#hope you don't think I was ignoring them! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acourtofchaos · 1 day ago

Text

I SWEAR THE DAY I DON'T HAVE HEART PALPITATIONS AND WITNESS MY SOUL ASCENDING OVER YOUR WORK IS THE DAY I HAVE PASSED FROM THIS WORLD.

HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR MY MANY SILLY RAMBLINGS UNDER THE CUT

FIRSTLY THIS,

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

IS GORGEOUS. I LOVE THE EXPECTING OF SOMETHING DARK AND IT BEING SO LIGHT INSTEAD. AND LIKE IT BEING A PERFECT MIRROR OF MATTHEO AND HOW THE EXPECTATION OF THIS NIGHT BETWEEN THEM COULD BE. JUST HONESTLY BEAUTIFUL.

SECONDLY, YOU KNOW I ALWAYS ADORE YOUR CHARACTERISATION OF MATTHEO AND THIS IS NO DIFFERENT.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

AND

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

I LOVE THAT HE'S NERVOUS, THAT DESPITE HIM BEING ESSENTIALLY IN CONTROL OF THIS SITUATION GIVEN THAT HE HAS THE EXPERIENCE, HE'S NOT ACTING CONFIDENT OR SMUG. HE'S UNSURE AND I LOVE THE SENSE OF VULNERABILITY.

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

I JUST WANT TO HOLD HIS PRETTY FACE. I LOVE PATIENT MATTHEO.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck."You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

I AM OBSESSED OVER THE WAR WITHIN MATTHEO, THE WAY HIS BODY AND HIS ACTIONS DISREGARD HIS WORDS AND HIS FEAR. I LOVE HER CONFIDENCE IN HER DECISION AND HOW MUCH IT EFFECTS HIM TO HEAR IT.. AAAAAAA SLDKFJDJS GOD I WANT TO MARRY YOU'RE WRITING (and you)

—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

THE FUCKING SWITCH HERE OMG

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked.

His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

FERAL MATTHEO. FERAL MATTHEO. FERAL MATTHEO. I'M SCREAMING. HOWLING. CLAWING AT THE WALLS. I'D LET THIS MAN TEAR ME TO PIECES WITHOUT HESITATION.

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

I FEEL CALLED OUT.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

DAMN FUCKING RIGHT I HAVE YOU SEXY BITCH. GODDDD I KNOW I'VE ALREADY SAID IT BUT YOU JUST WRITE MATTHEO SO PERFECTLY. TO HAVE HIM BE SO FUCKING COCKY DURING SUCH AN OVERWHELMING MOMENT. HE'S A LITTLE SHIT AND I LOVE HIM FOR IT.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

THIS!!!!!!! THE IMAGERY!!!!! JUST ALL OF HIS DEFENCES BLOWN AWAY, I LOVE IT SO MUCH

His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning.

I'M SOBBING, THE INTENSITY BETWEEN THEM. I CANT BREATHE.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

JUST PUNCH ME IN THE HEART WHY DONT YOU.

His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't.

EM WHAT THE HELL, I DIDNT EXPECT TO BE AN EMOTIONAL WRECK OVER A VIRGINITY LOSS FIC AT 11AM. GOD THE SOFTNESS IS MAKING ME ACHE.

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

OKAY I'M GOING TO STOP THERE OTHERWISE I'M JUST GOING TO BE PUTTING THE WHOLE FIC IN THIS REBLOG WITH MY SILLY LITTLE ANNOTATIONS. I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS, I LOVE THAT DURING IT HAPPENING THERE'S BARELY A SENTENCE WITHOUT THEM NEEDING TO GASP FOR BREATH, THE INTENSITY OF IT IS JUST PORTRAYED SO WELL. YOU REALLY ARE A MASTER OF YOUR CRAFT AND I'LL BE WORSHIPPING THIS FIC IN MY HEAD FOR WEEKS.

LOVE IT AND LOVE YOU 🖤

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th. mattheo - virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART TWO | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

summary: pls read part one first for a lil buildup. also. im laughing at myself bc there was a perfectly good bed…right there…

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, virginity loss, PIV, so much dirty talk, so much patience from mattheo, (more of a realistic virginity loss bc it’s not always easy), praise!!!!, slight degradation, fingering, multiorgasm, handjob, best friends lil sister trope.

Mattheo Riddle was so accustomed to this. The pulse of adrenaline in the dead of night, the quiet hum of anticipation stretching every second longer than it needed to be. You weren't naive to that, not to him, nor the danger he carried so effortlessly in his stride. He wore it like a second skin.

But you—you were not accustomed to it. Not to any of this.

Too perfect. Too on the nose, like the castle itself had been watching you both for months and had decided this was the moment it would indulge you.

"You're late." Mattheo's voice cut through the quiet.

His back was to you, suit jacket discarded on an old oak desk against the wall, dark curls falling just above his collar as he stood by the window, eyes fixed on the lake. The moonlight made the ripples dance, just like the tension in the room.

You took a step toward him, silent.

You gave him a small, nervous smile, hoping it would ease the weight of his stare. "I didn't realize you were the type to keep track of time."

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

"You've a lot to learn, little girl," he teased, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it did nothing to mask the conflict in his eyes. It was meant to disarm you, but it only made the air heavier. His jaw tightened. "You're sure about this?"

"Quite sure," you breathed, stepping closer, close enough to admire the sharp line of his jaw, the soft stubble. "You're the one who's hesitating."

You let out a small huff, your hand moving up to find his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Mattheo Riddle was nervous.

"You've been making me wait for months," you whispered. "I don't think a little rushing would hurt."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on your hand as it trailed over his chest, lower, teasing. Every touch was a flame against his skin, every breath between you a match struck in the dark. He wanted you, more than anything, but the weight of it—the wrongness, the danger—clawed at his conscience.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I'll regret nothing." Your fingers slipped lower, grazing his crotch, moving with nothing but instinct and need. Biting your lip, you felt the outline of him, hard and aching under your palm, and squeezed—he grunted, snapping his hips, and you throbbed. "Shit, Mattheo..."

"You are—fuck..." Mattheo's voice was a ragged breath, the words drawn out like he'd been holding them back for months. "...such a little tease."

You let go as quickly as you'd squeezed, and he growled against your skin, fingers tightening in your hair. Your hands found his face, pulling him in, crushing your lips to his. You moved with intent, pushing him back until his thighs hit the edge of the desk, and he groaned again—this low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

You smirked into the kiss, tasting his frustration, savouring the way his defences cracked open. When you pulled back, his chest was heaving, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

"I learned from the best," you whispered, teasing as your fingers slid down, finding the buckle of his belt. He watched you, every breath uneven, as you worked at the latch, pulling the leather free. "You've had months of fun tormenting me," you continued, moving to the button, the zipper. "Kissing me, only to say it was a mistake. Grabbing my ass every chance you could. Talking sweet when my brother wasn't looking..." your smirk deepened, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "...it's my turn now."

His pants sagged around his hips as you undid them and he cursed under his breath—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

"You think you're in control here?" His fingers slid up your hips, dragging your dress along with them, baring your skin to the cool air. "You think you have any goddamn idea what you're doing?"

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked. His thumbs hooked around your panties and in one swift motion, they were gone—torn down your thighs before he urged you back onto the desk, parting your legs with his torso.

You were breathless, chest heaving, pulse thrumming wildly. His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

You stared up at him, mind empty, until—

Smack.

His palm came down on your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of sensation straight to your cunt. Your skin stung from the contact, but that wasn't the part that made you gasp. It was the heat, the way it surged through your veins, flooding your abdomen in a slow, aching pulse. You liked that.

"I asked you a question." His lips brushed against your ear, breath warm as he leaned in. "Two, actually."

You couldn't think, mind swimming—the press of his body, the rough timber of his voice, the weight of his hands as his fingers teased, climbing higher, brushing closer to the ache between your thighs. You sucked in a breath, trying to recall what he'd asked, trying to focus anything but the fire he was lighting in you—

But then, his fingers slipped further, closer, just barely brushing your slit, and your hips jerked involuntarily, chasing that touch.

"No—I don’t—“ the shame in the answer barely mattered. His fingers were so close, so close. "Gods—I just know I want you—"

Your nails dug into his back and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wetting his fingers in your arousal before gliding back up to your clit and tracing over it.

"Oh—Gods—" you whinged, moaning into his shoulder.

Mattheo’s hands were experienced—that much was certain. Those fingers knew exactly how to move, precisely how to trace light, delicate circles over your clit that made you twitch, squirm— nerves stripped as you took in the new sensation. It wracked every inch of you, and you could feel him savouring your helplessness, drawing out every ounce of tension that had been building between you for months.

“You’re soaked.” You could hear the disbelief in his voice. “...filthy little thing for me, aren't you?"

"Gods, Mattheo, yes—" your eyes rolled, thighs twitching against his hand. "I am—ohh—"

"Yeah?" His tongue traced a slow, wet path up the side of your neck, teeth dragging over your pulse. "You like this?"

His words were enough to make you want to scream, but no sound formed—just a low, broken moan that spilled from your throat, raw and shameless.

"Answer me," he murmured. "You ever orgasm from this before? Hm?"

"No—" your voice choked, trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at him, something like shame pooling in your stomach. "Oh, fuck—"

"No, what?" His fingers pressed harder, circles growing faster, more insistent, and his voice—Christ, his voice— "I asked you two questions, little slut. Keep up. You wanted this."

"Yes—mmf—I like it—" you whined, the words a desperate spill from your lips, too flustered to form anything coherent. "And no—Gods—you're the first to...to touch me like this..."

He figured as much but the admission tore through him nonetheless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a groan—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, a bruise, a reminder. His hand dipped lower, a finger pushing inside you without warning, pressing deep into your slick heat, and you cried out, your body tightening, pulsing around him, vision swimming.

"And this?" His voice was a smirk against your skin. "You let anyone else inside you like this?"

You knew he already knew the answer. You both did. He was reveling in it—the way he had you, trembling, helpless. You'd never heard him like this, never heard him so crass, so unfiltered, and the way he spoke made your whole body flush with heat.

"No." The word was a strangled moan, barely a breath. "Gods—Mattheo—you already knew that—"

He crooked his finger inside you, and your back arched, the stretch unfamiliar yet mindnumbing, his thumb working your clit. You felt teeth nipping at your earlobe, a hum into your eardrum—his body thrumming with the satisfaction of finally, finally letting himself have you where he wanted.

"Perhaps I did." He added another finger, curling them inside you, his teeth scraping along your neck in a smile. The groan that slipped from your lips was desperate, pained in its pleasure, your body reacting to every new inch of him. "Fucking hell—you can barely take two..."

Your head shook, words failing you. "Gods—Mattheo—I...fuck..."

A low grunt rumbled from his chest, his fingers moving quicker, slick with the evidence of your desire. "Feels good?"

"Yes—" you moaned, breath hitching, vision blurring as he pumped his fingers in and out, building something inside you that you couldn't name, something new, something overwhelming. "I feel—oh, gods—something...happening—"

"You feel something?" His voice was mocking, drenched in that innocent, teasing tone that had you falling apart. "Yeah? What's happening, princess?"

You couldn't find breath, couldn't form the words to answer him. The pressure inside you was mounting, intensity unbearable, your body tense and straining toward an edge. You clung to him, breathless, desperate for more, desperate for something, anything—

"I don't—" your voice broke as his fingers curled deeper, wetness flooding between your thighs, his thumb relentless. "Pressure—fuck—so much—"

He nodded. "Yeah? Pressure in that pretty stomach? Feels fucking good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck—yes, yes," your lids fluttered. "S’good—"

"You're so close." He watched you, drunk on your downfall, and smirked as you neared the edge. "You're going to cum for me."

Sanity shattered in your throat—words trapped, swallowed by the tension, leaving only the soft, unbridled whimpers you once might've once found embarrassing. But there was no shame now, not when you were this close, the pressure coiling tighter in your core, ready to burst.

"Ohh—" you managed, lungs sputtering, head tipping back. The sound of your voice, the way you moaned, was foreign, unfamiliar to your own ears. "Gods—oh fuck-"

"I know," he cooed, sweet like sugar. "I know."

You were a mess. Too close, too overwhelmed—everything was him. His scent, the heat of his skin, the feel of his fingers working that magic that had your body convulsing before you could even cry out, before you could process the way your vision blurred with the force of it. The climax hit like a wave crashing over you, and your moans were swallowed by his kiss, his lips on yours the second your body tightened, shaking against his hand.

He was relentless, rough and insistent, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole—drowning out the world as your body pulsed around his fingers. You’d never felt such an intense sensation, lava coursing, replacing the blood in your veins. His breath stuttered against your mouth, a low groan vibrating through him, the sound making your spine tingle.

"F-fuck," he muttered, pulling his fingers from you, glistening and wet. "Messy little thing."

The words sent a shiver through you, not just from their meaning but from the way he said them, like something perverse, intimate. Your chest tightened with the warmth of them.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Shut up," you whispered, stomach flipping at the way he said your name, the way it dripped from his mouth like honey. "Have not."

"I've known for a while, you know," he mused, his voice so low, so quiet. "Don't think I haven't seen it—the way you look at me." He kissed your skin again, working his way up, each press of his lips something sacred, moving closer to your mouth. "The way you can't get enough of me."

You could kill him for it, for the way his words sunk into your bones, making all the feelings you've buried rise to the surface, pulling you under. He just had to go there—had to milk every inch of your composure out of you, because it's not enough for him to have you disarmed physically—sexually—he needed to have you disarmed emotionally, too.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how right he was. Arrogant bastard.

"Stop talking," your hand drifted down, grazing the bulge in his pants, your fingers slipping under the waistband, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers. It was reckless. You've never done this before, but God, you wanted to. "Stop talking and teach me."

The room tilted—the world off its axis. His breath caught, choked in his lungs as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his—his kiss wild, his tongue insistent, running along your gums and wrestling with yours for control.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth as you tugged his boxers down, freeing him, your hand wrapping around him. Hot. Hard. "Wrap your fingers around it, princess. Gentle strokes. Just like that."

Your heart stumbled at the sound of his voice, thick, raw and open. You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly, experimentally, and he hissed through his teeth, a groan vibrating through his chest.

"You're so big," you murmured, forehead against his, the words spilling out without thought. "So thick..."

"Fucking minx," he moaned. "Stroking me and telling me how big I am—fuck—you're not as innocent as everyone thinks."

"Only you know this," you whispered, your hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, pulse soaring as he groaned. "Does it feel good, Matty?"

"Fuck—Christ—" his breath was jagged, words ripped from his throat like they barely wanted to come out, hips jerking mindlessly. "Tighter, mm—little tighter—"

Your cunt throbbed—each whispered invocation of a god not his own, of something he didn't believe in, forced a shudder through you. That's how you knew. Knew how lost he was. He’d no mind left at all if he was muttering muggle gods.

"Like that?" Your fingers squeezed around him, your gaze burning into his as you looked up through fluttering lashes.

"Yeah—shit—just like that," he gritted out, grip on your hips bruising, but you welcomed it. Needed it. "Fast learner, aren't you?"

"You're a good teacher," you whimpered, a sound that was barely yours as his fingers slipped between your thighs, finding your slit, teasing you open again. "Oh—"

"You've always been a little teacher's pet," he groaned, thrusting into your hand as he slipped a finger inside you. The stretch made you wince, pleasure and pain blurring into something that sent sparks behind your eyes. He watched you, gaze molten. "Fuck—it’s gonna hurt, you know that, right?"

The ache spread through you, but you didn't flinch. "I know," you whispered as his thumb found your clit, making you gasp. "I trust you."

"I know you do." His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning. Your hand tightened on his length, the heat between you flaring, and you moaned against his mouth, shaking with the need for more.

"I want you," you breathed, each syllable shivering on your lips as you clenched around his fingers. "I've wanted you for months—"

Months? No, it had been years. Years of wanting, needing, watching from afar, heart in your throat. Years of avoiding anyone else because no one was him. You knew he’d felt the same and it killed him. It wasn't logical, wasn't supposed to be like this—not with you, not now, not his best friend's little sister, not him whispering sweet, dangerous things while knuckle-deep inside your virgin cunt.

It was as if you both shook those thoughts from your minds at once. You’ll think about the implications later.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

Hate him? The very idea was laughable, absurd. You could never hate him. Not even in those moments you tried, not even when he deserved it.

"I could never hate you," you murmured, drawing him closer, lips trembling against his. "Just—please—"

Something shifted in his eyes, and he knew. Knew what you needed. What you both needed. You were vulnerable, trembling, but you trusted him—completely. You’d been in his life for so long. You knew he’d never hurt you. He could see it your eyes, the trust, the in the way your body bent to his touch.

"Alright," he said softly, a hand running up your body to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Alright."

His fingers slid out of you, leaving you bare and breathless, and you swallowed. This was really about to happen.

"Lay back," his voice cut through your haze. "Legs to your chest."

The command wrapped around you like a vice, tightening the anticipation, and you fell back on your elbows, staring up at him as you raised your legs. Vulnerability crept in, making your thighs tense, but Mattheo was there, spreading you open with firm hands, pressing himself against your slick. His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't. He guided himself against you, the press of him at your entrance an unbearable ache. He was hot, hard, huge—and despite the wetness slicking down your thighs, your body resisted, too tight, too unsure of this.

You whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but he stayed, pressing kisses to your hair, your temple, whispering something that sounded like comfort but burned like fire. It hurt more than you expected, more than any of the fantasies you had dared to entertain.

Doubt curled through your chest, what if you couldn't take him? What if—

"M-Mattheo..." his name broke in your throat as you clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin. He tried to push in again, but your body resisted. "It—you—you can't fit..."

"Shh," his lips ghosted over yours, his hand slipping through your hair, trying again, moving slow, controlled. "You're just—so goddamn tight—"

The way he said it sent a spark through your veins. It was filthy, shameless, and it lit you up from the inside, despite the pain. No one had ever spoken to you like this. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears pricking as he tried to work you open.

And then—he was in.

"I-it hurts," you hissed—pain lighting up your spine as he worked his cockhead inside you, pushing against the resistance of your walls. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, each inch a battle. The pressure was unbearable, the sting so sharp it was paralyzing. "Oh, fuck, Mattheo—"

He groaned, a sound from deep within his chest, his head bowing, sweat creeping over his brow.

"Shhh, I know—I know..." he murmured through shredded cords, fighting to maintain control as his hips paused, barely halfway in, just enough to make you feel like you might break. "S'okay...you're doing so good..."

"Why—mmff—gods..." you could barely speak, the words tangled in your throat. "Why do you have to be so big—"

A strangled laugh escaped him, though his eyes stayed shut tight, his jaw clenched—cock twitching inside you.

"I don't—fuck—know." His fingers brushed your lips, covering your mouth gently. "Don't go talking like that—not right now—"

You might have laughed, too, if your body wasn't so taut, strung tight with tension and pain and something far more profound. He was barely inside you, his words making your insides clench, drawing another groan from his lips at the squeeze.

His hand held your jaw, palm pressing lightly over your mouth, enough to breathe, to speak—

"Why—" you knew what he meant, knew the warning in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself. "—not?"

His breath hitched. "Because—" he swallowed hard, words coming through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening around your jaw, a warning in his grip. "Because—fuck—your mouth will get you in trouble."

Oh. That was what he meant.

"But—oh fuck—you're so...big..." the words slipped out before you could catch them, a disgruntled moan falling from your lips as he sank all the way in, filling you so completely it was dizzying. The pressure, the heat, the sensation of being pried open—it was all too much, and you cried out, unable to stop the sound from spilling out. "Ohhh—so big—"

"I said, fuck," he cursed, hand clamping firm over your mouth now as his body shuddered, as he ground his hips gently into yours. "—don't say that."

It was too late. You didn't need to say anything further. He could feel it—he could feel everything in the way you clenched around him, barely letting him move—so goddamn tight it was almost painful—he could feel it in the look in your eyes, in the trembling of your body beneath his.

"I can feel you thinking it," he grunted as you squirmed beneath him, every movement making him twitch inside you, drawing another choked groan from his throat. "Merlin sakes—"

You knew he wasn't used to this. To slowing down, to drawing out the tension like this, to the maddening slowness of every motion. He wanted to lose himself, to break you open hard and fast, to take and give and take again until both of you shattered into something unrecognizable. But he couldn't—not with the way your eyes glistened, not with the way you gasped and whimpered as he filled you.

"No talking," he sucked in a breath against your neck, his hips rolling into yours in slow, unbearable waves. "Only if you need me to stop."

He was breaking. So were you. Every thrust was an exquisite kind of torture—an ache that twisted and stretched, dulled only by the flick of his fingers against your clit. His lips pressed along your neck, kissed along the line of your jaw, groaning with each deep, patient push, carving his way into you as you clung to him, your mind floating through the fog of pain into something different—something overwhelming.

Your head fell back. “Oh—Oh gods—“

Each gasp felt like it might be your last as that something built deep inside you, tight and unfamiliar, an ache that didn't hurt but begged to be released. And he felt it too—Mattheo felt it, the way your body pulsed beneath his, the way you tightened around him like you couldn't bear to let him go.

"Bloody fuck—are you—are you going to—" his words were ragged, broken. He couldn't finish the thought, couldn't hold himself together. "Are you—"

“Mattheo—” your voice trembled, a breathless moan as your back arched, pressing into him, your body seeking more. The pain was null now, replaced by an overwhelming pressure, something tight and aching and good—you felt every inch of him inside you, every pulse of his cock as he moved, slow but relentless. “Mattheo—oh gods—”

"Fuck—" he bit down, teeth sinking into your neck as his fingers swirled your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You're gonna make me—"

You choked because there was no space for words, no breath for anything but the raw sound of your bodies—moans, gasps, ragged inhales tangled together as you both hurtled towards something inevitable. The light of the moon radiated the man above you and that was all you could register other than the rising crescendo of your climax—something so intense it scared you, almost broke you apart—your body seizing, trembling, as his fingers pressed harder against your clit, as he thrust deeper.

And then, there was only one more blink until you shattered beneath him, the orgasm tearing through you in oceanic motion, muscles clenching around him so tightly he could barely move—and then he was there, too, his body jerking as he groaned into your skin, his release ripped from him in jagged gasps as you milked him without mercy. He slumped on top of you, fingers digging into your skin, the two of you pulsing together in the aftermath, the room spinning, your bodies still trembling from the force of it.

The world was slow to return, the roar of sensations fading into something quieter, softer. The weight of him on top of you was grounding—his forehead pressed against the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Neither of you moved for a long while, just basked in the silence, kind that settled in after something irrevocable had passed between two people.

And then, Mattheo pushed up, enough to meet your eyes. Your chest ached at the softness inside his own.

“Are you—” he swallowed as he drank you in, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the flushed cheeks. His words hung in the air as if he didn’t know how to finish the question.

“I’m okay,” you nodded, voice hoarse. “I’m good.”

Mattheo nodded too but didn’t move, still buried inside you, just taking you in. Then, gently, he shifted, pulling back with a slow, careful movement that made you wince slightly. The second he’d pulled out, you felt different—more aware of the vulnerability you’d just laid bare, more aware of the line you two had just obliterated into absolute shambles.

“You sure?” he asked, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—

You nodded again, the smallest smile pulling at your lips, though your heart was still racing, the enormity of it all sinking in.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His jaw tightened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely audible, like he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Of course he was thinking it too—how could he not? This was no longer something you could pretend didn’t exist, no longer something you could hide behind banter and stolen glances and secret kisses.

“Yeah,” you breathed, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, the heat still radiating from his skin. “It does.”

#do you have any idea how much i worship you #i swear your writing makes me fall in love every damn time #and then i need 7-12 days to emotionally recover #fuuuuuuck #this is my favourite mattheo #mattheo riddle x reader

2K notes · View notes

backinmyphase · 2 days ago

Text

I've got to know...

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

You wished you could forget yesterday.

The taste of the overpriced drinks. The loud music overplaying the girl that was crying in the bathroom. The way people were grinding on each other under the red lightning.

The way your bestfriend!Satoru sat in the vip area of that expensive club.

You shouldn't have went up to him. Shouldn't have had that many drinks. But he had dragged you here, so why didn't he talk to you?

There were many girls sitting next to him, the couch already full. They didn't hear or see you as you tried to get near. There was a strong smell of alcohol, since glasses full of it were on the table, a bottle right next to them. The girls were laughing, giggling as one of them touched his arm.

Why did she do that? Why did he look so pleased?

You felt like throwing up. Felt like the sticky floor under you would disappear as you saw her smile. Felt like such an idiot when he smiled that smile back at her. You wanted to go home.

But you couldn't since he was your ride home. And you didn't want to ruin his good time. So you made your way to the bar again. Bumping into other people, apologizing on the way.

Time went by as you sat there at the bar. You felt more and more looks on you as you took more and more shots. You were starting to sway in your seat, having no longer a feeling of balance.

That was until you felt a hand on your shoulder. For a split second you thought, wished, it was Satoru. But it wasn't.

"Are you okay?"

It was a guy you didn't know. Well, you probably should, but in that moment you couldn't think of any name.

"I don't know." screw the alcohol, which made your tongue lose.

He frowned as he saw in what state you were.

"You don't look good, you should head home. With who are you here?"

"Satoru Gojo." your voice was nothing more than a whisper and in hindsight it was a wonder he understood you over all that music.

His eyes widened. He had that look of pity that made you sick. Then he shook his head. "I can give you a ride home? If you want to?"

"Where is Satoru?" you tried to look behind the guy, but you didn't see anything other than people just slightly swaying from left to right.

The guy gulped. "He is busy."

You tried taking another look, that's when you saw it. The area Satoru was sitting in, now empty. The glasses of alcohol missing. His jacket no longer hanging on the wardrobe near the door. That's when you understood.

Satoru had already left. Probably with one of these girls.

"Oh." the lights around you began to blurr. The music wasn't loud anymore. It was deafening. The alcohol in your system now unbearable.

"Let's get you home."

You wished you could just forget it all. But even though you were wasted when you got home and threw up multiple times, you didn't. Didn't, even when you heard Satoru call at 3 in the morning.

You were such an idiot. You had really hoped, that maybe he took you with him because there was more to you than just a friendship.

How naive.

You didn't talk with him today. Ignored his obvious stare of confusion. His stare that turned to guilt. And didn't turn when he called your name at lunch.

You wished you could forget yesterday, so you wouldn't cry as you read his message.

Are we still friends?

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojo angst #satoru gojo

226 notes · View notes

chocoqtelle · 1 day ago

Text

inner child pac reading

🦀 pile one,,

I know we're used to being super helpful, but it's good to help yourself too. you should always make sure you're okay first. It's important for us to be okay, even if other people don't think so. we should think so. things are gonna be okay for us. they always are. I want to do the things we like. I don't understand why you care about what people think now. I think we should try doing what we like more, even if it's embarrassing. it doesn't have to take a lot of time. it's just good to have fun sometimes. maybe you can get back into some of our old interests if you want?

it seems like this pile had to mature quickly and was overly generous in childhood. this likely led to some people pleaser habits. when the world said "be nice" and "care about others" you took it to heart, but it felt like you were the only one who did. you felt like you had to be the adult in your childhood and care for other people around you. for some of you, you may have had to care for a parental/older familiar figure or your siblings. you're used to changing your words and your personality to be more digestible and gentle because this strong fear of conflict. you were scared of people being mean to you, so you avoided making anyone mad. it was like you were always tiptoeing over eggshells. now, you don't have to, so there's no point in worrying about people who don't worry about you. you'd be doing yourself and your inner child a favor by doing what you want. it might feel wrong to be yourself, but at least try. I won't delve too much into this part, but I believe some people in this pile also dealt with being oversexualized or being hyper sexual at a young age. I think it's important to know you're more than what you can give others for this pile. please also take a break for the love of god.

🐸 pile two,,

It's hard to feel loved if nobody shows you. at the same time, i don't think I'd want to be loved. it seems weird and uncomfortable. I'm not used to it so it's scary. I still wish that someone would care at least. it feels like nobody else cares. I'm really tired of things being silent and boring all the time. I want to do something fun. I want friends but I want to be by myself. people think I'm weird, but I think they're the weird ones. they can avoid me but I wouldn't wanna be friends with them anyway. it doesn't matter if it's lonely, I don't feel less lonely around people anyway. some people think I'm mean. I don't think I'm mean. i heard I look mean or I act mean sometimes, but what if that's just who I am? I don't try to be mean to people. I just don't want people to hurt me.

holy neglect trauma... there's a lot to unpack here 😓 first off, I hope you're alright. it seems like this pile never really learned how to interact with people and is probably still a bit of a people hater. this pile has had to keep strong boundaries and walls on to protect themselves from unfamiliar experiences (being spoken to positively.) if you've never experienced something, it can be scary but you have to stop thinking every little thing is gonna go wrong in your life. it's fine. separate note but I think someone's ancestors are very present here, might want to connect with them if you don't already. you can try to shut down the feelings of loneliness and pretend connection won't help but it does. you're probably not connected with your inner child or you're ashamed of yourself for some reason. trying to be cold won't undo anything or save you from the feelings you're hiding. you'll have to acknowledge them at some point. escapism and forcing ignorance wont help forever. hopefully it'll be sooner than later, but that's your choice. it's okay to be soft, btw.

🐕 pile three,,

I know what I'm talking about. I'm serious. I wish people would take me more seriously. i get good grades, I study hard, I always prove how smart I am. for some reason, people still act like I'm too young and stupid to have opinions or that what I say is just silly, especially with emotions. they act like having emotions makes you a less rational person. some people look down on me for who I am, too. it's not something I can change. whether it's gender, age, or whatever, people always want an excuse to ignore how I feel or what I have to say. I know I'm right though. I don't want us to stop expressing ourselves. I wanna share how I feel to the world.

this pile is extremely opinionated and knows how to share their emotions. this pile is for the "bossy" kids who "should have been lawyers" or "a CEO" according to every adult around them. you were emotional as a child and it was always ignored or joked off as if your feelings were invalid. this pile is definitely natural-born leaders so if you aren't/never have been aspiration-driven or "extra" this pile probably isn't yours. the most healing thing you can do for yourself at this point is speak up. continue to speak about everything. share your opinion more, it's safe now and people will actually take you seriously. be emotional, be too much, be annoying, be talkative, be over-opinionated, be everything you feel like being and don't let anyone talk you out of it. lead your life how you want to. call everything out, even if it means being weird. I definitely feel like some people in this pile had the gifted kid experience or liked to read a lot when they were younger. there's also some unresolved anger that might need to be taken care of. I think speaking up more instead of bottling feelings up will definitely help that, though. you're not stupid or weak for being emotional. just be yourself unapologetically and that's the best thing you can do for your younger self.

137 notes · View notes

itsheckinwes · 2 days ago

Text

I'm only attacking the reblog the way I am solely to point out the hypocrisy of the fact they support their government ignoring international law while complaining that I do not recognize it.

I should be clear on my usage of "hate on" here, I hate the fact that the land was stolen. I hate that its existence continues to steal more land. I hate Netanyahu for committing genocide. I hate the war crimes that the government enables. All things I would argue are fair to hate. Hate for injustices and people who willingly and intentionally commit them is not inherently bad. Anger and hatred can motivate action for positive change.

I equally hate Hamas as well and all of the atrocities they have committed, but Hamas is a direct response to their oppression (though should also be dismantled the same way I think the state of Israel should be). The reason I do not speak out against Hamas as much is because they are not the ones actively engaging in and successfully committing a genocide.

The reason I don't argue Palestine should be dismantled is because they didn't steal land and displace people in order to create it. I actively support the removal of Hamas and a better government being put in their place, especially one with representation for ALL those who live there, Jewish people and Israelis included.

As far as nations being real things, in this case I am very much equating the government with the nation. When we say "Canada has nationalized health care" we aren't referring to the nation, we're referring to the government. I'm using that particular definition here.

I also disagree that violence is not able to create peace, as I see it as necessary. There will always be violence, and unless we commit violence ourselves against those who would initiate it, they will commit violence upon us.

The way to stop fascism is with oppressive force, with both language and action, to show that such things are not okay. I'm sure you're aware of the paradox of intolerance. That definitely applies here, and even MLK Jr came around to the idea that violence is sometimes necessary. Protest is necessary, and all effective protest is inherently violent, the only question is which side is committing it.

I really hope you don't end up blocking me over this as I believe there are things I can learn from you even if I disagree with some of your particular statements here.

I do admit I should be more specific with my words though.

One difficult thing about having conversations with the Hamas stans is that they work so hard to actively alienate, denigrate, and demean Israeli people (through their antisemitism), who are in the position to most meaningfully impact the situation. Like... the peace activism done by unapologetically pro-Jewish activists in Israel, who want the release of hostages, and a ceasefire, is genuinely inspiring.

This is the demographic who may be most capable of changing the situation for the better. We want peace, we need it. They want it too.

Picking sides, cheering on your team, isn't how we get it.

580 notes · View notes

katiascraft · 11 hours ago

Text

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ "Maybe i should've told you i miss you. I almost said it but i don't know if you feel the same" | OP81 ✧₊⁺

Parings: oscar piastri x singer!reader

Summary: your insecurities lead to lose your favorite person in the world but destiny always plays his worst (or best cards) for you. In the aftermath of it all, two souls come together as one (again). Or that’s what they’d like.

Word count: 6k.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, insecurities and depression. Just angst. And a little fluff. Centered on a few songs of Gracie abrams that will be mentioned on the story (just if you want to listen to them while reading). Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author's note: this is the longest fic I wrote but im so happy with it! I just hope you liked it as much as I do! (I like to suffer 🙃) I should be writing essays tho. Don’t forget to like, reblog or comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

The ticking clock ── .✦

You took a deep breath. Your hands were shaking and your stress levels were at their peak.

“You are always picking fights, y/n. I'm tired, "Oscar said, clearly annoyed. Is not that you always fought or had a toxic relationship, no. but lately, things got harder between you two. Stupid fights now and then. Dead silence that creeps you out everytime. Coldness was the new dynamic you had going on. And it hurts.

Everyday hurts lately.

“Oscar, I'm not always picking fights. For fucks sake, just wanted to know why you are so cold all the time to me!” you didn't want to raise your tone but desperation never took the best out of you. He was shocked, his head disapproving. Probably done with all of this. Done with you. You didn't want to admit it but maybe it was true.

“I'm not being cold to you, y/n. I already explained it to you: I'm tired. My job it's complicated enough to come home to be even more complicated. Just stop” he said leaving the kitchen, leaving you behind hanging in your words. That made you so you followed him down to the living room.

“Oscar, don't leave me talking alone, please! Why do you always have to run away? I have feelings actually you know? I would love to express them to my lover so we can have a proper conversation, what do you think about that?”

“y/n, bullshit. Don't act like I'm a monster who doesn't listen to you. If i didnt we wouldn't have this argument. Stop playing the victim for once. You don't hear me out either anyway” he gritted his teeth trying not to follow you down with your anger. He didn't want to raise his voice towards you.

“Playing victim? You're impossible oscar. I only asked you a fucking question, what did i do wrong for you to ignore me and act so cold? And you said you're just tired and that's bullshit” you were so angry by now. Offended. Hurt by his words. Hurt by the fact you were happy once and now everything is falling apart. You never hurt this deep before.

“It's not!” he couldn't anymore with all of this. He didn't want to raise his voice but you made him feel exasperated. “You see? You don't trust me! Im telling you im just tired and you say its bullshit and then you play the victim card that i dont listen to you and im a fucking monster? I see how things go now. I'm done” he didn't even want to look at you. He just sat on the sofa looking at the floor. But you heard what he said under his breath. What you were most scared of what’s happening.

You started crying out of desperation, anxious that all of this was gonna end right there and then. You just left him there and went back to the kitchen as if that way he wouldn't see nor hear you crying. You just couldn't keep talking or being around him. Your heart was sinking.

He sighed frustrated and stood up sprinting to his studio and banging the door. You gasped hearing the door closing so violently. No that he noticed what he said. Nor that he cared you thought he didnt care you anymore, that was for sure.

(...)

You haven't talked to Oscar since yesterday. He didn't sleep at your shared apartment. He said he didn't want to see you. That hurt a lot. Your heart was already broken. You didn't know what to do anymore. You've been on this rabbit hole for several months. You didn't understand what broke between you or when it was. You felt confused, lonely and scared. What would your whole life be without him? Once, you only wrote love songs because what you felt for him was beyond what your body could handle so you needed to take it out. Now, you didn't write anything for months. You felt too much sadness, it felt like you didn't feel anything at all. Just emptiness.

You were playing with your food, not really that hungry that you thought you would be. Another night alone without him. Would life be like this when he gets rid of me? I don't wanna leave.

The doorbell rang. You frowned, not sure who it could be knowing it was almost 10pm and I couldn't sleep (just as yesterday and every time you had an argument with him). You looked through the little visor of the door seeing your boyfriend was back home. But telling from the look on his face, things wouldn't be better anyway. You opened the door after taking a deep breath not sure if you would survive another fight.

You two just looked at each other for a few seconds. Probably analyzing how you were feeling now that 2 days have passed by. Neither of you smiled. Not that you had the energy or a reason to anymore. You moved from the door so he could get into the apartment and closed the door once he was in.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked quietly. You swallowed hard not knowing what to say by this point.

“I can't sleep since you are gone, so. No, you didn't” you didn't want to sound cold, especially after you fought because he was acting like that with you,but you felt like shit and didnt have energy to pretend you were okay with it all. You felt miserable. He nodded without saying a word and looked at the floor for a moment.

After a moment of really uncomfortable silence you broke it with something you didn't even think would slip out your mouth “are you seeing someone else, oscar?” your words cut through him as if they were sharp glass pieces just thrown directly at him.

“What?” He was surprised and hurt that you thought about him like that. You shrug.

“I mean, it's not that you don't kiss me anymore, so.and i think you're not tired because of your job, i think you're just bored of me, tired of me, done with me” you sat on the kitchen table again. He followed you there but stayed standard. He was confused and hurt now.

“When did I ever say that to you?” he was tired of all of this, for sure. But he wanted to make things work with you. He just didn't know how to. It was hard for him to understand you, but he was trying. He finally sat in front of you staring at your plate. It was full, you kept playing with your doodles, pretending to eat like you used to. He felt so guilty for all of this. He knew at that moment. That he broke you. He didn't know how or when but he did. His face softened in sadness.

“You said it. You said you were done and you know what? I get it. I mean, it's not as if I am easy to love. I know I'm complicated and a pain in the ass for everyone so I wouldn't be surprised if you found someone else that makes you happy for real and you don't wanna tell me out of pity. I'm ready to hear it though. Just say it” your voice was empty and plain no emotion detected just numbness. He didn't want to think it was too late. It Has been a long time since he has seen you like this. At that time it wasn't him who made you feel like it.

“I didn't mean to say it, y/N. I Was tired because of work and fighting with you. I don't like fighting with you. I wanna make things right, please. I wouldn't ever do that to you, you know it” he explained desperate for a moment. He wanted you to believe him. But your face didn't say anything. He couldn't read you and made him scared. You looked unbothered, way far gone now.

You shook your head “i know you mean it and i know you are tired, but i don't think you really want to be with me anymore” your sincerity cut like a knife in both of you. Like, you over thought a lot about it but it still hurt. He was lost and didn't know what was going on anymore or was going through all of that. “You didn't deny it either” you continued.

“I'm not with anyone else, y/N, please” he cut you off with his deep voice, kind of cracky now.

(...)

You just didn't know how you ended up moaning his name once more. His mouth is in your centre. His hands are grabbing your tights. Your fingers on his hair.

How easy is it, right? To love someone. One moment, you destroy them.. Then, you fix them with makeup sex. Making them see the stars so they forget how shitty things are. So that pleasure it's more important than gentle affection. Always pretending to be sane then doing insane shit like this as if memory didn't exist when it came to you and him. As if feeling him inside you was the only thing that could fix your mind. That it was the only way to communicate properly. As if it was your love language, then ignore each other.

His mands of your body grabbing you as if you were about to break and he was trying to keep all of your pieces together. As if he could save you or your relationship that was already 10 feet down buried. He would like to think sex could fix it. That it was the best to communicate if then you didn't trust him. He was hurt and you didn't trust him. You were hurt because he didn't love you anymore. Unfortunately, your minds couldn't agree. You were the love of his life, he wanted to help and make you trust him. But you just didn't, you already convinced yourself he didn't love you anymore and that everyone was better than you. He wanted a team when you just wanted to run away from him. Or from yourself?

Destruction ── .✦

“I'm done with you for real, y/n! Everytime an important day comes for me, you just like to ruin it!” He was mad as hell. Fed up with all your bullshit.

“You really think I do it on purpose? oscar! “ He left the room so you started following him around your shared apartment. “I wouldn't if you didn't ignore like you always do! I don't know what to do anymore! Nothing seems enough for you!” you started crying out. Your heart couldn't take it anymore and this time it felt different. So much different than any time before.

“Why is it always my fault? Why am I always the one doing something wrong? The only thing you do is complain about me and then you just want me to kiss you?! You are insane!” His words cut you deep, so deep you thought they cut you in half and you were nothing anymore. You couldn't breathe for a moment. He called you insane just the way your parents made you feel your whole life. Maybe they were right after all. You deserved all of those years in a psychiatric hospital. You deserved even when he

was the first one to say your parents were monsters and you were more than okay. More than normal. More than lovable. How ironic, right?You wanted to laugh but couldn't. You just couldn't move.

Oscar realised what he said. He knew when he saw you. He felt terrible at that moment.

“Look, y/n i-” you cut him not wanting to listen to him anymore.

“Dont talk” you said shaky under your breath. You had to sit down on the sofa because you felt you were about to faint. In shock - a lot of moments of your relationship replayed in your head. How could someone who said he loved you more than anything and anyone, end up thinking just as your parents? It was your fault. Of course it was. How could you ever think someone would love you? You were miserable. How can someone love a miserable person?

Oscar started breathing heavily and he had to sit on the floor trying to calm down. He is always so collected and rational, these kinds of feelings he had never experienced, not even with his ex.

“We can't be together Oscar, I make you miserable. And you're right. I'm insane, how could someone love me right? No one wants to deal with my bullshit, not even myself” you said quietly. His throat closed for a moment. He remained in silence for a few seconds processing your words. You didn't look at each other, you couldn't. Guess this was it. How sad, right? Oscar started crying realizing what was about to come.

“I promise y/N, I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it that way. You aren't hard to love, actually the opposite. But yeah, i don't think this is working for us anymore whether i like it or not” he said wiping his tears out of his face as he could.

You nodded even though you didn't hear a word he said. It was over. Your life is over.

Do you ever think of me? ── .✦

It's been exactly 8 months and 25 days since you and Oscar were not together anymore. Yes, you had a countdown. You created it to see how far you’ll survive because you didn't believe you would last this much. You thought your life was over and for a few weeks it was. You didn't get out of bed. The break up depression, i guess. Your friends suggested you go back to therapy because they were really worried about you and your mental health. They knew how much Oscar meant to you: he was your everything. And to be honest, that was your first mistake going into the relationship with him.

You shouldn't have made him your everything because you were nothing suddenly when you left. You didn't know who you were without him, what you liked or what you would like to be. All of your future plans had him in them. There wasn't a future without him. He was everywhere in your life. You shaped your destiny around him. You wanted to get married and have kids with him. And you never wanted to be a mother but he had changed that until he was gone.

You couldn't go back to dating. You tried but failed every time. You were a little too afraid to get hurt again. You had to work through your insecurities and traumas first. There was a lot of your history that needed to be let go. You needed to go through really ugly times in your past to find some perspective. Forgive yourself, putting yourself first, understanding yourself. You just worked on knowing you and becoming the person you always wanted.

And you grew and changed so much. You felt proud of yourself. You started writing again. Creating was the best way to mourn your relationship with Oscar alongside your old self that left him. To mourn that part of you that is gone forever. Creating was what kept you sane all this time. What brought you back to life. You wrote so many songs about him. Blaming you, blaming him. Blaming the universe for not putting it easier on you.

So music, once again, saved your life.

Oscar’s life changed drastically. Not only by the fact he didn't have you anymore on the paddock to cheer him on, but also he didn't have you in his apartment to share his life with. He missed you everyday he woke up to an empty bed. Mourning what you had changed him forever. He blamed himself for not knowing how to get to you, how to understand you and be able to help you through it. So he started reading about psychology to learn how to understand people better. He wanted to improve his emotional intelligence. He knew that maybe you wouldn't be there anymore, probably forever, but at least he could be better to the people around him.

He didn't date anyone. His way of mourning was trying not to think about it occupying his space and time with work and training and racing and reading. He couldn't do anything else.

He always found himself not being able to think, wondering where you were and especially how you were. After that night, you went to cero contact. And he knew it was the best, but he couldn't get you out of his head yet. He felt guilty knowing that he can understand your needs better when it's a little too late. He just wished to press rewind and do it again but the right way this time. He knew it was impossible and that dug a hole in his heart. He knew that it would be there forever. You were the love of his life. He really thought he couldn't love anyone that way, ever again. You were a force of nature for him. Blowing him away every single time.

You never went back to races. He knew how much you adored the sport and how in another life you would have loved to be an engineer. You dreamed of one day to see a woman on the podium. You actually sponsored two girls from F1 Academy. The boys didn't see you again either. Actually he knew you did see lando a few times because you two became really close during your relationship, but lando always lied and told him that he didn't see you. He knew Lando was trying to be a good friend. He even tried to introduce Oscar to some girls but it never worked. He tried though. But he found himself thinking that he was kissing it was you. It was heartbreaking to see. He was kind of stuck on you.

So he decided he would take his time to grow and figure out who he was by himself. Find comfort in his own company. Doing dates by himself. He found it cringe to call it that way but his therapist insisted on calling it that way so he could deprogram himself from you and anything and everything related to you.

He was proud of himself though. He was doing alright again, actually enjoying his job, his friends, and his own company. He even won races, he did podiums and everything he dreamed of. But still, he hoped you didn't feel like you needed to leave to let him shine. He wished you were there every time to hug you and shower you in champagne.

He really missed you in his life.

Too far gone, don’t know where we started ── .✦

So here you were more than a year later at the Azerbaijan GP 2024. The Mercedes team invited you as a star guest so you came with your friend because alone you would have died. Actually, before coming to the paddock you had an anxiety attack and if it wasn't for your friend who made sure you felt safe and okay to go, you would’ve been on a plane back home. It was the first time since you broke up with Oscar you felt okay enough to be able to go through it. You were invited by different teams at least 15 times now. But you always lied and said you couldn't make it. You just needed to stay at home or the studio writing as far as possible from oscar and anything related to him. But you went through all of that with your therapist and she said that if you liked the sport and you really enjoyed races or anything related to it, you shouldn't let Oscar or the thought of him or what happened, deprive you of it.

It was sunday, you preferred not to come on friday or saturday just because there were more possibilities you would bump into him. And you just weren't ready to see him. The race was insane so far. Actually, Oscar was doing more than okay. Your heart was pounding, you could hear it loud and clear. Your best friend held your hand all the time in that garage so you don't forget she’s there for you. And that you’re okay. You knew you shouldn't be afraid of him because he was an angel. But you were scared of yourself and how would you handle that situation. You came to terms that actually, everything that happened between him and you, it was that your insecurities just made everything so toxic that he couldn't handle it all. It didn't feel good when you realised that but it is what it is. You didn't know better and forgiving yourself for that was the hardest part of the process.

You squeezed your best friend's hand, it was the last lap. Your heart is almost out of your body. You are wearing an old Oscar hoodie. You really liked it, plus you came here looking like shit in your opinion. You didn't even brush your hair nor that you needed it like before, now your hair is super short. Everyone in the garage was watching closely and before you could actually process what you ‘ve just seen. Your friends shouted “omg” in unison not believing what they saw.

Destiny had its twisted ways to be honest. Osca won the race. he won. You were just shocked.

You were here and he won, like, what are the chances of that to happen actually? First race you’re back and he wins. and in that way. Your friends hugged you.

“Holy shit that 's really insane shit” Nikola said, watching the screens at the garage.

“We need to go guys, i don't wanna see him, please” you didn't know why you started to panic like that. Sonny looked at Nikola and just got you out of there.

At the Mercedes hospitality you felt safe while the celebrations were held. There was no reason or chance Oscar walked into the Mercedes building, right? You were drinking some coffee with you girls trying to focus on the conversation about any other driver but Oscar, just around strategy and stuff. You were trying really hard but you couldn't stop thinking about the fact that maybe he could come into you any time. Now that you see destiny hates you.

“y/N, you okay bestie?”Sonny tried to get you out of your drawing though by touching your arm so she could catch your attention back to reality.

“Oh yeah, I was just thinking,” you said, adjusting yourself on the chair. Nikola looked worried.

“y/n, we can go if you need to. We don't want you to feel uncomfortable, okay? Just tell us” she said, comprehensively describing the situation and her friend's feelings. You licked your dry lips.

Before you could answer her someone interrupted you.

“y/, is it you?” that. Fucking. Voice. Your friends’ eyes widen as surprised as you were. You turned to the voice to find, in fact, your ex boyfriend watching you so confused. You were speechless for a moment. He looked so pretty and sweaty. His eyes are shining brighter than ever you have seen.

“Oh, hi oscar. Yeah, it’s me” you tried to play it cool but to be fair, you felt the butterflies on your stomach just like the first time you met him at that birthday party you didn't want to go to. But luckilyyou did. Destiny is always playing dirty for you. Or geniously. You didn't know anymore. He smiled widely.

“Oh, wow, hi, yeah. I didn't know you were coming” he said nervously. Your friends looked at each other noticing.

“I was invited by George, actually. I almost didn't come tho. How crazy, you win right? You did an amazing race. "You were surprised that you could even have a proper conversation with him while your heart was hurting out of anxiety, nervousness and butterflies were everywhere.

Oscar Felt his chest tighter. His stomach was happy to see you, he knew. “Thank you,” he said sweetly. You looked so pretty under the light of the Mercedes building. You were his hoodie, your favorite, but he didn't know if it was appropriate to mention it. Your hair was so short and looked so beautiful on you. It actually made you look prettier. Your face was the face of an angel, he always thought that. But with that haircut it only intensified your perfection. He felt stupid. Just like the first time he saw you at that party he wasn't even invited directly. Destiny always played on his favour with you, until that night. He didn't even want to remember it. You looked so different yet you felt the same. Your perfume was the same, he knew. It’s the one he gifted you on your 6 month anniversary. You used to celebrate each month.

An awkward silence makes its presence between you two, not knowing what else to say or comment.

“Congrats oscar on the win” sonny tried to save you from misery right there capturing oscar’s attention. He smiled gently, thanking her and nikola. He recognized them and gave them a hug. He seemed happy to see them. You smiled remembering your nights playing uno and drinking wine and baking canela rolls when winter break came around. You Missed him more than you’ve ever thought you would. And something inside you just felt exactly the same you always felt with him. He altered the chemistry in your brain so easily it was kind of scary.

“Hey osc! Zac wants to talk to you! What are you doing here?” Lando Norris came into the building as well. He was your friend when he saw who Oscar was, he grinned. “Hey, bestie, whatchu doing here?” he said happily, giving you a comforting hug. He was genuinely surprised because you didn't even tell you. He suspected Oscar was here because George told him you were here. He can't keep secrets. And he knew it was George because he was sure Lewis didn't even know you.

“George invited us,” you explained after he stepped back.

“Okay let's go, great to see you girl. Hope to see you around more often "Oscar said while looking directly at you in the last sentence to then disappear dragging Lando out of the hospitality. Your friends looked at you and you looked at them.

“I need a whole vodka bottle down my throat right now” you sentence, making you laugh. But you didn't. You felt scared of what you felt a few moments ago.

(...)

New year is here. You were invited along with your friends by lando to his beginning of the year party here in Monaco. And oh you knew Oscar was gonna be there. Of course, he is one of his closest friends also.

This time you felt more calm and collected around the fact you were going to see him again. I think being drunk was the thing you were thanked for. If something felt rare,you would drink straight vodka or tequila and the problem was solved. You didn’t even have to think about it.

Your friend helped choose the sexiest dress for you. It was a satin white little dress with broderie endings. Pretty subtle but at the same time suggesting. Just how you were. Angel face, dirty minded. Problem was you couldn't date people because of the Oscars. Because since you saw him those seconds in Azerbaijan, you couldn't stop seeing his shiny eyes and beautiful smile every time you close your eyes. You didn't interact all of this time, you didn't even follow each other on social media.

Mystery drove you I guess. And who could blame you? It was Oscar Piastri, the one you had to forget. But I just couldn't. You missed his touch, his breath, his voice, his lips.

Your friend took you out of your thoughts telling you they needed to go to the bathroom. You Followed them around the party up to the toilets. They got in but you decided to wait outside because the music was just so good you wanted to enjoy it. You always wished you could write a party song but it isn't your thing at all. Nor you didn't have the personality for it. You were too deep of a person. You needed to cut deep. Be someone to suffer along with. Or at least that’s how you perceive yourself as an artist.

“y/N?” not that voice again. That damn voice. Though this time you were waiting for it. You looked up to find a drunk Oscar in front of you. You were breathless for a moment. How can a man become so much hotter in just a year? You smiled at him feeling your strawberry lip gloss.

“Hoy, osc. What’s up?” you said easily. The alcohol made it easier actually. When he smiled you almost died. You Adored his smile since that party you didn't even want to go to. You thought you fell in love with him just right there. Just right here…?

“I was looking for Danny, have you seen him?” he said normally, ignoring his heart, almost skipping a beat when he saw you in that short white dress. He hoped not to be drooling in your face. Since he saw you again, he couldn't get you out of his head. You were everyday hunting him. He wanted to text you but he wasn't sure if he should. You seem so happy now, he didn't want to ruin it. He convinced himself that probably the best for you was staying away from him as much as possible. At the end of the day, he was the reason you hurt, right? Or he wanted to believe that.

For a moment you watched his lips talking to you. His drunk voice always turned you on. But you couldn't show it. Not anymore. You looked back at his eyes. Half smile on your face while shaking your head “no, i didn't. Iwas waiting for my friends that are in the bathroom” you explained and he nodded.

“Well, I'll keep looking then. See you around” he told you to go back into the crowd to look for his friends. Hesaw the way you looked at his lips. He had to be the stronger one. It was better this way. As much as he wanted to eat you out right there and then.

He hurt you. He didn't understand you. He didn't deserve you. He made sure to protect you from himself. Even though all he wanted was to be with you.

the announcement ── .✦

yourusername made a post

liked by sabrinacarpenter, landonorris, georgerussel and 987,677 others

yourusername: finally, i'm so hyped i can tell you that my new ep "almost said i miss you" will be yours on february 14 🥹 left my heart on these songs and i'm so excited for you to hear them! Love you sm. Thank u for all of the support. Ur my angels <3

view more comments

user56: OMG THIS THE BEST IM SO HYPED QUEEN I MISSED YOU

oscarstan: the song titles 😭😭😭😭😭😭

y/nstan: let's pretend we don't know for who these are to

landonorris: cant wait for people to cry their eyes out just like i did :'( *liked by yourusername*

↳ georgerussel: i know someone

↳ georgerussel: @/oscarpiastri

↳ alexalbon: you can't live without drama, don't you?

↳ georgerussel: not drama mate, i'm making things work here

hattiepiastri: so excited girl !!!!!

↳ user674: NOT HIS SISTER HI GIRL

↳ user89: let's not make assumptions, maybe they remained friends

↳ user45: i try not to be delusional but this doesnt make it easier

danielricciardo: congrats princess! I already know you 'll kill it! Miss you *liked by yourusername*

sabrinacarpenter: never fail to make me cry for hours. I love you, ur the best in this world *liked by yourusername and oscarpiatri*

↳ user90: OMG HE LIKED HE LIKED WHAT IS GOING ON

↳ user12: AAAAAAAAAA

↳ georgerussel: you're welcome guys :)

taylorswift: and artist of the year goes to.... *liked by yourusername*

The aftermath - february 14 ── .✦

Oscar was back to the UK training for the beginning of the new season. It was the coldest winter he experienced. He got back home from mclaren hq. He took a hot shower to warm himself. His apartment was silent. It felt empty for the first time. Like something was missing. He went straight into bed. He wasn't that hungry anyway, but he was tired indeed.

“Hey, listen to it. I think you need to”

He saw his sister Hattie's notification pop up on his screen confusing him abit. He went into the messages app and opened his sister’s. When he did he understood what she was talking about. A knot on this throat formed. It was y/n's ep. Guess he now understood taylor swift’s exes. It’s hard to date a musician ust because of the aftermath of the relationship.

“Just do it. You will understand why once you did”

Another message popped up on this screen and sighed heavily. Probably his sister was right but at the same time he was scaredas fuck. He opened it on spotify, she looked as pretty as ever on the cover of it. ‘Almost said I miss you’ - that was the title and only had 3 songs. By the names of them he suspected it was about him but he tried to believe they weren't even though his sister already told him that they were. He decided to listen to it in order.

He took his headphones from his nightstand so he could hear your voice clearly. All over his head. Cutting deep into his fiber.

The first piano tiles started playing and his heart was already sinking. Hearing her voice so raw and close and clear sent shivers down his spine. He heard every single word you said. It described perfectly that horrible and forgettable night you broke up. Hearing your voice crack broke his heart into a million pieces. It wasn't even half of the song when he started crying. He knew what he said under his breath that sent you both straight into hell. He felt so guilty about everything. He really just wished to talk to you.

When he started to hear the second song he knew it was about that race you went. He hoped to see you in the next one, and the next one. But you didn't go again. The lyrics were so real his skin felt every word.

When he heard you saying that you felt sorry his tears streamed down his face more violently. He didn't recognize this person. But you always had this effect on him. With you he was a feeler, one that felt way too deeply. Unlike the person he shows to people. You always knew the real him. He couldn't lie to you. Even though you thought he would cheat on you. He would never. Hearing you wanting to hold him broke his heart. Why did you both have to do this the hard way? Why didn't you just be happy with each other? He really missed you. He missed everything about you. Your presence around him. He was his best version with you. Now he feels like a ghost of who he used to be.

The last song just ended him.

‘Do you remember being happy together? I do, don't you? Then all of the sudden, you’re sick to your stomach. Is that still true?’ he whipped his tears the best he could.

He never called you or told you he missed you. But he guessed you would have liked it like that.

‘everything i know brings me back to us. Everywhere I go leads me back to you’ he felt the same.

He didn't know what to do. He had a battle inside him. He promised himself he would stay away from you so you could be happy just like you deserved. But at the same time he wanted to be happy and he knew you made him happy. He was happy with you.

“So? Call her please oscar. You both deserve to be happy and figure things out along the way, together”

Hattie read his mind. Her text just in time when he is back into the silent apartment. The empty and cold apartment that once was full of laughter and music because you were with him. He missed you so much. He missed hearing you play guitar rumbling words then writing them down. Your hugs when he was back home, your cuddles in bed when he was sad, your perspective on things. He missed every detail about you.

But was he ready to come back to you?

69 notes · View notes

chancloud8 · 20 hours ago

Text

To The Rescue

Pairing: Changbin x Reader Word Count: 1,3k Tags: Fluff, Cuddling, Established Relationship. Summary: Early mornings are for rescuing your boyfriend and his roommates from a tiny uninvited visitor. *************************************************************

The sky is still pitch black when you jog down the stairs of your dorm. Most of the students on campus are still asleep and you don't blame them. If it wasn't for you boyfriend calling you up in a blind panic, you would still be under your pile of blankets as well.

Your boots make the leaves under your feet crunch and you smile, breathing in the crisp morning air. You love this time of year, when the trees change color and the air gets colder. If only Autumn wasn't so dark and rainy, you'd love it even more.

When you arrive at the dorm your boyfriend shares with three of his friends, you only have to knock once before the door is wrenched open.

'Thank god,' Felix pants and he grabs your arm to pull you inside.

You chuckle and follow him into the living area where the other two are gathered as well, standing on the sofa and screeching like the house is on fire.

'Y/N! It's over there!' Jisung screams, waving his arm in the direction of the curtains.

'Shouldn't we call animal control? I'm not sure if it's safe for Y/N to touch it,' Changbin says from behind Jising, his hands clutching his friend's hoodie like it will protect him.

'Don't be so dramatic, babe,' you grin at your boyfriend. 'Why don't you come give me a kiss?'

Changbin's eyes grow wide. 'While the beast is still out there?'

'Yeah,' you nod. 'You love me, right? Am I not worthy enough for you to overcome you fear of a itty bitty-'

You get interrupted by Jisung screaming loudly again. 'IT MOVED!!'

'Oh my god,' Felix mutters beside you, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 'Y/N can you just please help me catch this stupid mouse so I can go back to sleep.'

You nod and inch closer to the curtains where the boys say they last saw the animal. You move slowly and careful, keeping your eyes trained on the dark brown fabric to watch out for any movement.

'Go for the tail if you can,' you say to Felix. 'It's easier to grab them there, but make sure to move it to your hands soon after so you won't hurt it.'

Felix shivers, but nods and inches towards the other side of the curtains.

'Babe, I'm really not sure you should touch it,' Changbin whines. 'What if it bites you?'

You ignore him and slowly get down to your knees so you'll have better access to the small animal if it decides to run your way.

Felix pokes the curtains at his side and almost immediately you hear the sound of running paws. Without thinking you stretch out your hands and latch onto the tiny body as it races out from under the curtains.

Jisnung screams again, Changbin yells your name and Felix cheers.

The mouse wriggles in your hands nervously, its tiny wet nose budging against your skin as it tries to escape.

'Ssshh, it's okay. I got you,' you whisper, hoping that like any other animal, it might calm it down a bit.

'DID IT BITE?' Changbin yells, still standing on the couch behind Jisung.

You shake your head and get up from the floor. The mouse trembles in your hands, but it doesn't try to hurt you.

'Binnie, darling, why don't you come off of the couch,' you try to convince your boyfriend again, smiling sweetly at him. 'The mouse won't hurt you, it's more scared of you than you of him.'

Changbin and Jisung both glare at you and stay right where they are. You roll your eyes at them. You're so going to tell this story to the rest of your friends over breakfast.

Felix opens the door to their tiny garden so you can set the mouse free. He grabs his phone and opens his camera to film your hand.

'Let's see what monster had the guys so afraid,' he chuckles.

You laugh too and slowly open your hands. The mouse's nose appears first and when it lifts its little head and looks at you and Felix with its tiny black eyes, you can't help but coo at it.

'It's so cute,' you giggle. 'I don't know what they were so afraid of.'

Felix still looks a bit wary, but you can see in his eyes that he thinks the tiny animal is not as scary up close as he might have thought.

'Babe, come inside, it's freezing,' Changbin yells from inside.

You take one last look at the mouse before kneeling on the grass to set it down.

'Be free, my friend. And don't come back,' you whisper as the mouse quickly runs into the bushes.

Felix laughs and helps you up. 'I swear you could make any animal your friend.'

Hell yes you could.

'I think I already proved that when I befriended you guys,' you tease as you step back into the living room.

Changbin and Jisung immediately tackle you in a hug.

'Thank you, thank you, thank you!' Changbin whispers against your neck.

'You're my hero,' Jisung cheers, hugging your back.

You laugh and curl your arms around Changbin's waist. Enjoying the warmth that is radiating from his body.

'You're welcome boys.'

Jisung lets go of you in favor of collapsing on the couch, but Changbin keeps you close to his body. His hands move to you back to hold you even tighter and you snuggle your face in his soft hoodie.

'Hey,' you whisper into the fabric.

'Hey,' he whispers back, pressing a kiss on top of your hair. 'I missed you.'

You giggle and tighten your arms around his waist. 'You just saw me like six hours ago.'

'Well, you could have just stayed with me,' Changbin replies. 'It would have saved you the trouble of running through the cold at five am.'

He has a good point, but you aren’t going to admit that. You spend a lot of time at his dorm already, practically living here anyways.

'Where's Seungmin?' You ask, changing the subject as you slowly pull back from your boyfriend's chest. 'I expected him to be hiding out on the couch with you and sungie. Did he sleep through it?'

Changbin laughs and pulls you with him to his room, the one he shares with Seungmin. 'No, I think he stayed with the others. He and Minho were studying together last night.'

'So we have your room to ourselves?' you wiggle your eyebrows. 'Such luxury.'

The both of you climb into Changbin's bed and he drapes the covers over both of you before pulling you against his body. You cuddle against his chest and intertwine your legs with his while he wraps his strong arms around you.

'I definitely wish I could sleep like this every night,' you whisper happily, once again snuggling into the soft fabric of Changbin's sweater.

'You could, you know,' Changbin says. 'The guys don't mind having you here. They love you.'

'Hmm, they just love me for my ability to catch whatever animal crawls into your dorm,' you joke.

'That's not true, they love you for way more than that.' You don't even have to look at your boyfriend to know that he's pouting. 'And so do I.'

'I know, babe,' you reassure him, lifting your head so you can kiss his chin. 'And I love them.'

'What about me?'

'Hmm,' you hum, pretending to think hard and Changbin lets out a fake enraged breath before he tickles your sides. You squeal loudly and bat his hand away.

'I love you the most, silly,' you giggle, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can drape yourself over his chest and look at him.

'More than chocolate?' Changbin grins, his eyes twinkling. 'Puppy's? Draco Malfoy?'

You reach up to touch his cheek. 'I love you more than anything, Binnie.' *********************************************** a/n: soft binnie my beloved <3 I saw a post the other day that the world needs more Bin fluff fics and I agreed, so here we are hehe xxx

#changbin x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #changbin fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #changbin x you #changbin x y/n #changbin x female reader #changbin fanfic #chancloud8 writes #skz x reader #skz fanfic #changbin #lee felix #han jisung

83 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 24 hours ago

Text

"I didn't want to overstep"

My honest reacton

NOW *make a man out of your plays in the background* LETS GET DOWN TO BUSINESS

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

She is so me

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze.

🙄 gago I hate him stfu

You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

I WOULD LITERALLY HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON CARAXES AND LEAVE THIS PLACE

The man smiles. He winks at you.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

Main character things

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes.

🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢 YUCKKKK CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMALLLLLLL CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMALLLLLLLL YUCCKKKKKK

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships.

We love to see it. DIVINE FEMININE

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 SHUT THE EVER LOVING FUCK UP????????? A MAN WILL WANT SOMETHING THEN THINK THEY ARE ENTITLED TO IT????? EAT SHIT AND DIE?????????

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

🧍‍♀️ oh. I personally don't fuck with strangers tickling me please goodness I hope it's addam

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Men shouldnt have rights

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

CRISTI WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT I WILL RHAE ROYCE THIS FUCKING DEGENERATE

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️STAB HIM????!!!!!

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓ LICK THE BOTTOM OF MY SHOE YOU CAME TO ME???????? 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

?????????????? DONT TALK TO SOMEONE BENEATH YOU????? 100 YEARS IN JAIL????

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

HE WAS WHAT????? 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🍅🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 IM GOING TO FUCKING GOUGE HIS EYES OUT

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

??????? BEAT HIS FUCKING ASSSSSS STAB HIM AND BASH HIS FUCKING FACE IN ALYNN???????

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

STAB HIM CORLYSSSS

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread.

CASUALLY BREAKING INTO PEOPLES HOUSES????????? POLICE 🚓🚨

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal.

STAB HIM GURL STAB HIM RIGHT FUCKING NOW

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

)))): my poor girl. My baby girl

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

Am I supposed to be impressed? Am I supposed to pat you on the back?

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

Baho mo gago

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

))): I hate this so much for them

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

Be conceited diva WHO IS THIS DIVAAA

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

I believe all men should experience the pain of child birth and labor constantly forever

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

First of all fuck you second of all you're not cute third of all ITS HER FIRST TIME fourth of all I'm glad you can AT LEAST make her happy. THE BAR IS IN HELL

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 MILK HIM BLEED HIM SUCK HIM DRY

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

Not all men EXPLAIN THIS THEN

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

😬 yeesh famous last words

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

MY POOR GIRL MY POOR POOR GIRL

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

BROTHER EUGHHHH GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER GIRL RUNNNN ILL WWE ROYAL RUMBLE SMACK DOWN ELBOW TO THE FACE STEEL CHAIR THIS BOZO

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

MY FUCKING GOODNESS CAN HE JUST BE FUCKING NORMAL IS IT SO HARD FOR HIM NOT TO FUCKING THINK WITH HIS COCK FUCK YOU DIE

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

You think? Terrible idea btw fuck off

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

NOTHING IS FUCKING SACRED LITERALLY KEEP YOUR HANDS RO YOURSELF MY SCARF IS MY BUSINESS YOU HAVE TERRIBLE MANNERS AND YET IM THE PEASANT FUCK YOU CHOKE ON YOUR GREASY FOOD I HOPE THE ROWDY CROWDS TEAR YOU APART

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

Why would you write him this way. Why is this endearing. HAJIMA STOP

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

Ok alcoholic.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

No cuz she's better than me I fucking hate being stared at I hatttttteere it she's so much better than me

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

So you agree

You're a predator

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

NDJDJD YUCCKKKKK (I'm into this shit) YUCCKKKK FUCKING HELL DIE RUNNNNN GIRL RUNNN

“Do you trust me?”

Absolute the fuck not. Eat broken glass

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman’s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

RHAENYSSSS NOOOO PLEASEEE NOOOO NOT THE VILLAIN ARC NOOO PLEASE )))): I DO NAWT BLAME HER BUT NDJDJNDKSKSKKSKS

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

THE WAY I FUCKING SCREAMMMEDDS

BEATTTTT HISS ASSSSS

🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️BEATTTT HISSS ASSSSS

“Are you calling me a whore?”

Well I ain't callin yo ass a prude IF THE SHOE FITS DIPSHIT

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

IM DOING A DANCY DANCE LITERALLY EXPLODE

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

😭😭😭😭😭 IM CRYING MY POOR POOR GIRLLLL

“Daughter.”

😃🔪🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

“It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

BURN IN HELL ❤️

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

))))))))))))))))):

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.”

FUCKING HELLLLSSSSSS DAMNNNNN MDIRNSJJSJSNSJSMSKANSNNSSJAJAKAKAKAKAKAKJANANAN STOPPPPPP

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

? I don't like you never have never will I hope you have a heart attack

You bloom under his praise.

I hate that for you.... *Sigh* congrats ig

There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

)))): I hate this for you so much baby girl

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

? Ok? Get it ig. Fuck shit up for her. It's the only thing you're good for.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

Oh that's not

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

😭😭😭😭😭 my girllllll. Get it ig. I'm glad she's happy. That's all that matters

THIS WAS A RIDE. I LOVE HOW MUCH I HATE HIM. I HOPE HE DIES 😃😃😃😃

On a real level, it made me think how fascinated I am in exploring themes such as gender class whatnot and how I as a writer myself am unashamed to admit 'yeah I write daemon fucked up, s'part of the appeal' while simultaneously just being unwilling to let him take the piss ya know HAHAHAH LIKE I WONT DEFEND THIS MAN HES FUCKED UP AND FICTIONAL DIEEEEE ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The Brave (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: A collection of first times with Daemon.

Warnings: Bastard! Reader. Daddy issues. Corruption kink. Innocence kink. Age difference, power imbalance. Poorly translated HV. Angst. Enemies to lovers (Sort of?) Happy ending. Usual warnings for Daemon (Sexual thoughts, mature language, violence)

Requested: Yes! My first after Halloween, life has been crazy.

THE FISHERMEN SAIL too early for your liking. You know it has little to do with their personal preference, and more to do with the tides. It doesn’t mean you are happy about it, though.

Your job is to ensure all your ships are in good condition and ready to transport whatever those men bring home. Your mother had made a small fortune by expanding her father’s fleet, and after her passing, it was your turn to handle it. You preferred to oversee things personally, knowing that only an owner’s touch could ensure the quality of service you prided yourself in.

No one loved these ships more than you. Small and old they were, but they tied you to your mother. You lacked her knowledge, and sometimes, they made you far less money than you hoped for, but you insisted on keeping them. Your siblings had not shown such an interest, choosing other pursuits.

Allyn, much more practical, had preferred to learn the trade of a shipwright. He now worked under Lord Corlys. It embarrassed you to say it, but it was him and not you who was the breadwinner of your family. Some months, if not most, it was far more lucrative than your business with the ships.

Addam worked occasionally as a shipwright too, but he didn’t have a steady source of income. He was far too young to be hired anywhere, lacking the experience most lords wanted from those building their ships. Sometimes, he also helped you.

Today wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise, you would have forced him to come here in your stead. With a grumble, you jumped from the ship to the dock. Everything was as it should, so you had to move to the next one.

The sunrise makes Hull look even more beautiful, the city slowly beginning to rise under Driftmark’s watchful eyes. The white marble and ivory of the castle provide a backdrop for the goldens and pinks that color the scene. It would make you smile, were it not for the fact that the peaceful morning is ruined by every damn bell in the city tolling.

Visitors. Noble ones. By the amount of noise, they are announcing the visit of someone very high ranking.

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

You shouldn’t have bothered. A harsh gust of wind takes it fully off and nearly sends you caroling into the water. The dock shakes underneath you, the ships and water agitated by the same thing. You scream, as do the rest of the sailors who are near.

You had never seen a dragon up close before. You are not allowed to go near Driftmark, where the Princess and the Lord and Lady keep theirs.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

The man smiles. He winks at you.

You lower your eyes and do not stop running until you are safe at home.

DAEMON SEES YOU again when he least expects it. He has looked for you in every pleasure house on this island and has not been able to find you. The brave little maiden with silver hair, who had screamed bloody murder but stood her ground on the docks when she saw him approach.

You must be of Valyrian descent. There is no other explanation for your lack of fear. You were young and comely, so he had guessed that you must be a whore. It was what happened to girls who looked like you. Men loved pretending they were either a Princess or the daughter of some lord. And so close to Driftmark? They probably asked you to pretend you were little Laena Velaryon.

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes. If he could sneak a bit of a taste in advance, you wouldn’t catch him complaining about it.

When he had agreed to accompany Corlys to oversee the progress being made on the news ships for his fleet, the last thing he expected to encounter was you.

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships. His head had turned instinctively towards the sound, and it was then that he saw you.

The dress you had on was a plain gray, as it was the headscarf you wore. But Daemon would know that face anywhere. He had sought everywhere for it. You were holding a small basket, next to some shipwright. The man looked older than you, already bald. You were all smiles and animated gestures, seemingly taken by him.

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

Is it in bad taste to approach you when his future father-in-law is distracted by his sailors? Probably. But he cannot stop himself. Because the only thing Daemon can think of, the only thing that would make him feel better, is to bring you as low as he. Ruin your little fantasy as you had ruined his.

He marches towards where the man and you are, and gently cups your chin in his hand. The sudden interruption startles you, and you try taking a step back, but his sweet hold has turned into Valyrian Steel. There is no escape for little whores.

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

Begrudgingly, Daemon has to name the strange feeling taking place in his stomach. Awe. Admiration. You had fire in your belly, and steel on your spine. You were a truer Valyrian than many of his own family members.

They were weak. Soft. You were not. But you were still a mere peasant, and he couldn’t allow you to disrespect him such.

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

“Unhand her.” He says, voice firm. His expression doesn’t waver, the same steel you have mirrored in his brown eyes. Up close, he is much younger than Daemon expected, tall and muscular from what seems like a life of hard work. He tugs you behind him.

“Daemon.” And really, things were just turning interesting. Why does Corlys have to interrupt at the worst time possible? “Unhand her immediately.”

At his appearance, both you and the boy turn an awful gray shade that matches your dress and headscarf. Fear of their liege, perhaps?

But the boy’s jaw ticks, and your dark eyes lower in a manner that they hadn’t when facing him. Something else is at play here.

“I was just…” Daemon slowly retracts his hand, studying the surrounding faces carefully. You, sullen, the boy enraged. Corlys’ cold as ice. Neither of you speak, yet it is clear you are not strangers.

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

And the tone Corlys uses is strange, for a man unbothered by the costs of power. What are two peasants to the favor of a Prince? Why does he know them? He had never struck Daemon as someone concerned by his subjects.

And then, a piece of your hair falls out of your headscarf. Silver against a dark background. And it is then he knows it. You are no dragonseed. Nor is the boy with the shaved head.

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread. His presence is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. It is the first time you are home alone after the incident, not Addam nor Allyn willing to risk this stranger attempting anything worse than he already has. Three days had passed, and they had considered it enough. If the man had not approached you during that time, it meant he wouldn’t, right? Clearly no. He had just been bidding his time, waiting for both of your brothers to go. “Corlys's little secret.”

Your hands shake. You wished Allyn wasn’t so set on teaching Addam his craft, and hadn’t gone out today. Being home alone with a strange man around didn’t spell anything good for you.

A quick glance at the door reassures you that it is still barred. You take a not so subtle step back from the window.

The prince lip’s quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but betraying his amusement. Does he find your fear funny?

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal. The title makes you scoff. No one has ever called you a lady, much less a Prince.

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her. Wondering what life would have been like if you didn’t have to hide, if your father acknowledged you. Wondering what it would feel, to be a Lady and never go to bed hungry, to be surrounded by beauty all day.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

As if sensing your thoughts, Prince Daemon lifts one of his hands. He holds up a package, wrapped in bright white silk. Both he and his gift look deeply out of place here, near your window. In his fine clothes, in brighter colors than you can afford, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

You do not take the parcel. You merely look at him and fight an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

You open it carefully. Two smaller parcels fall from it, both as carefully wrapped.

“You can wear the silk.” He tells you, gesturing to your hair. “And the rest…”

With rushed hands, you open the other parcel. A small sack of flour, lemons, and pages torn from a book. They are all expensive things, nothing like the flour you buy at the market to make bread or the bruised fruit you get when Addam craves something sweet. You squint at the pages, puzzled by their presence.

“Mix one cup of flour with… Is this..?” You ask him, astonished. A small smile begins to form on your face.

“The recipe for lemon cakes. For your baking.” He smiles back. He then gestures to your hands, still covered in flour. “I hear you enjoy it. Just… Save me a piece.”

“Thank you.” You beam at him. He gives you a bow, and leaves. You find yourself smiling like a fool the rest of the afternoon.

You cannot believe it. Prince Daemon has just given you the recipe for lemon cakes. As far apologies go, this is a great one.

Addam and Allyn go to bed with full stomachs. You go to bed with yours full of butterflies. No one has ever ensured such for the three of you.

“IS IT CLOSE enough?” You bite your lower lip, watching Daemon chew a piece of cake. His brows furrow a bit, and he lets out a small, throaty moan.

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

“I got excited.” You scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. The batter had smelt and tasted so heavenly, you had just kept adding more.

It’s peaceful here. He often says he cares not for the ocean, but the two of you always walk the same route. From your home, towards your ships, then back.

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying. You try to focus on something else. Your scuffed shoes. His boots. The sand under your feet. The urge to run away, and scream, and die from the humiliation of even asking.

Daemon sighs. He sits down on the sand, patting the space on his side. His clothes, despite their simple design, are very fine.

“Your clothes…” You mumble, without sitting.

“Bah, I have three other cloaks like this one.” As if proving a point, he takes it off, laying it down for you to sit. You feel even sillier at his patience. “Come. Sit down, jorrāeliarzys.”

You obey him because there is little else to do. You have already messed up, you don’t wish to make any other mistake. His company has become precious to you, a welcome respite from your brothers. Living with two boys, you are never alone. But every so often, you wish for more engaging conversation.

“I am not ashamed of being seen in your company. I just… I thought you preferred it here.” Daemon explains, softly tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Would you like for us to meet in the city, instead?”

You think of meeting him in the city’s market. Of the rumors that would sure follow, of the names you would be called. Of your father finding out. You know what it would look like to him. That you are making the same mistake as your mother did.

You are not dumb. Daemon is not here to simply plan an alliance. Alliances are always sealed in blood, and your half sister is barely old enough to be considered.

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

So why does it hurt like this, why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You take the parcels he gives you without any shame. That night, as the three of you are eating a generous serving of venison, Allyn scowls.

“I don’t like it. Can’t you see what he wants?”

Addam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate, as if he is truly seeing the meat he is being served for the first time.

“I am not mother.” You say, icily. The venison tastes bitter on your tongue, but stubbornly, you keep eating. Allyn is just angry that it is not longer him who is putting the meals on the table. “I know what highborn men are like.”

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

“All the more reason not to allow him to take your maidenhead.”

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

Allyn looks at you, eyes full of pity. You cannot bear it. Your eyes sting again. You hurry out of the table.

“Where are you going?” Addam reaches forward, as if to grab you.

Alone, in your room, you tear the headscarf he had given you to shreds. You squeeze the rests on your palm, you make a ball, you throw it against the wall.

The next morning, you have sobbed your throat raw. You still go to meet him in the afternoon.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Daemon can tell when he picks you up that day. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and your complexion an awful gray. The headscarf he had given you is nowhere to be seen, and you are back to your severe gray one.

Like a bad case of heartburn, the lie he had told you comes back to him, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth.

Daemon is not ashamed of you, but doesn't want to be seen with you either. The consequences for you would be too great. He had learned his lesson with Mysaria. The double stain would have made you a pariah, both because of your birth and because of whom you were bedding.

Because it was all that people would think about when they found out. No one would believe Daemon had yet to touch you.

He was unsure if he ever would.

You were an extraordinary girl, yet still a bastard. There was nothing to be done about it. All you could be was friends and lovers, and nothing more.

Daemon had been like you, once. When younger. He, too, felt a lack of acknowledgement by those around you, and an urge to prove himself. His father had passed when he was still young, and Viserys had received all laurels. It would have never bothered him because he loved his brother, but Viserys had left him behind. Married Aemma. Had children. Gained the love of his people, found new friends.

Never once Viserys had looked at Daemon. No matter how hard he tried to reach for him, his brother always evaded his hand. Daemon had been left there. He, too, had stood on the shadows and feigned indifference, burning up with secret resentment.

The idea of you growing up to be like him was both appealing and horrifying. There was a sweetness to you, a naïveté that he had lacked even in his younger years. He wanted to preserve it. Shield you from the world.

You would taste exquisite on his tongue, crumbling from his caresses. Your cunt would feel like wet velvet around him, and you would sound your sweetest when he was spearing you open on his cock.

And how would you smile, joyous and fierce, his brave girl. Some maidens cried, but not you. You were made of sterner stuff, a heart that burned brighter and stronger than the Fourteen Flames. You had stood your ground, terrified but unbowed, in front of Caraxes himself.

Such a face you had, all Valyrian empress. A sovereign nose, the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes, and a slippery laugh that always gave you an air of mischief. A face not made for sadness. It is what prompts him to do what will become either the greatest mistake of his life, or his greatest triumph.

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

“A tavern?” The surprising offering shakes you out of your sadness. Your face changes from a sad little frown into a curious one.

“Have you ever gone to one?” Daemon tugs the hair scarf from your hair, softly. The silver curls fall free, in a lovely mess. You scowl, trying to get it back, but he holds it just out of your reach. It’s a lovely thing, to watch you give little jumps on your tiptoes, curls bouncing with the motion. “Ah! None of that, now. Answer my question first.”

“No, I haven’t. Addam and Allyn go from time to time, but it sounds too rowdy for my liking.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

The walk to the city is awkward. Not because the two of you have nothing to talk about, but rather, because of the stares. Your silver hair, despite your simple clothing, commands attention. So does Daemon’s presence, and the arm he has around your shoulders.

He had not been wrong. This would cost you. A cost too steep for someone he sought to keep safe.

It’s delicious. But when he serves you a goblet, you take a big sip and begin to splutter.

“Mittys hunes iksā.” Daemon tuts. His silly bunny. “You are not meant to drink it such. You ought to savor it.”

“Savor?” You arch an eyebrow. “Tastes like dragonfire.”

And perhaps it's the choice of words, or the glint of your silver hair under the low light emanating from the torches, but something about you reminds him of the way he had loved Rhaenyra and admired Laena, the other Valyrian beauties in his life. They are not here, he cannot reach them. But you are.

You eye him warily, but get up from your chair and move until you are standing in front of him. It's not enough for Daemon. It never is. He always wants you closer, closer to hold, to protect, to own.

He tugs you between his parted legs.

“Do you trust me?”

There is a slight furrow of your brow. The barest hint of hesitation. Yet, your voice is firm when you answer him.

“Yes.”

His girl. His precious girl. If you had been his, he would have never hurt you like Corlys had. Never allowed to become easy prey for men like him. You shouldn’t trust him.

Daemon shouldn’t be doing this, either. It is a good thing he has never claimed to be a good man.

He takes a sip of his wine, and leans towards you, capturing your mouth in his. At first, you fight him, the suddenness startling you. It’s only when he gives your lower lip a sharp nip, that you melt into the kiss. When your mouth parts slightly, he passes you the wine.

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

Your obedience and compliance only makes him wilder, drives him to grasp at your hips, pull you closer. Just when you begin to lean into Daemon, dutifully swallowing the wine, someone jerks you out of his grip.

Your face turns ashen. You look like you are about to cry, or worse, flee. Daemon jumps up, and gets between Rhaenys and you.

“You were always a whore!” She screams, her index finger digging into his chest. You let out a sob, quietly. Daemon’s heart feels like it is being wrenched from his chest. At this point, the screams have attracted all the tavern's attention. Daemon doesn’t doubt that by this time tomorrow, the whole island will know.

You will be shunned. Just as he had feared.

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

Daemon feels utterly stunned. Never in a million years he would have thought Rhaenys was referring to him.

“Are you calling me a whore?”

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

He wasn’t even aware that a woman could land such a blow.

“You dare! You toyed with my daughter and this girl as you saw fit.” And Daemon cannot even get a word in because she is too angry. He feels his cheeks reddening, and its unsure if he is feeling embarrassment at being scolded like a child, or rage at her words. “But worry not. I will make this right.”

Rhaenys has a manic gleam in her eyes. For a frightening second, Daemon thinks he sees in her the famous Targaryen madness.

Instead of setting you both on fire, she lunges, avoiding Daemon, and grabbing you hands in hers.

“I shall not allow you to make the same mistake your mother did.” Rhaenys says, and she is gone before Daemon can answer anything.

THIS IS YOUR greatest triumph. Why, then, does it taste like ashes on your tongue?

You are wearing the finest dress you have ever owned, gifted to you by Daemon. Princess Rhaenys has forced both him and your father into complacency, and even forced King Viserys to allow your betrothal. Still, you feel adrift. Even betrayed.

The stink of shame that followed you around, the whispers of dishonor and the looks of distaste, would have been even more intense. You would have been ruined, known as little more than a whore. And your family no longer had the money that had shielded your mother during her pregnancies.

You had not known it. But Daemon must have. He had a reputation for taking maidenheads as he saw fit, Addam had informed you. You were a fool for not knowing, and a fool for believing he wanted something else from you.

The royal decree is read by a Maester, in front of all the Lords of near castles, the smallfolk of Driftmark and the Velaryons. Even in the first beautiful dress you own, you feel small. Out of place. The looks your half siblings are shooting you do not help you feel better.

Once the bill is read, Lord Corlys steps forward.

“Daughter.” He says, grasping your hands in his. He is cold. He is cold, and it makes your skin crawl, even when it is all you wanted as a little girl. It’s the first time he acknowledges you, and he is not at all like the man you imagined, when dreaming as a child of what it would be like for him to look at you. Because even a glance would have been enough back then. “It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

Your brothers could not be recognized as you were. You had shyly asked Princess Rhaenys, and if she thought you dimwitted before, she had probably confirmed her suspicions. They were men, she had explained, and a threat to Laenor’s rights once your father passed. You, instead, were nothing but a girl who had sullied herself, whose honor had been compromised so thoroughly you had turned even less important in the great scheme of things.

She was helping you because you had been taken advantage of by Daemon, Princess Rhaenys had said, but also to spare her daughter from your fate. Wife to a husband that would most likely betray you and sire bastards.

Lord Corlys was just happy to have another pawn to marry off and forge alliances. Freeing his daughter from a disloyal husband was an added bonus.

Every time you heard them, your hands turned into fist, and you could barely fight the rage from clouding your expression. You had not done the thing everyone was accusing you of, and yet were being judged for it all the same. Daemon, too, did nothing to correct them. Not even when the most scandalous rumors surfaced, saying you would wed him with a child already in your belly.

You had not let him touch you like that. You were not as stupid as everyone thought. As a daughter to a single mother, you knew all about scorn and loneliness. You would never doom a child to your same fate.

The day doesn’t pick up from there. The feast to follow feels just as empty, and you turn down an insincere offer from your father to be housed here. You cannot wait to run back to your brothers.

It would be impolite to leave so soon, though. Lord Corlys has thrown this feast in your honor and is making the lords and members of his household present you with gifts. You admit it is a clever strategy, to avoid having to spend money in your trousseau. Hence, you need to stay a little bit longer.

You get handed new quills and parchments, alongside a new seal for your correspondence by Laena.

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.” It says a lot about the company you are in that it is the most polite greeting you receive all afternoon.

When it all begins to become a bit much, and your eyes are stinging after a lady said you had no grace and no manners, you decide you need to run. But when you are stepping a foot outside the hall, Daemon appears by your side.

“Rather improper, isn’t it?” He asks, grabbing your hand in his. You try to jerk away, but he merely interlaces your fingers together. “A lady cannot quite run around unescorted as you used to.”

“Leave me alone, Daemon.” You say, still trying to free yourself. The last thing you want today is to deal with him.

“You heard all those people. I do not belong here.” You look up at him, fighting your tears. You feel like such a whiny child. What happened to you is something that only happens in fairytales, it's the stuff songs are written about. No bastard girl gets acknowledged by her father and marries a Prince.

“Who cares what those cunts think?” Daemon scoffs. “You are above them. You always were.”

You bloom under his praise. There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. There is nothing you would like more.

“I never wanted to be a Lady.” You lower your eyes, embarrassed at the admission. You feel ungrateful for saying it, but it’s the truth. You had never imagined a home away from your siblings. The marriage will mean you will be taken away from them, and only see them if Daemon feels like it.

You do not own a dragon, after all. And you aren’t too sure Allyn and him will be the best good brothers.

He grabs you by the waist and gives a little tug.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

MARRYING YOU HAD never been in his plans. Yet, when he saw you walk down the aisle, dressed in Velaryon blue and looking awkward, Daemon was sure you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You were not a lady or a princess, yet you and him were alike. Birds of the same feather. For the first time, Daemon could say there was someone who understood him.

Daemon had never been poor, nor had he been born a bastard, but he too, had lost his parents while young. He, too, was considered too wild by his brother. And he knew all about of trying to fulfill an impossible task while honoring the legacy of his ancestors.

Laena was a mere child by your side. Her innocence and Valyrian looks had appealed to him once, but after meeting you, Daemon knew no other woman could compare. There was an edge to you, beneath all the innocence and beauty. A fire that burned bright in your belly, and could not be quenched. An anger that both amazed him and scared him, and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

You would have been great if you had been born into his house. Great but terrible.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t have. Perhaps, if you had grown acknowledged by your father, you would have not been the lost little girl who dreamed of recognition and slept lulled by the sea. You wouldn’t have grown into the woman who got the recognition and understood she did not need it at all.

A shame that recognition had come at a price so steep. Recognition in exchange for rumors of dishonor, whispers of the shame of your existence and the shame you had brought on yourself. These cunts did not see you for what you were. Not some malicious creature, some silver tongued temptress. No. You were determined and fierce, brave and true. You honored your house’s words. Your ancestors would have been proud.

Yes, Daemon decided. He would marry you and take you away from here, from this horrible little island where people behaved like they were above you. The cunts should be honored that you were even looking their way.

The distance might even help those stubborn brothers of yours to forget all about the way Daemon had become part of their family. When the grudge was forgotten, he would bring you back, less the eldest skewered him alive.

Not because Daemon feared Allyn. Of course not. But because killing him would be such a nuisance, and you would cry, and… Ugh. He couldn’t stand to see you cry.

You were about to burst into tears right now. He could tell. Daemon grabbed your hands in his, uncaring he was breaking protocol, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“We can still marry on the beach, with only Caraxes as witness.” He whispers, gently. “Hells, I would prefer it. We can run still. The Septon has not spoken.”

You laugh, a bit watery.

“Addam and Allyn would drop dead, thinking we will not be wed.”

“Allyn looks like he would attempt murder.”

“Attempt?”

“I doubt he would succeed.”

Daemon's mouth opens and closes.

“You little..!”

You laugh, but before he can lunge and throw you over his shoulder, the Septon clears his throat.

“If the two of you are done..?”

“Just get to the part where you handfast us.” Daemon says, giving him his best lecherous expression. “I have many things I wish to show my new bride.”

And there were. He had taken many of your firsts already, he wasn’t about to stop now.

#HAHAHAHAHAH #im insane #daemon fanfic #loVEEEE

196 notes · View notes

tinylilacbun · 2 days ago

Note

I just had a thought for your new series.

Everyone in the obx kinda knows how Luke is but noone says anything. Maybe JJ shows up to babysit and he had a bruise/black eye or cut basically an obvious injury and toddler readers parents recognise what it's from and invite him to spend a few nights in their guest room under the guise of babysitting because they know he won't accept help

Feel free to completely ignore this, I literally just woke up and had the thought so I thought I'd share- :3

-a very shy mutual lol 😅

Omg hi my sweet moot!! Hope you like this :3

You're sitting on the living room sofa, wriggling your feet as you watch Bluey on the tv while eating your snack, occasionally seeing your parents pass by.

They're getting ready for their date and instead of whining and crying for them to stay you're giddy with excitement and can't wait for JJ finally to arrive.

You gasp when you hear the doorbell ring, jumping off the couch to run towards the front door barely reaching the handle you open it quickly, squealing at the sight of JJ.

JJ chuckles, your adorable face distracting him from the throbbing pain from the lingering bruises and cuts on his face that you luckily haven't noticed yet as you hug his legs.

"Oh, JJ, honey good you're here. We're almost ready to go. She already had dinner but still needs her bath before going to sleep." Your mother tells him as she puts on her coat while your father puts on his shoes.

"No problem, we'll manage this, huh?" He grins down at you.

She turns to face him, her smile fading at the state the teenager is in. Obviously your parents know about his father and the probably bad environment JJ is living in, your mother's heart aching at the sight before him.

JJ has a forming bruise on his cheek and cuts on his eyebrow and his bottom lip, but still smiling down at the little princess that's clinging to his legs. Your parents share a look, already figuring what must have happened.

"Hey, buddy, um we really got a lot on our plate the next few days and wanted to ask if you would maybe sleep here in our guest room for the rest of the week? It would really take some pressure from our shoulders knowing our baby is taken care of." Your father asks him, grabbing the car keys from their designed bowl.

"Uh, yea...sure." He says, not noticing the true intent of the request but agrees nonetheless, he could never say no to spending time with you. "You heard that, cupcake? We're gonna have a sleepover."

"Yay! C'mon Jay! I gots to show you m'new critter family!" You squeak, pulling at his hand to drag him to your room.

As soon as you both disappear from their sight your mother sighs. "I'm worried about him."

Your father nods, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it. "Me too. But we can't do much since he won't accept it. I'm glad he agreed to stay, tho. Now, come on, let's give him some time to relax here."

You're happily showing him your new calico critter set that you got after your dentist appointment. Introducing each critter to him, you both sitting on the fluffy carpet of your room.

"And dis S'Jay 'cause he reminds me of you!" You smile, handing him the tiny figure, looking up at his face for his reaction you furrow your brows in confusion.

Without thinking you reach up to touch his cheek and JJ winces, gently taking your wrist and pulling it away from his face. "Don't touch it please, um...it-"

"Hurts? You got boo-boos?" You ask curiously and he nods, a small smile on his face at your innocent question.

"Yeah, but it's fine." He says, watching how you rush out of your room.

He gets up from the ground and follows after you, seeing you just as you're about to enter the bathroom and as he's about to enter you rush back out and bump into his legs, JJ grabbing your shoulders to keep you steady with a chuckle. "Careful there. Watcha got there?"

You motion for him to come closer and he leans down, not expecting you to suddenly place a bandaid on his cheek, grabbing another one from the colorful package that you place over the cut on his eyebrow.

JJ's face softens at the action, picking you up when it seems you were done with nursing his wounds. "Thank you..."

You smile at him brightly, leaning closer to press a kiss on each bandaid. "Kisses make me feels better."

His heart almost explodes at your cute gesture, letting you tuck your face in his neck as you wrap your arms around it he could feel a single tear slip down his cheek, grateful for having someone who doesn't question him or tells him that he should get help and do something about his dad.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @flora-eva

#little kook princess au #babysitter!jj maybank drabble #toddler!reader

85 notes · View notes

qwerty019283ytrewq · 22 hours ago

Text

Parental custod

✨️Imagine✨️

Max rolls his eyes when he sees Jack making his way towards him during the drivers parade.

Don't get him wrong. He's glad that there are so many rookies on the starting grid, but he would trade them all for one particular person. It doesn't help that Jack looks too much like Daniel, with his accent, a little hairstyle, and a big nose. The wrong nose, the wrong hair, the wrong Australian that Max wants to spend time with.

"Hi Max!" says Jack, with too much enthusiasm and an awkward smile. "You...Listen, I'm sorry to bother you, but could you help me?"

He looks like Max is his only and last option. He could have turned to anyone. Lewis would have helped him for sure, and so would Fernando, but Jack came to Max. Max sighs, apparently not so well hiding his fatigue and unwillingness to help the Australian because Jack's facial expressions change. Now he looks like a scared kid in a mall who turned to a security because he got lost.

"Ya...I didn't want to bother you, but... Daniel doesn't answer my calls, and it seems that I write to him too much..."

Yes, he really is a lost child... a child whose "father" did not come to his first competition. Max's thoughts go back to the days when he himself followed Daniel, looking for every opportunity to talk to him, touch him. He was teased, called a "duckling," but Max was too blinded by this sunny man to somehow protect himself from attacks.

"How can I help you?"

✨️✨️✨️

Max returns to his room after the race. He collapsed on the sofa and hoped to sit in silence for a couple of minutes before having to return to the circus, but the silence was broken by the ringing of his phone. After seeing the caller's name, he can't ignore it.

"Your 'son'..." - Max puts emphasis on the word 'son' - "...the whole parade of drivers terrorized me." He says before Daniel has time to greet him.

"Come on, you look cute in all these photos," Max hears him smirking, but there's something else to it. Max doesn't give himself time to think about it. "And judging by the comments, you're his "dad." Have you called Seb yet? Did he give you a couple of tips for a novice grid dad? I'm sure he knows a couple of great places that serve the best ice cream after a crappy race."

Max blames fatigue after the race and jet lag for his next words.

"We could share custody of Jack, you know? In the end, yes, he has your nose, but the hair is definitely mine."

There is a silence that Max dreamed of, but which he now hates. He hears Daniel's short laugh, wants to know what's in his head right now, hates not hearing him, hates not seeing him most of all.

"Um...you know...such issues are worth discussing personally. Maybe...Maybe you'll come to my farm and we'll... distribute our parental responsibilities?"

"Just buy a normal beer, I won't drink that donkey urine anymore."

"Come on, it can't be worse than sweaty champagne from a shoe."

#daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #max/daniel #maxiel #mv1 #dr3 #somebody write this please #rookie on tumblr

64 notes · View notes

abbysimsfun · 2 days ago

Text

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 94 (The Body in Brindleton Bay)

cw: dead body and a blood puddle, discolored / shadowed by the lighting, just to be less graphic tbh. For that reason I also don't zoom in on the body that closely, but text mentions who it is and there's no trick! That is who it is, even without a close-up!

Conrad met his young, eager partner, Zion Spangler, at the docks. His last partner, Josephine, had stuck around a few years longer than planned, but she was so close to retirement she deferred almost all her field work to Conrad and Zion. The sergeant liked the newly-minted detective's ambition and his instinct, and they approached the crime scene with caution.

A body laid at the edge of the pier in a pool of blood, already slightly washed away by the heavy, wet coastal snow of Brindleton Bay.

"The owners of the Salty Paw said someone knocked on their door about a body by their patio tables, but everyone was inside because of the cold and no one saw anything," explained Zion.

"Did you find any clues at the scene?"

"None. The snow washed away every footprint and fingerprint we might possibly find."

Zion got down on his knees to brush through the snow surrounding the body in search of clues. But Conrad took one look at the victim and knew exactly who they needed to look for. "Any ID on him?"

"Everything. Even his money. Vic's name is Jameson Bower."

No it wasn't. Not really. "Run that name through the database back at the station. Make sure he doesn't have any aliases, check his record."

Conrad could have offered to do it himself to cover his tracks. But he wanted to mentor Zion to be as good a detective as he could be, and he knew what the body of Jimmy Stefano represented. Surveying the grisly scene, his heart raced.

When Conrad backed out of the search for Rafa, Ximena called his bluff. This was his jurisdiction. He couldn't ignore a dead body connected to the cartel in Brindleton Bay. He didn't know whether Ximena wanted to hurt the cartel or bring him down, but she wouldn't let him walk away.

He'd all but asked for this when he agreed to meet her in this very spot months earlier, hoping he could get her to disappear by giving her what she wanted, helping her brother in the process. But Ximena hated to go quietly, and if he'd ignored her she wouldn't have let him be, either. It probably always would have come to this, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow.

He called Heather to check in. "Did you get to your parents'?"

"We're fine, Conrad. Lavender's asleep again and I'm just hanging out with Sammy." She tilted the camera on her phone to show off River and Cass' infant son, quietly drinking from a bottle. "Is the body related to the cartel?"

"It is."

"What are you going to tell your boss?"

"The truth."

"You could lose your job for sneaking around."

"Wouldn't I deserve it? I had to come clean to you first, and now it's time to come clean to everyone else."

"Conrad, I love you," she said. "I'm so mad at you for lying to me that I don't even know what else to say right now, but I need to be mad at you in one piece. We can talk more if you make it here this weekend."

"I love you, too." Zion called him then to return to the precinct. "I have to go."

As much as it burned to leave their conversation on that note, Ximena had forced his hand. If he didn't come clean to his coworkers and his boss, he'd lose his job. He might, anyway, but he couldn't move in shadows anymore.

With the scene documented and cleared and the body moved to the morgue, Conrad and Zion returned to the station. They worked through the night, and by morning it was obvious the victim was Jimmy Stefano, a low-level member of Los Tigres de Selva, one of the most violent cartels in Simlandia. "Do you think it's a new turf war?"

Conrad shook his head. "I don't think Los Tigres has operated out of Brindleton Bay for years."

Zion cocked his brow in confusion. "Well, what stopped them? They operate just fine out of everywhere else."

"They don't need Brindleton Bay when they've got hold of the ports in San Myshuno," he said, but his attention turned when their captain arrived. The man barely said hello, immediately shutting himself inside his office. Conrad didn't know if it was just that he'd had to come to work on a Saturday, or this specific case, but he had to come clean.

He knocked on the door. With a look, the captain waved him inside. "Sargent, you look tired." He laughed as if he'd made a joke.

"Been a long night."

The captain's expression changed. "Go ahead and shut the door, Sargent."

Conrad sat with an anxious expression, knees together, eyes down like he was about to be reprimanded in grade school. "About the docks victim, sir. I knew him."

The captain nodded plainly. "I read your file when I took over. But you're not the first cop who turned toward the law when they could have easily gone the other way."

"The thing is, I've been working a case under the table for a while now. I found Jimmy Stefano and filed a report against Ximena Bonilla."

"After everything done to bail you out and send you through the academy, you thought it was a good idea to investigate the cartel runner you once dated? For what reason?"

"She found my address, scared my fiancee. Ximena told me her brother was missing, and he and I were close. He was so young, and I wanted to help him."

"You didn't want to help San Myshuno PD? Ximena Bonilla's brother is a wanted man..."

"I would have told him to turn himself in and work a plea," he insisted. "My old precinct would look good, and I hoped Rafa could turn his life around with a little encouragement from someone other than his sister."

"Are you still in touch?"

"No, sir. I told her two days ago I was done searching for Rafa because I thought she was trying to trick me into investigating the cartel. Blocked her number. After the body showed up I tried the number I had but it's been disconnected."

"So she's the prime suspect."

"I think she might've figured out Jimmy talked to me and she wanted to get rid of him. If she didn't kill Jimmy herself - and she might have - I think she ordered the hit to draw me into an investigation against the cartel that could get me killed and endanger my family."

"Do you think she's working with Los Tigres?"

Conrad shrugged. "I don't know. I did a bit of digging and it looks like the cartel itself might be in a bit of disarray. Power vacuum after the murder of one of their higher ups (go on Frida!), so a turf war seems unlikely. I think the safest way to do this is to treat Ximena like a lone wolf. The cartel's not even supposed to be operating in Brindleton Bay these days."

"Since George Brindleton pulled his guys from the ports, they could have moved back in."

Conrad's stomach flipped. "George Brindleton?"

"George Brindleton lost his boats, but he didn't lose his security business. Pulled his men just before he left for Sulani. Said he was cutting costs at the port during the dead season, but I think he's just trying to remind us how important he is after his son went to prison. We upped patrol to try to deal with the lack of security down there, but his guys don't abide by any constitutional rights...I don't admit this outside these walls, but Brindleton's ports have always run better under private security."

"Was this before or after the restraining order I took out on him for Heather and the kids?"

The captain excused Conrad to think, soon calling him back with Zion and another officer who typically dealt with the press. "This is the plan. Our suspect is Ximena Bonilla, but we don't announce it. We look for her, or her brother, and no one else. We say the investigation is ongoing until we've found one or both of them. And Spangler, you're taking point on this one."

"Why me? Gordon's the sergeant."

"Gordon's too close to this one. I want him focused on looking for Rafa Bonilla, not Ximena, but he'll cooperate with you and help behind the scenes. She might try to reach out to him, and if she does, you'll be the first to know. And if you're not, he's a suspect, too." They nodded with understanding. "And Gordon? No more bullshit under the table or I'll put you on leave and find a way not to pay you."

Having worked through the night, Conrad relinquished his files to his mentee, but he left the precinct with a sense of unease. He still had a job, and he could still search for Rafa without needing to hide anything from his coworkers, but while Ximena was unaccounted for he would scarcely be able to relax.

After a nap in the break room, Conrad prepared to drive to Henford-on-Bagley and face his fiancee. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: I reinstalled TOOL to place the body. The blood isn't placed underneath the victim properly, but I was working at the edge of what was visible in a fully zoomed out screen, and for my second ever placement of a build/buy item and first ever placement of the teleporter off a lot in-game, I'm happy enough with the fact it looks like he bled out from the knees. 🤷 Maybe he did, I don't know, I didn't get detailed about the condition of the body because it doesn't advance the plot. Who and why is more important than how.

WCIF Poses & CC? @simmerianne93's Injured poses pack #1, which is a great set - so cinematic. One of the injured poses has the victim with eyes closed and looks a little like EA's curled-up death animation to me, and that's the one I used. And Blood on the Floor from the There Will Be Blood set by Lore from SimsRebelCreators. Several swatches (including red!) and different spatter patterns if you need some blood for your storytelling!

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #brindleton bay

60 notes · View notes

son1c · 12 hours ago

Text

i had a dream last night about the sonic movies. they were different, though. instead of staying put once he lands on earth, he keeps moving. he travels from place to place, always out of sight, staying safe with his speed and momentum. he gains a real appreciation for earth's environment this way, since he's basically "roughing it" through north america's many biomes.

he manages to go undetected until he's about 10 years old. his discovery happens like this: he's tramping through the woods like he always does. he's pretty far in there--don't want to risk running into any hikers, right?--but there's someone else there. at first, he thinks it's just a bird or bobcat making some noise. so, he turns the page in the stolen "borrowed" library book he's reading and ignores it, but it doesn't stop.

he closes the book. strains his ears. now that he's listening harder, the noise almost sounds like someone crying.

of course, sonic has his 1 golden rule: don't let anyone see you. he's stayed true to that for all these years, and he's not going to break that rule now... but what's the harm in a little investigating? it'll just be a quick peek.

as it turns out, the noise wasn't coming from a bird or a bobcat; it was the faint crying of a human kid. sonic can tell even from a distance that the kid is hurt--there's no way an ankle is supposed to bend that way--but he's also hesitant to get any closer. what if this is a trap? isn't it a little suspicious that there's a kid all the way out here? and, most importantly: does he really want to break his golden rule?

well, yeah. there's no one else out here but him and the kid. help isn't coming--if there's gonna be a hero in this situation, then there's no other choice. so, sonic steps out of the bush and toward the kid with his hands raised in what he hopes is a peaceful gesture. his heart is beating a million miles a minute, but he's not scared, not really. his entire being aches with this opportunity; the opportunity to shed his years-long loneliness and make a connection, if only for a moment.

the kid hears a twig snap under sonic's feet and stiffens, her sobs catching in her throat. in a trembling voice, she asks, who's there?

sonic pauses. he's barely 10 feet from her now. looking directly at her, with nothing in between them but air. and yet, it's like the kid doesn't see him. her eyes dart around, searching, but always jumping right past sonic. trying to keep it casual, sonic replies, your hero has arrived.

sonic holds his breath. the girl looks confused, her brow furrowing, but at the same time, her shoulders relax. under her breath, she mumbles something that might be, a kid? then, she looks directly at sonic... kind of. her head turns toward the direction his voice came from, but her eyes don't focus on him. what are you doing way out here?

you know, sonic says, a smile tugging at his lips despite the anxiety coiling in his stomach, i was just about to ask you the same thing.

the girl frowns. she turns away from sonic as a stormy expression overtakes her face. none of your beeswax, she replies, but her venom is halfhearted. she's clearly hurting right now.

tentatively, sonic steps closer. his golden rule is beginning to slip from his mind. ooo-kay, he says slowly, keep your secrets. now, sonic kneels down in front of the girl. if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch her, and it took every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from doing just that.

the girl turns toward sonic again. this time, her eyes don't slide past him like he's made of slippery syrup. she squints, her nose scrunching up as she appears to focus very, very hard on what's barely a foot in front of her face. then, finally, she asks, you just gonna stand there and stare?

sonic grins. hey! it's not every day i get to stage a rescue operation in the woods. i wanna savor the feeling of being a forest ranger. sonic pauses, the girl's shallow breaths bringing him back to reality. he notices the old backpack clutched in the girl's hands and asks, what's in the bag? please tell me it's a smartphone. preferably of the apple variety. but i'd accept a blackberry too--those are cool. either way, we can use it to phone home. you know, like in E.T.--

i'm not an alien! the girl snaps. besides, i don't have any home left to call. she tightens her grip around the backpack as her eyes narrow into tiny slits. when she does this, sonic notices the deep, dark circles under her eyes. either rescue me, or go away. i don't care.

sonic matches the look of angry despair on the girl's face with one of stubborn optimism. i thought you'd never ask, he says. then, he pulls an old t-shirt out of his quills and tears it into strips. alright, so, he starts to say as he reaches for the girl's twisted ankle, i've watched almost all of grey's anatomy, and the first two seasons of house m.d., which means i'm basically a doctor. right?

the girl blinks. no?

sonic stops, his fingertips millimeters away from her bloody sock. you have a better idea?

the girl bites her lip. no.

great! i'll be fast. promise. true to his word, sonic wraps the girl's ankle in a flash. then, he says, yeah-heah-heah! now we're talkin'. if i didn't know any better, i'd say that was a professional patch job!

the girl loosens her death-grip on the backpack and slowly wiggles her toes. it hurts, but not as much as before. not bad, she mutters.

beaming, sonic offers her his hand. but she doesn't react at all, so sonic slowly lowers his hand. then, he scratches his head. he's missing something, but what? he looks around, scanning the dirt-and-leaf-covered forest floor for any clues until eventually he finds it: a white cane poking out of a nearby bush, caught in the root of a particularly gnarled tree.

forgetting himself for a moment, sonic uses his super speed to grab the cane before returning to the girl's side. he goes unpunished though, as all she does in response is widen her eyes and ask, what was that?

just the wind, sonic says, a little cheekily. then, he tells her about what he found. the girl snatches the cane from him rather rudely, but sonic lets it go without comment. then, because she's still sitting on the ground, he asks, need a hand?

and then the dream ended. i think it was pretty epic because a visually impaired companion would mean sonic could have a friend without letting his secret (i.e. the fact that he exists) get out. he'd just have to be veryyyy careful about not touching her or letting her touch him. cuz while he can explain some things, like his arms are fuzzy cuz he's wearing a... ""fur coat""... and his hands are big cuz he's still ""growing into them""... other things, like his quills, are a bit harder to explain.

i'm also not entirely sure what her deal was but i know she was a runaway orphan. her family died tragically etc etc. i was imagining a house fire. the flames of disaster, as it were. idk.

#long text post #the movies have infiltrated my subconscious. i wish they were better than they are.

50 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 14 hours ago

Note

genuine question about some identities

why do you think theres so much hate for people who are afab/amab and are also trans women/men, those who are cistrans and multigender people?

ive noticed that when you tell certain queer people you'd think wouldn't be exclusionist that your gender is funky and you're trans bc of it, they begin to use your assigned sex and your biology against you because "you can't be a trans woman if you have a uterus, ur just feminine".

its the same argument as conservatives make it. why is there so much hate?

ppl don't acknowledge my individual genders but instead see how they work alongside each other. ppl don't see me as a trans woman when my gender is woman but will acknowledge me as a trans man because of my sex traits.

these are some very important questions to ask, i appreciate you for sending this ask

i honestly think more people are becoming indoctrinated into transmedicalist and gender critical thinking without realizing it, and it's becoming dangerous. people want to inherently label an afab transfem and/or an amab transmasc as liars, people who are spitting in the faces of others, and shouldn't be a part of our community. other people make assumptions about others' experiences based on their own and don't understand that there is an entire world outside of their perspective, and that world is full of experiences they have no hope of understanding, but can simply accept.

i've gotten a lot of questions about whether afab trans women and amab trans men can exist, it's definitely a hot button issue right now, and i agree with you. if you ask me, afab trans women and amab trans men deserve to have a platform to speak from. if someone genuinely believes their identity is trans no matter what their AGAB is- who the hell am i to stop them? it's important for afab trans women and amab trans men to not speak over their other siblings and try to speak for what it's like to be intersex or an amab trans woman/afab trans man. but that doesn't mean that these people can't exist- they deserve the right to talk about their experience, because it exists alongside the experiences of amab trans women and afab trans men. they're not fighting with each other, they're unique experiences that belong under the same umbrella.

at the end of the day, someone standing there being an afab trans woman, an amab trans man, or a cistrans person is not hurting anyone. the identity itself will hurt no one. ignorance about what other trans people experience is dangerous, and so is speaking over others, but these identities in and of themselves are not harming anyone. it is very possible to go "i don't understand how that works, but if that is how they identify, then i will respect that."

between people becoming indoctrinated into radical feminism and people who are proudly adopting gender critical politics, there is a schism in our communities that don't need to be there. people think they need to "weed out the fakes" in order for us to be accepted by cishet society, which is just not how any of this works. we can't cast aside the queers who are "too weird" or "not really queer" in order to try to make the rest of the community look legitimate

this community has always been here for people whose identities don't line up with the cisheteronormative binary. it doesn't matter what someone's AGAB is- i mean, isn't that the point of the trans community? are we not the "i don't give a shit about your AGAB, i want to know who you really are" community? it's become honestly scary to see how focused the queer community has become on AGAB. people are utterly obsessed with trying to figure out the AGABs of strangers in order to deny them access to queer spaces or kick them out of spaces they rightfully belong in

and it bothers me deeply that people police the identities of multigender people beyond belief. it's like having 1 trans identity is okay but if you dare to have more than one, you're not really queer or whatever. cistrans people, multigender people who are cis, trans wo/men who consider both their manhood and womanhood trans no matter what their AGAB is, transfemmasc/transmascfem people... these identities belong and yet people proudly and gladly wake up every day to do conservatives' jobs for them.

whenever you police another queer person's identity, no matter what your intention is, good, bad or something else- you are doing conservatives' jobs for them. you are not preserving our community. you are not keeping identities sacred or safe or whatever the hell. you're gladly sucking up to our oppressors and spreading their propaganda. it's disturbing how people don't realize this

thank you for taking the time to send this ask, i agree with you 100%. this behavior has gotten out of control and it's time for people to wake the fuck up and realize they've been indoctrinated into transmedicalism, radical feminism, and being gender critical. this isn't the "right" way to behave. it's antithetical to the very foundations of the queer community.

#asks #answers #afab trans woman #amab trans man #amab trans men #amab transmasc #amab transmasculine #afab transfem #afab transfemme #afab transfeminine #multigender #cistrans

41 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 days ago

Note

Hello, Miss Raven!

I hope you are having a nice day ^^

I was wondering since you don't have a Yuusona, have you ever thought making your own Yuusona like what traits, gender and personality would you have for them?

And how would their relationship be with Miss Raven would they be friends?

Sorry if I'm asking something you don't feel comfortable answering just feel free to ignore it. I'm enjoying your work and I'm new here so I hope I wasn't a bother! Love your work 🫶

I’ve thought about making a Yuu of my own on more than one occasion. However, I’ve never been a fan of the roles designated for self-inserts… It’s hard to commit. Even if I were to make my Yuu less of a Yuusona (ie just Me but in the Twst world) and more of an OC (an entity totally separate from myself), I always lose motivation somewhere along the way.

That’s of course not to disparage anyone who has a Yuu though!! I just personally find it a struggle to design around a somewhat predetermined identity. There’s less freedom in a Yuu because they have to meet certain parameters in order to “make sense” in the story. For example, Yuus are generally from our ordinary world and magicless. I don’t like having those limitations (and though I could go against it, I’d refrain in order to not break canon lore). That’s why my first Twst OC is very far removed and exists as her own thing.

For fun, here’s some of my scraped Yuu concepts, including doodles. They're not really "Yuusonas" though, more like original characters that happen to be filing in for Yuu:

Yuu 1: Mad Scientist Yuu

The earliest iteration.

This Yuu is ~16, male. Considered nonbinary at one point too.

The notes in the image basically describe him. Germaphobe, has lots of band-aids (because he is accident-prone), constantly tired + has dark undereye circles due to excess stress and lack of sleep.

Frequently seen in face mask, lab coat, and latex gloves.

“Don’t bother me” energy. Very curt with people and just wants to be left alone.

Claims to be an egalitarian because he “hates everyone equally”.

As the story went on, he would have learned to lighten up and work with others too. Basically, the same arc the NRC students have.

I didn't think too deeply about what his relationship with Miss Raven would be like... Most likely, he just dislikes and avoids her like he does the rest of the NRC population.

Yuu 2: “Robert Philip the Divorce Lawyer” Yuu

Twisted from the divorce lawyer love interest in Enchanted 😭 YES, I SAID WHAt i SAiD…

This Yuu is 35ish, male.

Has a very girly young daughter back home. She is basically his motivation to return.

His ex-wife left him. (YES I AM KEEPING THIS LORE.) Has sworn off love since then but is dating another woman for practical reasons.

Very anti-romance and anti-fairy tales.

Somewhat grumpy.

Logical, pragmatic. Some would say calculating.

Constantly arguing with Crowley because he knows his rights and how many laws Crowley is violating/j

He wouldn’t have been a student but more like a faculty member and father figure to the NRC students. By being in Twisted Wonderland, he helps to mentor the boys as though they were his own children, and the boys in turn teach him about magic, imagination, and believing even in seemingly impossible things.

Had an idea about him finding true love in Twisted Wonderland too; this would basically be his Giselle. Maybe a kind lady from Foothill Town??

Robert!Yuu was going to be sort of a secondary father figure to Miss Raven. Crowley is her real guardian, but he's usually not fulfilling the typical duties of a guardian so Robert!Yuu has to step up. In a lot of ways, Miss Raven reminds him of an older version of his own daughter so he has a soft spot for her. He also tries his best to advise her on life and boys. I imagine that he and Miss Raven have that Hades and Megara scene where she's gushing about Hercules and Hades goes, "Please. HE'S A GUY!!"

Yuus 3 and 4: Twin Yuus

The bangs they have are borrowed from Robert!Yuu because I liked them and was too lazy to try something new out—

They’re brother and sister, both 17. I wanted to play around with the concept of multiple Yuus in Twisted Wonderland at the same time. Twins because they are supposed to be “a mirror image” of the other.

The theme these two would explore is gender, particularly expectations vs reality.

They come from an old money family; each twin has very traditionally gendered expectations placed on them but their secret is they swap places and pretend to be the other twin so as to get out of their own responsibilities, as the girl is tomboyish and the boy is more feminine.

They continue this act in Twisted Wonderland in order to "protect" one another, but their relationship becomes strained with each OB. For example, the male twin would become increasing protective, feeling like it is his responsibility to keep his sister safe. This would earn him his sister's ire since he never smothered her before. The twins would eventually reconcile and come to reach a middle ground regarding one another's expression of their gender and how that informs their behavior toward one another.

In another variation, only the male-presenting twin would be isekai'd to Twisted Wonderland. It would later be revealed that "he" is actually a "she". The explanation that she provides for acting masculine is to rebel against the expectations of her family (who had arranged a marriage for her prior to her being isekai'd).

... But then there's ANOTHER twist 🤡 and it turns out that her "masculine self" closely resembles her actual twin brother (who is now deceased). The idea is that she partly acts this way as a trauma response and relies a lot on "speaking" with her brother for advice on how to move forward in Twisted Wonderland. Like, she has pretend conversations with him in her head.

Her character arc would have been centered around detaching herself from the expectations placed on her, as well as learning to let her brother go and become her own person.

ASDSBDABSDOSA I feel like Miss Raven would be so confused trying to keep track of the twins and/or the single twin's dramatic backstory. She'd be pretty cordial with them though! Maybe even tries to counsel them when they're fighting or closed off from others.

Yuu 5: Ara Ara Onee-san Yuu (WIP name is Sumire -> Suu -> her variation of “Yuu”, lol)

The best designed one, probably.

The only one with a proper name, too :v

She's 18 and female!

Started off as a joke between me and a friend. We were talking about how we think many of the first year students would be into "onee-san" types.

As you may or may not be able to tell by the design, she's meant to be a caring big sister character. Sweet, patient, and motherly. Even gardens and bakes! The type you know you can always go to when you need advice or comforting.

YEAH I GAVE HER DEAD ANIME MOM HAIR, SO WHAT???? The bangs swooping over one side of her face gives her sort of a mysterious air!

She looks very kind (and that's because she is), but she is also very air-headed. Like she'll pick up a worm and hold it in your face and ask you if you think it's cute.

Has a secret sadistic side. Not malicious and won't go out of her way to cause problems, but she'll gush about how she thinks you being frustrated or struggling with a task is "cute".

The arc Sumire would go on is one revolving around her status as the "older sister" of the group and finding a "pure" way of loving her friends. There's nothing wrong with having that role, but her issue is that she relies on it to be her personality and often gives away too much of herself at the cost of her own mental and emotional wellbeing.

It's like... codependency. She loves you because (whether she knows it or not) she NEEDS validation from others. And because she wants that validation so much, she forces herself to be someone she's not at her core. Someone agreeable and sweet. That becomes very taxing for her.

If she feels as though someone is going to leave her, she'll either love bomb or have a mental breakdown in private. TO BE CLEAR, this is not healthy behavior and she's supposed to grow out of this obsessiveness over the course of the main story.

By that logic, she's more manipulative and selfish than she seems at a glance. I guess you could describe her true personality as being yandere or even menhara?? But she usually masks it well.

Miss Raven has a history of falling for pretty smiles, so I think she'd also be a victim of this one. She would look up to Sumire as like "the peak lady" and the big sis she's always wanted. REALLY feeding into her secret ego there, Miss Raven... and Sumire, being herself, would just giggle and pat her on the head to keep that toxic relationship going.

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #Yuu #twisted wonderland oc #Raven Crowley #notes from the writing raven #question #Hades #Megara #Enchanted #Robert Philip

35 notes · View notes

azaharinflames · 2 days ago

Note

trying to interact with the fandom outside of Tumblr is so hard. you find like-minded people and enjoy talking to them and before you know it, a toxic buddie will slide in out of nowhere to try and ruin your day. Instagram comments, YouTube comments, the comments of your moots on Twitter or wherever, nowhere is safe from a BoB coming in and running their mouths.

i'm so tired of it. i just want to ship my silly blorbos but they seem to need every single person who's ever heard of 9-1-1 to subscribe to their doctrine, and if I have to see one more, passive-aggressive, smug little "hope that helps!" I'm going to lose my mind.

sorry for the rant but I needed to write this somewhere and I hope you don't mind.

Hi, Nonnie! Thanks for the ask

Listen, this is the perfect space to rant. I welcome it and I for sure don't mind you chose my blog to rant - happy to be of service, in fact.

And I get it and I understand what you say 100%. To be quite honest, it is one of the things that frustrates me the most, because we make sure to stick to our space, keep the discussions here, and not go borrowing trouble. And yet, that side of the fandom will actively seek conflict, will diminish our feelings, and will try to ridicule us, constantly. It's frustrating, and exhausting.

But you know what? They just want attention, that's it. They crave it. And we've made a point of ignoring them and keeping it in our space, which is why some of them actively try to invade it whilst also pretending to be all innocent about it. I've learned that the best thing to do is to ignore and move on. They don't deserve our attention, and they sure as hell don't deserve our time.

That being said - again, I fully get what you're saying. They believe they are always in the right and play dumb when it's proven otherwise, and they truly think they are morally superior even when they're textbook bullies.

So trust me, you're not alone in your feelings about this.

My inbox is always open for this type of rants, or any rants, for venting, and for discussing (911 or whatever)

Take care <3

#911 fandom #bucktommy #anti buddie #anti buddie fandom #i know some of y'all are genuinely nice #so trust me i do not put you all in the same bag #but i'm not gonna risk it and have one of them here #anon ❣️

29 notes · View notes

lizzie-queenofmeigas · 15 hours ago

Text

Warnings: incest

Notes: So, this chapter has a sex scene right at the beginning, but I won't post that because I have some shame. However, here is the link if you wanna read it.

As a child, Sarah used to sneak into Rafe's room. Ever since she learnt how to walk. She slept better in his bed. In his arms. She did that for years. Her mother thought it was cute. Ward not so much. And now she was doing it again.

Memories of what went down last night assaulted her when she awoke. There was a soreness between her legs, from what happened last night. Because of what she did. What Rafe did. What they did together.

She should feel terrible about it. That was a lot of moral barriers crossed in one night. But Sarah didn't really care. It didn't feel wrong. It felt right.

"Morning" Rafe mumbled sleepy, stirring behind her. He tensed, probably remembering what happened last night. What he did "Fuck. Sarah, I'm—"

"I love you" a confession finally said out loud "Like a sister, but not only like a sister" she gulped "Do you—"

"Yes" his arms tightened around her waist "I love you. I have for a while"

"How long?"

"I think I always... romantically, at least since I was seventeen. I think, it gets blurry"

Because of the alcohol and the drugs. He didn't need to say that out loud, she knew. Seventeen. That would make her fourteen. That was the summer he started drifting away from her.

Pieces and places.

"What do we do now? With this. With us"

Rafe kissed her neck, one time, two times, three times. Sarah giggled.

"Ideally? Live our lives together. Keep it a secret"

"Is that what you want?"

It was what Sarah wanted, but if he didn't...

"We'll figure it out"

Would they? How can they figure out something? Committing incest was a crime. But it was true, that so long as they had enough money they could avoid the possibility of going to prison for it. But it would be Rafe who would face the possibility of prison. And that thought terrified her.

"Yeah. I should get ready for school" immediately, Rafe let go of her. It made her feel sad. The loss of his arms around her "I'm going to the shower" she sat in bed, hugging the sheets to her body "Can you pass me my shirt?"

Rafe didn't have the same shame as her, apparently, because he didn't seem bothered as he walked around the room. He threw her the shirt with a smirk. She grabbed it, her face burning at his nakedness and her own.

"I already saw you naked, don't know why you're so shy now"

"Shut up"

Sarah put on her oversized shirt and grabbed her bikini on the way to her room. Maybe she needed to leave some of her clothes there. No, no, he was going to change rooms. She could leave clothes in the wardrobe of the new room.

"Sarah?" She froze. Wheezie was looking at her with her mouth open and her eyes, for once, not on her phone "Are you naked? What the fuck?!"

"I have to shower" she pretty much ran to her room, ignoring Wheezie's shouts and the pain she felt.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Wheezie knew. Wheezie saw. She would figure it out. And what would happen then? Her sister wouldn't tell on them, or at least she didn't think so. But what would she think of them? Would she hate them? Be disgusted by them?

Probably. We are sick and twisted.

Sarah took a quick shower, scrubbing the dried blood on her inner thighs. She had bled. Shouldn't be too surprising, it did hurt at first. But she didn't have time to dwell on that. No, time was running out. She needed to talk to Wheezie and then she had to go to school.

As she brushed her hair in front of the mirror, her gaze fell on the bite mark that decorated her neck. Fuck. She needed to hide that. Why couldn't the day be cold? If it was cold her clothes would hide it. And no one would question her for wearing a scarf.

No scarf now, but a ribbon could do. She had a couple of ribbons wide enough to cover the bite mark, and mixed with a little makeup, the mark was pretty much invisible. She hoped, at least.

It took her a couple of deep breaths and a lot of convincing herself to actually go downstairs. To face her little sister, if she was there. And she was in the kitchen, sitting on one of the stools at the table. Rafe was there too, silently eating cereal. He smiled when he saw her.

"Wow, you guys are so gross" Wheezie commented lightly. And it was that, a teasing tone, not a judgemental one. Like a kid who sees her parents kissing and thinks it's disgusting "Stop it"

"We haven't done anything"

Wheezie glared at her.

"You two have fucked, which is super gross, but it's not that"

"You don't mind?"

She shrugged "It's you two. I'm not surprised. You have always been attached by the hip, for as long as I can remember. Then you had two bad years and now you're back and more obsessed with each other than ever. I don't care, guys, just don't kiss or anything in front of me"

"Done" Rafe finished his cereal just as Sarah sat at the table, grimacing at the action. She was so fucking sore. Thankfully, Wheezie didn't notice "When did you get back anyway?"

"I don't know. Before two in the morning for sure"

"Please tell me you didn't walk back home alone"

"Nothing ever happens around here, besides I always carry the pepper spray and taser that Rose gave me. You don't?"

"I don't go to places completely alone" Sarah sighed and took a bite of her toast "Why didn't you stay at Sandra's?"

"Ugh. Her boyfriend dropped by and she pretty much kicked us out. So rude"

"That is rude" Rafe agreed with a nod. He checked the kitchen's clock before standing up "Hurry up, we have to go"

They dropped Wheezie at school first and made her swear she would never tell anyone about them. Her sister seemed to understand the importance of keeping quiet, so she agreed.

"You know, we could go to the beach later" Rafe commented, trying to sound casual. She knew him better than that "Like, just the two of us"

Sarah smiled "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Maybe I am"

"Well, then, maybe I would like that"

Sarah looked through the car window, biting her lower lip, her face flushed. They reached the high school too soon, in her opinion. She couldn't wait until it was over and she could spend all of her time with her family and friends. There were some doubts in her mind, about going to college. Rafe didn't know yet, but she'll tell him.

"See you later" Sarah leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his cheek before leaving the car.

"You two sure are close now" You have no idea. Kie pretty much dragged her inside, because Sarah was having trouble walking fast "What happened to you? Why are you walking so weirdly?"

Oh, fuck.

"I fell" yeah, that was a good excuse. A believable one "So I can't really walk at your pace"

"Oh, sorry" her friend apologized "What's with the ribbon?"

Her fingers touched the lace of the ribbon. It was pink.

"I was watching Buffy, and it gave me some fashion ideas"

Her mother used to love that show. They watched it together when she was a child.

"It looks cool. Suits you"

"Thanks"

Sarah looked at the building, dreading already all the hours she would have to spend sitting on a hard, cold chair.

Pope had never expected to befriend Sarah Cameron, much less Rafe. If whatever truce they had could be called 'friendship'. But there he was, spending at least one day a week in Tannyhill. Drinking Rafe's whiskey (he did it once and is never doing it again) and eating his food. Swimming in his pool.

He had been hesitant at first, in believing Rafe was actually sorry. That he was actually trying to change. But it seemed like he really meant it. And that was why he had gone to Tannyhill when his father received a letter. A threatening letter. He'd gone to Tannyhill because of all people he knew, Rafe was the only one who was really dangerous. And because somehow, in the past few months, Tannyhill became a place of reunion for the Pogues. They were all there.

"So, this guy wants a key, what key?" John B questioned out loud after reading his letter "It literally just says 'the key'"

"It's not very descriptive" JJ agreed "What did your dad say?"

"That he has no idea what that means" he grabbed the letter "But check this out, look at the name. C. Limbrey, doesn't it ring a bell?"

He could tell by everyone's face that it did, in fact, not rang any bells. Pope sighed.

"The captain of the Royal Merchant was a Limbrey. So, I think this has something to do with the gold"

"We know a Limbrey" Sarah commented lightly. She was sitting on her couch, a blanket over her legs and a ribbon around her neck. She was walking weird that day. She fell, or so she said. Pope didn't know what to make of it "Charlotte? I don't actually remember her name. I was like eight last time she came around"

"Carla" Rafe placed the empty glass, previously filled with whiskey, over the table "Her name's Carla. She was a cousin of our mother"

"So...you guys are Limbreys?" Kie raised her eyebrows to remark her words.

"We are Redfields" Sarah's voice was clear and precise, probably bothered by the comment somehow. Then again, he would be bothered too if someone told him he came from a family of slavers "But our maternal grandmother was a Limbrey. So, Carla is our first cousin once removed. Which means we can help you, Pope"

"Yeah, we'll call her. See what she wants"

"Would she tell you?"

Rafe shrugged "Don't know. She was close to our mother, but didn't really show up after her death. But for what I heard she is dying, been so for years"

"That is a good excuse to not show up, actually" JJ took a fistfull of chips and swallowed them. He was a messy eater "What can she do to you, anyway? We're rich now"

"Yeah. We're kooks now"

"We're new money, she's old money. She has connections we don't. Not to mention she practically owns Charleston" he explained a little exasperated.

"Thank God we don't live in Charleston"

Rafe grabbed his phone, previously left by the empty glass, and dialed a number. Pope felt anxiety moving to his heart. It was always in his body, but sometimes it was still and did nothing. Others, it moved.

"What are you doing?!"

"Calling her" he could practically the 'duh' in his voice.

"You have her number?" Sarah asked surprised, because apparently that was something important.

"So, are we gonna threaten her or..." Pope glared at JJ.

"We are not going to threaten her" John B said as if he hadn't had worst ideas. Then, he looked around "Right?"

"I'm just saying, we have guns and we are not dying. So maybe she should be scared of us and not the other way around"

Rafe rolled his eyes, and honestly he could relate to that.

"Hey, Carla. This is Rafe Cameron, yes, Bessie's son. I was wondering if you could come over to Tannyhill, to discuss something important. Business plans. I have a lot of money now, as I'm sure you know" Carla had to say something that he didn't like, because his eyes went empty and cold. That did not help his anxiety "Yeah, so sad. Poor dad. Anyway, when are you free to meet me? Tomorrow? Good. See you tomorrow, Carla"

He hang up the phone, his empty eyes only filling up with life again when they fell on Sarah. He sat by her side, their shoulders touching. It was weird. Pope didn't have any siblings, but he was pretty sure they usually didn't act the way Rafe and Sarah did.

There was something he wasn't catching.

"Dude" only by those words he could tell JJ was about to say something insensitive "You really fucking hate your dad, huh? Not judging you or anything, it's just that I have never met anyone who hates their parents so much"

"Yeah, well, he's a piece of shit"

Something sad shone in JJ's blue eyes, a clearer shade than Rafe's. Pope felt the urge to hug him.

"Happens"

"It does" Rafe's fell over Sarah's thigh, squeezing lightly. Pope didn't think anyone other than him noticed that.

He didn't know what to make of it.

#outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #sarahrafe #rafe x sarah #rafe and sarah #tw: incest

25 notes · View notes