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thewolvesofthenorth · 3 days ago

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Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~10k+ Summary: Words are misheard, choices are made, and things begin to unravel. Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining Author’s Note: Sorry it's such a long chapter.😅 This was just really fun to write, and I’m excited for everyone to read it! Just a few more chapters left! Comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated. 🫶

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The morning sun cast a pale light across the grounds, and Cregan found himself walking alongside Sara, his thoughts heavy with the events of the past few days. His mind lingered on the night of the feast two nights ago—the moments he had spent with you, the words he had finally spoken, words that had taken so much to admit.

He had taken your maidenhood that night and spent the hours after confessing his love for you, promising to make things right, and even vowing to give up the North to be with you. But now, as he walked beside Sara, he could not escape the conflict within him. The weight of his promise and his duty to Arra pressed on him, pulling him in two different directions. His chest tightened just thinking about it.

“I must confess something, Sara,” he started, his voice low, almost reluctant.

“Then confess,” she said, already sensing what it was he was going to say.

“The night of the feast… I… I went to see her.”

Sara’s brow furrowed, and her pace slowed. She glanced at him sharply. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“I… I told her that I loved her. I finally told her, Sara,” Cregan confessed. “And – “

“And? How did she respond?”

“Her heard me. She listened, but… I fear that she may not believe my words.”

“Well, of course not. You and I both know why she would think that.” Cregan sighed, the weight of his choices sitting heavily on his shoulders.

“I know, but I want to make things right. I promised her that I would make things right.”

Sara scoffed. “Your promises mean nothing. You have shown that they mean nothing, Cregan. Do you think she would easily forget everything you have done to her? The heartache you have put her through time and time again?”

“I – “

“We have spoken about this before, brother, yet you still cannot fathom the hurt you have caused. And now, you have tainted her. Do you understand what you have done?” Cregan sucked in a breath and looked down at the ground.

“So, you know.”

“Of course I know. She told me of what had happened the morning after, and I must say, you are an idiot. What were you thinking?!”

“I – I do not know. All I know is that I love her, and it took me seeing her at the feast with all those lords, with Cerwyn, for me to realize it.” Sara rolled her eyes at his stupidity and jealousy.

“So, it took you seeing her with another man to realize that you love her? After everything you have put her through?” Cregan did could not reply, knowing his sister was right. It had taken him seeing you happy with someone else that he finally knew what you had been feeling for so long whenever you saw him with Arra.

“I know it was selfish of me,” he sighed, wringing his hands. “I did not mean for it to happen, it just did. I could not help myself. I needed to have her, if just for that one night.”

“Yes, and now you have dishonored her. Should anyone find out, there would be dire consequences. Not only for you, but her as well.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Yes, it was,” Sara affirmed. “You should not have gone to her. You should not have taken her maidenhood and given her false hope.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cregan countered.

“Then what? Speak plainly. My patience is wearing thin.”

“The engagement with Arra… It was a mistake.”

Sara’s expression softened. She knew Cregan well—knew the burden of his responsibilities. And although he made mistakes, she understood the quiet torment he carried.

“You have been torn for some time,” she said gently, her voice a quiet comfort. “Especially after that night.”

“I have tried,” Cregan admitted, his voice strained. “I have tried to convince myself that I could make it work. That I could marry her and be the man I am supposed to be. But deep down, I know… it is not her. It has never been her. And it will never be her. It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

Sara studied him for a long moment, her eyes filled with both understanding and frustration. “Then why have not you ended it?”

Cregan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Do you think I have not thought about it? Do you think I have not woken up and wondered how I let it get this far? It is not that simple, Sara. This marriage is not just about me or her—it is about the North. It is about strengthening alliances, securing the future. If I end it, what happens then? Weakness? Division? I cannot risk that.”

“You mean you will not risk it,” Sara corrected sharply. “Because you are afraid. Afraid of what people will think, afraid of what it will mean for your position as Warden of the North. You are using duty as an excuse to avoid making a choice. You continue to use it as an excuse.”

He glared at her, his jaw tightening. “You think it would be so easy? That I could simply cast aside everything I have been taught, everything I have been raised to believe in? Duty is everything, Sara. Without it, who am I? What am I?”

Sara’s eyes narrowed, her voice laced with quiet indignation. “Is that not what you told her? That you would throw everything away for her? That you would forsake it all—the North, your duty, everything—to be with her?” She shook her head. “You said those words, Cregan. But did you mean them? Or were they just more empty promises made in the heat of the moment?”

He flinched at her accusation, guilt slicing through him. “I meant them,” he said quietly.

“Then why are you still here?” Sara countered. “Why are you still clinging to this engagement, to this sense of duty, if you truly believe she is worth it? You cannot have it both ways, Cregan. Either you meant what you said, or you did not. And if you did not, then you owe her the truth, because she deserves better than your half-measures.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened, the truth of her words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“I want you to be honest, Cregan” Sara said firmly. “With yourself, with Arra, with her. Stop hiding behind your duty and figure out what you truly want. Because right now, all you are doing is making things worse for everyone involved. Do you not see the pattern here? You are so caught up in trying to do what is right that you are doing everything wrong.””

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words would not come. Deep down, he knew she was right. He had been running from the truth for too long, and now it was catching up to him, threatening to swallow him whole.

“Arra also deserves more than this,” Sara continued, her voice gentler now. “She deserves a husband who loves her, who sees her as more than a means to an end. And you? You deserve to be happy, Cregan. But you must make the choice. No one else can do it for you.”

Cregan nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling over him. “I just… I do not know if I am strong enough,” he admitted quietly.

“You are,” Sara said with quiet conviction. “You have to stop running from it. Stop running from yourself. And you had better figure it out soon. Because you will lose her. And this time, you will not get her back, brother.”

The words echoed in his mind, the same words Cerwyn had spoken to him. He had not wanted to admit it, but the truth was undeniable. Now, more than ever, he realized that he could not keep making excuses. Cerwyn had been right. And Sara, despite her harsh words, was right as well.

It was time to stop running.

“I know what I must do.”

The morning air was frigid, biting against your skin as you balanced the bundle of firewood in your arms. The stables were quiet, but your thoughts were anything but. You had spent the past two days trying to make sense of everything—of Cregan’s promises, his confessions, and the turmoil he had left in his wake.

Your ears caught the sound of voices drifting across the yard. You had not intended to listen, but the tone of Sara’s voice—sharp and cutting—drew your attention. You turned your head slightly, heart sinking as you recognized the low timbre of Cregan’s voice.

“It is not her. It has never been her. And it will never be her. It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

For a moment, a sliver of doubt crept into your mind. Was there a chance that you had misheard him? Perhaps it was not as it seemed—maybe he had meant something else, maybe there had been some misunderstanding. The hope flared for the briefest of moments, like a flicker of warmth in the cold. But then it crushed you as reality set in, and all the doubts vanished. It was no misunderstanding. You had heard his words correctly.

Your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat. Your hands suddenly grew cold, the firewood slipping from your arms and clattering to the ground.

Cregan had never truly loved you.

It was all a mistake.

The weight of those words crushed your chest as you stood frozen, stomach tightening with a surge of anguish. You thought of his promise that he would choose you, that he would make things right between you. You had believed him, trusted him. But now it seemed that all of it had been nothing but a lie. Just like before. And you had been a fool to hope differently.

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. No. You could not allow yourself to be vulnerable again, not after everything you had already been through. Cregan had made his decision, and now you had to make yours.

You forced yourself to move, to gather the fallen firewood despite the shaking in your hands. Each piece you picked up felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding as though trying to escape your chest. The cold air stung your cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside you.

You could not stay here. Not now. Not after hearing those words. Without thinking, your feet carried you away from the stables, away from the sound of Cregan and Sara’s voices. You did not know where you were going—only that you needed space, air, something to dull the storm raging within you.

The godswood.

The ancient trees loomed ahead, their branches bare against the winter sky. You stepped into the quiet sanctuary, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound. It was a place you had often come to when the weight of your thoughts grew too heavy, and now, it seemed the only refuge from the chaos in your heart.

You sank to your knees beneath the heart tree, the red leaves stark against the white of the snow. Closing your eyes, you pressed your forehead against the rough bark and let out a trembling breath.

What a fool I have been.

I should have known it meant nothing to him.

That I meant nothing to him.

The memory of Cregan’s touch, his words, his promises—they all burned through you, leaving behind a raw, open wound.

You had wanted to believe him.

Needed to believe him.

But it was clear now that his love—if it could even be called that—was as fleeting as the warmth of the sun in the land of the North.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. Your first instinct was to leave, to avoid whoever it was, but before you could rise, the figure stepped into view.

“Cerwyn.”

The name escaped your lips before you could stop it. He stood there, his expression soft but filled with concern, as though he had been searching for you.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Sara told me you were not at the stables. Are you unwell?”

You looked away, wiping at your face even though no tears had fallen. “I just needed some space to think.”

Cerwyn crouched beside you, his presence steady and grounding. He did not press you to speak, did not ask the questions that you were not ready to answer. Instead, he simply sat there, waiting, offering his quiet support.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Have-have you ever believed in something so much… only to realize that it was never real?”

Cerwyn’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching your face. “I have,” he said after a moment. “And it is a pain I would not wish upon anyone.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing tighter. “I thought I knew him,” you whispered. “I thought… I thought what we had meant something. That I meant something.”

“It does mean something,” Cerwyn said, his voice firm but gentle. “Do not let his mistakes take that away from you. Whatever he said, whatever he did—it does not erase what you feel. That was real, even if he did not deserve it.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warming the parts of you that had felt frozen since this morning. You turned to him, meeting his gaze. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Stay so kind, even when everything around you seems so… cruel?”

Cerwyn gave a small, sad smile. “Because the world is cruel enough without me adding to it. And because you deserve kindness, even if you do not see it right now.”

You let out a shaky breath, lowering your gaze to the snow at your feet. “I do not know what to do anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I could move on. I thought I could be strong enough, but… everything feels so broken. I feel so broken.”

Cerwyn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered your words. “Sometimes, things do break,” he said softly. “And sometimes, no matter how hard you try, they cannot be put back the way they were. But that does not mean they are beyond repair.”

You frowned, your brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to the heart tree behind you, its ancient bark scarred and weathered by time. “Look at this tree,” he said. “It has stood here for generations, living through storms, snow, and fire. It has been marked and scarred, but it still stands. Stronger, even, because it has endured.”

You followed his gaze to the tree, its gnarled roots and branches reaching out in quiet defiance of the elements. For a moment, you let yourself imagine being like that tree—steady, resilient, untouched by the pain of betrayal and heartbreak.

“But what if I am not strong enough?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if I cannot endure this?”

Cerwyn turned to you, his expression earnest. “You are strong enough. You have already survived more than most people could bear. You have stood with your head held high countless times. You will get through this. I know you will.”

His words stirred something in you, a warmth that pushed back against the cold that had settled in your chest. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw not just a friend who had always been kind to you, but someone who had never given up. Someone who saw your pain and did not turn away. Someone who, despite being best friends with the one who broke your heart, in some way had always looked out for you.

“I do not know if I’ll ever be whole again,” you said quietly.

“You do not have to be whole right now,” Cerwyn replied. “You just have to take it one day at a time.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything you had carried lightened just enough to let you breathe. Finally, you turned to him, gathering the courage to voice the thoughts that had plagued you. “Then I must marry,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

Cerwyn’s brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“I have suitors,” you went on. “Lords who have made their interests known. Of course, I have much to consider before making a choice, but… I cannot linger in this place of uncertainty any longer. I must move forward, even if it feels impossible. Cregan has made his choice, and so must I.”

Cerwyn studied you for a long moment, his dark eyes filled with something you could not quite name. “And do you believe that marriage will help you move on?” he asked gently, his voice free of judgment.

“I do not know,” you admitted, your hands twisting nervously in your lap. “But I know that staying here, waiting for a future that will never come, waiting for a man that will never love me the way I love him, will destroy me. I cannot keep holding on to something that was never mine to begin with.”

Cerwyn nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You are wise to think of your future,” he said. “But do not rush into something simply to escape the pain, it will only delay it for a while. Whoever you choose, make sure they are someone who will cherish you. Someone who will fight for you. Someone who will make you happy.”

You felt your throat tighten at his words. “And what if I do not know who that is yet? What if they cannot make me happy no matter how hard they try? No matter how hard I try to be happy?”

Cerwyn’s lips curved into a small, sad smile. “Then take your time. Your heart has been through so much, for so long, but with time, it will heal in its own way. And when it does, you will know what you want—and what you deserve.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the load of your burdens seemed just a little lighter. Cerwyn had always been a steady presence in your life, and now, as you sat beside him beneath the heart tree, you realized how much his support truly meant to you.

“I will try,” you said quietly. “I will try to move on.”

“And you will succeed,” Cerwyn replied, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

You sat in silence for a moment longer, watching as a gentle breeze stirred the branches of the heart tree above. The crimson leaves fluttered like quiet whispers against the pale gray sky, their movement calming in its constancy. For the first time in days, the ache in your chest eased, just a little.

“Cerwyn,” you began, breaking the quiet. “You have always been kind to me. You have stood by me even when… even when I did not deserve it.”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression softening. “You have always deserved kindness. Even on your darkest days.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you had to swallow hard to keep your voice steady. “I just wanted to say… thank you. For everything. For being here when I did not even know I needed someone. For reminding me that I am stronger than I feel. For not judging me for my mistakes.”

Cerwyn’s smile was warm but tinged with a sadness that you could not quite place. “No thanks are needed” he said softly. “I only did what any friend would do.”

Friend.

The word settled in your chest, both comforting and bittersweet. There was a part of you that wanted to reach for him, to let his unwavering presence steady you through the storm of your emotions. But another part of you hesitated, unsure if you were ready to open your heart again—to anyone.

“I do not know what the future holds,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “But I want to believe that it will get better. That I can… rebuild. That I can one day heal.”

“It will get better,” Cerwyn said firmly. “And when it does, I am certain you will find the happiness you deserve.”

You nodded, letting his words settle over you like a protective cloak. “I hope so too.”

Cerwyn’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more. But whatever it was, he kept it to himself, rising to his feet and brushing the snow from his cloak.

“Shall I walk you back to the keep?” he asked, offering you his hand.

You hesitated for a moment, then reached up to take it. His hand was warm and steady, grounding you in a way that surprised you. “Thank you,” you said softly, allowing him to help you to your feet.

The two of you walked in companionable silence, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound between you. As you approached the keep, you could not help but glance back over your shoulder at the heart tree, its ancient branches standing resolute against the cold winter sky.

Cerwyn caught your movement and followed your gaze. “It is a good tree,” he said, his tone light but thoughtful. “A reminder that even in the harshest of winters, life finds a way to endure.”

You smiled faintly, the corners of your mouth lifting despite the heaviness still lingering in your chest. “I think I will come back here,” you said quietly. “When I need to think.”

“It will be here,” Cerwyn replied, his voice steady. “As will I.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet conviction in his words. There was no expectation in his tone, no pressure—just an unspoken promise that you were not alone. And for the first time in a long while, that thought brought you a measure of comfort.

As you stepped inside the warmth of the keep, the heavy wooden doors closing behind you, you realized that while the path ahead was still uncertain, you were not walking it alone. And perhaps, for now, that was enough.

The low hum of activity in the kitchens greeted you as you stepped inside, your stomach growling softly. The warmth of the hearth and the scent of fresh bread were a welcome reprieve from the cold, and for a moment, you let yourself savor the simplicity of it. You had spent so much time dwelling on heavy thoughts that you had barely noticed your own hunger.

Reaching for a warm roll from the counter, you heard the distant sound of horses outside. Curious, you moved to the small window above the worktable, brushing aside the frost on the glass to peer outside. In the courtyard below, a group of riders was preparing to leave.

Your breath caught when you spotted Cregan among them, his familiar form unmistakable even in the muted light of the overcast morning. He was already mounted, his posture straight and proud despite the evident tension in his shoulders. Cerwyn was there too, speaking to one of the other hunters, but your eyes lingered on Cregan.

For all the turmoil he had caused you, for all the pain he had left in his wake, you could not stop yourself from looking. Watching him felt like pressing a hand to an old wound, testing the ache to see if it still hurt. It did. More than you wanted to admit. But a piece of you still felt the undeniable heat of love for him. Regardless of what he had said to Sara. Your heart wanted him, but you knew you could never have him. Not anymore.

He shifted in the saddle, his hand adjusting the reins as if preparing to ride out. You told yourself to look away, to turn your attention back to the kitchen and the simple act of eating your roll. But your feet were rooted to the floor, your gaze refusing to leave him.

As if sensing you watching him, Cregan suddenly turned. His head tilted slightly, his eyes sweeping the courtyard before locking onto yours. For the briefest of moments, the two of you were frozen, caught in the silent tension that had been building for so long. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes held something raw, something that made your chest tighten.

What could he possibly be thinking?

Panic set in, and you quickly ducked below the window, your heart hammering in your chest. You pressed your back against the stone wall, clutching the roll in your hands as if it could ground you. The warmth of the kitchen felt stifling now, your thoughts a tangled mess.

Why had he looked back?

Had he known you were watching?

And worse, had he seen the sadness in your face, the longing you had tried so hard to bury?

Out in the courtyard, Cregan lingered for a moment longer, his stare fixed on the window where you had just been. He felt a pang of something he could not quite name—regret, guilt, loss? Maybe all of it. The heaviness of the past few days bore down on him, and though he knew he should focus on the hunt, he could not shake the image of you from his mind. He needed to speak with you, and soon.

Finally, with a sharp tug on the reins, he turned his horse and rode out with the others, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.

You remained in the kitchen, looking down at the roll in your hands as if it held the answers to the questions swirling in your head. The warmth of the bread had gone cold, much like the fragile hope you had once carried.

Somehow, seeing him look back had made it worse. It was not just the pain of knowing he was engaged to another; it was the lingering thread of connection between you, frayed but unbroken, that refused to let go.

And for the first time in days, you wondered if it ever truly would.

- THE FIRST DAY -

The next day dawned cold and quiet, the absence of Cregan and Cerwyn noticeable in the stillness of the keep. Though the halls bustled with the usual morning activity, there was a strange void, as if their presence had been a thread woven into the daily fabric of life that had suddenly been pulled loose.

You spent most of the morning trying to keep yourself busy, yet no matter what task you turned to, your thoughts were tethered to the sight of Cregan riding away. The way his broad shoulders had squared against the chill, the faint plume of his breath in the frigid air, and, most of all, the look he had given you when your eyes had met lingered in your mind. That fleeting, unreadable glance had stirred something raw and painful within you, a fresh wound atop the scars you thought had begun to heal.

By midday, the air within the keep felt suffocating. You wrapped your cloak tightly around yourself and wandered outside, drawn by the faint light of the winter sun. Snow crunched softly beneath your boots as you made your way to the godswood, the air sharp and crisp against your skin. The heart tree stood as it always did, ancient and steadfast, its red leaves a stark contrast against the white of the snow.

You sat beneath its sprawling branches, leaning back against the gnarled trunk as you stared out at the snow-covered ground. The quiet of the godswood felt like a balm, though it could not fully soothe the turmoil within you. Your breath came in soft puffs, mingling with the stillness around you, as your thoughts turned inward once more.

Cregan’s words to Sara echoed in your mind, sharp and unrelenting.

“It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

You had replayed them a hundred times, each repetition dragging you deeper into doubt. When you had first overheard them, a part of you clung to the hope that he had been speaking of Arra, lamenting the arrangement of marriage to her. But as the hours passed, that hope wavered, replaced by a suffocating fear. What if he had been speaking about you? What if all his promises, all his confessions, had been nothing more than fleeting moments of weakness?

You pulled your cloak tighter around yourself, the cold seeping into your bones. Cregan had once told you he would give up everything for you—the North, his duty, his pride. You had believed him then, believed in the fire in his eyes and the conviction in his voice. But that fire seemed so distant now, snuffed out by the gravity of his decisions.

And yet… that glance. The way he had looked back at you as he rode off. You had felt it, as if his eyes carried all the things he could not say aloud. It was the same look that had once drawn you in, the look that made you feel as though you were the only person who mattered to him. But now, it only confused you. Did it mean he still cared? Or was it simply a reflection of his own guilt, his own regret for what could never be?

Your fingers curled into fists in your lap as you fought against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You wanted to hate him, to turn your back on him as he had seemingly done to you. But you could not. Despite everything, your heart still ached for him, still held on to the memory of the man who had once been your world. Who was still your world. But could not be.

You looked up at the heart tree, its scarred bark and weathered branches a testament to its endurance. It had stood here for generations, battered by storms and blanketed in snow, yet still, it stood. Strong, unyielding. You wanted to be like that tree, to find strength in your scars and endure the storms of your own life. But right now, you felt anything but strong. You felt fragile, as though one more blow might shatter you completely.

Snow began to fall lightly, delicate flakes settling on your hair and cloak. Somewhere out there, Cregan was riding through the woods, his focus likely on the hunt and not on the storm of emotions raging within you. Did he think of you, even for a moment? Or had he truly moved on, as his engagement to Arra seemed to suggest?

Your chest tightened at the thought. You wanted to believe that there was still a part of him that loved you, that regretted the choices that had pulled you apart. But his actions told a different story. And yet… you could not stop hoping, could not stop clinging to the fragile thread that connected you.

“Why could not you have chosen me?” you whispered into the stillness, your voice barely audible over the rustling branches. The words hung in the air, unanswered, fading into the cold.

You tilted your head back against the trunk of the heart tree, staring up at the canopy of red leaves. Part of you wanted to hate him, to let the anger consume the love you still felt. But you could not. You loved him too much, even now, even after everything. And maybe that was the worst part of all—that no matter how much he hurt you, your heart still beat for him, still yearned for him.

You let out a shaky breath, snow falling steadily now, and closed your eyes. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a world where things had been different—where Cregan had chosen you, and you had not been left standing in the cold, discarded and forgotten. But the fantasy slipped away as quickly as it had come, replaced by the stark reality of your situation.

As you opened your eyes, you looked out at the snowy expanse of the godswood, the silence pressing in around you. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed, its cry breaking through the stillness like a reminder that the world moved on, whether you were ready or not.

For now, all you could do was wait. And hope that when the time came, you would find the strength to choose a path forward.

- THE SECOND DAY -

The following morning arrived with pale, wintry light filtering through the frost-covered panes of your chamber window. You lay in bed for a long while, staring at the faint patterns etched by the cold, your thoughts as tangled as the blankets wrapped around you.

You had dreamed of Cregan that night. In the dream, he had kept his promise—he had given up everything to be with you. You remembered the way his arms had felt around you, the warmth of his breath as he whispered that nothing else mattered but you. It had felt so real, so achingly perfect, that waking up had been like falling from a great height.

Yet the dream had shifted, as dreams often do, and suddenly, he was not there anymore. You were alone in a vast, empty hall, the sound of your footsteps echoing as you searched for him. No matter how far you ran or how loudly you called his name, he never appeared. The warmth had turned to cold, the promise to ash. You had woken with tears on your cheeks and the bitter taste of longing on your tongue.

Now, as the sunlight crept into the room, you pulled yourself from bed, the remnants of the dream still clinging to you like cobwebs. You dressed slowly, wrapping your cloak tightly around you before crossing to the window. Your breath misted the glass as you looked out at the snow-covered grounds, the quiet of the morning only amplifying the turmoil in your heart.

Marriage.

The word weighed heavily in your mind, as it had so often these past few weeks. The prospect loomed closer with every passing day, and though you had once dreamed of a life with Cregan, that future was gone, shattered by duty and circumstance. And yet, you knew that a choice would have to be made. The thought filled you with unease—not because you were afraid to marry, but because you did not know who to choose.

The thought of Cregan lingered like a wound that refused to heal. Could you ever love anyone else as deeply as you had loved him? The very idea felt impossible, as though your heart could never truly belong to another. But you also knew that love, as rare and precious as it was, was not the only foundation for a good marriage. There were other things to consider—trust, respect, companionship. Those things mattered too, perhaps even more than love.

Your thoughts turned, inevitably, to Cerwyn. His name had been whispered in the quiet corners of your mind ever since the feast, and now, it came to the forefront.

Could you marry him?

Could you try to build something with him, even if it was not the love story you had once imagined for yourself?

Cerwyn had always been understanding, always patient. He had never asked for more than you could give, and though he knew the full extent of your history with Cregan, he had never turned away. That kind of steadiness, that kind of loyalty, was rare.

Could you trust him to help you heal?

Could you trust yourself to let him in?

You moved to the small table by the window, tracing the grain of the wood with your fingertips. The dream lingered in your mind, a cruel reminder of how deeply Cregan had burrowed into your soul. But it also reminded you of something else—the emptiness, the loneliness that had followed. You did not want to feel like that anymore. You could not.

“Perhaps I could try,” you murmured aloud, the words soft but steady. They did not feel like a decision, not yet. But they felt like a start.

The keep was still and quiet, but outside, life moved on. The snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in white. Somewhere out there, Cregan was riding through the woods, his thoughts likely far from you. Perhaps he had already made his peace with what was expected of him. Maybe he had already let go.

The thought sent a pang through your chest, sharp and cold, but you forced yourself to breathe through it. Letting go was not something that happened all at once—it was a process, a series of small, painful steps. You did not know if you could ever truly stop loving him, but you knew you could not wait for him forever. Life would not wait for you to make peace with your heart.

And maybe, just maybe, Cerwyn could help you take those steps. He had always been there, steady as the seasons, willing to shoulder your burdens when they grew too heavy. Could you take that chance? Could you trust him enough to try?

As you sat by the window, the frost slowly melting away under the pale light of the sun, you allowed yourself to wonder—not hope, not yet, but wonder.

- THE THIRD DAY -

The morning air was crisp and unyielding, the faint scent of pine carried on the breeze as the hunting party broke down camp. Cerwyn was tying up his saddlebag when Cregan approached him, his expression set with a determination that had been absent the past few days.

“Cerwyn,” Cregan began, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “I have made my decision.”

Cerwyn paused, turning to face him. “What decision?”

“I am going to tell her,” Cregan said, his dark eyes unwavering. “I am going to tell her that I choose her—that I love her, and that I will fight for her. I am going to break off the betrothal to Arra.”

He paused, his jaw tightening as he thought of the consequences that awaited him. “I know there will be repercussions. There will be anger, disappointment, and many people will not be happy, but I cannot keep hiding behind duty and obligation. I cannot keep letting her believe that I do not care about her. That I do not, and have not, loved her. I am willing to face whatever comes if it means I can be with her.”

Cerwyn’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into something more thoughtful. “Are you certain?” he asked, his tone measured. “This is not a decision to make lightly. You know your honor will be questioned. Ending an engagement like this—it will not just be a personal matter. It will cast a shadow over your house, your alliances, your name, Cregan.”

Cregan’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he met Cerwyn’s gaze. “Do you think I do not know that?” he said, his voice low but firm. “But my honor? I forgot that long before any of this. I unknowingly broke my oath to her when I pledged myself to Arra. I did not realize it at the time, but by choosing duty over her, I betrayed the promises I made to her—even if they were spoken as children.” His voice softened, though the steel in his resolve remained. “If I must bear the shame of setting things right, so be it. I would rather face the consequences of my truth than live a lie for the rest of my life.”

Cerwyn studied him for a moment, his sharp gaze assessing before he gave a small nod. “If that is truly what you want, then I support you,” he said quietly. “But…” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words.

“But what?” Cregan pressed, frowning.

“There is something you should know” Cerwyn said carefully, his voice gentler now. “She does not think you love her. She believes everything has been a lie—that you have made another promise you do not intend to keep. And because of that, she has begun considering a different path.”

Cregan stiffened, his heart sinking. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying she is entertaining the idea of marrying someone else,” Cerwyn said plainly, though his tone was laced with empathy. “She is trying to move on, to find the peace and stability she does not believe you can offer her anymore.”

The words hit Cregan like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his chest. “Who?” he demanded, his voice taut with a mix of anger and desperation.

“I do not know, and it matters not.” Cerwyn answered quietly. “What is important is that she thinks you have made your choice, and she is doing what she feels she has to in order to protect herself.”

Cregan’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “I never wanted her to think that,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I never wanted her to feel like she was not the most important thing to me.”

“Then tell her that,” Cerwyn said firmly, stepping closer. “Do not let her continue to question you and what you feel for her.”

Cregan nodded, his resolve hardening. “I will,” he said. “I will fix this. I will make her see that I have chosen her, that I will always choose her. The gods can punish me as they see fit, but I will not abandon my love for her.”

Cerwyn’s gaze softened, though there was still a hint of disappointment lingering in his eyes. “Good,” he said quietly. “But do not wait too long, my friend. Just as I told you the morning after the feast—action must be taken before it is too late. If you do not, she will believe she was right to doubt you. And once she truly lets go, there will not be anything left to fix.”

Cregan swallowed hard, the harsh truth of Cerwyn’s words settling heavily on him. “I will not let that happen,” he said, his voice steady with determination.

Cerwyn gave him a faint smile, his hand resting briefly on Cregan’s shoulder. “I hope so,” he said simply. “For both your sakes.”

As the camp stirred to life and the hunting party prepared to ride back to the keep, Cregan’s thoughts were consumed by the task ahead. He could not lose you—not now, not ever. And this time, he was determined to make things right. He had to make things right.

- THE HUNTING PARTY RETURNS -

The stillness of the morning shattered as the distant thundering of hooves echoed through the keep. You were elbow-deep in a mound of potatoes in the kitchens, the rhythmic scrape of the knife against their skins a poor distraction from the turmoil within you. The sound of riders approaching pulled you from your thoughts, the heavy cadence stirring something in your chest.

The hunting party had returned. And with it, Cregan.

Your heart quickened as you set down the knife, wiping your hands on your apron before slipping out the back door. The icy air bit at your cheeks as you stepped into the courtyard, drawn by the sound of voices and the sight of riders cutting through the snow. The hunting party moved in steady formation, their horses’ breath visible in the crisp winter air.

At the front of the group rode Cregan, his broad shoulders straight and his jaw set. Even from a distance, he carried an air of quiet authority, a natural ease that drew your eyes to him. His dark cloak billowed slightly with the motion of his horse, the edges dusted with snow. You told yourself not to look, but it was impossible to resist.

As if sensing you, he turned his head toward you, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with startling intensity. The moment stretched, the world narrowing until it was just the two of you, suspended in that searing glance. You could not read his expression—was it regret? Determination? Something else entirely?

Your breath hitched, your pulse racing as panic began to well up as he dismounted his horse and began to walk towards you.

Shit.

Without giving him the chance to catch you, you abruptly turned, slipping back through the kitchen door and into the safety of the bustling warmth inside. But even as you busied yourself with mundane tasks, the weight of his stare lingered, like the press of a hand against your back.

For the rest of the morning, you kept your distance, not giving him the opportunity to speak to you. You stayed to the corners of the keep, always moving, always finding some excuse to keep you as far away from his as you could. But it was impossible to ignore the quiet pull of his presence. He was there, in the great hall as you passed through with a tray of food. In the courtyard, speaking to one of the stable hands. He seemed to be everywhere, and it was getting harder and harder to avoid him, but you managed to slip away every time.

Each time you found yourself in the same vicinity as him, you would swiftly leave before he could catch your eye, unwilling to face him. Unwilling to confront what his return might mean.

And yet, the ache in your chest grew with every fleeting glimpse.

Your heart longed for him.

By the time midday approached, you felt like a shadow of yourself, worn thin by the effort of avoidance.

How much longer could you keep running?

And would he let you?

The restlessness of the morning had followed you into the early afternoon, each passing moment stretching longer than the last. Seeking some semblance of peace, you found yourself wandering toward the library—a quiet refuge from your tormenting thoughts. The room welcomed you with the soft glow of the hearth, the scent of aged parchment, and the gentle stillness that always seemed to linger there.

You spotted Cerwyn seated at one of the long tables bent over a book. His finger traced the lines of text, his expression one of quiet focus. He looked up as you approached, his expression softening. “You have been hard to find today,” he said lightly, though there was a note of concern in his voice.

You offered a faint smile as you moved closer, sinking into the chair across from him. “I have been trying to clear my head,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, closing the book but keeping his hand resting on its cover. “And have you found any clarity?”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the grain of the wooden table. “Some,” you said at last. “Enough to make a decision.”

Cerwyn’s brows lifted slightly, but he said nothing, giving you the space to continue. His silence was a quiet reassurance, a steadying presence that you had not realized you needed until now.

“I cannot keep living like this,” you said, the words spilling out in a rush. “Holding onto something that is… slipping away. I have been clinging to the past, to memories of what could have been, but it is not fair. Not to him, not to anyone. And not to me.”

His expression did not change, though you noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw. “What are you saying?” he asked softly.

You drew in a slow breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I want to move forward. To heal. To find happiness. And I believe… I believe you may be best suited to provide that, Cerwyn.”

Cerwyn blinked, his sharp features softening as your words sank in. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching yours as if to confirm what he had just heard. When he finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Are you sure? This is not something to decide so quickly. It may not be wise to make such a choice without fully understanding all that is at stake.” He paused, his expression softening. “That said, I am honored that you would choose me. But I think it would be best to speak to Cregan first.

“I have thought about it,” you said, your hands twisting in your lap. “You have always been there for me, Cerwyn. You have seen the worst of me, and you have never turned away. Even when I did not deserve your kindness, you were there.” You hesitated, your voice softening. “You know the truth about me, about my past. You know that I am not… a maiden. And yet, you have never judged me for it. You have never made me feel less because of it.”

Cerwyn’s gaze held steady, unwavering in its warmth. “Why would I?” he said quietly, his voice gentle yet firm. “You are more than the mistakes you have made, or the choices forced upon you. You are strong, resilient, and deserving of love—not in spite of those things, but because of who they have shaped you to be.”

Your breath caught, his words reaching a part of you that had long been buried beneath layers of guilt and self-doubt. For so long, you had carried the weight of your choices and the consequences that followed, believing that they defined you. Yet, here was Cerwyn, seeing you not as broken but as whole, not as damaged but as someone worthy of love and respect.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to let yourself break under the tenderness of his gaze.

Cerwyn leaned forward slightly, his hand resting on the edge of the table as though he wanted to reach for you but held himself back. “However, before you make any decision, it would be prudent to speak to Cregan. I know that this is not easy, and I understand why you feel the way you do, but you should listen to what he has to say. There is something he needs to say, something important. It is not my place to tell you what it is, but you must talk to him before you choose to marry anyone else.”

You shook your head slowly, the words you had been holding back coming out in a rush. “I do not wish to talk to him. I do not want to hear any more empty words. I have made my decision, Cerwyn. I have waited long enough, and I cannot keep waiting for something that will never happen.”

Cerwyn’s expression softened, but you saw a flicker of something more in his eyes—something like disappointment. “I understand. But I will not pretend that this is not difficult for me. You deserve to know the truth, to hear it from him directly, even if it changes things between you. It could be the key to finding peace in your heart, no matter what you choose afterward.”

His voice remained calm, but you could sense the heaviness of his words taking root. Still, you stood firm. “I have made up my mind. I want to move forward. No, I need to move forward, and I believe that you can help me with that.”

Cerwyn exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping for a moment as though he were weighing the consequences. Then he met your eyes again, his expression both resolute and gentle. “If this is truly what you want, then I will support you, and I will do everything in my power to give you the life you deserve.”

You gave him a small, bittersweet smile, grateful for his understanding, even as you felt the tug of something unresolved in the back of your mind. He reached across the table, his hand brushing yours, and although it was a simple gesture, it held the weight of everything you both stood to gain—or lose—in the days to come.

The dim glow of lantern light flickered off the rough-hewn stone walls of the cellar, casting long shadows across the rows of barrels and crates stacked neatly along the walls. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of earth and aged wood. You ran your fingers along the edge of a barrel as you walked, letting the texture ground you as your thoughts swirled. Sara’s footsteps echoed softly behind you, her arms crossed as she watched you with quiet concern.

“You have been hard to find these past few days,” she said lightly, breaking the silence. Her tone was casual, but there was an edge of worry beneath it. “It is like you have been avoiding everyone.”

You stopped near a row of wine barrels, glancing over your shoulder at her. “I have not been avoiding anyone,” you said, though even as the words left your mouth, they felt unconvincing. “I have just needed some time to think.”

“Most people come to the cellars to escape, not to think.”

You managed a faint smile as you turned to face her. “Maybe I needed both.”

Sara raised a brow, stepping closer. “What has been on your mind?”

You hesitated, tracing the grain of the wood beneath your fingers. “A lot of things,” you admitted. “But I think I have made up my mind about one of them.”

Sara’s expression softened, her sharp eyes searching yours. “And what is it that you have decided?”

You nodded, leaning against one of the support beams. “I will marry, and I think Cerwyn is the best choice. Cerwyn is… what I need. He is steady, kind, and patient. He has always been there for me. Through everything.” Your voice faltered, but you pushed forward. “I feel like I could find happiness with him, perhaps even build something real.”

Sara tilted her head, studying you. “And yet, something tells me that there is more.”

A sharp pang tightened in your chest, and you looked away, your gaze dropping to the cool stone floor. “It is not about what I want, Sara. It is about what is best for me. I cannot keep waiting for something that will never happen.”

Sara’s expression grew more serious, and she stepped closer, placing a hand gently on your arm. “You deserve to be happy. But are you sure this is the right decision? It sounds like you are trying to convince yourself.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I do not have the luxury of waiting for someone who chose something else. Cregan made his choice when he pledged himself to Arra, and I am making mine now.”

Sara did not reply immediately, her lips pressing into a thin line. The faint flicker of the lantern light reflected in her eyes as she considered her next words. “Cerwyn is a good man,” she said carefully. “He has always been there for you, and he has never judged you. I will not argue with you on that. But…” She hesitated, glancing down before meeting your gaze again. “I think you and Cregan should speak before making any final decisions.”

Your jaw tightened, and you looked away. “What good would that do? Give him more opportunities to lie and deceive me? To give me false hope? To whisper words of love and loyalty only to take it all away again? Cregan has already chosen. I am simply trying to move forward. To heal what he has broken. What I have allowed him to break.”

“It is not that simple,” Sara said quietly. “There are things you do not know—things he may need to tell you. And while it is not my place to say what, I think you owe it to yourself to hear him out. If only so you can move forward without any regrets.”

You hesitated, her words echoing Cerwyn’s from earlier. “You sound like Cerwyn,” you muttered, glancing at her from the corner of your eye. “He said the same thing when I told him I had chosen to marry him. To speak with Cregan before making my choice.”

Sara tilted her head, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Then perhaps you should listen to Cerwyn. It sounds like he has more wisdom than you give him credit for.”

Your stomach churned, and you hugged your arms around yourself. “The two of you advise me to seek Cregan out yet tell me nothing of what he has to say. But it matters not. I do not wish to speak with him,” you said, your voice quieter now. “It is too late. I have already decided. Nothing he says will change my mind. Cerwyn may not be who I want, but he is… he is what I need.”

Sara’s hand fell away, and she sighed softly, her expression a mix of understanding and frustration. “If that is how you feel. But you know as well as I that some things have a way of coming back around, whether we want them to or not.”

You did not respond, your thoughts too tangled to form a coherent reply. The silence between you stretched, the dim light flickering over the barrels and stone.

Unbeknownst to you, a shadow lingered in the farthest corner of the cellar, hidden just beyond the reach of the lantern’s flickering light. Cregan stood motionless, his back pressed against the cool stone wall, his breath shallow as he strained to catch every word that passed between you and Sara.

His chest tightened with each sentence, and the weight of your words sank deep into him, heavy and suffocating.

She is choosing Cerwyn… because she thinks I do not love her.

That I have chosen Arra.

That I have been lying to her.

The realization gnawed at him, his heart hammering in his chest as the echoes of your voice reverberated in his mind, sharp and cruel. He had been too blind, too slow—had allowed himself to believe that time would mend things when in truth, it had only pushed him further from you.

When Sara spoke of things left unsaid, of truths that needed to be shared, his throat tightened painfully. She was right—he had waited too long. The silence between you, the things left unspoken, had built a wall between you both. Now it seemed insurmountable.

He could hear you clearly now, your voice resolute, cutting through the fog of his confusion.

“Cerwyn is what I need.”

The certainty in your words sent a jolt of despair through him.

Cregan swallowed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his knuckles white against the stone wall. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, willing himself to stay still, to remain silent, but the weight of your decision pressed down on him like a storm. His throat burned, and a tear slipped down his cheek, unnoticed in the dim light as his world came crashing down around him.

Your words hit him harder than any blade ever could, each one driving deeper into the heart he thought he still had a chance to save. He stood there, trapped in the shadows, torn between revealing himself and retreating further into the darkness of his own failures. He remained hidden, knowing that no words could undo the damage, no confession could heal what had already been broken.

The pain was suffocating, relentless—a tidal wave that swept him under, drowning him in a sorrow he could not escape.

I am too late.

I have lost her.

Cregan’s heart cracked under the weight of his realization, his body shaking with the force of it. He wanted to scream, to demand that things be different, but all that remained was the crushing silence, and the knowledge that he had waited too long to fight for what mattered most.

I have lost her.

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#cregan stark #tom taylor #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark fanfic #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark x y/n #hotd cregan

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lightdancingwords · 3 days ago

Text

One Day - Part One of ?

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character Series Summary: You were rescued by Dean Winchester a long time ago. Over time, you kept bumping into each other.

Word Count: 4,556

Tags/Warnings: Violence, profanity, murder/death/kill, angst, arguments, slaps, mention of torture, monsters/supernatural

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! This story is AU as it does veer a bit from the history we see in Season 1 of Supernatural. There will be references to episodes and seasons, but it'll change as the chapters come. Enjoy the ride!

Dividers: credit to @talesmaniac89

Chapter One: The First Time

Dean was in a mood. Sam had just left for Stanford—and God, that was one Hell of a fight to break up between his brother and John—and his father…. Well, John had been trusting Dean to go on hunts by himself for a while now. Like a good little soldier, doing what daddy said.

After Sam left, John just muttered about how he had a job to do and he had damned well go do it. So… Dean hopped into the Impala and started looking for newspapers to track down the next monster to hunt.

There was a hint of something—a missing person’s case—that didn’t sit right with Dean. He made some phone calls, impersonated an official or two, the usual—and off he went to a cozy little city in Indiana, home of Purdue University.

Go Boilers! Right?

Ugh.

Not that it hurt to see all the hot chicks. Man, college girls….

His missing person’s case was, unfortunately for his libido, not one of the Sororities. He wished it was. He knew pornos weren’t accurate, but wouldn’t it have been nice if they were?

God. He needed to get laid.

He yanked his attention back to the missing person’s case, and realized that while he was driving, investigating, and basically from the date of the first case, three more had gone missing. The monster, whatever it was, was being systematic.

Every single one of the missing persons came from the same floor as this one off-campus apartment complex. If you could call a whacked up house divided into four individual studios an apartment complex.

He tracked down the very last person from that complex, a pretty teenage girl, fresh to college named Y/N.

“So let me get this straight,” he said, trying very hard to stay focused on the hunt and not flirt with her. “You don’t know why the others have gone missing?”

“That’s right,” she said, regarding this ridiculously young looking man dubiously. He didn’t dress like an investigator nor did he act like one.

“Did you know them well?”

She shook her head, fidgeting on the sofa. In the course of two weeks, four people in the building had gone missing. She was the last one left and was, quite honestly, freaking out.

Four studio apartments, four people. Two of them had just moved in together. She was, literally, the last one standing.

“Any weird people hanging around? Repair folks? Maintenance guys? Anything?”

She shook her head again. “No. The only person that came around in the last month was the landlord.”

“Oh yeah? Why’d he come around?”

She let out a sigh. “I really wish I knew. Just something about annual inspection, but we just moved in like… two months ago, right when the semester started.”

“Really? Huh.” That was a potential clue for Dean. He wasn’t sure why the monster would wait almost two months, but maybe there was something related.

“All right, well, if you think of anything, please let me know, okay?”

“I,.. yeah, I will.”

Dean took one look at her and knew she wasn’t going to. He had the feeling she was suspicious about him, but that was nothing new. He just really, really wished he could ask her out for some drinks and then—

God. He really needed to get laid.

She escorted him to the door and shut it firmly behind him. He had a few options, none of them easy. He debated tracking down where the previous missing persons were last seen, but that meant leaving Y/N unguarded. If Sam hadn’t been an idiot, he could’ve done the investigating while Dean played bodyguard.

In the end, Dean parked the Impala out of sight of the apartment complex while giving him sufficient view to keep Y/N safe. And waited.

It took hours. Painfully long hours. Dean was going insane at the wait. But his patience—pfft, what patience?—was rewarded. He saw something, someone, lurking about the complex. He sat up, squinted in the dim lighting.

Oh yeah, there was definitely something there. He grabbed his gun with one hand and the flashlight in the other, and went running.

The drawback of having to park far was that by the time he reached the building, the thing broke into Y/N’s apartment. Broken glass and wood splinters was everywhere, and he cursed up a storm.

Just as he burst through the shattered doorway, he heard Y/N screaming. Without a thought, Dean jumped over the overturned coffee table and saw it—them.

She was actually pushing the monster back, punching and kicking, which won a glint of Dean’s respect, and he got a good view of it: vampire, from the looks of the fangs.

“Hey, ugly!”

The vampire—God, those fangs were nothing like those from movies—turned to see Dean and snarled. It grabbed the girl, shit, and all but flung her into Dean,

Unwilling to let her crash into the coffee table, Dean caught her and went limp as they went down. More wood shattered and he grunted while she cried out, more out of fear than actual injury, he’d wager.

Normally Dean would be all about having a girl on top—maybe even quip that joke—but he had the wind knocked out of him. Just as he tried to shove the girl out of his arms, he saw the vampire leave with a hiss, running out the door.

“Shit,” he cursed, scrambled to his feet and rushed out the door.

Too late.

It was gone.

“Dammit!” His back was aching, his lungs were sore, and he had nothing to pay for it. With more profanities under his breath, he came back inside the apartment.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, going over to the girl to help her get up.

“No, I’m not okay! What the hell was that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

“Try me,” she said, dusting off her rear. God, what a nice ass.

“All right. It’s a vampire.”

She froze, and stared at Dean. “Excuse me?”

He grinned lopsidedly. “Told ya you wouldn’t believe me.”

“You’re right. I don’t. Vampires aren’t real,” she insisted, ignoring the trembling of her hands. Vampires might not be real, but she also knew what she saw: some man with what looked to be monstrous teeth.

“Then explain what you just saw,” he challenged. He marveled at her composure. Not many would be this calm after having had their home broken into and being nearly fed on.

“I…” She stopped. She couldn’t. Not really.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Dean raked his fingers through his hair and let out a breath. “Listen. It isn’t safe to stay here.”

She glanced at Dean, then deliberately looked over at her busted front door. “No shit, Sherlock.”

He grinned. She had fire. He liked that. “You got any place to stay?” he asked, wildly tempted to offer her a motel room and then share it with her.

“N-no…” She bit her lip. “Nothing local. I’m from California.”

He paused and arched a brow. “No kidding’? Why’d you come here?”

“Veterinary school. One of the best and I wanted to get out of the state for a bit.” She paused, then shook her head. “Real smart of me.”

Dean actually felt bad for her. No doubt she wanted to experience a bit of the country, get out of her hometown, and just do the usual college kid thing to do. Instead, her neighbors go missing and she was attacked in her apartment. What a life.

“Okay, well… can you stay at a motel?” he asked.

“I don’t have any money,” she said ruefully. “I can’t…” God, she doubted the landlord had a spare door even if she called him about the break-in. It’d take time, and it wouldn’t be safe.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean insisted. “It’s on me.”

“I am not having sex with you,” she said.

She was so blunt Dean actually did a double-take and laughed. “I wasn’t even going there,” he said with a wry grin. “Look. I’m a hunter, okay? I hunt the supernatural. I’m just helping out here, okay?”

She frowned, wary. He did save her, she had to admit. Could have left her there and chased it down. Even left her to deal with a broken door, the late night police call, everything, all on her own.

“I… o-okay. Can I grab some stuff first?”

“Yeah, go do that. I’ll call the police for you so you got it on file, okay?” That way the landlord’s insurance would cover damages, get her door replaced.

It took an hour, some manipulation of the truth, and then Dean and Y/N were heading to the nearest Motel 6. He ended up having to take her in his car as she didn’t have one. She walked to the college or took the bus, which was why she lived so close by the university.

It felt awkward and weird to ask for two rooms—she insisted, as she wasn’t comfortable sharing a room with a total stranger—but Dean was willing to roll with it. Just chalked it up to a weird case all around.

He was yanking off his boots when he heard a knock at the door. Puzzled, he peered through the peephole and saw her outside his door. He’d be damned lucky if she wanted sex after all. Celebration of life and all that crap.

He was crestfallen a moment later when he opened the door.

“What did you mean, you hunt monsters?”

Damn pornos and their fake stories. He stepped aside to let her in and shut the door. “Just what I said. I hunt monsters.”

“But… monsters aren’t real,” she insisted. For a moment she seemed small and vulnerable. Dean felt an inkling of compassion, wanted to comfort her. He held back, shoved his hands in his coat pockets.

“I know it’s easier to believe that, but they’re real. Vampires, werewolves, Wendigo, ghosts, all that crap.”

“I-if they were real, why isn’t it common knowledge? Why hasn’t the government done anything about them?”

She was trying hard to logic her way through it. Determined chick. “Well, regarding common knowledge… people like to believe that the world isn’t that bad. That there aren’t monsters that go bump in the night. It’s easier to believe they hallucinated and forget it ever happened.”

She regarded Dean dubiously. “And the government?”

“Now that I can’t tell ya. I don’t know. I never met a Man in Black so I’d have to guess they’re a little busy dealing with other shit.” He scratched at his chin.

He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was more than a little freaked out. She wasn’t sure how to reconcile what happened, what she saw.

“How do… what am I supposed to do?” She sank down at the edge of the motel bed, wrapped her arms around herself.

“What do you mean?” He joined her on the bed, maintained a polite distance between them. God she smelled good. Like white jasmine.

“I just can’t go back to class pretending I never saw a vampire,” she said, her brows drawn. “Or that my neighbors weren’t attacked and eaten by them.”

Dean cleared his throat, uncertain how to approach her situation. He rarely bothered talking to one of the potential victims this long before. Other hunts he just tracked down and killed, leaving the authorities to deal with the mess. It wasn’t as if John walked him through this shit.

“Well, uh, I guess it’s up to you,” he said honestly. “I’m gonna find this vamp and take it down. That should solve the problem.”

“For this one, sure,” she said, and glanced at Dean. “But what about next time? I mean, you said ghosts?”

“Yep. Unhappy spirits. Demons. You name it, we’ve dealt with them.”

“I don’t…” she trailed off. She looked so lost, Dean felt it in his heart. He had a rather good idea of how she felt, given his exposure to the supernatural at a tender young age.

Ever since Mary died, ever since he saw his mother burning on the ceiling and his father tasking him to keep Sam safe, Dean’s innocence had been lost. He became cynical at a very young age. To him, life was hunting monsters and keeping Sam safe.

Sam was gone now. All that was left was the hunt.

“Take some time to think on it, Y/N,” he said at last, knowing it was awful advice but he had nothing else to offer.

“But I have class tomorrow. How am I supposed to act?”

He bit his lower lip. “Maybe don’t go. We don’t know why this vampire was targeting you and your neighbors.”

“Miss class? Are you insane?”

“What? It’s just class,” he scoffed.

She stared at him. “You’ve never been to college, have you?”

“Nope.” His cocky grin spoke volumes. “Kinda wish I had though. College chicks are hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “College is expensive. Me getting a scholarship to pay for my tuition was a miracle. I can’t afford to fail.”

“Well, it’s not safe for you to go until I catch that vampire,” he argued. God, this chick was stubborn.

Her expression hardened. “I’m not missing class, Dean.”

She won the argument. Damn chick was stubborn as hell. Dean agreed to a compromise: she went to class, he followed her everywhere while doing as many phone calls as he could achieve. Then went absolutely stir crazy while he waited.

She had two classes, which were a good couple of hours long. Then she used the computer lab to do her homework. All in all, he spent about eight hours there.

On the way back, they stopped at her apartment to meet with the landlord. Dean whipped out his fake ID again.

“So you’re saying the annual inspection is unrelated to the disappearances,” Dean said, pressing on the landlord hard. He wasn’t the vampire, but he acted strangely. Didn’t seem to care that someone busted down a door or that four of his tenants went missing.

“That’s right,” the landlord said, his expression hard and shuttered. “I don’t like your implications. Who’s your supervisor?”

“Nunya,” Dean said, annoyed. “Look. Four people are missing and your last remaining tenant got attacked. You’re saying you don’t give a shit?”

“I’m saying I don’t care as long as bills are paid. I’ve already notified the next of kin to come get their belongings. I’m replacing the door. What else do you want me to do?” The landlord was of height to Dean, and glared at him.

Dean wished he could throw down with this jerk. Uncooperative bastard. There was something off about the guy, but Dean couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Fine! What about a security system then?” Dean challenged. “I’m not leaving Y/N to get attacked again!”

“That’s your problem, son!”

Right then and there, Dean very nearly clobbered the guy. Y/N grabbed his arm, hastily saying his name. “Dean… Dean! Stop!”

Dean threw her a furious look, his green eyes dark. He was absolutely disliking how this asshole was approaching the situation. He was not about to leave Y/N alone without something better than a door to keep her safe.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” Y/N said calmly. “I appreciate the door being replaced.”

The landlord scoffed, glared at Dean and muttered something about how it’d be replaced within the hour. And left. She waited a moment, then turned on Dean in a fury.

“What is wrong with you?!”

“Me? That jackass is a part of this, I’m damned sure of it! And he’s just leaving you to get killed!” Dean wanted to punch something. Or kick. Preferably the landlord.

“If that’s how you treat human beings, I hate to see how you handle harmless monsters,” she shot back.

“Sweetheart, there aren’t any harmless monsters,” he said, wrenching his arm free of her grip.

“That you know of,” she challenged. God, this chick was going to give him a headache. Wait. He was already getting one.

“Christ. What are you, some monster version of PETA?”

She took a deep breath, contemplated slapping him, and counted to ten. Then, mustering as much calm as she could, she fixed a look on Dean. “Look. He can’t do anything else, okay? So what… what can we do?”

In that moment it took everything he had to not joke about fucking. She’d probably hit him. He cleared his throat, calmed down his temper if not his libido. “God. Uh. Okay.” He rubbed his scalp, let out a huff. “Okay. Great. He’s fixing the door. That’s still not gonna keep you safe.”

“Then what? W-what about crucifixion? Holy water?”

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, that’s all Hollywood. Not gonna work.” He let out a breath. God, he deserved Sainthood for what he was about to do. “I can stay with you. Play bodyguard until I catch the vamp.”

“Excuse me?” She looked so offended, Dean wasn’t sure how to take that. He wasn’t ugly, come on. He also liked to think he wasn’t that bad in bed. His flings and one-night stands didn’t seem to complain. Yeesh.

“I can stay here,” he said slowly, enunciating carefully. “I’ll crash on your couch. Play bodyguard.”

“For how long?!”

“For however long it takes! Do you want to die?!” he shot back. He was so frustrated, he was absolutely about to lose it.

“Well, no! No one wants to die!” She threw her hands in the air. “This is a studio apartment, Dean! Ever heard of privacy?!”

Dean counted to ten. Then again. Nope, he wasn’t calm. Not this time. “Look,” he said, his anger heavily restrained. “This isn’t exactly what I was hopin’ to do, sweetheart. I was hoping to just come here, kill some monsters, and go on my merry way. Not play babysitter!”

“Well then, go ahead! Leave!” She flung a hand to the door, glaring at him. She stood there for long moments, waiting almost impatiently. “Well?!”

“Jesus Christ, you’re annoying! Look, I’m not leaving you here to get killed, Y/N!” He stormed up to her, almost nose to nose. God, he had problems all right if he found this ridiculously hot. “So suck it up, I’m crashing on your couch!”

Sparks were almost flying from her eyes, she was so damned pissed. She let out an angry grunt, spin on her heels and stalked into her bathroom. The door slammed behind her a moment later. He heard a yell of frustration after that and almost did the same himself.

“I’m grabbing stuff from my car! Don’t go anywhere!” he yelled out to the bathroom. He heard something that was undoubtedly profanities. He grinned. “Definitely my kind of girl,” he said with a chuckle, and headed out the doorway.

He popped the trunk, and then the hidden floor for what he’d need. Machete, his gun and— He never finished that thought as something hard smashed his head into the trunk and flung him to the ground. Dazed, he could barely focus as he saw something head into Y/N’s apartment. “No…” he groaned, unable to get up. His head was spinning too hard.

Barely seconds later, he heard something smash inside followed by a scream, this time full of fear. He heard his name. It was Y/N. She was screaming for him. “Come on… get up…” He struggled, rolled over, and nearly fell flat on his face. Just as he was pushing his way up, trying to control the sudden nausea that came from his head injury, a booted pair of feet came into his line of sight.

That was the last thing he saw before his face was kicked in.

Dean wasn’t proud of himself. He tracked down Mr. Smith, all but beat the shit out of him to find out his link to the vampire. Turned out it was some obscene, whacky slumlord scheme, all to get him money while the vampire feasts like a king. How it was never revealed before, Dean had no idea—and didn’t give a damn. He had to find Y/N.

John might object to how Dean handled it, but, well, his father wasn’t there. Sam would be too tender-hearted, maybe. Dean would do it again, if he had to. He failed Y/N, after all. Let the damned vampire get up behind him and knock him silly. It was damned embarrassing. John would probably lecture him on letting his guard down.

He probably wouldn’t tell his father, nope. Not up to proving his father he was a disappointment… again.

Regardless, he found out where the vampire was taking Y/N. The vamp took her and his other victims to some abandoned farm silo west of West Lafayette in some middle of bum-fucking-nowhere Indiana. Some little dinky town called Oxford.

He navigated down the streets, mindful of the unlit streets. “God, did these people never hear of street lights?” he grumbled, not wanting to wreck Baby on some goddamned pothole he didn’t see. Eventually asphalt gave way to gravel to dirt. He just about had a nightmare over the sheer cleaning he’d have to do of the Impala after all this was done.

When he finally saw the silo, he cut the engine and coasted a few more feet. He didn’t want to risk the vampire knowing he was there. As it was, he was sincerely and truly hoping Y/N was still alive. She was tough, she had fire, but the vampire had paranormal strength.

God, he’d love to ask her out after this. Given his luck though, she’d probably ask him to go the hell away and never bother her again.

He crept up to the silo, machete in hand, his gun in the back of his jeans. As he got closer, he started to hear voices, screaming. One of them was definitely feminine, afraid, in pain. Y/N. His heartbeat picked up as he hurried, heedless of any noise he was making.

A faint mist clung to the ground, swirling around the boots of the lone, young hunter. His knuckles were white, his breathing measured but tense, as he entered the silo. It was so dark, the moonlight barely illuminating the intricate interior.

Across from him, the vampire emerged from the shadows, its pale skin gleaming in the moonlight. Blood-red eyes pierce through the gloom, and a cruel smile spreads across its face.

“You came all this way, just to die?” the vampire hissed, its voice a low, mocking growl.

“One of us is dyin’ tonight,” Dean replied, tightening his grip on the machete. “And it ain’t me."

The vampire darted forward, a blur of movement too fast for the human eye. The young man anticipated the attack, swinging the machete in a wide arc. The blade whistled through the air, narrowly missing the vampire’s neck as it twisted to the side with inhuman grace.

“You’ll need to be faster than that,” the vampire taunted, its voice now behind him.

Dean spun, slashing upward. The machete grazed the vampire’s arm, drawing a thin line of dark blood. The creature snarled, its fangs glinting like daggers.

The vampire lunged, its fingers aimed for Dean’s throat. He ducked just in time, rolling to the side.

“You're surprisingly quick,” the vampire admitted, circling its prey. “But you’re tiring. I can hear your heartbeat slowing. Smell the sweat of your fear.”

Dean didn’t reply, his chest heaving as he strategized. He knew he had only one chance—one clean strike.

The vampire leaped again, this time coming from above. Dean raised the machete, catching the monster mid-jump. The blade bit deep into its side, sending it crashing to the ground with an unearthly scream.

But it’s not enough.

The vampire rose, the wound knitting itself together before Dean’s eyes. It smirked. “That all you got?”

Desperation fueled Dean’s next move. He feinted left, then swung hard to the right, aiming for the neck. The vampire, too confident, didn’t anticipate the feint. The machete connected with sickening force, burying itself deep in the creature’s throat.

For a moment, silence reigns. The vampire stumbled, its hands clawing at the blade embedded in its neck. Dark blood poured from the wound.

Dean didn’t hesitate. With a roar, he yanked the machete free and swung again, severing the vampire’s head in a single, brutal stroke.

The headless body collapsed, twitching once before going still. The head rolled to a stop, its crimson eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling.

Dean wiped the sweat and blood from his face, looking down at the vampire’s remains. “Told you,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

The fight was over, but the scars—both physical and mental—were just beginning to form.

He had no time to worry about that. He dropped the machete, ignoring it for now, and went in search of Y/N.

Dean found Y/N, freed her from the bindings. He also found the bodies of the missing people. He called 9-1-1 and reported the discovery before disappearing. He hated doing that to Y/N, but she needed the ambulance, the police, more than she needed him.

It would be hours later that he returned to her studio apartment. Her door was restored; good. He wouldn’t have to beat the landlord again, or try to do it himself. He saw her light on, so he knew she was home. Even so… he hesitated.

“Come on, man,” he whispered to himself. He knocked on her door and waited.

The outside light flickered on and he called up his best smile, unaware that it looked nervous and sickly more than confident. After a moment, Y/N cracked opened the door and peeked through the slit. “Dean…?”

“Hey. Uh. How’re you doing? Oh God,” he added in a whisper under his breath. He felt so fucking stupid. He saw her smile and he relaxed marginally. “Sorry for leavin’ you like that, but I had to. There’d be too many questions and—”

“Dean, shut up and come on in,” she said, stepping aside and opening the door. He hesitated, then stepped inside, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m glad you came back. I… wanted to thank you.”

“Uh, thank me? For what?”

She wrinkled her brow at him. “For saving my life,” she said, as though it should be obvious.

“I didn’t… but you got…” Great. Just great. His charm died with the vampire.

But she was smiling. “Thanks. I… really. Thank you.” Her smile fell, and out of the damned blue, she slapped him.

Dean’s head rocked to the side and he very nearly spun around. He caught himself, wiggled his jaw with his hand and stared at her. “What the hell?!”

“That was for abandoning me!” Then she grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him into a searingly hot kiss. Dean’s brain froze. Just… froze. His libido popped out of the box and wondered if it was finally going to be freed. Then she let him go, breathing a bit heavily. “And that was for saving me.”

“Um…” Come on brain. Come on. Work! “You’re… welcome.”

She smiled, a bit shy, a bit amused at his reaction. “You can go now, Dean.”

“Yeah. Sure….” Damn. College girls can kiss!

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28

(If you do not want to be tagged for this Supernatural fic, please let me know and I'll remove you in future postings! If you want to be added, please let me know and I will!)

Edited: Fixed some paragraphs I accidentally copy-pasted twice from my Word doc!

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raekensluver · 1 day ago

Text

WICKED OBSESSION - EX!LUIGI MANGIONE x FEM!READER- PART TWO

PART ONE, PART TWO

DESCRIPTION: it seems you finally managed to get luigi out of your life, so you decide to move on and date someone new. but when you're in a club and you run into luigi...how is he going to react to your new relationship?

CONTAINS: dark themes!!!!!!!!!!, toxic!luigi, clubbing, drugging, cheating, daterape, manipulation, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), mentions of babytrapping (it doesn't happen).

w.c: 4.2k

a/n: lowkey tweaking out because i know my baby lu would never do this but this is a work of fiction so it's okay....right?

the neon lights of the club throbbed in time with the bass, casting an eerie glow across the dance floor. the air had the scent of sweat and perfume, the sound of laughter and music an intoxicating blend that made the world feel alive. you leaned against the bar, sipping your drink, feeling the vibrations of the music in your chest. your new boyfriend, matt, swayed beside you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back.

months had passed since you last saw luigi. the memory of that night was a distant echo, a faint taste of something sour on the back of your tongue. you had blocked his number, deleted his messages, and even moved apartments to escape the shadow he had cast over your life. every time you thought you had left the toxic relationship behind, the fear of his reappearance had clung to you like a sticky web. but with matt, you felt free. his gentle touch was a balm to your bruised soul.

your parents adored matt. he had a way of making everyone feel seen and heard, a stark contrast to luigi's demanding presence. when he picked you up for dinner, he'd bring flowers for your mom, ask about your dad's day, and listen to their stories with genuine interest. he was the kind of son they had always hoped for. when they saw the two of you together, their faces lit up with the warmth of a thousand suns. they had never seen you so happy, so at peace.

but the night at the club, the night you saw luigi, the shadows of your past began to stretch their long fingers into the present. his eyes found you through the crowd, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. his gaze was intense, filled with a mix of anger and desperation. you felt a chill run down your spine, a shiver of fear that you thought you had outgrown. matt, noticing your sudden tension, wrapped his arm around you protectively, whispering, "who's that?"

you tried to play it cool, taking a sip of your drink and hoping luigi would just pass by, but his steps were determined. as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours, you felt the old weight of his presence settle back on your shoulders. "luigi," you murmured to matt, your voice shakier than you'd liked. "it's okay, everything's fine." you told him, but everything wasn't fine. luigi had always had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room, and even now, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the club, it was just the two of you.

"hey, it's been a minute," luigi said, his voice smooth as velvet, his smile forced and cold. matt offered a hand, a polite gesture that you appreciated, and luigi took it in a firm, almost painful grip. "luigi mangione," he said, introducing himself. "i know who you are," matt replied, his grip equally firm. "i've heard a lot about you." there was a beat, a moment where the tension grew thick enough to slice with a knife. luigi's eyes flicked to you, a question in them. "this is matt," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "my boyfriend."

his smile didn't waver, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. "oh," luigi said, his eyes lingering on matt. "you're the one who's been keeping her out of trouble, huh?" he leaned in, his voice low and mocking. "good for you. she used to be such a handful." matt's jaw tightened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "i think she's pretty perfect the way she is," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to fill the space around you.

luigi's gaze snapped back to you, his eyes dark. "right," he said, his tone clipped. "well, i didn't come over here to cause any trouble. just wanted to say hi." his hand reached out, and for a split second, you thought he might touch you. but matt's grip on your waist tightened, a silent warning, and luigi's hand fell away. "another time, then," he said, his voice dripping with a promise that sent a fresh wave of cold fear through you.

he turned and began to walk away, his movements fluid and graceful despite the crush of people on the dance floor. your eyes followed him as he disappeared into the crowd, a snake slithering back into the shadows from which he came. matt's arm tightened around you, and you felt his breath in your ear. "are you okay?" he asked. you nodded, but the nod felt too heavy, forced. "yeah," you said, "i'm fine." but you weren't fine. the sight of luigi had cracked open a door you thought was sealed shut, and the memories flooded in, unbidden and unwelcome.

an hour passed, or maybe it was two, the minutes stretching and warping to the beat of the music. matt was pulled away by friends and you remained by the bar, the empty glass in your hand a silent sentinel to the fear that had crept back in. you tried to ignore the way the lights played over the shifting crowd, turning every shadow into a potential threat. you tried to focus on the music, the laughter, the warmth of matt's hand when it found yours again, but luigi's presence lingered like a bad taste.

suddenly, he was there again. luigi slid onto the stool next to you, his eyes never leaving yours. the bartender set down a drink in front of you, and you stared at it, a slithering coil of dread tightening in your stomach. "i just wanted to talk," he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to cut through the din of the club. "i've missed you."

you took a deep breath, the taste of your drink bitter on your tongue. "it's over, luigi," you said, your voice firm. "i'm done." the words felt like a declaration of war, and for a moment, you braced yourself for the storm of his anger. but he just nodded, his smile never wavering.

his eyes searched yours, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. "i know," he said, his voice a whisper over the music. "i just wanted to make sure you knew that i still care." you felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his words, and for a moment, doubt flickered. but then you remembered the pain, the tears, the endless cycle of his apologies and your forgiveness. "i don't need that kind of caring anymore," you replied, sliding off the stool. "i've got matt. he treats me right."

his expression didn't change, but the air around him grew colder. "you always did know how to pick 'em," he said, gesturing to the drink with a tilt of his head. "have one last toast with me?" the glass was filled with an amber liquid that glinted under the neon lights, and you knew it was your favorite whiskey. luigi had always had a way of knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to get under your skin.

you stared at the drink, the ice cubes clinking together with a sound like shattered promises. if you took a sip, if you engaged with him, you were afraid it might be like opening pandora's box. but maybe, just maybe, if you humored him this one time, he would leave you alone forever. you picked up the glass, the condensation wetting your fingers, and raised it to your lips.

the whiskey burned down your throat, a familiar warmth that brought with it a rush of bittersweet memories. you set the glass down firmly, the clink of it hitting the bar a declaration. "that's enough," you said, your voice clear and unwavering. "i have to go find matt." luigi's smile remained, but there was something in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine. "sure," he said, "enjoy the night."

you pushed through the sea of bodies, the music a muffled roar in your ears. the lights spun and swirled, making it hard to focus. matt's tall frame should have been easy to spot, but the more you looked, the more you realized he wasn't anywhere near. a sinking feeling began to form in your stomach, a knot that grew tighter with every passing second. you scanned the dance floor, the couches, the bathroom line, but there was no sign of him.

you pulled out your phone, the glow of the screen a beacon in the dark. no messages, no calls. you tried to call him, but the club's reception was spotty at best, and all you got was a series of rings followed by silence. where was he? had luigi said something to him? the whiskey swirled in your stomach, mixing with the fear that had taken hold. you sent a quick text, trying to keep the panic out of your words. "where are you?"

the seconds ticked by, feeling like hours. no response. the music grew louder, the lights more oppressive. the crowd seemed to close in around you, and you felt like you couldn't breathe. your heart hammered in your chest, a drumbeat that echoed the bass of the music. you pushed through the throngs of dancers, searching every face, but matt's was nowhere to be found.

the club was a labyrinth of neon lights and pounding rhythms, each step taking you further from safety and closer to the panic that threatened to consume you. the floor was sticky under your shoes, the air thick with the scent of desperation. your eyes searched frantically, darting from person to person, but all you saw were strangers, their faces a blur of indifference to your distress.

suddenly, a hand grabbed your arm, spinning you around. you gasped, ready to lash out, but it was luigi. his eyes searched yours, a flicker of genuine concern breaking through the mask of his usual arrogance. "you okay?" he asked, his voice cutting through the cacophony. you nodded, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. "matt's missing," you managed to shout over the music. "i can't find him."

luigi sneered for a second before it was replaced with something softer. "let's go look together," he offered, and for a second, you almost believed he had changed. almost. but you were desperate, and he was right there. together, you wove through the dancers, his hand in yours. his grip was firm, grounding you in a way that was eerily familiar. "matt's a good guy," luigi said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "you deserve someone like him." the words stung, but you didn't have the energy to argue.

you began to feel loopy, the whiskey hitting you harder than it should have. the lights grew too bright, the sounds too loud. you stumbled, and luigi was there, his arm around your waist, supporting you. "are you okay?" he shouted, his face close to yours. you nodded, trying to shake off the fog that clouded your thoughts. "just need to find matt," you murmured, leaning into him.

his grip on you tightened, his thumb stroking the side of your hip in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. you realized with a start that the hand that had held yours was now resting on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with a possessiveness that was all too familiar. the whiskey's warmth had turned to ice, and you felt yourself sinking into the cold embrace of the club's floor. "matt," you tried to call out, but your voice was a whisper lost in the roar.

the lights above swirled into a nauseating kaleidoscope, each color stabbing into your retinas like a knife. the music grew distorted, the laughter around you turning into a cacophony of taunts. you felt luigi's arm around you, his grip tightening as you stumbled again. "let's go someplace quieter," he yelled in your ear, his breath hot and sour. the hand that had been on your back slid up to your shoulder, his fingers digging in, and you realized with horror that you couldn't move away. your limbs felt like lead, and the panic grew, a scream trapped in your chest.

the edges of the club blurred as he half-dragged you through a side door and into a hallway that was a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the main room. the walls were cold and unforgiving, the floor sticky under your feet. the lights flickered, casting eerie shadows that danced around you like ghosts from your past. your thoughts swirled like the neon lights, a toxic mix of fear and confusion. "matt," you tried to call out, but your voice was lost in the thump of the bass that seemed to follow you even here.

"shh," luigi murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. his arms were around you, supporting you, but it felt more like a cage. "he's probably just stepped outside for some air." his voice was soothing, the way it used to be when you were together, when you were lost in his lies. "let's sit down, okay?" before you could protest, he had guided you to a bench against the wall, his grip firm and unyielding.

you leaned against him, your vision swimming. the whiskey had hit you harder than you had anticipated, and the room spun in a dizzying array of lights and sounds. you tried to focus on his face, but it kept shifting, changing into the monster you had left behind. "matt," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips. "i need to find matt."

his arms tightened around you. "he'll find you," he assured you, his voice a seductive purr that sent a shiver down your spine. "right now, you just need to relax." his hand slid down to your waist, his fingers curling possessively. you tried to push him away, but your body didn't respond, heavy and sluggish. "no," you slurred, the word barely audible. "not again."

the room tilted and you felt yourself slipping, the floor rising up to meet you. luigi's arms tightened, his grip like iron bars keeping you upright. "don't worry, i've got you," he whispered, his breath hot on your neck. "just let me take care of you." the words echoed in your mind, a siren's call from a nightmare you thought you had left behind.

you felt his hand move again, this time sliding up to the base of your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse point. your heart hammered in your chest, a desperate rhythm that seemed to match the throb of the bass still pounding in your ears. you knew what was happening, knew the game he was playing, but you couldn't find the strength to fight it. "no," you murmured, the word barely escaping your lips. "please."

his eyes searched yours, the coldness in them sending a chill down your spine. "you always did like to play hard to get," he said, his voice a mockery of sweetness. your mouth felt dry, the whiskey a burning memory on your tongue. you tried to swallow, but your throat was a desert, parched and desolate. the room spun faster, the lights above becoming a blur of color that made your head ache.

his hand moved up to cup your chin, forcing you to look at him. "don't you remember how good we were together?" he asked, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "i can give you everything you want. everything you need." his breath was hot, the scent of alcohol and something darker, something that made your stomach churn. "matt can't give you what i can."

you tried to pull away, to stand, to scream, but your body was uncooperative. your legs felt like jelly, your arms heavy weights attached to your shoulders. "no," you whispered, the word barely escaping your numb lips. "i don't want that anymore." the room was spinning faster, the lights above swirling into a sickening pattern that made you want to retch.

luigi's grip remained unyielding, his thumb stroking your cheek with a gentle pressure that was anything but comforting. "you don't know what you want," he murmured, his eyes searching yours with a hunger that made your skin crawl. "but i do. i want you." his voice was a siren's call, a promise of comfort in the storm that raged within you. but it was a lie, and you knew it.

his other hand found yours, guiding it with a surprising force to the bulge in his pants. your stomach lurched, the whiskey churning in your stomach like a tempest. "feel that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very foundation of the club. "that's how much i want you." the fabric of his trousers was rough under your trembling fingers, the heat from his body searing through the material. "luigi, no," you managed to gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

his hand didn't move, his grip unyielding as he pressed your palm against his erection. "just one more time," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "i'll make it worth your while." the memory of his touch, his kisses, his promises flooded your mind like a tsunami, threatening to drown you in a sea of despair. his thumb traced lazy circles on the inside of your wrist, sending a shiver of revulsion through you.

you felt his cock twitch under your touch, and you realized with a start that his hand had moved away, leaving yours to hover there, unsure of what to do. your mind screamed at you to push him away, to run, but your body remained frozen, trapped in a prison of fear and doubt. his eyes bore into yours, searching for a flicker of the desire that had once burned so brightly for him. but all you felt was the cold, hard reality of his manipulation.

his hand moved to the back of your head, gently but firmly guiding you closer to his crotch. you could feel the heat of him, smell the musk of his desire. your stomach churned with the whiskey and the horror of what was about to happen. "please," you whispered, your voice barely audible. but he didn't listen. he never did.

his zipper rasped open, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. your eyes watered with the effort of not crying, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you break. his cock sprang free, hard and demanding, and you knew what he wanted. his hand pushed your head down, the pressure unmistakable. you closed your eyes, took a deep, shaky breath, and did as he bid.

his cock filled your mouth, the taste of him bitter and wrong. you felt his hands on your hair, guiding you, his breath coming in short, excited gasps. your cheeks hollowed as you moved up and down, his grip tightening with each stroke. the whiskey churned in your stomach, but you couldn't throw up. not now. not here. you had to get through this.

you kept your eyes on him, his face a mask of lust and power. his eyes were locked on yours, the dark pools of his pupils swallowing any hope of escape. the lights above threw shadows across his face, making him look like a demon from hell itself. his mouth moved, whispering words of encouragement, of ownership, but you couldn't hear them. the only sound was the sickening sounds of your swallowing and gagging and and the thud of your own heart, beating a desperate rhythm of survival.

then, without warning, luigi pulled himself out of your mouth, his grip on your hair painfully tight. he pushed you back down onto the bench, his eyes never leaving yours. his pants fell to his ankles with a soft thump, and he positioned himself between your legs. "you always did know how to take care of me," he murmured, his voice a knife slicing through the silence. your heart hammered in your chest, a wild, terrified animal trapped in a cage.

his hand reached up under your skirt, the fabric rough against your skin. you tried to close your legs, to fight him off, but your body was a traitor, too weak from the drugged whiskey and the fear. his fingers found your panties, ripping them aside with a savage jerk. the sound of the tearing fabric was like a gunshot in the quiet hallway. you felt a moment of pure, unbridled rage, but it was quickly swallowed by the cold, numbing acceptance that had become so familiar during your time with him.

his cock pushed into you, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. the pain was a white-hot knife, slicing through the fog in your mind. he was rough, his thrusts hard and fast, like he was trying to claim you all over again. your hands gripped the edge of the bench, your nails digging into the wood. you didn't look at him, focusing instead on the flickering lights above, trying to find a pattern in the chaos to hold onto.

but despite your efforts to remain detached, a moan slipped out, low and desperate. it was like a dam breaking, and suddenly you couldn't hold back the sounds of your body's betrayal. the pleasure built, unwanted, the whiskey making your senses too intense, too alive to ignore. your eyes squeezed shut, and your mouth opened in a silent scream as luigi fucked you, his hips slamming into yours with a brutal rhythm.

his hand left your neck and traveled down your front, his fingers tracing a fiery path down your spine. you shuddered at the contact, a mix of revulsion and unwanted arousal that made your skin crawl. his grip was firm, his fingers digging into your skin, reminding you of the power he had over you, even now. "see?" he murmured, his voice thick with victory. "you still want me."

his thrusts grew deeper, more deliberate, his eyes on yours. "you know i could get you pregnant," he whispered, his breath hot on your face. "wouldn't that be great? you, tied to me for the rest of your life, just like i always wanted." the words were a knife in your soul, twisting and turning until you weren't sure if the moans coming from your throat were from pleasure or pain. "i could do it right now," he continued, his voice a taunt. "make sure you never forget who you really belong to."

the sobs began then, deep and raw, the sound of your own breaking. luigi's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before the smugness returned. he liked your tears, liked that he could still make you cry. his grip on your hip tightened, his thumb digging into your flesh as he pumped into you harder. "that's it," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "just let go."

you didn't want to let go. you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble, but the whiskey and the fear and the memories were too much. the moans grew louder, mingling with your sobs, and you hated yourself for it. your body was responding to his touch, betraying you with every stroke, every thrust. his other hand found your clit, and you bit down on your lip, trying to keep the noises inside.

his eyes gleamed with triumph, his smile cold and cruel. "that's it," he murmured again, his voice a sibilant whisper in the dark. "just like old times." his thumb circled your clit, pressing down with a merciless precision that made your eyes roll back in your head. your hips bucked against his hand, a silent plea for release that was more about ending this nightmare than giving in to his touch.

the orgasm ripped through you, tearing apart what was left of your defenses. your body arched, your nails scraping the bench as you came around his cock, the sound of your cries lost in the music that thumped through the walls. luigi's smile grew wider, his hips moving faster. "see, baby?" he said, his voice a mockery of tenderness. "we're perfect together."

then, without warning, he pulled out, his cock slick with your arousal. you felt the warmth of his cum spurt onto your stomach, painting you with his claim. the act was a final declaration of his dominance, a physical manifesto of his ownership. your eyes snapped open, meeting his in a silent battle of wills. you hated him, hated the way your body responded to him even now, hated the way his cum marred your skin.

his smile never wavered as he tucked himself away and zipped up his pants. "see you around," he said, his voice casual as if you hadn't just been violated in the shadows of a club. and with that, he turned and left you there, trembling and alone. the sound of his footsteps echoed down the hallway, fading into the throb of the music until all that remained was the sticky emptiness of his absence.

#luigi mangione #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione smut #uhc shooter #luigi mangione x reader #uhc assassin #real person fiction #rpf #luigi mangione fanfic #deny defend depose #luigi mangione blurb #dark!luigi mangione #dark content

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yeomongi · 2 days ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 — 𐙚

genre : fluff ! ^^

pairing : seonghwa x you

word count : 600ish

warnings : menstruation & period pain, idk anything else

synopsis : a comforting moment between you and seonghwa as he helps you through the unbearable pain of your period cramps, showing his love through small but meaningful actions.

note : i decided to do this request as well since i really enjoyed writing my previous yeosang fluff!! also going to post a san version after this since i find it really comforting :3 this one is a bit shorter but i hope you still enjoyed! reblogs and interactions appreciated <3

it started like it always did—sharp pains twisting through your lower abdomen, the kind that made you curl up on the couch and wonder how something so natural could be so cruel. you’d been battling these cramps all day, hoping that the painkillers you took hours ago would do their job. but they didn’t. nothing seemed to work, and now all you wanted was the comfort of seonghwa.

seonghwa had this way of making everything feel less overwhelming, like the world could spin a little slower if you were in his arms. and right now, you needed that more than anything.

you heard the front door open softly, the familiar sound of seonghwa kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat. you tried to sit up a little, but the ache in your stomach pulled you back down.

“y/n?” his voice called out, gentle and warm, like always.

“in here,” you croaked, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

he appeared in the doorway, his brows furrowing the moment he saw you curled up on the couch.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, crossing the room to kneel beside you.

“cramps,” you mumbled, your voice small. “they’re really bad this time.”

his expression softened with concern as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“why didn’t you call me?”

you shrugged, not wanting to admit that you didn’t want to bother him while he was busy. seonghwa sighed, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

“you’re never a bother, y/n. you know that, right?”

you nodded, but the way his eyes searched yours told you he wasn’t convinced.

“okay,” he said softly, standing up. “stay right here. i’ll be back in a minute.”

he disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear the faint sounds of him rummaging around. when he returned, he was holding a glass of water and a heating pad.

“here,” he said, handing you the water first. “you need to stay hydrated.”

you took a small sip, even though you didn’t feel like it. he gently placed the heating pad on your stomach, adjusting it until it felt just right. the warmth was immediate, and you let out a soft sigh of relief.

“better?” he asked, sitting down beside you.

“a little,” you admitted.

seonghwa reached for the remote and turned on the tv, flipping through the channels until he landed on your favorite show.

“we’ll just sit here for a bit, okay?” he said, his voice calm and soothing.

you nodded, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. his presence alone was enough to make the pain feel a little less unbearable.

as the episode played, he kept his hand on your arm, tracing light patterns with his fingers. it was such a small gesture, but it made you feel cared for in a way that words couldn’t.

“do you want me to get you anything else?” he asked after a while.

“just stay,” you whispered.

he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“always.”

you stayed like that for a while, the two of you wrapped up in each other and the warmth of the moment. eventually, the heating pad and seonghwa’s presence worked together to dull the pain, and you found yourself relaxing for the first time all day.

“thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“you don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “i’ll always take care of you, y/n.”

and you believed him. because with seonghwa, you never had to face anything alone.

#ateez #ateez atiny #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #kpop #kpop bg #kpop fluff #ateez fluff #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #ateez smut #seonghwa smut

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faithsotherhouseofchaos · 20 hours ago

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Two peas in a pod||Lando Norris x single mom reader and OC!Jasper

Word count 851

The knock on her door was light but insistent, a familiar rhythm that Y/N had come to associate with her next-door neighbor.

“Lando!” Jasper bolted from the couch, dropping his crayons mid-doodle as he darted toward the door. His small feet thudded against the hardwood, his excitement visible.

“Hey, champ!” Lando greeted him with a wide grin, crouching to meet the boy’s height. In his hand was a brightly colored toy car, one that looked like his McLaren.

Jasper’s face lit up as he took the car. “Whoa! It’s like your race car!”

“Pretty close,” Lando said, “Now, here’s the deal: you’ve got to take care of it while I’m gone. Think you can do that?”

Jasper nodded so hard it looked like his curls might bounce off his head. “Yes! I’ll keep it super safe!”

Lando stood, his smile softening as Y/N appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “You’re going to turn him into a collector at this rate,” she teased, but her eyes sparkled with appreciation.

“Better a collector than a critic,” Lando shot back with a wink. “Besides, he earned it. Heard from a little birdie that he got a gold star at school yesterday.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been talking to his teacher?”

He grinned sheepishly. “More like eavesdropping in the hallway yesterday when I ran into you both.”

She shook her head but couldn’t hide her smile. “Well, come in. Dinner’s just about ready.”

The scent of lasagna filled the apartment, warm and inviting. It was a small space, but Y/N had made it feel like home—photos of her and Jasper lined the walls, alongside the boy’s finger-paint masterpieces. Lando always felt a little more at ease here than in his own apartment next door.

He hung his jacket on the back of the chair and settled in at the table. Jasper immediately climbed onto his lap, launching into a detailed recount of his day.

“And then we had art, and Miss Clara said mine was the best!” Jasper held up his crayon drawing—a wobbly but colorful rendering of what might have been a racetrack.

Lando studied it like it was a masterpiece. “Mate, this is incredible. You’ve got talent. You’ll be designing the next Formula 1 racetrack before we know it.”

Jasper giggled, his face glowing with pride.

Y/N watched from the counter as she poured water into glasses, her heart squeezing at the sight. Lando was so natural with Jasper like he’d been doing this his whole life.

“So, how was testing?” she asked as she brought the glasses to the table and took a seat.

“Not bad,” Lando said, shifting Jasper slightly so he could dig into the lasagna. “The car’s feeling decent. Few tweaks here and there, but I think we’re in a good spot for the season opener.”

Jasper’s eyes widened. “Are you gonna win, Lando?”

“I’m gonna try, buddy,” Lando said, ruffling his hair. “And when I do, you’ll be the first person I call.”

Y/N shook her head with a laugh. “No pressure or anything.”

The evening passed in easy conversation, punctuated by Jasper’s endless energy. By the time the boy was tucked into bed, clutching his new toy car like it was a treasure, Y/N, Lando was standing in the hallway outside his room.

“He’s out like a light,” Lando whispered, glancing back toward the door.

“He always is after you visit,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “You’re like his favorite person in the world.”

Lando shrugged, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a mix of pride and vulnerability. “He’s a great kid. Hard not to like him.”

As they walked back to the front door, Y/N lingered for a moment, her fingers brushing the edge of the counter. “Thanks for coming over. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with the season starting soon.”

Lando turned to her, his expression gentle. “You and Jasper aren’t just my neighbors, Y/N. You’ve done more for me than you probably realize.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “We’ve just… fed you a lot of lasagna,” she joked, trying to lighten the moment.

He laughed softly but didn’t let the moment slip entirely. “Seriously. This place feels more like home than mine ever has. That’s because of you two.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten, the weight of his words settling somewhere deep. She offered him a small smile. “Well, you’re stuck with us now.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said before stepping out into the hallway.

As the door closed behind him, Lando made his way to his apartment. He glanced back at her door for a moment, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest.

What was it about that tiny apartment, that little boy, and that woman that made him feel more at ease than he had in years?

He told himself it was nothing. Just a good night with good people.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple.

#formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x you #lando norris x reader #f1 #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc #lando norris #f1 x y/n #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff

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mikuluvu · 2 days ago

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A/n: WKWKWKKW, HERES ANOTHER CURLY X READER. I LUV HIM SM. Cuz what if you and him had a daughter? And literally took her into the tulpar?

Curly x fem!Reader

Warnings: none, just its bitsy angst on the end.

“Careful, sweetie,” Curly said, crouching next to her as she lined up her magnetic building blocks on the floor. “You’re gonna trip me on my way to work.”

Your five-year-old giggled, clutching one of the blocks to her chest. “Sorry, Daddy! I’m making a house.”

Curly grinned, his warm brown eyes sparkling with affection. “Well, it’s a very nice house. Just keep it out of the hallway, okay?”

Bringing your daughter aboard the Tulpar had been a controversial decision, one that had sparked more than a few arguments among the crew.

“You really think it’s a good idea?” Marcus, who's one of the guards, (before going on to the ship( had asked when you first brought it up. “Space isn’t exactly kid-friendly.”

“She’s not just any kid,” you had argued. “She’s our kid. Curly and I know how to keep her safe, and honestly, the Tulpar is better than leaving her behind on Earth. At least here, we know what’s happening around her.”

Life on the Tulpar might not have been perfect, but it was safer, more stable.

Initially, the crew had been skeptical. Anya had to say something about it. “What if something goes wrong? How are we supposed to focus on our jobs if we’re constantly worried about a kid running around?”

But over time, your daughter’s presence softened even the most hardened crewmates (Jimmy Lol)

Jimmy... Didn't really enjoy the company of his best friends daughter, his basically an uncle now... But when he got called 'uncle'... A small smile would appear on his face.

Daisuke, ever the gentle soul, quickly became her favorite babysitter. He had a knack for making paper cranes out of old reports, which never failed to make her squeal with delight. He would let him play on his gameboy really. Would play tag w/ your daughter.

“I think she likes me more than you two,” he joked one evening.

“She just likes that you’re a pushover,” you teased, though you appreciated his help.

Anya would teach her how to do some simple first aid.

“She’s got a good eye for detail,” Anya admitted one day, ruffling your daughter’s hair. “Might make a decent nurse one day.”

You and Curly alternated shifts, ensuring one of you was always with your daughter.

Swansea would go instantly soft, cuz your daughter reminds him his own children! Maybe 2nd best being a babysitter, he keeps warning your daughter to not get any closer to the utility room... And your daughter would ask: "why not?" "Because i said so"

One day, during a quiet moment in the cockpit, your daughter climbed onto Curly’s lap, staring out at the stars.

“Daddy, why are the stars so far away?” she asked, her tiny voice filled with wonder.

Curly wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. “Because that’s just how space works. But you know what? Even if they’re far away, they’re still beautiful. Just like you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

That night, as you tucked your daughter into bed, Curly leaned against the doorframe, watching with a soft smile.

“Do you think we made the right choice?” he asked quietly once she was asleep.

You stood and crossed the room to him, slipping your arms around his waist. “Bringing her here was the best decision we could’ve made. She’s safe, she’s happy, and she’s growing up surrounded by people who care about her. What more could we ask for?”

Curly kissed your forehead, his embrace warm and comforting. “I just want her to have the best life we can give her. Even if it’s a little unconventional.”

You smiled up at him. “She’s got us. That’s all she needs.”

All she needs...? Yeah... Isolating her from the world is that it? Maybe... It wasnt a great idea...

A/n: WOOHOO! Daisuke would be the best babysitter for your child. I just know it really :) Please support me through ko-fi

#curly x reader #mouthwashing #mouthwashing angst #mouthwashing x reader #daisuke mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #captain curly x reader #curly mouthwashing

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vervainandspritz · 22 hours ago

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TASTE OF SHAME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part three

Warnings: Dark!Thomas Shelby, manipulation, abuse, non-con/dub-con, gaslighting, violence

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I'm absolutely the worst. Another part coming in shortly

A/N2: COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE!

Y/N woke up feeling different than usual. The deep sense of looking forward to something was exciting. Was.. new. Y/N knew it was perhaps one of Tommy's games and not a gesture of kindness in any way, but the idea of going shopping with Ada was nevertheless exciting.

She woke up early, got appropriately dressed, and secretly hoped she wouldn't see him this day at all. It was supposed to be about her. Just today.

Only a bit before eight she went downstairs, slowly looking around to find out whether Mr. Shelby was still home or not. The Arrow house was awfully quiet, like always when Charlie was still sleeping. He wasn't a loud child, but his precious giggles were warming up the overall cold and soulless building enough to breathe some life into it. He was making it sufferable to live in.

Y/N was quiet, mindful not to wake him up as she smiled at the staff, nodding kindly while passing by. Hearing voices from the living room, she made her way through the doorways only to see Ada along with her husband, Freddie.

”Good morning, Y/N” The older woman said with a smile as soon as she saw her. The questioning glance followed after the greeting which made her chuckle. Before she could say something, her man spoke up himself.

”He would never let the two of you go on your own. It was either me or John and Arthur, so trust me, Lady. It's a better choice as it is!” Freddie spoke with an amusing drama and thick Brummy accent, making his wife swat him in the shoulder jokingly.

”He's not wrong” She admitted, sighing, and glancing sideways at her husband.

Y/N nodded lightly, smiling at the genuine contact between the two of them. It was refreshing and.. comforting, to see a glimpse of real love in the hollow walls of the Arrow House.

”It's okay. I don't mind at all” She reassured, gratefully. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement. ”I really appreciate the two of you taking me to the city. It's been... A while.”

Ada winked at Y/N before coming up closer and grasping her hands.

”Lovely then. I'd never say no to shopping with one of the ladies! It's the best time. Especially that we have a set of hands to carry our bags, indeed!”

They chuckled lightheartedly, walking to the corridor to put on their jackets along with the rest of proper clothing. Luckily, the day was nice enough to not need an umbrella.

”Let's get to it then” Y/N said as Freddie opened the door, gesturing for them to go first. Leaving the building, Y/N managed to spare one last glance towards the black, wooden door barely visible from the doorway. Mr. Shelby's office.

The day was going well. Genuinely, for the first time in a long time she could honestly say it. Laughing out the tension which has been slowly gathering on her mind felt wonderful and the company of Ada and Freddie just reminded her how much she missed the careless giggles and fast heartbeat she used to feel back then.

Back when she wasn't someone's belonging. A selfish whim.

Buying all the gear was fun, trying it on and posing even more. Especially once they were done, and Ada suggested buying more clothes.

”We shouldn't,” Y/N said quietly, grabbing Ada's forearm lightly. The older woman rolled her eyes, narrowing them.

”Come on, Y/N. We're spending his money. The least he can do is pay for us!” She let out a laugh which held the mischievous hint, one she shared with all of their brothers. No matter how similar or different Shelby siblings were, they all had it.

She thought for a moment, feeling the unpleasant worry again. Her feelings were raw and visible in her eyes, fully on display as always.

”I don't know,” She said, quietly, stopping in her tracks. Ada picked up on the way her voice broke just a little bit. Moving closer she grasped her shoulders.

”I mean it. Plus, he literally GAVE me money to pay for our stuff.” She was convinced. ”Tommy is my brother, Y/N. He knows me well enough to know better than assuming I'd buy just the necessities.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, searching in her gaze for the truthfulness to sooth her own anxiety. Looking in Ada's blood irises, she found it. But she wasn't sure just yet. ”...and Thomas loves everything about horses ever since he was a little boy. He's well aware of how much the gear would cost, honey. Yet he gave us way more.” This time her voice carried less humour, wanting to give her the comfort she needed along with reassurance.

Finally, Y/N nodded slowly, looking around and noticing that Freddie gave them some space to talk, stepping aside to smoke a cigarette yet paying attention enough to keep them safe.

Her gaze danced along the shops with bright and bold letters above the entrances, designed to encourage wealthy women to come in and spend their money. Eventually she met her friend's blue eyes again.

”Okay” She agreed, letting out a chuckle as Ada clapped happily before grabbing her hand and pulling them towards the luxury shop.

”Here we come!” She squealed and Freddie just shook his head with amusement, following them closely.

It took about half an hour to get her going. At first it was the Shelby sister who twirled between the alleys in the fairly big shop, touching and gasping over the beautiful creations. All kinds of materials, hundreds of breathtaking colours with even more breathtaking cash tags attached to them made Y/N feel uneasy, but with time... Ada's enthusiasm infected her too.

So they both giggled like young girls, trying dresses on, making funny gestures and blushing furiously as they saw themselves in the big mirror. So unused to such a luxury, Y/N's eyes shone brightly when she saw the girl in her own reflection. So different from the one she used to see a couple long months ago.

”We're absolutely getting this one,” Ada said suddenly, ripping her out of the train of thoughts. Slowly gazing over the creation, Y/N let out a sigh, picking on the cuticles of her fingers. Looking down she swayed lightly, biting her lower lip, but before she managed to speak up, Freddie joined his wife.

”I must agree,” He said, keeping his expression serious before Ada elbowed him in the side lightly. ”You look like a real high class lady now,” He added, less formally with a small smirk, grasping Ada's hand.

Y/N blushed, so unused to any kind of male attention.

”Thank you. I hope he won't be mad.” The other part of the sentence was said quieter, almost to herself, but unfortunately all of them heard.

Plastering a fake smile onto her lips, she went back to change before they checked out, and got on the way as it was already fairly late. Clouds thinned one the sky, letting everyone see the glimpses of sunset kissing the horizon in a manner so dreamy, Y/N couldn’t help the little smile on her lips as she watched the whole scene through the window. Shopping took a bit longer than expected, as Ada planned out the whole day, making them visit all the ladies' favourites in the city centre. After coffee and sweet souvenirs from the local bakery, they took a walk around the better part of Birmingham before heading back. Around fifteen minutes it took, before Freddie was parking the car on the gravelly driveway. Sighing, Y/N looked down at her hands, knowing the great day was pretty much over now that she was here. Slowly, she moved to get out of the car, grabbing a few of the bags as Ada and her husband did the same.

The Shelby sister noticed the shift in the air as she moved closer to Y/N rubbing her shoulder with a half smile.

“It was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? We need to do it again soon.” She said, before dramatically lowering her tone. “Next time definitely just us, without any of them,” She gestured towards Freddie with a chuckle, taking the edge off a bit as the tension loosened.

Y/N nodded, agreeing immediately as she loved the idea of having a way out every now and then. Wordlessly they walked up the stairs, greeting one of the maids after making the entrance. She took Y/N’s coat, hanging it for her once she realized Mr. and Mrs. Thorne weren’t staying.

“Once again, thank you for the outing. I’m looking forward to the next time,” The younger woman said with a genuine honesty in her voice, revealing how much it actually meant to her.

“Anytime,” Freddie responded, winking as he grasped Ada’s hand once she hugged Y/N.

“Of course.” She added, turning around as they started walking away before stopping once again, “Oh, and tell Tommy you’re home already, will you?” And with that, they were gone.

Y/N considered seeking out Tommy right then, but she was tired from the outing and wanted to change into a more comfortable dress to lounge at home. Once in her room, she was increasingly tempted by her soft inviting bed. As soon as she settled in her soft sheets all her new things still in the shopping bags became distant memories, just like the thought of making her way to Mr. Shelby’s office. Exhaustion overtook her tired mind and before she knew it, she fell asleep.

Hours passed, and on the other side of the house, Thomas was sitting by his desk. A half empty glass of whiskey stood to his left, as he slowly sipped on it with no rush. He lost count of all the paperwork he’d done today and the end was still nowhere to be seen. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes which became tired from all the reading and writing.

Suddenly the silence of the room got interrupted by quiet footsteps right by the door. Tommy glanced at the clock, realizing how late it already was. Without knocking the door knob turned as the wooden door gave way to a familiar silhouette.

Y/N rubbed her eyes, as she walked in. Her feet bare against the cold floor which wasn’t too pleasant, yet useful in a way to keep her awake.

He watched wordlessly, after putting his glasses back on. As she slowly moved from the doorway towards his desk, eventually slumping into the armchair. She avoided his eyes, feeling guilty with the unintentional disobedience.

So the silence stretched into longer seconds as she picked on the hem of her dress.

“Had fun?” His voice cut the air eventually, seeing how she struggled with finding anything to say. It was hoarse from the lack of talking for many hours, even lower than usual which she found intimidating.

But on the other hand, was there anything about him which wasn’t intimidating to her? The answer was obvious.

“I’m sorry I didn't come right away. We were late, and.. And I was tired. Before I realized it, I was sleeping.” She said quieter, feeling as she was walking on thin ice that might break at any given moment, pulling her into the freezing, cold water. The stillness that never ceased to surround him was terrifying at times. To her, Thomas Shelby was a complete mystery. His way of carrying himself reminded her of a volcano, so still and quiet just to blow up with a never ending stream of force. So the silence was… chaos really. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby”

Her voice, so quiet and submissive, danced around his mind. Mixing with the whiskey he drank, twisting and moving in different directions and causing the weird stirring he felt. Something that started becoming familiar, dangerously enough. His lips stretched into a small grimace, not quite enough to become a proper smile. Another thing that made him, him. All the small things she learned to become aware of, cautious and deliberate while slowly walking between the mines in his head. The boundaries that were constantly in motion for any kind of comfort, making it impossible to learn their placement. So she walked through the dark.

“I asked if you had fun, Dove,”

His voice came out soft, at least softer than expected which almost made her gasp in a way. Her eyes flickered up, meeting his cold gaze. His eyes never seemed to lose the ice, but every now and then the blizzard seemed more gentle. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes wide, moving around his features.

“Yes, it was a.. A great day.”

He leaned forward, moving a bit closer with a sigh.

“It makes me sad that you don’t listen, Dove.” He started off, making her feel bad. “But I'm willing to forgive you, yeah? You didn’t mean to be bad after all.” His voice was soothing, smooth like butter, to which she nodded eagerly, also leaning forward, subconsciously wanting to please him.

“Yes, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,”

The corner of his mouth twitched again.

“I know you are,” He sighed, letting his gaze drop onto her body. Slowly moving lower till the desk blocked his view on the rest. “You will start coming to my office again. Spending time with Mr. Shelby,” The words would suggest it was a suggestion, but his voice absolutely proved to her it wasn’t one. He told her what would be happening from now on, and she had to listen. Y/N remained quiet for a bit before clearing her throat.

“Okay” She mumbled in her typical manner. His gaze was making her feel almost naked despite the appropriate clothing she wore. Instinctively she covered herself a bit more, almost making him groan.

The little things she was doing. The pink blush dusting her cheeks as she squeezed her thighs together, along with the innocent body language caused the familiar stirring in his core again. Thomas sighed, feeling as his manhood grew in his briefs and skin became hot. Breathing a little deeper, he leaned back.

Tension in the room thickened as the shame coated her mind at the way he looked at her.

Getting up abruptly, she moved behind the armchair.

“I will.. Go to sleep. I’ll come to your office tomorrow, I promise.” Y/N stuttered out as she started walking back towards the door. Thomas tilted his head up, watching as her hips swayed as she walked. Letting out a deep breath he nodded, tutting.

“Y/N” He stopped her in a raspy voice, but she didn’t turn around to meet his gaze. “Don’t forget to take your bags from the living room,” Thomas added, picking up the still lit cigarette, as he threw it into the fireplace. She just nodded, twisting the doorknob as she left.

Thomas stared at the dark wood of the door, as his fingers wrapped around the soft material in his pocket. Soft, pink lace.

He could say a lot about Y/N, but he had to admit she had a good taste in the lingerie she bought.

@mrsnms @randomcreator-09 @omgsuperstarg @hatethis29 @usaguisenpaisblog @priyajoyy @vanessyyyu @hottestgirlintheworld @iilovedonnatartt @hagarsays

#cillian murphy #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut

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sinnabarmoth · 14 hours ago

Text

Tribute for the Dragon (12/18)

(A/N: Just wanted to wish you all a Happy New Year! Here's to a better year and more of this LaDS obsession! Love ya!)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Sylus takes Reader out on a trip to confess something very important and ask an even more dire question

Content Warnings: Adult language. Minor blood letting/mixing. Mating rituals. P in V. Cunnilingus.

Length: 4k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

Read on AO3

Sylus was concerned. Since coming back from the village you had not been the same. His usual bright and spirited little bird had grown silent. You moved about the mountain as if you were a ghost. Despair clung to you like a shroud and no matter what he said or did, you remained in your sullen state.

He did not know what to do. He knew that your relationship with your father was important and getting in that fight with him had been a terrible blow. You had gone back to the village a couple times since then to pick up some things, chat with friends, and you always stopped by to see your father. But each time nothing changed. Things were still tense and you only came back home feeling worse.

Part of Sylus wanted to confront your father and scream at him for making you miserable. It was not your fault that he was upset. If you wanted to stay with Sylus that was your own business. It should not matter to him so long as you were safe and happy.

Another day had passed and Sylus was in the kitchen area of the mountain trying his best to make tea for you. You had picked up some when you last went to the village. He rather liked it but he still didn’t understand the steeping process. But he needed to try something.

He took the mug of tea with him back to the bedroom where you were sitting, a book laid in your lap but you were not reading it. Your gaze was lost to the void as you stared at the wall.

“Ahem,” he stepped infront of you. “Care for something to drink?”

“Thank you.” you took the cup and peered inside. “Did you make tea?”

“Tried to.” Sylus shrugged. You took a tentative sip. Your face was fighting to stay neutral as you swallowed. “A little strong.”

“Apologies. Still learning.” he sat next to you. “Good book?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I have yet to actually read any of it.” you closed the book and sighed. “Can’t focus on much of anything nowadays it seems.”

“Little bird,” Sylus wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you next to his side. “I know you can’t just change the way you feel but lingering over this will only hurt you more.”

“It just hurts so much.”

“I know. And I appreciate your desire to stay here but if it is only making you more miserable then you may need to return to the village.”

“What? No! I don’t want to go back to the village. I want to stay.” It was the most energy he had gotten out of you in days as you frantically said you wanted to remain on the mountain. Your eyes were pleading with him not to send you away. “I don’t want to leave you. I want to stay here with you, Sylus.”

“Alright. It was just a suggestion.” he pulled you onto his lap. “I just hate seeing you in pain.”

You relaxed in his arms. He held you close, breathing in your familiar scent and the feel of your body against his.

With him.You wanted to stay with him. You had said the same when he gave you the option before. Back then you said it so casually, as if you were confused it was even a question whether you would want to remain with him or not. He thought that maybe your opinion would have changed considering how you had been behaving these past few days. He hated the idea of you leaving but if you were only going to be miserable with him he didn’t want to keep you from something that may make you actually happy.

But you had said you wanted to stay. You wanted to stay with him. After everything that had happened, you still chose him.

His entire life he had never been desired anywhere by anyone. Sylus belonged to neither humans or dragons. He had resorted himself to a life of solitude on this mountain until you appeared and brought so much joy into his life. He never wanted to lose you.

Perhaps…perhaps that is human love. This ache in his chest, this desire to dry your eyes and banish your heartache, this need to have you near him at all times. He could not say for sure. All he knew was that he wanted to show you just what you meant to him. But what? Would anything be appropriate while you were still so upset?

The days continued to pass and you began to perk up. You were smiling more and talking more. There were times where he came upon you and you were standing still as a statue, a thousand yard stare in the middle distance. You had also stopped going to the village as much as you had been. You admitted that most of the reason you had been stopping by as often as you were was to try and talk to your father. But if he didn’t want to talk to you then you weren’t going to hurt yourself any longer trying to reconcile with him.

Sylus had also yet to tell you how he felt. He felt it every day. He wanted to say something but the words just wouldn’t come out. Maybe if you said it first he’d be able to say them as well.

What pushed him over the edge was one evening you were laying next to him in bed, your head resting on his shoulder. Your fingers were tracing his chest and rested on the gem in the center of his torso. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what is this?”

“That is my heart, little bird.”

Your eyes went wide. “Are you being serious?”

“Very. At least, it is an opening to my heart. The fleshy organ that actually pumps my blood is underneath it. The gem is just part of the protection around it.”

“Wow…do you feel anything when I touch it?”

“Almost. It is very faint though. It’s not exactly a sensitive part of the body.”

“I see.” you placed your hand over his heart, feeling the steady thumps under your palm. You gave him a little smile before pressing a kiss to the gem and resting your head back on his chest.

Sylus took back everything he had said about not being able to feel anything when you touched it. You might as well have dug your hand in and taken it from his chest. It certainly didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore.

So, here he was. About to do something that would either make him the happiest he could ever be or would end horribly. Hells give him strength.

He found you sitting cross legged on the dais in the hoard room. You were rearranging gems to create mosaics on the stone. You looked up when you saw him and smiled. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Making designs.” You gestured to the pile of gems in front of you. “It’s the closest I can get to making stained glass designs here and I’ve found I miss the work. What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering how you would feel about going on a little flight?”

“Really? That sounds great!” you jumped up. “When are we going? Where are we going?”

“We can leave as soon as you are ready and the destination is a surprise.” he was so glad to see you acting more like your old self again. “Now go put on some shoes and something warm to wear. It’s cold out.”

“Yeah yeah. I’m going.” you scampered back off into the mountain. When you were ready Sylus picked you up and took off. You flew for a long while but you were enjoying it. Your arms were outstretched as you glided through the air, completely unafraid that Sylus may drop you. You trusted him so much.

“Look down, my little bird.” he told you as you neared your destination.

You opened your eyes and peered down. Below you was a valley full of bright red flowers that swayed in the crisp autumn breeze. Sylus touched down in the center of it and set you down. You gazed around, your eyes wide as you took in the sight. “It’s beautiful. How did you find this place?”

“Passed through it once on my travels.” he watched as you bent down and picked one of the flowers. “The blooms don’t last long so I thought you’d like to see it now before they all wither with the winter. I remembered your story about the blood moonflowers and while these are not those I thought you’d like it just the same.”

“I love it. This is amazing.” you laid back in the field of flowers. Sylus sat down next to you. Throughout the rest of the afternoon you frolicked through the flowers. You had taken many of the flowers and wove them into a wreath that you proceeded to put on his head.

“It looks good on you.” you said, adjusting it slightly.

“Glad you’re having fun.”

The sun began to set and the golden light that shone on the red flowers looked as if it sent the entire meadow ablaze. You sat their transfixed as you watched the light dance. “This is breathtaking.”

Sylus could not take his eyes off of you. The golden light silhouetted you like a halo and for the first time in his life Sylus believed the gods could be real. The hells could not make something so perfect as you. “Yes, you are.”

“Hm?” You turned your attention back to him.

Now or never. He took your hand. “I have a confession to make. I did not just bring you out here to show you this meadow. I wanted to tell you something and ask you a question.”

“If you’re going to ask me if I want to return to the village again, Sylus, I swear to the gods--”

“No. No. Quite the opposite in fact.” Hells, it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

“I did not think there was anything in this life for me. Since I was a child I never felt like I belonged anywhere. Not with dragons. Not with humans. I thought I had been cursed to be alone. That was until I met you, a girl in a ridiculously expensive dress and dirty boots hiking up a mountain to meet a dragon. I did not know what to make of you back then. I thought that perhaps I could have you as a companion, someone to make my isolation a little less lonely. But you ended up being so much more.

“I adore you. I adore the way you can’t hide a single thing you feel, how you were almost never scared to bite back at me when you were mad, how brave you are, how caring, how smart and creative. You not only banished my lonely days, you filled them with unending light and renewed a hope that I do not think I’ve felt since I was a child.”

Sylus could see tears welling in your eyes. It made him smile. He knew those tears were not made out of sorrow as so many of yours had been lately.

He took your other hand. “So what I’ve wanted to say to you is that you were right. Dragons may be incapable of love, but I am not all of me a dragon. I am human too and I’ve realized it isn’t the curse I thought it was, because it let me fall in love with you.”

The tears were falling down your cheeks now. “You…you love me?” your voice was choked with emotion.

“Yes, my little bird. I do. Which leads me to my question.” he cleared his throat. “Know that if you say no it will not change my feelings for you. But I need to know if you would become my mate.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” it felt like his heart was going to burst outside of his chest. “Will you become my mate? Understanding all that it means. That we will be connected, tethered together for the rest of our lives.”

“Yes. I do.” you threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tight. “I love you too. I would love nothing more than to be your mate and spend the rest of my life as your other half.”

Relief flooded through him. “My better half.” he murmured.

“So um, how do we do this? You said there was a whole ritual, right?”

“Yes, which I’m realizing means you’re going to have to try and speak in Draconic.”

“Oh…is it hard?”

“Certainly isn’t easy, but we’re going to try. It also requires blood, so here.” he took your hand and pressed a claw to your palm. “Do you trust me?”

“More than anything.”

He sliced a thin line down your palm. Little drops of blood seeped from the cut. He then drew a cut across his chest and placed your bleeding palm over it. “Now, say exactly as I say.” He began speaking slowly in Draconic, making sure you could copy the words as best you could on your own tongue.

He felt it and he could tell you did too. The shiver of magic that ran through your bodies, connecting at where your blood mingled.

“Now what?” you whispered, afraid to break the silence.

“Now comes the more fun part.” he grinned, taking you and rolling you onto your back.

“We’re doing it out here?” you asked.

“Has to be done immediately. Why?”

“It is the middle of autumn. It’s cold.”

“Trust me,” Sylus edged the hem of your skirt up. “You’re not going to be cold for long.”

The layers of your clothes were peeled away until you were lying in that bed of red wildflowers naked as the day you were born. Your body trembled but he couldn’t be sure if it was the wind or nerves. You were certainly excited, he knew that much. Not even a field full of fragrant flowers could mask the sweet scent of your desire.

He wanted to savor every moment of this. He hovered over you, taking your lips in a soft and slow kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer so his chest was pressed on top of yours.

That was another thing, you never recoiled from his more dragon like appearance. The scaled armor on his arms, his chest and his legs never seemed to offput you. The only thing you ever complained of was that he had to forcefully recede the claws around his hands so he could finger you. That was it. Even then, you never asked him to do it. More often than not you would fuck yourself on your own hand to get your body ready for him so he didn’t have to go through the painful process that was sheathing his claws. Not even when you were in the throes of passion and he held you too tight and they dug into your skin you never complained or asked him to stop. You desired him exactly as he was, never asking to soften his sharp edges. He wished there was more he could do for you.

His lips trailed down your body, leaving soft kisses from your throat, your sternum, between the valley of your breasts, and further down your abdomen and your hips. Your legs were already open inviting him in. He kissed up your thighs. A small whine left you when he had skipped over your cunt to pepper your other thigh with kisses, a grin on his face. He wanted to sink his teeth in but he knew the first bite he took would be his mating bite and he wanted to put it somewhere he could see it even when you had your clothes on, although the idea of being hidden where only he knew was exciting too. He’d just have to leave other marks there.

He finally directed his attention back to your cunt, leaving a small kiss on your throbbing clit before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it. Your moans were immediate and he loved how they echoed in this meadow.

He moved his attention lower to your pussy, tasting the sweetness of your arousal. Everything about you was always so warm and sweet and he wondered how he had gone so long without it. He wanted to do this for you every day. Spread you wide and drink you down until you were nothing but a pile of limp shaking limbs, spent and dizzy with desire.

Your hands carded through his hair before grabbing hold of his horns. Fuck! His tongue moved faster, probing inside your cunt, lapping up every drop of arousal straight from the source. You were deliberately moving your hands up and down his horns to turn him on even more.

“You’re very handsy today.” he groaned, pulling back just enough to speak.

“I like it when you moan against my cunt.” you said, your breathing labored.

“I bet you do.” he smirked, licking a stripe up your cunt. The tip of his tongue teasing your clit again. He kept your gaze as he devoured you, his moans sending vibrations through your body while you ground against his face.

“That’s it, wildfire,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, “Come for me. Come all over my face. I need you to come for me.”

“Ah! Fuck! Sylus!” your voice was cracked and pleading. “Oh fuck! Almost--almost--Sylus! Sylus! Please! Sylus!”

Sylus watched as your eyes fell closed, unable to keep them open while your orgasm drowned you. Your body was still moving, grinding against his face as he worked you through your orgasm until you finally stilled. Your legs shook slightly but other than that you seemed fine.

Good. He was far from done with you yet. At least now he knew your body was ready for him. He could truly take his time now.

“Still with me, wildfire?” he asked, coming back up to lay by your side.

“Yeah.” you breathed out. You rolled over to kiss him, a small moan escaping you as you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Good. Because the next part of this is what solidifies the mating bond. If you want to stop, now is the time.”

You rolled your eyes and straddled yourself across him. “Never.”

“My brave bird.” he sat up to kiss you again. “It’s fairly easy what happens next. You have to pick a spot to bite. I plan on putting my mark right here,” he kissed you high on your neck. “Now you have to pick yours.”

“These mating bites are going to leave marks?”

“Yes. They fade a bit but they’ll still be noticeable, like an old scar.” Sylus explained. “Now, where do you want to put your mark on me?”

Your eyes roamed his body before you touched a spot on his throat as well, matching the spot he chose for you.

“Good choice.” he rolled you over so you were back under him. “I want to make love to you now. So don’t rush or try to make this harder or faster than it needs to be. We have all the time in the world for that later. Today, I want to be gentle with you. I don’t just want to say I love you. I want you to feel it down to your bones that I do.”

“Sylus,” you cupped his face, “I would love nothing more. I love you. I love you so much and I cannot wait to be your mate.”

“My mate…” he liked the sound of that.

He slowly sunk his cock inside of you. You were still so tight. He pulled out a bit and sunk in again, easing himself bit by bit into your pussy. Nothing felt as good or as right as it was when he was in you, moving with you.

He kept his body gently laid atop yours, making sure not to crush you under his weight. He just wanted to feel as much of you against his skin as he could.

When he finally was fully sheathed inside you he stayed there unmoving for just a moment to look you in the eyes. There was definitely lust but more than that, he saw love. He saw unwavering trust and adoration in your gaze. His wonderful little bird. You really did love him, didn’t you?

He pulled out and sunk back into you, his body rolling slowly against yours. He pressed his lips to yours again, taking every little sigh of yours down his throat. His body was screaming at him to go faster, take you harder until you were screaming his name. But he ignored it, keeping the pace slow and sweet. He wanted this moment to last as long as it could.

The sun dipped and disappeared over the horizon, leaving the pair of you under the pale watchful eye of the moon and stars. It reminded him of the night on the cliff overlooking the beach. The first time you had kissed him. The first time you had admitted to wanting him in the same way he wanted you.

Back then he had thought that what you had started would be something fun. Nothing serious. He had believed he was incapable of the love humans showed so he had not thought that anything could go wrong. He could not love and you would have been insane to fall for him. Yet here you now were. Your bodies moving together in an age old dance as he made you his mate. After tonight you would be his mate and nothing could undo it. You’d be his and he’d be yours…forever.

He had a brief thought as you moaned in his ear, nails scratching at the exposed skin of his back. If she’s my mate then I’m going to have to warn her about how intense dragon ruts can get after this. Hopefully rut wasn’t something he was going to have to worry about for a while so he had time to talk to you about it.

His pace got a little faster, a little harder as instinct and the need for release started to become more prevalent. Now was the time, before he lost all control.

“I’m going to mark you now.” Sylus said. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” you pulled him closer for one more kiss. “I love you, Sylus.”

“I love you too.” he nuzzled your neck, kissing the spot he planned to mark. He felt your own mouth on his neck, your lips soft and pressing against his pulse. Then the sharp bite of your teeth.

He groaned, opening his mouth and biting down hard on the spot high on your neck. Just like when your blood was mingled at the start, Sylus felt a shiver of magic course through him. He knew you felt it too.

Your pussy clamped down tight around his cock as you moaned against his neck. Then all at once his body erupted in fire. It spread from where your mouth was and flooded his blood. He felt renewed, invigorated, and more than that, he felt connected. Everything about you was amplified. The sound of your breath, the feel of your pussy, the taste of your skin.

Your legs locked around Sylus’s waist. When he pulled back from your neck he saw a small twinge of red glowing in your eyes, mixed in with the color of your irises. This was it. The magic at play, bonding you. Now all that was left to do was make you come undone around him.

His thrusts got faster but he refused to take you like an animal just yet. He wanted you to come around him as he made love to you. The first act as your mate, he wanted it done with love, not feral desire.

“My mate,” he said, his claws digging into the ground on either side of your head as a method of control. “I want you to come for me.”

“My mate,” you gasped out, eyes full of joyful tears. “Come with me. I want you to come with me.”

He loved the way that sounded on your tongue. My mate.

His thrusts grew quicker and stuttered out of rhythm as his orgasm drew closer. Everything was too hot. He needed to cool down. He needed to finish in you. But he wanted to feel you come around him first. Wanted your pussy to squeeze every last drop of his cum out as you came. You were so close he could tell. Just a little more.

“I need you to come for me.” his voice edged on begging, so close to coming. “I’ll only come when you come.”

“Sylus!” you were sobbing with need. “Please! Please! So close!” Your hand snaked between you two and swiped at your clit.

“Yes! Hells yes! Make yourself feel good.” he was rutting against you now, so painfully close. He wasn’t going to last much longer like this. “Come. For. Me!” he punctuated every word with a hard thrust.

Then, your pussy clenched, gripping and gushing around him as you came. Your moans echoed across the still night air for miles. And Sylus followed you into sweet oblivion, spending every drop of his cum into your tight cunt. And he couldn’t fucking stop! It felt as if your pussy had truly milked everything from him, pushing everything out with each flutter of your hot slick walls.

Your body glistened with sweat and your eyes were closed as you took in deep breaths, your arms and legs still wrapped tight around him.

Even in the pale light of the moon he could make out the mark on your neck claiming you as his own. He bent closer, kissing it gently. Slowly your body started to relax as he kissed you and whispered comforting words in your ear. At last your legs unhooked from behind his back. Sylus unearthed his claws from the soil.

“I’m going to pull out now.” he said. Your eyes were still closed but you nodded. There was a small wince as he pulled away. You were still incredibly sensitive. So, very carefully he took you by the hips and rolled you on top of him so you weren’t pressed into the cold ground anymore.

“You were so good.” he whispered, “Take deep breaths, relax. Let your muscles release that tension and just melt. It’s alright. I’m right here with you.”

“Sylus,” you opened your eyes once more. The red that had been in them had disappeared. “We’re mates now?”

The smile nearly split his face. “Yes, we’re mates now.” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Now and forever.”

“Now and forever.” you repeated, a tired but joyful smile on your own face. You laid your head back down.

Sylus stared up into the sky at the vast endlessness of the inky blackness that stared back, with you laying atop him breathing gently. And in that moment he felt true peace for the first time in his life. No matter what happened now, your very souls were bound together. No force in the heavens above or the hells below could undo it. You harmoniously and irrevocably belonged to each other.

Now and forever.

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #lads mc #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #dragon sylus #lads dragon au

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typicalopposite · 2 days ago

Text

we almost had it all

rated T | Trigger warnings: mpreg, blood, miscarriage

part one | read on ao3

Buck stirs; and the movement, coupled with a pained groan, is enough to wake Tommy out of the already restless sleep he was barely managing. He straightens himself in his hospital chair and waits for Buck to fully become conscious. “Hey,” he says softly when those gorgeous baby blues finally flutter open. Buck blinks a few times, taking in his surroundings, and tries to move; a deep, guttural noise escapes him immediately and he screws his eyes shut. “Easy there,” Tommy laughs, leaning forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, to ease him back down on the mattress. “You— you’re pretty banged up, Buck. Don’t move.”

“Mmm…” he hums in response, shaking his head back and forth. “‘Vn… ‘vn!!” He furrows his brow and looks at Tommy, eyes sad and pleading; clears his throat and says… very intently. “Evan.”

Tommy stares at him, and feels his lips twitch, curling up ever so slightly, and he nods. “Okay, okay… Evan.”

As bright as the sun when it’s at its peak in the sky, with not a single cloud to hide its rays, Evan smiles.

For now— at least for just a moment— it’s enough. Enough to take Tommy’s mind off the cramps the doctor in the ER said would probably last for a few more days. Enough for Tommy to appreciate what is here in front of him; what he can see and touch, that has a heartbeat and life… and not dwell on what has been lost. Enough to pretend— for just this blessed little moment— everything is going to be okay.

Tommy explains the details of the accident to Evan. He tells him how the semi had run the light, and the side of the engine he was sitting on took the most impact. He tells him how the call came in and how he was prepared to fight someone if they didn’t let him fly to the scene. “My hero,” Evan laughs.

“Hardly,” Tommy rebuts, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I didn’t do much…” He didn’t do enough. He didn’t do the most important thing he was supposed to do. He didn’t keep their child safe. “B- But you’re safe… I’m so happy you’re okay…”

At some point Tommy’s hand ends up in Evan’s. He holds it gingerly, like it’s a precious fragile thing he can break— he has broken enough of Evan already. He runs his calloused thumbs over the knuckles, and after a few moments teetering on the uncertainty of whether this is acceptable or not Evan finally splays out his fingers and intertwines them with Tommy’s. With that… Tommy carefully brings the hand up and kisses it— Evan uses the hold to pull Tommy forward into an actual kiss.

He sighs against Tommy’s lips, and lingers there so long Tommy thinks he might have nodded off again until he finally hums like he’s content and Tommy pulls back to look into his eyes. “I’m so sorry, baby…” he says.

“It’s okay…” Evan replies, and it’s really not… Tommy knows it’s not… nothing is okay. Not with the breakup, or Tommy running— Evan doesn’t even know the full extent of how not okay things are; would he be so forgiving if he did? He considers protesting, but Evan’s forehead is pressing against his and he seems so content with just being— Tommy can do that too, at least for the moment.

The moment proves to be short lived, and Bobby catches Tommy out in the lobby while Maddie is in with Buck, making her own fuss over him. “I talked to Lucy,” he says, eyes soft… and all too knowing. Tommy feels his throat tighten; he can’t even squeeze out a lame attempt at bitchiness towards her for blabbing his business. Somehow Bobby’s expression softens even more, as he reaches out and lays a hand gently on Tommy’s shoulder. “I am so terribly sorry, Tommy… If there is anything I can do— If there is anything you need… my door is always open, okay?”

For a second Tommy feels that connection he’d felt way back when he was still at the 118. That strange powerful pull towards the new captain— something that was almost akin to how he suspected he should feel around his own father— that he never quite got the full experience of before his transfer. Tommy blinks at him, the lump in his throat too big, too wedged in tight to speak around, and he nods.

“So is- is everything— are- are you…” Bobby sighs at himself, not seeming to know what to say. “How are you, considering…”

Tommy shifts on his feet, and tries desperately to find his voice so he can lie his way out of trauma-dumping the past day and a half onto his former captain.

He doesn’t want to talk about the miscarriage… He doesn’t want to talk about how, after the staff came out and learned what was happening, they rushed him inside, got him in a room— how they told him to try his best to relax; that his body should do the work… but if it didn’t they would have to intervene.

Eight hours later… they had to intervene.

He doesn’t want to talk about how he spent the entirety he was cohesive enough to think clearly… thinking about how Evan might be dying just a floor above while they scraped their child out of him.

He doesn’t want to talk about how he felt so numb when they released him— how he winded up in the ICU asking for Evan Buckley, instead of going home. He doesn’t want to talk about how he took advantage of Evan's unconscious state to take in every aspect of his being: every dimple in his skin, every mole and freckle, every perfection and the imperfections, too. He is so beautiful and their child would have been so beautiful too.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, or think about it… but he tells Bobby everything, anyway. He doesn’t even know why. He just starts talking and he can’t stop, and eventually he is talking and crying… and Bobby is just standing there listening; he lets Tommy have the floor, until he has said his piece.

Then, without a word, he pulls him into a hug.

And Tommy cries harder.

He apologizes profusely, because he didn’t mean to cry all over Bobby, just like he hadn’t meant to cry all over Lucy— and like Lucy, Bobby assures him it is absolutely no problem.

“Please don’t tell him…” Tommy finally manages to get out.

“I didn’t plan on it,” Bobby says softly, rubbing a hand over Tommy’s back as his sobs, turn to cries, turn to just some shaky breath and sniffling. “But…” he continues once Tommy is calm. “I do believe you should. I think it would help with your grieving process. And I know that Buck would want to be a part of that with you.”

Tommy feels his face crumpling again. “I know that, I just—” Tommy looks back towards the room. “I just got him back. I can’t— I can’t lose him again…”

“You think you’ll lose him?”

“I lost his child…”

That’s enough for Bobby to pull back and give him a stern— but sympathetic— look. “That was not your fault, Tommy.” He stares at Tommy; Tommy knows he looks doubtful. He sighs. “Buck would never blame you for this loss… he’d more likely blame himself for causing it.” Tommy’s eyes go wide and he’s about to protest, but Bobby stops him. “That’s just Buck, he will find a way to shoulder the blame no matter what… but he would blame himself so much more if he knows you went through this pain alone. So I definitely think you should tell him.”

Tommy waits until the visitors die down.

He slips into the room after Eddie and Chris have left and gently pushes it closed behind him. It must be written all over his face because Evan immediately asks him if he’s okay. “No,” Tommy says, quietly, dreading this conversation already.

“W- What wrong…”

Tommy crosses the room and drops down into his chair, taking Evan’s hand between both of his. He licks his lips, but his throat is so dry it doesn’t help much. Words are nonexistent, his nerves are frayed. “I- I, uhm…” Evan is looking more panicked by the second and Tommy is starting to regret choosing this while he was still in the hospital, recovering. The bulky feeling of the massive pad the hospital provided reminds him he is also recovering and Bobby’s voice is in his ear encouraging him to go on. He laces their fingers together, and the first tear falls as he realizes— “I was going to tell you today anyway…”

His voice is so small, he is surprised Evan hears him, but he does. “Tell me what?”

“That- That I was… pregnant.”

It takes a couple seconds for Evan to register what he said. “You- You… what?” Another beat and he realizes the tense. “Wait… was?” Tommy swipes away at the tears, and nods. “You- You had a—” He quickly nods again before he has to hear Evan say it out loud. Now tears are filling Evan’s eyes, and he shifts himself towards Tommy. “W- was it because of— of…”

“I guess the stress… and I- I probably should have never been the one to fly to the scene… I’m- I’m so sorry, Evan.”

“Wha— No… Tommy, no, it’s- it’s not your fault.” Evan squeezes Tommy’s hand, pulling him closer so he can reach up and caress Tommy’s cheek, running his thumb under Tommy's eye to catch the tears. “You should have never been put in that situation… I’m sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for either…” Tommy says, reaching up to hold onto Evan’s wrists; his lips tremble despite his best efforts to control it and his breathing is so shaky.

Evan nods. He moves over on the bed as far as he can and releases Tommy’s face to lower his guard rail. “Come here,” he says, holding his arms out to Tommy.

“I’m not getting in your bed, Evan…” Tommy says, forcing a laugh.

“I want to— I n- need to hold you,” Evan says, softly. “Please come here…”

Tommy doesn’t fight that— honestly he’d love nothing more than to be held by Evan. He carefully climbs onto the bed, avoiding wires and Evan’s injuries, and eases himself up against Evan’s side. He feels the most at ease in Evan’s arms, that he has since- since the break up really… He lets his head fall to Evan’s chest and exhales; with it comes a sob, then another, and another. Evan’s body is trembling too, and he feels a tear fall from above him and land on his forehead.

He carefully wraps an arm around Evan’s body, holding him close as they grieve what they’ve lost.

They cry until they can’t cry anymore, and then they just lie there in silence, until Tommy thinks maybe Evan has fallen asleep. “I missed you so much,” Evan says, disproving the thought. His face is buried in Tommy’s curls and he presses a kiss against them. “I don’t want to miss you anymore…”

Tommy gently shifts so he can look up at Evan. “Me neither,” he says, and pushes up enough to capture Evan’s lips. He brings a hand up to hold Evan’s face while he kisses him, and he knows there is so much more to say— so much more to be sorry about, and work through. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.

He hates that this is what brought them back together. He hates that they might come out of this stronger than before, but at such a great cost. He hates that they will never meet their child…

But he has been given a second chance at a future with Evan… and with that, maybe, he can hope for a second chance at a family with Evan as well.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bobby nash #mpreg #bucktommy mpreg #pregnant tommy kinard #miscarriage #angst with a hopeful ending #fix it fic

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remembering-angels · 1 day ago

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Little tease

You meet Cillian Murphy at a movie premier, and he can't stop the urge for you.

Content warning: completely AU cillian, nothing about this is even remotely accurate and it's just a fun fantasy.

Smut,dirty talk ,stalking (probably).

Smut ! Not proof read

New years present for @cillianmurphysdimples hehe

Today was the big day, you get to meet your favourite actor cillian Murphy, oh how you dreamt of this moment, your walls plastered with his face, your phone background his face, shelves lined with rows and rows of movie DVDs . And now you finally get to go to the movie premier, your breaths hitches as you drive up to the cinema ,it's already packed with fans excitingly standing in line, waiting for the big show, for the star of the moment, cillian.

You quickly catch your place amongst the fans behind the gate. You must have waited for hours or it felt like hours before the black car stopped in front ot the gates and there he walks out. Silver hair that is supposed to make him old and mature only makes him seem more attractive and gives contrast to his defined jawline and high cheekbones, his blue eyes scan the crowd of excited fans with a small smirk on his soft full lips. "Hello how are you " he greets each fan with a soft Irish accent as he signs their posters and takes selfies.

And there you are standing amongst then, holding in to the small piece of paper for him to sign ,you were so star struck as you barely notice the handsome Irishman standing right in front of you, and maybe if you weren't so star struck you would notice the way his eyes roam in appreciation over your figure and lips, a slight dirty thought of how your lips would look wrapped around his-. No cillian you can't think like that he said to himself, his trembling hand reached the paper you gave him and he signed it,he barely noticed what he was doing as he clutched the paper hard in his hand practically ripping it . How dare you come here to his movie premier making him feel all that , "what's your name?" He asks innocently not wanting to give away the feeling at his lower area. "It's Y/N" you say confidently as you giggle, "Y/N nice to meet you thanks for coming!" He says in a charming professional voice, the soft blush of your cheeks making him think even dirtier things ,does she blush like this when she cu- ,no cillian bring yourself together.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

The movie premier was everything and more than you expected, cillian Murphy talked to you! He talked to you! Aaaaah. You quickly pick up the phone to call your friends when suddenly you hear a knock on your door, who could it be at such hour? You open the door and your breath stops again.

There he was ,just like out of a movie screen, cillian stood at your door, handsome as ever but something in him was different, his eyes took on a dangerous gleam, the kind of gleam you only saw in him when he played tommy shelby in peaky blinders or jonathan crane, something in him was slowly snapping.

"M..Mr Murphy " you say both nervous and excited "w..what are you doing here ,how did you find me" , he only smirks lightly and raises his eyebrow confidently "you think you are so clever, next time don't give your name to strangers" he says as he looks around "what do you mean" you ask confused, "I looked you up" he says nonchalantly, "you looked me up? Why?" You blush. "I couldn't stop thinking of you, coming to my movie premiers in your short fucking dress and your lipstick like that, did you do it on purpose, want to tease your favourite idol so badly " he slowly enters your hotel room, making you back away in to the wall, "you know I usually get flirted with a lot, but you didn't do it on purpose did you, such a tease" he keeps talking as he closes the door behind him, locking it of course . "Mr Murphy i-" ,"no..just call me cillian please " he says softly ,his voice now almost a begging sort of tone, a sharp contrast from his previous confidence as he brings a hand to your cheek, caressing it slowly and gently "cill" you let out a breathy moan, this has to be a dream doesn't it.

"Shh just tell me you think about me the same way I thought about you ever since I saw you,if you say yes ill stay but if you say no ill respect that,I'll leave" he says in a whispery tone, his face close to yours ,so close you can almost smell his breath ,his expensive perfume, his need. "Cill I.. I thought about you every day, imagined.." your breath stops at your throat as you try to not give too much just how much and how deeply you envisioned him inside you. "Imagined what my pretty tease? Imagined me? Here with you? What did I do in your imagination tell me" he says seductively but you can tell a blush rises in his cheeks, you blush as well unable to form a word about your fantasies "i-" , "what tell me, do I touch you like this?" He asks as he brings a hand lower and lower to your behind , "do I kiss you?" He slowly kisses your neck with his soft lips, "do I put my cock in ye? Hm did you imagine my cock eh ,you dirty girl" he says in your ear.

"Cillian " you moan out in embarrassment as he brings a large hand under your skirt, "are all my fans such dirty minded girls or is it you" he teases, his warm hand now close to your pussy "wet already, did you intend to make me so hard I had to leave early at my own movie premier?" He says in a groan "I'm.. I'm sorry" you manage to blurt out, "no don't be" he reassures as he slowly brings you to the bed and climbs on top of you, he doesnt even bother taking off his clothes as you hear a zip open "you know I don't even think you deserve this, beg me properly like you did when you imagined me" he says in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing you, "Cillian please please ", "please what my dirty little fan? Please what?" ,"please fuck me" you whine ,your hips buckle against him, he smirks as he brings your panties does and lines himself between your folds "be a good girl for me now eh?" His accent thick and full of desire ,he doesnt waste any time entering you, moving his hips against you slowly and first and then faster ,your moans are like music to his ear ,he brings a hand to rub circles on your Clint.

"Is this what you wanted, what you wanted so bad when you were such a little tease, yes they all want this" he moans as he brings a hand to your face, caressing it slowly, his moans become more erratic as he gets closer and closer to finishing. "Cill " you moan out his name ,it drives him even crazier with desire as he brings his soft mouth now to your breasts, licking at your nipples hungrily as orgasms catches up to both of you he lets out a moan and a whimper ,resting his head on your chest ,panting ,trying to catch his breath, he stayed like this on your chest for a while, his cock still inside .

"is this everything you dreamt of?" He says softly now, "more than that " .

#cillian murphy

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romanarose · 3 days ago

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"If I'm Being Honest" Lie #1: "I don't like you."

An Omegaverse/romcom enemies to lovers idiots in love slowburn found family type shit. graphic design is my passion themed header is a little more intional this time but lord knows i can't edit XD

Alpha!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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Summary: If Logan is being honest, he didn't like you. If you were being honest, you didn't either. But, if you were both being honest, you were exactly what you needed.

Warnings: Currently nothing? Will update as I go, but everyone's canon trauma is liable to be discussed.

A/n: I have built a reputation on here for series that are very serious, that deal with themes of severe depression, sexual assault, abuse, etc. I wanted to try my hand at something new, something lighthearted. the Omegaverse stuff won't have a HUGE part in it, it's just another aspect I wanted to add. As i wrote it, I realized it has a romcom vibe, so that's what I'm leaning into. I want to have fun with this! i write so much heavy stuff, a little change is nice. thank you so much to @xdaddysprincessxx for encouraging me to venture out, ily.

1.7k words

Reblogs are the only way to really spread works here, tumblr does not have an algorithm. Every single like is loved and appreciated, comments mean the whole world and keep me writing, but reblogs are how we share on here and create community.

Support artists, reblog works.

Multiple alternating POVs

***

If Logan was being honest, in the moment he just wanted to fuck you. Years later, to other more romantic types like Remy or Kurt, he would say it was love at first sight. He wouldn't say you were being a bit of a cunt, and the comment on his hair was unnecessary.

If you were being honest, wanted him to leave you alone, and were thankful he did. Later, to Remy and Kurt, you would say that you secretly wished he’d try again, although Logan wasn’t the type to linger where he wasn’t wanted. You say it was love at first sight, although if you were being honest, you thought his leather jacket was too wanna be James Dean, and his hair looked stupid.

When Logan saw you in that bar, the bit-too crowded one that was the only spot he could go to where they didn’t recognize him from the mutant school 50 miles away, he thought, Well, she’ll do.

Jean had chosen Scott, and Logan wasn’t going to just sit around the mansion moping all day. Even if he still harboured feelings, he wanted her to be happy, and frankly, he wanted Scott to be too. He wasn’t a bad guy, he was just married to the woman Logan loved. And was rather annoying. But again, not bad.

Logan just needed a nice, wet hole to sink into, and you were more than attractive enough for his tastes. Stunning, even, and just a little bit terrifying. You were a beta; he could smell the lack of alpha or omega pheromones, and you were devoid of either. All the better, omegas were so… clingy.

You, on the other hand, cursed yourself when you accidentally caught his eyes. Great. You think to yourself. Now he probably thinks you’re staring.

You weren’t! Not at that moment, anyway. If you were being honest, after he took the hint and went on his way, you did take a few glances for the ole spank bank. No harm no foul.

“Hey.” The man said as he leaned against the bar counter, and you snort through your nose.

“Really? That's the best you got?” You make a twirling motion with your finger. “Turn around, try again.”

He makes a funny face, but turns around anyway. When he faces you again, he doesn’t lean on the counter but rather takes a seat. “Uh. Hello?”

You facepalm, laughing. “This isn’t gonna work.”

The man takes the laughter in stride. “Yeah, not my best work. Can I at least buy you a drink?”

Another weak move. “You can, but I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

Not deterred, he buys the next round. “Name’s James.” He gave you his hands and waited expectantly, but even though you shook it you dodged the name question hanging in the air.

“Sorry, buddy, I swore off Jimmy’s about 2 Jimmy’s ago.”

A slight frown, but nothing that seemed to indicate trouble. “Luckily, I’m not a Jimmy, I’m a James.”

“Okay.” You spoke almost patronizingly. “Never met a James that wore kitty ears, but okay.”

James looked like he was stewing on something, opened his mouth to retort an insult, but thought better of it. He attempted to smooth back the curls, but it didn’t work. He mumbled something about a cowlick before looking back at you as you laughed.

“You’re not playfully teasing me, are you?” it wasn’t a question.

“Nah, honey. I’m making fun of you.”

“Welp.” He slaps his hands on the bar counter, sitting up. It wasn’t an aggressive move, he meant it playful himself, but it still made you startle. “I can see where I’m not wanted. Keep the drink, sweetheart.” He winked, and left you alone.

Fuck, his pants were tight.

Logan moved on to talking up some girl that actually seemed interested, but if he were being honest, and he’d never admit this, but he kept looking back to you. As much as he wanted to get his dick wet and this new girl was pretty, he couldn’t get his mind off you. Logan was not rejected often. It wasn’t that his ego was bruised, okay maybe a little, but you were just so interesting. His senses were telling him he needed to notice something about you, but not trouble. He didn’t know what that meant, but the next time he looked over he saw a man making his move on you.

Good luck, bub. He thought to himself, then looked back at the cute girl. She seemed flexible. An omega, which meant he’d probably have to make an escape while she was sleeping, but she’d be eager to please. Oh yeah, this was gonna be a good-

*CRASH!*

Annnnnnd there it was. Can’t have nothing nice. He stepped in front of the blonde, what was her name again?, and looked to scout out the situation just in time to see you clock a man in the jaw hard enough to send him back. Good job there, girlie. Logan didn’t want trouble, and you seemed to be handling it so he didn’t step in just yet… but out of nowhere came the guy's friend with a barstool and clocked it over your head.

“Hey!” Logan shouted, distracting the man enough as he was about to kick you a third time in the face. Just as he dove and took him down, Logan heard the crowd gasp. After knocking the buddy out, Logan looked up to see if the first man wanted a piece of him next, only to see him staring in shock.

You were blue. Your skin, your hair, and the sliver of your eyes he could see, all blue.

“MUTANT!” The fucking hillbilly shouts, and Logan isn’t an idiot. There’s trouble coming.

Without thinking, he scoops up your limp body and dashes you outside as men gather like an old timey mod.

He places you on the front of his bike, one strong arm holds you up and kicks the stand of the bike. Back to the mansion.

Another goddamn stray. Can’t keep them off me.

The gates opened as his bike rode up the twisted roads over half an hour later. Good thing the bike was registered to Scott, because if he got clocked speeding, it was bordering on reckless driving.

Despite being in a hurry, Logan made sure to kick the stand up after riding the bike right up to the steps. He didn’t want the engine flooded. Then whose bike would he steal?

Bursting into the entrance, he finds Scott in a blue and yellow button down PJ set, sleep mask on and arms crossed. “You have GOT to stop-” Then Scott see’s you, passed out, bloody faced, and blue bodied, and senses the urgency.

He grabs Logan, shoving him to get to the medbay ASAP. Logan could run much fastert than Scott, even with your weight, but Scott was behind him. “JEEAANNN!”. The yelling was more to get it out in his mind, no doubt communicating with her in there to get to the bed medbay, which was near their bedroom.

By the time Logan got there, Jean was already setting up. She was in a robe, forest green and silky, something Scott probably got for her, the thoughtful fuck. Annoyingly, it was long, covering up those legs. That was also probably intensional on Scott’s part. Jean was in boxers. Probably Scotts, and she liked to sleep in skimpy cami’s. On second thought, the gift was probably more Scott keeping her wrapped up considering how many times Jean gets called to the med bay in the middle of the night.

“Tell me everything you know.”

Logan half panicked. He didn’t actually know anything. “I don’t really know. I talked to her briefly at the bar but that’s it.”

Green eyes flashed up at him, then back down. Jean knew what he was doing. “Did you sleep with her yet?”

He didn’t really know why THAT was relevant.

“No, she rejected me too.” Well, that was a bit bitter. Logan corrected himself. Not the time. “Uh, fuck, she’s a mutant.”

Jean stopped, then dropped her shoulders as she deadpanned. “I couldn’t tell.” She could get a little snarky when under stress, so Logan let that roll off his back and she hooked you up to some monitors.

“She got into a bar fight, one guy hit her over the head with a stool, that's when she blacked out. Another kicked her face before I got there. One to the nose, one to the forehead.”

Jean nodded, this was the information she needed.

“Steal toed books by the looks of it, got her pretty good. Anything else?”

“She turned blue a little after passing out, and she’s a beta.”

She placed her hands over the woman's body. “She probably can hide her mutation if she’s conscious about it. Knocking her out took away that defense.”

Just then, Scott entered the room, finally catching up. You’d think with those long legs he’d be faster, but running isn't his strong suit. “How is she?”

“Stable, but I need one of you to put the gauze on her head, she’s still bleeding.” Scott found the materials needed and applied gentle pressure. “Heart rate is good, but she’s unconscious still. Logan how long has it been?”

“45 minutes maybe?”

She swears under her breath. “Well, that’s not great. Let me get into her head.” After a few minutes, she relaxes a little bit. “Okay. Not traumatic brain injury. It’s a moderate concussion. She’ll need some rest but she’ll be okay, it seems.”

“Any sign of a healing factor?” Scott asks, but Jean shakes her head.

“If it is, it’s nothing like yours,” She nods to Logan. “or even Remy. Or like Remy, she needs to be conscious about it.” Jean put down her hands. “There’s not much I can do right now. It’s best to let her wake up naturally, unless this goes longer than a day. I’ll keep monitering-”

Your eyes flashed open, blue and glowing lightly, gasping a little for breath. When you saw Logan and Scott of one side of the bed, the confusion grew to panic. “Shit!” You try to roll off the bed, away from them, but are either too out of it still or too tied up in monitors to make it far. You fall, and Jean catches you. Logan moved to go to you, but Scott held him back. Logan didn’t know why

“Hey, hey it’s alright, you’re safe here.” You calm more after seeing her, letting Jean sit you down.

When you look up at Scott and Logan again, you lock eyes with the older man. To their surprise, you roll your eyes, “Oh great. This fucking guy again.”

If Logan was being honest, he didn’t like you very much.

**********

thank you so so much for giving this a chance!!!I had a lot of fun writig this, which isn't something ive said a lot lately.

I originally was on my drive back from my parents like "i wanna write omegaverse" it was originally gonna be a lot more serious, but as i was planning and thinking it just ended up having a sillier vibe.

It will still have more serious themes here and there, but nothing like what i usually do. Im very nervous. The most lighthearted series ive ever done was the DBF joel series but that was more a series of one shots. And awakening was goofy and silly sometimes but was also pretty heavily about the beauty of coming out later in life, finding yourself, exploring sexuality, and deep trust.

This fic is playing on the rom com vibes. Idiots in love. Enemies to lovers. I hope you guys like it. Prinny says she think it'll be good for me to have something lighter, considering how much dark fics and dark themes i do.

I know I was talking about the series with my OC sadie summers and logan and thats still in the works, but there were some kinks i needed to work out that I havn't yet before i can go foreward. Fen and I are almost done with IYWBW, and when that done ill start on the benny miller x oc series for the final installment of Leather and lace universe!!!

and eventually, EVENTUALLY i will get that final chapter of ROF done. its just HARD (like my dick)

peace and love girlies (gn)

if you want to be added to my general logan content, check out the taglist linked above, but if you want to be added to this series, comment below!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @miraclesabound

#Logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #alpha logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan x men #logan james howlett #jean grey #scott summers #remy lebeau #rogue xmen #omegaverse #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #logan wolverine #idiots in love

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whiskeyncoke-redux · 2 days ago

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okay, our idea: Pedro Pascal as a bass player in the 60s-70s, notices a female fan very different from a groupie at his band's shows, no matter where he may go... the other fans, the members and the other people who work with the band and he have a feeling that they know her, but they don't remember from where, she looked like those typical not so famous actresses from television and movies, but she looks chic enough to seem like she's from a rich family

Here you go darling, I do hope you like it.

The Bassist

(Warnings: mentions of infidelity)(all comments are welcome)

May 1979

“Okay, thanks again, mom, I really appreciate it,” you said into the receiver to your mother, Slyvia. “Uh-huh, yeah… mmhmm, absolutely.” You had stopped listening to her as she told you about the latest gossip her neighbor Ella had shared with her about another neighbor. Something about the lady down the street having a specific repairman in and out of her house every other day while her husband was at work. You had lost interest and were inspecting your cuticles as she went on and on. You didn’t want to interrupt her and possibly upset her because she had agreed to watch your kids for you this evening while you were out.

Jack-Jack and Marie didn’t really like spending time at Granny Syl’s house. They said it was boring and there were no toys or other kids to play with around there, but you didn’t have much when it came to choices, so you had bribed them with a promise to go to the zoo the next Saturday and they were allowed to pig out on any treats they wanted. They, of course, had jumped at that chance and promised to be on their best behavior.

You glanced over at the clock on the opposite wall. Had it gotten that late already? “Hey, hey, mom, I hate to cut you off,” you said, hastily, putting as much of an apologetic tone into your voice that you could so she wouldn’t be too offended. “I have to head out soon. I’ll be over for Marie and Jack-Jack as soon as I get finished.”

“Oh, honey, take as much time as you need and if you need it, they can spend the night here.”

“Mom, are you sure?”

“Absolutely, I love seeing my grandchildren. They spend too much time at that other woman’s house.”

“Mom, please don’t, you know John just wants to keep on his mom and dad’s good side,” you told her.

“Mmhmm, so you said, so they can make sure the kids get into all the good schools and whatnot,” she said with a sigh, you could practically hear her eye-roll through the phone. “You know I don’t think there’s anything wrong with public schools, you went to one, and look how well you turned out.”

“I know, ma, but you know John and his family are.”

“Elitist, that’s the correct word for it,” she took a deep breath and you used that pause to stop her before she went on another rant.

“Seriously, ma, I’m gonna be late.”

“Okay, okay, honey, well, I’ll talk to you when you come to pick the kids up, love you.”

“Love you too, and thanks again,” you quickly hung up the phone and went to make a few last minute adjustments to your clothes.

You checked your hair in the mirror once more before you deemed it acceptable. With a smile and a small nod to your reflection you headed out of your living room to grab your coat and head out.

You had dressed in jeans and a simple top, so as not to stand out and to avoid being recognized by anyone who may know you, your husband, or your stuck up parents-in-law. The last thing you needed was someone running back to Augusta and Edward (Augie and Eddie to their friends, which absolutely did not include you) and tell them they had seen their daughter-in-law “slumming it” at a “seedy” nightclub. As a matter of fact the place you were going, Uptown, was far from seedy, but the people who knew your in-laws thought that anyone who didn’t run in their circles (yacht clubs, private dinner clubs, and elite golf clubs) were below them and anyone spending more than a few minutes with them were rubbing elbows with the wrong sorts. Really the only time they even deigned to speak with “those kinds of people” was when they were shop workers or restaurant waiters or golf caddies, and then those words were spoken in clipped tones and with snippy attitudes.

The crowd at Uptown was usually full of a few younger people but being 30, you still could blend in and no one would even know. The likelihood of you running into someone from the upper crust set that your husband came from was small, but you still didn’t want to risk being noticed.

You took a few backstreets to avoid the main roads that went past shops and restaurants people that you knew frequented. After a few more turns and a light that held way too long for your liking, you parked your car and walked the half block to Uptown. You checked the time and the line outside waiting to be let in, you were relieved to see that, despite the delays you had, you were still fairly early. You took your place in line and waited with everyone else, chatting to a woman who was in front of you.

“I’ve seen them only about six times, mostly at the bigger concerts,” she told you. “Definitely one of the best bands.”

You nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. I love The Hawks, their music is just the best. I fell in love with them the first time I heard ‘Journey’.”

“Oh I LOVE that song,” she said enthusiastically, and you two began talking about your favorites from them. Soon your conversation switched to the members of the group, who wrote which songs, the wonderful singing voice of the lead singer, Micha, and who your favorite members were.

“And that bassist is so gorgeous!” she gushed. “I mean, I’m usually more into the drummers, and Benji is hot, don’t get me wrong, but I can never seem to take my eyes off the bass player.”

You grinned and nodded. You had thought the same thing when you first saw them live 2 years ago. The quartet was indeed handsome: Micha, the lead singer/sometimes piano player with his dark looks, long hair and a voice of an angel; the drummer, Benji with his golden hair and an incredible skill on the drums; Marcus, the lead guitarist and his short cropped dark hair and startling green eyes; and then there was the bassist, Pedro, with his broad shoulders, gorgeous smile and warm kind brown eyes, and the way he played the bass sent shockwaves through your soul. Those eyes drew you in the first time you saw them and it was a big part of the reason you kept coming back to see them. There was something about them, something about him that took all your attention.

“I’m Rose by the way,” your companion was telling you, shaking you out of your reverie about Pedro’s eyes. “What’s your name?”

You told her your name and shook her outstretched hand. Not too soon after she was joined by two other friends, and you got to know them as well. Then the doors finally opened and you all went inside eagerly.

~~~~~~~~

Backstage The Hawks were preparing to go on stage.

“Another full house, boys,” Micha told them after peering out at the crowd.

Benji was sitting, twirling one of his drumsticks between his fingers. “You have to admit, this wasn’t such a bad idea.”

“What wasn’t?” Micha asked.

“You know, playing at smaller venues,” Benji answered. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love a sold out arena…”

“More fans, more money,” Marcus joked.

“But,” Benji continued. “The energy is different when it’s a smaller place. I dunno, it's more…’

“Intimate,” Pedro supplied.

“Exactly!” he nodded. “It is more intimate, and you can tell that the people here really like our music.”

“The people at the arenas like our music too,” Micha said.

“I know, but you can tell that these people are really true fans, they're not just here for the merch…”

“There here for us,” Pedro finished for him.

Benji pointed his drumstick at him. “You get it.”

Marcus and Micha laughed. “Yeah we get it too. They’re here for the love of the art or whatever it is you say,” Marcus said.

Micha checked the time as their assistant came in to let them know they had five minutes before they went on.

They all started to collect their things and as Pedro thrummed the strings on his bass, he wondered if he’d see her in the audience again.

~~~~~~~

It had been at a show a few years ago that he had first spotted you in the audience. It was at a club like this one. Benji had talked all of them into doing performances at smaller venues again; he had said something about paying homage to the group's humble roots. It had been a success and the audience and their fans adored them even more.

It was at their fifth small show, during their song “Float Away,” while Marcus was playing his guitar solo, that Pedro scanned the crowd and saw you, swaying along to the music, your eyes closed, and your face shining with sheer joy. At that moment he was captivated, he couldn’t look away from you; then you opened your eyes and looked directly at him and smiled. At your smile, he felt his stomach flutter. He had been staring at you for so long, that he almost forgot to start playing. It wasn’t until he heard Micha start to sing again, that he shook out of his trance.

Throughout the rest of the set, he stole covert glances at you, and your focus seemed to be entirely on him during the rest of the show and from then on you were on his mind. The next small venue show The Hawks did, you were there, and then the next, and almost every show following. He noticed that you always showed up to the small venue shows, no matter which city they seemed to be in and as he stood and prepared to go out on the stage, he hoped that you would be at this one.

~~~~~~~~

You shuffled inside with Rose and her friends and managed to get close to the stage. You felt yourself trembling with anticipation. You could never tell your husband John that you went to these shows, he, his parents, or his friends didn’t understand why you liked this “hippie” music, as Augie disdainfully called it. So getting him to come or even understand why you went to these shows was out of the question. Plus you were more than sure, he wouldn’t like the way you looked at the bassist.

You had met John when you were working over your summer break at the clothing store Shaw’s. He had been dragged in by his mother. You had taken that job to help pay for your college tuition. Your mom helped out as much as she could, but it wasn’t enough, so to take some of the strain off of her, you took odd jobs throughout the school year and worked at the store during the summer.

Augusta had come in looking for a present for a friend of hers. You had considered Shaw’s to be fairly upscale, but to people like Augusta, who got almost everything couture or custom made, shopping at a department store was beneath her, but she had forgotten that her friend had a birthday that day and obviously didn’t have time to order something.

Augusta had come up to you, and in her most obnoxious and demanding tone, had commanded, not asked, you to help her find something for her friend that didn’t look cheap. You had asked her what her friend liked so you could get an idea of what to show her, and she sighed irritatedly and told you that if you couldn’t help her, she’d find someone else. Before she could go on a rant, John had stepped in, gently pushing his mother to the side and explaining things. You had relaxed at his calm demeanor and showed them some things. John had convinced Augusta to buy a brooch for her friend and as you carefully placed it in a box and wrapped it, John had struck up a conversation with you.

Once you handed his mother the gift for her friend, and she walked off without so much as a thank you, he apologized for her rudeness, and asked you for your number.

“Um, what for?” you had asked.

“Oh, obviously to take you to dinner,” he had said, flashing you a smile.

“Dinner?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why?”

He shrugged. “Because you were nice and helpful, I like your smile, and mostly to apologize for my mother’s behavior.”

You laughed and said okay and gave him your number. He called you and you went out to dinner and a few dates after that. Soon you officially met Mr. Edward and Mrs. Augusta Smythe, neither who really seemed to approve of you and your humble beginnings. Like your mother had said when she met them at your and John’s engagement party some months later: “Those people have their noses stuck so far up in the air, they’d drown if it started raining.”

Years later, Edward and Augusta’s attitude towards you had somewhat defrosted and had become positively lukewarm. And that was only after you had given birth to John Jr. aka Jack-Jack and then Marie, but they made it clear that they didn’t exactly approve of you, your mother, or your marriage to their golden boy John, nor would you ever fit in with their elitist set of friends and family.

This is why you had to sneak out to these shows. At first you had told John you were visiting friends, but soon it seemed like he stopped caring where you went; at least you had to stop giving that excuse. John had started spending more and more time out with his friends at their fancy clubs and he didn’t ask you to go because he knew you didn’t exactly fit in.

The emcee came on the stage and you pushed the thought of your husband and his family out of your mind.

“Welcome, welcome everyone to Uptown!” he said into the mic as the crowd cheered and clapped. “I’m so glad that you all could make it out tonight.” More cheers. “And we all know why you’re here, so I’m not gonna keep you waiting. Here they are, back from a world tour, blessing all of us with their musical talent. I give you Micha, Marcus, Pedro and Benji! The Hawks!!”

The crowd erupted into loud cheers and applause as the four members jogged out on stage waving and smiling.

“Good evening everybody!” Micha shouted as the other members got their instruments ready. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

Loud cheers and whistles answered him.

“Lovely, so glad you came to see our little band,” he paused at the laughter from the audience. “And now here’s one of our favorites, hope you like it too.”

The opening chords of “Kiss Me” began to play and the crowd immediately started to sing along. Pedro scanned the crowd and spotted you within seconds. He felt his heart lift, you were here! At the happiness he felt upon seeing you again, coupled with the fact that he hadn’t stopped thinking about you since the first time he’d seen you, he knew that he had to meet you. And it had to be tonight.

During their fourth song, “Drowning,” he finally came up with an idea, he just hoped the other guys would go along with it.

After the song was over, Micha grabbed the mic. “Alright ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna take a small break, but we promise we’ll be right back!”

The crowd clapped as the group trooped off the stage. Pedro took one more look at you before he left with the group. When they made it backstage and all had a moment to settle themselves Pedro cleared his throat.

“So, I had an idea,” he began.

“What is it?” Marcus asked as he tuned his guitar.

“I was thinking that we could invite a few fans backstage, you know, to talk to them. Kinda like a meet and greet.”

Micha sat for a minute, thinking. “That’s an interesting idea.”

“Yeah,” Marcus added. “We do it at our bigger shows so why not?”

Pedro smiled and turned to the drummer. “Benji? What do you think?” They didn’t do anything unless it was a unanimous decision.

Benji looked at him and smiled. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

A few minutes later they got up to head back out on stage to finish their set. Before they walked out, Benji put his hand on Pedro’s shoulder.

“This meet and greet idea of yours, it doesn’t have to do with a certain young lady that you’ve been making eyes at in the audience.”

“I…” Pedro started, trying to think of a lie but Benji knew him better than that. So, he closed his mouth and nodded.

“I figured that,” Benji said with a smile. “Let’s hope it goes well, now c’mon let’s get back out there.”

They took the stage again and finished up their set. Ending with the song “Journey.” Pedro couldn’t help but grin at you as you sang along with much enthusiasm, putting your arms around one of the women you were standing with.

Once the song ended Micha leaned into the mic and said “Stick around folks, we have a surprise for some of you! Thank you all for coming to see us!”

The crowd murmured, wondering what the surprise was. You stood around with Rose and as you two chatted the emcee came up and tapped you on the shoulder. He had six other people in tow.

“Excuse me, miss?”

“Yes?”

He leaned in and whispered so that only you and Rose could hear. “Would you please come with me, you two have been invited to meet the band.”

“Oh my God!” Rose gasped.

“Really?” you asked.

The emcee nodded. “Yep, you and these other six people. So, if you two would just follow me…”

You and Rose eagerly fell in line with him and walked backstage, trembling with excitement and nerves. The emcee held back the curtain and directed the eight of you towards the band who were lounging around.

“Here we are fellas, eight lucky fans.”

Micha smiled and was the first to stand. “Hello, everyone. So nice to meet you.”

They all came forward and began talking to you all like they had known you for years. You were shocked at how friendly and laid-back they all were. They didn’t have any pretensions about them and talking to them was easy. You were in the middle of a conversation with Benji about two of the songs he wrote and you were telling him how much you loved them, when Pedro finally came up to the two of you.

“Hey, sorry to cut in, what are we talking about?”

“Oh, hey, man, Y/N here was telling me how much she loved our song ‘Journey,’” Benji told him.

“Really,” Pedro said. “Did you tell her you wrote that?”

Benji nodded. “I was just about to tell her how you helped me finish it.” Benji turned back to you. “He wrote the chorus. I wouldn’t have been able to finish it without this guy's help.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Pedro said modestly.

“Oh, but it’s so beautiful. That was the first song I heard from you guys and I just fell in love after that. I had to hear more and well, here I am,” you laughed.

“Really?” Pedro asked. “And what other songs do you love?”

You told him and you went into a deep discussion about their songwriting process. Benji soon wandered off and left you two alone.

“You know, I’ve seen you at a couple of shows before,” Pedro told you.

“Really?”

“Yeah, guess you really love our music.”

“Oh my God, I must seem like a groupie or something.”

He shook his head. “That thought never crossed my mind.”

That made you smile. Before he could say anything else, Marcus came up and whispered something in his ear.

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded. Then he turned to you. “So, um, there’s this party that we’re going to, d’you maybe wanna join us? That is if you want.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I have to get back home soon.”

“Um, well, that’s okay,” he said, looking a little disappointed.

For some reason, you felt incredibly bad. You didn’t understand why. You had only seen this man from a distance and you had only spoken with him for an hour, but in that time, you felt like you’d known him for years.

“You know what, let me make a quick call.”

He nodded. “Sure, payphone’s right out there,” he told you, pointing to the hall.

“Thanks,” you said and walked out, digging two quarters out of your pocket.

You dropped one in the slot and called your mom, telling her that you’d pick up Jack-Jack and Marie in the morning and to tell them that you loved them. After hanging up with her, you dropped the other quarter in and dialed the number of the Marche Club, where you knew John was.

“Yes, oh, hey Tony, may I please speak with John? Tell him it’s me… thanks.” You waited for John to come on the line.

“Hey, honey,” you heard his voice.

“Hey, John, um, I was just calling to see how long you’d be out.”

“Oh, hmm, I dunno really. A few more hours, I think.”

“Oh, okay…”

“Darling, don’t sound like that. I did ask you to come with me,” he said, sounding slightly annoyed.

“I don’t sound like anything, John. And besides, you know they don’t really like me there. It would have been awkward.

He sighed. “Okay if you say so…”

Just then a feminine voice called from behind him. “Johnny, come on. We’re waiting.”

“I’m coming, just a second,” he called back, then back on the line to you he asked “Is there anything else you wanted, honey?”

“No, no. I’ll, um, see you when you get home.”

“Okay then, I’ll see you. Bye.”

“Bye,” you replied, but you heard the dial tone before you even got the word out. He had hung up on you.

You sighed and hung up the phone. You leaned against the wall, thinking for a second. And you quickly came to a decision. Why not? Why not do this and have some fun?

Walking back into the room where you had met the band, you spotted Pedro talking with Rose. You walked up to them and pulled him aside.

“Hey, if that invite is still good, I’ll be happy to take it.”

A smile lit up his face. “Really?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Okay, well, let’s go then.” He presented his arm to you, and you took it with a laugh and he led you out to their waiting car and you hopped in.

~~~~~~~

You had to admit, you hadn’t been to a party in ages, unless you counted the ones at the various clubs that the Smythes frequented. But you’d never truly felt welcome there. You knew those people only invited you because you were John’s wife, and didn’t dare want to offend Augie and Eddie by snubbing their daughter-in-law. Not that either of them would really care if you were there or not.

But this party, full of people you didn’t even know, felt more welcoming than any of those snooty ones ever could. At least you felt more relaxed. Here you didn’t have to worry about appearances, you could just be you. You sipped on your drink, while you and Rose (who was invited by Benji, who had really taken a liking to her) mingled and talked with different people.

Soon you and Pedro were sitting in a corner chatting again. Talking with him was so much easier than the other people you knew and the conversation was free-flowing. You talked about everything from music, to the books you liked to read, and various hobbies you both had. You joked around and exchanged admiring glances.

Eventually, after he finished telling you an outrageous story about one of their concerts in Rome that had you in stitches, he leaned in and kissed you. You were taken aback for a second but after the initial shock, you melted into the kiss, loving the feel of his lips on yours and his arms around you. You felt warmth flooding through you, filling your body with something you had never felt before. You hadn’t felt like this when Andy had given you your first kiss at 16, or when Gregory had kissed you after you had gone with him to the dance, or when John had kissed you after your first date.

John… oh no.

You broke away from Pedro quickly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confused.

“I… I shouldn’t be doing this. I… shouldn’t be here,” you started to panic slightly.

“Hey, hey, calm down, what’s wrong?”

“I have to go. I shouldn’t have kissed you back.”

“Why not? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath, scooted back from him a bit and took a quick glance at him then looked down at your hands. “I’m okay, it’s just that…”

“Just what?”

You took another breath and said in a rush. “It’s just that I have kids, two kids, Jack-Jack and Marie and they’re with my mom, and I have a husband… I shouldn't have done that. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

You hopped up and headed for the exit. Once you were outside you leaned against the building and tried to control your breathing. The door opened next to you and Pedro came out.

“There you are. Listen, I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m sorry I should have told you before we even came here. I just wanted to do something away from my family.”

“That bad huh?” he asked

“It’s not bad, it’s just my in-laws don’t particularly care for me, and it makes being around them difficult.”

“I see.”

“Again, I’m sorry, I should be getting home anyway. It’s late.”

“Okay let’s get you home,” he said, glad that you had calmed down and wanting to help you out as much as he could.

“I just need to get back to my car.”

“It’s parked at the club right”

You nodded.

“Alright. Well, let's get you back there. Give me a minute.” He went back inside and told the guys that he’d had to run out but he’d be back soon. Then he found their driver and led you to the car that had brought you to the party.

He decided to ride with you to make sure you made it back to your car safely. Hopping in the back seat with you, he talked to you until you were relaxed. He told you some more stories about their various shows and concerts. Soon the car turned on the street where you had parked and you told the driver.

He pulled over and before you could open your door, Pedro had gotten out and walked over to your side, and opened the car door for you, reaching out his hand for you. You took it, marveling for a second at how warm it felt wrapped around yours and got out and gave him a small smile. “Thank you, for everything. And I’m sorry for not telling you everything upfront.”

“No, don’t worry about it. For what it’s worth, I did enjoy spending time with you.”

You grinned at him. “I did enjoy it too.”

“Good, good. Um if it’s okay could we possibly still stay in touch. I know you have a husband and a family, but I think we could still be friends… that is if you want? I could write to you, tell you some stories about what we get up to.”

“Sure, um, here…” you dug into your purse for a scrap of paper and a pen. You quickly scribbled your address and phone number on it and handed it to him. “I know you’ll be all over the country and the world too, so I want to hear about everything.”

He took the paper with a grin and tucked it in his pocket. Then he went around and opened your car door for you. You gave him a quick hug then slid into your seat and rolled down the window.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Get home safe, okay?”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

He gave you one last smile and then tapped the roof of your car as you started it and drove off. You looked in the rearview mirror and saw him standing on the sidewalk, watching you drive away, giving you a wave.

When you pulled up to your house a few minutes later, you noticed John’s car wasn’t in the driveway. You checked your watch, it was one in the morning. You huffed out a breath and climbed out and slowly walked up to your front door, unlocked it and went inside. You put your things down and straightened up some things before heading to your bathroom and turning on the shower. As you stepped in and let the warm water cascade down your body, all you could think about was the feel of Pedro’s lips on yours and his arms around you and how the kiss filled you with a warmth and a feeling of contentment that you had never felt before. You touched your lips and couldn’t help but want to feel his kiss again.

You quickly banished the thought, feeling it was unfaithful to John. Scrubbed your body carefully, and then turned the water off. You dried off and put on your pajamas and crawled into your bed alone. You looked at the time again before laying down and closing your eyes.

You were in the middle of a wonderful dream, starring your favorite bassist when you heard the front door open and John’s footsteps heading towards the bedroom. You sat up when he walked in and turned on the bathroom light.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you up, dear,” he said walking over, loosening his tie and kissing you on the cheek. You could smell the whiskey on his breath and cigar smoke on his jacket, along with another sweeter scent.

“It’s okay, what time is it?”

“Late, I’m sorry to stay out so long. Where are the kids?”

“With my mom. I sent them to spend the night. They haven’t seen her in ages.”

He nodded, taking off his jacket and shoes. He tossed the jacket to the floor of the bedroom and headed into the bathroom.

“Gotta get this cigar smell out of my hair,” he said and turned on the shower. Tossing his shirt and then pants and socks onto the floor along with his jacket, he closed the bathroom door.

You rolled your eyes and climbed out of bed to pick up his clothes off the floor. You looked at the closed bathroom door, and then at the pile of clothes in your hand, remembering the scent you had smelled. You sniffed at his shirt and smelled it again. There it was, something flowery underneath the scent of expensive cigars. You shook your head and dumped the clothes into the hamper. Of course there would be perfume too, the women that were at those dinner clubs always wore so much perfume it would give you massive headaches.

You crawled back in bed, glancing at the clock, 3:30 am, before you laid your head back down and tried to go back to sleep, hoping the dream you were having would come back.

~~~~~~~

August 1979

It had been about three months since that night you had gone to the performance and the party and true to his word, Pedro had called and written letters to you. You eagerly read every word he wrote and laughed at the stories he told you. You kept the letters hidden in a box on the top shelf of your closet. You knew John would never snoop around.

You were reading another letter from Pedro, this one postmarked from Greece, imagine that, little old you getting letters from someone in Greece, when John came into the living room where you were.

“Whatcha got there, darling?”

“Huh? Oh, just a letter.”

“What’s in it that’s got you smiling like that?”

You shook your head. “Nothing really, what’s going on? Who was that on the phone?”

“Oh that was just mother, she and father are having a dinner tonight and want us to join them. How’s that sound?”

“Mmm…” you hummed, wrinkling your nose.

John laughed. “Aw c’mon, darling. It’ll be… well, not exactly fun, but the food will be good.”

You giggled. “Okay, so what’s the dress code?”

“That’s my girl, it’s semi-formal. So, let’s get ready.” He kissed you on the cheek and walked off into the bedroom to get dressed.

You went back to your letter from Pedro, and finished reading it. He had gone on for a few pages telling you about the ruins and the city and how lovely the Mediterranean Sea was and he ended it with his wish that you were there to share the beautiful view with him. You smiled sadly at that, because you wished you were there with him as well. You folded it up with a sigh and walked back into your room to stuff the letter with the others in the box up on your closet shelf.

You then searched for a dress that your mother-in-law wouldn’t criticize as much. And pulled out a black, sleeveless dress that fell just below your knee with a jacket to go with it. You pulled out a suit for John, because you saw he hadn’t even bothered, and then went to get the kids ready and wait for him to come out so you could shower and change.

Once you all were dressed, and deemed appropriate, you climbed in John’s car. You listened as Jack-Jack and Marie told you about the adventures they’d had that day. You laughed at their stories enjoying the tales they told. Soon you pulled up to John’s parents’ house. It was so big and you had to keep your face neutral.

This house only held bad and embarrassing memories for you. Going back to the first time you met Augusta and Edward. Augusta, especially, couldn't hide the disappointment she felt that John had brought you to meet them. You were just some low-class shop girl to them and they both thought John would marry some nice, rich girl, with good breeding (according to them). So, you were never fully welcome, but you made the effort to be nice, for John, then Jack-Jack and Marie’s sake.

“John, there you are my dear boy!” Edward called out when you all walked through the door that had been opened by their butler, Michael. You nodded hello to him, and he gave you a nod and small smile in return. He and their maid, Elise, and cook, Rufus, were at least decent to you, mainly because you were decent to them in return and didn’t treat them like they were a part of the decor.

“Father!” John said, going over to him.

“Grandfather Eddie!” Jack-Jack and Marie called and went over to hug him.

“Mr. Edward,” you smiled at him.

Edward clapped John on the back, then hugged his grandchildren. He merely gave you a small nod.

“Are those my dear grandchildren?” Augusta said, coming down the stairs and spotting them.

“Grandmother Augie!” The children gave her big hugs as well.

“John, my darling boy,” she said, hugging him.

“Hello,” she said to you

“Mrs. Augusta,” you gave her a tight-lipped smile.

She turned, and gestured for the four of you to follow her into the ballroom where the others were. “Now, children, go into that room there, there’s some fellows you can play with.”

They smiled and eagerly went into one of the side rooms. “Kids, remember your manners,” you told them.

“Yes, mom.”

“Ah, they'll be fine, children with good breeding always have impeccable manners,” Edward said to you dismissively. “How about a drink, son?” He walked off with John in tow to get a drink from the bar, from the bartender Jameson, leaving you standing with Augusta.

She sniffed and looked at you. “So, that’s what you decided to wear?”

“Yes, ma’am. I thought it was nice.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “Ah, there’s Marion, I must go speak with her.” And she walked off, leaving you standing there alone.

You looked around at all the people mingling and decided that you wanted a drink.

“Here you go, miss.” You turned and saw Elise standing there with a glass.

“Oh, thank you so much, Elise,” you said, taking the glass from her.

“No worries, I figured you might need it.” She grinned. “Jameson, saw you come in and made it for you.”

“Tell him thank you from me, please.”

Elise nodded, then glanced around, noticing the looks they were getting from the guests. It was odd for someone to be having a conversation with the help. “I better go,” she whispered.

You nodded. “Oh and tell Rufus hello too.”

Elise nodded. “Of course, miss.” She gave you a small smile and walked off.

You went over to a corner and stood, watching everyone. No one even bothered to talk to you. You looked for John and saw him with a circle of his friends. There was one woman there that was standing close to him. She watched as she laughed at something John had said, and put her hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. You got a weird feeling watching them together, but you tried to shake it off.

Soon, Michael came in and announced dinner was ready. Everyone filed into the dining room and took their seats. You noticed that you had been placed near the end of the table, while John had been placed near the center, next to that woman he’d been talking and laughing with. You kept your face focused on your plate, ignoring the pointed glances and whispers surrounding you. You shot two or three glances down the table at your husband and that woman and the weird feeling you had earlier came back. And you couldn't help but wonder why your husband hadn't requested that you be seated near him.

Once dinner was finished you all took coffee in the sitting room, while the men stayed back for another drink and some cigars. You were sitting near a corner, looking out the window, wishing you were digging your toes into the sand of the beaches of Greece instead of sitting here with people who didn’t like you, when you smelled a familiar sweet scent and heard a familiar voice drift over to you. You turned your head to the three women who had taken seats near to your secluded spot, but hadn't noticed you.

“Yes, Johnny was telling me that last night,” the voice said.

Why did she sound so familiar? You thought, wracking your brain.

“Now, Carol, do you really think he meant that?” One of the other women asked her.

“Of course he did,” she said haughtily.

Then it clicked. Johnny, the voice you had heard in the background a few months ago. “Johnny, come on, we’re waiting.” It was her, you looked over and saw that it was the woman who had been laughing and all over John that evening.

“... and, he did give me this after all,” she said, holding up her wrist and showing off a diamond tennis bracelet that winked in the light. “And besides we all know he shouldn’t have married her anyway. What was he thinking?”

“Who knows, you know men don’t really think with their, ah, upper heads,” the other woman said as they all giggled.

You stared at the woman, Carol, her friend had called her as she showed off the bracelet she claimed that your husband, your John had given her. Forget feeling weird, you felt downright queasy now.

The men came into the room with the women, talking loudly and laughing. John looked around, and Carol waved at him. He gave her a small smile, then he spotted you, sitting in the corner behind them. Just then the kids came running out of the side room. Jack-Jack and Marie ran over to John and the children of the three women near you went to them. The little boy that went to Carol looked oddly familiar. You couldn’t help but stare at him. You looked from John to the little boy, then you looked at your son. And a frown creased your brow. The little boy looked just like Jack-Jack and Jack was the spitting image of his father.

It can’t be, you thought. No, no, no. Now all the looks and whispers made sense. You felt heat in your cheeks and tears sting your eyes as you watched Edward and Augusta go over and pat the little boy lovingly on the head.

On the ride home, you were quiet as John went on and on about how great the dinner was and how wonderful it was to see his old friends. You stayed quiet as you walked in the house, washed off, changed and put the kids to bed. You were tight lipped as John showered and changed and then you did the same. You were thinking and once you stepped out of the shower, you had made up your mind.

You went into the office and pulled out some stationary and began to write a letter. An hour later, when you finished, you read over it one more time then folded it and put it in an envelope. Pedro had told you that they’d be in Greece for a while and you just hoped that it would reach him in time.

~~~~~~~~~

September 1979

You had sent off the letter and had gotten one back. The Hawks would be back in the states this month, and Pedro had promised that he’d find a way to make time to see you.

While you were cleaning the house, the phone rang, and you rushed to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Well, it is good to hear your voice.”

You smiled. “It’s good to hear yours too, Pedro.”

“I got your letter, so do you think you can get away next weekend? I’ll be able to see you for a few days before we have to head back to the studio to record.”

“I should be able to, the kids will be with John’s parents for the weekend. So, I won't have to worry about them.”

“Sounds good. So, I’ll see you next weekend then?”

“Yeah, you will.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Across town at one of the fancier hotels, you walked through the doors with a suitcase in your hand. You gave the receptionist your name and she called up to Pedro’s room.

“Alright miss, you can go on up, room six fifty-two, enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you very much.”

You waited for the elevator and rode up to the sixth floor and headed to the room. You knocked on the door and Pedro swung it open, a huge smile illuminating his face. He opened his arms for a hug, and you stepped into them gratefully. He hugged you tight and kissed you on the forehead.

You looked up at him with a smile and this time, you stood on your toes and kissed him. That feeling of warmth and contentment filled you again. You didn’t pull away, as the kiss erased all the miserable thoughts you’d been having about your husband and that woman. That kiss filled you with nothing but joy and you relished in that feeling, something you hadn’t felt in years. It was something that you hadn’t realized you had been missing until you finally got it. In that kiss you tried to convey everything you felt in that moment, the happiness, the longing, and the need. He seemed to understand, as he walked you backwards to the bed, his arms around you. it was then that neither of you was about to leave that room for the entirety of the weekend. This time there would be no pulling back, no regrets, no feelings of guilt. Again you were going to do something that truly made you happy.

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