#but he loves him in skyfall

[thranduilswifesblog]

After finished the Craig's bond era for the million times, I just realized, that I turned into my parents, and Daniel Craig turned to Connery eras.

[skitskatdacat63]

I've been stalking Javier Bardem's filmography, and I'm just dying at the fact that his typecast in the 90s seemed to be hunky male whore, I mean, well deserved but 😭

[casieyfran]

She Died from a Broken Heart

One shot

Fandom: Star wars

Pairing: Padme Amidala/Darth vader

He's here

The second he had set his foot on this planet, she knew he is near.

He have come to her

And she was waiting for him.

The chase has come to an end.

Padme didn't cast a glance at the man closing the distance behind her. His step heavy, crushing small rocks in his way, his loud eerie breathing, announcing his presence and she still didn't look back. He was in no rush - he knew there's is no where to run - that she wouldn't run - not anymore. So he take his time, she can feel his gaze at her, burning at the back of her head, assessing every detail, like a predator observing his prey.

The red cloak draped on her entire body down to her feet, hood hiding her face and her long curls, which makes her easy to be spotted despite the angry orange light coming from the lava below and the black sand beneath her feet. Yet it didn't give anything else to see to satisfy the man approaching her.

She continue to stare at the sky, the stars winking at her. Her thoughts drifted to a certain man. It wasn't that long since they left her in this planet. But long enough to avoid any encounter from her husband. This is their moment, nothing will ruin it.

She wonder if they're looking at the small planet among billion of stars in the galaxy. She wonder if among the bright dots on the sky, their ship is one of it. If she was directly staring at it. Where her little angels at.

She closed her eyes, silently uttering a wish

Please, Keep your promise

Her heart clench for her old friend, for pushing responsibilities in his shoulder that will weighted him greatly. Ashamed that she couldn't carry it on her own. She have an important thing to do. And she will finished it today. It has been already been long overdue

Its time to end this

She can't keep running forever

"Padme"

A shudder run through her spine. She remember the day when her name will leave his mouth, each syllbles is like a sigh passing through his lips, soft and tender, her name will sound so sweet,  as if it is chanted in a prayer. She love hearing her name, especially when it comes from him, to his voice that she love so much. that seems like a distant memory. Now, his voice is lace with no emotion, booming in the distance, menacing and demanding

Look at me

And so she did

She open her eyes and turn to finally casted the man she has been running from for so long. She almost open her mouth to call him.

Anakin

She remember telling obi wan that anakin is still alive

She's not so sure anymore

Because the man infront of her is far from what she imagined, far from what she sees in holonet. But she knew more than everyone else --- the man hiding behind the mask.

He stop not too far from her, as if sensing the line drawn between them.

Has it already been that long? When she used to run to his arms and he would open his as if it was already in his nature to enveloped her in his embrace.

If she run to him would he hug her? Hide her from any danger, from her worries that is clouding her thoughts? bury her in a comfort of his arms?

She almost smile at that thought

It was too tempting

Just to forget everything.

To pretend that everything will be fine. That the man in front of her hadn't kill countless of people mercilessly but a husband she haven't seen for one year. She misses him so much - her heart aches everyday. She wanted to run in his arms and pretend his hand is not tainted with blood of innocent lives.

A lives he had taken

Because of her

"Have you finally come to realize that running is futile?" She flinch at the harshness of his voice yet she didn't let it show how much his indifference affected her.

"I come to take what i want" her voice void of emotion, the tip of her lips lifted slightly, a small smile forming in her lips as she uttered this words an Acceptance

"Obi wan was here with you." His head tilted up looking at the stars she was staring at  "Is the child with him?" She sees how his fist clenches at the thought of it. To him obi wan is nothing but a liar and a thief, taking something that belongs to him.

"Do you wish to protect them?" She asked, watching as his focus switched back to her

"Everything i did, is to protect this family" he says with no hesitation. She wonder if he has been reciting this words, drilling it to his head to convince himself that he done it for them. That he have done nothing wrong

It made her sick

Im doing this for you! To protect you!

The same words he had told her before he had turned agains't her, to the very woman he had sworn to protect

It almost laughable

That she had still yearned to be near him, to hold his hand, the hand that had choked her nearly to death.

Pathetic

Foolish

And yet, she accepted it. She wasn't blind. She knew who he is since from the very beginning - she only chooses to ignore it.

The day her vow leave her lips, she accepted him whole. When she promised to be with him, to love him, to seal her faith with him. She knew the decision she made. And she will do it again and again. He is the man she choose and she dont regret any of it.

She understand him, what he did for her.

Because of him. She had realized the length she will do to save someone she loves

"I love you, anakin" she utter this words as the smile on her lips never faded. A memory almost forgotten, reappear to stab her in the heart

I truly, deeply, love you

What hurts the most, the words still held true.

No matter what he become, what he had done

Padme still love the man infront of her

And she dont think she could ever stop

That is her greatest sin.

He didn't say anything but content himself to watch her. Somehow she sense that he knows why she's here

and he's not doing anything to stop her

Her heart clench

Padme hand crawl underneath her robe until she grasp something hard before pulling it out. She was watching him so closely that she it didn't escape her eyes the slightest move of his head as he looked down to stare at the thing in her hand

Her gaze move to her hand, as she hold it up to her face. The lightsaber heavy on her palm as she rotate it, scanning its surface

One look from it, he knew instantly who it belongs to

Anakin's Lightsaber

"Do you remember what you told me?" Her eyes never left the saber "You said, This weapon is your life"

finally she took a step to close the distance between them, slowly, every step she made, she felt every pieces of herself is falling, leaving it behind.

Then she stop midway only 5 step away from him as she looked down at the saber, her thumb brushes the switch, and then click!

A blue shine casting the light in the darkness, coming from the blade, she can feel the vibration and the heat as she move it carefully to test it. Then stop, she admire it for a second, her thoughts dwell on its true holder

How many life had it ended? Enemies and innocents?

This lightsaber, is anakin legacy. It had witness his rise, it had been with him since he was allowed to hold one. It had fought countless battles, it had save his life and protect many others. What once a symbol of justice granted to him. It is also what ended the life to those he had once consider a family. It had seen their end. And witness his fall.

It is his life

"And its mine"

You are in my very soul, tormenting me

"You said, you will do anything i ask" her tone cold, as she lifted the lightsaber pointing its tip inches away from his chest where his heart is hidden. She smiled, and a single tear fallen through her lightless eyes

"Will you die for me, my love?"

[madame-fear]

swept away I'm fallen (camera pans over to where a png of your favorite characters being thrown in the wind)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

LUCERYS COME BACK, THIS GAVE ME FLASHBACKS TO THIS SCENE. I’M STILL IN DENIAL OF SEEING THESE RELATED GIFS OR THINGS RELATING TO STORM’S END. Time to put on the widow’s robe... Again :(

[disappearinginq]

Wait. Does no one know the story of how he got the role of Bond?

He hated the character and had no intention of doing the movies or even auditioning. But then his name got dropped by the Queen, who apparently loved him and wanted to see him as Bond. So his agent made him go, because hey, it's the queen, and Craig was like "fine, I'll audition but I'm going to tank it". So he did the reading, except to make sure he didn't get the role, he threw the script halfway through and railed against how stupid it was, terrible plot, terrible writing, etc, and stormed off.

Satisfied that he had for sure gotten his name off the list for consideration, he flipped shit when they called him to tell him he got the role, because that is EXACTLY what James Bond would've done. They made a deal with him - sign on for 5 movies, but if 2 out of the first 3 didn't succeed, they'd release him from the contract. But - if 2 out of 3 did well, he had to do all 5. Casino Royale was a hit. Quantum of Solace bombed. And then Skyfall came out and was the most successful Bond film since Goldfinger, and his fate was sealed.

Anyway. That's why the promo shorts had Queen Elizabeth in them, because it was a running joke that she was the reason he was Bond.

[watermelonleo]

I watched jjk in 4 days (including the movie) take a redraw tumblr dot com

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Prologue

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?)

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Azriel had always liked Starfall. 

Even he could enjoy one night a year where they danced and were merry…where they pretended that everything was just fine. 

Just that this year…he couldn’t quite manage it. 

Feyre had invited Lucien. 

A year after that catastrophic Winter Solstice. 

And for the very first time, Elain…Elain seemed not just willing but genuinely happy to converse with her mate.

*Keep away from her,* Rhys had repeated his order that morning, making it very clear what he wanted his spymaster to do. And Azriel…well, he had acquiesced. 

Of course, he did. 

Nobody had even noticed when he had slipped away…Nobody had wanted to notice. Why should they? They were all content...they were all happy.

Mor's mating bond with Emerie had snapped just weeks before and that had...everybody was so very pleased for her.

*You are not going to ruin this for Mor,* Rhys had snapped into his mind. *She has been through enough.*

Azriel wasn't going to ruin it. 

So he pretended that everything was normal. And then he disappeared silently, and launched himself off the balcony and went flying. He didn't need to think when he did that. Even the shadows kept silent.

The night sky was a velvety black, speckled with countless glittering stars. 

Azriel loved to fly, loved the rush of the wind buffeting his body, the exhilarating feeling of power and freedom. He soared high into the sky, basking in the cool breeze on his face.

At least he had this .

As a child it was all he had wanted. And now...now it was...now it was seemingly the one thing that gave him something close to peace. The last few green sparkling streaks on the sky...Skyfall was nearly over, once again.

He basked in it for a little while. Until he felt the scratch of Rhys' mental claws against his walls.

*Azriel,* Rhys' voice was harsh, sharp, demanding. *Where are you?*

* Out. * Azriel answered simply. * Flying. *

*Come back,* Rhys ordered with a sigh. *Look, I get it. You are angry at me.*

Azriel didn't even bother answering to that, swooping lower and then pushing higher again, revelling in the cold night air.

*Elain and Lucien are figuring things out,* Rhys continued.

* Good for them, * Azriel replied, his tone still bland. * Is there anything else? *

Rhys let out an exasperated breath.

*Azriel...I am sorry,* his brother apologised. *Be angry at me all you like. This would have only ended in heartbreak for you anyway.*

*That should have been my decision to make,* Azriel's voice was cold, curt, brooking no argument.

Rhys sighed. *Not if the political ramifications could have upset an already strained peace,* Rhys snapped. *Be reasonable, Azriel.*

* Are you done? * he asked Rhys drily.

*Azriel... * Rhys' voice was exasperated. *Fine. Be angry with me, if it makes you feel better,* his brother snorted. *If you want to throw a tantrum like a child, be my guest.*

Azriel gritted his teeth. This was not a tantrum. *Great. Thanks.* he shot back at Rhys nonetheless.

*Elain is happy, Azriel,* Rhys said softly. *And you should be happy for her.*

* Fine, * he said, voice toneless. * I am happy for her. What else do you want from me, Rhys? *

*For you to stop sulking,* Rhys replied. *And to come back to the Party.*

*No,* Azriel said simply, making another loop in the sky, feeling the wind rushing past him.

*Azriel,* Rhys growled, his temper shortening. I mean it. 

*I think I'll go to that pleasure hall near the harbour instead,* Azriel said, his voice cold. * After all, if I want to fuck somebody, I should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, right? *

*Azriel!* his brother snapped, clearly irritated. *That is enough.*

* What? I am just following your orders, High Lord, * Azriel gave back icily.

*You sound like a petulant child.* Rhys snapped.

* Go back to your party, * Azriel said drily. * I'll be just fine. *

Rhys let out a huffing breath. *Fine. Go and pout some more.*

Azriel ignored his brother, closing the connection and feeling his walls snap back into place.He would pout some more. Thank you very much.

Azriel flew higher, ignoring the party, ignoring everything. He pushed his wings faster, harder, revelling in the wind, in the silence, in the stars above him.

The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat, pulsing in his ears, matching the beating of his wings as he flew. He flew and flew and flew, until his muscles ached, until his wings felt heavy.

It was nice. He liked it. He loved it, in fact.

There was a reason he loved flying so much. It was freedom, it was a rush, but most of all it was quiet.

He did go back to the House of Wind…even when he had no plans to go back to that party. He would go to his room and pout some more. Maybe write some more reports.

Do whatever the High Lord expected the Spymaster to do. 

He landed one one of the many, many balconies, recognising the Priestesses’ herb garden with a start. 

"Spymaster."

Azriel froze for a heartbeat, closing his eyes, cursing mentally. He had wanted to come back unnoticed, to slip in silently. But apparently he wasn’t the lucky. 

One of the Priestesses was sitting on the balcony’s ledge. He wasn’t scared that she was going to jup, simply because the balconies were spelled to prevent exactly that. 

Sitting there, wrapped in a thick knitted blanket, with dark brown hair reached her waist was Irena. 

Clotho’s right hand. The one in charge of seemingly all the paperwork that involved the library. All the bureaucracy went over Irena’s desk, all the accounts and acquisitions… 

She was the daughter of one merchant of the midlands, married off to another richer merchant as soon as she had been barely old enough. 

Azriel had met her for the first time two centuries ago. There had been a string of disappearances of young girls in the surrounding areas and his shadows had very quickly found the culprit. 

Azriel had killed her husband…before he could kill Irena. Her husband had had a taste for violence…his young, beautiful wife had been one of his long-suffering victims. 

Azriel had brought her to the library. He hadn’t really thought that she would bloom here as she had…hadn’t thought that a girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth would be content with in the library. But she was. 

And Irena turned out to be one of those scarily efficient people that could do the job of three people. In two hundred years, she had actually managed to make the House of Wind cost Rhys nearly nothing in upkeep anymore. Thanks to the gardens of the priestesses that kept them in fruits and vegetables and herbs…some of them sold to the vendors in Velaris, some turned into creams and potions in the stillroom, that were also sold…the library was just one thing the priestesses did. Some preferred the stillroom or the gardens or even needle work, knitted sweaters that were handed out to the needy in Velaris.

She had done that. Had bloomed and flourished here. 

"Irena," he finally brought out, his voice hoarse.

She turned to face him for the first time. She had just grown more beautiful over the years…with long dark hair and dark doe eyes sat in a delicate face. 

But all of that didn’t matter anymore. The moment their eyes met...suddenly everything changed.

His priorities were rearranged. All he cared about anymore was her. Was the priestess wrapped in her wool blanket sitting on that balcony ledge…

Irena. 

She was his mate .

" Oh ," she breathed, her brown doe eyes widening near comically large.

Azriel just stared at her, feeling as though even the world had stopped breathing.

His mate .

His mate was sitting in front of him. 

Irena .

Irena was his mate.

"Azriel," she whispered,  her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

 They just stared at each other for a long, long time. He stepped closer to her, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her soft lips against his. He wanted to pull her close...he wanted...

But Azriel didn't reach out. he didn't want to scare her. Didn't want to corner her. So he simply leant next to the railing a little bit away from her, still staring at her. "I..." he stuttered, trying to come up with he perfect sentence to tell his mate.

"I...I didn't expect that," Irena whispered.

"Me neither," Azriel said quietly, still slightly breathless, the information slowly sinking in.

"But it's not... unwelcome ?" Irena offered next.

"Absolutely not," Azriel said immediately. "I mean..." he said. She looked so small, sitting there on the ledge, wrapped into her blanket. One delicate shoulder poked out of it, only covered by white, near translucent cotton. She must only be wearing her nightdress, he realised suddenly. 

She looked…so young right at that moment. 

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, still staring at her, a soft, tender feeling spreading through him.

His . She was his .

Irena closed her eyes with a heavy breath, before nodding hesitantly. "I just....this was..." she said slowly, not daring to look at him. "It was unexpected."

"For both of us," Azriel said quietly, trying to read her expression. Was it...was she happy? Was she upset ?

She nodded, and then bit her lip. "I..." she started and his eyes lingered at that small, plump lip of hers, wishing that he would be the one biting it.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly and he instantly snapped his eyes back up to her face. "Sorry?" he echoed, frowning, because...what was she apologizing for?

"I mean," she continued, her dark brows knitting together as she bit her lip. Oh dear god, Azriel had never wanted to be a lip so much in his life. "I... I don't think I'm what you were expecting ."

Azriel took a breath, ready to assure her that he was positively delighted at the prospect of her being his mate but the words didn't quite leave his lips because...

"Are you dissappointed?" he managed, his hands clenching around the railing. He was scared what her answer would be.

She finally looked at him. Looked into his eyes and Azriel felt the world slow down for a moment, felt his throat tighten as she searched his expression, searching for something.

Whatever she was searching for, she seemed to find it though because she let out a sigh of relief, her lips quirking into a small, self-depreciating smile. "No," she said honestly. Azriel's breath caught at the Genuity on her face. "No, I'm not. But I...I don't know what...if I can ever give you..." Irena said weakly.

He shook his head. "We have time," Azriel promised her fiercely. All the time. They could figure this out at their own pace.

"Time," Irena echoed softly, looking towards the vast, twinkling night sky, the stars reflected in her eyes.

She looked back at him for a moment, and he could see an almost helpless expression in her eyes.

 "I...I don't want to disappoint you,” she said quietly. 

"You couldn’t," Azriel whispered, still staring at her, at the beautiful face of his mate. "Believe me, you never could disappoint me."

She gave him the tiniest smile. She didn't believe him, he knew that. Regardless of how ridiculous it was. She deserved more than him. More than scarred and battered and broken warrior.

"I will never...I will never force you," he promised her softly. "I will never..."

She nodded, but Azriel still saw something like relief flash over her face.

It broke his heart. "You are a good male," she whispered.

"No. I am not," Azriel immediately disagreed, because he knew he wasn't. He couldn't even begin to name all the things he had done, all the horrors he had committed. 

He had killed her husband. That was just one of the things on his long, long list. “You deserve better than me,” he said weakly. 

"You are my mate," Irena murmured softly. "There is nothing better."

"I...have...killed people," he protested. Killed her husband too. though he did think that that male deserved it.

"You did," she agreed. "You are a warrior. A protector. You were the one that saved me" she said quietly.

Irena took a deep breath, and then, slowly, reached out, touching his scarred fingers, running small, delicate fingertips over the back of his hands, and Azriel froze, completely still, hardly able to breath as she slowly traced the scars on his skin.

Her touch was light, but searing, making his skin tingle.

He slowly turned his hand, catching her fingers between his, squeezing gently as he intertwined their hands.

"I will never force you. I will never lay a finger on you. Whatever we do in the future, is your decision," he swore. 

She stared up at him, the stars reflected in her eyes, her cheeks a faint pink.

Beautiful . Azriel thought, mesmerized and completely enraptured.

"I believe you," she whispered and Azriel's breath caught.

From her...that had been hurt so much...to hear that...it was...

"I will protect you," Azriel promised fiercely and her breath hitched as he lifted her hand, carefully, gently pressing his lips to the tips of her fingers. "I will protect you with my life."

She smiled at him then, a real smile, and Azriel felt as though his heart might stop. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, with her face illuminated in all its delicate beauty by the starry night sky...she was breathtaking .

"I...I will need some time to adjust," Irena said softly. Azriel just nodded dumbly, still a little star struck by her smile. "I...I haven't..." Irena said and she turned her head, looking out into the night sky, her hand still in his.

She hesitated, clearly struggling for words, and Azriel felt his heart seize up in his chest. Had he overwhelmed her? Had he pressured her?

"I haven't been with anyone in a long time." she admitted quietly. Irena didn't look at him, but Azriel was still looking at her, taking in her soft, almost angelic features, the slight blush on her cheeks.

He swallowed."I understand," Azriel whispered, and he did. He understood her hesitation, her uncertainty. And he would be patient...he would wait for as long as she needed.

"But...if you wanted to...you know where to find me," she said softly.

Azriel felt as though he was dreaming. He had found his mate, his beautiful, incredible mate, and she had welcomed him, wanted him even, and

Breathe .  He told himself as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart. Breathe .

And slowly, carefully, he nodded, his fingers still interlaced with hers. "I will come to you," he said, his voice husky. "Whenever you want me too."

She was...a gift. A gift he didn't deserve but would treasure always.

Slowly...and so, so very carefully, Azriel stepped closer to her, still holding her hand, before lowering himself slowly down to sit next to her on the ledge. And this close he could sense just how much smaller she was than him, could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her scent.

Poppies and something sweet and warm like…apple blossoms maybe?

Azriel wanted...gods, he wanted to kiss her.

But he didn't. He just held her hand, trying to memorize every small detail of hers. The curve of her cheek, the soft blush on her skin, her nose, the full lips.... The tiny flecks of gold in her eyes that reflected the stars above them.

She was breathtakingly beautiful

For a moment Azriel forgot where there were, forgot the cold air around them. For a moment there were only the two of them on this ledge, beneath the stars and a soft night sky. And it was...he felt peaceful .

It wasn't a feeling he had a lot. But here, on the ledge, his hand in hers, he felt at peace. And when Irena slowly rested her head on his shoulder, Azriel could feel nothing but utter contentment.

His heart swelled with affection for her, and he carefully rested his cheek against her head, taking a deep breath.

This was real. She was his mate.

She was truly, truly his.

His .

And nobody knew. Nobody had a clue. He could keep her all to himself.

And selfishly...that felt really good.

Nobody was going to have an opinion about them. Nobody needed to know now.

He wanted to keep her a secret. Gods, he wanted to.

She let out a soft, content sigh, her head still resting on his shoulder, and Azriel smiled to himself.

Notes:

If you liked this fic, then kudos, comments or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

[finelinevogue]

ethereal

summary - azriel is lucky you are his

word count - ~400 words

• 🌌 • 🌌 • 🌌 • 🌌 • 🌌 • 🌌 • 🌌 • 🌌 • 🌌 • 🌌 •

Azriel watched you walk down the stairs.

Your hand held onto the bannister as you carefully walked yourself down the midnight blue carpet, using your other hand to hold up your dress skirt.

You looked something out of Azriel’s ethereal dreams.

Like something that had accidentally fallen from the sky during Skyfall - like you had a glow that proved you were too good to be walking amongst everyone else.

“Wow. She looks beautiful.” Mor whispered next to him.

Azriel thought you looked more than just beautiful, but he couldn’t think of a good enough word to describe how he felt.

“I’m jealous I didn’t win her over first.” Amren joked, hoping to rile Azriel up a little bit but he was barely listening - his entire focus was on you.

How could it not be?

He felt it would be silly to take his eyes off you for even a second.

Azriel walked closer to the bottom of the stairs to greet you. He watched as you carefully watched where you were stepping, whilst also trying to smile towards Azriel.

He could feel your happiness through the bond.

It was your first ball being a part of the Inner Circle and you’d been preparing for it since last week. You’d gone dress shopping with Feyre last week. Nail painting a few days ago with Mor. All day today with Nesta as she helped you with your hair and makeup.

Azriel felt like all the moments you’d been preparing and spending time away from him were worth it for how he felt for you right now.

He held out his hand for you as you neared the bottom.

“Evening.” You said softly.

Azriel didn’t hear a thing. He was too busy watching your pink painted lips part and move as if you were speaking, but he was too focused to pay attention.

“Definitely.” Azriel said in reply and you chuckled.

“Az, love?” You prompted.

“Mm?”

“Are you okay?” You stepped closer to him and he noticed your breath hitch when you realised he had bathed in the salts you loved the best.

“N-no.” He whispered as you got closer.

“Be calm, brother.” Cassian passed by with Nesta, nudging Azriel on the back as he did.

You smiled as Azriel helped you down all the stairs.

Standing in front of you, hands in yours, you leant up and kissed him gently on the cheek. He closed his eyes as he felt the warm press of your lips on his skin - one of his favourite feelings in the worlds.

“I’ve left a stain.” You giggled when you pulled away, reaching up a hand to wipe it away.

Azriel caught your hand quickly, enjoying the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours. There was nothing more grounding than that.

“Leave it. Please.” He said softly, watching your face beam up at his as he spoke.

“Az, it’s a big pink patch on your cheek! Looks like you’re blushing constantly.”

“That’s already quite believable when you’re standing next to me.” Azriel brought your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“Oh you’re so smooth tonight. Or at least you think you are, love.”

“I’m a mess next to you, Y/N. You make me feel… well… everything all at once and it’s overwhelming in the most amazing way. I crave you at every moment and I love you every second we breathe. I’m lucky that the Mother made me wait for you.”

[theonottsbxtch]

SKYFALL PT.3 | OP81

an: this is the final part of spy!reader x spy!oscar and god i love them so much, i didn't know what i wanted to do with final part but i think it ends perfectly with not too much expectation yk. anyway, buckle in and enjoy!

wc: 5.6k

warnings: slight mention of death, drugging

part one | part two |

Oscar leaned back against the cold stone wall of the alley, eyes shut tight, trying to calm the pounding in his chest. The distant sounds of Parisian nightlife filtered through the city streets, but they barely registered. All he could think about was her. The way her lips had curved into that smug, knowing smile just before she slipped away—again.

He dragged a hand over his face, letting out a slow, frustrated breath. Damn it. She had played him perfectly. He should’ve seen it coming. Hell, he had seen it coming, but the moment she touched him—her fingers brushing against his cheek, her hand slipping into his hair—he had hesitated. For that one crucial second, he’d faltered, and she’d taken full advantage of it.

Of him.

Oscar’s jaw clenched as he replayed the scene in his head. The way she’d moved, the way she’d kissed him, how her body had pressed against his, warm and inviting, like she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He should’ve known it was all part of her game, her strategy. And yet, in the heat of the moment, with her hand in his hair and her lips on his, it hadn’t mattered. He’d forgotten the mission, forgotten everything except the way she made him feel.

That was the problem, wasn’t it?

She made him feel.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, straightening as the realisation hit him harder than any blow she’d ever landed. This wasn’t just about the mission anymore. This was personal. She was in his head, and he hated it. Worse, she was under his skin in a way that was getting harder and harder to shake off.

He had a job to do. Get the intel. Use her if necessary. But somehow, in the mess of their rivalry, in the heated exchanges and the dangerous games they played, he’d let the lines blur. She wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a target. A rival. An opponent.

But when her fingers had traced along his skin, her lips parting against his in that alleyway, she hadn’t felt like an enemy. She’d felt like a temptation. One he couldn’t seem to resist.

With a bitter sigh, Oscar pushed off the wall and headed back to the rendezvous point. He was late, and he didn’t have the intel. But worse than that, he knew exactly why.

Oscar strode into the dimly lit briefing room, the familiar tension tightening in his shoulders. His boss, Zak, sat behind the desk, his gaze sharp and cold as it swept over him. The silence was heavy, and Oscar braced himself for the inevitable.

“You’ve been gone too long,” Zak said, not looking up from the tablet in his hand. His voice was cool, clipped. “I assume you have the intel.”

Oscar swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “No.”

That got Zak’s attention. The older man set the tablet down slowly, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “No?”

Oscar crossed the room and dropped into a chair opposite his boss, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “She got to it first. I couldn’t recover it in time.”

For a moment, Zak just stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then, a slow, humourless smile spread across his face. “You’re telling me,” he began, leaning back in his chair, “that the agent from Mercedes, the woman you’ve been tracking for months, outmanoeuvred you. Again.”

Oscar clenched his fists, feeling the frustration coil tight in his chest. “She had help. A drop point. By the time I caught up—”

“Stop.” Zak cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “I don’t need excuses, Oscar. I need results.”

Oscar bit back the sharp retort that threatened to spill out. His heart was still racing, his mind still spinning from the way she had played him. But he couldn’t admit that. He couldn’t let anyone know just how close she’d gotten to him. How close he’d let her get.

Zak stood, pacing slowly behind his desk, the heavy silence stretching between them. Finally, he spoke, his tone icy with disappointment. “I didn’t send you to Paris to let her toy with you. I said seduce her. Use whatever means necessary to get the intel. What I didn’t say,” he paused, turning to fix Oscar with a hard stare, “was to fall for her charm.”

The words struck Oscar like a blow, sharp and undeniable. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. His mind raced, trying to refute the accusation, but the truth was, Zak was right. He hadn’t seduced her. Not really. If anything, it was her who had played him, twisting the game until he couldn’t tell where the mission ended and the desire began.

And that’s what scared him.

Zak’s voice cut through his thoughts like a blade. “You’re compromised.”

Oscar bristled, his defences snapping into place. “No, I’m not.”

“Aren’t you?” Zak raised an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. “You had one job—one. Get close enough to her to get what we needed. Instead, you let her get in your head. You hesitated. You let her slip away.”

Oscar clenched his jaw, the memory of her lips against his still fresh, still burning. His heart pounded against his ribs, his frustration mounting with every second. “It won’t happen again.”

Zak studied him for a long moment, then sighed, sitting back down with a weary shake of his head. “It better not. I don’t want to have to take her out and I don’t need you falling for her games. Or worse—for her.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve. Oscar felt a flicker of something dark and unwelcome twist in his gut, but he pushed it down, deep, where it couldn’t distract him. He wasn’t falling for her. He wasn’t. This was just the heat of the moment, the adrenaline, the rush of the chase.

But as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Zak had struck closer to the truth than he cared to admit.

Because, damn it, it wasn’t just about the mission anymore.

As he left the briefing room, Oscar’s mind churned with unspoken thoughts, unwanted emotions. She was dangerous, not just because she was his enemy, but because of the way she made him feel.

He leaned against the cold wall in the corridor, his mind still racing. Every time he got close, she slipped away, but it wasn’t just her elusiveness that was getting to him. It was the way her touch lingered on his skin, the way her eyes gleamed with challenge and promise all at once.

He cursed under his breath. He couldn’t fall for her. He couldn’t afford to. But even as he told himself that, he knew the truth. The line between enemy and something more had already blurred—and the worst part? He didn’t know how to stop it.

Oscar couldn’t sleep that night. The cool Paris air drifted through the window of his rented apartment, but even the breeze couldn’t chase away the heat burning in his veins. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of his encounter with her.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

His job was to stay detached, focused, and efficient. But she had gotten inside his head, and now, no matter how hard he tried to push her out, she lingered there—her smirk, her touch, the way she’d teased him right before slipping the intel into her partner’s hands.

He rolled over, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes in frustration. He needed to get his head straight. She was a target, nothing more. But no matter how many times he repeated that to himself, the truth kept creeping in.

It’s not just the mission anymore.

The ringing of his phone jolted him from his thoughts. He grabbed it from the nightstand and glanced at the caller ID—Zak. Great, he thought, bracing himself for another lecture.

“Yeah?” he answered, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

“Got a lead on her next move,” Zak said without preamble. “It’s happening tomorrow night. Same players, same game. This time, you won’t screw it up.”

Oscar tensed. The way Zak said it—it wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order. “What’s the target?”

“Another data exchange. She’s not done with whatever she’s chasing, and neither are we. You’ll intercept her before she makes the drop.”

Oscar’s grip tightened on the phone. “And if she’s got backup again?”

Zak's voice turned cold. “You won’t let her outplay you this time. Whatever it takes, Oscar. Get close to her. Stop thinking with your heart and start thinking with your head.”

Stop thinking with your heart. The words clanged in his ears. He wasn’t thinking with his heart. He wasn’t falling for her. He couldn’t be.

“You still there?” Zak’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I’m here,” Oscar muttered, forcing himself to sound steady.

“Good. Tomorrow night. Don’t make me regret keeping you on this. I’ll have someone there just in case.”

And Oscar knew what that just in case meant, his gut twisted.

The call ended, and Oscar let the phone drop onto the bed. His mind raced, torn between the job and the dangerous pull she had on him. He couldn’t let this mission slip through his fingers again. He wouldn’t. But as much as he wanted to believe he could stay cold, that voice in the back of his mind kept whispering her name.

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

The club was a labyrinth of flashing lights and bodies moving to the bass-heavy beat. Oscar pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of her. It wasn’t hard to spot her. She stood near the bar, dressed in a sleek black gown that shimmered under the lights. Her posture was casual, but he could tell she was on high alert, her gaze flitting from one corner of the room to the next.

She was waiting. And she was playing the game—calm, confident, like she always was. But Oscar wasn’t here to be toyed with this time.

As he approached her, their eyes met, and for a brief second, something flashed between them—something unspoken but undeniable. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into that familiar, infuriating smirk.

“Oscar, darling,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “You’re not still chasing me, are you?”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, keeping his expression neutral even though his pulse quickened at the sight of her. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away that easily, did you?”

She laughed softly, the sound wrapping around him like a trap. “Oh, I’m sure you had your fun chasing me. But we both know how this ends.”

Oscar’s jaw clenched. She was teasing him again, baiting him, and he could feel himself slipping into the same dangerous rhythm they always fell into—words like weapons, tension like a knife’s edge. But this time, he couldn’t afford to lose focus.

Before he could respond, she leaned in, her lips dangerously close to his ear. “You look tense,” she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. “Maybe you’re starting to enjoy this a little too much.”

He swallowed hard, his body betraying him as he felt the heat between them rising. He needed to stay sharp, to remember why he was here. But the way she pressed against him, the soft scent of her perfume, the look in her eyes—it was too much. She knew exactly how to get under his skin.

“You think you’ve got me figured out,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “But you’re not the only one who knows how to play this game.”

Her smirk faltered, just for a second, before it was back in place. “Then show me.”

The challenge hung in the air between them, crackling with tension. And for a moment, Oscar didn’t care about the mission, didn’t care about the consequences. All he could think about was her.

Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her flush against him. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her hands sliding up his chest, her body moulding perfectly to his.

Their lips met in a fierce, heated kiss—hungry, desperate, like all the frustration and anger between them had finally broken free. Oscar’s mind went blank, the only thing that existed was the heat between them, the feel of her body against his, the taste of her lips.

But even as the kiss deepened, something inside him screamed that this was wrong—that he was letting her win again. And when she moved, her hand brushing over his chest like she had the night before, he knew it was a distraction. She was playing him, just like she always did.

But this time, he wasn’t going to let her.

He broke the kiss abruptly, stepping back just enough to meet her eyes. “Not this time, angel.”

She blinked, clearly surprised by the sudden shift. “What do you mean?”

His grip on her waist tightened. “I know what you’re doing. And it’s not going to work.”

For a moment, her mask slipped. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe even vulnerability. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that familiar confidence.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “Maybe you want it to work,” she whispered, her voice a sultry tease.

Oscar’s heart pounded in his chest, his resolve wavering. Damn her. She was right. A part of him did want this, wanted her. But he couldn’t let her win again. Not this time.

He looked around the club, noticing a familiar face.

Lando.

With a sudden, determined movement, he grabbed her wrist, pulling it behind her back as he spun her toward the exit. “Let’s go,” he muttered, his voice rough. “We’re done playing.”

They reached the rooftop in a blur of movement, the cool night air hitting them like a shock. Oscar had half-dragged, half-carried her up the stairs, his mind racing, trying to stay one step ahead of her. But as soon as they were alone, as soon as the door clicked shut behind them, the tension between them snapped back into place.

She wrenched her arm free, her eyes blazing with anger and something else—something raw and dangerous. “You think you can just drag me up here and expect me to roll over?” she spat, her voice laced with fury.

Oscar took a deep breath, his body still buzzing from the kiss, from the chase, from everything. “I’m not letting you slip away again.”

She laughed, a low, bitter sound. “What makes you think you ever had me?”

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto hers. “Because you’re just as caught up in this as I am.”

For a second, her eyes flickered with something—doubt, hesitation—but then she straightened, her walls slamming back into place. “Don’t kid yourself, Oscar.”

But he wasn’t kidding. He could feel it—the pull between them, the magnetic force that drew them together no matter how hard they fought it. And in that moment, he knew. He was falling for her. Had already fallen.

And the worst part?

He didn’t know if he wanted to stop.

The tension between them on the rooftop was electric. The city lights of Paris glimmered below, casting a soft glow over their faces, but the rooftop was a world unto itself—quiet, isolated, and charged with unspoken feelings.

Her chest rose and fell with each sharp breath, her eyes narrowing at Oscar as if she were calculating her next move. Oscar knew her too well. She was about to bolt, about to fight, and he couldn’t risk losing her again. Not tonight. Not after how close she’d come to slipping through his fingers once more.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind made up. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he had no other choice.

Oscar moved faster than she could react. In a blur, he pulled the cloth from his pocket, a soft apology on his lips before he could think better of it.

“Sorry, angel.”

Her eyes widened in shock as he pressed the chloroform-drenched cloth against her nose and mouth. She fought—of course she did. Her instincts kicked in immediately, her hands clawing at his wrist, her body writhing against him. But he held firm, his heart aching with each passing second as her struggles grew weaker.

Her eyes, still blazing with fury, began to glaze over. Her strength faltered.

She slumped against him, her body limp, her head lolling forward. Oscar caught her before she could collapse to the ground, his breath ragged from the fight—both the physical one and the emotional war raging inside him.

Carefully, he cradled her unconscious form in his arms, the cold wind biting at his skin as he held her close. Her familiar scent filled his senses, and despite everything, his heart clenched. This wasn’t what he wanted. It was never supposed to get this far, this complicated. But there was no turning back now.

He looked down at her face, peaceful in sleep, a sharp contrast to the fierce woman she was when awake. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering longer than they should have.

“I had no choice,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

With a deep sigh, he hoisted her gently into his arms and made his way down the fire escape, his mind racing. He needed to find somewhere to stash her—somewhere safe where she wouldn’t cause more trouble. Somewhere where he could think, clear his head, and figure out what the hell to do next.

The room was simple, elegant, and thankfully private. Oscar had carried her inside without drawing too much attention, the hotel’s back entrance providing a discreet way in. He locked the door behind him, securing the deadbolt, and set her down carefully on the plush bed.

She lay there, still unconscious, her breathing steady, her face relaxed. The sight of her like this—vulnerable, unguarded—made something twist painfully inside him. She was always so fierce, so determined, and seeing her like this only reminded him of how much power she truly had over him. Even now.

He leaned against the door for a moment, running a hand through his hair, his mind buzzing. He didn’t have much time. She’d wake soon, and when she did, there’d be hell to pay. He could already imagine the look on her face, the anger burning in her eyes, the sharp words she’d throw at him. She would hate him for this—for drugging her, for locking her away like some captive.

But he needed the time. Time to regroup. Time to figure out how to fix this mess—both the mission and the tangled feelings that had spiralled so far out of control.

Oscar crossed the room, his eyes lingering on her sleeping form as he checked the windows, making sure they were locked. No chance for her to escape. He wasn’t about to let her slip away again. 

With a heavy sigh, he sat down in the chair by the window, watching her from a distance, waiting for her to stir. He hated the way his chest tightened every time he looked at her, the way his pulse quickened despite the fact that they were supposed to be enemies. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to fall for her.

But, God, he had.

The first thing she felt was the pounding in her head—a dull, throbbing ache that made it hard to think, hard to remember. She blinked against the dim light of the room, her eyes slowly adjusting as she tried to sit up. But something was wrong. She wasn’t outside. The cold, open rooftop was gone, replaced by soft sheets beneath her, the scent of hotel linens filling her nose.

Panic shot through her as everything came rushing back—the rooftop, Oscar, the cloth over her mouth. She bolted upright, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar room, her heart racing.

Her gaze landed on him.

Oscar sat in a chair by the window, his arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a carefully guarded expression. He didn’t say anything at first—just studied her, his eyes filled with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

“What the hell did you do to me?” she growled, her voice hoarse with anger and lingering grogginess. “You drugged me? Knocked me out and brought me here like some—some prostitute? Prisoner?” She shoved herself off the bed, fury giving her strength.

Oscar didn’t flinch, didn’t say anything, his eyes following her every move, but his jaw was clenched tight. The tension in the room was suffocating, an unspoken battle raging between them.

"Answer me!" she yelled, marching toward him. “You think you can just—just control me like that? What the hell are you playing at, Oscar?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already swinging at him, fists landing against his chest with angry, desperate blows. He caught her wrists, but didn’t try to stop her, just held on, his grip gentle but firm.

She struggled, pulling free and hitting him again, each strike heavier, fueled by rage. “Fight back!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Fight back, goddamn it!”

Oscar didn’t. He just stood there, taking it, his face a wall of controlled emotion. It only made her angrier.

Tears welled up in her eyes, her vision blurring as she swung again, pounding her fists into his chest. “You—you’re going to cost me everything!” Her voice broke, the frustration, the betrayal, and the exhaustion of the last few days crashing down on her all at once. “I’m going to lose my job because of your selfish little mind games.”

She was shaking now, her hands trembling as they fell to her sides, her shoulders slumped under the weight of it all. The tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. “This isn’t a game, Oscar. This is my life. My career. Everything I’ve worked for…”

Her voice wavered, softer now, the fire dimming as the cracks in her anger revealed the fear underneath. “I could lose everything because of you,” she whispered, her breath hitching.

For a long moment, Oscar didn’t speak. He just stood there, watching her fall apart in front of him, the guilt heavy in his chest. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her into his arms and make her anger go away, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. It would never be that simple.

Finally, he exhaled, long and heavy, and ran a hand through his hair, his own frustration spilling over into his words. “You think I wanted this?” His voice was low, strained. “You think I wanted to do this to you?”

She looked up at him, her tear-filled eyes burning with confusion and pain. “You didn’t have to, Oscar. You didn’t have to betray me like this. You—” Her voice cracked again as she wiped angrily at the tears on her face. “You didn’t have to choose this.”

Oscar stepped closer, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and regret. “You think I had a choice?” he spat, his voice rising for the first time. “You think I wanted to put a target on your back?”

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. “What?”

He stepped even closer, now towering over her, his eyes dark with the weight of his confession. “There was a target on you tonight. You weren’t just another operative. You were a mark, angel. I saw Lando.” He swallowed hard, the guilt pouring into every word. “Zak wanted you gone because I kept getting distracted. Because every time you showed up, I—”

Her breath hitched as his words sank in. “Because you… what?”

Oscar exhaled sharply, looking away for a moment as if he couldn’t stand to face the truth of what he was about to say. When he finally met her gaze again, his eyes were softer, filled with something raw and vulnerable she hadn’t seen in him before.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “You’ve been inside my head, angel. Every time you get close, I lose my focus. I lose control. And they noticed. Zak noticed. So he put a hit on you. He only ever sends Lando out if he wants someone dead.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest as the words sank in. All the anger, all the frustration, shifted into something darker, more painful.

“You were going to kill me?” Her voice was quiet now, shaking with disbelief.

Oscar shook his head fiercely, his hands coming up in defence. “No. No, I wasn’t. I couldn’t. I…” He trailed off, taking a breath before continuing. “That’s why I knocked you out. Because if I didn’t stop you—if I didn’t get you out of there—Lando would’ve done the job, he had nothing holding him back. And it wouldn’t have been a clean escape.”

Her legs felt weak again, but this time from the emotional weight of it all. She staggered back, leaning against the wall for support, her mind spinning.

“You—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The betrayal, the fear, and the lingering confusion left her speechless. She had been a mark. Not just a rival, but someone they had wanted gone. And Oscar had known. He’d known the entire time.

Oscar watched her, guilt etched into every line of his face. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, angel. I swear. But I had to stop you from being caught in the crossfire.”

She closed her eyes, the tears still flowing, her body trembling as the realisation settled in. He had just saved her. But at what cost? He had betrayed her in every other way, stolen her freedom, broken the fragile trust between them.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “That you saved me… or that you didn’t tell me.”

Oscar took a hesitant step toward her. “I didn’t know how. I couldn’t risk it. There are bigger things at play here, angel. Things neither of us can control.”

She opened her eyes, her gaze piercing him with a mixture of heartbreak and anger. “And now I’m a loose end? Is that it? You’re keeping me here until they come to finish the job?”

“No,” Oscar said quickly, his voice filled with desperation. “No. You’re not a loose end to me. I won’t let them touch you. I’ll protect you. But we need to figure this out, together.”

She shook her head, her voice breaking again. “How can I trust you after this?”

Oscar had no answer. He stood there, helpless, as she looked at him with those tear-filled eyes, her trust shattered.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, the words filled with the weight of his own regret. “But I’m not letting you go. Not until we figure this out.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with everything unsaid between them. Both of them stood at the edge of something they couldn’t fully comprehend—caught between the mission, the lies, and the complicated feelings that had grown between them.

But for the first time, Oscar realised something with terrifying clarity: He didn’t want to let her go. Not ever.

And that might just ruin them both.

The silence between them grew unbearable, charged with every unspoken word, every hidden feeling neither of them wanted to admit. Her chest heaved as she stood there, her back pressed against the wall, tears still streaking her face. Oscar was only a few steps away, his breath shallow, his eyes filled with regret and something darker. Something raw.

They were on the verge of something dangerous—something neither of them had any control over.

“You don’t know how to fix this,” She whispered, her voice still shaking, though no longer filled with the anger from before. Now, it was something else entirely. “You can’t make it right.”

Oscar stepped forward, closing the distance between them, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes searched hers, filled with intensity, as if he was trying to figure out what to say, how to make her understand. But there were no words. There was nothing he could say to undo the damage. The betrayal still hung heavy between them.

“I know,” he said, his voice hoarse, almost broken. “I know I can’t.”

For a moment, they just stood there, so close now that she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she hated how her body reacted to him—even now, after everything. The anger hadn’t dissipated, but it had shifted, blending into something more dangerous.

Something she couldn’t deny any longer.

“Oscar…” Her voice trailed off, a warning, but even she didn’t know what she was warning him about. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore, not with him standing so close, his presence overwhelming her senses.

His hand twitched at his side, like he was holding himself back. But then, with a sudden burst of tension, he moved. His hand reached out, gently cupping her face, his thumb brushing away a tear on her cheek. The touch was tender, softer than she’d expected, and it made her heart ache in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

“Sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice low, almost pleading.

Something broke inside her in that moment—some fragile wall she’d been holding onto for too long. All the anger, all the frustration and hurt—it melted into something else, something she couldn’t control.

Without thinking, without hesitating, she grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him toward her. The moment their lips met, it was like a match igniting gasoline. The kiss was hard, desperate, full of all the tension that had been building between them for far too long.

Oscar didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, pressing her body against the wall as if he couldn’t get close enough. The intensity between them exploded, and all the unspoken words turned into frantic, passionate movement.

She kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him down to her as if this was the only way to make sense of everything. His lips were warm, rough against hers, tasting of desperation and need. She poured every ounce of frustration, every bit of anger, and every confusing feeling she had for him into that kiss, and he responded with just as much fire.

Their lips moved together in a frantic rhythm, neither of them holding back. Oscar's hands slid down her sides, his touch firm and possessive, leaving a trail of heat wherever he touched. She gasped against his mouth when his fingers grazed the bare skin of her back, sending a shiver down her spine.

She hated him for making her feel like this. She hated herself even more for wanting him—wanting this—after everything he’d done. But right now, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was the way his mouth moved against hers, the way his hands gripped her body like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

Oscar pressed her harder against the wall, his body pinning hers in place, his kiss growing more demanding. His hands roamed over her, his touch sending waves of heat through her, igniting every nerve. She moaned softly against his lips, her mind clouded with desire and anger, her body betraying her resolve.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against his with a fiery intensity. Oscar groaned in response, the sound vibrating through her, making her knees weak. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, matching the erratic rhythm of her own.

His lips left hers, moving to her jawline, then down her neck, where he placed a series of slow, lingering kisses that made her gasp for breath. “You drive me crazy,” he whispered against her skin, his voice rough, strained with the weight of everything between them.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her head falling back against the wall as she let herself get lost in the sensation of his mouth on her skin. She hated how good it felt. How much she wanted more. “I still hate you,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, but the need in it was undeniable.

Oscar chuckled softly, the sound low and dark, before his lips returned to hers, capturing her in another searing kiss. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her hips against his, and she felt a surge of heat between them, the tension unbearable now.

She kissed him harder, pouring every emotion she had into it—anger, lust, confusion, everything that had been building between them for weeks. It all came crashing down in this moment, and there was no stopping it.

But even in the chaos, there was something tender in the way he touched her. The way his hands moved carefully over her body, as if he was memorising the feel of her, committing it to memory. There was more to this than just desire. There was something deeper, something neither of them wanted to admit.

She broke the kiss first, gasping for air, her lips swollen and her mind spinning. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her body pressed tight against his, and she hated how much she wanted more.

“Oscar,” she breathed, her voice shaky, filled with both desire and frustration.

He rested his forehead against hers, his breath hot against her lips. “I know,” he whispered, his voice rough, strained. “I know.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that—foreheads pressed together, breathing hard, the world outside forgotten. The only thing that existed was this moment, this impossible, tangled mess between them.

She hated him. She wanted him.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger.

the end.

[simp-ly-writes]

My Love Mine All Mine

─────── · · Skyfall (pt.2)

Pairing: Alexander "Jackal" Duggan x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Alex had stayed in your apartment, he stayed in your heart, in your mind and took over every aspect of your life. So much so that you feel empty at his lack of presence after weeks... but is the "Jackal" every truly gone?

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, depictions of blood, gore, guns, and violence, usage of pet-names (ex. love, sweetheart, etc) swearing, fluff, HEAVY angst, hurt/comfort, dark romance, mentions of stalking , threats, and obsession.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,226 | PART ONE

─ · · A/N: This gets... kinda dark... hope you all enjoy lol

─────── · ·

You new that the Alexander you grew up with, played with, fought with (and bullied), was not the same man that was currently waiting for you in your bed. But you could see glimpses every time you touched and saw him smile.

Sighing and pressing your forehead against the wet tiled wall, you let the shower head rain down on the scalp, soothing your on-coming headache. You watched as the blood dripped off your hands, the stains on your tiles removed and sanitized before you shut off the water and stepped out onto them.

Patting yourself dry, you took a look through your smoky mirror and looked down to see parts of what looked to be prosthetics in your trashcan... what the fuck kinda job has Alex gotten himself into... and did I even wanna know? You thought to yourself before putting on your pyjamas and throwing your scrup's into the washing machine as your haired dried.

Checking the clock in your kitchen, it was nearing 4:00 AM as you groaned and started to pick at your salad before a voice was calling from the bedroom... it was like work never left you as your few minutes of sitting had you now rushing to the bedside.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, flinging the covers off and searching for any changes, you pick up his chin, inspecting his eyes and feeling around his head before shaking your head as he smiles, "It's been 10 minutes."

"Oh fuck off, Alex. I'm eating. You're a grown man, just wait," you lecture him, throwing the covers back on and shutting off the light. You feel his stare as you leave, stomping back and reheating the kettle again. You watch as it bubbles as you stretch out your back and shoulders. Tonight is going to be a LONG night....

Getting into bed beside Alex felt like deja vu from the sleepovers you could have at his house in order to escape your family... it felt natural how his arm snuck about your head and the way that your fingers intertwined with one another.

"Do you love me?" Alex asks, catching you off-guard. You contemplate your answer, your head not sharing what your heart speaks, "yes." He sighs out contently, "I love you too."

You listened to his breaths even out as you laid there awake... waiting for what you did not know but you stared at that rifle in your hallway, discarded in favour of... you. The metal gleamed in the moonlight, capturing its cold essence that had you shivering underneath the blankets. "Go to sleep, love," a groggy tone called out from behind you, a kiss being planted to your shoulder that has you forcing yourself to relax. Who am I laying beside?

─────── · ·

When you have woken to the sunlight coming through your sheer blinds and a record being played in your living room, you were rising in a moment, forgetting to place your slippers on as you padded your way down the hallway and towards the kitchen where an Alex was cooking eggs and pouring out coffee.

"Morning, sleepy," He teased, picking up a mug and giving to you. You warmed your hand, closing your eyes to feel the smoke upon your face before bending to look around your old friend, the dishes were done... "Thank you, A. You didn't have to do those, I mean you are injured," you say, giving him a pat on the arm before gently shoving him away to finish the cooking.

─────── · ·

By the time your done and turning back around, the sniper rifle is disassembled all across your dining table as you place plates around its pieces. Looking at the various compartments as Alex cleans them, you take a seat across from the man, watching quietly as you sip your drink and cross your legs.

"You'll need to take another dose of pain relievers with your meal in the next half hour," you say as he only nods, continuing his... work. "Alex," you call out softly, this time he looks at you, eyes waiting as they dip towards your lips and up again.

"Yes, love?"

"I...hm, why come to me now?" You ask, foot tapping underneath the table, anxious for a proper answer. You watch his nose wiggle slightly as he stares at you, "don't lie to me, Duggan."

"I wasn't planning on it," he tries to gaslight you. "Bullshit," you call out, "I know you, Alex. If you like that fact or not. And I know when and how you lie no matter what fucked up shit you put yourself through to end up like this at my doorstop. So I'll ask you again, why. are. you. here?" you ask more coldly this time, eyes sharp and cutting through the masks he tries.

He sighs, setting down the muzzle in his lap, "I knew that you could... help. I have been keeping tabs on you, making sure your safe-"

"And why wouldn't I be?" you say with a glare, "I know the profession I choose has its faults, but what are you not telling me, Alexander?"

"I just need to know it for my own sanity. I need to know where you are, who you're seeing, what you're doing day by day," He says- you start feeling sick, that coffee rising up in your throat- burning. "My work... it does not work out for people who know any part of me and I know that you know the most... and I know that I don't have it in my to remove you so I must watch instead."

"Remove me?" you raise your voice slightly, standing, chair screeching against the wooden floors, well there goes my security deposit... Alex continues, disregarding your statement.

"But thats not your question, what is it I do? Well I am a contractor. I take a job, whatever it takes, and provide my services in exchange for cash." You slowly blink, walking further and further away as he looks more comfortable and confident in his seat- as if he has you right where he wants you.

"And that involves, a gun and being shot at?" you counter, hands shaking as that little boy running around your mind blends in with your darkest of thoughts. You can feel his blood dripping down your arms again, feel his kiss on your neck.

"Yes," and with such a simple word it can have you falling over and coughing, gripping your shirt. Alex stands, walking over and crouching, rubbing your back. For a minute you accept the soft touch before shoving him away.

"You could ruin my career, fucking everything I've worked for if you're seen with me! You kill people for money!" your mind swirls with all the news articles and announcements that play in the lobby. You grip your head, everything I worked for, gone. You look up with dead eyes mirroring his own cold and calculated ones. "Yes. I kill people for money. But I also protect. That's why you are going to help me and make sure I'm not seen," Alex tells you, hands gripping the knees you bring up to your chest. You nod watching as he smiles, "thank you, love." You now hated that word.

"Now, where's those meds?" He helps you to stand, following behind you and moving into the bathroom, deja vu again... as he sits on the bathtub, throwing his head back with a glass of water before you check his stitches and clean up the minor cuts across his hands.

He watches are yours tremor still, he holds them, bringing them to his face as silent tears stream down your cheeks. He shushes you, pulling you closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Everything's going to be fine, just let me do everything and you, take care of me."

─────── · ·

Your morals were out to kill you, was all you could think while running around your usual shift as you treated the never-ending wave of patients and their problems. Your eyes burned from your unrestful sleep, your heart hammered in your ears and you stumbled into the break room and crashed against the table. You should have not taken that call-in...

You took an oath to helping the people, to helping the public and providing care and assistance. But that oath was coming after you as you entered back into your apartment as Alex was holding a plank with his shirt off. "You know what I'm going to say," you begin, slamming the door closed and kicking your boots off.

Alex doesn't even look your way, just staring at an imaginary dot, his form unwavering. You scoff yet your eyes still check his side, wincing at the bead of sweat that nears your work, infection! screaming in your ear as you head towards the shower. "Can I join you?" Alex is drying the sweat off his chest, smiling down at you. "No."

─────── · ·

As time would go on and until Alexander was fully healed. You had made zero progress on understanding any more details to his work as he somehow knew everything about you, ordering in your favourite take out, knowing just how you liked the bed made and just the right ways to hold you after work.

You felt pathetic in his touch, you knew what those hands did, what they were coated in as he played with your hair and kissed your temple with a smile. You hated the way you started to relax into his embrace and how a small part of you looked forward to his company at the dining table but that was just it... company, that you desired...

So the hurt you felt for loosing yourself combined with the lingering loss of his presence as you had not seen Alex in weeks. The last moment you shared together cuddling in bed before a kiss was planted to your forehead and he was gone, not a trace of himself left in your apartment.

Taking a day off at work, you decided to treat your own loneliness as you put on your eye-liner and flattened your dress against your form with a sigh, breathing in your perfume. All you needed to do was forget it ever happened, pretend it was all in your imagination...

You had lived without Alex for nearly three decades... the rest of your life could be a walk in the park if the guy you were meeting up with tonight clicked. James Ferdinand Vanderbilt, He was an art auctioneer and philanthropist, charming you with his smile and words when attending one of your hospitals charity auctions.

He was well-off, could support you and a future family. He was estranged form his family, building a name for himself and his own business and had multiple college educations. Locking the door behind yourself and calling for a cab, you looked out the window, skies were clear with a light wind, the long daylight hours offering its light as kissing of warmth against your face as you closed your eyes. Whatever happens tonight happens...

─────── · ·

Arriving to the venue, James was already waiting outside for you as he placed a kiss to each of your cheeks. You smiled, holding his arm as you both walked into the restaurant and got lead upstairs to a private table. "Thank you for organizing this, James," you say sitting down as he pushes you towards the table before taking off his jacket and letting it hang off the back of his chair.

He pulls his sleeves up to his forearms as you view the tattoos on display, a symbol of a snake in a circle sparks a memory you can't seem to remember as you smile at one another. "It is really no worries, I wanted us to have privacy and you some peace. I know how hard your profession works." you nod and smile before turning your head down to the menu, James orders you both a bottle of wine to start as you make small talk.

Sharing favourite vacations, movies, and things you like to do in your spare time. You find James to be a bookworm and surprisingly, an ex-military officer as he points to his tattoo. "I thought I had seen that symbol before," you extend your hand, hovering over the ink as he chuckles. "Got family or friends in there now?"

You pause for a second, your smile wavering as he takes your hand, eyes soft, "you don't have to answer that, sorry that was rude of me. I have a few... friends deployed right now is all. Its hard, I know," he says as you nod again, not finding the right words before he thankfully moves conversation on. Yet a little birdie keeps pecking at your head, telling you that something is not quite right as the meal progresses.

You take a look out the window, squirting through the sunbeams glare. "Everything alright there, love," your head snaps over at the last word before you settle your features. "Sorry, thats what my... ex used to call me."

"I am really making a fool out of myself tonight, I do apologize-"

"No! Its me, I'm sorry about this all. My minds just elsewhere with work and-"

"Its mutual then?" He offers with a hand as you grab it and laugh softly, "yes, mutual fault." You both continue to dessert as you try bites off of each others plates. You have been enjoying yourself, watching as Jame's eyes have not left your face the entire time, your cheeks warm from the booze in your system.

"I don't want tonight to end," James starts to say as he picks of the bill and offers you his coat. You shrug it over your shoulders, bringing to stand, "who's saying it-" but before you can finish your sentence you hear a scream, ears ringing as glass shatters, and then your realize that scream is coming from yourself as James lies head down on the table, a bullet through the side of his head.

You rush over to his side, looking over the scene and feeling around his head. His blood is bleeding all over your hands, covering your dress and skin... he's not going to make it, as you scream from an ambulance to be called. he's not going to make it, you feel his last breath against your arm.

You cry, shaking, confused, scared. You turn to look outside the window yet can't see anything. A voice screams out to you, everyone is running outside the restaurant. You rip your dress and run, nearly falling down the stairs, knocking your head against a wall before kicking off your heels and making a dash for the back exit

Your vision is blurry as you run through the narrow space and off onto the street. Cars are swerving, trying to get out of the way as blaring lights come crashing onto the scene. You look like an absolute mess, you can feel the blood staining and hardening against your skin, forming gloves that you cant remove as you scratch at them and sob.

You fall to your knees at the corner of the road, you shake your read, James, James, James, you say on repeat before being picked up. You thrash, scream as a voice calls out to you in an even tone, "Hey, love. Shhh, it's alright, its over now. We can go home, the job is over. Thank you for being so good, thank you, my love," they speak into your ear as they dash with you in their arms, an officer points you both in the direction to medical staff.

You feel him nod and as soon as their head tips back to the crowd, you are being turned in the opposite direction. You feel overwhelmingly tired as you grip their shoulders, feeling a suit underneath your fingers tips. "James?" you call out only to hear a scoff, "Alex." the voice tells you off that has your mind jumpstarting.

"Put me, the fuck, down, Alexander Duggan." he hisses, "shut up, don't say anything."

"I'll fucking scream your name out for everyone to hear!" you threaten, being carried into another alleyway you recognize to be behind your apartment building.

"I would love that on any other occasion, love. But not when I'm trying to remove myself from a scene," Alex retorts. Entering through the shipments door and taking the cleaners elevator before setting you down on your feet, keeping an arm around your waist as you place your spinning head against his shoulder with a groan. He unlocks your apartment, you can't be bothered to know how he got a key and bolts the door behind you both before carrying you to the tub.

The Irony, you shake your head, looking down at your hands before Alex grips your chin, forcing you to look upwards. "No," he commands you, "don't look," he says before kneeling before you and helping to wash off what remains on your arms. You silently cry as he shushes you. "You're alright now, all safe. I could not believe it was you with my target. I swore that if I had known, I-I would have waited-"

"waited," you whisper. "yes, waited, love."

"Don't call me that," you spit out.

"But it is what you represent to me," Alex explains, now wipeing down your face and examining where the glass shards cut you. A part of him looks physically pained seeing you wounded. "Are you hurt?" you ask, mind on auto-pilot with the question.

"Not physically," he explains before grabbing your medical kit. "I can do it myself-"

"No. Let me do this... please," please? You think to yourself, as you watch his cold eyes stare and dress your face and hands. His touch on you if feather-light as if worried of damaging you anymore, like he hand't damaged you before. "okay," you whisper, feeling him kiss your forehead, "thank you." You shiver.

─────── · ·

You lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, unmoving, unfeeling. You hear Alex speaking to someone over the phone followed by a dozens zeros and a "...job well done." You stare, not even looking as Alexander walks back into the room in new clothes, a bouquet of flowers by your beside as he crawls into be beside you.

You feel numb... had already called in to work telling them you were taking an extended leave and left it like that... the news would be covering the "developments" of your story but you would be the only one in the world force with this truth that came into the form of kisses down your neck and curly hair tickling your cheek.

The truth whispers into your ear like a vow as you tilt your head towards the window and look outwards to the world, "Let the sky fall, when it crumbles, we will stand tall, face it all together." Yet his words contrast the melody playing through your apartment from the stereo in the living room.

You close your eyes, becoming enveloped by the darkness as their arms surround you...

"'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine Nothing in the world is mine for free But my love, mine, all mine, all mine.."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: I have another Jackal fic coming out soon! (thank you for the ask ;) )

[evanpetersmybf]

All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one. 

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!” 

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready. 

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him. 

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?” 

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago. 

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy. 

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary. 

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do. 

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting.  “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint? 

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course. 

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant. 

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!” 

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say. 

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?” 

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again. 

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!” 

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to. 

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe. 

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth. 

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday. 

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class. 

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

 After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged. 

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes. 

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were. 

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible. 

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real… 

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself. 

[novaursa]

Gwayne Hightower Masterlist

main list

- A Rose in Oldtown - Gwayne steals a rose and allows it to grow strong in Oldtown. - mature 16+

- The Crimson Sky - When Gwayne was ordered to go to Rook’s Rest, you followed him. - explicit 18

- Down by the River - After a forgotten betrothal with Aemond, you found love and comfort in your uncle's arms. - explicit 18+

- In Defiance of a Dragon - When your uncle, King Viserys, promised your hand to Gwayne, your father was least pleased about it. - explicit 18+

- Of Gods and Blood - Your mother, Alicent, sent you to Oldtown, to protect you from Rhaeyra's whims. Only for you to find comfort in your uncle’s arms. - explicit 18+

- A House Divided - During a tourney your father organized for the birth of his heir, your heart found a flame in Ser Gwayne Hightower. - mature 16+

- A Flame in Exile - Your mother and grandsire have sent you away to Oldtown. You were too unruly like your uncle Daemon, they said. But Gwayne never shied away from fire. - mature 16+

- The Wild Heart - You introduce Gwayne to your dragon, Grey Ghost. - mild 13+

- The Big Bad Wolf of Duskendale - You and Gwayne tell your children a bedtime story about the dragon princess and her knight. - mild 13+

- Divided Banners - When the Dance came you picked your half-sister. And now you have to face a price for choices made. - mature 16+

- The Kiss of the Hightower - On your way to the capital, you and your uncle had other intentions than observing the road. - explicit 18+

- Behind the Chamber Door - Ser Criston was appointed to guard you by your sister, Queen Alicent herself. He overhears something that makes him confront both you and his heart’s desire. - mature 16+

- A Tower's Tragedy - After Gwayne is forced to break up your secret affair, a tragedy follows that no scholar will ever record. - mature 16+

Works (targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower) below are listed in chronological order:

- Echoes of a Promise - When Prince Daemon Targaryen challenged Ser Gwayne Hightower during the tourney, that King Viserys I orginazed for birth of his heir, it was not just to humiliate and spite Otto. It was because of you. - explicit 18+

- Chains of the Crown - Gwayne promised to marry you. A promise he couldn't keep. - explicit 18+

- Between the Flames (1) - You and Gwayne see each other after years of separation, as King Viserys I organizes a hunt for his son's nameday. But time is a cruel mistress. - mature 16+

- Between the Flames (2) - Gwayne and you rekindle your flame as a celebratory hunt proceeds. - explicit 18+

- Skyfall - Baela and you chase after Cole and his men. You fall from the sky straight into Gwayne's arms. Literally. - explicit 18+

- The Flames We Carry - Ser Criston Cole expected for Rhaenys and Meleys to appear over Rook's Rest. To Gwayne's horror, Rhaenyra sent her sister instead: you. - mature 16+

- Where Banners Fall - After your fall at Rook’s Rest, Gwayne takes you to safety and some hidden things come to light. - mild 13+

- The Blood We Choose - Gwayne brings you to Dragonstone, to your sister. But it is Daemon who awaits you both. - mild 13+

- The Flames We Share - You tell your son the truth. He has more than the blood of dragons in his veins. - mild 13+

- The Chains We Break - Otto Hightower comes to negotiate the release of his son. Daemon does not humor him. But you and your sister are dragons as well, who answer to neither gods or men. - mild 13+

- Where Honor Burns - After the tragedy Above the God's Eye, you decided to go to King's Landing, in hope to prevent more bloodshed. Even if it means your death. - explicit 18+

- The Cost of Fire - The conclusion of the Dance. Where Gwayne and the reader married under watchful eyes of the Seven. - explicit 18+

[suhtorus]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ‐skyfall. suguru geto

part two. sunset (him)

⥅word c. 2,656

⥅warnings. suguru's pov, heavy angst, main character death, mentions of drinking and smoking, depressed suguru, hurt/comfort (?)

𝄢♭turning page ‐ sleeping at last / let her go ‐ passenger

Suguru will never forget the morning you came back to him. He distinctly remembers it was right after a slow night at the bar, the air felt chiller than usual, and the streets were too quiet. He couldn’t wait to get home, already dreaming of his bed and the leftover pizza from two nights ago.

But the sleep vanished as soon as he saw you sitting by the window.

At first, he thought someone had broken into his place until he realized it was you, which scared him even more than the thought of a thief. As soon as he heard your voice, it was as if he felt everything and nothing all at once—it also made him realize he had started to forget the sound of it without noticing.

It was the sight of your cheeky smile, the little wave as you teased him like you used to, that got him out of his stupor. Suddenly, he was on a high, something he hadn’t felt in months.

Gone was the tiredness from working all night as he ran up the stairs to the apartment while his heart beat wildly against his rib cage. However, nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight that awaited him: sitting by the window, the curtains blew behind you as the sky shone with pinks and lilacs, clouds that looked like cotton floating in it. But even such beautiful scenery couldn’t compare to the sight of you, your beauty or the gentle smile on your face.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he felt his soul come back to his body as soon as he had you in his arms. The feel of your fingers carding through his hair immediately relaxed him, your voice soothing the dull pain that had settled deep in his heart.

He feared his heart would not make it through that morning, your presence and laugh — god, how he had missed your laugh — more than enough of a threat to his battered heart. 

That morning, Suguru Geto came back to life after living like a zombie for three months without you, the pain pushed to the back of his mind as he only focused on loving you.

—

He often wondered if he should quit his job, it messed up with his sleeping schedule and mood. But that bar was where he first met you, he still remembered how you walked up to him to order a round of drinks for your friends, and by the end of the night you had left right after saving your number in his phone.

Somehow, it felt wrong to leave a place that held such beautiful memories.

“You’ll be late for work,” he heard you say, light kisses covering his face as they traveled from his lips to his jaw before focusing on his cheeks.

He could tell it was dark outside, which meant that yes, he was most definitely running late. But he was a prisoner of your kisses, he would be out of his mind to push you away.

“Shower with me.”

Suguru was enraptured the whole time, watching the water dripping down your body as you sang each song that played from the speaker you had in the bathroom. The only thing that could stop you were his lips, kissing you nonstop until he had to physically hold you so you wouldn't fall to your knees. 

At that moment, he felt like he fell in love with you all over again.

He really didn't want to leave, but if you were there with him, then it meant that everything was back to normal. It made sense, right?

“See you at sunrise!”

And when he saw you by the window the next day, and the day after that, suddenly he was looking forward to each morning, hoping to see you sitting by the window where you belonged. 

The world could end tomorrow, and he wouldn’t care. As long as he had you by his side, nothing could ruin his happiness.

The rush hour was at its peak, college kids flooding the small bar on a Friday night—finals were over, so Suguru kind of expected it. After all, it was something he used to do just a few years ago.

He worked as fast as he could, lining up the shot glasses and filling them with liquor so Satoru could take them to the right table. It had become part of their routine, both men realizing that they worked well together after two days of being on the same shift.

Satoru placed his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, squinted eyes staring suspiciously at Suguru.

“You seem… livelier,” he paused, “chirpier?”

Shrugging, Suguru continued pouring drinks, “why wouldn’t I be?”

Still looking at him weirdly, Satoru dropped the subject once the raven-haired handed him another round of drinks, turning on his heel and continuing to work—he could always ask him later.

Meanwhile, Suguru’s mind strayed to your conversation from earlier that day. It had been two weeks since you were back, and it was impossible to get you out of his mind. Before he could stop it, he was smiling at the memory, his heart fluttered at the thought of spending all of your weekends cuddling and watching movies. He hoped that one day, a little version of you both could join the tradition.

At that point, he couldn’t hide his smile.

With a push of his hips, Satoru tried to snap him out of his daydream, signaling with his head to the girl that stood in front of him. 

Suguru stared at her, she seemed familiar, but it wasn’t until she reminded him of her name that he remembered who she was: an old classmate from high school. They had dated briefly during their senior year before he met you.

“I haven't seen you since we graduated,” she smiled at him, “I never thought I would find you here of all places!”

The atmosphere felt awkward, it was as if an elephant sat in the room and everyone could see it but him. He didn’t like that feeling one bit.

“Yeah, I work here.”

The girl hummed and shot Satoru a polite smile, her long nails tapping loudly against the granite.

“I-I was actually wondering if,” she paused, looking bashful as she switched her weight from one heel to the other, “we could go for a cup of coffee one of these days? You know, like, to catch up?”  

Suguru instantly tensed up, “catch up?”

“Yeah! Uhm… like a date?”

He never liked it when people put him on the spot, both Satoru’s and the girl’s eyes set on him as they waited for his answer.

“Sorry, but I have a girlfriend,” he offered her an awkward smile.

Satoru sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around Suguru’s shoulders and pulling him against his side.

“I don't think she’ll mind,” he winked at Suguru before turning to look at the confused girl, “he’d love to go on a date with you!”

Pushing him away, Suguru looked at him in disgust, “are you out of your mind?”

Both men were too busy staring at the other down to hear the girl excuse herself and leave.

Satoru scoffed, “I should be the one asking you that.”

“The fuck you mean by that!?” Suguru was fuming by now, attracting the interest of a few patrons that happened to witness everything.

“Hey, hey!” a third voice intervened, Nanami placing himself between them, “you two need to calm down.”

Suguru ignored the recently hired waiter, continuing to stare down at his best friend. There was no way he was going to stand there and let him treat you like that. 

“I asked you a question: what the hell was that!?”

“Sorry for trying to get you a date with a cute girl,” Satoru said sarcastically, “one date won’t hurt, and you know it.”

Fed up with his words, Suguru pushed Nanami to the side and stepped closer to whom he had to call his best and closest friend. He had had enough of Satoru’s shit. 

“Disrespect my girl again, and I'll forget you’re like a brother to me.”

With a sneer, Satoru reciprocated the look.

“Suit yourself.”

—

They barely talked again for the rest of the night.

Suguru could feel a migraine coming, the faint palpitations at the back of his head increasing as the minutes passed. All he wanted was his shift to be over, so he could go back to your arms.

He took the trash outside, staying there a few minutes as he leaned against the wall. His lips wrapped around the cigarette as he took a long drag, and unconsciously began to smile once he noticed the sky starting to lighten. 

The sound of the door opening and closing took him out of his daydream.

“Spill,” Satoru stood before him, arms folded in front of his chest with a serious look that Suguru hadn’t seen in weeks, “what’s up with you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Don’t you dare push me away again,” the white-haired jabbed a finger on his chest, “you were finally recovering, and what? You’re letting her control your life again?”

“I would watch my mouth if I were you,” Suguru warned him, his features hardening again, “and she isn’t controlling anything.”

Groaning, Satoru ran a hand down his face, “when are you going to get it through your thick skull?!” 

“Get what!?”

After stepping on the cigarette, Suguru started making his way inside, getting tired of Satoru’s complaints. Only to stop abruptly once he heard him speak again, his blood turning cold. 

“That your girlfriend is dead.”

Suguru never believed in those weird conspiracy theories that Satoru liked to feed him, and even years later, he still managed to come up with the craziest stories.

He believed there's a rational explanation for everything, not entirely a man of science, but if you could prove what you said, then he had no reason to doubt.

Every rational thought told him it couldn’t be possible, and yet there you were, holding his face between your hands as he heard your voice, and smelled your perfume. 

You were supposed to be gone.

He had to hold back from breaking down as soon as he got home, your silhouette standing by the window as if you truly were there, waiting for him like you always used to. He couldn't bear to see you smile, to hear you talk about a future when you no longer had one. He could barely keep it together when you cupped his face in your hands and made him stare at you, something seemed to have switched in your eyes, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“It’s time to let go, Suguru.”

“I can't,” he whispered in a broken voice, “I don't want to.”

Three months without seeing you, feeling you, there was no way he’d let you slip away from his grasp—not again.

Tears ran down his cheeks, his heart pressing heavily against his chest as he fought the need to crumble down to the floor. He could see your eyes glistening with tears, but your pretty smile remained, giving him all the time he needed to compose himself. 

“I'm so sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault,” you whispered, rubbing your thumbs against his cheekbones, trying and failing to stop the tears, “I could never blame you, I never did.”

Unwanted memories from that day swarmed his mind: the loud screech of tires against the pavement, your body next to his, the sight of your beautiful face covered in cuts and bruises mocking the peaceful look in it. The memory haunted him for months.

What was once the face of an angel, as he liked to call you, twisted into a gruesome memory.

If only he hadn’t convinced you to accompany him to the party, or if he had paid more attention to the road so he could’ve avoided the drunk driver that hit the car as he drove home. You’d still be there, with him, holding him just as you were doing right at that moment.

“I'm going insane,” he sniffled, resting his forehead against yours, “aren’t I?”

“No, no, you’re not. But you aren’t taking care of yourself,” you kept smiling through your tears, your voice gentle as if you were talking to a child, “you either sleep too little or too much, and you haven’t been attending your lectures.”

Rocking you side to side, he dismissed your comment with a nonchalant hum, “but I’m happy now, isn’t that what you want? Just… stay? Please?”

The lack of words on your part was his answer.

“Will I see you again?” 

“Of course,” your smile broadened, “even if the skies fall, or a huge wave takes over the city, you’ll never get rid of me.”

Suguru’s hold tightened, your face hiding in his chest as you both tried to calm yourselves down. He didn’t dare to close his eyes, wanting to see your face for as long as he could. And even with tears clogging up your eyelashes and wobbly lips, you were still as gorgeous as he remembered.

“You’re my sunrise, and I'm your sunset,” he whispered in your ear, “never forget that.”

Not like you could. You had found your very own sunset, only yours to love and admire.

“I would never.”

Even with puffy eyes and tears wetting your cheeks, Suguru still thought you were the most beautiful woman that ever walked the earth. He helped you wipe your tears, watching you sniffle and laugh right after.

“Baby?” you spoke after a few minutes of silence and holding each other, basking in his warmth until it made you sleepy. 

His lips kissed the crown of your hair while his fingers combed it away from your face, admiring your face with love brimming from his eyes, “hm?”

A lump blocked your throat, tears welling up in your eyes before quickly cascading down your cheeks as you ingrained his face into your memory.     

“Look for me in the sky, I promise I'll be there.”

Suguru never saw you again after that day.

It was as if the grief took over his life all over again, the sorrow suffocating him with each breath he took. His body and soul crumpled even lower than the first time, however, with each passing week, the heaviness in his heart became lighter.

It took him a while to open up to Satoru, and when he finally did, the tears were unstoppable from both sides. Satoru felt for his friend and you, you two had had a close bond too after all, and after seeing Suguru shattered after your loss, he knew he had to be his rock.

There wasn’t a place in the city that didn’t have your name, filled with memories of your dates as Suguru and you explored the world together. But it was time to turn the page, with your memory inked on the corner of it and in Suguru’s soul.

He would never be able to forget you, and he didn’t want to.

Sitting by the window, Suguru took a look at the late spring afternoon. Living in a world without you would always be painful, which is why he found himself staring at it from your eyes. That window was your spot; he would always find you there before the sun was up, and right before it disappeared behind the horizon, waving him goodbye as he drove away to work.

The usual bustle of the streets quieted down for a moment, it was as if the world went still. Orange tinted the sky as usual, only this time, hues of blue and lilac blended across it, the wind cold and refreshing as it blew against his warm skin.

Suguru peered up at the skies with a nostalgic smile, a wave of peacefulness making its way into his heart.

“There you are, my love.”

[thebadboyfanclub]

Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)

Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon

Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.

That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.

“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”

Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.

“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”

“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”

Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.

“You are questioning my feelings for you”

“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”

“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”

“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”

Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.

“You and our daughter mean everything to me”

“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”

“I would never put your lives at risk”

“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”

“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”

(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.

He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.

“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”

“What about (y/n)”

“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”

Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.

“You owe me 3 dragon coins”

“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”

“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”

“I-“

“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”

Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.

“What should we name them?”

“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”

“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”

Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.

Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.

(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.

“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”

“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”

“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”

“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”

“I had every reason to do so”

“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”

Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back

“You disgust me, never come back”

Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.

“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”

“What is it?”

“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”

“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”

“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”

“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”

“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”

“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”

“I will be fine, I know it”

Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.

At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.

Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.

“What is the meaning of this brother?”

“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”

“Over what?”

“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”

“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”

“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”

“No”

“Daemon”

“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”

“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”

Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.

“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”

“You are trying to negotiate?”

“Yes”

“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”

“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”

“Done”

“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”

“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”

“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”

Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.

“Very well, we accept your conditions”

“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”

-

(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.

The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.

(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.

Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?

As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.

It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.

A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.

“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”

“You dare question the decision of a king?”

“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”

“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”

“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”

“Pity, you had such great potential”

As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.

“No one disrespects our family”

“Disarm him!”

“No need, my love”

Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.

“Rhaenyra”

Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.

She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).

“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”

“It is late, can it not wait?”

“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”

“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”

Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.

Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.

“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”

“What of it?”

“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”

“I and my wife have honored our vows”

“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”

“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”

He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.

As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.

“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“

“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”

“At court yes”

“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”

“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”

“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”

“My sons are Targaryens”

“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”

“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”

“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”

Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.

Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).

“Alright”

“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”

Requests are open!

[sometimeslwish]

Skyfall: All things End

So I was listening to Skyfall on loop cause it reminded me of the spoilers I've seen about Sylus' myth, and because I've been reading angst lately:

Mc has been reborn, but her memories went to someone else, that someone else is... well, you.

You've always been creative as a child, great at telling stories and even better at singing thanks to your family. You've dreamt about those moments since you were 12, always thinking those were just dreams, leftover from your wild imagination, even if they crushed your soul in the process with how vivid and realistic they were.

You grow up to become an actor, singer and songwriter. The songs are filled with themes of mystery, violence, fantasy, obsession and references to a forbidden love that ends much too soon after the death of a lover. The details change, but the story is always the same.

A woman, reborn time and time again, sometimes powerful and feared, others afraid but determined, many variations that lead to the same outcome: she encounters a man. He's the opposite of what she is or stands for, born as each others enemy. Sometimes it starts rough, both at each other's necks, sometimes it's just one of them who wants to kill while the other is simply entertained by the attempts. There's times when she'll be afraid of him, but will still stand her ground, others where he's her subject, even if under a leash.

On each one, they learn and become stronger, reaching the same level of power and growing comfortable with each other, only for it to be all ripped away.

Sometimes he dies, sometimes it's her.

You've started to gain traction after your last album. The songs are a little bit more hopeful and empowering, but they still carry the hints to the pain. You're in the middle of an interview, talking about your inspiration when you talk about your dreams. You mention considering the idea of making an album for a movie centered on the dreams, how you've gone back on your dream journals to organize everything and the fact that you're halfway through.

The interview ends with you talking about who you would like to cast for the male lead, if the choice was on your hands, and that's when you mention the man. You give chopped up features, mentioning how you've never fully remembered his face, only his voice and height. You end up describing the up and coming actor named Sylus without being aware of it.

The internet goes crazy with it.

They keep mentioning it even after your tour and next thing you know, it's no longer an idea, but a full sized project. Of course, Sylus said yes– or his manager did, who knows– and when you meet him, your world shifts on its axis. It's him, the man you've been dreaming of, the voice in your dreams you started using in your head to encourage yourself. He's real and alive.

You have no time to recollect and center yourself as he approaches along with his manager. You recognize her too, she's the woman you've seeing in your dreams. Great to finally meet the lovers, you think bitterly.

You're tense and jumpy, but you manage– through internal screams and tears, but you manage. He offers nothing to you as both of you read the script and exchange comments on scenes, and the concoction of emotions inside of you leave a sour taste in your mouth.

Does he remember? Doesn't he suspect you? Their past lives are detailed in that script, and somehow you know every detail without being her. Does he know you're the one who wrote the script? He has to, that part of the interview was the most popular, it made rounds on the internet for a while.

Why won't he say anything?

You feel more conflicted each time you see them interact, and it's even worse after you and Sylus start getting closer and comfortable with each other. Bitterness, happiness, sadness, hope, dread. Those are the emotions that you stew in. You use them to write on restless nights, songs filled with despair and yearning alike. It's harder to keep the facade the longer you go.

You don't explode, that would be a lie, you simply break during a particular scene. You can still tell between reality and fiction, but your heart doesn't. When you're acting the scene in which you loose him, holding him in your arms as you wail, you bring everyone to tears with you.

Everyone congratulates you after the scene.

"Your acting was great," says a background actor.

"That scene will surely get you an award," whispers your manager.

"It gave me full body chills!"

You smile and say your thanks, try to be humble even through the numbness of it all. There's a difference in Sylus' behavior after that, you can't pinpoint what it is, but you can guess what the reason is.

The curtain is about to close, so you pay no mind to it, you've accepted your fate, even if it hurts like hell.

@leighsartworks216 @comatosebunny09 seeing you guys being angsty rubbed off on me, so I'll thank you for inspiring this mess of an idea

Read more here

[lewisvinga]

skyfall | max verstappen x reader!

summary; when once again abu dhabi was the decider for the world championship, but this time it was between ex lovers.

warning; angst 😝

word count; 1.3k

note; skyfall by adele is so good , but there might be typos idk

masterlist !

Abu Dhabi 2023. A race Y/n has been looking forward to since the start of the season. Although her season had a bit of a rough start, the McLaren driver shocked the world. After ending below P10 in the first few races, Y/n pushed through and started winning races, quickly catching up points wise to a certain Red Bull river.

Max Verstappen.

What once was the perfect depiction of young love quickly turned into an intense rivalry. They were young and in love, but they were too focused on their career. With Max’s anger issues, and Y/n’s stubbornness, their relationship ended horribly.

It ended to horribly that the other drivers had to make sure they weren’t together. During media duties and post and pre race interviews, they had to make sure that Y/n and Max weren’t near each other. And if they ever were near each other, it was living hell for everyone on the grid.

It didn’t help the fact that they were currently tied in points for the World Championship. For Max, it’d be his 3rd, but for y/n? She’d do anything to become the first female Formula One driver to be the champion of the world.

The weekend started off tense in the McLaren and Red Bull garages. It was so tense that Lando and Sergio had come up with multiple plans to try to avoid the garages.

Next came qualifying, which went exceptional for Max as usual. For the McLaren driver, it didn’t turn out so well. Ending up at P8. y/n felt sick to her stomach. Not the type of sick from being so nervous, but the type of sick where she was so angry and struggled to contain it.

It just seemed like luck wasn’t on her side as she finished at P8. However, she knew she’d do anything to make it out on top on Sunday.

Lando avoided her like the plague on Sunday. As much as he loved his teammate and enjoyed being around her, he knew that it was no time to joke around. The other McLaren workers copied his strategy. They knew one wrong thing could set Y/n off and they did not want to risk her losing.

The young Brit told her good luck and gave her a quick hug which she didn’t want to admit that she needed. As y/n makes her way to her car, she sees Max stood by his car and glancing at her. They both swore a sudden bitter taste filled their mouth as they made eye contact. They knew this race will ruin anything they ever had and anything they could ever try to have.

Y/n takes a deep slow breath once she was finally at her spot of P8, waiting for the green light to go. It felt like time was moving insanely slow as she sees the red lights slowly go off before it finally turned green.

The start of the race was tame with Max keeping his place of P1 in the first few laps. Y/n managed to take over Charles and Lando, giving her the place of P6 in the beginning. She wasn’t satisfied with it. Of course, she couldn’t be. There were still 5 more drivers she needed to overtake in order to be first.

Y/n soon catches up to George and she easily overtakes him and Carlos soon after. Lewis was a bit of a challenge. He’s a 7x champion of the world and an experienced driver. Nonetheless, Y/n drove past him, placing herself in P3.

She was behind the two Red Bull drivers. Sergio was at least close to her but Max already had a bit of time ahead of his teammate. She was so close when suddenly heard a voice.

“Y/n, we’re gonna need you to box.”

“What?” She loudly exclaims, “No, I’m so close to taking him over. Why?” She continues, starting to get frustrated.

“Now, y/n. We don’t want to risk anything by doing it later.”

Y/n felt furious but she listened. She knew she had to push herself in order to pass Max. By the time she made it back on track, she was at P5. Luckily for her, she was a fantastic driver and in no time she made it back to P2.

Max was still 15 seconds ahead of her. He felt satisfied knowing that he was ahead of her. He ignored the strange feeling in the back of his mind that he started to feel. He used to be madly in love with her. She used to be the one who could make him smile and laugh with a simple joke. She was the one who he could go to after getting into an argument with his father.

Sometimes it shocked him how badly their seemingly perfect relationship ended.

It shocked him enough to be distracted until he realized that y/n was right behind him. He was getting yelled at through his radio to focus and get farther ahead so he can box.

He managed to gain speed and lengthen the time between them. But he could only keep it up for so long until his tires had to be changed. Despite Red Bull being quick at changing the tires, Y/n immediately took P1.

Once Max was back on track, it was like a war between the two. A minute later, he’d be in first, the next minute, y/n would take his place. The gap between the two of them and the rest of the drivers was large. They didn’t have to worry about someone else potentially taking their place.

The last lap was like a war. Everyone watched intensely they drove pretty much side by side. It was difficult to figure out who was ahead and who wasn’t.

Y/n glances at Max, only to see him looking back at her. Filled with hurt and anger from their past relationship, she pushed through on the last turn. She could see the checkered flag in the distance. The same flag she had been dreaming about throughout the week. She accelerated, gaining a second ahead of Max.

Time passed by slowly as she finally passes the waving checkered flag.

“Y/n L/n, you are champion of the world.”

Shock and disbelief filled Y/n’s body. Months of sacrifice and spending the last hour fighting for her spot was all worth it. It felt like she was on cloud nine as she parks the car in her designated spot and quickly gets out to celebrate with her teammate and her team.

Joy and ecstasy was all she felt as she made her into the cooldown room. Sergio, who placed third, gave her a tight hug to congratulate her.

“Felicidades, chiquita.” [congratulations, little one] Sergio says in a soft tone, pulling her into a tight hug. Despite being Max’s teammate, he always cared deeply for her.

Y/n lets out a chuckle as she wraps her arms around him. “Gracias, Checo.” [thank you, checo] she responds as they both pull away and take sit down at their designated seats.

The air in the cooldown became thick as a certain Dutch player made his way inside. Sergio awkwardly coughs as he turns away, wanting nothing more than to leave the room. Max and Y/n knew that there were camera’s recording which meant if they didn’t want to give their PR team a headache, they had to be civil.

Y/n gets a flashback of their relationship. Oh, how younger her would’ve loved to scream and run into his arms. Younger him would’ve kissed her from the joy and pride he would’ve been feeling.

They would’ve been celebrating on the podium together, proud of their journey. They would’ve been partying together to celebrate the end of a fantastic season. They would’ve gone home together and spend the rest of their week relaxing. They would’ve been the perfect couple.

But one argument let the sky fall and made their once seemingly perfect love, crumble.