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fayeriess · 5 months

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⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ THE WAY WE USED TO ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: after ending things on a sour note with ellie before seattle, the both of you haven't spoken since her return, and a less-than-unexpected relationship with dina . she manages to slip away once again, this time leaving you with nothing but the memory of her. third time's a charm, right?

warnings: post-santa barbara, angst, talk of trauma, the usual deep dives when it comes to tlou2, not proof-read

a/n: kinda missed writing for ellie lowkey, my baby deserves the entire world and much more. another part is for sure in the works, maybe even two?? also my asks are open ;) i'd be very grateful if you guys would send some stuff! enjoy around 5k words of angst <3

There was once a time when the feeling of contentedness devoured you whole — swallowing you pleasantly. Its teeth were sharp, jaw wide — unhinged as it grabbed you with flexing, greedy fingers, tossing you into the warmness of vulnerability. Once you were in, the euphoric feeling would start at the tips of your toes, expanding throughout your body slowly.

You could remember how it would scratch a particular itch in your brain, soothing every worry lingering in your dreary mind's dark corners. In truth, it was a way to escape the endless violence, to relieve the throbbing pressure that had your heart aching within the confines of your chest, behind brittle human bones that were supposed to protect you from harm — but it did nothing to stop her from leaving. You had etched it into the stubborn tissue that took refuge within your skull even if you went down on your hands and knees, she just didn’t find it in her heart to be with you.

Those walls you had spent your entire existence fortifying with your blood, sweat, and tears had all been for nothing. Absolutely nothing.

You had foolishly taken the monster of aliveness for granted, and he had taken his sweet time crushing you, breaking your fragile bones within seconds.

He had won.

With the unforeseen defeat, you found yourself wanting to expel her from your mind. Her musky, wood-burned scent, the crinkle of her nose, the light rose blush that would decorate the apples of her cheeks, and the wringing of her hands when faced with uncomfortable situations.

Those little things were what you’d remember; nights when the rare sight of dewed grass would tickle your nose hairs. Jeans damp from the small droplets of rain resting atop blades of deep green seas, wet hands snaking through soggy soil to entwine with hers in secrecy. Those were moments when love had made itself known within you, albeit a foreign feeling you embraced with mass hesitance.

Foolish girl — you were merely a child. A child who selfishly put herself aside to care for another when she could barely care for herself.

You see, that was the issue with you. You never knew when enough was enough.

Maybe that’s why she had given little to no thought about ever uttering a single word to you in almost three years.

With your jaw clenched, you ground your teeth together, tightening your grip on the pen as you pressed down on the tattered, yellowing piece of paper with arising anger. You were struggling.

Your lack of presence in the outside world and limited interaction with others could attest to that. It wasn’t as if it was your intention. Human interaction seemed to drain you lately, and so you found yourself hunched over the wooden pine desk located near a window to the right of your bedroom, a withering chair accompanying the depressing set-up. Glancing upward, you rapidly blinked, lashes fluttering against the deep bags under your eyes as you reached your hand toward your face.

There was a dull throb behind your lids as you rubbed your palms against them, ridding your eyes of any trace of lingering tiredness as you opened them soon after, pupils adjusting to the rays of clouded sunlight bleeding through the thin material of the curtains.

With a deep sigh, you curled your fingers around the leather cover of your journal, the digits on your other hand snatching the nearly broken pen away from its place wedged between smeared ink. Slamming it shut, you slid it aside, biting the inside of your cheek as a means to snap yourself out of the deep hole taking refuge in the foreground of your mind.

It was an endless abyss of numbness, laying awake at night with the sheets tucked around your waist, eyes focused on the darkness of the ceiling as you tried to suppress the sudden blur that tried to overtake your vision. There was a certain sadness lingering within you, and it spread as if it were sugar water injected into your veins.

Scratching the back of your right ear, you lifted yourself from your hunched position, back aching from the time spent madly scribbling your scattered thoughts onto an ancient sheet of paper.

You’d have to stop obsessing over it eventually. This wasn’t a healthy way of thinking about things.

Pursing your lips, your bare feet padded against the maple hardwood of the floor, guiding you into the tight kitchen space occupying the small one-story home that you called your own. Shivering at the sudden rush of cold air that seeped through your pores, you pulled on the fridge door, spotting a glass jar half full of milk. Maria had given it to you just three days prior, hoping to coax you out of the house and over to the Tipsy Bison for a drink.

You had adamantly refused, telling her that you knew those weren’t her exact intentions with you, and by the look that she threw in your direction from the doorway, you were right.

She was a gentle-hearted woman with a tough exterior and a shielded heart. And although it was something she wouldn’t part her lips to say aloud, you reminded her of herself back when she was navigating through looming death and betrayal peeking behind every corner. It bared its teeth as if it were the predator, and you were the prey; open and unaware.

Placing your lips against the cool rim, you leaned your head back, gulping the rush of liquid, focusing on the way it glided down your throat and into your stomach, satisfying your thirst and easing a quarter of your heart all in one.

Darting your eyes around the area, you settled on the scenery through the single window, paying close attention to the individual bright greens of leaves that swayed in the light wind, the sun low on the horizon, a mix of blues and light orange hues painting the sky in watercolors.

Ripping your eyes away from the tempting scenery, you took in a breath of stale air, enveloping yourself in the comfort of the surrounding silence as you frowned deeply to yourself, index finger tracing the rim of the glass. Setting the short cup in the sink, you lifted your head once more, outstretching your arms to grab at the edges of the counter as you leaned forward.

Narrowing your eyes, the rusty gears in your head worked on overdrive to make out the figure walking past your window — shadow visible to you thanks to the angle of the lowering sun.

Your worrisome face formed even more creases if possible, contorting your face in such a pained way that it felt as if you were stabbed in the side, right between the ribs. Gulping the maturing lump in your throat, you slowly made your way to the chipped wood of the front door, standing a mere four feet from it.

With three quick knocks sounding from the other side followed by a clearing throat, you nearly deflated at the muffled voice on the other side of the door. It was tired, low, and gruff, struggling.

“Hey kiddo, I know you’re in there. I saw you from the window.”

Rolling your eyes as far back as they could go, you cocked your head to the side, puffing out your cheeks before blowing out a dramatic breath. The coolness of the metal knob against the clammy heat oozing from your palm soothed you for only a moment as you twisted your wrist — coming face-to-face with the short-haired man.

His locks were glossy, shining in natural oils, giving him a temporary unappealing look that paired well with the rest of his appearance. Crossing your arms over your chest, you unashamedly lowered your gaze to his disheveled clothing, noticing just how wrinkled his plaid button-up shirt was — the first three undone as if he had looped the rest of them through holes in a rush.

“You look like shit.”

Clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, he balanced most of his weight on his right leg, “Well hello to you, too.”

Pulling the skin of his lips back, he grimaced from the slight pain that jolted through his left.

Furrowing your brows in concern, your legs automatically moved to his side, lifting his arm and gently placing it over your shoulder, helping him hobble inside, away from the buzzing flies in the warm, summer air.

“You need to take it easy, Tommy.” You mumbled, slowly guiding him to the kitchen and plopping him down onto one of the creaky wooden chairs backed up against the scuffed white of the walls.

Waving one of his calloused hands, he waved you off, muttering something under his breath before he sighed loudly, scanning his one eye around your messy space. “Now don’t get your head all twisted. I ain’t nothing worth worrying about.”

Frowning, you pulled out the other chair from its place tucked near the small, circular table and slowly eased yourself down, leaning back, crossing one denim-clad leg over the other.

“Says you. Someone needs to keep an eye on you, old man. Especially now, since you like to perform your little disappearing acts once and a while.”

You watched as he parted his lips to speak, pressing them thinly right after, scoffing in slight annoyance. “You stalking me or somethin’?”

The corners of your lips curled, a lop-sided smile sneaking its way to your mouth. “I have better things to do with my time —”

“— Sure don’t look like it.”

“ — Okay, anyways. No, I don’t stalk you. You’re a grown man with grays and a gait. I doubt you can get very far.”

Cocking his head back in faux hurt, he put a shaking hand over his heart. “You’ve been underestimating my abilities to move despite my age. This conversation is a prime example.”

Rolling your eyes for the second time, you lowered your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Did you just come here to insult me, or was there something you needed?”

Any traces of playfulness twinkling in his dead eyes diminished as he sat there, searching through the mess in his brain for the correct words to say to you. Your kindness was something he was less than deserving of, and it was something he was very aware of as he stared at your hunched frame, defeated and small.

“I - I know anything else I say to you won’t make it easier —” he started, coming to a halt at your startling interruption.

“ — I don’t need you to start mindlessly talking to me about it.” You spat, glancing up at him through your lashes, head still aimed toward the floor, eyes following the patterns of the grimy tile. “I already told you that I was still beyond pissed.”

Furrowing your brows, the flood of frustration boiled over, as if it were a pot of water on high heat. “How ignorant are you? To send someone on your fucking revenge mission because you had no way of doing it yourself. I can’t forgive you for doing that to her.”

Nodding his head, he outstretched his bad leg, wincing as he did so, the heel of his boot connecting with the floor with a ‘thud’. His curt nod wasn’t in understanding, it was in regret of not finishing the job sooner, back when he had the capabilities to do so.

It was a laughable situation considering the severity of it. He‘s lost his eye, his ability to walk normally, the warmness of his heart, his brother, and his sanity — but still consumed with a fury so deep, that it permanently rattled his soul.

Without a second thought, he spoke again, tapping the pads of his dirt-covered hands onto the grass-stained denim of his jeans. “Now, hold on a minute. I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m just asking ya to understand.’

“There’s nothing else to understand, Tommy. She’s not coming back. No matter how many times you sneak out of Jackson and pray to whatever the fuck you believe in that things would’ve ended on your terms.”

Scrunching your nose, you turned your head to the side, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to spill onto your heated cheeks.

“She’s not fucking coming back here. I appreciate your constant reassurance throughout these past couple of months but it’s not doing anything for me.”

Rubbing your wet hands on the rough texture of your jeans, you lifted yourself from your position, wiping furiously at your puffy lids with the back of your hand. “I think we’re done here. You should go.”

Giving him no time to respond, you quickly scurried over to the door, pulling it open to let in a rush of warm air that did little to decrease the number of goosebumps dotted on your skin. Despite the blurriness of your vision, you eyed him cautiously as he struggled to lift himself, slowly limping over and out to the creaky, dented wood of the porch.

“There’s a bonfire tonight… I know the time isn’t right but you’ve been cooped up inside here for a month. Everybody wants to see you there.”

Lifting a hand, you circled the pad of your thumb around the shape of your lips — a habit to distract yourself from thinking about her.

God, think about anything else but her. Please.

“Uh - I don’t know.” Without waiting for a reply, you shut the door right in his face, the frame rattling from the force, an echo from the sound the only thing keeping you company.

But as it faded to silence, you were back with your thoughts, left to wallow in self-pity.

You were alone.

And that’s how it was always going to be.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Flickers of orange ember lifted upward - curling themselves around lingering smoke. It easily dispersed in the thick surrounding air, transforming into nothing as you blinked, vision blurred from the harsh burn of the blackening, ashed wood that sat upon muggy soil.

Droplets of water from earlier rainfall reflected in the sun, perfectly placed on vibrant green tree leaves.

The scent of wet grass and damp earth made you sniff lightly. Your nose scrunched, left hand moving near your nostrils to wipe at it with the elongated sleeve of your thin sweater.

With the flesh of your lips pulling back, a pained expression crossed over the muscles in your face, the rough material stinging the skin right under your nose - above your upper lip.

You weren’t crying.

That was something you had tried to convince yourself for the thousandth time in the past half hour as you stared ahead at the flames of the small fire that had been started just an hour ago.

There was already a small pile of ashes, just about an inch or so, being carried by a gentle breeze that would occasionally appear.

Secretly, you were thankful for the gust of wind seeping through the small holes embedded in your shirt and slowly easing its way to your skin, chilling the heat oozing off every crevice of your being. Gripping the tiny, tin cup in your left hand, your fingers bent around the handle - almost unnaturally as the blood drained from your knuckles, leaving them sore.

After a long debate with yourself in the foreground of your mind, you had taken Tommy up on his offer for some fresh air. The decision wasn’t as hard as you were making it out to be despite wanting nothing more than to crawl back under the comfort of your sheets. You needed this. You needed to get out of your house and socialize with people who were - hopefully - still your friends albeit the large lack of communication.

It wasn’t as if you were expecting them to understand - it was quite the opposite. You weren’t in the position to assume that they’d be able to take the time and make sure that you were okay, despite the amount of grief you were going through. The sadness, the sudden anger, a dimming spark within you. It was all something that you had to deal with yourself.

Although you kept yourself hidden behind cracking walls and a dust-collecting shell of space, it was obvious.

You were an open book. You fucking hated it.

Out of all the things you could dislike and disregard about yourself - about who you are as an individual forced to kill — one single thing always stuck — the small amount of hope that fluttered in your chest cavity.

It was strong, and that kept you up at night, back pressed against your springy mattress, eyes wandering around the cracked foundation of the ceiling, finding something — anything that would slowly ease away the lingering numbness within you.

“Hey, you okay there?” Blinking rapidly, you cocked your head to the right, coming face to face with Dina whose face had morphed into one of concern.

Her left arm was wrapped around JJ’s midsection, the leg she propped him on bouncing up and down to eliminate his sudden fuss. Quirking your lips at the corners, you smiled lopsidedly, pressing them into a thin line after a small nod.

“Yeah… just thinking.”

The look she gave you was enough to have your left arm raised, uneven fingernails hovering over the nape of your neck as you divert your gaze to a tiny pebble under the sole of your right shoe.

You leaned to one side as she playfully bumped her shoulder with yours, cooing at her son as soon as he started to mindlessly babble to himself.

“Thinkin’ about what?” Her lips were pulled back, pearly whites on display as she darted her eyes around the area.

You lifted your shoulders, dropping them a couple of seconds after in a shrug, eyes still glued to the pebble near your foot as if it was somehow going to come to life and walk away from you.

Clearing the non-existent lump in your throat, you shook your head from side to side, gliding your thumb across your nose, sniffling lightly. “I don’t think you’d wanna know. You seem pretty happy right now.”

Awaiting a response, JJ’s babbles filled the tension-filled silence, the crackle of the small fire accompanying his rants as well as the muffled conversations taking place around you. Her brows furrowed, her bottom lip being tugged between her teeth as she swallowed thickly. She understood what you meant. How could she not? She knew you still love Ellie in the same way she does.

Nothing could change that. As strong and resilient as Ellie was — always a fighter — she wasn’t immortal. It was a realization that had smacked you across the face as soon as Dina had come back in shambles, expressing how Ellie’s need for revenge took away the last bit of sanity she had left.

At first, she’d lay awake at night with JJ sleeping soundly beside her, making sure to keep a spot on the bed big enough just in case Ellie somehow managed to find her way back home. So she’d have the touch of something familiar against her skin, and breathe in the scent of clean linen and soft pillows.

She was struggling.

With pressure building behind her eyes, Dina bit the inside of her cheek, not quite knowing what to do with the constant thoughts buzzing in her frontal lobe, swarming like bees in a hive as she stared at the side of your face, eyes twinkling with empathy. She knew you had some sort of hope that Ellie was out there, she did too.

“Y’know…” She trailed off, mouth opening and closing as she searched for the right words. “I used to think it was the end of the world - not having her here I mean. I got so used to a routine with her that I thought she made peace with letting her go.”

Momentarily closing your eyes, you took a sip of whatever was in your cup to soothe the dryness in your throat, a frown forming on your lips soon after, a small breeze causing you to breathe shakily.

You remembered your earlier conversations with Tommy a couple of months after he returned from Seattle. He had told you that Ellie and Dina had up and left Jackson to go live on some farm a good bit away. This honestly came as a surprise to you because it seemed somewhat out of character for her, but then again, you never really know someone when you think you do.

He had told you all about his journey to Seattle; who and what he encountered. It was odd. A once well-composed, calm, and talkative man lost himself after the loss of his older sibling, his appearance was forever altered as well as his mindset.

Feeling your heart sink at the thought, you focused on the warmth of the fire hitting your face, smoke billowing from the orange flickers as the moon took over the sky, slowly replacing the sun.

“She’s stubborn. You should know that. When Ellie starts something, she finishes it, no matter how stupid it is.” Rolling your eyes to no one in particular, you looked down at JJ whose small head was buried into his mother's side, lashes fluttering as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Dina snorted. “God, I hate that you’re right.”

“She loved Joel a lot, y’know. I’m guessing whatever the fuck Tommy said that day got to her.”

Dina furrowed her brows, adjusting JJ so that he was in a more comfortable position, the side of her face glowing a gentle red. “It was fucking ridiculous. You should’ve seen the look on her face. She wasn’t doing well initially, but he made it harder for her. ”

“Tommy didn’t tell me exactly what he said. Only that he regretted it badly after and that you told him off for it. Rightfully so.” Puffing out your cheeks in a breath you scanned your eyes around the area, zeroing in on a group of children happily eating sandwiches, bent over close to the dirt, pointing out small insects burrowing beneath the still damp soil.

Hearing Dina sigh, you watched from her peripheral as she lifted herself from the thick log, careful not to disturb JJ’s deep slumber as he stuck his tongue out of his mouth.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night. Should take advantage of the fact that he’s sleeping.” She chuckled lightly, moving her mouth at an odd angle to blow a strand of dark hair away from her eyes.

Giving her a tight-lipped smile, you nodded curtly, watching as she distanced herself from you and went over to a group of older folks to say goodbye to. Turning your attention back down to your cup, you sloshed it from side to side, ready to zone out once more until you felt the presence of someone behind you.

“Are you gonna keep standing behind me like some sort of creep or…?.”

Jumping slightly as his hand landed harshly on your left shoulder, you rubbed you set your cup down next to you, rubbing your arm in slight discomfort. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. Glad you came despite uh, you know....”

“I didn’t come because you wanted me to.”

Sighing loudly, Tommy cocked his head toward the sky, inhaling largely before exhaling, getting himself lightheaded in the process. “I know. I guess that was my way of … apologizin’.”

Raising your eyebrows in surprise, the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Oh wow. Did you fall and hit your head on the way over here or something cause I could’ve just sworn you said sor-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Waving a hand in your direction, he rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath when your laughter reached his ears. Although he would never admit it aloud, it was a nice thing to hear.

“I accept your lame attempt at an apology.” You stated playfully, clapping your hands together and entwining your fingers with one another.

“Good.” He sighed, clearing his throat afterward to get rid of the sudden awkwardness that took over.

“Have you talked to Maria yet?”

“She wouldn’t wanna talk to me even if I tried, kid.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do too. She said so herself.”

Clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth you gave him the most intense side eye you could muster, sucking in cool air through clenched teeth. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“It would.”

Rising from your position, you dusted your palms off on your jeans, looking back at him as the wind whipped through his untamed hair, making small tendrils stick in different directions. “You motivate me to stop sitting on my ass so I'm telling you to get up off of yours now. Seriously, Tommy, you’re miserable.”

He chuckled dryly, slapping his right hand on his thigh as if you told him the funniest thing in the world. The loud slap echoed enough to have a couple of people snap their heads in your direction to see what exactly warranted a reaction like that from him. Rolling your eyes as far back into your head as they could go, you turned your body to face him fully, hand on your hip.

“What’s so funny?”

“I appreciate you trying to give me an encouraging speech — “

“ — It wasn’t supposed to be encouraging, merely just an observation.” You sputtered, feeling your face heat at his correct assumption you tried to adamantly deny.

“Sure. Well, whatever that was, you’re bad at it.”

With the feeling of slight embarrassment walking its fingers up to grip your shoulder, you widened your jaw a bit, licking your chapped lips before you put your hand over your heart in faux hurt. “Ouch.”

“Regardless, I am thankful for how you’re trying to help me.” He expressed, staring up at you with dark eyes, lids heavy with lack of sleep. “But, it’s not the right time to say anythin’ to her just yet. I must sort myself out before making a big leap like that.”

Running the wet muscle of your tongue across your teeth, you took in his words, blankly staring at the creases in his forehead as he pinched the bridge of his nose in growing frustration.

The tone of your voice softened, words coming out above a whisper, “That’s respectable. I don’t know how it doesn’t drive you insane though. Constantly trying to figure out solutions to problems that are out of your control.”

Tommy lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Even before all of this,” Motioning to the crowds of people scattered about, innocent children playing with toys and the aging buildings that still stood, “problems are always out of your control but in someone else’s hands. There’s a reason for everything.”

“But there’s a solution for everything too.” You tutted, wagging a finger at him.

“Since when you’d become so wise?”

“Since you told me that I'm bad at giving encouraging words.”

“I thought you said you weren’t trying to encourage me.”

“Whatever.”

Spinning on your heels, a cloud of dirt appeared around your feet. You shooed him away. “I’m going home. Keep yourself out of trouble.”

Tommy shook his head, fighting the strong urge to smile as he shouted at your retreating figure. “Always do!”

“I beg to differ!”

With a cheeky smile on your face and aching cheeks, you kept your head high as you made your way home, waving at those who lingered outside, having their private conversations under the dim light of the moon. The air was crisp, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet all you could focus on until you turned the street, your shadow combining with the shapes it came across. During heated nights, you and Ellie would sneak out — roaming the streets of Jackson without a care in the world, shushing each other to not cause a disturbance to those curled up in their beds.

She enjoyed making shapes underneath the strung-up lights littered around every corner, having you guess what animal she was making, bending each of her fingers. You were never really good at it. No matter how hard she tried to teach you the different kinds of objects you could shape your fingers into, you had given up quickly, insisting that she was a natural at everything she tried her hand in.

Stopping under a source of light illuminating the concrete from a nearby porch, you raised both of your hands, staring at your shadow as you bent your fingers in an attempt to make a rabbit, failing drastically.

“I was never good at that shit.” You mumbled to yourself, dragging the soles of your beat-up sneakers against the pavement.

Shoving your hands in the pockets of your sweater, you picked at a loose string, pinching and pulling as Joel’s house came into view.

As you neared, interest was piqued within you at the source of light that stuck out like a sore thumb, shrouded by a large tree but very visible in the darkness of the night. Quickening your pace, you raised your brows in curiosity, making your way up the steps and around to the back of the house where Ellie’s shed stood.

You were dreaming. That had to be the only plausible explanation as to why you were seeing what you were currently seeing right now — or maybe you were hallucinating — you had to be. With your heart beating quickly in the small space in your chest, thumping loudly in your ears, you drew in a sharp breath, biting the side of your cheek as you slowly took in the back of a plaid, button-up shirt, gaze drifting to dirt covered jeans before landing on the old converse sneakers you knew all too well.

“Ellie?”

#tlou part 2 #tlou2 #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader

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lovemyromance · 2 months

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I'm gonna need the ACOTAR fandom to be so fcking for real right now. Which of these is a better story?

A) An uncomfortable/awkward indifference between two people that have been declared mates already, turns into love. Join Elain & Lucien as they grow...and heal...together...and end up together to the surprise of absolutely no one. Elain, again, bends to the will of others and makes a choice that makes everyone else happy. She leaves her sisters, and moves into the human lands or day/spring/autumn/anywhere but Night court with Lucien for her happily ever after.

B) A priestess who is afraid around men due to her traumatic past ventures out to start her healing journey by learning self defense in order to never be weak again – only to fall for her training instructor. They fall in love through training, where the instructor is very careful and respectful of her and all the other women he trains. The training instructor is known as a freak in bed, and she is suddenly all healed to go have kinky sex with him. Follow their journey of fighting, and fucking, and bantering, and fucking some more as they fight and banter. There are ribbons and friendship bracelets. And a pegasus shows up.

C) A woman who everyone underestimates and makes decisions for finally gets to make her own choice. Fate has given her a partner she does not want, who makes her uncomfortable. An iron crockpot has stripped her of her mortality and forced her into a life she did not choose for herself.

Yet, this woman, this female, is so lovely and good that she finds the best in things, despite the circumstances. She adapts to her new life, her new world. She makes friends, she tries to bridge the gap between her relationship with her sisters. In the process of acclimating to her new life, she starts to have feelings for someone else.

A quiet male, the first to truly see her for who she is. The first to talk to her like a real person, the first to hand her a powerful weapon, the first to discover her powers and free her from her depressive murky realm. The male seems to want her too, but is careful around her because she already has a mate. Yet, he cannot seem to stay away from her. One night, under the cover of the night, they meet and are about to share a kiss when something pulls him away. He says "This is a mistake" and she is hurt - Was she imagining all the secret touches? The shy glances? The time they spent together?

She doesn't know that he was physically ordered away from her. The High Lord of their court ordered the male to stay away from her, claimed that she is already spoken for. The male immediately argues, says, "You can't order me to do that". But after some more angry threats, he relents. His own brother basically affirmed the fact that he does not deserve a female as lovely as her. He is tortured endlessly of how he could love someone so much, and yet, fate gave her to someone else?

Then their journey officially begins in the next book. Fate once again, brings the two secret lovers together. Circumstances demand Elain train her powers, and who better to do that than the Spymaster himself? He is the only person (other than Amren, perhaps) with the type of skills (Seeing/Hearing/Spying without physically being there) to be able to understand how to build her powers. They train together, are forced to interact and finally they make up. They cannot stay away from each other, but they have been expressly forbidden to be together. So they sneak away to the garden, under the covers of the stars, when not even the shadows are awake to witness the two lovers find peace in one another. Their love, their bond grows stronger - until Azriel can't physically stay away from her and he finally tells her his suspicions - that they also share a bond. Once it snaps into place, Elain, sweet lovely Elain, understands she has been given not one bond, but two bonds. The cauldron loved her so much, it wanted her to have the choice of whom to love. Elain, after understanding this, decides they've hidden their love long enough. She accepts the bond with Azriel, making her choice forever. They live happily ever after, raising their kids alongside her sisters and their mates.

Idk you guys, clearly I have a bias, but I'm going for option C 🤭

#elriel #azriel #elain archeron #pro elain #elain x azriel #acotar #elain #antielucien #antigwynriel

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aybeebz · 1 year

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They'd been on many little excursions, both with and without other friends to accompany them. But one thing was certain: Luigi and Daisy seemed to go off with each other more and more frequently.

It was obvious they were each quite fond of one another...or rather something more than just "fond."

Honestly, Luigi was completely smitten with Daisy. Her brashness, her confidence, her bravery... it all left him completely enamored.

So much so that he felt he didn't have the moxie to openly proclaim his adoration to her for the fear of pushing her away. If only he could muster up the courage to open his heart to her. As much as it hurt him, he'd decided not to get his hopes up of ever truly winning her over. It'd be best to keep his mouth shut on the matter.

.....

Little did he know, she had her own thoughts to share on their situation...

Luigi swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Crap, this wasn't right at all! Had he really given the impression that he was disinterested in her? It never occurred to him that she might read his attempt at modesty as a rebuttal of affections. As difficult as it was, he listened patiently as she continued.

"Then again, I know you're shy and soft spoken. Heh, hell, that's honestly one of the things I love about you. You're this sweet, sensitive, all around genuine fella... That's not something I've seen very often. That's part of what drew me to you..."

"But.... I've also noticed you seem to try to accommodate other's needs and wants... Even if it takes away from you, yourself... The last thing I'd want to do is take advantage of that. I absolutely do NOT want to drag you into something you're not interested in. So I-... I-I guess what I'm trying to say is that... I want to know your true feelings... I'd like to know formally if you'd actually..," she paused, biting her lower lip almost bashfully, "want to be in a relationship with me..."

His heart sank with every word that came out of her mouth. Because his feelings for her WERE very strong... So strong that he wasn't entirely sure how to express them verbally. Sure he hadn't made blatant statements of his affection out loud, but his reasoning was simply that...

He never actually thought his feelings would be reciprocated.

And so he kept those feelings inside, to not be known by anyone but himself. Granted, his brother could read him like a book(and vice versa), but to her? His silence was just that; Silence. Meaning now he had to clarify what his true thoughts were about this spitfire of a lady he'd grown to swoon over.

A task easier said than done.

"So please, Luigi... Spare my feelings. And be honest. How do you really feel... about me?.."

He steeled himself as he tried to think of how he wanted to word what he had to say.

"Princess, I-"

"Just Daisy."

"I- Uh?.."

She shifted her stance uncomfortably. "We're way past formalities, aren't we? Please just call me by my name."

Luigi nodded. "Y-yes, yes, you're right." He took a second to clear his throat. "Daisy... I know I've not been very, eh... Direct with you. A-And I'm so sorry for that. I never, NEVER meant to make you think that I don't enjoy your company... I actually enjoy it a lot, honestly."

He fidgeted in place for a moment, trying to assess the vibe of the space they occupied. Daisy remained in her guarded position, brows still furrowed ever slightly. A shiver went down his spine.

'The way she can intimidate a person by looks alone... What a woman~💞' he thought, briefly.

"You have this, ah...," he gestured his hands in a circle motion as he tried to think of the word, "I don't know... this presence about you that is so strong, so fierce... A-And you have this passion for living life to the fullest, facing everything head on without fear... I may not be saying this correctly but..."

"...."

"You're one of a kind, Daisy. Deserving of so much more than... than an awkward tinker that doesn't know what he's talking about... I could never imagine that someone as amazing as you are... would settle for a klutz like me..."

Her expression softened as she uncrossed her arms. "You're not a ''klutz,'' Luigi..," she chuckled, "I mean, you might be a little clumsy, maybe a little awkward, but that's not a bad thing. If anything, I find it endearing. I like that you're not perfect." She smiled up at him fondly. "... that you're authentically yourself. That's more than enough for me."

Luigi's face flushed at that last statement. It took him a second to realize he'd gone silent again. He cleared his throat again. "Okay... rambling over... You deserve to hear what I've neglected to tell you."

"And that is..?" Daisy quietly asked, eyes wide in anticipation.

Taking a long, deep breath, he gingerly placed his hands on her shoulders. He tried desperately to swallow his nerves.

"Prin- Ah-... Daisy. I... I..."

He could feel the color rush to his cheeks as he sputtered. He panicked. Why NOW of all times was he drawing a blank?

"I... I uh..."

Daisy's intense, waiting gaze didn't quite help his nerves. If anything, it made it so much harder to speak his mind.

'SAY SOMETHING YOU FOOL!!' he screamed at himself internally. There had to be some way to convey his feelings clearly!

"Um...."

......

Before he could think, his hand gently traveled up her arm, past her shoulder until it caressed her face...

and then-

His heart raced. The rush of sheer bliss that clouded his mind was unreal. To hold the woman he adored so close, so intimately was.... pure ecstasy~

But all too soon he suddenly snapped back to himself.... 'Oh no... Oh no! Did I overstep?? Was this unwarranted?? What have I done?? She's gonna be so angry with me!! I have to apologize!! Oh stars, I've ruined everything!!' his mind was flooded with thoughts of regret and embarrassment.

But before he could pull away to explain himself, to express how ashamed he was... he felt her warm hands resting atop of his wrists, steadying them. Glancing up momentarily, he realized she was leaning her weight ever so slightly into him as her soft lips pressed against his own.

She was... Kissing him back?

Huh... Maybe This was the right call after all?

His eyelids slid closed and he allowed himself to enjoy the intimate moment.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity.

After a few moments, Luigi finally pulled back to look her in the eyes. With a new vigor in his demeanor, he knew exactly the words that truly described his feelings for the princess of Sarasaland.

"I love you, Daisy..."

In wonderment, she stared back at him. Then a sweet, yet sly smirk crept across her lips. "Well I'm glad the feeling's mutual... cuz I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't kiss you like that again~💕"

It seemed that FINALLY, their relationship could officially be considered solidified❤️

#mario bros #nintendo #super mario bros #luigi #luigi x daisy #luigi and daisy #luaisy #princess daisy #Forgive me #I'm not a gifted writer #I've had this drabble staring back at me from my drafs for the past month #Hope this isn't too cringe :')#I just craved some slight angst with these two #Also.... k-kiss👉👈

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baejax-the-great · 5 months

Text

WIP Whenever

I could wait for Wednesday, but time has no meaning in December when the sun doesn't shine so have a bit of Sweet Victory:

Patroclus really doesn’t need to have someone witnessing the most embarrassing conversation of his entire life. “Every time I asked if you wanted to stay in my room, or if you wanted to hold hands or” –God, this was humiliating— “Anything. Anything that couples do, you always said that it was fine, we didn’t need to do things like that.”

“Because you don’t like to be touched.”

“What?”

He stares at the guy who has been touching him in very personal ways for years, but even beyond that, it doesn’t make sense. Patroclus might not go around throwing his arm around everyone’s shoulders like Menelaus does, but he thinks he likes being touched a normal amount. Or he would if Achilles ever showed any inclination toward it.

His confusion must show on his face, because Achilles looks wounded when he says, “You told me.”

“I never said that.”

“Yes, you did. My dad hugged you, and you looked so uncomfortable, and I asked you about it later and you said you didn’t want anyone touching you.”

Patroclus tries to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. Peleus never hugged him, never gave him so much as a pat on the back, except—“When I was ten? And I’d known both of you for all of twenty minutes?” And in what way is an adult hugging a strange child anything like a boyfriend acting like a boyfriend? Achilles has kept that conversation in his brain ever since? Etched in stone as if Patroclus had meant he didn’t want anyone ever touching him again as opposed for maybe only that day or that week or that minute? “Oh my god, is that why Peleus never hugged me again? You told him not to?”

Patroclus had thought surely, surely after his graduation from high school Peleus would give him at least one of those side hugs. He thought he deserved that, maybe. He got one of those from his chemistry teacher, but not the man who raised him for eight years of his life.

“Have you two really lived together for ten years?” Menelaus asks.

“Eight,” they both reply simultaneously.

“It’s just that from this conversation I’d assume you’ve never actually spoken to each other at all in your lives.”

“Thank you for that very helpful observation,” Patroclus drawls without looking away from Achilles.

“I mean I’ve known Patroclus for all of about three minutes and I could tell you he likes his hair pulled.”

Do I? Patroclus wonders for a millisecond before registering the look on Achilles’ face, the near future flashing in front of his eyes, and it contains a lot of blood spurting from Menelaus’s nose. Patroclus lunges forward as Achilles starts to move, shoving both his arms under Achilles’ armpits and lifting him off his feet.

“Put me down,” Achilles growls, trying to wrench out of Patroclus’s grasp.

#patrochilles #and the tag that may or may not exist yet #patrochillaus #fanfic #menelaus's patience has completely frayed he's in fuck it mode #dropping this year for a thiefy elf and anyone else

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thecameronchronicles · 1 year

Text

The Words I Never Said

TW: Fluff. Angst. Language. Hints of smut.

SUMMARY: Rudy stands up for you when his ex goes too far.

WORD COUNT: 900

REQUESTED

Hey could you possibly write pls Rudy Pankow x Reader where him and Elaine.. (no hate to her, I think she’s a lovely girl, love her) but she and him break up.. before you join on set. You are JJ Maybanks love interest.. You and Rudy get closer, everyone can see it and teases about it. However You keep quiet about Elaine making you upset by saying stupid comments to make you feel uncomfortable.. Rudy finds out and confronts her infront of everyone, telling his true feelings towards you. Thank you so much, I love your writing.. it is so inspirational ❤️❤️❤️

*THANK YOU SO MUCH! HOPE YOU ENJOY!*

The Words I Never Said

Even though they had broken up long before you joined the cast as JJ's love interest, the tension remained as if it had just been yesterday. Where you were welcomed by the cast, teases made to how close you and Rudy had become so quickly, it appeared as though the characters you played began to bleed over into reality, the crew was often a means for their usual whisper campaigns, all lead by Elaine.

And usually you were able to brush off the remarks as you knew they existed from a place of such insecurity. But as she explained how 'even Rudy told me he imagines anyone but her in the scenes' and it's awkward for him because he 'sees her as a sister and a friend and she can't take the hint', these words existed well in your mind along those she spoke to your face. These ones would be from pure manipulation as she spoke of your ensemble being bold and even commendable for being brave enough to play such a promiscuous character. Mentions of body image were tossed to make you question if you needed to eat dessert along with the dinners you would go out and attend with the cast, all while Rudy would pull you from reliving those words, even if he wasn't aware they had even been spoken.

But there was someone you had confided in. JD. Unintentionally, as he has come to you on set, his trusting eyes and loyal reputation had been a reason for such peace as he would quickly learn the reason behind your tears. But within an hour of that pestering secret weighing slightly less on your shoulders for being able to talk about it, you caught the sight of Rudy making determined steps towards the producer's tent.

"Where do you get off?!" He shot as the laughter of some former joke simmered to silence.

"Rudy, can we talk about whatever this is-"

"What's the point?! You don't care what you say or who it hurts. What makes it worse, Elaine, is YOU were the one who ended things. So where do you think you can tell me who I can start to fall for?" You caught each and every word as well as the reactions of cast and crew alike, all while your mutual friends would then look at you.

"She doesn't deserve that. But you make one more comment about her and you'll find working here VERY difficult." He turned to face you, unaware he'd been the reason behind such a crowd gathering, before moving towards his trailer.

"Rudy?" You questioned as you knocked on the door to find it having remained ajar from a quick entrance from its owner.

"I am so sorry about all of that...If I would have known-"

"I didn't want you to..."

"Why?" You looked back to the direction you'd both just come from.

"I didn't want to be the reason for tension..."

"God, why do you always have to be like this?" His aggression seemed to turn to you, "Always so sweet and considerate...I mean if the things you told JD happened frequently...I can only imagine the things you didn't tell him and you still don't want to hurt her...I want her out of here...I don't want her to hurt you anymore. Because she's so fucking wrong, you know...About your acting, the way I see you as a friend and can't get the hint...and your clothes and weight. My God, I can't focus half the time because I'm trying not to think about all of the things I want to do to you-" He stopped, realizing his rant had confessed far too much.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I-" You were quick to close the distance between you, his face in your hands, and a soft kiss to his lips. Even though you had kissed before, it had been staged and completely fake. Done so in repetition, it was almost enough to feel numb to the excitement you used to get from it.

Almost.

But now, it was new. As if you'd never kissed him before. And it was quickly reciprocated with a hand to the curve of your back pulling you closer.

"Did you mean it?" You asked as he rested his forehead to yours once breaking the kiss.

"What?" He asked sweetly.

"That you were falling in love with me?" He looked to the side before shaking his head.

"I've already fallen." You returned to kiss him, fisting the fabric of his shirt beneath your grasp while leading him in to you.

"Then lock the door, Rudy..." He obeyed and returned quickly as you pushed him to the couch.

"Let me show you that I've fallen for you too.." You were on your knees, hands running up his thighs as you reached his belt. A devilish smile mirrored on his face as you would prove without question just how you'd desired him.

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

#rudy pankow fluff #rudy pankow fanfiction #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #outer banks fanfiction

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galacticwildfire · 2 years

Text

Fire on Fire | Jon Snow

Two

Rhaenyra Targaryen was raised alongside her twin Daenerys across the narrow sea, until a twist of fate brought Rhaenyra to Westeros. Separated from her beloved twin she is taken as Ned Starks ward, isolated in a foreign land. It is there she finds comfort in Jon Snow, Winterfell's bastard, outcasted as she is.

The two grow inseparable, that bond growing into something dangerous as war grows nearer, a bond Ned grows fearful of, yet he can not dare to ever breathe the truth to either of them.

Warnings: not a warning but I had to have Aemon here, he deserved to meet any, mentions of sexual abuse and near rape

Word count: 4k

We ride fast into the morning, and well past dusk, putting as much space between us and Winterfell as we can before dark.

We tie our horses to a nearby tree as we make camp for the night, gathering firewood in a place far off the road to the wall, hidden away in the forest.

"I don't suppose you've ever spent the night in a forest," he asks, knowing well I was raised in Pentos.

"Only when I was being brought north," I tell him. "Although I was chained up with a bag over my head and tossed in the back of a wagon so I don't quite recall much of it."

He's uncomfortable at the reminder of the state I was in when we first laid eyes on one another. "Aye, I remember, the first thing father said when he set eyes on you was get her out of those chains."

"Your father is a more respectable man than Robert Baratheon," I say, not having to hide my disdain for the man with him. "Fourteen years old when he threatened to strike me down with his warhammer like he did my brother. A king indeed."

Ghost comes to sit in my lap, the pup having only been found several weeks ago. "Aye, he is known for his temper."

"As was my father," I say quietly. "I know the things he did, I know he was not a good man but I'll never be able to accept the fate Robert's rebellion brought upon my family. My brother-" I pause, never having spoken of him to Jon before, not truly. "He wasn't always the monster he is, they aren't born after all, they're made. I'll always believe that. He was seven, with two baby sister's to raise and two dead parents. Everything he'd ever known gone. He lost everything as just a boy, it's no wonder he took after my father."

He listens intently, something I've always liked about Jon, the fact he listens. "It's okay to hate him you know."

"I know," I say sadly. "I do, I hate him for everything he's put Dany and I through, even if we would be dead without him." I shake my head, anger boiling within me. "I don't even know if she's still alive."

"You can't think like that," he says, watching how my nails dig into my palm and uncurling my fist. "You've managed to survive this long here in Westeros with a king who wants you dead, if she's anything like you I'm sure she'll be alright."

His words do comfort me, and I hold his hand tight. "I just miss her. When you grow up with a twin it's like- it's like there's another half of you. And to lose that... it feels like half of me is still missing. Now I'm a Targaryen alone in a land I barely know."

"With a bastard to keep you company," he says, making me laugh a little. "If they told me before you came that my one friend in the world would be a Targaryen princess I'd call them mad."

"It's not so mad," I say, looking at our entwined fingers. "As a Targaryen this is probably one of the least mad things to ever happen."

"Well for a bastard it's the most mad thing," he replies. "Or at least that's what everyone else thinks."

I lean in. "What everyone else thinks doesn't matter. Here we are in the middle of nowhere, no one would ever find us." I look to the east. "We could get on a ship, and no one would ever know what happened to us."

He follows where I'm looking. "Except if we were ever found we'd both be executed for treason."

It's then it dawns on me. "I'm a prisoner here Jon. A ward yes, but just look at Theon, it's a fancy word for prisoner."

"Would you go back to Pentos if you could?" he asks me. "To find your sister?"

It's all I want. I can not even begin to think of my life here without her. I cannot let myself have peace until I free her from our brother.

"In a heartbeat," I answer, resting my head on his shoulder, daring to ask "If I did, would you come with me?"

"In a heartbeat."

I smile at the thought of it. "I want to show you what it's like to lay by the coastline, bathing in the sun, to look out at the sea." The thought brings tears to my eyes. "We might have lived a life of exile, but it was never a prison."

His fingers run through my hair. "Maybe one day we will."

"One day," I repeat wistfully as I let sleep take me. "It can't come soon enough."

I stay firmly beside Jon as we're allowed inside the gates of Castle Black, both of us still in awe of the wall. It being something you can never truly imagine unless you've seen it.

The Lord Commander comes, watching us from above.

"Here to join the watch lad?"

"No my lord," Jon says, speaking for us. "I am here on the orders of my father, Lord Eddard Stark."

"Are you Robb?" the man asks, and I watch the way Jon's eyes fall for just a moment.

"No," he answers. "I am Jon Snow, Lord Stark's bastard."

That gets whispers from the men, but the Lord Commander turns his attention to me, still cloaked.

"And who do you bring with you."

It's then I remove my hood, the response from the men being immediate, enough to make jon uncomfortable but my voice is clear. "Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

An old man stumbles forth from the scaffolding above. "Targaryen?!"

It's then a man who I recognise as Benjen Starks comes for us, ushering us out of public sight.

"Princess, I received a raven from Ned," he says, taking me arm and leading me up the stairs. "Come with me."

I reach back for Jon's hand, taking it as we're ushered inside a room with the Lord Commander.

"Many here at the wall were sent here at the end of Robert's Rebellion," Jeor Mormont tells me. "I damn well say half the wall are Targaryen loyalists."

"I- I didn't realise," I say quietly, the thought that some may actually still not want me dead a surprise. "My brother Viserys, he always said the people of Westeros were waiting for us, would raise their swords and rally their armies the moment we arrived back on Westeros soil. But I found quite the opposite."

I believed his delusions until I was paraded through the streets of Kings Landing, the fact I still live is proof enough do not want me dead, but I am careful not to overestimate my support in Westeros.

"Viserys?" the maester says as he walks in. "King Aerys' second son."

"Yes," I say, confused. "He is."

"I believed after my brother's son was murdered, that his foresons had died with him," he says and my heart stops as I realise who it is I am speaking to. "But no, his daughter is here."

"Aemon," I breathe, taking his hands in mine. "I- I thought there were no Targaryen's left."

"As did I child," he says, tears coming to my eyes. "Now tell me, what has come of your brother."

"Viserys he- my mother's guards took us across the narrow sea when she died in childbirth," I tell him. "He and my twin Daenerys, they're alive in Pentos."

"Alive," he breathes and smiles. "Twins, oh the heavens have blessed us. Tell me child, do you share the same face as your sister?"

We do not. Twins we may be, but our faces have never been the same. Something Viserys often commented on, as if trying to use it as an excuse to be rid of me, as if I was some bastard put in my sister's cradle. "We are twins yes, although not identical."

"Describe yourself to me child," he says. "For I cannot look upon you with my own eyes."

"Her face is paler, more full. Our eyes are different, Viserys often said Daenerys has my mother's eyes but that mine were of a strangers," I tell him, the odd memories coming to mind. "The poets would say she is the moon, and I am the sun. Two halves of heaven."

He smiles. "Oh that I would believe, the last daughters of our great dynasty, our last hope."

Tears slip down my cheeks as I smile, looking over to Jon who stands there with a warm smile on his face, and I feel Benjen's hand on my shoulder.

"Come princess, it's late, I need to speak with Maester Aemon and the Lord Commander."

The interruption is uprubt, but I don't resist as I'm taken to one of the guest rooms in castle black. But as the night grows dark and I can hear the men below, can hear them speaking of me in the way men do I look at the bolted door, yet still do not feel safe.

And so I find him.

Quietly I push his door open, unbolted, but as I man he's never had to think of such things. "Rhaenyra?"

"Can I stay with you?" I ask Jon, looking at where he lies in bed. "I do not feel safe with the types of men around here."

"Of course," he says, making room for me and I squeeze in between him and the wall, yearning for some sort of body heat. "You're cold aren't you?"

"Cold?" I laugh quietly as he pulls the blanket up around me. "It's cold enough it's made me realise of all the seven hells at least one has to be here."

He chuckles, his breath warm and comforting. "It could be worse."

"Aye, but I'd much rather be across the sea," I tell him, my fingers stroking his dark curls out of his face. "I don't like this."

"Like what?" he asks, not knowing whose words haunt me. The words of Varys in Kings Landing, this attempt on my life is only proof that he's right. I'm playing this game whether I like it or not.

"Life," I tell him, not knowing quite how to put it. "I don't want to play these games, running from assassins and smiling in rooms full of people. I want my sister, I want to go home."

"You are home," he tells me. "Westeros is your home."

"If that's true then I'd rather be homeless as I've always been."

He lets me rest my head on his chest, running his fingers through my hair. "Aye, but you aren't alone, I can promise you that."

I grip his hand tight. "You're all that I have here, Jon. I have no family, nothing. My only blood sworn to the wall and my sister across the sea. You're the only thing keeping me from throwing myself from the top of that wall."

"Rhae-"

"It's true," I breathe shakily, the thought having crossed my mind more than I could ever admit. "From the moment I stepped foot on Westeros soil I expected death, from either my hand or anothers."

He turns my chin up to look at him, his voice wavering "Rhaenyra."

"When I arrived at Winterfell all I could imagine was throwing myself from one of the towers, until I met someone else who felt like they would never belong." I stroke his bearded cheek, easing him. "Catelyn kept me from the Stark children, but there was one she couldn't keep me from."

The corner of his lip turns upwards. "I'm not a Stark."

"You're right," I say, looking into those dark eyes. "You are a Snow, and I am a Targaryen. Half of Winterfell hates you for being a bastard, the living reminder of Ned's indiscretion, the other half hates me for being a Targaryen, the living reminder of his sister's indiscretion. We are two people the world wishes didn't exist, yet here we are, and they can learn to live with it."

"Aye," he actually agrees. "Perhaps your right."

"When aren't I?" I tease, feeling at ease with him, feeling my body half covering his in the small bed, something that would be scandalous if it weren't us. I'd say he was like a brother if it weren't for the way he made me feel. I trust him as one should trust a brother, but I feel something else entirely.

And I know he feels it as well with the touches that linger, the looks we share. We both know it. Even if it seems impossible. Because deep down despite our dreams, he knows he is a bastard, I know he never wants to father children for the fear of passing on the name snow. And me, I know my fate as a princess, I know the real reason I wasn't killed the moment I was dragged in chains into the red keep. A Targaryen womb is a priceless thing.

Yet when I look at him I cannot help but dream of running away with him.

His knuckle brushes my cheek, and I know how I must look to him here in his bed, eyes wide and vulnerable for him only. The only person in this realm who can see me like us. I know what they call me in winterfell. The stone faced girl. The white ghost. For when I smile it's only ever for him.

My forehead rests against his, nose bumping his, and with my eyes closed it's all I can do not to kiss him. Because the moment I do this illusion is gone. The innocence we can feign, claiming him as the brother I never had. I've said as much to Ned. But we know the truth.

"Sweet dreams," he murmurs, bringing his lips up to my forehead, softly kissing my brow before tucking my head beneath his chin, my face resting in the warmth of his neck, breathing him in.

We spend most of the nights like that for the next fortnight, I spending my days with Aemon while he spends his with Benjen before coming to his room in the night, the nights ours and ours alone.

I almost feel peaceful here at the end of the world, until a few words from Benjen send me mad.

"The king is coming to winterfell."

The king is coming.

Those words instil a fear in me like no other.

The king who murdered my brother.

He is coming.

My time is up. I can't wait any longer. If I fall back into Robert's hands I may never be able to go back for her.

"Then I will not return to Winterfell."

"Princess," Benjen warns. "You are a ward of Winterfell and if you are not there when he comes then every soldier at his disposal will be searching for you to bring you back in irons."

"I don't fear the thought of chains for I've already been in them," I reply coldly. "So let them come! I'll gladly kill the bastards if they can hunt me down, I have a horse and a sword and know my way to the nearest port. I'd like to see them try."

For a moment he looks at me, as if I'm somebody else. "Rhaenyra, please."

"He murdered my father and brother," I remind him. "He would have struck me down with his warhammer in the throne room if not for the outrage it would have caused. I will not give him a second chance."

"Rhaenyra!" he calls out as I walk away from him, half running to my room, in the madness getting my cloak, pulling the furs tight around me before I even realise what I'm doing, but the moment I do I'm securing my sword around my waist.

I jump as the door open's but it's only Jon.

"Bar it," I order, and he does so without question, but still hesitates.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing to leave."

"Rhaenyra-"

"Robert Baratheon is coming to Winterfell and I've been ordered to return," I tell him, knowing what I have to do. "I thought I'd have more time but I need to leave."

"Rhae..."

"Come with me," I plead with Jon. "Come with me away from this place."

He stares at me in bewilderment. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere we wanted," I breathe, hands clutching his face. "I can't go south, I can't. I won't do it."

His resolve begins to crumble. "They'll hunt us down."

"Jon, please" I plead. "Come with me." I pull the rings off my fingers. "This can get us safe passage to Pentos, to my brother. Come with me."

"Rhaenyra," he grits out in frustration. "All you've told me of your brother is how cruel he is, how he would sell you to the highest bidder-"

"I am a princess Jon," I remind him, not caring for that at the present. "That is my fate-"

"And what if he's already married your sister off," he says, my blood running cold. "You told me yourself he has two sisters, one to sell and one to marry. You want to run away I get that, but to run back to him? Are you mad?"

My face becomes stone. "You know I hate that word."

"The idea of returning to Pentos, it isn't real," he says harshly. "How can you hate Winterfell more than your brother?"

I look at him, fighting tears. "I thought you understood, perhaps I was wrong."

"I do understand," he grits out. "But you can't just run away to your brother who'd sooner give you away to be raped than face the king!"

"Is that what you truly think this is about?" I exclaim. "I know what my brother is! Which is why I cannot leave my sister with him for him to rape or sell to another beast of a man to be raped!" He falls silent. "I will not abandon her! I never planned to stay here, I've been biding my time until I can go back for her, and now time's up!"

His voice is a plea "Rhae please."

"If it were Arya or Sansa would you leave them!" I yell, the pain I've harboured for so long finally breaking free. "If it were your sisters would you! I escaped! I escaped my fucking brother and all I've felt since the moment I arrived in Winterfell is an unbearable guilt of knowing exactly what will befall my sister! Now I'm gone he has to choose if he'll marry her or sell her, I don't know which is worse!"

"Rhaenyra, please," he pleads, trying to calm me down. "I'm sorry I- I'm sorry."

"Do you think he never hurt me!" I cry out, tears catching in my voice. "Do you think he'd never tear my clothes and throw me to the ground just to remind me he can do whatever he wants to me!" Tears wet my cheeks as I struggle for breath. "The man who fostered us put guards outside mine and my sister's doors at night to protect us from him! I don't give a shit about Robert or the rest, I just want to kill the bastard like I should have years ago!"

He pulls me into his arms and it's then I break down, the guilt and agony I've carried since the moment the slavers hauled me into their ship finally crushing me, but he's there to hold me up.

"I can't do it again," I tell Jon. "I can't have another man put his hands on me. Whether it's my brother or a king or a slaver."

He looks at me confused. "Why would anyone-"

"The king is coming Jon," I remind him, breathing in a shaken breath. "I am sixteen, a woman to be wed and with no man to decide to who that burden falls to the king who could have his way with me as he pleases or give me to that horror of a son I hear of." Something in his face changes, like a burning fire beneath stone. "If I go to Pentos, the only man trying to fuck me is my brother, and I know how to deal with him. If I stay here half of the lords in this damned country will want to have their way with me, the last Targaryen. The spoils of war."

His voice holds no hesitation, no doubt. "I won't let that happen."

"How?" I ask him in exasperation. "How can you and I stand against a king?"

"We'll find a way," he promises me, holding my face between his hands. "I promise."

And I believe him.

"I don't trust any man but you," I tell him. "Please, please just don't leave my side."

"Never," he promises me, as if we have control over that. "Now come here."

He holds me tight, but I hold him tighter, clutching onto him as if he's my last piece of sanity in all of this.

When I can finally breathe he brings me to Aemon, I've never had a grandfather, but Aemon has become the closest I'll ever know to one.

"The King is coming North," Jon tells Aemon. "Rhaenyra's been ordered to return to Winterfell."

"The king," he scoffs. "Robert Baratheon is no king. Cowering in the face of a young girl, you know what he did to your niece and nephew." His voice holds an anger I have only ever heard in my brothers. "Butchering them like- not even animals suffer such a fate."

I'd heard they were killed, but never how. "How?"

He's visibly sick, shaking from anger. "Butchered by the Mountain on the orders of Tywin Lannister, their mother raped with their on his hands, the girl- Rhaenys - was stabbed to death, a mere baby while the boy had his head slammed into the wall. Butchered."

Jon's pale with horror while I shake with an anger unlike any I've ever known, an anger that even Visery's pales to and I speak "How do we get justice?"

"Justice," he repeats. "You will find young Rhaenyra, there is no such thing, only vengeance.

"You want my advice?" he asks. "Kill the girl Rhaenyra, winter is coming, and for the realms of men to survive there must be a Targaryen on the throne. This is the prophecy, passed down from Aegon the Conqueror and now to you."

I stare at him bewildered, and it's Jon who asks "What do you mean?"

"You shall see," he tells us. "Once Winter comes, and that day is coming fast, you must be on the throne, you must have the Seven Kingdoms united to face the coming winter if we are to survive."

"I- I don't want to bring war," I tell him. "I don't want to bring death upon the kingdoms for a throne. All I want is my sister safe."

"War is coming, death shall follow regardless if you choose to fight or not," he warns me. "A Targaryen must sit on the throne, if you want your sister safe then you must fight. You must wake the dragon."

I look at the ring on my finger, one of the only thing's left of my mother's Viserys never sold, a ring fashioned from steel, worthless in it's weight, but it carries the sigil of our house.

"If a Targaryen must seat the throne," I begin, knowing it in my gut, in my heart. "Then it cannot be Viserys."

"Remember your namesake," he tells me. "Rhaenyra Targaryen."

I know her story well, a queen struck from history.

What did she suffer for if I would just give it up?

"I need to go south," I realise finally and look to Jon. "Ready the horses."

But before he can go Aemon speaks. "Your uncle has told me of you Jon Snow."

Jon's confused. "He has?"

"Oh yes, indeed," he says, as if there is some great piece of this mad puzzle we are missing. "You must protect the princess, you two must not allow yourselves to be separated. For she is not the last Targaryen, and you must be united if we are to survive."

His words seem to go over Jon's head, the mumblings of an old man, but not mine. I can't miss the strangeness of them, but I can't bring myself to seek clarity, instead I nod and promise Aemon "I won't let our family end with us."

Jon and I walk through Molestown, he keeping a close eye on me, still convinced I intend to disappear to the nearest port.

He grabs my wrist as I step up the stairs to the brothel "Rhaenyra-"

"Where else am I going to find a seamstress in a town like this," I reply and order him "Wait out here."

He reluctantly agrees as I walk up the steps inside, finding multiple men I recognise from the wall inside with women in various states of undress.

A well dressed woman flushes at the sight of me, and approaches.

"May I help you?"

"I would like a dress made," I tell the madam and she looks me up and down incredulously.

"This is no place for a lady."

"I'm no lady," I say pulling back my hood. "The princess of dragonstone requires a dress be made, are you able to assist."

She eyes me in disbelief. "So it is true, the Targaryen girl did go to the Wall."

"And now the king is coming north," I tell her, knowing her ladies will no doubt make the journey for business. "I am sure there must be a seamstress in here."

"Aye," she says, waving a woman over. "She can help yer, what do you need."

"A dress of red and black," I tell her, knowing Catelyn would never let me touch either colour when making my dresses, and so I only wore white. The white ghost of Winterfell some have come to call me. "I want it to be bold enough they'll want to put me in chains."

She nods her head. "As you wish milady."

"Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen," I correct. "It's a name you'll wish to remember."

Taglist:

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#jon snow #jon snow x oc #jon snow fanfic #jon snow x reader #jon snow fanfiction #game of thrones #daenerys targaryen fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #daenerys fanfiction #targaryen oc #oberyn martell #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell fanfiction #house of the dragon #targaryen #fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #yes this is incesty but idgaf

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ask-teamplayer · 1 year

Note

what do you guys all think of fate?

DARIN: not gunna lie sometime it b like

DARIN: ALL HAIL OUR GREAT FOREVER LEADER

DARIN: i aint know SHIT abt communism but we livin close to it with that guy

DARIN: that cute ass guy...

DARIN: cute as in cutie but also cute ass

DARIN: hes got a really cute ass im sayin

SETH: yeah, hes really hard to like... dislike!

SETH: he just worms his way under your skin and you cant even be mad at the little guy. hes just so charming and funny!

SETH: ive known him since i was young, so i have the best word here. how can you not fall in love with him a little??? bro love i mean. you know. how can you not just wanna wrap him up in a blanket??

NAHLA: Neeeerrrrdsss.

NAHLA: He is so full of bullshit, and honestly it's kind of crazy you think he's some kind of powerful leader type! He only breaks up fights because you're weak for him. So weaakk.

NAHLA: He is fun to prank. I will give you that and that only! It's funny to see him go on his little fits! Maybe that "small people are closer to hell" thing had some truth to it! Haha.

SETH: sure, nahla...

RONIN: yeah, f's probably the reason im friends with any of you stupid fucking people. he deserves some credit for that.

VERA: Hey now

RONIN: shit. except you, v. i dont know if we wouldve met without his divine intervention but i never wouldve hated you.

RONIN: we've got a trio thing going on with the guy, if you havent noticed, anon. he just forces us introverts to talk to each other, so i guess thats one thing he succeeded on.

CORA: I swear hearing the friend group discuss Fate without him in the room is always interesting. It's like he's some kind of friendship zeitgeist. Whenever he's in the room he's the center of attention, whenever he's out of it he's the center of discussion.

CORA: Somehow, every topic of colloquy we as a group have circles around to that boy and his many complexities. I enjoy his presence and participate in many philosophical discussions with him, but I'm more interested in the impact he leaves.

CORA: Every boy I am mutually friends with never shuts the fuck up about him. Even the straightest of macho men I have spoken with who accept his identity. It's quite humorous and frustrating.

LILY: hes silly :P

CORA: That as well...

ENZO: honestly its hard to tell if some of yall are too harsh on him except nahla in which case its really fuckin obvious and you gotta learn some empathy but whatever im not your dad

ENZO: dudes a goddamn sweetie pie but also a little asshole he balances it

ENZO: like the second i get uncomfortable he descends upon me like a shark smelling blood in the water to pamper me like im a fuckin handbag dog and hand out food and reassurances and sort the shit out he literally will just not let me be anxious ever no matter the circumstances

ENZO: he brings fuckin FANNY PACKS sometimes when we re out of school like he is THAT GUY

ENZO: i dont even think he knows half of what he does to me cause he drives me crazy lmao

CORA: As I said: Never shuts the fuck up about him. Homo-erotically crazy about this boy.

CORA: It's fascinating.

ENZO: yo cora i get its like your thing but can you interrogate me about my nonexistent sexuality issues a lil less cause i can fuckin hear you and its not all that polite

ENZO: im from the south i can make jokes like i ever experienced politeness in my life bro! shut up i literally just like the guy cause hes nice im not in the mood today

FATE: Sorry, bathroom break.

FATE: What are we talking about?

ENZO: NOTHING

CORA: Don't worry your pretty little head about it.

FATE: Cool.

#darin #seth #nahla #ronin #vera #cora #enzo #fate #lily #ask #anon

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taegularities · 1 year

Note

Hey rid! I would love your advice on this one thing... it's super long, so I apologize in advance

I had this guy best friend and I had been best friends with him since 6th grade. I always like him on and off, but never wanted to ruin the friendship. It was clear he liked me too during our senior year of high school, but again we never acted on it.

Flash forward to Halloween of last year, I ran into him while I was drunk. My friend (who was super duper drunk) very loudly said "Okay just give him a goodnight kiss so we could go" Omg Rid I was traumatized!! He was definitely sober and so I knew he would remember!

A couple of days after he had messaged me and basically said he was into me too and wanted to take me out (I was so excited, I felt like my childhood dreams were coming true) We made plans to go our the following week, but he got sick so I asked if he wanted to reschedule. He said yes, but never got back to me. So I had grown the guts to ask him a week after if he still wanted to go to which he was dry and basically stalled it. We haven't spoken since.

I passed him a couple of times on our college campus, but IDK if he was purposefully ignoring me or not because he never smiled like he used to. This morning, I had decided to try to make amends and I messaged him. I basically said "I know things have been weird between us since halloween, but I wanted to clear things up" and "I'm sorry if what happened made you uncomfortable or pushed you away in any way"

It's been over 10 hours and he hasn't even read the message, which honestly breaks my heart. I sent it on snapchat and I'm sure he had slid and read it, but didn't fully read it/respond. I've known him for so long and I'm incredibly sad our friendship was ruined (without a date or anything to formally ruin it) I was really hoping we could at least be on good terms, but honestly I'm so sad that he hasn't responded. He was so sweet and would always respond/be kind to me, so this definitely hit a soft spot in my heart. I genuinely don't know what to do or how to go about it. I feel embarrassed that I sent the message to only receive radio silence. I feel like I made things so much more awkward.

hey love !! oh god, that gives me such high school flashbacks lmao. yeah, i get how you feel, babe, it sounds nerve-wracking and discouraging.

i'm not sure what he feels or what he's thinking, but to me, it feels a bit like he's changed his mind? sometimes we think we're ready for something, but then realise we aren't. so maybe he just doesn't have the energy or courage to date yet; perhaps he really does like you, but can't commit to more. or he's honestly just busy. OR something happened in his private life that he doesn't want to talk about.

i'm so sorry he's been ghosting you – i know you sent this several hours ago, but i hope he's responded by now. if not, you could try asking him if he's alright, and that if he ever needs to talk, you'll be here (or alternatively, take the sassy route and tell him to be clear about what he wants, cos my dude, this is not cool). and if he doesn't respond... i'd suggest to let go for now, bc you don't deserve to be strung along.

and hey !!! also also !!!! in the worst case that he really did change his mind and realised he doesn't feel the same after all, please remember that it doesn't mean you're not good enough. i know we tend to overthink, and then put ourselves down, but you're worth a lot more than that, alright !! hoping for the best, bby <3

#long ask #notes for rid 🌹#anon

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lemielewis · 1 year

Text

WILL + LEMIE

where: hospital who: @lemielewis x @willxmeyers what: will wakes up at the hospital

WILL:

Will's body lied vertical in the hospital bed, his lungs, and heart going through the motions of life with a little extra help from the small pacemaker that now resided inside his chest cavity. He wasn’t still clinging to life, he was apparently on the road to recovery. Or so the doctors told whoever came around asking questions. The uncomfortable stiffness of his body was the first thing he felt, the next being the bright lights that shone in front of his eyelids. Keeping his eyes shut, his body slowly started coming back to life, waking from what felt like being hit by a bus. What would normally be known as a death rattle escaping his lips, thankfully it came out more like a groan. The orchestra of whirring and blipping of the machines and monitors that filled the room almost sounded like a pulse, beating in unison around one single, only just operational, heart that laid in the center of the room in the shape of a man. Broken but still beating.

LEMIE:

Despite their last conversation and the way their relationship had crashed and burned, the call Lemie had gotten from the hospital had been the most terrifying two minutes of her life. The nurse she had talked to had been so patient with her, having to repeat the same information a few times before Lemie managed to put all the words the woman was saying together in a way that made sense. Will. Hospital. Heart. Surgery. In her defense, they were scary fucking words together or apart.

She jumped in the first taxi she could find, making her way to the hospital the nurse had mentioned and marching in there yelling like she owned the damn place. Not long after, she was sitting next to Will's bed as he recovered, a scowl permanently etched on her face. She was pissed, to say the least. Mostly at him, but also at herself. Lemie had the decency to let him rest as long as he wanted, but the second his eyes opened… she was ready to give him hell.

After a few hours of pestering doctors and nurses with questions and nervously glaring at Will as he slept, she finally saw his eyelids flutter slightly. The first visible sign of life apart from the breathing. Blinding rage and relief washed over her, which was a weird sensation even for her. She sat back stubbornly, waiting for him to come to. "If you weren't already hurt, I would murder you," she hissed, not too worried about someone hearing her threaten him. "Who doesn't have an emergency contact? They had to go through your phone log and try to figure out who you wanted here." She didn't address the fact that they had picked her because her name seemed to come back the most.

WILL:

His eyes opened a sliver, the lights feeling so blinding that he almost wished it was that mysterious light people talked about seeing when they died. Almost. But as his vision adjusted, Will slowly pieced together what had happened. Memories of lying on the Oasis bathroom floor came to him in waves. The immense pain had subsided to an overall ache now, thankfully. But it didn’t mean he would be up and about any time soon.

For a moment, Will thought he was alone until she spoke. Slumped against a shitty hospital pillow, he turned his head slightly to see her sitting nearby. Had Will finally fully lost it and was hallucinating her? His lovesick stupid brain had snapped. There was no way she’d actually be here, not after what had happened. If this was heaven, he didn’t deserve to be here and if it was hell, he didn’t mind the torture of seeing her again. Will didn’t reach out to her, despite wanting to, in case it made the mirage disappear.

Lemie’s snide comment clued him into why she was here. Breaking the illusion that this was anything other than reality. “Emergency contacts are for people with loved ones,” Will replied in a rasp, the first words he’d spoken in what felt like days. He had officially asked anyone to take on this role, reckless as always. It was unlikely to be any family, given most were dead and the remaining were estranged. The pain from the tube they’d used to keep his lungs going lingered in his throat, his chest felt like someone was pushing down on it. His eyebrow pinched. “What happened?” He knew the cliff notes version, probably an overdose. Which would be very embarrassing to have to admit to his NA group, but he doubted they’d be all that surprised by him. But it didn’t feel like it at the time it was happening.

LEMIE:

Lemie would’ve thought waking up to her bitch face would at least scare Will a little, but for a second her looked almost happy to see her. What the fuck was wrong with this man? “You’re a fucking dumbass,” she added, as if he didn’t already know that. After her talk with his doctors, she had realized he was even more of a dumbass than she thought.

“Don’t try to make me feel bad for you because you can’t and I won’t,” she said categorically, leaning forward as to get closer to him. She wasn’t embarrassed about the things she was saying, but she didn’t want to get kicked out either. Honestly, she didn’t think she’d be able to let him out of her sights for the foreseeable future.

“Like a dumbass, you decided to revert back to your coke-head days and your stupid, malfunctioning heart decided to quit on you,” she told him, her voice growing in volume with every word. She was exposing how much she cared, how much she worried, and she hated it. “Meaning you had a heart attack. Apparently, amongst the myriad of things you decided not to tell me, there was a genetic disease. One that you were supposed to be monitoring and just decided not to, evidently. So, you have a pacemaker now. Idiot.”

WILL:

Despite her fury and how he felt roadkill that had been left on a highway, Will’s lips still twitched with a smile at her. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that he found her berating him hilarious, especially now. He listened intently, as Lemie pieced it together for him. She wouldn’t feel bad for him and that was valid, this was truly a hell of his own making. He couldn’t blame anyone else, except his stupid self. “I knew about the cokehead stuff. That part I was actually conscious for.” It was the aftermath that was a bit fuzzy.

The heart disease wasn’t news to him. He knew it was in his family, it was how his dad died. In a similar fashion, with people who hated him at his bedside. Will felt a pang of hurt at the thought, that despite everything he tried, he ended up just like his father. “A pacemaker?” Will repeated, it made sense why his chest felt like it was tight. It had been ripped open and sewn back together. He turned his eyes away from her and towards the ceiling, focusing on the gross water damaged spot that hung above him.

“I guess that means no more playing with magnets,” he sighed, feeling a little more himself. Or maybe it was the pain medication that ran through his system. It was a life-altering thing, to now have something else assisting his every heartbeat. But he couldn’t comprehend the seriousness of it. Not right now. “That’s a shame. I bloody love magnets.”

LEMIE:

Lemie was completely baffled by his reaction, the smile on his face making zero sense to her. She was so upset with him, so worried, and he was smiling. “Stop smiling! Are you still high? What part of you almost died on a dirty bathroom floor do you not understand?” She asked him, so loudly a few heads peaked in the door to check on them. Lemie ignored them, in typical Lemie fashion. “I figured, but I wanted to rub salt into the wound a little. Out of all your stupid decisions, that was the worse.”

The pacemaker news seem to hit him the hardest and, honestly, Lemie had not a clue as to why. It was probably related to one of the many things he’d kept from her. “Yeah, a pacemaker. It’s basically keeping you alive, so… don’t look so fucking bummed about it. You’re lucky you’re still here,” she told him, wanting him to grasp the seriousness of the situation. She wasn’t sure he did. He didn’t look half as shaken as she did.

“More importantly it means no more drugs and regular checkups you actually go to, dumbass. Magnets are the least of your worries.” Lemie was quickly losing patience, her worry not exactly easing given his reaction. Would he go back out into the world and immediately try to find himself some coke? It sure looked like he might with how nonchalant he was being. “Is this funny to you? Do you know what it felt like getting that stupid call?”

WILL:

She was right, as usual. It wasn’t funny in the typical sense. If he had died on that dirty bathroom floor, he wouldn’t have gently disappeared into that long night. No sense of peace overcame him in the end. It was just a long list of regrets that now that he’d somehow pulled through, Will would eventually have to address. The biggest one was letting her go. “I understand it all just fine,” his eyes still on the ceiling, thinking it through. The last thing he wanted was to upset her further, but controlling himself was not easy in his current state.

He wasn’t feeling particularly lucky, but it was better than dead. If they had asked him whether or not they should put the pacemaker in, Will would have probably told them not to bother. It was better used on someone who deserved it. But he kept that to himself. It was a sobering thought and Will remained quiet, turning a little somber as she practically begged him to take this seriously. He turned his head back to her, eyes meeting hers. “I’m sorry,” Will began. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. But you’re right, that was a stupid decision and if it makes you feel better, I have a feeling I will continue to pay for it.” His IV-clad hand motioned loosely to his chest, which was feeling particularly achy. The beeps and boops of the machines attached to him increased with his alertness.

“I am not sorry that they called you, I’m actually quite happy about it. I am sorry that it happened and that you were worried about me, but I honestly didn’t think I was going to see you again. And now I do.” It was as simple as that. “So that’s why I was smiling.” He waited for a moment before looking back up at the ceiling, exhausted by speaking so much. But it didn’t stop him from adding. “If none of that made any sense, forgive me. I just had heart surgery.”

LEMIE:

Lemie deflated slightly when he assured her he understood what had happened and the severity of it all. He still wasn't taking it as seriously as she wanted him to, but everyone had different ways of coping with shit like this. She coped with anger, he made a joke out of it. It wasn't his fault their coping methods weren't exactly compatible. "Doesn't look like it," she muttered, falling back into the chair and crossing her arms over her stomach like a child throwing a tantrum.

Everything she had said to him so far pointed towards her wanting an apology but getting it didn't feel quite right. It surely didn't alleviate the guilt she felt over him relapsing and ending up here. Although she wasn't egotistical enough to think she was the sole reason for him snorting lines in a shitty club's bathroom, she did think their fight and estrangement had played a small part in it. Had it been worth it? She didn't think so. It seemed kind of silly now if anything. "Yeah, I guess you will," she admitted, following his hand to his chest, her own heart aching in a way it never had. "Why would you do something like that? Why would you willingly skip out on important medical checkups? Do you want to die? Because I'm not equipped to handle something like that. Heart issues, addiction, I can live with, but not a death wish."

Lemie shook her head in annoyance, not that surprised by his answer because she could see where he was coming from. Despite the circumstances being less than ideal, it had forced them back together in a way and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't missed him. "Well, stop it. It's annoying. We would've seen each other again at work, stupid." She sighed deeply, getting up from her chair to fetch him a glass of water. "You sound like Marge Simpson, so have this." She held it out for him, not quite sure how to go about this. Lemie had never been great at taking care of people, especially not people she was particularly upset at.

WILL:

Will groaned at the question. Whether or not he wanted to die was a complicated one with many answers depending on so many things. Right now, it felt like he already had and he’d come back more a mangled corpse than a man. “I was busy,” he answered, seeing the cop out ahead and leaning into it. But acting this way was why she’d left in the first place. So he sighed and spoke truthfully. “And I didn’t want to deal with it. I hate hospitals and doctors and following the stupid instructions they give.” Now it was his turn to sound like a child. “I thought if I just... I don’t know, looked after myself, it’d be fine.” He stopped for a moment before adding, “Drug relapse not included.” He’d removed most stress from his life, eaten well, and exercised daily, Will thought that was enough to get by. But apparently not.

Truthfully, there was a lot Will was willing to ignore. He was stubborn like that and denial ran deep. Will hadn’t even thought about how they would have handled seeing each other at the cottage. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be pining looks from across the room. More like fiery daggers shooting at his head. “Maybe we would have, but it wouldn’t have been the same.” And that’s what he wanted, things to go back to how they were. He attempted to shuffle upwards in the bed, earning a hiss of pain as he did so but eventually, he was more upright and he took the cup from her with a stilted thank you. The water helped soothe his throat but only slightly. There was more to say it seemed, maybe nearly dying made him feel better about opening up, maybe it was the morphine or maybe he was worried that if he wasn’t quick enough, she’d be gone again. “I should have told you everything, I know that. I was being.. stupid. A dumbass, as you would say. A running theme.” How many apologies could be squeezed into a minute? “I should have fought harder.”

LEMIE:

Being busy sounded like one more bullshit excuse coming from him. She knew for a fact he wasn't too busy to go to a few appointments, they worked together after all. She knew his schedule rather well. He wanted to avoid the actual question most likely. “We're not talking about annoying rules teachers made us follow in school, we're talking about instructions that could very well keep you alive,” she insisted, not really buying into his logic. She hated authority so much, but even she wouldn't fuck with instructions from a doctor. “Right, I'll remember that when I have to write your eulogy. 'He thought he could keep himself alive by taking his vitamins and going on long-walk on the beach. May he rest in peace.' How does that sound?” She wasn't even touching the relapse, he knew what she thought of that and was probably beating himself up enough as it was.

Had she wanted him to fight for her? Probably, to some extent. To ask her to say, to go over the things he had hidden from her. As fast as she had been to dismiss him and their relationship, he had been just as quick to let her go. They were both in the wrong, as much as she hated to admit it. “It's too late now, so what's the point in dwelling on it?” The point was that she still cared about him, more than she could articulate right now. She was overwhelmed with countless emotions and she didn't think she should be making any decisions right now. He probably shouldn't either given how heavily medicated he was. “The doctors said you shouldn't be alone for a while, so I thought I could stay with you. Just while you recover. I assume you have a guest room.”

WILL:

Had he known this would have been the outcome, maybe Will would have taken their caution around his heart more seriously. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he replied lowly. She had asked for his reasoning and he had given it, stupidity and all. If this is what being honest got him, it made sense to keep his ridiculous thinking to himself. Her reenactment of his eulogy did siphon a small chuckle from him which only made him wince in pain. “Without the context of my heart exploding, that was actually quite nice. Hopefully, we can make a few edits before you have to perform it for real.” He’d been given another chance a life, whether he wanted it or not, so he might as well keep trying.

So it was too late. There was no coming back from this no matter how many times he apologised. And Will supposed that was what he deserved. This wasn’t some bid for attention or a cry for help, and she’d said clearly that there was no making her feel bad for him. Will turned back and shut his eyes, unsure if he could stand watching her leave again. But they opened quickly when she offered to look after him after he was discharged. Confusion covered his face. “I do,” it came out as a question, but he gave as much of a nod as he could. Will wasn’t completely alone. He did have others that could help, but none that he wanted as much as her. An ex-wife that would berate him just as hard, as well as the various friends he’d managed to keep. But everyone else paled in comparison. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to.” She shouldn’t have to drop everything to look after him. “But I also don’t want to miss an opportunity to have you over to my house.” A callback to their fight. It was probably too soon to make light of it, given everything.

LEMIE:

She was telling him things he already knew, that much was obvious. He was beating himself up about it and she wasn't exactly helping. No words were enough to explain just how horrible that initial phone call had been. Not knowing if he was going to make it or not had been torture, which said all it needed to say about her feelings for him. They weren't gone, no matter how hard she was being on him. “Nothing, I just thought you needed to hear that your stupid decisions don't just affect you. There are people around that care about you, people that are gonna be hurt by this. People that are going to miss you.” As vague as she was, she was obviously referring to herself. It wasn't like she knew anyone else in his life. “I'll only make edits if you die in a less stupid way. You've been warned.”

He was putting her in a tough spot by giving her a way out. She didn't want to tell him that she would've been able to sleep at night if she wasn't there, right next to him, to make sure he was taking care of himself. She didn't want him to know that she was fighting so hard not to crawl into his hospital bed and put her ear to his chest to make sure his heart was beating correctly. “I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to do it. Do I look like someone who does things against her will? Don't make a big deal out of it,” she said quickly, hoping to dismiss any inkling he might have that she wasn't as over him as she liked to pretend. “It took you almost dying to get an invite, so my expectations are high.”

WILL:

The typical William selfishness meant he hadn’t thought about anyone else but himself at the moment he decided to jump off the deep end. It was like it was a well-thought-out plan, it was an itch that begged to be scratched. But there were people, ones likely to show up in the coming days that would echo her sentiments. “I expect others will come and berate me as well.” Friends, mostly. No family to speak of, there was no way his sister could find out about this. “You know I wasn’t like I was trying to die,” he felt the need to say, in case it wasn’t clear. “I just wanted to forget for a bit.” Look how well that turned out. “Suppose that’s what happens when you’re officially too old to party.”

She looked like she was having some kind of internal battle, maybe deciding if it was a mistake to offer. But it was true, she didn’t do things she didn’t want to do so he guessed that said something. As long as Lemie knew she wasn’t obliged to look after him, that was all that mattered. “I hope you’re not expecting a castle. It’s just a house, no moat.” He wasn’t exactly living a lavish lifestyle these days. “I do have that lovely king-sized bed though. You’re welcome to have it and I can sleep in the guest room. Probably shouldn’t tackle stairs yet, anyway.” Considering that he’d just come to, it would be a little while before he’d be discharged.

LEMIE:

Did it mean something that she was the first to show up, the first to give him this speech about his actions having consequences on more people than just him? Had she given herself away by showing up here and taking charge of the situation? Probably, to some extent. If Will knew what was good for him, he wouldn't point it out. “Well, that's a relief. I mean who chooses to die in dirty public bathrooms?” Definitely not the most worrisome part of the whole ordeal, but she was just as good at deflecting as he was. “How ironic. You trying to forget led me right back to you.” He would have a hard time forgetting this part of his life with her being in his face all the time. “Yeah, well, needless to say, you're done partying and snorting cheap coke.”

It was weird making plans about where she would be staying at his house after the major fight they'd just had. They're never been too conventional, though, so it wasn't too surprising. “We'll see what makes the most sense. It'd be weird kicking you out of your room. I do think I deserve the king-size bed way more than you do, though. Especially after being forced to sleep in this chair for the foreseeable future.”

WILL:

As someone who had nearly died in a dirty club bathroom, Will felt he could answer her obviously a rhetorical question. “Heathens and drug addicts, mostly.” Both of which he definitely was and although it hadn’t been his intention, being such a way had consequences that he now had to live with.

The idea of forgetting her at all seemed irrational in hindsight. If something like this could bring her to him, what was wrong with a simple phone call? A heartfelt apology letter? He’d remember this for the next time they’d inevitably fight. “Some might call that fate, you know.” If you believed in such things. He grunted as he moved slightly, trying to get comfortable was impossible with this shit on his chest. Making light of himself seemed like the only way he was going to get through this, so the witty remarks carried on, a little slower than usual. “Had I known it was going to be the last time, I would buy something more special for the occasion. Really gone out with a bang.” He supposed that had happened anyway when his heart gave out.

The realisation dawned on Will that he didn’t actually know how long he’d already been here. Or how long she had. “You slept here?” Eyebrows pinched in concern, he wasn’t sure why it surprised him that she had. “How long have you been here?” Which led to another question, how long had he?

LEMIE:

Lemie snorted at his answer, which was the closest thing he'd get to a laugh out of her at this point. It was all still so fresh, her feelings too conflicting to really allow her to let her guard down just yet. “Touché,” she said quietly, crossing her fingers that this would be his last close call. The odds of him getting this lucky a second time were slim to none.

Her blue eyes rolled dramatically to the back of her eyes at the suggestion that this had happened because some cosmic force was trying to bring them together. “The fact that you had to almost die for us to be in the same room together really doesn't bode well for us.” Lemie shook her head, not able to find the humor in this situation just yet. It was too soon, it had been too close a call. “I'm being serious. You can't do this again. If you don't figure your shit out, I won't be here next time. I'm not going to stick around to watch you kill yourself.”

The blonde shrugged, the very picture of nonchalance if you didn't look closely enough. “They called me while you were having surgery. I stayed in the waiting room until they gave me the okay to come in here with you,” she explained, keeping her tone light. The wait had been pure torture. “I've been here since then. Not really sure how long it's been… Twenty-four hours-ish.”

WILL:

Knocking at death’s door does shift things in terms of perspective. Will knew now that maybe their fight wasn’t as relationship-ending as it seemed at the time. And as she said the word us, he couldn’t help but feel hope for them. “I like to think that’s what makes us special.” It was easy to fall back into his feelings for her, they hadn’t gone anywhere and they both knew it.

His jokes weren’t funny and she wasn’t having it. Not even in an eye-rolling, “you’re an idiot” kind of way. “I know,” he said acknowledging that he only got to pull this bullshit once. “My NA group is going to be so disappointed I missed a session. I really bring the vibes to that church basement.” It was his way of saying he had been trying but maybe it was better to just say it. So he looked at her solemnly. He’d take her hand if he wasn’t hooked up to the various machines. “I’ll be better. Promise.” Will just hoped it wouldn’t end up being a lie.

Will nodded, thinking of how long it’d been. Thankfully it wasn’t like he’d lost more than a couple days. Which compared to dying wasn’t all that bad. “You must be exhausted, it’s okay if you want to go home. Get some rest. It’s not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.” He meant in a locational sense, but it could also be applied to his overall state of being.

LEMIE:

He had to know what hearing him say cheesy shit like that did to her, the way it made her heart do somersaults inside her chest. He had to know, if only because of her presence there today, that she wasn't over him, over them. “Shut up. We're not having this conversation while you can barely sit up on your own. I wanna be able to yell at you without worrying about your new pacemaker giving out.”

His jokes were obviously a way to protect himself, to deflect from the seriousness of the conversation they were having. She could let it slide, as long as she was sure he understood that he would lose her for good if something like this happened again. “Right, I'm sure you're the life of the party over there,” she said with a chuckle. He probably came up with all sorts of interesting stories to avoid talking about real shit. Unless he actually managed some honesty, protected by the anonymity those meetings provided. “I'll hold you to that.”

He was right, he would probably be stuck in this bed for a few more days at the very least. She intended to only leave if absolutely necessary. “I'm fine. I've slept in worst places than a chair. If you think I'm leaving and missing out on whatever instructions from the doctor you would otherwise ignore, you've got another thing coming.”

WILL:

An attempt at a chuckle was made but it didn’t come to fruition. It only made his chest hurt more, he truly had to stop finding things funny. “Alright, give me a couple days and then you can really let me have it.” Maybe once the machinery in his chest got used to beating especially fast when she was around. He was feeling a little lightheaded, but that was to be expected. “But you do realise this is the best time to interrogate me, I’m helpless and weak. I’m also high as a kite and it’s not like I can run anywhere.” And maybe he wanted to prove he’d learned his lesson. That he could give her the whole truth if that’s what she really wanted.

Will had always been bad at keeping promises. Making them was the easiest thing in the world but actually making sure to follow through? That’s where he lost people. But he didn’t cop out on a technicality. He didn’t say he’d try and be better so that if he failed, there was some wiggle room and maybe he’d get a third chance. He knew he was lucky to be receiving a second one. Lemie didn’t seem like the type to just forgive and forget so he knew it was now or never. He had to make it work.

It was sweet that she didn’t want to leave, even if it was wrapped up in making sure his stupidity didn’t linger. “I’m in their house now. Pretty sure if I don’t listen, I’ll get strapped down and I’m not really into that.” Even being confined to a bed was difficult for him, he liked to be up and about but simple things like shuffling in bed and breathing on his own were still difficult, so there was none of that.

LEMIE:

Lemie was fully planning on letting him feel her wrath in due time, maybe over a long period of time as well. He wouldn't be wrong to assume her presence at the hospital meant she was ready to give him another shot, but he also wouldn't be wrong to assume she would make him work damn hard for it. "No. When you finally tell me about all the things you thought were going to scare me off, you'll be fully sober. I'm not letting you do it while you're high on morphine, that's a cop-out," she told him, her tone making it clear she wasn't going to change her mind about this. "You can give me a preview, though."

He was right about him being at a disadvantage while in the hospital, but it was more about making sure she was aware of all the things he was supposed to do once he got out of there. Could she trust him to relay all the information correctly? Recent events made her think not. "I'm not leaving, so you can stop trying to chase me away. Plus, I'd really like to be here if they do decide to try the strapping-you-to-the-bed method. I think I'd get great enjoyment out of that."

WILL:

That was fair, he supposed. It also wasn’t like she could yell at him fully in here without getting kicked out so he understood her unwillingness to let it be easy. He only hoped that opening up to her wasn’t going to be any more ammo she could shoot his way. Will wasn’t sure that his now mechanical heart could take it. “Kinky,” he retorted to her wanting to see him bound. Most of his quips were monotone, exhaustion from being alive again washed over him like waves.

“Heart attack was how my dad died,” he revealed, looking away and suddenly becoming very engrossed in the off-white waffle blanket that covered his legs. “I think I lost an uncle that way too. Men in my family have always had very uncooperative hearts.” He played with a loose thread between his fingers. “My dad tended to not use his at all, so I think it just gave out from atrophy.”

It was one of the hardest things for him to talk about. Perhaps it was a display of good faith, that he would tell her what she wanted to know, that he told her a truth that no one alive knew. “My shoulder was broken and I did need surgery for it. But it wasn’t an accident and I wasn’t the one who caused it.” He looked over at her, hoping he didn’t have to verbalise it. “Some people are just really not supposed to be parents,” he added softly. This wasn’t a reveal for any kind of sympathy but an explanation of why he didn’t talk about it further when she had brought it up before.

LEMIE:

"I can be," she said with a knowing smile, although fleeting. If she was going to stay with him until he got back on his own two feet, she would have to make an effort from time to time. Otherwise, it'd be a pretty bleak time for both of them. So, she allowed herself and Will a little bit of a break. He deserved it, he was trying. Even she could admit that. Apart from relapsing and almost dying, he was doing and saying all the right things.

Lemie wasn't sure what she had expected his big secret to be, but even she had to admit the truth was ugly. So ugly that she felt bad for pressuring him to tell her. The truth made the revelation that heart issues ran in the family pale in comparison. She wanted to reach out for his hand, to give him some kind of control, but she also didn't want to think she pitied him. She hated pity, as most people did and as Will most likely did as well. "Is it bad I'm kind of glad he died? Because I am. If he wasn't, I hope you know I would've made it very, terribly painful."

WILL:

“You can’t say things like that while I’m in here, you’ll kill me.” He was sure Lemie had probably thought of killing him multiple times while he’d been lying there, actively trying not to die all on his own. If his heart rate elevated too much, there was no telling what would happen. Better to think of other things. Cold showers. Conan O’Brien.

Will gave her a small smile. He was well aware of what his father was like, none of it good, but it was hard to reconcile with the person other people saw. He was a “great man” who “loved his family” - so Will had learned to not speak negatively of the patriarch. Only quietly simmered with the truth, or flat-out ignored it. Gregory Meyers had the same charm that Will did, a way with people that meant he could manipulate his way into anything and get away with nearly everything. Even in death.

“Well lucky for you, you’ll never have to meet him.” Will’s father would have hated any person who spoke back to him, especially women. He didn’t long to think of how well a Meyers family dinner with Lemie would have gone. “But if he felt even a quarter of what I did, I can assure you - it was very painful.” Will looked down at his chest, the various bits attached to him, now that he was fully awake, he could see some of the damage through the V of his hospital gown. “Do you happen to find scars rugged and sexy? I think this one will be a bitch to heal.”

LEMIE:

“You deserve to feel a little bit uncomfortable,” Lemie said with a devilish smile, enjoying this way too much given his condition. “I’m gonna be staying with you and I really don’t like wearing pants, so… Better get used to it.”

It was probably a good thing that he wasn’t around for her to meet. If he was as impatient (to put it nicely) as Will seemed to imply he was, Lemie and he would’ve clashed within seconds of meeting. She was unable to hold her judgment in and was wildly protective of the people she loved. She felt murderous just hearing that he had hurt Will.

“Lucky for him, you mean. I would’ve ended him. Glad it was painful, though,” she said flatly, anger simmering right beneath the surface. His question did manage to alleviate the heaviness in the room a little and she couldn’t help the scoff that left her mouse. “No, actually the scar is a dealbreaker. Please.”

WILL:

Despite it all, it was nice to see anything other than a scowl on her face. He was sure that there was no way she’d continue to put up with him, especially now. But here she was, bantering with him like before. “If I die from you wearing no pants, can you leave that out of the eulogy? I have a reputation to uphold.”

He could see the rage on her features, obviously, his confession hadn’t stirred up sympathy for him but anger on his behalf. He was thankful for it. Looks of pity were not something he enjoyed. Maybe if someone close to him felt the same as she did, things would have been different but no one stood up for themselves in his household, it only made things worse. Will took the brunt, so his mother and sister didn’t have to, but no one escaped unscathed. The rest didn’t know or didn’t care to. Maybe she understood why it wasn’t exactly pre-first date pillow talk now. But it felt strangely good for her to know. Will wasn’t about to debate who would win in a fight, he’d never seen his father lose anything except his life. But Lemie’s words did cut through like a knife. So maybe they were evenly matched.

Now the trauma dump was over, for now, he could go back to talking about other things, feeling a little lighter. “What? Scars are cool, everyone says so.” Maybe not self-inflicted ones that were a result of stupidity, but still. “Hopefully they did a better job piecing this back together than my shoulder. I couldn’t move it for ages.”

LEMIE:

"Not a chance. It'll go something like this… 'The shitty coke didn't kill him, but Clementine Lewis' naked ass sure did. May he rest in peace.' Like it?" Lemie asked him, a seemingly innocent smile on her face. At this point, she was probably doing the opposite of what the doctors had ordered, but the beeping of the machine monitoring him was still pretty steady, so… No harm done.

"I still think you should've been honest with me. I know this isn't light and fun, but what did you think was going to happen once you told me? What you just told me pisses me off, but it doesn't make me see you any differently. At least not in a negative way. It just explains things," she said with a smile, hoping he didn't feel like he had been forced to spill the beans. Hoping he didn't regret it. "I would have run the other way."

Lemie shook her head, the look she gave him very obviously judging him for the things he chose to focus on. "Won't be enough to get in my pants again if that's what you were hoping for," she told him with a grin. "Is that you trying to warn me that I'll be waiting on you hand and foot for a long ass time?"

WILL:

Will let out a snort, the only kind of laughter he could do without straining himself too much. “Sounds like the perfect way to go,” he commented, a lopsided smirk on his face. For all the riling she was doing, he wasn’t feeling particularly sexual himself, being all hooked up to machinery was a bit of a boner killer.

Apparently, there was more to say but he didn’t bother trying to shy away from it. “It wasn’t about you,” he assured her. “I didn’t tell anyone. Ever. Even the doctors didn’t know what happened, although they could have probably guessed. My mum had a busted lip, she’d been crying. He said that no one would believe me if I said anything and he’d just pay off anyone who did. I’d seen him do it before, so I had no reason but to believe him.” He was somewhere between a boy and a man when this had all happened but for all of his life, whatever his father said came to pass. “I guess it’s just a reflex to hide it. Even now he’s gone. I usually use a foolproof backup story about skiing in the Alps, but I didn’t want to lie to you. But I also didn’t want you to know the truth.” He pursed his lips together. “You can see my predicament.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not fully convinced I can feel my body from the waist down yet so I don’t think getting into anyone’s pants but my own anytime soon.” Not that it was the furthest thing from his mind, but it definitely wasn’t a top priority right now. “Probably, if you get sick of it, I can just hire someone. They won’t have the same bedside manner though.”

LEMIE:

As far as ways to die went, being shaken by how great her ass looked wasn’t terrible. “Better than the way you almost went, that’s for damn sure,” she told him with a chuckle. Her laughter died out quickly when she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him. She had a weak spot when it came to Will, but she still wasn’t convinced that just picking up where they left off before was a great idea. Did he really need to be dealing with a fragile relationship on top of drug addiction and heart issues? Probably not.

Lemie gave him her full attention as he explained why he had chosen to keep this part of his story to himself. His logic made sense, it was impossible to deny it. He had been conditioned to believe no one would ever believe him. Even as an adult, it probably wasn’t the easiest thing to get over. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? I would’ve believed you, you know that.”

“I think even that last part might not be happening for a bit.” The doctors have said something about physical effort and having to avoid it during his recovery. He’d taken one look at Lemie and thought it relevant to ask that sex did count as physical activity. The glare he had gotten in response had been enough to chase him out of the room. “They might have a better bedside manner, let’s not kid ourselves.”

WILL:

Her laughter made his heart clench, he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing given his current condition. Most likely not. But it did still fill him with joy that even as everything stood, he could still make her laugh. Maybe things would be alright after all. He wasn’t so stupid to think that she wasn’t still pissed at him, and rightly so. Will had played a stupid game and won a stupid prize, but it was one that still kept him alive.

Maybe she couldn’t get over the fact that he didn’t want to tell her, it wasn’t about believing now. Will was the only living person who could tell the story, no one alive could attest to what happened but still, he kept it a secret. “It’s not about that,” he said lowly, eyes dropping. “When he was alive, sure. It was a secret I thought no one would believe. And it wasn’t the only time too, it’s just the only time it left a scar.” It felt stupid to be talking about it, what happened to him wasn’t an excuse for how he behaved. “I just honestly don’t like talking about it. I don’t like the pity and weirdly, I don’t like hating my dad. He may have been a piece of shit, but I wouldn’t be here without him.” So much of his life was dedicated to making his father proud and Will had failed time and time again.

Will rolled his eyes dramatically, groaning as he did. “So you have to help me into my pants and I don’t get to help you out of yours? That seems highly unfair to me.” Maybe it would have been nice to just relax and have someone look after him for a while if it were anyone other than Will. He’d never had someone care for him like that unless they were getting paid to. “Good bedside manner is overrated. I much prefer being belittled and made fun of, it makes the healing go faster.”

LEMIE:

Lemie had figured that the shoulder thing wasn’t the only display of violence from Will’s father—although perhaps it had been the worse. “Whatever. I can hate it more than enough for the both of us. Him somewhat contributing to your birth doesn’t allow him to do that to you,” she said, pointing at his shoulder, at the wound she knew was hiding under the fabric. “And I don’t pity you, for the record. I’m angry for you because you deserved fucking better than that.”

She chuckled, shaking her head slowly. “You’re gonna have to work really damn hard to ever get to take off my clothes again. Luckily for you, there seems to be plenty of time for you to do just that.” In reality, she would be taking care of him and not the other way around, but she figured it would give them time to patch things up if such a thing was in the cards for them. “Stress and terror are good for healing? That’s new.”

WILL:

Will felt like either the morphine was wearing off or perhaps he just hated this particular topic of conversation. He felt like throwing up, but he couldn’t determine why. Maybe it was the major surgery he just had. “Being angry about it doesn’t change anything, it just makes you angry.” He’d felt all the emotions of it, several times over but it never changed. Rehab therapy had told him to process it and move on, he’d tried to do the latter numerous time. But he never truly processed it. “I appreciate you saying that though.” Will wasn’t sure he necessarily believed it himself.

He would have to work hard, Will knew that but he’d hoped that so far he’d shown that he would try. “I can’t exactly sweep you off your feet right now,” he replied lightly. “But when I can, I will.” Will shut his eyes softly and chuckled. “I’m never stressed or terrified when you’re around, even when you’re trying to be that way. I find your anger quite charming. It shows that you care.”

LEMIE:

"You sound like my therapist," Lemie muttered reluctantly with a roll of her eyes. It didn't matter that she knew anger was as useless as the therapy sessions she stubbornly attended, but the familiarity of it was almost comforting at this point. Better to feel anger than to feel nothing at all, it gave her purpose, she thought. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? "Don't thank me, just believe it. I know you well enough to tell you don't. It probably partly explains why you don't want to talk about it."

She chuckled, picturing what might happen if he tried to literally sweep her off her feet in his condition. They'd probably both end up on the floor and not in a sexy way. "Yeah, you work on your big romantic gesture in the meantime," she said, the coldness in her tone slowly slipping away. It was hard to stay mad at him. "I'm glad you're the only one unhinged enough to think shit like that. Otherwise, my reputation would be completely ruined."

WILL:

“I never thought I’d be the peddler of sage wisdom. Must be old age.” Will was feeling particularly old and decrepit, which seemed fitting. But he sat in the uncomfortableness of her words, still unsure if with the entire understanding of himself and the long list of sins committed, if they were true. If life was about a balance of good and evil, Will knew which end of the spectrum he lived in. “Considering I’ve just had a near-death experience, maybe I can get to dealing with my daddy issues later. Kinda got my hands full.”

Will hadn’t thought about a big romantic gesture, other than giving her the truth like she wanted. And although she said it maybe sarcastically, he would come up with something. It’s not like he had anything else to do. “Other people are blind if they can’t see that.” If someone didn’t care, they wouldn’t waste their energy on being angry. “But I’ll keep it to myself so I don’t wreck your image.”

As he finished speaking, a doctor rounded the corner, looking over some papers on a clipboard. He looked nervously at Lemie before speaking directly at Will. “Mr. Meyers, I’m glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Will wasn’t sure exactly how to answer that honestly so naturally, he cracked a joke. “Like someone played a bad game of Operation on me.” It did not land. The doctor cleared his throat before beginning to check over him. “You’re lucky to be alive,” the doctor said, sounding as annoyed as a Lemie did for him not taking it seriously. Will looked over at her, who was watching eagle-eyed and listening intently. “So I’ve been told.”

LEMIE:

“You have almost a decade on me and, yet, I’m not the one half alive on a hospital bed,” she said flatly, still not over the fact this had happened at all. It’d take her a while and no sad stories from his past would get her mind off his stupidity. “Let’s add finding your therapist to our list of shit to do in order to fix Will’s life. Given that I have both daddy and mommy issues, I have no business giving you advice.”

Despite normally hating compliments, the ones that came from weird had this weird effect on her. Yes, it was kind of cringy to hear someone vocalize how they thought so highly of her, but it was also the warmth in her cheeks and the way her heart beat just a little faster. “They can stay blind, I don’t want their attention. I like it when they fear me, I can avoid most social interactions that way.”

Their conversation was interrupted by yet another doctor coming to do a quick checkup on Will. She was listening attentively, ready to make mental notes, when Will decided to crack the worst joke she’d ever heard. “Ignore him, the drugs he snorted killed the few brain cells he had remaining,” she told the doctor, shooting a glare Will’s way while she was at it.

WILL:

“Do as I say, not as I do.” If it were any of his friends in this position, he wasn’t sure he’d be so sanguine about it all. The mention of a therapist made him bristle, but there was no point in fighting. If that’s what she wanted, it’s what he’d do. He’d been to therapy before when he was in rehab, but Will knew it was something that only helped if you really wanted to change. Until now, he didn’t feel the need to.

The death glare he received from her made the joke worth it, the doctor didn’t seem to think so. “Yes, speaking of the drugs you ingested..” the doctor turned to Lemie, before looking back at Will conspiratorially. “We can have this conversation privately if you like.” If the doctor didn’t currently have his stethoscope on Will’s recently opened chest cavity, he would have laughed. “She’s staying, she’ll remember whatever you say better than I will. She’s right about the brain cells.” Not to mention, the doctor could try and remove her but Will knew who would come out on top. “Are you family?” The doctor spoke directly to Lemie now.

LEMIE:

"Trust me, I plan on doing neither what you say nor what you do," she said with a grin, leaning in a bit closer to him. She could tell he was a bit reluctant to hear what she had to say, what she thought might help him in the long run, but they would both have to work on some things if they had any intention of this thing between them actually working. Herself included. "Don't freak out. I go to therapy too, it's not that big a deal. I mean, it can be uncomfortable and confronting, but that's the point of therapy."

Lemie's lips were parting, ready to rip this doctor a new one for even suggesting she leave the room, but Will was quick to assure him that she belonged in there with him. It was disturbing how much she wanted to grab him and kiss the shit out of him at this very moment. The doctor, however, failed to realize the importance of this moment and seemed dead set on getting her to leave the room. She looked at him defiantly, her eyes narrowing in his direction. "I'm his wife, so yes. We're family," she lied without missing a beat. Saying they were related would be too weird and she wasn't getting kicked out of this room on a technicality.

WILL:

Will thought about warning the doctor, not to push his luck with how contained she was being. But he should have known Lemie wouldn't have given up without a fight. Although when she said she was his wife, Will nearly choked with laughter but by some miracle, he managed to keep it together. The doctor looked back at Will, possibly hoping for him to say differently, but he said nothing and gave an affirmative half-smile. "The drugs in your system weren't enough for you to overdose," the doctor continued as though Lemie wasn't there. "But they did cause an arrhythmia, which mixed with your coronary artery disease diagnosis caused a mass heart attack. You've now been fitted with a pacemaker." This was not news, and it was easier to digest the second time hearing it.

"They'll be a fair amount of maintenance for it. Regular checkups every 3 to 6 months, no excessive alcohol usage, and no recreational drug usage, including marijuana." The emphasis on drug usage was very heavy but it was to be expected. Obviously, his history of drug use was well recorded in his files. "No keeping your cell phone or headphones in your shirt pocket if you have one," the doctor rattled on. All the information entered Will's brain but he wasn't convinced it was really sticking. "It's all in this pamphlet." The doctor went to hand it to him, but instead, Will just pointed Lemie with a smile. "You're better giving that straight to her, she'll make sure I follow it. Won't you, darling?"

LEMIE:

This doctor seemed not to like her too much and Lemie wished it was acceptable to tell him that the feeling was very mutual. She hadn't even considered what Will's reaction to her lie might be, but she would've been willing to bet he wouldn't blink an eye. He seemed to find all the crazy things she did endearing, which she wasn't about to question. "Is your job just to repeat everything the nice nurse told us an hour ago?" Lemie muttered under her breath as she glared at him, all her anger not redirected at him. He might hear her, he might not. Either way, she didn't care.

Lemie stood up and ripped the pamphlet out of his hand, immediately skimming it in the hopes of catching a mistake in the asshole doctor's patronizing lecture. It was only okay when she did it. "Yup, this is all me," she said immediately, closing the pamphlet a second after having opened it. "When can we have sex? Is that in the pamphlet too?" She tilted her head to the side, hoping her bluntness would make the man at least a little bit uncomfortable. "You should avoid strenuous activities for at least a month." He was directing his answer at Will and avoiding Lemie's gaze completely, which made her think she'd achieved her goal. The blonde sat back in her chair with a satisfied grin, scooting her chair closer to Will this time.

WILL:

It was fascinating to watch her seethe with rage, and this time, he was not directly the cause of it. They were technically here because of him, but still. This doctor's reaction to Lemie was not something Will was responsible for. He looked deeply uncomfortable, and Will almost wanted to say 'I told you so' but he settled for a look of sympathy towards the man. "Good to know. Mark that in the calendar." He tilted his head towards Lemie, who looked quite happy with herself, before looking back at the doctor and adding "—happy wife, happy life."

Not amused. "Call a nurse if you're having any trouble," he gave a side-eyed glance towards Lemie as he left the room. When they were alone again, Will's grin spread slightly as he looked at her. "Well, that was fun. We should do this more often," he joked, chuckling to himself softly and shutting his eyes, a huge wave of exhaustion washing over him.

LEMIE:

This was going to be a long stay at the hospital if they were forced to deal with that asshole. "Yes, I'm sure there's plenty we can do in the meantime. We're very creative," she said, lacing her fingers through Will's and attempting a loving smile in his direction. It probably looked more like a grimace, but maybe that would make the doctor even more uncomfortable. "We'll be counting down the days."

She had every intention of calling a nurse if it could avoid having to deal with him again, but she somehow managed to keep that to herself. The poor man looked miserable enough as it was. "I think he hates me. Do you think it was that comment about your brain cells? Can't he take a joke? See, those were some worse bedside manners than mine."

WILL:

Their fingers were still interlocked, Will decided not to move, just in case she noticed, and withdraw her touch from him. He lay with his eyes closed, leaning back against the pillow, still slightly upright. "I think it was the red hot lasers that nearly came out of your eyes when he asked if you were family that really did it. I feared for his life." Personally, the comment about his brain cells wasn't all that bad compared to the things she probably wanted to say about him.

If there was a way for that doctor to not see them again, Will was sure he'd find a way too. He looked so uncomfortable as he left. "He's probably telling everyone about the crazy woman who wants to shag her husband after he's just had heart surgery." It was particularly unhinged how she'd gone about it all, but Will found it amusing, as always.

LEMIE:

Holding his hand felt almost like second nature, despite not even being much of a hand-holder. They had done this late at night every time they had hung out in the garden or in her bedroom. It was so familiar that she forgot that pissed off people didn't hold the hand of the people they were pissed at. "He was trying to get rid of me, of course I was annoyed," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "He was right to fear for his life. Let's just be glad he didn't try to kick me out because that would've been bad."

"Don't go thinking I was serious about that. It was all part of my evil master plan to get rid of him," she felt the need to say, not wanting him to think everything was forgiven just yet. Not that she wasn't actually kind of thinking about having sex with him. It was hard not thinking about it when he was around. "And he shouldn't judge our fake marriage. Maybe he's just jealous his sex life with his partner isn't as active."

WILL:

"Bad for who?" He quirked an eyebrow, opening his right eye slightly to look at her. "I know who I'd bet on in a match against him and you. Lucky for him, he learnt what I did pretty quickly. There's no use in fighting." It was better to just accept your fate sometimes.

Will shut his eyes once more, enjoying the comfort of her skin on his. His thumb drew lazy soothing circles against her hand. "I know," he replied, surprisingly chipper for a man who had essentially just been pied off. It was hard to be upset about anything with the amount of morphine pumping through him. Plus, he wasn't exactly feeling like he was in his sexual prime. "Was he judging? Or was he just really hoping the ground would swallow him whole so he didn't have to hear about how creative we can be?" His lip twitched, a smirk wanting to rest on his lips.

"About the therapy thing," he returned back to their conversation before the doctor interrupted them. "I'll go." He wasn't interested in ending up in here again, or losing her so he'd do what it took.

LEMIE:

"For him, obviously. I think he knew that too. I'm sure he's kicked people out before, but… Here I still am." If there was anything Lemie was good at apart from anger, it was holding a grudge. She would've found creative ways to make his life a living hell. There was always the possibility that he might walk back in with security, but she had a feeling she was out of the woods for now. "You learned that, huh? Was that before or after the fight we had in your office?" It was probably too soon to joke about that, but did it matter when she was sitting right there next to him?

Maybe it was the way his thumb was stroking the back of her hand or the hope that things might just turn out okay between them, but Lemie allowed herself to scoot the chair even closer to the bed, to him. It was only fair that she got to put her anger on pause after he had almost died. "I was absolutely planning on going into details, so it's a good thing he walked away when he did. It was about to get way worse."

She could tell he was getting tired, exhaustion written all over his face. She nodded, momentarily letting go of his hand so she could rest her head on the free space on the bed, her arms folded under her. "Thank you."

WILL:

The fact she could joke about their fight, mixed with her letting him hold her hand, he tried not to get his hopes up too high that everyone would be alright. There was still every chance he’d say or do something too stupid to forgive. But all he could do is try. “After,” he was steadfast in his answer. “If I didn’t fight with you, I wouldn’t have ended up in here with a bionic heart.” Not to say that she was to blame at all. “I just like learning lessons the hard way.”

She scooched her chair closer to him, the nearness helping him relax more into the bed. The weight on his chest was still there, a desperate ache. “You did me a mercy,” he chuckled. “I’m not sure I would have lived through that.” Having her close without kissing her was already torture, he didn’t need her listing all the various things they could still do to each other.

The absence of her hand in his, he opened his eyes slowly to see, just in case she’d gone. But she was still here so he felt at ease once again. “No,” he waved her thanks away, it wasn’t needed and he didn’t deserve it. “Thank you for being here.”

LEMIE:

Lemie rolled her eyes, finding it hard to argue with him when he was stuck with said bionic heart. Who knew how long the other one would've lasted--fight, breakup and drugs aside. It could've been a lot worse. It could've happened while she was sleeping in the next room, while he was at work in his office. So many scenarios where he might not have been found in time. At least now they knew, now he was taking it seriously. "Yeah, well, that was the last time you're doing it your way. From now on, we're taking the easy route," she told him, including herself in that statement. They both had to be better if they wanted this to work sometime down the line.

"I figured. You're very easily riled up," she said with a chuckle, leaning forward against the bed. If the doctor did come back and walked in on this, he might actually buy that they were married. She allowed herself a moment of vulnerability as she grabbed the hand she had just been holding and brought it to her cheek. "You scared me, you know. For a second, in that waiting room, I thought you might not make it, and everything that happened just felt so… stupid. Pointless."

WILL:

Somehow, even when Will was looking for the easy way out, it turned out to the be the hard way. Maybe that’s what happens when you’ve never had anyone display healthy coping mechanisms before. His father chose violence, his mother chose silence. His sister was passive aggressive to the point of bitter resentment. Will was a bizarre mixture of all three with a tendency for the self destructive. But maybe together, Lemie and Will, they could finally find the easy way to deal with things. With some help.

Lemie rested her cheek in his hand, the hot flush of her cheek contrasted the coolness of his fingers which lacked the usual circulation since his heart had given out. He would have died with regret, he thought as he lightly caressed her cheek. Up until recently, Will had convinced himself that he wouldn’t apologise for how he’d lived his life, for better or for worse. But on that bathroom floor, pain and regret were all he had felt. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, unsure that it truly encompassed everything he wanted to apologize for. “You deserve a lot better than this.”

LEMIE:

Lemie was scared to let him in again. Scared he would go right back to being a closed book, scared he might relapse, scared his robot heart would give out. She was scared of getting hurt before and it was somehow amplified tenfold now. As much as she wanted this to work out, she knew they couldn't just jump right back into it. They had a lot of work to do before they were in a place to try dating again. She just had to remind herself of that. Multiple times a day, most likely.

His fingers were cold against her skin, so she put her own hand over his to warm them up a little bit. She figured it had to do with circulation or some medical shit, but it didn't make it any less disturbing. "I'm not saying that because I want an apology, I'm saying that because you need to know that it was terrifying and I've never felt like that before and I never want to feel again. Emphasis on the last part," she insisted, wanting him to really hear her. "So, next time a shitty, reckless idea crosses your mind, please keep that in mind. There are people that would miss you. I would miss you."

WILL:

This wasn’t the stupidest thing Will had done by far, nor the most destructive but considering how much it pained him to see Lemie this way, it sure felt like it. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever truly been in love before. Maybe there were inklings of it in the past, moments that passed that frightened him so hard that he snuffed it out as quick as he could. Leaving in the middle of the night, never to return. But the look on her face was so fragile for someone who’d built herself so strong. Will wouldn’t let himself hurt her like that again.

He was unsure of what to say. How to assure that it wouldn’t happen again without a vague promise that he wouldn’t, it didn’t seem like it was enough. “I understand,” he gave a small nod, his face about as serious as it could get without looking pained. Will didn’t want it to seem like he was only getting better for her. He’d seen firsthand that if you hinged all your happiness onto a person, you’re doomed to fall eventually. But she did give him something to live for. “I missed you a lot. I thought about calling you, but I didn’t think you’d pick up.” She’d been so angry with him, he wasn’t sure how they’d manage seeing each other at work. It had plagued him for the nights that she wasn’t lying beside him. Many messages were drafted but never sent, Will hoped that they weren’t still sitting on his phone when the doctors were looking for a person to contact.

LEMIE:

Only time would tell if he had taken her words seriously if he'd really grasped the magnitude of her feelings towards him. It was just like her fall for someone who had this much baggage. It made sense that two broken people would gravitate towards one another, she supposed, but it also made everything more dramatic and fragile. "Okay," she said simply, choosing to believe him. She hadn't realized that her eyes had filled with water until her vision turned blurry and she quickly wiped at them before any tears could escape.

"I'm kind of ashamed to say it now, but I wouldn't have picked up. I really couldn't see past my own anger. It's an issue," she said honestly with a defeated shrug. Lemie felt the need to quickly deflect from the seriousness of the conversation. "Don't be dramatic, William. You barely had time to miss me. You avoided a few days of me yelling at you. It was like a little vacation. Where you almost died." Not much of a vacation, if she were honest.

WILL:

He gave a final nod, knowing that this was the only time she’d sit idly by and cry at his bedside. There would be no third chance. The thought of it made him feel a bit panicked, but being scared to lose someone wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She rubbed at her face, hiding whatever emotion was there but he knew. Moving his tube riddled hand back to rest on the bed, he already missed her touch.

A small chuckle. “Well, then I saved myself the embarrassment of having to leave a voicemail. That would have been pretty embarrassing.” Especially if it was like any of the drivel that sat firmly in his Notes app. Heartfelt apologies weren’t his strong suit. He gave a scoff, as she deflected any tone of seriousness. Surprisingly it wasn’t him for once. “Vacation to the afterlife. I’ve heard it’s quite lovely there this time of year.” The rustle of his ugly hospital nightgown on the uncomfortable mattress would be a familiar sound, he already found it difficult but an extra dose of Morphine would help. “I should probably tell people I’m in here, huh? Might get someone to watch over the cottage. I’d ask you but you’ve signed yourself up for nurse duty. This is why people say to not date people you work with.”

LEMIE:

In her short life, Lemie had never cried over a boy or a girl who anyone she was in a romantic relationship with. Will was the first. She wouldn't say that to him right now because she had a feeling the knife had been twisted quite enough. He knew what he had done was bad and seeing her cry over it wouldn't help him feel better. She kept rubbing at her eyes until she was certain nothing would spill from them, but inadvertently ended up with red, irritated eyes. "This never happened," she said with a glare, the threat clear enough in her tone.

"I would've loved an embarrassing voicemail actually. Something to hold over your head when you're being annoying." The blonde groaned in annoyance when he joked about his death. It was only okay when she joked about the whole ordeal because he had caused said ordeal. "I'll send you right back if you keep the jokes up." She nodded when he mentioned other people, the words almost weird to her since she had not one fucking clue who else was in Will's life. That was part of their problem. "Do you want me to text anyone? I don't mind. As for the cottage, I think my sous-chef can take over my duties for a bit," she admitted reluctantly. The food might not be as good, but he was a hard worker. "Don't be presumptuous, who said we're dating?"

WILL:

He wanted to take her hands and stop her from rubbing at her face, tears over him were a waste. Will knew what he'd done and how it affected her. Maybe not to the full extent until now. "Already forgotten," he lied, a sad smile. This wasn't something he'd take lightly.

Well, if he was going to be completely open like he said he would be, might as well start now. "There's a few unsent messages in my Notes app if you want some light reading. Very cringe." He was quite drunk when he'd written them. A re-read in the morning had left him feeling particularly low. Will didn't even notice the slip up, he supposed they technically weren't dating. "Sorry, habit."

He let out a small groan at the thought of letting anyone else know, they'd fuss and bother. He preferred his current company, but it'd be worse if they didn't know. "Yeah. Should probably let Anna know," despite how much he didn't want to. His sister would be about as unforgiving as Lemie was to start. "Jude, Connie, Eileen. Astrid" he realised that these were mostly women's names. "Friends," he felt the need to clarify but he paused before speaking again. "Technically, Connie is my... uh, she's my ex-wife but it's not how you think." It was no more a marriage than his own parents was.

LEMIE:

Lemie nodded furiously, eyebrows pinched together as she tried to convert whatever sadness she felt into anger. At least there were no tears to be shed when she was pissed off. She was glad for his mention of unsent messages, a welcomed distraction, immediately reaching for his phone and handing it to him. "Unlock it. Now," she said, a little too eager to read shit he was obviously pretty embarrassed about.

"Look, I'm not saying we won't date ever again. That was harsh. I'm just saying we shouldn't necessarily jump right back into it. You've got a lot to deal with. New heart, relapse, recovery. I think that takes precedence on being able to call me your girlfriend," she said with a not-so-convincing shrug. "Maybe we can revisit in a month. Right around the time you can start strenuous activities again, which is convenient." A joke, to lighten the mood a little.

The sadness on her features was quickly replaced with annoyance as he started listing all the people he wanted her to contact. "Are they all women? I feel like this is a red flag," she said with a scowl, waiting for him to unlock his phone before creating a group text. He hadn't given her specific instructions, so she was doing this her way. The cold yet efficient way. "Ex-fucking-cuse me? Did you say wife?"

WILL:

He knew that it was a mistake for her to read the drunken fumblings of his brain, but there would be no more secrets. Every instinct he had to keep something to himself, it would be a challenge for himself to tell her. No matter what. He put in his passcode, noticing a few unanswered texts and a phone call in his notifications. Whoever it was would have to wait until he regained control of his phone, whenever that would be.

Will waved a hand nonchalantly, it would be a lie to say it didn't hurt but he only had himself to blame. "You don't need to justify it, I just forgot for a second." Maybe he could blame it on the morphine, not the fact that it felt so comfortable to have her near. How seamlessly they went together. But whether it was weeks, months, or years, he'd keep trying until she said she didn't want him anymore. "I'm starting to think you're just using me for sex."

"Jude is a man," he quipped, the rest were women but he'd only slept with one. Will couldn't help but wince at her reaction."Ex-wife. The ex part is important also." Of course, she fixated on the wife part, like he was somehow still married. "We were married for a like, a year when I was in my late twenties. My dad said it was time I settled down so he went out and made a business deal to get me a wife." They hadn't quite gotten to the part of getting to know each other where you talk about all your past relationships. "An arranged marriage."

LEMIE:

The fact that he put in his passcode without a hint of worry before handing her the phone like it was no big deal was more meaningful than he knew. It was just a phone, but it was also symbolic in a way. It meant he had nothing to hide anymore, that he trusted her. "Alright, let's see," she said as she went into his notes application to find the drafted texts there. She smiled as she found them, clearing her throat before she could start her dramatic reading. "Please come back, be angry at me where I can see you. I know we both said things we didn’t mean. But I need to see you and apologize." Her tone had changed slightly as she read the first text, her eyes moving to the second. "I was stupid to think you couldn’t see me for who I really am. You always have…," she read, her voice trailing off at the end as her eyes skimmed the next two. She couldn't read them out loud. These weren't embarrassing. They were practically declarations of love. "You should've sent these, asshole."

It wasn't about justifying, more like explaining where she was coming from. Making it clear she didn't want him to reopen his Tinder account and just work on this thing with her. It wasn't over, but it wasn't completely back on yet either. "I'm using you a little bit for sex," she said with a grin. "But I also enjoy the part after the sex. You're a good cuddler."

"I don't know if I believe that, but okay," she said with a roll of her eyes, pulling up all the names he had mentioned to create a group. "I can't believe you have an ex-wife in town. I can't believe I'm this hung up on a 40-year-old divorcé. What is my life?" She paused as she looked at the list and deleted the ex-wife's name, glancing up at Will to make sure he hadn't seen. "Arranged? What century did your father live in? So you didn't want to do it?"

WILL:

He busied himself with anything else as she prepared herself to read them, looking back up at the ceiling - an easy place for his eyes to rest. It was embarrassing and he could feel an additional tightness in his chest from what was already there. She began and he closed his eyes, actively tuning the words out so he didn't recoil - although they sounded a lot sweeter on her tongue. As she trailed off, Will turned his head to look at her before he spoke. "I didn't think you'd want to hear from me," he said honestly before adding, "whisky makes me melancholy." He was sure he did look like a sad sack, moping around the garden with a bottle tucked under his arm, typing on his phone like a twat. Quite the picture.

Too many years of practice on both accounts but good to know that it worked for her. "Was that a compliment?" He hadn't expected her to say anything that nice to him while he was still reeling from his dumb decisions. "I think my heart just skipped a beat." A stupid joke before he looked at her with a grin. "Kidding."

He chuckled at her realisation of who he was and how she felt about him. Still staring at the roof as she typed away, Will wasn't super proud of his behavior during his marriage, no matter how short it was. "No, I didn't want to." Connie was a lovely woman, perfect even. But at that time, Will wasn't looking to be settled down and she wasn't necessarily interested in him like that. Luckily they were still friendly. "But I had no choice. Connie was a lot stronger than me, stood up for us and we got a divorce. My dad never let me live that down."

LEMIE:

It was a good thing she had stopped because Will seemed to be considering death again for the second time in a few days. She didn't think there was anything to be embarrassed about. They were a little cheesy, sure, but not in a way that made her cringe. In a way that made her think he had realized quickly that he'd made a mistake and would've done anything to get her back. She had clearly underestimated how much he cared about her. What a fucking mistake on her part. "I didn't know this is what I would be getting, dumbass. This is like… sincere and romantic. It's the kind of shit you see in romantic comedies."

Lemie was about to admit that it was indeed a compliment when he had to go open his mouth. "Nope, moment over. You ruined it. I take my compliment back," she told him, as if she could actually take back something she had said that easily. With the joke he'd made, he fully deserved to unhear it, though.

"That's fucked up. Your father literally sold you." She faked a gag, truly repulsed by the things she was learning about Will's father. No wonder he had a bag full of issues and terrible stories. "And now I'm your pretend-wife. I'm sure your dad would roll over in his grave if he could see you with me."

WILL:

It had felt like he’d gone through nearly all five stages of grief when she had left. He’d gone through them all: denial, bargaining, anger.. those messages she’d read were part of the depression period of time. The final stage of acceptance wasn’t exactly the right word for him doing lines in a club bathroom though. “It’s not like I was going to text ‘u up’ at 3am.” Will didn’t consider himself a romantic, he was just drunk and feeling sorry for himself. A small shrug, feeling quite exposed under her gaze. “Saying the right words is easy, the actions part is where I tend to trip up.” Maybe it was a warning, mostly to himself but a little to her as well.

He let out a chuckle, knowing he was in trouble for that one. “Worth it,” Will murmured, a little too happy with himself.

Lemie’s comment hit him hard. Will hadn’t really thought of it that way, and it wasn’t like he was some nubile virgin and Connie wasn’t remotely machiavellian. It was like playing matchmaker with veiled threats if you didn’t follow through. “It wasn’t that bad and it’s not like I followed our marriage vows.” Like at all. Although he looked at it now and it was just another way for his father to control him, another way to make Will suffer. “Luckily, she’s a lovely person.” Connie could be a lot of things, forthright and stubborn mostly, but she was kind. “Pretend-wife, not-girlfriend, a live-in nurse. You wear many hats.”

LEMIE:

His words broke through the shock of reading those texts, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. “I guess I was expecting more booty call and less… whatever this is,” she couldn’t even put a word to it, but it explained well what she had felt during their short time apart. The longing, the regret. Just because she had walked away didn’t mean she hadn’t felt just as terrible. “Is that a warning that I’m gonna catch you doing coke on your bedside table eventually?”

Will seemed to make up a lot of excuses for his father still, which Lemie got to some degree. Not everyone could completely cut out their parents the way she had. Most people couldn’t. “I beg to differ. It doesn’t matter if you got to step out or not, your father had no business using you to make deals. You’re a human being, not a pawn.” Her scowl deepened when he mentioned how ‘lovely” Connie was, immediately picturing someone that had the opposite personality she had. She kept her jealousy to herself, not wanting to show her cards or badmouth someone Will obviously loved. “Well, I’m a multifaceted person, William.”

WILL:

In the past, he had sent texts of that nature but that wasn’t what this was and it wasn’t what she deserved. And they both knew it. Obviously, she didn’t find it as cringey as he had in the light of day. Maybe they had seemed more pathetic when he thought that she’d never give him a second look. Or maybe his tolerance for feeling pathetic had lowered since nearly dying near a club toilet. “That’s not what I’m saying.” A moment of thought as he tried to construct exactly what he wanted to say. Thoughts floated past him but none seemed to fit right. “You’re right that there are things that I need to work on. And I won’t let you forgive me until I do.”

If only she knew how much of Will’s life was playing puppet. It made him feel a little ashamed that he just let it happen for so long. If Connie hadn’t stepped up where he couldn’t, they’d probably still be trapped in that marriage. If his father hadn’t cut him out of their company to spite him, Will would still be trying to prove himself there. “He didn’t want a son, he wanted a miniature version of himself.” Instead, he got Will who tried so hard and still could never live up to his father’s expectations. He really did need therapy. She was still holding his phone in her hands, although her attention was elsewhere. “Don’t I know it?” He gave her a half smile, hoping to distract her from whatever. “Are you sick of hearing me talk yet? I’m starting to hate the sound of my own voice. It can sound quite pompous. Have you noticed?”

LEMIE:

At least he was committed to making the changes necessary to make this work, to ensure nothing like what happened before could derail their relationship. “It’s not just you, you know. I’m going to work on my shit. I think I was kind of looking for a reason to run away. I have this tendency of ruining things that are good to avoid losing them.” It was better to end something else than to have it ripped away from her. It was a defense mechanism, one she was fully aware of. “I wasn’t planning on forgiving you so easily, but… you’re on your way there. If we decide to try again, I want it to work. I’m not just trying to torture you. Well, maybe a little.”

She leaned in again, her fingers slipping through his. It was clear whatever had happened with his father was far from resolved. He carried a lot of it with him still and seemed to be torn between his loyalty to his father and his love for him.“From the few things you’ve told me about him, I can tell you that you’re nothing like him.” Her fingers stayed locked through his, his phone disregarded on the bed stand. “No, this is what I wanted from the very beginning. I have, however, noticed the pompous aspect of your voice. I think it might just be the accent.” She grinned, attempting to mimic said accent when she said that last sentence. She really was no actress.

WILL:

He was by no means healed, physically nor mentally. The longer this conversation went on, the more he just wanted to take a big ol’ nap but he was fighting the exhaustion. Knowing this conversation was important. “I didn’t give you much reason to stay,” he added. Will did have the ability to make her see sense on occasion, he had wondered in his sentimental moments if there was something he could have said to make her stay. But the stubborn part of himself wouldn’t let him. He gave a nod, glad that she wasn’t going to let his behavior slide now she’d unlocked a few bad childhood memories.

Will let out a scoff. “There was a time when I thought that was a bad thing.” He remembered looking up to his father. So trying, so powerful. Nothing touched him. Young William wanted that. There were parts of himself that were distinctly his fathers, probably his most undeniably vile traits. Her attempt at his accent ended up sounding a lot more cockney than expected, Americans were terrible at accents at the best of times. But hers was especially bad. It did cause a small laugh, which they said is the best medicine. “That was terrible, don’t quit your day job.”

LEMIE:

Lemie nodded slowly, taking in his words. It wasn’t his job to get on his knees and bed for her to stay, but he had let her go rather easily. At the time, she thought it meant he didn’t care, but now she could see he was also protecting himself. “That’s okay. I’m here now," she said, not because she forgave him but because she wanted him to stop apologizing and justifying himself. As much as they both might want to, there was no going back and changing how that night went. They had both agreed to work out some stuff on their own and eventually that would bleed into their relationship.

"I can assure you it's not. I, for one, would've had zero interest in your father. From the sound of it, he had no redeeming quality and you happen to have a lot, which says a lot about you as a person," she insisted, wishing he could see what she saw in him. A man that had been strong enough to live through abuse and come out on the other side a kind, decent person. It would've been so easy for him to fall into his father's expectations of him and turn out just like him, if not worse. He didn't and that was a testament to his strength. "You don't like my accent? I think it's rather good," she said, still in her shitty British accent.

WILL:

His hand squeezed hers, not much strength behind it but it was almost like he was confirming what she had said. She was here. And he was thankful.

There was no point in fighting her on it. He wasn’t quite sure what anything said about him right now, other than he was too grown up to act so reckless. His body had paid the price for what his mind refused to think about and his heart refused to feel. 40 years was a long time to live under someone’s shadow and there were times when he could have sworn his father was proud. Those were some of his darkest. If he had looked in the mirror during those times, Will wouldn’t have recognized himself. “There you go, complimenting me again.” This time he managed to not make a heart joke. Her strange accent continued as she spoke, his grin staying firmly in place. “I can’t tell who you’re trying to be right now. The Queen of England or Mrs. Doubtfire? Neither is good or what I sound like.”

LEMIE:

He was quickly fading, that much was obvious by the way his hand gave hers the softest squeeze known to man. It was a miracle he managed to stay awake this long in all honesty, so she couldn't blame him. The drugs he was on were strong and he did just go through major surgery. "Yes, yes, I gave you a compliment. If you keep pointing it out every single time, I'll just stop giving them," she warned him, using her free hand to pull the blanket up a little bit.

"My accent is perfect and I think you don't know what you sound like," she told him with a grin. She sounded nothing like him and it was probably for the best. There was nothing sexy about the accent she was attempting and his was very sexy. "You should probably get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

WILL:

His smile deepened. “Alright, I’ll just keep a mental tally instead-” he countered, watching as she fussed over his blanket. It was comforting to have her here with him. The familiar buzz of more morphine releasing into his system from the IV bag attached to his hand flowed through the room. It gave him a warm tingly feeling throughout his body, the addict in him enjoying the sensation a bit too much. Like it had been satisfied by his impromptu trip to the hospital mid-relapse.

“Well, now I’m concerned for your hearing” he quipped. The mention of him sleeping reminding him of just how exhausted he was, despite trying to fight it. “You should go home, rest yourself.” Another small squeeze of her hand. As much as Will did want her to be here when he woke up, Lemie needed to take care of herself too.

LEMIE:

"Yeah, you do that, dork," she said quietly, the insult sounding more like a term of endearment in this particular instance. She watched his face as the drugs kicked it, making it obvious he would pass out any second now. "I'll just take a shower while your sleeping and have a nap in my trusty chair. I'm fine, I'm not the one who had a heart attack and major surgery in the last forty-eight hours." She didn't let go of his hand just yet, choosing to wait until he fell asleep to do so. "Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself. Been doing it a long time."

#t: will #tw drug addiction #tw medical condition #tw hospital #tw heart attack #tw parental abuse

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 4 months

Note

I'm so incredibly sad and angry, I don't even know what to do anymore. Last night I was at my friend's birthday party and there was this guy that's friends with him since high school or wtv, and I fucking loathe him. He's a pervert. And has made me uncomfortable so many times, at first I thought I was being a bit defensive (I've been sa before) and i'm not too keen on physical touch unless is someone I'm comfortable with. But then one of my female friends told me he made her uncomfortable too and then I decided to speak to my guy friends about it. This perv just comes out as "friendly" but really all he does is touch me inappropietly, or forcefully hug me and i just go awfully still. I've spoken to my friends several times about it and still they do nothing, and keep inviting him to hang out with us. Last night, I swear, he greeted me in the most disgusting way possible, he grabbed me by the waist like he was entitled to it ??? And then proceeded to plant a full on sloppy ass kiss next to my mouth AND I CRINGED SO BADLY. I almost pushed him to get through. I didn't even want to greet him, I was just trying to get through the door to the living room. I feel so grossed out! Before last night, the last time I saw him he touched my ass as I went to say hi to my friend and played dumb. I called him on it and he just laughed and told me it was a joke ??? I hate him. And I hate that my friends do not defend me. I don't think I wanna see them again, how could they be friends with a guy like that? I love them , but it hurts. I don't even care if he showed up to your mother's funeral he's not entitled to other person's body and he's deftly not a nice guy. I don't even fucking speak to him, barely know his name!!!

I'm sorry to come vent it all out here I just needed someone to understand 😪

Hi, darling. I am so, so, so sorry you’re dealing with this. My heart aches for you, because it’s a shitty situation and I can somewhat relate.

Please hear me when I say: those people who claim to be your friends are not. This guy is outright assaulting you and trying to play it off as friendliness, and any friends that turned a blind eye to that are not good people to have around. You should never have to deal with that. You should have friends who will support you and recognise that what he’s doing is fucking wrong and disgusting and that he shouldn’t be around any of you any longer.

There is nothing — not one thing — that could make me defend a person like that. I don’t care how long I’d known them, or whether they’d supported me through something, or whether I once considered them a good friend. The second I saw them acting inappropriately, making somebody uncomfortable, thinking they had a right to somebody else’s body and personal and space and assaulting them, they would straight up be gone. No compromises, no questions asked. Nobody is entitled to do that to you, and your friends should recognise that. There are no excuses. His behaviour is disgusting and those people are enabling it. You deserve so much better than that.

I wish I could help more. But please always feel free to drop another message if you need more support. I’m here for you 🫶🏻

#ask

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sigyn-foxyposts · 1 year

Text

So ive decided to post some of my stories on here as well! :,)

Like the tooth fairy one, someone out there must have seen at some point. 😭 But instead of giving you the doc ill post it here and hope its good! I dont do this often, since i share it with people im close with. So please enjoy. I tried making it a little less boring! ✨

Quote: "This is a one time thing"

‼️Trigger Warnings: Mention of someone's death, small suggestive theme (of someone changing, but it's very innocent and does not have anything explicit!)‼️

Loki🧡

Sigyn💚

Angrboda💙

After Angrboda's passing, no one knew where she had ended up. Angrboda was just barely recognized when spoken about, either as a ugly old hag, a witch that finally met her well deserved end! Or as Loki's three monstrous children's, dear old mother. But that was all, for a very long time too. Sometimes even her name was forgotten, which in it all was terribly tragic. As those who did know her, knew she was a woman skilled in many things, from using magic, to preparing for a good battle. She wasn't afraid of anything, not until that day where she would have met her end.

That's what most would say, those who still held this information. It was told by her old tribe, those of the iron woods. The giantesses whose children were that of wolves. Who even after centuries still looked up to Angrboda's image and told the tales of things she had gone through. But sadly, no one knew what the ending was, at least they wouldn't know. Because Loki did. Loki, the god who Angrboda was known to treasure more than her own weapons, cold and silver. Either she had wrapped him around her finger, or perhaps it was even the opposite? No one could truly tell who had charmed who…but nor the ending to her story, unless it was Loki himself.

But the trickster was very secretive when it came to just this..

Now a spirit, a ghost roaming the 9 realms at her own command, Angrboda was at last, no longer in that horrid uncomfortable earth grave she had slept in for eons. No, now she was gaining back her unused muscles as she updates herself on her family, definitely very different from when she last was a part of it. She always watched over them, protecting them however she possibly could. Which is what led her to suddenly be taking a liking to some of them, like her own children all grown up, the new additions, but especially to Sigyn, Loki's second wife. I mean as Angrboda caught up she found out that she was very loved and respected by Sigyn.

Much to her own surprisement and confusion. Now Angrboda really didn't hold a grudge against Loki for finding someone new, as Sigyn really took care of him! But not Sigyn either, she was really caring and kind. Reminding Angrboda that was sorta like her, but instead of caring and kind, she was brave and protective. But why respect someone when you've never spoken before? Well that was surely about to somewhat change for the ghostly spirit today.

🌾🌹🌾🌹🌾🌹🌾🌹🌾🌹🌾🌹🌾🌹🌾

As always in Asgard the goddesses had tasks to fulfil much like the Gods themselves, as they all lived in a shared community where they took turns taking care of what gave them shelter, food and clothes. But today was Sigyn's turn to clean the stables of their wonderful horse friends, a job everyone never got excited to be chosen to do next. Angrboda who had decided to follow Sigyn around today could tell: Sigyn wasn't going to enjoy this. With both having disgust on their faces. Angrboda together with Sigyn enter the stables

"Ugh, despite being a ghost here, I really get chills just thinking about what it might smell like up in here" Angrboda comments to herself, looking around as Sigyn also looks, waving happily at the horses and goes to greet them.

"Well..here we are! Someone had to do it right guys?" Sigyn sighs to herself, as she pets Sleipnir's snout gently before putting her hands on her hips in an enthusiastic manner, putting on a brave face. Sleipnir and the other horses neigh happily in the background and trott their hooves on the ground, at Sigyn's determination. Angrboda cheers as well, floating around in the background, clapping like the horses with their hooves.

"That's the spirit hun! Woo- hey wait a minute..is that little Sleipnir, boy?!" The ghost lady floats over to Sleipnir chuckling happily, glad to see him as well. But still wondering why he wasn't at the family home.

Angrboda not expecting the horse with its many legs to then jump slightly back, away from her because to her surprise, Sleipnir sees her!

"Woah boy! Calm down dear!" Sigyn comforts Sleipnir, confused at his sudden scare. Angrboda backs away.

"oops! Sorry about that, but can you see me?!". Sleipnir finally calms down, standing on all 8 of his legs again as Sigyn gives his face a little bit of rubs and scratches here and there. Once Sigyn felt safe enough that Sleipnir wouldn't jump around again, she goes away to check on the other horses. Sleipnir nodded at Angrboda's question, "Oh my boy..I missed you!" She too comes over to Sleipnir now, petting his snout a little. She has missed him a lot.

"There and there! Okay before cleaning, I must change up a bit. Can't be wearing my usual clothes in here" Sigyn exclaims, before moving away from obvious sight into a corner in the stable where she couldn't really be seen. Angrboda, who really was just looking around, heard this and slightly freaked out!

"Change!? Why Here!!" Angrboda blushes slightly, Sleipnir laughs at Angrboda's reaction. The giantess turned to face the horse "Ha ha! Very funny, just like your mother," she rolls her eyes, "laughing at how people react to things they personally find funny" Angrboda jokes, crossing her arms while looking at the 8 legged horse, smirking at him. He just gives her a clever look and turns away, confused, she too turns but back and is reminded of what was going to happen.

"Gah! Wait what if someone sees you, not to forget it's dirty here in the first place!!" Angrboda expresses knowing very well her efforts wouldn't be heard, it's not like Sleipnir would do anything anyways. Not being able to stop the goddess, she does what she needs to do to get the job done. She tightens her loose braid before she undid the brooch on the straps of her dress. So she could remove her green overdress, which is already slightly dirty at the end of the skirt from all the walking she had been doing today.

Angrboda, who tried to look away, but even if she wanted to turn now she couldn't. Her eyes almost glued to the blonde short lady. She ended up covering her eyes with her hands, which was somewhat effective.

But even after fighting for control and winning, she was curious and really thought she would see something she shouldn't, but instead she was met with Sigyn now in her undergarments, that was just another dress she wore under the main dress, but slightly shorter at her feet, reaching just over her knees and that of greyish white colour. Angrboda slowly takes her fingers apart to just check and really it wasn't that bad.

"Phew.. '' Angrboda sighs, relieved.

Until Sigyn tucks the undergarments into the pants she wore underneath everything.

"Oh my, why is she so..cute?!" Angrboda screeches into her hands, her face very flushed, now Sigyn did so her form was more easy to actually make out.

Angrboda could see Sigyn's shape and cute curves slightly better now and she absolutely adored this woman. Once Sigyn is done she proudly folds her dress and puts it somewhere safe. Sleipnir while Sigyn starts cleaning, knowing she's distracted bursts out laughing at Angrboda. She slowly sits down on the ground, still floating over the ground curling into a ball, making some weird ghost screeching sound. "I return, see you again after SO long and you repay by laughing at me" Angrboda says, staying in this pose for most of the time until Sigyn was almost done. Then after some time a sudden knock was heard at the entrance of the stable, making both Angrboda and Sigyn look up.

"Guess who~" a familiar voice spoke, someone's narrow and long hand now tapping, waiting for a response. "Couldn't possibly be my partner lurking around now, could it?" Sigyn smirks looking at the hand, only for Loki to then pop his head out. "AH! And there you are now!" Angrboda almost fell on her back, shouldn't she have known by now Loki tends to do that. He waves happily to his wife and son before stepping in, Sleipnir neighs happily to see his mom again!

"I decided to pay you two a visit, especially you darling, since you know..got the stinky job this time! What a shame really" Loki laughs, handing Sleipnir a fresh apple which he noms on happily. Sigyn just shook her head trying not to smile at this dork.

"Oh no you aren't going to stand here and tease her, help her out why don't you!'' Angrboda chuckles, remembering she used to do the exact same thing but to him instead. She gets up and floats over to a broom that was chilling against a wall, knocking it over, hitting Loki. "Oops~" Angrboda teases, almost forgetting Loki can't actually hear her. "Ow! Rude very much..wind?" Loki grabs the broom that had hit and fallen on him, Sigyn giggles to herself. "I think the quote on quote, wind, wants you to help your poor wife here" Sigyn now teases back. "Tell him!" Angrboda shouts proudly, now laughing loudly to herself.

This was very much enjoyable! Loki keeping his wide grin on like when he first popped into the stable, grabs Sigyn broom and takes it away from her. "Ah-! Excuse you, this isn't helping!" Sigyn tries to grab it back but to no avail.

"You're done here anyways!..shorty" Loki mumbles that last sentence, Angrboda covers her mouth, this was intense "did he just say that?" She looks at Sleipnir, who wasn't even listening, still enjoying that apple. With wide eyes the horse looks around and shakes his head, wagging his tail.

"Ohoho..don't you think I didn't hear you, poor Hodr might be blind but I'm not deaf" Sigyn shows a slight attitude and gives Loki an evil grin, Loki gasps, not even threatened by this "I'm so proud of you! got that from me~". Angrboda grins and shakes her head, she has had enough of this now, it's time to pull a little trick on her own. Floating over to Sigyn's side, she thinks a bit before managing to push Sigyn gently with the wind but hard enough for it to actually be an actual push, Loki who was perfectly bent over, facing her face imminently receives a kiss much to his and Sigyns own surprises. Sigyn pulls away, eyes wide, both blushing. "T-That was the wind!"

"This is a one time thing.. Right?" Loki asks.

🪓🪦🪓🪦🪓🪦🪓🪦🪓🪦🪓🪦🪓🪦🪓

#norse mythology #loki norse mythology #loki #sigyn #angrboda #angrboða #sleipnir #logyn fanfic #logyn #angrboda x loki

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paperbagnotes · 19 days

Text

Trippin’

I stand

I can kneel

Gravel

Under my feet at every pinnacle

I want someone who isnt showing me they want me

I’m not shown anything directly.

Won’t assume anything.

This is a story and a life lesson that I never dreamed

That I would never wish upon my weakest kin

Never drag them out by the heel

But they’ll have a harder time

To survive

Just like I was given

A fight over freedom

It’ll never be enough

Because even God is at awe

Of how much I am livin’

Keep thinking I’ll help them

Take care of less

Worry

About less

But it is all fuel

From me to feel stronger

You think 10 dogs will break me

Do you have another thing coming?

No dogs will break me

Give me thousands if not millions to save

And I’ll find them free roam to Graze

And no thanks to you

Because you deserve none

Putting me in a shoebox

Telling me, I don’t deserve sun

Making me believe that is my only home

Forever in the dark

Loving black, and the under ark

That’s your sick game

Go on and play

Keep yourself there

Focusing on the satanic in the Luciferian

Because you are so guilty

For having him see more

Than you thought

Was even able to be of asking?

I might sound angry

I might be crass

I might tell you to lick my fucking ass

But it’s because you’re too busy

To see the little things

To feel

To breathe

I won’t answer

An undetected caller ID

I will protect myself

From the dozens of calls, I received every day from people who want to take from me

I am not some teenage little thing

I am still the same person at the core

But since I’m older

Somehow

Everyone wants to take more

I wish I could go back

Be a puppy

Be undefiled

Little baby girl

But when I was

That small

No one even cared at all

So growing older

They discredited remembering my known memories

Extremity needing ambulances

And who’s gonna cover?

No amount can ever erase what’s that uncomfortable

Every single human being

Fighting

To feel secure

In a world

That profits on your discomfort

And pushes you

Until you think

Being one of them

Sentinel and unable to speak

Like all the rest

Robot

Reboot

Nothing means anything

Metaverse

Fuck your own converse

There is no chuck Taylor

There is no Taylor

There is no Luke

There is no Bible

It is all spoken from an ellipse

Of a trip

Some person

Was Vibing on

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 3 years

Note

Hi! If you are taking requests. Can you do one with well you very dominant Billy and a very shy reader like they are two end of the spectrum? Maybe he teases her until she pushes through her shyness and tells him what she wants type of thing? 😅😊 I am curious to see what you do with it if you decide to do anything at all ahah love your writing.

First of all: thank you so much for sending this in, it really means a lot to me that you came to me to request something. Secondly, when you said ‘shy reader’ I automatically wanted to push the boundaries of shy. Why just shy? Why not a little touch sensitive as well?

Anyways, enjoy this trash, you deserve it.

Warnings: Smut (18+), mild sub/dom dynamics, Soft Dom! Billy, Shy Reader, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it),mild degrading tone, military kink (?), The filth that comes out of Billy’s mouth is a warning all by itself.

Summary: Billy is your best friend, and after one night of confessions, he wants to help you feel better.

Undisclosed Desires

Billy was your best friend for many years. You had met him the night before he was about to leave for his first tour in the marines. He had come into an old dive bar, looking for a quick lay before shipping out, instead he found you being dumped by your then boyfriend. He took you on a walk to see the city, you’d spoken about so many things. He’d even told you about growing up in the system.

There was something about going off to war that made him share things with you he’d never told anyone. He wrote it off as simply the fear of dying in battle with no one ever having truly known him.

He showed you as much of himself as he could, up until the small hours of the morning, where you’d lain in his small bed, fully clothed, promising him that if he died in the war, you’d remember him for the rest of your life.

Sometimes he thinks that’s what got him through his first tour, the knowledge that there was someone out there who had seen the real him and hadn’t turned away. At least not yet.

It was between his second and third tours that he realized you didn’t like to be touched. He had the opportunity to study you longer when he’d taken you out to meet Frank and Maria at the same bar you’d met at. You shook their hands like normal, but you’d flinch when some unassuming patron got too close to you. After that, he noticed it anytime you were in public together, you would tense up if someone passed too close, or move away if someone tried to touch you. You’d never spoken up about it, and he’d never asked.

The first time you actually hugged him was when he told you he was officially out of the marines. You’d been so excited, so caught up in the prospective of having Billy safe at home, that you were able to wrap your arms around him securely.

That was the first time you’d realized that Billy’s touch didn’t make you as uncomfortable as others did. Truthfully, there were only a small handful of people that you were comfortable around to touch you- your last boyfriend had been one of them, and you’d never tried to seek out another romantic relationship since that last one years ago.

After Billy started Anvil, you’d seen him a lot less, which was okay, you knew it was hard starting a company from essentially scratch, but you were glad to see him flourishing and finally having things, after not having them for most of his life. You couldn’t feel bad for not having your best friend around, when it meant that he was out there living his dream.

It had been about two months since you’d last spoken, when he finally called you and asked to meet up in the same place you’d first met. You were happy to see Frank and Maria there as well. You’d stayed in touch with them, throughout the years. Maria was at times your only sanity through the years that Billy served.

You hugged Billy when you first saw him, letting him know how happy you were that he had gotten his company off the ground. He bought round after round of drinks when finally, you were able to convince him that you had some money too.

Maria waits till you’re gone from the table to start trouble.

“So Billy,” she says with a sly smile, “You’re aware Y/N doesn’t like to be touched right?”

“I’ve noticed it, yeah.” Is his reply. His eyes are fixed on you, watching you try to grab the bartender’s attention. He also notices the guy eyeing you up from two tables away.

“But she doesn’t mind it when you touch her.” Maria continues.

“I’ve honestly never asked her about it.” He murmurs. The guy is making his way up to you.

“Do you like her?”

The question distracts him from watching the guy approach you. He looks at Maria, who has the audacity to look innocent after asking such a question.

Frank laughs, “Come on babe, of course he likes her, the question is whether or not she likes him. He’s never been much of a quality over quantity guy.”

Billy’s face hardens.

“She probably likes him too, you never know.” Maria teases.

“Why are you two even my friends.” He mutters, eyes tracing back to you.

The guy is talking to you now… or trying to. Billy can tell that you’re mostly ignoring him. When he leans in to whisper in your ear, Billy sees you flinch.

“Be right back.” He says to Frank and Maria before sliding out of the booth.

He starts moving faster when he sees the guy’s arm twitch, hand moving up to place onto the small of your back.

You’re just waiting for your drinks when you feel someone move up to you.

“Hey sweetheart,” the guys says, “My friends bet me fifty bucks that I could get your number… what do you say?”

You smile politely at him, “I’m not interested, sorry.”

“Come on, it won’t hurt to just give me your number, “ he leans in, “You might even like it.” His breath tickle you ear, causing your entire body to tense up.

“I said no thanks.” You reiterate.

“Come on love, don’t be like that,” you can see his arm moving and you hope he’s not going to touch you. “Let me show you a real good-“ you brace for his unwanted touch.

But it never comes.

“I’m pretty sure she said no, several times.” It’s Billy.

He’s caught the man’s hand before it could touch you and pushed it away.

The man raises his arms in surrender, “Alright, alright, message received.” He says backing off.

Billy helps you with the drinks. You don’t relax until you’re seated back at the table. You move in closer to Billy, hoping to pull some comfort from him. He obliges easily, wrapping his arm around your shoulders securely.

Maria is giving you a knowing look.

Maria definitely knows too much, you think.

“So, Y/N” Frank says, and you just know that the Castles are up to no good. “Haven’t seen you around with a fella since I’ve known you… why is that?”

“Um, I… um… I’m sure I’ve brought some of them around.” Which was an obvious lie.

“Come to think of it,” Frank continues as if you hadn’t spoken, “ When was the last time you had a boyfriend?”

You take a decent mouthful of your drink, Billy’s hand warm against your shoulder.

“The last time I had a boyfriend was the night Billy and I met.” You say, squinting your eyes at Frank.

“Really?” Billy asks, “You haven’t had a boyfriend since then? Gosh, that was ages ago.”

“Well,” you argue, “You’ve never had a girlfriend at all, so I’m still ahead of you.” You tease.

“What about casual sex?” Maria interjects. You sink deeper into your seat.

“I’ve never had casual sex.” You say, taking another drink.

“What?” Billy says next, “What about all those dates you’ve been on?”

“Just dates. No sex.” At which point would the floor open up to swallow you?

“Wait, that would mean that the last time you had sex was-“

Fine, if the floor wasn’t going to swallow you, then you’d find another way to get away.

“I have to pee.” Is all you say before you’re running off.

You’re lying next to Billy on his bed, the ceiling is spinning.

“I drank too much.” You say.

Billy laughs next to you.

“Wha’s funny Billy goat?” you say as you sit up to look at him. He’s in an old t-shirt and pants and you’re dressed in one of his shirts and a shorts you left over ages ago. You groan as everything spins, you press your forehead to his shoulder.

“Moving is bad.” You complain.

His hand moves up to move your hair away from your face and he hesitates.

“Can I?” he asks.

“Yesssssss.” You murmur, grabbing his wrist and sinking his fingers into your hair.

“Why can I touch you, and other people can’t?” he asks gently. He know he’s phrased the question the wrong way, but he has no better way to ask at the moment.

“Don’t know what it is… can hardly explain it myself. It’s jus’ that I’m comfortable with some people touching me… and uncomfortable with otha’ people.” You guide his hand out of your hair and over your cheek.

“Uncomfortable how? And is it just because of how long we’ve known each other?”

You giggle and shake your head rapidly, the room spins more.

“Family I’ve known my whole life can’t touch me. Makes me antsy, makes me want to pull my skin off.” You purr and rub your face against his hand.

“So, who are you comfortable with touching you?”

“My mom… sometimes. Maria. Frank Jr. and Lisa and my ex, Stephen.” You think for a moment, “Oh yeahhhh, and Billy Russo.” You say, poking his chest.

You move your body over his, so that your head is on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“What about all the dates you’ve been on?”

“You’d be surprised how little touchin’ actually happens nowadays. You’re the first physical contact I’ve had in months.“ you sigh, “I miss it though.”

“Miss what?”

“Touch. Sex.”

“I can give you that.” Billy says, without thinking.

You raise your body to look at him. You sway trying to process what he just said.

“I’m really drunk aint I? For a second, I swear I heard you say that you’d have sex with me.” You laugh.

“Yeah, you’re drunk,” he sits up, “And yeah, I’ll have sex with you… if you want me to.”

“I do.” You say slowly, “I do want you to.”

“Okay. We will.” He says simply before pulling your head into his chest and lying back on the bed.

“Billy?”

“Mmmm?”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too sweet pea.”

Of course, you forget that conversation.

Of course, Billy doesn’t remind you that you had that little talk.

Until two weeks later when he’s knocking at your door with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

You’re very confused when you greet him at the door.

“Russo.” You say, with your eyebrows wrinkled.

“Hey pretty girl, I’m here to collect on our agreement.”

“Agreement?” you ask.

He slides his body past yours and walks into your apartment.

“You asked me to help you out with something, so here I am, ready to help.”

“Bill,” you sigh, “please explain, I’m so confused.”

“You asked me to have sex with you.”

Your eyes widen.

“That wasn’t a dream?!”

He laughs, placing the bouquet of flowers down on your counter and shrugs off his jacket. He’s wearing a soft grey sweater underneath.

“Sorry, but no, it wasn’t. And yes, I agreed, and yes, I want to.”

He pauses, looking at you.

“Do you want to?” he asks cautiously.

“Yes.” You blurt, not giving yourself a chance to overthink.

Which is how you find yourself on your bed with Billy. After talking things through a bit, you both agree that he won’t touch you until you ask. You watch him lie back on your bed, and tells you to kiss him.

Billy keeps his hands at his sides as you slowly lean over him. The closer you get to his mouth, the faster your heart beats.

"Doing good." He encourages, his eyes half closed as you lean in.

You hesitate a bit when your noses brush.

"Are you sure?" You ask one last time giving him a chance to back out.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now relax and kiss me."

When you press your lips to his, you feel like breathing a sigh of relief. Here you are, leaning over your best friend, kissing him.

You take your time, kissing him slowly, embracing the feeling of his mouth on yours. His hands keep to his sides, but yours reaches up tentatively to guide his lips. Billy moans quietly, he tilts his head the way your hands guide, enjoying the control he's giving up to you. He can think of no better way of getting you to trust him more than by giving you control.

His hands clench into fists when you gently run your fingers down his neck and over his chest. He's hoping that your mouth follows, but no such luck.

When you pull back, he watches your face for any hints of uncertainty.

"Was that okay?" You ask.

"More than. We can stop here if you like."

You shake your head.

"No? Want more?" Billy asks.

You nod.

"Take what you need from me pretty girl." He murmurs.

You move to slip one leg over his hip so that you're straddling him. He props himself up on his elbows and you lean forward to kiss him again. His mouth is absolutely sinful, and even though he isn't using his hands, you definitely are. You run your hands through his hair and over his chest. You grip the edges of his shirt and give it a tug. He raises his hands bit by bit until you've successfully pulled it from his body.

"Is this-"

"-yeah baby you're doing good." He praises.

You smile a little and continue kissing him. Your hands press themselves against any open skin you can find, enjoying the feel of his skin and the raised tissue of his scars. You've seen him this way so many times but it's the first time you've ever had the fortune of exploring his body this way. His hands are still firmly at his sides and you're grateful that he hasn't tried to touch you yet. By now, any other man would have had their hands all over you, tugging at your clothes and grabbing at you.

The thought of someone touching you sends an uncomfortable shiver down your spine and you pull back. Anxiety sinks in and you find yourself slipping off of him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You gasp.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, I'm right here. He sits up, turning to you. "You're okay, pretty girl. I won't touch you unless you ask."

"I know, I just started to overthink. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, you have nothing to be sorry for. You're safe. Hey, look at me."

You meet his gaze.

"You're safe." He emphasizes.

You swallow and nod, leaning into him and pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"Want to stop?" He asks.

You take a deep breath.

"No." You say, gazing up at him, "I just need a minute."

"Okay, take however long you need."

When you're feeling more comfortable, you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around him. He presses his cheek into your hair, kissing your temple.

"I got you." He says.

You begin to feel more comfortable around him when you kiss him again. You press all the need you have for him into to the kiss and he accepts it easily. He moans when your mouth trails from his lips down his neck. You kiss and bite gently at his skin, enjoying the way he feels.

You reach for one of his hands next, guiding it to your face. You reach for his other hand to do the same. He lets you guide his hands to wherever you want them. You slowly guide his hands down the planes of your body. You test for any discomfort from his touch.

His patience alone is a turn on. The way he doesn't mind that you take this at your own pace has you needy and desperate for more.

He sighs when you lift his hands to the edge of your shirt, and you slip his hands under.

You shiver when you feel his hands against your stomach for the first time. You keep them there for a while, getting accustomed to being touched this way after so long.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

You weigh his question, paired with his large warm hands on your skin.

"I feel..."

You slide his hands up higher till the tips of his fingers are grazing the underside of your bra.

"Overdressed." You say finally.

You let go of his hands and peel your shirt off. He keeps his hands pressed to your ribs where you left them unattended.

Your hands go back to his, and you take your time moving them up so that he's cupping your breasts.

You moan into his mouth, kissing him with a renewed fervour. You move his hands down to cup your backside and you feel his hands twitch.

You giggle and pull back from his lips.

"You can cop a feel if you want."

He groans and gives your ass a firm squeeze, you can't help it when you feel yourself instinctively grind down on him.

"You're doing so good," he gasps, "so good for me pretty girl."

You mewl, a strange feeling washing over you. An ache that starts low and works its way up to your head. You want to give him control. You want his body covering every inch of yours.

Billy notes the change, an extra glassiness to your eyes, a higher pitch to your moans, he’s seen it before. A shy girl that need to be taken care of.

But he needs you to tell him what you want. He doesn’t want to make assumptions and take more than you’re willing to give.

You let his hands go, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and pulling his body into yours.

“Touch me.” You murmur int his ear.

Slowly, he runs his hands over your back, you feel no discomfort, lost in the trust that you’re putting in Billy’s hands.

“Need you.” You say simply.

“Tell me what you need.” He says, with a kiss to the shell of your ear.

You whimper and grind down onto his erection. His hands slide down to grip your hips.

“Come on. Tell me. You were being so good before.”

“Want you to… take…control.”

You continue touching him, kissing his neck and collarbones.

“Look at me.”

You raise your head.

“How much control?” he asks gently.

You bite your lips and move to turn away.

His hand grips your jaw firmly and you gasp, your eyes widen and flick back to his dark ones.

“Answer me.”

“All of it.” You squeeze your eyes shut, “Want you to take all of it.”

“And you’ll tell me if you feel uncomfortable or want to stop?”

You nod your head, still caught in his grip.

“Say it.”

“I’ll tell you… if I feel uncomfortable or want to stop.”

“And you’ll tell me if I do somethin’ you don’t like.”

You nod your head, murmuring a quiet ‘yes.’

He pulls away from you, studying you for a moment.

“Take everything off and lie on the bed.” He orders.

You smile and stand up, pushing your pants off. You hesitate at the clasp of your bra, feeling extremely shy.

Billy stands, and you watch as he unbuckles his pants and slide them off his legs. You drink in his body, long legs, wide shoulders, his erection barely contained in his black boxers.

He taps your nose.

“Hurry up.” He commands.

You close your eyes and pull your undergarments off. Your hands move to cover your breasts and you open one eye to peek up at him.

He’s looking at you with an emotion you can’t name, you drop your arms so that he can get a full view of your body.

“You’re really somethin’ you know that?” he says, marveling at your body.

You lick your lips and move back onto the bed. He’s watching your every move. He watches as you lie back, and you spread you legs invitingly, giving him full view of your dripping heat.

“Fuck.” He says, and crawls his way up to you. He slips his thigh between your legs, and presses it firmly against your pussy. You cry out in pleasure at the feel of him.

“This okay?” he asks.

“Yes Billy, you can touch me wherever you want, however rough you want.”

“Rough? Is that how you want it pretty girl?” he says, leaning over you, fingers gently tracing your collarbones.

You grind your pussy down on his thigh in need. You nod your head.

“Want it rough. Mean.”

“Mean?” he echoes with a teasing tone, the tips of his fingers drag over your nipple and you arch your body.

“Yes!” you gasp “Yes… wanna meet the Lieutenant with two hundred confirmed kills.”

He groans low in the back of his throat. He leans in close to you, your nose brushing his, his expression is very serious.

“You have to tell me if it gets to be too much. Promise me.”

You nod your head, meeting his gaze so that he knows you mean it.

“Safeword is ‘cupcake’” you confirm.

He kisses you then, hand tracing over your body, moving and gripping you anywhere he can reach. He kisses you so long and so passionately that you can hardly think when he finally pulls back.

“How fucking dare you look… and feel so good after not having done this in such a long time?” he growls, his mouth trailing kisses and bites down your body.

His hand moves to cup your mound and you mewl, pushing your hips into his hand.

“Haven’t had a cock in such a long time, I bet you’re so fucking tight. Gonna have to take my time opening you up so that I don’t hurt you.”

You feel yourself clench around nothing.

“I’m quite big you know,” he says, taking your hand and pressing it into his covered erection. He watches in satisfaction as your eyes widen, looking down at where your hand is touching him. He’s right, from what you can feel, his cock is big, hard and warm through the cloth. You moan his name, squeezing him gently through the fabric.

He presses the heel of your palm into his cock, and ruts into your hand a little.

His eyes are so dark when they focus on you, and you finally feel that shyness fully wash away under his needy gaze. He wants you just as much as you want him and that fills you with confidence.

“You’re gonna sit there all night telling me what you’re gonna do to me? Or are you going to fuck me into submission, Lieutenant?”

His hand wraps around your throat.

“What did you just call me?” he says with a growl. “I have half a mind to just stuff my cock into that pussy without any prep work and watch you struggle to take me.” Your squeeze your eyes shut.

“You’d like that huh? Crying as my cock stuffs you full? You’d probably cum as soon as I fill you up.”

His hand tightens around your neck, “You’re in no positions to be making demands pretty girl, and don’t you forget it.”

He bites the spot at the base of your neck.

“Understand?” he asks.

You whine below him.

“Yes.” You respond.

His hand tightens even more around your neck briefly, getting your attention fully.

“Yes. Who?” he grits out.

“Yes Lieutenant.” You moan.

“Good girl.” He praises, “Now get up, come here.”

He sits back against the headboard, and pulls you so that you’re straddling one of his thighs. He feels the wetness from your pussy coat his thigh.

“Want you to ride my thigh.” He orders, no room for question.

Of course, you have questions.

“I- I’ve never-“

“It’s okay, just start rubbing your pretty pussy on me,“ he puts his hands on your hips, guiding your movements, “Yeah, just like that. Doing so good.”

You lean your body into his, your lips connecting softly and you rock yourself gently against him.

You start grinding your body down on his more, feeling the way your clit catches on his thigh. You throw your head back, moaning his name. One of his hands sink into your hair and grips it firmly, keeping your head in place as he kisses the column of your neck.

He flexes his thigh and your speed increases, his other hand pressing you flush to his thigh, no space to pull back or slow down.

“Want you to come on me like this, soak my thigh. I know that pussy is just needy enough to come from such little stimulation. I know you’re a needy little slut for me.”

His words are what throw you over the edge more than his actions. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and every muscle in your body clenches hard as your orgasm washes over you. You cry out his name as he continues rocking your body against his slowly, prolonging the orgasm.

You slump into his body, breathing heavy as you try to get your thoughts back in order.

You’re suddenly flipped, finding yourself on your back with Billy hovering over you.

“That’s one.” He murmurs against your lips and he kisses his way down your body. You arch and moan at the detail he’s putting in to pleasuring you. He kisses his way all the way down to your ankles, and then slowly moves his way back up.

Your breath stutters as his mouth kisses the spot just above your pussy.

“I- ah, Billy-“

He pulls back.

“Cupcake?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Relax,” he says, kissing your cheek, “I’m only going to lick that pussy till you’re screaming for me.”

You groan when he slides back down your body and moves your legs over his shoulders.

The breath gets knocked out of you when you first feel his tongue sweeping through your folds.

“Ohh Lieutenant” you moan. His hands tighten where they’re gripping your hips.

He’s full on making out with your pussy now, not sparing a moment to come up for air or give you any reprieve. He trails his hands over your body, grounding you with his touch. He grabs at your breasts, pinching gently at your nipples, feeling the way your body hits a feverish need for him.

He presses two fingers into you and groans at the resistance your body gives.

“Fuck.” He says pulling back from between your thighs, his lips coated in your slick. His eyes go down to where his fingers are struggling to push into you.

“You’re tighter than I thought you’d be. Fuck baby don’t you touch yourself?”

You whine, cheeks getting heated with embarrassment.

“I do.” You say simply.

“What do you use to touch yourself with?” he asks, starting to pump into you slowly.

“My hands -ah-“ you say as he curls his fingers, reaching spots inside you that you never could.

“No toys?” he asks.

“I have a small toy, about this big.” You say, showing him a space between your fingers that couldn’t be more than four inches long.

As your wetness coats his fingers, he feels the resistance become less and less. He drops his head back down to your pussy, kissing at your clit. You cry out.

“This poor little pussy, has never really been filled has it?”

His fingers increase their speed and his tongue continues to lap at your clit until you come a second time, all over his tongue and fingers.

He moves up your body quickly and kisses you hard. You can taste yourself on his tongue but you don’t mind as much.

He presses his forehead into yours.

“Ask me.” He says breathlessly.

“Ask you?” you question.

He nods his head, eyes closed tight, “Ask me to fill this pussy to the brim.”

You gasp.

“Please Lieutenant,” you say, and he opens his eyes to look at you, “Please fill my pussy with your cock. Fuck me until I can’t move.” You beg.

He growls, pulling back and slipping his boxers off.

“Shit.” You say, getting a good eyeful of his cock. The tip is dark pink in colour, dripping precum.

He grabs his erection and pumps it a couple times to relieve some of the ache building.

You’re blown away by how beautiful he looks, long and lithe, a panther ready to consume his prey.

When he settles himself between your legs, he takes his time, searching your face for any uncertainty.

“I’m okay,” you reassure him, dragging your hands over his chest and down to graze his erection.

He groans and lines himself up with your entrance.

You try to relax as best as possible when he breaches your entrance. Your body shaking helplessly as you feel his cock start to fill you slowly. Billy takes his time, stretching you open as slowly as he can, enduring a quiet torture at your unbelievable tightness.

Your eyes water as you feel full to the brim.

“Are you all in?” you ask shakily.

Billy’s lips part in shock, he looks down at where your bodies are joined, only half of his cock inside of you.

“Not even close baby, want me to stop?” he asks.

You shake your head roughly,

“Want you all in.” you say.

Fuck.

You’re not sure how you take the rest of him, your eyes fill with tears at the overwhelming emotions filling you.

“God. You look so pretty like this, struggling to take all of me into that tight cunt. Crying while I stuff you full. You can take it though, can’t you baby?” he watches you nod your head at his words, “You can take it.” He encourages.

You nod, tears dripping down your face and you pull him in to kiss him softly. When he finally bottoms out, he waits a bit to let you get accustomed to his size. His body is also shaking, with restraint, trying his hardest to take his time with you and not pound you into the bed like he wants to.

When you’re ready, you move your hips a little and he groans.

He takes his time rutting into you, building you up slowly toward an orgasm you aren’t prepared for. His pace isn’t even fast, but it’s the slow drag of his cock against your tightened walls that has you unexpectedly exploding around him.

Feeling you clench around him has his eyes rolling back in his head. He can’t believe he didn’t do this sooner with you. You’re everything he’s ever wanted he realizes, eyes going wide.

He doesn’t give you time to come down from your orgasm before he’s full on pumping himself into you.

“You’re such a good girl, coming around my cock like that. Taking me so well into that tight pussy. What a good girl.” He moans.

His hand closes around your throat and he feels you clench around him.

“You like that? Like it when I’m rough with you and take what I want?”

You moan his name.

He growls and pulls himself out of you. He moves you so that you’re sitting up, leaning against the headboard, trapped between his body and the wood behind you.

“Billyy,” you cry out, as he enters you again, his arms braced on either side of your head as the power behind his thrusts increase.

“Billy?” he asks mockingly, “There’s no Billy here. This is all Lieutenant Russo,” his fingers grip your jaw harshly, “and you will address me as such.”

Tears flow freely down your face.

“Rus-so.” You sob.

He hits you with an especially hard thrust, the headboard bangs into the wall.

“What was that pretty girl?” he asks.

“Lieutenant please,” you gasp, “gonna cum.”

He laughs, slamming into you again and again.

“Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He orders.

You can’t help but cry out as you explode, your nails digging into Billy’s skin. He hardly feels it anyways, he’s only a few thrusts away from coming himself.

His thrusts lose their rhythm and he comes with a groan, gasping into your shoulder, feeling the way he empties himself inside you.

He stays inside you and rolls you both so that you’re lying on top of him. He cradles you close, trying to catch his breath.

“Thank you.” You mumble into his chest.

He huffs out a laugh, “Trust me, the pleasure was all mine.”

You laugh and smack his chest lightly.

He takes his time, slipping out of you eventually and getting off the bed. He returns a minute later with a glass of water and a warm, damp cloth and he helps clean you up.

“You’re the best, Lieutenant.” You say, with a teasing tone as you fall asleep by his side.

Billy smiles, and kisses the top of your head.

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo smut #my writings #the punisher #billy russo x female reader

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