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naompspsps · 15 days

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Looking so ravishing, why hide it?

Vil x Insecure Gn!Reader

Summary: Insecurities hit you more than the things you went through. Luckily your boyfriend was helping you feel better.

You're in a relationship with Vil, You have alot of insecurities about your body. Probably even personality. Reader is GN but wearing a pretty dress bcs its slay, slay reader!! If you're a boy, SLAY MAN!!! but if you're a tomboy, You're still slaying but also sorry that you gotta wear a dress :c

Reader has a permanent scar that they're insecure of :((

A/n: AAAHHH I THOUGHT OF THIS WHEN I WAS PLAYING TWISTED WONDERLAND IN THE JP SERVER AND LISTENING TO MUSIC

You aren't breaking any promises. You promised your boyfriend you would go with him at the mall to pick out clothes for him and you. You didn't want to get outfits but he hushed you and took you there anyways.

You walk around with Vil, who is currently picking out outfits. You just stand there beside him, hoping that you both could just go home. "Dear, Why aren't you searching for clothes? It's gonna be our special date tomorrow." He reminds. "I- Um, Don't feel like picking."

"Then I'll pick for you." Vil swipes through the purple blazers, while you just stare at him, You weren't expecting that kind of answer. "No need! I already have clothes for tomorrow's special day for you... And I.." You mumble the last words, embarrassed to include yourself in.

"Nonsense darling, It's not called special without a new special matching outfit." Vil hushes you with his pointer finger on your mouth and continuing to swipe through the clothes. He can already tell what's happening, but he plans to keep it to himself until he's sure it's true.

Vil was taking a while to pick out new outfits for himself, But you weren't complaining, You loved watching him check out if he looks nice and even asks you. Of course you know he looks beautiful, He doesn't even need to look at the mirror. But despite having fun complimenting him, it was your turn.

He walked to grab a purple dress, it was glittery at the ends of the dress. It was an off-shoulders, glittery one side slit dress, not to mention the sleeves are puffed.

You suddenly felt a nervous feeling in your chest, slowly rising up to your head. Alot of thoughts were racing in your mind. Not just two. More.

What if people judge me?

I don't look good in that.

Please, I don't wanna see myself in that.

I would look disgusting in it.

The dress looks pretty, but does it look pretty on me?

Vil studies your face, reading it easily. "Hun, If you think this does not look good on you, take a better look." You wonder how Vil managed to read you that easily. "How'd you know?.."

"You're covering your stomach with your arms, Did you think I wouldn't be able to read my own stunning lover's thoughts just by gesture?" He asks you, instead of answering, You just cover yourself more, pulling your sleeves all the way down and tugging your jacket. "It's just that.. I don't have the perfect figure for that.."

"Amour, Did I ask if you have the perfect figure for this?"

"Huh?.."

Vil sets the dress down on an empty seat, heels tapping on the floor as he walks towards you. He unclips one of his hairclips, tucking your hair behind your ear and clipping it, exposing the scar on your cheekbone.

You want to look away, but Vil has his hand at the back of your head, forcing you to look at him.

You raise your hand up to cover the scar, but Vil only takes your hand away with his other hand. "Don't." He commands you.

You feel so nervous, it's almost making you sick. It felt like the whole area was suffocating you, until Vil kisses the scar on your cheekbone. "It makes you more beautiful." He whispers, his hand letting go of your head. "Whoever made you this insecure must face the wrath of me. Or, Rook."

"Please not Rook." You manage to whisper. "Oh yes Rook." He smiles. Well, To start with, It's not a kind smile. A devious smile, that is. "They wouldn't want a someone who can follow them until they start running, do they?" He tilts his head slightly to the left, A glint of evil in his eyes.

You thought about it again, Rook does follow Vil's orders.. Meaning whatever Vil commands Rook to do, will be done. You want it to happen but you also don't. "Amour, I think you would look rather ravishing in this outfit." He speaks in a hushed tone.

You don't want to argue with him, so you just swiftly take the dress and walk to the nearest dressing room.

Vil waits for you patiently, Forget trying out the clothes he got, He'll keep you company. Afterall, he already knows the clothes would look good on him.

You come out of the dressing room, appearing infront of him. You see his eyes sparkle in seeing you wearing such a dress. But even if you saw his eyes sparkle, You still covering your stomach with your arms. "Yeah.. It's not what you expected.."

"You're right." Vil nods. You look at him, like you already knew he was gonna say that. "Mhm- I'll just change back-"

"No. I didn't expect you to look more beautiful than my imagination."

"What?.."

Vil looks vacantly at you, smiling. "You look so stunning, I mean." He walks up to you, taking notice of the clip still on the same spot where he clipped it. "[Name], My love, I don't understand why you always hide your beauty." Vil gently pulls you by the arm, bringing you closer to him as he guides you to a mirror.

"Look at you, You look breathtaking." He hugs you from behind. "I could look at you 24/7 and never get bored." He adds, one of his hands moving up to cup both of your cheeks, squishing it twice times. "You don't need anyone else's comments about yourself. I can only do that, and all of them are gonna be positive comments."

Your heart softens at his words. "Really?" You ask him. "Really, You have no idea how joyful I am when I see you so confident and happy."

"You look so ravishing no matter what you wear, why hide it?" Vil queries. You have nothing else to answer it because you don't even know why you hide your beauty. "Answer me, Amour." He spins you around and traps you in his arms. You face him, your eyes immediately looking at his eyes.

"I- Don't actually know.." You mumble. "See? You don't even know why. So just please, don't hide it." Vil pleads, You feel a bit bad for making him beg for you to just be more confident in yourself. "It's hard to be confident in myself.." You tell him, as he only lets out a hum.

"It takes time to build up confidence, I am not asking you to be confident as soon as possible, I just want you to know that you are very beautiful."

His words make you jelly. But, It did help you a bit. "Mm, maybe you're right." You chuckle softly. "I know I am, Now look at yourself and tell me, What do you see aside from me?" Vil turns you back around. You look at yourself at the mirror, removing your arms from your stomach.

"I see.. A very pretty person." You truthfully tell him. "And it's not me right?"

"Hm, No. If it was you I'd say handsome." You point out. He laughs lightly. "Alright, I'll believe you. Now if you would be a darling, could you look for more outfits that takes a liking to you?" Vil lightly pushes you. "Ah- Finee-" You walk in the dressing room, changing back in your attire from awhile ago.

You come out of the dress room, holding the dress in your arm. Vil pulls you closer to him, his hand firmly on your waist and the outfits he chose for himself hanging on his other arm. "Let's take our time to look for more things then after this let's go out and eat, My treat."

"Vil, Are you sure this already isn't a special date?" You look at him as you both walk around to search for more clothes. "Hm? No, We do this everyday, I spoil you rotten in shopping sprees, then we go out and eat. It's common for both of us."

That.. Is true. "Hm, True.." You shrug. "..Unless.. You want me to spoil you more?"

"Vil Schoenheit!"

"Haha, Just kidding."

Author's end note: Vil is putting me in a coma with all his romantic tactics. sOOOOO this is just a random thought while listening to Isabel LaRosa's newly released song!! It's favorite if you don't know, I recommend listening to it!! You should listen to it if you want to :o IT'S S0000 G00D.

! do not repost or translate my works anywhere. do not copy or use my works in any site, Reblogs are appreciated alot though !

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #vil schoenheit x yuu #gn reader

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 8 months

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A Perfect Score - Chapter 4 - Thin Ice | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: Moving on to Casterly Rock for the next round of the tour, Aemond has some explaining to do | Word Count: 7.4k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: Aemond being a general raging dickhead, classism, sexual tension 😘, swearing, heavy petting

A/N: I feel like apologising for long chapters is beyond me at this point. But ohohoho we getting into itttt~

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

It turned out that alone, never really meant alone.

Alone in the sense that Aemond and yourself would be carted around by the various staff at Hightower Management, put into various hotels and expected to keep up with training, without the keen eyes of Otto nor Alicent watching over either of you.

Part of you was excited about the notion of a tour. But the more dominant part was immensely nervous. Without Helaena or Aegon to take the edge of Aemond’s personality, it might be silent torture or it might be entirely indifferent, as you and Aemond had been throughout the match and after-party well over a week ago and, as well as the time in between.

It was sort of routine now, the way you both trained. Only speaking to one another if you had to.

Even then, he did seem a little chattier. But it was a miniscule difference.

He’d not said a thing about his ex-dinosaur-girlfriend (as Helaena so carefully put it) being at the after-party. Not like he would say anything to you anyway, but still, what was that all about?

Helaena had told you as much as she could really, given all she knew being on the outside. Alys was twenty years Aemond’s senior, now in her mid-forties you surmise from the timeline. Besides grossing you out mildly, Helaena had bestowed her knowledge that as soon as Alicent found out about the supposed relationship, it was immediately put to an end.

Enter. The pregnancy scandal. Alys had approached Otto in a very business-like manner, breaking the news she was pregnant and that it had been Aemond’s, despite the timing of it clearly not matching up. Alicent was absolutely beside herself, which knowing her now you’re not sure if you could picture it, and insisted that it was entirely not true and that Alys had just wanted money.

Aemond’s or not, she was paid a handsome sum to keep quiet. And in the end? It turned out she wasn’t pregnant in the first place.

“I wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t seen her at the party, as it’s not really my story to tell”, Helaena had said.

It left a bad taste in your mouth when she finished explaining. If that was all true, why the hell would she turn up to the after-party with the necklace Aemond had gifted her all those years ago? Why would she even get involved with a man twenty years her junior? It reeked somewhat of grooming, etching a permanent frown into your features at the memory of Aemond at the party, his shoulders rolled forwards, looking down and shrinking in her presence.

He looked so small then.

That’s all you could think about as you both sat in the back seats of the car driven by a man called Arryk Cargyll, who would be transporting and looking after you both since Criston was attending to Helaena and Aegon on the other side of the tour. He was significantly chattier and less stone-faced than Criston, which you chalked up to him being probably younger.

But even then, he barely spoke a word the entire way to your first stop of the tour. Casterly Rock, hosted by Jason and Johanna Lannister, representing the Westerlands.

At least the hotel was nice. You and Aemond had separate rooms next to one another. And aside from the odd light switch and the hum of the shower, he didn't make himself known.

Even now, as you sat on the bed, clad in black sweatpants and a sports bra, having visited the hotel gym, you listened to the shower through the walls in the quietness of the late evening. Staring off into space. The intrusive thought of Aemond showering briefly zipping through your brain and not at all imagining-

Incoming Video Call from El 🦌

Thank the gods for that.

You swipe the screen, greeted with the smiling face of Ellyn sat on what used to be your shared sofa.

"There's my hoe" she lovingly calls, stuffing a crisp into her mouth.

You hum a laugh, "Charming El" you smile, moving to lay on your front so you can prop the phone up, "What's the occasion? Do you miss me that much?"

She rolls her eyes, "Fuck off. I always miss you" she smiles brightly, "Forgive me for wanting to check in on my amazingly successful figure skating queen"

"Amazingly successful, huh?" You joke, "High praise coming from Floris' sister. How is she by the way?"

"She's fine. Getting discharged soon they think, she messed it up pretty bad" Ellyn shrugs, "hey, you might see Maris when you're out there"

"I'll give her a big sloppy kiss for you" you smirk.

Ellyn pulls a face, "Don't do that she'll punch you in the face"

You laugh. She absolutely would as well. The Four Storms indeed.

"I saw your Instagram pictures. You look fit" she says with a mouth full of crisps, "Anyway, who you dressed up for in there?"

You look down at your outfit, furrowing your brows, "A sports bra?" You joke, "Hardly dressed up, El"

She smirks, "How are things with Aemond?"

"Oh for fucks sake…" you roll your eyes, hearing her cackle through the phone, "Well, we didn't start the greatest"

"Tough crowd?"

"He may have insinauted I wouldn't handle it because I wasn't from any notable house"

Her mouth drops open.

"Death. He deserves death"

You laugh loudly, covering your mouth, "El!"

"Did you put him in his place?"

"Tried to!"

"I bet he went real quiet after you showed him up at that match!"

You smile at her, "Oh you watched that?"

"Course I did!" She returns, "not fair you looking like a snack on the ice like that. You could tell you didn't like each other though"

Ooft. "Yeah…" you trail off, "...it's a work in progress"

"I take it you haven't smashed yet then?"

"El!"

"What!" She shouts back, making the phone crackle due to her volume, "Just cos he's a dick doesn't mean he's unfuckable"

El, you're making it really hard to deny it right now by confirming my exact thought process.

You sigh, "I'm not fucking him, El. He hates me"

"Do you hate him?"

You bite your lip, "I tolerate"

"Fucking liar" she sneers, "anyway I gotta go, I'll watch your next match. Slay all day, love you!"

You sigh, dropping your phone, listening as the hum of his shower stops, and the bedroom light switch clicks against the wall.

How did you end this conversation thinking about Aemond having a shower more?!

Stop that. Bad girl.

You could hear him plug in what you assumed was a phone charger into the wall, something akin to bed slats cracking a second later with the weight of him slipping into bed.

His bed was right next to the wall, the same as yours.

You tapped your phone anxiously, biting your lip as if something were on your mind.

But you didn't have the heart to even tell yourself what you were thinking about.

Or rather who.

The bitterness of hotel coffee never fails to make you wince as you sit in the fancy hotel foyer, dressed in your usual all black sportswear while the space around you looks indicative of a Greek palace, all cream and decorated with keen detail.

Casterly Rock is unnaturally hot right now, so all you’re able to manage is a sports bra and a thin crop top on your torso, with of course, leggings on your bottom. Your foot taps impatiently, waiting for Aemond to come out of his room so Arryk can drive you to the ice rink for morning practice, raising an eyebrow when you look at the clock on the wall and see it’s already 6am.

He’s never usually late.

Arryk walks towards you with an unnatural spring in his step to say how early in the morning it is, smiling beneath his facial hair, looking entirely put together in the suit he wears. Does he wear that everyday?

“Aemond will be a while yet, shall I get you to the rink first so you don’t lose out on practice?”

You nod, downing the rest of the coffee to give you some semblance of life, standing up to follow him, “Sure, thank you”

You follow him to the car, sliding into the passenger seat, rubbing your eyes.

“Is he alright?” you ask, as Arryk pulls his seatbelt on.

He nods, putting the car into gear and setting off, “He’ll be alright. Just a small headache. The eye sometimes gives him some bother”

You drive in silence for a bit, the roads mostly clear from how early it still is.

“Have you been with them long? Working for them I mean?” you ask, trying to fill the silence with something.

“A while. I joined after Aemond’s accident”

You swallow.

The accident.

Sensing your silence, Arryk looks over briefly, “You don’t know?”

You shrug, shaking your head, “I figured if he wanted to tell me he would”

Arryk nodded and turned away again, clearing his throat with his eyes back on the road. He didn’t say anything else until you arrived at the ice rink, obviously not wanting to let slip any sensitive information that Aemond wouldn’t have wanted to share. But it was clear he knew.

It felt like everyone around you knew some kind of secret, and you were purposefully being kept on the outside, but just within reach.

This ice rink was by no means large and you’re thankful at least that it’s empty, so that you can do the pre-practice stretches in relative peace. You just stick your airpods in and play whatever you have on shuffle, using the free time Aemond isn’t here to start on the ice.

It’s nice every once in a while since starting training with Aemond, to have everything to yourself, music in your ears, hair down, the breeze of the air conditioning through your locks. Sometimes you find yourself just gliding, eyes closed and inhaling slowly and purposefully through your nose, letting the smells around you fill your senses.

After doing countless laps and trying certain jumps you know you’d be doing with Aemond later, you look at the clock. 45 minutes have passed and still no sign of Aemond.

Feeling entirely too hot from the exertion of practising, you huff and tug the shirt you’re wearing off, leaving yourself in only the sports bra.

Modesty be damned, I’m too fucking hot for this.

Tugging it over your head, adjusting the sports bra underneath, you don’t even register the double doors opening with the airpods blasting in your ears. It’s only when the flash of white hair passes as you slide along the ice, that you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Fucking hell” you mutter quietly, pulling out your airpods quickly.

Aemond shucks his bag onto the floor, not making eye contact as he slips onto the bench with his skates in his hands. He looks more irritable than usual, dropping his skates with a sort of carelessness you wouldn’t usually associate with him.

You watch his face, tense and irritated, looking down as he ties them, his eyebrows drawn together.

Skating up to the edge, you bite your lip, wondering if you should say anything at all. Would it just make him more difficult? Would he just stay quiet?

“Are you okay?” you ask, coming out more weakly than intended.

“Yes” he answers harshly, unconvincing, “Fine, clearly”

Woah, okay.

You lean over the edge on your elbows, watching as he fails to tie his skates the first time, cursing to himself at having to do it again, irritably looping them once more.

“Arryk said you had a headache”

Sighing once he’s double tied his laces, he leans on his knees, finally looking up at you, his whole body tense and rigid. He doesn’t say a thing. He just stares, as if he’s shocked you had the audacity to even talk to him, his glass eye reflected in the sharp blue tone of the lights.

It's like all the air has been sucked out the room. And the world only has you two left in it. The way he stares makes you both uncomfortable and breathless at the same time.

And you're unsure if you think it's a good thing.

A glimpse of what he acted like when you first met is there, watching the way his grip is tight, his forearms taut and shoulders hunched.

He opens his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“I have some ibuprofen…if you want it”

His mouth closes instantly. And his brow softens somewhat, although not unwinding entirely. His gaze falls to the floor for a moment, and he nods, looking completely resigned, much like he did on the night he talked to Alys Rivers.

Like a child in pain.

Hopping off the ice, you rifle through your bag that’s seated next to him, eventually extending the pills to him. He moves his head, his good eye starting at your legs and running over the entirety of you, before looking at your eyes. It makes you go all warm, watching the way he pauses at your middle, where the slightest bit of skin shows beneath the sports bra.

“Thanks” he says quietly, taking the pills from you and popping some out the foil. His fingers graze yours only slightly, and you press your lips together, turning away from him quickly to get back on the ice.

Your chest feels all hot and tight. Must be the hotel breakfast. That bacon did taste funny.

Something inside tightens as you turn to watch him swallow some water, watching the muscles of his neck. And then his large hands palm at his hair, pulling it to the back to tie it haphazardly, with no real care as several strands fall out from his grasp.

Why is that kind of hot.

What is wrong with me.

This is Aemond we’re talking about.

Despite knowing that there is no way those pills have kicked in yet, he tugs at his shirt as he gets out on the ice. He has one hand occupied with his phone as he meets you in the middle.

“Fuck. Speaker’s not working” he murmurs, fumbling with the settings on his phone.

“Oh”

You move from right leg to left leg, anxiously. Pulling at the fabric of your leggings while you think of a solution.

“We could uh…use my airpods” you respond, pulling the case out, “one each?”

He only moves his eye to meet you, his mouth wrinkled down in disgust. For some reason it makes you laugh.

“Oh come on, they’re not dirty” you smile, handing him one, “business partners, right?” you say, sticking the left one in your own ear.

Not friends.

Business partners.

He sighs, reluctantly sticking the right one in. You put the music you’ll be performing in a few days on repeat, sticking the phone into your sports bra in lieu of pockets.

“Give it to me” Aemond says, one hand limply extended.

“What?”

He looks at you, “Your phone” he adds, “I have pockets”

You pull an awkward face, swallowing thickly.

For some reason retrieving the phone from the sports bra feels weirder than putting it there, especially when you hand it to him and he presses it against his thigh to stuff into his zip pocket. God his hands are so massive now when compared to the size of the phone.

Stop. That.

Oh gods, was I sweaty. That’s so gross if I was.

He luckily doesn’t comment on anything like that. A small mercy.

You practise one. Two. Three times. The clock ticks by quickly as you're both immersed in training. Trying various parts of the routines, as well as a particularly difficult new jump, one that at first you have some trouble with.

Aemond throws you in the air and you have to spin three times, timing it perfectly so that your front is against his in time for him to push you back for the exit, hands joined.

It’s had…questionable results so far.

Misjudging how quickly you need to spin in the air, your feet aren’t in the right position and you fall chest to chest with Aemond, his arms reaching around you to make sure you don’t slip.

“Shit!” you whisper, annoyed at yourself, “Sorry”

You hate that when he catches you, his grip on your bare arms, that you can’t help but blush, every hair standing on end. Especially when he looks down at you, hoisting you up back on your skates once you’re balanced, “You okay?”

Completely too annoyed at yourself to care right now about the proximity, you shake your head, “Can’t hack that one”

Aemond bites his cheek, “Let’s try a double spin first then”

Realising you’re still very close, you skate back, clearing your throat, “You sure?..”

He shrugs, “We can work up to the triple if we want, but as long as we do a throw, still counts”

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ears, “Sure..”

If there is something you’ve noticed since you met and began working with Aemond, it’s that his style of skating, much like Helaena’s and Aegon’s, is very technical. Calculated. Overly-thought out.

Much like ballet, figure skating is as much about performance and emotion, than technical ability. Unfortunately for Aemond.

He’s so pragmatic about his approach that there’s barely room for any real emotion in his performance. He’s always straight-faced, tight-lipped. So much so, you wonder if he actually enjoys any of it.

As much as you hate to admit it, he was right. Starting with the double was an easier approach, and it came more naturally. So when you did several attempts after the triple, tucking your arms in on yourself for the spin, the last few were landed, making your insides swell with pride. Eventually, you look at the clock and wince at the time, so both of you take a break for a much needed drink.

After having crossed the technical bridge, time for the emotional one you suppose? No harm in asking, right?

“Can I ask you something?” you ask quietly, leaning backwards against the ledge, arms rested on it.

Aemond’s eye finds you mid-sip of his water bottle, and he licks his lips, his weight on one leg, wordlessly urging you to continue.

You swallow, wondering how best to word it, “Do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

Isn’t it obvious?

Your eyes zip around briefly, “This? Figure skating?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Answering your question without needing words.

“I enjoy it enough”

Enough.

Aemond is so guarded. Even now, he holds his arms over his chest, protecting his heart. Silence stretches between you at his answer, as unconvincing as it was, you nod your head with eyebrows raised, not wanting to say anything more that might dampen the mood on your training for today.

Being around him is like stepping around a sleeping dragon. One brush against it, however soft it would be, it’d wake in a sort of angered panic, assuming danger.

That is how you would describe him. Whatever you said or did, it’d be interpreted as an attack.

“You don’t believe me” he responded after some time.

As much as you feel you dislike him, you can’t lie to him, so you shrug, “Not really”

He narrows his eyes, “Why”

Fucking hell. Here we go. Now I’ve done it.

You sigh, already feeling an argument brewing where you hadn’t intended, “I think it’s no secret that when you perform you look like you’d rather be anywhere else” you say, shifting about on your skates, stretching your arms anxiously, “Unless you’re just like that with me” you add, under your breath.

He rolls his eye somewhat, humming. In neither acceptance nor denial.

Was that a yes? No?

“I just think if we’re going to stand a chance in these Championships we should at least make the effort with performance. For the scores” you nod to him, “That’s all I’m saying”

Aemond scoffs, “Oh, so you think you’re giving me advice now?”

Oh there’s the sleeping dragon.

Your head retracts, shocked by the sudden sass. Maybe the ibuprofen has kicked in, “We’re skating partners, aren’t we? You don’t value my good opinion, seeing as, shockingly, I existed as a skater before I met you?”

He shakes his head, as if amused, “Just find it funny”

You bite your lip, now visibly annoyed. Your skin blooms in frustration. Not this shit again. No fucking way.

“Funny in the sense that you still think that just because I’m of no notable house, not so far up my own ass I can’t see the sun and not such a nepo-baby that-”

“I fucking told you not to call me that” he snaps, his eye now serious, his stance too as he pushes off the ledge to stand before you.

You shrug, “Is that not what you are?” you challenge, “Your brother and sister get to represent the Reach just because your mother is from Oldtown, and you make it to the Championships every time despite not being able to show a slither of emotion on your face-”

“It’s because I’m fucking good at it” he counters, “Emotions has nothing to do with it”

“Doesn’t it? You can be good at it, but you don’t fucking like it”

He goes all quiet, his fist clenched at his side, shaking.

“It’s as clear to the judges as it is to anyone, you don’t enjoy it. I don’t doubt you probably did at some point”

He swallows, as if preparing himself for what he’s about to say.

“And because you’re so perfect?”

“Didn’t say I was-”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re not” he interrupts, making you go quiet and still, “Don’t you dare try to act all high and mighty to me. My family is well-established and good at it. There doesn’t need to be a deep and meaningful reason why I do it. I don’t need to dig deep to find any semblance of purpose in my life, unlike your shitty one. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let the likes of your class skate at all-”

Aemond stops his chaotic ramble when he finally turns to look at you, seeing the horrified and tearful expression on your face after you’d heard him say it in his fit of rage. His face drops instantly, replaying what he’d said. It didn’t seem like him at all, to go on such a rampage of horrible words.

It felt like someone was speaking through him. Like he was a puppet on a string, performing the actions of others.

But he had said it nonetheless.

You laugh weakly, feeling your insides twist painfully.

“My class, huh?...” you repeat, shoving the knife inside him deeper. The word seems to make him shudder now, despite him being the one who said it.

If you didn’t laugh you’d cry. So you did just that.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel so disgusted to have people of my class doing your sport” you respond, skating backwards away from him.

With tears covering your vision, making the ice look like one big blob of white, all you manage is, “Fuck you, Aemond”

You hear his voice, once, twice, calling your name. The last time is exasperated, carried with a sigh once he realises that you’re too angry right now to even hear him. It all happens so quick you don’t have time to think, the way you pull your skates off without untying them first, hurtling your bag over your shoulder and pushing the doors open so hard they bang against the wall, filling the empty sounding room with an echoed slam.

You don’t look back at him. He doesn’t fucking deserve it.

You don’t even text Arryk to come pick you up. You just walk, legs carrying you as quickly as you’re able, one in front of the other and counting up and down in your head in an effort to calm yourself down. The air was hot and oppressive around you, closing in, making you feel even smaller than Aemond had just a few minutes before.

No tears. Don’t cry. He doesn’t deserve them.

He doesn’t deserve them.

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let the likes of your class skate at all.

The replay of the words breaks you and you hurl your bag at the closest wall, but it does nothing to expel the annoyance and frustration you feel inside. The skates inside the bag make it so heavy that it falls to the floor with a thud. You stand there watching, breathing heavily in the air of the early afternoon.

For a small, brief flicker of a moment, you regret throwing your bag with the skates inside. Knowing that it was Rhaenys who gifted you them, and that an argument with Aemond didn’t excuse treating such nice things in that way. All the emotions you have kept back are still there, sitting behind your eyes.

Not in public.

So with a resigned sigh, you pick the bag up and walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get back to the hotel, hoping and praying to every god there is that Arryk or Aemond doesn’t see you on the way back in the car.

The hotel is luckily air conditioned. You can't tell if you're hot because it genuinely is hot, or if you're just so angry you might literally be steaming.

So intent on making a beeline to your hotel room, you nearly collide fully with a familiar brunette.

"Shit! Sorry, I wasn't look-Johanna!" You sigh, red-faced, looking right into her deep brown eyes, that are crinkled up with a smile.

"Gods, you look…hot, and not in the good way" she remarks, her eyes looking over you. You can't help but look at her outfit, all a lovely golden colour that suits her in its entirety.

Instinctively, you wipe your neck, embarrassed at how you must look.

"Yeah, I uh, just came back from training"

She looks around, "Where's your partner? Aemond"

"Oh, uh, he decided to hang back" you lie with a smile, hoping it lands. But her smile indicates that she knows it's not entirely true.

Her deep brown eyes look over your expression, her lips tightening into a reassuring line that’s akin to a smile, “I get it, you know” she says, to which you cock your head, “Not being on good terms with your skating partner”

She sees the way your eyes go wide, and your mouth opens to contradict, “Save it. It’s obvious”

Fuck. Is it really that obvious?

“If it were up to Jason, he’d have stopped competing ages ago” she muses, eyes flickering to the floor every once in a while, tugging her jacket around her tighter, “It’s me who’s the competitive one”

“But you two skate so well together?” you ask, confused. They’d always been very good skaters together, only spurred on by the fact that they were married.

Johanna laughs, “I’m not stupid. I know Jason’s fucking around on me” she admits without a hint of weakness in her tone, “It’s the least I can do to get back at him, forcing him to compete with me”

Part of you feels sad for her that she knows he’s cheating, but can do nothing about it. But you can’t help the mischievous smile on your face at her so-called ‘revenge’. You’re at least grateful that the person you’ll be up against tomorrow isn’t so hell-bent on winning that she’s outright mean to you.

After a moment, she taps your shoulder, “It’ll be alright. Show him what you’re made of”

You blink, still smiling from her quip before. Even when she leaves the foyer, you stay planted on the spot, bag digging into your shoulder from its heavy contents, feeling the familiar heaviness in your stomach as well.

Show him what I’m made of?

I tried that already. And it still wasn’t enough.

If there’s anything to be grateful for, it’s that Aemond isn’t back at the hotel yet.

But it is only in the sweet relief of silence in your hotel room that you realise…

Great. He still has my phone.

It doesn’t take long for you to really wallow in self-destructive feelings. Stipped down to your baggy clothes, sat in bed, flicking through the terrible hotel channels that are just not doing it for you, and picking at several crisps and popping them into your mouth.

Knock Knock.

It almost makes you jump out of your skin, however soft the knock was.

Your jaw clenches when Aemond’s voice calls your name, staring at the door as if looking right through it.

He sighs, his voice muffled, “Come on, I know you’re in there” he says quietly. You can hear him shuffle from foot to foot. You can imagine him, standing there, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his leg shaking while he turns his thoughts over in his head.

He sighs again.

"Please"

Part of you wants to smile at the way he says it. Like it's hurting every little bit of him inside to even consider apologising. But the thought of the smile never really comes to a full one on your face, and your lips continue to turn down into a frown, watching his shadow moving side to side underneath the crack of the door.

You didn’t move an inch. You just watched as he stayed for longer than you thought he would.

The shadow moved, and your phone slid face down under the door, before his footsteps were muffled and far away down the hall. You heard his hotel room door close softly, the light switch clicked against the wall, and the bed slats once again creaked louder as he flopped down on it.

Knowing he is right there, on the opposite side of the wall, no longer gives you that fluttering feeling. It makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable that he’s so close without seeing him. Restless.

Padding over to the door to retrieve your phone. Several messages line the home screen, obscuring the view of your background, you and Ellyn at the ice rink for Christmas and her falling into your arms, not being quite as adept at the skill as her sisters. It never fails to make you smile.

Rhaenys - Manager: 3 unread messages

El 🦌 - 1 unread message

Unknown number - 5 new messages

You cock your head somewhat at the unknown number. And with 5 new texts from it too.

Swiping open your phone, you're met with the absolute essay of the text from the unknown number.

Fuck that, I'm not reading it without a drink in my hand.

So you sit on the bed, a can of gin and tonic in one hand, scrolling through the long text.

At first it doesn't really make sense.

You raise an eyebrow. Reading on.

You swallow, reading all of the words.

You hate that you laugh at that last bit. You can imagine him pacing around, seeing the unread texts he'd sent and hitting himself realising your phone had been in his pocket the whole time.

Something squeezes tight in your chest, reading all of it over one more time.

Aemond hadn't apologised. Not specifically anyway.

I didn't mean any of it.

You sigh, tipping your head back against the headboard with a light thud, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel.

It's late. The match against the Lannisters is tomorrow.

Do you forgive him?

It felt wrong to forgive him for what he'd said, especially after all the times he'd been rude to you before.

Forgiveness would imply that he'd apologised, which he hadn't. You felt like you at least deserved that. And if he couldn't give that to you…

You save his number under ⛸️. Not having the energy to write his name right now.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, your leg moving erratically. Thinking of what to say back.

Be civil. But not too nice. Otherwise he might think it's all good.

You didn't want him to think that.

So you settled for something simple. Something indifferent.

Being in the dressing room without Alicent to fuss over your skates compared to now, sitting in front of the vanity, alone, with your hands clenched tight in front of you, it makes the loneliness tug at your heart. Sitting heavily in your chest.

You should feel pretty. Your outfit is a standard leotard with mesh detailing at the collar, short sleeves, little rhinestones dotted on the skirt to catch the light. The fabric was white, similar to the one you wore at the first match, but not exactly the same, and you can imagine what it would look like when you were skating, capturing the glimmer of the lights and cutting through the air like a whisper.

You’d done your hair yourself, half up half down. With a silver ornament at the back to keep it secure. The pieces that were pulled at the front were waved to the best of your ability, hair sprayed within an inch of their life to stay that way. Your makeup was the same, a barely-there approach, as it was all you were comfortable with.

But you didn’t feel pretty.

Aemond hadn’t replied after what you’d said the night before. You watched as the three bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times, but in the end it was clear he was intent to leave you to your thoughts and give some semblance of space. Since he said himself, he knew he’d fucked up.

You weren’t sure if you were relieved or not that he didn’t reply. All you could think about right now was the match, the move you had practised the day before, and how you were going to best execute it.

“Triple spin in the air, land on the right leg…” you mumbled, tracing the steps of the routine in your head.

The door to your dressing room swung open and your eyes locked eyes with Aemond’s in the mirror. Your heart lurched into your throat seeing him, after what had happened in the last 24 hours, with your partnership potentially hanging by a thread. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, sensing that you really didn’t know what to say.

He briefly met the gaze before looking down, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His hair, as opposed to last time, was in a loose bun, straight strands framing his chiselled face.

“We’re on in 10” he said simply, his left leg twitching in barely-contained anxiety. He bit his lip harshly, something akin to irritation gnawing on his insides.

Anxiety you knew didn’t come from performing the routine itself.

He was afraid of what you would do. Or what you would say.

Swinging your legs off the chair, you pull one of your feet up to the cushion, making sure the laces are well tied and in their place, your eyes trained solely on them and not on him, who was still standing by the door, as if guarding it.

“Look, I-”

“I’m fine, Aemond” you interrupt him, lacing the other one, “Let’s just get this over with please”

Aemond looked as if he’d been slapped. Like he did that night when he’d spoken to Alys Rivers.

“I didn’t mean any of it” he continues, despite what you’d said. When you look at him now, standing up on your skates, he chews on his lip, taking his time to make himself look at you. His eye rakes over your outfit for this routine, leg still bouncing, “You look nice, by the way”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Will you stop saying that like we’re friends, Aemond” you snap, “Just business partners, right?”

Aemond sighs, “Will you stop twisting anything I say into an insult about you?”

“So, is that what that was yesterday? Me twisting your words?” you look at him incredulously, daring him to deny it.

“No-fuck-I didn’t say that” he barks back, his volume increasing, clearly struggling to string together the right words he wants, “What I meant was-”

You shake your head, having had enough, “Just leave it, Aemond. I don’t need to hear it, from you in particular. Can you move please?”

He stays stock still against the door, blocking your path, even stepping forward as a means to say he is most certainly not finished. For a brief second, panic flits through you, not quite remembering how tall and broad he is compared to you.

“What I said yesterday was wrong-”

“You’re fucking right, it was wrong!” you bark back this time, stunning him into silence. He wears a stoic look, his chest rising and falling steadily.

“Do you know how hard I worked to get where I am today, despite my class as you so nicely pointed out. If it really offends you so fucking much to be paired with me, then why agree to it in the first place if you’re just going to bitch and whine about it all the damn time!”

“I-”

“No! I deserve to fucking be here, Aemond, just as much as you. I don’t know if I will ever be good enough in your opinion, but I am slowly realising that I don’t care about that. If you don’t think I am good enough to be associated with you or your prestigious family, I am totally fine with th-”

“You are good enough” he says flatly, his eye twitching somewhat as his muscles tense up, “Better than most, in fact”

You scoff, not affected by it now. No way.

“Well, you have a funny fucking way of showing i-”

You didn’t realise it at the time, how close Aemond had really stepped towards you, so embroiled in the argument with him that it didn’t seem to matter. His stance, his attitude, didn’t make you flounder.

But what did make you stiffen up and go hot all over was when Aemond’s hand made its way around your waist to pull you close to him, and his other hand cupped the back of your neck to tug your face flush to his, silencing you with his lips on yours.

His fingers curled over your skin in a desperate hold, the one around your waist feeling like it was burning a brand right through your outfit. Your hands braced on his chest in shock of what he’d done, fingertips barely touching the skin above his black shirt, so much so you swear you’re able to feel the thrum of his rapid heartbeat.

Just as quickly, he pulls back, his cheeks flushed near-undetectably and his mouth open to breathe, with soft pants coming from his plush pink lips. Your wide eyes flit over his own, from one to the other, to gauge a reaction, despite him being the one who had kissed you. The sapphire glistens in the somewhat low and harsh light of the dressing room and his good eye doesn’t nearly look as blue, but almost so dark from how wide his pupil is dilated, that it’s completely black.

Neither of you wait to see what the other has to say, now that a line has been crossed, it cannot be uncrossed.

It’s unclear who moves first, but all you know is that you’re kissing again, your hands on his shoulders, his own tightening impossibly around you. You feel the weight of every movement behind his lips, tilting his head to gain better access to your hot and waiting mouth as he slips his tongue against yours, sending off each individual kiss with a wet click. It’s a mess, your teeth knock near-painfully against one another, tongues fighting an ever-losing battle.

Aemond moans low in his throat, almost inaudible as he savours the taste of your mouth, his lips anchoring yours open the entire time. With his weight falling forwards, your backside meets the harsh edge of the vanity, making you wince a gasp quietly into his mouth. It only serves to spur him on, his hands fall to your hips, squeezing the flesh beneath the outfit in his large palms, kneading it as if to commit the contours to memory. As if he thinks he may never get to do this again.

He moves like it’s instinctual, his hands falling to grasp at your buttocks, he growls, lifting them onto the vanity, his hold so tight there that it sends a gush of arousal straight to your centre, especially when Aemond leans forward once more to stand between your legs, his obvious erection slotting neatly against your clothed core. His hips move with the rhythm of your desperate kissing, chasing the friction against your flesh he so desires, and you can tell by the way his lips part against yours, a breathy moan slipping into your mouth.

"Fuck" he breathes quietly.

You moan back when he squeezes your waist tightly, his fingers digging in. Thank the gods, this isn’t a cutout dress, otherwise his fingerprints would be clearly visible in red, digit shaped marks for everyone to see. For some reason, that excites you, a dull buzz making its way up your spine as you increase your hold on his shoulders and then his neck, hanging desperately onto him as he pushes flush with you, his chest almost touching yours.

Aemond’s hand drops to your thigh, squeezing the skin in his fingers, his thumb making its way up until it grazes over your clothed heat. It’s like he knows exactly what to do to you, and his fingers tease your clit through your leotard, pressing softly and drawing a desperate breathy moan from your lips. Your hips move towards him, chasing the brief, softened contact he applies, core clenching around nothing-

“On the ice in 2!” someone says from behind the door.

Aemond immediately withdraws, cheeks now genuinely flushed against his pale skin. His wide eye continues to hold your gaze, searching your expression for a reaction to what the two of you just did.

His throat bobs as he swallows and steps back, peeling his hands off you and adjusting his trousers to hide the tent that has formed, the size of it shamefully impressing you for a second. Your hands pull back slowly, slipping off the vanity on wobbly legs and smoothing the skirt back over yourself, briefly noticing the imprint of his hand marks on your bare thigh.

His hair somewhat dishevelled, he uses his hand to smooth it back down. He wets his lips, missing the door handle once before finally catching it, “See you out there..” he says shakily in a weak voice, before he disappears, leaving the door open.

Leaving you to comprehend this sensation that tugs in your stomach. Leaving you to remember the way he’d just kissed you, just touched you, like nobody had ever done before. Even the mere thought of it makes your chest erupt in pink and flutters settle in your core.

Aemond had just kissed you.

And you liked it.

Shit.

Taglist 1 (Bold means I could not tag!)

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kingconia · 8 months

Note

hi! are your requests open (feel free to delete this ask if not)? i love ur writing style! i’d like to request hcs of leona with an s/o who gets sick easily.. like if it’s cold, they’re sick but if it’s hot they’re also sick. my immune system is weak irl and i’d love to see this written (only if u can tho!!)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR WITH S/O, WHO GETS SICK EASILY

— Leona grew up around beastmen, and other specific creatures, who rarely get sick, thanks to their strong immune system. So, when Leona notices how often you catch cold, he is absolutely confused;

— He is not even sure how it happens? Leona always makes sure to wrap some additional clothes around you, when it is chilly outside, and yet, you wake up with temperature as you cough your lungs out;

— You explain that it is natural for you, something that had been happening in your previous life too, and that yours immune system is that weak. Leona still having a hard time to proceed this fact;

— When winter ends, bringing back a warm and familiar to him weather, Leona relaxes. Surely, you are not going to fall sick in the spring, right? Right?!

— He is wrong. And desperate;

— The fact that you yourself don't even pay attention to your state, irritates him even more. What do you mean that's normal?! You can die! (He is such a drama queen, but isn't that sweet?);

— When Leona brings you to the Afterglow Savanna, thinking that there you will be safe here from any kind of diseases, and you still manage to lay down with temperature, Leona gives up;

— Or not really? He still thinks that, perhaps, there is some potion to fix the problem! And he is sure about being able to figure it out, sooner or later;

— But for now, Leona can take care of you! His laziness means nothing, when it is a question of your health;

— He can easily feed you, bring you medicine, and generally sit with you, when you are feeling weaker than usual. And if you sleep a lot, when you are ill, it is a perfect bonus!

— Leona will never admit, but he secretly likes being able to pamper you so much. A proud lion taking care of his great lioness!

•

”...Leona?”

”Hm-m?”

You open your mouth, but close it again, when you meet these emerald eyes of his.

There is a question you are meaning to ask him for a while, but all your attempts fail. Either because you get too nervous about to this topic, or because Leona distracts you effectively.

”Well?” He raises his eyebrows. ”Spit it out, herbivore.”

You scrunch your nose, watching him to put more meat on your plate. Leona seriously needs to stop calling ’herbivore’, when all he does it feeds you with meat...

”Don't you get annoyed?”

”I am always annoyed,” he chuckles with unhidden amusement.

”No way,” you roll your eyes. ”I mean... Don't you get annoyed that I am sick all the time? It is not fun to have me around, you know.”

Well, it is not like you are chained to the bed on the daily basis, of course! There are always weeks, when you have no troubles in paradise at all; much like right now. Yet, it still bothers you.

”And I am the fun to have around?” Leona huffs.

You shrug.

It is Leona. He might have a specific character—and a streak for angry issues—but deep inside, he is truly nice and comforting person. And, funny. Especially, when he mocks the headmaster.

“Oi, herbivore, are you serious?” He blinks, a genuine surprise paints his face for a second, before he sighs. ”Where it comes from?”

Well, it is only natural to be plugged by these thoughts. That is how things worked in your previous worlds, after all. You were troublesome in eyes of others—and your own—and even kind jokes from your friends about this matter, made you feel bad about yourself.

”Listen,” Leona frowns. ”I am not annoyed. What about I should be annoyed? It is how your immune system works, that's it.”

”Yeah, but,” you gesture vaguely in the air, ”I am not really a sport person, so we can't share some quality time together. And I even caught the fly, when we were in Savanna. Which was extremely embarrassing, by the way. And—”

Leona catches your hand in his, letting out another exasperated sigh. You instantly cut your speech, carefully starting to study an expression on his face.

”Tch. First of all, we have chess matches—that what am I calling a good quality time,” of course, he does. He wins all the time. ”Secondly... Yeah, of course, I was freaking out, when you got sick in Savanna—I mean, had you seen the fucking weather here?—but, you gave me a mighty excuse not only to skip meetings with Falena, but also sit without Cheka for a while. If it wasn't fun for you, sorry. But it was the best holidays in my life.”

You scoff.

Prince Cheka wasn't allowed in your chambers back then, his mother being worried that he might catch cold from you. And Leona seemed indeed happy by that...

”You are such an ass—”

”I am acting irritated sometimes,” he continues, ignoring your remark. ”But, I am not mad at you. If anything, I am just frustrated about how useless I am.”

Ah, what a sweetheart.

Your faces softens instantly, and your hand grips his tightly.

”...I love you.”

”Yeah, just no need to thank me. You are a perfect justification for missing classes, you know?”

...Nevermind.

”Leona, fuck o... Achoo!”

His lips curl in a smirk.

”Oh, seems like I am about to miss housewardens' meeting. Again. What a shame.”

You hate Leona sometimes. You really do.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader

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darkshelbyfiction · 6 months

Text

The Nanny Diaries (Part One)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Innocent Reader

Warning: Dark Cillian has an innocence kink...Smut...Infidelity...Dub Con

It had been three months since you started working for Cillian and Lorna Murphy, looking after their two young children Sienna and Mitch.

You had recently turned eighteen and left your small town in America, eager to see the world beyond your front door so, moving to Dublin, was the perfect opportunity for you.

Through a family friend, who was an actor as well, you were given the chance to work as an Au Pair for the famous Irish actor who, with his wife and children, lived in a beautiful country estate just outside Dublin city, surrounded by vast gardens filled with flowers and trees.

Their home was like a sanctuary where nature merged seamlessly into luxury - wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with original works of art and large bay windows which looked out onto acres of greenery.

Their children were absolutely adorable.

Little Sienna was full of energy, running all over the place, whilst little Mitch would be curled up watching cartoons quietly. At first, it seemed strange, but gradually you found yourself enjoying every moment spent playing games, reading bedtime stories and preparing meals for them.

The only person whose company made you feel slightly nervous, however, was Cillian himself. You felt a strange and somewhat forbidden attraction towards this 45 year old man, something no one could quite understand considering how close he was to your father’s age.

However, being strictly catholic and engaged to young man back home, you brushed this off as simply being star struck and though Cillian wasn't exactly flirtatious, there was something undeniably captivating about him.

Cillian soon noticed the way you looked at him, the subtle flush of excitement that crossed your face when he walked into the room, and despite his own marriage status, he began making excuses to get closer to you. His constant praise made you blush, while the lingering glances gave you butterflies in your stomach.

One evening after Lorna had gone to bed, Cillian invited you to listen to some music with him in the dimly lit living room.

There was a comforting familiarity in the scent of leather, polished wood and roaring embers in the fireplace as you sat down beside him on the plump sofa. For some reason, your heart skipped a beat as you sank deeper into the soft upholstery and Cillian silently handed you a glass of wine and smiled.

"You did well today. Thanks for looking after them so diligently," Cillian acknowledged just as you traced the contours of his strong jaw line with your eyes.

"They are good kids. Despite, looking after them, is my job," you stammered in response. You couldn't help feeling nervous around this man, even more now since it was just the two of you.

"Still, it's nice not having to worry. So, thank you," Cillian said while leaning back into the couch, crossing one leg over another. "It can be quite draining sometimes looking after them."

"It can be," you smiled while your cheeks reddened as you tried not to stare at him openly. For a moment silence enveloped the space before you continued speaking softly, barely audible enough for him to hear properly.

"So you like Portishead, huh?" you asked, changing the topic to music as their album "Glorybox" was playing in the background. His face shifted to curiosity briefly, then turned serious again as he reached out slowly to brush his hand over your knee.

"I do. How about you? he asked, turning his head towards you. "Do you like their music?" he then asked and you felt a mix of fear and excitement surging through your body upon the sudden contact - your heart raced faster, and a warmth seemed to rise up inside you as his fingers caressed gently along your thigh. Trying hard to maintain composure, you responded casually yet uneasily.

"I do," you managed to utter softly as his fingers traced higher along your inner thigh. As his hand lingered there uninvited, your breath quickened involuntarily – a mixture of panic and arousal coursing through your veins. It wasn't right, what he was doing, but still, deep within you, a primal urge took hold.

"How is your boyfriend? Are things good between you?" Cillian prodded, leaning closer as he spoke. You could feel his breath tickling your ear as he whispered these words, sending chills down your spine despite yourself. Your hands trembled lightly, unsure whether to push him away or surrender to his advances, caught somewhere between terror and thrilling anticipation.

"He...uhm...yes... he is good," you stammered as his fingers dipped deeper beneath your skirt, brushing against your underwear teasingly, causing a wave of heat to ripple throughout your core.

Aware of the danger you were in, a part of you wanted to resist, while another desperately desired to succumb to his touch, craving the sensuality he offered with such intensity.

"Do you miss him?" Cillian asked quietly, almost tenderly while his fingers ran circles over your moistening panties.

Unable to think clearly due to the intensity of his advances, you struggled to find your voice. Involuntarily, your mouth hung open, dazed by the sensations that flowed through your body.

"I do miss him, yes," you finally murmured, unable to meet his eyes, as you fought to quell the desire rising up inside you. This was wrong, terribly wrong, but why did it feel so right?

"Do you miss him touching you like this?" Cillian asked huskily as, finally, he pushed aside the wet fabric of your knickers, allowing his finger to slide tantalisingly over your wet slit.

"He never..." you mumbled hesitantly, trying to regain control of both your mind and body, struggling to ignore the growing sense of guilt mixed with exhilaration that consumed you.

"He never what?" Cillian challenged, his tone darkening as his finger continued to explore the sensitive folds between your legs. One of his fingers began to push its way inside you, penetrating your tight entrance gently yet firmly, eliciting gasps and whimpers from you as pleasure ricocheted through your body.

"He never touched me down there before," you admitted reluctantly, knowing it wouldn't matter anyway because you knew deep down that this went far beyond mere physical exploration.

"Really?" Cillian queried with disbelief, pulling his fingers free from your quivering passage before pushing it in again, harder this time, his thumb pressing rhythmically against your clitoris. You let out a strangled cry, lost in the throes of ecstasy as your entire body writhed in pleasure.

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" Cillian questioned deeply, his tone laced with raw passion, drawing a sharp intake of air from you. You didn't answer immediately, too absorbed in the exquisite sensations consuming your body. But eventually, the truth emerged haltingly from your lips.

"No. It's not allowed," you confessed seeing that you were strictly catholic, ashamed of admitting the fact aloud, wishing to sink into the floor beneath you.

"Do you want me to stop?" Cillian asked softly, lifting his hand away from your drenched crotch to rest it once more on the armrest of the couch. Your mind reeled as the erotic spell broke, leaving you feeling bewildered and confused.

Despite the intensity of the encounter, you shook your head defiantly, determined not to allow yourself to be further enticed.

"Alright. Can you take off your panties for me then?" Cillian commanded authoritatively, breaking the momentary awkwardness. His eyes bore into yours, demanding obedience. Reluctantly, you nodded, sliding your skirt lower until your knickers slipped off easily, exposing your naked thighs and pussy. The bold act sent shockwaves through your system, filling you with a potent cocktail of shame and arousal. Cillian observed you hungrily, appreciating the sight of your supple curves and smooth skin.

With determination in his eyes, he reached for your exposed thighs, rubbing his palms alluringly up and down them until his fingers found your wet labia. Gently cupping your sex, he teased you playfully, watching closely as your breath caught in your throat and your pupils widened with desire.

His erection strained against his jeans, making your nipples perk up in response.

He then inserted not one but two of his thick digits into your dripping core gently, feeling the resistance of your virginity as he thrust them in and out as small streak of blood trickled onto his fingers.

There was some discomfort in your expression, partly due to the pain caused by your first sexual experience but also fueled by anxiety and confusion regarding the situation.

Inside you, your mind wavered between feelings of remorse and yearning satisfaction as his powerful hands controlled your movements, taking command of your pleasure.

As he moved inside you, his touch became firmer, his pace picking up speed, creating a sensation unlike anything you had ever known before. Your whole body ached, your muscles twitching with the force of the waves crashing through you.

"You are incredibly tight," Cillian remarked approvingly, withdrawing his fingers momentarily only to plunge them back in again with greater fervor. His rough hands expertly navigated your insides, working you mercilessly, ignoring the protest of your uninitiated flesh. Each penetration drove a fresh wave of pleasure through your body, your nerves firing rapidly, setting every inch of your skin ablaze until, suddenly, you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a loud moan escaping your lips, you eventually came undone and Cillian covered your mouth with the palm of his free hand as your body began convulsing violently in orgasm.

"Sssh, we don't want to wake up Lorna," he chuckled quietly as your vision swam as your world turned upside down, your entire focus narrowed down to the sensations washing over you. Aftershocks radiated through your limbs, causing tiny tremors to run up and down your body as if electric currents surged through your very soul.

Breathless and flushed, you collapsed back into the embrace of the couch, exhausted and invigorated simultaneously as Cillian carefully withdrew his fingers from inside your body.

Wetness and a tiny amount of blood tickled down onto the leather fabric on which you were sitting as your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

Cillian smiled devilishly at you, amused by how quickly he had brought you to climax, and you felt both grateful and somewhat shocked.

Your stomach squirmed with a strange mix of emotions: gratitude, humiliation, and embarrassment battled furiously amongst themselves. Your cheeks reddened with a combination of both physical stimulation and shame.

"I shouldn't have done that," you muttered, attempting to make sense of your own behaviour. You had committed a sin against God and your morals, and now, here you were - wanting more of it.

The thought scared you, but something stirred deep within you, telling you it would be foolish to dismiss it entirely. There was a power to this darkness that held an addictive quality, like the forbidden fruit you had just sampled.

"You seemed to have enjoyed it though," Cillian smirked. His statement carried undertones that left no doubt as to what he meant just as you both were startled by Lorna who came walking down the stairs to fetch herself a drink from the fridge.

Quickly, you adjusted your skirt to cover your slightly bruised and still wet entrance before hastily grabbing your discarded knickers. Cillian, without missing a beat, made himself appear nonchalant, leaning casually against the armrest beside you.

Lorna looked curiously at the both of you, remarking "It seems quite late. You should come to bed Cillian", unaware of the recent events transpiring.

"I will be up in just a minute love". Cillian lied, hoping to prolong the interaction with you for just a little bit longer but, unfortunately for him, you decided to head to your room instead, claiming tiredness.

After you closed the door behind you, the tension dissolved slightly and Cillian sighed audibly, running his hand through his messy locks, visibly conflicted, pondering on about what happened.

Even as he prepared for sleep later that evening, right next to his wife, he couldn't help but dwell upon the enchanting image of you submitting to his touch, succumbing under his influence. Something about your innocence intrigued him even more than other women had. Perhaps it was the challenge you presented—the thrill of dominance over someone who belonged to another man.

Or maybe it was the sweet, lingering aftertaste of guilt you left on his tongue whenever he took liberties with your pure body. Whatever the reason, he simply could not resist pursuing you further despite the danger it posed to his marriage.

Meanwhile, you too, were laying in bed, thinking about what had transpired.

Your mind raced through memories of your earlier interactions with Cillian – his confidence, his touch, his mannerisms. There was that secret part of you that craved more contact, regardless of where it might lead. This newfound curiosity frightened you almost as much as it excited you.

You wondered what it would be like to touch him the way he had touched you, whether his experienced body would respond to you as you did to him. For so long, the idea of intimacy had been taboo for you, yet somehow, those strict boundaries seemed to shift when it came to Cillian.

Your core ached from the intrusion, and your cheeks burned with indignation, but there was a spark of excitement that lit up deep within you as well.

You wanted him to do this again and you knew that this was wrong and so did he.

#cillian murphy #cilliean murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic

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elisysd · 2 months

Text

2. Square one, my slate is clear

Masterlist - Previoulsy - Next

Soundtrack: Square One - Caamp

He was relieved to not see you around the paddock in Saudi Arabia. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t have been able to handle your comments on his penalty and probably would have snapped. He was pissed off enough because of that and snapping wouldn’t help him. He didn't need that. Ferrari didn’t need that. Even though his race was okay, he was feeling frustrated. Frustrated over a car that he was trying to push way too much, a team that was not really listening to him, beside Fred with whom he had a very close relationship with and who at times, felt like the only trustworthy person around him.

Once he was done with his duties he finally managed to find his brother, Arthur, in hope of congratulating him for his P8. He hadn’t had the time to see him before his F2 race and he felt a bit guilty about it. He had always made sure he would be there for him no matter what and he couldn't handle letting him down, even if deep down he knew it wouldn’t even cross Arthur’s mind. He met him in the Ferrari’s hospitality as he was talking to their big brother, Lorenzo.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be there for you.” Charles apologized, taking Arthur in his arms.

“It’s fine. I’m glad, P8 is not that bad and I’ll be able to keep on improving.”

“Still. I promised I would always watch your races and here I am already failing.”

“You’re not failing. You have things going on and places to be. It’s okay, I understand. and I know where to find you if I need you.”

“You know that I’ll always be there for you, right? No matter what.” Charles insisted.

“I know. Maybe there is something you could help me with?”

“Of course. Tell me.”

“I still have to get used to the media and to the interviews. I had a long one with a journalist from French TV and I was so nervous that I think I stuttered a bit.”

Charles saw red. Immediately.

“Did she tell you her name?” he asked, so urgently that it earned him a weird look from both of his brothers.

“Y/N. But, that’s okay, she was very laid back and made sure I was at ease, she was nice. Very nice and she even joked to make me feel better. And she is very pretty.” he added, glancing at Charles who had heard only half of his answer, focused on the fact that you might have tried to play with Arthur.

“You should tell your team to not let her be near you, she has something against me and I don’t want her to get you as leverage to hurt me.”

“Have you heard yourself? She is a journalist, not part of the damn mafia!” Arthur argued in disbelief.

“Still. Be careful.”

“I don’t see how such a cute and nice girl could be so dangerous.” Arthur mumbled as Lorenzo looked at the F1 driver, amused.

“Don’t start to develop a crush on her, you have a girlfriend.”

“She's not my type. She is more yours.” Arthur playfully joked as Charles glared at him.

“Not you too. First Silvia, now you, it has to stop. No girls for me this year, I need to focus on the championship…. and I really mean it. My career first. Ferrari is a sinking ship, I need to be one hundred percent focused on it.”

He chose to ignore the looks on his brothers’ faces. He was serious, dating was out of the equation, he had too much work, too many things to do. He could try casual dating but it was not his thing. So if he had to swear on celibacy for the time being, then so be it. He saw Arthur about to reply but thankfully, Fred had just entered the room, a smile on his face. He patted Charles on the shoulders, briefly congratulated Arthur for his race and asked Lorenzo how he was doing, before announcing that he had planned a little dinner between the team in a nice restaurant to relax and bond after the weekend. Charles was about to say that he was not in the mood to socialize but quickly avoided it when he saw the hard gaze of his team principal. He wouldn’t offer him a way out on this one.

Charles found himself sitting in a very fancy but at the same time intimate setting, next to Carlos, and in a nice and laid back atmosphere. It was nice. He felt like he could finally relax and enjoy himself a little bit. He was joking with Xavi when, from the corner of his eyes he saw a group of people entering the restaurant. It didn’t take long for Charles to notice you immediately, somehow standing out, for a reason he couldn’t exactly pinpoint. And as if you were feeling his eyes on your skin, you turned your head in his direction meeting his blue-green orbs. He saw you raising an eyebrow, almost defying him before nodding your head, in order to greet him. As you were taking your seat, Charles couldn’t help but keep on staring at your figure. You were wearing a tight black dress, your hair in a more elaborate ponytail than the one you were usually wearing in the paddock. Arthur was right, you were pretty. Even more than that if he had to be honest with himself. You were stunning. But he knew that you would be even more if you were not as insufferable.

He felt distracted, more than he should be. Your mere presence was enough to make his skin itching and his legs bouncing. It was stupid, he knew it, it was not like you were about to jump on him to harass him with your questions. But he was suddenly mindful of his movements, of the way he was holding his fork, of the way he was chewing on his steak, of the napkin on his lap and of the weird looks Fred and Andrea were giving him. From the corner of his eyes, he couldn’t help but watch you in a way he hoped was not too obvious. It was just little side glances, here and there. You looked happy, at ease, closer to the portrayal Arthur depicted of you than the one Charles had faced. He looked at the people surrounding you. Jean, Marion… the team that was on the Grand Prix. He knew them well, he was even happy to call Jean his friend. Always there outside of the tracks when he needed someone to talk to. His gaze lingered on you a bit longer than necessary. You were oddly fitting with them. You were laughing, expressing yourself with your hands, a bright smile on your face, the one that was making your cheeks hurt. You looked younger when you acted like that, he thought. Far away from the ruthless girl he had met and was asking him petty questions. He started to doubt. Maybe, after all, the problem was coming from him, maybe he was somehow responsible for your cold attitude towards him. Maybe he had met you in the past and had acted like an ass to you and that’s why you didn’t seem to be able to give him the time of the day. As if his feet had a mind on their own, he got up and walked to your table. He saw your surprised face when he stood right next to you and didn’t miss the sigh of annoyance you breathed in his direction.

“Charles! We didn’t see you!” Jean exclaimed, putting a hand on the Ferrari driver's shoulder.

“Yeah, I saw you and I was debating on whether or not I should come by. I didn’t want to interrupt anything.”

“How are you doing? The penalty was harsh but you managed to race well.”

“Yeah, it was impressive.” Marion admitted.

“Thanks guys. It was a tough race.” he humbly said, his eyes glued to your figure who was suddenly finding your chocolate cake very interesting.

Unfortunately for you, it suddenly seemed quite evident that Charles wasn’t going anywhere. He had suddenly taken a chair and was sitting next to Marion and right beside you. You could still smell his sandalwood aftershave hitting your nostrils. And when you felt his knee slightly brushing yours, you jumped.

“I’m sorry, I forgot that it’s my friend’s birthday tonight and I forgot to call her. Don’t wait for me.” you apologized, almost running away from the table.

Minutes passed and when it became clear that the door would keep on being closed, Charles decided to go searching for you. He went back quickly to his table to gather his things and say goodbyes before going outside. You were there, staring straight ahead of you, not even blinking or flinching when he approached. But Charles didn’t fail to notice the goosebumps on your skin and your slight shiver.

“Are you okay?” he asked, unsure but was met with only silence from your side. “It’s rude to not reply, you know?”

It finally made you look at him, your eyes staring right in his, still silent. Charles started to feel frustrated, he wanted to hear your voice, anything that could break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen down on both of you.

“Feeling less confident without a mic? You can’t hide anymore. It’s you and me, fighting like equals. No cameras, nothing.”

“I didn’t think you were nice.” You finally blurted out, throwing him off of his feet. “You… you have such a polished image, so neat, so…perfect. Never a word higher than the others. Always a nice smile and a word for everyone. So gentlemanly. No one is ever this kind and polite, I thought it was just a facade, that you must hide something. Because, surely, you can’t be that perfect.” You explained and Charles let out a sigh of relief.

“Well… that’s a very sad thought to have. I wonder what kind of assholes you must have met to have this view of the world. I’m not perfect, far from it, but I like to think that I’m a decent human being.”

“You would be surprised by the amount of not so nice people I’ve met these past few years.”

“Yeah?”

“I attract assholes.”

“I’m sure it’s not true.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re here, no?” you half smiled and Charles knew it was an attempt at a joke. A poor one.

“Well, maybe I could show you that not all people are assholes.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” you asked.

“What about starting from scratch?” he explained, extending his hand in your direction. “I’m Charles. What about you?”

Author's note: There is a little progress. Tiny, baby, little steps, but hey! You seriously didn't think I woud make it easy for them?

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody

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avocado-writing · 2 months

Text

notes: i did this instead of anything in my inbox. sorry but it overtook me and became much longer than I thought. also I wrote raphael as the little sub he is teehee.

relationships: raphael x reader; enver gortash & reader (platonic, parent & child); eventual enver gortash x tav

words: 4k

rating: E

summary: a warlock of Raphael's, you visit the House of Hope one day and find a child. he cannot remain there.

Your life, really, is fine. Maybe a bit empty. But fine.

You’ve had Raphael as your Warlock patron for a while now. It’s fine too, he’s fine, there are definitely worse devils to be indebted to - the fact he’s attractive isn’t so bad either. You started fucking a few years ago and he’s basically wrapped around your little finger at this point. He’s still annoying as all hells but he bottoms well enough and the two of you enjoy being on each other’s good side, so it works out. Mostly what he has you do is track down and kill people who’ve pissed him off - and a lot of people have pissed him off, he’s very piss off-able to be fair, so there’s always plenty of jobs and you come to the House of Hope often, in between the mercenary work you do to survive.

This time you just finished hunting down someone who tried to weasel out of their contract. Raphael had you bring him the man’s head as proof of your work, and then you made him give you head after. Par for the course nowadays.

You peel yourself out of Raphael’s embrace as he bathes in the afterglow of getting spoiled in bed by you. You throw on your pants, and go to grab a bite to eat. Your patron always has a feast ready. It’s something to keep his servants distracted with, the constant cooking and replacing of dishes, and it’s nice to never be hungry when you’re here. You saunter into the banquet room and go to pick up a fistful of grapes…

… pausing when you see something utterly fucking shocking.

A little boy. Making himself as small as possible, dark messy hair and darker sunken eyes, all curled up by the fire. He looks at you with terror and you yelp in surprise, grabbing a spare tablecloth to quickly cover yourself with.

“What the fuck?!” you manage, looking around for answers to the unasked question. Nobody is here to give you any. Fucking lost souls, never here when you need them. You turn back to the boy who looks utterly terrified. “Are you meant to be here?”

He visibly swallows, nervous, and nods. Okay, right, great. Kid in the middle of hell. Of course. You're about to find Raphael and give him a grilling, when you hear a little stomach rumble.

You freeze, raise an eyebrow. Almost impossibly he shrinks further into himself.

“Have you eaten, kiddo?”

He shakes his head, unable to meet your eyes. Oh, well, that won’t do.

You grab a plate and begin to load it up with food for him. He looks hopeful though he tries not to show it too much, as if you’ll punish him for the very idea of it. Gods it must have been torture for the child, sitting in front of a banquet with no invitation to gorge.

When the plate is so full that it threatens to spill over, you squat down and put it in front of him. The boy stares at it for a long moment before looking up at you.

“Go on. Dig in.”

It’s all the permission he needs. He tears into the food you’ve presented as if he’s never eaten before. As if it is ambrosia. You watch him wolf down chicken thighs so fast that he threatens to choke on them, and you feel your heart ache at the wretched sight.

“This really isn’t a place for kids. What’s your name, lad?” you ask, absent-mindedly swiping some greasy hair out of his eyes. You wonder when was the last time he washed, poor kid. He flinches at your touch a little but doesn’t stop eating, somewhat aware you’re probably the first person he’s met here who doesn’t mean him harm.

“Enver,” he says through mouthfuls of bread. You tell him your name in return, though you aren’t sure if he really listens.

“I didn’t say he could eat.”

Raphael’s voice cuts through the moment, severe, and the boy freezes mid-bite. Terror floods him. He begins to visibly shake.

Oh, no. No. You won’t be having that.

You speak aloud, voice firm.

“Well, I said he could. Ignore him, kiddo.”

You stand and put yourself between your patron and the child. This little boy has no idea who you are, but he can sense that you have some sort of power over the demon who’s walked into the room. Timidly he continues his meal. When you’re satisfied you turn to your devil, thunderous.

“Raphael? A word.”

Your tone leaves no wiggle room. He harrumphs and follows you far out of the boy’s earshot, where you unleash your fury.

“Why is there a fucking child here, Raphael?!” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, his parents sold him to me. Well, to one of my other warlocks, actually, so through the upline he’s mine.”

He speaks as if reading from the paper, not discussing a child’s life. Your blood boils. You want to slap him, but he’d just enjoy it.

“This is no place for… well, fucking anyone, let alone a literal kid. What were you thinking?!”

He shrugs. For a devil meant to be full of cunning, Raphael rarely actually thinks through his short-term impulses into long-term plans.

“Torture him, I suppose.”

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” you say, hand instinctively summoning your blade. Raphael narrows his eyes.

“Be careful when you reach for your sword, warlock, lest you forget the person who gifted it to you.”

Fuck. Shit. What an arseache. Okay, you can’t go about this by violence, he’s right. You need to be cunning. You let yourself soften and approach him, laying your hands on his chest. He raises an eyebrow but allows you to caress him.

“Raphael, come on. You really want a child hanging around here? He’s going to ruin all our fun. I was going to have you on the banquet table later. You don’t want me to ride you while feeding you slices of apple? You enjoyed it last time…”

Your devil huffs but softens under your touch. Gods he really is easy to manipulate when you know which buttons to press.

“You’re really up in arms about him, aren’t you? Look, they gave him away for a reason. He’s not some sweet innocent. He’s a little bastard, as far as I’ve been told.”

“Please don’t do anything too harsh to him? For me? For your favourite warlock?” you ask, pouting, sliding down Raphael’s body to your knees, ready to nuzzle into his cock in exchange for his agreement.

He sags, weak for you. Got him.

“Ugh. Fine, you win, kitten. Spoilsport,” he mutters, and you slip him out of his underwear.

The next time you see Enver, it’s been a couple of weeks. You’ve just finished up a hunt and are reporting in - but he’s the first thing you check on. You find him sweeping one of the hallways, eyeing a wailing lost soul warily.

“Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”

He jumps a little, however he looks genuinely pleased to see you. Not enough for him to smile but at least some of the tension leaves him.

“I’m alright,” he says quietly. He still looks sort of greasy. You’ll have to tell Raphael to let him bathe.

“The boss been treating you okay?”

Enver nods.

“Doesn’t really talk to me. Just tells me to do chores.”

Well that’s better than torture, you think. You reach into your pocket, root around for a bit, and hand something to him. His eyes go wide and then narrow in suspicion, and you have to reassure him that it’s not some sort of trick.

“Do you know what that is?”

“A sending stone,” he says, confidently, weighing the blue rock in his hand. You grin.

“Look at you! Clever kid. Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. So I take it you know how they work?”

“Each holder can send a message of twenty-five words a day, and the other can reply with twenty-five. Total of fifty each.”

“Precisely! I’m giving this to you for if there’s an emergency, okay? If you’re in trouble, I want you to give me a message and I’ll get here as quickly as I can.”

He eyes the stone. It’s as if he can’t quite bring himself to believe that someone genuinely cares about his wellbeing.

“Why?” he asks, after a while.

“Because you shouldn’t be down here, and Raphael can be an arsehole. But don’t worry, I can sort him out,” you say with a grin, and for the first time, Enver chuckles. You hear the sound of Raphael calling your name from down the corridor and you roll your eyes.

“Speak of the devil. Take care, Enver, alright? And remember, let me know if there’s a problem.”

He nods, tucking the stone into his pocket before you head off to tie your patron up.

You don’t hear from Enver for a week or so, but one day, when you’re on the road, you get a message coming through.

“Hello. It’s Enver. Are you having a good day?”

You look confused and reply, “Yeah, kiddo, I’m fine. Is there something the matter? Nobody’s hurting you, are they?”

Then, because it is the nature of the stone, you add: “If they are then you just say, I’ll come and set them straight.”

There’s a beat. You can imagine Enver considering his response.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to say hello.”

That’s as much communication as the day will allow but it hits you hard. Oh. He’s lonely.

And from that day on, you have a sort of penpal.

Enver messages you everyday without fail, always excited to see how you’ve been doing. He has very little to report, which you’re thankful for, because you live in fear that he will need to use the stone for its intended purpose. Occasionally he lets you know that Raphael has said something cruel or Haarlep is teasing him, and then it’s just a matter of heading to the hells and setting them straight. Haarlep is like a cat, difficult to make to do anything, but to be honest he’s your friend and will usually acquiesce after some teasing. Raphael is always a bit more difficult to persuade. He still sees the boy as his property, his thing to treat as he’d like, so you have to pull out all of your best tricks in order to convince him.

You always end up coming out on top, though. Funny that.

Your visits to the House of Hope get more regular. Enver greets you with smiles and then with laughs and then with hugs, and you find you’re growing fond of the kid. Every now and then you see a bit of the little bastard Raphael warned you of - you’ll catch him tormenting one of the damned souls down here, or attempting to trap and harass some sort of insect who accidentally crawled through one of the portals. But a soft but firm hand to turn him in the right direction is enough. He’s a boy with a bright future… if he’s nurtured.

And this place has no time for that.

You make the pitch to Raphael one night at the end of a long weekend in hell. You’ve been doing everything he’s asked of you, indulging his every whim, being ever so sweet and obedient for your master - and fucking him within an inch of his life. You relax in his bed, cuddled up to his chest, walking your fingers along the expanse of his pectorals.

“Raphael…” you say, dreamily, and he hums.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to push your luck?” he chuckles. You rearrange yourself to look up at him, eyes wide and wanting.

“Me? Push my luck? Never…” you run your tongue over his nipple and he groans.

“Spit it out then, kitten.”

“It’s the boy, Raphael. Can I have him? Please?”

He huffs.

“Why?”

“Why not? What does he do around here apart from take up space and eat your food? Surely you don’t really want him hanging around, do you? I’d like to be able to ride you and scream your name without the fear we’ll be overheard.”

Raphael considers this for a long time, and for a moment, you think he won’t take the bait.

“You’ll extend your pact with me. I want your soul. Forever,” he decides.

Ah. That’s quite the price. You consider it for a moment.

“...You never get to interfere with Enver’s life again,” you reply, because this is how you deal with devils. Your bargain to gain their respect. He laughs.

“Fine. The boy is off the hook.”

“Done. And I get to take him out of here and do what I want with him, no questions asked. He’s free. And I’ll do that thing you like, right now.”

His eyes sparkle.

“Deal.”

The next morning, body aching, you read through your new contract. You make some amendments in blood but sign it. The rest of your existence signed over to this damned devil. Raphael kisses you on the lips, long and languid - and when you walk out of the House of Hope it’s with Enver’s hand in yours.

“Where are we going?” he asks, quietly. He’s scared. You squeeze his fingers in reassurance.

“Well, I’m on the road a lot. We’ll be travelling. Is that okay with you, kiddo?”

He nods, excited, and you can’t help but notice how much he’s grown since you first met. He’s more than a head taller - gods, how long has he been down here? It’s not worth thinking about. He’s still pretty skinny, but you’ll fix that. Now you’re in charge of feeding him, you'll make sure he gets a good meal every night. Make sure he walks with his back straight and chin up.

Make sure he never has to feel small again.

It isn’t a perfect life, but it’s a damn sight better than what he had to put up with in the Hells. He smiles now, every day. Isn’t scared of people. Slowly grows confidence in himself because he knows that you’re in his corner, come hell or high water (literally). One day you see him drawing in a little notebook you got him, some sort of diagram far more complicated than you can understand - he explains the intricacies of the machine, so you get him some spare parts to start tinkering with. Gods the kid is a natural. So intelligent. Far smarter than you, and you’re worried you’re letting him down because you can’t keep up - but every time he shows you a new invention he seems so pleased when you compliment him.

“Look at you, kiddo! You’re amazing! I bet there’s nothing that you can’t do.”

And he looks like for the first time in his life that he believes what you’re saying.

Life isn’t easy, but it is worth living. You’re on the road more often than not. You don’t have a home to call your own, but you make sure your mercenary work is well-paid enough that you can put the two of you up in inns overnight, keep you both fed and entertained. Enver seems happy and that’s what matters.

You go back to the House of Hope as little as you can, now, reporting in when you do a job and fucking Raphael into submission. He asks you about the boy every once in a while and you palm him off with a laugh, acting as if you barely care about Enver rather than the truth: you’ve been actively putting money away towards a fund for his future.

You come back from one of your meetings late one night. You’re exhausted from what your patron has put you through and are looking forward to sleep. The portal opens into the inn you’ve booked for the night. You expect Enver to be dead to the world, but instead he’s wide awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey, kiddo, what are you doing up so late? Is everything okay?” you ask, surprised. Enver fidgets with his fingers.

“Does Raphael hurt you?” he blurts out. You’re shocked.

“What?”

“Do you want to be in a contract with him? Because if you don’t, I promise I’ll find a way to free you, like you freed me! I’ll get strong, really strong, and I’ll kill him for you.” His hands are balled into fists, jaw gritted. His eyes are dark in a way that’s troubling and he drops his gaze to his lap.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where’s all this coming from? Kiddo, nothing is wrong. Everything between me and Raphael is fine. I’m not unhappy or being forced into anything, I promise. What’s the matter, Enver, eh?”

When he looks up at you, there are tears pooling. He launches himself into your arms, holding you so tightly it’s as if you’re his anchor to this plane.

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you. I love you…” and then there it is. He calls you ‘mum’, or ‘dad’, or some other word that settles what you already knew: he’s come to think of you as his parent now. He freezes when he hears himself say it and you think back to when he was that scared little boy, longing for a bit of food by the fireplace.

You hold him back.

“I love you too, son,” you tell him, and the two of you stay like that for a long while.

He asks if his last name can become yours. You introduce him as your child. You are a family.

You’re right. He’s far smarter than you are, and you can’t keep up with him. It becomes more and more obvious as he gets older. He goes from brilliant teenager to incredible young man, and you’re glad that you have the funds to be able to send him to a good college and nurture his spark. You’re aware that you’re beginning to slow down a bit now. Your joints aren’t quite what they used to be, and though Raphael still covets you, he’s not oblivious to the fact that you’re getting on. His contracts for you become less vigorous. He likes to have you in his bed more than on the field. You don’t mind it, being pampered by your patron. It isn’t a bad life.

Enver doesn’t need to become Gortash. And what use has Bane for this man, this good man, this man who has made something of himself despite all of the odds stacked against him? None whatsoever. He never becomes the chosen of Tyranny. He is safe from the person he might have been.

The day he graduates at the top of his class is the proudest day of your life. You clap and cheer for him until you are hoarse, and he pretends to be embarrassed as you give him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek in front of all of his friends, every inch the glowing parent.

He becomes chancellor because of his own merits, not due to any underhanded trickery. He is a master when it comes to machines. He never invents the Steel Watch because he does not have the warped mind to create them. Instead he focuses on technology to help the city of Baldur’s Gate: cleaning machines, security automatons, things which help with the admin of running to place so those in government can focus on supporting Baldurites.

He buys you a house in the upper city. You settle down there as you grow older, make friends, get plenty of visits from your son. Everyone knows how loved you are. He eventually hires a young woman named Karlach as a bodyguard who you grow fond of: she makes up in brawn what he lacks, and she always puts a smile on your face when you have the two of them around for tea.

The Absolute comes. Raphael is poking around because of course he is. He’s got some new toys by now but you’re still one of his old favourites, and a couple of his most loved tricks with your tongue mostly keep him out of the way. Plus he promised not to interfere in Enver’s life, and he’s bound by that, the tricky bastard.

Some other person is Bane’s chosen, but it is not your Enver. Instead he fights for the side of good against the Dead Three and the mindflayer invasion, an ally to this Tav, the hero of Baldur’s Gate. Through their trials the two of them end up falling in love and it’s all you could ever want for your son. When the city fights against the Elder Brain you pick up your pact weapon for the last time despite his pleas not to: you’re a Warlock, damn it, and you’re going to defend your home until your last breath.

You don’t die, which is a nice bonus.

Enver and Tav help rebuild the city once the invasion has been stopped. Not too long in the future you have grandchildren, and they are the light of your life, always silly and giggling and joyous to hear the remarkable stories from your mercenary years.

You help out where you can but your age is weighing on you. One day, you take a tumble, and suddenly you’re bedbound; Enver and your family are visiting you every day as you get weaker, and you know that your final days can’t be far off.

He sits at your bedside, your hand clamped in his. Ah, a workman’s hand. The hand of a man who is constantly inventing and working and making himself useful. The hand of a good and decent man.

“The little ones go back to school tomorrow,” he says, fondly, “Tav is relieved. They’ve been rushed off their feet during the holidays– so many years since that Absolute business, yet the legislation is still going. They need a break, really.”

“It’s exhausting being a parent, isn’t it?” you ask with a grin, before being interrupted by a rattling cough which you can’t seem to shake. Enver lifts a glass of water to your lips and you drink, thankful. “Eurgh. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I’ll call the doctor again in the morning, see if she can get you any more of that tincture. Or maybe Halsin might have some ideas…”

“Oh, Enver, don’t go through all that fuss for me. Just sit here with me, kiddo.”

When you call him that, he knows he has no choice. You are still his parent, after all. He shifts to make himself more comfortable in his bedside chair, never letting go of your hand.

“I want you to know,” you say, voice soft, “everything has been worth it, Enver. My whole life was made better because you were my son. You’re the thing that I’m most proud of.”

His eyes go wide and glass over with tears, jaw grits.

“I… don’t say things like that, please,” he says, because he’s scared of what will come after.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, kiddo. I’m right here.”

He rests his head on the side of the bed, and you can see his shoulder heave as he cries. You bury your hand in his hair, smiling when it’s still a little greasy, and then you close your eyes.

When you open them again you’re in the House of Hope.

Your body feels lighter than it has in decades. You look down to see the wrinkles and liver spots in your hands are gone. You’re wearing what can generously be called an outfit, though it’s more straps of leather criss-crossed over your body.

“Well, did you have fun? Was your deal worth it in the end?” Raphael asks. He’s leaning against the doorframe, swirling wine around in a glass in his hand, another held out to you. You take it and frown.

“Were you… were you just standing here, waiting for me to bloody die?” you ask. He harrumphs.

“You didn’t answer my question, kitten.”

You take the wine, quaff it, then pull him into a kiss. He moans into your mouth in surprise and rapture.

“Yes,” you answer, honestly, because it was worth it. You’d never have made a different choice, “now, are we going to bed, or are you just going to stand here being smug for the rest of eternity?”

Raphael grins and pulls you to the bedroom.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

#raphael x reader #enver gortash x tav #gortash x tav #gortash & reader #my writing #raphael bg3 #enver gortash #bg3 fic #fic #raphael bg3 x reader

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fleshbarbie · 2 years

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you’re a badass - steve harrington x f!reader

contains: billy being an asshole & threatening lucas/reader, reader standing up to billy, protective!steve(ish), fluff, lumax.

the cold wind from the outside world was the first thing to greet you as soon as you left the building you were forced to enter five days a week, and you couldn’t be happier. you had finally finished school, after many torturous hours spent attending classes full of people you despised and teachers that were clearly only there for a paycheck. you were finally free and you only had one destination in mind - home.

you made up your mind as you pushed past the annoying groups of people who decided to take up eighty percent of space in the halls that nothing would deter you from jumping straight in your car and driving home, the quicker you got there the quicker you could run a nice, warm bath, order some food and watch movies until you fell asleep. but the closer you made it to your car (that you were sure was actually calling your name at this point), a scene just a few feet away instantly caught your interest.

there stood the one and only billy hargrove, which alone wasn’t enough to distract you from your initial plans but surrounding the buff teen was a group of kids, more specifically the group of kids that usually hung around with one of your neighbours, lucas sinclair. they all looked nervous, scared as if billy was a threat to them which left you a tad confused. your pace slowed and you found yourself zoning in on the scene, trying your best to understand what was happening.

“i told you max, i don’t want you hanging around with these little shits. why don’t you listen, huh? do i need to teach you a lesson?” billy stuck his pointer finger in the redhead’s face, a scowl on his own face which was the complete opposite of the frightened one on his sisters.

“no billy, you don’t i wasn’t even with them i swear! i just- we all just happened to be walking in the same direction!” she was quick to defend herself, her arms flying around as the words left her lips.

billy scoffed, nodding his head as he glanced over to the boys who were all stood a good space away from billy. “you expect me to believe that shit max? you don’t want to listen to me, that’s fine. but i promise you they will.”

with that said, he was quick on his feet and began approaching the group who in return took several steps back, though there was an obvious target in billy’s sight as he ignored everyone else, his eyes zoning in on lucas only.

that’s when you decided to step in knowing that if you didn’t, someone was going to end up hurt and even if all of them managed to defend themselves against the hargrove boy, he’d still probably end up on top. he of course had all the advantages; taller, older and more athletic.

“hey hargrove! are you crazy? that’s a twelve year old boy you’re about to attack!”

your voice was enough to bring him to a halt - and just in time too. he was about two seconds away from coming in contact with the older sinclair sibling, who looked like a deer caught in headlights which had your heart aching at the sight. the californian glanced back at you, fury still present in his eyes, even more so at the interruption. “mind your business (y/l/n). this has nothing to do with you.”

it was your turn to scoff now, you approached the teen without hesitance despite his clear bad mood and stood between him and lucas. “if you think i’m just going to get in my car and let you do whatever it is you were about to do, then you’re a lot stupider than i originally thought you were.” you spat at him.

the comment had landed a huge blow to his ego, that was obvious when his fists tightened and max let out a gasp, shocked that you had the balls to stand up to him like that. you didn’t back down though, not even when he took a step closer to you, so close to you now that if you had the time you’d probably be able to count each eyelash per eye.

“if you don’t move out of my way, sinclair won’t be the only person getting what’s coming to him.”

“yeah, no. that’s not gonna happen.”

this time another voice was interrupting the moment, one that was instantly familiar to you. steve harrington was now stood to your side, you hadn’t even seen him enter the car park, never mind approach all of you but you were guessing that was because you were too focused on the asshole stood with his chest almost touching yours.

your eyes left billy’s, now hooked on steve’s who were filled with a great mixture of anger, concern and annoyance. he looked back at you, his lips lifting to send you a small smile which you were eager to return before the moment was ruined by billy who laughed, though there was no amusement present.

“oh what a surprise, pretty boy here has come to save his girl, like some knight in shining armour. can’t stand it when you’re not the centre of attention, isn’t that right .. king steve?”

steve’s old title had him cringing on the inside, he couldn’t believe he was once the person he used to be. dropping carol and tommy was one of the smartest decisions he had ever made - that and finally working up the courage to ask you on that date a few months ago.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about man, i’m just here to put a stop to whatever you think you’re about to do next.” steve gestured to both you and lucas, who were now stood side-by-side with lucas gripping onto your arm. “i know you think this whole tough look is a huge turn on for the ladies, but really? to hit not only an actual child but a girl too? in front of everyone? i’d like to see you try and restore your reputation after that.”

billy actually seemed to take his words into consideration, his blue eyes scanning the car park which was still semi-full of teens despite the fact that school had ended almost ten minutes ago now. a lot of people that attended hawkins high did have very skewed morals, but none of them would stand for someone who went around attacking anyone and everyone they pleased. there were certain lines you just shouldn’t cross, an (almost) grown man hitting a child and a woman were definitely across those lines.

so with one last hateful filled glance towards all of you, specifically you and lucas, he reluctantly took a step back and lucas’ grip on you loosened as he finally relaxed.

“whatever. come on max, get your shit we’re going home.” he pushed past steve, his shoulder purposefully pressing against steve’s who didn’t bother to entertain the obvious attempt to rile him up.

“don’t bother, i’ll be taking her home today.” you spoke up, sending a max a gentle look that told her to stay put and the girl didn’t even bother fighting. you could only imagine what she was expecting to endure on the way home with her ‘brother’.

billy’s jaw tightened, he gripped onto the door handle of his blue camaro and you knew he was fighting the urge to say ‘fuck it’ and finish what he had planned to do before steve made an appearance, but after a good ten seconds of a tense silence passed, he eventually pulled the door open and slammed it with force before he sped out of the parking lot with his music blasting and a middle finger to you all through the window.

the rest of you relaxed the second his car was out of sight, all sharing a look before the younger kids burst out laughing, which soon had you and steve joining in at the contagious sound.

“(y/n), you’re a badass.” max said with widened eyes, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone stand up to billy like that .. except his dad.”

“isn’t she just?” steve smiled, his arm wrapping around your shoulder to bring you into his side. once you were comfortably resting against him he pressed a kiss to your temple, one that left you smiling at the show of affection.

“yeah well, there was no way i was going to leave you all with him like that. he looked like he was ready to kill all of you.” you grimaced, suddenly feeling the need to thank your lucky stars that you had showed up when you did.

they all nodded in agreement, dustin throwing in a quick “yeah. does he take steroids? he looks like he takes steroids.” to which max replied with an eye roll before she began making her way towards your car that was parked only three spots away from where billy’s car had just been.

“so ... do you have any plans for tonight?” you looked up to your boyfriend, who was already looking down at you with a look that could only be described as complete admiration.

you felt your cheeks heat up slightly at how powerful his gaze felt, but shook your head nonetheless. “honestly, no. was just gonna go home, eat and watch a few movies. nothing exciting.”

he nodded, his lips pursing together slightly as if he was deep in thought. “well i’ve heard, that when doing stuff like that .. it’s usually a lot more fun when you have someone with you to you know, do stuff like that with.”

you laughed at the not so subtle approach of the boy inviting himself over, not that you were planning on keeping him away. “oh really?”

steve nodded, and the two of you began to slowly make your own way to your car where max was now leaning against with lucas, who were having their own little conversation. “yeah, definitely. all the time actually.”

“well in that case ... would you like to join me, king steve?”

he groaned at the nickname that you had repeated, this time in a teasing tone opposed to billy’s attitude earlier. he shoved your shoulder playfully, which left you giggling at the childish behaviour that wasn’t unusual coming from your almost nineteen years old boyfriend.

“i don’t know.” he smiled, “is my girlfriend gonna bully me the whole night?”

“hmm ... maybe she’ll be less inclined to tease you if you promise to watch valley girl with her again.”

you almost laughed again as steve’s face instantly turned to a frown at the mention of the movie you had forced him to watch near enough fifteen times now, at first he was all for it, agreeing with you that ‘okay maybe it’s a decent movie’. but now, the poor boy was sick to death of seeing the movie that he was sure he could recite line by line at this point.

“no promises.” he grumbled, and with a happy smile you leaned up on your tiptoes an inch to press a quick kiss to your boyfriends rosy cheek, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get away with much more with all the kids still hovering around.

finally approaching max who was still talking to lucas, you quickly unlocked the door to your car and gave steve one last wave as he began walking backwards towards his own car. he waved back, the smile not leaving his face as he did.

you got comfortable in your seat, waiting for max to do the same before you left the car park; giving out one last wave to not only steve but will (who joyce was now ushering into the car), mike, dustin and lucas.

“he’s so smitten, it’s crazy.”

you looked over to max who was rolling her eyes playfully, a grin on her face as she did. you laughed lightly, your eyes quickly flickering to her before they refocused on the road ahead of you. “who? steve or lucas?”

she never replied.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #joe keery x reader #stranger things fic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for yelling at my mom before she went away on an emotionally taxing trip to another country to take care of my hospitalized grandmother?

The town I'm in went through a mass shooting a couple weeks ago, you might have seen it on the news. I'm a college student and was staying on campus at the time, and everyone went through lockdown for a couple of days. I remember not being alerted there was a shooting going on until I had already been walking around outside for at least a hour while it was happening five blocks down, and then staying in my room while on a call with my friends until 7 am who were trapped in other buildings and had to sleep on the floor while listening to the police scanners and news stations for more info. The lockdown ended after a couple of days, but I still felt not Great, especially with all the lack of management from campus and the news reporters taking photos and videos of us during the lockdown. I had several panic attacks for days afterwards, and I'm still having them now.

I texted my parents a couple hours after it started confirming I was okay, and my dad basically texted back "I saw, you'll be fine, just stay away from the windows." This made me very upset because I thought he already knew about my situation and didn't even bother texting or calling first. But in a phone call later with my mom where I basically exploded at her for saying the same thing, I discovered he just looked up news articles 2 minutes after I sent the text and then texted that, and didn't know how close the incident was. She said that she'd be mad if what I thought was true, but in another phone call confirmed they had a talk and then told me my dad just has issues communicating sometimes and "you have a nervous personality" and so I should learn to accomodate him more. I also blew up at this and told her that he's not the one in a mass shooting right now so why do I have to accomodate for him (triggered by a pattern of this in the past) ((He still hasn't called or texted me since other than sending a quick apology for the misunderstanding).) We ended up having a very emotionally charged talk and my mom also stated her mom got hospitalized, it's all very stressful right now, and that's also why they didn't say anything about it in the family groupchat because they didn't want to stress out everyone with even more bad news and to please not tell anyone yet about it. She started ranting again about how bad her childhood was with her mom for like a half hour and I had to cut her off and redirect her. But in the end she said she now understood how serious my situation was and that I could talk to her anytime about it.

Well, I thought that was it. But after they found the shooter 72 hours later and lockdown ended, my mom called me and basically assumed that everything was fine now and I was feeling "normal" again. I was admittedly pretty cagey and told her I wasn't for several reasons and she seemed confused but didn't push it. Then a day afterward she texted me and said one of her friend's daughters had a college essay they had to submit tomorrow and asked me if I could help them and they'd buy me lunch later when I got back. I was annoyed but I ended up telling them to send it to me in a Google Doc and I made some comments, but then she called me again and asked me if I could get on a Zoom call with the daughter and fix the essay together with her. I told her no several times and asked her why I had to do this if she didn't even bother preparing this essay beforehand until the last minute, but my mom said "It's a nice thing to do", and "She really needs help", and wouldn't take my no as an answer after 10 minutes. Then I basically blew up at her one final time and told her that I just went through a mass shooting and I've been comforting my friend who saw some of the dead bodies and I'm having panic attacks and why can't she ever take no for an answer and that I hate her and then I hung up on her.

She basically texted me later and said she realized how inconsiderate her request was when I said that one of my friends saw the dead bodies. She said she's leaving to go to visit my grandma soon but I can call her any time if I want. It's been a couple weeks and there's been no communication from either of us.

I feel bad for blowing up at her since she didn't seem to know how bad it was and also her mom is hospitalized and it's very stressful. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #mass shooting cw

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cellophaine · 8 months

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This is my experience meeting Charlie today at Toronto Fanexpo!

When it was my turn to get an autograph from him, he said hi to me with a big smile on his face and gave me a fist bump!! I was so flustered that I was speechless and I did the first thing that came to my mind, which was freaking out externally by screaming soundlessly into my hand 🥲 he saw that and smiled even more. He asked for my name and then asked me how I was doing today and I said “better now that I get to meet you” and I stuttered a little bit answering him 😭. I went on and said I appreciated his portrayal of Daredevil and I lowkey trailed off a little bit because I was so nervous I forgot what I was going to say but he caught on and said “aww thank you so much love god bless you” 😫. Then he looked down at my copy of Zdarsky’s run and I said “I hope you don’t mind signing a newer run”. And he said he didn’t mind and flipped through my book!!!!! I asked for his opinion on it and he said he liked it! And then he looked over to the pens and said “what colour should I choose? Silver?” I said yes because it would stand out on the cover. Then he asked me if I wanted him to write my name, of course I said yes and he signed my book. He looked at me again and put up his hand so I could high five him and I did it for a little bit until he pulled his hand away and gave my friend who I came with a fist bump 😭 I did the “screaming soundlessly into my hand” thing again because I freaked out again and he told me to enjoy my day at Fanexpo. I thanked him and said “I’ll see you later for the photo op” then continued “I promise I won’t freak out like that again” and then he laughed and said something else. What he said at the end was blurry to me because in my head at that moment there was only one thing and it was I touched his hand 😭😭😭

Later on at the photo op, I walked to him and said hi and he said “hey you didn’t do that thing this time”. HE REMEMBERED Y’ALL HE REMEMBERED 😭😩😫 he pulled me into a side hug for the photo. He was so SOFT and NICE and he smelled GOOD. The flash went off and I was about to move away from him so the people behind me can take their photos. But he held me still and asked them to take the photo again because he wasn’t ready. So we stayed put like that the whole time when the photographer and the person listened to something on their walkie. Then they took the picture again and I said thank you to Charlie and he said thank you with my name and god bless.

This is as many details as my disorganized brain which was overwhelmed by the amount of people at Fanexpo can managed. Charlie really took his time with his fans, made conversations and I could really feel the care he has for his fans 😭

Here is the photo I had with him!

I walked out with two prints because he wanted to retake the photo! When I walked out, a girl scanned the barcode on my photos and told me I was allowed only one. But then she talked to someone else and he said it was okay for me to keep both!

Here are some more photos I took when I was in line. He was so smiley 🥹

#i can die happy now #i can’t believe it happened #i’m so happy i got to meet him #his voice was so soft and warm #he should do audio books #charlie cox #matt murdock #daredevil #fan expo #fan experience #fan expo canada

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blue-bujo · 5 months

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Bowled Over (Roy Kent x Reader): Chapter Five

You work at a bowling alley and a young girl named Phoebe has a birthday party there. You catch her uncle's eye.

Roy Kent x female reader

Will try to update roughly every two weeks

Chapter Five: First Date

(2k words)

Warnings: Roy Kent-level language (you know what you're in for), discussion of sexual expectation

Summary: The long-awaited date night arrives, and you and Roy both consider the self-doubt that comes from having been alone and the hope of being alone no more.

Roy had waited four very long days for his date with Splits. He had restrained himself from texting too much with her, although he was still texting a few times a day, just to ask a few introductory-type questions, and to set the actual plan for the actual date. He hadn’t called, or shown up again at the fucking bowling alley, despite how much he’d wanted to, because he didn’t want to scare her off. And he didn’t think he’d let on how excited he was for the date in their short texted conversations. He had established himself as a proper dweeb by saying he’d meet her after work – like some idiot who worked in an office park or some shit – but Roy felt that was his only mistake so far.

He was so nervous to do things wright. He’d thought he had with Keeley – fuck, he’d thought she was the one – but he obviously hadn’t. Or worse, he had managed it, but he still hadn’t been enough. He wanted to be enough for someone, so fucking badly. He got to the restaurant almost an hour early and sat in his car listening to an old pump-up playlist; he was that intent on doing things right.

When it was fifteen minutes until the agreed-upon date time, Roy summoned his nerve, got out of the car, and stood by the door of the restaurant to wait for Splits. People looked at him as they walked past, double-taking at seeing the manager just standing there. At five minutes until date time, he started getting nervous. He should have offered to pick her up, but he hadn’t wanted to creep her out by asking for an address. Why hadn’t he offered? Why was he such an idiot??

But then, at three minutes until date time, she was there, walking around the corner. She had taken “casual” literally, thank fuck, and opted for a green jumper and plain tan pants with black boots, but she was a vision. No extravagant hair or makeup, no dress that he wouldn’t be able to touch without breaking. She was the first non-celebrity he’d ever asked out, but she looked better than any of them. She looked like a real person.

Roy knew, right then and there. He was in trouble.

Splits smiled and waved when she saw him, and Roy smiled back. She seemed genuinely happy to see him, he noted with satisfaction.

“Hi, Roy,” she greeted shyly as she walked closer.

He nodded, smiling nervously. How was a man supposed to act on a first date with a normal girl he actually liked? Why hadn’t he thought to look it up beforehand? Why did he even care? He just had to be natural. What thoughts were coming naturally?

“You look really fucking nice,” he said. His body was moving of its own accord; he only realized a split second before it happened that he was going in for a hug. She leaned into it, thankfully.

“Thank you. I didn’t know where we were going, so I didn’t want to overdress. Which restaurant are we going to?”

“It’s perfect. I really like it,” said Roy in reference to the sweater. Then he took a few steps, grabbed a door, and opened it for her. “I’m bringing you to my favorite fucking place. Do you like kebabs?”

“I love kebabs.”

“Good. Hus makes the best kebabs.”

Allowing her to go in first before following, Roy grinned a brief grin to himself. He then got his face back under control and led Splits to his usual booth and sat down. She took a moment removing her purse and then sat across, which confused him a little bit, until he realized she had done it to give him her full, uninterrupted eye contact.

She had fucking warm, kind eyes. Roy felt himself getting lost in those eyes through the course of the date, and was vaguely aware of how much he was smiling, even laughing.

Yep. He was very much in trouble.

Fuck.

Roy Kent wasn’t what you’d expected.

He went for the hug, for instance. You found yourself enveloped in the smell of his cologne and the embarrassed warmth of his embrace. He was nothing but respectful, and gave you his full attention as you got to know each other. You kept catching him blinking intensely, like he was forgetting to take his eyes away from you.

The man was funny, too. You kept finding yourself laughing as he talked. He was so blunt. And that laugh! You didn’t know if it was because he was trying not to laugh, or if it was just naturally like that, but he laughed like the Ernie character on Sesame Street. You told him so without meaning to, and got a smile out of him for it.

“That’s a great compliment,” he announced. “I fucking love the Muppets.”

You giggled. “That surprises me!”

“Why? The Muppets are the peak of humor. Nothing is as funny for kids and adults at the same time. Do you know how many shit children’s programs I had to watch when Phoebe was younger? Sesame Street and the Muppets were the only ones that didn’t make me want to claw my fucking eyes out.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” you teased. The shop owner came to the table with the bill before you could say more, and you automatically reached for your bag. It was a move made out of habit, but Roy saw it and held out a hand for the check while shooting you a glare.

“The fuck are you doing? What kind of man would I be if I let you pay for your food? You’re my fucking date, and I’m paying for you.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve just been on my own for a while.”

When you looked up at Roy, his jaw was clenched.

“Don’t apologize. That was a prick move, and I’m sorry. I just… I’m enjoying myself tonight, and I hope you are, too. I don’t want you to feel like I’m expecting anything out of you.”

That was more encouraging than anything else he could have possibly said. You hadn’t gone out with someone in a long time, partly because of how much modern men seemed to expect out of women on first dates. Your last first date, nearly two years ago, had expected you to carry the conversation and allow all of his advances. He’d said he hadn’t wanted anything from you, but his conduct had said otherwise. When he’d tried to worm his way into your apartment for a hookup at the end of the night, you’d seen your way behind your locked door and blocked his number. Roy’s behavior up to now was backing up his claim that he didn’t expect anything out of you, and you felt very safe around him.

He was signing the check and putting his credit card away, looking anywhere but at you, and you realized you hadn’t responded to his incredibly sweet statement. You could see the muscles in his jaw working, his eyebrows creeping together.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours. “For?” It seemed he’d been stuck in his head, too.

Shrugging, you replied, “For dinner, and not expecting anything, and for being so kind. I’d sort of given up on dates because a lot of men aren’t. Kind, I mean.”

Roy grunted. “A lot of men are pricks. I should know, I coach a bunch of them. Shit, I used to be one. It’s taken me a long fucking time to start to change, and it’s sucked most of the way.”

“Well, thank you for doing that work on yourself,” you murmured. “I’ve had a great night.”

“Yeah, me too,” he said, treating you to another small, close-lipped smile. Then he slid out of the booth and motioned for you to follow him. “But we’re not done yet, if you’re okay with that?”

You could hide your excitement at you jumped out to follow him out of the restaurant through the door he held for you. “What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing fancy. A walk in the park, maybe?”

“That sounds great. Is there a park nearby?”

“No, we’ll have to drive. Are there any by you?”

There was, about two blocks from your flat. You told Roy as he opened the passenger door of his G Wagon for you, and was familiar with the area. You laughed as he cursed out the poppy music that blasted out of the stereo when he turned the key, teasing him for creating a pump-up mix and listening to it before a date. He surprisingly didn’t rebut you and admitted it was dorky.

You were very quickly at the park, and did a few slow laps of it together. Roy kept a respectful distance from you and kept his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, although you did notice that he kept putting himself between you and anybody else in the park. He asked questions with the intention of listening and learning more about you, and made you feel like the center of attention. When you tried to do the same to hm, he somehow steered it back to you with minimal effort.

When it started getting dark, you navigated toward the park exit, back to his car. He was quiet once more, obviously thinking. You hoped it wasn’t about how bad the date had gone compared to one with, say, a supermodel. You were happy with how things had gone, but your benchmark was pretty low.

“It’s getting dark, Roy. We should probably think about wrapping up.”

He nodded with a grunt. “I suppose. You said you lived close?”

Pointing at an older block of flats in the distance, you replied, “That’s me over there.”

“Hmm. That’s fucking close. Walk you home?”

Your heart soared as he fell into step next to you. He wanted to walk you home! It was a quiet walk, but it was a nice one with this handsome man at your side. You reached your building all too soon.

“This is me,” you said, unsure of what to say further. “This was fun.”

“It was,” agreed Roy.

Smiling, you quickly went to fish your keys out of your purse. As you did, you had a brief argument with yourself. You like Roy. You really liked Roy. But you didn’t know how ready you were for him. The polite thing to do would be to invite him in, but was that too much too soon? You weren’t that kind of girl. But it would be rude not to. How would he react, either way?

Only one way to find out.

“Would you like to come up?”

To his very great credit, Roy looked surprised. Then he thought about it, bouncing his head back and forth for a second before shaking it.

“No,” he answered. “I’m fucking flattered, but I want to do this right.”

A small part of you was relieved. “Okay, then. Well, thank you for a lovely evening. I had a really, really nice time with you.”

Roy nodded. “I did, too.”

You went to unlock entrance to your building, when Roy Kent closed the distance between you. He had the softest expression on his face, his hands still in his pockets.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed.

Breathless yourself, and unable to speak due to how heavily your heart was beating in your neck, you could only nod. Roy leaned down and tilted his head to place a chaste kiss on, surprisingly, your cheek. Then he straightened and took two steps backwards. He looked up at the sky, and you could see him flashing that dazzling smile once again, just for a second, before he looked back at you.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” you echoed.

With one last grin, he turned around and started the walk back to his car. You went upstairs to your humble little flat feeling as though you were flying.

Tag list: @preciousbabypeter @harry-bowie-mercury @amieinghigh

#roy kent bowled over #roy kent #roy kent x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #mutual pining #slowish burn #reader is a bowler #because I was a bowler #hence the terrible pun title #my writing #no editing we die like men

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cheynovak · 4 months

Text

A new beginning

Reader x Misha Collins

Warnings: 16+ Sex, fluff, trauma, commitment issues, jealousy, Age difference...

Side note: English isn’t my first language.

Words: 6172

Y/N and Misha became friends after Jensen introduced the two of you at his birthday party. Even though Y/N is a lot younger than Misha, Jensen saw a perfect match between you two. But... will Y/N and Misha feel the same way?

*not my GIF*

-----------------------

“There he is!” Y/N said smiling while walking up to Jensen with his gift. “Sorry had no time to wrap it. Happy Birthday buddy!” She kissed him on his cheek. “Thank! I’m glad you made it.” He said. “Well, Jack and Karl are here already, somewhere.” “Don’t worry I’ll find them.” She winked at him before leaving him in the hands of the guest who arrived after you.

Y/N was the newest member of “the boys” cast, she plays an old love interest of soldier boy who became a villain after Soldier boy chose Crimson Countess, the type of supe Butcher loves to manipulate to fight for him. The crew and cast made you feel at home right away even though you just started to film. Y/N became quite quickly friends with Jensen and Karl, and of course they found out that Y/N was a supernatural fan growing up. In a couple of months, she would turn 28 but whenever interviewers talked about how Jensen feels working with such a young girl on the show, he always said the same thing. “She is younger, but a very mature person, would even say and old soul.” And that is exactly how she felt, an old soul in a young body. She always had a better connection with people who were a little older.

After a few hours, food and drinks Jensen made his way towards you and the guys. “This must be so surreal for Y/N.” Jack said. You all looked at his with a confused look. ”Didn’t she once admit being a supernatural fan? And all the actors are standing, what, 3 feet away.” Y/N shook her head while smiling and slightly blushing. “Who is your favourite?” Karl decided to at oil to the fire. “Oh no, we are not going down that road!” Y/N said. “Ah come on!” Jensen bumped your shoulder. “Was it Dean?” He asked teasingly. “I think she is more of a Sam girl.” Jack teased. “No, no actually I was a Dean girl.” Y/N admitted “Until season 4.” She looked at Jensen, who thought about that for a second. “CASTIEL!” He said very surprised but seem to like your answer. She smiled shyly.

Later that night Y/N decided to head back to the hotel, she had to take her fight back to LA in the morning. So, she asked Danneel where Jay was before leaving without saying a word. Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder. “Hey buddy I’m heading out. Got a flight tomorrow.” “Oh no, wait one second, I want you to meet someone.” Jensen said while taking her wrist and walking her trough the crowed. And before she could see or say anything she hears Jensen: “Mish! Meet Y/N, Y/N Misha... She really likes you.” He said with a grin wide smile before leaving you standing in front of him with eyes wide open. Looking nervous, like a fangirl at ComiCon meeting her hero. “I eh, hi.” Y/N managed to say giving him a hand. ”Hi...” “This is awkward, isn’t it?” Y/N smiled shyly. “A little... But It’s ok.” He smiled friendly. ”Eh, how do you know Jensen?” “The Boys.” Y/N answered shortly. The two of you started to talk and surprisingly the awkwardness quickly disappeared. But as much as you liked the conversation, that had you staying there for another 90 minutes, you had to get some hours of sleep before getting on the plane.

The next morning

Y/N was sitting at the gate with her hoody and headphones on, listening to music while looking at other people in the airport, sipping her coffee trying to stay awake. That night she didn’t had much sleep thinking about the conversation she had with Misha, he did seem really nice, she could see why he was still friends with Jensen. But most of all Y/N wished she had given him her number. As she was scanning the crowd, she noticed someone familiar, Misha, he was sitting at the same gate as her, sunglasses, coffee and hoodie. Even though they had talked the night before she was nervous to go and talk to him. The voice on the intercom announced that they while start boarding now and Misha got up and quickly moved in line. Y/N could see his broad shoulders, how amazing would it be if they would end up sitting next to each other, but he probably flies first-class she thought.

But to her surprise he didn’t, he sat a couple of rows ahead of her, she had to pass him for going to her seat. Misha recognised her, “Y/N! Hi, what a coincidence!” He got up quickly hugged her before she held back the people behind her. “I know right! Have a good fight!” She said way to enthusiastic. During boarding Misha kept looking back to see where she was seated noticing the seats next to her were empty. Once in the air Y/N started to read a book to make sure she wouldn’t be looking at Misha every two seconds.

Little did she know that he did look at her a few times, hoping she would look at him. But after a while he got up and moved to sit next to her. Y/N was a little surprised, “Would you mind if I sit next to you?” “No! Of course not!” - “So, LA? What are the plans?” He asked casually. “Home, I rent a house there. Just a little break between projects. You?” “For now, home. We’re trying to sell the house, but I live there for now.” Y/N knew he and his wife had split up, she, like all the other fans had read his poems, but she decided not to get into detail about that.

Misha and Y/N started to talk some more. “So, Jensen said you liked me? What did he mean?” Misha asked with an innocent smile. “They asked me who my favourite SPN character was... I said Castiel.” “Aaah, I get it. So, you don’t like me me ... You like Cas me.” he laughed. “Yeah, I’m so terribly sorry.” Y/N joked. Y/N and Misha soon found out that they had a few similar interests, both loved to read, music and art. Y/N painted in her spare time while Misha wrote poetry, one couldn't do what the other did but, admired the art form of the other. Y/N showed him drawings and paintings of her own, While Misha read some of his drafts. The plane seemed to land way to fast, neither of them wanted to end the conversation but when they were safe and sound on the ground and got their luggage, they said goodbye. “Well, I see that my cap is here.” Misha said, “It was nice to talk to you again!” Y/N nodded “Likewise!” Misha hugged her and turned to the taxi driver. “Oh, Misha! Before I forget.” Y/N yelled. “Here is my number.” She wrote it on a small piece of paper she had in her jacket. “If you, I don’t know, want to talk or hang out sometimes, I would like that.”

Misha got in the taxi, thinking whether he should call her, she seemed nice, but he was afraid he would expect more of him than he could offer. Especially now, even though he and Vicky had been separated for a while he wasn’t ready to date. He needed to focus on being a dad, actor and healing his mental wounds.

Y/N noticed Misha’s face when she gave him her number, he looked scared, maybe even a little hurt. She hoped she didn’t offened him by doing so. It was days later when she got a text from him, Y/N thought she wouldn’t hear from him again.

Mish: “Free this afternoon?”

Y/N: “Jup, why?”

Mish:”Lunch? 1 pm?”

Y/N:” Count me in!”

Y/N googled the place he had suggested, and decided to dress casually, but catches herself taking a little more afford in her hair and make-up than she would usually do.

Misha noticed her walking in, long summer dress, sunglasses, matching bag, she smiled when she noticed him. “Hi again.” she said while giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “You look great! I feel underdressed.” Misha said. “Nonsense, by the way this place looks amazing!” Y/N answered looking around. After they both ordered Y/N decided to ask him about his reaction at the airport. ”Misha, maybe it’s not my place or question to ask, and if so, please let me know but, I couldn't help but notice the panic in your eyes when I gave you my number. Did I do something wrong?” Misha let out a breath before answering. “Well, I don’t know how much you know about my personal life. But I am recently divorced, and I didn’t want to give you the wrong impression. Because I am far, far from ready to date.” Y/N nodded very understanding still listening, “And Jensen wanted me to meet you for quit sometime now, I had no idea what he said to you before introducing so, I panicked a little.” “I see, it was never my intention to date you, I just like that we get along.” She smiled.

“Great, because I could use a friend who isn’t connected to my marriage, especially here, closer to home. That’s what happens when you’ve been together since school, your friends become her friends and vice versa.” “I understand and consider me your new friend.” Y/N smiled “But eh, Jay talked about me?” “Yes, days before the party, said you were an amazing woman, who I might like... You know a friend trying to help.” “Is that so...” Y/N got up from her chair, “Let’s send him a thank you for our new friendship texted.” Squatting next to Misha holding your phone to take a selfie. “What are you going to say?” He asked taking a sip of his drink.

“Thanks Jay. Found myself a new friend... No worries won’t replace you... Yet 😉 Xx."

Y/N send the picture to Misha as well.

Once home Misha opened the DM from Y/N and truly looked at it for the first time. He liked that his smile was genuine but couldn’t help to notice that she was a lot younger than he was. What are you worrying about, he thought, you just told her to be friends nothing more.

+ 10 months later

Y/N and Misha grew closer in the near year they known each other now, at first hanging out whenever his kids weren’t with him and when they didn’t have project to work on. Later they met her and started to call her aunty Y/N. And of course, they supported each other.

Misha and Jensen had a convention to go to. Some die-hard fans had noticed Misha hanging out with Y/N in public and seem to have question about that. Both men told the story the way it was. Met each other and became friends. But one fan had a question that lingered in Misha’s mind. “Jensen, you and Y/N have a, let’s call it spicy scene together, what was it like to film something like that, and Misha since you are their friend, have you seen it, and what were your thoughts?”

Jensen answered the question first. Saying filming something like that is always awkward, but that because they became friends, they had their fair share of laughs that day. Misha had to be honest he hadn’t seen the latest season yet. Realising he never talked to Y/N about it, while she seemed up to date with his projects, supporting him, wishing him luck. So, he decided to watch the season at home. Mid-season the scene the fans talked about played, Misha noticed a strange feeling seeing Y/N getting al hot and heavy with Jensen, well he knew it was Soldier boy and her character but still. He felt a knot in his stomach, could it be jealousy? Not a second later he received a text.

Y/N: “Made dinner... way too much... Hungry?”

Mish: “Be there in 20?”

Y/N: ”Perrrrrrfect!”

“I’m sorry, I'm already in my comfy clothes.” She said answering the door in her short shorts and tank top with fluffy slippers. “So, what were you up to today?” Y/N asked while walking Misha to the kitchen. ” Not much, started watching the boys.” He said drawing out her reaction. “Really! What season?” Y/N answered enthusiast - “The last one.” - ”Oooh, you seen me naked yet?” she said teasingly wiggling her brows. - “Actually, the second before you texted.” He admitted laughing at the face she made. Y/N looked dramatic like he just had a kick to the balls. “I am so sorry for that traumatic experience.” - “Yeah, could have giving me a heads up.” he smirked - ”Hey, if you would have told me you were watching it, I might have. Or better would watch it with you just to see your face.” She said smiling turning to the oven to get the last dish out. While she bent over Misha couldn’t help but staring at her curves, feeling busted like a teenager when she turned around.

After dinner Misha helped her with the dishes, “Why did you start to watch the boys?” Y/N asked out of the blue. “Really didn’t think that was your thing.” Looking over her shoulder while Misha placed a dried plate on the clean table. “It isn’t, but I figured, you follow me and compliment me on everything I do. As a friend I could at least watch your work.” Y/N hummed in response. “I appreciate that.” she answered with a little tear in her eye.

Little did Misha know Y/N just had a date that went terrible. Some rude new rising star her age. The first and last thing that came out of his mouth was how much slimmer Y/N seemed in the boys and in pictures. How he thought she could lose weight if she trained with him and that she better not wear high heels, making her taller than him... after that night Y/N really didn’t want to be alone, and could use a familiar face.

“Are you crying?” Misha notice. “It’s nothing.” She answered quickly before turning back to the dishes. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked really worried, “Oh no, really, it’s nothing... I just had a really bad date.” Misha’s heart dropped... “Date? I didn’t know you were dating.” He tried to sound as an interested friend. “Yeah, one of my friends set me up.” She said still cleaning the same dish. “All he did was talking about my weight and height.” Y/N turned to Misha. “I mean, I know I’m taller than the average woman but fat? I worked day and night at the gym before shooting the boys, I weight more then with muscles than now.” Misha felt sorry for her. “Oh honey”, he pulled her in is arms holding one hand on her hair and the other between her shoulders. “You are perfect. And if that boy can’t see it... then you need to find yourself a man who can.”

Y/N looked up at Misha, seeing his worried blue eyes looking at her, like she seen them so many times before, but there was something more to them now. Before she knew it Y/N stood on her toes and kissed his lips, brushing her lips softly over his, when she moved away, Misha’s lips followed hers. Holding his hands on her neck and cheeks, after the kiss he kept his eyes closed a little longer, Y/N waited for his reaction. He opened his eyes, but instead of being relieved Y/N noticed the same panic she saw at the airport. “I’m sorry... I have to go.”

“Misha, wait!” Y/N followed him to the door. “Please, I’m sorry I should have never... But please, I really don’t want to be alone tonight.” She noticed he was thinking about her words without looking at her. “I’m sorry I promise I won’t try and kiss you again. I’m just afraid...” “Why?” He turned around. “I’m afraid if you walk out that door, I might lose my best friend. Please let me prove to you that this doesn’t have to be complicated.” Misha looked at his feet. “Y/N, it’s already complicated, I kissed you back. I wanted to kiss you for so long, I would love nothing more than kissing you every time I’m with you.” - “Why didn’t you?” “You, me... us...The age difference...” He shook his head.

“ Age? That is what’s holding you back? I don’t care about age Mish.”

“Maybe not now, but in 10 or 20 years maybe. I’m not settling for less. I don’t want my kids to go through something like the divorce again.” Y/N was surprised “Neither do I, you think I will settle down for les? Misha soon I’m going to be 30, no husband no family...” But he didn’t let her finish “Family, another thing, I have kids, you want kids of your own, you said that before. I’m too old to have another baby. You want to get married, I’m not sure I want to, again.” - “So, basically you made a decision for me of what I want, without talking to me about it?” Y/N said frustrated and hurt. “Maybe I’m willing to give some things up, or we could find another solution.” “Y/N, I don’t want you to give up anything for me.” He hugged her “I talk to you soon.” And left through the door.

It had been two weeks, Y/N and Misha didn’t meet up or called each other. Y/N had texted him a few times, but his response was short and cold. Her calls stayed unanswered.

Y/N:” Are you still mad at me?”

Mish:”Never was.”

Y/N: ”Can we talk?”

Mish:”No time.”

Y/N: “Mish please, I miss you...”

Jensen saw the texted messages between them, he had noticed Misha being less happy off stage than he was the last couple of months. And whenever there was a question about Y/N he kept his mouth shut. “Dude, I’m serious, pick up your phone and call her!” - “And tell her what? I’m sorry I've been avoiding you?” - “For starters, yes. I don’t get it, you like her, she likes you. You both live in the same town, when you talk about her, we all see the Misha we’ve been missing the months before, during and after your divorce.” Jensen added. “There is more to it than liking each other.” Misha answered his friend. “Like, my kids, the age difference.” Jensen rolled his eyes. “Age difference... Stop pretending she is underaged, Misha she turned 28 last month. Y/N clearly doesn’t care, and your kids love her! Listen, all we want is for you to be happy.” He placed his hand on Misha’s shoulder. “And you are happy when you are with her.” But even then, he shakes his head no, he couldn’t believe Y/N loved him that much.

Y/N’s phone buzzed, like a teenager she ran towards it, a text from Jensen. Y/N sighs while opening the message.

Jay:“I tried to talk to him. He is stubborn.”

Y/N:” You know? What did he say?”

Jay:”He didn’t say much, but I’m not blind, he needs time to see that what he feels isn’t a bad thing.”

Y/N: ”I just what my friend back Jay. If he doesn’t want more that is fine for me.”

Jay:”I'm not giving up yet.”

Y/N: “Thanks Xx.”

Another week radio silent. Y/N had tried to call him a couple of times, but he never answered.

Misha was desperately trying to hold on to the thought that if he stayed away for long enough, she would find someone, fall in love and be happy. Then they could both move on. But Jensen’s words lingered in his mind, and he was right. His kids love Y/N, she made them laugh, played in the garden with them and even took them to the carnival when Misha had to work from home. She took care of him and his kids while he wasn’t his best.

After thinking and doubting he took is phone to call her. But instead, he saw a notification of TMZ first with the headline. “ Y/N Y/L/N/ single no more?” Misha felt his stomach turn, the first thing he saw was a picture of Y/N with Karl walking out of a restaurant, and other one laughing, having a few beers at a pub in London, her face close to his while he was saying something to her. She seemed to have a great time with him. He opened the article to read.

Last night Y/N Y/L/N (28) and Karl Urban (51) were spotted having a romantic time in downtown London.

Both actors were spotted at a restaurant and later in a pub having a few drinks clearly enjoying each other's company. An inside source told us that the young actress is enjoying her single life even though she is ready to settle down with the right man.

In her latest interview Y/N told LAD bible she didn’t care about age, is this her way of proving her words? Maybe she was referring to Karl all along!

The actress clearly likes her man slightly older, let us not forget she has been seen often with Misha Collins (49) in LA, although they confirmed their relationship to be strictly friendship, Urban and Y/L/N haven’t confirmed nor denied the rumours yet. But the chemistry between the two is inevitable, as you can see in the interview with both actors down below.

Misha closed his phone, feeling bad, he thought seeing her moving on would make it easier for him to let her go. But instead, he felt awful.

And to top it all off, Karl posted a week later a recap of the press tour they did, on Instagram. Misha scrolled through the pictures stopping when he saw one were Y/N and Karl were holding each other in a side hug, and another one, were Karl stood behind her, he had his arm around her neck, Y/N sticking her tongue out, they lifted their middle finger and winked at the camera. With the caption Love this city – Y/N had reacted ... Love these people.

When he clicked on to her page, she had also posted pictures with the cast. And another one with Karl, laughing extremely hard a little blurry and the “good picture” were they posed on the red carpet in front of the boys logo, with the caption: No one will ever be as entertained by us as us with a little red heart. Karl’s comment: Admit it... Life would be boring without me. Misha noticed all the reactions from fans how much they loved her, how cute they were. It was too much to see.

Y/N got back to LA, really glad she decided to go on press tour, she told Karl about what happened, and as a good friend he made sure she forgot about Misha every now and then. But once home her feelings came running back, she got tired of him ignoring her, if he really didn’t want to see or hear her again, he at least has to have the balls to tell her in her face. Today she had a quiet day, she took her car and drove up to Misha’s house, he wasn’t home, but she had time. Y/N waited at the front door, she could see his car parked outside on the driveway, so he wasn’t far away.

Misha returned all sweaty from his run, being surprised when he saw Y/N sitting on the steps. “What are you doing here?” He asked out of breath. “Well, seems like my best friend is hiding from me, though I come and find him.” She answered trying to sound happy. “I don’t think I’m the one hiding things.” He said walking inside. “What do you mean?” Y/N followed. “Checked TMZ yet?” He asked while handing her his phone with the article. “Seriously Mish? Is that why you have been avoiding me? First off, Karl is a friend, a good one trying to lift me up when you were acting all weird.” Y/N said, “And second how could I have been able to explain this or keep you up to date if you don’t answer your phone?! And since when do you believe TMZ?”

“I am so sorry Y/N, I feel like an idiot.” Misha said when he saw that Y/N’s reaction was honest, “Well, you should.” Y/N answered trying not to smile. “You were jealous, weren’t you?” He didn’t answer that question. “I’m sweaty, that’s what I am. And in about 15 minutes will West and Maison be here from school, and I still haven't showered or prepared food yet.” Y/N nodded. “Go take a shower, I’ll prepare a snack for them.” She took the towel slapping his ass with it playfully.

After the shower Misha came down in his sweatpants and t-shirt, hearing his kids arrive, they were thrilled to see her again. “Your dad is taking a shower, are pancakes ok?” Of course, he didn’t think they would say no to that! “So how was your day?” Y/N asked not noticing Misha was looking at them in the kitchen. Maison wanted to help Y/N, while West was telling her about his day. Like a pro Y/N multitasked her way through baking, listening and watching Maison not getting burned. It felt like a dream to him. Maybe she does belong here with us.

After a while Y/N noticed Misha watching, she winked at him which brought him back to earth. “Pancakes?” She asked while he greeted his kids who were already sitting at the table. After dinner Y/N helped with the dishes while the kids were doing their homework. “Well, I better get going.” She said while folding the towel. Before Misha could change his mind, he pulled her into a hug. “Thank you for today, I’m glad we talked.” Y/N wrapped her arms around him, answering his affection. “Thanks for listening to me.” Misha let go “You know, you don’t have to leave.” Y/N looked at him not fully understanding what he meant. “The kids need to get to bed soon, but maybe, if you like, we can watch a movie together like old times?” “I would love that.”

All four of them watched a show the kids loved to watch, and even though Maison wanted to act like a big grown girl around her father, she asked Y/N to cuddle on the couch. Misha noticed how his little girl placed her head on Y/N’s lap while she moved her fingers through Maison’s hair and still be focussed on the screen. Misha didn’t want to move his kids, but it was way past bedtime. “Come on guys, time to go to bed.” With a little whining they left, West gave Y/N a good night hug before following his dad up the stairs. “Good night, buddy.” He heard her say.

“Dad, I like it when Y/N is here.” West told him while he tucked him in. “She makes you happy. Misha smiled at his son not knowing how to react. Before he went down, he dropped by his daughter's room. “All set? Ready to go to bed?” She hummed agreeing. He kissed her good night and went down trying not to rush himself. “Oh, great your back.” Y/N said while walking out of the kitchen, holding a bowl of popcorn. “What movie were you thinking about?” “Comedy?” he asked her approval before taking his seat next to her. “Great!”

While watching the movie Misha noticed Y/N curling up against him and shiver. “Cold?” he asked her, “Yeah, actually a little.” “Wait.” he paused the movie “Let me grab a blanked.” throwing it over them. Not long after he noticed Y/N’s head lowering on his shoulder, she fell asleep. He moved his arm so that her head would rest on his chest. Y/N woke up startled.” Oh my god Mish, I’m so sorry.” She said embarrassed. “Come here.” He still pulled her in close, kissing the temple of her head, moving his hand over her shoulder and arm. His touch felt good, soft yet strong, but most of all safe. Y/N could hear his heart beating faster, she looked up at him locking eyes with his soft blue gaze. Slowly Misha closed the space between them, holding her cheek with one hand, his lips finding hers. He gave them a soft peck, looking for any hesitation from her. Y/N’s eyes had this little glister in them. She kissed him back with the same softness, she smiled moving a little closer, placing her head back on to his chest, so that they both sat comfortably watching the movie. The last thing she wants was to rush things, scaring Misha away again.

Y/N felt Misha’s hand slip under the blanket, stroking her side and hip, his thumb accidently touching the side of her breast a few times. She looked up at him, it was clearly not his intention, he was still focussed on the tv. But little did he know that those small touches made her burn up. All she wanted was more of his hands over her, kissing those perfect lips. So, to control herself she buried her face a little more in his shirt, letting out a deep breath. Misha noticed her hand clenching the fabric of his shirt, it took him a second to realise what he was doing, so he held his hand still. But hearing her deep breaths turned him more on than he would have thought.

He couldn’t focus anymore, he started to daydream about her moans if he would actually touch her. So, he became a little bolder and stroke the side of her breast again, this time watching her reaction while kissing her head. Y/N looked up again to see his blue eyes darkened this time with lust. He kissed her lips with more passion, his tongue asking permission to enter her mouth. Her tongue following his. And when she pulled back for air, he lifted her on his lap. Her body on his, her knees straddling him but still covered under the warmth of the blanked. His hands moved to her back crawling under her shirt meeting her soft skin.

Her hands lingered on his shoulders, moving one slowly up his neck into his hair, without losing touch of the kisses they shared. Misha’s hand moved down to her bottom, kneading over her jeans making her whimper silently. His lips found their way to her neck, Y/N tilted her head giving him all the space to kiss and softly nip. Misha felt like a teen again, one who was so full of hormones and love drunk making out with his girl in the back of his car. But fully aware he was at home, giving in to the pleasures he wanted to taste all those months ago. And it felt good, even the smallest touch.

Y/N felt his erection growing and even though she was desperately trying not to move to fast, to wait for his lead she couldn’t help but grind against his hips, she wanted more friction. Misha growled against her ear holding her hips, pushing her closer asking her with his touch to do it again. So, she did, Y/N started to move slowly, both could hear their breaths getting heavier, filling the room with soft moans that were silenced with their kisses. Misha’s hands moved up over her thighs to her shirt, pulling it over her head, leaving his hands on her breast, kneading softly. He looked at her through his lashed while he kissed them all over, before his hand undid her bra. He looked at her like a man possessed, his lips and tongue found her hardened nipple, toying her with his other hand still kneading her right breast.

“Oh Mish....” She moaned holding his head, her fingers twisted in his hair. Y/N moved her hand down over his body, moving it in between them, finding his erection palming it over his trainers. Misha let go of her breast while he moaned against her. “Fuck...” He breathed out. Y/N let herself slip in between his legs, pulling his pants and underwear down. Her hands moved back up over his thighs, wrapping her hand around the shaft pumping slow, while her lips left kisses around his pelvis. Making him moan and growl her name, wanting to feel more of her. Y/N first kissed the tip of his dick, tasting his precum on her lips. She slowly lowered her head over him licking the tip. Misha’s breath hitched feeling her warm lips working their way down.

After she made him moan her name more than a few times she got up. Undressed in front of him, she would see the fire in his eyes burn. Knowing that if he wasn’t so turned on, he would feel embarrassed to stare at her, but his eyes took in every inch of her body while taking of his own shirt. Their naked bodies found each other again, Y/N again straddling his hips, but before she could lower herself on him, he stroked his hands between her thighs, feeling her wetness on her upper thigh close to her slit. He hummed delighted to know he cost it. His fingers toying her, making her head fall back, he entered her, first one finger then two slowly pumping, curling to find that one spot that would drive her crazy, she couldn’t help but to move her hips with him in rhythm, making him touch take soft spot inside her. “Oh Misha... although this feels.... Oh, so good... I need... More.” She managed to say between moans and breaths.

Misha let go of her, Y/N grinded against him a few more times, making sure his dick was coated before entering her. He lined himself up against her, locking eyes. He wanted to see her face while he bottomed out. “So beautiful.” He said while watching her expression. Kissing her collarbone while she slowly started to move up and down. She placed her hands behind him on the couch while his hands were guiding her, kneading the flesh of her bottom. Their lips not leaving each other's. The air was filled with moans and the sound of their bodies moving together.

Misha noticed the coil in his stomach building, he turned her around, and placed her on her back. Hovering above her naked body, taking her wrists in his hand moving them above her head. Kissing her neck again before re-entering her soaking core. Y/N could feel his trusts getting harder, stroking along that one spot inside. Not long after she started to tighten around his dick, moaning and whining his name is his ear, trying to keep quiet, unable to hold him close to her. Misha thrusted through her orgasm trying to make it last as long as possible. But he felt his own coming up again faster than anticipated he came inside her with one last thrust.

Misha lifted himself a little, letting go of her wrists, but still hovering over her. Softy and passioned kissing her lips before locking eyes with her. Neither said a word but enjoyed each other’s touch and company. “Mish... as much as I love cuddling with you. I really need to use the bathroom now.” Y/N said a little embarrassed. “Oh yeah sure, you know where it is right?” Y/N got quickly up put on her panties and a shirt to refresh herself, when she came back Misha had already put on his pants. He was folding the blanket. “I was thinking we best head upstairs, the bed lays better.” He said while walking up to her giving Y/N a kiss. She hummed “Well and I don’t want to fall asleep here and getting waked by the kids in the morning... seeing me half naked.” She laughed

Once in bed Misha held Y/N in his arms. “Please tell me you won’t regret this.” Y/N asked him, hoping this was the start of something and not a one-time thing. “I’ve been thinking about you, us for so long now, letting you close to me, was a calculated move.” He kissed her head letting out a chuckle. “But I had no idea it would get so hot and heavy so quick.” They both started laughing trying to stay quiet, not to wake the kids. “But no, I won’t regret this.”

“Good because I’m not planning on letting you run off again.” She said.

If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

#fanfic #fluff #smut #spn #supernatural #misha collins #spn smut #spnedit #lovers #y/n #x reader #jensen ackles #karl urban #the boys amazon

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skylarsblue · 25 days

Text

★Bittersweet Discussions★

✭Red Dead Redemption✭

★Fem!Reader, use of Y/N, mention of Isaac & Eliza's death, attempted mugging, mention of abusive family, trauma bonding(?), hurt comfort, mostly fluff though. Same universe as ★Sugar Cube★ because I'm stuck on them. Not proof-read.★

It was a bit upsetting leaving Valentine, it was a pleasant town with a lot of charm, but it was clearly getting a bit too hot. Rumors of Leviticus Cornwall and Pinkertons swarming around were cause for concern, so the time left in the area was limited, ticking down quickly. Which is what prompted Y/N to practically beg for more excuses to go to town, be it for simple errands or for theft. She wasn’t picky which.

Dutch wasn’t going to decline her want to contribute, not when she’d truly proved how good she was at swindling without bloodshed. But, he didn’t trust her all that much. She supposed it was fair, she hadn’t been around too long, and when they found her, she was essentially a damsel in distress. She wasn’t too concerned in proving herself to the man either. That odd, foreboding feeling he brought with him never left. Though, she managed to hide her skeptical glances whenever he’d get into a speech.

Arthur mentioned it once, and she felt what he said rang very true. Dutch had a gift for speaking. She held her tongue, but she couldn’t help but agree. He had the gift of speech, and that was really it. A lot of words that sounded relevant or full of purpose, but when she truly listened, it felt aimless. Walking in circles. It was a lot of mannerisms that commanded respect and big words of empty encouragement, things that made him sound like a level-headed leader. She’d met men like that before. Mostly preachers. Not that Dutch was a holy man, Lord no.

That aside, she’d managed to grab a few wallets and pieces of expensive accessories on the outskirts of Valentine. Mostly by acting like she needed help. She felt a bit guilty when a stranger was particularly nice, but it was a matter of survival. It went smoothly, but if it hadn’t, she could’ve handled it on her own. And even if she couldn’t, her shadow, a couple yards behind her at any given time, made her feel safe.

Arthur Morgan, on his dusty colored Clysdale mare, hand often hovering on his holster. Watching carefully from a distance. He’d had plenty of adrenaline spikes that day, watching her act so well. Maybe she’d do well in plays. He was sure she’d be quite the sight on a stage, perhaps with a musical element, under bright lights and dressed glamorously.

“Alright, I think we should calm it down now. We’ve gotten lucky but who knows how long that’ll last.” The man commented, leading the horse to walk beside her. Y/N chuckled to herself as she tucked a gold pocket watch into her skirt pocket. “Fair point, sir! We’re close to town anyway. What did we need again?” She questioned, tilting her head up toward him.

Arthur sighed fondly, shaking his head. “You’re the one with the list, sweetheart.” He reminded, looking back down to her. Y/N gazed at him fondly. The brim of his hat left a heavy shadow over his eyes, eyes she found herself dreaming of more often recently. The warm sun radiating over his face, illuminating freckles and smile lines.

“Right, my apologies.” Y/N replied to him, looking for the paper on her person. She wondered if he was aware of how much she liked him. It had to be obvious by now, they had a whole secret language purely for asking for affection. He still asked her for sugar, almost daily. But whatever was between them, it wasn’t labeled. She wondered if it should’ve been, or maybe it would’ve been better to leave it be. It wasn’t like it meant much, putting a word purely to describe the emotions in the air between them.

That, and she was far too nervous to ask.

“Here you go. You tell me where to go, boss.” Y/N held up the list to him, speaking cheerfully. Arthur smiled at her enthusiasm as he took it from her hand. A short list of errands and what to get. “The gunsmith, general store. Somethin’ bout talkin’ to the ranch hands, I guess to scope out if there’s any money floatin’ around the livestock.” He mumbled. He gave her back the list as they approached a hitching post, hopping off Dusty. He patted the mare’s neck and rounded to give Y/N the spending money. “I’ll deal with the ranch stuff, why don’t you try the gunsmith.” It was more a direction than a question, but she didn’t mind. Though her face did express a bit of hesitation. “He might not sell to me. I’ve had that happen before, cause, well,” She paused and made a gesture to her being. Not nearly as done up as when they first met her, but still rather put together. Flowy skirt in a pastel color, the little bow around her neck, hair properly twisted up. “If he gives you any trouble, I’ll handle it.” Arthur patted her shoulder reassuringly. “Right, I forgot. I have a big scary cowboy on my side, what was I thinkin’?” She teased, giggling as Arthur rolled his eyes with a sigh. She straightened out his shirt collar and patted him on the chest. “Let’s get these errands done, I wanna see if we have time to get some food that Pearson didn’t make.” She stepped around him to start toward the gunsmith.

Arthur paused for a moment, watching her walk away. His had raised to graze over his collar, as if he’d get to feel the phantom sensation of her hands. He scoffed at himself, tilting his hat down in a moment of embarrassment. He was growing soft, and the worst part was, he didn’t exactly hate it. It was different, and it was pleasant. Not that he thought this little…crush, or whatever it was, would be enough to completely change the kind of man he was. Wanting to be a gentleman to a kind young lady wasn’t going to make up for years of murdering and theft. It was those factors that made in wholy certain he wasn’t worthy of getting bashful over her attention anyway.

From the second he saw her, she seemed to be the opposite of him, even if time had shown they had quite a few similarities. Hell, she’d killed a man the second he met her. Yet, he couldn’t compare himself to her. Not when she seemed so soft and graceful. Not fragile, no, that wasn’t fitting at all. She’d proven several times to be quite the independent type, be it when it came to standing up for herself or problem solving on the fly. However, her atmosphere reminded him of so many sensitive things.

The feeling of a light breeze on feverish skin, the fur of a kitten, the satisfying burn from a fancy whiskey; the kind that went down real smooth. It wasn’t even limited to when she’d actively interact with him either. Sure, he was particularly taken with her compassionate hands squeezing his shoulder reassuringly after the day had worn away at him. Finding some strange solace in her voice when she said his name so warmly, like it brought her joy to say it. But something about her existence as a whole made him feel that way, it was almost frightening.

Whether she came to him in thought or he watched her from afar, it didn’t matter. There was this anemoia with her presence. He’d never had much of a home, sturdy walls and the safety of a roof. But she felt like that, or, he thought so anyway. However a home was described to feel like, that’s what it was. Though he recognized he wouldn’t really know since he had yet to experience it, and he knew he likely never would.

He’d felt fondness and love for women, and others, before. Some more brief than others. Each time, there was a familiar thread that connected the feeling, so he could recognize it.

This time was truly different though. Why, he wasn’t sure. He’d tried to think about it, weigh it to past experiences. He wasn’t keen on being left in the dark when it came to anything, much less his own feelings. He’d failed though. All that ended up happening last time was he’d zoned out and came back too having drawn her face in his journal. Again.

At the very least, he liked her, a lot. Arthur felt his cheeks burn, no doubt red, much to his dismay. He rubbed his face with both his hands, continuing to walk as he groaned quietly to himself. He wasn’t old per say, but he felt too old to be acting so callow. Like he was a teenager again. Easily flustered and giddy over the smallest things. He shook his head at his foolishness, dropping his arms, but keeping his gaze at the ground. He inhaled, steeling himself, raising his head.

“Hey mister!”

“Oh son of a-“ Arthur turned and was met with the sight of a gun barrel. There was no Irish accent from this man or his companion, though they didn’t sound local either. He sighed as the stranger pulled back the hammer, finger on the trigger. The one aiming the gun was a pale man, dark hair and eyes, clean shaven and probably not much older than himself. His accomplice seemed younger, still carrying some youthful glow in his cheeks that was oddly unmatched by an unkempt beard. Arthur blinked slowly, looking at the gun. He raised his hands, though his face portrayed an aloof expression, perhaps a bit annoyed.

“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble.” Arthur said. “Save it, cowpoke. You speak when spoken to, ya hear?” The gunsman spat. Arthur didn’t hide his face of disgust when he saw some spit leave the man’s lips with the conviction he spoke, thankfully not hitting him. Still gross though.

“I want everythin’ you got, or I shoot you where you stand. Got it?” The stranger demanded. Arthur gritted his teeth. “I ain’t got much to give.” He replied, much to the mugger’s annoyance.

“If you wanna do this the hard way-“ The man and his friend flinched when a woman’s voice broke through the air. Arthur felt his heart sink when he recognized the melodic sound. He looked over his shoulder, as did his adversaries. Sure enough, not too far behind him, the sugary-sweet rabbit he’d rode into town with approached. Her eyes wide with worry, her hands clasped in front of herself.

“Don’t interfere, woman!” The younger man shouted. “We’re doing some private business here, so move along.” He pulled out his own gun now, clicking the safety off,

Arthur felt his heart go from his stomach to his throat, blood rushing in quick bursts in his ears. She moved recklessly toward them, in front of him. Blocking him with her arm whilst shouting a protest. Of course, their gun’s aim went to her. That was when she used both hands to cover her stomach, and then pleaded again.

Arthur was now just as confused as he was anxious. He looked over at her face. He’d seen her fear stricken face before, how her brows furrowed with worry, how her lip trembled when her eyes watered. Her face expressed worry now, but it was different. It dawned on him very suddenly that she’d pulled this kind of thing before when playing a trick.

She was acting.

“Please, leave him be. Surely there are other people you could steal from!” Y/N pleaded with a whimpering tone. While the younger man didn’t seem to waver, the older of the two seemed to zero in on her defensive stance with her stomach. “We don’t want their money, we want his.” The bearded attacker hissed. “Please, my husband and I are already on hard times as it is. We need to save now more than ever. Just a little mercy, please.” She begged. If it weren’t for him knowing, Arthur would’ve bought the act fully. She really had a talent for it, even if she was using it for thievery. And, well, for saving his skin.

“Lady, what don’t you get?!“ The young man shouted. “Mason, quit!” The elder man sent a swift whack to the back of the other’s head, his gun lowered. Arthur took a step back when feeling Y/N push at him. She gave him a side glance, and it told him enough. He pulled her to him with hands on her shoulders, before wrapping one arm around her torso, turning her to face him. To shield her more.

“Wh- but, you said-“ “We don’t attack expecting mothers, and I ain’t havin’ you widow’er either.”

The act worked, clearly, but Arthur’s quiet demeanor made Y/N feel unnerved. He seemed disturbed in a way, but she couldn’t exactly take a second to ask why. He was playing along, at least, so she kept up her part as the two men holstered their guns. “We’ll be on our way. But I expect you to keep this between us.” Said the leader of the two. “Of course sir, I won’t say a word.” Y/N reassured. With a nod, the man grabbed his accomplice by the back of the vest and dragged him away to their horses. Soon enough, they were far away, and Y/N gave Arthur more space.

She was worried before because of obvious reasons. He’d almost been shot point blank, and that wasn’t great, but he seemed more uncomfortable than she’d expected. He’d had plenty of these situations happen before. She looked him over, his almost detached expression as he adjusted his hat.

“Arthur?” Her voice spooked him for a moment, but he seemed to click back into reality. “Huh?” He blinked. She clasped her hands together, nervously fidgeting with a small ring she wore, twisting it around her finger. “Are you alright? I’m sorry if I messed something up there, I just didn’t know how else to help without shootin’ them.” Arthur blinked slowly before shaking his head and rubbing his eyes with his hand, letting out a long breath. “No, no. You did great. Just uh, the whole…” He motioned vaguely to her stomach and then around at the air, somewhat aimlessly.

“Oh! Oh, right. I figured that would make them back off. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Y/N said. He’d started walking down the dirt path, she followed beside him. His mood had shifted rather dramatically. She’d seen him annoyed, stressed, downright angry. This wasn’t any of those, which was what made her so worried. He seemed borderline melancholy, and she didn’t know why, but to think she caused it made her a bit sick. “You’re alright. It’s just, an uh, sensitive subject I s’ppose.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck while looking at the ground.

That felt more confusing to her, honestly. But she kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t her place to ask, she felt. But Arthur glanced up at her, catching curiosity in her concerned face. There was a lump in his throat that almost seemed to suffocate him. There were very few things he opened up about to most people, especially when it came to things that weighed so heavily on him. He didn’t like bringing up his past, not to others and not to himself. His mind was a stubborn thing and it liked to stick on regrets to the point of making him physically ill. Arthur never handled emotions well, so he’d learned to avoid them for the most part. Not for his comfort, but for his survival.

But she looked so worried, and the air around her was so warm. Arthur looked at her face again and felt his shoulders loosen. He inhaled, holding his breath for a moment, before letting it out in one big huff. The silence stretched a bit longer as they slowly meandered down the dirt path, the air a bit tense. Before he finally unclenched his jaw and opened his mouth to speak, without planning what he’d say. And out it spilled.

“I had a son once.” Arthur said plainly. Y/N’s eyes widened and she almost let her mouth fall agape. She held back her surprise though, not wanting to be rude. She stepped a bit closer though, but kept her hands to herself. “I was young, so was the girl. A waitress I met in a town, lovely girl. I was…reckless, selfish. I knew I didn’t want to stay committed to her but I got’er pregnant.” He explained. He kept his gaze down, whether it was because he was ashamed at the past or that he was admitting sensitive things, she didn’t question. Just listened.

“I wanted to do right by’em. Or, maybe I told myself that to make myself feel less guilty.” He shrugged. “I didn’t stick around, but I didn’t completely leave either. I’d come around when I could to help. Felt it was the least I could do, support’em. I helped make the boy, ya know?” The question was rhetorical but she nodded to show she was listening. This felt so intense and heavy, and she had the distinct feeling the story wasn’t a happy one.

Arthur ran a hand down his face and looked up at the sky before continuing. “At one point, I considered sticking around a little more permanently. Not get hitched to her or nothin’, she deserved better than me, obviously. But Dutch wanted to move further West and I couldn’t take them with me.” He cracked his jaw, clenched his teeth. His nose scrunched up. “Go on, son. Pick what life you want. You can settle down, go soft, force yourself to be a father. Or, you can come with the family who accepted you. Be my guest. That’s what Dutch said to me.” He huffed.

“That’s a terrible thing to say in that situation!” Y/N suddenly spoke, outraged at the callousness. Arthur found himself smiling faintly at her rage. It felt cathartic to have someone on his side, even if it was far too late. “Yeah, never quite got over that. But…I was barely twenty, and, I didn’t know what to do. Dutch raised me and I wasn’t exactly sure how to be a good man.” He grew sad so quickly again. He hit his left palm with his right fist a few times, a nervous tick she’d noticed he had. He seemed to have a lot of them, actually.

“I left, for a long time this time. I didn’t forget ‘bout’em. Though, I remember telling myself they’d be better off without me anyway. To make it easier on myself, as if I deserved that.” He whispered the last part while looking down at his feet. Y/N’s hand reached over to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. They both came to a stop at a bench in front of the post office, the area barely populated and the sun on its way to set. She subtly guided him to sit down, still listening intently.

Arthur bounced his leg, leaning back to rest against the wall. He swallowed. “Well uh, I came back one day. The place was empty, but the backyard had uhm…two crosses.” His voice grew a bit hoarse. Y/N’s heart broke as she watched him force his face to stay as cold as possible, eyes facing the sky, as if trying to escape into it. “Oh Arthur…” She said in a hushed tone. He rolled the joint of his jaw again, biting his tongue. It weighed so heavily on him and it showed, that was precisely why he didn’t talk about it.

He looked over when he felt Y/N’s hand gently grab his forearm, caressing the skin with her thumb. Her gaze made his muscles loosen, and while the ache of guilt and regret was heavy on his chest, he found himself able to breathe still. It wasn’t suffocating.

“I couldn’t possibly understand what that’s like.” She let her hand fall back into her lap, not realizing how much he ached for the contact once it was gone. She looked around and searched her brain for what to say. It was something so heavy, so she wanted to treat it seriously. Though, she also knew a heavy atmosphere made Arthur itch to run away. He wasn’t a coward, but he wasn’t fond of the feeling. She patted her lap a bit awkwardly. “I mean, the closest thing I guess I could think of was realizing I lost my brother. But, he’s alive, not- I dunno, why am I even trying to relate? I just,” She awkwardly stammered. “I want you to know I hear you, so I’m trying to relate, but I- I can’t. And I shouldn’t be trying, I’m sorry.” She cringed.

Arthur let out a breathy laugh. “I get it. Thank you.” He reassured, watching her deflate in relief. She handled it clumsily, but the sentiment reached him all the same. She rubbed her hands together, still feeling timid about approaching the topic. She wanted to comfort him, ease the pain, but this kind of situation wasn’t something she could fix with a “good job” and a hug. The woman squeezed her hands together before looking him over, hoping her sympathy conveyed in her face. “I thought of something to say, but I don’t know if it’ll actually help as I intend for it too.” She admitted.

Arthur raised his hand in an encouraging motion. “No, go ‘head. I wanna hear what you have to say.” He nodded. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, inhaling slowly.

“I think…I think you would be a great father, all things considered.” She whispered. It was genuine, truly. She believed it fully too, and she could only pray it came across. Maybe back then he was young and reckless, but she could see how well he’d do now. From the way he handled the gang, how he talked to Jack like the boy was his own, a leader and while he could be stubborn and gruff, he had the softness important for child development. He felt like a family man, a good one. She’d told him that before, but she wanted to make sure it stuck.

Arthur rubbed his palms on the fabric of his pants as the words hit him in the chest. He clicked his tongue, allowing himself to smile slightly. “I ‘ppreciate that.” He replied softly. Y/N reached over and squeezed his arm again, smiling at him with so much kindness, it lessened the load of the world again. “I appreciate you trusted me enough to tell me, I don’t imagine it's easy to share.” Her words made him nod again. “It ain’t, and I usually don’t. But you…” He admired her face again. “You’re easy to talk to, I guess.” The woman lit up at that. She’d always enjoyed being told she was nice to be around, that her efforts to make those who cared comfortable to be vulnerable around her worked. It was rare she got an outright confirmation that it was working, it made her feel warm and fuzzy.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual.” She chimed in, making him look up, brow raised and prompting her to elaborate. “I mean it! I know I might seem naive sometimes, but I’m quite the good judge of character. And you,” She nudged him with her arm playfully. “You’re a good man. I think I’ve explained why before.” He chuckled at that, feeling blood rush to his face as he recalled the night at the hotel. It was a completely innocent night, but a powerful one, which he’d found himself thinking back to it often. Though, saying he wished to feel her dainty hands running over his skin again didn’t sound like something a gentleman would say, even if it was true.

Arthur shook his head but he was smiling regardless. “I have a feeling you won’t let me argue.” He said, and she gave a confirmative hum. “I’ve met plenty of people in this world, and plenty that superficially act like you. But what makes you different is you feel, well, safe.” She explained. She’d felt awkward before, but saying this, she felt no shame. It was the truth and she wanted him to know it. She appreciated the shades of blue in his eyes in the warm sunlight as she spoke, truly adoring the little details she noticed. Every freckle and line in his skin. “Safe? Me?” Arthur challenged genially. “Yes sir, you. There aren’t many men in this world that have the feeling you do. Like…like walking into a blanket warmed by a fire, after a long walk in the cold.”

The outlaw scoffed and looked away, his elbow resting on his knee, hiding the lower half of his face in his hand. “I mean it!” She insisted, resting her hand on his shoulder. Had her hand drifted upward, just slightly, she’d be able to feel the speed of his pulse in his neck. Rapid and stuttered. Desperate to compose himself, he looked for a way to change the subject, lest he say something he’d regret or melt into the ground beneath him. “Well, I told you about me.” He sat up straight again, clearing his throat as he looked her in the eye again. “Care to share your own? You mentioned your brother. Wouldn’t mind lendin’ an ear, if you’re willin’ to share.” He said.

Y/N’s mood shifted a bit, and Arthur regretted his attempt at removing the attention from himself, until she prepared herself to speak. “It’s nothing like what you went through, he isn’t dead or anything, just…different.” She explained. Picking at her nails for a moment, she recalled her past. Her father was a mean man, that wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard. But he wasn’t the only member of her family, just the head of it. Her mother was sweet, though, the woman seemed to favor the baby boy she’d given birth to over her daughter. That was a fact Y/N sometimes recalled with bitterness but considered herself mostly healed from. Her cousin came to stay with them later on in life, he wasn’t great from the start, but she didn’t exactly consider him family regardless. Even if others around her went to calling him her brother pretty quickly. But her brother, that always stung a bit more.

“Walter, my younger brother, used to be the sweetest boy. After he was born, my mother got sick, so she couldn’t really care for either of us properly. My father was no good at it, speaking from experience, so I tried to step up.” Y/N explained, shifting her position on the bench for more comfort. “It wasn’t easy, but, after my mother got better I didn’t want to just leave him to the two of them. I liked caring for him, and even though he was a baby, it felt like he actually appreciated what I did.” She laughed at the sentiment. It sounded far more pathetic out loud, seeking validation from the innocent clinginess of a baby. “From the start, he wouldn’t let go of me. Swore up and down I was his favorite person, the best sister to ever live! I held onto that a lot. Especially when he started having a voice of his own, he used to defend me from my father a lot. I know that wasn’t easy. A young man trying to get his father to respect a lady, his rebellious daughter no less.”

Y/N paused as she recalled the various instances of this. How conflicted it’d make her feel, watching the boy she practically raised have to defend her to their actual parents. He did it so valiantly too, even when it caused more grief for himself. Things she wanted to keep him from. Being a punching bag didn’t bother her as much as seeing her brother’s young face contorted in distress and anger. However, being defended after so long felt nice too. It brought a sense of guilt with the comfort, to know someone cared enough to stand up for her against at the expense of themselves, but that last part was what made her sick.

She sighed. “Then, I guess as he got older, my father’s influence seemed more appealing. I mean, my father was a greedy man, but a successful one. Even if most of his earnings came from me.” Arthur watched as the air around her grew somber, and he felt a stabbing in his chest as her mouth formed a frown. For someone with a smile so sugary sweet, her frown put an acrid, bitter taste in the back of his mouth. “He started agreeing with my father more, pulling away from me. I practically raised the boy but as time went on, he seemed like a stranger. I held onto hope that maybe something would break, that he’d go back to how he was.” She shook her head. “Then one day, my father was goin’ on about how ungrateful I was. How I’d be sorry when he finally gave me away. My brother, fifteen then, came in after hearing the shouting.” She leaned back, staring into the ground with a solemn expression.

“For once, I looked and asked him to help. I had never done it before, but, I was so tired. I wanted someone in my corner and I thought, maybe if he saw how much it was hurting me, he would defend me again.” Y/N raised her hand to her hair, fussing with it a bit, something she did when she wanted to soothe herself. Arthur had seen her do it when arguments broke out between people in the gang or when Miss Grimshaw scolded her amongst all the girls for “lazing” about. “Then he said; “He’s right. And you should learn that by now.” And it hit me like a train, full force.” She let out a bitter, scoff-like laugh. It was devoid of any joy, and Arthur felt his heart break when she blinked back some water in her eyes. “He wasn’t the boy I raised. And I knew that the hope I’d ever see that little boy again was gone. Really sealed that when he did nothing but nod when my father told me he’d finally sold me off.”

Y/N shook out her hands and pressed her middle finger to the corners of her eyes, sniffling. “Sorry, I went and made this ‘bout me. I didn’t mean to be so selfish.” She apologized. Arthur shook his head and placed a large hand on her back. She exhaled at the light pressure and the pleasant warmth that bled through her clothes. “Don’t apologize. I asked, and it seemed like you’ve been hopin’ someone would listen.” He replied. She hummed, squeezing her hands together. He noted how much closer she was now, practically tucked into his side, and it gave him a sense of solace. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through.” She downplayed, and he let out a noise to cut her off. “That don’t mean nothin’. It’s still hard on you, clearly. Don’t go actin’ like my pain mean you can’t have your own.”

Y/N fought off the urge to swoon under his caring eyes. It didn’t work very well. “Right, thank you, Arthur.” Her voice brought back that warm feeling in his chest, like he’d taken a swig of whiskey. She huffed and patted her lap. “Alright, ya know what, this day has gone sideways.” She stood up suddenly, full of energy as she pivoted to face him, her face bright and cheery once again. The sky behind her had begun to turn pink, the yellows & oranges illuminated her like a halo. “But, we still got time. I say we go enjoy ourselves with the time. I hear the saloon’s got a new dish they’re tryin’ out, and I think you’ve more than earned a whiskey, good sir.” She held out her hand, the other behind her back, standing straight and proud.

Arthur found himself grinning. He reached his hand out, following her guidance to stand up, even if she couldn’t have pulled him if he didn’t allow it. “What happened to those errands?” He questioned teasingly. “We say we ran into some trouble and try again tomorrow, obviously.” Y/N pulled him along, wrapping both her hands around his own to encourage him faster. “C’mon! I’ll pay!” She cheered.

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