#desperately trying to forget the kind of shit she said the night before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

p0orbaby · 5 months ago

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Do Not Disturb (Unless You're Drunk and Nosy)

summary: privacy? you wish

warnings: suggestive, alcohol, literally everyone being a little shit, angry ale (hot)

a/n: may or may not be inspired by real events…

word count: 1.6k

You always thought getting walked in on would be, you know, mortifying. Like, your face turns tomato red, you start stammering, and then you spend the rest of your life avoiding the person who caught you with your pants down—literally. But it turns out that, in reality, it’s way worse than that.

Here’s the thing: Alexia Putellas is perfect. You know this, because you’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time cataloging her perfections. Her perfectly toned legs that could crush a coconut. Her perfectly sharp jawline that could carve Mount Rushmore. Her perfectly soft lips that could silence an entire stadium with a single kiss. And when you’re drunk at a friends house party, it’s easy to forget that this perfection isn’t something you should casually indulge in right now, in a random upstairs bedroom, while everyone else is downstairs playing beer pong and comparing their World Cup tattoos.

But when Alexia grabs your hand and drags you away from the chaos, her eyes all dark and dangerous, any rational thought you have dribbles out of your ears like last week’s gossip. So here you are, in this bed—well, on this bed, because you didn’t even make it all the way under the covers—desperately trying to remember how to breathe while Alexia’s tongue is doing things that would make a priest reconsider his career choices.

You’re about to reach the kind of nirvana people write songs about when the door slams open. Not opens—slams. As if someone was just waiting for the right moment to ruin your life.

“Oh my God,” someone says in a tone that suggests they’ve just witnessed a murder, except, of course, that would be preferable.

Alexia’s head snaps up so fast you’re surprised she doesn’t get whiplash, and you have about two seconds to see the wild panic in her eyes before her entire body goes rigid like a cat that’s just been sprayed with water. She’s still on top of you, which would be hot if you weren’t currently wondering whether you’re legally obligated to register as a sex offender for being caught like this.

And who’s standing there in the doorway? None other than Jenni, who you’re pretty sure was voted “Most Likely to Show Up Uninvited” in high school. She’s holding a half-empty bottle of tequila in one hand and a phone in the other, like she’s been documenting the worst possible moments of the night, and this one’s going to top the list.

“Holy shit,” Jenni says, blinking as if she’s trying to reboot her brain. It doesn’t work, because the next thing out of her mouth is, “Is this a private party, or can anyone join?”

That’s it. You’re going to die. This is how you die. Not from the embarrassment but because Alexia is going to murder you both. You can see it in her eyes. She’s doing some very fast maths in her head, and it ends with Jenni’s body floating down a river somewhere.

“Close the door,” Alexia snaps, and it’s the first thing she’s said in what feels like hours. Her voice is sharp enough to cut glass. Jenni just stares at her for a moment, then at you—still half-naked, because of course you are—and then at Alexia again, like she’s debating whether the smart move is to leave or to stay and further ruin your life.

But of course, Jenni’s never been one for smart moves.

“Oh, no, no, no,” she says, waving her tequila bottle around like it’s a magic wand that’s going to make this situation less awkward. “This is gold. I’ve got to tell the others.” She turns around and yells down the stairs, “Hey, guys! Get up here, quick!”

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to crawl under the bed and maybe live there forever with the dust bunnies and whatever sock the last person to use this room lost. But you don’t get the chance to do any of that, because Alexia has now flipped the fuck out, and she’s off the bed and across the room in a flash, slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the windows.

“Are you insane?” Alexia hisses at Jenni, who looks like she’s genuinely surprised that Alexia isn’t finding this whole situation hilarious. “Do you have a death wish?”

Jenni, who’s clearly never learned to read the room, just grins, leaning against the doorframe like she’s auditioning for the role of “World’s Biggest Pain in the Ass.” “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who decided to get frisky in someone else’s house”

You’re still lying there, half-dressed, your shirt tangled up with some lacy thing that definitely belongs to Alexia, watching the two of them bicker like you’re not even here. You could say something, of course. You could try to diffuse the situation, maybe crack a joke or two, but that would require actual brain function, and right now, all you’ve got is the mental equivalent of elevator music.

Alexia’s about to bite Jenni’s head off—probably literally—when, as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with your current level of humiliation, there’s a knock on the door.

“Jenni? What’s going on?” You recognise that voice. It’s Mapi, followed by a snicker from Patri and what sounds like Ingrid trying and failing to shush them. Great. Just great. Now you’ve got an audience.

Before anyone can react, Jenni swings the door open with the enthusiasm of someone who’s about to introduce a sold-out concert, and your teammates spill into the room like they’ve been rehearsing this all night.

“What the—” Mapi starts, then stops dead when she sees you, then Alexia, and then your clothes all over the floor like some kind of chaotic breadcrumb trail. Her eyebrows shoot up so high they practically disappear into her hairline. “Oh, wow”

There’s a moment of silence that’s so uncomfortable you could bottle it and sell it to masochists. You’re pretty sure you’re about to melt into the bed and become one with the mattress. Meanwhile, Patri has the audacity to wolf whistle, which earns her a glare from Alexia that could stop a freight train.

“So,” Ingrid says, doing a terrible job at hiding her amusement. “This is…unexpected”

“Unexpected?” Mapi echoes, looking at Ingrid like she’s just suggested that the earth is flat. “This is fucking hilarious”

Jenni’s practically doubled over with laughter now, leaning on Mapi for support, which only sets her off too. Pretty soon, all three of them are giggling like schoolgirls who’ve just found out their teacher’s dating the P.E. teacher.

Alexia is standing there, jaw clenched, probably wondering if anyone would notice if she threw them all out the window. You, meanwhile, have reached a state of embarrassment that transcends space and time. You’re floating above the situation, looking down at your life and wondering where it all went so horribly, horribly wrong.

“Can we not make a big deal out of this?” you ask, even though you know it’s hopeless. “It’s not like we were…” You trail off, realizing that there’s no good way to end that sentence. Not like you were what? Sorting laundry? Rearranging the furniture?

“Having sex?” Patri supplies helpfully, still grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “You totally were. We walked in at the good part, didn’t we?”

Alexia makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat, which is probably the only thing that stops her from committing actual homicide. “Out. All of you. Now”

But no one moves. Because why would they? They’re having the time of their lives. Jenni’s already pulling out her phone, probably to tweet something like “Just walked in on the most awkward team bonding experience ever #FML”

“We’re not going to let you live this down, you know,” Mapi says, her smirk so wide it’s a wonder her face doesn’t split in half. “This is going to be the story we tell at every team event from now until the end of time”

“Your kids are going to hear about this,” Patri adds, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “Hell, your grandkids. This is legendary”

You’re going to need therapy after this. Maybe a lot of therapy. But, honestly, that’s future you’s problem. Right now, you just want them to leave so you can salvage whatever dignity you have left and maybe finish what you started with Alexia—assuming, of course, that this hasn’t killed the mood entirely.

Finally, because even she knows when enough is enough, Jenni straightens up and nods toward the door. “Alright, alright. We’ll give you two lovebirds some privacy.” She winks at Alexia, who looks like she might actually be considering taking up a new sport just to avoid ever having to see Jenni again. “But don’t take too long. We’re going to need the play-by-play downstairs”

With that, they finally—finally—file out of the room, still snickering and whispering like they’ve just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the century. As the door closes behind them, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Well,” you say, turning to look at Alexia, who’s now standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “That went as good as expected”

She gives you a look that could freeze hell, but then, after a moment, she sighs and shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “We are never doing this again”

“Sex?” you ask, and the horrified expression that crosses her face makes you burst out laughing. “In someone else’s house,” you clarify, still giggling. “I think that’s a solid rule”

She rolls her eyes but then moves back toward the bed, a mischievous glint in her eyes that tells you maybe the night isn’t entirely ruined after all. “Well, we’re here now,” she says, climbing onto the mattress and pulling you toward her. “Might as well make the most of it”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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coupsie-daisies · 3 months ago

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Kinktober '24: Phone Sex | Song Mingi

Pairing: Song Mingi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT) interact

Summary: Mingi has never wanted to make things weird between him and his best friend, but it's hard to deny her when she calls him, drunk and horny and begging him to talk her through it

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: drunk sex (kinda), they're both down so bad, nipple play for two seconds, open ending kinda

A/N: Guys, listen...I will have this shit done by the end of the year if it kills me. But I've had a lot going on so please accept this as my apology

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1-blog

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

Kinktober '24 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any platform is prohibited

Desperation was something you were very familiar with in many many ways. There was the desperation you felt when trying out for the dance team back in middle school, the way it had driven you to push yourself so hard you sprained your ankle. The desperation you'd felt during that entire recovery just to get back to normal so you could chase your dream again. The desperation you'd felt while applying for your dream university, and the desperation you'd felt when trying to find a decent job after you graduated.

Throughout every single one of those moments, Mingi had been at your side. You'd been best friends since you were kids, and you'd learned early on that you could count on him for anything. Truthfully, you sometimes felt like Mingi was too good to spend time with you. He was so kind and so creative and so goddamn talented that it almost hurt. But no amount of thinking changed the fact that he wanted to stick by your side.

Unfortunately, that also meant that he was the one to carry you home when you got a little too drunk at the bar you and your friends went out to. You were celebrating a birthday in the group, and you weren't the only one to get carried away, but all night Mingi had been keeping a careful eye on you, knowing that you were a lightweight no matter how much you denied it.

He'd dropped you off at your apartment after all was said and done, bringing you water and a snack and only leaving an hour later once he was certain you would be okay. Even so, he made you pinky swear to call him if you needed him for anything.

And really, you hadn't planned on calling him. You weren't so drunk that you couldn't see straight or that you were puking your guts out. You were just dizzy, and way less uptight than you usually were. Okay, maybe you weren't thinking right, because all you'd been able to think about since Mingi had practically carried you home was how good it felt to be wrapped up in his arms, and how pretty he looked when he was so focused on taking care of you.

It was far from the first time you'd had such thoughts about your best friend, but you figured that was probably normal for anyone with a super hot, incredibly kind, really very hot best friend. It was okay, you reminded yourself, because those thoughts were between you and your bed. Nobody else needed to know, and if nobody knew it couldn't make things weird.

But the lingering alcohol in your mind had you forgetting that mantra, because it wasn't even fifteen minutes later before arousal was flooding your senses and your hand found your phone.

It rang a couple of times, and a moment of doubt tried to seep in, but it was quickly shut out by the sound of Mingi's voice.

"Are you okay?" He asked immediately.

"I'm okay. Need your help," You said, pout evident in your voice. Your free hand pushed your shirt up your stomach, fingertips dragging along your tummy, down to trace the waistband of your sleep shorts.

"Should I come back? What's wrong?"

You slid your hand lower, pushing your pants down your hips and tucking your phone against your ear to use the other to get them out of the way.

"I keep thinking about you. Is that wrong?" You asked, closing your eyes as your fingers found their way to your covered core. "You looked so good tonight. You always look good."

You heard his breath hitch, and you sighed in response.

"What are you talking about?" He asked. You couldn't see him, but he was parked outside his apartment, one hand gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, the other trying not to drop his phone.

He listened to the catch in your voice, the tiny hum you let out, and god he tried not to imagine you in some filthy position underneath him. Certainly not a new thought for him, but one he knew he shouldn't be entertaining in the moment.

"I want you so bad, Min, need you." You were basically whining now, rubbing your clit and slowly soaking through your panties at the thought of him. "Been thinking about you touching me for so long. You would, right? I see how you look at me. Never wanted to make it weird but fuck,"

Mingi grunted out a curse under his breath.

"You're drunk," He reminded you. "You probably won't even remember this in the morning. You should go to sleep."

"Don't leave me like this. Please? Just need to hear your voice, wanna hear you talk me through it." You begged, fingers getting more frantic as you sought out your own pleasure.

Mingi tipped his head back into the headrest, his cock twitching with interest. He was already half hard and getting uncomfortable in his tight pants.

"Promise me you won't regret this," He ordered, voice lower now. The sound of it send a wave of arousal all the way to the tips of your toes and you squirmed in your bed.

"I promise. I swear, I won't regret it. I promise."

The desperation in your voice should have embarrassed you, but you were never embarrassed with Mingi.

He reached down, palming himself through his pants and willing himself to last when you sounded so fucked out and he hadn't even said anything yet.

"Are you still wearing your pajamas?" He asked, squeezing his bulge and biting back a groan. You hummed affirmatively. "Take them off, want you naked for me baby."

You didn't hesitate to do as he said, putting your phone on speaker and shuffling around on your bed until you could kick all of your clothes away.

"Good job, baby," He hummed, and you couldn't hold back a surprised whimper at his praise. "That's what you like? My baby likes when I'm nice to her?"

You gasped, fingers slipping between your wet folds as he spoke.

"Yeah, like that." You agreed, nodded even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"Can you play with your nipples for me? Wanted to forever."

Mingi worked his pants down until he could pull his aching dick out of his boxers, stroking himself slowly. He was already leaking precum, but who could blame him when the girl he'd been pining after for years decided to call him up and beg him to fuck her?

You listened eagerly, both hands coming up to knead your breasts before circling your thumbs around your hardening nipples. You gasped softly, flicking over them back and forth a couple times before twisting them a little harder. You could hear Mingi's breathing as it picked up, his ears trained on each tiny gasp and whine that you let out.

"Move your hands down. Want you to touch your sides. They're sensitive, right?" He didn't have to ask to know. He'd found that out completely on accident back in college and it lived in the back of his mind, sparking far too much interest in what other reactions he could pull out of you.

You slid your hands down lower, along the curve of your chest, down your sternum, then up along your sides with feather-light touches that made you squirm. You dragged your nails dully along your side, then down your stomach, wishing beyond anything you could fully comprehend that it was Mingi touching you like this, that his hands were exploring you. You moaned pathetically, a broken keen of his name.

"I'm here, pretty girl, don't worry. You're doing so good for me." Mingi grunted out. He'd been trying to resist touching himself, too afraid that he'd blow the second you opened your mouth, but his cock was throbbing and leaking and simply begging for his attention, and he couldn't deny it anymore. He wrapped his hand around his length, jerking himself off with slow, languid strokes.

"Want you to open your legs nice and wide for me," He told you, listening to the rustle of the sheets as you moved. "Go ahead and touch your thighs. How's that feel?"

Your back arched, chasing some sort of friction now that your thighs were separated, and your hands stroked along the insides of them, kneading the flesh the way you liked.

"Not good enough. Need you, don't wanna do it myself." You huffed.

"I know, but I can't come back yet. Just gotta take care of your pussy for me, okay? I'll make it up to you, I promise." He purred, and you relaxed, his voice running through you like molten lava.

"Can I touch myself, Min? Please?" You asked, and he shivered at the desperation in your voice. He'd never heard you like this before, and whatever string of self control that was keeping him from taking you every time he saw you was beginning to snap.

"Go ahead, baby, play with your clit for me." He ordered firmly now, stroking himself faster. Your hand flew to your core, fingers circling your clit and spreading your wetness against it. You let out the most debauched whimper of relief at the feeling, hips jolting as you moved fast and hard, still too intoxicated to be skilled with your fingers and not entirely caring when you could hear the sound of Mingi's hand around his cock, and his breath picking up.

"God, you're so wet." He groaned, tipping his head back against the headrest again. He could hear you, and what he wouldn't give to have you on his tongue, or have your walls wrapped like a vice around his dick. His head was fogging up with thoughts of you, your scent and your pretty lips and the way you said his name.

"Mingi, can I put them inside?" You asked, fingers dipping closer to your entrance before pulling back to strum against your clit again. "Wanna be full of you. Wish you were here, need your dick so bad."

Any shame you'd felt upon calling him in the first place was gone, and he was going absolutely batshit about it.

"Go ahead baby, let's see how many you can take." He urged. You didn't hesitate to slide two fingers into yourself, wincing a little at the immediate stretch, but the burn felt so good you didn't care. You rocked your hips up to meet each thrust of your fingers, starting slow before becoming a little more frantic, pushing them all the way to the third knuckles. You were soaking yourself, fingers curling up against the spot that had your head spinning.

You were hardly aware of the way you were babbling his name, begging him for more as you managed to squeeze a third finger into yourself.

"Good girl, keep going. Sound so pretty, can't wait to have you on my dick." He stroked himself faster, harder, knowing he was nearing his end. He wanted to drag this out, but he was struggling to deny himself the satisfaction of finally getting off to the sound of you begging for him. This had to be a dream, he hadn't done anything to deserve this kind of blessing, but there you were, fingering yourself dumb for him anyway.

"Close," You warned him, grinding your palm into your clit. Your fingers weren't usually enough, but the sound of him on the line, the image of his large frame engulfing you as he split you open. God, and his hands, they were so much bigger than yours, would fill you up so much better. You didn't even register your orgasm building as high as it did until you were dangling from the edge, thighs shaking with the exertion of bucking your hips up into your hand. "Mingi, I need to cum, please can I?"

The sound of you, breathless and begging and audibly wrecked was too much for him.

"Please cum for me," He groaned, voice tight as he bit back his own orgasm, pushing his limits just to hear the way you nearly sobbed his name. Your orgasm shook through you, fingers messily working yourself through it and pushing it as long as you could, and Mingi couldn't take it.

He spilled into his hand, strings of his own cum spilling over his fingers and onto his pants. He sighed, jerking himself through it despite the mess and imagining that it was you he was making a mess on. When the bliss cleared in his mind, he realized that you were still there on the other end, still breathing hard and presumably coming down from your own high.

There was silence for a few moments, and guilt weighed in his mind as he wiped his hand off on one of the spare tissues he kept in his car. You didn't speak either, too buzzed from the alcohol and the orgasm, and your mind weighing heavy with sleep.

"Mingi?" You said finally, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. "Will you come back? Don't wanna sleep alone."

He listened to your voice, so heavy with sleep, and so free of any concern about what had just happened. He wanted to argue that it was a bad idea, but despite everything, the two of you still felt so normal. He hummed.

"Give me a little bit, I'll be there soon." He promised, not mentioning that he needed to clean himself up and change his clothes before he could drive back. You didn't argue, just mumbled an okay, and a quiet 'I love you'. That was so normal for both of you, but this time it felt different, and Mingi had to wonder if that was all in his head.

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lady-of-tearshed · 8 months ago

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Blinded

Azriel x Reader

Summary:

Word count: angst, feeling worthless, yelling, cursing, betrayal, jealousy, big sad people, pregnancy (Elucien), injuries, violence. Yup.

A/N: Honestly? Be prepared. 🤣💕

Again, thank you @sarawritestories for always giving me to kick in the butt I need when I'm stuck! 💕 Thanks @milswrites for the moral support too ily 🥰

Azriel was staring at your lips. Those full sultry lips painted with that same shade of pink Elain loves to wear.

Only, you weren’t Elain.

He tried to convince himself that he could get over it, get over Elain. He could love, praise, and touch another female without thinking about her.

Could he?

“Az?” You whisper, each one of your rapid breaths formed a cloud that filled the small gap between yours and Azriel’s face. His grip on your hips loosened as he snapped back into reality. He gulped down his shame. Shit. Your eyes, so soft, and loving, and pure filled with concern, Azriel’s stomach dropped. “Are you alright?” She stroked his face, his lips. His lips were still swollen from the kiss…

From the kiss that he fantasized about sharing with another woman.

He tried to shake the thought of Elain away, tried to ignore his shadows whispering wrong, wrong, wrong in his ears. He could do it, he knew it. You were kind, very pretty, caring… “Yeah,” He whispered, before attacking your lips once again. The kiss was feral, rough. His lips were crashing hard against yours, teeth clashing, as he tried so desperately to forget about Elain’s softness.

Your heart was beating in sync with the loud, yet distant busy chatting of the crowd at Rita’s, situated not far from the gloomy alley you and Azriel had stumbled out to. The frenzy was too intense for you to wait before touching him, tasting him, smelling him. Your lips parted when the exposed skin, compliments to the deep cut of your dress that barely covered your body, collided with the cool surface. The earthy and vigorous taste of the wine you had imbibed earlier that night filled his own mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

Elain would’ve drank something sweet, or fruity.

He slowly pulled away from you, his thumb grazing the exposed skin on the small of your back. It sent shivers up your spine, and your nipples hardened. He stared at you, observed how red your cheeks were, how his lips had smushed your lipstick, how the smell of you changed from your arousal. But the love and adoration that shone into those eyes, your eyes, felt like a stab in his cruel heart.

He couldn’t do this.

“Let me fly you back home,” His voice was raspy. He tried to give you a genuine smile, and pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, his fingers combing through your now very disheveled hair. “Will you be staying?” He wanted to drown in the cauldron and succumb from his sorrows at the sound of your pleading, hopeful tone.

“Another night, when we’ll both be sober.” He lied. They had talked and danced more than they had to drink, he was far from drunk, and you too. But you just shrugged, offering him a kind and comprehensive smile. “Okay,” Was all that you’ve answered, before he picked you up into his arms and led you through the clear night sky.

He dropped you off, bowed his head, and said “Thank you, for tonight,” before flying away without another word. He didn’t even kiss you goodnight.

—

The sky was clear, and the weather started to warm up in Velaris. You had gone shopping for lighter dresses today, and couldn’t wait to come back home and swirl in them for your Illyrian to see, since he had been too busy to spend the morning with you. There were always piles of paperworks lingering on his desk, you couldn’t blame him.

You turned on yourself in the mirror, admiring the last dress you had to try on. It was the prettiest, the deep blue fabric instantly drew you in. It was the exact same blue of Azriel’s siphons. “So, what do you think!” You beamed, spinning around to look into those pretty shades of hazel dancing in his eyes. Your toes were curling in your shoes, excited to get his reaction on your newest, and now favorite, piece of clothing.

“Mhm,” He hums absent-mindedly. Your face dropped, and your eyes turned a tad more glossy than normal. You lifted your chin up, and instead of exploding with rage, or bursting in tears, you cleared your throat as a last attempt to get his attention.

Desperate, pathetic.

Azriel lifted up his head at last, his eyes quickly scanned you, and he gave you a tiny smirk of approval, accompanied by a small nod of his head. “You look good, baby,” He adds, only for good measure.

Good. Not stunning, not flawless, not delightful, not ravishing… Just good. You noticed how Azriel’s eyes drifted back to whatever paperwork he was doing the second you turned back around to face yourself in the mirror, you noticed how his gaze did not linger on any of your features for one second. The shadowsinger had always been a man of few words, showing his love mostly through actions. But lately… lately he was also a man of few actions.

You gulped down your tears, maybe he was just busier than usual, you thought, and yet… You pinched your arm, mentally scolding yourself for being so selfish. Azriel worked hard, he always bought you anything you’d wish and ask for, even more. He had to work a lot to get you all that. You concluded that you simply needed to be more grateful and understanding.

Maybe he needed space. Maybe you were too clingy. You inhaled, trying to get all of the possibilities of why Azriel was acting this way around you out of your mind, and you exhaled. Inhaled, exhaled. You repeated the action a few times, and once you were sure that your voice was steady enough to talk to him, you did. “I'm going out to see Elain today,” You said, your eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror, secretly analyzing how his body reacted to the second Archeron sister's name.

Azriel barely reacted, only the slight twitch of his fingers around his pen proved your point. Something about Elain was upsetting him, but what? “Have fun,” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. Azriel tried so damn hard to not think of how Elain’s scent would linger on your clothes for hours, maybe even days when you'll come back from your stupid little play date with her. Tried to ignore the insufferable truth that Elain, even when she belonged to another male, even when himself belonged to another female, to you, still haunted his memories every day, noon, and night.

“I will.” It took every ounce of your self-control to not snap at him. It was getting so hard to ignore that pull, that painful throb in your chest that kept screaming at you more, more, more! But deep down, you knew that Azriel would probably never be able to give you more.

To give you his heart, completely.

—

“How is Azriel?”

Elain's melodic voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Your fingers still plucked at some invasive weeds competing with Elain's stunning flowers for the nutrients, sunlight, and water. But you didn't dare lift your eyes to meet hers, knowing she'd see the lies dancing in your eyes. “Good. Busy, but good,” Which was true, in some ways.

He kept telling you he was fine, and it was true that he was busier than usual, but deep down, you knew he wasn't doing “good”. Elain nodded, the chestnut curls that escaped her bun bouncing on her forehead as she did so. She knew better than to press the topic with you.

“You're… pale,” Her stunning doe eyes burned with concern, and you felt so bad for lying to your friend, even if it was only partially a lie. “I'm fine.”

Suddenly, the air shifted, and a cool breeze ran at the back of your neck, leaving a veil of goosebump on your delicate skin. The sound of Elain's gardening tools clashing to the ground made you jolt. You rapidly lifted your gaze, and gasped when you took I'm the sight of her once brown eyes now turned completely white, the wind flowing through her hair. It was as if she commanded the air itself.

“Leave him,”

Her voice didn't sound like her own, it sounded like nails on a blackboard, scrapping your soul. You hissed, covering your ears, your eyes wide with fear. But you could still hear her voice, and her face was so close. Your body was frozen in place, as if you were hypnotized by those cold white orbs, and your mind screamed at you to back off, to call for help. To call for Lucien, Elain’s mate.

“The shadow male is bound to be blinded.”

The shaddow male could only be Azriel. Was he okay? What was happening? You hated riddles. “Blinded by what?!” You pressed, begging for answers and yet begging for the kind Archeron to come back to her usual self.

“The seer… The shadow male is bound to be blinded by the seer.”

“Elain!” You hadn't heard the grass sweeping against Lucien's fancy leather boots. Nor his hurried footsteps, and breathing, as he not so delicately moved Elain away from you. You landed on your butt, but you didn't take Lucien's actions personally. After all, he was only reacting instinctively as a newly mated male. You swiped a hand on your face, your brain reeling from the information.

Rage, jealousy, despair.

“Y/N…” You faintly heard Elain's voice, her real voice, call out for you. You didn't even realize the tears that rolled down your cheeks until you felt her soiled hands brush against your damp skin. “I need to go,” You didn't wait to be granted your leave before you hastened back inside the River House.

You almost tripped on the marbled floors, your shoe soles were now slippery because of the dew that had coated your heels. You shoved them out of your feets, the coldness of the floors not bothering you for one bit as you kept running, and running through the halls.

Rhysand’s office doors slammed open, making the Shadowsinger, and the High Lord startle slightly. You felt your heart being ripped open when you saw his eyes, on you, filled with worry.

It has been years since he last looked at you, truly looked at you.

“What is this about?” Azriel rose from his chair, his steps towards you careful, his shadows swirling around you frantically. “Elain,” He froze in place, and his pupils shook. “Is she alright?” Her. It had always been her. Her safety, her well being, simply her. It would always be her before you.

The shadow man is bound to be blinded by the seer, not you.

“She is,” You gulped, swiping away your own tears, the tears he yet hadn't noticed. He reached his hand to touch you, but you smacked his hand away, and he frowned. “I am not, Azriel. I am not alright. This is not alright,” You gesture between him and you. “I'm done.”

The bond snapped into place only for him to tug on the crumbling thread, watching as you reject the one thing Azriel longed for most in this life. A mate.

He fell to his knees, his hand curled at his chest as he looked up desperately at you. “What have you done…” His voice shook, his face red with anger, shame even. “What have you done!” He screamed, desperately trying to hold onto the hem of your dress, trying to keep you here, with him. He was angry, furious, at himself, at you, at Elain, at the cauldron that kept torturing his fate over and over again.

Rhys ran to Azriel's side, holding him back. You stumbled back, ripping the hem of your dress out of Azriel grip. He sobbed, and screamed as his soul was being ripped in half. Yours was too, but the damage had mostly been done throughout those years of being ignored, unloved and denied. Your soul and heart have been broken for a while now. You winnowed away, far away, and never came back.

Good riddance.

Taglist: @berryzxx @thelov3lybookworm @sidthedollface2 @favsrachz

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lovecla · 4 months ago

Text

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter seven:

➴ warnings: brief mention of smut

➴ word count: 2.4k

➴ author’s note: is the thing people say about rainstorms before rainbows true? i guess it’s time for soph and jack to find out. “happy” reading ♡

FALLING out of love was something you had yet to experience.

Of course, back then you thought you had fallen out of love with Harris, but soon you’d realize that you had never really loved him. It was some kind of strong admiration, a need to have someone to call yours, someone who you could write love songs for, someone who you could imagine yourself getting old with.

‘Course, none of those things happened with Harris, not even during your honeymoon phase. You were young when you started dating him, twenty-one and with no real idea of what love truly was.

So an older actor who thought you were cute?

It felt like you had hit the jackpot.

But now, as you try your hardest to forget what Jack meant— means— to you, you realize that it isn’t as easy as you initially thought it would be.

Jack is everywhere, occupying every corner of your mind. You remember how sweet he’d talk to you after sex, always treating you with kindness and making sure you were well taken care of. How he’d send you memes that were purely about Hockey even if you never understood what was so funny about them, how he’d get excited talking about his job and how he’d try to explain all the terms to you.

Despite what happened, Jack had made you so happy. It was sad to think that it was all probably a joke to him, but for you? No, it was real. So real. Every time you looked at his face, you reminded yourself that some things are not meant to last forever.

But God knew how much you wanted him to be your forever.

Keeping yourself busy was easy, and you were thankful for that. Your small concert, a week ago, filled you with so much joy and contentment— you were alive and not thinking about the middle child of the Hughes family for the first time in seven months.

Grace made sure that you took enough breaks but whenever you were alone with your thoughts for a long time, the first image your brain liked to share with you was Jack’s smile and Jack’s eyes and Jack’s nose and lips.

It was tiring.

You didn’t tell anyone, but you secretly watched his games when you were alone at night. You didn’t know much, but the experts keep saying that this is Hughes’ worst season and that he’s playing like shit, which, unfortunately, made you worry.

But you wouldn’t go back, you couldn’t go back.

Sometimes, at night, you’d remember how he looked at you when you told him you were in love with him. Or how he looked when you told him to leave, so desperate for you to hear him, at least for a few more minutes.

You’d replay that day inside of your head every night, like a nighttime routine, trying to find a different, better ending.

You’d always come up empty.

Sighing, you looked at your phone, reading Grace’s text with a smile.

Grace being Grace.

Even if she technically worked for you, you’ve barely seen Grace the past couple of days. You were both so busy it was almost impossible to keep up with each other’s schedule. But you did manage to free up some space so you could at least have lunch with her, and turns out she thought it’d be cool to include Nico too.

So, lunch at Nico’s house.

You said goodbye to the people who were working with you at the GQ photo shoot and drove to his house, blasting music through your speakers. No thoughts allowed!

You rang the doorbell, waiting until Grace herself opened the door, like she owned the house. You still weren’t sure if you wanted to know what was truly happening between the two of them, so you didn’t ask questions.

“Hi, my little popstar,” Grace shouted, hugging you tightly.

“Stop putting little before every noun when you’re referring to me.” You mumbled, face still shoved in the crook of her neck.

“Why would I do that? It’s fun and true. Come inside, Nico’s ordering pizza!”

You entered the house, feeling your cheeks getting warm when you remembered what happened the last time you were here.

“Shut the fuck up, Sophia,” during sex, he only used your name whenever he was really pissed, and apparently this was one of those times. “Don’t need anyone hearing how much of a whore you actually are.”

“Fuck, uh, come for me, baby, c’mon,” Jack whispered, hands still on you, dick fucking you hard and rough, leaving your insides raw and deliciously hurting. “Come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Well. No more of that.

“No— Man, listen. I want a large pepperoni and a large margherita, please,” Nico smiled at you before putting his hand on his head, holding his phone with the other. “Why the hell would I put pineapple on a fucking pepperoni pizza? Let me speak to your manager, that’s— that’s a crime.”

“He’s just a Swiss Karen, really,” Grace sighed, sitting on the couch. You sat next to her, watching as Hischier tried to explain to the manager why pineapples shouldn’t even be included in pizzas in the first place. “I think he’s just nervous about the games.”

“Yeah,” you wanted to tell her that you’ve been watching the games and that it didn’t look really good for them but it would just give your I’m-already-over-Jack facade away. “Must be hard.”

“Tell me about it, I barely see him. It’s like hockey players only exist during the summer or whatever.” She sighed again, fixing her braids. You looked at her, full of compassion.

If you and Jack dated, would you feel like her?

No.

You wouldn’t know the answer to that question because that won’t happen.

“Hi, Soph,” you heard the Devils’ captain say, greeting you.

“Hey there, thirteen. How are you?”

He yawned, stretching his arms. “Tired, stressed, hungry, tired.” He stopped for a second before continuing. “Have I mentioned tired?”

“Sucks to be you, to be honest,” you giggled, looking at him funny.

The pizza would take a while to get delivered— especially since Nico argued with the manager and now they were probably taking their time spitting on the dough— so you used the time to catch up on their lives.

Grace talked about how her marketing degree never prepared her for how much work she’d actually have to get done, and how much she missed her mom and dad, and how Jessica, your vocal coach, was starting to piss her off with her I-am-better-than-everyone attitude.

Nico talked about the games, and how he basically was never at home, and how he’d spend half of his time on planes and the other half on practice and yet he still felt like they weren’t going to make it.

That made you wonder how Jack was doing with all of this. If he had come back to Newark after their week away, to spend thanksgiving with his family.

Not that you cared, you just wondered.

Noticing how both Grace and Nico stayed quiet, you realized that they’re probably waiting for you to update them on your life. You smiled awkwardly.

“I have been working a lot,” you shrugged. “I love what I do so it isn’t exactly working for me. Besides that, I sleep, eat and drink water.”

They both looked at you with pity, which made your stomach ache. You didn’t want anyone pitying you, in fact, you didn’t need it. You weren’t a damsel in distress, you didn’t need to be saved— you just chose to spend your free time alone. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

“I’m gonna go grab some wine from the cellar, be right back,” Nico announced, out of nowhere, getting up and heading downstairs. Grace looked at him with puppy eyes and you laughed.

“People in love are disgusting,” you joked, and Grace rolled her eyes at you.

“Shut it, Twilight,” she laughed, not denying it. “I’m gonna go grab the glasses.”

The doorbell rang and you got up. “It looks like I’m gonna go grab the pizza.”

“Make sure they didn’t put poison in it!” Grace shouted, making her way to the kitchen, while you walked until you were in front of the door, smiling still.

“Sophia?”

Hi, Universe. It’s your girl, Sophia. So, what is this about? What are you trying to do here? Let me tell you now, it won’t work.

“Hum, hi?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting, but out of all things you would have imagined that could happen to you that day, opening the door and finding Jack on the other side of it wasn’t on your list.

“What are you,” he stuttered, clutching hard the bag he was holding in his hands. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m sorry.”

You leaned against the door, confusion taking over your face. Jack wasn’t the type of man to apologize so easily.

“It’s fine.”

You both went quiet, staring at each other. It was weird to be around Jack without touching him, your heart still hurting because you love him deeply.

It was the type of love you’d want to tell your children, if you decided to have them one day. The type of love where you’d come home after a long day, just to find your forever sitting on the couch, yapping about his day. The type of love you read in books and watch movies about, the type of love you want to write songs about. The type of love where his hugs feel like a cold, gentle breeze during a sunny day, and his kisses felt like the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

You loved Jack Hughes deeply and he wanted him to be your forever more than anything.

But it wouldn’t happen. And it’s fine. It’d be fine.

“Do you want me to call Nico?” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“You don’t need to, I just stopped by to give him this,” he raised the bag in his hands, shrugging.

“Okay…” You nodded, not sure of what to say. “Then, I guess I’m… gonna go. Nice seeing you.” You lied, because you’d much rather keep watching him on TV, with a safe distance between you two, than to face him in real life.

“No, Soph, wait—” he called you, putting his feet between the door gap. “Can we, like, talk?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” You retorted, biting your bottom lip.

“Soph, did they spit on our pizza?” Grace’s voice sounded cheerful behind you, and you cringed, knowing exactly how she’s going to react once she sees Jack here. “I hope they only spitted on Nico’s pizza, to be honest. What are you doing there— Oh.”

You turned around and looked at her, smiling awkwardly. No one moved a muscle for at least ten seconds and you gave in, knowing that discussing things with her would be harder than hearing Jack out.

“I’ll just… I’ll be right back, okay?” You announced, pointing to Jack behind you. “It’s fine.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Grace. Go find Nico, please.” You pleaded, not wanting to feel any shittier. Grace only stared at Jack for what seemed to be a whole minute before nodding once and making her way to Nico.

“I guess she still hates me.” Jack pointed out, chuckling humorlessly.

You turned around, raising your eyebrows at him. “Can you blame her?”

“No, not really,” he shrugged, putting the bag on the floor and putting his hands inside of his jeans’ pockets. “I get that you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you, I’m not mad at you. Hurt? Maybe. But I knew what I was getting myself into, so I guess I can’t really blame you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying really hard to be the bigger person when all you wanted to do was smash his face into a wall and kiss him right after that.

“I want you to know that I am sorry about what happened,” he stepped closer, making you smell his cologne, sandalwood and something else that smelled a lot like money. Weird combination but it worked for him. “Truly. I didn’t fuck Ava or any other woman while we were together. I— I just wanted to be with you, Soph, I need you to know that.”

You stared at his face, trying so hard to find the same expression you found on your ex’s face whenever he lied and manipulated you. But you couldn’t— Jack was still the same as he was seven months ago, when he hit on you at that dinner party.

He still looked like the guy who held you close after sex, the guy who order take out for you just because he knew you’d get too tired to cook for yourself, the guy who had a playlist just for his favorite songs by you, the guy who never understood your chronically online memes but laughed nonetheless because he said the way you laugh is funnier than the joke itself.

Jack still looked like he could be your forever.

So close yet so fucking distant.

You could feel yourself slipping into him again and you knew you couldn’t do this with yourself. You had to choose yourself before choosing anyone else.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” you whispered, smiling softly. “It’s fine. As you said, we weren’t even dating. I bet you wouldn’t have reacted the way I did if it’d been the other way around.”

He looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would’ve gone crazy if it was the other way around. Sophia, I know it’s hard to believe but—”

“It’s fine, Jack, it really is,” you stated, shaking your head. “I accept your apologies but I think—” you broke eye contact, stepping back. “I think it’s just best if we stay out of each other’s way.”

You couldn’t tell which one of you cracked first. Jack, who looked at you like he’d seen a ghost, let his shoulders fall, looking as dejected as ever. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes but you held on tight. You had already cried in front of him once, and you weren’t going to do that again.

“Soph,” you heard his voice, so soft and so unlike him. “Soph, you don’t… you don’t mean that, baby.”

“I do,” you looked up, squeezing your eyes shut. “I do, Jack. And it will be fine. Let’s just move on.”

“Soph…”

“Please,” you whispered, already stepping back into the house, hands on the handle. “Jack. Please.”

You finally looked at him, noticing how his eyes looked so blue and sad. He stared at you before shaking his head, once and then twice, stepping back.

“I’m so sorry, Soph.” He said softly, before leaving Nico’s porch and making his way to his car.

“I know you are, baby,” you whispered, letting the tears finally fall. “I am, too.”

“Hum… pizza for Nico Hischier?”

Great.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #IYLMLMK

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chrisisvbun · 2 months ago

Note

Okay, now I need more Logan and Bunny!Girl 😩

a/n: ur wish is my command.

guilty as sin. logan howlett x bunny!femreader. part OO2.

a/n 2: btw I'm trying this new cute little layouts tell me if you like them:) i've been really inactive bcs of work shit and been really sick too, but im writing i swear

synopsis: After peace came to the mansion after your arrival, you did not have another encounter with Logan, so spending time with Ororo became a regular thing for you, although Logan doesn't seem to like it.

cw: PTSD related to prostitution and sex, depression, harrasment. a bit of ooc logan, mentions of sex.

words: 2.7k

first.

You liked Logan.

Well, ‘like” is a pretty vague word, but that’s the one that fits better. You liked him. He was handsome, he was fun, he was sweet with you and you were comfortable around him. You liked that teasing game that you used to have with him, mostly he was bothering you until you slapped his shoulder while he laughed.

So, why wouldn’t you date him? He was clearly into you too

Oh, such a silly answer. You got shy.

Because of your nature you are almost forced to be shy, but you weren’t that shy, you were pretty extroverted when you had to, you didn’t really mind talking to people, and you were a teacher, so you had to be slightly extrovert to have that job.

But after that night in the kitchen, when Logan’s hands hugged your skin while taking you in the sweetest way, you couldn’t look him in the eye without getting red all over and shaking like a scared bunny before running away. Logan frowned everytime you would run away from him, but that didn’t stop him from looking at you when you gave classes and just roamed around you for the following months.

He was obsessed with you. He could watch you for ages, watch that white, curly, pretty hair of yours, how it fell through your back till your lower back, how your shirt was lifted by your puffy tail and how your ears bounced whenever you got surprised or scared. You were so pretty, so cute, and so perfect to corrupt.

He was a bad man, but for you, he would turn into a gentleman.

But you were avoiding him, but you weren’t alone, of course. You had Ororo, who was slowly turning into your best friend. Really slowly. After being abandoned by the one you thought was your best friend, it was hard to trust again. But Ororo was patient, kind, and really funny, hanging out with her had always left you tearing up and grabbing your belly because you would laugh so hard.

You liked spending time with her, but sometimes the activities she would like doing triggered you in some way.

The therapist said that it was normal that many memories are blocked to protect yourself, but that they could be expressed and manifested in certain ways. It wasn't a lie. The trauma was clearly very heavy, enough for you to forget most of the events. There were days where you didn't want to leave your room, the pain in your chest wouldn't let you move from the bed, and as soon as you tried, you would collapse on the floor next to the bed in desperate tears.

Ororo had insisted on having sleepovers together, but you refused. There was something about it that took you back to a deep, dark place, a room where the only thing you can hear are the echoes of suffering women, yours mixing with those of others. Sometimes, checking to make sure you were okay, Scott and Ororo would look into your room and see you curled up in a ball in the upper corner of the bed, uncomfortable, as if you needed it. A part of you didn't want to get better, it was easier not to know, to live in unconsciousness, but you knew that it was not healthy, that that life was not healthy.

That’s why you started to go clubbing with her, you had already gone two times, this one being the third one. Ororo was sitting next to you, applying a pale pink blush in your pale cheeks before putting some gloss in your lips.

“You are done, girl.” She stood up and passed you your gloss.

“Thank you, love.” You smiled warmly. You grabbed your bag and began walking downstairs with her. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me call a cab.” Ororo grabbed her while speaking.

A little creek in the kitchen made you raise one of your ears.

“It’s me, bun, don’t worry.”

Fuck.

Out of all the people in the mansion. He had to show.

“Going out?” He crossed his big arms and leaned in the doorframe.

“Yeah! I’m taking her to a club that I know she’ll love.” Ororo smiled.

“ ‘Kay, I’ll drive you.” He said, patting his jeans to find his keys.

“It’s not necess-”

“God! Thank you, cab cost an arm and a leg.” Ororo huffed a laugh as you sighed.

You were glad that the blush in your cheeks was dissimulated by your makeup.

You were sitting in the passenger seat, pretending to be on your phone as Ororo grabbed a coat she had forgotten upstairs. You wanted to kill her, she left you alone with him, gosh, wasn’t it obvious how nervous did you get around him? Maybe not, and she just enjoyed seeing you like that. Yeah, that was your best friend. And worse, he was smoking. Looking so hot and nonchalant.

Logan coughed a bit before looking at you, up and down, and huffed.

“What?” You dared to say, without looking at him.

He shook his head. “Nothin’, bub.”

“No, go ahead.” You left your mobile aside and crossed your arms.

Logan looked down to your chest covered in your black sleeveless corset and smiled.

“You look gorgeous, bunny.” He said, looking at the window and taking a puff from his cigar.

You closed your eyes shut, almost your whole body getting blushed at the compliment. Not pretty, not cute, not good. Gorgeous. He said that word.

“Thanks.” You mumbled shyly, your breath started to get a little worked up. He noticed, of course, and the sight made him smirk.

“I’m back!” Ororo got back in the backseat, and you exhaled like you had been holding your breath for years.

The ride was quiet to you, your mind was peacefully roaming around the lights on the road, even having Logan next to you. That until his hand went to rest on your bare thigh. God, he had to ruin your peace, of course.

His fingers moved to the inner part of your thigh, his palm resting on the front of it. His fingertips massaged your flesh gently, like he knew what he was doing, like he knew how wet you would get with that.

You finally got to the club, some loud music was muffled by the closed doors. You grabbed your jacket and your purse to get out of that freaking car, you could almost scent your own arousal by that moment.

“Wanna join us, Logan?” Ororo suggested.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Guess someone has to take care of you two.” He sighed and got out of the car.

Ororo slapped your shoulder a bit when Logan was away. “You'll thank me later.” and she left too.

You sighed and began to get out of the car too, starting to regret all of that.

“Gonna stick in the bar, you guys have fun.” He said, quickly getting in to go where he said.

“Well, I guess I won't have to thank you for anything.” You said, almost glad that he had left.

You started to get slightly happier and expectant for that night, you could have fun, you wouldn't get too drunk and maybe, if the music wasn't so good for dancing, you could seat and enjoy it. Yeah, a good night.

(...)

Everything you thought that wouldn't happen, happened. You were some long hours into the party, and music was great, surprisingly great. Not some weird music that teens just used as background sound to get drunk and high. Shakira, Britney Spears, Katy Perry, Madonna and Christina Aguilera were sounding all the time, and you couldn't feel happier. That until “Single Ladies” by Beyoncé started, you almost freaked out, and started screaming the lyrics with Ororo.

It was relevant that you were… drunk. Not in the clouds, just drunk enough to feel funny and energized to dance.

“All the single ladies, now put your hands up.” You sang with Ororo while lifting your hands.

Logan, as a totally mature man, he huffed. Single? Huh, if it were up to him, you'd be tied to the bed right now, and not in those shorts that hugged your butt beautifully and in a thin green tank top with thin sleeves. Between both garments he could see the edge of your baby blue underwear and that beautiful, round, adorable bunny tail.

God, you were beautiful, and he was disgusting, he couldn't take his eyes out of your ass and your tail and how you moved your hips smoothly in circles, almost provoking him. On those ‘whoa-oh-oh’ you would move your hips up to the left, up to the right, making your tail bounce.

Was this the karma of provoking you back in the car? Because it was working perfectly, he was hard as a rock.

‘Cause if you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it.’

Oh, he was. If he saw one more man looking at you again, he was putting a fucking ring on your finger if that would make you stay at home with him.

In the blink of an eye, a man appeared behind you, you heard quietness when his disgusting fingers grabbed your buttcheek like he had the right too. The muscular memory to pull against it like you were taught to almost won, it didn't because you saw Ororo’s look in her eyes, a look of displeasure and anger.

Your body tensed at the realization of the situation, and that happening in a matter of seconds, your nails went to sink on his shoulder, only Logan's hand stopping you.

“We are going home.” He said, firmly grabbing your wrist.

You were in the passenger seat now. And you didn't really know how you got there, you supposed Logan had to push you there because you couldn't move, the ghost feeling of that stranger touch, that at the same time felt so familiar.

You were quiet, Ororo and Logan too, but their thoughts were louder than yours, you could almost hear what they were thinking.

Once he pulled over at the mansion, you slowly climbed off the car, putting on your jacket as you walked in. Logan frowns, worried, Ororo had just a concerned look on her eyes as they both follow you in.

You felt almost dizzy, desperate to reach your room, to go and shower, clean yourself up from the touch, from the nonconsensual hands that touched you recently and in the past. The feeling of a dirty touch in your clothes made you want to rip them away. You used to do that since your fur was warm enough for you, but now the feeling seems to have pierced your jeans and burned your clothes.

You couldn’t hear Logan’s voice calling you, you just went upstairs and locked in your bedroom.

Logan sighed and looked down at Ororo when she spoke. “She just needs to rest, to think.” She began. “I’ve never seen you this worried.”

Logan shrugged. “Don’t know what’s she doin’ to me.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Whatever this shit is that i’m fucking feeling, feels like shit.”

“I know what it is.” She gave him a knowing grin. “And you know it too.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, confused, before opening his eyes widely in surprise. “What? I’m not in love with her, Ororo.”

She just chuckled and began heading to her room. “I’ve never said that.”

Fuck. He was one hundred and eighty years old and he fell for the same old trick. He was turning into a silly teen because of a goddamn bunny.

But god, he knew you weren’t just that, you were the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen in his life, he was the one that got all drunk with you, all bunny-drunk.

He spent the night thinking about you, how were you, how did you feel, could he help you out on something, did you need anything, did you need him? Maybe he was acting like a teen but he couldn’t help it, he was so worried, his heart beated hard in his chest at the thought of you in the state in which he saw you when you came back. When dawn came, he got up like he had nine hours of sleep, when he had just had three, and walked through the mansion, hoping to take a glance at you, but nothing. You weren’t around, Ororo said that you were probably not even awake yet: you could sleep for half a day when one of your episodes hit.

Suddenly, you appeared. You had your curly white hair pinned up, your bunny ears held there too, your face gray of tiredness, wearing some wide black sweat pants and a black hoodie on top. His face lit up when his eyes met your tired figure, while slowly worrying about your state. He didn’t know what to say to you, he couldn’t do the usual ‘good morning’ because it was nearly lunchtime and it was clearly not a good morning.

“Made coffee for you.” He said as taking a sip of his beer, you looked at him with slight surprise. “It’s right there on the machine.”

You smiled gently but tired. “Thanks.”

You sat in front of him with your coffee, putting your feet in the wood base of the chair while quietly drinking as he read the newspaper. Something about the domesticity of the situation made you feel a lot better, his presence being like a bandage to your suffering. You looked up at him and gently smiled.

“You can go to rest more if you want, I’ll wake you up when lunch is ready.” He said, lifting his eyes from the paper.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” You said lower than usual. “Although I’ll love to take a nap on the couch.” You said, standing up and stretching.

Once you were on the couch, comfortably resting your head on the edge of the headboard, it didn't take long for Logan to go and sit besides you. He hovered his hands over your body until you gave him a gentle nod, telling him he could touch you. He moved your body so you were on your side, resting your head in the pillow, and he moved behind you to hug your waist in his hands, pulling you closer until you felt his warmth pressed against your back. He sank his nose in your neck, exhaling in relief when he finally got to have you in his arms, his hands caressed your soft fur up and down to get you relaxed.

"Wanna talk about it a bit?" He asked in such a comfortable, warm voice, you couldn't tell him no.

"I almost leaned in." You said. "It was like muscular memory, i got so... normal about harrassment, so used to it that... I almost leaned in."

Logan heard you, that's what you loved about him. He listened, all the time.

"I feel bad about it." You said, caressing his hands.

"Why is that?" He asked while gently pressing your flesh.

"I like the touch, the contact, the sex, the provocation." You said, your fingers started to play with his. "But not from anyone. If I would had the chance to choose, I would've wanted you to touch me."

Logan smiled in your neck and pressed his lips there, leaving a small trail of kisses. Nothing sexual, just loving kisses.

"I am touching you now." He started talkin in your neck. "You like my touch?"

You nodded. "When it's from you, I like it." He gave you a playful bite in your shoulder which made you giggle.

"Listen, bunny, this world is a shit. You went through hell, and of course that type of touch will make you go through it again. I don't want that pain in you, but I know I can't remove it." He gently flipped you around, accommodating a strand of your white hair out of your face. "I just want to be with you when you need me, to hold you, bun. I know that damn therapist told you that you can have your time alone when you need it, but..." He looked at your ruby eyes, his eyes softened and holding your cheek like you were porcelain. He longed for you, you could see that in his eyes: it wans't something casual to him. "...Whenever you need me, I'll make a fucking whole in the goddamn universe to go find yo-"

"I'm in love with you." You said like it was trapped in your throat. "I'm in love with you, Logan."

#logan x reader #james logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine fanart #x men wolverine #wade winston wilson #poolverine #chris writes

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lucienarcheron · 9 months ago

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones - XI

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please be mindful: some implied language may be found triggering.

shoutout to my darling @abruisedmuse for being on this journey with me! ily4ever <3

Find it all here.

Eris stood with his hands clasped behind his back, unbothered as Beron glared at him, per usual. His thumb tapped on the back of his hand as he stood, reigning in his anger that always flared at the sight of his father.

“What is this I hear about the breach in security on the southern border between us and that piece of shit Tamlin?”

Eris tilted his head. “Oh? I thought that was the territory you requested your sentries to oversee, Father? Did something happen?”

“You tell me.” Beron snarled. “Aren’t you the one who is supposed to be responsible for ensuring things like this don’t occur?”

“Yes. I am the one responsible for all security measures of our court.” Eris said and gave his father a small smile. “But again Father, you recently requested a particular group of sentries to oversee that specific area and for me to remove myself from it...I believe it houses a private resident for you? For your...dalliances?”

The High Lord scowled at his son, but Eris only blinked. “Watch that tone, boy. That’s none of your business.”

“Then I’m afraid whatever security breach happened is also none of my business, Father.”

A tense moment of silence passed, and Eris braced himself as his father narrowed his eyes at him.

Over the years under his father’s thumb, Eris had found that while his father was a tyrant, he had gotten lazy. He thought so little of Eris’s manipulative capabilities that he was more than happy to have him do the grunt work. But Eris had eyes and ears everywhere and this had cost the High Lord his absolute control. He had handed it to Eris slowly over the years, without realizing how much it would eventually cost him.

But Eris always treaded this line carefully, always letting Beron forget about it. Always made it seem as though he was a puppet for his father. Eris was a good son; he always did what he was told...but with a slight tweak, a tweak Beron would be too lazy to care about.

Beron’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I am your high lord. You will do as I say.”

Eris bowed his head graciously. “Of course. I would be happy to assist you with this issue, Father. Would you like me to handle the situation?”

Beron’s glare intensified. “Why else did I bother calling you here? Fix it.”

“But of course, Father.” Eris said then ran his tongue over his teeth before continuing with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Though I would like to discuss something with you in return, if you’d be so kind?”

Beron rolled his eyes. “You and that mouth of yours. Spit it out.”

Eris loosened the slight damper on his anger and rolled his neck back, then met his father’s gaze. “The other night at dinner, I did not appreciate how I was spoken to or how my wife was spoken to,” he said slowly and Beron raised a brow. “I am humbly requesting you never speak to her in that manner again. She is not any concern of yours. At all.”

Beron scoffed. “Is that why you’ve been missing for two days? You’re upset with me?”

“It was disrespectful.” Eris said calmly and though fire was pulsating through his body, he continued to tap his thumb against his hand, desperately trying to smother it. He could only show a little at a time. Too much too soon would not go well for him.

“She didn’t like your punishment for her loose tongue, then?” the High Lord said, and a muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw.

“What happens between my wife and I doesn’t concern you, Father.” he said, his fists tightening behind him but he kept his face as neutral as possible. One day he wouldn’t have to. One day he could just rip his father’s head clean off his body. One day.

Beron smirked slowly, watching Eris, and Eris knew exactly what his father would say before he opened his mouth. “Is that so?” he sneered. “Are you afraid she’ll leave you for another Vanserra too?”

He let the comment slide off him, wondering when his father would stop using it as an insult. It didn’t sting anymore. In fact, Eris was bored of it being brought up at all.

“No. Iris gets all that she needs from me and more,” he said and smiled again, allowing the fire flickering in his veins to be found in his gaze. “I’m sure you realize history will not be repeating itself in this situation. So, I am asking again, leave my wife out of your plays. She is not yours to concern yourself with and I will not tolerate you making her uncomfortable again.”

Beron’s smile was a cruel one, laced with amusement. “Oh? And what will you do, son? If I decide I like making her uncomfortable?”

Eris paused here, pursing his lips, his heart thundering in his chest. He would pay for this in some form or another later... but it would be worth it. To not have Iris look at him like she had the other night.

“Well, Father...I will decide to make you uncomfortable.” Eris replied and smiled a dry smile. “You’ll find that I have been a very good son to you. Your son that hardly gives you any trouble, unlike those other idiots no one ever sees. I am your right hand. Your first-born. I will keep this court running as smoothly as possible for you as I truly do enjoy doing what you ask of me.” He paused here, watching his father as the High Lord assessed him. “But you will find that I can be very unhelpful if my wife continues to be spoken to and about in that way again.”

“You’d shirk your duties, boy?”

“You mean your duties, Father?”

And Eris knew it clicked then, in his father’s small brain, exactly how much deep shit Eris would put him in should he decide to be a menace.

“Your mother’s son through and through, hm?” Beron said quietly and Eris raised his brows.

“I am your son too, father. I was raised by your hand.”

Eris almost wanted to laugh at his own statement. Because quite literally so, Beron had not held back to beat his whole family into submission. Especially his firstborn, whom he allowed zero mistakes.

And yet.

The High Lord stared down at his son with slight loathing and Eris waited.

“Don’t make me beat some sense into you, boy.”

Eris shrugged and Beron’s eyes narrowed. It was a long moment before the High Lord finally scoffed.

“I hope her pussy is worth it.”

“Again,” Eris said, a muscle flexing in his jaw, his fists clenching behind his back. “You will not speak of my wife this way. I will decide how she behaves. I will decide what she will or won’t do. I will decide anything that concerns her. She is off-limits to everyone else. At all times.”

Beron quirked a brow. “Is that so?”

Eris gave him a tight smile. “I don’t like people playing with my things, Father. You taught me that.” he said. “I hope I have made myself clear enough for you.”

A tense silence filled the room and Eris wondered exactly what Beron would do. What his father was thinking. He had crossed a line here and showed his hand. Eris only hoped Beron thought he knew his son well enough that his declaration was one of possessiveness rather than anything else.

“What about your mother, Eris?” Beron said softly and Eris willed himself not to flinch, not to show any reaction. “It would be a shame if one day you shirked your duties and I...had to have a long conversation with your mother about it.”

Eris’s fist tightened behind his back and slowly, silently, he took a breath.

“I would think that would be unnecessary, father.”

Beron tilted his head and smiled. “That’ll depend on you, I suppose,” he said airily. “If not your mother, maybe your hounds? You seem to have a strange attachment to them. Surely you don’t need all twelve.”

“You know how valuable those hounds are to our security system.”

“Ah, yes. Our security system.” Beron said, interlacing his hands in his lap, and watched Eris with a smirk. “Even so...It would be very interesting to see what you hold in high regard, no?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw once more. “Meaning?”

“I will hold my tongue about your little wife, sure.” the High Lord with a shrug. “In fact, I won’t talk about her at all.”

“Then we have an understanding.” Eris said tightly.

“Oh yes,” Beron said calmly. “We definitely have an understanding.”

Eris nodded and stood for a moment before whirling around to leave. Except his father cleared his throat and Eris immediately froze.

Slowly, Eris turned back to face his father with a pleasant expression. “Yes, Father?”

“While we have an understanding, I do want to make one thing clear, son,” Beron spoke and Eris braced himself. “Should you step one toe out of line and think to speak to me that way again, I will find myself truly testing where your loyalties lie.”

“My loyalties lie with you, High Lord.” Eris said automatically and Beron scoffed.

“We shall see.” the High Lord sneered. “It would be a shame if I had to test that theory. A shame if I had to find out what you valued more...your mother, your hounds...or your pretty wife’s cunt.”

“Father.” Eris snarled but the High Lord only laughed humorlessly.

“You said your piece and I said mine, boy.” Beron snapped. “Now, get out of my sight and go fix that border issue.”

Eris’s mouth twisted in distaste, and it took him a moment — a good minute of trying to calm his thoughts so he didn’t snap the old man’s neck. So he didn’t do anything stupid.

Instead, he smiled tightly and bowed his head, despite his father’s look that always promised violence. He was too used to it, and Eris would take every bruise given to him if it got his father away from the two women in his life. He’d said his piece. He’d drawn a line and he would bear all the consequences for it. He had to.

It was not lost on him when his thoughts mirrored that of his wife...what was another bruise?

Iris stared at the bouquet of flowers on the table and blinked. She reached out a hand and hesitantly touched a petal then swallowed.

She had spent the time since her mother-in-law’s visit mindlessly tidying their room and thinking. Thinking and overthinking. Getting angry. Then sad. Then downright anxious.

Lady Enya’s visit had shifted her thought process and it made her realize how narrow her view had been about this whole thing. Thinking about talking to Eris still made her want to vomit but she tried to work through it.

Until she had heard him return and did the only rational thing she could — hide in the bathroom. She only stepped out after he left and that’s when her eyes fell on the bouquet sitting here now.

She had been simmering in anger this whole time. So angry.

At her father. At Beron. At all the stupid powerful males in positions that were able to hurt people and make them feel so small. Which is exactly what Beron had done. He made her feel small. He made Eris feel small.

She swallowed, thinking of the look Beron had shot Lady Enya before they left. He had been making her feel small for years.

But Eris…

“I am not him. I actively try my hardest not to be like him in any way.”

He could’ve been. He could. But he hadn’t.

“I will do everything I can to protect you from him and take the brunt of that as well and I am sorry that it has to be that way and I am sorry that you will likely have to hear more things from him that you won’t like, but I am playing his game so that I can keep worming my way around until I can finish him.”

And she had called him a coward. She had made him feel small too.

She had lashed out this morning knowing what she said would’ve been worse than gutting him. Words were often the best of weapons and Iris had been at the end of those weapons long enough to know how to throw it back.

But what would it cost her with Eris?

“You both are coming from the same place. Trust yourself and your judgment. But also...give him the chance to prove himself to you.”

She swallowed again as his mother’s words rang in her ear and Iris bit her lip, guilt eating away at her, as it had been for hours, the pit in her stomach growing. He hadn’t deserved her throwing words like that at him and had regretted it the moment they slipped out of her mouth. Not that he had held back either because clearly, he knew how to hurt.

But...he brought her flowers.

Iris frowned at the beautiful bouquet now. Was it an apology? Would he —

As if summoned by her thoughts, Iris turned at the sound of their suite door opening and Eris stood in the doorway, a tray in his hands.

He paused at the door, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. She noted how he cataloged the choice of dress that hugged her figure, the loose waves of her hair falling down her back. He met her eyes and without saying a word, stepped into the room, closed the door, and made his way to stop in front of her.

“Wife.”

“Husband.” she said dryly, and the corner of his wicked mouth ticked up.

Eris placed the tray on the table and nodded his head toward the chairs. “Would you like to eat?”

She watched him warily. “I didn’t realize you were part of the kitchen staff.”

“For you, wife? But of course.”

They stared at each other in loaded silence for a few minutes before Eris casually waved a hand for her to sit.

Begrudgingly, and because she was hungry, Iris walked to the nearest chair and plopped down. Eris’s lips twitched as he took the seat opposite her and the two stared at each other again, the tension palpable.

So much for trust. One step forward and two steps back.

“So.” Eris began, and Iris blinked before removing the cloth covering the tray of food and grabbing a piece of bread.

“So.” she said, grabbing a knife and looking at him.

“Did you like the flowers?” he asked calmly, and both turned to look at the bouquet.

Iris fidgeted and slowly put the knife and piece of bread down, her nervousness flaring. She frowned at the sound of her thundering heart. Or was it the sound of his?

“I wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, so I went with a seemingly obvious choice.” he added, and Iris met his gaze.

“I like carnations. And peonies.” she replied slowly. “But this bouquet is beautiful regardless.”

A heartbeat passed then, “You fucken hate irises, don’t you?” he asked with a snort and Iris bit back a reluctant smile, the tension easing a fraction.

“I really do.” she said and huffed a humorless laugh. “Blame that on my father too. Whenever he beat me too hard, he'd leave a bouquet of crushed irises at my door. Symbolism.”

Eris tensed for just a moment then forced himself to relax. “He keeps getting better and better every time you mention him.” he said tightly, then leaned forward and picked up the knife and bread Iris had put down.

She watched him again, as he had done the first morning, methodically buttering it for her and passing it over. Iris accepted it carefully, watching him fill her a glass of juice and again, pass it over to her.

When he sat back, his own piece of bread in hand and buttering it silently, Iris frowned again.

“Are we going to talk about the other night?” she asked quietly as her heart galloped in her chest.

Eris paused. “I was hoping you’d eat something first so we don’t lash out again. Like we did this morning.”

Iris’s frown deepened and she sat back in her chair, taking a bite of her bread. He watched her chew, his brow raised as he waited.

She swallowed and knew his eyes had tracked the movement of her licking her lips. “Well.” she began. “How did you think that went?”

“Terrible. You?”

“Horrible. I’ve been insulted before but never quite like that.” she muttered angrily, and Eris leaned forward, the bread dropping from his hand.

“So was I.” he said curtly. “My father aside, you took something I shared with you and threw it back in my face. You blamed me for things I had no control over. You called me a coward when I have spent my whole life trying to fight against what I was forced into. I warned you about my father. It shouldn’t have been a surprise.”

Iris flushed, scowling. “I was attacked. Your father attacked me and you let him.” she replied. “You warned me but that doesn’t mean I have to accept that this will be my reality. How am I supposed to feel safe if I have to be on the defense all the time?”

“And how am I supposed to trust you if the first personal thing I tell you, you use against me in an argument?” he said with a flattened expression. “I did not let him attack you. He didn’t wait for my permission. In case you haven’t noticed, my father loves to shit on me constantly.”

“And you just put up with it?”

“I know how to play his game.” he replied, and Iris shook her head.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Iris watched him frown, his brows furrowed in the frustration written all over his face. She had the strong urge to push her fingers to it.

“You want to feel safe and want trust. You cannot ask this of me and not give it in return.” he finally said. “There are times to respond and times to let him think he won so you can do what needs to be done anyway. That is how he needs to be handled. That is the best I can do with him. The best any of us can do at this time.”

They watched each other silently for a moment.

“If you are willing and you find yourself wanting to, be honest with him. He will meet you in the middle if you are willing to meet him.”

Iris took a small breath. “I... have had the same dream about you for the past two nights.” she whispered, and Eris straightened. “It’s not a pleasant one. It was about what you said to your father. What you’d do to me.”

Eris’s face heated and he shifted in his seat. “It was just a dream.” he said quietly, and Iris’s fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress.

“The panic that woke me up was real each time.”

His mouth twisted as he thought this over then met her gaze. “I said this before, and I understand I will have to keep saying it until you believe it, but I have no intention of hurting you. I will not lay a finger on you.” he said firmly. “I only said that so my father didn’t order me to do anything to you in front of him. It’s the one boundary he wouldn’t cross.”

Iris’s expression furrowed into a frown and a moment of silence passed before she quietly asked, “But he’d watch you beat your wife?”

Eris’s expression tightened for a moment then he mumbled, “He has made me watch while he hurt my mother. It would delight him to watch me do the same to you.”

“And you could do nothing?”

Eris scowled. “I do not appreciate the accusation in that question.” he snapped. “You assume I wasn’t also incapacitated.”

She flushed then mumbled curtly, “I’m not accusing, I’m asking.”

Eris watched her warily, scanning her face. It took him a moment before he finally sighed and rolled his shoulders back.

“Look...I am — my private quarters have always been my safe space.” he said quietly. “Aside from out with the hounds, it is the only place I can just...be. No expectations from anyone. I can’t fight with you in it. I — I don’t have it in me. If you really insist on not wanting to have a functioning relationship, I can arrange for you to have your own space and we don’t need to see each other at all.”

Iris blinked rapidly at the unexpectedness of his answer. “And what? Go our separate ways?”

“You know that can’t happen with your father or mine in the picture.” he said with a humorless chuckle. “You are bound to me as I am bound to you.” And Iris watched him scowl at the words, color blooming in his cheeks. “Or at least for a few years until people are busy obsessing over something else. We could just...orbit around each other. Pretend until then.”

Iris’s eyes dropped to the table, feeling her body suddenly heat up. Pretend? He would —

She took a sharp breath and then very quietly said, “You...would do that?”

“I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. If you don’t want to try, I will not be the one to force you,” he said, and Iris lifted her eyes in time to find him running a hand through his hair. He met her gaze once then looked down, his expression hardening, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “I am not my father. I will not shackle you to me. You would only need to endure for a while until I can make it work.”

It took her a moment to finally speak, her shaking hands bunching in her dress.

“No one’s ever given you a chance, have they?” she said softly and watched as Eris tensed. “Your father has ruined almost everything for you.”

She watched his hands as they fisted then flexed and it took him a moment before replying.

“It’s a lot easier to let people see what they want to see. I am very good at pretending,” he replied, his eyes on the table. “Being a monster makes it easier.”

“Does it?”

He shrugged. “It’s all I have to work with for the time being.”

Her mouth went into a thin line, and she thought over what he said as he watched her. Trust wasn’t so easily earned but...he was drawing a line, making himself clear.

“I...did not react well the other night.” She said quietly. “Or this morning.”

“Neither did I,” Eris said with a shrug. “I think we can agree not to hold it against each other.”

She sighed and tilted her head back to gaze at the ceiling of their room. “I know you told me we have to behave in a certain way. But your tone...your tone. The sneer in it.” Iris said quietly, color bloomed on her cheeks, and she frowned. “I’ve heard that sneer my whole life. You tell me to expect different things from you then...then you spoke in that tone.”

Iris lowered her head to meet his gaze. “It makes me feel like everything you said and shared was a lie. It makes me feel foolish to believe you. You want me to wear a mask but...I can’t wear one where you’re belittling me in front of others. Even if it’s to have your father leave us alone.”

Eris’s eyes were on his fingers drumming gently on the table. “I...have had to wear this persona for a very very long time,” he said slowly and looked up at Iris. “You will need to give me some room...to work through these things.”

He swallowed then added tightly, “You are the first...opportunity I have ever been given to be different with a female. To openly be better. There wasn’t a relationship I had as important as this one with you.” He frowned. “No one that is supposed to be a...permanent partner. This is different for me too. I need patience from you.”

Iris’s eyes widened at that, and she looked away from him. Her heart was definitely the one thundering at his words so at odds with what his father had said to her.

You’re not important.

She looked up at him and found him watching her carefully. Her eyes darted to the slight color in his cheeks and then to his hands now folded on his crossed legs. He was speaking so calmly but Iris could taste his nervousness. It matched her own.

He had never been bluffing in his declarations.

“Then you want this to work, right?” She asked softly and licked her lips. “You want this to be real?”

“Do you?”

Iris blinked. Did she?

Her gaze dropped to her hands and she considered his question. No part of her going into this marriage had thought about whether it would work or not.

It was a fact. She was to be married to him. She would be his wife. Whatever happened after that, happened. Anything that came from her father would surely be nothing pleasant and she kept expecting the worst. But...Eris clearly didn’t think that way. He wanted it to be different. He had told her so from the beginning. And she had to be one of few people in his life who had ever heard such words from him.

He could be a nightmare for her. But he had endured so much from his father already. From this life. And he didn’t want to be. She had heard him say it.

I’m not trying to. Don’t you see that?

Her mind went back to the conversation with her mother-in-law.

“You two get to decide how real you want it to be.”

He could be more than just her husband. He could be her friend. But...he could also be more. And she had always wanted more. She wanted love. She wanted a...partner. She wanted a life with someone who would see her and care enough for her to protect her. Help her protect herself.

Swallowing, she looked up at him and the color on her cheeks deepened. “Yes. I do.”

And she watched his shoulder sag, just a fraction.

“Then we’re on the same page.”

Iris looked down at her hands for a heartbeat then met his gaze again. “You’re a very good liar,” she whispered. “It scares me to trust you.”

Eris was quiet for a long moment then very, very softly said, “It terrifies the fuck out of me to have you in my life. I don’t know how to...have whatever this is.”

“I don’t want to be a problem. I just want...to have something normal.” she said with a sigh, her eyes darting to him and then back to her hands.

“I don’t think normal will apply in this household,” he said with a soft snort. “But...I think we can figure out what will be normal for us.”

Silence fell between them again and Iris took a breath. A normal for them. A normal she...would be a part of. Iris licked her lips and then quietly said, “I’m sorry for the things I said in anger. It wasn’t fair to you. I was very upset and did not appreciate what was said to me or insinuated about me.”

Eris’s brow flickered up, a look of slight surprise on his face. “You apologize so easily.” he mused.

“Acknowledging when you’re wrong is the first step to getting through an issue.”

Eris pursed his lips and then slowly nodded. “And I am sorry for what I said and how things had to be. It wasn’t fair to you either. My father knew exactly what to say to push my buttons and I walked right into it.”

Iris nodded in return, her frown deepening, and asked carefully, “Why does he do that? What does he get out of it when you do so much for him? Doesn’t he...care for you?”

Eris chuckled dryly. “My father cares for no one but himself,” he said. “He likes to make people feel small when he feels threatened by them. He hasn’t earned anyone’s respect in years, so he keeps things under control by fear. And punishment.”

Iris blinked then said slowly, “At some point...people will not be scared anymore.”

“Yes,” Eris answered carefully. “Fear eventually grows tiresome. But my father has a very hard time accepting that change is coming, whether he likes it or not.”

“You’ve talked about change and pieces at play but never elaborate.”

Eris observed her. “We will need to work on our trust issues more before I can give you additional information.”

Iris nodded slowly. “That seems fair.” she mumbled, and Eris’s lips curved up and he pushed the breakfast tray towards her. Iris bit her lip and then sat up. “I have one more thing to say about this subject.”

“Just one?” Eris said with a chuckle and Iris shot him a look, picking up her bread once more.

“Your father was outrageous. It’s hard to pick one thing.” she said, her nose scrunched up in disdain. “I don’t know how you’ve tolerated him all these years.”

“Pretending I’m frolicking in a field of daisies whenever he opens his mouth usually gets me through.”

Iris snorted and rolled her eyes, earning her a smirk from him. “Frolicking with a pretty flower crown, are you?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied with a serious nod. “If Elain has taught me one thing, it’s that you must wear a flower crown while frolicking or you’re simply not doing it right.”

A chuckle slipped from her lips and Iris for once, shyly met his eyes. When the corner of his mouth ticked up, she looked back down at her hands. She sighed and then looked back at him, her expression more solemn.

“He had no right to speak to me that way. He had no right to speak to you that way either.”

“I agree.”

“What I want to say is, I do not want to be spoken to like that ever again.” Iris said firmly. “I will pretend I’m your simpering little wife all you want but I will not tolerate the threats and language like that. Not in this home as well.”

“Neither will I. Which is why it won’t happen again.” Eris said and Iris stilled at his tone.

“What does that mean?”

He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve and then slowly looked at his wife. “I don’t like people overstepping their boundaries with me. He can take it out on me all he wants but you’re my wife. I will not let it happen again. You should still watch your tone with him the same way I do but my father has been made aware that I will not take him speaking to you that way again lightly.”

Iris blinked then flushed lightly, pleasantly surprised. “So...we play his game?” she asked quietly and he gave her a tight nod.

“We play his game,” he confirmed. “Outside of this room, we play by his expectations. It is a lie, a façade. Inside this room, whenever we are alone, and outside of the court...we can be as we wish. Just you and me. As long as this is what you want.”

Iris bit the inside of her cheek, watching him carefully. It wasn’t different from anything he had told her before but...she was truly listening now. She could play games. She had tried to play her father’s games, even when it cost her. Now she would have a partner.

Just you and me.

“You’re willing to be my friend first, then?” she asked quietly.

“Friendship was the first thing I offered you.” he replied simply.

And it hit Iris then — how incredibly similar they were. A fact Eris seemed to have figured out early on.

He was someone who needed a person just as badly as she did.

So she finally said, “Then this is what I want.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth ticked up. “That’s helpful. I won’t have to waste time redecorating.”

She rolled her eyes and then quietly observed him as he finally picked a helping of food. Standing up to his father was a bold move and Eris was careful about all the moves he made. To do it because of her...

She waited until he had a few bites of food then carefully asked, “How did your father take it when you spoke to him about me?”

Eris paused for a moment then slowly replied, “We’ll see in a few days.”

Iris bit her lip, her brows furrowed, knowing what he meant. It would either pass or...Eris would pay for it.

Her face fell as guilt washed over her and Eris straightened.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” she immediately said and he furrowed his brows.

“We already stated our apologies.”

She shook her head. “If he decides he doesn’t like what you said because of me —” she started and pushed the tray away, feeling slightly nauseated. “I don’t want him to — if he decides to —”

But Eris held up a hand. “You don’t have to worry about that. I can handle my father. His choices are his own and he is the only one responsible for them.”

Iris bit her lip, glancing at him and then down at her lap. Her mouth wouldn’t cost just her now. Eris would be dragged into it by his father if she stepped out of line. He had thought about what his father would do to her if Eris didn’t behave accordingly but Iris hadn’t even considered what Beron would do to Eris because of her.

“I’ll watch myself better now.” she promised quietly. “I don’t want to give him any other reasons to hurt you.”

Eris stared at her, his expression unreadable but she saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed then nodded.

“I see we’ve reached an understanding then.” he said quietly and Iris nodded in return.

“We’ve reached an understanding.”

A sense of relief washed over the room, any tension between them easing. Iris stole a chance at him to find him watching her, his lips slightly pursed.

“What?”

He shook his head and then cleared his throat. “Now that we’re on the same page, I won’t have to hear your whining.”

Iris squinted at him but her expression softened when she saw the teasing look he gave her.

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re mean.”

“I haven’t slit your throat yet so how mean am I, really?” she said and gave him a pointed look.

Eris smirked and Iris knew whatever came out of his mouth next would be obnoxious.

“You must really have a thing for my neck, you constantly want to get your hands on it.”

“To choke the life out of you.”

“Don’t tease me, I’ll start moaning.”

Very slowly and without breaking eye contact, Iris flipped him off, earning her a soft chuckle.

“We’ll see what good that attitude of yours will do you once we start training.” he said, giving her an amused look.

“And when will we do that?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

“As soon as you’d like, wife.” he said with a lazy smirk. “I look forward to seeing what you’re made of.”

Iris sat back and met his gaze with a challenging look of her own. “And I look forward to giving you the ass-kicking you deserve, husband.”

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra fanfic #smtb chapters #beron vanserra #gfics #if you'd like to be tagged or removed (no hard feelings lol) please let me know!!#thank you for reading!!#I know for old smtb readers this is all nothing new but I hope you'll be excited for the new stuff to come soon!!

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n6viia · 5 months ago

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Part 8 - fucked up

m.list

now playing “rosa pastel” by belanova..

The music was loud, and the house was packed with people. The place was full of familiar faces and laughter. It felt like old times, and you were glad to see everyone again.

Makki was the first to greet you guys , pulling both of you into a hug. "Hey you two! It’s been so long"

“Way too long” you agreed with a smile, feeling a wave of nostalgia.

The night went on, and you found yourself having a good time. You talked with friends, caught up on life, and shared memories from high school. It was nice to be back with people who knew you so well.

Oikawa stayed close, and you felt comfortable with him. And for a moment, everything felt just right.

You were talking to Iwaizumi and some others. The conversation was light, full of jokes and memories.

"You and Oikawa seem to be doing well" Iwaizumi observed with a smile.

Y/N shrugged, feeling a warmth spread through you. "We’re trying, It’s nice to be back in touch you know?"

Iwaizumi nodded “I’m happy for you guys”

As the night went on, you started to feel tired. You decided it was time to leave. Excusing yourself from the conversation, You went to find Oikawa.

Wandering through the house, you spotted Oikawa in the living room, but he wasn’t alone. A girl was with him, laughing and touching his arm in a way that seemed too close.

Your heart sank, and a knot formed in your stomach. For a moment, you just stood there, staring, unable to believe what you were seeing.

Oikawa noticed you were watching and quickly stepped away from the girl, a look of surprise on his face. But you turned and walked away, heading outside.

The night air was cool, but you barely noticed. Your mind was racing with thoughts and emotions. Oikawa soon followed, looking concerned.

“Y/N wait” Oikawa called out, catching up

You stopped, turning to face him with frustration and hurt clear in your eyes. “What the fuck was that oikawa?”

“It’s not what it looked like” Oikawa said quickly, trying to explain. “She’s just a friend.”

“Just a friend?” disbelief in your voice. “It sure as hell didn’t look like that.”

Oikawa sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I promise it was nothing. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You shook your head, anger boiling over. “You know, this is exactly the kind of shit I was afraid of. I didn’t want to go through this again.”

“Y/N please just listen” Oikawa pleaded, desperation in his voice.

“No, I’m done listening to excuses” you shot back, your voice rising with emotion. “I thought things were different now, but I was wrong.”

Oikawa took a step closer, trying to reach out, but you pulled back. “I’m sorry okay? I messed up, but it didn’t mean anything. I should’ve been more careful.”

You looked away, feeling tears prick in your eyes. “This is why we broke up in the first place oikawa. I can’t keep doing this.”

Oikawa’s expression softened, regret written all over his face. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before” you said, your voice wavering.

The argument hung heavy in the air, both of them standing there, unsure of what to say next. Finally, you turned away, unable to face him any longer.

“I need some space” you muttered, walking away into the night.

Oikawa watched you go, feeling the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him. The night had taken a turn neither of you guys expected, you guys no longer had a future.

• “todo acabo no queda mas” — “And it’s all over, there’s nothing left” “Seremos dos extraños” — “We’ll be two strangers” “Yo te olvidaré me olvidarás” — “I’ll forget you and you’ll forget me” “Hasta nunca” — “Until never”

•that’s the translation for the lyrics shown :)

•another angst part!! 🥳

•I just love angst as you can tell

•but can someone give me a round of a applause for the amazing song choice??

•rosa pastel you will always be popular

taglist: @phoenix-eclipses @gsyche @jaynawayna @jojo-buttercup @staygoldsquatchling02

#haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x you #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #oikawa angst #oikawa x y/n #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa torū #oikawa x you #oikawa fluff #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa smau

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junkiepunkie · 5 months ago

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Marauders fic snippet?

Hey so I thought I’d put a lil snippet of the first chapter of my new marauders fic here and ask people’s thoughts? (For context, the fic is set during prisoner of Azkaban and onwards)

this excerpt comes right after Remus finds out Sirius has escaped Azkaban:

Remus thought about laughing, he really did, the type of exasperated laugh that people let slip at the worst of times, but he couldn't. Everything he had tried so desperately to forget for the past 12 years was crashing into him at once, and he was drowning in it. Could he even go to Hogwarts again? Could he ride the train without James? Or eat in the great hall without Pete? write in a classroom without Lily looking over his shoulder? He didn't know. It was moments like this where Remus most wished he still had someone who knew everything about him. Someone he could really hash these big questions out with. well, Remus didn't quite know anyone who knew his childhood anymore, but he knew just who he needed in this moment.

He hauled himself with the last ounce of power he thought he could muster that morning and put on his worn, brown Mackintosh coat, and dragged himself out of number 7 Godric's hollow and to the train station. He needed London. now.

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

Remus triggered the cafe door bell upon entering. He smiled for the first time that day at the sound. He had scrapped his plans to visit the job centre and taken a day trip to Camden, where his favourite coffee shop lay hidden down a fairy-light laden alley. "Macdonald Coffeehouse" was painted moss green and burnt orange, with brick peeking out where the wall was chipped in the corner. As he entered, Remus bathed in the warm light and shed his distress for a moment, frozen for the time being in a melancholy hopefulness. He walked up to the counter like an eager kid and waited for a minute before finally caving and letting out a small "hello" to alert those in the backroom that someone was present.

"oh shit- erm ONE SEC!" a melodic female voice shouted through from the store room.

Remus Laughed. "s'alright Mary its only me!"

A relieved face peeked out from behind the door. Mary was glowing, six months pregnant and flashing her eye-reaching smile.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite customer." she grinned waltzing over. "god, you came the one day I made Jill take a break!"

Remus sighed happily, Jill, Mary's long term girlfriend was a workaholic to say the least but Remus knew that she wasn't long after her top surgery, no wonder Mary was refusing to let her work.

"Yeah you'll have to tell her I said hi."

Mary rolled her eyes "tell her yourself! Just come over again sometime. It's been ages."

Remus bit his gum to keep from tearing up. "actually... that's kind of what I came here to talk about."

Mary raised her eyebrows and pouted the way she always did when she knew Remus was going to say. Without a word she held up her finger to him and started preparing his usual -cinnamon latte- with a laboured sigh. Remus sat at the nearest table and prepared himself for a debrief.

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

Remus held his middle finger up to Mary in a fit of laughter.

"I can't fucking believe you! i'm trying to make a serious decision!" he told her.

She snorted "fuck off with your 'decision' shit! 'oh i've just been offered a job in a mansion in Scotland where I get free food and housing and get to do my dream job, but oh no Mary! it's so far from you!' yeah that a real hard choice."

"uh- it's a castle actually." Remus mocked

Mary stuck out her tongue before she glanced at the shops clock.

"Christ okay, i can't chat for much longer hun, you know how weirdly busy this place gets at night."

Remus smirked. 'Weirdly busy' was code for Mary's 'herbal tea' hours being mobbed. "of course-"

"No wait. Before you leave we are going to get to the bottom of why you really don't want to take this job."

Remus groaned. He should've known he couldn't hide from Mary, she knew him too well.

"right," he started "You remember I told you about my school? and um... what happened after school."

Mary looked to the floor and she sipped her tea "yeah, the gunman."

"exactly." Remus choked on his lie but recovered as he always did "well, this- this school is my school so going back.."

"feels like taking a trip down memory lane." Mary finished "yeah, you know what I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. I reckon i'd crumble."

Remus frowned gently "nah, you wouldn't. You'd move on.”

the fic is called “we were laughing” on ao3

#marauders #sirius black #james potter #marauders era #wolfstar #the marauders era #dead gay wizards #regulus black #remus lupin #sirius and regulus #wolfstar fic

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nightghoul381 · 1 year ago

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Silvio 3rd Anniversary Event

A Beast's Dream Realized by Beauty

Epilogue

Warning: Explicit Content | NSFW | MDNI

My first voyage and treasure hunt with Emma was an extraordinarily dark reminder of my childhood dreams.

If I could, I’d erase that treasure from my memory.

But that didn’t matter to Emma, who held the box with the worthless paper and stone as though it were a precious treasure.

…I even feel a little happy about it.

That night, when everyone was asleep—

I wrapped Emma, body chilled by the night wind, in my cloak and carried her straight to the bathroom.

(She used to scream with embarrassment every time I picked her up, but now she seems to be getting used to it.)

I put Emma down and she pulled the cloak more snugly around herself.

Silvio: “Look, we’re here. Take off your clothes and get in the hot water—”

Emma: “Did you think I was going to stay quiet the whole time?”

As if timed, Emma’s hands grabbed my clothes and started pulling them up.

Silvio: “Damn it, don’t do stupid stuff like ripping my clothes! Take your own clothes off, not mine.”

Emma: “I only did it so you would feel as embarrassed as me, Prince Silvio.”

(You’ve got guts, if that’s what you’re after…)

~~~~

Emma / Silvio: “……”

By the time we were soaking in the tub after stripping off each other’s clothes, we were both exhausted and remained silent for a while.

Emma turned in my arms, quietly looking up at me.

Emma: “…Please say something.”

Silvio: “…Ack.”

Emma: “That’s just a weird sound.”

Silvio: “After a scuffle, all you can do is make weird sounds.”

Emma: “Fufu, sure. A little while ago we were making more noise than children.”

Silvio: “I wonder what grown-ups would do.”

(Really, what are we doing. Adding to our fatigue, we’re idiots.)

Even though that’s what I think, I don’t mind doing stupid stuff with Emma.

Suddenly her beautiful back comes into view, and I lift her thin arms to look at it.

Emma: “Umm, is something wrong?”

Silvio: “For someone who was caught in so many traps, you don’t have a single scratch.”

Emma: “I was careful because I knew someone would be overly worried about even a small scratch.”

Silvio: “That’s a good attitude, but I don’t like the way you said it.”

Emma: “Hey…”

I suck hard on Emma’s neck, making her shiver and let out sweet noises.

Silvio: “I’m the only one who can leave marks on your skin.” 8823

Silvio: “If you want to go out to sea together in the future, be careful not to get any scratches.”

Emma: “I understand, ahh…ngh…”

(Hearing your sweet for just a second is all it takes.)

(My reason is blown away like an idiot.)

I kiss her again and again as if trying to steal her breath and I run my hands over her breasts.

The sight of her desperately trying to respond while letting out muffled whimpers is so erotic it’s dizzying.

Emma: “Oh God…!”

Her sensitive spots were so aroused that I could see them even in the hot water, and even just lightly brushing against her insides has her trembling.

(I’m sorry, but I’m already at my limit.)

Emma: “Ah, Prince Silvio… not yet, aahh…..!”

Embracing the exhausted and weak Emma, I lift her before slowly lowering her on my cock.

Her walls tightened as if to pull me deeper and I desperately try to endure being taken in all at once.

(It’s so satisfying, but it’s still not enough.)

(My desire for ‘more’ is growing, and I’m forgetting how to control it.)

(Emma tries to take it all in, which makes it even more…)

(Ha… I’m nothing but a lucky man.)

Emma smiles happily when our eyes meet, and my greed grows again.

(I can’t believe that now, I almost like to be pushed around a little bit.)

(I don’t get it, then I look at you and I don’t give a shit.) 8842

(You’re the only one who can give me the kind of weakness that comes with falling in love.)

A few days later—

(Ah…there.)

Emma had handed me a clearly handmade treasure map.

I headed to the location indicated on the map, checked the bushes, and found a wooden box with a few books in it.

(Did you really try to hide it? Even a kid would’ve thought it through a bit more.)

Or maybe this was the result of her desire that I find it.

(…well, you never know.)

The treasure hunt from a few days ago crossed my mind.

Incidentally, the stone from the treasure chest was on display in Emma’s room…

I was embarrassed and tried to pick it up, but I was threatened with ‘I won’t listen to you for a month’ so I had to comply.

(Jeez, a month. That’s torture.)

(Alright. So what’s in the box…paper?)

When I opened the box, I found only a small piece of paper, which for some reason said ‘turn around’.

(I don’t get it, is it some kinda riddle?)

Following the instructions, I turned around…

Emma: “Congratulations!!”

Silvio: “Uwaa, hey! Don’t hug someone while they’re turning around, their heart could stop!”

Emma: “It’s okay, Prince Silvio isn’t that weak.”

(This woman, calmly returning… hmm?)

A soft, sweet scent grazes my nose.

Silvio: “That bag in your hand, is it sweets?”

Emma: “Ah, you knew by the smell. This is the real treasure!”

Emma: “The theme is treasures of the world. I’ve made cookies for all of the treasures you’ve found so far.”

Silvio: “You get fired up over the strangest things.”

Emma: “I thought about that too, but it was already too late to turn back, so I kept going.”

Emma: “Look at this masterpiece.”

Silvio: “Did you purposely make it so elaborate?”

(This is at a level that could be turned into a sellable product.)

Emma: “Yes, Prince Silvio, say aah.”

Silvio: “I’ll eat it myself, give it to me.”

Emma: “…”

Silvio: “Aah shit, fine just feed it to me! Stop lookin’ so depressed.”

Shaking off my shame, I ate the cookie offered to me.

Emma: “Do you like it?”

Silvio: “Don’t bother askin’ what you don’t need to hear.”

Silvio: “…of course, it’s delicious.”

Emma: “Fufu, thank you.”

Emma looks at the box beside us.

Emma: “It makes me so happy to have people find the treasures I’ve prepared for them.”

Emma: “I think I understand a little how you felt at that moment, Prince Silvio.”

Emma: “If you get another chance, can I go out to sea with you to look for treasure?”

Silvio: “We don’t just take chances, we make them.”

Emma: “! I want to make it.”

Silvio: “Look forward to it.”

Since my childhood, my actions were always accompanied by the thought ‘to be king’.

So I didn’t realize I was yearning for the stupid, meaningless exchanges that are so normal for children.

(Now I’m able to have these stupid exchanges as I please.)

(I have someone by my side to keep me company.)

I could only get that with Emma.

(Seriously… How much more are you going to make me love you?)

With a smile as bright as the sun, I desperately try to keep my mouth shut.

From now on, I’ll go out to sea many times and find many treasures.

There's a chance that I’ll find a treasure worth an entire town.

(But I will never find a treasure greater than this.)

As if to be sure, I dropped a kiss on Emma, my treasure.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

#ikemen prince #ikepri #silvio ricci #ikemen silvio #ikepri silvio #ikemen prince silvio #ikemen prince translations #ikepri translations #ikepri silvio ricci

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fl3shm4id3n · 2 years ago

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Bₗₒₒd ₚᵣᵢzₑ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐓𝐡𝐢�� 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜɪᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

TW: friend zone, angst, angry Neytiri, throat slitting, blood, character death, crying, sad Quaritch, vengeance.

Masterlist

You knew Miles Quaritch for a couple months, that was enough for you to fall in love with the man. When he first arrived to Bridgehead with his team, you were smitten. Day and night you'd be thinking of him, then you actually began to interact with him. It felt like some kind of dream come true, you couldn't believe that he had actually noticed you, of all people.

Besides work purposes, Miles had seemed to have some kind of interest in you. Sure you had become friends, but that didn't stop you from believing you could be more than friends. The more you interacted, the more you fell for him, you also noticed he'd lead you on sometimes, it made you believe that he must have been into you like you were of him.

Then you decided to ask Miles if he wanted to be you boyfriend. You felt excited and nervous at the same time, hoping that he'd say yes. But when you had popped the question to him, he had told you that he wasn't really looking for something serious and that he wanted to keep his options open. It kind of broke your heart a bit, but you understood and decided to forget all of that, just remain the good friends that you were. As much as you wanted to hide the pain, it really hurt.

That day had gone to shit, the mission was to collect Jake and that was it, instead things changed. The ship was attacked by a tulkun, the na'vi and the RDA went into battle on the ocean, majoity of the Deja Blu team got killed, and so on. Not only that but Quaritch was not giving up on trying to get Jake. He had his daughters held captive, you didn't care if they were human or na'vi, they were kids that had nothing to do with their father's doing.

You had gone to look around, to see any survivors on the sinking ship. Instead you found he remaining passengers, dead, either stabbed or with an arrow on their chest. The ship began to sink more, you new that you and Quaritch needed to leave, forget about Jake, if you both didn't leave, you'll die.

When you went back to Quaritch, you saw Jake with his youngest daughter behind him, meanwhile Miles had his other daughter, held by her queue and a knife to her neck. "Miles!" you yelled when you got closer, then he looked at you. "You stay there!" he warned, "Miles just forget it! We have t go or else we'll fucking die!" you screamed desperately. "Nothing is over while I'm still breathing!" he hissed, he then threw the orange cuffs at Jake, ordering him to cuff himself. "You son of a bitch!" Jake hissed back at Miles was he began to cuff one of his hands.

Before you could try and reason with him, you then felt someone get a hold of you hair , pulling your head back and a large knife to be placed on your now exposed neck. It was Neytiri, when Miles looked saw her he gripped harder onto the knife on the girl's neck. "Release, or I cut" she warned him, she held you tightly by the hair and her knife on your neck, you felt cold blade slightly cut your skin. "Just let her go" I cried out in fear, hoping that Miles would listen, but he didn't. "You think I care about some woman?" he asked, you felt a pain in the heart by his confession.

Miles held the tears in his eyes and answered his own question. "Where not even the same species." He said, causing you to tear up by his painful words. Then you felt a sharp pain on your neck, then you began to cough up red. Looking down at youself you saw how blood poured from you neck like a water fall. Neytiri had let you go and stepped away from you.

Your fall felt like slow motion, you saw everyone's shocked expression as you felt. Then Miles pushed the girl away from him and ran to you, before your body could hit the floor, he got you. he got a good look at your wound, it was a huge gash and he saw the blood squirting from you throat. Not only that but you were choking on your own blood through you mask. Miles then placed his large hand on your small neck, tying to prevent more blood from spilling out. This was a cue for the small family to leave, so they left, leaving you both.

"It's going to be alright!" Miles cried out, still holding your neck as well as getting blood on himself. He held your small body close. You were still a bit conscious, but due to the blood lose, everything was beginning to look blurry. You tried to say something, but couldn't, your mouth was filled with your own blood and you felt your vocal being touched by Miles hand. Your eyes began to feel tired, the last thing that you saw was a terrified Miles who had been crying, then everything went black.

Miles watched as your eyes went shut and your heart stopped beating, he didn't care that the ship was sinking, what mattered to him right now was you. He hated the fact that he couldn't tell you the truth, that he was in love with you, but he didn't know if he was a good man for you. Instead he lied, he lied about his feelings towards you. His last words to you were basically him telling you and everyone who witness that he didn't care about you when in reality he did. He continued to hold you lifeless and bloodied body close to him, he had to leave soon, or else he'll die. But he couldn't, someone had to avenge you, and that someone is going to be him. "I will go back for him, and when I do, I'll kill him and his whole family" he said to you, he knew that their deaths weren't going to bring you back, but what he said was true, things weren't going to be over until he stops breathing.

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cetaitlaverite · 8 months ago

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Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

link to the masterlist is here thank you for all the support on this so far!!! <3

08. Street Race in A Tank

It was almost impossible for Rosie to slip away unnoticed to go and see Freddie. The rest of his crew had almost unanimously decided against going to the officers’ club - it would have felt too empty, too soon, a stark reminder of everything they’d experienced that day which they were already trying desperately to forget. Instead, they wanted to sit outside their hut and smoke and play cards and shoot the shit - anything to put off having to go to sleep and inevitably relive the nightmare of Münster all over again.

Rosie had had to put all of his intellectual prowess to use to come up with an excuse which would make them let him go, ideally with the least amount of suspicion possible. He couldn’t come out and just admit he was going to see Freddie - the teasing would be relentless and then would come the interrogation. He had to be smart about it.

He’d tried three excuses before he stumbled upon the one which finally released him from their grip. He felt kind of bad, distantly, about leaving them. As their pilot, he felt it his responsibility to hold them together, to make sure they were dealing with it as well as they could. But it was still too soon for anyone to want to accept even the slightest bit of his mother-henning. His attention, he decided, was better directed elsewhere.

The night air was only just on the wrong side of nippy, just a little bit too silent to be peaceful, as he trekked from the men’s nissen huts to the women’s. Right now, he knew, if the mission had been a success they’d all be piled into the officers’ club like sardines, everyone laughing and dancing and singing and joyful. Now, there was just nothing. Crickets chirped and the breeze brushed against the grass. No one stirred outside of their hut except for the Riveters he’d left behind.

The world started to come to life a little more as he ventured to the women’s side of the base. Some of them were sitting outside, smoking and talking with their hair already in rollers for the night. Some of them greeted him as he passed, even, and he was both ashamed and embarrassed to only have been able to greet a select few back by name. A few tried to engage him in conversation, tried to convince him to stick around, but even as he offered up his excuses he could tell they knew where he was really going as they shrugged and sat back against the wall to their hut, smiling knowingly at each other.

There was no one outside of Freddie’s hut. He wasn’t sure whether he’d expected there to be, whether he’d imagined she might already be waiting for him. Now, though, he was left with the impossible decision of whether to knock or whether to linger outside like some kind of stalker, wondering whether she might eventually emerge.

He dawdled, praying she’d come outside, until he sighed and resolved he’d have to knock. They hadn’t decided on a time - Freddie had just told him to come at his earliest convenience - so there was no real way she’d be able to know he was outside.

Raising his fist, his heart for some reason in his throat - after everything he’d been through today, it was knocking on a damn door that was making him feel like he might just piss his pants?! - he knocked once, twice, three times, then stepped away from the door so as not to startle her when she opened it.

It wasn’t Freddie who answered the door, however. It was Jem. Still dressed in her uniform, though with her hair unruly and no shoes on, she grinned once she saw him. “Rosie!”

“Hi, Jem,” he greeted sheepishly, shoving his hands as deep in his pockets as they would go.

“Let me guess,” she said, leaning against the doorframe and smiling roguishly. “You’re here for our Freddie.”

Rosie couldn’t help but laugh at her. “I might be.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Jem said. He noticed she was slurring and fought the urge to laugh again. “She might just be in here.”

“Can you tell her I’m here?”

“Is that Rosie?” called a voice which unmistakably belonged to Freddie from behind the second door. These double doors all the bases in England had were so infuriating, but Rosie supposed they were helpful for moments like these with the blackout still in full force.

“Might be,” Jem called back to her.

“Let him in!” shouted Millie. She appeared from behind the second door a moment later. “Hi, Rosie.”

“Hi, Mils,” he replied, chuckling to himself.

“You can just come in,” she told him, hanging onto the door frame like it was the only thing keeping her upright. “It’s only the three of us in here.”

“Oh, that’s alright -” Rosie immediately began to refuse, blushing at just the thought of entering the girls’ space, but he quickly found he had little choice in the matter; base rules be damned, before he knew what was happening Jem was grabbing onto one of his wrists and Millie reaching for the other, and then he was standing in the entrance to their bunk.

“Hi,” Freddie greeted him from atop what he supposed might have been her bed. She, too, was still in her uniform, though her jacket was in a pile at the end of the bed, which Meatball was currently using as a pillow, and her hair had been brushed out. Her shoes were off and left haphazardly at the end of her bed and her stockinged feet were tucked up beneath her as she held onto a bottle which was more than halfway empty. The liquid was amber. Whiskey, Rosie guessed.

Rosie grinned at her. “Where’d you get that?” He nodded in the direction of the bottle.

Freddie shrugged one shoulder, smiling coyly, before Jem threw herself down onto the bed beside her and yanked the bottle from her hands. “Stole it,” Jem said, taking a long swig.

“We wanted to have a party of our own,” Millie explained to him, sitting on the bed beside Freddie’s and patting the space beside her so he would sit down. “So Jem, the little thief, snuck into the bar before the staff got there and stole a couple of their bottles.”

“It’s not like they’ll miss them,” Jem muttered, her lips still around the rim of the bottle. “I can’t imagine there’s anyone else at the club tonight besides the ruffians we work with.”

“Where’s the other bottle?” Rosie asked.

Freddie snatched the bottle back from Jem, sick of watching her guzzle it, and giggled. “No idea.”

Rosie had an idea. There was an empty glass bottle peeking out from beneath the head of Millie’s bed. So between the three of them they’d already drunk a bottle and three quarters of whiskey. He was not at all equipped to deal with this.

Freddie took a long draw on the bottle, then whined as Millie all but tackled her to steal it away. But just like that they switched seats, like a well-oiled machine, and suddenly Freddie was sitting next to Rosie, closer than Millie had, and grinning up at him. “D’you want some?”

Rosie looked down at her, gazing at him with her big doe eyes and her dimples, and felt he could have clutched her to his chest and never let her go. Instead, he shook his head, grinning back at her, and laughed just a little bit. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“Your loss,” Jem said, trying in vain to get the bottle back from Millie.

Freddie, not at all interested in the whiskey any longer, wrapped both of her arms around Rosie’s bicep and rested her chin on it. Muscular, she noted with no small amount of joy. “Rosie,” she said, extending the vowel sound at the end of his name, even though his attention was already firmly on her.

“Freddie?” he replied, fighting an indulgent smile. He didn’t try to move away from her, just let her hug his arm like they did this everyday.

“Can I try your hat on?”

Rosie chuckled but removed his service cap, placing it gently on her head for her since she seemed to have no inclination to move her arms from around his.

Freddie was grinning at him stupidly as he adjusted the brim. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he told her, smiling softly back at her.

“You look like a real pilot, Fred,” Millie said, giggling from around a sip of whiskey.

“I would be a good pilot, I think,” Freddie declared, sitting up straight and striking a pose just to make Millie and Jem laugh.

“You would be the best pilot,” Jem told her, nodding sincerely.

“I would - I would -” Freddie fought to think of what pilots did which was impressive. “I would fly really fast.”

“You would,” Millie agreed somberly. When she offered the bottle to Freddie she took it.

Freddie took a big sip of the whiskey - all of them had drunk so much of it they may as well have been drinking water for all it was showing on their faces afterwards - and then nodded to herself. She turned wide eyes on Rosie. “Will you teach me to be a pilot, Rosie?”

He chuckled softly, adjusting the brim of his hat on her head where it had tipped into her eyes in its looseness. “Of course, sweetheart,” he told her. His cheeks burned at the accidental term of endearment but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Now?” she asked.

Rosie’s eyebrows furrowed together even as he laughed. “Now?” he echoed.

“Yes.”

“Why not now?” Millie asked him. “There’s no one flying them right now, is there?”

“The B-17s?”

“No,” Jem replied, with all the air of someone about to deliver a sarcastic comment with the force of a suckerpunch to the gut, “the Spitfires we keep on the airfield just in case someone wants to go for a joyride into occupied France one day.”

“Right.” He’d deserved that, he supposed.

“Will you teach me?” Freddie asked again, tugging at his sleeve with the hand which wasn’t holding the bottle to reclaim his attention. “I don’t mean actually fly it. I just want to see the controls. I’ve never been inside a plane.”

“You haven’t?”

Freddie frowned. “Why would I have?”

Because your boyfriend was a pilot, Rosie thought but didn’t say it.

He should have said no, he knew. They weren’t really supposed to touch the planes when they weren’t flying them so as not to interfere with the mechanics’ work. He should have but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Not when Freddie was looking up at him like that, a dopey, hopeful smile on her lips and those dimples set firmly into her cheeks.

“You have to be quiet,” he told her, hoping to avoid appearing like he was giving in too soon.

Freddie shot upright and mimed zipping her lips shut. “Like a mouse,” she promised him.

“And you can’t go pressing any buttons, alright?”

She nodded seriously. “I won’t.”

“And you can’t bring that with you.” He nodded towards the bottle in her fist.

She frowned, took one last sip from it, and then handed it off to Millie, who downed the rest in one go.

“Mils!” Jem objected.

“I need it more than you do,” Millie stated, placing the empty bottle under the head of Freddie’s bed the same as she had placed the last one under hers.

“D’you reckon I could get away with nicking another one?” Jem wondered aloud to no one in particular.

“There’ll be people behind the bar now, Jem,” Millie pointed out.

“I’ll be quick.”

“Can we go now?” Freddie asked Rosie, drawing his eyes back to hers.

He nodded, getting stuck on her eyes for a moment before shaking his head to clear the fog and getting to his feet.

Freddie made quick work of putting her shoes back on and pressing a soft kiss to Meatball’s head so as not to disturb his slumber. Once satisfied, she adjusted the service cap she was still wearing and followed Rosie to the door.

“You bring her back in one piece, you hear me, Rosenthal?” Millie called sternly as she watched them go.

Freddie laughed. Rosie turned and grinned at her. “I’ll have her home in no more than an hour, don’t you worry, Mils.”

“Don’t get caught half-inching any more bottles, Jem, or they’ll catch onto us,” Freddie warned.

Jem tilted her head back and laughed. “You have so little faith in me, Fred. I feel it like a knife in the heart.”

“You’ll live,” Freddie told her with a grin.

With that, Rosie led Freddie out into the quiet and the stillness of the night, away from the women’s nissen huts and then around the back of the men’s, to avoid being caught red-handed by the rest of the Riveters, and then onto the airfield.

The two planes which had made it back were lonely in their bays. Freddie had never seen the airfield so empty. She recalled, fuzzily, Brady and Bucky and Bubbles and everyone else who had gone down, and a weight settled deep into her stomach. The alcohol might just have started to inch its way back up her throat had Rosie not noticed the change in her and rested his hand gently on the small of her back, a reassurance that he was there.

He led her to Royal Flush, the plane which she’d resented out of superstition earlier that day and now felt like kissing. This plane, stupid as its name was, had brought Rosie back when no other plane had. Not even She’s Gonna with its excellent name had done that. She laid her hand on it as they came to a stop beside it, whispered, “Sorry,” and then stepped back.

Rosie’s smile was confused as he watched her but he didn’t ask.

He opened the hatch on the side, a trapdoor-looking contraption, and guided Freddie out of the way so it wouldn’t hit her. “You need help getting in?”

Freddie scoffed, peering up into the darkness of the plane. “I’d say so,” she answered him, baffled. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to get in there?”

Rosie grinned to himself. She was so much more British when she was drunk.

“I’ll give you a boost,” Rosie said, positioning himself beneath the door. “C’mere,” he directed her softly, guiding her by the waist to stand in front of him, his chest to her back. “Ready?”

“Mh-hm,” she hummed, still gazing into the abyss above her.

“Three, two, one,” Rosie counted down, then hoisted her up into the door.

Freddie’s cheeks were aflame at his hands on her waist, at his clear strength, at the fact her behind was now likely level with his face, as her hands found purchase and she dragged herself up. “Don’t look up my skirt!” she demanded as she pulled herself in.

“I’m not!” Rosie defended himself. And he hadn’t been. He’d actually been fighting not to, trying to watch her to make sure she didn’t hurt herself without catching any glimpses of anything he wasn’t supposed to see. It was a harder task than she was likely giving him credit for.

“I’m in!” Freddie chirped once she’d disappeared inside. Rosie smiled to himself. “It’s so dark in here.”

Rosie chuckled, making quick work of swinging himself in feet-first and meeting her in the darkness. “It’s this way,” he told her, feeling for her hand and guiding her towards the cockpit.

The inside of the cockpit was either eerie or ethereal, Freddie couldn’t decide. Moonlight spilled in through the windows, glancing off of every metallic surface and parading across the seats.

“Which one is the pilot’s seat?” Freddie asked, considering the two front seats.

“Left,” Rosie told her.

Freddie nodded, climbing between the two and then settling herself into it.

Rosie laughed at her. “Oh, I see,” he said, climbing into the co-pilot’s seat, “so I’m your co-pilot now?”

“Of course,” Freddie told him, glancing at him sidelong. “I don’t see you wearing a pilot’s hat.”

Rosie tipped his head back and laughed. “Right,” he replied. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Her eyes were focused on the controls, on the many, many buttons and switches and levers and whatever else. “Now,” she said, “how do you start the engine?”

Rosie shot bolt upright. “Now, hold on a second -”

“I’m not actually going to do it!” Freddie assured him, giggling. Her eyes were still scanning the controls. “Just, hypothetically. If I was going to start the engine, how would I do it?”

“Well, first you gotta do your checks.”

“Oh.” She nodded once. “Right. I knew that.”

He led her through the checks, stifling a smile at how seriously she was taking it, and then told her how she would, hypothetically, start the engine. He guided her through the process, showed her how she would address the crew - which she already knew, after hearing it so frequently over the wireless, but she let him explain it anyway - and then how she would start taxiing. After he watched her imitate takeoff, her fingers grazing buttons instead of pushing them, brushing levers instead of pulling them, he sat back in his seat and grinned. “I gotta say, you’re a natural.” He was only teasing a little bit; she took the whole thing so seriously but, probably more on account of all the whiskey she’d drunk as opposed to any real ineptitude, she had ‘pressed’ the wrong buttons and ‘flicked’ the wrong switches more times than he could count, even with his guidance.

Freddie turned to him with the brim of his hat half covering her eyes. “I want you to teach me how to dogfight.”

Rosie couldn’t help it. He all but barked a laugh. “Honey, you don’t dogfight in a B-17. It’d be like trying to street race in a tank.” He lifted the brim of his cap to reveal the warm brown of her eyes to him once more.

Freddie frowned. “Then what do you do when there are fighters?”

“Try to get ‘em in the gunners’ sights.”

“Show me.”

He grinned. “I’d love to. Really, I would. But it’s - it’s instinctive. You see where they are and you react. It can’t be taught.”

Freddie sighed dramatically and fastened her hands back on the yoke. “I am going to dogfight,” she declared. “I will pilot your tank like it’s a Spitfire.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Rosie told her, grinning.

And dogfight she did. With the way she was focused, pretending to turn the yoke this way and that and ordering the different gunners to shoot at imaginary Messerschmitts, it was like she felt she was actually there. She made gunshot noises with her mouth, sometimes imitating the sound of an engine when she sent the plane into a dive to clear imaginary fire, and all the while Rosie watched her as she played, his heart racing in his chest. He’d thought she was so intimidating when he’d first met her, when she’d been the talk of the bar and surrounded by men and women alike, each of them vying for her attention. She’d been beautiful and untouchable - the other airmen had certainly thought so, had certainly told him so afterwards. But now she was just a girl, playing at being a pilot, impatiently pushing his service cap back when it kept slipping into her eyes and making B-17 noises with her mouth, ordering around a make-believe crew. No longer intimidating but absolutely stunningly beautiful. She was so unbearably cute he couldn’t stand it.

“Alright,” he said once he got the feeling she was wearing herself out. He laughed as she shot him an affronted look.

“You’re supposed to be my co-pilot, Rosie!” she berated him. “I’ve been out here dogfighting all by myself while you sit there doing the square root of fuck all!”

He couldn’t help it. His laugh all but exploded out of him.

“And now,” she went on, heedless of his laughter, “you interrupt me! If we get shot down it’ll be your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her through a fresh bout of laughter. “I’m sorry. You were doing such a good job.”

“I know,” she told him, as though this was obvious.

“I just think maybe I better get you back to Mils and Jem. They’ll be worried.”

Freddie sighed and sat back in her seat. “No, they won’t,” she dismissed him. “They know you’ll look after me.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

Freddie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you?”

He knew the question was serious. He could tell that somewhere in the depths of her whiskey-blurred mind she was recalling the mission today, what it must have been like for him to fly through a sea of real Messerschmitts while he watched all the other crews go down around him.

“No,” he told her honestly. “I’m not tired.” He didn’t want to go to sleep. He would’ve stayed sitting here in this cockpit playing pilots with her all night if that’s what she wanted.

Freddie considered him for a moment then carefully removed his hat. She held it in her hands, stared at it curiously, turned it over and inspected it before handing it back to him. “You asked me about Daniel earlier,” she said after a long moment of silence. Her eyes were warm but closed to him, guarded. “Do you still want to know?”

Did he? They’d been having such a nice time together. Did he really want to ruin it all by being forced to remember that her heart belonged elsewhere, even if he was no longer around?

But wouldn’t it be better if he knew? If he could understand what had gone on, what they’d meant to each other, how she’d been faring ever since, couldn’t he help her cope with it? Maybe even just a little bit?

“Yeah,” he decided quietly, voice tentative in the darkness. “If you still want to tell me then I still want to know.”

#my writing #mota #watm #masters of the air #hbo war #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #hbo war x oc #rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal fanfic #rosie rosenthal fanfiction

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fatherforgivethem · 1 year ago

Text

Here is the mini story for Aegon's headcanon done in this post! I really hope you all like this, and I should have this up on Ao3 soon so that you can all keep up with the mini stories for each of them!

Aegon felt the way that the foggy air began to soak his hair. He supposed that it was rather naive to hope for dry hair in his town. From the ocean to the almost constant rain filled air, Forks was sure to ruin people’s hair and clothes. He should have worn a hat. Be he didn’t. And there he was, standing on the front lawn of some kid who was throwing a party. People filled the yard and the house, and from the open front door, he could see people cheering as one of the other teenagers won a drinking game.

He didn’t want to be there. His muscles were sore from work at the garage, and he was tired from last night. Last night being the same shit, he was doing right then. Selling drugs to stupid teens and burnouts. If they could pay of course; he really hated when they couldn’t pay.

He did a quick check of his pockets, and when he could feel the little plastic bags, he made his way onto the porch, and into the loud, overly warm, house. He didn’t have to look far to see the people that he was selling to that night. He could see the Franken brothers, beers in hand, at the bottom of the grand staircase. It wasn’t long before they noticed Aegon in return. They gave him two matching smirks, their identical faces making a chill go through his spine.

“Ben, Jack.” Aegon said as he approached them. “Aegon.” They both said at the same time. Aegon ignored how creepy his name sounded coming from their mouths. Instead, he jerked his head to the side, and led the twins to more secluded area of the house. There was a bathroom that was thankfully empty, and so Aegon gave a shove to the twins’ backs and closed the door behind himself.

“Always kind HC.” Jack, or was it Ben, said. Aegon rolled his eyes and plucked two bags from his pocket, “And yet you always bye from me. You’re beginning to look a little desperate.” He said, a small grin lacing his lips as he spoke.

This was the only good things about the job, expect for the pay of course. He could be as mean as he wanted to his costumers, and they would always come back for more. They needed him. They got hooked to what he was selling, and they needed more, or they were trying to impress others; whatever it was he didn’t care, because he also needed them. He needed the money that they threw around like it was nothing. They needed each other, it was business, a needy one at that.

When one of the twins went to grab the bags in Aegon’s hand, Aegon pulled them back and shook his head with a click of his tongue, “Money first, Franken.” He told them.

The other twin, Jack, Aegon guessed, handed over four bills. Aegon took them and counted the bills, making sure it was the correct amount, and tossed the bags to the twins. He stuffed the bills into his front pocket and nodded his head at the twins, “Don’t take it all at once.” He told them before leaving the bathroom and walking back into the ever-growing party.

That was how the rest of his night went, sneaking off into corners and handing off bags full of pills in return for cash. He made sure to count each wad of cash before handing over the supply. With each sell he would watch as the pills that he needed were taken by rich kids who only wanted to get high. He could endure a couple of restless nights for the cash he was getting at the party. Next week it would be the medication he had been prescribed when he hurt his shoulder back when he’d played baseball. He had a few of those left that he could use.

He felt a tinge of guilt when he sold a smaller bag to a young girl, maybe two years younger than himself. It was more money than they were worth, but she’d forget all about it the next day anyways. If she didn’t go overboard with the amount he had given her.

With his pockets full and his brain fried from hours of talking to highschoolers, and the jocks and low lives he used to go to school with, he was finally out of bags. When he asked someone for the time, he cursed and made his way out of the house. The diner would stay open all night, but his brothers shift would end in less that fifteen minutes. He needed to get both of them home before curfew was up.

He may have been eighteen, and his brother seventeen, but they were under their parents’ roof. And as his dad liked to say, “This is your mother and I’s house, I don’t care if you’re eighty and walking with a cane, you make curfew”. And then he’d add with a small, sympathetic smile, “for the sake of my aging heart.”

Aegon walked to his truck, and once he closed the door, he stuck the money into a bag and placed it in the glove compartment before speeding down the road, careful not to go too far above the limit. He had no desire to explain to anyone why he had a bag full of so much cash in his car. After several turns, he came to a stop at one of the town’s few intersections. The wet streets glowed with green as he passed the stoplight, and he could see the bookstore flashing with a “closed” sign, and as pulled into the parking lot. Coming to a stop, Aegon spotted the bright red lights of the diner as it flashed from “open” again and again.

He had just enough time to park before Aemond was walking out of the front door of the diner, his bag hanging off of his shoulder. Aegon leaned over and opened the door, watching as Aemond took his seat in the truck. “Hey. How was work?”, Aegon asked as he put his car in reverse, and pulled back onto the road.

Aemond sighed and leaned his head back on the seat. “Full of people asking dumb questions. You?” he asked, as he crossed his arms, making himself comfortable. Aegon laughed, “Full of people who don’t know how to take care of their cars.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Mhm, very.”

“Did you just get off? I thought that the shop closed up early,” Aemond asked. Aegon shifted in his seat as he turned onto their street, “No, I stayed late and headed to a friend’s house before coming to get you,” Aegon lied.

Aemond nodded his head and looked out of the window for only a moment before turning back to Aegon with a look of hope filling his eyes. Aegon knew exactly what his brother was going to say before the words even left his mouth. “I found a really good program for Automotive Engineering Technology. The community college isn’t too far a drive from here and it’s a really good school. And I found a lot of scholarships for it-”

“Aemond…” Aegon started.

“Just let me show you the website when we get home at least-” Aemond tried.

“Aemond. Please, enough.” Aegon said, turning to look at his brother with a look of pleading. Aemond shook his head in confusion, “Can you…can you at least look at the website? Please?” he said. His tone, the one that he’d always used when they were younger and he had wanted Aegon to play with him, made Aegon sigh and nod his head. Looking at a website couldn’t hurt. He wouldn’t go anyways. The money wasn’t for him. Not anymore.

They pulled into the driveway a minute before their curfew. Aegon made sure that his brother was outside of the car before slipping the cash into his jacket pocket. The two of them raced to the porch, playfully shoving the other to try and get there first. Aegon unlocked the doors with his keys and they both made their way into the dark house. They’re mom, and most of their siblings, were likely asleep. Jace, their cousin, liked to go to sleep early, though Daeron was most likely still up playing a video game.

Aegon could see the light from the kitchen and made his way down the hall. The kitchen was currently covered in flowers from their mom’s plant farm. Since it was so cold, she was keeping the flowering in the several greenhouses that were built there. She liked to bring a lot of them home, and so at the moment, their kitchen looked like a jungle of color.

In the middle of it all, was their dad. He was resting against the counter, coffee in hand, as he watched the football game from the small kitchen TV. Their dad was somehow able to drink coffee at all hours of the day and have no trouble getting to sleep. Aegon guessed that was just how it went, working long hours as the town’s police chief. He turned to look at them and checked his watch. “We were in the house at exactly 11:59,” Aegon said quickly, as he opened a cabinet to get a cup for water for himself, “What’s the score?”

“We should probably stop being Seahawks fans.” Their dad said.

“That bad?”

“Worse.”

Aegon peaked at the score on the screen and winced. It was that bad.

“How was work you two?”, their dad asked as he took a sip from his coffee mug that said “Best Mom” on it.

“Stupid people.” Aegon and Aemond said at the same time. Their dad nodded his head, “Same here. Aem, you should probably get to bed. You’ve got school in the morning.”

Aemond took a glass of water and left the kitchen with a “goodnight” before disappearing down the hall.

“Have you eaten anything, Aeg?” his dad asked. Aegon tried to think about the last time he had eaten that day, but the moment of silence seemed to give his dad the answer he needed, “If you have to think about it, then you should eat. Sit, I’ll get you something.”

Aegon sighed and took a seat at the kitchen table as he watched his dad heat up what they had most likely eaten for dinner that night. Aegon watched the game, the horrible game, and lost track of time until his dad put a plate in front of him and took a seat of his own. Aegon thanked him and began to eat the food. It was his mom’s cooking, and he loved every single bite of it.

She always seemed to make the best food, Helaena coming in a very close second.

When he was done, he took the plate to the sink and rinsed it off. When he turned and leaned against the sink, he caught the questioning look from his dad. “Yeah?” he asked with a quirk of one of his brows. He watched as his dad, the man who he had known since the age of eight, ran his hand down his face with a sigh. He looked stressed, overworked. But Aegon didn’t say anything about the recent murders going on. He knew it would only upset his dad, who had been working late into the night to solve the cases.

Aegon could feel way in which his bones seemed to tighten. He could feel it in his chest, like he couldn’t breathe, but his heart wouldn’t stop doing anything but pump at a quick rate. He could feel it all. All from the words that slipped from his dad’s mouth.

“Aegon… are you sure that you don’t want to at least apply for a couple of schools? The whole… mechanic thing, you can learn that at school. There are grants that we can get, loans-”

“Dad- just… stop. I don’t want you and mom taking out any loans, not for me.” Aegon said. His dad scrunched his brown in confusion. “Not for you? What does that even mean, kid? I would take out a hundred loans for any of you to go to school. You graduated with good grades, Aeg. You can get into a good school. Look, I didn’t go to college… and I just- I just want my children to have that chance. I want to give you all that chance,” his dad said.

Aegon swallowed the bile that threatened to rise within his throat. “Dad… I don’t even want to go anyways,” he told him. That wasn’t true. He did want to. He wanted to play for a team in his school, he wanted to get his degree and make something of himself, support his family. But that wasn’t going to happen. He was getting money for his siblings, for Aemond and Helaena who would be graduating soon. They were both so smart. They deserved to make something of themselves.

“… You don’t want to go to school?” his dad asked in disbelief.

“Not right now at least.”

A wave silence filled the room. The only sound being the game on the TV, the crowd cheering as the other team scored a winning goal. Aegon pushed off of the sink and placed a hand on his dad’s shoulder, “I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

His dad placed a hand over his and nodded his head, but before he was able to say anything back, his phone began to ring. Aegon watched as his dad took the call, furrowed his brows with a sigh, and stood from his chair. “Something’s happened. I’ll be back later tonight. I love you.”

Aegon felt his dad kiss the side of his head before swinging on his coat, getting his keys, and walking out the front door. “Let your mom know, please,” he said as he pulled the door shut behind him. His dad had begun to say those words more often. The murders that were recking their town were taking a toll on him. Aegon rubbed his eyes and walked out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

When he made it to his room, he closed the door, locked it, and walked over to his closet. He lifted a few dirty clothes from the floor of the closet and pulled a box towards himself. He lifted the lid and looked at the jars of cash filling the box to the brim. In his coat he pulled out the bag of money, sorted through it, and placed them in the correct jars.

Everything, the box, the drugs, the secrecy… it was for them. All of it. His siblings deserved to go to school. To be able to cover the costs of everything that they would need. He was the older brother. He needed to get them there.

edited by @sidraofthewildflowers thank you!

#aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #modern au #ser criston cole #twilight au #ficlet #hotd ficlet #hotd #reignlikewater #i really hoped you liked that!#I really enjoyed making mini stories for each of them based of off the last post lol #team greens

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