.”

Kicking his door open despite her protests to be careful, he tightened his hold on her and lifted them both out of the car, bracing his legs on the pavement as he stood.

He knew she was anticipating that he would release her, drop her to her feet and continue forwards to her apartment, likely with her trailing behind — his long strides swallowing up the pavement much easier than her shorter ones — but he found himself enjoying the steady, rapid beat of her heart against his shoulder, the comforting heft of her in his arms. He found himself hardpressed to let her go.

So he didn’t.

“Mason!”

She let out a gasp that dissolved into a laugh as he hefted her higher up and over his shoulder, unable to stop himself from giving her ass a playful slap as he carried her to her door. She kicked her legs ineffectually, thumped his back lightly with her palms as she squirmed. He only held her tighter against him.

“Stop moving, detective,” he ground out, the cigarette dropping out of his mouth as he turned his head to bite whatever part of her was closest to his cheek.

She yelped as his teeth made contact with the side of her upper thigh, hard enough that she’d be able to feel it through her jeans.

“Keep it up and it’ll be harder next time,” he promised, carrying her effortlessly up her steps. He paused at her front door. “Keys?”

“They’re in my pocket,” she grumbled and he made a big show of patting her bottom — both sides, thoroughly — before pulling them out of the pocket with the obvious protrusion and unlocking her door.

He let them in and kicked the door shut behind him, then took two strides into the small space and deposited her unceremoniously on the couch.

“Geez,” she spluttered, moving her hair out of her face. “What are my neighbours going to think?”

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but with the noises you’ve been making lately, they’ve already drawn their own conclusions,” he drawled, crossing his arms and regarding her with a half smirk.

She just shook her head at him, her eyes glittering with mirth—and something else, something less easy to discern or define.

Before he could decipher it further, she threw him off with another question:

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”

Her tone could have been accusatory in nature, but instead there was only a mild sense of awe and a greater sense of amusement. Regardless, it still took him aback.

What, exactly, did she mean by that?

He admitted to himself that there had been a certain feeling of—levity, about him tonight. An air of calmness, of — dare he say — happiness, at the thought of walking out of that station and seeing her waiting for him. Of knowing that he got to go home with her. To hold her. To taste her. To fuck her.

And then to leave her.

“Into me?” He regarded her warily, before moderating his reaction and his tone. “I’m more concerned with getting into you tonight, detective.”

“I have a name,” she retorted, sitting up and smoothing her shirt out. “You haven’t used it once since we left the station.”

Yeah, she had a name. He knew she had a fucking name. Grace. How ironic.

“Call me Gracie,” she’d said to them once and he’d almost puked.

What in the everloving fuck was someone like him doing with someone called Grace? “Grace” meant kindness. Charity. Good will. “Grace” meant mercy.

Mason had never had, nor had he ever wanted, anything to do with mercy.

And this girl—woman in front of him tonight, was the embodiment of her name. Everything kind. Everything compassionate. Everything merciful.

He crossed his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t have to look at them.

“Are we doing introductions again?” he snapped and then immediately regretted it when he saw the stricken look on her face.

All of a sudden, everything felt too overwhelming, his senses in overdrive as he lost his grip on her presence, her heartbeat. Instead, he felt a tidal wave of unwelcome sensations: the smell of the toast she’d made that morning, some flowers she had in a vase that were on the cusp of dying, the light he’d turned on when they walked in shining right in his eyes, the conversation and heavy footsteps of the people in the apartment above them—

Compulsively, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips, ready to light it.

Her eyes followed him, watching him closely. He didn’t know if she realized that something had changed in his demeanour or not, but her gaze on him made him itchy, too, in a different way.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he bit down hard on the cigarette, crushing the filter.

“Should I leave?” he muttered, feeling his shoulders hunch. Knowing he looked and sounded petulant and hating himself for it, but being unable to moderate his emotions enough to lift up the necessary shields.

She continued to regard him silently, those all-knowing hazel eyes, wise beyond their years, stripping him down to his scars — external and internal.

He suppressed a shudder.

“I’m going to shower,” she said eventually, “and wash off the grime of the day.” She gestured around the apartment. “Feel free to stay and get comfortable.” Then, she swallowed hard and met his eyes briefly, before looking away and shrugging. “Or go. It’s up to you.” She walked towards the bathroom, tossing her jacket on a chair as she went. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

The bathroom door closed — and locked, decisively.

It would be so easy to just bounce. Two steps to the door and then minutes before he could make it back to the warehouse. To his own bed. To the rest of his unit. Where things were easy and no one would ask questions. He could even go to a bar. Find another warm and willing body to lie with. One with a sensible and meaningless name, like Michael or Jennifer, whose eyes would be as empty as their head and who would smell all wrong and who he’d leave behind without looking back even once, because he didn’t give a shit about them.

It would be so easy.

So fucking easy.

Mason heard the shower turn on.

He thought about how she’d feel when she came out of that shower — thought, too, about her skin flushed and damp, only a towel wrapped around her, just because he couldn’t help himself — knowing that she’d given him an opportunity to stay and he’d chosen to go.

He found himself caring, for the first time, about how his actions might affect another person’s feelings.

He looked at the front door. Then he looked at the couch.

And he sat down.

Thanks for reading! I have a smutty part two planned, let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in. 😅

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #mason x detective #agent mason #twc fanfic #twc fanfiction #twc mason fanfic #specialist agent mason #agent m #played it fast and loose with the blog tags #if you really wish you weren’t tagged #plleeease let me know #❤️❤️#not choices

91 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 3 years

Text

Dragon: Boba Fett X Reader

A/N: this started as what would happen if the reader had a nightmare and was comforted by Boba. It mutated some. Sorry. Self indulgent because I have terrible nightmares, and Boba would make the best weighted blanket ever.

Warnings: Language. Implied sexual harassment. Cannon typical violence. angst hurt/comfort. Soft!Boba. No beta. I tried to make this GN! but don’t know if I caught everything. let me know and I will edit.

"It's a funny feeling being taken under the wing of a dragon. It's warmer than you'd think." --Amsterdam Vallon "Gangs of New York"

"Get up," Sassak kicks at your bedroll, "Big day for you." You hated Sassak, but he owned your contract and that meant doing what he said, wether that meant cutting down the hulks that littered the dunes for scrap, fixing whatever ships limped into port, or whatever grimy deed he'd lined up for you. You sit up, glaring at him through gritty eyes. "Got a buyer on the rest of your contract," he leers,"We meet them at the cantina and then you're someone else's problem."

You get up and dress. You are numb. Sassak's owned your contract for three years. One year indenture at going rate was the initial deal. Sassak offered to teach you the mechanics trade. Your wages would square up the cost of room and board and education for a year. At the time it had seemed like a good deal. Only deals have a way of getting altered. There was always some excuse. Hard times love, got to cut your hourly rate, imperial traffic ain't what it was, you're lucky I don't just cut you loose to starve. Then there's times when Sassak came back after blowing credits he swore he didn't have at the cantina, reeking of spotchka, shoving you against the mud-daubed walls and grinding his bony hips against yours, hey, pretty thing, I knock a thousand cred off your debt if you fuck me like you love me, and luckily, he's always drunk enough that you can fight him off. Sometimes you have to hold him while he cries about his misfortune at being stuck in this backwater with the likes of you. So now, someone else will own your debt. And Sassak is viciously happy about it. Maker only knows what this means. You worry the steel cuff welded around your wrist, tight to your skin with your contract number stamped on it as the two of you walk to the cantina. The contact is not what you expected, a slight woman with a rifle slung over her shoulder and bright red thread woven through her hair. Her face is impassive as she haggles with Sassak over your worth. You keep your eyes down and sip at your spotchka, never quite got a taste for the stuff, but, as the object of negotiations, you at least get a drink out of it. Sassak laughs and seems satisfied, passes the contact his data pad, and she keys in her name, Fennec Shand. "All yours," says Sassak and, mock bows, "Have fun." You ride behind Fennec on her speeder, arms gripped around her middle, watching the only place you've ever known blur by. The ship is old, a make you have not seen in some time. Fennec leads you up the ramp. "Time to meet your new boss," she says, and you are confused. "I thought you--" "No," says Fennec. "We both serve the same master." The cowling's been removed from the hyperdrive housing. A stream of yellow sparks spills down. "Boba!" She calls,"I've got you some competent help." A Mandalorian clambers down out of the ship’s infrastructure and you shrink back. You've never met one but you've heard the stories, all blood and thunder and brutality, planets turned to ash. He looks at you, but you can read nothing from that look, just the dark of his visor, the stillness of his body. "We're getting power drain from the hyperdrive," he says, "The reactor is stable, so I'm not sure where the problem lies." "Give me a light and boost me up," you say, "I'll see what I can do."

Fennec cuts the cuff off your wrist at Boba's orders. "But my debt--" "We've paid your debt," says Fennec, "You're crew now. You get pay." "But what if I just take off? What if I run away?" "What if you do?" She says, "We're not slavers." Fennec smiles. Her smile is small and controlled but warm. "No one will make you stay."

And for a time things are quiet. You do maintenance on Slave I. She's old, and you can't always find the right parts, but mostly you make due. You man the galley, bringing Fennec and Boba their meals on the bridge and then retreating to your bunk belowdecks. Things are quiet. But then Tython happens. The light cruiser happens. And you find yourself contending with one more crew member. He is Mandalorian, like Boba, but he never gives a name. He is just Mando, and silence spins out from him like the arms of a galaxy. He is always polite, even though he does not need to be. You are junior-most crew after all. Now there are four of you. Enough to sustain a proper two-shift crew rotation. Boba insists on cross-training which means that Mando and Fennec are together for main shift, and you and Boba are together for the alter shift. He teaches you the weapons systems. You teach him emergency shortcuts for when the boards fry out. There is little conversation between you. Working the same shift means you sleep the same shift. Sleep has a hard time finding you most times. Boba can drop off in an instant, you are not so lucky. After Tython the nightmares started. Sometimes it's Slave I that gets hit and turns to ash. Sometimes you see Fennec and Boba in the dirt choking on their own blood, sometimes, Maker damn him, you see Sassak in Imperial dress, mocking you as if the present and the past have gotten tangled together. But there is one nightmare worse than all the others, in which the man with the darksaber cuts your friends down, melts through their beskar armor like ice under a hot blade, and you are left naked and without defense, waiting for the last cut. You wake up screaming in your bunk in the belly of Slave I, the last of your nightmare dissipating even as your body still protests that every bit of it was real, so real this time, the spattered blood, the blaster cooked flesh, the smell, and you sob, trying to remind yourself that you're safe, that the hull's intact and them you care about are safe inside. "You're crying," Boba's voice comes raspy through the dark. He flips a switch and dim reddish lighting fills the crew quarters. You rub at your eyes. "Bad dream," You say, "It's nothing. I'm sorry." "You're crying," he repeats, his dark eyes peer at you, unreadable. He slides himself towards the inside of his bunk, and pats the thin mattress, "Come here." And you do so, the deck plating cold beneath your bare feet. Boba grabs you and pulls you into the bunk with him, gripping the back of your neck and settling you against his chest. You tense, expecting violence, but there is none. Just the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, his broad palm cupping the back of your head. He makes no other move. Slowly, you relax against him. Your hands unfist. Your arm creeps around him and Boba makes a low sound like a contented cat.

"Sleep, burc’ika." He says, and you drift off in the safe cage of his arms.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x oc #the mandalorian #boba fett #the mandalorian AU #fennec shand

126 notes · View notes