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secretress · 3 months ago

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❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭?❞

What are you lying about to yourself? (Detailed).

Masterlist.

Author's note,

I killed a weird white flying bug with my hand while editing this, looked at my hand to check where it was, and then shrugged it off to finish editing. Found it on the side of my laptop. Take it as a sign if you want, I did flick it away. Aka end of a new chapter for everyone!

Moodboard | Divider (edited by yours truly).

Pile I.

You are lying to yourself about a lot of things. You keep lying to yourself about what your heart wants; you keep manifesting things you don’t care for to take care of your ego. You have this belief that you cannot manifest what you desire unless you truly know what you want and can detach from it. So, manifesting things you don’t care for is easier, gives you a sense of accomplishment, and gives you a huge boost of confidence. You have been doing this ever since you learned about manifestation, and the concept sounded daunting to you. But at the same time, you wished that you could be like others and manifest so fast.

Some of you have tried subliminals and have not gained anything or any results you wanted, so you quit and went along with the law of attraction. That is what gave you great results, but yet again, it is not what you wanted. Some of you have actually used subliminals as a way of manifestation and quit manifestation techniques because they were bullshit for you.

Both of you are lacking genuine consistency. What is a subliminal to you? What is manifestation to you? What is the law of attraction to you? What are the things you're actually into? Yeah—what was that thought again? Mind repeating it again? That is what you want. Simply accept that what you want is something you can manifest, or in some of your cases, have them. But things take time, and not time as in ignoring your 3D since some of you are into it. Time is mental. How can you expect to manifest what you want with your mindset? To give up so easily? Is it making you happy that your past self gave up from frustration and a lack of consistency and now you are stuck without what you wanted? Does it feel good? I don’t think so. So get up and go get your desires.

Some of you don’t understand what consistency is from trauma, your family didn’t teach you/you weren’t taught, wrong information, or being burnt out. Consistency is not using your subliminals or law of attraction methods you use from others or have created for yourself every day. If you were to do that, the likelihood is being burnt out (as some of you are). You need to make sure you complete it at least once a week when starting out, or else you will give up as you have been. Everything requires baby steps, and in your case, this is a must. Don’t fall into the same rabbit hole as you are doing right now, think about your future self each time you want to give up, and think about your situation right now. Are you happy with it? Have you wished before that your past self would have kept going? What are your inner thoughts about it?

You need to learn to start being honest about things with yourself and ignore your pride with it. I understand that pride usually comes from trauma, whether you want to accept it or not, but it does. And this pride is not your friend and instead is causing you a fear of accomplishment and failure—again, is that something you desire? Is it fun for you? Learn to disregard this pride and transform it into genuine confidence. You can fake it till you make it as you have been doing, but instead, screw that concept and have a talk with yourself as if you were meeting a friend you trusted or meeting a new pet and wanting it to be part of your circle.

Masterlist.

Pile II.

Stop lying to yourself about your goals, and stop sabotaging yourself when you are almost there. You have such unique ideas, you always think outside the box. When it comes to your ideas, you allow your insecurities and sabotaging ideas to interfere, and you go back inside the box. You have a creative mindset, my mind is flowing with a bunch of ideas. I feel like I am floating on a cloud and can feel such immense energy that I want to jump around and scream how happy I am. The same can be said with your personality and mindset, and yet, following the crowd and following the trend is so much easier for you. Gaslighting yourself is so much easier for you. Why?

Because following the same routine seems the best choice to boost up your career, having friends who would treat you better, and maybe finding your desired person. Everything you do leads up to the same issue: people. Why are you allowing yourself to change yourself for someone else when you are fucking amazing yourself? Genuinely. And I am not saying this for a reading, to make you feel better, or whatever bullshit thoughts you have to PUT yourself down for. I mean it. I would love to be your friend, that is how amazing your energy is. So get a grip and be honest for once. Be honest with yourself. If you want to change yourself, then ask yourself why. If you want to follow the next trend, then ask yourself why. If you want a boyfriend, girlfriend, or whatever, then ask yourself why. Start asking yourself why and BECOME CURIOUS ABOUT YOURSELF, or else you will follow the trend; you will fall deeper into a rabbit hole for OTHERS. If you think about your younger self, they did the same, did they not? They never had the right guidance, and when they did, they became insecure because what if it is not right? Right? So why are you doing the same thing? Because it is easier.

Is having something easier better when it lacks satisfaction, pride for yourself, appreciation for yourself, and lack of rewards? But it is okay because it is for others and their validation and approval. Or is it better to have something you dream of with all of those traits, but it was much harder to reach? Meaning you had to be HONEST with yourself, you have to learn all about you, focus on healing, and take baby steps with your ideals. Which one sounds so much better to you? Don’t you think it is better to focus on the difficult version instead? A growth mindset will take you to many places, it may take time to achieve and falling in love with the world of curiosity, but it will be the one thing that saves you.

I originally thought there were four piles because that was the energy until I finished pile number III. This isn’t the type of reading I do but this is a warning to you. Please read it. Don’t assume it is nothing, or it is whatever because it is a general reading. This is for each and every one of you.

Do not, and I repeat, do not sabotage yourself any further. The future that awaits you through your need to sabotage will lead you to an unbearable death. An actual death, yes, you will die. I don’t do death readings, but I honestly had to say it because the energy I feel is scaring the fucking shit out of me. Do not sabotage yourself, get a grip and do better for yourself, PLEASE. You will get yourself killed whether it is through drunk driving su!c!de, someone harming you, and you know this person (loves blue items, dolls, cigarettes, cemeteries, and anything with dark blue and dark themes. Get rid of this fucking weirdo), or someone in your family will get angry with you and accidentally harm you, ruining both of your lives. You believe that your thoughts create your reality, so PLEASE!!! Do not be your own enemy, please change your thoughts. This life of chaos is NOT WORTH IT. Just please. I will literally cut out a liver and give it to you for you to change these thoughts, so please change it. Okay?? I don’t want to see you die, and I love you, so please do better. Please.

Masterlist.

Pile III.

When Alice went through the rabbit hole, did you think she was emotionless throughout it? Do you think she knew exactly what she was doing? That she had everything figured out, that she knew exactly how to go through the door and see what was on the other side? Do you think she procrastinated on her ideas when she hit an obstacle? What do you think she did? Exactly. She did not give up in order to fend for her curiosity, and through that curiosity, she led herself through an infinite amount of opportunities and adventures. And adventure is something you crave, and yet when it pops up, you push it aside and procrastinate it? What’s up with that? If you know for a fact that it is going to lead you to your dream life, then why the fuck are you pushing it aside for something else that does not benefit you in the slightest? If you knew your past self was going to be bothered with you with the constant need to sabotage yourself and the frustration your future self feels with your current self, you would be fucking scared to get that dream. So instead of staying stagnant, you should push yourself to achieve that goal. Because that goal is the sole reason for your happiness. It is going to lead you to an endless amount of opportunities and possibilities to meet your people.

Fight for your rights on getting what you want. I know that you have dealt with so much injustice in your life, but that doesn't excuse anything. It is now your responsibility to push past those lingering thoughts and do better for yourself. Craving pity is not a bad thing, but you are doing too much of it. Stop pitying yourself, get a grip, and go get that dream of yours. I want to see you happy, and I don’t care that we don't know each other, but you need some encouragement, and this message is going to sound rough, but that is what you need. And you need to be rough with yourself too—don't insult yourself. That’s not being rough. That's being toxic, and that isn't what you need. Rough is being self-disciplined. It is when you push yourself to do something you don't want to do but know damn well is going to help you. You are going to have to become your own parent but be strict. Being strict with yourself is not a bad thing, so remove the stigma you have around it from your past experiences. Your strictness will not be the same as your aunt's or your parents'—don't compare yourself to them it is not something you deserve.

There is a lot of deserving and a lot of deserving affirmations I am hearing. You need to learn to trust and love yourself. Sabotaging comes from anger with ourselves. What is causing your anger? Why do you feel the need to be your own enemy? What makes it appealing to procrastinate? What led you to lose trust in yourself, to be mediocre about yourself? Why don't you love yourself? You need to write these down and honestly take your time on it. Be thorough, because healing this mindset will not be instant. Stop living in the end since the way you are doing it is toxic and ruining your life and mindset. How can you expect your desires to appear if you are sabotaging them? Be honest with yourself and stop lying. Living in the end doesn't work for you and has made you live in your head so much that you have fucked up your life, grades, workplace, and mental health.

Sometimes a manifestation technique will not work for us, and that is okay. It does not mean you are a bad manifestor, it just means that it doesn't align with you, and that is normal. You know that being positive with yourself and showing gratitude to yourself and your religious god is what has helped you get everything you wanted in the past. So go back to that and appreciate how you do it. Manifestation is about our unique style, so why the hold up and why the need to follow the abnormal trend? Have you gained anything from it so far? And don't lie about it. Write everything down in a journal or somewhere that can be kept private. Once you finish it up, fold it up and put it into an envelope. You have these thoughts, and now use them to transform them into a better mindset, into your actual ideal mindset. And when you get to that mindset, come back to this reading. Reread it all over again and see the huge transformation you did all by yourself.

Some of you are saying that you did not do all of the work and that I helped, great! But you still did the work, you still pushed yourself up to get it, you are still the one to do it. You simply just followed my advice and got whatever you wanted. Thanks for following the advice and getting your dreams! <3

Masterlist.

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a-spes · 1 year ago

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| DEVIOUS LIES — Part one (3.842 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It has been two years, and you can't stop think about what you lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, AoS!OC x Avenger!Reader, Other Avengers, angst without comfort, cheating, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

“I am really not sure we should do that, Stark”, you repeated for what may be the tenth time since you picked up the phone, “it sounds like a really, really, bad idea, and you know, I am not sure sh~”

“Come on!” he said, cutting short your ramblings.

Your thoughts are racing, your mind imagining all the things that could go wrong. It is an endless series of “what ifs” that is only stopped by Tony’s voice. You both knew that if he lets you think too much, he would lose his battle. It’s a risky plan he wants to drag you in.

“I am sure you are dying to say yes,” he added when you didn’t answer him, and you could hear his petty smile through the phone. As he sensed that you were about to accept, the man tried to convince you with one last argument, “she won’t know anything, I promise. None of them will, I thought about everything,” he assured you, and you believed him.

He was right, you wanted to say yes, but you couldn’t get yourself to say the word aloud. There are too many ways for it to end badly, and you really don’t need to make your situation worse than it already is. Two years ago, you lost everything. None of your teammates tried to understand your situation, they didn’t give you a chance to explain what happened. Instead, they threw you away from the team, and the tower, without giving it a second thought, as if you were just garbage.

Maybe that’s what you are.

Sometimes, when you think about the events, you surprise yourself by siding with them. It’s easier to think that you deserve what they are doing to you than to accept the injustice of the situation, which you can’t do anything about. After all, the proof was against you. You’ve seen the pictures, everyone has seen them, and they felt so real that your certainties have faltered. How to convince them that you are innocent when you are not even sure yourself? Eventually, you gave in, it is a battle you couldn’t win.

“When is it, already?” you sighed, eventually giving in. An argument against Tony Stark was another battle you knew you couldn’t win.

The man has been the only exception. He has watched over you from afar, and believed your version of the events. For once, he has listened, and it means the world to you. So even if you try to not wince at the enthusiasm he lets out on the other end of the phone, a part of you is happy. It doesn’t matter if things don't go well, at least that would have pleased the billionaire, and you owe it to him, even if you couldn’t match his enthusiasm, too anxious for that.

For a second, you thought about changing your mind. Your fingers were a centimeter away from the interphone, but you haven’t rung the bell yet. It would be so easy to listen to your instinct that is screaming at you to run away. It would be so easy to break the promise you’ve made to Tony, he wouldn’t mind right? Yes, despite the disappointment, he would understand that you couldn’t do that. It was too early and too much. You shouldn’t even have taken that call, it is always a bad idea to trust a billionaire, especially when his last name is Stark.

The last time you’ve set foot in the Avengers Tower, it has been two years ago. You haven’t seen them since, only their pictures in the news. One time, you’ve thought about going to one of those press conferences they hold sometimes, but you knew you wouldn’t be welcome — Maybe they even added your name to the list of bans. You aren’t welcome anywhere near them, they made it clear when they threw you away.

It is as if all the years spent by their side have been erased. Even the world seems to have forgotten your name. It is almost as if you have never been a part of the Avengers, as if you’ve never existed, and it was just something you mind made.

Maybe it’s for the best, you thought.

Yet, here you are. In front of the building you left years ago, promising to yourself that you’ll never come back in here. That day, you felt so humiliated that you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t add the shame to crawl back at their feet, begging for their forgiveness. No, no matter how bad you were craving to throw yourself in their arms, you won’t. Never, ever. Except that, sometimes, circumstances change, and you find yourself unable to refuse your friend’s crazy invitation, despite the dangerousness of his plan.

“Pl- please, ‘tasha, let me ex~,” you were begging the woman. It wasn’t your kind but exceptional situations call for exceptional reactions, and the one you found yourself in certainly was.

Tears aren’t your style either, nor it’s Natasha’s. Yet, both of your cheeks are stained with them, your eyes reddened. She is angry, and you are frustrated. She is full of hatred, and you are full of despair. But, today, something broke in both your hearts.

“Shut up,” she said firmly, not giving you a chance to explain yourself. She didn’t want to hear a word from your bullshit. None of them want to. “You’ve lost the right to call me that way,” she added, spitting every one of those hate-filled words in your face, “honestly, you’ve even lost the right to talk to me. I don’t want to hear your voice or to see your face ever again. Did I make myself clear?” she yelled. You would have never thought that she could speak to you in such an angry, hateful tone, and yet, here you are.

She has, indeed, made her intentions clear. When you came home, you found your clothes scattered on the pavement in front of the tower. She hasn’t waited for your explanations before deciding to throw all your belongings away. You were quick to follow them, you barely stepped into the building that she was here to drag you out of the building.

You have never seen your loved one in such a state. She isn’t even acknowledging your pleas for her to slow down, or at least to loosen her grip on your arm. But she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care anymore if you were hurt, or if you were stumbling on your feet — If she had to drag you out by the hair, she would do it without hesitating.

The Natasha that was scared she could hurt you was long gone. She wasn’t the one that swore to protect you anymore, you’ve seen in her gaze that the promises she made no longer stand. She has a stern, harsh expression painted on her face, and it was your fault. She hadn’t hit you, not yet, but you could still feel how her nails are digging into your skin, leaving a mark that will stay for days. It is a reminder of what you’ve lost that day, not that you could forget.

A second later, you collide with concrete. She throws you on the ground, alongside your belongings, with all the strength she has — And she is a former russian spy, so she’s got plenty. The force of the gesture causes you to stumble over your own feet and fall, scraping your hands and knees in the process. You don’t even try to get up. Dejected, you remain on the ground, barely daring to turn around to see her one last time.

“Don’t you dare to come back, you are not welcome here anymore,” she said before walking away, and disappearing behind the doors of the tower. You wanted to say something but the words didn’t come out, nothing you could say felt right.

It is the last time you’ve seen her, and as pitiful as it is, you have long cherished this last contact with the redhead. No matter how violent and hateful it has been, it was still the last time you’ve touched the love of your life, and you missed it the moment she let go of your arm. Her, and her touch. Despite everything, despite the years, you still needed her presence by your side, and it doesn’t matter if your relationship has to be brutal, you are ready to accept anything if it means being close to her for a few more days.

The rest of the team stayed here until you left. Your eyes met theirs, pleading them to at least say something, but you didn’t get the help you were looking for, their hatred toward you matching Natasha’s. Clint, Steve and Sam, they are all people that you thought were your friends, except they didn’t hesitate a second before siding with the redhead.

Steve has been the first one to leave, almost running after the woman. Before they disappear in the elevator, you’ve caught his hand resting on her shoulder. You should be the one to touch her like that, the one to hold and comfort her, but this right has been taken from you, and maybe you deserve it. You broke the trust she put in you, one that she doesn’t grant easily.

You’ve always known it was a bad idea. In fact, since the moment he suggested that you should come to Natasha’s birthday, you’ve had a bad feeling about it. He thought that it would help you, knowing that you had been living in isolation since you’ve left the team, and a part of you believed him. The same part that never stopped hoping that things could go back to the way they were.

Until today.

If there is something you’ve learned from that experience, it’s that things will never be as they were because it’s nothing more than a pipe dream. The past two years, you have continuously dreamed about that moment, when you would eventually see her again. You’ve even made up a whole apology speech, one that would erase all your mistakes, and if it’s not enough, then maybe you would have begged them until they forgive you — Promises be damned. In any case, it would have ended with a hug with Natasha, a happy reunion after all those years spent apart.

Except that none of that happened, because reality isn’t fiction, and you don’t deserve a happy ending. To be fair, you could have never imagined that the reunion would go like this, that you wouldn’t even be able to exchange a word with them because they had no idea that you were here. You couldn’t have imagined that the barriers you have built over the last few years would crumble the moment you set foot in the tower that once was your home.

The tears were streaming down your face, hidden behind that ridiculous mascot costume Tony had forced you to wear. He assured you that it was all part of his plan, the one that’s supposed to make everything better, but honestly, you’ve never felt so ridiculous and pitiful than when you put on that costume that’s supposed to look like a cartoon version of Natasha. That is the genius idea Tony’s came up with a few weeks ago ; having you wear a suit so that you could attend Natasha’s birthday party without anyone knowing.

You thought that you were strong enough to face them, but it turned out that you weren’t. There is nothing that hurts more than realizing you are nothing more than a stranger in your own house. An intruder, that’s exactly what you are. You should enjoy the moment, but you can’t, your heart races, fearing they could guess you’re the one behind the costume.

You were watching them from the corner of the terrace where you found refuge after giving them a little show, and you noticed that all of them, without exception, had a bright smile on their faces. You should be glad that they overcame the difficulties of life, right?

Then why is the only thing you are feeling agonizing jealousy?

Because you were slowly realizing that things changed after you left them, and maybe it was for the best. That’s what you’ve heard them saying in an interview they held a few months after your departure — “Yes, the team has undergone some changements, and we believe it’s for the best” — and maybe they were right, because you don’t remember seeing them being so peaceful in the past. They never clearly said that you’ve been banned from the team, nor they talked publicly about the events that lead to your departure, but people weren’t stupid, they guessed that it was because of something you did.

All days are the same since.

You wake up early, but it’s not the sign of a healthy life, only of a light sleep that is disturbed by the slightest noise and glint of sunlight. The thought of a new day only makes you sigh, what’s the point when every day is the same? They are all filled with loneliness and misery, and you are not sure you have the strength to deal with that, so you don’t move an inch, waiting for the night to come again.

Sometimes, you get out of the bed you’ve been rotting in, but it’s not before you are so hungry that your whole body is uncontrollably shaking. That's the only time you leave the darkness of your flat, when you go to that small shop at the end of the street to get something to eat. You would buy anything and everything here, but especially junk food that can be eaten quickly. Most of the time, it’s PastaBox or anything with chocolate, the papers piling up in the kitchen as the days go by, but you’ve never had the heart to take down the overflowing bin.

Waking up, rotting in bed, eating a bit if you are really hungry, going back to rot in your bed, then crying until Morpheus comes to get you, that’s now what your days are.

It’s a strange situation. You have mourned people before, but never someone who’s still alive, never your whole life, never yourself. You are still alive. You know it because you are still breathing and your heart is beating, but it feels like you are not anymore. You don’t even want to cry anymore, you are just laying here, waiting for something to happen, anything. Maybe death. Maybe it’ll eventually come for you, and that moment will be the sweetest. It would be a relief, and not only for yourself.

You don’t want to think about the fact that it may not be. What would be the point in suffering if it’s not to get a threat at the end? The possibility that nothing will come after that life feels unfair, and scary. When you are not finding comfort in your death, you are looking for it by imagining a universe where your life with Natasha wouldn’t have ended that way, where none of that happened.

These are the thoughts that lull you to sleep every night, but the next day, when you wake up, the ache in your heart is back. It never seems to fade away, the pain being as strong as it was on the first day. If anything, it got worse. You are aware that every day that passes takes you further away from those ideals, dashing your hopes of getting your old life back. Your despair grew as you realized that all you were doing was pulling away from the love of your life, and there was nothing you could do to get her back.

What is going to happen when you’re going to forget about how it feels being close to her?

What if you forget everything? Her voice, smile, and the smell of her clothes?

The few times you are getting out of your apartment, you are walking with your head down, hiding behind the hood of your sweatshirt, and today isn’t an exception. The weather isn’t that cold, but the collar of your sweatshirt is still up to your chin, leaving only your eyes for the world to see. The ones that are fixed to your feet, avoiding to look around.

You used to do that to avoid paparazzi and insistent fans the days you were too tired to interact with the world, but you are now doing it to avoid problems. Your face and name have been all over the news after, and not for good reasons. People had no idea what had really happened, but their imaginations had no trouble imagining the worst and spreading rumors. It has been years, but the world still hasn't forgiven you for things you’ve never done.

In a few days, the way people see you changed drastically. You went from being one of the country’s greatest heroes to being canceled. The smiles turned into hateful looks, compliments into insults, and although no one has tried to hit you, you prefer to keep a low profile. The fall has been painful, but it isn’t surprising.

How could you expect strangers to believe you when even your oldest friends didn’t?

You have never been their favorite anyway, and you are perfectly aware of that. You are not a former spy, nor are you a genius or an enhanced human. You have nothing special, and the world knows your name only because of your teammates. It’s not a big surprise that they prefer them, and decided to side with the real Avengers.

But maybe they’re right. Maybe things are better that way, because you are not sure you deserve being loved. What you’ve tried to say to ‘tasha is true, you can’t remember what happened that night — At least, not the details that matters —, and that is the worst in your situation. The doubt creeping inside of you, and the guilt mixed with the frustration because you're as likely to be innocent as guilty.

Did you do it?

Did you cheat on her for real?

You are walking as fast as you can, only wanting to get home as quickly as possible, shaking your head in an attempt to get rid of those poisonous thoughts. You didn’t stay long at the party, barely half an hour has elapsed before you decided that you had enough. At least you’ve seen her blowing the candles, even if you left without saying a word to the woman. The thought crossed your mind for a second before you decided it was safer not to break the peace she had built up.

She deserves to be happy, even if it means that you are not a part of her life anymore.

The only trace of your passage that you have left is a black box. You have hesitated to leave it on the pile of gifts, as she would know it was from you, but it didn’t feel right to keep for yourself the gift you were supposed to give her two years ago. It isn’t yours. You wished you could have stayed longer, just to see her reaction when she opens the box, just to see her smile one last time, to make her smile one last time before saying goodbye forever.

That night, you’ve been crying uncontrollably, and so did you the following days until you have no more tears to shed. Gladly, thanks to Fury, you have a bed to spend your days in. The man has been kind enough to pay for your rent until things get back to normal — That’s the promise he has made to you, that he will quickly find a solution.

A new place for you to work at, in another country, far from everything you’ve known, where you weren’t hated by everyone: that’s the solution he came up with. “The furthest you are from the Avengers, the better it is. At least for a few months, we need things to calm down,” he told you that day, and you agreed. Not that you had a choice because if you had, maybe you would’ve said no. But there was no choice but to accept to leave everything you’ve ever known behind you — Your family, your friends, your memories.

Did you for real?

That story is sticking to your skin, and the memories to your mind. Whenever you are going, people are glancing at you, and you are sure it’s because they know. Whenever you are going, all you can see is a glimpse of your past, ghosts that are haunting your present. The world will never forget, nor forgive your mistakes, and you understand them, because you don’t think you can either.

Every morning, when you wake up, it is the first thing you are thinking about. Every night, when you are about to sleep, it is the last one, until it becomes an obsession. Except it didn’t give you your memories back. The opposite has even happened, your mind confusing what you remember with what you've been told, trying to fill the gaps.

At one point, you were so desperate that you almost asked Fury, or Tony, if they didn’t have some technology that could help you to recover your memories. You’ve even thought about asking Wanda, but it was impossible to reach the woman, and maybe it’s for the best. You can’t deny that a part of you is scared of what you might find. You’ve once read that, sometimes, the brain keeps some memories away for a good reason — It is a response to trauma.

But for you, you were sure it was alcohol. You don’t remember how many drinks you had that night, but probably a lot if you can’t remember how the evening ended. The last thing you remember is talking with Astrid, one of your colleagues from SHIELD that invited you for a drink. The next time you remember is when you wake up in that motel. From the moment you opened your eyes, everything happened so fast.

You couldn’t take your eyes out of the pictures which were hung up all over the offices, you even kept some of those. But they are the worst. The thing you can see on those, the two of you in that stupid bed, her kissing your throat, and even more, it feels so foreign. Your brain refuses to accept that you are the one in the pictures. Yet, it's undeniable proof of what you've done that night.

You are so lost that it hurts your brain.

Sometimes, you wish that someone was here. Anyone that would take your hand, and guide you through this story. Most of the time, you imagine that it’s her, Natasha. That she is here, holding you in her arms, whispering in your ears that everything is going to be okay, exactly as she used to do.

Then, you realize that she is not here, and everything crumbles again.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0

#a spes writing #devious lies #reader insert #natasha romanoff x reader #mcu fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff angst #angst without comfort #mcu women #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #anon request

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 6 months ago

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the tortured poets department

a story told in multiple parts

vi x reader

Info Post

Moodboards

Next Part

Contains: college au, dark/light academia, writer reader, singer reader, neurodivergent/autistic reader (i’m autistic so i’m writing from my own experiences), sporty vi, hockey player vi, big sister caitlyn, best friend ellie williams, roommate ellie williams, will contain other familiar characters you know and love as well as some potential ocs. no use of y/n, reader does have a name because it’s just easier for me to write that way 🖤 ALSO- Jayce is aged down because I want him to be 😌

WC: 4.5k

TW: talk of severe mental illness and brief mention of psychiatric facilities

A/N: chapter one is officially live! if you’re just stumbling across this and haven’t checked the main info post yet please do for more info! hope you enjoy! 🖤

part I

you’re on your own, kid

Whenever most people got acceptance letters to Oxford they were ecstatic, elated, overjoyed. Somehow whenever I got mine all I felt was a sense that I had failed. It was a juxtaposition of course, it was always expected from my family that I attend the same university they had and every other generation before them had. So in a way I had done the opposite, just maybe not in the right order, and a hefty amount of rejection letters in my midst. Including the one currently being held in my shaky hand right now.

Ms. Kiramman,

Thank you for submitting your manuscript to our publication house. Unfortunately right now we are unable to offer you an opportunity for further publication.

“Please, they wouldn’t know good literature if it hit them in the face.” Caitlyn scoffed from her spot next to me as the student shuttle jostled us in our row of seats.

“Is every other publication house that denied me unable to recognize good literature as well?” I whispered from where my cheek stayed pressed to her shoulder.

I know what a lot of you were probably thinking at first glance, but Caitlyn was a good big sister. She was harsh, severely left brained, exactly everything our parents wanted in a child, and quite possibly the polar opposite of me. But in all honesty she was my best friend. My biggest supporter whenever my parents weren’t. It was her who had harassed all of those literary agents to even get me the chance to submit my works to publication houses in the first place because I was too scared to do it. And it was I who failed every single time.

“Yeah actually, they are. Honestly Mills, there’s so much trash in modern day poetry right now you might be better off.” She sighed, reaching a hand over to click my phone off slowly as the shuttle rumbled to a stop. “This is you!” She tried to plaster on a fake cheery voice with a pat on my back as if to get me to finally lift my head where my cheek was already an irritated red for being hid in her sweater.

“I still don’t get why you couldn’t just let Ellie and I take the extra room in that big student house you just moved into.” I huffed, lifting a hand to readjust my glasses before rising up to my feet and reaching for one of the suitcases carelessly tossed on one of the adjacent rows of seats.

“Because lovey, you need to make some of your own friends. This is uni, Millie, we’re both in completely different colleges and I just- I don’t want you to get too lonely.” She frowned, glancing back at me as she rolled the other suitcase behind her. “You guys don’t wanna room with a bunch of upperclassmen anyways.”

“I do have my own friends, I have Ellie.”

“As much as she is a great roommate, friends besides Ellie, it’s good to have more than just two whole people on campus to talk to.” Caitlyn pressed on just before striding towards the entrance, leaving me feeling like I needed to speed walk just to keep up given the fact she was nearly a foot taller as well.

The student apartments were definitely nicer than the usual underclassman dorms. In all honesty I really should’ve been grateful, it was just another luxury of being a Kiramman. Whenever your parents paid for half of the buildings on campus you usually got better accommodations. Not that either of them originally liked the idea of me even rooming with Ellie. A loudmouthed foreign exchange student from America I met during another one of those incredibly expensive wellness retreats my parents sent me on to see if they could find a ‘cure’ for what was actually just a heavy amount of autism and severe ADHD.

The only person who really seemed to understand that there wasn’t one and it was just simply who I was was Caitlyn. To a degree as much as she could at least. Sometimes though I could tell she forgot.

“I think Ellie said she beat us a while ago.” She chimed in as we approached the door decorated with a slightly chipped gold number.

“She got here early because of hockey stuff.” I answered, already bouncing on the balls of my feet to see how she had managed to make the flat into a sea of chaos already. She wasn’t exactly the cleanest person, luckily her energy seemed to mesh with mine easily enough though.

“Oh! You never mentioned she made the hockey team! I know a few girls on the team you could probably talk to.” She shot a hopeful smile back at me before lifting a fist to knock on the door.

It swung open before she could even make a second tap to reveal a frazzled looking Ellie haphazardly clutching a hockey stick. “Thank God you’re here! I was trying to practice my swing and- fuck, we are so not getting that deposit back, Millie.”

“Oh dear god.” Caitlyn cursed, already wincing in dread before stepping through the door into the messy flat. “I’m sure our dad can- do something. What did you manage to break and why on earth did you decide practicing your swing indoors was a good idea?”

“For your information I didn’t break anything! There’s just a- tiny dent in the wall.”

I hummed a bit to myself as I stepped over the plethora of unpacked bags currently covering the floor. “It’s definitely more than tiny.” I chimed in as I poked at the noticeable dent in the drywall.

Caitlyn released a long and heavy breath and shook her head, as if to try and keep herself from making her own dent in the wall. “It’s totally fine. I’ll just- say that it was there whenever you guys moved in!” She shrugged with another anxious clear of her throat as she pulled my luggage in behind her. “Which room is free, Els?”

“Oh, I gave her the room in the front. I know she likes it dark and the lighting in there sucks.” Ellie answered as she shuffled off behind us. “There is one window in there that can get pretty killer in the mornings.”

I tensed a bit at the sight of the double window facing towards the bed. Yet another one of the aggravating little quirks that came with my neurodivergency, light sensitivity. As far as I could remember I always preferred the darkest of places. And now Caitlyn was cursing again, rushing towards me to take my hands into her own as if I was already on the verge of panic.

“It’s okay- I can get you a pair of a blackout curtains asap and you know how dreary it is in Oxford anyways-“

“Caity- it’s fine. I’m not going to have a meltdown over a window.” I interrupted her ramble with a shake of my head. Sometimes I felt like she still thought I was that same teenage girl that didn’t have a handle on her emotions. Not that I was far from it exactly. Now I was just an almost 20 year old girl who had a slight hold on her emotions. That’s what the writing was for.

Her eyes still held the same amount of concern though, getting that same little crinkle in between her brows as she nodded. “Okay, I’m still getting you blackout curtains though.”

“They’ll definitely be appreciated.” I said with a forced tiny smile.

“Well, I really wish I could stay and help you unpack but I have a meeting with the Brooks Society and everything but… I really do hope I’ll see you both tonight at the pub for fresher’s week?” She grinned hopefully once more as she squeezed the life out of my hands.

“Oh, I-I don’t know. We’ve barely settled in and-”

“I’m down.” Ellie chimed in from behind me as she trotted back into the door frame. “I’m gonna be relishing in the fact I finally don’t need a fake.”

“Ellie…” I groaned as I shot her a glare over my shoulder.

“What? Mills, it’s the first day of fresher’s week, we might as well be committing a crime by not going out tonight!” She exclaimed with a dramatic throw of her hands in the air.

“It’s true, and as much as I would love to keep you away from my degenerate friends, well, it might be good for you.” Caitlyn agreed with another casual shrug.

“You’re not gonna give me a choice, are you?” I questioned causing her to shoot a knowing look towards Ellie over my shoulder.

“Probably not.” She answered before stealing a look down at the expensive watch wrapped around her wrist. “Well, I’ve gotta go but… you’ll text me if you need anything, right? I don’t want you to feel like you can’t because of what I said earlier because you always can I just-“

“Caity- it’s fine. I’m fine, I promise. I- I’ll see you tonight.” I stammered in hesitation, and I’d definitely be hearing about it later. But luckily right now she seemed willing to just let things go.

“Okay, good… great. Now- get in here, pipsqueak!” She exclaimed, the familiar nickname she had been calling me since she hit her growth spurt and I yet to do so making me roll my eyes as she pulled me into a tight hug. One of those sisterly hugs I always clung onto a bit longer. Ever since I was younger no place had felt safer than Caitlyn. And in so many ways sometimes I looked at her as being more than a mom than our actual mom. I knew I needed to find other safe places though. “I love you, you know that right? I promise. This is going to be a good thing.”

“I love you too, Caity.” I sighed softly as I felt her lips press to the top of my head before the two of us pulled away.

“Els, take care of my baby sister or else I’ll have your head on a stick? Got it?”

“Crystal?” Ellie finally spoke up again with wide eyes as her hand made the ‘okay’ symbol.

“Good.” Caitlyn spoke before trotting back off towards the front door, “I’ll see you both tonight and send you the details.” And with a charming smile she was headed out.

Ellie instantly let out a shiver the moment the door closed. “Has anyone ever told you that your sister’s scary as fuck?”

“Many times.” I answered simply just in time to see Ellie’s face fall ever so slightly.

“So, I’m guessing it was a no from the latest publication house?”

“How could you guess?” I frowned as I slumped against the wall like I was going to resign myself to the floor.

“You had that aire of discouraged defeatism whenever you walked in.” She explained as she sidled up to me. “Cheer up, Mills, modern poetry is so cringeworthy nowadays you might be better off going for songwriting anyways.” She added as she gently rubbed at my clothed arms.

“If I can’t even get a publication house to take me seriously then what makes you think I can actually get a songwriting deal?” I spoke as I finally pushed myself off of the wall.

“One of the most popular songs out right now literally has the lyrics, ‘that’s that me, espresso’ in it.” She rolled her eyes a bit to herself as she finally knelt down to grab the bags she had still yet to unpack.

“No Sabrina Carpenter slander in this apartment, Williams. You know I’m an OG. And I can relate to desperation.” I frowned in embarrassment as I crossed my arms across my chest.

“Yeah yeah yeah, come and help me unpack, will you? Maybe we can find you something to wear tonight.”

“What’s wrong with what I have on?” I exclaimed almost in mild offense as I gestured towards the outfit that definitely had been hastily picked out. But it wasn’t like it wasn’t cute- ish at least.

“Nothing, but care bear sweaters and leggings seems more like a comfy day outfit than a ‘going out to the pub’ outfit.”

“I thought it was going to be a comfy day until you completely blew my cover!”

“Sorry babe, but I agree with your scary as fuck sister on this one. You need to get out more. Experience the pleasures of fresher’s week and you can take that in any way you want!” She shot a wink over her shoulder as she made her way down the skinny hallway to kick open her own door where a brutal floor to ceiling window already angrily cast its light on the room causing me to flinch.

“We could always pretend to be girlfriends again if you want people to leave you alone in a, you know, romantic way.” Ellie added as she rushed across the room to pull the curtains shut and pat the empty space on her bed. Probably the only time it’d actually be made all semester.

“Nah, if we do that too many times people will know we’re lying so best not to even start.” I answered as I took a seat on the side of her bed.

“Well if that’s the case, how does this shirt look with… this flannel? What do you think? Chick magnet?” She grinned before whipping out a red and black checkered flannel from the mostly empty closet and pulling it on over the basic black band tee she already wore with a flourish.

“Maybe if they’re emo?” I said with a little shrug as I scanned the band logo on her t-shirt causing her to groan in defeat.

“Still… somehow… always chronically bitchless.” She voiced before plopping down on the squeaky university issued beds. Though we were at least lucky enough to have double beds, it definitely wouldn’t leave anything to the imagination if either of us decided to do any nsfw activities in them. Somehow I didn’t feel like we’d have that problem though.

“Shush, you’re not chronically bitchless. You have me!” I teased as I gave her shoulder a playful shove where she dramatically flopped onto her back.

“So bitchless then?” She reiterated with a lifted brow as she glanced over at me.

“At least you’ve actually managed to kiss a girl once or twice.” I scowled as I inched over onto my side. Already catching myself pulling closer towards her.

“Just so we’re clear, I did offer.”

“Yeah, only to get your first kiss out of the way.” I scoffed, though I curled up to her either way. Closing my eyes as I placed my head on her chest I hadn’t realized how tired I had felt in the past 24 hours. They had been rough, a sea of anxiety and those exact meltdowns that Caitlyn was afraid of me having and her not being there to talk me down from.

“And? The offer never stopped standing.” She spoke just before I could feel her arms wrapping around me.

“Good to know, Els, I’ll let you know if I ever need to get a pity kiss from my best friend.”

“Oh shut up, it’s not a pity kiss. It’s me doing you a solid.” She remarked, as she nudged my foot with her leg. “You manage to get any sleep last night?” She wondered just before letting her hands trace soothing circles on my back. I only shook my head as I felt the sting behind my eyes before I could even take any steps to stop it. The way you felt whenever you were already on the verge all day and someone finally asks if you’re okay. Curling my fingers into her flannel the annoying tears already soaked into the fabric of her shirt. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

A shake of my head only followed, I didn’t know how to put anything into words really. How to explain to people that just wouldn’t understand no matter how much they meant well and wanted to. How was someone even supposed to explain the fact that you were one of the most celebrated families of the most prestigious university in England yet somehow you still felt like the only person who didn’t belong here sat on top of a mountain of rejection letters? Perhaps you could rather easily. But to actually say the words ‘I’m pretty sure I only got in because I’m a Kiramman’ were a whole different story. It’s why I took all those years off in the first place. I wanted to delay the inevitable of my dad paying off the admissions directors again while staring at me with the level of disappointment he never had to with Caitlyn.

I hadn’t even realized the simple tears had turned into full out sobs until I heard Ellie’s gentle shush from above me and her arms holding me even tighter to her chest as she did so. “You’re gonna be okay, Mills. I promise. We’re gonna be just fine.”

I hadn’t even noticed I had dozed off until my eyes cracked open again, noticeably faced away from the window and tucked underneath Ellie’s covers. My glasses sat propped up on her bedside dresser already casting a noticeable blur of the world around me. Meanwhile hushed voices seemed to speak from out in the hallway, walls much too thin to hide the noise.

Fighting back a yawn I shoved myself up onto my elbow to wipe at my dysfunctional eyes before stretching a hand out to pluck my glasses from the nearby table. Though I only jumped as the door was pushed open and Caitlyn’s tall figure popped up into view. “Hey pipsqueak, Ellie told me you weren’t feeling the best after I left.” She said carefully as she grabbed my glasses to hand them over.

“I wished she wouldn’t have.” I grumbled as I slid them onto my face only to hug my knees to my chest and glue my eyes to the bedsheets below.

“Why not? Isn’t that exactly what I told you to do? Mills, I would’ve stayed-”

“But- I-I don’t wanna keep you from your responsibilities anymore, Caity!” I exclaimed with a frustrated groan, already digging at my eyes again while my head only throbbed from the aftermath. “I don’t want you to have to tell this really important college society that you can’t be there for your obligations because your mentally ill sister needs you to rescue her again!”

“You are my responsibility, Amelia!” She snapped, the use of my rarely spoken full name making me wince as she pointed a stern finger at me. “You will always be my number one priority because I’m your big sister and it’s my job to protect you, no matter what. And I don’t care what kind of deep shit I get into with the criminology department, okay? Because you come first, always!”

I tried to gulp back the same pathetic tears, but it turns out after you cry yourself to sleep for the millionth time maybe there really is a limit. “I didn’t miss anything, did I?” I spoke up after a moment of silence, feeling Caitlyn’s arm stretch around my shoulder as she took the spot next to me.

“No, but I did do some thinking and if you really don’t wanna go then I don’t wanna pressure you.” She frowned, almost looking down in mild guilt until I leaned my head against her shoulder.

“No… I do. I wanna go and make friends and new experiences and- t-try to be normal.”

“Lovey, you are normal. It’s the world that isn’t.” Caitlyn frowned as she leaned her head against mine. Thankfully she only hesitated a moment though before she cleared her throat and spoke again, “If you wanna go though we should probably start getting ready. If you want me to help you?”

“Maybe you can help me figure out what to wear? And do my hair in those little braids with the clips? And help me with my eyeliner?”

Caitlyn snickered a bit as I lifted my head from her shoulder. “The eyeliner might be a little tricky but I can certainly try. Are you forgetting the prom incident where I quite literally gave you an eye infection?”

“That was definitely just because of the glitter.” I shrugged before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and finally pushing myself up to my feet.

“The eyeliner pen straight to the cornea certainly didn’t help.” She reiterated.

Despite the various complications of having two not at all femme lesbians help me get ready though, I don’t think I looked too terrible afterwards. I had settled on a simple black dress that fell just above the knee with little bows sat atop the straps. English autumns could either be comfortable or frigid though and the current temperature definitely wasn’t comfortable so Ellie tossed me one of her blue flannels to wear over top. Of course claiming it’d be a calling card for all of the hot lesbians, if they didn’t assume we were together first.

Calling the pub a ‘pub’ in an of itself was definitely generous. Besides the one or two older people having their relaxing evening out ruined by the loudmouthed 18+ filling the joint it felt more like a club than anything. Music blasted from the speakers as we stepped inside, Caitlyn on one side with a protective arm around my shoulders and Ellie on the other who looked more and more like she was never returning to America by the second.

Caitlyn immediately dragged us downstairs where most of the students had taken over. It wasn’t hard to figure out which group of friends were hers. It was the largest one, who had currently swallowed the entire center of the room it seemed filling up leather stools and couches with red decorative pillows. “Oi! Cait! Over here!” A familiar voice echoed from the large group, popping his head over everyone and waving the lot of us over.

“Jayce? I thought he finished his masters last year.” I tried to speak over the noise where Caitlyn wrinkled her nose in response.

“He did, guess the old man just can’t get enough of us.” She answered, giving my arm a comforting squeeze as she pulled me along beside her.

The group was probably the most eccentric lot I had ever seen as we approached the cluttered table. Covered in empty and full beer bottles and other fruity drinks along with half burnt out cigarettes. A spread of tarot cards belonging to a skinny girl with the longest and brightest blue hair I had ever seen was currently being scooped up as well causing my eyes to widen in curiosity. A chorus of Caitlyn’s name followed as usual, the usual life of the party whenever I wasn’t there and she didn’t have to babysit. I had almost managed to successfully tune most of the chaotic noise out though until I heard my name followed by the tightening of Caitlyn’s arm around my shoulders once more.

“Lads, this is my baby sister, Amelia. Treat her well or else I’ll kill you slowly and painfully.” She said with a little grin just as a stool was pulled out from where a pink haired individual sat manspreading on the plush couch.

“Have a seat, cupcake, we don’t bite.” The girl smirked as she sat forward almost curiously. Also an American.

“I especially mean that towards you, Vi.” Caitlyn’s expression morphed into a glare as she watched me cautiously lower myself onto the seat like it was going to give out below me any second. “Oh, and this is Ellie- Ellie Williams. Also a fresher. Ellie, Mills, this is… Jinx, Ekko, Jesse, Dina, you obviously know Jayce, Abby-”

“Bitch.” Ellie mumbled underneath her breath causing my eyes to widen for the thousandth time as she took the open seat next to me. “She totally knocked my lights out during practice today.”

“You have to have at least one light on to have them knocked out, Williams.” The muscular woman stated as she brought a glass of amber liquid up towards her mouth.

“Wow, didn’t realize hockey rivalries on the same team were a thing.” Caitlyn fought back a laugh as she went to take an empty seat of her own.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ellie grumbled a bit to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Williams? She yours?” Vi cleared her throat as she nodded in my direction.

“Who? Amelia? I-I mean I wouldn’t complain but we’re just friends.” She answered immediately causing Vi’s eyebrows to lift.

“So- no intense feelings you guys are harboring or anything?” She questioned again as she stole glances between the two of us.

“Unless there’s something she’s not telling me?” Ellie wondered with a lifted brow as she looked towards me as if in confirmation. And it was then I realized how tightly I was clutching onto her hand below the table.

It wasn’t as if the two of us hadn’t thought about it. It wasn’t as if I had spent a solid number of nights in her bed whenever things got really tough. Ultimately though we had decided what we had as best friends was far too intense or precious to fuck up over a relationship. And also just the sheer fact that dating somebody you met in a psychiatric facility disguised as a ‘wellness retreat’ was probably a bad idea.

“No, just best friends.” I answered in a small voice with a simple shrug.

“Okay, so you won’t mind if I buy her a drink then?”

“Careful Vi.” Caitlyn growled from her spot on the couch across from her.

“Ummm, can you buy me a song on the jukebox instead?” I asked, and to my surprise a series of impressed sentiments filled the table. My eyes only furrowed in confusion however as I peered towards Ellie or Caitlyn for help, “What?”

“Because Millie, that was smooth as fuck.“ Ellie answered almost drawing a little laugh from my end.

“Lucky for you, doll, I can buy you both.” Vi spoke as she held a bruised hand out for me to take.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel any butterflies blooming in my chest at her words. The feeling of my heart kickstarting as I placed my hand in hers and let her lead me towards the bar. Her hand was warm and rough in my own, calloused but not in the way Ellie’s were from the constant plucking on her guitar. They were calloused in a far more aggressive way. I should’ve known I was heading towards my own demise in that moment. Falling down a hole I’d lose myself entirely in. An electric pull on my heartstrings that kept me close to her.

Fuck, I should’ve known it was only the start.

A/N: I AM SOOOOO EXCITED TO GET THIS UP!!!! I wanna know all your thoughts!! Tell me everything!! I’m so so SO beyond excited to write more of this I’m screaming!!

Also- psa I know a ton of characters don’t talk/aren’t really in this one. I promise they will be further on! Just need to get an establishing shot first! 🖤

-> Next Part

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taylormarieee · 1 year ago

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Not so tough now huh? CRM!Rick

A/N: ok so I watched the first episode and I just felt the urge to write for him immediately. I couldn't resist... so here you sluts go! enjoy and happy reading!<33 This is also based on this moodboard made by the lovely @angelicalhqrt

Summary: You were tough but Rick was tougher and afterall, you were still just a horny girl...

Word count:2.0k

Pairing: crm!rick x fem!fighter!reader

Warnings: smut~fighting~sexual tension~readers tough but Ricks tougher~horny thoughts~lots of yearning and physical touch~PiV sex~unprotected sex~(wrap it b4 you tap it)~slight age gap { readers in her early 30s and Rick is mid 40s}

You and Rick didn't get along. Well, you guys got along but you didn't at the same time if that makes any sense at all.

You both couldn't stand each other yet always found yourselves around each other. It's like you were constantly drawn to him and as he was to you.

It seemed as if you guys had this mutual respect to leave each other alone but in this line of work, you guys were always around one another.

Especially now that Okafor has asked you and Rick to work together to re-shape the CRM. He wants the A's to be able to lead the CRM and change the way they do things. Lead the B's to stop being so scared.

Of course Rick was against it and was very confused. "I don't give a shit about this A's and B's shit Okafor. I'm not livin' here! I'm not happy here, I'm certainly not going to give my life for a place I can't leave. For a place and their bullshit secrets." He protests.

"Rick. You think you have a choice? Now that you joined and are no longer a consignee, I need you. You will do this because you shouldn't even be alive with how many times you've tried to escape. You and bullet over here are special assets to this plan and whether you like it or not, your doing this."

Bullet was the nickname he gave you because you shot at him and grazed his forehead after he tried to rescue you. You needed to get back to your sister, you didn't want to be taken by a strange man and taken to a strange secret city that no one knows about.

"Rick. Just stop fighting it. I learned to stop fighting it long time ago. We've been here for six years. It's time to let go. Whoever your trying to get to just forget it. There alive but in here we can die at the snap of Beales fingers. So please..." You plead looking at him with a stone cold face but a hint of sympathy and concern.

"Whatever." He says gruffly before listening to the rest of what Okafor was saying.

The next day you and Rick and all the other soldiers are training. Obviously yet again, you get partnered with Rick. Your spinning your knife in your hand as you look at him with a slight smirk on your face.

You lunged at him and he blocked it and when you tried again he turned you around and had his arm around your neck and your back to his chest. You feel his warm breath on your cheek.

Your wiggling against him and he grunts in your ear. You try to pry his hand off your neck and flip him over and down to the ground but it was true, he was tougher and much stronger than you.

He pushes you and lets you go. you stumble but turn around standing your ground and facing him with your knife in hand and fists up. You lunge back at him and cut his hand, the one that's still attached of course.

He groans and holds his wrist. "Fuck." He yells out and you smirk at him. "Wouldn't fighting be much easier if you didn't cut off your hand Mr. Grimes?" You say with a slight chuckle.

He quickly turns back and the punches you in your face. You stumble back and wipe the blood that's made its way to your lip.

"Wow. That was a hell of a good punch Grimes." You say smirking and licking your lips. "Thanks bullet." He says smirking at you with his signature look.

You roll your eyes and punch his chest and he tries to hit you again but your duck and serve him a nice right hook. He stumbles back and when you try to punch his face again he grabs your right fist and slowly brings it down twisting it and hurting your wrist.

When you try the other hand to catch him off guard he dodges it and knees you in your stomach before punching your ribs.

You cry out and he lets go of your hand as you grab at your side and stomach. You glare at him from your hunched over position and then you swiftly get down and swipe your leg under his making fall.

You get on top of him and punch him in the face. You see his nose bleeding and his cheek is starting to bruise. You punch once more before a guard yells at you enough.

You get off Rick and look around at everyone looking at you before you look back at Rick on the floor and you scoff before walking away and slamming the door as you walk out.

You take the wrappings aggressively off your hands as you walk to your room. 'At least you had rooms and comfy beds here', you thought.

Where you came from you had to make do with dusty comforters and blankets on the cold, hard floor of an old abandoned building.

At least you had your sister, now you have no clue where she is... Broken out of your thoughts you hear a knock on the door.

You ignore it the first time quietly muttering a go away. When the knocks happen again you groan and get up.

As you open the door your met with Rick pushing past you and rushing into your room.

He's got a patch on his eyebrow to close up his wound with the stitches and his cheekbone is now bruised a darker color then before. Even his hand is all bandaged up.

"What the hell was that huh? Why'd ya go all psyco on me? What did I do to you huh?" He says pacing the room as he thrashes his hands around.

"I did it... because I wanted to." You whisper as you step closer to him with a neutral look on your face. You were unfazed by his act at trying to intimidate you.

"Oh really huh?" He asks stepping real close to you. Suddenly you really notice how dark his eyes are.

Even in this piss poor lighting. He looked looming and scary. Your facade falters immediately as he backs you up against the door.

The tension in the room changing slightly from anger to something more intimate...more primal. It excited you yet scared you.

You really didn't know Rick like that at all. You don't know how crazy he is- I mean besides the fact he cut off his own hand.

Your thoughts began to drift at how he looks. His brown curls framing his face perfectly, his beard full, nice and clean with greys decorating it.

You looked at the outfit he was wearing. A tight black shirt that hugged his body in all the right places with black cargo pants.

He looked...hot. Intimidating.Sexy. Dominant...I mean there were many words to describe Rick. He brought something out of you that you didn't like. He made you excited and wet at the slightest touch.

This interaction bringing back memories to 3 days ago.

{Flashback}

"Rick! Wait up!" You call out to him.

He was walking down the street in his combat outfit.

"Wassup bullet?" He asked with that look in his eyes. 'God that look does things to me,' you thought.

He looked like he wanted to throw you against the wall and eat you.

"I-I wanted to say good luck out there. Okafor can be pushing and hard to deal with." You say with a closed lip smile.

He nods and looks you up and down before speaking, "Thanks for the luck. I assumed i'll be needin' it. Especially by you." He says smirking at you.

That's the moment you knew that he knew, that he knows he makes you nervous. He would make any girl nervous. Eyelashes fluttering at the sound of his rough southern drawl. Sounding all sexy and wise.

That deep voice and pretty smirk on his face. The way his eyes will trace your body and your face as if he's remembering every tiny detail about you like a robot.

You swallow hard and you swear he could hear your heart rapidly beating, 'God girl get it together!' You immediately nodded your head before walking off and leaving him to stand there.

He watched as you walked away all flustered and cute. He chuckled to himself as you looked back and watched him walk away now.

{end of flashback}

You look up at him as he looks down at you with a smirk. His head tilted slightly to the side.

"Whatcha thinking about sweetheart?" He asks with a smirk. You roll your eyes and scoff trying to act tough.

"Nothing Rick. Get out." You demanded as you pushed past him walking towards your bed.

You didn't notice he was silently following you and he ended up behind you with his crotch to your ass and his hands on your hips.

"Why don't you stop this tough act baby and lemme take you right here hmm mama? Would you like that instead? Fuck that attitude right outta ya?" He says in a low seductive voice.

Shivers ran down your back as he said that. His words repeating like a mantra in your head over and over again. You wanted so badly for him to take you right here.

"fuck, yea I want that real bad." You mutter and he smirks as he starts kissing your neck and behind you ear. He slides his pants down and rips his cock free from the bondage of his boxers.

He removes your pants leaving you in your panties. When he slowly removes your panties they reveal your soaked cunt.

"Fuck mama, your soaked." He says with a chuckle. You whimper and grind against him. "Please Rick...I need you i-inside." You whine.

He chuckles and without warning slides in. As much as he wants to tease you, he doesn't have the patience tonight. Maybe next time..

Just thinking about being able to fuck you like this again, his hips roughly thrusting into you as your eyes roll to the back of your head or cross at your nose made his cock twitch.

Just looking at your body exposed and vulnerable to him made his cock jump with excitement to be buried so deep inside you. He kissed and sucked at yor neck leaving hickies people will surely be asking about later.

He was proud to mark you up as his. You cry out and scream out as his cock brushes your cervix just right. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you shaking intensely when your orgasm rolled around.

"fuck Rick! I-I'm gonna c-cum Rick! Oh shit, please lemme cum!" You beg. He looked at you and pouted.

"You wanna cum babygirl? Hmm?" He asks tauntingly. You quickly shake your head yes as he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. "Words baby. I need words." He said moving his hand up your chest slowly to lightly grip your throat.

You moan out as you grab his arm and your eyes roll back before you mutter out a little, "Yes Rick! I'm gonna cum, please?" You beg again hoping he has mercy on you.

"I'll allow you to cum but next time I won't be so nice babygirl." He says before thrusting into you with such force it makes your headboard thump against the wall.

You didn't want a noise complaint but the way your oragsm ripped through you, you honestly couldn't care.

"oh fuck!" Rick grunts out before he quickly pulls out and jerks off. You quickly scoot down and open your mouth for him to cum all on your face and tongue. You moan in pleasure as his warm seed spills all on your face.

When you swallow the amount that went into your mouth, you smile at him before licking the rest of by using your finger to apply it in your mouth.

He groans at the sight and he lifts you up placing you neatly and softly on your bed. Your so drunk off his cock that when he goes to try and get a warm cloth for you you grab his arm stopping him.

"Please stay with me. I don't wanna be alone... not tonight." You whisper. He smiles and nods before crawling his way into bed with you rubbing soft circles on your waist as you drift of to sleep.

Taglist: @dustbunniess @dollyfl1rt @rickswh0r3 @sinsandsweetness @justjasminne @itzdarling @versatilehater @aerangi @2svnder @keiva1000 @prettyluhdavis@hutchersonsgurl @grimesuniversexx @liliesdiary @writella

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes #the walking dead #twd rick #rick grimes twd #rick x you #rick x y/n #rick x reader #rick grimes the walking dead

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cerisemerald · 9 months ago

Text

One and only — Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: She has been loving Thomas for a while now, and it is heaving on her the fact she thinks he still is in love with Grace — she needs a confession, a affirmation that she is not just filling in a gap. It comes in a unexpected night, followed by an unusual morning, but everything with Thomas was like that.

MUSIC: One and only by Adele

A/N: this is the second fic I am reposting from my old account (I accidentally deleted it) and it was from one of my celebrations (200 followers I think) that consisted of fanfics inspired by Adele’s songs from the album 21, this one was requested by a dear friend and it is very dear to me!! It happens between s1-s2, Thomas meets (Y/N) after grace leaves. Feedback is always welcomed!

WARNINGS: English is not my first language.

WORD COUNT: 5,477

[MASTERLIST] [MOODBOARD]

(divider credit is for @cafekitsune)

“Thomas,” she calls, staring at his back, but he doesn't answer, he continues to look at the field in front of them instead. “Thomas?”

“Hm?” He still doesn't look at her.

(Y/N) decides to finally walk to him, she does not stop in front of him though, sensing something was wrong and not wanting to disturb or annoy him somehow. She stops right behind Thomas, a step of distance between them, from this close she can see the tension in his shoulders better, and as much as she wishes to touch him and try to tranquillise him, she waits. He doesn't do anything, however, not even looks at her, and she sighs.

She looks at the field, too, trying to understand what is possibly happening in his head. But she has a strong guess, one she does not like at all. (Y/N) hates when Thomas lives more in his past than in his present life, for her, it was his biggest flaw; the way he was constantly living for memories and not for life itself. And she feels that now he is probably thinking about what happened two years ago, Grace.

(Y/N) does not care he is thinking of her, that she can understand, after all he did fall in love with her, it would not be easy, especially for Thomas who protected himself with so many walls, to forget the woman. She doesn't expect him to just stop thinking about Grace overnight, but it did hurt, sometimes, how it felt, as if she was living in the shadows of someone bigger than her. It had been Grace's mistake, but she was the one paying for it, paying for the mistakes of a woman she hadn't even met.

She also knew, of course, that it would take Thomas time to trust again, to open himself like he had before. She knew everything that revolved around a broken heart, she did, but knowing did not make anything easier to deal with. It was still hard to face Tommy and see how, even in his most present moments, a piece of him was lost. Sometimes, she would ask herself why she even stayed, when it seemed like Thomas would never love her the same way. But she did, returned to him every single time, hope, maybe, tying her to him.

“Tom, why’d you bring me here?”

Thomas had showed up in her house last night, surprising (Y/N) in the middle of the week. It was not how their encounters usually went, Thomas would see her mostly on weekends. Sometimes he would spend the night, sleep with her to leave only on Sunday morning, sometimes stay up until four pm, these nights they would dance in her kitchen while drinking whiskey. It was all simple, but what mattered was that they talked, that they would sit down to talk and would sooth each other. Everything between them was simple, even love, when it came to their realisations that they were in love. There hadn't been a confession, not from her nor from him, they had just looked at each other differently, held each other for longer, kissed with more passion than ever, and that was enough to understand.

But yesterday was very different. She could not understand what was happening, neither read it on his face. As soon as she opened the door, he was tense, eyes haunted — not like tiredness from work or exhaustion because of all his problems, but as if he had just heard terrible news and saw his world crumbling. When she greeted him with a kiss, he had not held her waist or face, and had returned the kiss distantly. Still, she breathed and let him in, hoping that she might help somehow. He didn't talk much, short answers only, but it was like he needed the attention, needed her to listen to him, so she did. After sometime, she had run out of ideas to console him and offered for them to share a meal together, and for the first time since they had known each other, he ate something. Almost unnerving, but she was so relieved that she chose to see that as a good sign. After that, Thomas just sat in silence while she cleaned the plates.

When (Y/N) finished, she turned around to see he was sitting still at the table, eyes closed, breathing like he was trying to control himself. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to hold back tears or a scream, whatever it was, it was consuming him, drowning him in anguish. (Y/N) moved slowly, getting closer to him and delicately grabbing his hand. Then she whispered his name like a secret, like she was afraid of being caught saying that, because, in truth, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Tommy to hear it or not.

But Thomas did, and he squeezed her hand like his life depended on it, returning the touch with such a force it took her aback. It was not like he never touched her, or that he didn’t show any sign of affection such as holding her hand, but that touch was different. It was acid, burning (Y/N)'s skin in seconds and leaving a million scars behind. Thomas touched her like she was the only one capable of saving him.

It was scary. It was exhilarating. It was a breath of heaven’s pure oxygen. It was suffocating as the smoke on a fire. And it was only a touch of hand.

But it said so many things, it said that he wanted her there, that he actually needed her there. And she was happy with being wanted, but being needed was something she could not even describe, it was overwhelming. It took (Y/N)’s breath away. It made her forget everything else she needed to do, because Thomas was there, all of him, in her kitchen, holding her hand and asking her to be there for him.

With care, she walked until she was behind him, her arms adjusting perfectly in his neck, allowing his head to find a rest in her belly, it was not often Thomas would let her be the one embracing him. Usually, he would be more vulnerable after they would have an entire night together, and he would lay down between her legs and relax on her chest while she caressed him. (Y/N) started to caress his hair, gently as she could, and she noticed that with time, Thomas was melting to her touch, a small smile grew on her lips, but she kept quiet. It was the first time she felt like she could have every single piece of him with her. He sighed as she took some strands of his face, inclining his head even more.

Thomas opened his eyes suddenly, and because of his moving, they were now staring right at each other. Her heart sank with what she could see, his eyes were dark and tired, hurt. Still, she didn't say anything, knowing it had to be him the one to initiate any type of conversation about what was happening, she only kept caressing his hair. After some seconds, he reached for her left hand and kissed it, making her smile again, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, and she understood that it was his way of saying thank you. And, in a way, showing that he liked being near her like that. Although he seemed more calm, it didn't look like he would talk, and it was obvious how tired he was, so instead of asking anything, (Y/N) offered for them to sleep. He nodded, and they were quick to go to bed, a simple, but genuine kiss as a good night.

In the morning, he had all of a sudden woken her up with kisses on her neck — like last night hadn’t been so different, saying he wanted to take her somewhere. And yet, even though it was his idea to bring her, he hadn’t spoken since they got in here.

“I haven't come here in a long time.” He finally says something, making (Y/N) stare at him again. “My father…” Thomas takes a time to complete his sentence, “my father used to bring us here, sometimes, I hunted with him one day.”

“Hunted what?”

“A deer,” Thomas smirks, finally directing his look at her.

“You still didn’t answer me.” Thomas smirks only grows bigger at her words. “Why did you bring me here, Thomas?”

He keeps staring at her, she can’t tell everything he is thinking, but that he wants to say something and the words are hard to say, she is sure.

“I don’t know.” He confesses, and (Y/N) could have believed it if it wasn't for the hint of doubt in his tone, as if he didn't want to tell all the truth, but at the same time, didn't know all of it too.

She breathes deeply, she is trying really hard to understand him, she has been for quite some time, but he never truly gives her the chance. “It's that so?”

Thomas and her stare at each other for long seconds, it's not a battle this time, it's not her trying to reach him and him running away, (Y/N) feels as if she is already inside, but can't see what it is, and how could she? When he showed nothing before. She is not sure how to navigate this, what to search, what to ask, not this time, and that scares and frustrates her in equal amounts.

Thomas has these eyes that always make her feel naked, confused and alive. He sometimes looks at her like she is precious, like he cannot go a second without touching her, and she believes it, because his eyes are true, raw even. And then, he could look at her the way he is doing now, like she has just stabbed him, as if she has his heart in her hands to do whatever she wanted, and she decided to make him suffer. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t fair, she didn’t have him like that, so why would he stare at her with all that devotion and agony?

She chuckles, lowly and dryly, and starts to walk, leaving him behind. (Y/N) doesn't know exactly what she is feeling at the moment, but everything is a little too much. She doesn't want to have to guess, it would be nice, for once, if he could finally say it out loud.

Stopping a few steps away from him, she finally takes a better look at everything in front of her, how beautiful that field is, how breathtaking the view of the sky is with no pollution from the city. The sun hadn’t completely risen yet, some shades of purple, pink, and orange decorated the sky. It looks just like a painting, she thinks, and it hurts a bit to realise that it would be a pretty day to feel good, for her and Tommy to be doing something enjoyable.

What bothers most is that it feels like there is just one last wall between them, and she had thought she would finally have him — but it's not simple, it never is. Thomas has to be the one to take that last step, he has to be the one to, at last, face what he is feeling. If she is the one to do it, to once again try to put pieces together to understand him, it will never change, he will only come home broken and expects mending. She wants more than that, she wants genuine words being said, wants to feel more than… a fragment.

She was afraid sometimes, what if the problem was not his past love, but her? Understanding that old feelings were hard to get rid of was easy, but to which point was Thomas protecting himself from any new feelings? Did it ever become a protection against her? (Y/N) would ask herself, what was he so afraid of? Afraid of having feelings for someone again? Or was he just afraid of… her? It scared her that maybe it wasn’t love and it’s disappointments that kept them apart, maybe it was her. And that she couldn’t fix.

She kicks some rocks by her feet and holds back another frustrated sigh, feeling like maybe she wasn't being fair, that her previous insecurities and frustrations might be influencing her. (Y/N) was trying so hard, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. Because she loved him, honestly and easily, but had she not done this before? Tried to communicate, to understand? With others that now seem pale in comparison with Thomas, but still, love was a complicated thing. For her, it had always been, since the very beginning, since she had known what love was. It was not just Thomas, no, it would be unfair to say it was only him, perhaps she also needed time to deal with what was inside her. Yet she can't help to think it is different with him, there were others before, but he is the one that matters, he is the one she wants close at all times, the one she still stays close to even with all the hurt and words unsaid, waiting, wishing.

It was Tommy, after all, making her heart feel full and empty at the same time, occupying her thoughts, making her feel like things could get better someday.

If she just had the chance to properly talk to him… to cross all the bridges and understand, maybe then a conclusion would be made, one not based on assumptions she could not fully trust.

Nevertheless, here they are, turbulent thoughts clouding each one's mind. The surroundings are beautiful, the wind making leaves float in the air, both of them with their mouths clasped shut and minds running wild.

She can't see it, Thomas thinks, this time she doesn't seem to see the truth in his eyes. He notices the way she is shrinking inside herself, body almost crumbling, and he walks to her, he is tense when he hugs her from behind, arms keeping her in a tight embrace. Thomas knows she is fighting back tears by the way she lets herself go and relaxes her head against his chest as soon as he pulls her in. He can feel the way her body is fighting, half of her not willing to rest completely.

He never truly knows what to say, he did when he was with Grace, or almost always did, a clarity coming to him when he was about to do something stupid. With (Y/N) it is different, he knows how he feels, and she says the right thing, and he lets her read him, and they go on. Sometimes he has to say it, because she is tired, because she needs him to, or simply because he feels the urge to. But now it feels like they have reached a point that if Thomas keeps being silent, things will end.

Still, for a while they just stay in silence. Thomas keeps his touch steady, not entirely conscious that he is drawing patterns on her waist until she lets out a sigh that he recognises quickly by now, contentment, he can feel her relaxing a bit more. His hands wander a bit further, tracing her belly and up her chest, and as he remembers the night they met, his touch becomes heavier. For what felt like an eternity, he had wished to touch her. It was quick, she'd always say, how they met and how they ended up in a private room. She was not aware that for him, it had felt like a long waiting.

A party that he meant to go for business only, not even much interested in said business, at least not enough to try to do it in person, he had sent John to do it, but he got sick. Never before had Thomas been so happy with his brother being ill. Had he never gone to that party, he would not have met her. And it was a truth, even though he did not say it much, but a truth nonetheless, that since they met, she was constantly taking him out of his stupor. Since he had laid his eyes on her, he felt it, hands pulling him up, making him finally blink and wake up.

It was simple between them, it had been since the beginning, he had wanted her and there was no room for questioning if he would follow her, she had corresponded in the same intensity. Slowly their lives came in between, the days apart, the reality of each one, but even then, she only told Thomas she would be waiting, and there was no room for questioning if he would come back.

On the weeks with fewer visits from him, nothing changed, on the weeks he could see her more frequently, everything did.

Although his ghosts still haunted him, it was not the same as before, he could breathe now, push them away easier. But he had never been good with words when it came to this. To confess, he used words to get what he wanted, to conquer, long gone was the time words served as a way to connect and open himself. Grace had started to change that, easily as if she was a childhood love, she had picked up his heart on her hands. Thomas had not expected it, and when it hit him, he realised how truly in love he had been. For once his intuition had left him, after such a long time creating walls upon walls, they crumbled only to have to be raised again. He had also not expected it to change, to meet someone else, and yet, he did.

“What are you thinking?” She asks, head still resting against him.

“You.”

“You are thinking about me?” He can hear the small smile on her lips.

“Yes.”

“What about me?”

“The night we met.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, as if something suddenly made sense to her. “You were so pretty that night.”

Thomas holds back a smile, like he usually does when she says something like this. “I’d say you were more.”

(Y/N) laughs and turns to look at him, distancing herself enough so they could stare, he is relieved to see there are no tears in her eyes. “I was, but it didn’t last long after I met you.”

Her arms find a place on his shoulders as she hugs him, hiding her face on the crock of his neck. She radiates warmth, and Thomas welcomes it eagerly.

“It wasn’t all my fault.” Thomas says, dead serious, because sometimes she seems to forget they burn together, and she laughs again.

He feels when her body changes after a few moments, her breathing getting erratic, he prepares himself.

“Tom?” It's nothing more than a whisper.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking, and…” something in him is begging for him to interrupt her, he knows what is coming, he can feel it. “I think we should, you know, stop seeing each other.”

He stays quiet, his arms never leave her body.

“Why?”

She takes a long time to answer, and Thomas starts to look for words he can say, things he can do to fix whatever needs to be fixed. He knows what it is, but as her silence stretches so much, he wonders if there is something more, if there is more he did and was unaware of it, that isn't hard to imagine. He feels, somehow, the moment she shivers, her arms seem to lose strength, her embrace weakening.

(Y/N) takes a deep breath before speaking,“because… because I feel like I’m Grace’s shadow. I feel like you met me when you were desperately needing someone to replace the emptiness that she left at your heart. It’s not that I’m the same as her, no…” she hides her face even more in his body, “it’s just you wanted someone to make you forget all the pain. And it happened that I was there to be your distraction. And at the beginning, I didn't care. But now, I do.”

She stops, Thomas knows she is fighting back tears, knows that she hates having to say all of this. Then she whispers, “I care because I’m in love with you, and being someone’s shadow for the man I love isn’t my biggest wish.”

What a treacherous path Thomas had walked them into. He could not deny it what he felt in the past was real, what he and Grace had shared was still haunting him, as his deceptions and frustrations always did. He never admitted, but for him, things like that never left his mind, he just pushed them away, kept them hidden. And still, things did not need to be like this, he did not have to act like that. He did… he liked (Y/N), not just that, he loved her even. A small and fragile thing at first, threatening to hurt him, not because it hurt, but because it made him finally move on. But now, a year later, it was not that small any more, he knew what he felt, knew that he searched for her when they were apart. And Thomas had no necessity in comparing what he felt before with what he felt now, he knew it would take time for something like that to happen again — to be true, he had not even thought it would happen again, but it did, it is happening.

Thomas blinks, watching as flowers and leaves were stirred by the wind, a hollow sound surrounding them. There is so much more he probably doesn't know, more things she thinks and has kept to herself.

“You’re not Grace’s shadow.” He says in a whisper, his voice betraying him. It sounds weak, and he wanted to convey how strong his affection is. Nonetheless, he hears her sighing in relief, distancing herself from him a bit, but still not looking at his eyes.

“You love her Tom,” (Y/N) states, “you’re still deeply in love with her and all you lived by her side. If I’m not her shadow, then I’m a mere ghost of what she was.” She raises her eyes to his face, he is already staring, always staring at her.

She looks at him with so much resignation that Thomas is almost convinced he cannot change her mind.

“I’m not angry or mad or upset about this. I’m just sad.” She says it then, voice low, Thomas knows it is because she is holding tears back. “And it doesn’t matter how much I love you, I don’t want to be sad, to feel miserable every time I don’t act like someone I don't even know. I just don’t want that life for me, even if that means losing you.”

He looks away, not being able to stare at her eyes at the moment, not when he doesn't have the right words to say. It was not his intention for it to reach this point, for her to think he wants a copy of Grace. He knows he has to say it, explain himself, but it is like being paralysed. It's the kiss on his cheek that makes him finally blink, it is the way her lips are so delicate against his skin, a goodbye. She leaves his arms, turning around to go back to the car, but he holds her wrist immediately, (Y/N) stops, looking at him with knitted eyebrows.

Thomas takes in all of her at that moment, the determination clear in her eyes, eyes he has grown so accustomed to, that do not search him unless he opens himself, eyes that love him, tender him. Eyes that he cannot forget even when she is not with him. He looks at her lips, lips that have said the words he needed to hear, the ones he did not want to hear, lips that have kissed him with so much passion that he was able to forget the world for some hours. She has, slowly, found a place inside of him, roots with her name overtaking his chest. Her hair flutters around her face, she seems tired, (Y/N) offers no more resistance on her face, only resignation, but she does not pull away either. He engraves every single detail of her in his mind.

The words are not helping him, he cannot think of anything good enough to say, it is like she wiped his mind, leaving nothing but thousands of pictures of her behind. Of every moment she has used her words not to pry him open, but to convince him to do so, every moment she has held him in place instead of insisting on dragging him somewhere else.

It was at the moment, the sun shining brightly, orange light taking over the sky, making her skin seem warm to the touch, that he finally realised. It had always been simple between them, he did not need to complicate it right now, there was no need for elaborate words, only the truth. She wanted something straight-forward, (Y/N) was just asking for it to be real.

“I don’t want her,” Thomas says, words finally appearing. “I don’t want her like I want you. Not any more.”

And it was true, he had loved Grace, had felt something he thought himself incapable of after the war, and yet, it passed. She had betrayed him, and he still felt it then, sometimes still feels it now, but it passed.

She gives a step forward, “but you still love her, right?”

He allows himself to remember Grace's face, her tender touch, it was involuntary, the care that comes with it. But there is also the pang of heartbreak, the understanding and the sense of finality, there is nothing he can do to go back in time, and now, he does not want it any more. He has (Y/N), she mended what was broken. He takes a step towards her as well, hand tightening even more around her wrist, he wants her now more than he ever did.

“Yes.” he admits, because it is also true that (Y/N) can wring secrets from him. “But she’s past.”

“Is she, Tom?” She gives in a deep breath, “if that’s so, you’re a man living your days in the past. You’re always with her, even when you try to be here with me.”

“No.” he denies, low and firm, “It’s not me living in the past, (Y/N).”

“What is it then?”

He wants to say it at that moment, to confess she haunts him, that his past always does — who he was before war, who he became during it. It is a part of him now. But that is not his nature any more, to confess this easily, it takes time, and he has said more today than he ever did before. Instead, he looks at her, knowing that when nothing comes out of his mouth, that it's what denounces him, his eyes.

She reads him again. Thomas knows, he always knows when she understands. Maybe it is the look on her face, he has never been able to identify what it was, but something changed when she could get him.

“I know it ain't easy,” (Y/N) says, getting closer to him, she puts a hand on his face, “it seems to haunt you, Thomas.”

She is close now, enough that he can feel the warmth of her body again. Thomas lets himself relax against her, his hand still on her wrist, he can feel her pulse now, slightly accelerated.

“I feel left out sometimes,” she whispers, “as if she is right behind me, and I am echoing her words, or at least the words you wanted her to say.”

Thomas nods, “you are not like her.”

(Y/N) seems surprised at that, “what was she like?”

But that is too much. “You are different,” he establishes, firm enough for her to understand he does not want to talk about Grace like that. It's easier to just forget, sharing this feels strange, describing how he loved her — because it would not be just an impartial view of how she was. “And your words too, you do not echo her in my mind.”

You fixed it. Erased what hurt was left on the surface.

(Y/N) squint her eyes at him, he lets her stare into his eyes, lets her understand.

“If we…” she cleans her throat, “if you try, could this work?”

He bites his tongue to say that is already working, because yes, for him, it is, but she is opening herself to him and saying she is hurting.

“What do you want?” He asks, instead.

“You.” (Y/N) shrugs, “I know we can't be each other one and only. But it would be good if you opened yourself more, I cannot always read your mind.”

He must've frowned at that, because she immediately completes, “I know it's different for you, how you open up. I sometimes wish for words, it's true, but it is not what you can give me and I know that.” And although she understood it wrong — he was just surprised when she said she could not always read him —, he was happy to hear that.

Thomas puts a hand on her waist, pulling her and closing the distance that was left, he can feel her now, that smell that calms him every time they sleep together, he tightens his grip. There is not a world where he would refuse this, it is surprising, sometimes even slightly scary and annoying, how she managed to awaken him when he fought so much to numb himself. But he always comes back to her, always knocks on her door, because it is stupidity to refuse her, push her away, only a mad man would do that. He consumes her instead, goes to her house, drinks from her lips with such thirst it is as if he is famished, and it is never enough. Whatever she wants, he thinks, whatever she wants to stay.

She is looking at him with an indecipherable expression, but he cares not at the moment, he will have plenty of time to reflect on everything she said today, to understand her even more. Now, he searches for her lips, brushing his own against her, wanting to feel her before making the real move. He is not one for teasing, every time he does this, it is because the waiting feel as good as the actual kiss, the way he can feel her skin shivering, the way she whimpers slightly — because they are the same when it comes to this, she also has an insatiable hunger. They finally kiss, then, desperate to feel each other, it always feels like they are one at this moment, and nothing else matters.

She is the one to break the kiss, only to look at him and whisper, “I love you.”

Before Thomas can think of answering, her lips are crashing against his again, demanding, taking, and he answers it. He almost chuckles when one of her hands find her way to get under his shirt, but his own body leans into it in such a fast manner he knows he would be laughing at himself too.

Since the first time she touched him like this, he knew he had cursed himself. He knew he would be damned, growing hunger for that, fonder for her. She had scared him, and yet, proved herself to be exactly what he needed.

He broke the kiss this time, not being able to contain the smirk when he saw her drunk eyes, even though he was for sure laughing at himself too.

“I love you.”

She melts against him, smiles brightly. He does not know why he waited so long to say it, but he is usually like this, takes too long to say something important.

“You’re not her.” He finds himself saying, surprising the both of them, “you’re not her shadow.”

She nods, Thomas sees her blooming right in front of him. He feels something settling in his chest, his mind getting quieter, a miracle for its own, but even more special when he feels it because of her.

Please. He thinks as he gives a peck on her lips. Don’t ever say you’re a mere ghost, when I love you this much.

The wind was still stirring the flowers and leaves of the field, and the field was still the same, same as the sun shining in the sky. But somehow, everything seemed more right.

#ely writes peaky blinders #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #peaky blinders x reader

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rhyrhy · 4 months ago

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Vital signs ـــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Greys anatomy AU! Doctor- Abby Anderson

Series mlist | moodboards | third Chapter (you are here)

Three: Under the Knife 🩺

summary: At St. Mary's Hospital, the rules are simple. Saving lives, avoiding attachment, and never going overboard. However, staying within those boundaries is becoming increasingly difficult under the constant gaze of the head of cardio.

You and Jesse have exchanged a few awkward glances, and while his flirty, over-the-top charm can be amusing, you’ve learned to tune it out. Ellie, on the other hand, is easier to get along with. She doesn’t beat around the bush and always knows how to make you laugh, even when the tension in the hallways is thick. Dina began to feel like a long-lost sibling, keeping you grounded with her steady presence. She’s always there with a quick quip or an eye roll when things get too stressful.

And then there’s Riley. The nurse at the front desk who always seems to have the perfect piece of advice at just the right time. She’s one of those people who can find humor in anything, even on the worst of days.

You’re clocking in for another long shift when you spot Abby a few feet away. She’s standing in the hallway, phone pressed to her ear, her back stiff, and her jaw clenched. There’s something about the way she’s holding herself like she’s on the verge of breaking, but not yet. The conversation seems heated, though you can’t make out the words.

Your mind starts to wander, a million questions running through your head. Who could she be talking to like that? You’ve seen the way she commands respect, the way the staff listens to her when she speaks. Yet there’s an air of vulnerability in her hushed tone. You shake the thoughts away as you finish clocking in, pushing the curiosity aside for now.

The weekend rolls around, and after a long week of hospital shifts, Dina finally manages to carve out some time to help you move more of your things into your new apartment. Both of you are exhausted, half-asleep, but determined to get it done.

You sit together in your living room, now free of most of the moving boxes, trying to build a bedside table out of an old box. It’s a struggle, but you manage to get it assembled after a few clumsy attempts.

“I think it’s perfect,” Dina says with a grin as she leans back against the couch, her voice muffled by a yawn.

“You know,” you say, popping up from behind the trunk of the car parked in your driveway, “I already work over 100 hours with you a week. Feels like we’re basically girlfriends now.”

Dina rolls her eyes dramatically. “If that’s your idea of a relationship, I think you’re in for a rude awakening.”

You both laugh, a comfortable silence falling between you as you continue putting things in place, marking the first steps of turning your space into something that feels like home.

Even though Utah was definitely out of your comfort zone, you were starting to not mind it too much.

Back home, everything felt like it was always moving, always too fast. The noise, the people, the traffic—it never stopped. You’d learned to live with it, but it never felt like home. Every corner you turned, every face you passed, there was a sense of urgency, a sense of not quite fitting in. Everyone, and I mean everyone, had an opinion about your future, about who you were supposed to be. You’d been running from those opinions for years, from your family’s judgment, from the constant push to be more, do more, even when you weren’t sure you had the energy left to care.

But here, now? That was miles away.

The hospital hallways hum with anticipation as the day of the decision draws nearer. Everyone has survived their brutal first shifts, but now comes the next battle: the chance to scrub in on the first surgery.

The rumors are circulating, and the tension in the air is palpable. Everyone’s vying for that one coveted spot—who will be chosen?

Jesse leans casually against the nurses’ station, arms crossed, his signature smirk playing on his lips. “Let’s be real,” he says, his voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m getting the first surgery. I’ve got it in the bag.”

Dina raises an eyebrow, leaning against the counter beside him. Coffee cup in hand. “Based on what, exactly? Your ability to sweet-talk nurses?”

Ellie snickers from the side, chiming in with, “More like his ability to trip over his own feet.”

Jesse dramatically places a hand over his chest. “Ouch. No faith in me at all?” You chuckle, but you can’t help the gnawing feeling in your stomach. The truth is, you want that surgery. Badly. And judging by the tense glances being exchanged between the other interns, so does everyone else.

Before the teasing can continue, Marlene rounds the corner, her gaze sharp. “Are you all waiting for an engraved invitation to do your damn jobs?”

Ah shit, Instantly, the group scatters, returning to the chaos. Breathers weren’t a luxury you got or earned yet. Marlene is something else—a mix of stern authority and unspoken understanding. You’ve caught her eyes a few times, and in those fleeting moments, you’ve seen something softer. She's tough, but sometimes you need tough, right?

Later, between rounds, you got turned around for the hundredth time. At one point a patient even called you out on being lost, pushing her better on the hospital with zero sense of direction. So many rooms, so many elevators, so, so many stairs…

You pressed your face into your palms for a moment to try and reboot your brain. You still had a solid seven hours left before you were going anywhere that didn’t have the smell of Lysol and hand sanitizer lingering. The ding of the elevator was always too high-pitched for your ears liking, but you’ll get over it, you thought. And as if your day couldn’t get any better, you were greeted with a familiar face, staring right back at you with her glasses pushed to the bridge of her nose, glaring down at some paper like it was her arch nemesis.

Those colored eyes and always perfectly pulled back Hair. would never go unrecognized by you. Abby, in the elevator you needed. again. those dark blue scrubs to complement said eyes.

You find yourself stuck in yet another elevator ride with her. Yeah, it’s becoming a pattern. You and the resident you oh-so-accidentally slept with. Pretending like the image of her naked body isn’t burnt in your memory.

Once you stepped into the elevator and silently sat beside her, she turned her gaze to you with the tilt of her head. “You think you’re getting the first surgery?”

You scoff, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I did manage to diagnose Katie, so I should be in the running.”

She tilts her head, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Mhm, Bold confidence”

You glance away, trying not to show how much her attention affects you. The silence in the elevator fell hard, charged. You can feel her watching you, the weight of her gaze almost tangible.

The doors open, and she shifts slightly closer, voice lowering to a whisper. “You never answered about the hike.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You’re really pushing this team-building thing, huh?” You glanced over to her, feeling your stomach flip when her shoulder nudged yours.

Abby shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I am, You’ll come around.”

Leaving you to watch her figure retreat. You would’ve been sad about the abrupt exit if you didn’t enjoy watching her walk away. Catching her small look over her shoulder at you. She knew what she was doing, damn it.

You hated that it was working.

The next few days blur by in a haze of patient rounds and assignments. Dina grew more attached to a young girl with a failing heart, checking in on her at all hours. Jesse watches from the sidelines, ever the joker, but this time, his humor seems more forced. “You know you can’t save them all, right?” he says, his voice tinged with something else—concern, maybe.

Dina glares at him, her worry written all over her face. “That’s not helpful.”

Jesse shrugs, leaning against the wall. “I just don’t want to see you burn out before we even get to scrub in.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, but Dina doesn’t respond. She just continues watching over her patient, lost in the world of medicine that consumes her every breath. You’d check in on her occasionally, bringing her coffee and racking her brain when needed.

Meanwhile, Ellie’s handling a post-op patient when she miscalculates a dosage, nearly causing a serious complication. The attending Nora catches it just in time, but Ellie is left feeling defeated. Later that day, you find her sitting on the stairs, her face buried in her hands.

“Hey,” you said, closing the door behind you. Glancing over her defeated figure. Those Green eyes full of exhaustion.

“Hey. You coming to put me out of my misery?” She replied, muffled from her hands.

“No. And Ellie, you’re not the first intern to screw up,” you say, sitting down beside her. “And you won’t be the last.”

Ellie groans, shaking her head. “Yeah, but I’d rather not be that intern.”

You nudge her shoulder, offering a comforting smile. “Get used to it. We’re all just trying to keep our heads above water.” You weren’t sure if those were the most reassuring words you could’ve offered, but it was what she needed in the moment, realism. Her head resting on your shoulder Told you she appreciated it.

At the end of the day, the tension finally breaks. Isaac gathers the interns, and the moment of truth arrives. The chief, Isaac. A gray beard and a deep voice step forward, voice steady and commanding.

“The intern assisting in their first surgery will be…” Time seems to slow, the anticipation palpable. Every eye is on him, every ear straining to hear the verdict.

Your heart skips a beat. Did he just say—you? Your breath catches as you glance at your fellow coworkers, who’s watching you with unreadable eyes.

Jesse mutters under his breath, disbelief lacing his tone. “No. Fucking. Way.”

Dina slaps you on the back, her grin wide. “Hell yeah!”

Ellie lets out a low whistle, her approval evident. Dina turns back to you, her eyes gleaming with something close to pride. “Looks like you better get some sleep.”

But you can’t even process her words.

Next week. Next week! You’ll be scrubbed in, standing on the precipice of your first real surgery.

And there’s no going back. This is it. Your first time under the knife. One chance to prove yourself. The reason you’re here. One week to prepare, to get your head in the game. Your fingers tighten around the blue fabric of your scrub top. Tomorrow, you either sink or swim.

No pressure.

None at all

Taglist cuties! @sevyscoven @flyleaffreak @antobooh

#x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #fem reader #abby x reader #lgbtq #abby the last of us #rhysvitalsigns #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson x y/n #abby angst #abby fluff #doctor abby #abby anderson tlou2

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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The Fall from the Heavens (16)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, dirty talk, breeding kink, description of wounds and trauma, remorse ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He remembered little of their journey back to King's Landing; it seemed to him that his conversation with Daemon, and before that with Aegon, had been a dream, and that it had all not really happened. Throughout the journey, he kept his cheek pressed against his wife's temple, feeling great relief but also fear.

He was sure she would run away.

He was sure she would let him down again, and some part of him wished she would.

Why?

When they reappeared in the Red Keep there were only a few hours left until dawn; he instructed his guards to convey to his brother as soon as he woke up, that he should call a meeting of the Small Council where he would be able to give a brief report of what had happened.

Afterwards, he and his wife both retired to his chamber, stripping out of their riding attire, speechless and exhausted. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, feeling a tightness in his throat, wondering why he felt tense, why he was not rejoicing.

He swallowed loudly as he realised that he had expected a betrayal on her part, because it would make things a lot easier for him.

He could then turn his back on her and her family once and for all, shed his illusions, become who he had been for eight years again.

It frightened him that now, when it was obvious that she had proved her loyalty to him, that she had chosen him at last, so many things remained unsaid, silenced, repressed.

He felt her uncertain gaze on him as she stayed in just her nightgown, heard his bed creak quietly under the weight of her body.

"My love?" He heard her soft voice and grunted, staying in only his breeches and linen shirt.

She twisted towards him as he lay down beside her on his back, placing his hands on his stomach, sighing heavily with exhaustion.

He shuddered when he felt her warm, soft hand on his – their fingers began to trail and rub against each other in the air, just like when she had come to him that first night after many years of separation.

"Speak to me, Aemond. Don't lock yourself in your mind." She said calmly; something in her words, in the fact that she sensed his anxiety made him swallow loudly, opening and closing his mouth several times, unable to get anything out. He finally shook his head, closing his eyes, deciding there was no point.

"Say it. Say all the things you've always wanted to say to me. Even if those words will only cause me pain. I want to know."

He opened his eyes, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, a shiver ran along his spine.

"I will never understand how could you leave me then." He finally said in a voice filled with regret and venom – he felt her twist next to him restlessly, drawing in air loudly.

He didn't look at her, but he felt her hand tighten on his.

"That was never my intention."

"Then why?"

"My mother then told me to let you rest and calm down. That the guards wouldn't let me visit you anyway by order of the Queen."

"What a nonsense."

"I am speaking the truth. When I wanted to pay you a visit a few days later, Criston Cole sent me away."

He felt his heart stop at those words; his whole body tensed, his breath stuck in his throat as he finally looked at her with wide-eyed expression.

"What?"

He felt her thumb stroke his palm, her eyes looking at him pleadingly.

"I swear, five days after what happened, I came to pay you a visit. I came every day after that, but he always sent me away. He said you didn't want to see me." She mumbled, and he snorted in disbelief and amusement, shaking his head. He looked at her in shock, wanting to see anything in her face that could confirm that she was lying.

He swallowed hard, embittered, leaning the back of his head against the back of the bed.

"It doesn't matter. I needed you when it happened."

"I needed you too. When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother's guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that's how you felt." She said with weariness, sadness and indifference from which he felt an unpleasant squeeze in his stomach; he felt his lips part involuntarily, a hot, overpowering wave of shame surge through his body.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, just breathing, not moving or saying anything, her hand still on his, warmth and reassurance in her touch.

For the first time in eight years, they spoke honestly about what had happened.

"Why didn't you ever write me back?" She asked at last, her voice trembling slightly, as if the very thought of it made tears of regret rise in the corners of her eyes.

He clamped his eyelids shut, sighing heavily, this time it was his fingers that stroked her hand.

"I've tried. I tried so many times. But I was unable to fill the parchment because no words seemed to describe what I was feeling. I couldn't put my thoughts into sentences. Everything that came out from under my hand was the ramblings of a madman and ended up burning in the fire. Then it was too late. I didn't see the point." He said, not believing that these words had left his mouth; he glanced at her uncertainly out of the corner of his eye, a single, solitary tear ran down the side of her face.

"You didn't even let me explain myself. You didn't give me a chance despite the fact that I've never let you down before." She muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling an unbearable tightness in his throat.

"I know."

He took his hand from her grasp and put his arm around her – her body immediately clung to his, entwining with his like a vine, her face sunk into the hollow of his neck, his hand roaming lazily down her back while his lips placed warm, lingering kisses on the top of her head.

They fell asleep for the few hours separating them from dawn in their tight embrace, not like lovers, but like they used to when they were children, holding hands, their foreheads touching.

He felt how, as she awoke, her fingers stroked his cheek gently, her lips placed a warm, soft kiss on his, which he reciprocated with a low murmur of satisfaction, without even opening his eyes.

For the first time in eight years, he felt at peace.

For the first time in eight years, he felt relief.

His closest friend was by his side again.

They were both just dreaming of sleeping on when Criston Cole walked into his chamber announcing that the King had called an immediate meeting of the Small Council in accordance with his wishes.

He sighed heavily, rising slowly from his bed, ordering his servants to prepare a suitable tunic for him. He turned, looking at her over his shoulder, his broad hand stroking her bare calf with a soft, lazy gesture.

"Accompany me. Be by my side."

The sight of her walking behind him as the door of the chamber in which all those gathered sat opened before them did not satisfy his grandfather or his mother.

He pretended not to see their warning glances, instead ordering one of the servants standing nearby to place a second chair right next to his, where he took his seat, placing his sapphire ball in a niche in the stone table.

"Speak, brother." Aegon began without undue politeness or introduction. His mother, his grandfather and Criston Cole were all opposed to their idea, however Lord Lannister and the other houses supporting them were far more accepting of the news that perhaps the whole matter of succession would be resolved without a bloody, kingdom-destroying war.

"Our uncle is as brazen as I remember him to be, however, despite his misgivings, he has not declined our offer. He will certainly pass on our words to our sister. We must wait." He replied truthfully; his mother sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands.

"What if no son is born to you, Aemond? If it is officially the sons of Rheanyra and Daemon who become heirs, they will kill us all for treason." She said with impatience, grief and horror – he opened his mouth to reply, however his wife forestalled him.

"You may have killed the child in my womb who could have been the heir we so need now. We will never know, will we?" She sneered, and he felt an unpleasant shiver run down his back.

His hand clenched into a fist at the mere memory of what had happened and what she had done next. He looked at his wife's face out of the corner of his eye and swallowed hard, seeing in her expression strenght, determination and confidence.

Just what he needed.

Complete silence fell, his mother lowered her head, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"As I said, we have to wait. We have done what we could."

The fact that Aegon had agreed to try to come to an agreement over the succession did not mean that either of them were going to give up preparing for a possible war, so they spent the rest of the meeting discussing what they would do if that plan failed. The King then asked his wife to leave; she rose and left without a word, touching his shoulder with her hand beforehand.

Something had changed between them, he could feel it.

As he watched the door close behind her, he realised that after she had decided to come back with him instead of running away with Daemon, after what he had confessed to her the wall that had been piling up between them since the night he had tamed Vhagar had finally collapsed.

When he returned to his quarters he did not find her there, so he headed for her chamber, informing the guards that no one was to disturb them. As he stepped inside he noticed her figure sitting by the window, bent over the embroidery of the Arryn family crest; the sun was beaming down on her face, he could feel a pleasant summer breeze all around her.

She lifted her gaze to him and smiled in a way he knew, one he remembered well from when they were children; what touched him in that look, in that smile, was the confirmation that she felt the same as he did, that she knew that something had finally changed between them, had set in on the right track.

He approached her slowly, involuntarily extending his hand towards her cheek; he watched as she pressed her face into his skin rough from holding the sword and sighed quietly as her lips placed a soft, warm kiss on his palm.

Gods, how he loved her.

He took the cloth from her hand and set it aside, grabbing her waist and lifting her, seating her in front of him on the top of the old wooden table. She stared at him with her eyes wide open, surprised, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath, betraying her uncertainty and excitement; he took a step towards her, so that their faces were almost touching, cupping her cheek in his palms, so soft, so warm.

She smelled of vanilla.

He looked at her, at her bright, warm gaze, at her gentle face, which had so much of that childishness of many years ago in it, while being more mature, more girlish, more tempting; her dark lashes shone in the sunlight as she closed her eyelids feeling his thumb run slowly over her fleshy, moist lower lip.

She was his wife.

What he wanted had truly come true.

She stood before him again, his childhood friend, his lover.

"Rhaenys." He whispered and she opened her eyes, looking at him in disbelief; he saw her cheeks flush, her body trembled all over with delight. She raised her hand and he moved away immediately, horrified when he realised she wanted to grab his black eye patch.

"No."

"You're my husband. That's enough." She said regretfully and tiredly, taking his face in her hands. He looked down at her, breathing heavily, his eyebrows arched in uncertainty, in shame, in fear.

"Don't spoil this beautiful day for me." He said at last in a low, hoarse voice. She pressed her lips together as if his words caused her pain, her fingers sliding down his jaw, dropping powerlessly.

"One step forward, two steps back." She said softly, and he swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in his throat at her words. He sighed loudly through his nose, licking his lower lip with his tongue, fighting with himself.

He didn't know what had happened, what had changed, what had brought him to reach up to his face, to grab his eye patch and pull it off with a sudden, aggressive movement, throwing it impatiently to the ground.

He saw her raise her shoulders high, frightened by his sudden gesture, her lips parted in disbelief, her pupils narrowed as she looked straight at him. He expected her to turn her face away at this sight, to betray herself with a stare full of disgust or fear, but instead her eyes turned red from the tears that had gathered in their corners.

"Come." She whispered, grabbing the material of his tunic with her hand, pulling him closer; he involuntarily took a few steps forward, shocked by her reaction, by her expression, as if what she had seen had moved her greatly, but not in the way he had expected. "Come here."

Her hand lifted higher, to his cheek – he closed his eyes, feeling his whole body freeze as her fingers ran gently over the line along which his scar ran.

"Oh, my dearest, you must have suffered so much. It must have caused you so much pain. For so many, so many months, you must have died every day. Forgive me." She mumbled out in a trembling, breaking voice, from which he pressed his lips together, himself touched for some reason, embittered and grateful at the same time, because for so long he had been waiting for that very look, that very touch and those words from her, just from her.

She kissed him in a way she had never done before – it was neither a child's kiss nor a lover's kiss; it was a caress full of warmth, moisture and care, a tenderness from which he involuntarily closed her in his arms, leaning lower to press himself tighter to her swollen lips.

Their mouths brushed each other lazily, slowly, unhurriedly, as if they had all the time in the world, their hands stroking each other's faces with gentle, calm movements, birdsong all around them, the loud conversations in the courtyard coming from behind the open window and the quiet, sticky clicks of their saliva.

He felt himself shudder each time his lips pressed against hers again, their arms holding them close together, his lungs filling with her scent.

Vanilla.

His manhood slowly began to swell and throb from those wonderfully innocent caresses full of promise, something they hadn't done before but so desperately needed.

"Make love to me." He whispered into her mouth; she moaned softly, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, forcing them to join together again in a hot, lazy kiss, which he did eagerly.

Only after a moment did their tongues come out to meet each other, their tips beginning to lick teasingly making them both breathe louder; his hands slid lower to her gown, lifting its material higher, exposing her wonderfully soft, bare thighs.

He let her take care of him, undoing the buckles of his tunic and the tying of his breeches as he kissed with emotion her forehead, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her temple.

She was his.

It seemed to him that they had gone back in time, to that day when she had kissed him for the first time.

As if what they were doing now was an extension of that moment.

"Do you think we would have persevered until marriage? With staying in chastity." He gasped, sighing quietly in relief when her skilled fingers finally released his desire-sore manhood, his arm drawing her closer as her thighs spread eagerly before him.

He heard her giggle softly, when he lifted his gaze to her he saw pure joy, warmth and love in her eyes, exactly as they had been then, that day.

"If you want, you can believe it, uncle." She replied tauntingly, just as she always did, just as in his fantasies; he snorted at the thought, sinking his hand into her warm womanhood, already leaking with desire. She tilted her head back, sighing with pleasure as his fingertips ran over her throbbing, moist slit.

"What do you imagine would happen?" He continued on, teasing her with the movements of his finger, which slid a little between her tight, wet muscles, pushing them apart, rubbing her rough bud hidden just above her opening. A soft, sweet moan came from her lips as she swallowed loudly, looking up at him from under half-closed eyelids.

"One night, when I would visit you in your chamber, we would begin to touch. Innocently at first, but eventually you would understand what it feels like to clamp your fingers on the soft breast of your beloved woman. You would understand what pleasure lies deep between my thighs." She cooed sweetly; he gasped loudly, embarrassed by how hard his cock pulsed at her words, which did not escape her attention.

"You'd say you wish to feel me just for a moment −" She whispered, with a gentle flick of her hand directing his swollen, hard length between her thighs; they both moaned quietly as he began to push against her and opened her wide on the thick head of his cock with a soft, firm thrust of his hips. "− but we would both know it was a simple lie, spoken only to make us feel less guilty."

A throaty, low groan escaped his lips at that thought; his hands clamped down on her buttocks covered by the material of her gown, with a deep thrust of his hips forcing her to let him inside her. She whimpered, panting heavily along with him, looking at him with her mouth wide open, as if she didn't recognise him.

She put her hand around the back of his neck, the other resting on the table top, trying to catch her balance as he began to root into her with slow, lazy thrusts, sliding out of her almost all the way, only to sink back between her warm, moist muscles a moment later.

"− Aemond −" She mewled, closing her eyes, responding involuntarily with the rocking of her hips to his treatments – it seemed to him that they were both in a state of some kind of ecstasy that nevertheless had more to do with what they had shared when they were children than now, when they were united by fire and blood.

"− and what would you do? − hm? − what would you do if I put it inside you and told you I wouldn't stop until I filled you? −" He breathed out, involuntarily quickening his pace; she moaned pleadingly at his shameless question, her fleshy, hot core clenched tightly around his erection, sucking it inside her, their bodies slapping against each other with loud smacks of skin against skin.

"− I would beg for your seed −" She mumbled out; his hand tightened on her hair at her words, his lips clinging to hers in a greedy, hot kiss full of their tongues and saliva, in a caress not filled with hatred and aggression but pure, hot desire.

"− so fucking beg −" He growled into her mouth between their quick, loud kisses, their lips with a sticky click clinging and pulling away from each other as their bodies found their own pace to pleasure, his thick cock pulsing with desire slamming into her so deep and fast that he seemed to run out of breath, her cheeks and lips all pink with exertion.

"− please, uncle − put your heir inside me −" She whimpered helplessly and that was enough for him – he pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, holding her close in a strong embrace in his arms, with a few sloppy, sticky thrusts prolonging the inevitable to finally spill deep inside her. He feel a powerful orgasm shake her body, her head tilted back with a sweet cry of pleasure.

"− yes − yes, oh, gods, uncle, fill me −" She mumbled, her hands drawing him back to her mouth, their lips devouring each other in fierce, moist kisses as the last drops of his spend filled her womb. They both rocked their hips for a while longer with loud clicks of her wetness, panting quietly as they tried to calm their breathing, their hands roaming over their bodies, their eyes closed, focused only on the relief they both felt.

"− this is how I always imagined us − you and me when we were married −" She whispered, and he sighed, understanding what she meant.

Though united by passionate affection, regret, distrust and grief dominated their every approach.

"− my wife begging for my seed is indeed an important part of my vision of a perfect marriage −" He sneered, noticing the amusement in her eyes when she understood that he was teasing her.

That he had returned to her, that she had won him back, that she was looking at the boy she had lost that night.

Her lips parted in disbelief when she noticed that the corner of his mouth lifted upwards, gently, not mockingly, not maliciously.

He smiled.

For the first time in so many years.

He stroked her cheek with his hand as her eyebrows arched in pain, as her eyes glazed over from the tears that ran down her face one by one onto his warm palm.

They kissed again, then again and again, warmly, tenderly, innocently, devotedly, with the affection he had dreamed of for so many years and he thought, hiding this realisation deep in his heart, that this was the happiest day of his life.

The day he got his best friend back.

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lilacella · 3 months ago

Note

Would you do a moodboard of the chaos amnesia au? 👀☺️ I'm waiting for the next part

Hello hello, we are finally at a point in the plot where making a moodboard makes sense! So here you go!

Also. Have

Part 8 of the Chaos Amnesia AU:

(Part 1) (Link to last part)

"Who are you?"

That's a tough question to answer.

The men that you lied to for the past 10 months? Your best friend and your loving boyfriend, that were horrified when they found out about what you have done in the past but still love you very much?

"Who am I ?"

An even harder question to answer. Because do James and Remus even know who Sirius is? Who he really is? And most importantly: Do they want him to know?

"You're Sirius," is what they settle on.

Sirius frowns. Weird name.

"What am I doing in your car?" He touches the bandages on his head. "What happened to me?"

"We were on a hike," Remus says quietly. "You fell. Knocked your head. Don't you remember?"

Sirius frowns deeper and he drops back into his seat.

"No."

James shoots Remus a look.

You lied.

So what?

They drive the rest of the way in silence. Except that one time Sirius asks if they shouldn't drive to a hospital.

"Lily will take care of that," James says. "It's easier, you won't have to wait in line."

[Little Jily background excursion at this point becaue this isn't a fic and basically just an elaborate plotline so I can do whatever the fuck I want 🥳:

James is, as stated before, a police detective inspector and Lily is a trauma surgeon at the local hospital. Since James is such a daring officer of course he gets injured a lot and Lily has to patch him up. James keeps flirting with her but she barely responds though you can tell she likes him ☺️

Patient doctor relationships are greatly discouraged and so she has to wait for James to get just a little bit more careful until she can herself show up at the police station and ask him out for lunch. James is of course overjoyed. The rest is history 🥰]

They arrive and lead Sirius' into the Potter's house. It is late at night, Harry is long asleep, Remus is hiding a gun in the inside pocket of his jacket and sweating profusely.

Lily is less than happy when her husband wakes her up, shirt torn and eyes wide, with the words: "I need you to check a headwound for me."

Her mood lightens a bit when it becomes apparent that the headwound is not on James but drops straight back down when he informs her in a worried whisper that it has been caused by a gun. And that Sirius doesn't remember anything. And that him and Remus want to keep it that way.

Lily isn't entirely onboard with that plan but her focus is on her patient right now. She sends James to fetch her bag and takes a look at the wound. After a short inspection she instructs Sirius to lie down, adminsters some local anesthesia and tells him to close his eyes.

Why that? Well, so he won't see the fucking bullet that has somehow managed to wedge itself into the cavity of his temple but by pure luck did not manage to break anything vital.

[Disclaimer: this is highly unrealistic and even a seasoned and talented trauma surgeon would not pull a fucking bullet out of your skull on their couch. There is so much that could go wrong. Bullets in the head are definitely a hospital thing!

But we are here for the chaos not for a sensible medical education so I will proceed]

Lily drops the bullet discreetly into Remus' palm (that poor guy really has to hold on to all the terrible stuff 😭 ) and he drops it into his pocket with trembling fingers. It clinks quietly against the two keychains that are resting in there.

"Is it bad?" Sirius asks.

"No."

He opens his eyes. "Really? Are you sure I shouldn't go to a hospital? I feel like we should go to a hospital..."

Lily presses a bandage on his head and shakes her head with a firm smile. "No need, I've got this. So... James said you were having some... memory issues?"

"Who's James?"

The three look at eachother.

Sirius sits up slowly and brushes his fingers over the gauze on his temple and eyes them with worry. "I really should go home. My father's going to kill me when he finds out that I have been hiking around with - " He frowns again - "Sorry I'm still not quite clear on who you are. Do you know my parents?"

tbc...

☺️ Look this is called chaos amnesia for a reason! So be prepared for chaos and amnesia!

#moodboard #slothy's moodboard bonanza #chaos amnesia au

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holdmytesseract · 11 months ago

Text

moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Four - The Bond of Marriage

Warnings for this Chapter: tooth rotting fluff (you might wanna prepare some tissues, friends), suggestive smut/light smut, did I mention fluff?

Word Count: 5,3k

a/n: This chapter means so much to me. I put so much time, love and passion in it; wanting to make it perfect. I hope I did. 🙏🏼💚

Shout outs in this Chapter: @sagitternolunaspace once again for the Midgardian (pre-) wedding traditions! @asgards-princess-of-mischief for choosing the bridesmaids dresses! @smolvenger for the bride's hairstyle! @fictive-sl0th for being my flower girl! @lokiforever & @brokenpoetliz , which whom I designed the locations with! @frzntrx for choosing Loki's wedding ceremony armour. @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 for drawing Y/N's beautiful wedding dress, aaand @loz-3 for designing Y/N's and Loki's wedding rings! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! From the bottom of my heart! I loved doing this with you all together! 💚

This song fits the vibe of this chapter:

💍 Chapter Three °☆• Chapter Five 💍

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• A Covenant for Eternity Masterlist (coming soon!)

"What kind of ridiculous Midgardian pre-wedding tradition is that, love?" Loki scoffed; crossing his arms over his chest as he sat down on the bar stool in front of the kitchen counter. "Spending the night before the wedding apart? Why would somebody do that?"

You couldn't suppress the small giggle leaving your lips, as you placed the cup of tea on the counter in front of your fiancè. "Thank you," he grumbled.

"Because it's tradition, babe." "Yes, I know, but what is the purpose?" You watched him take a sip, as he sat there in his grey boxershorts and black sleep t-shirt; hair a mess. You bit your lip; trying hard to not get caught up now.

"Well, uh, it's an ancient excise and was made to ensure that the bride keeps her maidenhood until the wedding night." Loki frowned and scoffed again. "Ridiculous. Like I said. You aren't a maiden, Y/N. This... ancient excise is invalid." "Yes, I know that, babe." You giggled again and explained further. "But nowadays it's kinda because of the organisation." "Organisation?" You nodded. "Yes. It's easier for the bride to stay at home, so that she doesn't have to drag all the things she needs for the wedding along to her maid of honour in the morning. Since you aren't supposed to see me before the wedding ceremony, you have to leave nevertheless, so..."

Loki sighed. Unfortunately, your words made sense. "Alright, alright. I understand." You smiled and rested both elbows on the black surface underneath you, so that you were able to slightly lean over the counter; brushing your nose against Loki's. "Does that mean you agree to it?" You whispered; still smiling.

The corners of Loki's mouth lifted; deep blue eyes mapping out the features of your face. "Darling, that's a very big request you are making... Asking me to stay a whole night away from you just because of a tradition..." "I-I know, babe, but-" "It's better that way, I know," Loki interrupted you; sighing deeply.

Drama queen.

Suddenly, you felt his warm hand against your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Let's pretend I agree to it... What do I get out of this, my love? Besides a cold, lonely bed?"

Your heart threatened to skip a beat, but you quickly tried to keep your composure - successfully.

"Well..." You spoke in a quiet, yet seductive voice and rounded the counter. The god's eyes stuck on you; following every step you took. You slowly approached him, while Loki spun around his bar stool with a smooth movement of his arms; now facing you.

You bit your lip; smiling up to him and placing both your palms on his naked thighs. "I, um... I don't know, I could... Text Nat and tell her that I'll be thirty minutes late to our meeting." You said nonchalantly; shrugging your shoulders and innocently massaging the hard muscles underneath your palms.

A low chuckle rumbled through your fiancè's chest and before you could react, Loki slid from the chair, hoisted you up and sat you down on the black, slate counter; coming to stand between your opened legs. A small squeak left your lips, since you did not see that coming.

Now Loki was the one who hand his hands on your pyjama shorts clad thighs; playing with the baby blue fabric.

"Make it an hour and we have an agreement," he purred; leisurely stroking your hot skin. "Deal," you breathed and greedily pulled him in for a feverish kiss, until you both ran out of air.

Your grinned at Loki; hand already aiming for the front of his grey boxershorts, when he suddenly stopped you and battered your hand away. "Ah.Ah.Ah, my love," he tutted and reached for your mobile. "Text Romanoff first." You complied, of course, and sent your best friend a quick message.

Loki gave you a smouldering look, "Good girl." and laid your phone aside again. "And now lift that pretty ass of yours, so we can get rid of those unnecessary garments."

Exactly an hour later, you knocked on Natasha's apartment door. It took her not even a minute to appear in the door frame; arms crossed and smirking. "I'll better ask not why you are an hour late?" You nodded in agreement. "Nah, better not." Your best friend giggled. "That's all I needed to know. Now come in." The widow stepped aside; granting you access.

"Oh, hey, Bruce!" You saw the doctor sitting at Natasha's desk in the corner of your eye, while walking past the small office. He wore his glasses and was - hence, you didn't know what he was doing.

When Banner heard your voice, he lifted his head and gave you a smile. "Hey, Y/N." A smile, which you returned. "You good?" He nodded. "Perfect. How about you?" "Well... Quite nervous, to be honest. But also excited." His smile widened. "Understandable."

After the little conversation, you followed Natasha into the living room and made yourself comfortable on her sofa.

"I hope you don't mind that he's here..." You shook your head. "Of course not. Why should I? He's your boyfriend!" She just shrugged her shoulders; smiling innocently. "I don't know. Perhaps you want to talk about something which isn't meant for his ears - beside the wedding stuff." Another laugh slipped past your lips. "I mean, I could, but... No."

You and Natasha talked the wedding through - from 'start' to 'finish'. It was important for you to make sure that nobody who helped to organise this forgot anything and that everything would go smooth and without an incident. Well, and since Nat was your maid of honour and main wedding planner, you talked with her, of course.

After all was settled, last minute preparations were made. The hours flew by quickly and it took you and the widow longer than expected. Therefore, it was already late when you closed the door of yours and Loki's shared apartment; the sun already setting over New York City.

"Babe?" You called out for your fiancè. The answer came quickly. "Bedroom, love!" You followed is voice and went to the bedroom; finding him packing a duffel bag for his 'sleepover' at Thor's. He didn't want to stay in a hotel, so his brother and sister-in-law's house was the only option. Thor and Jane were more than fine with it and so was Loki - luckily.

"Hey," you greeted him; smiling. The god lifted his head. Stunning blue eyes meeting yours. "Hello, love." He returned your smile. "I see you are back?" You nodded, while walking over to him; immediately wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your upper body against his. Like clockwork, Loki's arms engulfed you; hugging you even closer against him.

Your fiancè bestowed a lingering kiss on the crown of your head. "Everything prepared for tomorrow?" He mumbled against your hair, but loud enough for you to hear. You hummed in response; voice muffled by the sweatshirt he wore. "Mhm."

Loki didn't answer. He just continued to hold you close.

The both of you enjoyed the other's closeness; lost in touch and love. Your head rested against his chest; ear laying right where his heart was. The sound of his strong and steady heartbeat caused realisation to wash over you.

You were finally going to marry this man... Tomorrow.

Suddenly, it became so real; almost so close that you could reach it with your fingertips. It sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

"Babe..." You quietly spoke up. "Can you believe that we are getting married in less than twenty-four hours?"

A low, gravelly chuckle left the god's slip. "No, darling. It feels like a dream which is too good to be true." You nodded against his chest and took a deep breath.

Gods, he smelt so good.

"Something along that, yes..."

A few beats of silence passed, until Loki spoke up. "I think I never looked to anything else in my life as much forward as I do to tomorrow. I cannot wait to finally make you entirely mine."

His words sent a jolt of pure happiness and love through your body; heartbeat quickening.

"Me too, babe. Me too. Feels like I have been waiting for this all my life."

After thoroughly saying goodbye to Loki for the rest of the evening and upcoming night, you made yourself a little something to eat and then curled up in bed with a book; reading for a while, before you decided to go to sleep early.

Sure, you could've stayed up longer, but you knew that it was going to take you probably hours to actually sleep in. There was just too much excitement running through your veins; mixed with a tinge of nervosity - and you should be proven right...

On the next morning, your alarm clock threw you out of bed at seven o'clock sharp. Still a bit sleepy, you stood up and trotted into the bathroom. You paid the loo a visit (almost sleeping in again; sitting on the bowl) and then decided to firstly eat something, since your stomach was growling and protesting in hunger.

You still were kind of half asleep, when you passed the living room in order to get to the kitchen. But when your half lidded eyes landed coincidentally on your wedding dress for the ceremony, which you had placed there yesterday evening after Loki was away, you suddenly were wide awake.

YOU.WERE.GOING.TO.MARRY.TODAY!

You couldn't suppress the exciting squeal bubbling up in your throat; followed by a little happy dance.

You immediately grabbed your phone and tapped in lightning speed on the contact you had in mind; followed by the green button. About three rings later, an excited voice greeted you. "Good morning, bride." "I am going to get married today, oh my gosh!" You literally screamed; causing Natasha to giggle at the other end of the line. "Indeed, babes. Today is the day. Do you feel the nerves already?" You took a deep breath; giggling. "Now I do, yes." "Don't worry, babes. It's gonna be the best day of your life." You smiled to yourself. "I hope so." "I know so," answered Nat promptly.

You hung up with your best friend then; having to get some food inside you in order to calm your nerves a bit.

After that, you called Loki and talked to him quite a few minutes, which helped to ease yours - and his nerves as well. You would've loved to talk longer to him, but Natasha was minutes away from knocking at your door and helping you to get ready. You weren't even able to finish that thought, when you heard loud knocks coming undoubtedly from your door.

"Come in!"

Your best friend didn't waste a second and stormed inside; hugging you with a smile and an excited, happy squeal. "Let's get you ready and make the most beautiful bride Asgard has ever seen out of you," Nat winked at you and took your hand; dragging you towards the living room.

About two hour later, you stood in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom, with tears in your eyes. You wore the wedding dress you chose a few months ago with the girls - and it was just as beautiful as you remembered when you tried it on. Your hair was beautifully done; fitting perfectly with the veil.

You looked at yourself; slowly spinning in a circle and making the white tulle skirt twirl with the motion. "You look breathtakingly beautiful, babes," you suddenly heard Natasha speak up from behind you. "Loki is going to lose it..." You turned to face Natasha; smiling and still fighting the tears. You couldn't let them ruin all the work and time your best friend put in your look. Not yet. "Thank you."

Then you noticed that she had changed as well and was now wearing the bridesmaid dress the girls all chose to wear. "You look absolutely stunning as well!" Natasha giggled and did a small curtsey. "Thank you." You walked over to her; taking both her hands in yours. "I owe you, bestie. When you marry Bruce, you know which number to call." "Oh shut it, Y/N. It was an honour for me to do this. After all, we are best friends." "Indeed."

She winked at you. "But I take you up on it sometime."

The two of you spent a few moments in silence, before your thoughts drifted in another direction. "I... I wish my parents could see this..." You whispered; swallowing the lump in your throat. Natasha's expression changed from happy into compassionate. "I know, sweetie... I'm sorry." She squeezed your hands in a reassuring manner. "But I know that they would be so proud of you and the woman you became - and of course that you found your soulmate." You nodded. "Y-Yes. I think you are right." The widow gave you an encouraging smile. "Now let's go. The other girls will be here in a few minutes. It's time to get you married."

No ten minutes later, you met up with all the female Midgardian guests of yours and Loki's wedding, in order to travel to Asgard together. You took the girls with you, Loki the boys.

Arrived on Asgard, carriages awaited you and the guests, and brought you all to the location of the ceremony. But not without a small 'sightseeing tour' past the palace and through the nature of your fiancè's home. It was beautiful. Asgard always had been. Always would be. Especially in that time of the year...

It was a sunny day in October. A chilly breeze rustled the trees, which lined the path; causing the colourful leaves to float through the air. You smiled; looking through the small window of the carriage you shared with your bridesmaids.

"It's a wonderful day, isn't it?" Wanda asked with a smile. You looked at her; noticing how well emerald green fitted her. "It is. Perfect for a wedding," agreed Pepper.

About twenty minutes later, the carriage came to an halt and the door got opened for the girls – but not yet for you.

"Take a few deep breaths before going out there in a few minutes, babe. You got this." Nat winked at you and handed you the bridal bouquet; made out of roses, lilies and foliage. Awkward hugs - due to the angle and lack of space were exchanged, before the girls left, in order to take their places.

Your carriage had been the last one to arrive, of course. You knew that you only had a few minutes left, before it was going to happen. The moment you had waited and planned for since months. Yes, almost a whole year.

You felt how your heart rate picked up; palms getting sweaty.

You needed fresh air now.

So, you opened the little window on your left side and took a few very deep breaths like Nat advised; even closing your eyes for a moment and just focusing on the here and now.

Of what wonderful hours laid ahead of you - and Loki.

Suddenly, you heard how the door of the carriage got opened and a familiar voice spoke to you. "Are ya ready, kid?"

You smiled; turning your head and opening your eyes. In front of you stood Nick Fury; dressed in suit and tie, with a smile on his face as well.

You nodded; "Yes." feeling the warm sun on your face. "Just... Give me one last second." Nick smiled and gave you a nod, "As the bride wishes." and closed the door once more.

You took another deep breath; looking up at the creme white ceiling of the carriage. "Mom, dad? Wherever you are right now... I hope you can see me," you started; having to swallow hard. "I-I hope you are proud of me - and happy for me."

A soft, chilly autumn breeze rustled your beautifully done hair and tickled the skin of your face. You smiled; working once more hard against the tears. "I take that as a yes."

A knock from Nick against the door of the carriage interrupted your little moment. "I don't wanna push ya, kid, but I think your groom is waiting."

You nodded to yourself, trying to ease up your nerves a last time and gently pushed the door open.

"I'm ready."

Fury nodded and reached out his hand for you to take. "Ma'am." You giggled and took his hand, so that he could help you step down the three steps. Once your feet had touched the ground, you looked around and finally took in the breathtaking location you and Loki had chosen. It was a meadow in the heart of Asgard, with trees and waterfalls in the background.

Emerald green satin curtains, which were dancing in the soft wind and placed directly in front of the carriage, blocked your view from the wedding guests and of course everything else. Just like the curtains shielded you from the eyes of the crowd.

"Shall we?" Nick asked; now offering you his arm.

Yes... Nick Fury was the man who was going to walk you down the aisle. He was the closest to a father you had after losing your dad. He had looked after you in all those years; always having a sympathetic ear. Since that very day he came across you in that ragged, old gym in down-town Detroit and took you under his wing. He had given you what you needed the most at that time... A second chance.

Good thing you were strong and lucky enough to win that competition he had set up, which gave you the opportunity to become a SHIELD agent. And you made it.

"Yes." You placed your hand on his arm. The music started to play - a beautiful classic, instrumental piece you and Loki had chosen together.

Nick gave you a smile and led you through the curtains.

All eyes were immediately on you, of course. As it should be. A spark of nervousness sizzled through your system. It was a lot for you to take in at that very moment. So many people - all gathered here to witness this beautiful event. The celebration of love. Your eyes darted from one familiar face to the next; exchanging some shy and nervous smiles. You took in your surroundings. Autumn had coloured the trees in shades of orange, red and yellow.

And the staff of the royal family had decorated everything in Loki's colours and other rich shades; fitting for a royal wedding. The chairs on which the guests sat were, of course, swathed in emerald green satin with gold accents and decorated with a matching boutonnière. A white lily and white roses with a little bit of foliage.

The carpet you and Nick walked on was white with black rose petals everywhere. It was beautiful.

But then your eyes landed on Loki. Finally. Your brain had been overwhelmed by all the sudden impressions which rained down on you - but finally you were able to see him.

Your heart skipped a beat. No... A few beats. He looked beyond beautiful in his ceremonial armour; specially made for this occasion.

Black, shiny boots and black leather trousers laid the groundwork for his outfit. Underneath the emerald green chest and arm plates you saw a black undershirt peeking through. Golden vines adorned the armour and a cape in the same colour moved with the wind; embroidered with small, green leaves. Of course the signature horns on his head couldn't be missing. It was a part of him, after all.

A huge smile was stretched across his whole face, and you could swear you saw tears glistening in his eyes.

Sweaty hands were crossed in front of his upper body; fingers nervously fumbling. It was so utterly sweet - and reassuring to know that the man of your dreams was just as nervous as you were.

And suddenly you were only a few meters away from Loki; causing your Y/E/C eyes to meet his oceanic blues and the world to suddenly stop turning. All that existed in that very moment were the two of you. Nothing and nobody else.

Your eyes weren't able to break apart from his - just like the god's. Hence, you didn't even notice how Nick placed your hand in Loki's with a smile. Or how he spoke a few last words to you, before he stepped away and took his seat.

"Y/N..." Loki breathed out; voice shaky. Norns, he could cry out of happiness. "You... You look absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful, my love."

You needed a second to collect yourself and keep your composure. "T-Thanks, babe, I- Gods, you look so beautiful yourself."

He gave you a dazzling smile and brushed his thumb gently, lovingly over the back of your hand, before he led you up the two steps to the podium on which the Allfather already awaited you.

Just a few meters from where you and Loki stood now, was an floral archway; framing the whole scene. A little podium was placed in front of it, on which the wedding rings laid. With the waterfalls in the background, it was picture perfect.

The music stopped then; faded away and left silence behind - except a few single whispers in the crowd. You held on to Loki's hand and Loki to yours; both needing the calming touch of the other.

Odin lifted his hands as a signal for everyone that the ceremony was about to begin. "Dear friends, family members, Avengers and royal staff," the Allfather began his speech; voice booming.

"Each one of you - no matter Asgardian or Midgardian, found the way to this beautiful, inconspicuous place in our realm for the most important reason possible... A wedding." Odin paused and looked at you and Loki with a soft smile. "But not just any wedding, no... A royal wedding! On this day, I honestly never thought would arrive, we are here to witness the marriage of my son, prince Loki of Asgard and his chosen princess, Y/N Y/L/N - SHIELD Agent and Avenger from Midgard."

You and Loki exchanged a loving smile at Odin's words and you felt how his hand gave yours a gentle squeeze.

"Let us begin the ceremony with the traditional exchange of swords and daggers - an ancient tradition, which we want to preserve in order to honour our ancestors," Odin announced and gestured towards two royal guards - chosen by the Allfather himself, who were positioned on the left and right side of the podium; giving them the signal to step up to you, him and Loki.

"Son, you will start. Present the chosen dagger you are going to pass on to your future sons and daughters." Loki let go of your hand - much to your dismay, although you knew that he had to, gave his father a short bow and turned to face the guard on his side. He held an emerald green pillow in both his palms, on which laid Loki's chosen dagger. Carefully, Loki took it in his hands and turned back to face you.

"Y/N - bride and future bearer of my children. I present to you my chosen dagger; forged by the dwarves of Nidavellir in the heart of a dying star; hopefully handed over to the sons and daughters you'll gift me with."

You couldn't suppress the little twinge deep within your heart, as the word 'children' left Loki's lips.

You knew that he had to say those words, but it stung nevertheless a little bit, given the fact that he didn't want children. But once your ears heard where he got the dagger from, you felt your heart skip a beat. He went that far - just for you.

Of course, you wanted to leap into his arms and just kiss him, but you couldn't. This was a royal wedding ceremony after all, so you stuck to the 'script'.

You curtsied and bowed your head. "I accept and take this dagger as a symbol of your love; handed over to your future sons and daughters." You took Loki's dagger and presented it to the crowd - and Odin, which was an important part, then went to the guard on your side and exchanged your chosen dagger with Loki's; gently placing it on the equally emerald green pillow and giving the guard the permission to step aside.

"Y/N, you may now present your dagger," Odin announced, gesturing at you.

You turned to Loki once again and presented now your chosen dagger. "Loki - groom and father of my future children. I present to you my chosen dagger; gifted to me by the Allmother - the goddess of marriage and fertility, with the promise to protect our bonded families."

Loki bowed and took the dagger from your hands into his; presenting it to the crowd. "I accept and take this dagger as a symbol of your love and protection of our bonded families." He placed the dagger on the pillow which the guard still held on his side; commanding him with a silent nod to step away as well.

Odin, who had watched the exchange almost in silence stepped forward again; taking the lead. "Now that the dagger exchange is executed, we shall move on to the vows." At the wave of Odin's hand, another guard stepped up the podium, with a beautiful emerald green silk ribbon. He handed it over to Odin with a bow.

The Allfather presented the ribbon, which was yours and Loki's signal to face each other again.

"With this ribbon, I shall bond you to each other and tie the knot of marriage!" You and Loki intertwined your hands and Odin wrapped the ribbon around both your wrists; tying it - and the both of you together.

"You may speak your vows now."

Since Loki started with the dagger exchange, you both decided together beforehand that you were going to start with the vows.

You took a deep breath; looked deep into Loki's blue eyes and begun to speak. "Love... Is a strange thing. When we met, I never thought I would call you my husband four years in the future. What I saw, was a misunderstood god; stripped down to nothing more than a man, silently begging for a second chance. I wanted to give you this chance. Luckily, I did." You smiled up at him; resisting the urge to run your thumb over his cheek. "But love is so much more than that... It's a promise. A promise to give yourself to another and trust them blindly. Love is the most powerful thing in the universe - and with you, I am stronger than I ever was before."

You saw tears pooling in the god's eyes; he was fighting hard to hold them back.

"Loki Laufeyson, prince of Asgard, I vow to be your wife for all eternity. Not even death shall be able to part us. Whatever life throws our way; no matter if happiness or sadness, I will walk by your side. I always will."

By now you had to fight your tears as well - but it got only worse once Loki spoke his vow, but he needed a short moment to keep his emotions together.

"Y/N, my light in the darkness... My anchor in the harsh ocean waves. You brought me back to life. You brought the sun back in, which was everything but an easy task. The walls I built around my heart were torn down by your love." You felt how he stroked his thumb in a caressing, loving manner over the skin on your wrist; the ribbon not able to stop him to do so.

But you weren't able to hold back the tear which ran down your cheek and dropped on the ground beneath you.

"Love is indeed strange and the most powerful thing in the whole universe, but not just that. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."

Loki smiled at you through his own clouded eyes and oh so illicitly raised his free hand to brush the tears from your cheek.

"Y/N Y/L/N, my goddess of Midgard, I vow to be your husband for all eternity. Not even death shall be able to part us. Whatever life throws our way; no matter if happiness or sadness, I will walk by your side. I always will."

You smiled at him through tears; unable to prevent your lips from brushing a soft kiss against the heel of his hand. The contact of your soft lips left a tingling, sizzling sensation on the god's skin behind. He shivered; threatening to get lost in this little moment - but then Odin's voice cut through the air, like a dagger through flesh.

"These rings shall serve as an everlasting symbol of your love and marriage, and to entirely tie the bond between the both of you," the Allfather spoke; taking a step aside to reveal said rings. He gestured for you and Loki to come closer and take the last step on the way of becoming husband and wife.

Excitement and happiness bubbled up within your body; causing your heart to speed up again. That was the moment you, Loki and basically everybody else attending this wedding had waited for.

Odin removed the ribbon around your wrists and gave his son the silent permission to begin. Loki didn't let himself tell that twice, of course.

A shaky, nervous hand reached for the slightly smaller and thinner wedding band; made out of hand-worked silver with a tree bark texture and an inlay of crushed emeralds.

On the inside of the ring, was a beautiful engraving, which read 'Beloved' in old Norse runes.

The other soft, warm, yet sweaty hand reached for your hand. "Take this ring as a symbol of my love. It shall remind you, that I am yours and only yours," Loki spoke; gazing deep into your eyes - and gently slipped the ring on your finger.

You felt like you couldn't breathe - and explode from sheer endless love and happiness at the same time. It was a roller coaster ride.

Taking a small moment to take a deep breath and - once more, collect yourself to keep things together, you closed your eyes.

Urged on by your racing heart; only beating for Loki and his eternal love, you quickly reopened your eyes again and took his ring out of the small, quadratic box.

"Take this ring as a symbol of my love. It shall remind you, that I am yours and only yours," you repeated Loki's words and slipped the wedding band on his finger as well. It felt so right. Like everything was falling into place; as it should be. As it was always meant to be.

"As the Allfather of the nine realms and king of Asgard, I hereby pronounce you, Loki - prince of Asgard and Y/N - child of Midgard, as husband and wife," Odin announced cheerfully; giving you and Loki a smile. "Son, you may kiss your bride now."

Another thing Loki didn't let himself tell twice. You hadn't even the chance to process your father-in-law's words, before big hands landed on your hips and reeled you in; soft lips crashing against yours.

It was a powerful kiss. Probably the most powerful kiss you and Loki ever shared; overwhelmed by emotions and feelings.

Loud claps and cheers erupted from behind you, and suddenly it became real. You were married now... Married. You had the privilege, honour and right to call Loki Laufeyson your husband - from now on and for all times.

Of course, I won't keep all the great stuff my wedding planner made in this chapter from you. 😉

Loki's hairstyle is from me and @smolvenger ; drawn by my friend @sugar0612 ! 🤗 Carrie's hairstyles she chose for Y/N can be found here, here aaaand here. 🤍

Then we got the bridesmaids' dresses by @asgards-princess-of-mischief !

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 's design for Y/N's beautiful wedding dress!

The bouquet by my flower girl @fictive-sl0th !

Aaaand the wedding/engagement ring by @loz-3 !

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @jaidenhawke @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake (Continuing in the comments!)

#the baby fever wedding #the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x reader smut #marvel loki #loki mcu #loki smut #loki fanfic #Spotify

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g8dess · 8 months ago

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˚✩ ⋆｡. 100 Follower Event .｡⋆ ✩˚

Reblog Game : Moodboards

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┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡.✩

┊ ┊ ┊ ✫

┊ ┊ ☪︎⋆

┊ ⊹ ┊

✯ ⋆ ┊ . ˚

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The poll has spoken! And it has said that I should do a moodboard event! So here we are!

˚✩ ⋆｡.✩ For the next week, until Monday 21 October, you can reblog this post to get a moodboard of your f/o / selfship. I will post them as new posts under the tag #g8dess100followmoodboards and I'll tag your blog in the post. (If for whatever reason you can't reblog, you can always put the info needed in my askbox, just remember to have an emoji to identify yourself with.)

˚✩ ⋆｡.✩ You can reblog multiple times, but make sure you have only one f/o per reblog.

˚✩ ⋆｡.✩ Be sure to include :

• Name,

• Picture,

• Themes (can be anything from colors, nature elements, activities, places, to hobbies, senses, feelings, ...)

• Dynamics between you two / A little info about how they are with you

• I encourage you to ramble in your reblog, the more info the easier it is to pick themes

˚✩ ⋆｡.✩ This reblog game is proship safe

Now for some examples under the cut!!

Vi with the theme Power and red. Oc with theme Angel-Devil, sunrays. Levi with themes Gamer, best friends, Artist, Goldfish, Jellyfish.

Ichimatsu with themes cats and jellyfish, cuddles, desire, being good enough as I am. Shion with themes, dreaming but being awake, cats, cuddles, sunrains, cozy.

Oc with themes nightsky, nebulas, dancing in a rundown castle, in a million lives I chose you. Cove with themes seashells and starlight, waves, sunset/rise, we are growing up together. Kaoru with themes, carnival date, orange roses, dancing in the kitchen, more than friends.

#g8dess100followmoodboards #own #moodboard #event #100 followers #proselfship #proship selfship #selfship #it posted too soon argh #guess we ball

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cherubnthechaoschoir · 1 year ago

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BARK! BITE! BLEED! (PART I) - FWB!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

summary: being without is always easier when you don't know what it is to be 'with'.

a note from Lucy: heyyyy! hows it going? yes...im back with another series. Those of you waiting for cherub, its coming. I promise. hand over my heart and the other on the bible. but words have a funny habit of not wording so...tale please take the humble peace offering of slutty fwb!frankie and please dont bite my fingers off.

playlist | moodboard

wc: 5742 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n, slight noncon voyeurism, thin appartment walls, mentions of cheating, obsessive behaviour, frankie is obsessed and it is very unhealthy, toxic relationships, heavy religious imagry (come on, is this even a surpise when it comes to my writing?), age gap but not bombastic sorry chloe (reader is 21, Frankie is 27) - though not mentioned in this part, graphic smut, could be considered dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (do i need to spell it out to you not to do this?), creampie, biting, its not vore!!!! but there is something inherrently sexual in the themes of metaphorical consumption, softdom!frankie, scratching, gore imagry in the sense of a hunter prey type of thing? More of lu being dell, batshit insane, blurting words onto a google doc and praying ot makes ense when being blasted out into the void.

series m.list | m.list

“At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is merely a bitch. True power lies in those who don't just bare their teeth, but make you bleed when they sink in.”

Frankie was a quiet man. He would always keep to himself. Never usually stuck his nose in anyone's business unless it was for their own good. Stayed in the four walls of his own apartment he rented close to the barracks. He’d made one friend in the entire complex. You. His next-door neighbour. The only thing he knew before prying was your last name on the buzzer out front. From there it was waiting. And watching. Frankie had an obsession with observing you from his kitchen window every time you came home from work at the bar. Stood in the shroud of shadow and sheer curtain. He dug his claws in and clung to each passing conversation in the hallway, or the laundromat down the street whenever coincidence let you pop up there too. Stored each part of you that you trusted him with in his mind for safekeeping. Often caught himself staring at a particular pair of red lace panties whenever you did your laundry.

There was one small, tiny little problem in all of this, however. Lisa. He supposed he should thank her really, because without her, he would have never moved out of the barracks in the hope of starting a life for them. He would have never met you. It was convenient, reasonably priced and he could excuse poor plumbing and heating for the fact it was close enough to his work that he didn't have to wake up any earlier than 5:30. But Lisa…oh, Lisa was Machiavelian. A conniving woman, with her heart set in thick ice, and a cold, unforgiving grip over what was hers. It made him wonder what he saw in her in the first place. Maybe he was blinded to everything but the curve of her face, or the pout of her mouth and the pant of his name as it passed her parted lips. Or there was some morbid fascination he had with her teeth as they bared to his skin and bit down. Tearing him to shreds. Either way, there was something to live for when being ripped apart by her. Something to distract from the sounds of pleasure that seeped through paper thin walls at night. Your pleasure. At the hands of a man he felt nothing compared to and knew nothing about. So he’d roll over and fuck out his frustration on the woman he hated but chose to stay with until she left him for another.

Another day, another ache. Another pain cramping in his lower back as Frankie inched closer to thirty and still no happier. Twenty-seven, a stable-ish job…and what else in life to show for it? He was bitter. In no place to want the company of another unless only for the night. Except tonight he was alone again, pressing his key into the lock, twisting it open, closing the door behind him. And then waiting…listening. Anticipating the drag of his hand south over the plane of his abdomen to under his boxers where he’d tease himself to the sound of you with another man. The pretty whimpers you’d let slip under the weight of another man's skin and bone, and the pleasure flooding the gaps of your synapses.

Only this time there were no cries for more. No whimpers, or moans. No. These sounds were shouts. And anger ignited you as you rampaged through your apartment on the other side of the wall, getting dressed as Mark, the man you’d wasted months on, chased after you in pursuit of your forgiveness.

“Who do you think I am?’ Frankie heard through the wall, pressing his ear to cold plaster with bated breath. Your voice was shrill, seething with the intent to carve into Mark’s skin with an onslaught of verbal mutilation. Have the words mark him with bleeding, weeping shame. “No, really? You think I’d never figure it out, Mark? Am I naïve to you?”

He slipped out of bed with careful stealth: Followed the sound of your voice through the wall, walking with his ear pressed to it before the sound of your front door opening made him jump, stepping back for a second. He blinked, once, twice…then raised his hands to plaster again and leaned closer, ears straining to hear what was now distance shrieking from the hallway outside. Which he followed to his front door. Listening intently behind the wood.

As he held his breath until his lungs burned in his chest, something flared up in Frankie. A desperate, wanting, starving need to swoop in. Be your knight in shining armour. The words were stuck in his throat, and if he wasn’t careful, they would choke him blue. But if he knew even a shred about you, it was that you’d hate that just as much as whatever it was Mark had done to you to have you tossing him out in the early evening. You were a private person. A woman who never appreciated prying ears or eyes. You avoided all his questions about your past whenever he asked. Swerved him off topic and into the hedgerow before he had a chance to blink and realise he had the backhand of whiplash. And if he let it slip once that the walls were thin, there was no telling where your quick mind would jump to next. Frankie never knew why or what made you so guarded. But he imagined one day you bit the hand of god and he stopped feeding you.

Frankie’s heart was thumping to the beat of his anxiety in his throat, making it harder to swallow the lump it formed, clammy palms pressed to the cool wood with the rest of him.

“You’re a sick man!” He heard, followed by a thumping of something being thrown, then a yelp out of Mark as Frankie guessed he was dodging whatever it was you threw his way. Shoes, maybe? Something else? “A coward! So get out. Don't call. Don’t come knocking. And tell your fucking wife!”

A shuffling of ashamed feet. A slam of your front door. Clattering around behind shared walls. Then silence.

It was five minutes of silence. But it felt like the seconds within those intervals were put on the rack and stretched in torture. Five minutes that he should have used to step back from his door but didn't. He just prayed there was more of you to have to himself for a second.

Then the descent of knuckles came beating down on his door. Causing his heart to jolt out in his chest then plummet into his stomach. Twisting his insides into knots that made him sick with intrigue. He took a step back. And a breath. Then waited a second before opening the door to find you stood there in a silly little lace hemmed tank top and sleep shorts. Your hair dishevelled and cheeks flushed. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words stuck to the backs of his teeth and the roof of his mouth like soggy, claggy toffee. So he shut up, grateful you cut him off first.

“We’re having a bonfire. So whatever shit Lisa left here, bring it with you. My door will be open. I’ll be on my balcony.” And you left him with nothing but that. Stomping back down the hall in a flurry of your anger.

Frankie stood there, feet practically glued to the floor, fingers curling in on his palms as his blunt nails pressed into already calloused flesh. And an image of you, teeth bared to him like Lisa’s once were, appeared in his mind. An apparition of hurt, torment and his own vulnerability. But it was too late. His feet moved before his mind could and he was already collecting the things of his ex-girlfriend who had wronged him time and time again, stuffing them into his arms in a bundle of broken memory, anguish and lingering hurt.

He found you standing by a metal bin of a man's belongings. The odd t-shirt, pictures of your face next to his, smiles happy and bright with the joy of a relationship you never expected to cave in. In your hand was a packet of cigarettes you'd told him in the passing of a hallway’s conversation that you’d quit, but evidently not. And a crumpled, misshapen box of matches. In the other was a bottle of Whiskey. The brand Mark insisted on liking and you’d bought him for a birthday present. A present he’d never receive because he was as dead to you as the day was long.

“I thought you quit.” He said, trying to start a conversation that hit a dead end pitifully quickly.

“Toss it on.” You mumbled dismissively with a jerk of your head to the pile, eyes glued to Mark’s belongings, washing down your bitter words with an even more bitter swig of drink.

Frankie complied wordlessly from there, dumping the contents of his arms on top of the photos and clothes, stepping back while you poured a generous amount of the liquor on top. A seasoning of fuck you not farewell to the people you’d shared your life with and would thankfully never cross paths with again. He took the bottle from you when you pressed it into his chest, taking a drink and grimacing at the taste. It wasn't smooth. It was almost sour, with a kickback that burned too much to be pleasurable as it passed down the column of his throat in a thick swallow. His thoughts trickled in from there as he read the label and glanced at you. He wanted to get you drunk. Get you to slip up. Let yourself be taken for once.

You both watched, deadfaced, as you struck a match, used it to light a cigarette and then tossed it in the bin as memories curled up under heat. The alcohol setting the blaze up in a satisfying roar of good riddance.

He thought it was a little strange. How you’d come to him. Yes, you were friends. But the type of friend that only ever conversed between life events. In the empty limbo of hallways and laundromats. Not burning things on your balcony in the hope the heat will melt your heart back together, It was a little late for that. Stone doesn’t melt. And the two of you had hearts of set concrete from the turn of events you’d experienced. Encased in the cage of bone that would no longer open to another unless broken in two and forced apart. So you slid down the brick wall, knees bent to your chest while you smoked. The flame flickering a violent xanthous, ochre and scarlet.

He joined you on the floor, passing back the bottle. The two of you side by side, and it only just occurred to Frankie how lonely he was now. But how terrified of intimacy he was. Intimacy of a level deeper than skin/ The both of you wordless, silent as the decaying dead of night. Only the crackle of fire between you and a sniff for your nose as the evening air nipped it and made it run. So to distract yourself, you condemned your tongue to bad liquor, chasing it with a drag of your cigarette and a grimace,

“God, this is shit.” You scoffed.

“Not a hard liquor gal?” He chuckled, turning his head to glance at you out the corner of his eyes before the flame had his eyes attention again.

“More of a wine person, really. But even I can tell this is shit.” And you gestured to the bottle in your hand, reading over the label and sighing.

“Yeah,” he sighed, inflicting another taste upon himself when he took it out of your grasp. “It is.”

Silence again. Not awkward for you who preferred your own company to others, but for him, who had been watching you begging for an in, it was clawing at his insides like a starved animal would at the walls of its enclosure.

“So…” He drew out, and you had to bite back an amused smile.

“What?”

Frankie found himself staring in trance at your side profile, with the same fascination you honed in on the flickering flame. He thought in silence for a second. Asking himself the same question.

"How long did you date Mark for?" He asked. The name made him grimace as if it tasted sour in his mouth. Like he had to spit it out with disgust in every syllable for fear of it burning.

"Six months." Another awkward, off beat pause followed as he nodded. Then asked again.

“Did you love him?”

"No." You said flat out. But your words were honest and brutal to the man you let in then kicked out.

Frankie found himself suffocating a sigh of relief in his own ribs. They pinched slightly with an attempt of something profound to be felt. Like a child who had stumbled upon a strangely twisted shell at the beach. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

You turned to him, tilting your head. But Frankie couldn't tell if it was annoyance or respect for the bravery he had on asking you such personal questions. "What is this? Keeping Up With The Kardashians?"He held up his hands in quick defence, backing down.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

"There isn't anything to know except for the fact I'm pissed off." You muttered. “And I figured you would be too, considering the argument I heard a couple nights ago through the wall of my kitchen."

Frankie felt his face go pale, then heat up in the apples of his cheeks. "Oh. So you heard that?" The way your cigarette smouldered as you spoke was the only movement on the narrow balcony. So you did know the walls were thin. It made him wonder what else you knew. If you knew how he strained to listen through plaster and drywall each night.

"Oh, I heard it alright.” You smirked, finding sick pleasure in the way he seemed to squirm. “Something about Lisa finding you...'dull behind the eyes'." Frankie watched as you rolled your eyes and doubled back on your standing in the argument, "If you're going to insult someone, at least be creative about it. ``Give them a good reason to cut it loose." You were like a pendulum to him. But one that spun in clockwise, then anticlockwise circles, instead of oscillating back and forth. Unpredictable in a way that both horrified and intrigued him.

"Dull?" He had to laugh in disbelief, "I am not dull."

You smiled to yourself at that, leaning your head back against the brickwork. Ready to shatter his lie with a flick of your sharp tongue. "You are dull, Frankie. You get up. Go to work. Come back. You do your laundry every Sunday— and I know that because so do I. Your car is always in the exact same spot next to mine. Without fail. Now, you can put all down to ‘strict military regime’, but the bitter truth is," You looked him in the eye, your cig hanging from your lips as you showed him the satisfied grin pulling at your mouth, "you are dull. We all are. We work, we grind, we cry because we work. You ache to the marrow and you get stabbed in the back. And you're begging on your damn knees to bite the hand that feeds you. But if you do, then you starve.”

Frankie had never had his own fear served to him by such a beautiful devil before. And he wished, with all he had left in him that Lisa hadn’t taken or ruined, that you were wrong. It made him want to cave into himself to protect what little he had left. Snarl like a wounded bitch as he held back from others to lick his wounds. Maybe offer it to you and beg you to take it off his hands. But how could he argue when you were practically holding up a mirror to his own eyes? "I hate that you're right." He said in solemn downcast bereavement. And watched the cloud of smoke float silently in front of your face to obscure the very mouth that let him have it in such careful, exact slicing words. The blade of your knife was sharpened to a paper thin point. Now stained with his body’s red.

"There are very few things I'm wrong about. Regardless of that, it's a simple formula and easy to understand.”

“And what is it?” He asked, but regretted it for he knew his heart might not be able to take much more. Not that he showed it. This whole exchange his brow hadn’t folded into a single crease.

“Two things in life are certain: Death. And taxes. You work to pay your taxes, and you die from working."

"That's a pretty pessimistic way of looking at things."

"Life is pessimistic." You shot back with amusement, intently staring in a fixed trance at the pile of burning memories. The last warmth it offered was metaphorically and literally its own destruction. Irony, as Frankie pointed out to himself in his crawling mind. "It crucifies you, and burns you...until you curl in on yourself at the corners and turn to ash."

The conversation had reached a level of solemnity he hadn’t expected, but he’d be a liar if he didn't admit to sinking his claws in yet again. His teeth might come next if you gave him the sweet chance.

You were quiet after that. Both of you were. The remnants of a fire that symbolised how Mark was no longer relevant in your life, and neither Lisa in his. If he thought Lisa was machiavellian, the word had new meaning now. But like with her, it drew him in and snared him into blissful trance. It was the type of blind faith you pin to a deity in the sky. The type that you never see but are forced and gaslit into believing because it's shoved down your throat from a young age. You were not his savour. He knew that in the pit of his very existence, the eye of the storm in his gut.

He would be crucified by you.

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

"Aw." You pouted in mock appreciation, pressing a hand to your chest. "Thank you."

Frankie afforded himself the pleasure of laughing at that. As cynical as it all was, it was real. You had just dared to say the quiet hushed parts out loud for him to digest. Though he felt like he was choking on it more than swallowing it. Regardless, he pushed it down to find confidence in himself and prod further.

“You keep doing that.”

“What?” “That.” Frankie pointed to all of you with a gesture absent of any direction, as if it was obvious. He watched as you tilted your head and scrunched your face a little. That crease in your brow…how it would haunt him in future. He felt like the prey. He was torn between wanting you to hunt him slowly so he could feel something at your hand, agony or not. Or asking you to do it quickly so he doesn't have to pursue through the bitter aftertaste.

“I’m not following.”

“You do this thing…where you turn conversations on their head. I feel like I'm getting whiplash.” He forced out a chuckle to make it seem like he was playing through with humour. But his words were genuine under the lace disguise of jest. You really did confuse him. You had his string of thought in knots. Complicated ones. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed at the question. “You’re trying to figure me out.”

“Why shouldn’t i?”

"Because I'm not the distraction you need." You bit, almost like a warning. And Frankie would have listened if he wasn't so hellbent on breaking in. No matter how hostile, how feral, he'd take the time to tame the caged, battered, abused animal.

“Maybe not.” He agreed, twisting his upper body to face you. It’s important to understand that what Frankie felt wasn’t love. At least, not how he’d experienced it in the past. This was an infatuation birthed by the fruit of lust forbidden to act upon until now. “But you’re the one I want.” With those words came a darkness in his eyes. The kind that reminded you of floods and tempests in biblical art. You were that tempest, with swollen grey clouds and a hammering of thunder ringing in his ears. Laughing as you crashed him onto rocks while he swam helplessly with little energy to the shore. Only to be shoved back with another crushing wave that cut through flesh and met bone with a chill like ice. “Just because we’re sad and miserable, doesn’t mean we have to give up a good time.” His instincts were buried before. Rolling in their grave at the chance to touch you. So he pressed his palms to the lid of the coffin and pushed. Reaching out to trace a delicate line along the angle of your jaw. His eyes were drawn to the soft plush of your lips and how they parted ever so slightly. “I want a distraction, baby.”

He had you where he wanted you. And the liquor mixing thick with your blood had inhibition slipping through your fingers. His breath was hot on your lips. Needy to be paid attention to.

“Would it be worth my while?” You challenged, ignoring eye contact for now. Instead looking to his lips for the lies.

“You don’t think I could satisfy you?” He smirked, lifting your chin with a single thick finger curled underneath and the pad of his thumb swiping slowly over your bottom lip. “I’ll do better than anyone else could.”

“Sounds like an awful lot of confidence you have there. At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is just a bitch.”

Frankie chuckled at that. A deep rumble that rattled the bones that protect the hollow hole in his chest. “Come on…let me have a taste.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He took the silence and the glimmer of ‘i dare you’ in your eyes, pressing his lips to yours to consume you. Devour you whole. They took their time in sinking together and suctioning your lower lip into his mouth. Then his tongue dared to venture forward past parted lips to lick into your mouth and taste the backs of your teeth.

First, you let go of trepidation to take a hold of him. The roots of his hair and the back of his neck, fingers curled like talons. After, you let go of all else. The thoughts scratching the back of your skull, the headache that blistered before by the inferno calmed down and you were forced to focus on him alone as he took a handful of your hips and lifted you up to his lap to roll into him like a steady tide.

You pulled him by the collar of his shirt to your room, clothes left in a scattered flurry along the way. Breadcrumbs to pick up later and either regret or laugh at. He unhinged your jaw to let slip your airy moan as his hands travelled south to meet the seam of your cunt. All else fell into place when he circled your clit with two fingers to start the first loop of the knot in your belly. A warmup for the act of sin, and need, and wanting. Whatever god there was should have never been prayed to in the first place. And Frankie knew it now that he was damned to hell from the first parting of your thighs for his wandering hand. His teeth were ready for sinking as he gathered your legs and hooked them over his shoulders to walk open mouthed, spit decorated kisses down the trunk of your navel. Pressing his nose into your mound. The must of your cunt making his eyes light up as he stared at the bob of your throat when you swallowed sharply. Head rolled back to the pillow. His tongue glided into your folds for the first lick. Making a hot wet stripe of a path from your asshole to your clit. He used the tip of his tongue to circle it and glide lover to curl into your quivering hole. Drawing out the taste. The beckoning gesture of his tongue gathering your taste in his senses. A thumb following suit to roll the bud of your clit under it, his nose clumsy as it bumped into it too. Obsessing over the tang of your arousal, thick in shine over his lips the scruff of his chin.

Your thighs clamped over his ears that were red. The heat made your own skin burn. Dark curls of his hair whispering against their insides as he continued to devour you from the seam. And your orgasm– it burned bright after the first fizzle. Made your eyes scrunch closed as he pulled it from you with hand and tongue. What was used for his words had yours spilling from parted lips like a puppet. A vessel for him to carry pleasure through. It had you toppling over into oblivion. The abyss.

With bones brittle and hollowed like a bird you were fine to be dead weight as he ascended your body again. Folding you in half with your legs still bent over his shoulders. He traced the jut of your collarbone with the blunt edges of his teeth. How he wished they’d be sharp to sink deeper. But you were grateful as it would be easier for him to not draw blood and see the inside of you ran red like all the others. It was easy to not be human. It was easy to not show emotion and weakness.

“Feel that?’ he panted against your goosebump pebbled skin, and you nodded. You did. It was the promise to feel desired and not broken. And not maimed beyond repair by another person you let in. Another person you built yourself up to prepare to love, to only have the rug pulled from under your feet and the brickwork clatter to the ground. It was the same promise to him. And the desire that ran thick in his blood made his pulse thrum heavy under its weight. Its intrusion hot under his lust scorched skin.

“Yeah.”

“Imma make it go away for you, baby.” he promised with a kiss to the hollow of your throat below its column, between your clavicle. And it was anything but empty. It was full. And round, and swollen with something deeper in his ribs that ached to be let loose. Breathed to fill you too. “I’ll make it all go away.”

His hips pressed flush to yours and the drag of neatly groomed hair sent a shockwave through your clit and up your rattling spine. Vertebrae by vertebrae. Setting off blazing fireworks in your mind for just a second before he started a slow drag. It was a stretch that stung. But pain was comfort if it had pleasure hot on its heels like an obedient dog. Ironic how you feared men like him, who seemed so eager to please and let themselves in uninvited. But you took it willingly this time because you needed to forget for a single second about the heart that bled under flesh and bone in the cage of your ribs.

His cock was thick, full and curved up into the part of you that you couldn't have reached even if you tried. He slotted into your heat like he was meant to stay there. And that alone made you want to scream for him to give in and not relent so you could be ignorant to the way it seemed divine. The roll of his hips kicked up in pace and soon he was hunched over you. Strong arms rippled with muscle from brutal training since the age of eighteen bracing himself on either side of your head. The feeling of him curling his hips into you made you burn. It sent a tumble of a moan from your lips through the breathless pant of his name. A name he never thought you'd call in the tangle of your sheets. But the burning need to give you what he had wanted all this time ate at him. It ripped the flesh fresh off his bone and left him bleeding into you.

Frankie’s eyes misted over when the chain that hung from his neck slipped over your chin and you bought the metal of his dog tags between your teeth. Biting down. It feels better biting down anyway. And the cool of the metal on your hot tongue made your head swim. Looking him in his eyes and daring him deeper. So his lips pressed into a firm line, and your nails raked down his back to leave raised red lines in their wake. Tracing new paths over the old map of scar tissue. Marking new land and territory. The air between you hung heavy with the heat of exhales. And blew with the shared moan you indulged in when it coiled in your belly. The cradle of your hips accommodated his cock as it stretched the tightness of your walls. Your slick arousal giving way to fluidity of otherwise rabid motion. Starving.

When on his tongue, you were alive. Inside you he breathed again with the clutch of your cunt around him. Warm and beating, and thrumming quickly like a hummingbird's wings. A squatter temporarily camped up in the crack between two ribs. Where thick muscle shuddered with breath. You believed something in you was worth loving. But you also knew for it to be found you'd have to be flayed alive.

The crash of his hips into yours aided in the symphony of sex, and filled the four walls painted but void of personal belongings. If he were on the other side of them he'd be jealous. But now he was here, he was alive. Beating hearted and thriving. And any god, saint, angel or divinity could watch and weep as he finally had what he wanted. What he might have needed in order to restore his humanity that lay dormant for so long. He was trying to crack you open so he could lick up what lay inside you. Gather it up in his arms like the greedy wolf, lambs gore, blood and flesh, between fangs of his lower jaw. Have the muscle pulsing between his teeth. But he wouldn't. So for now he'd settle for the flesh on show. The mound of your panting breast that he pressed into his open mouth. The flat of his tongue pressing greedily to your nipple. Before his lips pinched together and pulled the left pert. Switching to do the same for the right. Not leaving an inch of you untouched. Because he had his chance now. And who knew when he'd get another. So he relished in what he was spared and he would take it with him to the grave. Dream of it on his deathbed if this killed him. Or if something else did. Regardless. This would run through his mind until his last heavy and troubled breath.

“That's it.” he murmured into your breast. “Take it. Take it, baby. Take me..”

Your back arched, strung tight like a bow ready to fire. Spine curled up into the heat of his mouth and he bit down again on the swell of your breast. Wanting to take its entire weight into his mouth and have it rot and smear into his tongue. The fizzle of nerve endings reached the tips of your curling toes. The heels of your feet digging into the planes of his scapula to press him closer in the burning of your young orgasm.

“Come on. Let me see you come.” Frankie demanded in a breathless growl as he stared you down with his eyes. The hue of his irises almost devoured by black of pupil. Your jaw unhinged to let rip a silent scream. Feeling that sharp coil snap, and a numbness fill your aching core before your toes curl in pleasure. He helped you ride it out with his cock fucking into your tight weeping cunt while you sang out his name in a chorus of moans, whimpers and cries. Letting go utterly as a rush filled you, lighting you up like dry kindling under your skin. The pulsating of your walls around his length had his hips faltering for just a moment, twitching within your sopping cunt. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he let out a deep guttural groan, closing in on skin with teeth again. Spilling inside you, the mix of your slick with his cum painting you white like the searing heat of pleasure between you. He leaves the last of his load with you by fucking it deeper. Three, sharp, punctuated thrusts.

He lay flat above you while he awaited the comedown from his catharsis. The tingle down his spine sputtered out in a haze of slowburn afterglow. Eyes closed and face buried into the crook of your perspiring neck. Panting together. Hit tongue forgot for a second to shape your name the way it sounded, but with a sharp inhale, the air surged his mind.

“I suppose this is the part where I leave?” He mumbled, pulling back from your skin. His time had come and ended. The two of you now sat back to the world of hallway and laundromat limbo. He sighed through his nose when you nodded. And he did the same, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Frankie gathered his clothes up, putting them on slowly one by one. Drawing out the ache of being alone again by lingering in your presence.

“Come back tomorrow.” You said. Not asked. He nodded, still facing the door. Then twisted the handle and left an empty space in your apartment where he had once been.

#pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #frankie triple frontier #frankie morales fanfic #bark!bite!bleed!

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ominous-faechild · 4 months ago

Text

MODERN EXISTENCE

CHAPTER 1: MORE OF THE SAME

CHARACTERS: ✦ Beck Molleur ✦ Dahlia Molleur

story intro moodboard table of contents < last chapter next chapter >

(if it's possible for you to read and listen to lyrical music at the same time, please listen to the music provided ❤️)

NOTE: this story is centered on two characters in a codependent, toxic marriage. Exact content warnings about the relationship will not be given for plot reasons, so if you have ANY possible worries about that subject matter, I beg of you to be cautious before reading this story. Thank you.

Most topics are implied—haunting the narrative rather than being displayed openly—and this story depicts how one can be trapped in that sort of relationship. It has portrayals of depression, self-hatred, and implied abuse... although I would still like and encourage you to read it.

Countless images flashed through Beck's mind.

Flooded streets, loose wreckage of destroyed buildings, and rows and rows of suffering people.

It was always like this. Beck was constantly tormented by these kinds of visions. Visions of pain, destruction, and death. Anything and everything going wrong around the world was stuck in his mind, constantly playing again and again and again.

Whether he closed his eyes or had them open, tried going about his day normally or not, he was tormented by visions of misery.

Still, Beck now had his eyes closed, cheek pressed up against the back of a couch, and noise-cancelling headphones over his ears playing soft, calming music.

With his senses stifled, it was easier to focus on the visions. It was easier to see what he shouldn’t be able to see, hear what he shouldn’t be able to hear, and move what he shouldn’t be able to reach.

The soft music coming from his headphones calmed Beck. He’d seen so much suffering in his life that he’d long-since grown almost numb to it, but… that didn’t mean he was okay with it.

He still wanted to help.

So, when he could, when things were “a little too bad”, Beck made an effort to use his powers for good. He’d make small changes where he could��fill in a pothole that’d been untouched for years, trip up someone on the attack, make a stray noise to draw someone’s attention near danger, or manipulate information that could otherwise destroy people’s lives—and try to help people.

… for once in his life.

“Sometimes I for-get… the world doesn’t want me…”

A whole roof had been torn off its building by the vicious winds of a hurricane. It tore through the air, flying toward another home—and suddenly steered away, crashing into the street instead.

“And I won-der where… all of my friends are…”

Hundreds of miles away, cars were bottlenecked at an aging bridge… one that had long-since been shut down for repairs. Not that it’d ever been repaired—but still. It was supposed to be closed.

People were desperate to escape the hurricane, though.

They risked the bridge, and if it hadn’t been for Beck watching over it? It would’ve cracked under the weight of their cars, plunging them all into the hungry waters below.

“But then I remember… I’d pushed them all a-way…”

So much destruction, so much panic, so much chaos—and Beck did his best to help everyone he could in small ways.

To avoid detection.

For plausible deniability.

Few people believed in magic, so what else were they going to believe? That a god walking among them—one they’d otherwise blame for their misfortune—was looking out for them? Or that the wind moved just in time? That the bridge was just a little sturdier than the architects and scientists believed? That Their God, whichever one or ones they believed in, was looking out for them?

Yes. Far better for people to assume those than the truth.

They’d all agreed on that thousands of years ago.

“So where am I? Who am I?” the song continued, melancholic.

“And what will I do… when I don’t ev-en have me?”

The couch shifted under Beck, tilting him to the side, as something landed on his shoulder.

Beck flinched, mind abruptly returning to his body.

Snapping his eyes open, Beck quickly turned to look at what had disturbed him—

A pair of bright green eyes—on the most beautiful face he’d ever seen—met his.

Despite her soft smile, Dahlia's eyebrows were furrowed slightly in concern as she stared at him expectantly.

“Who will I be?” the song continued.

Dahlia was a woman Beck knew well, though her face had changed countless times over the years. Now, she wore one of a brown woman with angular features and a mane of long, curly brown hair. She sat against the couch with one knee, her hand still on his shoulder, and the scent of her lilac perfume washing over him.

Beck swallowed, then cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away to stare down at the cushion creased under Dahlia's knee. Every fabric of his being screamed against it, but Beck hesitantly grabbed the earpads of his headphones to slowly take them off.

“Where will I g—?” the song lamented, before getting cut off for overpowering silence.

“Beck?” Dahlia's voice interrupted, warm and gentle. “Everything okay?”

A wave of relief flooded over him.

Relaxing and smiling weakly, Beck hesitantly looked back up to meet her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly, “just… was working on some stuff.”

Dahlia's soft smile grew faintly teasing. Then, she shifted to sit in his lap, her knees propped up against the cushions outside of his legs. Her hand moved from Beck's shoulder to his cheek as the other went to the backrest over his shoulder.

“Oh, yeah?” Dahlia asked, her tease leaking into her voice. “Like what?”

Beck felt his face flush as he pressed his cheek into her hand.

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, he turned his face away as he placed his headphones to the side and awkwardly wrapped his arm around her. It pulled her close as he stared hard at the headphones, still faintly emitting sound.

“Just… helping out around the hurricane,” Beck said, his voice subtly thick. “You know… without making it too obvious.”

He let out a small, pained laugh, then closed his eyes as he sank his cheek completely into her hand.

Beck's exhaustion leaked into his voice as he added: “not that anyone would question it, anyways. They just thank whatever god they believe in… or consider it ‘miraculous’ and move on…”

The entire couch shifted as Dahlia moved.

Beck tensed slightly, his breath catching in his throat. He quickly opened his eyes and turned his head to once again look at Dahlia.

His wife shifted to fully sit in his lap, leaning her forearms into his chest, cupping her hands around his cheeks, and meeting his eyes with a warm, loving smile.

“Awe, that’s sweet of you, Beck,” she said, voice slightly teasing still.

Then her eyes closed, and she leaned forward.

Beck took a deep breath before following her example.

Dahlia's hands dropped from his cheeks to rub against his chest as she kissed him gently, then slowly deepened it.

Beck struggled to breathe, but carefully kissed her back. Wrapping his arms around her lower back, he lifted her just enough to cross his legs under her and pull her close.

Dahlia paused the kiss—and Beck opened his eyes, though hers remained shut—to speak lightly against his lips.

“Did you know that?” she asked.

He swallowed awkwardly, looking down, not knowing how to answer.

She didn’t give him the time to figure it out. Instead, she quickly went back to kissing him, moving her hands up his chest and to his cheeks, where she rubbed his jaw with her thumbs.

Taking a slow, unsteady breath through his nose, Beck pulled her even closer and tried to just enjoy the kiss.

I love you, Ver, he wanted to say.

But he bit it back, giving her the moment to do whatever she wanted.

Instead, Dahlia pulled away after kissing him for a few more seconds. Her hands moved from his cheeks to his chest again as he met his eyes with another warm smile.

Beck was too caught up in watching every subtle shift in her expression to recognize his own relief.

“I reserved a restaurant for us to eat at tonight,” Dahlia said, a slight, sly smile on her lips. “Bistro Minuit is your favorite, right?”

Face flushing again—hotter this time—Beck hesitantly tore his eyes from hers to stare at the floor, past her hip. At the same time, he moved a hand from her lower back to place it over one of hers on his chest.

“Yeah,” Beck said awkwardly, his voice thick.

Then he gave a weak, dry chuckle, closing his eyes.

“It’s still open?” he asked, his voice weakly amused. “With how fast time goes by—”

“Uxi,” Dahlia interrupted gently. One of her hands—the one not trapped under his—moved to cup itself around his cheek again.

Beck froze, his breath catching in his throat as he quickly returned his eyes to hers.

But Dahlia still had her warm, slightly-teasing smile on her lips.

Her tease leaked into her voice as she answered: “of course it’s still open. I just told you I made reservations, didn’t I?”

Beck's heart twisted, but Dahlia's face was still soft, easygoing.

“—And, besides, I make sure of these things, you know that,” she finished warmly.

She seems fine. Nothing to worry about.

Beck forced a weak smile in return, but then sighed heavily as he closed his eyes and sank his cheek into her hand again. At the same time, he moved his hand from the one on his chest to cup it over hers on his cheek, lovingly sandwiching it between his cheek and hand.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice thick, but level. “You’re right. Sorry, I’d… I’d like that.”

Feel free to share your thoughts below, regardless of what they are.

Unless, yknow, they're "wtf are you writing; stfu". Or "men can't be abused." Keep that kinda shit out.

This is a very heavy story, and will touch on heavy topics... even if only through implication.

(Also to those of you who recognize their names... 🙂)

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@honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @corinneglass @friedmiu

@caffeinated-starsailor @overwhelmedfernfrond @write-with-will @theink-stainedfolk @industrialideafactory

@waflof @apenasumlug4r @thebookishkiwi @casualtriumphinfluencer @pluppsauthor

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divider by @cafekitsune

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 5 months ago

Text

the tortured poets department

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

Prev Part < - > Next Part

Contains/TW: not really a ton of tws for this one if any! just general funny banter and i SWEAR on god that millie has game 😤 anyways! glad to finally be back! probably could’ve carried this on longer but i figured you had waited long enough <3

WC: 4.3k

Part V

The Alchemy

Caitlyn probably lived in what Americans could’ve called a ‘frat house’. A large co-ed ‘almost’ mansion on Oxford campus specifically for upperclassmen. For a while now it had felt more like hers with tenants however. People moved in and out every semester, she stayed.

Whenever I woke up I was already tucked into Caitlyn’s bed, the same fancy silky sheets she had insisted on always having and getting me too. From next to the bed Ellie’s green eyes blinked, a hand extended as if in an offering. “Hey, morning, sunshine.” She said with a weak smile. I stretched a hand over to enclose around hers, squeezing as if afraid I’d lose myself the moment I let go.

“How long was I out?” I whispered in a hoarse voice.

Ellie blew out a long sigh and brought her free hand forward, gently brushing her soft fingers against a tear streaked cheek. “Long enough to hopefully make up for last night? You’re not quite to 8 hours yet but… almost.” A look of guilt filled her expression, puppy dog eyes almost as her brows furrowed together and eyes widened. Innocent eyes. Gentle eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I never should’ve let you go in there without me.”

“Els, it’s not your job to be there 24/7.” I shook my head in denial. A sharp pain seemed to shoot through my skull the moment I attempted to push myself up to a sitting position. The post breakdown headaches were always the worst. Concussion-level pain that made the room spin the moment I tried to move myself at all.

“Careful, don’t sit up too fast.” Ellie moved forward in worry, a strong arm slipping around my shoulders as she slid into the empty spot next to me. “I know it isn’t my job, persay, but… I still have this awful sense of self importance that makes me feel like if I was there it- it would’ve been easier.”

“Ego dissolution, remember?” I questioned as I attempted to twist around to face her. A little flush growing on her cheeks at the subtle call out.

“You’re right, ego dissolution.” She remarked, a soft thumb stroking my shoulder from where her arm still stayed draped around me. “We can go a different day… maybe whenever there’s classes and there isn’t too many people there. Besides, you definitely need to sign up for The Oxford Writers because they’re in charge of the student publication that comes out every semester. Plus I think they even have like slam poetry events and-”

“Els, I just lost the plot entirely just at the mere thought of entering the first day of club rush. What makes you think I can get up on a stage in front of people and read some of the most personal things I’ve ever written in my entire life!” I exclaimed probably with exactly the flourish you’d need to be a slam poet.

“But what about getting published? I mean, people need to actually read your stuff to get published.”

“Actually reading it aloud in front of a bunch of people is a totally different thing.” I added with a little shake of my head. “I’m definitely going to join it’s just- I don’t know about actually performing at these events myself.” I remarked as I slumped down in the bed, letting my body slightly flop over onto Ellie’s. Her arms slid around me like always, letting me rest my head against her slowly growing bicep. “There’s something really really wrong with me, Els.” I whispered, eyebrows furrowing together as I felt that same ache forming in my chest.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” I could practically already see the shake of her head as she bent forward to place her lips against my throbbing temple as if she wanted to kiss the pain away. “You’re just… you. Beautiful, and talented, and kind, and smart, and brave…”

“I don’t think I’m very brave.” I denied, tilting my head backwards against her chest until I could see her peering down at me.

“Being scared doesn’t mean you can’t be brave.” I shifted in her arms as she spoke, whirling around to face her until I was nearly being cradled in her lap, as if I was a bride about to be swept up and carried over the alter. “You’ve been through a lot. You’re going through a lot. But you make it through every single time. And that’s brave.” My eyes softened as I looked into her green ones, gentle and grounding eyes that changed my life the moment they first saw me.

“Promise me something, Els?” I murmured just before lifting a curled together fist, pinky finger extended. “Promise me we’ll never grow apart. Even whenever love tries to complicate things like it, you know, tends to do. Just… p-promise me you’ll always be here?”

The corner of Ellie’s lips just barely twitched upwards in a mini smile before she blew out another heavy sigh of her own. “Always and forever, Mills.” She wrapped her own pinky around mine, a secondary promise to the first one we had made in the hospital. A friendship based entirely off of pinky promises and trust, it was stronger than I could’ve ever expected it to be. “Is this about your date with Vi?” She wondered after a passing moment, her arm still wrapped around me as I settled my head back against her chest.

“It’s not really a date.” I spoke in a muffled voice with my face buried into her hoodie.

“Hmmm, let’s see… Webster’s Dictionary refers to a date as ‘a social engagement between two people that often has a romantic character’-”

“I know what a date is, you fuck!” I groaned as I gave her another playful shove before promptly rolling off of her with a huff.

“Really? Because you seemed to be a little confused-“

“It’s just I’ve… never really been on a date before.” I spoke almost nervously as I hugged my knees to my chest with a small frown.

“Well, that much is definitely obvious.”

“Ellie!” I whined as I smacked an embarrassed hand against my face.

“Okay okay… relax, I’ll be serious for a sec.” She added though not being able to fight back her own little giggle. “Do I need to give you the unbiased version of ‘the talk’ not from somebody you’re related to or…”

“No, she- she promised she didn’t wanna see me just because of that.” I flushed almost painfully as I fiddled around with my fingers currently wrapped around my shins. “That- That kind of stuff still freaks me out.”

“I get it.” She was back to being soft again as she leaned back against the headboard. “Virginity itself is such an archaic term anyways, it’s so stupid. Just make sure she takes care of you or else they’ll never find her body.”

I let out a giggle at her statement even though I wasn’t entirely sure she was joking, and the look on her face read that she wasn’t. From outside the door however our conversation was quickly interrupted by the typical sound of whisper yelling bleeding through the paper thin walls. “Don’t, Vi! Don’t! She has finally been sleeping for once since she got here-”

“Did you give Ellie the same shit whenever she got here?! Or is it just because you have this fucked up personal goal to never let me near her? Is that it?!”

“If Ellie makes her feel fucking safe then she never has to get my approval to stay with her while she’s asleep!” Caitlyn seethed, and meanwhile the arguing only felt like it was going to do my head in.

With a glare forming on my face I swung my legs over the side of the bed to finally stand up. “Mills, be careful, you could still be dizzy.” Ellie was up to her feet with a start as she rushed over to my side. I hissed in pain at the pounding in my head, hands latching onto Ellie’s arms as if to better hold myself steady. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I think there’s pain medicine in your bag.” She slowly lead me forward until everything came back into focus.

“Guys, it’s okay, I’m awake.” I voiced once I swung open the door nearly causing the arguing pair to jump in response.

Caitlyn’s face visibly softened as she peered down at me, arms still folded across her chest much like they were every time her and Vi argued. Which seemed to be a regular occurrence nowadays. “Hey darling, how’re you feeling?” She asked, reaching a hand out to gently rub my arm.

“I’m okay, my head’s just… pounding.” I answered, trying to massage out one of the aches that stretched across my eyebrows. From behind me I felt Ellie pressing two pills into my free hand before holding out my water bottle. “Thanks.” I voiced before tossing them both back almost without swallowing a drop of water.

“Cait, let’s give them a second to talk, okay?” Ellie cautiously began, extending an arm out to grab Caitlyn’s arm as if she was a rapid zoo animal, just waiting for a lashing. One look seemed to communicate it all though, you won’t stop her from seeing her. She’ll find a way regardless.

“Fine, but I’m just downstairs.” I wasn’t sure if she meant it as a threat towards Vi or if she was trying to reassure me, but either way she let Ellie take her arm to lead her down the hallway. All the while Ellie glancing back over her shoulder at the two of us to shoot us a knowing wink.

“Uhhh sorry… about that.” I spoke with nearly bright red cheeks as I twisted around to face her. “Caitlyn can be kind of… ummm, intense, but I guess you know that already. Do you do the same thing with Jinx’s suitors or-?”

Vi only laughed with a little shake of her head, muscles bulging even as she just simply crossed her arms. “Oh hell no, Jinx would kill them before I even got the chance. You, on the other hand…” She added, the lightest hand reaching upwards to grasp my chin as she ever so slightly nudged it upwards. “Look like you’d let someone walk all over you if it wasn’t for Caitlyn.”

“Having an overprotective sister certainly helps.” I shrugged, the pink tint on my cheeks only growing more and more by the second.

“So,” she began with a clear of her throat, my breath catching in my own as I felt her hands unravel to cup the side of my face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Embarrassed.” I huffed, leaning right into her touch however, lifting a hand upwards to wrap around her wrist. Only in some attempt to get her to draw closer. “Sure you still wanna be seen with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She answered with a softened expression, the lightest touch brushing underneath my cheekbone as she pulled me in. Sometimes I wondered if her cologne had pheromones in it, something akin to laughing gas that had me losing all sense of control. I think I would’ve given anything to not be someone who fell so easily. I know I barely knew her, but it didn’t take much whenever you were me. I also knew, deep down, how much I wanted love. How desperately I found myself searching for it in every unlikely place. Every place that I just had a sneaking suspicion would hurt me. “C’mon baby, come back to me.”

“Hmmm?” I hummed against her chest before I could feel her nudging my chin upwards to meet her face once more. I didn’t even realize how much things seemed to disappear whenever she held me until she was nudging me back to reality.

“You got quiet there for a second, I… wanted to make sure you hadn’t dozed off.” She chose her words carefully, a slight hint making me feel like they actually implied something else.

“Sorry I uhhh, I’m okay. Just kind of spaced out there for a second I think.” I chuckled nervously with a little shake of my head. “Do you… you know, still wanna see me tonight?”

“As long as you still wanna see me. I know you’ve had kind of an eventful day.” I flushed once more as I let out an airy chuckle just before I caught myself dragging my fingers up her muscular arm. “I do know if you keep touching me like that though I’m gonna have to see you.”

“Sure you’re not just a smooth talker?” I let a little smirk tug on my lips as I softly drew my fingers along her bicep like it was the most delicate thing on the planet. And I could’ve sworn I nearly heard her breath hitch.

“Yeah no… I’m gonna need to see you. For sure.” She slotted my chin in between her thumb and forefinger, lips hovering just inches from mine as she was waiting for permission or trying to tease to the best of her ability. Either way it drove me crazy. “Pick you up at 8?”

“You better.”

“You may enter!” Ellie called out in a sing song voice the moment I lifted my fist to knock on her cracked door. “What’s up?” She said with a sweet smile as she swiftly paused whatever game she was in the middle of. Though with one glance I could already see her eyes going wide before she sent the controller flying across the bed as she whipped around to face me. “Woah.”

I snickered a bit to myself with a little flush before spinning to face her full body mirror currently leaning haphazardly against the wall, “Do you like it? You don’t think it’s too much?” I wondered with a tilted head, back to studying my appearance in the mirror. Maybe the navy blue sweater was a bit too similar to Caitlyn, and had I gone for jeans rather than the black skirt I currently had on it definitely would’ve been. But I at least hoped that that would’ve thrown it off enough.

“Y-Yeah, I-I mean yeah, you look… wow. Y-You look really good. Like, really good.” I heard her stammer as she rose up to her feet, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I-I mean not to say that I haven’t always thought that you were beautiful because you are but-”

“Els, breathe, it’s okay.” I laughed, lifting my hands as if to tell her to relax, and on cue I could already hear the expelling of a long breath from her lips. “Now… do you think you can help me put these on?” I wondered as I unearthed the pearl necklace from my pocket, though the action didn’t seem to calm Ellie down any.

“H-Holy shit, am I going to get hit by an ancient curse the second I hold these?” She stammered with widened eyes as I dropped the pearls into her palm.

“Of course, your bloodline is screwed for at least the next ten generations.” I joked with a little smirk as I whipped around to face the mirror once more, lifting my long mane of hair out of the way.

“Good thing the cursed Williams bloodline dies with me then.” She added as she gently wrapped the necklace around my neck and fiddled around with the clasp for at least a hot minute before finally securing it.

“Oh yeah? Going for a childless cat lady kind of look?” I hummed with a light touch to the pearls as I whirled back around to face her.

“More like a childless dog lady, not that I should ever be expected to take care of another living being.” She shrugged casually causing me to let out a little chuckle as I stepped forward to slip my arms around her.

“Well, you’re at least a pretty damn good friend.” I muttered as I let my cheek rest against her shoulder. “I do feel really bad… you know, leaving you by yourself already whenever we just moved in.”

“Don’t love, seriously, it’s okay.” Ellie whispered, lifting an arm upwards to hold my head. “Go make friends, fall in love maybe… I’ll be okay, and I’ll be right here, regardless.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t do the same.” A little frown formed on my face as we pulled away. And I hated how hesitant I felt to do anything that Ellie wasn’t involved in. I know it was unhealthy, I didn’t need anyone to tell me that. But from the moment I met her it was as if there was some invisible string tied between the two of us.

“I will… I’m sure I will, just don’t worry about me, okay? Honestly, I mean I spent the first 16 years of my life alone. One night isn’t gonna kill me.” She brushed off with a weak smile before the sound of a knock on the door interrupted us both.

“Oh god… I didn’t realize it was almost 8. A-Are you sure I look okay?” I stammered, not even noticing the anxious pit that had grown in my stomach until I finally stole a glance at the clock.

“You look beautiful, now c’mon don’t leave her standing out there.” Ellie urged with a laugh as she gave me another gentle push towards the front door.

My eyes widened in surprise once I saw both of the brightly colored heads of the siblings however once I threw the door open. “Oh, Jinx! Hey-”

“Hey lesbians!” She interrupted with a grin just before sweeping inside without a second thought.

“Sorry, she insisted on keeping Ellie company while we were out and apparently she lives in the same complex so-” Vi began with an embarrassed tint to her cheeks.

“This unit’s so much nicer than mine though. Damn Ellie, are you also a nepo baby or something? Oh well, I guess being bffs with a Kiramman helps.”

“Oh my god, do you ever stop yapping?” Vi groaned to herself causing me to let out a tiny chuckle.

“No, it’s okay… open door policy here.” Ellie said with a nervous little smile of her own, cheeks reddened as if slightly amused herself.

“Yeah, stay as long as you want.” I repeated before finally letting my eyes sweep briefly up towards Vi. Still in that same leather jacket with a maroon button up underneath this time, undone just enough to drive me nuts and have to work twice as hard to keep myself from ogling. “So… ummm, a-are you ready?”

“Whenever you are.” She said with a little jingling of her keys before offering a hand for me to take.

“Vi, take care of her or else I’ll kill you, got it?” I heard Ellie’s protective voice over the anxious roaring in my ears.

“Yeah! And I’ll help!” Jinx exclaimed defiantly as she popped out from behind her.

“Alright, down tigers…” Vi snickered before I felt the weight of her muscular arm encircling around my shoulders, my heart stuttering to a skip in my chest as she did so. “I’ve got her.”

“I’ll see you later, Els?” I spoke just before lifting a little hand to give the two a wave.

“See you, Mills, have fun.” She remarked with another soft and subtle smile before letting the door slowly drift shut.

“Wow, you’re an American foreign exchange student with a car, I’m actually impressed.” I couldn’t help but flush even harder once we made it outside. An endless burn to my cheeks as we approached the large truck currently parked quite illegally on the curb.

“Really? I guess that’s a good thing, Kiramman’s seem quite difficult to impress.” She teased lightly as she trailed behind me towards the passenger side door.

“We can be, I’m not saying you don’t have your work cut out for you.”

“Well, challenge accepted.” The corners of her lips upturned in a smirk that made my insides twist, the raised entrance to the passenger seat not at all helping as she pulled the door open. “May I?” She questioned with an extended hand.

“You may.” I said with a small smile of my own as I slipped my hand into hers. She held my balance well as she hoisted me up into the vehicle, a gentle hand sliding around my back as if to keep me steady.

“To be fair, trucks are kind of hard to come by in england… Oxford specifically. You think it would be more because of the whole… you know, people moving into uni thing but-” my cheeks heated all over again as I watched her curious eyes scanning over me once she was situated behind the wheel. “S-Sorry I’m yapping. I- I yap a lot whenever I get nervous.”

Vi let her head tilt slightly, that same little smirk remaining on her lips. And I swear it was going to drive me crazy one day, if it hadn’t already. “Do I make you nervous?” She stated before firing the truck up into gear with a lifted brow.

I hesitated a moment, weighing the question around in my head before I propped my elbow up on the center console and shook my head, resting my cheek against my hand as I gazed up at her. “No, you don’t. And I’ve been trying to figure out why since yesterday.” Her eyes glanced over towards me, watching them stay locked on mine for a moment long enough to make my own widen. “Wh-What?” I muttered, now suddenly feeling as if nervous was the right word as she shook her head.

“Nothing, you’re just… wow.” She finally said, a smile tugging back on her lips before reaching forward to fire up the engine. “I mean I thought you were ‘wow’ before but now that you’re actually in my passenger seat it’s like, a different story, you know?”

“What? You didn’t think I’d go for you?” I wondered with my cheeks flaring as I glanced down towards where her arm was now propped up against the center console. A bruised hand almost beckoning me to slip my fingers through it.

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen you? Have you seen me-?”

“Oh right. Bad boy in a leather jacket covered in tattoos who also happens to be an icon on the hockey rink. What innocent little doe-eyed femme would actually wanna go for you?” I sarcastically drawled on causing her to snicker with a brief roll of her eyes.

“You know, you do have a bit of a bite to you, you know that?”

“Well, Caitlyn Kiramman is my sister… and she taught me well.” I remarked almost proudly as I twisted a long strand of my hair around my finger.

“I bet Ellie cried the first time you used that sarcasm on her.”

“She did ask me if I was mad at her, but in both of our defenses we usually think people are mad at us if their vibe even slightly shifts.” I explained with a clear of my throat, finally giving in and letting my hand slide across the console to Vi’s. My fingers cautiously slipped through hers, so much smaller it was almost comical. She didn’t seem to mind though, another little smile forming on her lips as I slowly tugged her hand over towards my lap. “Just so you know though she isn’t this innocent little deer either, like, she could kill you… she could fuck you up if she really wanted to.”

“Oh trust me, I know, I mean have you seen her on the rink whenever she isn’t terrified of Anderson? Like she’s good. She’s really good. Contrary to popular belief I am going to try and not get on her bad side.” Vi added, and I don’t know why but the way she did speak so highly about her was refreshing. There wasn’t any jealousy between the two, at least for now, and I really hope it stayed that way. “Speaking of which, we’re here. I know we could’ve probably walked but what can I say? I wanted to show off the truck.”

“The ice rink? Geez, do you ever leave?” I questioned with another chuckle as I peered upwards to see the same stone building. “I thought they locked this place up at night.”

“They do, for outsiders.” She grinned as she brandished a key clipped to a silver carabiner before shutting off the engine and climbing from her seat.

“We’re- We’re not gonna get in trouble, are we?” I asked the moment she swung open my door with my eyes going wide. And suddenly the goody-two-shoes had possessed me once again.

“Baby, I’ve got a key. What could we get in trouble for?” She laughed before extending a hand to help me slide from the large vehicle. My heart nearly skipping a beat in the process. “I mean, your parents probably paid for this building anyways.”

“Well, not this one specifically, you’re thinking of the Anderson family.” I added, the feeling of her hand sliding back into mine nearly catching me off guard. “So ummm, what are we doing exactly?”

“You ever been skating before?” She wondered before gently tugging me towards the entrance, the question causing me to halt right in my tracks.

“Oh… Vi- th-this is a really sweet idea but I’m absolutely ass at skating. I went once with Ellie and cracked the shit out of my ankle- a-and I don’t even have skates!”

“Relax, I can get you rentals.” Her warm arm draped itself back over my nearly quivering shoulders. I don’t know why but it was almost calming, letting her drag me towards the entrance while I anxiously caught my bottom lip in between my lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you and your very sensitive ankles safe.”

“My ankles are not sensitive.” I huffed, expression shifting into a scowl as I tried to give her a playful shove, but she didn’t buck nearly as easy as Ellie did.

Vi only let out an airy chuckle before whipping out the carabiner attached to her belt loop once more and slipping the key to the rink into the lock, “Sure thing, princess, I’ll take your word for it.”

Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

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