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farfromstrange · 2 months ago

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Do No Harm

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Broken Heart Syndrome

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After Matt stood you up at dinner, you are tossed down a rabbit hole of agonizing thoughts. As so often, you turn to the bottle to take the edge off, though this time, you make the decision to confront at least one of the objects of your anger. To your drunken mind, at least, even the worst decisions make sense.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST, Heavy on the angst (18+), graphic descriptions of domestic violence (involving a belt, too), allusions to sexual assault, mentions of homicidal ideations, self-hatred, alcohol abuse (and everything that comes with it), argument between friends, Reader says some mean things, suicidal ideations/depression

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: I'm sorry you had to wait so long for another chapter, but it took me a very long time to finish editing. There are parts in this chapter that hit very close to home, and I can't just post it without saying a thing or two. If you or anyone you know struggles with domestic violence, there are organizations that can help (check domesticshelters.org, for example). The same goes for mental illnesses; don't be afraid to seek out help if you start noticing symptoms. Check with your doctor or healthcare provider. There is absolutely no shame in asking for help. You've made it this far, and I am so incredibly proud of you. It was important to me to share that with you. Read at your own risk, please!

Read Chapter 14: Broken Heart Syndrome here on AO3!

In medical school, they teach you that a broken heart can quite literally kill you. Acute emotional distress can overstimulate the heart, causing the left ventricle to collapse. Takotsubo cardiomyopathy looks like Japanese takotsubo, an octopus trap. Still, those without medical expertise know it as Broken Heart Syndrome—because three words are all you need to understand what emotional hurt can do to the body.

A lot of the time though, the human psyche compels a person to find other ways to deal with the pain that eats away at them. Bad coping mechanisms can be just as deadly as a physical disorder. Self-harm doesn’t fix the actual problem, it only distracts your mind momentarily from what is truly hurting you.

Like with any other disease, a broken heart will get worse if it’s not treated. Either, the organ literally stops pumping blood as it should, or it drives you to a point that would easily get you a free 72-hour stay in the psych ward. Emotions are unpredictable like that.

As a doctor, you know everything in the human body is connected. If the body is sick, it will affect the mind; if the mind is sick, the body will suffer, too. Mental illness can be just as deadly as any terminal condition. If pain and trauma are not properly dealt with, chances are high that ignoring it won’t make you any better. And alcohol or drugs are never the solution to a problem, they only cause one problem to branch into a million more—and then you’re fucked.

You are aware that self-harm is the first thing a desperate person with a history of trauma will turn to, but it’s so much easier. In practice, life is fucking vile; it’s a miserable existence that is slowly killing all of us, and you would much rather burn the skin off your bones while you’re still alive than face the very demons you’re trying so hard to run from. You know that’s a sick mindset to have, and if it were anyone else confiding these thoughts in you, you would refer them to the Department of Psychiatry to get the help they need. But you… you cannot be helped. Not anymore. Because you don’t want to be helped. It’s all useless anyway.

The door to your apartment slams shut with a deafening crack of the hinges. As soon as the world is locked behind a deadbolt, and the city has disappeared, your back hits the wall.

A minute ago, he texted you. You prayed for an explanation to a God you don’t even believe in. You prayed that it would all make sense and your brain is spinning in nauseating circles for no reason. You just have to sober up and everything will be okay, you thought. But then you unlocked your phone with shaky and stupidly needy fingers, relying on a hope that stemmed from this childish need to be loved after the one parent you’d had left failed so miserably, and his words drilled into your brain like a sharp knife.

“You deserve better,” he texted. “I’m sorry.”

What a weak excuse. It’s supposed to be your choice, deciding what or what not you deserve. With one text, he took that from you.

It was stupid, you think, to get your hopes up. You were just starting to believe that you could finally move on. The weight on your chest felt less heavy with him there. Matt was never supposed to appear in your life, but then he did, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt like your life mattered again. He put a smile on your face. You don’t remember what it is like to be happy because you never really felt happy before. Since you can remember, you have been running for the sake of survival. Anything you have done up until now was a mere act of self-perseverance.

With Matt, it felt different. He understood you because he, too, seemed to be only existing, trapped in a cage of his trauma’s making.

You were dating again, albeit reluctantly and fighting back like a cat on steroids—but you were dating again. If you wanted your effort to mean something, you had to get over what happened. It’s not that easy, of course, but you believed her when she talked you down from the ledge.

You should have listened to your gut. Everyone in your life will eventually end up leaving or hurting you, or both. You’ve been rotting away for so long, there is nothing left of you to give. He touched your heart once, and now you’re falling apart.

Because there’s not enough of you there to love.

Because no one wants you.

You slide down the wood of your door. If only the floor could open up and swallow you, the pain that traps the oxygen just before your lungs could end. And if you could only cut out your amygdala or sever the connections in your prefrontal cortex to stop being this miserable about a man you barely knew, you would.

The tears running down your cheeks are silent. Dry. They taste like poison on your tongue, but your skin feels almost numb to the burn. You can’t scream or sob because there is no air for you to breathe. You’re drowning on dry land, and the rapid drumming of your heart echoing in your ears is the only sound that exists. It isn’t steady like a clock; it is a ticking time bomb in your chest threatening to explode—threatening to turn into an octopus trap and kill you.

There was never anything left to endure for. You have been torturing yourself every passing day like a fucking masochist, watching yourself on the big screen like a puppet without the intention to stop.

Icarus flew too close to the sun, but boy, you flew right into it. You would have made Matt the sun if he had stayed around for long enough, made yourself dependent on him all over again, and you would have drowned regardless. Maybe it was all for a reason; maybe Claire was right, after all, to push you to see the truth for yourself—how foolish you’d been—but why does that reason hurt so damn much? You barely knew him enough to care, and yet you did. It makes no sense.

You deserve better. If he truly believed that, he would have said it to your face.

The phone slips from your stiff hand before you can reply. Every muscle in your body strains, stretching over bone and lighting every cell and every nerve on fire. You can’t move. You’re sure you are going to die like this, a mess on your living room floor.

He broke your heart; Matt Murdock took it right out of your chest and smashed it up because you dared to want more. He wrapped his hands around your neck and suffocated you. He gave you hope, and then he took it away, and that is something you’re sure you will never be able to forgive. What kind of man doesn’t have the decency to tell the truth before it’s too late?

You tear at your dress, hoping to inflate your lungs somehow. The walls around you threaten to cave in. Everything seems larger than life, suddenly. Even with your hands stretched out before you, you can’t stop the avalanche.

This isn’t about Matt. It has never been about him. Cracks in the broken foundation of an already shattered heart don’t hurt as much as the first crash, they only add to the agony. How messed up do you have to be, you think, for your brain to not even notice the difference between getting stood up and having the ground ripped out from under your feet? You were never good at math, but perhaps you are the sum of your actions, after all.

A car honks outside. The bright headlights flash through the gaps in the blinds on the windows. You remember how they hit him one night, reflecting off the pure white of his dress shirt. His chest was heaving then.

“What the fuck were you thinking, huh?” he had bellowed, drowning out your repeated sorry’s like a tsunami wave. “You embarrassed me in front of… of everyone. My boss, the whole hospital—and you think ‘sorry’ is going to fix it?”

You can’t quite recall whether the lights were white that night, or if they were red and blue, and the only thing louder than his screams were the sirens of cop cars rushing by.

“You’re never gonna learn,” he’d said, crouching down before you, and he looked like what you would imagine the devil to look like if he were human. “You’re always going to screw up because you, my love, are absolutely and utterly fucking incompetent.”

On second thought, maybe there were sirens outside. They sounded different from your quiet sobs. He forced you to keep your eyes open, to watch as he undid his belt, and against every bone in your body, instead of running, you stayed rooted in place. You stayed there until he grabbed you and threw you into the coffee table.

The vase stayed intact, thankfully, as it tumbled and fell, but you could see your reflection clearly in the porcelain. You watched him come up behind you, and all you remember is how hollow you were; you were so fucking hollow your heart could have screamed and it only would have echoed before it would have died. You were bound—bound to him.

“Get up.”

You could have grabbed the vase and smashed him over the head with it.

“I said,” he repeated, “Get up.”

Your hand slipped from the porcelain, and you got up. It was like he knew you wouldn’t have the guts to kill him. Lord knows you wanted to; some days, you were so close to stealing a knife from the kitchen and slashing his throat while he was asleep. You’d watch him choke on his blood with a smile on your face, you thought, but as soon as the handle was in your hand, you realized that you couldn’t. Not even when you thought about the belt, the feeling of him on top of you as he took whatever the fuck he wanted from you over and over again until he drew blood.

It should have been enough to make you snap, all the abuse, but you physically couldn’t touch him. At first, you thought you loved him too much to hurt him. Your feelings were complicated and you were hardly aware of how dire your situation truly was, but eventually, you came to the realization that the inability to jab a knife into his jugular had a different reason entirely.

You had no money, no power, no life outside of him. He seized all of your income. You didn’t own a valid passport, a bank account, or a car. If you had killed him, you would have been a fugitive and a thief. If you had left him, you would have found yourself jobless and disgraced with nowhere to go. No friends, no family, no love. And so every time you wished him dead, the knife wandered back into the drawer. He owned you.

Toward the end of your relationship, you used to imagine the sirens were coming for you. If you had filed at least one report, maybe someone would have heard. Maybe they would have paid more attention to the cries for help from the neighboring apartment. Maybe then it would have never come this far.

The past can change your future, but you can’t go back in time and change the past. If we could, life would be so much easier.

You manage to crawl from the door to the couch where there’s a half-empty bottle of tequila hiding in a paper bag. You need to forget to remember how to breathe.

The burn of liquor blazes through your taste buds, taking them apart and putting them back together all the same. You choke on it when you try to swallow. Nothing has ever tasted quite this bad, but you can’t stop. The dull ache fills your chest, even if it’s just for a second, and you need more. You can’t stop because if you stop drinking and open your eyes, you will see his face again. It’s worse than dying; at least in death, there is peace.

You drink until the already half-empty bottle is empty, wiping the tequila from the corners of your mouth. You sniffle, you gasp for air, and you sob into the dead quiet of your apartment. Matt should not have the power to hurt you this badly.

The drunker you get, the more his face starts to blur. All faces start to blur.

“Stupid fucking idiot!” you curse under your breath as you storm into the kitchen, tearing through the liquor cabinet that used to be full but now resembles more of a black hole with stray bottles of vodka all around.

Drinking pure vodka is like pouring disinfectant directly onto an open, gushing wound. The only difference is that alcohol only works to kill off unwanted bacteria on the outside; it doesn’t exorcize the demons in your head.

Time keeps running, and the liquor keeps flowing, and you don’t remember which way is up anymore, you only know that it won’t stop fucking hurting. Fuck Claire, fuck Matt, and especially, fuck him. Fuck everyone and God and the whole fucking universe. You just can’t do it anymore.

The cold air hits your face when you stumble out of your apartment complex. Your brain is jumbled, and the world is turning a little too fast. All you know is that the walls were caving in on you, and your veins were swelling with the heat of fury—like you were drowning in your blood. Vodka makes you dumber, yes, but it also singles out one singular emotion for you to obsess over, and you won’t be able to rest until you get it all off your chest.

A cab pulls up to the curb. You only have a handful of cash, but it should be enough to get you where you want to be. No, where you have to be.

You catch your reflection in the rearview mirror, makeup smudged and reeking of alcohol and despair. What the driver must think of you—a lonely woman in the back of his cab with her hand clenched tightly around the bottle of maze in her bag, thinking she’s so subtle about how terrified she truly is underneath the mask of anger that drives her. You can never be too careful, never too mistrusting when there are men involved.

The car comes to a halt only ten minutes later. “Are you sure you should still be drinking?” the driver asks, nodding toward the liquor store across from you.

You scramble with the cash in your hands. “I’m not here to drink,” you manage to say. “I’m visiting a friend.” And you point upward to the dark windows above.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You hand him the money. “Keep the, uh, change.”

He is about to protest, wanting to tell you that you overpaid and you might need to pay for a ride back, but you slam the door on him before he can get a word out. You don’t need a stranger to tell you what to do.

The curb feels unsteady under your feet, almost like the ground might open up and swallow you whole. When you eventually manage to find the door, you almost break the door as you force your way inside. The lock has been broken for quite some time, so a key isn’t required for entry, but there is something about the wood tonight that proves trickier to open.

Every step up the stairs knocks the air out of your tired lungs. It’s late, and rationally, you know you shouldn’t be here in your current state, but you’re angry and you’re drunk, and you want answers. At least for one of the many shitty things wrong with your life lately, you need to find a reason or you will continue sucking on the bottle of vodka until the lethal limit doesn’t exist anymore.

On the fourth floor then, you slump against the doorframe, utterly exhausted. Your head is spinning. Your stomach is churning. How many drinks you’ve had before you got here, you can’t even remember, but you are starting to feel the deadly concoction wanting to purchase a ticket for a ride through your esophagus.

You hammer your fist against the wood. Once, twice, even a third time. No answer. You try again, less gentle this time. Once, twice, a third, a fourth, and a fifth time, and then you lose count. You knock and knock and knock until your knuckles feel like splitting open, but you don’t stop—you use your palm, waiting for the creaking of the floorboards to tell you that someone, anyone, is home. If you could scream, you would have already, but your throat is burnt dry. You abuse the poor door until finally, you hit the air.

“What–” Claire stops halfway, her eyes falling upon your slouched frame. A meow sounds from inside the apartment. “Liv?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s 2 am!”

You didn’t realize how late it has gotten, or how long you must have been crying and drinking and crying some more.

“What happened to you?”

She was asleep. You’ve been trying to call her for days, but here she is, perfectly healthy, wrapped in a robe that isn’t hers, and she has been asleep while you were losing your mind. You were hoping something happened to her, that she didn’t ghost you for no discernible reason, but from the looks of it, she did just that. Yes, she looks miserable with dark circles under her eyes and the room behind her a downright mess, but your mind refuses to be anything but irrational right now. The burning hot anger is back, coursing through your veins at a speed almost too much to handle.

“What happened to me?” you snap. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two fucking days, and you’re asking me what happened?”

“Shh!” Claire pulls you inside. The door slams shut behind her, much louder than your voice could ever be. “Jesus,” she says. “Quiet down.”

A pause. Under her gaze, you almost feel small. Scrutinized, even. “You smell like a fucking distillery,” she adds after a moment of just staring at you—staring as if she had any right to.

“That all you have to say?” Your mouth falls open in a snarl. “Well, fuck you, Claire! Fuck you!”

She flinches, your harsh tone leaving a sharp sting behind. “Okay, maybe we can just sit down and have a conversation like normal people.”

“Unbelievable,” you say. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Normal people. You don’t know what that word even means anymore. You don’t know what anything she says means. You look at her and all you see is alarms blaring in your head, warning you, screaming for you to run, but you are tethered to the ground in the very position you put yourself in.

She utters your name and your entire body recoils.

“Don’t call me that!” It is toe-curling how foreign the word sounds. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, too, like acid raining from the sky. It burns; everything fucking burns. “You know, All I needed was my friend. I needed my friend and you weren’t there,” your voice cracks. “You told me I had to get back out there, and I did. ‘Cause you said it was the right thing to do. I believed you, Claire. I put on this stupid dress and these stupid heels and…” You sob, the memory rubbing salt in the open wound, “Matt fucking stood me up!”

Claire stops dead in her tracks. “What?” she asks.

You laugh through the tears, a sound of complete and utter desperation as you find yourself at a never-ending crossroads. You never learn, do you?

“He stood me up, okay?” you say. “I went to dinner, he didn’t show up, and then he texted me that we’re not gonna work out, so…” You throw your arms up. “I hope you’re happy. Whatever you were trying to achieve, it obviously worked. I trusted you, and I trusted him, and it kicked me in the ass. Fucking congratulations!”

It isn’t fair to blame her for his actions, by any means, but you’re just so angry. Your blood is boiling, turning into liquid as thick as tar, and it poisons you from the inside out. You want to scream at him; you want to scream at Matt and ask him why, fucking why did he do that? But you can’t bring yourself to text him, too drunk to make any rational decisions. The voice of reason in your head is a fuzzy, blurry mess. All you want is for this endless cycle of bullshit to end.

Cliare lowers her head. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” she says. “I– I never… I never wanted this to happen.”

Is that guilt you’re hearing?

“I swear I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. I mean, if I’d known…”

“Save it,” you cut her off, every word from your mouth becoming increasingly slurred. “We both know you wouldn’t have come running ‘cause you clearly had more important things to do. I don’t even know who you are anymore. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have gone to bed without making sure I wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, and now you’re moving into some nurse’s apartment with a cat you’re allergic to, calling in sick and ghosting me. Me! I’m your best friend, for fuck’s sake, and you weren’t there!”

“I told you, I’m sorry. I had some shit going on, and I just couldn’t–”

You scoff. “You’re lying to me, again!”

“Please, Liv, you have to believe me,” she says. “I didn’t know this was gonna happen.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t…” Shaking your head, you tangle your fingers in your hair. You want to pull every last strand out one by one and feed them to the dogs, maybe that will give you your sanity back.

You hate not understanding. You hate not being able to read the person you thought you could trust. She swore she would never lie to you. What can you believe in if even her word is now hanging in the balance? You don’t know, and that’s something you hate, too—not knowing. The helplessness that comes with a dead end makes you want to cower in a corner, smaller than anyone has ever made you feel, and die.

Claire’s silence sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, or maybe that’s your own. The blood is rushing in your ear. You’re standing on hollow ground, and it’s shaking—a ship lost at sea. You have to pinch yourself to stay alert. To stay awake. But the vodka in your system has already made you sick.

“Woah!” She catches you before you can stumble over your own feet.

Gravity is tilting your body toward the ground, but your body wants to rush toward the door. You have to run, you think. Why, you’re not sure, but you have to run.

“Hey,” Claire says. “Maybe you should sit down.”

You shrug her off. “Fuck you!”

She lifts her arms above her head, but it is not a motion of surrender. Far from it. She’s giving up and giving in to the anger that is creasing her brows.

“Well, fuck you, too!” She steps away from you. “You come here in the middle of the night, drunk off your ass, and you expect me to just take it? I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna indulge you. Not when you’re acting like a child.”

Your palm hovers above your churning stomach. “How dare you?” you snarl. “I’m not the one acting like a fucking toddler.”

“Have you ever considered that there are things I just can’t tell you? That sometimes, you just have to trust me? I never wanted you to get hurt,” she says. “After the other night, I figured you didn’t need me anymore. If that’s what you’re so mad about, sue me!”

“I did need you.”

It’s her turn to shake her head at you. “No, you didn’t. You decided to go on that date. You didn’t need me for that. But I didn’t…” She takes a deep breath, and her eyes remain guilty as sin. “I never wanted you to get humiliated like that.”

You are too drunk to process the implications of her cryptic statements. To you, they’re just a series of words on a very fuzzy billboard in your mind; you loathe what you’re hearing. Because you believe her, even though your better judgment is telling you to abandon ship. To jump into the ocean and let it take you away.

“Yeah, well,” you say, “I still did.”

Some scars never heal. Fresh ones tend to tear the ones that haven’t closed yet open, and then it hurts so much more.

Claire lowers her voice to a more mellow tone then. “I met a guy, okay? Like you, I met a guy, but he screwed things up for me and now I’m stuck here until shit has blown over. That’s why I’m hiding.” She sounds almost like the same woman she was a week ago. Before the world stopped turning.

“I wish I could tell you everything, but I’m trying to keep you safe,” she says. “I’ve always just wanted to keep you safe.”

“And how’s that turning out for us?”

She scoffs. “Not good, apparently.”

Your knees begin to buckle, unable to hold your weight any longer. Claire reaches out. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Fuck off!” you try to shrug her off again.

“How much?”

“Just… Tequila. Vodka. Half a bottle, quarter, I don’t know.”

“Jesus, Liv,” she says. “You’re insane.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you,” though the words hold a lot less power now.

“Would you stop? I get it. You’re mad. You don’t have to keep insulting me.” She gently guides you over to the couch. “You know, all I wanted was to do right by you, but I can’t be there all the time. Some things, I have to deal with by myself, and yes, I’m sorry for not being there, but I would’ve been if you really needed me.”

Claire reaches for your coat and pulls it off, much to your dismay. She ignores your scoff, anyway. “I would’ve dropped everything if you’d just called me tonight. You didn’t have to drink yourself into a coma to make your point.”

“I’m fine,” you protest.

You thought she was done helping you, but her good heart betrays her every time. It’s infuriating. You don’t want to be coddled. You don’t want to be treated like a patient—you’re not. You did this to yourself. The world is spinning. Your stomach feels like a pool of toxic waste, but you did this to yourself, and you’d rather lie in your misery than have her fix it.

When you try to rise to your feet though, all thoughts fade to black. Your ears start ringing. You blink, trying to get rid of the ocean that is flooding the world around you, but night quickly settles in. You can’t see.

“You’re not fine.” Claire pushes you back down. “You’re gonna sit down and you’re gonna let me help you.”

You open your mouth to make a snarky remark, but you’re starting to panic. The room is too dark. Your heart beats to the rhythm of mere milliseconds, and you swear you can taste it on your tongue.

“Do you want to turn into your father?”

The audacity, you think. The words sting worse than a thousand needles in your body. They sting worse than a headache. They sting worse than a knife to the fucking back.

You don’t want to turn into your father. You have never wanted anything less. You want to scream at her. You want to leave. You don’t want to be anywhere near here. But you’re paralyzed on Claire’s couch with her towering over you like the caring nurse she is, and you have nowhere to go. Your body has nowhere to go.

You did this to yourself.

She tests the pulse on your wrist, then again on your neck. Her voice is starting to fade into the background. The last thing you hear is her berating you for being “so fucking stupid” with the concern of a thousand armies before your thoughts entirely, finally, dissipate.

The world turns quiet as your body slacks, falling victim to the alcohol in your bloodstream, and it’s the most peaceful you have been in years.

Thinking nothing.

Being nothing.

You wish you could stay like that for the rest of your life. You don’t want to die, not really; you want to think nothing, be nothing, and just float for the rest of your life in a space where no one can ever touch you again. Where he doesn’t exist. Where you have no memory of your father, of the things he did to you. A space where not even Claire exists, and where you can pretend that Matt never stumbled into your godforsaken life, either.

You want to cease to exist. You want the world to end. You want to drown in alcohol until you can’t feel a thing anymore.

In the end, though, life is an endless, vicious cycle; no matter what you do, you won’t escape it until you’re dead—actually dead. And no amount of alcohol could ever change that.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes @littleagxs @silas-aeiou

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock angst #tw: domestic violence #do no harm #charlie cox

42 notes · View notes

prismuffin · 5 months ago

Note

I just watched MI:V and I was searching for Ethan son reader fics and yours was the only one 🥺 I'm really grateful for that one though, it was perfect, wonderfully written. I guess my ask is similar and of course you can completely choose to ignore this too. But, yeah, Ethan comes home to get to know that his son is practically off the rails, has fallen into bad company which has given some bad habits too like maybe Ethan catches him smoking or something. Ethan then realises that he has to fix this and be home more often or it can even be that Solomon Lane captures the son to get Ethan to agree to him, anything works. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this!

A/n: I'm gonna try and filter out some of the asks in my inbox today!! A M:I ask to start off my day- I wrote way more than I planned to with this ask so I just made it a mini fic LMFAO

"You're My Son."

Dad!Ethan Hunt x Son!Reader

( summary: Ethan often worries what affect his absence is having on you and when he takes a break to head home he finds out )

warning?: mentions of smoking and drinking, readers depicted to be a teen of sorts but age is still fluid, semi-angsty? gets kinda sad

!-!more under the cut!-!

Ethan often wonders how his absence affects you, especially during such crucial years of you life and your development. He wishes he was the perfect father, maybe even just a good one but he knows that's easier said than done. On one hand he feels like the world needs him, and on the other, he knows that you do too. The guilt of leaving you to your own devices was catching up to him. No amount of daily calls to home could quell this concerned feeling within him so for the first time in who knows how long he took some time off. It was only two weeks, he just wanted enough time to let you know that he still cares, that he's still there for you, and then he'd go back to work feeling much better knowing that you don't feel like he's forgotten you.

After getting home he was a bit shocked to find you not there but didn't think anything of it, you're young and probably have friends you're hanging out with right now. But after a while it started to get late and dark and you weren't answering your phone so he decided to go out looking for you. He drove around his town searching for you, luckily his job made him very perceptive as it didn't take him long to find you. You stood outside a corner store surrounded by men that were obviously older than you, he watched in shock as you smoked with them, taking a swig of god knows what from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. He was furious but that anger quickly turned into something else as he realized his fears were coming true. How could he blame you for something like this when he is obviously the responsible one. He should've been here more.

Flashing his headlights, your group stopped throwing rocks at signs in confusion, and you cursed under your breath as you prayed it wasn't the cops. Who stepped out the car was much worse though in your opinion.

Your father.

He stood by the side of his car with his hands in his leather jacket, staring directly at you with a face that told you, you were in for it. Clicking your tongue, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him before dropping your cigarette and putting it out with your boot before saying bye to your group as you reluctantly walked up to the car. "Get in, y/n." was all your dad said when you got close enough.

The drive home was silent for only a minute before he spoke up. "Smoking y/n? Really?" You just stayed silent, continuing to look out the window, staring up at the moon. "And don't think I didn't see you drinking either, with older guys? Y/n, that's dangerous-" "They look out for me" You cut him off, daring to look at him. He opened his mouth before closing it with a sigh, not taking his eyes off the road. He thought for a moment, letting go the slight anger he felt at the situation, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he spoke again. "I know I'm not always around and I'm sorry." His tone was sincere and you looked away from him, maybe it was because what he said made you angry, angry at the fact that it meant nothing. He was sorry? Does that even matter, the damage is already done. "But hanging out with men like them can get you in a lot of trouble." He stopped the car and it was only then that you'd noticed you'd made it back home but neither of you moved, he just simply turned to you with a worried expression. "Trouble I don't want to see you in. And look, I know I haven't been the best dad in the world, I know I'm never around but I still care about you. I think about you all day, everyday, whether I'm on a mission or not I wonder how you're doing without me and my worst fear was that my absence was making you bitter or sad and to see that I was right it's…" He trails off and you glanced at him, seeing the tears that had welled up in his eyes, your own looking quite similar as he placed his hand on your shoulder. "I'm gonna start being here for you okay? Not just with daily phone calls, I mean here." Though the angle was a little awkward with you both being in a car, he hugged you- and no matter how much you wanted to tell him to go fuck himself you couldn't, because you realized you missed him just as much as he missed you. You thought about him all day, everyday, whether you were busy or not. Wondering if he was alright or alive, knowing he risks his life everyday to save thousands if not millions of people.

So you hugged him back and let the tears flow, your grip on him tightening as you heard his next words. "You're my son, and I'm gonna take care of you again."

Ethan called IMF Headquarters that night, requesting much more than two weeks off.

----!----

( This was gonna be an ask but it turned out so long I just kinda made it a mini-fic )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

Check my page for my Request Taking Status !!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

#prismuffin #prisask #ethan hunt x male reader #ethan hunt mission impossible #dad ethan hunt x son reader #platonic ethan hunt #mission impossible x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x reader #mission impossible ethan hunt #mission impossible fanfiction #ethan hunt imagine #ethan hunt fanfiction #ethan hunt x reader #mission impossible #ethan hunt fic #tom cruise imagine #tom cruise x reader

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mariel-g · 2 years ago

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Chemistry Homework?

Very self indulgent switch fem reader <3

MINORS U SILLY GALS, DO NOT INTERACT

You sigh as you stare at Jotaro Kujo’s profile, silently fanning yourself with your hand while the idle chatter of your chemistry teacher fades into the background. Jotaro Kujo is...well, he’s not the friendliest of people. Whenever you have tried to talk to him he blatantly ignored you, so you quickly learned to stop trying.

As your thoughts drift away, his elegant side profile turned, revealing his full face in it’s glory. Startled, you jerk away and accidentally knock over a bottle of HCL with your elbow.

“Oh! I am so sorry, here.” You mutter, frantically grabbing at a stack of tissues nearby and patting it over Jotaro’s thigh “Um, are you alright? Like, it didnt burn or anything, right?”

You briefly close your eyes in disbelief, why the fuck did you say that?

His large palm suddenly engulfs your hand, ceasing the frantic drying of his leg. “The dosage of true hydrochloric acid in the bottle would be too low to burn me, I’d think you’d know that already if you take this class.”

Despite the harsh words, it was truly the first time you’d ever heard his voice. It was deep and velvety and honestly quite a turn on. Although his tone was biting and full of contempt, it sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

The noise of irritation he makes at the back of his throat makes your eyes fly up from his leg, settling on tracing the lines of his adams apple and defined neck before slowly meeting his eyes. When you meet them, the glare he pins you with makes you shrink back, only stopped by his hand that is still tightly clasped over yours.

“Yes I know, I just was overly concerned, forgot the basics of chemistry haha...my apologies” you say weakly.

“Get off me” he snarls.

His leg starts to shake, from anger no doubt, and a sick sense of satisfaction runs through you, letting such an inconsiqentuial accident affect his mood so much is ridiculous. But then again, he always acts like a bandit pisses in his coffee each morning.

“You’re still holding my hand”

At that his thigh seemed to flex and harden underneath your finger tips and your fingers gave an involuntary squeeze back. His whole body goes completely rigid and he bites his lip as if in pain. Oh my god...was that his dick...? No, right?

Both of you sat completely still when the teacher suddenly addressed the both of you. “Jotaro and y/n, please clean up the mess, you should’ve told me if you wanted more tissues.”

Jotaro’s eyes bore into you and he gives you a look of pure disgust before snatching his hand away from yours as if burnt. Despite of the rollercoaster of things that just happened you still had some scraps of your pride left, and you gave him the nastiest look you could muster before abruptly standing up.

“Miss, may I please go clean the acid off?”

“Yes you may y/n, I’ll clean the table myself dont worry” The teacher then glanced at Jotaro “You should go clean the HCL off yourself as well Jotaro, the dosage is low but it could still burn if left on the skin for too long.”

You gave Jotaro a smug ‘I told you so’ look before traipsing out of class. Fervently trying to forget the heat emenating from the shape that was pressed against your hand as you cleaned.

Ever since that day, you and Jotaro would bicker and annoy eachother to no end. You were fairly sure he hated you and the hatred is definitely mutual. After seeing him more often you realised that around everyone else he was generally pleasant if not quiet, it seemed that it was only around you where another side was brought out of him. You huffed a small laugh, you tend to have that effect on people.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing really” you sighed. You tilted your head back and moaned softly. God, the feel of his pouty lips making love to your neck was heaven.

He was on his knees in front of you as you sat on the side of the library’s setee, your leg on either side of him as his face nestled in your collarbone. (Mate, look he’s 6′5 just imagine that the setee is really low)

His tongue lazily swept across your pulse before suckling on it. “We should finish our chemistry homework.”

You nodded airily in agreement. “We should.”

Slowly, you brought one of your legs to rest between his thighs, allowing the base of your shin to softly rub against his hardened cock. He groaned softly, moving his hands braced on either side of the setee to wrap around the small of your back.

“Don’t tell me you got hard just from kissing my neck?” You asked incredulously, stilling the languid movement of your shin against his dick.

“I get hard just from looking at you” He said in a whisper “Keep rubbing my cock.”

At his crass wording your cheeks burst aflame with embarrassment, but you continued to pleasure him, delighting in the soft moans and groans that escaped from his mouth when you put more pressure on his member.

“You should say please”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” you completely stopped your ministrations on his dick “otherwise I’ll do this.”

His jaw clenched in irritation and his full lips silently formed the word “bitch.”

“If you still want to finish our homework it’s fine” you said breezily, making a show of repositoning the collar of your shirt and rebuttoning a few buttons.

“Wait,” He visibly swallowed a ball of irritation “keep rubbing my cock...please.” His adams apple bobbed. “And let me see you, all of you, please.”

Satisfaction and a heady rush of power filled you. You’re able to make this proud man beg.

“I enjoy having you on your knees in front of me” you whisper, heeding his request as you slowly unbutton enough buttons for your bra to be completely exposed to him.

His hand cups your breast and squeezes hard, his thumb roughly rubbing over the nipple through the fabric of the bra. You let out a small yelp and narrow your eyes at him when he smirks. Payback I guess.

He leans forward and nips your ear “And i enjoy being on my knees for you as well, let me make you cum.”

Fuck. An ache setlles between your legs as your pussy desperately tries to clench around nothing. “Yes,” you say breathlessly “But we need to be quiet.”

The corner of the library you guys are in is uninhabited, but the whole establishment is not completely void of people.

He kissed the tops of your breasts and slowly took off your bra, savouring every inch of naked skin that was revealed to him. When your chest was fully exposed, he moaned in satisfaction.

“y/n, they’re perfect.”

His lips instantly descended upon your nipple as the other hand massaged and played with your breast. You gasped at the feeling of his tongue circling around one of your nipples while his hand pinched and rubbed and squeezed the other.

“Oh fuck” you panted, feeling euphoria wash over you as he continued to lavish equal attention upon both of your breasts before releasing them with a pop.

“Spread your legs”

You rose your eyebrow at his demanding tone, but complied, cautiously spreading your legs as he flipped up your skirt.

“Fuck princess, is that spiderman underwear?” The side of his mouth was twitching as if he was trying painfully hard not to burst out laughing.

You glared at him, “Do you want to see my pussy or not?”

In response he pulled your knickers to the side and began rubbing your clit with his thumb in a smooth circular motion, his mouth parted in a moan when he saw how wet you became from his light touch against your clit.

“Your pussy is so beautiful” he murmured. “Can I put my fingers inside?”

In response your loins clenched and you bucked your hips. “Fuck yes, and press harder on my clit.”

“Your wish is my command mistress” he said sardonically, increasing the pressure on your clit to the point it nearly hurt.

Slowly, he pressed one of his fingers into your opening and your toes curled. His thick finger stretched you out so good it made you moan, and your head lolled down to watch him as he watched his finger disappear inside of you till the hilt.

Heat crawled up his neck as he bit his lip. “You’re so tight...and wet” he curled his finger slightly and you gasped as the tip of his finger rubbed against your most sensitive space. “And warm,” he slowly started to thrust his finger in and out. “All for me.”

You moaned, “Jotaro, faster.”

“Yes.”

“Another finger please”

“Yes m’lady.”

The volume of your moans nearly reached a pornographic level. The way his thumb circled your clit as his fingers stroked and pressed into your walls made your mind go numb.

“Please let me taste you,” he begged, the look in his eye wild as he bit your inner thigh.

In response you moved your hand to the back of his head and gave him what he desired, surrendering to the pleasure as he immediately started lapping at your cunt. He licked and sucked and expertly toyed with your clit with his large fingers still ramming inside of you.

“Baby, I’m going to cum” you whimpered

“Please cum on my fingers,” he said hoarsely around your clit, “Need you to cum on my fingers baby.”

The vibrations from him speaking and his filthy words push you over the edge, and per his request you cum all over his fingers. Your eyes rolled back as your cunt convulsed around him. You had to throw a hand over your mouth so that you didnt scream.

He milked you through the orgasm, thrusting his fingers in languid strokes and lazily sucked on your clit with his eyes intensely watching your face.

“Jotaro please” you started to shy away from his attentions as the orgasm subsided.

Using his body weight, he pressed you down onto the setee. “I’m not finished yet.” Gingerly he started to eat at the honey your pussy produced, groaning in satisfaction while you meweled and bucked under his hold.

“You taste so fucking good.”

Eventually he released you from his taste testing and sat back on his haunches, admiring how pretty and fucked out you looked.

“Maybe now that you’ve been satisfied like this you’ll stop being such a bitch” He commented mildly while he flipped your skirt back into place and straightened your shirt.

“Yeah you’re right, I suppose I should have a weekly round of this, maybe next week should be Kakyoin.” You said lamely, to deep into post-orgasmic euphoria to conjure up a wittier response.

He frowned up at you. “Only me.”

You snorted. “I suppose you’ll have to be my subservient sex slave for the rest of your life then” you said jokingly.

For a second, when you looked into the teal of his eyes you thought you saw a look of reverence. He quickly put on his hat that was strewn haphazardly on the same desk your unfinished chemistry homework was on.

“So I guess we aren’t enemies anymore,” you said absent-mindedly. “Having an enemy that’s...yknow done that to me would be kind of embarrassing.”

He cleared his throat loudly as he stuffed the chemistry textbooks into his bag.

“A truce?”

“Good grief, fine.”

“It’s a shame we couldnt get our chemistry homework done.”

An ironic smile touched his lips. “No, I’d say it’s pretty completed.”

You looked at him quizzically but said nothing, instead opting to rising onto your toes to give him a soft kiss. It was brief but it left him speechless and flushed.

He watched you, face distraught as you walked ahead of him towards the library exit.

“Let’s go,” you said when you realised he wasn’t following “do you reckon anyone heard me?”

“Nah.”

#jotaro smut #jjba smut #jotaro x reader #dom reader #but not really #sub reader #but not actually #smut #soft joot #fem reader #jjba x reader #jotaro kujo smut #jotaro fluff

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steinfellds · 2 years ago

Text

And You'll Love Her Anyway

Pairing: ToxicEmo!Wanda x ToxicGN!Reader

Summary: It's not uncommon for multiple arguments to start throughout the day, but it is uncommon for Wanda to try and hurt you.

Warnings: Arguments, throwing bottles, toxic relationships, name-calling, manipulating, mentions of alcohol and marijuana consumption, manipulation from r (kinda??), crying.

@marvelnatswhore made me post this earlier than intended so go and thank her

1.1K Words

/ masterlist / / w.m masterlist /

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, the strong smell of marijuana and alcohol hit your nose. Your face didn't crinkle up like it used to, the smell being too familiar it didn't physically affect you nowadays.

You slung your bag and jacket over the kitchen chair; promising yourself that you would put it away later, but you knew that you would end up forgetting to.

When you walked into the living room, you were met with the sight of Wanda curled up in the corner of the couch, holding a lit cigarette between her middle and forefinger. A half-empty bottle of vodka sat on the floor below her.

Wanda's eyes looked glassy and lost in thought as she stared at the painting across from her. She was quickly pulled out of that trance when you snapped her name loudly.

"What have I told you about smoking in the fucking apartment, Wanda?" You picked up the vodka bottle from the ground and put it on the coffee table, making sure it wouldn't get knocked over and spill.

She looked up at you and tilted her head slightly to the right, "Don't raise your voice at me." She muttered softly. Her breath smelt strongly of alcohol. You wonder if she had drank more than half of the bottle.

"It's my apartment, I'll do whatever the hell I want." You picked up a dirty t-shirt and chocolate wrappers off the coffee table. "Y'know, you can actually clean this house? You're home all day, do something productive."

Wanda rolled her eyes at you and raised her cigarette to her lips, "Fuck off." She purposely exhaled the smoke in your face, making you cough.

"God, you bitch." You rubbed your face and threw the wrappers in the bin and the shirt into the laundry basket. Wanda has blown smoke into your face so many times that all you can bother to do is cuss at her.

"Natasha and Carol are coming over at 6, by the way. Their girlfriends won't let them smoke in their apartment either so they'll probably be here for a while."

"What, and I suddenly let you smoke in this apartment?" You laughed in shock, was she being serious?

"Who cares what you allow. They need a smoke and as their friend, I'm allowing them to use our apartment." Wanda's tone was becoming more aggressive.

"Call it off, Wands. They aren't stepping a foot inside my apartment." You started to raise your voice. You were sick of Wanda's attitude towards you.

"I'm not calling it off. Just leave the apartment when they come over." Wanda closed her eyes and threw her head back to rest on the couch

"If they come into my apartment for even a second, I'll lock you out." You gave her a look that made her think you were fully serious. Of course, you weren't serious. You would never lock your girlfriend out, you love her too much.

Wanda's eyes shot open and she stood up from the couch. "You wouldn't dare kick me out." Her face was full of pure shock and hurt.

"You wanna test that?" You raised a brow at her, challenging her.

Before you could even process it, Wanda's hand wrapped out the neck of the vodka bottle and threw it at you. Pure frustration and anger filled Wanda's veins, making her throw clumsy and causing the bottle to smash into the wall beside you.

"I hate you." Wanda breathed out, her posture was defensive.

You didn't know what to say. Wanda had just attempted to hurt you. She's never done that before, no matter how high or drunk she was.

You picked up your bag and jacket and fished your car keys out. "Have fun with your friends." You said emotionlessly, slamming the door roughly behind you.

You were out for 6 hours, and you didn't want to go back to your apartment where Wanda would be but you were becoming tired. You had no other place to go but back home.

When you opened the door, you expected to be met with the same smell as last time, alcohol and marijuana. Expect, you smelt a sweet vanilla smell. The further you walked down the hallway, you started to notice that the place looked cleaner.

Wanda was laying fast asleep on the couch with a small blanket wrapped around her. It was a chilly night and you doubt that blanket was doing anything to stop the cold.

Your heart swelled at the realisation that Wanda spent the last 6 hours cleaning the apartment up. It made you almost regret your comment earlier about doing something productive.

Your hand brushed softly against Wanda's cheek, "Baby?" She stirred slightly and brushed your hand away.

"Wanda, wake up."

Wanda's eyes slightly cracked open and she looked up at you, waiting for you to speak.

"You cleaned the house."

She hummed, "I thought about what you said, and you're right. I'm home all day and I don't do anything, the least I can do for you is clean your apartment."

Her words made you smile.

"Your friends didn't come over?" You questioned. There was no way Wanda would have gotten any of this housework done with her friends around.

"No, I called it off." She whispered, propping her head up with her arm.

You bent down and kissed her forehead, "Thank you. You understand why I didn't want them over, yes?"

Wanda sighed, "You don't like the smell in the house and you think they're both a bad influence on me."

You smiled, so she does actually listen to your angry rants about it. "Will you stop smoking in the house now?"

"Yes,"

"Anything else you want to say?"

Tears filled in Wanda's eyes, "I'm sorry." Her voice cracked. "I didn't mean to try and hurt you, I was just angry and everything was just going too fast and before I knew it I had already thrown the bottle."

"You really scared me, Wanda." Your honest words made Wanda cry even more. You raised your thumb to her cheek and wiped away her flowing tears.

"I'm sorry." She cried out.

You sat down on the couch next to her and pulled her into your lap, keeping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She buried her face in your neck and tried to control her breathing.

"It's okay, baby, you're okay." You rubbed her back in a comforting way.

"Are you gonna break up with me?" Her voice was so fragile and vulnerable.

You pulled her face from your neck, "No, never. I love you, okay? This is just a little bump in our relationship." You kissed her lips softly, trying to show her that your words were true.

"I love you too," She smiled, hiding her face back into your neck.

#wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda imagine #wanda angst #wanda maximoff angst

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era-of-ages · 11 months ago

Text

Okay... so here's the thing... (short fanfiction post for Good Omens)

After watching the entirety of Good Omens for the first time ever in approximately two days, seeing countless posts about it, and while I'm not usually a fanfiction reader, actually skimming one of those too. I feel like I need to at least dip my toes into this a little bit. So here's my short(ish) take on after season 2.

///

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he possibly be so stupid? He was an angel, the smartest of them!" Crowley's words only fell on the uncaring mass of liquor bottles scattered around the floor. "Although," he refrained, "if he was so smart he wouldn't be an angel. Certainly not a supreme archangel."

That's mean, you know it is. A voice in his head told him. You know he's smart, you know he's brainwashed. You're just angry right now.

"Oh shut- SHUT UP!" He bit back. "I can be angry all I damn well want to I'm a demon for hell's sake! Maybe I've done the nice thing here or there, but I AM STILL A DEMON!"

We both know you've grown beyond that, Crowley. Far beyond it. The voice taunted him. It felt like taunting anyway. What kind of smug bastard did it think it was anyway? But he couldn't shut it up. Crowley, you can pose all you want. You've been doing it for 6000 years, after all. But you know better than anyone that being human comes with human emotion. Love. Anger. And knowledge that those emotions affect you. You know what knowledge can do, Crowley.

"And so what if I do?" He hissed. "You think I care? There's nothing to care about anymore. Azi- Azripha-" he couldn't speak it. Not without those damned tears. Who invented those anyhow? Oh right, God. The same bastard who caused all this. "He's gone." He finally managed to say. "It's too late. Always has been."

I'll tell you what you're missing. The voice in his head had taken to sounding like Nina. You're so full of that human spirit, that emotion. So where's that human hope, huh? If there's one thing Aziraphale did have, it was hope! So where's yours?"

"It went with him."

///

Muriel's steps were awkward and heavy, even still. Everything having weight here on Earth was so confusing! No one had actually ever told her how Earth works when she came, but all the books were still on the shelves, so she figured that she must be doing well. It was quiet in the book shop as well, and she started to think. Everyone had always said she hadn't done much of it before, so what better time to learn? She started to think of the shop as her friend, like it was alive. It liked her well enough, but it missed Aziraphale. It would perk up when Crowley passed by, which he did every single day, but he never came inside. Never even looked anymore. She always thought about calling out to him, asking him how to make tea or how to pronounce some of the words she had read, but she hadn't done it. Not yet anyway. She hoped one day she would.

The bell was a new sound. Muriel remembered it meant that someone had come into the shop. She said a few stalling words as she ran down the stairs, still careful to balance her feet correctly so she didn't trip again. "I'm sorry for the wait!" she said, smiling to herself about the correct use of phrase. "How can I help... you?"

"I just... just came to see it again."

Aziraphale looked terrible. Nothing like a supreme archangel. He didn't glow, she was fairly certain he used to. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, which meant he hadn't slept. But if he didn't need to, why did he have the circles? And he was smiling at her, except it wasn't really a smile. What was that phrase she had liked? Right! He wasn't smiling with his eyes. His eyes were sad.

"The shop's missed you." She said, coming to stand beside him. "Would you like some tea?"

He turned to her. He looked... defeated, somehow. "I think I would like that."

"Great!" Muriel clapped her hands. "Except... oh I don't mean to sound silly, but I don't know how to make it."

"Oh that's alright then," Aziraphale said. "I'm alright without it."

"No no!" She held up a hand, careful not to touch him. "Wait, I can figure it out! I can read things now! And understand them! Just uh... wait right here!"

She hurried off to what she knew for sure were tea implements. They had kettles and things like that in the books she'd read. Oh it was so exciting! She was going to be just like those book people! Making tea! She giggled as she set a teabag ever so carefully into a cup, then slowly poured water inside. The water started to change color! It was beautiful! She wondered why every angel didn't come to Earth, it was so full of amazing things!

"I've got it!" she announced proudly. "I made tea!" Carefully, she handed it to the supreme archangel, smiling like a child as he held it. As he took it, his hands began to shake. His eyes became sad again.

Oh no! Muriel thought. I didn't make it right! He doesn't like it! She thought backwards through the steps of making tea. What tea should look like. A cup with colored water inside with a thin trail of steam!

"Oh! It's not hot!" She said. "Not hot at all! I'm so sorry!"

"Oh no! Oh no don't be sorry!" The saucer in his hand was shaking more now. "I'll just-" with a quick snap down the tea began to steam. "Here we go! It's alright. Would you mind if I just, walked around a bit?"

"Of course!" She smiled, though she still watched his hand. "It would be my honor."

///

It should have been raining. It was too nice of a day. Crowley snapped his fingers and began to feel the first drops of cold water coming down on him. By the time he reached Greek Street it was a downpour. He could feel Nina watching him as he walked past her shop. He didn't say hello. He hadn't ever and he wasn't going to start now.

He looked at the bookshop, not inside, but at it. He could sense that bumbling angel inside. He couldn't help but wonder how she was taking to Earth. She seemed the type to be too dim to be brainwashed by anyone. He resolved to go inside. Not to see her, but to take some of his things back that he had left. No doubt that plant was long past dead at this point.

///

The bell rang again! Muriel rushed to the front. Two people to come in on the same day! It was all so exciting! Even the bookshop was excited! It was the happiest it had been in months. "Welcome, welcome!" Muriel froze in her tracks as she saw who had entered. She broke into a grin, "Mr. Crowley!"

She had seen this before, in those wonderful books! Two people who are madly in love run away from each other, then they see each other again, realize they love each other even more and never should have run, and then they kiss! She could barely hold her excitement, but she kept quiet. She couldn't ruin this moment! They had to find each other.

"How's business been?" Crowley asked. "Doesn't look like you've sold anything."

"I haven't!" Muriel answered excitedly. "Not a thing! But I learned how to make tea!"

"Did you now?" He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "Why are you so excited?"

"Oh curse me for lying, but I'm just so excited someone has come into the shop!" She giggled, bouncing around on her feet.

"Curse you for lying?" Crowley frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I lied about why I'm so excited! But it's not going to be like the books if I just told you why!"

Crowley rubbed his temples. He didn't have time for this. Well, he did, but the more time he spent in this shop the less angry he became. He wanted to be angry. And the voice seemed to shut up when he was in here. "Look, I just came to get some of my things, alright? I'm not here to have a conversation or anything." He started for the stairs. No! Aziraphale was up there!

"Wait wait wait!" She grabbed his arm. "You need to have a conversation! It's the only way to-"

"Only way to what?!" He meant it as a threat. It came out as desperation. Muriel could see his eyes now. They were sad too.

"The only way," she said slowly. "The only way it's going to be okay." Something hurt inside of her. Knowing the Aziraphale was hurt, that Crowley was hurt. It hurt her too. Water started to come from her eyes. Something in her felt like it was burning. "What's happening to me?" she asked.

"Those are tears." Crowley's voice was cracking. "You get used to them after a while. They happen when you're sad." He looked at her. "Why are you sad?" What did she have to be sad for?

"I'm. I'm sad because the bookshop is sad," she stammered. "Because the happy ending hasn't happened yet. It was supposed to. He wasn't supposed to go to heaven and make you sad. That's not a happy story. And I... I don't understand why not."

///

Aziraphale let his hand drag across the shelves. Every second fight back the thought he had been thinking since he left. This bookshop was heaven. No, better than heaven. Those were wrong thoughts, he knew. But they had become so strong that he couldn't bear to stop them anymore. He missed his shop. He missed Earth. He missed... to even think of his name was already enough. He closed his eyes. You are the Supreme Archangel. You WILL NOT think wrong thoughts.

A sound from downstairs. Crying. Muriel's crying.

///

"Not all stories have happy endings." Crowley said. "Sometimes you just have to realize that and..." he couldn't say move on.

"But would you take him? If he came back?" Muriel wiped away her own tears. "Would you make it a happy ending?"

"I can't. I'd give anything to, but I can't." He looked down. "I tried. My way didn't work. I couldn't save him from heaven. They still took him away."

Hurried footsteps down the stairs. Her head snapped up. "What if I tried?"

"What?" Crowley tried to look up but she was gone.

///

"Muriel are you alri-" Aziraphale started to say.

"Hush!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him with all her might to Crowley. She was beaming. Rain! They needed rain! It was raining outside! She had them both by the hand now, by some sort of miracle the doors were already open. She threw them outside. It was a downpour! It was perfect! She couldn't hold her excitement anymore. She'd been dying to use this word. Not one in any of her books, but one the shop had said a million times.

"VAVOOM!!!"

///

Neither of them spoke. The difference between rain and tears didn't matter now. It was just them now. Looking into each other's eyes. They didn't need to speak.

"W-would the dance be acceptable here?" Aziraphale stammered.

"Oh Angel, shut up!"

Like puzzle pieces, the two of them fit perfectly together in each other's arms. Muriel squealed and bounced happily back and forth. She looked at Nina and Maggie across the street. They were clapping.

"About damn time!" Maggie shouted.

"It's not a happy ending until you kiss!" Muriel exclaimed.

You would have never heard it or seen it, but the nightingales were thrilled. They had been dying to sing.

#crowly x aziraphale #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #fanfic #muriel #happy ending #asdfghjhgfdsdfgh #i love them so much #okay im done now

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dukeofdelirium · 4 months ago

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"What do you think are x and y’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?"

So, just found this kinda ask for various ships, I was thinking to ask you, if you don't mind and have free time, of course.

For your fav ships: Lawlight, Kataang, Byler or Eremika (feel free to pick whichever you want to answer). 🌻🌷

Hmmm 🤔🤔🤔

For Lawlight, I’d say both of their strengths would be their intelligence. I’d also say a weakness for both is that they are in many ways cut off from other people, whether it’s like L who kind of does so intentionally or Light who puts on a mask for other ppl’s sake. I also think Light has a level of optimism that is extremely beneficial to him, as well as the willpower to do what he wants and to believe he is capable of achieving it, and his optimism isn’t something I see ppl mention a lot in regards to his character, but I view it as a strength. In the same vein, though, his willpower to achieve what he sets out to do is also a weakness, because he either grows bored of things easily once they are no longer challenging or he is too sure of himself. Not that I can really blame his mindset, considering he is a genius who has rarely if ever been challenged before meeting L, so it’s understandable as to why he possesses such a surety of himself. For L, I think his biggest weakness is how blunt he often is, and how it leads people to not cooperate with him, even the investigative team that work with him in canon. He is not an easily approachable individual, which is part of the reason he doesn’t interact with people in person. I also think L similarly has a drive to achieve what he wants just like Light, by any means necessary. We see it time and time again with his willingness to sacrifice people for answers, or with Light’s mock execution, etc. however, this is a double edged sword because that desire to win also creates more hostility

As for what I love about their dynamic? Oh god, I could go on and on. I like how effortlessly they read and understand one another. I like how they speak to each other in very strange almost coded ways. I like how they have this sort of affinity for one another despite being essentially opposing forces or opposite pieces of a chess game. I like that they’re enemies that don’t necessarily hate one another. I like how doomed they are by the narrative. I like that they are intrinsically tied to one another regardless of space, time or death. I like the melancholy to their relationship, the inherent tragedy of it. But most of all I like that they are the only person that has ever or will ever really know the other, and that they both know it but never really speak it. Because to me there is no greater intimacy than being understood.

For Kataang, I’d say one of Aang’s biggest strengths is his willingness to forgive. His compassion and empathy, too, but mainly his ability to forgive. A weakness for him would probably be his difficulty allowing people to show him affection, because it’s something he does struggle with in the show. He tends to bottle up emotions a lot, too, which is a weakness. For Katara, I’d say that her biggest strength is her willingness to help people in need, as well as her drive to be the best version of herself she can be. I’d say a weakness for her is that she has a lot of anger and tends to kind of explode and that said anger was almost a detriment to her.

As for what I love about their dynamic? I love that they balance one another. I love that they are each others best friend and confidant. I love that they really heal one another in a lot of ways through their relationship. I love how supportive they are of one another and how much they trust each other.

I’ll answer what I like dynamic wise about the other ships you listed :)

For Byler, I love that they are also childhood friends like kataang. I just love how much they care about one another, especially how much Mike cares about Will. It’s very sweet 🥹 I also love how easily they work together in the show, how Will really makes Mike feel genuinely loved and valued and how protective Mike is of Will.

For Eremika, I love how much Eren loves Mikasa 😭 I like how much he values her and how he goes from feeling jealous of her strength to valuing and accepting that. It was a really nice thing to see play out. I also love their whole backstory and how they met, and how much it meant to Mikasa. She’s so fiercely protective of him 😭😭😭 they make me emo

Thanks for the ask!! This was so fun :)

#lawlight #byler #kataang #eremika #anon

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cherubchoirs · 1 year ago

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What if the Ferryman warms up to V1 quicker than they forgive Gabe so when the two have to fight something/someone the Ferryman's idols priortitise V1 for the blessing instead of Gabe. He would be so upset! Maybe they try to teach V1 to carve it's own idols (out of wood, they don't trust it with the real stuff)

How would the Ferryman warm up to V1 in the first place? Did they just want to figure out why Gabe fell for it in both senses of the word?

(reference to this!)

ANON YOUR MIND....i can absolutely see this being the case because the ferryman is in a very difficult and unique position with regards to these two. i went into detail in that previous ask on their issues with gabriel after his fall, but with v1, initially all they see is the machine that corrupted him. in some ways, they want to shift the blame entirely so they can preserve something of gabriel's image in their mind, but they come to know v1 for the exact reasons you say - they want to understand what happened. gabriel was a paragon, a luminous angel fully dedicated to god. how did v1, in a matter of hours, change his entire perspective, how did it not only turn him blasphemous but capture his love and affection as well? the ferryman by turns is insulted, angry, jealous, and the only way they can deal with that is to get to know and possibly understand v1 even if all they can feel for it at first is disgust.

the ferryman is guarded in approaching v1, a bit concerned for their own faith if it was able to so thoroughly shake gabriel's, but v1 is difficult to engage initially. it shows a mild curiosity before ignoring all of the ferryman's attempts at conversation, stark expression giving nothing away before it leaves to find better stimulation. of course. it's not made to be social, it doesn't seek out companionship nor prioritizes it in any fashion as a war machine. and while the ferryman can observe it, can begin to see behaviors they never expected to find in its curiosity and playfulness, it does nothing to answer their questions nor lessen their frustration with it. they have to engage with it on its terms, how gabriel must have when they met and when it changed him...and honestly the ferryman's anger has mounted long enough despite their uncanny ability to bottle their emotions. their challenge to v1 is the first time they see it respond fully to them, instantly drawing its weapons without moving to a more proper setting or even waiting for the word "go". it's not a complete surprise though, and the ferryman braces against it as they know implicitly that this machine must have defeated gabriel since that's the only way it would be standing now.

and as this is v1's true language, the ferryman finds themselves astounded by what it says: there is true art in its movements, boundless creativity guiding its whole body, a fervor that before they could only understand as religious but now put into battle. this is what gabriel saw, what he felt. so small but lightning fast, learning every second of the battle and adjusting, adjusting, tailoring all its movements, weapon choices, strategies to its opponent and its opponent alone. special-made, a battle just for two. how odd, feeling like you're the only one in the world when it locks onto you. and for v1, its interest in the ferryman takes hold when it sees how they fight, the strength and precision they manage despite appearing so frail and retiring. why didn't they show it this first? why waste time trying to talk? they can spark its need for physicality, a partner in battle that can hold its attention and make it work for its victory. v1 does end up battering the ferryman perhaps too much, but it stops when they fully yield and thank it for showing them just what they needed to see. they take the time to patch themselves up and think on what it showed them, wondering if that was enough to steal gabriel from heaven.

however...now they've attracted its attention lol v1 begins to investigate the ferryman, reversing their previous roles - they keep catching it out of the corner of their eye, scuttling around behind them, watching them with its brightly glowing optic that somehow looks much more inquisitive now. they start talking to it again to bring it closer, explaining the maintenance of their ship or singing low songs to it which it sometimes gives responses to with little electronic chirps. and despite knowing what it did to humanity, to hell, to gabriel, the ferryman was human once and well...there's an undeniable, deeply human pull toward a curious little robot. they begin to show it their artwork, how they paint and sculpt, absolutely handing over the tools to v1 at some point to watch it roughly carve the most rudimentary little figures of things its seen, people it knows. slowly it grows on the ferryman, watching the passion it approaches everything with, how it's impatient but how it delights in novel experiences, how brightly intelligent it is, far beyond the ferryman's capabilities in many things...despite everything about it that should be to the contrary, it's charming in its own ways. made by humanity, but not human, not fair to condemn by the same measures. the ferryman, religious as they are, does not believe that it can necessarily be held accountable with how it is removed from god - sinful men made this, and it had no say in its purpose.

this moral reasoning is what breaks down the barrier between them and ultimately leads to the idol problem. while gabriel knows by then that v1 has taken an interest in the ferryman, he doesn't understand how it's reciprocated until v1 is blessed by an idol to both of their shock. v1 adjusts quickly to it - invincible, unstoppable!!!! it can perform all the most ridiculous tricks, the ones it's only simulated (to poor results) because nothing can touch it!!! it cleans up the rest of the battle single-handedly as gabriel stays rooted to the spot, only moved when he's rudely checked by an enemy as if only to remind him he doesn't have the privileges v1 currently does. and i think this is point at which gabriel comes to really understand how hurt he is by the ferryman's rejection, how he felt so secured and entitled to their devotion that he believed the ferryman would totally forgive him if given enough time...but this shows how badly wounded their relationship is, how terribly hurt the ferryman has been in a way gabriel should have known. his natural emotionality wants to lash out but he knows he must control it, the feeling selfish and unfair to the ferryman or to v1 - instead he needs some time to self-reflect, to deconstruct even more of that angelic self-righteousness he still carries, and find it in him to truly be humble if he wants to mend this rift (which he has time for, as v1 is arguing with the terminal that THOSE POINTS COUNT. GIVE ME MY POINTS!!!!! and the terminal REFUSES to cash out bc v1 essentially used cheat codes)

#the argument lasts for hours and the terminal wins #though v1 puts a 'kick me' sign on it as revenge. asshole!!!!#ANYWAYS....LONG AGAIN but there was a lot to go through here #this fully makes gabriel face he is no longer a being meant to be worshiped in a very literal way #and it does make him realize how he still on some level felt above others despite his position #(he does feel a little vindicated by the terminal's decision tho)#(aw you didn't get your p? :( that's too bad honey your tricks were so cool :( <- lying)#cake answers #v1 #ferryman #fallen gabriel #rise and fall au

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prydainroyals · 1 year ago

Text

CONTENT WARNING: Adult language, emotional/verbal abuse and gaslighting, implications of substance abuse, mentions of death, and depictions of an anxiety attack.

“Jesus Christ Arthur, can you not hear yourself?! We are in public--” The King scoffed, sounding scandalized.

Arthur, embarrassed by his own outburst, huffed and turned his back to his father. It was the only ‘escape’ he could make, for the time being. He didn’t want to look at him, or hear him, or be near him-- one out of three was enough to keep him sane for the moment. He could feel his heart racing, the stresses of recent events, and all the pressure that his father was putting on him, it was getting to be too much--

“--Of course we would be worried sick! Have you even thought about how that would affect the family? The kingdom? Your sister?! You will be King one day, Arthur, and that means--”

Arthur had broken out in a cold sweat.

It had come on so suddenly, Arthur hadn’t even had time to realize, but now it was too late, and--

--and his limbs began to feel numb, rigid, even brittle--

Oh fuck. Oh no. Fuck, fuck, fuck--

--Steady. B r e a t h e.

He began to count to ten in his head. There was a high, heavy ringing in his ears, in his head, right through him, and--

He forced himself to b r e a t h e -- to ground himself -- to count the shapes in the hard marble floor under his feet, the symmetrical and predictable lines zig-zagging across the smooth, cool surface.

-- B r e a t h e, s l o w l y -- You are going to be okay. You are going to make it. You’ve got this. B r e a t h e.

In. . .

Out.

In. . .

Out--

“Arthur! Are you even listening to me?”

The King had clearly not noticed the state his son was in, or if he had, it did not seem to matter.

Arthur let out a harsh exhale, and feeling so cold, he might’ve thought it should’ve been visible in the air before him.

“I am always listening to you,” he bitterly muttered.

“--I am telling you that you should be grateful to me for letting you run away from your association with that Ionian girl--”

The ringing in Arthur’s ears began to diminish with the slight regain of his composure, and feeling as though he’d just surfaced from dark water, he slowly turned toward his father.

“What...?”

“--The Ionian girl! Do not think it escaped my notice--”

The King was ready to go another round of verbal sparring, but something within Arthur had snapped.

“Eloise. Her name is Eloise.”

“Arthur, I am not finished--”

Arthur did not let him finish, and turned to face his father fully.

“To you, she is Her Royal Highness Princess Eloise of the Ionian Union. She is a wonderful and brilliant woman, not a girl, and she deserves our respect--which is about the only good thing this family has to offer!”

The King narrowed his eyes, clenched his fists but to his credit, seemed to rein in his own hot temper. “... Did you get her pregnant?”

“Oh my God--NO!” Arthur snapped, the word echoing throughout the nearly empty hall enough that even the King seemed surprised at the force of the outburst.

“Perhaps I am running away-- from how I ended things with her-- But I am trying to do something right!” he cried, abandoning all pretense, and even abandoning some of his anger in exchange for a more vulnerable, visceral honesty. It all seemed to come flooding out of him at once.

“I am trying to be a better man, to do what I know I’m good at! This is my last research trip, ever, because I know I have to grow up and step into William’s shoes whether you and Gran want me to or not! Since you won’t bother being a father or a mentor, I have to figure it out on my own! And fuck, if you don’t like how I’m doing it, why don’t you take your own advice and try putting the fucking bottle down?!”

The two men stared at one another; Arthur wild-eyed, green eyes glittering with anger and pain and his cheeks ruddy from the adrenaline rushing through him at that moment; the King, shocked at having actually been told off by his son.

Arthur took a shuddering breath, let it out. He needed to get away before he absolutely fell apart. He needed to go now.

“--For the record, Dad, I just wanted a breath of fresh air before going back out to the rest of my engagements. You want me to take charge? Fine. This is me doing that.”

Arthur turned on his heel and strode out of the hall like a mad lion with the look of murder on him; all the whlle terrified that his father might call at his back.

But he did not call.

The King was silent.

- - -

Mention of @funkyllama‘s Eloise x x x Arthur’s about ready to throw down.

I promisie the whole story won’t be like this-- I just needed to get this pivotal scene out of the way. Setup and all that, yanno.

- - -

PREV | BEGINNING | NEXT

- - -

#atff: story #c: arthur #c: eloise #c: george X

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itlivesproject · 2 years ago

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OKAY WOO CHAPTER 22 RUNDOWN LETS GO

(another VERY VERY long thought dump, apologies in advance for how much i talk in this one😭)

LOHA GAVE US THE DOCUMENTS⁉️

as someone on the blood path rather than shadow i am so STRESSED

LITTLE AMALIA

abel being part of the family🥹

she’s gotta stop throwing us into the void like this

this music is beautiful though

so uhhhh loha just asked ro to give herself back to the power…… please do not do this to me i will not emotionally recover

“you will shed this mortal shell and lose the identity you gained as rowan burke. you will be forever separated from your friends. you will lose the man you love.” yup ok i’m already crying

ro is not dying. i am too attached to the humanity that she has grown AND THINK ABOUT ABEL. HE CANNOT LOSE SOMEONE ELSE HE LOVES YOU CRUEL PEOPLE

this isn’t my purpose. i will find another way.

how the hell did abel’s family get their hands on an amulet that just so happens to be endowed with the power of spirits

THE SUDDEN MUSIC CHANGE JUMPSCARED ME😭

ghost rowan :( my baby :(

yet again, why am i so overwhelmed before the intro sequence even plays

i had to get my emotional support hot water bottle (we are READY)

ghost rowan has me cryin i feel sorry for her :(

THE WAY SHE SPEAKS ABOUT ABEL got me giggling through my tears

oh PISS OFF GERTRUDE

god damn you really like to make my life difficult, i know i want to keep rowan’s humanity but making the choice between reuniting with human rowan or just staying as she is took me SO LONG (i chose to merge with human rowan, but i’ll definitely play the other ending too after tomorrow!)

i am frightened

YOU’RE SHOWING ME ANNIE AT A TIME LIKE THIS?

this music is beautiful too !!!! you guys outdid yourself

“promise me you’ll try to be happy” i hope you can hear me sobbing

“you close your eyes and remember all the things you love […] you think about abel” BDJWJSJXHDH I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM

HER EYES!! THEY’RE NORMAL !!!!

“Affection, fondness, late nights, early mornings. Anger, sorrow, petty squabbles, explosive fights. The pain of losing, the joy of living. Everything that makes Sadie, you remember and you feel.” this kinda shit gets me EVERY TIME i love gentle reminders of what makes us human (i’m just a very emotional person ok)

oh god does this mean we don’t have powers anymore? i am so scared of her dying PLEASE SHE CANNOT DIE

well then.

MATTHIAS GET OUT OF HERE YOU GERIATRIC WORM

the lore docs coming in useful with an extra scene💪

WE SAW HUMAN REDFIELD?? why is he kinda..

oh matthias you dirty little actor, oscar winning performance you dickhead

“Over your long life, you've learned that men are as predictable as the tides. Eager to believe they're special and different, even when they're nothing more than ordinary.” ilw said man hating rights! matthias dissing men as if he isn’t a man himself ????

YOUNG CORA??????? she is beautiful

GHOST REDFIELD ORIGIN REVEAL AND THE THEME MUSIC KICKS IN?? CHILLS.

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO COOL I AM GRINNING FROM EAR TO EAR

LUIS?????? LITERALLY THE LAST PERSON I EXPECTED TO TURN UP

NOT THE DADDY CONVERSATION????

luis i love you

everything he says is pure comedy gold

HE FLIPPED HIM OFF? this is amazing

HELL YEAH MATTHIAS GET ANCHORED YOU OLD AGE PENSIONER

this music is EPIC

“rowan?” “yeah?” “go get the bastard” HELL YEAH

i seriously cannot get over this music it is insane i’m literally just sitting here jamming to it i’m too hyped to focus

NOT LINCOLN HITTING RATTY MATTY WITH “you think mom would’ve wanted this?” EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATE THE BASTARD HELL YEAH

“It's a good thing she's not alive to see the kind of person you've become. It would've broken her heart.” holy shit man, linky you’re gonna make me cry and then who’s gonna win this fight?

“I will not kill Matthias McQuoid. I pass his judgment over to the Power, to the force he used and abused for centuries.” ok i am in tears i am just very emotional that this whole thing is ending

THE MATTHIAS CG - YOUR TALENT BLOWS ME AWAY EVERY TIME

update: upon catching up on the discord i am so glad i didn’t choose the shadow route because i am cryin a whole lot and i just know that if i played it in my own game with my own mc and her abel romance i would actually be SOBBING

OKAY!! i won’t keep you any longer, but wow the music this chapter was incredible, especially the final fight music SOMEONE INJECT THAT SONG INTO MY VEINS BECAUSE WOW i can’t express just how much i loved it, definitely perfect for that fight

-abel simp anon 💓💓💓💓

this is soooo late, i'm so sorry dear 😅 But EVERYONE should read this and enjoy dear abel simp anon's ch 22 reaction post 🙏

#ask #anon #mod win #abel simp anon #ilw spoilers

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undiscovered-horizon · 3 years ago

Text

"Sick leave" - Yandere!Billy Russo x Reader

[TW: yandere trope/obsessive behavior + drug/medicine abuse + talk of murder and corpses + insults + nightmare]

SUMMARY: He didn't want you to go out with that guy, obviously. And you weren't open to his criticism, which left Billy with only one option - a necessary evil but he needed to buy himself some time, somehow. Where did he get paroxetine anyway?

Previously on Yandere!Billy Russo: ['There's something in the shadows'] ['Moving houses'] ['The art of deception']

Author's note: The fact that I have fun writing unhinged characters might not be a healthy thing lmao. This is getting progressively worse in the best possible way y'all

Continuation: ['Boobytraps']

He was livid and mainly because he was jealous, silently eating his breakfast as he watched you, too happy for his liking.

"Will that be too much for a casual dinner?" you asked him. Billy had a vague idea that you were talking about your clothes but was too busy brooding to pay attention to anything that you have been saying for the past 10 minutes.

"You worry too much, (Y/N)," he answered in the calmest tone he was able to produce. "It's gon' be fine."

"I haven't been on a date in months, I feel like I'm a schoolgirl again." Billy didn't want to admit that he was the sole reason none of your dates have worked out since you met him because then he would have only himself to blame for this entire situation and the anger that made foam form at his lips.

He wanted to punch something. Someone, preferably. You were so bright, giddy and happy, worried about what to wear, what makeup to do and what perfume to use and none of it was for him but for some whatshisface, who was probably just a troglodyte unable to see past your gorgeous face. Billy wanted to scream, kick and devastate whatever he could to take out the jealousy that boiled inside him. He was taking care of you, making you happy, getting rid of all the distractions separating you two and your undivided attention, as well as affection, were to be shoved into some stranger's hands. Unacceptable! Suddenly, Billy felt the urge to throw up thinking about you and your date being closer than six feet apart. He already planned to get rid of that audacious chimpanzee you were going out with but first, he needed the time to carry out his plan without raising your suspicion.

Suddenly, your phone started ringing from the bedroom and Billy was a breath away from believing in some higher power rooting for him.

"If it's Carol asking me to cover for her again, I'm going to throw hands, I swear to God," you said more to yourself than to him as you walked towards the bedroom, leaving the dress you wanted to wear hanging over the back of the chair you were sitting in before.

Billy watched as you disappeared behind the corner and, with exceptional speed, pulled out a small bottle of medicine from his pocket. Paroxetine. Carefully, he put two of those pink pills into your hot coffee, stirring the drink with the unused end of his knife. When you came back into the kitchen, there was no indication he had done something not quite correct. Billy's eyes trailed your movements as you took a sip of your coffee, frantically messaging someone with irritation. You haven't noticed anything weird about your drink. He smiled, knowing that his plan was going to work out.

"What?" you asked noticing the sudden change in his expression. "What's so funny?"

"I'm happy seeing you happy, sweetheart," he answered innocently. It wasn't exactly a lie, just not the whole truth.

"I'll drink to that," you joked and downed the rest of your coffee. Billy finished his breakfast completely content. He always gets what he wants.

"Hey, Billy," you dragged out the last syllable of his name. Something about you whining out his name made his heart do backflips while simultaneously his pants became a little tighter. The pout on your face made his conflicting sensations only stronger. "Can you check my temperature? I feel weird and not the fun kind."

"You can just text him you've changed your mind, you know?" he joked while putting the back of his hand against your forehead, almost missing the quiet 'not funny, Bill' you mumbled under your nose. Of course you didn't have a fever, he didn't need to check. The medicine has started to work as he had expected and that meant he could carry out the main part of his plan: "whatshisface goes down" or something like that.

"Just when I score a date with a hot guy I get sick." Billy thought your groan was adorable but wanted to tear apart his house hearing that you called someone who wasn't him 'hot'.

"Get some rest, darlin'," he said while fighting back the burning urge to kiss your forehead, although he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn't mind. It was more of a survival instinct that made him stop himself: if he indulges, just a little, there was no telling how much deeper the chasm of his obsessive madness will get and lack of control was something Billy feared more than anything. If he places his lips against your skin once, he wasn't sure he would have the strength to stop himself.

Billy waited until you were asleep to block your would-be date's number and left the apartment knowing that his whole operation had to be fit into 3 hours to not raise suspicion. He set his watch to count down from 180 minutes.

Although it wasn't the first time he dug a hole, it was definitely the first time he had to dig a grave and twice as deep, which was even harder considering that the dirt in the forest was damp, making it significantly heavier. To any possible observators, it would be quite impressive how effortlessly he threw the corpse into the hole. Then he covered the bagged body with a deer carcass, to throw off the tracking dogs if anyone actually cared enough about that guy to call the police.

"Serves you right," Billy said triumphantly to the corpse before he buried the body for good.

When he arrived home, twelve minutes before his timer ends, you were still in bed but not asleep anymore. Your body looked pathetically tiny, all curled up on his bed. He really wanted to get in there, lay with his arms around you but if you were to believe you were sick, he couldn't. There was a glass of water and some Advil on the bedside table.

"Feelin' better?" he asked. There was still some dirt on his fingers.

"No." Your sultry answer was barely audible from underneath the covers.

You woke up with sweat running down your body, damping your pajamas. The images from your nightmares were still fresh in your memory, flashes of horrifying scenes appearing whenever you closed your eyes: everyone who has left your life in the past few months suddenly reappearing and taking their sweet but sick revenge on you as if their sudden absence was completely your fault.

Feeling absolutely lost and confused in your terror and imagined guilt, you rubbed your eyes and sat up on the bed. Light from the streetlamps crept into the bedroom through the window, not seeming romantic anymore but very unsettling. Suddenly, the room felt very big, very lonely and impossibly dark, walls closing in on you and threatening to suffocate you. The closet door stood horrifyingly still as if waiting for the moment you look away to be opened by a creature too inhumanly terrifying to be comprehended by a human mind. You felt yourself jump at every creak that reached your ears. Tears of panic were stinging your eyes when you left the bed and, shaking slightly, hastily made your way to the living room where Billy slept.

You didn't want to be alone. Not after what you have seen in your nightmare.

"Hey, Billy," you whispered to him, your voice trembling slightly. He stirred awake almost immediately. Were all ex-marines light sleepers? "Sorry for waking you up but...I had a nightmare and I don't want to be alone."

Yes, that was mentioned on the bottle of paroxetine.

"Come 'ere," he said groggily as he pulled back the blanket he slept under, pretending as if your fearful voice didn't make him go absolutely feral inside. Whatever got you into such headspace, deserved to die in the most gruesome of ways.

But there was something positive in this 'unfortunate' occurence. You came to him looking for comfort. Maybe there is some higher power rooting for Billy, after all.

"Sorry for waking you up," you repeated as you crawled under the blanket, curling up on top of him. You were so small and vulnerable, he could do anything to you at that moment and it riled him up pretty badly. Billy's hands wrapped around you and he was about to burst feeling your cheek against his chest. It was the happiest moment of his life. You thought to yourself that for a lean man, he was very comfortable to lay on. "I'm probably gonna make you sick, so sorry for that too."

"Just get some sleep, princess. I've got you," he said quietly as he gently rubbed your back as if he was afraid that the moment would fade away, like a dream of a lover, should he make a more aggressive gesture. It felt absolutely right to Billy to have you in his arms, the safest and warmest place he could think of. The fact that you came to him looking for comfort was but a symptom of your growing affection towards him. Did you feel safer with him around? Was he the person you thought of going to when you have a problem? Was he the man you felt like you could depend on? Billy happily entertained the thought of you slowly realizing that no one can ever love you as much as he does.

He always got what he wanted and tonight he made two scores for the price of one.

____

@tnrthings

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rcksmith · 3 years ago

Text

Lust — Kaz Brekker

Gif by @kitsyoung

Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”

“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”

“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”

Smut prompts:

1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”

33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”

36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“

73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.

Word count: 5k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.

And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.

From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.

Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.

Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.

All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.

He was your kryptonite. In all senses.

And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.

Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.

Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:

I know the perverted things that you are thinking.

And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.

It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.

If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.

Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.

It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.

On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.

He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.

Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.

Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.

His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.

But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.

Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.

"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.

To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.

“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.

Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.

Good!

“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.

“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.

“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.

You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.

He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.

“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.

“I'll driver you.”

His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.

You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.

Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.

Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!

Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.

Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.

At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.

“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.

He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.

“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.

However, you didn't make things any easier for him.

"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."

Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.

Mine.

“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.

“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”

Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.

“James?”

“Yeah, the blond guy who…”

"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."

The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.

Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.

He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.

The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.

He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.

The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.

Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.

You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.

His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.

Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”

It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.

In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.

“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.

Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.

"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.

"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.

You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.

The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.

Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."

The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.

In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.

“Please.” You beg.

Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.

You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.

“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."

You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.

You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.

"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.

Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.

“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.

"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."

But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.

“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”

His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.

"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."

"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.

"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.

"Yes, S-sir."

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.

His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.

Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.

Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.

Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.

"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.

You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.

"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."

Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.

"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.

"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."

The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.

A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.

"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.

In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.

"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.

You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.

"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.

You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.

He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.

Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”

You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.

“Yours”

You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.

“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.

so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O

#kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x kruge #kaz brekker au #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker could break my legs with his cane and i would say thank you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #shadow and bone smut #inejgayfa #jesper fahey #kaz x jesper

2K notes · View notes

peakyblindersxx · 3 years ago

Note

just seen your tags and hate sex can be with a wife reader as well if you get my vibe 🖐🏻 especially some season one tommy and a reader that would be a bit like esme 😁

no, you don't have to treat it like a request... unless...

reminder - tommy shelby x wife!reader

gif by @thesoldiersminute i think i owe you two cakes now cause holy shit.... no words

a/n: good lord, the gif that started this all... anyways my darling lily <3 i hope you enjoy this!! i sure as fuck enjoyed writing it. this might have gotten a little out of hand (ie: very self indulgent) but what the hell.... btw i'm still working on requests (yes they're still open) for a variety of characters, i have a bunch i'm super excited about!!

love, abi xxx

tagging: @lilymurphy03

warnings: nsfw!! smut, reader & tommy being mean to each other, slight praise kink (who am i kidding), choking, this is just.....absolute filth

It was almost midnight, shadows cast across Tommy’s office only by the dimly lit lamps scattered across the spacious room. You sat in his leather chair in your favorite silk slip, a deep purple number all the way from China that made you feel almost daring, a scowl adorning your carefully painted lips, refilling your crystal glass with Tommy’s stupid gin. He was late again, for the hundredth time this month, it’d seemed; pushing you over the precipice from bitterness into anger. Who was he to neglect you, the one who’d constantly dealt with his shit, often joining him in digging himself out of it? Without question, without any complaint? And here you sat, alone, night after night, hating yourself for staring out the window, desperately waiting for a glimpse of headlights to come rumbling up the driveway.

This night, however, it’d seemed was full of surprises, as the bright lights on Tommy’s Bentley almost blinded you as he came racing up the pavement, a clear sign that today hadn’t gone well. Your thoroughly bruised ego, however, could care less. You refused to rise from your position in his high-backed chair; instead waiting for him to stomp up the stairs and find you. The door creaked open, Tommy having no physical reaction to you perched in his seat, choosing to first pour himself a glass of whiskey before lighting a cigarette, piercing blue eyes finally meeting your gaze. Despite all the resentment you harbored, he still looked like a fucking dream come true to you, muscles flexing under his white dress shirt as he twisted the bottle of whiskey open once more, refilling his now empty class.

“Should I even ask, or are you just going to start screaming?”

You scoffed, shooting the rest of your gin. “Like you’ve been around enough to even know how I feel.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed as he took another drag from his cigarette. “Maybe if you weren’t spending so much time flirting with my fucking cousin, I would.”

Fuck being polite, you thought. “Look, I’m sorry that you’ve got some sort of inferiority complex when it comes to Michael but if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been so busy raising our god damn children to be fucking about. Sue me if he actually asks how I’m feeling.” Tommy’s eyebrow raised, and you took another sip of gin, the liquor loosening your ambiguity. “Probably treat me better than this, anyway.”

Fuck. You hadn’t meant that, but it was too late now. In an instant, after carefully extinguishing the last of his cigarette, you were pinned up against the wall, Tommy’s whiskey-addled breath mingling with yours as he slipped his thigh in between your legs, pressing against your core.

“Think he could do better than me, eh?” He practically growled, taking a pause to suck a bruise into the soft skin where your neck met your shoulder. “Think he could take care of you like I do? Fuck you better, even?”

“How should I know? Can’t even remember the last time you touched me,” You snapped back, yet the way you leaned into his touch revealed your true emotions. You couldn’t help but melt under Tommy’s affection, even after all these years. He practically drove you insane, but you could never hide that you loved it. Loved him.

“M’just gonna have to show you then,” he grunted, quickly ridding you of your slip and tossing it aside, leaving you naked except for a pair of black lace panties as you fumbled at his belt buckle, yearning to feel his skin on yours. “Remind you who you belong to.”

Tommy wasn’t gentle in the way he tossed you on the desk, practically ripping off the last article of clothing you wore, almost offended that it was in his way before pinning your hips down, sinking to his knees, tongue lapping at your slit as if he craved you. You couldn’t help the cry that fell from your lips, hands twisting in his hair, tugging hard enough to cause him to groan into your pulsing cunt. He paused only to slip a finger inside of you, curling his finger slightly to press up against your g-spot, causing you to jolt in pleasure, gasping, your eyes squeezing shut.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Tommy demanded, jaw clenched, waiting until your eyes flickered open to close his lips around your clit, sucking lightly as he added another finger, slowly fucking his fingers in and out of you. The noise that left your mouth was obscene, earning a chuckle from Tommy, sending vibrations through your body. God, you were already close, and he hadn’t even been touching you for five minutes.

“Tommy, I…” You trailed off as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, letting go of your sensitive nub to watch you, back arched as your hands gripped at the sheets for leverage.

“Tell me who makes you feel this good, and I’ll let you cum.” You let out a whine, eyes rolling back from the pads of his fingers bumping up against your g-spot, Tommy cracking a smug smile at your wanton desperation. “You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

“You do,” You managed to get out, thighs tightening around his head as he began to flick his tongue across your clit. “Fuckin’ christ, Tommy,” you swore at him, gasping for air. “M’yours, please…”

All too quickly, Tommy stopped his ministrations, only to press his hard cock against your dripping core, body against yours, reveling in the way you squirmed underneath him, desperate for him to do something already, for christ’s sake. His right hand made its way around your neck, squeezing hard enough to send stars across your vision as you gasped for air.

“You’re fucking mine,” Tommy grunted, savoring the way you moaned audibly at his words. “You gonna be good for me, darlin’?” You hated the way you didn’t even think, just nodded in response as he entered you slowly, giving you time to adjust to him.

“God, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock in you,” Tommy swore, causing your cheeks to redden at the praise. “Can’t believe I let you go this long without fuckin’ you senseless like you deserve to be.”

“Tom,” You cried out as he started to move himself in and out of you, causing your cunt to squeeze around him.

“Still think he can do better, love?” He groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, quickening his pace, sending your eyes rolling back into your head. You shook your head vigorously, unable to form words as he pumped himself in and out of you, your nails scratching at his broad shoulders.

“Only want you,” You managed to get out, every brush of Tommy’s cock against your g-spot sending you closer to your orgasm. His eyes softened slightly, but his thrusts seemed to get even faster, cries freely falling from your slightly agape lips.

“That’s my girl,” Tommy crooned, watching you come undone all over him, seeming to only fuel his relentless pace as he fucked himself into you, your eyelids fluttering as he fucked you through yet another orgasm, the feeling of you unable to help but release yet again sending him over the edge, pumping you full of him. After a moment, he pulled himself out of you, eyes glued on his release dripping out of you before meeting your half-lidded eyes with his.

“M’fuckin’ sorry,” He blurted out, the vulnerability of coming undone infront of you lowering his guard, lowering his blue eyes to the carpet as he reached into his desk drawer to grab a rag, gently cleaning you up.

“Me too,” you admitted, reaching up to fix the strands of hair sticking up at the back of Tommy’s head from where you had tugged it.

“I’ll do better, alright? I fuckin’ promise,” He murmurred, pressing his lips to yours.

“Only if you promise to fuck me like this more often.”

#i need jesus #..... but do i want him....#i had to add the bit about the gin ok #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #michael gray smut #peaky blinders imagine

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matchablossomwrites · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, I really like your writing!! Can I request Mikey and Izana (u can add more if u want to) react to them hitting their s/o during an argument and how would they apologize ? Angst with comfort, also gn!reader pls (im craving for angst and fluff rn :DD) U don’t need to if u don’t want to write it ofc :)) I respect ure decision ^^ thanks for ure time ❤️

Hey hey hey! Thank you so much for this request! I had a ton of fun writing it ^^ I hope it's up to par with your expectations. I'm so sorry it took this long. I've had an incredibly busy week with my new job and college, but I did my best! I hope you have a wonderful day/night.

Sano 'Mikey' Manjiro

"y/n I don't want to see you right now. Just leave before you regret staying here any longer" he warned "Leave" The air grew more and more icy with each word that came out of his mouth.

You just wanted to check up on him. He'd been so distant lately and this is how he thanks you? You were so worried. Anger boiled up inside of you as you stared at the man in front of you.

His expression was blank. He was going to snap soon. patience was wearing thin for both parties. He didn't exactly have a good day. Things went terribly wrong today and Baji Keisuke had died a few months prior and he was cycling through the stages of grief. The last thing he needed was for you to show up out of the blue like this and confront him now

But it's not like you knew this. You knew Baji had died and you were still easing through grief yourself. God you missed him, but you were coming to terms with the fact that there was no way to turn back time and save him. Mikey was still coping with this. They were best friends. of course this was something that would affect him way more than it would affect you.

"Huh? Are you really telling me this? Mikey I've been so worried about you and this is the thanks I get? I came here to check up on you and even took the day off to spend it with you. I could've been spending my time in so many other ways but I came to check up on you because I care about you!" you yelled you were angry to the point of yelling. Things were getting more and more tense.

Anger boiled inside of him. it was becoming unbearable. "And guess what? I don't care. I don't care that you took all this time off for me. Absolutely no one asked you to be a tragic hero and try to fix me. I don't need fixing. So, I'll say this one more time because apparently you don't know how to take a hint. Go. away." he hissed as his smile turned into a frown.

"Baji wouldn't have wanted you to push us away, you know. He would have-" you began.

However you weren't able to finish your sentence as you felt a stinging sensation on your cheek.

"Shut up! You don't know what he would've wanted! I don't know! You don't fucking know either! Ok?" he hissed as he narrowed his eyes at you. "You don't understand now and you'll never understand! So don't tell me that he wouldn't want me to act like this or whatever! Got it! Because you will never FUCKING know." he growled as he went to point at you.

Suddenly, he was brought back to reality by the sound of you whimpering as you covered your head, attempting to protect yourself. You were too afraid to say anything else to further upset him. You tried so hard not to cry, but with the stinging paired with fear tears cascaded down your face as you attempted to protect yourself from him. "Please don't hurt me.. I'm sorry" you apologized

"Oh god..." he trembled. "oh god, oh god, oh god. what have I done? y/n I'm so sorry." Mikey's eyes widened as he looked at your shaking form in front of him. He attempted to reach out and hold you, however his sudden movement scared you, causing you to flinch.

It was then that he realized the damage he'd done. Guilt hit him like a semi truck. "baby please don't cry. I'm so sorry I let this happen. I never meant to hurt you." he choked out, voice wavering. At that moment all of his emotions that he had been bottling up came pouring out like a waterfall. all the anger, despair, loneliness, and guilt finally made themselves known.

Seeing him break down in front of you made you realize how much he was truly hurting. "P-Please don't go. I'm so sorry." he whimpered. "I never meant for you to see me like that. I'm a monster god I'm so sorry." he apologized. The more you saw him break down the more you realized how bad he truly felt about this.

So, you resigned even though alarm bells were still softly blaring in your head and allowed yourself to be embraced by him. "Don't leave me... please" he whimpered. At this point you both were crying, though neither of you cared that your jackets were getting wet. you weren't sure what to say.

So, you decided not to say anything and let him calm down as you attempted to calm down yourself. Once you both calmed down, Mikey pulled away to look you in the eyes. "Please don't go... I can't lose you too" he begged as he held your face in his hands. He was trembling, absolutely terrified of what he'd done to you. You were his lifeline. He needed you. "I've got you. I promise I'm not going anywhere. I care about you, Mikey, and it hurts to see you like this." you sighed as you gazed at him with a soft expression.

It was then Mikey broke down again. though not for the same reason. It was because he was so grateful he had someone like you by his side. Someone so forgiving and compassionate. "I love you" he whimpered. "Thank you"

"I love you too"

Izana Kurokawa

Things weren't always like this. You were sure of it. But lately your nights were filled with screaming and harsh words. Despite this it was never anything too bad. Either he'd apologize with a bouquet of red tulips, white orchids, and purple hyacinths or a teddy bear and chocolates

But this... this was too far.

You don't really remember how it happened if you were honest. One moment you were having a peaceful conversation. However the moment you brought up Mikey since you'd recently met him at your school.

That's when the mood got sour. He'd said a few things and you retorted with your own set of phrases. Soon the fight grew personal. things were going too far. Both of you were saying things you really didn't mean, but since you both were in the heat of the moment there was no longer a filter stopping you from saying those harsh words and phrases.

Things peaked when he harshly shoved you against the wall in a fit of rage. You were terrified of him, but you didn't dare let him know that. you tried to shove him away but he slapped you. That's when you have had enough. You packed your things, not saying a word to him. Then, when he was asleep you quietly made your escape.

When he woke up however he was shocked and scared. He looked around the shared apartment. there were no signs of you anywhere. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to figure out his next steps, but his thoughts were preventing him from doing so.

Has he finally done it? Had he finally driven you away to the point of never wanting to see him again? He understood if you did. He knows that what he did wasn't right, but he still wanted to make one final attempt at reconciliation and if it failed, all he could do was accept that.

But where have you gone? He had no absolute clue, however he knew you were good friends with Kakucho, so he dialed up his best friend, praying to whatever cruel god was out there that you were at least still alive and safe.

After a few rings Kakucho picked up. In a panicked state he began explaining what he had done, though Kakucho stopped him. "they don't want to see you right now. Leave them alone." he replied, clearly feeling bad for the other party. "Are they with you?" he asked. "No" he replied. "Are you lying to me?" Izana asked. "no." he sighed. "Where do you think they would go if they had no where else to go, Izana?" Kakucho asked.

Their parents. The answer was glaringly obvious but he was so panicked it didn't even cross his mind. "But, Izana now is not the time. Please. Give it a few days. Imagine how they feel." Kakucho replied. "fine..." he sighed.

The next few days Izana spent thinking of what to say and how to apologize. The more he thought over that night, the more he realized he fucked up. As he sat at a table at a cafe that had been your first date with him, he saw you crossing the road, talking with Kokonoi and Inui who also happened to be your friends.

However the more he looked the more he realized that even though you were smiling it wasn't reaching your eyes. It then dawned how much he had truly hurt you. He then raced towards you, not caring if others were watching.

He didn't give a fuck about how crazy he looked in that moment as he sprinted towards you because he knew that if he prolonged this any longer it would only hurt you even more. "y/N!" he yelled, causing you to jolt, effectively capturing your attention as well as Inui and Kokonoi's as well.

"The hell do you want?" Kokonoi hissed as he protectively put his arm in front of you. "Can't you see they don't want to see you! You slapped them and hurt them and you have the AUDACITY to come out here and follow us!?" "Koko... it's ok. Thank you for caring about my safety" you smiled softly at the taller man while Inui glared at Izana. "Fuck this up and I promise you, you won't be allowed to be even within a continent of them" Inui growled before they walked away, allowing the two fo you your privacy.

The two of you then decided to talk it over at the cafe he'd been sitting at. As the two of you sat down, it was then you finally got a good look at him. There were bags under his eyes, his hair was disheveled, and he was distraught.

"y/n I'm so sorry. You deserve so much better... It wasn't your fault to begin with. This whole mess was my fault and... and it wasn't your fault. It was never your fault. I was out of line. God you must hate me... you can't even look at me in the eyes." he mumbled as he let out a sad chuckle.

He felt his chances growing smaller and smaller with each passing minute. He was sure this was the end. The more he thought about it, the more he should've seen this coming. He was so harsh to you, spewing insult after insult at you, yet you always came back to him every time.

The silence was suffocating him. 'Just end it already' he thought to himself as he gazed up at you. 'I can't take it anymore. It hurts.' "Izana '' You spoke up finally, causing him to jolt as he slowly looked up at you. "I think I finally understand you… you’re scared.” you looked down at your lap. Just where were you going with this? He didn’t know. “You’re scared of being happy because the last time you were happy everything came crashing down like a castle of sand… That’s gotta be the reason you keep hurting me right? That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. But every single time this happens the harder it is for me to trust you. To trust that you even care about me anymore. You always tell me you love me, Izana, but I don’t know if I believe it anymore” you sighed as you began tearing up.

The more you spoke the more he realized how badly he fucked up. “I thought this was real, was this real? Or were you just using me just like everyone else? Were you using me to get happy? It’s getting difficult and I’m not sure how long I can keep doing this… especially after you won’t even allow me to meet new people” you muttered. “y/n… I’m so sorry” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I never realized you felt this way… god you should’ve told me” “You never cared enough to ask” you muttered.

Izana then got up from his seat across from you before he took you in his arms. He knew the damage he’d done was irreparable, but at least he could try to make it up to you in other ways. “I’m so sorry I made you think I never loved you. God I never meant for that to happen. You’re my home, y/n. I should’ve been more open… I shouldn’t have let my fears take over, I’m sorry. And I know ‘sorry’ isn’t what you want to hear from me right now, but I promise I still love you and I promise I’ll never let this happen again” he choked as he shook his head, truly feeling bad for what he’d done to you. “Izana… please can’t we just go back to how things were when we first fell in love?” you whispered. “I’m sorry… I don’t think that’s possible, but I promise I’ll give you the best possible future.. Just don’t leave. Please” he begged, his voice growing softer towards the end of his sentence.

“Ok… Just know that I’m going to make sure you keep your promise” you smiled, the same smile he’d fallen for when he was child. “I will. Thank you” he smiled.

“You idiot… you broke our promise” you sobbed as you knelt at his grave, holding a bouquet of red tulips and stargazer lilies close to your chest.

A/n: Thank you for your support

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zodiyack · 4 years ago

Text

Niffler’s New Discovery

Requested by anon: May I request a the youngest Shelby sister x Newt Scamander story? The Shelby sister is nothing like her siblings. She’s shy, reads books like they’re oxygen, loves animals, and doesn’t drink, smoke, or anything like that. She doesn’t even swear, she’s so pure. She also loves his animals. And Tommy acts like her father but she loves her brother very much. Same as her other brothers. They find out she’s dating him and get all overprotective. Sorry if this is too specific. I just love the idea of a Shelby sister who’s nothing like her siblings. Because most of the Shelby reader fics always have them smoking and all that. Which they are fun to read, but it’s nice to see something different. Feel free to pick the Scenario. :)

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Female!Shelby!Innocent!Reader

Warnings: Swearing (not from reader ofc :)) slight suggestiveness (also not from reader), fluff, ✨m a g i c✨

Words: 1,303

Summary: (See Request...also I thought the gif was cute, so anon, I based it off the gif kinda)

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @marquelapage, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox, @i-love-superhero

Masterlist | Fantastic Beasts (AWTFT) Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

At first, they had no problem keeping their relationship hidden from her overly protective family, but the troublemaker Newt constantly had to chase down and return to his case was the thing that exposed them. The bloody Niffler just loved things that shined. Who could blame it though? It was it’s nature.

Just as it was the Shelby brothers nature to react the way they did. Violent, perhaps, but of their nature. Their possessive, over the top protective, shitty, big brother, nature.

And it all started, one late afternoon...

The older Shelby trio, not counting Ada with her age advance over John, returned home after a nice night out at the pub. Sure, the sun hadn’t set yet, but Pol wanted them to return home a little earlier today for a family meeting. The meeting included everyone, minus the innocent angel whom the Shelbys called their sister.

It was the perfect time to have Newt over. The perfect time to explore the secret world hidden inside his little brief case. If only they knew the pesky Niffler had been waiting.

“Are you sure they won’t suspect anything of my presence?” Newt hesitated, one foot hovering above the wooden flooring of Y/n’s bedroom, the other resting on the rooftop outside her window.

She ushered him in the rest of the way, making sure to lock her door after checking that no one was around. “Positive. Family meetings take a while, so we’re good on time. How about you? Are you sure this is good with the council?”

He had a guilt-ridden look across his face as he looked around. “There are some things the council doesn’t have to know.” A nervous laugh rumbled in his throat before he cleared it and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Uh huh... Well, just promise me that you won’t get into any serious trouble for this, alright Newton?” The blushing hufflepuff gave his lover a quick nod, as well as a smile in return for the little peck she placed upon his cheek, pinkening his skin further down his neck- it was no surprise that Newt was terribly new to receiving affection from anything other than his beasts that resided in his case.

“S-shall we be going?” He broke the tension, gesturing to the case in front of them.

“Boys.” Polly stopped the bickering that had started up between John and Tommy, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling, the trios’ following. “Your sister’s been awfully quiet.”

John cackled, “Oh no, maybe she snuck out, went to have a quick fuck with some guy off the streets, didn’t she Pol?” His rather sarcastic tone suggested his knowledge that the referenced behavior was most certainly unlike his little sister, but the immaturity of John Shelby simply couldn’t resist making a joke.

Polly, however, was in no mood for John’s incessant kidding. Her hand met the back of his head, a disapproving furrow of her brows telling him to stop talking. “I’m being serious, you idiot. It’s more quiet than usual.”

“And what about it, Pol?” Tommy spoke after taking a drag from his cigarette, an eyebrow quirked.

“If she really does have a boy up there, he better pray he’s out the window by the time we get up there.”

Tommy’s brow, lowered after asking Polly how she’d respond, lifted back once again. “There’s no God for him to pray to, Arthur. The boy is fucked, plain and simple.”

“In more ways than one.”

John’s childish cackles were hushed into silence, a slap sounding throughout the room prior to their ceasing. A hand rubbing the back of his head, John glared at his aunt, yet continued the discussion of what to do with Y/n nonetheless.

The past ten minutes had been spent trying to block off any and all exists for the pesky little Niffler. Each time it attempted to escape the bedroom, Y/n or Newt were quick to block it off. It amazed Y/n how many places the little creature could scurry off through. Unfortunately, with their wild-goose-chase, footsteps turned to stomps...well, really running, but downstairs it was more likely to sound aggressive, such as the hard thud of a Blinder’s boot on the floor of the Garrison.

It was inevitable; the possibility of being caught, but the fact seemed to slip their minds as they both tried to corner the Niffler, as well as capture it once more. Every shiny thing, ranging from jewelry to bullet casings, or things that caught her eye, made into décor (gifted from her brothers, as she would never touch a gun unless need be) were being stolen as the creature evaded capture.

Newt shot Y/n a sorry look each time one of her belongings were snatched up by the Niffler. It touched her heart, truly, it did, but now was not the time to swoon. Y/n froze as the Niffler wandered over to a bottle. Wine? Champagne? She didn’t know; Y/n never drank- the bottle was a gift from her sister in law, which she couldn’t turn down without upsetting her, so it soon became another...decoration.

Atop the bottle was shimmery, gold-like, wrapping. Of course it caught the mischievous little shine-thief’s eye. It pulled and pulled, Y/n and Newt made eye contact as the uneasy feeling in their guts mirrored, until POP!

The door broke open with a loud bang, Arthur standing confused before getting both a Niffler and a cork to the space between his brows. While Y/n flinched, Newt only looked away in shame.

“What. The. Literal. Fuck. Was. That?” John gapped. His usual remark would be to poke fun, but he too was in great shock, he couldn’t even think of anything humorous.

“A- ...A Niffler.” Newt stuttered. His rather shy demeanor was rarely common around Y/n, so she new he was slightly uncomfortable the second his hand lifted to itch the back of his neck as his eyes found interest in the floorboards.

“Did I fuckin’ ask you?” John narrowed his eyes at the timid wizard.

It was unusual for Y/n to get angry, but the unjustness of John’s attitude toward her lover didn’t sit well with her. “Leave him alone!”

Now there was more to be shocked about. “I- what?”

“You heard me, John. You, Arthur, and Thomas. Leave Newt alone. He didn’t mean for this to happen, so he shouldn’t be harassed by you three. Want to question him? Have Pol do it, but the second you come to my room and bully my lover is the second you cross the line.”

Tommy, amused, let out a little chuckle as he raised his eyebrows.

“Something funny to you, Thomas? ‘Cause I don’t think any of us are laughing.”

“No, sister, nothing is of humor to me.” He muttered despite dawning a lopsided smirk. Tommy looked at his brothers and nodded his head toward the stairs before walking away. Although he was leaving, he never said he wouldn’t poke at the boy some more. Now just wasn’t worth it; he was already shaking in his boots as it is.

“Tommy- where- where’re you goin’?” John did a double take, following shortly after.

Arthur rubbed the red spot where he’d been nailed by the creature and it’s new favorite possession, proved by it cuddling the cork close to it’s body on the floor where it had landed after hitting Arthur. He excused himself politely before walking in the same direction as his brothers, still rubbing at his soon-to-be-bruising injury all the way down.

Newt took the opportunity to grab the niffler and tickle Y/n’s possessions from his tummy before running over and tucking him in the case. The anger faded from Y/n’s eyes as she watched her lover. “It looks as though the Niffler has discovered something new.” Newt chuckled lightly, easing up slowly.

“New indeed.”

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