#and she tosses him a skirt without thinking and before she tells him that he doesnt need try it on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taintedcigs · 2 years ago

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ YOURS, MINE, OURS. ghostface!dom!steddie x fem reader

— summary : you ask your boyfriends to surprise you in ghostface masks.

— word count : 4.6k

— warnings : 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!!, smut, prn without plot, p in v, bj!!, or*l (m and f receiving), fingering, hj, unprotected sex, mmf/mfm threesome (mostly mfm for this one but they do stuff too), dom/sub dynamics, mean!dom!eddie, mean!dom!steve, sub!reader, very tiny knife play, spitting?, degrading, petnames (baby, slvt, whore, princess, etc.)

a/n : not proof-read >:( whoever came up w soft dom!eddie and mean dom!steve combo i owe u my life! also kinda wanna make dom!steddie a series with various one-shots but? what do yall think?

You had talked about this many times before.

Expressed how badly you wanted the two of them to fuck you in that Ghostface mask.

So when they finally agreed with the plan and came in through your window, pining you against your bed, you couldn't help the lustful gasps that left your plump lips, which were already muffled by your own laced panties that they stuffed into your mouth.

"She's already moanin' for us," Eddie purred, tilting his head, his eyes dripping with lust behind the mask as he traced the contours of your face. "Such a desperate slut," Steve mocked further with a deep chuckle.

Your tiny skirt was flipped upward on your stomach, and both of their hands were roaming your body. The sight of your pantieless, glistening cunt was enough to have both of the boys' blood rush to their cock, painfully prodding through their jeans.

Both of them were quick to take off their masks, tossing them aside with their knives while they toyed with you. Eddie held you by your wrists, and Steve's lips were sloppily latched to your neck, nibbling and licking every spot he could find, rough enough to mark your body in every place possible. "Touch her," he murmured toward Eddie, who nodded frantically.

Steve ordered both of you around with ease, his cock growing harder at the fact that the two of you were so quick to obey his orders, that submissive look was embedded in both of your eyes.

Eddie's calloused hands were rough as they landed on your thigh, you yelped quickly, "P-please," you whined, voice still muffled.

"I can't hear you, sweetheart, what did ya say?" Eddie mocked with a sly chuckle. "Poor little baby just wants to be stuffed with our cock," Steve whispered against your neck, you whined an incoherent babble to them, and Steve huffed before he yanked away the panties from your lips so you could speak.

“Yes!” You whined out of breath. “More!” You pouted at him all brattily, earning a harsh slap on your ass.

"Behave." Steve warned with dark eyes, Eddie's one hand still had a tight grip on your wrist while his other hand was quick to snake between your thighs, fingers teasing at your clit.

His hands let go of your wrists and his face slid down to your thighs, lip ghosting over your leg as he looked up at you with a sly smirk. Your body was burning with desire, you wanted to grip his head and push him further into your aching cunt, and just as you were about to reach for him, Steve had a harsh hold on you with a tut. "Nuh-uh," he mocked with a tilt of his head.

"You're gonna lay there and take what we fuckin' give you," he spat, his hands quick to retrieve the knife next to him, cutting your bra in one swift motion, both of the boys groaning at the sight of your breasts. You opened your mouth to tell him off, but he quickly interrupted you with the light graze of the knife on your skin.

The cold exhilarating touch of it had you arching your back, nipples quick to harden as both of them watched you smugly.

"So fuckin' desperate," Steve mocked, his gaze overblown with lust now, loving the way you submitted so easily and how much of a slut you were for them.

Your thighs closed around Eddie's head, desperate for him to give you something, anything. “Please,” you panted. Eddie looked at Steve for confirmation, who nodded with a sly smirk.

He was quick to slide a finger into your slick walls, curving his digits and pressing his lips against your cunt to suck on your clit, earning small cries with each of his movements. "You like that, honey?" You nodded frantically.

Steve cherished your whines and the shift of your hips to gain some more friction. He placed the knife aside before his mouth latched onto your nipples, both of them overstimulating you in every possible way, deliciously.

Steve dropped the firm hold on your wrists; instead, focusing on the bulge prodding against his tight pants, he stroked himself with a low whine that was dulled by your breasts that were attached to his lips.

You wanted to take advantage of your free hands, take Eddie by his curls, and push his head further down, but you were too distracted by the two of them—the way their mouths moved and the way their hands roamed on your body. And, besides, you knew if you tried anything, both of them would have you crying out, mewling, to even have them fuck you.

You were beyond frustrated. The moment they came through your window with those masks and the moment they took them off, revealing their devilish smirks, your pussy ached at the sight.

"Look at our slut, Stevie, so fucked out with just our tongues, hmm?" Eddie said through gritted teeth, lapping up your juices in delight. You moaned in response, your heels digging further into the bed. You sounded like a woman possessed.

Steve let go of your nipples with a slight pop sound. "S'fuckin' loud for us today, aren't you, sweets?" He tutted with a tilt of his head.

"Look at those pretty little glossy lips, Eds," he hummed, hand squishing your cheeks as his eyes devoured you whole.

Eddie looked up in awe, oggling your breasts with a shift of his hips. He needed some kind of friction. You looked perfect from this angle; your mouth stood agape with Steve's force on your cheeks, and tits glistening with his spit. He wanted nothing more than to watch them bounce up and down while he stuffed you full of his cock.

He continued his soft strokes on your clit, making you arch your back onto his mouth. "Think you need to have that mouth stuffed with something bigger than her panties, Stevie." Eddie suggested with a mocking grin.

"God, you're so fuckin' perfect, baby," He praised Eddie with a frustrated huff. "C'mere," he muttered. Eddie was quick to oblige, leaving you all whiney and frustrated as he reached for Steve.

"N-no!" You squealed out, "n-need more, need both of you." You huffed with a pout, looking at both of them with an innocent look.

The cold glare they gave you was enough to have your lips pressed tightly into a straight line, you knew if you went further with your brattiness, you'd be in for a long punishment, but you didn't want that, at least not today, not when your insides were pulsating with the need to be stuffed full of their cocks and their warm cum.

"Behave." Steve warned with a harsh grip on your face, making you look at his darkened gaze. "Eddie was such a good boy today," he praised again, turning his gaze toward Eddie's sickly sweet brown eyes.

"And you were nothing but a brat," he spat without even looking at you, making you pout further.

"'m sorry," you huffed. They paid no attention to you when Steve grabbed Eddie's chin harshly. Kissing him so roughly that his lips mashed against his teeth, making him yelp for more.

He swirled his tongue in Eddie's mouth, one hand discarding his curls messily, while the other was quick to free himself of his painful pants and even more painful boxers.

Revealing his hardened cock as it plopped against his stomach, making him hiss against the dizzying kiss. Pre-cum beaded from his deliciously pink slit, making your mouth water and your thighs dampen further and further the more you watched them.

You loved both of them dominating you, but seeing Steve so easily overpower both you and Eddie had your stomach in a twist. The sudden flip of a switch in Eddie between you and Steve was glorious, and it had you whining like a brat.

Steve stroked himself as he deepened the kiss, his deep brown eyes half shut with desire as he whined into Eddie's mouth, your core immediately vibrating with the ache for both of them.

He smeared the pre-cum sitting on his angry tip onto his length, fucking his hand roughly with a determined gaze on you.

Heat rushed to your cheeks and straight to your aching cunt as you watched your two boys with desire.

Eddie's gaze widened once he fully comprehended where the lewd noises were coming from. Steve jerked his thick cock, a stilled smirk plastered on his parted lips. Eddie didn't hesitate to help Steve out, his hand flying to take over as he stroked up his shaft, slow and steady.

Steve grunted into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. You watched with your teeth dug into your lips, the more Eddie tugged at Steve's thick cock, the more Steve panted and bucked his hips further into Eddie's calloused hands, spurring you on and on.

Steve broke the kiss with a satisfied huff when he heard your strained groans, biting Eddie's bottom lip before he turned to you, "enjoying the show?" He mocked, licking his lips while he kept his stern gaze on you, and Eddie palmed Steve’s dick with the need to have his cum spurting all over the both of you.

You nodded with a slight huff, pupils blown with lust. "If you had been a good girl, you'd be the one stroking my cock," Steve hissed.

"Or better yet, I'd have you bouncin' on it." You whined loudly at that. Wanting nothing more than to have both of your boys filling your holes, any and all of them.

"P-please," you begged. "I'll be good, s-so good, I promise." You feigned an innocent look, a pout adorning your lips.

Your begging earned their attention as Eddie's movement on Steve slowed down, stopping completely when you continued. "Promise, I'll be so good, the bestest," you hummed, earning a warm smile from Eddie, who was too quick to soften up the moment you gave them those eyes.

Steve sighed a deep breath. "What'd ya think, baby?" He turned to Eddie, who was almost already drooling, his cock swelling more at the sight of your wet cunt, begging to be plunged into.

"Stevie," he whined. "Need to be inside of our lil' slut."

"Need to stuff all of her holes and show her who owns them." Eddie's tone was gentle toward Steve, his gaze on you was anything but. Deep brown eyes looking like they were ready to swallow you whole.

"Please, baby, I want to teach her what happens to bratty little sluts like her, hmmm?" Eddie almost growled, making blood rush straight through Steve's cock, twitching with need.

"So fuckin' perfect," Steve groaned when he pulled Eddie for another kiss, harsh and sloppy.

"Don't give into her too fast, baby. I know she's cute with her pouts and all, but we need to punish her, yeah?" Steve demanded, watching Eddie nod quickly once he got back to his first position, eyes hungrily watching you.

"Don't worry, Stevie, I'm gonna remind our baby who owns her," he said with a low growl, reaching down to grab your hips with both of his hands. Your breathing grew shallower the rougher he was with you.

"And make her never fuckin' forget that she's ours to use. Our personal little cock sleeve," his voice was more teasing now; that damned smirk played on the curve of his lips as his fingers slipped between your legs, quick to re-find their place, your gushing cunt giving him easy access.

You wanted to agree with him, and be good for both of them, but all that escaped your parted lips were strained moans, and your hips were quick to buck into his fingers, wanting him deeper and deeper.

"Oh look how she's squirmin' under my touch Stevie," Eddie hummed, and Steve watched in awe. Both of you were driving him fucking crazy.

"You love that, don't you, baby? You love being used by us. Love being filled and stuffed in all of your holes, hmmm?" He frowned mockingly.

"The perfect fuckin' cum dump," he hummed, the stroke of his fingers alternating between slow and fast, making your head dizzy as the lewd sounds of Eddie fingering you filled the room.

"P-please," you whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "M-more," you cried out, eyes quick to become glossy.

"So fuckin' mouthy today," Eddie tutted with a disapproving sound, head turning to Steve. "You wanna take care of that, baby?" He asked all sweetly; his fingers were sliding quickly between your slick folds, sending a shot of desire straight to Steve's cock.

Normally, he would've told Eddie to watch it for trying to act like he was in charge, but he loved Eddie ordering you around like this, and he loved to see you squirm underneath him.

Steve tutted with his brows pinched together. "Thought you wanted to be our good girl, honey," he hummed, fingers slowly stroking your cheek. You looked up at him all doe-eyed. "I-I am! I promise!" You weakly protested between your whines; Eddie's fingers were so agonizingly slow that you were trying to rock into his movement.

He heaved a sigh of breath. "Look at you, doll. Your gloss is all messed up," he said in a low tone, gripping your chin harshly to force you to look up at him.

His fingers were quick to graze against your lips. "Let me fix it," he hummed. With half-lidded eyes and whines escaping your lips, you nodded obediently.

His other hand grabbed his hardened cock, giving it a few tugs before he slapped it across your cheek, earning a shocked gasp from you. Your eyes widened with excitement as you watched him.

His fingertips found their way to his pink slit, and a hissed sound escaped as he swiped his thumb over his angry tip, spreading some of the pre-cum before he dragged it on your mouth, smearing it all over your lips.

A sly grin overtook his features as he dragged his cock all over your lips, making sure each part of your lips was drenched in his semen.

Before he could tell you to taste him, your tongue darted out of your mouth, a loud moan escaping your lips as you eagerly lapped up all of his juices, looking up at him with a heavenly gaze and a sugary smile.

Steve looked back at you dumbfounded. Surges of pleasure coursed through his veins like electricity, and his balls felt so much heavier when you slightly parted your lips to take his index fingers in your mouth. You sucked at it greedily, faux innocent eyes never leaving his.

Eddie's movements came to a halt as he watched the two of you, both of their cock hardened to the point of pain, ready to release just from the filthy sounds you made as you sucked on Steve's fingers.

Steve slowly retracted his digit from your mouth. "Open," he muttered, voice low. You parted your lips happily, watching the way he fucked his hand. You wanted nothing more than to have him filling your mouth and to feel his warm cum shooting down your throat. Just the thought of it had you closing your thighs together unashamedly.

"Let me see that tongue," he purred, grabbing your chin. You stuck your tongue out without any complaint, giving him the same gaze that had both of them groan in unison.

"Such a good girl for us, aren't you?" He hummed, making you nod frantically before he spat into your mouth, you almost gasped at the invasion of his fluids in your mouth, but it warmed your tongue quickly. "Swallow." He demanded, and you happily swallowed, watching the way his deep brown eyes squinted in satisfaction.

"You're so fuckin' perfect," he grunted. "That filthy fucking mouth, and those perfect tits," he hummed in excitement, fisting his cock roughly, "and just the sight of that tight cunt, oh, god, baby." He let out a strained groan.

"Tastes even better, Stevie," Eddie said with a smirk, diving back into your thighs, pressing the flat of his tongue against your throbbing clit, soaking in the way you squirmed under his mouth.

"I don't think I can fuckin' wait," his voice drowned out between your thighs, "need to be inside'a her." He slurred.

"I think you've earned this, princess," he whispered. "Right, baby?" He hummed contently, attention diverting to Eddie.

Eddie's head was quick to pop up, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. "Fuck yes," he groaned eagerly, not even wasting a second to undo his zipper and toss his clothes aside.

You looked up at him excitedly. "Masks?" Steve's eyebrows rose at that. "You want us to wear our masks while we fuck your holes, honey?" He shuddered, his mind going numb with how perfect you were.

You nodded happily. "Since you've been such a good girl," he hummed, slipping on his mask before he tossed Eddie his.

You could feel Eddie's thick, veiny shaft pressing against your legs, smearing his beads of pre-cum all over your inner thighs.

They were both so addicting—the way they moved in unison and how they had your breath hitching just with their masks on.

You don't know what it was that you loved about those masks, but you loved how they immediately made both your boys more confident and dominant. Especially Eddie, who was eyeing you with such hunger that it had your core throbbing, the head of his dick prodding your entrance.

Steve had your attention back when he slapped his dick against your lips, parting them open before he gave it a few tugs. He kneeled on the bed, towering above you.

He slid his angry tip into your awaiting mouth, not worried about hurting you once he pushed himself harshly with a low grunt coming out of his lips. Your mouth was quick to wrap around it, licking and sucking every inch of him you possibly could fit. “See, you look so much prettier like this, baby, droolin’ all over my cock and knowing your place,” he groaned, eyes carefully watching you behind the mask.

And you loved every second of it—his husky voice with that goddamn mask as he shoved your face further onto his cock, your nose hitting his pubes as you drooled around him. And Eddie could tell how much sucking Steve’s cock turned you on, feeling the way your thighs dampened more and more.

“Stevie she’s fuckin’ soaked from sucking your dick,” Eddie mocked with a chuckle as he teasingly slid his shaft against your slick walls. You whimpered for more, but he just looked at you with that goddamn smirk.

They enjoyed this, teasing you until you got all whiney and teary, so cock drunk to the point where all you could let out were incoherent babbles for them to make you cum.

"Isn't this what you were fuckin' begging for, baby, huh?" Eddie pouted mockingly.

"To be fucked dumb by both of your daddies, hmm?" He asked, dragging his cock up and lining it with your entrance. You were quick to nod frantically, mouth muffled by Steve’s thick cock shoved into it.

You could barely comprehend what was happening when he started to sheath himself inside of your velvety walls, making your pussy accommodate his size quickly. It burned, just a little bit, but your cunt clamped down around him quickly, and a groan lodged in his throat, his face scrunching when he pushed himself further.

“You look so good like this,” he panted. “All fucked out on our cocks, just begging for more, like a bitch in heat.” Eddie groaned,

Steve’s hands quickly wrapped around your hair, yanking you hard as he pumped further into your mouth. “Can’t even move her damn mouth,” he spat. “Have to do all the fuckin’ work,” he groaned. You could barely catch your breath the more vicious his thrusts got.

But you were used to it, welcoming his thick cock as you took what he gave you, trying to hollow your cheeks to please him further. Tears prickled at your eyes, and your face heated from being so breathless.

��Look how well she’s takin’ both of us… and this tight fuckin’ cunt… molded just for us,” he moaned, watching the way his cock split you apart. His grip on your hips hardened, enough to leave a blotchy bruise, marking you.

He eyed you with a proud smirk, plunging into you harder while Steve fucked your face with ease. Your whines and groans were uncontrollable, as were Steve and Eddie’s. The room was filled with a mixture of the lewd sounds of your grunts and the harsh slapping of flesh.

Eddie was feral, plunging his cock further into your velvety walls, not stopping until he was sure you were fully stuffed, and the deeper he went, the deeper you took Steve into your mouth. All three of you were in sync; the rocking motion had everyone in a hazy state, not knowing when any of you were about to fucking lose it.

“Such a warm fuckin’ mouth, Eddie… and she’s droolin’ all over my cock,” Steve grunted, his grip on your hair tightened, slamming your head with force as he enjoyed the way you gagged around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“She’s drenchin’ my cock too, so good for us,” Eddie chuckled. You rocked your hips back onto him, making Eddie almost lose it. “Fuck- fucking messy little slut.” He growled in a husky voice, pumping his cock in and out of you in a delicious pace.

“God, you both look so hot…” Steve groaned. “Shit, shit, shit… Love watching your cock drive into her, gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, both of you.”

You could barely focus, delighted sobs muffled by Steve’s stuttering hips driving further into you. “Needy fuckin’ whore,” he shuddered when you choked around him. “Don’t know how much longer I can hold off." You looked up at him all doe-eyed, ready to take all of his cum and swallow it whole.

He almost lost it at that look—so primal and needy, but so fucking innocent. “Mhmm, gonna shoot my load down that pretty little throat.” You whimpered, making Steve’s head fall back in pleasure.

“Fuuuck, want that princess? Want me to fill your slutty mouth?” You nodded as best as you could, pouting.

“Shit, pretty girl, I’ll give you all of my cum.” He stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears that left your glossy eyes.

“You close, baby?” Steve asked, directed toward Eddie, who was lost in your pussy, reveling in your moans. “F-fuck yes,” he panted.

“Can tell she’s fuckin’ close, too… Tight fuckin’ cunt squeezing me, wants to milk me dry, yeah?” He asked with a mocking chuckle.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, pretty girl, shit I’m gonna-” Steve was losing it, grumbling as he furiously fucked your mouth. “N-need your cum, Stevie,” you let out a gurgled sound, Steve’s cock immediately twitching, balls drawing up with the need to release.

“I’m gonna- oh, fu-fuuck,” he let out a load groan, bucking his hips with a force that had your mind fuzzy, enjoying the feeling of being filled everywhere. Steve was hitting the back of your throat, and you could almost feel Eddie in your tummy.

His cock throbbed in your throat. “Take it, b-baby, fuuuck, mmpf! Y-yeah… take it all,” he grunted, with ropes of hot cum spurting down your throat with one final thrust, tainting your throat.

He watched you swallow it all with a filthy smile on your lips. Eddie was stunned watching the two of you, his vision blurring as he was chasing his release now.

You’re too fucked out, but now with your mouth free, you want to tease Eddie and get him to his breaking point because you know you are close—so close that it aches. And you know he will only let you cum once he does.

Your attention diverts back to him, with an innocent look, “Mhmm, Eds?” you whined, voice still coarse after getting your throat abused by Steve.

He looked back at you, pupils blown wide. “What do you need, pretty girl?” He hummed,

“W-wanna see you,” you hummed with a sweet pout, and he was quick to oblige, taking off the mask swiftly.

You grind your hips onto his cock, tiny whimpers leaking out of your plump lips, wanting more.

More, more, more.

“I-I…” you barely let out between your whines, and he stared at you in a hypnotic gaze, each part of him completely allured by you now.

Your fingers grazed against your tummy. “I-I can feel you here, sir,” you stuttered with that look again. Leaving Eddie stunned as his mind reveled, calling him 'sir' with the most pornographic gaze ever, you truly had him wrapped around your finger.

He shuddered in a deep breath. “Jesus fu-fucking,” he growled. His pace picked up, head thrown back as he plunged into you. “Fuuuuck, angel, keep sayin’ shit like that, and you’ll make me cum.” Steve watched curiously, blood quick to rush to his cock again when both of his sluts were so fucking filthy.

“Wanna make you cum, sir,” you sobbed beneath him. You were close, so fucking close. Body shuddering with how badly you needed a release. “P-please need m-more.” Tiny whines left your parted lips; he could feel your cunt gushing on his cock, desperately sucking him in.

“Shit, pretty girl. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? To be fucked dumb like this? To be our little fucktoy?” He was losing it, beads of sweat prickled on his forehead.

“Mhmmm, love being owned by the two of you,” you hummed, head tilting toward Steve with a vulgar look before turning your attention back to your own release. “Please, Eds, n-need to…”

“You wanna cum, baby?” You nodded frantically. “Wanna cum, while I claim you? While I stuff you full of my cum, have it leakin’ down those pretty thighs?” He hissed.

“P-please!” you cried out, “want you to come inside’a me.” You cried out, your pussy convulsing more and more around him.

“C’mon sweet girl,” he hummed. He pistoned into you, watching his cock split you open once more. “Cum for me,” he hissed.

That was all the confirmation you needed as you chased your release, primal groans filling the air as your walls fluttered around him, orgasm washing you away as you were sure you saw stars for a moment.

“F-fuuuckk, g-gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep,” he growled against your ear, fully losing it with one vicious thrust, feeling the way your cunt was squeezing him as thick ropes of his warm cum spurted inside of you, painting your walls white.

Both of your visions blurred with how hard you came, and Eddie could feel his cum leaking out of your stuffed pussy, he groaned at the feeling.

Once his cock softened and slipped out of you, he crashed next to you, planting a quick kiss on your bare shoulder.

Steve was quick to jump back into the bed, making his way down to your thighs, and your head cocked in curiosity, watching the way he spread your legs.

His cock twitched at your fucked out expression. Your hair was messily discarded, your mouth still stained with Steve’s cum, and your tear-strained cheeks made him hard again.

His head drooped down to your glistening pussy, stuffed full of Eddie’s load that was leaking down your thighs. His fingers spread apart your pussy lips, admiring how full you were. “W-what are you doing?” You asked with a sweet hum.

“I wanna taste both of you.” Steve hissed with a devilish smirk, diving into your sore cunt as his tongue flattened on your clit, savoring the taste of the two of you.

#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader #dom!steddie x reader #ghostface!steddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #steddie x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington x y/n #steddie x y/n #ghostface!eddie munson #ghostface!steve harrington

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secretlysamcro · 1 month ago

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#Til It’s Gone question,

Has Jax ever imagined what life would be like with him and the reader fully together? Like waking up Sunday mornings, making breakfast, cuddling on the couch, dinner plans, etc. 🥹🫶🏻

Jax opens his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling. Tara’s soft breathing filling the silence beside him. But it wasn’t the comfort he needed. It wasn’t you.

His mind drifted, painting you into his reality like a cruel daydream. He imagined waking up to you in her place instead. Sleepy eyes fluttering open, a lazy smile spreading across your face when you saw him watching. He’d reach out to press a kiss against your forehead, gentle and unhurried this time. Not rushed like usual.

The daydream deepens, the morning unfolding in his mind like a movie. Your voice would be the first thing he heard, teasing him about how messy his hair was or how he always took up most of the bed. Maybe you’d pull him back under the covers for five more minutes “The club can wait, baby” you’d whisper, your arms wrapping round his waist as he buries his face in your neck, breathing you in as hard as he can.

He could almost hear the sound of your footsteps making your way to his kitchen, the soft clink of mugs as you made coffee. Just the way he liked it, strong and dark, yours always being that little bit sweeter. His boys voices echoing in the distance of his vision, you’d crouch down and greet them with your arms open wide offering them insane amounts of love.

He thought about all the moments you probably wouldn’t ever get to share.

Grocery shopping on a Sunday morning, arguing over which cereal to get for the boys, you sneaking snacks into the cart for them when you thought he wasn’t looking. Him, Sitting at the kitchen table, watching you cook dinner and not just for him, but for his sons too. Thomas tugging at your shirt whilst you stir something on the stove, Abel telling you about his day, his words stumbling out too fast because he knew you were actually listening to him.

Then birthdays, balloons taped to the walls, cakes on little plates. You lighting candles whilst the boys shouted excitedly. Him with an arm slung around your waist, the other hand using his phone to take a selfie, wanting to remember the moment.

He pictures the two of you packing a bag whilst the boys were at Gemma’s for a weekend sleepover. You moving around the room in that easy, natural way. Barefoot, tossing things into the duffel without a care in the world. Holding up a top and asking if it went with that skirt, half talking to yourself, half to him. He’d be sitting on the edge of the bed watching you, mesmerised by the softness of it all.

Then the drive, him behind the wheel one hand gripping it loosely, the other resting on your thigh. All the windows down, warm air rushing in, music humming from the speakers. Something old school, something you both knew every word to. You’d be mid story telling him something ridiculous that didn’t make much sense, but he’d be listening anyway, hooked on the sound of your voice more than the actual meaning.

You’d arrive to a motel by the coast, cheap, quiet and far away from everything. Salt in the air. Tangled sheets. Takeout containers half eaten on the nightstand. You in one of his shirts, brushing your teeth beside him like you’d always belonged there.

No pressure. No club. No lies.

And then, just like that, the vision shatters.

Tara stirs beside him, shifting under the covers before leaning in closer, her head resting on his shoulder like it was routine. Like nothing in their world has cracked beneath the surface. “Morning” she mumbles, still half asleep.

“Morning” he replies, his voice almost monotone. The warmth of the thoughts dissolving into mid air.

The guilt rolls in slow, but it’s suffocating. Tightening in his chest. Because he hadn’t just been thinking about you. He’d been building a life with you in his head, a quiet beautiful life that didn’t belong to him, or you, not really.

And yet, here he was. Lying beside the woman he married, the mother of his kids, whilst his mind and heart wandered elsewhere. Towards dim lighting in the diner, dirty back alleys, and secret meetings in the underground parking lot.

TILL IT'S GONE SERIES MASTERLIST

#secretlysamcro #till it’s gone #jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller x reader #samcro #soa #jax teller imagine #jax teller one shot #sons of anarchy imagine #charlie hunnam

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littlejoels · 21 days ago

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the dimly, but still bright, rehearsal room was filled with static and faint sounds of different guitars twanging loudly. you were curled up like a little kitten on a worn dark purple velvet couch shoved against the far wall, your pink purse cradled in your lap, while your oversized sunglasses kept slipping down your nose.

because you were rush, you threw on his hoodie—grey and super soft, sleeves going past your fingers, cropped just enough to flash the cherry-pink lace of your tiny skirt underneath; your legs swing idly in comfy platform uggs and white socks covering your calves.

dyl spots you between songs, while fingers still on the strings. his mouth lifts into that crooked sweet grin. he tosses his guitar strap off and jogs over without hesitation, weaving through cords and drum kits. you part your legs instinctively, make space for him in your bubble.

“you came,” he says, forehead resting against yours as your arms wrap around his neck.

“i said i would,” you murmur, with a smile decorating your face. “i missed you, bub.”

his lips find yours before he can answer you properly. he tastes like sweet sweat and spearmint, tongue lazily lapping softly against yours. in y'all's little paradise, a loud whistle breaks the moment, someone’s teasing shriek from across the room. you giggle into his mouth, raising your middle finger without looking, continuing to kiss him. he grins into the kiss.

“you always wear my stuff like that?” he mumbles, lips brushing yours.

“only when i want to be comfy, and when i want to turn you on.”

“so..always.”

you shrug, as your perfume curls around him, vanilla and whipped marshmallows. he breathes you and sighs heavily. “you smell like a candy shop, baby,” he whispers, pressing his nose to your neck.

“you taste like one,” you breathe back, and your teeth catch his earlobe just to watch his eyes close softly at the sensation. he groans, “i have to get back.”

“do you?” you tilt your head, lashes already batting. his breath hitches as he pulls away like it physically hurts. “you’re evil.”

“i’m good,” you whisper, “your good girl...just a little distracting.” you flash a smile and a small tilt to your head. you got him.

from the stage, cole yells, “get your girlfriend off your lap, minette!”

“she’s not the problem,” dylan fires back, still smirking looking directly at your face. “you are.” you laugh as he kisses your cheek, then your temple, then your lips one last time before he jogs back to the mic. your heart skips a beat, watching him play; while he's singing and running playfully around the stage, a sliver of his shirt continues to slide up giving you a perfect view of his calvin's and taut stomach.

your head was propped on your hand, licking your lips at the sight. you love how he disappears into the sound, but you love more when he glances at you, and you wink, making the lyrics on his lips stumble, as a smile graces his face.

“dude,” braeden says, rolling his eyes. “get it together.”

dylan doesn’t even answer. just throws you a look from across the room, basically telling you to stop it.

after the set, you slink through gear and soundboards until you’re behind him again. you press yourself to his back and wrap your arms around his waist, even though the sweat from his body makes the shirt cling to him. “you’re all sweaty,” you murmur, nuzzling into the curve of his spine.

“you like it.”

“you reek of boy.”

“and you love it.”

he turns, eyes half-lidded, then kisses your nose without thinking. “you gonna behave, bub?”

“define behave.”

he narrows his eyes, already knowing the answer. “no flashing your tits at me mid-song.”

“i wasn’t!”

“you were.”

you shrug, a helpless little motion. “you should honestly thank me. gave you some edge.”

“i was singing about heartbreak.”

“exactly.”

he exhales through his nose and pulls you flush to him. “you wanna stay for the next round?”

“only if i can sit on your amp.”

“you’re gonna break it.”

“ill be good though.” he stares at you ready to complain; but he can't say no to you.

#𓍯 dylan #wallows #dylan minnette #dylan minnette fanfic #dylan minnette imagine #dylan minnette x reader #wallows fanfic #wallows imagine #wallows x reader #dylan minnette headcanons #wallows headcanons #walllows x reader #fanfic

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caffedrine · 1 year ago

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Character vs. Event – The Beast wants to Lure the Rabbit Silvio Ricci vs Azel Radwan - Summary

If you trust me to know what I'm doing, then we have both made a huge mistake. I cannot guarantee accuracy for this summary, or even grammatical correctness.

Please support Cybird and pick up this event when it makes it to the English Server

Also - Silvio is super hot in this one. Don't get distracted by the sexy new princes, Silvio brings it.

This is set without Silvio or Azel being romanced.

What if Emma had gone on to purchase books in Benitoite on Akatsuki’s behalf?

After completing Akatsuki’s errand, Emma briefly stopped by the main port before heading back to the inn. The port seemed unusually busy, and Emma overhears some of the crowd talk about the living god, also mentioning that Silvio had personally come to welcome him.

Emma is also curious by the talk of the living god, and wonders if this means Silvio is just ahead.

She had briefly met Silvio a short while ago when she had played the role of ‘Belle’ in Rhodolite. Silvio, First Prince of Benitoite, had tormented her many times, and possibly because he was suspicious of her secret role, had made her his caretaker. Thankfully Rio had protected her, but unfortunately, he was not around to shield her now.

It would have been smart for Emma to turn away and go to the inn, but she was curious about how her former acquaintance was doing. Curiosity drew her into the crowd, and with some luck, she was in a prime position to see Silvio.

Benitoite knights had formed an empty zone, in which Silvio stood looking at a large ship bearing the emblem of Tanzanite. Following his gaze, Emma saw a single figure move down the ship’s gangway.

At first glance, he was an otherworldly man with features she has never seen before. His hair was silver, and his eyes were a mysterious color that she couldn’t quite place but was striking even from a distance.

Around her, the crowd confirms that this new person is the living god, and Emma recalls hearing that there was a real god in human form in Tanzanite. From the looks of him, she could believe it.

As he came closer to them, Emma could see that the Living God’s expression was full of compassion and love that surrounded everyone, starkly contrasted to Silvio’s tyrannical expression.

(something wicked this way comes)

With a politeness that took Emma by surprise, Silvio welcomed Azel, the Living God, to Benitoite. Azel kindly thanked Silvio for his gracious hospitality and prayed that all the people of Benitoite would be blessed.

Emma is surprised, she didn’t think Silvio was capable of being so polite and gracious. At least, he had never appeared that way in front of the Princes of Rhodolite. The Living God must be something if he could draw this personality out of Silvio. It gives her goosebumps.

Just as Azel begins to accompany Silvio to a nearby carriage, a man behind Emma shouts that Azel is a fraud and has bankrupted him. He demands his money back and starts lashing out, pushing hard at the crowd and Emma.

Benitoite knights rush over to the man, and the combined commotion of the rampaging man, and the knights trying to restrain him send Emma landing on the ground hard. Just as she realizes that she’s technically in the open space, Silvio recognizes her.

Silvio rushes towards her, demanding to know what the hell she’s doing here. He swears at her, and Emma is almost relieved to see the normal Silvio. Emma begins to apologize, assuming he’s upset because of how close she is, but Silvio shushes her, examining her leg, which she only begins to notice is badly scraped up and bleeding through her skirt.

Before Emma can react, Silvio bends down and scoops her up into his arms. Emma demands to know what he’s doing, but Silvio shushes her, threatening to toss her into the sea if she doesn’t calm down. Emma ignores the threat and tells him that she’s not so injured that she can't walk. She points out that he’ll attract undue rumors if they see him right now.

Emma flails more, but Silvio shrugs off her movements. He tells her that he isn’t going to follow any orders from her, and besides, no one cares about them right now. Emma stops and looks at the crowd, and sees that indeed, everyone is focused on Azel.

Azel is telling the crowd that if anyone has a grievance to air with him, to please follow the formal procedures to request a meeting. He promises that as long as time permits, he will listen to all the people of Benitoite. But he would hate for his beloved people to be injured further by this outburst, and to be patient with him.

Like a miracle, the crowd quieted down like the receding of the tide. Even Emma feels like her heart quiet down, and she wonders if this is a miracle from god. Silvio tells Emma that they’ll take this opportunity to leave quickly. Emma asks where he’s taking her, and Silvio responds that he’s sure as hell not going to stand here holding her forever, so they’ll just go back to the castle.

Emma tells Silvio to think things through and put her down. Silvio tells her to stop ruining his mood and takes a threatening step towards the sea. Emma doesn’t say anything, and Silvio looks satisfied.

In the carriage, Emma tells Silvio that she’s grateful for his kindness, but she absolutely hates this. Silvio tells her that she only has herself to blame, making him get violent in front of a state guest. Azel tells Silvio that he absolutely doesn’t mind, in fact, this sounds like a profitable story.

Once he pushed her into the carriage, Silvio had one of his servants retrieve a first aid kit and hand it to him. When she saw Silvio’s wicked grin, Emma immediately understood what was going to happen next and grabbed the hem of her skirt to hold it down. Just as she expected, Silvio forcefully tried to pull up her skirt.

All in front of the Living God, sitting across from them.

The fight between Emma and Silvio was so childish, she wanted to cry. She tell Silvio that she can take care of this herself, but Silvio insists that he’s a better medic than she is, and watching a amateur fumble about will only irritate him.

Emma tells him that’s fine, she’ll just get off his carriage, go home, and take care of it herself. Silvio rejects this idea.

Emma demands to know why, and Silvio snaps back that she’s very annoying, and if she resists any further, he’ll tear off her skirt. Emma wails that Silvio is truly the worst. She wonders if this is revenge for their time together in Rhodolite where she had been avoiding being his hostess.

Finally Azel speaks up, telling them to give it up. Silvio appreciates the backup, but Emma points out that he might have been talking to Silvio.

Azel notes that he is always troubled by the worries of stupid people. But, for her, he will lend a special hand.

Emma was surprised at the words, but Azel’s serene, benevolent expression never wavered. In the shaking carriage, Azel stands and moves to sit on Emma’s other side, trapping her between him and Silvio.

Silvio complains that with all three of them on the same seat, the carriage’s balance will be off. Azel tells Silvio in that case to go ahead and move to the empty bench.

Smiling sweetly at Emma, Azel asks her name, and introduces himself as Silvio’s personal fortuneteller, to Silvio’s displeasure. He asks since when were they that close, and Azel asks if Silvio is cheating on him with other fortunetellers. He laments that Silvio is so cruel even though Azel tries so hard for him.

Silvio protests, for one, he doesn’t even believe in fortunetelling. Azel smiles and exclaims that he is the only fortuneteller in the world that Silvio trusts. Silvio sighs in defeat.

Taking advantage of their distraction, Azel jerks the hem of Emma’s skirt up, exposing her wound.

Mockingly pitying her, Azel takes the medicine from Silvio, and begins to treat Emma as a bad feeling wells up in her. Unfortunately, she is trapped between Silvio and Azel and has no choice but to accept having her wound treated.

Azel treats her wound without the slightest show of compassion or mercy. It hurts badly enough that Emma yowls in pain, and clings to Silvio, who recoils and demands that she stop touching him. Through her tears, Emma apologizes, but cannot bring herself to let go of Silvio.

Azel is as efficient as a battle nurse and bandages her wound with gauze. By the time he finishes, the pain recedes. In a voice very different than the serenely benevolent one he’s used up to now, Azel mocks her for crying over being treated.

Then, with a very tender and compassionate gesture, Azel wipes the tears away from Emma’s eyes, and she wonders if the painful treatment was a dream. Emma thanks Azel, and he assures her that as Silvio’s precious friend, she is his sucker- wait, he meant friend, too.

Silvio breaks the moment by demanding Emma get off of him. As Emma scoots away, Silvio flings himself to the corner of the bench, but not before she notices how red his face is. When she brings it up, Silvio threatens to throw her out of the carriage, and Emma wonders if he’s embarrassed.

No, he’s a tyrant, it must be something else.

Azel takes this moment to bring up the cost of the treatment. He leans close to her ear and whispers a number so large that Emma feels herself grow faint. A light seems to shine from behind Azel as he explains that god has just used his own hands to treat her, so if anything, this is a discount.

Emma asks Silvio to save her, but he replies that this is her own fault for refusing to let him treat her. He goes on to explain that as gods go, Azel is pretty evil.

Emma realizes that Azel just scammed her.

Azel assures Emma that he’ll create a loan document so that she can pay her debt back in installments. Emma asks if there's anything other than money that can pay him back, and Azel considers this before agreeing. He’ll forgive the debt if Emma agrees to become his exclusive maid (slave) during his stay. Emma is confused, he said the word ‘maid’ but she’s pretty sure he meant ‘slave’.

Silvio cuts in, he has already hired the most skilled maid in Benitoite to serve Azel. There’s no need for Azel to put up with Emma’s amateurish attempts.

Azel disagrees, he’s grown fond of Emma. She’s not intimidated by princes or gods, so he’s certain he’ll feel very comfortable with her. Then again, if Silvio has that strong of an opinion, he doesn’t mind Silvio paying Emma’s debt on her behalf.

However, he knows Silvio is the type of person who doesn’t waste money. If Silvio is going to help this woman personally, does it mean that he’s in love with her?

Silvio immediately denies this, and Azel shrugs. It’s too bad, it sounds like Emma is going to be his new maid (slave) after all.

Emma agrees to serve Azel and have him waive the costs to treat her. Mentally she apologizes to Akatsuki, it looks like it will be a while before she is able to return to Rhodolite.

At the Benitoite Castle, Azel thanks Silvio for his hospitality, he always loves the food served to him. Silvio assures him that serving him is absolutely no trouble, and to eat as much as he likes.

Emma, now wearing a maid uniform, is their waiter and has been serving them since they first set foot in the castle. Thanks to her time as Belle, she was actually doing quite well. However, she is concerned that there are no other servants besides her, as everyone else has been dismissed. She is kept very busy, working by herself.

Azel and Silvio begin to talk seriously. Azel talks about an easy mark - er, merchant, who is still active. Silvio agrees, they’re using Azel’s name to sell expensive products. Unfortunately, while immoral, this isn’t illegal in Benitoite, and they need to get them on something else. He asks if Azel needs his help, but Azel refuses. Instead, he would like Silvio to do that favor he asked for.

Emma more or less understands the problem. She wonders if the whole point of Azel’s trip is to stop the sale of fake holy artifacts and imagines that there will be a lot of trouble ahead. She idly refills Silvio’s rose wine as Azel turns to her and explains that she’ll be helping him. Emma starts and nearly empties the wine pitcher on Silvio. She asks if she misheard, but nope, Azel is going to use her for his job tomorrow.

Silvio immediately grabs her hand and cuts in. He was actually planning on having Emma help him tomorrow. Besides, he saw her first, Azel should back down.

Azel asks how much he should sell Emma to Silvio for. He reminds them that he’s an evil god. Silvio clicks his tongue, and Azel turns to Emma. He doesn’t mind if Emma chooses between them.

Silvo End

Emma is paralyzed by the sudden choice. She decides that in the end, she has to pay back her debt to Azel, so she slowly turns to him.

Behind her, Silvio clicks his tongue and tells Azel he understands, all he has to do is buy her. Azel smiles beautifully, remarking that it’s about time that Silvio’s made up his mind, no, Lord Gold*, that is. Silvio grumbles for Azel to stop calling him that.

Magnanimously, Azel agrees to stop, after all, he is very loyal to Silvio. He then praises Silvio for saving his dear friend. And to not ruin the moment, Azel will give him the bill later. This is not included in the compensation they’ve already arranged. Silvio grumbles about how stubborn Azel is.

Silvio then smiles arrogantly at Emma, and she wishes that she had gone with Azel instead. She has moved from the frying pan into the fire.

Silvio tells Emma that just as Azel once said, he doesn’t waste his money. He intends for her to work off her debt completely, and he plans on enjoying this.

The next morning, Emma is summoned to Silvio’s bedroom, and with a wicked grin he explains that today she is his personal maid. He warns her not to run her mouth with him. Emma would love to complain, but since Silvio holds a sizeable debt over her head, she cannot oppose him. Very politely, Emma agrees and tells Silvio to go ahead and give her any orders he wants. She goes full maid mode and calls him ‘master’.

This wipes the smirk off of Silvio’s face and he complains about it being weird when she’s like this. Emma reminds him that he has just told her to be his maid, so what does he want her to do? And why does he look so frustrated when she’s obedient?

Silvio has an errand for Emma to run. He hands her a list of book titles. Azel has requested these particular books from Silvio, but they’re rare enough that no single bookstore has everything. Silvio needs someone to go to the various bookstores in Benitoite and cobble the list together.

Emma is somewhat surprised; this is pretty much her normal job. She was worried that Silvio would give her a horrible onerous task, but this lines up with her abilities perfectly. She assures Silvio that she will be back by nightfall, accepting the list. She will pay off the debt with time to spare.

So why is Silvio accompanying her on this errand? When she asks, Silvio tells her that it’s none of her business. Emma laughs and teases him, maybe he’s coming with her because he cant bear to part with her so quickly?

Silvio reaches out and grabs her head, crushing it in a painful grip. He tells her to focus less on him and more on her task.

Emma asks if this means that Silvio doesn’t want to leave her alone. Silvio is not amused by this and begins to shake her head, blurring her vision. She complains that her eyes are shaking, and Silvio warns her to stop saying weird things.

Fine, fine, Emma will let it be. She’ll pretend there’s nothing weird or unusual about Silvio following her on her errand. That he assigned her.

The first bookstore she stops by was one she had purchased books from Akatsuki the previous day. The bookstore owner recognizes her, and asks if the rumor is true, is she now dating Silvio? To Emma’s horror, the owner explains that the rumors were that when the Living God arrived in Benitoite, Silvio and Emma had an intimate moment. Publicly. And now, the rumors say that Silvio has both the Living God and his mistress as guests at the Benitoite Palace.

Anyway, here is the book Emma requested. Please, give the bookstore owner’s regards to Prince Silvio.

Immediately upon exiting the bookstore, Emma tells Silvio that they need to break up.

Silvio looks stunned as he accepts the book from Emma. He recovers enough to remind Emma that they can’t break up, they’re not dating in the first place.

Yeah, well, there are rumors going around. Rumors . . . from Silvio’s very nonchalant reaction that he already knew about.

Yep, according to public opinion, Emma is Silvio’s woman. At least in Benitoite.

Okay, then they should break up publicly.

Silvio refuses to take orders from his newest maid. Instead, they should go to the next store.

As they walk, Emma is aghast at how fast these rumors are spreading. Oh, she just knew something bad would come from Silvio picking her up at the port. And now, she has become hyper-aware of all the people they pass by, feeling their gazes slide over her. Oh, what would happen if the rumors of her being Silvio’s woman spread past the Benitoite capital?

As if reading her mind, Silvio wonders what would happen if that dog hears the rumors too. He slips an arm around Emma’s waist and bends down to whisper in Emma’s ear. It occurs to her that, from the right angle, this looks like a intimate moment.

Silvio is doing this on purpose.

The longer they stay together, the faster the rumors will spread. Now Emma has just one last resort. She points and shouts that Azel is right there across the street.

This breaks Silvio’s attention, Azel should be in a different part of the city all together, dealing with . . . And Emma is gone, sprinting off down an alley. She thinks she heard Silvio scramble after her, but she continues full speed ahead, and practically dives into the first store around a corner. Gasping for breath, she waits, but it seems like she has shaken off Silvio.

After a moment, Emma decides to look around the store. It’s a general store, full of cute accessories that make her think of Benitoite. Something on the shelf catches her attention.

After Emma makes her purchase, she leaves the store, confident in her escape skills and planning on finishing her errand. She gets as far as the main street before a voice calls out to her. Before she can even look, she is dragged into a different alley and pushed roughly against the wall.

It’s Silvio.

And he is pissed.

Maybe Emma would have been better off if just a regular kidnapper had found her instead.

Silvio hopes that Emma is prepared to face the consequences of her actions. Emma is, but she doesn’t regret trying to stop the spread of the rumors. If it gets out that she is Silvio’s mistress, her marriage prospects will plummet.

Silvio is aghast, is that what she cares about? Hasn’t it got through her head why he’s spent his entire day with her yet?

Realizing what he just said, Silvio shuts his mouth, then swears, he didn’t mean that last bit to slip.

In case Emma hasn’t realized it, Silvio is a prince. And, if that’s not enough, he’s rich. Like, really rich. The rumors have already spread, and right now, she’s the most kidnappable person on the continent.

Oh. Well, maybe if Silvio had said that from the start, Emma would have been more cooperative. But, from his expression right now, Silvio looks embarrassed. It’s not something she is used to from this arrogant tyrant.

Emma apologizes, she didn’t realize he was worried about her. Silvio quickly denies this, he was never worried. He just would be upset if something happened. Totally different emotion.

Silvio is still a tyrant, which Emma hates, but still . . . Emma thanks him.

She pulls her recent purchase out of her pocket – a trinket with a ship motif. The little ship looks like it’s about to have a grand adventure, and looking at it, all she can think of is Silvio’s face.

Emma explains that she realized that back when she got injured Silvio hadn’t hesitated before running to tend to her. In the end, he had even paid Azel for treating her. But, in retrospect, she had never thanked him, so she wanted to give him this as a token of her thanks. Also, she might have been holding on to it to soothe Silvio’s ire when he eventually caught up to her after she escaped him.

But it wasn’t a lie that she wanted to thank him.

Silvio stares at the tiny ship resting in the palm of his hand, frozen. His ocean-blue eyes are wide and he seems very surprised. As the silence continues, Emma grows embarrassed. Maybe he dislikes the trinket – it’s nothing to a millionaire like Silvio. She tells Silvio that if he doesn’t like it, she’ll just take it back.

Silvio immediately snatches the trinket away, holding it above her head. He never said that he didn’t want it. He smiles as Emma grasps at air.

It is a very silly trinket, but Silvio will accept it as his due. Emma thinks he looks surprisingly happy, and her heart skips a beat at a smile she never saw back in Rhodolite.

No, that’s stupid. What’s the point of getting excited about seeing one nice smile on a tyrant’s face? She’s being far too lenient with him.

After this little adventure, Silvio actually listened to Emma’s request, and although he still followed her, he managed to do so without being seen. She was able to finish purchasing the last of the books on the list by the time the sun began setting over the sea.

Emma returns with Silvio to the castle, then cheerfully announces that her job is over. Since she’s paid off her debt, she’ll go ahead and return to the inn she’s staying at.

Emma is somewhat sad; this is probably the last time she will ever interact with Silvio. As a bookstore clerk, she cannot easily approach him, as they practically live in different worlds. She wishes him well, and turns to leave.

Silvio abruptly grabs her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

Did Emma seriously think she could just leave like that?

Silvio Epilogue

Emma met Silvio when the King of Rhodolite died and she had been nominated as Belle to choose his replacement. Silvio had come up with many tricks to try to get her to reveal her identity, leading them to but heads more often than not. If she had to describe their relationship, Emma would say that it was not a good one.

So how exactly did she end up like this?

His arms are wrapped around her like a backward hug, and he’s asking why she thinks she can just leave like that. Emma points out that she completed his errand, and her job is over.

Silvio half-laughs, does Emma really think that all she needed to do was run a single errand to pay him back? As his exclusive maid, she hasn’t even served him dinner yet.

Silvio has a lot of maids in the castle, right? Maid who would be thrilled to serve him any meal he would like, right? Why does he want Emma? Silvio asks if this is how Emma pays back her debts, by mouthing off to the people to whom she owes money.

Silvio doesn’t need Emma to serve him dinner. Emma figures that this is just revenge for everything that happened between them in Rhodolite.

Emma thought she would be free after she served him dinner, but then Silvio’s official duties as the Prince of Benitoite began. He had her sorting documents, organizing files, and assisting with enough paperwork to make her dizzy.

By the time most of the paperwork had been conquered, Azel had returned to the castle. While Silvio listened to Azel’s report, Emma served tea, sweets, and a shocking amount of gold bullion to Azel. Honestly, there was enough gold to last a person an entire lifetime.

Silvio is pleased with Azel’s report, the business was destroyed and was untraceable back to Silvio. Azel is pleased that Silvio is pleased. If Silvio has any other problems, merely contact him and Azel will come running. And, of course, that offer is extended to Silvio’s woman.

Azel is disappointed that neither Silvio nor Emma want a divination.

After the meeting, Emma accompanies Silvio back to his room, where she can hear the sound of the ocean running over the sand. He pours a drink for both of them and tells Emma to drink up. Emma asks if he normally treats his maids to alcohol, and Silvio tells her that she is fired as a maid. She’s far too cocky for the profession.

Emma has no problem with this, it was a lot of hard work.

Silvio urges Emma to drink up, he doesn’t feel like drinking alone today.

The liquor is a light sea-blue and makes her think of Silvio. Since Silvio is personally pouring her drink, she decides to accept and try it.

Silvio explains that it’s a traditional Benitoite liquor, very rare, so Emma might not get a chance to try it again. Tasting it, Emma remarks that it makes her think of the sea, a fitting beverage for Benitoite. It was very tasty and easy to drink, so Emma would have to be careful.

Silvio knocks back a shot of the liquor and pours himself another glass. Emma wonders if she should be worried.

Silvio tells Emma that she should stay at the castle tonight. Emma isn’t certain that it’s allowed, with her being a commoner and all, but Silvio insists that she is his guest. Silvio corrects her, she’s not a guest, after all, he did buy her. Emma asks what the difference is between a guest and someone in debt to him, and Silvio muses it depends on his mood at the moment.

How strange. All while they spent time together in Rhodolite, Silvio had been unpleasant and tyrannical. But right now, it could be said that they were getting along. Now that she isn’t terrified of him discovering her true role, she can see different sides of him. Maybe this playful kindness had been there back when they first met, and Emma had been too wary to notice it. For one, she never would have guessed that he would immediately come to her aid if she was injured.

These thoughts stir confusing feelings inside her, so Emma washes it down with another drink.

When Emma laughs softly and admits to Silvio that she never would have imagined that she would be in his room this late drinking with him. Maybe she had been right when they started the book-buying errand that morning, and Silvio liked being around her. Silvio disagrees and tells her not to get so cocky.

With a shrug, Emma decides that she’s been here long enough, it’s time for her to return to her room at the inn.

But as soon as she sets her empty glass on the table, Silvio grabs her wrist.

Silvio reminds her that they already talked about this, he doesn’t want to see her get kidnapped. Emma asks if that’s the only reason he’s acting like this.

Silvio’s brows furrow, and there’s an awkward silence between them.

Huh, Emma would have thought that Silvio would swear at her and deny it or something. She wonders what Silvio is thinking about during this long silence and decides to back down. She assures Silvio that she does not doubt that he only wants her to stay out of concern for her safety. But Silvio’s grim expression doesn’t go away.

Trying to lighten the mood, Emma reaches out to poke Silvio where his brows are furrowed, but he suddenly leaps backward as if she burned him. From across the room, Silvio shouts at her to not touch him without permission.

Emma blinks owlishly at him, then recalls that time when Azel was treating her wound in the carriage how he had panicked when she clung to him. She asks if Silvio cant bear to be touched, but he denies this, looking everywhere other than her eyes.

This is a weakness.

Emma can’t help but grin wickedly. Silvio grows more upset and yells that she is getting carried away without being aware of her place. Emma shrugs, she’s probably drunk so what she says and does doesn’t count.

Silvio’s frown curls into a grin.

It doesn’t count?

Uh-oh.

With a wicked expression, Silvio stalks towards her, placing his glass on the table. Feeling wary, Emma steps backward, only to topple down on top of his bed.

Silvio pushes her down, hovering over her and caging her with his arms and legs. His face is close enough for the tips of their noses to touch, and Emma and Silvio breathe the same air. When Emma tries to move away, Silvio grabs her hand tightly. Emma can’t see anything other than Silvio, cant hear anything other than their heartbeats. Their fingers are tangled together, both of their bodies hot enough for sweat to bead along Emma’s brow.

Silvio laughs, Emma really is drunk.

Emma would like to respond to it, but every time Silvio exhales, his breath scatters her thoughts.

Silvio sighs, Emma can’t leave now, not with that expression. He roughs up her hair, tangling it with his fingers. Emma asks what he means, and Silvio tells her to stop talking, or else he’ll take a page out of Azel’s book and increase her debt to him.

Once he has tangled Emma’s hair to the point that it looks more like a bird’s nest than a hairstyle, Silvio gets off of Emma, letting her up. Emma sits up and begins righting her hair, and Silvio starts helping.

Emma tells Silvio she really should leave now.

At the very least, she can’t stay here. Her heart is doing backflips, and she cannot describe the feelings washing through her. Standing up, Emma reaches Silvio’s bedroom door, but he calls out to her, stopping her.

Silvio tells Emma that the next time she comes to Benitoite, she really should stop by the castle and say ‘hello’. Besides, he owns her loan, she can always come by and work it off.

What a tyrant.

Emma agrees that she doesn’t want to be in debt to him until she dies, so she will stop by the castle. Unless she forgets.

Silvio grumbles for her not to forget him.

Well, the debt, at least.

Silvio pours himself another drink, and Emma begins to leave for real, only for something to catch her eye. That trinket she had bought for Silvio on a whim sparkles on his desk in a prominent position.

She has no idea what her feelings for Silvio are.

Azel End

The day starts with Emma chasing after the Living God. She calls out for him to please slow down, but Azel refuses to stop his powerwalk.

Even though Azel is not running, his legs are long enough that his stride propels him farther than Emma. Even though they had left at the same time, Emma has to rush after him. Very kindly, Azel sympathizes with having stubby legs and warns Emma that if she can’t keep up with him, he’ll just have to leave her behind.

Eventually, Azel makes his way through a back alley, but there is no sign of anyone else there. Just ahead of her, Azel pulls to a stop, and Emma can make out two men guarding a door. Azel apologizes for intruding, and as both the guards start at the sight of the Living God, he opens the door and walks in.

Catching up, Emma breathlessly repeats Azel’s platitude and runs in after him.

There are many people inside, and they are all reacting in surprise to Azel’s sudden entrance. Some are shouting with joy, and others are crying as if they are experiencing a divine visitation. A very different reaction than the one Azel received at the port. Emma feels like she is watching drowning men clutch at straws.

Azel didn’t seem to even notice the crowd. Instead, without pause, he marches towards the stage.

Emma sees a large vase in the middle. She imagines that this is a fake holy item being auctioned under Azel’s name.

Standing on the stage, Azel calls for the crowd to quiet down. He is very sad, he has heard that there is the sale of holy items, and he sees that the rumors are true. Do they not understand that God’s protection isn’t bought with money?

Did Azel hit his head while outside of Emma’s eyesight? She stares at him in disbelief as he continues. Azel assures the people that God doesn’t need money, otherwise those without money would not receive any protection. God loves all and protects all despite their wealth or status.

Azel’s face and voice is full of compassion and love, if this was the first time Emma interacted with him, she would even believe him. Surprisingly, even after interacting with him, Emma can feel Azel’s voice penetrate her heart and is filled with a holy sensation. Like her, everyone around seems to be holding their breath, waiting for Azel’s next words.

Well, not everyone. The merchants selling the fake divine artifacts try to flee. This snaps the crowd out of their trance and as one they turn against the merchants and begin to form a mob, demanding their money back.

The merchants run out the back way, and the crowd rushes after them, leaving behind an empty auction area of only Emma and Azel. She asks if Azel plans on chasing after the merchants as well, but Azel refuses. He’s not stupid enough to leave behind all this money.

(Azel isn't upset that people are scamming others, he's upset that he's not getting a cut)

Emma asks what meant a few minutes earlier when he was saying that God doesn’t need money.

Well, that was then, and this is now.

Azel beckons Emma forward, her job starts now. It’s easy enough, even an idiot like her can do it. Leaping down from the stage, Azel starts pushing Emma ahead of him into a side door she missed earlier. Emma recognizes one of the merchants in the room and asks how Azel knew that he was there. Azel reminds her that he is a God and tells his slave maid to look sharp. Emma snaps back to her senses and locks the door behind them.

Emma was glared at by the merchant, but Azel moves to stand between them, blocking their line of sight. Azel greets the scammer and drapes a companionable arm around his shoulders and forces him to sit at a nearby table. He and Azel should have a fun chat together.

The scamming merchant’s face is pale.

Azel knows this person. He knows his name, his home address, his workplace, where his family lives, and so on. It seems this merchant has several gambling debts and is having trouble making ends meet. But none of this is Azel’s concern, right? He only care that he was using his name in selling these goods. The compensation should be about . . .

Emma cant hear what Azel says next, but the merchant’s face tightens like he bit into something sour. Emma feels sympathetic with the merchant, but she can only pity him so much, as he was obviously running a terrible business.

Azel is continuing, loud enough for Emma to overhear. Since the merchant has extorted a lot of money out of people using these false holy relics, and he had a recent run of luck at the gambling hall, this is an easy price to pay.

The merchant asks why Azel would ask for that much, and Azel replies that he is the Living God. And, with his divine foresight, he has prepared a loan document for the merchant. He’s a kind god, so he’ll only punish him monetarily. He smiles at the man, as sweet as if a halo was over his head.

Suddenly the merchant hurls himself off the chair, kicking it away and barreling towards Emma, who is directly in front of the door. Azel calls out to Emma that this is her time to shine.

What? Whaaat? This is impossible!

But, if Emma lets this merchant get away, she will never be released from her debt. Thinkign quickly, she grabs a nearby broom and braces herself to whack him.

And then she sees the knife in the merchant’s hand.

Oh. She’s probably going to die.

Noooo! She can’t give up now! Not after all those self-defense classes they made her take while she was Belle! Emma kills the fear in her heart, raising the broom, ready for a broom to knife fight with the merchant.

Suddenly a chair flies from behind the merchant, hitting him hard enough to knock him to the ground. Azel steps on the merchant’s head, grinding his face into the floor, asking if he’s an idiot as well as an incompetent.

Emma wonders if that last bit was directed towards her and not the merchant. At least, Azel is looking at the merchant instead of her.

The benevolent façade is gone, and the change is so complete Azel looks almost like a completely different person.

Azel asks if the merchant thought that he truly could run away from Azel. Does he think that God is that compassionate? That is a ridiculous thought, no God could be that convenient to humanity. The merchant has just made Azel his enemy, he should know the weight of that decision.

Azel is disgusted that scum like this merchant is using God’s name to exploit others. He’s now changed his mind, the loan document is not enough for the merchant to pay for his sins. Adding the crime of pointing a knife at what belongs to Azel, all the merchant’s wordly possessions will be confiscated to pay for the disrespect.

Azel then begins to dig through the merchant’s pockets, eventually pulling out a rusty key and tossing it to Emma. Azel glares at the merchant lying on the ground one last time before standing up, using the merchant as a stepstool.

They find the safe, full of an eye-watering amount of money. Emma thought Azel would keep all of the wealth for himself, but instead he instructs her to call for the knights; they’re going to return the money to the victims of this merchant’s fraud.

That said, Emma did notice Azel taking some for himself.

This was all legal, as Emma would eventually find out. The document Azel made the merchant sign proclaimed that he transferred all his wealth to Azel. Everyone, including the responding knights, bowed down in gratitude to Azel.

Everyone except Emma.

When they are finally alone in the carriage, Emma asks Azel, by chance, if he’s actually really evil. Azel laughs and admits that he was wondering what she would say. Then his smile disappears, and he warns Emma not to say anything else. She has a flash of Azel stomping on the merchant’s head and she closes her eyes, cringing as if she expects Azel to get violent.

After nothing happens, Emma opens her eyes, only to see Azel looking at her with a shocked expression. It's as if her reaction was worse than an insult.

Azel tells Emma that she should learn how to run away. Think of this as a divine prophecy from god, she is going to die if she continues to stick her nose into unnecessary things. Emma asks him not to say such ominous things, and Azel tells her he would love to, but anything else would go over her stupid head.

Azel asks what she was thinking back in the room, he didn’t bring her with him to fight. Emma explains that she was thinking about her debt. Azel is exasperated, he is certain he told her that he wanted her as a distraction. Ugh, maybe it’s on him, and he said it wrong. Next time, he’ll have to dumb his instructions down for her. A lot.

Emma apologizes for causing him to worry, but Azel assures her that he was never worried about her. Instead, he was worried about Silvio, what would happen if he inadvertently offended his beloved prince by getting his favorite killed.

Azel sighs and sulkily kicks Emma’s seat. He’s going to have to add the cost of saving her to the loan document. Emma is aghast, didn’t he just receive a lot of money?

Oh Emma, no matter how much money you have, you never have enough.

Yep, Azel is definitely an evil god.

How can she say such things? And to think she’s special, she has been personally chosen by god to serve him. If anything, she should be bowing down in gratitude.

On another note, Emma’s debt is too high now to just be Azel’s maid for the day. Congratulations, she’s now his newest slave.

Emma refuses.

Azel asks if Emma plans on selling her organs then.

Emma begs god to have mercy on her. Azel smiles benevolently, God has no mercy for humans. Congratulating Emma on her newly extended loan, Azel stands and traps her between him and the carriage seat.

It occurs to Emma that it would be better if she jumped out the window of the carriage.

Gently placing his fingers against her cheek, Azel tells Emma that he intends to have her repay the loan with her body.

Azel Epilogue

Emma covers herself and glares up at Azel. He asks how conceited can she be, but Emma just reminds him that he said to pay him back using her body.

He did. And he intends to use all of her.

There is a lot of manual labor that needs to be done, after all.

What did she think he meant? Azel laughs, he’ll just add another bit to her debt for this insult.

It wasn’t until the end of the day that Emma truly understood ‘use all of her’. She was so tired, all she wanted to do was fall face-first into bed and sleep. Instead, she limites herself to sitting down and resting her face on a nearby table.

Azel had spent the entire day performing divinations for the people of Benitoite. Since he was a god, and a foreign god at that, people outside of Tanaznite rarely had an opportunity to receive his divine guidance, making the day very busy.

Honestly, Azel would rather not do this, but he wants to keep on Silvio’s good side. As the richest man in the world, Silvio is not only Azel’s number one benefactor, he is also Azel’s friend. And, to maintain that relationship, Azel will visit and bestow God’s blessing on the citizens of Benitoite.

Unfortunately, he can only run a divination for one person at a time, he needs someone to keep everyone waiting organized. Emma will be paying back her debt by lining up supplicants, guiding them to Azel, handling complaints, and more.

All the chores that need to be done outside of divination will be handled by Emma.

Emma asks if he really intends for her to handle this by herself, and Azel does. After all, she is his only slave here in Benitoite. Of course, if she wants him to bring on another worker, they can pull out the loan document and figure out how much debt to add.

Fine. Emma will do her best, by herself.

Not only did Emma have to cater to the needs of the supplicants, but she was also in charge of Azel’s personal requests, such as bringing him food and drinks.

She can’t help but wonder about all the people waiting (impatiently) in line for hours for a chance to consult with the evil god. Maybe Azel’s divinations were really worth all the trouble.

Emma is not present for Azel’s divinations and has no idea what happens once she leads people to him. All she is aware of is how anxious the people waiting in line are, and how full of hope they are when they leave him.

At the end of the day, with her head face down on the table, Emma wonders what a divination is like.

Suddenly a breath blows into her ear, sending a shock through her. She looks up to see Azel’s face right there.

He thanks her for all of her hard work and dismisses her for the day. Emma asks after him, will he also return to his guest room?

Azel likes this room, it has a perfect view of the sunset. She watches as he leans against the window, staring out across the sea. Intrigued by the scenery God is watching, Emma joins him. She remarks that the sunset is beautiful, this room has a clear view of the horizon. Azel asks if she heard him dismiss her, but Emma insists that she likes watching the sunset.

Well, that’s fine. It’s not unpleasant watching the sunset with her.

That’s interesting, Emma thought Azel disliked her. Azel disagrees though he doesn’t like the fact that she is terrible at regulating her emotions. But think, why would he have someone he hates spend the entire day serving him? He’s not the local masochist to put up with that.

That said, Emma is staying here late. Does she want Azel to pay for her lodgings at the castle too?

Emma cuts in, she’s staying because she has a question for him. She noticed that Azel didn’t take any money for his divinations, even though he keeps on taking as much as he can from her.

Azel reminds Emma what he said earlier, God’s protection is equal. Both rich and poor have the right to seek salvation.

Well, that is the official reason, but the truth is that Azel uses divination to gather useful information. For example, he found out that Emma was the latest Belle of Rhodolite. Depending on the time and place, he could use that to extort money from her.

When Azel tells people’s fortune, people like to talk about useless things with him. And, despite his background, he can gather a lot of useful tidbits.

Azel then asks if Emma would like him to divine her fortune. He urges her to accept, for all they know, this might be the last time divine inspiration strikes him, and he might never be able to tell a fortune again.

Emma can’t believe that Azel is making this offer out of the kindness of his heart, but in the end, she is very curious. She agrees.

Azel asks what she has a question about, and Emma asks if any question is acceptable. Azel assures her that it is, after all, he is the Living God.

Okay, Emma would like to know about her future love life. It’s been on her mind to fall in love and settle down soon, and she wonders how that will go.

As soon as she asks, Azel’s benevolent smile twists into a scowl. He wonders why everyone wants to learn about their love lives, it’s really revolting to him.

He tells Emma that if she’s that concerned, go chase after Silvio. To her shock, he explains that Silvio definitely likes her, so that’s her best bet. He gives her a pitying look and says that he has lost his motivation to perform a divination for her.

Emma is upset, she was looking forward to seeing what a divination performed by the Living God would look like.

Okay, fine, if she doesn’t go after Silvio, maybe she’ll meet someone else. Whom? He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care.

Emma argues that Azel’s prediction is far too vague, and Azel tells her that’s the beauty of fortunetelling. He then extends his hand towards Emma. He would like his fee for divining her fortune now.

Emma reminds him that his fortune-telling services are free. Azel assures her that she’s just that special – he charges friends and family more. Emma doesn’t want to be special to Azel, who is more of a fraud-scammer than a real god.

Azel clicks his tongue, Emma never learns, does she? He pinches her cheek, reminding her that he’ll add enduring insults to her overall debt. Emma argues that she wasn’t insulting him, she was telling the truth. Azel snorts, her sincerity takes a certain kind of courage, doesn’t it? This time, Azel’s smile is strange and his grip on her cheek is lighter.

If what Azel said was true and not a deception, Emma will be able to meet a suitable man with good taste. At this point, as long as he’s not Azel, Emma will be happy.

Azel tells her not to worry, he’s not interested in her romantically either. Honestly, their compatibility is the lowest possible, the world would end before they came together.

Besides, instead of think about love, Emma should use her brain to think of a way to repay her debt to Azel. Still teasing Emma’s cheek, Azel’s smile grows dark and evil. When Emma scowls at him, he only laughs.

Really, she would be happy to fall in love with anyone other than this dark-hearted evil god.

(You heard it here first, route is over, no chance of romance between these two)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #silvio ricci #azel radwan

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alj4890 · 6 months ago

Text

Something New

(Maxwell Beaumont x MC) in a Choices The Royal Romance Drabble

January 2025 prompts: New Relationships

Masterlist

A/N I know it's been a really long time since I last posted. My husband's cancer and surgeries have taken center stage these last few months and now that he's been deemed cancer free, I felt inspired to write something. Plus, yesterday was our wedding anniversary, so writing something a little bit sweet and romantic was a must, LOL. Taking this from Book 2 at the homecoming ball.

Also for @twinkleallnight I know it's been a while for any Royal Romance fics from me. Hope you enjoy this one.

*****************

The Cordonian Palace grounds...

Something new was on the horizon. Riley could feel it thrumming along with her nerves that were on edge. She was simply waiting on that one last little something to show her what course to take.

Glancing to her left, she saw the handsome man walking beside her. She took in his lean muscular form dressed in his typical black dress shirt and charcoal gray pants and jacket. Eschewing a tie, he left the first few buttons unbuttoned to give a more fun, relaxed appearance.

Her eyes lifted to his profile. For once his easy going smile was not on display. An unusually somber expression graced his face. Those ocean colored eyes of his were focused ahead of the cobblestoned path they were walking.

Unsure of what to do next, Riley cleared her throat to break the silence.

"So?" She tentatively asked. "Where are we going?"

Maxwell shrugged. "Dunno. Never really have a set path whenever I take a walk around the palace. Just go wherever the whim takes me."

Riley snorted on a laugh.

Maxwell's dimpled grin popped up at that unladylike sound.

"I think going wherever the whim takes you describes you and me pretty well."

He tilted his head while considering that and nodded, smiling even more. "I guess it does."

"I know it does." She declared, beginning to tick off the evidence on her fingers. "One: I go out with you, Liam, and Drake after being your waitress."

"And Tariq," he reminded her.

Her nose wrinkled. "Yeah, but he wasn't as much fun as you three so he doesn't count."

"Understood." Maxwell replied.

Riley then continued. "Two: I agree without any thought to your proposal to come to Cordonia to be the Beaumont's suitor for Liam." She stopped him once they reached a fountain in the side courtyard. "For the record, I only agreed to it because I wanted to get to know you better."

Maxwell's eyes widened. "You did what?"

Riley huffed, tossing back the few strawberry blonde tresses that had escaped her clip out of her face.

"You were the only reason I began this wild journey." She admitted.

Color rose up her neck, engulfing her face in what she not so fondly deemed her, "tomatoe paste complexion".

She knew the time had come to admit everything to Maxwell if this was truly the beginning of them being together.

After refusing Liam's proposal, she'd only had a brief chance to talk about her feelings to Maxwell before they succumbed to temptation and basically just made out on the hotel's rooftop. Not that she was complaining, but she had intended to go into more depth about her feelings for him.

The last thing she wanted to do was to make him think he had not been her first choice from the very beginning.

"It was always you, Max." She told him. "I only agreed to be Liam's suitor to help you and Bertrand. Plus, I knew it'd give me a chance to see if what I felt for you was just a crush or maybe something more."

Clutching the folds of her white skirt, she kept her eyes upon his face watching as shock gave into rueful joy.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his lips parted, then he sighed.

"I uh, I invited you because I felt the same way." He admitted.

"What?!" Riley practically screeched.

Laughing, he shrugged. "I couldn't help but fall for you." He gestured towards her. "You're fun, sweet, and sexy as hell. What's not to love?"

"Oh my gosh." She placed her hands upon her hips. "Are you telling me that we are both this dumb to let all these months go by without ever saying a word?"

"Pretty much." Maxwell snorted. "God, we're idiots."

"The biggest in the world." She mumbled. "Now what do we do?"

"Whatever we want." He grasped her hand and tugged her closer to the fountain.

"I could live with that." She decided. "As long as you hopefully want what I want."

"What do you want, Riley?"

Straightening her posture, she took both his hands in hers. "I want you, Maxwell Percival Beaumont. I want you to continue to be my best friend. I want you to take that huge step and become my love. I want everything that comes with that new relationship while sprinkling in all we have with our old one. I want to be with you and only you for as long as you want me to."

She was fairly certain her face would remain beet red for the rest of her life. She couldn't remember ever saying this much feelings wise to any other guy she'd been in a relationship with. Granted, none of the others had come remotely close to being a Maxwell Beaumont type.

Silence fell between them making her want to squirm and find some hidden nook to crawl into until her embarrassment killed her.

Maxwell tried to speak. He had a huge speech ready to give her, telling her all that he'd kept carefully hidden all these months just in case she only saw him as a friend. Granted all the signs had been there that she liked him more than that. Always hanging out with him, dancing mostly with him, sneaking into his tent, etc., rose to his mind that his feelings definitely hadn't been one sided.

But now, he couldn't get the words out that he was madly, head over heels, probably always had been, from the moment they met, in love with Ms. Riley Brooks of New York.

He picked her up and swung her around in his arms. Her startled squeal turned into laughter as the world went by in a blur.

Once her toes touched the ground, his lips ensnared hers in a passionate kiss.

He held her close as he savored the taste and sensations only she could give with those lips of hers.

When the kiss ended, he stared into her spring green eyes and grinned.

"I want all that too Riley." A hint of bashfulness appeared in his vulnerable gaze. "I always have. I just hope I don't screw this up."

She cupped his cheek, feeling the weight of the world slide off her shoulders in the very words she had so desperately longed to hear.

"Listen to me." She said softly. "There is no way, in any possible universe where there is another Riley and Maxwell, that you could ever mess up what we have."

She gave him a playful shake. "We're the dynamic duo who win every single time!"

He swopped down and kissed her once more.

"Got it?" She asked a touch breathlessly.

"Got it."

Maxwell cuddled her close and simply held her as they looked at the fountain.

"This is our beginning." He said with nothing but absolute joy.

"Yes," she teased, "and it's about time."

#choices fic writers creations #choices the royal romance #choices maxwell beaumont #maxwell x mc #choicesjanuary2025 #january prompts

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obxone · 2 years ago

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Love or Lust

Edited-ish. ~800 words.

“Rafe, get out,” Sarah orders her brother as she unloads her shopping bags onto one end of the sofa, glancing at her older brother as he lounges on the other end.

A book is in his hand, and his annoyance is clear as he stares at Sarah and you over the top of the book. “Why?”

“Because she’s about to change,” Sarah points to you as you stand by the door.

“You have a bedroom!”

“It still smells like paint,” she huffs. "We went there first."

“Then use a bathroom.”

Sarah gestures to the massive amount of shopping bags. “Does it look like all of this will fit into a bathroom?”

He shrugs. “Not my problem.”

“Sarah…” You reach for her hand, but she ignores you and glares at her brother.

“You are such an asshole, Rafe.”

He smirks, not bothered by her words at all.

“It is fine, Sarah. I’ll take one outfit at a time to the bathroom.” You reach for the first bag and dig out a skirt and a top. “I’ll be back.”

You offer her an encouraging smile in hopes that they will not fight in your absence before you slip out and into the bathroom. "Relax."

Before you know it, it is six outfits later and you are exhausted and growing annoyed as Sarah complains about the way the shirt bunches at your waist. “Try this one.” She holds up another top.

“It is just a date, Sarah, why does it matter this much?” You ask as you reach down and grip the hem of the least favorite shirt you bought today before pulling it up and off.

She shrugs, digging around in a bag for the earrings that you had fallen in love with at the shop. “Because it’s your first date in over a year.”

“Right,” you huff and grab the new shirt after tossing the ill-fitting shirt back into a bag. “Can I not wear a dress? I bought three of them.”

“Umm…” Sarah sighs, after digging in another bag. “Yeah… I can’t find those earrings. They may be in the car.” She leaves without another word, and you move closer to the sofa to find one of the dresses. You fish out two of the three before turning and freezing when your gaze meets Rafe.

“I forgot you were even here,” you whisper, pulling the dress up to cover your chest. “Umm… okay, I’ll go to the bathroom and change.”

“Why?” He asks, smirking from behind his book, enjoying the view. “You’ve already started in here.”

“You are shameless.”

He shrugs. “Who is the lucky guy?”

“Conner.”

Rafe grimaces. “That tool?”

“What?” You ask, pulling the dress over your head before removing the pants now that the skirt is covering your lower half. “You know someone better?” He looks back at his book, and you smirk. He thinks he knows better. “Who? You?”

“At least you would never get bored with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Rafe, you do not know the difference between lust and love. Why would I even bother?” You move to his side and move your hair over your shoulder. “Zip me.”

He stands, discarding the book, and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his breath fanning over the back of your neck. “Because,” he starts as he zips up your dress before leaning in a little closer. His lips are by your ear. “You and I both know about your little crush.”

Your cheeks warm, but you do not let him see it.

“And you know what I want,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing the hem of your skirt, toying with your thighs.

“And you aren’t shy about asking.”

“I could demand.”

You blush hotter as his hand dips between your thighs. “You wouldn’t dare.” Your voice is breathy, shaking, and he can tell he is doing something to you.

“I don’t have to.”

Your head falls back against his shoulder as his fingers brush your underwear, feeling how damp they are from the briefest touches.

“Cancel the date with that tool and meet me later.”

You turn to look at him, sliding your arms over his shoulders. “And what do I tell Sarah?”

“I don’t care.”

You shake your head and step away from him. “Right.”

His mouth opens, but before he can utter a word, Sarah is rushing back in. A pair of really pretty gold hoops in her hand. “Got them!”

You grin at her and reach for them as she looks at your dress.

“That is perfect!”

You grin, spinning as you put the hoops in your ears. You catch Rafe’s gaze again, and he smirks before going back to his book.

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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lovelytsunoda · 2 years ago

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better be good to me // nyck de vries

summary: he's trying to hide that he's famous. she thinks she's finally met a normal man. one weekend trip is enough to knock every perception of him on it's side.

pairing: nyck de vries x reader

warnings: takes place before nyck got fired, nyck's kind of shifty about who he is, very brief mention of a piss k*nk, allusions to sexual activities, happy ending because I beleive in happy ever afters.

Oh, you better be good to me That's how it's gotta be now 'Cause I don't have no use You loosely call the truth You better be good to me

“there’s no way he can afford this if he is who he says he is, you do know that, right?”

“you used to work for red bull and you turned out fine.” she laughed at her roommate, pulling a few dresses out of her closet and throwing them into her suitcase.

“I worked on college campuses and made minimum wage.” eleanor rolled her eyes. “I could not afford to whisk my lover away for a weekend in austria.”

y/n rolled her eyes, flopping down on the double bed. “you worked for minimum wage hocking energy drinks on campus. nyck works in advertising.”

just under eight months ago, y/n y/l/n Met the man of her dreams. nyck de vries was sweet and funny and gentle and best of all, he was normal. he wasn’t a macho frat bro athlete or a film bro who’s favourite movie was ‘scarface’. he didn’t have a hidden piss kink. he was just nyck.

“I’m just saying that I don’t think he’s being totally honest about who he is. maybe he’s some dutch nepo baby burning daddys money.”

“and would that be so bad?” y/n laughed, tossing a floral skirt at her roommate in retaliation. “I finally meet a normal guy, someone who makes me feel incredible about myself, and you’re questioning it?”

eleanor sighed, looking over at her best friend. “I’m just looking out for you. I want you to be safe, even if you are choosing to go to a whole new country with a man you barely know.”

“we live in a small continent, ellie. it’s a six hour drive across the border, i can come home at any time.”

y/n never has any reason to doubt that nyck was exactly who he said he was. sure, he dressed a little too nicely for a twenty-seven year old and he drove a car so expensive that she could only dream of owning one like it, but she took one as a sign of maturity, and the other as a sign of a healthy work ethic.

“just be safe. and tell me all the gory details. i wanna know what the little man gets up to in bed.”

“eleanor!”

two days later, she was in the passenger seat of nycks toyota supra, speeding down a one-lane road on the way to spielberg, not a care in the world or another car in sight as she rolled the window all the way down, hair flying around her face as she sang along to the radio, a classic rock station that she knew nyck couldn’t stand but had put on just for her.

his hand rested comfortably in her bare thigh, rubbing reassuring circles as he looked over, a grin on his face as he watched her intently.

if only she knew what he was hiding. would they still be able to have moments like this, he wondered to himself, car hugging the curve of the road as he turned.

as he pulled up the hilton suites he’d booked for the weekend, a sprawling lodge located in the hills, behind a wrought iron gate only accessible with a confirmation code from your booking receipt, y/n felt her heart contract in her chest as she saw the hordes of people surrounding the gates.

“nyck, why are all these people here?”

“they must just be in town for the race.” nyck hummed, trying to steer through the crowd without running over any fans dressed in red bull regalia, thankful that he had sprung to buy the tinted windows.

“race?” she raised her eyes, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. “what race?”

“formula one at the red bull ring this weekend.” nyck said, finally steering the supra through the barely open iron gate, security officers pushing back the fans as he made his way up the winding driveway. “they gave me some paddock passes at work for the weekend. i remembered how you said you used to love racing in school and I thought you might want to see it up close and personal.”

y/n smiled, reaching to clutch his hand in hers. “babe, that was five years ago. i drove a stock car for my university’s shitty team around a homemade dirt track because we lived in a town that was so far away from everything that there was nothing else to do. it was a glorified demolition derby.”

“and you still haven’t shown me any videos of it.”

she laughed as nyck pulled into a parking space. “it never came up in conversation!”

“you can’t just tell me that you were once a stock car driver and not back it up with photographic evidence!”

they headed inside the hotel, walking hand in hand. they only brought in one suitcase each, the rest of the bags hidden in nycks trunk. all his racing gear was still in the car, a pit in his stomach as he though about confessing, about explaining who he truly was.

but in his defence, everything could have easily been found by googling his name.

he unlocked the suite door, ditching his suitcase and his shoes by the mirrored closet door. to nyck, this was just another hotel room paid for by management. but to y/n? she felt like she was sitting in the lap of luxury as she buried her bare feet in the carpet, walking towards the french balcony doors.

“nicky, this place is incredible!” she laughed, twirling around and trying not to hit the tv as she laughed, gesturing to the large tub in the corner of the room. “is that a jacuzzi?”

and nyck looked at her in pure adoration, laughing as he pulled her into his arms, kissing her softly. “only the best. you and me are going to have lots of fun in there tonight.”

“why wait?” she grinned roguishly, leaning over to turn the taps on the tub, brushing up against her lovers crotch. “we could have fun now.”

nyck was a goner before she had even taken her shirt off.

the next morning, he was running through all the ways that he could tell her who he was before he got to the track. by the time he was done his shower and drinking his kale smoothie, he had exactly no ideas.

by the time they got to the track, he had admitted defeat. he’d let the massive motif of his face in the side of the alphatauri building do all of the talking.

they walked through the paddock hand in hand, and as nyck stopped to wave at everyone, confusion started to well in her stomach.

why did everyone in the paddock know who her boyfriend was?

“um, babe, we just walked past the red bull building.” she pointed out, gesturing with her thumb towards the large navy building emblazoned with the face of sergio perez.

“just trust me, sweetheart. it will all make sense.” nyck reassured, kissing her knuckles as he turned towards the alphatauri building.

“oi, de vries!” someone shouted from a balcony “nice to see you, big guy!”

and that’s when she saw it, freezing in her path and dropping nycks hand. he didn’t notice as first, only turning back to look for her once he stood in the doorway. he found her standing at the edge of the patio, staring up at the flag fluttering in the breeze. it had her boyfriends face on it, and he was dressed a nomex racing suit, a much more expensive version of the tags she wore in college.

nyck sighed, taking a few steps forward as he tried to think of something to say. something, anything that could explain why his face was on the side of a building inside a formula one paddock.

“y/n, please, just let me explain.”

“eleanor was right.” she shook her head, not even looking at nyck before she skipped down the patio steps, running as far away from the alpahtauri building as she could.

how could nyck have lied to her for so long? did he take her for a fool? did he think she’d think any different of him if he knew the truth?

or, did. he not tell her because she didn’t mean anything to him?

nyck would find her sitting on a picnic bench in the paddock, reading her boyfriends wikipedia page. if he had lied about being a formula e championship winner, what else has nyck de vries lied to her about?

“hey, y/n…” nyck sighed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his chinos. “can we talk?”

“i don’t know, nyck. if that even is your real name.” she scoffed, dropping her phone into her bag. “you know how many people have stopped me and asked if I’m your girlfriend because you’ve told them so much about me? yet you’ve told me nothing about any of this.”

“well, im going to start by admitting that nyck isn’t even my real name.”

“i know.” she crossed her arms over her chest, growing at her lover. “I’ve read your wikipedia page, hendrik nicasius.”

nyck sighed, taking a seat next to her on the bench. “i guess I deserve that. can I at least explain?”

“you can do whatever you want. but please, give me one good reason to stay here with your lying ass instead of calling a rental car and driving back to eleanor, who will then say ‘I told you so’.”

“i didn’t tell you because when I was with you, I didn’t feel like i had the weight of the entire sport on my shoulders. you’ve read my wiki page, so you know how I got here. and you know how difficult it has been this season.” nyck started, half reaching for his hand before clenching his fingers into a fist and withdrawing the action. “you didn’t look at me and see nyck de vries, f1 rookie. you looked at me and saw hendrik, a normal guy who wants to enjoy a normal life.”

she nodded, anger evaporating from her bones when she thought about the situation from nycks perspective. yes, he had lied, but he did it out of the goodness of his heart. he had done it for the right reasons.

“i get it. you didn’t want me to see you any differently.”

“I just wanted you to see me for who i was.”

y/n frowned, reaching for nycks hand. “I’m still pissed at you for lying to me. but I understand. nicky, this is a fever dream. if you told the nineteen year old stock car driver i used to be that I’d be here with you right now, i wouldn’t have believed you.”

nyck nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on her hairline. “I love you. and I hope this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“never. let’s go get you on track, car boy.”

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @scuderiamh @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @sidcrosbyspuck @diorleclerc @scuderiasundays @thatsdemko @oconso @silverstonesainz @clemswrld @love4lando @httpiastri

#nyck de vries x reader #nyck de vries #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #nyck de vries x y/n #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #Spotify

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zablife · 2 years ago

Text

As Long As I Live (Part 3)

Tommy Shelby & Amelia Holland (OC) x Bonnie Gold

Summary: Bonnie begins to fall for Amelia. Lizzie invites Amelia to her birthday party, but the girl garners unwanted attention.

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @kpopgirlbtssvt.

Warnings: language, mention of drugs, assault and blood

Masterlist

"One more stop before we head home,” Tommy proclaimed, steering the car toward King Maine’s boxing gym. When they arrived, Tommy glanced at Amelia quickly before exiting the car. Noting her eagerness to follow, he leaned back into the driver’s side window with a stern look. Before she could ask he warned, “This is no place for a young lady, Amelia.”

“Then it’s lucky I’m no lady,” Amelia grinned at him mischievously. “Please…I’ll be with you. What could happen?” she begged.

Tommy shook his head with a laugh and opened the door, allowing her to slide down the bench seat. “Alright, C’mon,” he motioned.

Amelia scurried out of the car and fell in step behind her father, wide eyed at the sight of two large boxing rings and a dozen men in training all around her. The atmosphere was thick with stale sweat and the muffled sounds of leather gloves striking flesh, groans punctuated by an occasional thump against the ropes.

Almost immediately upon their arrival Tommy’s presence was requested for a business matter and Amelia was told to wait on a bench. Full of curiosity, her eyes scanned the room. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of Bonnie in the far ring sparring with a lad twice his size.

As she watched the young man, she scowled at his overconfidence, taunting his opponent like a bothersome fly. She could see the rage building in the larger man, his balance faltering slightly with every dodge of his fist by Bonnie. She couldn’t help but wonder if the bravado was only a tactic to wear down his opponent for lack of proper skill. Drawn to the performance, she found herself inching closer until she was hanging at the ropes. Finally she couldn’t stop herself from shouting out in frustration, “For fucks sake, hit him already!”

Bonnie’s face registered a momentary jolt of shock before furrowing his brow in concentration and delivering a knock out punch. The larger man’s body hit the canvas with an enormous thud, landing before Amelia, his arm splayed out close enough for his glove to touch her. “What did you do?” she gasped, looking up into the ring.

Bonnie squatted to her level and said, “Thought you told me to hit him.”

“I-I did, but I wasn’t expecting that,” Amelia sputtered, taking a step backward.

Bonnie huffed out a laugh. “You underestimate me.”

“You’re talented enough, I’ll give you that,” Amelia replied with a roll of her eyes, “but has anyone dared tell you that your defense could use some work or that your left hand is weak?” she ventured.

Bonnie looked down at his left glove and held it up in a guard position.

“See? You carry on that way and all it’ll be good for is wanking,” Amelia chided.

“If you know so much, why don’t you show me?” he responded without thinking. Then with a blush creeping into his cheeks, “the stance, I mean.” He eyed her briefly before holding up the rope allowing her entry into the ring.

Never one to shrink from a challenge, Amelia looked to see if anyone was watching and gathered her skirts, climbing up to join him. With a toss of her dark mane, she got to work, adjusting his posture and standing adjacent pretending to spar with him. “You see? It’s better!” she grinned triumphantly. Bonnie begrudgingly agreed, watching her with something akin to wonder and a hint of amusement. She couldn’t be sure as it was soon broken by the arrival of Mr. Maine.

“You! Get the fuck out of my ring!” he said, pointing to Amelia. “And, you, get down and skip me 200 for taking the piss out of a fine fighter!” he yelled at Bonnie, face red with anger as he took note of the man coming out of his stupor on the canvas.

Bonnie and Amelia looked at one another quickly before ducking between the ropes and jumping down from the ring. Bonnie picked up a skipping rope and began his punishment as Amelia looked on teasing, “So you want to be a champion of the world, do ya?”

“I want to do something with my life. I won’t see it wasted,” he said, barely breaking a sweat as the rope turned quickly in his hands, the muscles in his arms tensing ever so slightly with the familiar motion. His eyes held a look of determination and ferocity she’d never seen in anyone.

He finished his count, coming to a sudden stop before her. “What is it you want?” he asked, hazel eyes shimmering through the dust and filament of the sunlight streaming through the skylight. He passed her the rope, fingers brushing against hers a moment longer than necessary.

“Amelia!” Tommy’s voice echoed through the gym, the sound of his heavy footsteps breaking them apart. His face was tight with concern and a hint of anger as he pointed at her. “I thought you said you’d behave?”

Amelia looked at her father innocently. “Nothing’s happened,” she lied.

Tommy huffed in frustration. Pinching the bridge of his nose he sighed, “Can’t believe I have to say this, Amelia, but you can’t interfere with training.”

“But I wasn’t—“ she began to protest.

“Oi! No fucking fighting with the lads!” he shouted before storming out.

Amelia heard a snort and turned to see Bonnie peering at her from behind a bag, a huge grin on his face. She stuck out her tongue at him as he returned to his training, watching him a moment before rushing to the car, afraid to keep her father waiting any longer.

————————-

“Amelia! Amelia, come and have a look,” Lizzie called from her bedroom.

Amelia popped her head inside the door to see her stepmother holding up a fashionable beaded gown that caught the light as she moved. “Do you like it?” Lizzie asked excitedly.

“It’s lovely, Lizzie,” Amelia said. Everything Lizzie chose was something devastatingly chic. She had an enormous wardrobe filled with clothes and insisted Amelia allow her to buy her garments as well when she arrived. It wasn’t an offer Amelia had been comfortable with in the beginning, but as she settled, she realized it was a way for Lizzie to show affection and learned to accept the gifts graciously.

“I’m pleased you like it because I’m giving it to you to wear for my birthday party,” Lizzie informed her with a wide smile.

“I couldn’t accept…” Amelia said, feeling the familiar tug of guilt at taking from the Shelbys.

“Yes, you can because it’s my birthday and I want to give it to you,” Lizzie said.

“Aren’t I supposed to give you a gift?” Amelia asked with a giggle.

“Wear it to my party and enjoy. That will be your gift to me,” Lizzie replied, holding out the gown. Amelia carefully took it into her arms, admiring the intricate patterns of beads as she traced her fingertips over the delicate needlework.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispered.

“It’s going to be so much fun! Have you ever seen a ballet?” Lizzie asked as she turned to her wardrobe, sliding the hangers aside to find her own gown.

“No, I haven’t,” Amelia admitted.

“Tommy took me to one when we were in Paris on our honeymoon. I’ve never forgotten it,” Lizzie mused, her hand pausing a moment over the rack. “He isn’t all paperwork and boring politics, you know,” she said with a breathy laugh. As she turned to face Amelia she had a tear in her eye as she said, “You must know it though, you’ve brought out the best in him since you’ve arrived.”

Amelia could only beam in response to the compliment. All she wanted was a family to belong to and it seemed she’d finally found hers again. Feeling overwhelmed she excused herself to her room, closing the door as a tear slid down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, fingertips fumbling to find the pendant around her neck. Closing her eyes she whispered, "Everything's going to be alright now, mum."

————————-

As the music from Lizzie’s party wafted through the rooms of Arrow House, Amelia fidgeted with her gloves and the neckline of her gown one last time before making her entrance. She knew she'd need more than a deep breath to get through the evening and swiped a glass of champagne from a passing tray. Downing it as quickly as possible, she hoped it would give her the courage to enter the room where partygoers were already gathering and chatting to one another happily.

“Little miss looks a treat, don’t she?” Isaiah said, jabbing Bonnie in the ribs to get his attention. Bonnie was already looking in Amelia’s direction, however, scanning the room for anyone who might have ill intentions toward her. When Isaiah began talking about tempting Amelia to follow them to the servants' quarters to play in the snow, Bonnie took offense.

“She’s a good girl, ‘siah. She don’t do that stuff,” he said, feeling sick at the thought of someone corrupting her.

“Maybe she’d like to try it with a fella she trusted then,” Isaiah said, with a roguish arch of his eyebrow.

“Leave her alone,” Bonnie warned, pressing Isaiah against the wall suddenly.

Isaiah chuckled as he watched Bonnie’s nostrils flare. “Alright, I see how it is. Want her for yourself,” he said breaking free and straightening his jacket.

“We’re here to protect her. That’s all,” Bonnie admonished him firmly, stepping back.

“Keep telling yourself that, mate,” Isaiah said with a smirk, sauntering off into the crowd.

Across the room, Ada took note of Amelia’s uncomfortable posture, rigid as a statue in the corner of the room. Taking pity on her, Ada crossed the floor to speak with her before the poor girl died of nerves. “Amelia, does Tommy know how lovely you look this evening?” she asked, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“He’s been so busy, I don’t even know if he realized I was coming,” Amelia confessed absently as she looked around at all the elegant women around her. "I don't belong here. Everyone's starin' like they expect me to sell pegs and tell fortunes," she fretted.

Ada couldn't help but laugh at her remark. "First, they're not staring, they're admiring. And it's not just you! It's me as well, thank you very much," she said playfully. Leaning in, she whispered conspiratorially, "We're the only guests in the room under the age of sixty! They all wish they were as young and beautiful as we are," Ada said with a cheerful smile, linking arms with her niece. Amelia finally relaxed as she let out a little chuckle, grateful for her aunt's sense of humor.

If he hadn’t known before, Tommy was instantly aware of his daughter’s presence, his eyes growing wide at the sight of her when he entered with Lizzie on his arm. “Lizzie, what’s Amelia doing here?” he whispered harshly into his wife’s ear.

“She’s here to celebrate my birthday, of course. She’s part of the family,” Lizzie replied from the corner of her mouth, trying not to let her guests see them arguing.

Tommy pulled her aside, a note of concern evident in his face as he confided, “There’s going to be political figures here tonight and I wasn’t ready to answer questions about-“

“Hang your politics, Tommy! She’s your daughter,” Lizzie scolded. “You weren’t ashamed of me, don’t hide Amelia away either.”

“It’s not about that, Lizzie. I can’t go into it right now," he rushed the words out as he realized he had to find his daughter. "I need you to trust me,” Tommy pleaded as Lizzie looked on in confusion.

“Tommy! Look who I found. Isn’t she lovely?” Ada gushed as she guided Amelia over to where Tommy and Lizzie stood.

Lizzie greeted her stepdaughter with a warm smile and a hug, complimenting her as Tommy thought of what to do next. Deciding it best to keep his daughter a well-guarded secret from his work colleagues in Parliament at least a bit longer, he motioned for Isaiah. Then turning to Amelia he instructed, “Darling, I need to ask you to go with Isaiah.”

“I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?” Amelia asked, crestfallen at the thought of being asked to leave before the ballet even started.

Lizzie exhaled loudly in obvious disagreement, looking away as Tommy placed a hand to Amelia’s arm reassuring her, “You’ve done nothing wrong, eh?”

Amelia nodded slowly, still not understanding. Tommy added, “I’ll explain later. Just please go.”

As Isaiah approached, Tommy leaned in to whisper something in his ear and Isaiah seemed to take pleasure in escorting Amelia away, tears welling in her eyes as she went.

“Was that really necessary, Tommy?” Lizzie asked, hands crossed over her chest.

“I’m afraid it was, love. I’m sorry,” Tommy replied, adjusting his bow tie and offering his arm. He breathed a sigh of relief as he noted the person he was most concerned about was not yet in attendance.

In the dining room Polly greeted Sir Oswald Mosley, approaching him in all her regal glamor, an ostrich feather fan in one hand as a barrier between them. “We have opium, cocaine and brandy,” Polly offered. “I also have a list of options for the end of the evening. You’ll notice the maids wear name tags. We hired them especially for those guests staying the night. All things are available except the ballerinas,” she said, temptation dripping from her tongue. A smug look of satisfaction crossed her lips as she finished speaking, certain one of the many options would content him.

As she fanned herself, she noticed Isaiah guiding Amelia away and her eyes tracked the pair as they hurried through the room. Mosley too took note, his gaze hawklike and predatory when he sensed opportunity. “Who might that be?” he asked of the raven haired beauty with rampant curiosity.

Polly’s eyes flashed with momentary fire as she replied, “She is a princess amongst the Romanies and she too is unavailable.”

—————————————————————

The crowd at Arrow House had grown, guests wandering in and out of the house even as the ballet began and Bonnie had lost sight of Amelia. His worry only intensified when he realized Isaiah was also missing. By the time he found them in the cellar, he was enraged at the sight of a giggly Amelia being held close by Isaiah. They were wrapped up together in a slow dance to the tune of the music seeping through the floorboards overhead. As Isaiah’s hands began to wander over her body, Bonnie charged at him, breaking them apart.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Isaiah asked, pushing against Bonnie’s chest, slamming him into a wine barrel.

“I could ask you the same!” Bonnie shouted. “What did you give her?” he asked, taking hold of Isaiah’s lapels and shaking him.

“Nothing. I didn’t give her nothing,” Isaiah said disgustedly as they began scuffling.

Bonnie ripped an empty blue bottle from Isaiah’s pockets and shoved it under his nose. “I don’t believe you!”

“Bonnie, stop it!” Amelia called to him, halting their fighting momentarily. “He’s telling the truth! We were only dancing," she said with a toss of her head. "Jesus, you’re worse than my father telling everyone what to do. Why can’t you leave me alone?” she huffed in frustration, tearing from the room and up the stairs into the darkness of the cool spring evening before they could catch her. Running as fast as she could past the manicured flower beds and deep within the maze of Arrow House's gardens, she stopped to listen to the music of Swan Lake.

She leaned against the craggy stone of the garden walls, breathing deeply as she looked up into the night sky full of twinkling stars. Maybe it was wrong of Lizzie to invite her tonight, pushing her father to acknowledge her existence so publicly. As she toyed with the beads of her expensive dress, she felt the hot tears collect at her lash line and bit them back, not wanting to admit how much she’d desired acceptance. Somewhere along the way, she’d wanted a place in the Shelby family and now it seemed she was being shut out. She dropped her head into her hands and wept, unaware of the footsteps along the path beside her.

“And what do Romany princesses have to cry about?” a smooth voice glided through the air over her shoulder and into her ear like the gentle hiss of a serpent.

"I'm no princess," she corrected without looking up. “And no daughter either, apparently,” she sniffed almost inaudibly. Silence hung in the air for a moment before she turned to see a well dressed man with a thin mustache standing over her.

Her body stiffened when she realized his close proximity. “I should go,” she mumbled, brushing past him.

“You intrigue me. Do stay and tell me your troubles,” he coaxed, reaching an arm out to grasp her wrist. Amelia’s eyes darted to his as his lips curled up a bit too harshly at the corners, the lack of warmth mirrored in his darkened irises.

Amelia shivered at the lack of sincerity in the gesture. “I’m cold, I need to go inside now,” she forced out, looking down at her arm still trapped in his vice like grip.

Voice dropping dangerously low he growled, “I must insist.”

Continue reading Part 4

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@christinasyellowflowers

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@dreamlandcreations

@moral-terpitude

@look-at-the-soul

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@cillmequick

@kpopgirlbtssvt

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@watercolorskyy

@l1-l4

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@multifandomwriter56

@scorpiussage

@anonymooseforever007

@findinghisredrighthand

@darkness-falls-xo

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Bonnie Gold fanfic #Bonnie Gold imagine #Bonnie Gold x OC #tommy shelby #cillian murphy

122 notes · View notes

cookiesupplier · 2 years ago

Text

Say My Name - Part Two (nsfw)

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x ofc

cw: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, P in V, unsafe sex (wrap it up folks), D/s undertones.

18+ Minors DNI

summary: Nicholas Ruffilo has been a fixture in Kaia's life for so long she couldn't imagine it without him. Even after he left for LA and his life of stardom took off.. the only problem, she never got the nerve to tell him how she felt about him. Could one more tattoo change everything?

words: 2209

author’s note: Part two, I promised the smut... I have no idea how good it is.. I.. yea. I tried lmfao. In my head it was fun lollll All unbeta'd, reader beware lol.

ALL COMMENTS ARE WELCOME!

Any replies to this post will be replied in a reblog because tumblr is a butt and for some reason wont let me reply to posts.. if anyone knows how I can fix it (I've done everything all the help suggestions have said) lemme knoowww.. cause support hasn't gotten back to me yet...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I want you to say my name like that again.”

Hearing those words from Nick left Kaia in a state of shock for a moment, her eyes widened as she stared at him, his hands warm on her leg, rubbing gently as if to sooth her, like he thought she was a wild animal about to start running. Another moan slipped from her lips however when she realised that that wasn’t what he was going at all, his hand on her inner thigh was rubbing those circles up over the paper stencil of the tattoo higher up her leg, creeping up higher, and higher.. She shuddered as she felt those gloved covered fingertips stroking the line at the edge where her skirt barely was tucked into her underwear..

“Ky, when I’m done with you Sweetheart, you won’t be moaning anyone else’s name like that. Ever, again.”

And fuck, she’d never thought Nick would exactly be the possessive type, he was so very chill and easy going, but damn, if seeing the way his eyes were staring at her as he tugged her shirt from her underwear and proceeded to pull his hands away so he could remove his gloves, that was the hottest thing she had ever heard come from him.

He never had to worry though. Not that she managed to get those words out, that would mean being able to put thoughts together right now. Instead, now, as she saw Nick’s gloves come off, she was peeling the tattoo stencil from her leg and carefully discarding it aside, time for the tattoo was done, as much as she had been looking forward to this tattoo time with Nick, oh, the feeling of his hands on her, the thrill of those words, the possibilities that he was presenting to her, even for just one moment? She couldn’t pass that up.

Just one moment. One moment to bask in the sun.

He had turned away to shift his things away from the couch he’d set her on. If they were in the store, she wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable, and maybe she should think twice before she lifted her sun dress over her head and just dropped it to the side. When he was looking back to her, she swore she saw his eyes darken as they racked down her body, taking her in.. all the artwork, so much of it his.. Her bare form exposed, left in nothing but her bra and underwear..

“Damn, Sweetheart, you are something else.”

Nick had seen almost all of her in one way or another.. Almost all of her tattoos had been done by female artists, for obvious reasons, which he understood, while she loved him, she was a private person with body issues and having the man she was in love with tattoo intimate parts of her body… even just her thigh today was pushing it! Still, looking at her here and now, and seeing her before him, Kaia watched the way he took her in and she couldn’t even imagine what was going through that talented mind of his.

“Nick…”

Breathless as she watched him stand up, he was lifting his shirt over his head, next came his belt, and his pants and boxers were falling around his ankles leaving him in nothing, completely nothing. She unclipped her bar from her back and tossed the cage for her breasts aside happily, not that she had much to her curves, it always made her a bit self conscious actually, but when she went to slide her underwear down her legs,

“Don’t.”

Kaia looked up to Nicholas, his soft voice commanding as he moved to kneel on the couch. Moving over her, his hand running up her legs, bare, without his gloves this time, leaving her to shiver in an entirely different type of anticipation. Nick had always had a way about him, quiet, unassuming, but whenever he spoke to her, she couldn’t help but listen, and so everything he told her to do, like a zing running down her

“Let me Sweetheart.”

His fingers hooked at the lacy material to the sides of her hips, of course, she’d worn one of her best pairs, why wouldn’t she when she knew that he was at least going to catch a flash of them at some point today. The last thing she was going to do was wear a pair of granny panties to a tattoo appointment with the man she’d swear she’d been in love with since middle school! Sliding the material of her lingerie down her legs, ignoring the stickiness left from the stencil transfer, she didn’t care, the tattoo was so far from her mind, all she cared about was this man, and his hands, where every inch of his skin was in contact of hers as he leaned over her and turning his head pressing a kiss to her clean inner thigh, earning him a soft whimper slipping from her lips.He was going to kill her before the night was out. He was.

“Nicholas.”

There it was, he’d wanted her to say his name like that again, and he’d gotten it, only the breathy moan was slightly louder this time, pleading with him for a little more, and she watched as his lips curled into a smile as he pressed another kiss a little higher along her thigh.. And the next.. Until he was spreading her thighs and his tongue was pressing deep into her pussy, and she was gasping loudly in surprise as he was feasting on her like a man starved.

“Oh fuck, Nick!”

Never in her life would she have thought that today would have her ended up here, would she have thought that the latest in a long line of tattoos from her friend, one of her best friends.. Even if she barely saw him anymore, that never changed for her, would she have thought that just another tattoo would have his tongue licking deep inside her. Moaning out his name, reaching for his hair as he his lips found her clit, sucking as she tugged and his man bun was spiralling undone so her fingers could thread into his hair.

When two of those gifted fingers that she’d seen work his guitar slid into her body, playing her instead, curling inside of her, cried out in pleasure, her fingers tugging harshly at his hair as she fell over the edge into the abyss, clenching around his fingers as she orgasmed. Shaking, he didn’t stop though, he kept going, until she had to push him away with a whimper, his mouth and chin glistening a little with her cum, fuck, he looked divine like that.. But god..

“I’m not done with you yet Sweetheart.”

Oh, god, she hoped not.

Looking at him, her eyes flickering down his body, he was slim, and gorgeous, and his cock was jutting out and hard.. But she saw him pause.. Considering what came next as she sat up a little, he knees cradling his hips there in front of him..

“I’m safe.. Nick, I-”

“I know.. So am I, but I don’t have any-”

“We don’t need one.”

They’d talked so often, Kaia knew that Nicholas didn’t sleep around with fans all the time on the road, he’d rather hang out with his friends, crew and the band on the buses while on tour than find random chicks along the tour route while they were away. Sure she knew he dated over the years, neither of them had been celibate, but she was certainly single now, had been for months. Last date she’d heard about for him, she didn’t even want to think about. She honestly didn’t care, and the thought of feeling him inside of her, watching as he stroked his cock, rubbing his thumb over the head to smear the pre-cum over and her breath caught, he was so fucking beautiful all over..

“Look at me Sweetheart.”

Her eyes flew up to meet his, and that soft knowing smile on his lips, she’d been caught watching him, her cheeks flaming..

“I want to see your eyes as I feel you for the first time.”

First time, fuck.. The gasped that escaped her had nothing to do with the way he was dragging the head of his cock along her slit and over her clit drawing a soft whimper out of her, and everything to do with the thought of this being the first time and not a one time. Reeling him press into her, as his hips hitched forward, pushing into her warmth, wrapped in her heat, and fuck, the moan that he pulled from her when he was completely inside of her. His hands hooked her thighs around his hips as he rolled them forward so he was flush with hers, skin to skin.

Kaia’s hand that wasn’t still greedily fisted in his hand, she was not giving up those lock dammit, they were all that was keeping her grounded right now, was wrapped around his back as his whole body was pressed against her. His lips claimed hers in a kiss that she swore felt like he was trying to steal the oxygen from her lungs.

Then he started moving.

That first thrust and she had to tear her lips from his, arching under him with the force of the thrust and fucking crying out with the pure pleasure, god, Nick, had always been quiet. Even now he was demanding anything, he wasn’t loud, he wasn’t commanding, but he had her completely enthralled and at his mercy. Each thrust of his hips and she was shuddering in pleasure as, reaching between them, those talented fingers reaching between them for her clit and rubbing,

“You going to cum for me Sweetheart, cum all over my cock like a Good Girl?”

His voice was so soft, so gentle with the request in them, wanting so badly to please him, so badly to please Nick.. How he did that to her she didn’t know. One second she had been on the verge of screaming out in pleasure, and the next she was whimpering and nodding, his brow pressed to hers..

“Yes, yes, I’ll be your Good Girl, please.”

Lips curving in that smile,

“That’s my girl, go on, cum.”

As his fingers rubbed harder at her clit, even if he hadn’t said it, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to hold back anyway, as her thighs started to shake, clenching around his cock, moaning as she fell over the edge, cumming apart as he groaned.. Nick thrust into her a bit harder then, fucking her through it, it, pushing her to the limit, and letting her take her pleasure until he was filling her with his own, fuck, feeling his warmth inside of her was something else.. And she didn’t think she could go back. First time. He’d said, first time.

Lifting her head she brought her lips in a kiss that was a little desperate, she’d admit it.. She wanted this to be the first time, the first of so many to come..

As the kiss broke though, and their bodies stilled, laying there in each other’s arms, hearts racing, breathless wrapped up on a very too small couch for two grown adults..

“What now?”

Kaia has to ask. She’d never dared ventured to any subject close to this before, not with Nick, not about anything that could do with them, but she’d also never dared to sleep with her best friend before, this was a day for firsts, and if she was going to get her heart broken, she wanted it to be done now before she got her hopes up too high.

“Well I know it’s a bit backwards Sweetheart, but maybe we could try dinner, a date might be nice next?”

She shook her head, right, and he was being obtuse, as if going on a date was so simple and going to solve everything.

“Nick! You’ll be going home.. Back to LA.. you have the band.. More tours, more music.. Who knows if you’ll meet other girls…”

The last part came out oh so softly. It was always her fear, always that ache in her heart, that the day would come that he’d meet someone else, someone that he’d sound so smitten by that she’d just know. Kaia would know that she’d lost him. Then again, she worried every time Noah told him he was out on a date, it felt like the bottom of her stomach dropped out. Sometimes she swore Noah knew, with how quiet he got on the other end of the line, but he didn’t say anything, he’d just quickly change the topic and they’d start talking about the latest anime, or game he was playing, music they were listening to, just to distract her a bit until she more herself. She was grateful for that.

Right now, she was pulled from her thoughts of those moments, those girls, but a a press Nick’s lips, his eyes searching hers,

“You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

#bad omens #nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo x ofc #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo smut #smut #fanfiction #fan fiction #bad omens band #bad omens cult #ofc #nick ruffilo fanfic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #smut prompts

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delulu4dean · 2 years ago

Text

Written Porn

Warnings: Smut, swearing

Pairings: None

Summary: Dean reads smut, decides to write his own.

Word Count: 1,131

Dean was scrolling on his laptop, making a face. Sam couldn’t tell if it was disgust or annoyance, or perhaps a combination of the two. There was even a bit of frustration in Dean’s breath, as he scrolled through whatever he was scrolling through on his laptop.

“Oh come on!” Dean yells.

“Okay, what is going on?” Sam finally asks, looking at his older brother.

“This bullshit,” Dean turns his laptop to let Sam take a look.

The screen was on some site, filled with writing, mainly fan fictions. And what kind of fan fiction was Dean looking at? Fan fictions based of the book series Supernatural, written by God himself. But it’s not just any fan fiction, no. Do you really think Dean Winchester would read fan fiction without smut? Some of the things Dean was looking at was pure filth. All Dean X Reader. But by the look on his face, Sam could tell he wasn’t enjoying it at all.

“Why are you reading… smut?” Sam asks.

“I was curious, I mean it’s written porn right? But it’s like virgins wrote this shit,” Dean frustratedly turns the laptop back to him, as he continued scrolling.

“As opposed to fans in relationships who’d rather spend their time writing fan fictions instead of spending time with their partners?” Sam asked, sarcasm laced in his voice.

“You know what I mean. There’s some good writing on here, and then you can tell who’s inexperienced and horny. Or writing for a female audience.”

“Well yeah, female fans are writing for female fans. Do you think they expect the Dean Winchester that they know as fictional to read their fan fictions?” Sam rolls his eyes, clearly uninterested in the conversation.

“I’m not saying there’s something wrong with it being female centered, I just want to read something that focuses on both.”

Sam sighs as he realizes he can’t leave the conversation without leaving the room altogether. “Okay, tell me Dean, who would read a Dean slash female reader that isn’t centered around the reader?”

“Me,” Dean responds with a smile.

This time when Sam rolls his eyes, he takes the book he’s reading and goes into his own room, figuring the only way out of this conversation is to go. Dean, on the other hand, gets a fun idea. Well fun to him, but to be real, it’s probably one of the worst ideas he’s had. He’s going to write smut himself.

It’s not that he’d be bad at writing it, as experienced as he is, it would probably come out good. But Dean Winchester would only be able to write pure filth. And that’s what he writes, as he starts typing away on his laptop.

“I want you,” she said. “I want you bad, Dean.”

Dean couldn’t hold it back any longer, he gave into his desires, his lips crashing into hers.

Dean continues typing on his laptop, the sound of his fingertips tap-tap-tapping away filling the room.

Dean’s body hovers over her, one hand holding him up, the other traveling up her thigh, under her skirt. Her skin was soft against his hand. Her hands went to the hem of his shirt, and Dean pulls back, letting her pull it over his head and toss it to the side. Her hands run up and down his chest, fueling his desire. Dean’s hand moves from her thigh, up to the thin fabric between her legs.

Dean’s face is focused as he writes. He knows what he’d like to read, but he wants to make sure it’s good, so he uses all his concentration on this.

His thumb presses a gentle circle through the thin fabric, causing her to moan. Her voice deepens his arousal. She breathes out, “Dean, please, I need you.” And that’s all he needed to hear. He slips off her panties and takes her shirt off, before he takes off his own pants and underwear. He places his tip at her entrance.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Dean traces her bottom lip with his thumb.

“I want you to fuck me, Dean,” she begs.

With that, he pushes himself in, letting out a soft grunt, feeling her wetness around him. He begins to thrust in and out of her. The room is filled with the sounds of her moans, his grunts, and the bed creaking. He picks up the pace, going harder, losing himself in the feeling on being inside her.

“You take me so well,” he praises her.

Her hands hold his face, pulling him down, kissing him with a hunger. He grips her hips tightly, pounding into her. Her hands fall to her sides as she grips the sheets. She raises her legs, wrapping them around Dean, allowing him to go in deeper. He groans in pleasure in response.

Skin to skin, his hot breath mixing with hers, the passion between them is strong. One of his hands goes between her legs, rubbing her clit. Her moans grow louder and louder as the pleasure builds up in the both of them.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna cum!” she warns.

“Let go, sweetheart.”

And she does. Dean follows soon after, his movements becoming more desperate before releasing himself in her, with a loud groan. His pace slows down as they both come down from their high.

Dean types up his last bit of his writing, and looks at tags. Tags? Are they really necessary? Well others use them, so might as well. Dean adds some, and posts it.

Hey may have gotten too excited during his writing session, which he realizes as he looks down. So he shuts off his laptop and heads to his room.

✰✰✰✰✰

In the morning, Dean seems to have forgotten about his writing from last night. He walks into the kitchen, and makes some coffee. When the coffee is brewed, he pours himself a cup and sits at the table, opening his laptop. As he logs in, he sees a bunch of notification. Likes, comments, praise about his writing.

Sam comes into the bunker from his morning jog and sees Dean with a smug smile on his face. He looks at the laptop and guesses it has to be something about their conversation last night.

“What, did you finally find something good enough to read?” Sam asks, regretting it almost the moment the question came out of his mouth.

“No, but I wrote something, and it seems the female readers like it too,” Dean boasts to his younger brother.

“You’re a narcissist,” Sam teases.

“I am not.”

“You wrote smut about yourself,” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“I’m just letting the fans know what a good sex scene looks like.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Sam makes his way to the kitchen as Dean looks at his laptop happily.

✰✰✰✰✰

Sorry if this sucks, I just thought it would be a funny idea.

#supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you

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fandomworldofdreams · 22 days ago

Text

Hospital For Souls

"I am just a worthless liar. I am just an imbecile. I will only complicate you. Trust in me and fall as well. I will find a center in you. I will chew it up and leave. I will work to elevate you. Just enough to bring you down"

- TOOL

Previous: Prologue- CHP18

Warnings: Choking, degradation, mentions of rape

Chapter XIX: Sober

The sun's rays shone through the space between leaves, casting a crescent shadow over Valeria’s face. From her spot lying down on the grass, she stared up at the tree, its leaves swaying with the breeze.

“What do you think that one looks like?” Lucian asked, pointing toward the sky.

She squinted against the harsh brightness of the blue and white, gazing at the cloud. “A teapot.”

“That shit looks like Godzilla,” he snorted. She cast him a disapproving glance. He shrugged, craning his neck against the tree's rough bark, gazing at her under his nose. “So what’s with the office look?” He indicated her choice of gray work pants and a black turtleneck. She pursed her lips.

“What’s with the new piercing?” He moved his shaggy brown hair to cover the silver stud in his ear. “I take it Dad hasn’t noticed?”

“Psh, I don’t think he’d look twice if I dyed my hair purple and styled it into a mohawk.” Valeria laughed at that, leaning up so her elbows supported her weight.

“I’m trying out different aesthetics. College is supposed to be about developing the type of adult you want to be. I have devised a system so that I acquire a new style of fashion each semester. This one is more academic. You know, plaid skirts, ties, vests, pocket watches. I’m thinking goth next semester, I do love black lipstick.”

“I think people are intimidated by you enough without the whole alternative look, Eria.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Besides, we can’t both have the same style. They’ll think cause you’re older I copied you. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I’m sure your punk friends won’t let it be tarnished too much.” There was a slight bite in her tone that made Lucian glance away from her, She bit her tongue, following his gaze to a mom and son playing fetch with their dog.

“It’s not like I had much choice,” he muttered.

“Once you graduate it’ll be different. You can move in with me. Pursue some of your passions and perhaps become a biochemist or an artist. Just keep yourself together til then and come to me whenever you feel yourself slipping.”

“Shit, I’ll have to deal with your snoring again,” Valeria dug her nails into the dirt, ripping the grass out and tossing it his way. He held his arms up to shield him between laughs.

They stayed there talking for hours, lost in the countless topics. Conversation was never lacking between them. The day was nice and Valeria had brought sandwiches for them. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that they decided it was time to grudgingly get back to life.

“Do you resent me for leaving you with Dad?” she asked in the car, keeping her eyes glued to the road. He shifted uncomfortably, angling his body away from her.

“Resent wouldn’t be the word I’d use.”

“Then what is?”

“I dunno, Valeria. I don’t hate you, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, y’know. I got left behind.” She worked hard to keep her mask neutral, not to show that his words had hit hard. But her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

She slowed to a stop in front of her father's house, putting the car in park.

“Lucian, I-”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” he got out of the car, bending down to gaze at her. His face looked so young. “It’s just not the same without you around here, but I’ll get over it, okay? I love you, see you next week.”

The door closed before she could say anything. Watching him enter the house she had loathed for many years only added to her guilt, which already weighed heavy in her stomach.

She tried to see him as often as college and work would allow.

Reaching for the gear shift she paused. There was that nagging feeling in her chest, telling her she needed to go talk some more to him. Maybe he could stay the night with her?

Taking her keys out of the ignition she made her way to the front door, opening it.

“Lucian!” She called out, seeing the upstairs hallway light was on. “Why don’t you come and spend the night with me?”

There was no answer.

“I had to leave to secure a place for us. You can get away from him whenever you want.”

Silence.

Valeria sighed jogging up the steps to where Lucian’s door was cracked open.

“Lucian, I’m sor-” The words got caught in her throat, an inhale of air that was not dared released. Her next step was a loud squelch that soaked her socks.

Dr. Lecter stood over her brother in a plastic body suit over his clothing. The suit and walls were a painting of blood strokes and splatters but it was nothing compared to the bed Lucian laid on. The blood dripped off the sides, soaking the sheets and pooling on the floor in one dark crimson puddle. A scalpel was firmly held in Dr. Lecter’s hand.

“Apologies Valeria, you were not supposed to come in.” Her brother's chest and stomach were cleanly split down the center. The skin was pulled back to reveal muscle, organs, bones, and tissue, but to her, it looked like ground-up meat. It was one of the most grotesque things she’d ever seen.

She looked at her brother's face, noticing his eyes were wide, staring straight at her. She realized he was awake.

“Lucian?!”

“He’s alive, just listen for his heart.” She did as instructed.

Thud!

His heart was far too clear to hear without his skin to muffle the noise. She dared to step closer and see the heart jolting in his chest, veins pulsing.

She couldn’t hold it in anymore, bile rose in her throat and forced its way out. She fell to the ground as the acidic taste stained her mouth and her nose, clogging her airways.

She heaved gasping for air, the potent stench of vomit and blood causing her to hurl again. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, standing to her feet, careful not to slip on the blood.

“I hope you don’t plan to do that every time,” Dr. Crane said from behind her. “After all there are plenty more murders to follow. Plenty more bodies to witness in their glory.”

She saw his mask out of the corner of her eye. That fucking mask that glowed with malice and stretched beyond the darkness.

“Murder?” the question echoed in her head. “Please please don't kill him. I'm begging you.”

“Begging?” Dr. Lecter hummed, sliding the scalpel into Lucian’s chest region with the precision of a surgeon. “That word must feel incredibly uncomfortable on your tongue. Almost foreign, I assume.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Does he feel anything?”

“Very much so.” There was that same calculated expression, the glance in her direction picking apart every reaction she made.

“Please, let him go,” She placed a hand over her mouth to cut off the sob threatening to rip free. Her body was shaking.

Crane’s body pressed against her from behind, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her flush to him.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice austere breath brushing against her hair. “You’re next.”

A haze set over the image before her. Dr. Lecter’s hand pulled out of her brother's chest, but it was not empty.

No, her brother's heart was beating rapidly inside it, blood drops dripping down his forearm, coating his hand like a second glove.

She was looking up at a blinding light now, squinting to see through it. Two figures cast shadows over her making it look like halos around their frames.

She was frozen, unable to move, the only body part that would comply with her demands was her eyes. Even her breathing was ragged and forced. Her limbs struggled against the immobility with no result.

There was an agonizing pain below her neck down to her waist. The pain burned deep into her nervous system. She couldn’t feel if she was sweating or not.

“Perhaps you should remove her kidney,” the voice pierced the ringing in her head.

She finally dared to look down. It was just like Lucian, she had been opened up. Her organs were laid bare for them to see. She could hear how her heartbeat quickened—a deafening thudding in her ears. She saw her ribs, bones snapped like a grotesque sculpture.

She became hyperaware of every vein, organ, and bone in her body, one system that radiated in tandem whenever Dr. Lecter cut into a singular point.

Her breathing was shaky and uneven, growing more sporadic by the moment.

Dr. Crane’s face leaned down into her line of sight, blocking the bright light, a cold grin spreading across his lips.

“Are you paying attention, Valeria?”

Valeria blinked a couple of times, turning her gaze back to Crane who sat behind his desk, hands folded in his lap, gazing at her intensely. She was in his office.

“What?”

“I asked if you were paying attention. Clearly, I got my answer.”

Two days since the assault. One day til her friends would go free.

“How have you been sleeping?” He asked, gazing at her from above his glasses.

“As well as can be expected,” she responded.

“Any nightmares?”

She didn’t have the energy to lie anymore. “All I have are nightmares.” There was no reprieve from her suffering and their control, even in slumber.

“What about?”

“You have a PhD with a specialization in fears, phobias, and anxiety disorders, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

A slow, deliberate smirk spread across his face. “I’d much rather hear it from you. My imagination is vast. Although I’d be more than appeased to write in your notes that you have recurring dreams of being fucked by me if that is what you want.”

The words sent her system into panic, making her flinch. He knew what her triggers were and he played them like a violin, him the composer to her anguish.

“I have nightmares about everything, death, pain, suffering, it doesn’t end. Last night in particular you and Dr. Lecter carved out my heart.” He tilted his head, eyes flickering in amusement. She glanced to the floor, unable to keep eye contact with him for long.

Not without feeling him inside her all over again.

“Was your brother there?” She froze at the question, gaze still cast down.

“Yes,” her voice was barely a whisper.

Why lie? Why bring herself more pain?

“I have something for you.” He said suddenly, sliding his briefcase onto the desk with a loud thud. Her body immediately tensed at hearing those words, her mind spiraling, her hands shaking in her lap.

He was deliberately slow, drawing out the anticipation as he pulled a small picture from the case and offered it to her upside down like offering food to an animal easily startled.

Valeria hesitated, almost looking at him for a reassurance he didn’t offer. She gripped the edge of the photo, turning it over to see Lucian’s smiling face, younger than he had been when he died.

His eyes were still full of light.

Her breath hitched. She tore her gaze away from it, looking at Crane with a twisted feeling in her gut, confusion, sadness, and mistrust. She sensed this was a test, a game, and she didn’t know how to proceed. She didn’t want to play.

“You’ve been doing well. You haven’t stepped out of line yet. I figured a small token would remind you what all hangs in the balance.” She swallowed, the sound apparent in the quiet of the room. She dared to look again at the photo and he watched as her gaze softened, showing vulnerability.

“Do you still remember him vividly?” His tone had taken on a new edge, one that seemed almost curious, with less of a cruelty to it. She ran her finger over the photo, a tremble in her fingers betraying her composure.

“Only in my dreams,” she whispered, voice distant.

“Grief is an intense teacher,” he said simply. “No one talks about what it’s like when the deceased familiar smell leaves their items. The scent that marked them fades into nothing but a distant memory. First, you stop being able to hear their voice and certain ways they looked with different emotions. Their face becomes a haze. I imagine you never cleaned his stuff, and yet, he faded, just like everything will.” Crane gazed at her with a smug look, standing from his seat and leaning on his desk so he was only a few inches away from her. Her body tensed.

He reached out a hand to gently guide her chin up to meet his eyes with a curled finger, she flinched as if he had struck her.

“Grief is such a fickle concept, don’t you think? Why form such attachments when you know they’ll eventually be taken and the pain will be unbearable?” his tone was sickly sweet now, like a predator luring its prey into a trap. She clutched the photo tighter, gazing at it.

“I doubt you could understand the depth of grief, Dr. Crane, aside from clinically.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms across his chest, looking down at her. “I understand the fragility of the human will and mind. It’s an intricate process, so easy to shatter, but tedious to rebuild.”

With a shaky breath, she met his gaze. “Dr. Lecter asked me long ago who I saw in you that made me hate you so much. Who I compared you to in my mind. I didn’t know at the time. But I think I do now. I see myself. I see someone molded by the world's cruelty so they became the cruelty to ensure they never got hurt. The only difference is you got so lost in the act it no longer is an act, it became a part of you. You became the monsters you loathed.”

The chuckle that came from him made her tense, he placed his pointer finger against his lip, his head tilting. She felt like a specimen under scrutiny, something observed under a scope. An experiment he was watching unfold. The grin that spread across his face immediately made her sick.

“You think you see me, pet?”

His tone had grown darker. The name was like nails against a chalkboard. He leaned forward now, slowly, one hand on the arm of her chair, body caging her in.

His other hand reached forward, trailing a playful finger down her jaw, across her lips. She didn't know when she began shaking, but once she started, she couldn’t stop. Her initial reaction was to jerk away from his touch, but he was unfazed, immediately continuing his hands path. His long fingers wrapped around her neck, thumb pressed to her pulse point as if timing the moment her heart began to speed at the contact. Her breathing grew shallow, her body immediately recognizing him.

Then he began to tighten his grip, his thumb shifting down to press against the front of her throat. She choked back a cough and he pushed her back further into the chair. Her fingers instinctively reached up to curl around his wrist, fingernails digging desperately into his skin.

“You could never possibly hope to understand me. So try not to indulge such silly ideas, sweet girl.”

The air deflated from her lungs as his grip continued to close, her mouth open in a futile attempt to intake oxygen. She could feel the blood vessels in her eyes straining.

Her body involuntarily jerked and he gripped harder, yanking her up and shoving her onto his desk. Her legs now on either side of his hips, her back pressed painfully against the wood.

His hips dug into hers and she could feel his bulge through his pants. She gagged, body desperately jerking and fighting..

No, not again. Not again.

“P-pl-please,” she barely got the word out, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

Crane’s smile widened, satisfaction filling his eyes as he continued his relentless hold. The hand that wasn’t choking her slid up her shin, gripping her thigh to yank her closer to the edge of the desk. Pressed even closer to him. Her fingernails dug deeper into his wrist, small beads of blood dripping down onto her uniform. He barely noticed and it somehow made it all worse. He could bleed, but he was far from human.

He leaned closer, his voice dripping with mockery. “What’s that? I didn’t hear you. Say it again. Beg me to stop.”

Black spots were dancing in her vision, her lungs were on fire, her throat felt like it would crush under his hold. He loosened the pressure, just enough for her to take one greedy lungful of air before his cruel grip returned. She didn’t speak, couldn’t again.

He leaned down, his lips close to her ear, she could feel his breath against her skin. “Beg, like the desperate little thing you’ve become.”

“P-please,” tears were streaming down her cheeks now. “S-stop. No . . . no . . . mo . . . re”

“This,” his grip tightened, squeezing until she could feel her chest heave for air, desperate and frantic, “this is the reality, sweetheart. You don’t get to choose anymore.” his fingers dipping into her waistband, skin to skin.

She jerked again, eyes rolling back.

“Does this remind you of the other night?” he whispered, his voice now like honey, sickly sweet.

It did. HIs weight was suffocating, the smell of him overwhelming. She was unraveling all over again. He was violating her in an endless cycle that had her body clenching up trying to protect itself.

“You’ve been asking for this since the day you arrived here. I enjoy seeing you scream and fight for something that is beyond your grasp, when you crumble from realizing there is no hope and you are powerless, it’s quite intoxicating. In all honesty, I think you like the attention.”

She tried to shake her head. She could see dark spots dancing across her vision. Her body beginning to give in, to go slack. He released her and her body dropped fully onto the desk, painfully.

She was coughing violently, gasping for air like she'd never before, her lungs and throat burned.

He was still pressed to her, his arm reached over to pluck the picture of her brother she still desperately gripped in her hand.

She sobbed then, a raw gutteral cry that made her stomach and chest ache.

“Understand something. In a day and half you will no longer have anyone or anything. It'll be best if you learn to behave now, lose that bite. Or I'll entertain the idea of putting a collar on you.”

“Fuck you!” she screamed, her voice hoarse, cracking on the last syllable.

He slapped her, hard enough to send the message. Then his forefinger and thumb gripped her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his.

“Now, be good. Or I’ll inject your femoral artery with my own compound. You’ll lose motor function in thirty seconds. Bladder control in ten. And then I’ll ask if the fear you feel is the same as what you felt when you found your useless excuse of a brother, or if it's closer to what you felt slitting your wrists open.” She couldn't stop the immediate sinking feeling of fear. He'd do it and she knew he would.

He held the photo up in her face before crumpling it in his palm.

He was off of her as if nothing had happened, easing back into his chair.

“Kneel.”

Bile rose in her throat. She leaned frozen for a few seconds, fighting against the desire to throw something at him.

"Don't make me tell you again."

She eased herself off the desk, knees shaking, head spinning. Slowly she dropped to her knees. Her body caught between compliance and fear.

His tapped his pointer finger against his knee once, a twitch of his mouth like he was trying not to smile.

“Crawl.” her stomach dropped at how degrading it all felt. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment. She slid her palms to the floor, eyes cast down and crawled towards him. The floor cold on her hands, hard on her knees. Every shift made her want to curl up and disappear.

He hummed in approval. “You sought control through self-inflicted pain. Soon enough you'll learn to crave the pain inflicted by me. You'll beg, not for it to end. But for it to continue.” he reached down, cupping her chin.

“You’ll be an obedient wanton thing by the time I’m done with you.”

She choked back another sob and he smirked, thumb brushing against her cheek to catch a stray tear.

“Now, sit up on your knees. We aren't done yet.”

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