#like i don’t mind really it’s my job to know the menu but i just cant understand why someone would do that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amywritesthings · 5 months ago

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press four for more options. | part two.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.5k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, pet names, nipple play, overstimulation, multiple orgasms Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part one. / part three. | masterlist

2-5-1-2.

It’s an easy enough combination to remember, being Christmas Day and all.

Pressing 2, 5, and 1 is easy. The final '2' makes you second guess yourself.

You’re not sure why you’re panicking. He’ll pick up.

(It’s literally his job, idiot.)

Fuck it.

Your index finger hits the '2' and the hashtag to finalize the combination.

When you hear the line go dead, you tense every muscle in your body.

No breathing.

No blinking.

Just waiting for that silky, sultry siren song to come over and confirm your bias that it’s the single sexiest voice you’ve ever heard.

—but it’s that automated lady you tried to bypass from the menu.

“Please enter your credit card number, followed by the expiration date—”

“Oh, Goddamn it,” you groan, shouldering the phone to shuffle your purse around.

Eventually after some digging, you find your card before she can continue a second loop of her payment spiel.

You can’t believe you’re legitimately putting your credit card information out there for anyone to steal.

Yet, if Annie’s been doing this for ages, then it ought to be safe.

Right?

After typing in the necessary numbers and confirming they’re correct, you’re so out of your own head that you don’t even realize the line switches from slight static to smooth nothingness.

“So you finally called back.”

“Shit!”

The buttery smooth greeting — or lack thereof — makes you nearly drop your phone.

You gasp and manage to catch the device just in time to hear a chuckle, graveled and low, on the other end.

“And just as jittery as last night.”

“Levi,” you greet breathlessly, straightening your outfit like he can actually see it.

You swear you hear a smile in his voice.

“Hey, baby.”

Oh sweet Jesus.

“Or do you prefer it when I call you Scarlet?”

You prefer literally anything he’ll give you, is what you want to say back, but you don’t want to automatically appear as though you’re ready to be walked like a dog at minute one.

“I’m… fine with ‘baby’,” you confess after a beat, focusing on the swirl of the marble counter below you just to dissociate to his voice.

“Thought so,” he arrogantly states before making this grunting noise, like he’s rolling his body in a chair to get more comfortable. “Are we talking again?"

"Is that alright?"

"You know it is." Levi's voice lifts, softer now. "And how's your Saturday so far?”

“Very mundane and super lackluster,” you admit. “I’m sure you’ve had a much more interesting day than me.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replies without skipping a beat.

“No?” you ask with a smirk. “I’d say getting people off with the sound of your voice makes for a pretty interesting job.”

“Who said it’s only just my voice?”

Son of a bitch.

The phone shifts from your right shoulder to your left.

“It isn’t?”

He makes a noncommittal hum, and it runs straight to your core. “That's confidential, sweet Scarlet."

"Boo," you joke. "You're no fun."

"You haven't seen me at my fun yet," he corrects. "Speaking of fun: how are you not hungover?"

“The power of heavy tylenol and H2O? Which... I have to apologize that."

"For what?"

"Uh, I pretty much poured my heart and soul out to you last night.”

He chuckles. "I didn't mind it. Feeling any better about that situation?”

“I haven’t really thought about it since last night, so you’re already a miracle worker.”

"Oh?"

"Yeah, no joke."

“Huh." He clicks his tongue. "And what have you been thinking about?”

You say it without realizing you’ve said it out loud:

“You.”

Both ends of the phone go silent.

Your eyes widen, wanting nothing more than to take a pan out of one of the cabinets to bash your head in with anguish.

“In, like, an interested sense.”

Shit, that isn’t much better.

“An… interested sense,” he repeats, slower this time. His vowels dip deep.

“Oh no,” you bemoan. “Okay. Let me restart: I mean it in like a — you were on my mind? Today, sort of way. So I called.”

“...uh-huh.”

“Because the call ended so quickly!” you add. “I didn’t think it was going to end so abruptly at the fifteen minute mark, but I wasn’t done talking to you, so I called again.”

“You’re shit at asserting yourself, aren’t you?”

His words make you blink twice.

“Huh?”

“You don’t like making decisions or having to explain things,” he replies without judgment. “You think if you want something, then it makes you selfish.”

Ouch.

“Well, when you put it like that,” you reply in a bitter, yet lifted tone of surprise.

You hear a noise on the other end. A ‘tch’ if you can make it out.

“Sorry," he apologizes. "Too far?’

“No! Too real,” you admit with a small laugh. “And I’m sure you don’t want to play analyst-therapist tonight, so.”

“I’m here to do anything you want,” he reminds, syrup-y sweet.

“Anything?”

“Mostly anything,” he adds, and there’s a tiny chuckle bubbling between the words that makes your heart flutter. “Can’t hold a tune worth a damn and I don’t know how to speak some languages, so there are limitations.”

You laugh despite yourself, feeling your stress melt.

Then—

A small groan, like his head's tilting backwards. “Damn, I like hearing that.”

You turn away from your kitchen counter, subconsciously padding to your bedroom. “Hearing what?”

“Your laugh,” he explains. “It’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Very.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully.

Dark hair. Gray-ish blue eyes. Sharp nose. High cheekbones.

Fit.

When your eyes flicker to your own bed, you try to picture a version of him waiting there.

He could be leaning back on his elbow, button-down shirt splayed open like a newly-peeled present.

Maybe his legs are parted.

Maybe he stares at you like you’re all he could ever want.

His voice cuts through the fantasy, causing your breath to catch.

“What do you want, baby?”

Then it drops an octave lower.

“...c’mon, be selfish for once.”

For once.

Like he can read your soul through a damn cell phone.

But Levi is right — your entire short-lived relationship with Porco and just about any other man before him has been through a small lens. Fitting in the middle seat just to never make any noise. To bend with the curve rather than against it to create your own path.

It’s just a sex hotline, but for some reason, his words resonate.

Be selfish.

Wasn’t that the point of calling in the first place?

“Anything?” you repeat a second time, much softer.

Levi shuffles on the other line then exhales like he’s getting comfortable.

“What do you need?” he asks, tone low and words slower.

Purposeful.

“What do you want?”

You close your eyes, drawing in a slow, steady inhale.

Are you seriously doing this?

No more overthinking.

“Should I... get comfortable?” you ask, too afraid to say what it is that you want.

What you’re about to do.

“Mm, you near a couch or a bed?”

“A bed.”

“Don’t get on it yet,” he orders, “but walk towards it. Bend over it.”

Jesus Christ.

“Bend over it?” you ask with a shaky breath of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “You’re home from a long day. I’m home from a long day. All you’ve wanted all day is to have someone tell you what to do, right?”

As much as your face feels like it's on fire, you slowly walk to your bed and put the phone down between your splayed palms.

You press the speaker option to ‘on’, and feel a wave of arousal hit your gut when you hear him sigh through the phone.

“I thought you said you wanted me to be selfish,” you remind, bending over your bed.

“You’re allowing me to take charge,” he retorts with little hesitation. “You’re letting me take care of you the way you always should’ve been taken care of. Your ex-boyfriend has no fucking clue what he’s missed out on.”

You exhale, trying to keep it together.

“Levi—”

“I’m right here, baby,” he huskily promises. “Right here. Not leaving you.”

You feel ridiculous.

You’re so turned on it’s almost laughable.

“You ready to let me take control?” he eventually asks, and you nod like he can see you.

“Yeah, I’m— I think so.”

“I like using a red-yellow-green light system,” Levi hums. “Red’s a hard stop. Yellow is negotiating, a slow down to check in. Green means you’re in.” He pauses, and you lean down closer to your phone, bending further. “Color?”

Even on speaker, his voice rips straight through you.

“Green,” you decide, blurting before your brain can catch up.

“Good girl.”

You’re not going to survive this.

“Are your lights off?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he decides. “I want you to crawl slowly onto the bed now. Can you do that for me?”

Your hand slides obediently, passing over the phone as you begin to rest one knee on the mattress. It dips with give.

“All the way up to your pillows, then you can lay on your back — but keep your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

Eventually you drag your phone with you as you crawl to the headboard of your bed, only to then slowly turn around and drop to your back.

“Are your eyes closed?”

With the phone speaker right at your ear, it almost lends itself to the fantasy of him hovering above you.

His lips dip at the edge of your ear, the static lost to you.

“Yes,” you exhale, relaxing into the bed.

“Good. You’re doing so good for me already, and we’ve barely started.” He pauses, shifting once more. “What’re you wearing, baby?”

“Something so not sexy,” you joke, and it earns a breathy laugh from him.

“Bet you can make anything sexy,” he tells you, and it shoots straight to your lower belly.

“How would you know?” you ask, your hand already reaches for the hem of your shirt. “You’ve never even seen me.”

“No, but I hear you, and it’s fucking delicious.”

Your breath hitches, and you can hear it; the smile in his voice.

“Take everything off, except your underwear.”

“Bra, too?”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he tells you, and it’s much less breathy. It’s certain, like he wants to check in — make sure you’re just as into it as he sounds. “Would you rather I help you take that off?”

Your brain blanks.

Slowly you push your jeans off first, kicking them to some unknown corner.

Then you rise, ripping your t-shirt off of your body, until you’re sitting in your mismatched bra and panties.

“How would you take it off of me?” you boldly ask, though you can’t quite get rid of the shake of anticipation in your voice.

“Fuck, I’d love to,” he grunts, and your face burns. “I’d be so busy pressing small, slow kisses to your neck. Reach up and touch your neck for me. Feel how I’d kiss it.”

You do.

As surprised as anyone else, you reach up and press your fingers against small parts of your neck, earning him a tiny gasp and noise of want.

“Dragging down to your throat.”

You press two gentle fingers to your skin again, following his path, before slamming your thighs together to try and relieve the heat between your legs.

“My finger would just… slip, right under the right strap of your bra.”

Your fingers dance across your collarbone, slipping your middle finger just under the delicate strap to mirror.

With your eyes closed, the motions lend to an almost out-of-body experience.

Like your hand trailing down your body isn’t yours; it’s his.

You’re his, right now.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, and you nods furiously.

“Very.”

“Good. Let me pull the other one down. I wanna see how pretty my girl is.”

The praises, the way he so easily speaks this way, has you all sorts of flustered.

Slowly you raise your other hand to pull down the strap, and whimper when you tug down as far as you can.

Your breasts spill out over the cup, allowing your hardened nipples to greet the night air.

“Can I touch you?”

The words almost make you open your eyes, as if you’ll see this mystery man hovering over you.

You know he's not here.

You wish he were right here.

“Yes.”

“How do you like to be touched, baby? Show me.”

“Levi,” you whine, allowing your shaky hands to run along your breasts.

You’re afraid, you’re exhilarated, but when you finally pinch the little buds and roll them between your fingers, you’re too far gone to care.

“Fuck—”

“Feels good, huh?” Levi’s own breathy voice interrupts your curse. “You look so beautiful like this. Letting me play with you— God, I could do this for hours—”

“Want you to.”

You don’t even recognize your own breathy tone.

Hell, you only hear him.

You only feel him.

“Need more,” you pant, and he hums with amusement.

“No,” he replies, “think I’m gonna play with you a little more right here for now.”

You accidentally pinch your nipples, harder, like he’s teaching you a lesson.

“Levi.”

“What, is my girl getting impatient?”

His girl.

You don’t even know him, but you’d sure as hell like to be.

(How easy is it, for you to fall so fast from your judgmental high horse when Annie first slipped you this number — only for you to be moaning on your bed, hands groping and kneading your breasts, for a man you didn’t know?)

“Y-You said,” you stammer, “to be selfish, and I want—”

“Shh, I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” Levi interrupts on the other end. “But you have to do something for me, too.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want you holding back on me. No shyness. No second guesses. I want you, I want to hear what I do to you. Is that understood?”

You can’t take it.

Your one hand leaves your chest to skim down to your belly, unable to wait any longer.

“I want you to touch me,” you hiccup.

“Yeah?”

His voice wavers in the response before it strengthens. Demands.

“I want those panties gone first. Take them off and spread your knees. Feet flat on the bed.”

No need to be told twice; you hastily pull your panties down your hips, your knees, until they pool at one of your ankles.

Your knees knock together before spreading, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“I want to touch you, too, baby.” Levi swallows, coating his throat. “How wet are you for me?”

Fingertips run past your lower belly to touch the apex of your thighs, gasping with surprise and relief when you feel that familiar electricity.

“Really fucking wet,” you admit.

The groan he emits is delicious. “Fuck.”

For a moment, you feel completely out of your depth.

This is meant to be a sex hotline, but there are lines blurred in your mind. Something about the sheer image of him leaning back into his chair, fucking a fistful of his cock while he has a phone operator headset against his ear, only turns you on that much more.

“If we had time, I’d spend all night memorizing what you taste like. What you feel like. How you let go — for me, only for me.”

“Only for you,” you promise, unable to stop yourself from drawing circles over your clit.

You moan, head bent back against your pillow.

“Fuck, you’re touching yourself, aren’t you?” he asks, and his voice seems less controlled now. It’s got a hint of raggedness, and it only quickens your pace. “You feel amazing, you know that? Such a pretty pussy, all spread and wet for me—”

“Shit, Jesus, Levi,” you gasp, knowing that you’re not going to last long. You’re too wound up from the night before. “If you keep talking like that—”

“What, are you gonna come for me?” Amusement tickles the question. “Oh, you can come for me, baby, but I’m gonna need at least two from you tonight.”

Your fingers press a little harder to your clit, and you keen.

“Wh– At least?”

“As if I’d ever be satisfied with only one,” he murmurs. “No, I wanna watch you come apart. Feel it on my fingers with those cute little contrac—”

That’s it.

You moan louder than you expected, the taut bowstring suddenly snapped in half.

You arch off the bed, relentlessly rubbing your fingers against your body to ride out the insane orgasm that you — that Levi has given you.

Even if you’re blissed out, you hear it on the receiving end:

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuck, you sound amazing. I know it’s gonna be tough, but keep going for me, okay? Don’t stop.”

“It’s sen– ha, sensitive!” you whimper, wanting to stop your hand.

“Mm-mm, you said you’d be good. Be selfish, baby. Give me two.”

“But Levi!”

Everything is on overdrive.

Your hand; your body; your mind.

You imagine he’s hovering over you, working you with his hand with a near-sadistic relentlessness.

As you battle your own refractory period, your toes curl, teeth clenched.

You want to be good.

You want to be so good.

And somewhere in that overwhelming intensity, you feel it: the ebb and flow of pleasure returning, crawling through your veins and forcing you to not give up.

To give this to him.

Then you hear it: panting.

As if he’s getting off to this himself. Your eyes snap open, wide, to an empty room.

When your cheek turns to the phone, you confirm that’s what you hear:

Ragged breaths, albeit softly, with added grunts of control.

Like he’s holding back.

Something about that image of him in a chair, his hand relentlessly pumping his cock in time with your hand, your whimpers and moans, does damage.

“I need— mm— want— please.”

“I’m right here, baby,” Levi promises, though his voice is weaker. You can even hear him swallow again. “Right fucking here, wanna hear you cum so bad.”

Maybe you really were pent up enough for two, because soon you’re slipping — falling — into that blissful nothingness while your body clenches on itself, clit fluttering from a second release.

It’s less intense, but that doesn’t make it any less good.

Everything throbs in your body as you come down, panting, with a slight sheen of sweat on your skin.

You turn to your phone, totally gone in the bliss of the aftermath.

Levi has grown silent as well; only light puffs of air come through the speaker now.

“Feeling better?” Levi asks with a hint of pride in his voice.

“Shut up,” you answer with a gentle laugh of your own. “I’m… shit. I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

That statement gets Levi to laugh, and your heart feels twice as full.

“That’s one way of pillow talk, I guess.”

The man pauses.

“Are you alright?”

As if he’s truly concerned, worried about your wellbeing.

You don’t allow yourself to fall for it, not completely.

This is his job — even if it felt so real, in the moment.

“Much better,” you promise, smiling to yourself.

“Happy to help,” he hums, his voice returning to that stormy swirl of seduction and softness.

The sobering reality of an empty bedroom should deter you, but all you can do is smile.

(When is the last time you genuinely felt giddy? Excited? Satisfied?)

“Hey, Levi,” you murmur eventually, slowly sitting up to unhook your bra and toss it away. No need to keep it on.

“Yeah, baby?”

You’ll never get over the way he sounds when he calls you that.

It’s permanently stuck to your frontal lobe, obscuring any other logic or reality.

“Am I still allowed to call?”

“Allowed?”

“Yeah, even though we…”

“What, you think you get one experience and your membership is up?”

Levi chuckles, shifting in his seat — or bed — or wherever he is.

“You can call me anytime you want.”

“Any?”

“Between company hours, yeah.”

“Even to talk?”

“Of course,” he answers, softer this time. “Always to talk. Go get some rest.”

“Mm,” you mumble, turning on your side as exhaustion takes over. “I will, but only because I want to and I’m being selfish.”

It surprises you to hear him laugh again, but it’s louder now.

More prominent.

As if he genuinely enjoyed your joke.

Get your head out of the clouds, girl, is what you want to say to yourself, but you can’t be bothered to care.

“Good. You earned it.”

A noise emits from your tired throat to acknowledge him, too sleepy to formulate a real sentence.

Then his voice drops to a whisper, for your ears and your ears alone.

“Goodnight, baby.”

You press the ‘end call’ button and fall into the deepest sleep you’ve had all year.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading part two of P4! This is insane. I still cannot believe the feedback I got in part one. Seriously, you all made my June. I hope this next part has satisfied your curiosity of how Levi would be a hotline operator.

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic #aot fanfic #aot fic #snk fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #fic: press four for more

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zyhkoo · 3 months ago

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☆ I fell first, you fell too late.

dick grayson x f!reader

he promised you that you wouldn’t feel alone anymore, is that true?

a/n: to my first love, who inspired me to write this.

Dick remembers the first time he met you, Bruce assigned a mission for the two of you. You protested at first, you didn’t want to work with someone you didn’t know but the job had to be done.

Often, you two would bump into each other. It was probably because your adopted father (Jim) would also bump into Batman himself.

There was one encounter that Dick could never forget.

Dick was on his way to his favorite burger shop, then in the distance he spotted you alone at a table. Dick of course walks to your table, you looked up at the familiar figure and sighed.

“Why do I keep on bumping into you?” you furrowed your brows “Are you stalking me or something?” Dick shakes his head “Of course not!” he crosses his arms.

“Maybe you’re stalking me, this is my favorite place in Gotham after all.” he smirks, you rolled your eyes at him.

Dick then takes the seat across from you.

“Anyway, mind if I sit here?”

“Yes I mind.”

“Too bad.”

Dick smiles at you, you simply roll your eyes.

Dick chuckled at that “You seem a little grouchy today, tough night?” he leaned against the table a bit, looking over you with those piercing blue eyes of his.

“It’s not my fault I’m so handsome.” he shrugged, not backing down from your glare.

You raised a brow “You? Handsome? Yeah I’m Batman, nice to meet you.”

Some people smiled at you both, just two cute kids arguing about whatever.

Dick noticed this, and as he noticed the smiles he chuckled awkwardly.

“Maybe we should stop, people are staring.” he said, the side of his mouth slightly upturned into a half-smile.

You only crossed your arms and scoffed “Who are you talking to talk? You started.”

“Yeah, cause we’re friends. And friends banter?” he said, it wasn’t a question.

Your brow raised “You see me as a friend?”

"Of course I do!" he huffed, not appreciating you being surprised, “You think I would hang out with you this much if I didn’t?”

Barbara was the only friend you considered at the moment. You didn’t really have friends because of your tough and sassy personality.

It warmed you up when Dick told you he saw you as one of his friends.

“Hm, okay.”

Dick could tell you were trying to hide your surprise, but he smiled softly, thinking it was kind of endearing.

Usually you came off as a bit rude and cold, but he knew you were just trying to guard your heart.

Dick leaned down in front of you “Why wouldn’t I?” he chuckled, trying to get you to smile for him.

You looked down om the menu “Nothing, just order your burger.”

“I don’t think I will be ordering the burger actually” he smirked at you “Maybe I’ll just steal your food instead.”

You glared “Do you want me to throw you across this restaurant?”

“I'd like to see you try.” he said, clearly enjoying his effect on you.

Dick was never bothered by your threats, he knows you wouldn't actually hurt him.

You only groaned and ignored him.

He chuckled and leaned forward on the table, propping his chin up in his hand.

Dick looked at you silently for a moment, just studying you. He liked to look at you. He thought you were beautiful.

He liked to study your features, how the light hit the bridge of your nose, the way your eyes flickered as you scanned through the menu. He also loved when you would get frustrated with him, you looked adorable.

“Do you want to know what I think?” he asked.

“What?” you looked up at his eyes.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms “You’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

He says, keeping his eyes trained on you, watching your frustrated expression.

You looked back down, at this point you weren’t choosing your food “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled at your denial, enjoying your stubborn attitude.

“You always try to act so tough and serious. You don’t like to let people get close to you. You’re scared of getting hurt.”

You only stayed silent. Dick frowned slightly, normally you would’ve said something in response by now.

He knew he was right. After getting to know you as well as he has, it was pretty obvious that you didn’t trust people.

You were afraid of getting close to someone in case they would leave you.

Dick leaned forward again, wanting to get you to talk to him.

“Hey, I’m right though aren’t I?”

You slowly nodded. “Can you tell the waitress I want a cheeseburger?”

He smiled softly, he was kind of glad you didn’t deny his statement.

“Yes Ma’am.” he said, standing up and going over to the waitress.

Dick converses with the waitress, orders a burger for himself, and your cheeseburger. He goes back to sit across from you, with a smile as he says, “It’ll be ready soon.”

He leans against the table, fiddling with the salt shaker.

“You know,” he looks up at you, “You don’t have to keep me at a distance all the time. We’re friends, you can trust me. I’ll never leave you, no matter how ‘grouchy’ you get.”

You sighed “You're right about me. I don’t like being close to anyone because they’ll leave me anyway.”

“Not everyone is going to leave, I’m not going anywhere. You have to let people in you know, let people love you.”

“Babs and commissioner is enough for me, I don’t see why I need more.” you replied.

“They’re great but you need more than two people.”

“You need friends. Me, for example. You definitely need me.” he grins, crossing his arms.

You scoff “Do you always joke at times like these?”

“It’s not a joke this time.” he says simply.

The waitress approaches and sets down the food, Dick thanks her and she smiles and walks away.

“I’m serious about this.” he takes a bite of his burger, “You need more friends.”

You bit the cheese sticking out of your burger “Why do you care anyway?” you said.

“I said mean things about you.”

“So what? You always say mean things to me.” he said, taking another bite of his food.

“Its just who you are, I’m not bothered by it.” he shrugged.

You furrowed your brows “You’re something else.”

He chuckled “Why? Because I don’t let your rude comments bother me?”

Dick grins at you while he continues to eat, “Or because I’m willingly friends with you?”

You hummed “Both, you’re an idiot.

“Maybe I am an idiot.” he said, putting his burger down and crossing his arms, “But I’m your idiot, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t own you.” you replied.

“Of course you don’t.” he rolls his eyes, “I was insinuating that I’m going to annoyingly stick around whether you like it or not.”

Years passed, the two of you were glued to the hip. Your thought demeanor slowly turns soft every time you spend time with him.

He changes as well, he’s no longer the Robin you argue with as a kid.

Dick really cherished the time the two of you spent together. He could see you slowly warming up to him, and he was glad.

Dick grew to become much more serious than he used to be, he still enjoyed playing around but now he took his job as Nightwing very seriously.

His carefree, flirty attitude still remained though, and he never shied from giving you a compliment.

He began to see you in a different light. He still thought you were just as beautiful as he did before, but lately, he’s developed feelings for you.

Dick didn’t understand why, he thought he was satisfied with being ‘just friends’.

But as time went on, he just seemed to fall further and further for you.

The two of you have been through everything together. The good times, the bad times, all of it.

Dick has seen every part of you.

Dick loved everything about you, how you’d get mad at him for his annoying teasing, how you would just stare at him with your frustrated eyes, or that genuine smile you’d give only to him.

He kept telling himself that he was satisfied with just being a friend. But with every smile, every eye roll, and every glare you gave him. Dick became more lovesick, he didn’t understand why.

He had never felt like this before, he didn’t know what to do with these new found feelings.

For a while, he tried to keep these feelings hidden, he tried to tell himself you would never like him back. He thought it was best to keep it to himself.

But every time you’d look at him with those pretty eyes, every time you’d playfully hit him because he was trying to annoy you, he just fell harder.

Then, there was one time where everyone turned on you.

Things had taken a downhill turn, you had gotten framed for a crime you didn’t commit and now everyone was against you.

Even Barbara turned her back on you. You felt like you were at your lowest.

It was a period that really tested Dick’s feelings.

You were hated by everyone you knew, Dick even started to distance himself from you at the time.

Dick couldn’t do it. He didn’t care what everyone else thought, you were still his friend. He knew who you really were, he knew you were a good person.

Despite what everyone said about you, Dick never stopped believing you.

He knew what kind of person you were, what your heart was truly like. There was no way you would do what they accused you of.

Dick couldn’t just abandon you now, not when you were at your lowest.

Even when everyone said he would be an idiot to remain by your side, he didn’t care. You were important to him.

You were at an abandoned warehouse, your head was practically on the line so you were hiding.

Dick found out where you had been hiding.

He knew it wouldn’t be safe to hide here for long, he had to get you away from there.

You were sitting, slumped against the wall with your head against your knees.

Dick approached silently, slowly getting down to kneel in front of you. He was quiet, just observing you for a moment before sighing and speaking.

“Hey.”

You slowly lifted your head “Aren’t you supposed to hate me too?” you scoffed and you buried your head back in your knees.

Dick frowned, seeing you slumped there like that was just…wrong. It didn’t suit you.

He let out another sigh and sat down next to you.

“You know I don’t hate you.” he said bluntly, “I believe you.”

Dick looked over at you, his gaze on you for a moment before he spoke.

“Most people see things at surface level. They don’t always know how to look deeper. Sometimes people are so narrow minded that no matter how much evidence there is, they won’t accept the truth.”

Dick took another glance over at you, his voice quieter now.

“I know your heart. I know you’re a good person, I know you didn’t do it.”

Dick was tempted to reach his hand out and gently pull you into a hug.

“It’s going to be alright.” he assured quietly, “It’s going to be okay.”

You teared up and hugged him tight.

Dick froze for a moment as you suddenly wrapped your arms around him, but he quickly reciprocated and wrapped his arms around you in return.

He closed his eyes as he pulled you into a tighter hug, burying his face into your hair, “I’ve got you.”

“Everyone I knew just.. turned their back on me in a blink of an eye. Even Babs..” you quietly sobbed.

He felt his heart clench when you said that.

He was one of the only people that believed in you, and you felt everyone you thought cared about you turned against you.

Dick buried his face more into your hair, tightening his hold on you, “I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I hate this fucking city.” you cursed as you held him tighter.

“You and me both.”

Soon enough, it became clear that you were innocent.

Evidence had come to point to the real culprit that framed you for the crime.

Once the truth was discovered, most people were quick to apologize to you, claiming they never truly believed the lie.

It hit hard when Barbara and Jim apologized.

Seeing them apologize to you, the two people you thought you knew well, was a hard blow.

They had both been wrong about you, and betrayed you.

But they were your family so you ended up forgiving them.

Your heart ached at the fact that they had betrayed you so easily, but they were your family.

Over time, you eventually forgave them. Despite the sting of knowing they so easily believed the lie, they were still your family and you loved them.

Things had started to return to a sense of normalcy.

Most people had come to realize you were framed. People weren’t as hostile towards you anymore. Dick stuck to his promise and never left your side.

Eventually, the bat-family had grown bigger.

There were more and more people that Dick and the others cared about. It seemed the family would never stop expanding.

But, you had other plans. You had come to the conclusion that Gotham wasn’t the best place.

The city had its corruption, problems, and it was a hellhole of violence.

You came to a decision. You were going to move to a different city.

When Dick found out you were leaving, he couldn't believe it.

The thought of not having you in Gotham, not being able to see you regularly, it hurt him.

He didn't want you to go, he wanted to ask you to stay, but he kept it to himself.

It was sunset, the two of you were walking at a park.

It was a nice time, the sky was painted beautifully with colors from the setting sun.

The light was hitting your features just right.

Dick walked next to you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, taking glances at you.

“I’ll miss the burgers here.” you said while walking.

Dick chuckled, glancing over to you, “Really? Out of everything in Gotham, you’ll miss the food?”

He kept his pace next to you, the two of you walking together.

“Don’t be an idiot, I’ll miss everyone as well of course.” you scoffed with a smile.

“Obviously.” he teased, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “I’m the one you’ll miss the most, right?”

You were silent for a moment, thinking if you should admit it or not. “Yeah.”

Dick was a little surprised by your answer, but his smile widened.

He tried to fight back a goofy grin, “I’ll definitely miss you, too.”

The two of you had made it to a small pond. For a moment, Dick was just watching you.

He had to say it. He had to ask you to stay.

“Hey, are you really serious about leaving Gotham?” he questioned quietly, folding his arms and looking over at you.

“Yeah.” you said.

It was time to try and convince you to stay.

“Why?” he pressed, his voice still quiet, “You’d be leaving everyone.”

“I want a fresh start.” you answered, avoiding his gaze.

Dick’s shoulders slumped, his voice still quiet as he spoke.

“What about me?”

You looked at him “You?

“Are you seriously going to leave me all alone in Gotham?”

You shook your head “Dick- you have the.. bat-family by your side. Why would you feel alone?” you asked.

He was trying to keep his cool, but he failed, his voice coming out more frustrated now than before.

“That’s not what I meant. You know I’m not talking about the others.”

He took a step closer to you, “You and I are good friends, we’ve been through everything together.”

“Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“It does.” you reassure him, holding his shoulders

“Then why do you have to go?” he questioned.

You didn’t know how to answer “Well..”

Dick was silent, letting you take a moment to think.

He couldn’t help but look into your eyes. Everything about you was so beautiful. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you.

“I don’t know this city...” you looked away from his gaze.

“I hate it.” that was the problem.

“Yeah, I know the city sucks,” he mumbled, “But… It's home. It’s my home, and I don’t want you to go…”

Dick looked at you and held your gaze, his voice low.

“I don’t want you to go because…”

He looked away for a moment before looking back at you and taking your hands in his own, “Because I love you.”

Your eyes widened as your hands dropped, you shook your head. “No.. no.”

He reached out to try and take your hands again, but you stepped back.

His shoulders slumped a bit. He could see your reaction, you were rejecting him.

You sharply inhale your breath “Dick I.. I’m not.. I don’t want to love.” you said “And I don’t think I’ll ever be in love.”

“You don’t.. want to love? At all?” he questioned, his heart hurting at the thought.

Frustration slowly started to mix with the hurt he was feeling.

He started to list off everything he did, all the times he was there for you, all the times he held you up.

“I’ve been there for you more and more times than I can count! I’ve listened to you, I’ve been your shoulder to cry on, I’ve helped you through everything. I’ve supported you through the worst things, I’ve been at your side through it all… but you don’t see me as anything more than a friend? You can never love?”

It hurt him, it really hurt.

He couldn’t believe it. After all he’d done for you, he thought you’d start to see him differently, but everything was the same.

He cared too much about you, he’d do anything for you, but you still just saw him as a friend. His heart ached at the thought.

“Dick you.. you deserve better.” you said “And you’re very special to me please know that, Dick.”

“What do you mean I ‘deserve better’? I don’t want better.” he said, opening his eyes to look at you, “You’re perfect the way you are. I want you.”

“Dick, I’m sorry but I can't..”

Each word felt like another blow to his heart.

He felt desperate.

“Why not?” his voice almost raised slightly, “Why can’t you love me? What’s so wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong!” you held his wrist “You are a deal way too good for me.”

He felt you grab his wrist, and even thought the touch was supposed to be comforting, it made him even more frustrated.

“Stop saying stuff like that!” he said, his own voice raising slightly, “Stop acting like you’re no good. I tell you I love you, and you just act like you’re no good for anyone, especially me. What is it, exactly, that makes you think that?”

Tears swelled in your eyes “I’m me Dick! Why would you love someone like me? I’m fucked up.”

He was shocked when he saw tears welling up in your eyes.

Dick almost never saw you cry. It was a rare sight, and it made his heart hurt even more when he did.

He was still frustrated with you, and the fact that you kept saying how you didn’t deserve love upset him, but seeing you cry made it harder to stay mad.

He stepped even closer, only a few inches away from you, and gently took your face into his hands.

“You’re perfect Dick. Everyone loves you, Bruce, Tim, Babs- everyone! And.. and I’m me.” you closed your eyes letting the tears fall in your face.

He gently brushed his thumb against your cheek, wiping away a tear.

His heart ached as he heard you say those things.

“Stop it. Stop saying those things.” he said, his voice a bit softer now, “They don’t matter. You think I give a damn about any of that? I love you. All of you.”

You shook your head “I’m moving away from this damn city because I feel too pressured. I feel like everyone is watching me, afraid I’ll… mess up. Or do something wrong.”

You looked at his beautiful blue eyes “I can’t Dick, I’m sorry I don’t want to stay.”

As he looked at you, his heart ached.

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.

Why couldn’t you see how much he loved you?

Why couldn’t you feel how much he wanted you?

It was painful to think that, no matter what he did, he was still just a friend to you.

But.. he wanted you to be happy. He cared for you too much to keep trying when he knew you didn’t feel the same.

He gently pulled his hands away from your face.

The sky was now a dark blue as the sun dipped below the horizon. It seemed that time had passed without him realizing it.

He had never felt so conflicted in his life.

Of course, he wanted to be selfish and make you stay, but he cared about you so much. More than you would ever know.

He silently stared at you for a few moments before he spoke again, his voice quiet, “I want you to be happy. I want things for you... But can I ask you for one thing?”

He was silent for a moment before he spoke.

“Promise me you’ll keep in contact?” he said, his voice still quiet, “Promise me we’ll still talk. Promise that you won’t just disappear.”

Your expression softens “Of course.”

He was glad that you weren’t going to cut him off completely.

Dick nodded, taking a short breath before he spoke again, “Good.”

He didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to admit that you were actually leaving, but he knew it would be the last time he would see you for a while.

He didn’t hesitate before he pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you.

A year passed by, that year felt like an eternity to Dick.

He thought about you every single day. You were always in the back of his mind, whether he was fighting crime, hanging out with the family, or just doing everyday tasks.

He thought about how he wished you were still in Gotham. How he missed you. How much he wished things were different.

He began dating Barbara a few months after you left, hopeful that it would lessen his feelings for you.

And for a while, it did.

But, as time went on, he found himself thinking about you more often, even while dating her.

Deep down, he knew he was just trying to fill the hole in his heart that you left, and while Barbara was a good distraction, you were still the one on his mind.

There were many times when he was with her and his mind wandered and he thought of you, he compared her to you.

He couldn’t help it. He loved Barbara, but he still loved you more.

It was a freezing winter evening, and Dick had been anticipating your arrival for the past few days.

He was excited. He hadn't seen you in a year, and he's missed you dearly.

Meanwhile, you realized you were a fool for leaving. Your life wasn’t the same without your friends, especially Dick.

He had treated you so well and you just came and go.

You wanted to see him again, so you told the bat-fam you were visiting for Christmas.

Your sister Barbara was obviously excited, so as everyone else. But Dick? You weren’t sure what he felt.

You wanted to tell him what you actually felt, that you loved him.

So you prepared a gift and a letter of confession.

Your visit was a surprise to the whole Bat-family, especially to Dick.

He didn’t know quite how to feel when the news broke that you were coming back to Gotham for Christmas. On one hand, he was excited to see you again, but on the other, he was nervous.

Dick was in his apartment, watching TV, when the doorbell rang.

He was surprised, as he wasn't expecting anyone.

He got up and walked to the door, wondering who it could be, and when he opened it, his eyes widened as he saw you standing there.

You smiled “Hi Dick, merry christma-“

He immediately pulled you into a tight hug, practically scooping you up off your feet.

You were surprised by the hug and patted his shoulder “Missed you too??”

He didn’t answer, he just kept his arms around you, holding you close.

Dick was overwhelmed by his emotions. Seeing you, being able to hold you and actually feel you in his arms after over a year apart.

He was afraid to let go, afraid that if he did, he would realize that he was only dreaming, and you weren’t really there.

“Right.. put me down, big guy.” you sighed as he crushed you.

Dick sets you down, gently releasing you from his embrace.

He quickly closed the door behind you before he spoke again, “I wasn’t expecting you. You.. you should’ve told me you were visiting.”

You removed your coat and scarf “I wanted to surprise you.” you told him.

Dick followed you into the apartment, watching you remove your stuff before he spoke again.

“Well, mission accomplished.” he said, letting out a small chuckle before he spoke up again, “How long are you staying?”

He was a little upset to hear you were staying at a hotel, but he didn’t show it.

Dick crossed his arms, nodding as he spoke, “Have you talked to the rest of the fam yet?”

“Ah, they don’t know I’m already here.” you answered.

You paused for a moment “I just wanted to see you first.”

Dick raised an eyebrow at your answer, crossing his arms as he leaned against a wall.

“So you came to see me first? Why me?” he asked, tilting his head.

You paused for a moment “I just wanted to see you first.”

He was a bit surprised by your answer, but he didn’t question it any further.

Dick was a bit worried that there was a more serious reason as to why you came to see him first, but he was trying hard not to think about it.

“Oh yeah?” he said, a smirk appearing on his face, “Why? You miss me that much?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms “Don’t get it to your head.”

Dick couldn’t hold back a small laugh as he saw your reaction.

He knew you always hated giving him the attention he secretly loved.

“Oh, don’t lie to me,” he teased, grinning as he pushed himself off the wall, “You know you missed me.”

Your eyes trailed to a familiar coat on his armchair “Isn’t that Babs’ coat?” you grabbed the coat, inspecting it.

“Yeah... yeah, it is.” he said, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy.

You tilted your head “Why do you have it?”

Dick was a little nervous now, and it was clearly visible on his face.

He thought about just brushing it off, but he knew you’d keep questioning him until he told you the truth.

He let out a short sigh before he spoke.

“I’m dating her.” he suddenly said.

You perked up “Oh, that’s new. You didn’t tell me.” you nervously chuckled.

You felt your heart sink, he was dating Babs now? Why didn’t he tell you?

When he saw your reaction, he could immediately tell that you were a little hurt.

He knew he should’ve told you. He knew he should’ve reached out to you and told you that he had started dating Babs.

He didn’t like seeing you upset, but he didn’t know what to say.

“I just kind of forgot.” he said, trying to explain himself.

You put up a smile “It’s fine, you’re happy at least?”

Dick could tell you weren’t genuinely happy for him, but he didn’t want to keep talking about it.

He smiled slightly and nodded in response to your question.

“Yeah, she makes me pretty happy.” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You looked at his face, you softened a bit. Maybe he is happy.

Your fake smile turned to a genuine one “Well, treat her well. She’s my awesome sister after all.”

You grabbed your bag and tried to look for something, you took the gift from your bag and quickly removed the note attached to it.

“It’s for you.” you handed out a blue gift box.

He took the box, looking at the wrapping.

“Me? But Christmas isn’t until another week.” he said jokingly.

He took the box, looking at the wrapping.

“Me? But Christmas isn’t until another week.” he said jokingly.

“Oh, just take it. Do you want me to give you one with coal?” you remarked.

He chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

“No, I’m good. I don’t like coal.” he said, his eyes shifting back to the gift box in his hands.

“Can I open it?”

“Of course, it’s your gift. Do whatever.” you replied.

Dick gave you a nod before he began to unwrap the gift, carefully removing the decorative wrapping paper.

He tried his best not to tear it, but he eventually got it all off.

He then lifted the lid of the box slowly, peeking inside.

It was a photo album. He wasn’t sure what to expect.

He picked it up and began flipping through the pages, his eyes widening as he saw the contents.

“Is this..” he said, looking up at you, “Are these pictures of us?”

“Some of the bat-fam.. some of the titans.. but mostly us yeah.”

Dick was amazed to see so many pictures of the two of you together.

He continued to flip through the pages, looking at every photo and remembering the moments where they were taken.

He smiled as he looked at you, “This is incredible... where’d you get all these?”

“I tried to find every single photo with you in it, I managed to fill out the whole thing so I guess I did a good job.” you smirked.

Dick was impressed by the effort you had put into getting all these pictures.

He knew it would’ve taken hours to find all of them.

He smiled as he turned the page, seeing a picture of both of you together with the rest of the Titans.

“Damn, I remember this day. We went to the fair, and Victor got us kicked out.” he chuckled.

You pointed on one picture “Remember this? We went fishing with Bruce and Kate.”

Dick chuckled softly at the memory.

“Yeah, I remember that day. It was supposed to just be a boys day, but Kate decided she wanted to go too.” he said, looking at the picture of the three of them holding up their catch.

As Dick continued to flip through the pages, looking at the hundreds of photos you had collected, he suddenly remembered something.

“Wait, I actually got something for you too.” he said, suddenly setting the photo album down.

He looked around the living room for a few seconds before his eyes settled on a small, wrapped gift sitting on the coffee table.

He grabbed it and handed it to you, “I didn’t wrap it as nicely as you did with yours, but here.”

Dick was watching your reaction closely, waiting to see how you would react to his present.

Once the gift was unwrapped, you would see that he had gotten you a necklace; a black chain with a single charm attached.

You clicked your tongue “You know I don’t like expensive stuff Dick.” you glared.

Dick chuckled slightly, crossing his arms.

“Who said it’s expensive? Just because it’s shiny, doesn’t mean it’s expensive.” he joked.

“Besides, it couldn’t have been that much, it’s tiny.” he added, gesturing to the charm at the end of the chain.

You looked at the charm “Is this a Robin?” you asked.

Dick smiled as you recognized the charm, nodding in confirmation.

“Yeah, it is. I thought it was pretty cool, plus, y’know..” he trailed off, gesturing to a small engraving on the front of the charm.

Upon closer inspection, you would be able to read the inscription, which read:

“To my best friend.”

You stared at it then softly smiled “I love it.”

“Here, turn around. I’ll help you put it on.” he said, stepping a bit closer to you.

You obliged, turning around so your back was facing him.

Dick carefully took the necklace from you, holding the jewelry in his hands before he reached around and placed it around your neck, fastening the clasp in the back.

Once he was done, he took a step back and looked at you with a grin on his face.

“It looks great on you.” he said, admiring the way the necklace looked on you.

“I don’t think I’ll take it off.” you said “No one’s gonna help me put this on when I remove it.” a hint of sadness in your tone.

He took a step closer again, his gaze softening as he spoke.

“Just don’t lose it, okay? This is a one-of-a-kind, custom piece.” he joked, trying to make you smile.

You did smile, “I won't.” you softly said.

“There’s something else I want to say.” Dick takes your hand.

He holds your hand tightly, looking into your eyes with a serious expression.

“I love Babs, but my love for you is different. It’s not the same with her.”

“It’s deeper,” he says.

“And it’s more painful.”

“And I think it always will be.” he adds, his grip tightening on your hand.

He takes a deep breath before he speaks again, his voice low and steady.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… I love you. And I don’t think I can ever stop loving you.”

You couldn’t say anything, instead you pulled him in a hug.

Dick was surprised as you suddenly pulled him into a hug, but he immediately wrapped his arms around you.

He let out a shaky breath, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I fell too late, didn't I?” you closed your eyes.

Dick’s heart sank as you spoke, and he held you even tighter.

He didn’t have to answer your question, you both knew what his answer was.

Instead, he just held you close in silence for several moments before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry.” he managed to say, his voice strained.

“Don’t break Babs’ heart, be good to her.”

Dick nodded slightly, feeling guilty as he realized how hurt Babs would be if she knew this was happening.

He squeezed you tighter, his voice growing shaky as he spoke.

“I will. I promise.”

Years have passed, you moved to bludhaven.

You were getting better than you thought you would, you looked at your fruit bowl and realized you were almost out of apples.

You got up, took your keys and headed to the grocery store.

As you headed to the fruit section, you felt someone bump into you.

“Oops sorry-“ you looked at the man you bumped, it was Dick.

Dick's eyes met yours, and surprise flashed across his face when he realized it was you.

He hadn’t expected to run into you here.

“(Name)? Is that you?” he asked in disbelief, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You smiled back “Dick, hello.”

Dick couldn’t help but smile wider as you said his name.

He took a few steps forward, moving closer to you.

“It’s been a while, I didn’t know you were living in Bludhaven now.” he said, still a bit surprised to see you here.

“I got a better job here.” you replied, you felt so happy to see him again.

“That’s great to hear.” he said.

Your eyes trailed to the ring on his hand “You’re married?” your eyes widened.

He nodded in response to your question, his expression turning somewhat somber.

“Yeah, I am.” he confirmed, his voice becoming quieter.

“I’m proud of you.”

Dick’s heart ached a bit as you said you were proud of him, knowing that you were probably feeling just as much pain as he was.

But he forced a smile onto his face, trying to put on a brave front.

“Thank you.” he said, his voice softer than before.

You sheepishly rubbed your neck “Changed my phone number, sorry if I didn’t respond to anything. I lost my phone, you see.”

“I was wondering why I hadn’t heard from you.” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice, “I was worried you had moved on or something.”

The two of you kept talking, walking around isle’s while getting the things you both needed.

You weren’t even supposed to buy anything else.

The two of you would be paying in different cards.

The food the two of you ate will be finished by different people.

Next time, you felt like buying blueberries.

You never saw him again.

Dick often found himself going to that supermarket, hoping that he would run into you again.

He’d find himself lingering at the fruit section for several minutes each time, eyes scanning the produce in hopes of spotting you.

But you were never there.

He would always tell himself that it was for the best and that it was good that he hadn’t seen you again.

But deep down, he missed you every day.

Maybe in another life, he’d be eating burgers with you again.

end note: half of this story is true, i miss my best friend. I hope he’s okay 😢

#౨ৎ blythe’s fics #dc x reader #dick grayson x f!reader #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x f!reader #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing

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jobean12-blog · 11 months ago

Text

A Place Made for Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No-outbreak Joel)

Word Count: 5,081

Summary: You're new to the small town Joel's lived in all his life and just the sight of you has him feeling a certain way so when he learns that you've bought the old bookshop and you're moving into the apartment above, it turns his familiar world upside down.

Author's Note: This one got away from me. I love the idea of Joel just living his life and doing construction and being grumpy and then reader comes along and really gives him a run for his money. Had to include a bookshop for this because along with Joel, it's one of my favorite things. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS Bold font means texts and anything italics is like an inner thought lol

Warnings: grumpy Joel, sassy reader, tension, flirting, softness and smiles, fluff and sweetness

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You trudge down the canned food aisle feeling completely indecisive but hungry and growing more aggravated by the second.

As you round the next corner you’re sifting through the contents of your basket when you walk headfirst into what feels like the wall.

“Ow!” you yelp as you stumble back.

A strong arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you look up, blinking.

“Better watch where you’re goin’ there darlin’.”

Your body tenses at the feel of him pressed against you and you mutter something inaudible under your breath before slipping from his grasp.

“Not even a thank you,” he muses as he turns to follow you.

“Weren’t you going the other way?” you shoot back.

“Just realized I forgot the pasta,” he says, leaning over your shoulder to whisper the words close to your ear.

You force your betraying body to remain calm at his proximity and then ignore the comment.

“What the hell are you gonna make with that mish mosh?” he asks as he peeks into your basket.

“Why do you care?” you counter with a brittle smirk.

He shrugs as the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin.

“Maybe something to poison you with…that would be nice.”

Your sassy remark makes his whole face light up with a smile and it momentarily roots you to the spot.

With one last disgruntled glance you stomp off in the other direction. “Since I’m new here you’d think you’d be a little more neighborly!”

“Fuck,” Joel mutters as he follows you.

“Ok darlin’.”

“Ok what?” you ask as you turn to face him.

“Maybe…” and he paused, studying you. “I could be a bit more friendly.”

He looks back down at your basket.

“You know if you grab some beans and a pepper you’ll be well on your way to making a great chili.”

“Chili,” you repeat.

You look between him and the basket. “That works. Although…”

“You’ve never made it before?”

At his question you fight back a sigh.

“No. I haven’t. But I’m capable of looking up a recipe.”

“Or I could just tell you about some good take-out places.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can manage to cook my own dinner, thanks!”

At the sarcasm in your tone his grin widens before he starts to step around you, his arm brushing yours with the motion.

“Great darlin.’ Just don’t burn the place down or anything. It’s the only bookshop in the neighborhood and we all love it.”

He winks and saunters off.

The urge to turn around and watch him is almost overwhelming but you square your shoulder and keep your chin up. “I can make chili,” you assure yourself.

Joel sits across from Tommy and sips his beer, waiting for his brother to make a dinner choice.

If Tommy notices Joel glancing too many times at the small bookshop across the street, he doesn’t mention it.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tommy remarks as he drops the menu and leans back. “What’s on your mind?”

Joel grunts before looking across the street again. “Work.”

“This new job we have is a big one. I want it to go perfectly so they hire us for the rest of it.” Joel continues.

Tommy nods in agreement but he’s battling a smile.

“Somethin’ you wanna say brother?” Joel asks.

Tommy grins. “I might have somethin’ to say.”

Joel grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on the beer bottle.

“Heard you had a little exchange with our new bookshop owner at the grocery store this mornin’.”

“Who said?” Joel asks, pinning Tommy with dark eyes.

“No one of importance,” Tommy shrugs. “You’re starin’ a hole through the window.”

Tommy’s eyes glitter. He’s clearly enjoying himself. “Heard she didn’t back down and run off over your…charm.”

“You’re worse than a school girl. Spreadin’ gossip around.”

That makes Tommy laugh and he takes a swig of his drink.

“Still,” Tommy says. “I can’t blame you…she’s real nice to look at and probably a lot of fun when you get her goin’…which you seem to enjoy doin’.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns as his jaw tightens. “Don’t go sniffin’ around any of that and don’t ask me to explain why.”

Tommy dips his head in understanding, his mouth tight in a straight line but his eyes bright with amusement.

“Not a single sniff. You’ve got my word brother…”

Tommy’s head swings around and his attention settles on something happening in the street. “What the hell…?”

Joel jerks his head in the same direction and in matter of seconds he’s out of his chair and charging through the door.

Without thinking he runs toward you and let’s out a breath when he looks you over, the large pot between your fingers and a garbage bag over your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

His relief at the fact that you’re unharmed is obvious even as he takes the pot from you and grabs your wrists, turning your hands over to check.

His skin is warm and his fingers are calloused. The sensations cause your mind to go blank and you stand there motionless.

Once he’s satisfied he looks down at the pot and the black contents inside. He’s still holding your wrists.

“I burnt it,” you say quietly. “The whole upstairs apartment smells awful so I thought I’d better get rid of it quick before the shop started to stink.”

“I can take care…” Tommy begins to speak and Joel whips his head around just now realizing he was even standing there and glares so Tommy snaps his mouth shut.

Joel looks back at you and slowly releases you, the loss of his touch something you instantly feel.

Tommy covers a cough and you drag your eyes away from Joel to glance at his younger brother.

“Hey,” Tommy says and extends his hand.

You reach out and shake it to introduce yourself.

“I was saying I could help you out with that but I think my brother here has it under control,” Tommy quips.

“Damn right I do,” Joel says, hands on his hips.

“Thanks Tommy, I appreciate the offer,” you smile.

Tommy tips his head and walks back across the street to the bar.

Joel’s hard eyes turn to you in an assessing way but he remains silent.

“Aren’t you going to make some shitty remark about my cooking skills,” you snip.

His broad shoulders slump and he holds out his hand.

“Here, give me the bag.”

You hand the bag over and watch as he empties what he can of the contents and then stares down at it with pursed lips.

“Might have to…” he starts.

“You can just get rid…” you say at the same time.

He drops the pot into the bag with a laugh.

It catches you off guard and when he meets your eyes again the surprise is evident in your wide-eyed expression.

“No shitty remarks darlin.’ Just glad you’re ok…and you didn’t burn the place down.”

The last part of his comment trails off into quiet mumblings but you still catch it.

“Couldn’t help yourself huh?” you say but you’re fighting back a small smile.

The two of you stand there on the sidewalk for what feels like forever until Joel clears his throat and you look up at him through your lashes.

“Guess your dinner’s ruined,” he states.

“You could say that. I’ll have to go aimlessly walk around the grocery store some more in the hopes of finding food.”

His large hand runs through his already mussed hair before it settles on the back of his head and he shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket.

“Hey uh, listen darlin’…I’m sorry if I was rude earlier…at the store…and the other times before that. It was wrong of me.”

Your expression softens.

“Thank you, I accept.”

Joel hums and flicks his head toward the bar. “I had just ordered dinner before you came running out. Go in and eat it.”

When you stare at him he plays back his words and realizes they came out as a demand.

“If you want to,” he adds. “Join me. For food.”

You smile and slide past him. Your distinct and soft scent wafts up to his nose and he instinctively inhales, his eyes closing briefly before he starts to move to follow you.

He motions to the small table and pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he does the same. His thick fingers wrap around the fork, making it look comically small, before he hands it to you and pushes the plate closer.

You stab a French fry and pop it in your mouth.

“So Tommy…you guys work together?”

“Yeah. Construction. We actually have a big project coming up in the city. Working on one of the new fancy hotel buildings.

“That sounds exciting. I guess it’s not really a 9-5 job then?”

“Nah, not really. Some days we spend doing small, odd jobs around the neighborhood and other times we’ll be on one job for weeks or months.”

You nod. “What do you do in your spare time? Besides follow women around the grocery store and make snarky comment on their food choices.”

“Gonna hold that over my head for long?” he asks.

You look him over and pretend to think about it. “Not sure yet.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs, noticing you stopped eating and nudging your arm with his elbow. “Eat.”

“Are you always this bossy?” you ask as you chew.

His eyes drop to your mouth and the way you lick the salt from your lips.

“Maybe,” he replies, the sides of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“Fair enough,” you tell him, mirroring his earlier words.

The whites of his teeth appear with his lopsided smile

“You plannin’ on trying to cook chili again?”

“Maybe,” you answer, loving the way his eyes crinkle at your repeated and mocking words.

“So now that you know a little more about me why not tell me why you’re here in our little town?”

He settles his forearms on the table and leans in, watching you with intense eyes.

“Well,” you start with a sigh. “I’ve always wanted to run or own a bookshop but my job in the city was keeping me so busy I barely had time to read and of course it’s easier said than done. For a while I didn’t mind…the work that is. Sure I was busy but I figured my life was just what it was supposed to be. Had a nice apartment, steady job, steady boyfriend…until I didn’t. He broke up with me over a text and then refused to answer my calls and explain why. After that, my job became less and less appealing as did living in the city so when his opportunity came up I had to jump on it as scary as all the change is.”

You wait and hold his gaze. “What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” he says quietly before stealing a fry off the plate.

“Like?” you ask.

Like where I can find your ex-boyfriend so I can give him a proper beating.

When he still doesn’t speak you continue talking. “I’m thinking about the renovations I want to make to the bookshop. It’s nothing crazy. Just some minor changes to make it more of a cozy space.”

“That sounds nice,” he answers. “It could use some upgrades.”

“Definitely. And the door to my apartment upstairs doesn’t even lock! I need to get that fixed first.”

Joel’s eyes narrow at your statement. “That’s not safe.”

You smirk and steal the next fry that’s dangling between his fingers as they hover over the plate.

“Maybe I’ll look up some cute contractors online to come help me.”

He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs wider under the table. Your gaze moves to the way his biceps pop under the tight fabric of his shirt.

“You could. If you wanted the job done poorly.”

“Are you saying you’d be able to do a better job?”

“Damn right darlin.”

Was this still about renovations to the shop?

With that thought still floating around in his brain he watches you stand and pop one last fry into your mouth.

“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” you say before rounding the table. “I like it when you’re nice.”

And I even like it when you’re bossy. Maybe too much.

You kept that last thought tucked away and lean down to kiss him on the cheek before lightly brushing your hand over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Tommy drops into the now empty seat, grinning ear to ear.

“How’d that go boss?” he asks.

“Shut it,” Joel growls.

Later that week with the sun just peeking above the horizon you hear a knock at your door. It startles you into alertness and you sit up with a gasp, dropping your book to the bed.

Your feet hit the cool floor and you ask, “who’s there?,” hoping to keep the shakiness from your voice.

“It’s Joel.”

“Oh,” you whisper, now suddenly even more alert but much less jumpy.

Before you open the door you quickly run a hand over your face and scrub away the sleepiness. You turn the knob and have it halfway open before you realize you’re barely dressed, the only thing covering your body is the old tee shirt that hits way above your knees.

You stop and peek through.

“I’m um…I’m not really dressed. I was in bed reading.”

“Shit,” Joel mutters. “Sorry darlin.’ I didn’t even realize the time. I can wait till you’ve put somethin’ on.”

He doesn’t move away from the door and you open it a little wider before slipping away to grab shorts.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly but not quietly enough and your lips turn up into a triumphant smile.

When you return you open the door invitingly and then notice the toolbox at his feet and meet his eyes.

His cheeks are dusted with pink and not even the scruff lining them can cover it. It’s hard to hide your smug satisfaction but you do your best.

“What’s that for?” you ask.

“I came to change the lock for you,” he explains hoarsely.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling your stomach erupt with nervous energy. “Why?”

“I’m leaving this morning. To go to the city and start on that hotel job. Won’t be back for a few days. I just…”

He kneels down and starts rummaging through the tool box, metal clanging against metal so you can barely hear him when he adds, “wanted to make sure this place was safe and secure.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your old shirt.

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Well.” He stands and starts working on the door. “I saw you hadn’t done it yet and I didn’t want you calling any random guys.”

“Because you can do it better. Right?”

He doesn’t look up from his work and just grunts his acknowledgement.

You take the opportunity to move toward the small kitchen area and start making some coffee.

“Coffee?” you offer.

He looks up at you as you lean against the counter with your bare legs on display. His eyes drag down the length of them before he shakes his head no.

“Already had a cup thanks.”

He finishes the lock and puts his tools away before approaching. His hand moves to his back pocket and he pulls out some folded papers, setting them on the counter.

“I brought some take out menus.”

“It’s probably too early to be insulted.”

“This isn’t me telling you not to cook. These are just in case you don’t want to cook.”

“Ah,” you answer. “I could have just looked this up online.”

“Yeah well I don’t have your number so how would you know the best places to get take out.”

You stare at him from over the rim of your steaming mug.

“Maybe you should take it,” he says abruptly. “My number…in case…”

“I need cooking advice again?”

He makes an affirmative nod and smiles.

“Ok, what’s your number?” you ask as you reach for your phone.

The relief on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you and he recites the digits as you punch them in.

When you hit dial on his contact his eyebrows draw together as if he’s trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.

“That’s you. Now you’ll have my number too.”

You giggle and the corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Right.”

You set your coffee down and push yourself up onto the countertop.

With one more almost imperceptible sweep of your legs he coughs into his fist and turns toward the door.

“Thanks Joel!” you call after him.

He waves with barely a turn and flies down the steps.

The rest of your day is spent figuring out the renovations for the bookshop space downstairs. You clean, declutter, and really start to map things out in your head. By the time the late afternoon sun is setting you realize you’ve missed lunch and you’re starving.

“I should try chili again,” you say to yourself.

After a quick and much less exciting visit to the grocery store you head back with a bag full of Joel’s recommended ingredients and get to work.

Two hours later you have a large pot of bubbling and unburnt chili on the stove.

Without thinking too much into it you snap a picture of the food and send it to Joel with the caption, “I did it! And it smells amazing!”

Before you even put your phone down his response dings in.

“Wow darlin.’ Looks amazing. Save me some.”

You’re about to reply that you definitely will when another text comes through.

“And I’m hoping you didn’t burn anything down?”

He follows it with a silly smiling emoji and you answer with, “nope! Everything and everyone is intact,” including your own smiley face emoji.

“Perfect. And I meant it. Save me some.”

“Please…” you type and then send another message saying, “so bossy!”

He responds quickly. “Save me some. Please.”

He adds a kissy smiley face and you giggle before sending one back with a thumbs up.

It’s easy to flirt over text. You aren’t overwhelmed by his masculine and sexy presence. By the smell of him. Woodsy and spicy. And his hands aren’t there teasing to touch you.

All you can think of while you enjoy your bowl of chili is how you can’t wait for him to come back this weekend.

When Joel returns from his trip he rushes home to shower and change. It’s already late but he needs to see you and you should have a bowl of chili waiting for him.

When he pulls up to the bookshop and parks his pickup he frowns at the darkened space.

Maybe you’re out? With someone…

Pushing the invasive thoughts aside he gets out and walks to the large windows, peering inside.

Nothing.

The scuffle of feet pulls his attention away and he catches sight of you sitting across the street by the park, your feet dangling along the pavement.

He approaches slowly, making noise so you don’t get scared. You look up and tense but instantly relax at the sight of him.

“Was wonderin’ where you were,” he murmurs.

“You’re back,” you say. “I have chili for you.”

You half smile but your eyes fall.

His chest tightens.

“Darlin’?” he asks before sitting down next to you.

His thigh brushes yours and his arm is close enough that you feel his warmth.

Your sniffle and hug your arms around your body.

Hesitantly he lifts his arm and rests it lightly across your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

When you don’t pull away and instead lean into his strength he tugs you closer.

“I tried to start doing some work on the bookshop. I just wanted to take off the old and peeling wall paper but I think I fucked things up. I’m not sure how to fix it and really I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s a mess.”

Your confession softens him and he runs his calloused fingertips along your smooth skin, sneaking them under the sleeve of your shirt.

“I’ll take a look at it. I’m sure we can fix it.”

You were so soft. It took everything in him not to pull you even closer and wrap you in his arms.

“It’s a mess. I’m a mess. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t put yourself down. It pisses me off.”

You look up at him and gasp. “You? Pissed off? That’s new.”

The corner of his lips lift and his eyes sparkle. “I deserve that.”

You wipe your nose and give him a smile.

“Maybe. But only a little.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and sigh.

“We’ll sort it out,” he assures you.

You look at him with soft eyes full of gratefulness. His gaze moves lower…to your mouth and his lips part as if to speak but the sound of a loud car horn makes you jump apart.

“How about that chili?” you ask as you start to stand.

“Sounds great darlin’.”

You walk toward the building, tensing at his side the closer you get, knowing he’s going to see the disaster you’ve made.

He stops you with a hand over yours.

“For what it’s worth,” he whispers. “I think you’re really brave for comin’ here to start over.”

The tension slips from your shoulders and you take his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You did it,” you murmur. “I’m still upset but…I feel better. More hopeful.”

He smiles before you turn to unlock the door and your hyperaware of the feel of his hard body behind you. It takes everything in you not to turn around and throw yourself at him but you manage to get the door open and offer him some chili.

The next day, being Sunday, should be a day of rest but your new-found determination has you up and out of bed bright and early, ready to conquer the wallpaper debacle and then some.

You’re saved from wondering where to start when the front door of the shop opens and in walks Joel with a tray of coffee and a bakery bag.

“Hey there darlin’,” he says. “Thought you’d be up and ready to work.”

“Hey back,” you wave.

He fills the doorway with his body and you try to focus on the smell of fresh coffee and sugar.

“That for me?” you ask and point to the tray in his hand.

“Yeah.”

He crosses the small distance and places the tray down on one of the old tables. You reach for the coffee and open the top, inspecting the contents of the cup.

“You know how I take my coffee?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I pay attention,” is all the answer you get.

You stood dumbfounded for a moment until you remembered that you had made coffee the other morning when he fixed the lock on the door upstairs.

“Thank you.”

Your gaze travels to his and there is some kind of silent communication between you. You can’t believe how much he can convey without actually speaking. Your breathing becomes shallower as he continues to look at you and you know, by the determined set of his jaw and confidence simmering in his gaze that things have really shifted.

When he finally pulls his eyes away you let out an audible breath and take a sip of your coffee.

“What’s happening here?” he asks as he looks over the mess of a wall. “You want to get rid of this?”

He moves closer and toys with the wallpaper.

“Yes and then I want to…”

You start rattling off your ideas in a long run-on rambling sentence without taking a break and when you’re finally done you find him eyeing you with both an amused and thoughtful expression.

“Right,” he said. “Well I know a good place to get lumber and all that so we can shop later but for now let’s get this cleaned up.”

He turns and strides for the exit, passing your trash bag from yesterday that was too heavy for you to lift.

“You want this out for pick up?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you respond.

With zero effort, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and walks out. When he returns he’s carrying his toolbox.

You peer through the window and see his pickup truck and one trip at a time, he brings more supplies and tools.

Grabbing the back of his sweatshirt he drags it up and off, bringing his tee shirt underneath along with it, and you catch a glimpse of what’s beneath.

“Shit,” you mutter.

Now that he’s only in a tee shirt you can see the deep cut of his triceps and forearm muscles every time he lifts or handles something.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“You alright there darlin’?” he asks when he hears your quiet reflections.

“Huh? Me? Oh yeah, just fine thanks. Um…I want to help so just tell me what to do…you know be bossy. You’re good at that.”

He steps closer with a sideways smirk, his warmth coasting over you, and his gaze falls to your mouth, taking it’s time before finding your eyes again.

“Keep ripping that wallpaper down. I know it looks a mess but you’re doing it right.”

The words themselves hold no sensuality at all but the way he says them, the way he leans in close and whispers them along your ear…it sends a shiver right down your spine.

As the days pass you continue to work and make progress on the shop. Some days it’s just you and Joel and other days Tommy joins you both to help. On the days when Joel has to work he gives you detailed instructions on what to do and how to do it. You’re proud of how much you’ve accomplished together but also on your own.

At the end of the week, with the late afternoon sun already making it’s way toward the horizon, you notice the shop is oddly quiet. No sound of the saw or hammer.

“I have something to show you.”

His low and gravelly voice pulls you from your current task of polishing the small table tops and your nerves fire up.

When you stand and walk closer he looks you over from head to toe. You’re covered in dust and your skin is glowing with a light sheen of sweat.

You look down at yourself then back up at him.

“Is it that bad?” you ask with a halfhearted smile.

“You look beautiful.”

He holds his hand out and you take it, letting him pull you toward the back of the shop.

You step behind the last row of bookshelves and stop short.

“Joel…”

The large bay window is now framed by two brand new floor to ceiling dark shelves. The polished wood gleams in the setting sun and every beautiful accent swirl and grain is highlighted.

“It’s amazing! I just…I love it. Thank you!”

He takes the rag from his back pocket and cleans his hands while he watches you from under the dark strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead.

“Glad you like it darlin’.”

“No. I love it Joel. How can I ever thank you.”

“Have dinner with me…and not here…on the floor of the shop like we do some days. A real date.”

You suck in a small breath and curl your fingers together. “Did you think you needed to build me this to convince me to go on a date with you?”

“No,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was workin’ up the nerve to ask you and this was a good distraction.”

“Oh…” You say the words and your mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. “I…I mean…of course. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

He looks down at his feet and nods firmly, a smile playing on his lips. “Alright then.”

He starts to gather and pack up his tools. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

You shake your head yes and realize you’re not speaking and as he turns to walk away you move forward while calling his name.

One second he’s holding the tool box and the next it’s on the ground next to him and he’s turning toward you. Your momentum brings you right into his chest and his arm wraps around your lower back.

He waits for you to speak, his eyes wandering over the features of your face before focusing in on your parted lips. His fingers splayed along your lower back dig into your skin and he tugs you closer as he dips his head.

Your palms land flat on his hard chest and slowly dance upward along his broad shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The words are just a whisper but you manage to get them passed your lips and he looks like he’s about to speak but instead covers your mouth with his.

The kiss is worshipful but you can feel his restraint in the tense and flexing muscles of his body and your fingers find purchase at the back of his neck and comb through his hair.

His hand slides up your back and he presses you closer as he lifts the other to cup your jaw. The callouses on the pad of his thumb scrape deliciously across your soft skin and he moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

When the need for air finally takes over he releases your mouth just long enough to look into your eyes before he dives back in, stealing your breath all over again.

The door to the shop opens, the newly installed bell atop it ringing loud and clear through your kiss filled haze.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Tommy says sheepishly when he appears by the window.

Joel breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with harsh breaths and he stares at your mouth for a few long moments while you cling to him. His hand eventually drops away from your back and his fingers trace along your jaw and then down your neck to pull your ear to his lips.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmurs. “Six.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @lizette50 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #bookshop

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bunnylovesani · 10 months ago

Text

Sleeping Beauty

Summary: Your roommate Anakin will go to any lengths necessary to get close to you, even ones you don’t know about.

Content warnings: dead dove do not eat, somnophilia, dubcon/noncon, drugging, violence, oral sex, p in v sex

WC: 3.4k

Work had been wringing you dry lately- so much so that when you’d finally claw your way to bed in the evenings, not even a tornado could rouse you. Your roommate, Anakin Skywalker noticed this- as he noticed everything else. Your mannerisms, your daily schedule, and all your little habits and quirks were committed to memory.

His prolonged glances and lingering touches raised no alarm bells in your mind, putting it down to his affectionate and slightly odd disposition. Sure, he was a little peculiar but your Ani was one of your best friends- always thoughtful, always caring and always there.

On one particularly exhausting evening, you sighed heavily as you traipsed in through the front door of your shared apartment. You always wondered why Anakin had any use for a roommate considering his prestigious job and the doubtless wealth that came along with it- but you just assumed he had a proclivity for modesty.

“Tough day?” He called out as you dropped your bag by the door with a heavy thud and followed the sound of his voice.

“You don’t know the half of it.” You sighed, slumping down onto the kitchen chair as you observed Anakin cooking, dirtied apron clinging to his toned abdomen. “What’s on the menu?”

“Your favourite.” He replied calmly, tipping the pan over slightly to show you a thick steak swimming in herbal butter.

“Wow. That looks- but…I’ve never told you that steak is my favourite.” You furrow your eyebrows and peer up at him in confusion.

“Well of course you have, silly.” He chuckles dismissively.

“No, Ani, I’m sure I haven’t. Have I?” You question, trying to recall a conversation in which you revealed your favourite meal but nothing was coming to mind.

“What have they been doing to you in that office?” He shakes his head and tuts. “Around when we first moved in, you told me how your dad always made steak on special occasions and how you came to associate the meal with good news.”

“I did?” The story is true, though you can’t for the life of you remember saying it.

“How else could I possibly know?” He smiles calmly and you relax. This new workload must really be doing a number on you.

“It’s so nice of you to make dinner but I was kinda thinking of going straight to bed- the exhaustion is killing my appetite. I go to sleep early but I still don’t feel well-rested for some reason…” You ramble on as he puts the sizzling pan to the side and turns to face you, leaning on the kitchen counter with his usually intense glare.

“Why don’t you take a sleeping pill?” He cocks his head to the side and you contemplate his suggestion. “I’ve got some low-dose ones, they’ll knock you right out and you won’t even feel it- I’ll go get them for you.”

“Wait, Ani- I don’t know-“

“They won’t make you drowsy in the morning, I promise.” Before you can object, he’s returned with a shiny tab of small white pills and is pouring you a glass of water.

“Alright, I suppose I’ll do anything to get one good night’s sleep.” You sigh, popping one of the tablets out of their foil casing and swallowing. “They’re the low-dose ones, yeah?”

“That’s what I said.” He smiles, watching you knock back your last sip of water intently.

“Thank you. Oh, but the steak- I feel really bad-“

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll put it in the fridge, it’ll still be good tomorrow. You just go straight to bed.” He rests his calloused knuckles against the marble worktop, angry veins snaking up his smooth forearms.

“Really? You’re the best, Ani.” You rub his arm gratefully before wading over to your room, yawning.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He whispers once you’re out of earshot.

Just like he said he would, Anakin neatly put your dinner away, scrubbed the stove clean and did the dishes. Upon completion, he glanced at the ticking clock on the kitchen wall before swiping the tab of pills sitting on the counter and stuffing them back into their original packaging. Taking the box out of his pocket, he read the front of the pack: Diazepam- full strength.

Satisfied that enough time had passed, he walked over to your room and pressed his ear against the wooden door, waiting to hear signs you were sound asleep. Once he was happy with your soft snores and hums, he treaded the shaggy carpet and crept in.

You were swaddled in your covers and lying on your back, the teddy bear he bought you for your last birthday tucked lazily under your arm.

He stood there and admired you for a moment, heart warmed at how you cuddled his plushie every night without fail.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he approached the foot of your bed and cautiously peeled off your frilly duvet, leaving you exposed in your pink pyjama shorts and bralette. He’d seen it several times but the sight of your bare skin never failed to drive him wild; his self-control and morals flew out the window as soon as you were together like this- the cloudy stillness and quiet of your placid bedroom insulating you both from the outside world and its restrictions.

He reached out to lift your bralette, raising it just enough for your nipple to pop out and harden in the cool night air. His mouth watered at the sight, wanting so badly to lock his lips around it that his cock grew painfully hard and strained against his trousers.

Tracing his fingers down your hips, he hooked them around your little shorts and pulled on them gently, your cotton panties coming off with them.

He has to cover his mouth with an open palm to stop the groan from slipping out when he sees the glistening wetness nestled between your plush thighs.

“What are you dreaming about, princess?” He mutters as he rubs his thumbs against your inner thighs before carefully spreading them, ensuring your legs are wide open but comfortably supported by the surrounding pillows. He lowers himself so that he’s only a few inches away from your heat, taking in the glorious view before him.

He’d fallen in love the very moment he laid eyes on you- but he instantly got the sinking feeling that his feelings weren’t reciprocated. You saw him at most as a friend, a convenient guy to have around, a perfectly suitable roommate. He was under no illusions that you would ever requite his love- how could you when his feelings were so intense?

Deciding he couldn’t take it any longer, he unzipped his trousers and lowered his boxers, letting his heavy cock spring out and slap against his abdomen. Try as he may, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your lips, which fell into a pretty o shape as you peacefully snoozed. Some dribble gathered in the corner of your mouth and he couldn’t help but kneel and hover above you, staring. He needed to feel your lips on his cock.

Wrapping a hand around his veiny shaft, he pumped it with a couple of rough strokes before resting his blushed tip against your pink lips. The precum oozed out and smeared against your plump bottom lip, moistening it just enough for Anakin to slide his cockhead smoothly past it. He let out a soft moan as your mouth enveloped his throbbing cock, languid wet tongue brushing past it as he slowly glided in and out- the sight of his cock on your lips too much to bear.

Gently pushing his hips forward, he guided the tip to the back of your mouth, the ridged roof sending shivers down his spine. You moaned dreamily, the vibrations from your hums making his cock twitch. When you began to toss and turn, he quickly pulled out and took a step back- the thrill turning him on beyond belief.

Setting his sights on your unfurled legs, he creeps onto the bed and positions himself between them.

“What a pretty little pussy.” He shakes his head in disbelief, knowing he has never before and would never again see anything so beautiful.

Pushing his swollen tip between your folds, he gathers your slick and coats his length in it as he glides along your slit- your thighs involuntarily contracting a little every time he brushes past your clit.

The pained expression on Anakin’s face was apparent- he had never gone this far before. His chest tightened at the thought of violating you in this new way, both out of guilt and excitement. He relieved himself of culpability by assuring himself it was okay- he loved you and was just taking care of you. It’d been a while since you’d been with anyone and your frustration had begun to show- what kind of friend would he be if he let you suffer like that?

Spreading your folds apart with his thumb and forefinger, he gathered a glob of spit and let it dribble from his lips to your entrance before smearing it messily with his cock.

Lining the leaky tip against your opening, he delicately pushes in, stretching you out inch by inch. Even though it feels like torture to deny himself, Anakin sets a meticulously slow pace, paranoia chasing him. His girthy cock plunged into your cunt, bullying it into submission with painfully laboured thrusts.

Anakin bit his lip and scrunched his eyebrows at the sight of your tiny hole being stretched to full capacity, clenching needily around his length. He took this as confirmation that you needed him just as much as he needed you, deluded into believing your desire was apparent with the way your pussy gripped him.

Your breathing sped up and your heart rate rose- your body’s attempt at rousing you- but still, you remained asleep.

Anakin couldn’t believe his luck- he had been dreaming about what it’d be like to be inside you and now that your warmth had finally enveloped him, it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. He often scolded you for how naive you were but it was his favourite thing about you- the trust you felt for him was palpable in the way you gazed at him adoringly. The warm, wet comfort of your heat made him feel electric and he couldn’t help but want more- he wanted to lay hold of everything you had to give. He lifted you by the hips and impaled you onto his cock, forcing it even deeper until you were flush against him, the imprint of his member bulging through your lower stomach.

“Oh, baby…fuck.” He whimpered, barely above a whisper. “I wonder if you could take me this well when you’re awake.”

The room heated up with Anakin’s heavy breathing and your stuffy, sleepy moans. As roughly as he thought he could get away with, he pounded into you little by little, using your pussy like it was his to ruin. Your shared arousal gleamed in the dim moonlight, illuminating how his thick shaft disappeared into you with ease.

He tried not to grip your hips too roughly but with the way your pussy moulded around his cock like it was made for him, he couldn’t help but dig his fingernails into your flesh. The sight enraptured him so much that he didn’t even notice when your pretty eyes fluttered open, widening in shock.

The second your gazes met, he leapt to cover your mouth with his heavy palm.

“Don’t.” He breathed, crazed eyes daring you to scream just to show you what would happen.

You shook your head frantically, eyebrows swooping in distress.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” He continued thrusting into you, maintaining eye contact as he sunk his cock into your used-up pussy. You nodded hectically, wondering if you were still dreaming.

“Good, ‘cus I really wouldn’t wanna hurt you, baby.” He whined.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about waking you up, he could take you as roughly as he wanted. Stooping down to your chest, he popped a nipple into his mouth and sucked it forcefully, red marks streaking your breasts as he bit and drooled all over them.

“A-ani…what are you doing?” You cry out in utter disbelief after he releases the hand silencing you to knead your breast.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I jus’ couldn’t hold back anymore.” He moans as he brutally stuffs your pussy, the sound of lewd smacking reverberating around your cosy bedroom. “I couldn’t wait any longer.” He pulls away from your chest, drool hanging off his swollen lips.

“But I’ll make it up to you, baby.” His voice falters as he slams his hips into you sharply. He’s so deep your entire body feels overwhelmingly full.

“Just let me use you.” His husky voice makes you break out into a flurry of goosebumps as you clench frightfully around his girthy cock.

“You understand, right?” He questions but his hand has already snaked its way back up to your mouth. All you can respond with are muffled cries and whimpers, hushed by his thick palm. “I know you do, you’re my good girl.”

You look down to observe the frenzied way in which Anakin shatters his cock into your tiny cunt, wetness dribbling down your thighs and making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“I’m gonna stuff this pussy full of my cum.” He growls to himself as beads of sweat roll down his forehead, blonde curls dampened.

“Nmmh!” You squeak, shaking your head in disapproval as best you could with the way he was restraining you.

“Oh yes I am. And you’re gonna love it.” He rolls his hips and sinks into you impossibly deep before pulling all the way out. “Look at that, doll. How are you so wet?” He gestures for you to look down at the way gloopy strands of arousal hang off his throbbing cock, the base soaked with your slick.

You observe with shock, writhing in confusion over how your body had betrayed you. You whine and sob as he slides back in, dragging you impossibly close to him as you claw at the pink sheets.

“Shh…I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he wraps his hands around your jaw, thumbs rubbing against your dampened cheeks comfortingly.

“I’m almost done, baby.” He rests his forehead against yours and you feel lightheaded from the sudden wave of body heat. His hands travel back down to your hips, raising your ass as he fucks up into you with dizzying speed.

“Come on, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He mutters breathlessly. “I know you want to.”

You try to fight it but your back arches instinctively and your fingers dig into his shoulders as his cock stretches your aching pussy wide. He bottoms into you mercilessly and you feel as though you’re about to slip out of consciousness. With one last thrust, your body explodes into flames and the searingly pleasurable sensation travels to every last one of your nerves.

“That’s it, baby.” He speeds up, chasing his own high. “I knew you’d love my cock. Should’ve let me do this sooner.”

You pant as your heartbeat tries to regulate itself, sprawled and utterly fucked out. Anakin hovers above you, raising your thigh and pressing it against his chest as he ruts into you with feverish intensity. Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he comes undone in a loud climax, throwing his head back as he shoots ropes of hot cum into your sore pussy.

Catching his breath, he shoots you a grin as he combs the messy curls out of his face, pulling his cock out and allowing the gloopy mess to run.

“Sorry about this, doll.” He shrugs before reaching for the lamp on your bedside table.

“Wait, Ani-“ You put your arm out but he pins it down by your side before knocking the metal base against your temple, rendering your whole world black.

The blinding light shining out of your bedroom window finally wakes you. You shield yourself from the sunny glare with an arm draped over your eyes, scrunching your face up when the pain radiating from your head suddenly hits you. Glancing over to the alarm clock on your bedside table, your heart almost jumps out of your throat. You were supposed to be at work hours ago yet here you still were, in your pyjamas and cosily tucked in.

You crawl out of bed as you try to piece together the broken fragments of your memory; did you forget to set the alarm? It must’ve been those sleeping pills Anakin gave you- so much for his promise that they wouldn’t make you drowsy. Before you can even reach the door, there’s a knock.

“Hey, you awake?” Anakin pops his head through and gives you a look of concern.

“Just woke up now. Somehow managed to completely sleep through the work day.” You shake your head, confusedly tapping at your bruised temple. “Those pills of yours have given me a killer migraine.”

“What? No, it can’t be from them- I’ve taken them a million times and never had any side effects.” He steps into the room and holds a flat palm up to your forehead. “Oh, honey. You’re burning up.”

“Am I?” You go to feel but he swats your hand away.

“You must have a fever.” He tuts. “Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll get you some painkillers for that poor head of yours?”

“I won’t be accepting any more drugs from you, thank you very much.” You laugh as you let him guide you back under your duvet.

“Completely understandable. My bad, doll.” He chuckles, folding in the edges of the blanket. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Get some rest.” He tries to take a step back but you instinctively grab onto his wrist.

“Wait.” You groan pathetically. “Can you stay with me for a little while?”

“Of course.” He flashes you that beaming smile of his and you’re struck by a sense of familiarity. He treads over to the other side of bed and joins you under the covers, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his chest.

“This is gonna sound strange, but…” Your mind races at a mile-a-minute as you come to grips with the sudden onset of images that have flooded your brain. “I think I might’ve dreamt about you.”

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrow and smirks. “What was it about?”

You struggle to put the pieces together; all you can see is a hazy vision of Anakin between your legs, bullying his cock into you as you lay there helpless.

“I can’t even say, it’s so messed up.” You shake the thoughts away, a shiver running through you.

“Sounds more like a nightmare, doll.” He tucks an unruly piece of hair behind your ear. “But it wasn’t real. Just a dream.”

“I know. You’d never do anything like that.” You scoff assuredly and he kisses the top of your head. His gentle touch seizes your chest and you have to focus on regulating your breathing. He’d never guess it but you’d had a fervid crush on Anakin for as long as you’d known him.

“You’re safe here with me.” He brings you closer and you snuggle deeper into his chest, subtly inhaling his sweet, musky scent, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Now get some rest, darling.” He strokes your hair comfortingly.

“Mmm…love you, Ani.” You unknowingly slip out in a quiet hum before drifting off to sleep.

Anakin seizes up in shock at your admission, total surprise consuming him. You loved him? He couldn’t stop the wide grin from unfurling across his blissful face nor the way his heart leapt with joy from the two simple words. He hadn’t ever allowed himself to treat this as a possibility- it was an undisputed fact that you were too good for him and he never let himself be deluded into thinking otherwise. The elation he felt in holding you in that moment, knowing you wanted to be held back was beyond words.

But just as quickly as the ecstasy flooded his veins, the solemn realisation of his sins hit him like a hammer. A nauseating sense of guilt and regret crept up on him like a maggot into a rose, casting a dark shadow on any future you could’ve had.

What had he done?

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#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin fanfiction #star wars smut

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tadpolesonalgae · 11 months ago

Text

The Other Woman

Azriel x Necromancer!reader

Synopsis: Coming from a long line of necromancers, you’re bound by an oath of submission to the High Lord. Dark power that many fear concentrates in your veins, a rare and precious gift. A perfect match for the Shadowsinger whose darkness comes to rival your own. Until one day, he seems to have no need for you anymore. Perhaps he never did.

Warnings: adolescent turbulence, beauty, angst, self-hate, violence (self-inflicted and other), general depression all around.

a/n: I think I went a little insane, writing this

Word Count: 15,042

“Did you see her makeup?” You laugh tipsily over your drink, blessed warmth sweeping away the day’s troubles. In truth you’re far from drunk, but a little playfulness never hurt.

Azriel rolls his eyes, wings tucked in carefully to avoid bumping into things despite being in a large private booth, overlooking the restaurant. “Maybe you should ease up on the alcohol,” he suggests, taking a sip from his own drink. “And waste your coin?” You muse, tilting your head to the side. “Never.”

The edges of his mouth quirk, gaze casting out over the busy scene below, waiters weaving in and out of the packed tables with trays practically piled to the ceiling—how anyone can eat that much food and not be ashamed is something you’ll never understand.

“Besides,” you say idly, glancing at the male. “I thought it looked nice.” But Azriel shakes his head, smiling faintly, your own reflecting their movement. “I’m sure you did,” he replies, still watching the tables far below. Hazel eyes following the waitress that had brought your drinks with slight interest. You subtly cast your attention after her—hair tied back, long legs, slim build but sturdy. Your nose wrinkles, lip twitching in disgust. “She could learn to lose that muscle,” you muse lightly, leaning forward to splay your forearms on the cool wooden surface of the table.

“She’s working a manual job,” he replies, still watching her. “Of course she’s going to have a bit of muscle from carrying those drinks around.” You take a sip of your own, watching as the waitress disappears through a door. “She serves as the pretty face of the restaurant,” you comment, “leave the heavy lifting to the others.”

“What are you going to order?” He asks, switching subjects. “Probably a salad,” you sigh, “I doubt I could manage any more. What about you?”

Azriel hums, the deep vibration warming your skin, and you resist the urge to shift in your seat, cunt aching to have him between your thighs.

“Probably a portion of mind-your-business with a side of roast potatoes,” he drawls, peering at you from over his menu. “Hold the judgement.” Hazel eyes glimmer with amusement, locking with your own, a slight smile softening the edges of your mouth. You raise your hands innocently, back curving to subtly showcase the generous neckline—deep but tasteful. “Just my opinion,” you reply, conceding on this topic.

He hums again, and you both settle back into peering through the menu. Much of the contents you can guess will be cooked in oil, making it greasy and fatty, something that would have made your mother’s lip twitch in disgust.

“Salad it is,” you mutter, pushing the menu away and sighing. “I know you like this place, Az, but this really is the last time we’re coming here. The air is practically dripping with sweat.”

“You know you say that every time,” he muses, hazel eyes flicking leisurely over the various meals and side dishes. “I mean it,” you counter, turning your head to once again peer at the crowd below, nose wrinkling ever so slightly before you suppress the inclination.

“There’s nothing wrong with letting loose every once in a while,” he replies casually, seemingly taking him time with deciding. “That’s rich coming from you,” you drawl, pointedly glancing at him. “You’re practically married to your paperwork. We had to set up a schedule for these dinners,” you emphasise, rolling your eyes. “Mother forbid you don’t get what you want exactly when you want it,” he replies, still choosing.

“What can I say? I deserve to be spoiled.” His shoulders shift, a low laugh huffing quietly from his mouth, the sound dripping between your legs. “Isn’t that right,” he drawls, deep hazel eyes settling leisurely on yours, shadows swishing idly over the plush seating.

You arch a neatly groomed brow, lips curving in a feline lilt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was something you wanted to say?” You angle your head, keeping his gaze. But he shakes his head, that faint smile still on his mouth.

The waitress decided to return at that moment, and you resist the urge to berate her for so clearly interrupting the conversation. Instead you offer a polite smile, requesting a salad, pointedly asking how big it would be. “How big?” She repeats, playing dumb. You nod, keeping the smile perched on your lips, refusing to let her win. “I’m really not that hungry tonight,” you explain sweetly, “I was wondering since I saw you carrying some pretty large trays earlier—how do you even manage to carry that weight?” You ask, laughing slightly as you eye the thickness of her arms.

Beneath the table, a shadow zips up your leg, and you flinch, before shooting him a glare across the table. Azriel watches neutrally, but his gaze seems amused. With curved lips you return your attention to the waitress—so much wasted potential there. “I’m afraid all the salads come in the same size, but if you find it to be too much, nothing will go to waste,” she says smugly, “scraps get sent off to the farms, either for food or compost, so you needn’t worry about not finishing anything.” You smile blandly, not appreciating her bringing up farms and animals in a dining space.

She sucks in a breath, smile tightening as she at last turns away from you. “And for you, sir?” She asks, and you could vomit from her tone. Sprinkled with extra sugar. “This, please,” he replies pointing to something on the menu—tilted away from you. Curiosity simmers in the back of your mind, but you refuse to ask in front of the waitress. He’s probably doing it just to get to you.

She smiles and nods, jotting it down on her notepad before finally leaving, trotting away down the stairs.

“You better not be thinking about taking her home, Az,” you muse, leaning back in the seat as you fold your arms, subtly plumping your breasts. Mischief gleams on his hazel eyes as he casually examines his hands, “I don’t see a ring.” Despite the irritation gnawing at the back of your brain, the edges of your mouth lift at the comment, sighing heavily. “I should be the only female on your mind right now,” you say slowly, pulling out your nails to examine them in the warm light. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ignore a dinner partner?”

“Forgive me,” he counters, lips quirked, “you’d seemed more interested in the waitress. Trying something different tonight?”

Your lip twitches in disgust. “Are you trying to put me off my meal entirely?”

“I don’t think I said anything particularly foul,” he replies, amusement fading. “Well we both know your mouth isn’t the cleanest,” you muse lightly, surveying the decorations upon the table: a small vase of flora that’s been pushed to the side, some candles, a half-empty bottle of wine and some playing cards. “I’ll use my mouth how I want to,” he drawls, watching you steadily. “As will you.”

Traitorous heat liquefies in the pit of your stomach, bubbling and simmering away at the low timbre of his voice. You hum noncommittally, returning to his gaze. “So long as you aren’t using it on another male,” you say, shrugging. “Then live and let live.”

Azriel’s brow narrows, the edges of his mouth lifting. “You know that’s a contradiction,” he deliberates, relaxing in his seat. “You aren’t supposed to pick and choose who you’ll let live.” Habitually your lip twitches in disgust, but you tamp it down. “So long as it’s not being shoved in my face, then they can go on with their lives and I’ll go on with mine.”

“And Mor?” He questions casually, and despite his gaze having drifted idly to the candles you can feel the weight of his attention. “What about her?” You reply, keeping your features neautral.

Hazel eyes flick over the table, locking with your own. “Where does she fall among your morals?”

“Mor is Mor,” you reply blandly, resting your cheek on your palm, nails prickling skin. “She can do as she likes.” Azriel’s features remain in an unreadable set, but tension lessens as he reaches once again for his glass, sipping lightly.

You watch silently, how the warmth of the candles smooth his naturally flawless skin, shadows flickering in the hollow beneath strong brows, darkness dancing down the column of his throat. His lips remain in a bland line, tongue flicking out to bring in the alcohol, before returning the glass to the tabletop.

Casually, you slide your attention to the three candles that have been pushed to the side. “Want to learn a new trick?” You ask, feigning boredom. “I didn’t think you were one for party tricks,” he muses, an edge of mirth underlying his tone.

Ultimately you ignore him, allowing no more than a roll of your eyes before a single candle is being dragged over. Eyes latched with his, you brush the pad of your thumb and middle finger over your tongue, before clamping them over the flame, putting in out in one swift movement. Digits pull away, revealing the extinguished candle, a glint of victory in your eyes.

“Very impressive,” Azriel replies dryly, just as you had anticipated.

Watching silently, you slide a candle across to him. “Want to give it a go?”

There’s nothing subtle about the way tension ripples across his features, muscle tightening from the talons of his wings to the tips of his fingers. Hazel eyes the candle warily, a faint grimace on his lips.

A laugh spills from your chest at the expression, edging the flame away and instead reaching for the deck of cards. “How lucky do you feel tonight?”

Some of the torsion within his muscles relaxes, but he remains stiff. “Under normal circumstances, very,” he replies, glancing down as you deftly flip the box open, cards dancing between your fingers. “How about a bet?” You muse, eyes locked, shadows flickering at his back, spilling onto the table. “But if I win, you give that trick a go.”

Silence stretches between you, charged and taut.

Hazel drops to the cards being shuffled effortlessly, how they blur beneath your ministrations.

“Okay,” he says after a long moment, “I accept.”

Darkness flares around the booth, your teeth gleaming in a flash of white as a brief grin splits your lips. “Spine?” You ask, to which he nods, accepting the game—not even a sly quip about a necromancer suggesting Spine as the amusement of choice.

The seven cards are dealt out, the top one flipped over. “Ace is the skull. Good luck,” you smile, picking up your hand. “I do remember how to play,” he counters, features shifting to neutral as the game commences.

The rounds tick by, with him winning time and time again, all the while you’re sat opposite, with that bland, lifeless smile on your lips not even getting a single set down on the table. Still, when you reach the final round, your total amounts to no more than thirteen, having been forced to go out on a two during the first round, since the ace was worth twenty five, being the skull.

For the last time, you deal the seven cards, darting like shadows across the table as fingers flick deftly, setting the deck down softly, and flipping over the top card. Putting it face up on the surface.

With vague interest you watch his expression as he takes in his hand. If you didn’t know it was doomed, you wouldn’t be able to tell, his mask set firmly in place, no hint of disappointment or frustration to be found. Not even a curve of his lips with the fulfilment of your mutual knowledge—you’ve never lost to him. To anyone.

(With one exception.)

As expected, all seven of your cards end neatly catalogued into flushes, discarding the skull on the pile—the king of spades.

Azriel sighs, knowing the victory was coming, revealing his score of seventeen. A small smile plays on your lips as you sweep the cards back into their pack, pushing the candle toward him. “Better luck next time,” you say, his turn to fulfil the bet.

He eyes the flame warily, hazel glowing softly as the light warms his usually neutral features. You drink the sight in quietly, memorising the lines of his silky hair, a single strand brushing just below his right brow. How nice it would feel to skate your fingertips across his skin, pushing the inky lock away.

“Is it too late to back out?” He asks grimly, and you prop your chin on your knuckles, peering at him with a faint smile. “You agreed to this the moment you accepted the bet,” you reply softly, attention on him not the flame. Even to a stranger, his hesitance would be blatant.

“I’ll do it with you,” you say dryly, pulling the third candle over. Lick your middle and forefinger, watching as he reluctantly copies. “And…out.”

The flame winks out, extinguished in a heartbeat, casting your table mostly in darkness.

Blown-out hazel locks with you, still smiling faintly.

The grin fades, fingers dropping to the base of the candle to push it away. “Impressive,” you murmur sincerely, “once you wouldn’t have even considered playing.”

“Maybe a few decades ago,” he mutters, quick to push the candle away, hands sliding beneath the table. You hum noncommittally, straightening in your seat, sensing his aversion to the topic.

Your brow furrows, nails drumming on the table. Lip twitching with annoyance. “How long does it take to prepare a damn salad,” you mutter, pretending not to notice the ripple of ease across his shoulders. “Really, we’re never eating here again. The wait time is obscene, not to mention that server had an attitude on her. Doesn’t she know she’s supposed to be doing her job? All I needed was a simple answer, not a deep dive into their personal ethics.”

“You’d complain to an orphan if you got the chance,” he says, a hint of mirth returning to his eyes. “And you’d sooner destroy your own mind than let someone else have a look at it,” you return idly, reaching once again for your steadily draining glass, spotting the waitress making the journey up the stairs.

“Took her long enough,” you mutter under your breath, before pasting on a bland smile to soothe the male before you, a look of wariness on his features. All irritation is assuaged however, when you spot a smudge of lipstick on her straight, white teeth. Your mouth settles into a deliberate, straight line, glancing at Azriel to see if he’s noticed.

The waitress flashes a pretty smile your way as she sets the plates down, and you bite down on the urge to laugh, keeping your features politely neutral. When she turns to Azriel however, you feel an icy bite at your ankle, startling as one of his shadows nips at the exposed skin and you watch as he makes eye contact with the waitress. He thanks her, subtly gesturing to his teeth to let her know about her little embarrassment. She flushes wildly, a twinge of humiliation in her eyes as she hastily covers her mouth, apologising.

You offer her a sweet smile as she swiftly leaves, making her exit as quickly as possible to the stairs.

As soon as she’s gone, you turn back to Azriel, laughing. “Why’d you tell her?” You ask, sighing with mirth, pulling your plate closer. “Why didn’t you?” He counters, amusement void from his expression. You roll your eyes at his comment. “I didn’t want to embarrass the poor girl,” you reply, picking up the cool cutlery, feeling its weight in your palms. “Did you see how humiliated she looked at the end there? That was awful of you.”

He hisses your name lowly, and you raise mirth-filled eyes to his, spearing a slice of tomato on your fork. “What?” You grin, twirling the small weapon in your fingers. But he pins you with a hard look, shaking his head. “You can be a real piece of work, you know?”

“I had no idea,” you drawl, biting down on the crisp, red skin, delighting in the slight saltiness. A selfish indulgence on your part.

“At least now she’ll switch to a different lip tint,” you muse, watching as his expression turns cold. “Learn through experience, right?”

————

The hall fills with the sound of rustling clothing, voices chatting with pitched cheerfulness, heat pleasantly flooding the great room.

Night settled hours ago, faelights glowing proudly as the scent of warmly spiced mulled wine weaves through the air, sprinkled with sugar. Wreaths hang from the walls, decorating the large glass chandeliers, dripping diamonds.

The dark red liquid swirls in your glass, caught in a group conversation consisting of Mor, Elain, and a quaint looking bunch the latter seems familiar with, along with a couple of other familiar faces from your own circles. Andriette, with the hat wreathed in sparky feathers, laced through with purple and gold thread, accents of silvery aqua running through the deep indigo coloured gown she’s selected for the night. Changria with the vibrant oranges, rubies adorning her fingertips, wrists and neckline, looking like bloody teardrops from her earlobes. Small sequins have been scattered through the deep black of her hair, silky and lustrous.

Then there’s Cordia, the newest addition to your preferred group, still in the initial phase of integrating herself into your world. With rich brown hair and eyes to match, she’s chosen muted colours for the evening, complimenting her skin tone that’s lacking in the ripeness of life. As one of the many Fae of the night Court who organise their lives around the sparkling starlight, you find her a little bland on the eye, lacking the visual charm to fully convince you she has enough to offer.

Elain seems to be content leading the flow of conversation, though you can sense your ladies are getting restless and bored from the discussion, uninterested in the best soil to sow orchids in. A few of Elain’s own friends nod enthusiastically, offering their own tidbits and unnecessary opinions, eyes hurriedly darting across the circle you make up in search of a flicker of approval. Occasionally Mor will nod or laugh, offering one of her own comments, but even she is flagging in the conversation topic.

Changria shifts on her feet, and you take a mild sip from your drink to hide the eager quirk of your lips.

“Speaking of flowers,” she muses lightly, rubies glittering as light refracts through their pure colour. “I haven’t seen you frequenting the Peacock Inn recently, Mor. Spending your free nights at Rita’s these days?”

The vivacious blonde doesn’t seem the least bit ruffled by the slight sneer in your friend’s voice, instead allowing her full lips to curve into a rosey smile. “I find the conversation to be much more stimulating that side of the city,” she replies silkily, swirling her glittering champagne between pearl-tipped fingers, forgoing her signature red for the night in favour of a glittering ball gown that sweeps across the floor like golden starlight. “I’m surprised your sister hasn’t yet managed to pull you over. With how much time she spends there I find it strange you haven’t latched onto the spot.”

Elain’s friends shift uncomfortably on their feet, anxious to return to familiar ground.

“I think you must be mistaken,” Changria replies with her viper’s smile, as clean cut as glass. “My sister has no interest in fraternising with…same-minded folk. We were raised to be aware what counts as polite company to surround oneself with.” She pauses, dark eyes flicking to Mor’s from beneath thick lashes. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your group, of course,” she says with fake sincerity.

The edges of your mouth quirk, attention shifting to the bubbly blonde to see what she’ll do.

Irritation flares up when your fun is cut short, her pretty caramel eyes cutting to yours with enough ice that you have to step up. “And you?” She asks, “do you think this is polite company?”

You take a leisurely sip from your drink, having her wait just a few seconds before deigning her with a response. Both Andriette and Changria hide their mirth well, but you recognise that glimmer in their eyes. “I’m sure it’s all in good fun,” you smile, meeting her gaze, inclining your chin subtly. “Isn’t that right, Ri?” The black-haired female laughs, waving her bejewelled hand dismissively, “of course. My sincerest apologies if you felt otherwise, Mor.”

You smile at the superficial expression on her features, meeting each of Elain’s friends eyes, hurried and nervous smiles quickly pasted onto their lips before you turn to Mor. “It’s been a long night, after all,” you excuse smoothly, “she means nothing by it.”

The blonde hums, clearly choosing to ignore the snide remarks cleverly shot her way. Really though, what did she expect?

She can handle herself anyway—she didn’t need you to put a stop to Changria’s remarks, simply that it was the smartest thing to do.

In your peripherals, you watch as Cordia shifts, spurred on by the sly remarks, tempted to come out of her shell to find her own target.

“Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink,” Elain suggests easily, eyes weaving through the crowd effortlessly. “There’s a server coming by—maybe have a couple of the snacks to soak up a bit of that alcohol. They really are lovely, those ones.”

“Am I right in understanding you advised what foods should be served, Elain?” You ask, watching as her cheeks flush a little with colour, dipping her head in a nod. The gesture is so imbued with feminine dignity you can’t help but warm to her, as if able to see a fragment of your younger self contained within her frame.

“That’s right,” Elain responds, a small smile on her lips. “Nuala and Cerridwen kindly assisted in preparation, as well as a good handful of others.” She nods kindly toward the gaggle of females she’d brought to the circle, and her friends faces soften into smiles. “You all remembered to wash your hands between gardening and preparing our food, right?” Cordia chimes in, eyeing the tray as it’s brought in.

They’re all perfectly bite-sized, different toppings upon small crackers with an assortment of herbs and spices sprinkled in varying heaviness. You glance tersely at Cordia from the side of your vision, before selecting one of the small biscuits from the outskirts, raising it to your lips to taste. Andriette and Changria follow suit, Cordia following soon after, eager to learn and copy. Elain’s group takes a few of the finger-pieces, nodding and congratulating one another on the different flavours.

You hum, pleasantly greeted by the slight citrine flavour of your tiny mouthful, finishing it off in another bite, aware more than a few sets of ears will be interested in how you judge the food. Moments pass, and you take your time examining the flavours—surprisingly enjoyable considering their size.

“Very nice,” you hum mildly, feeling the piercing weight of Mor’s attention on your lips. “Who’s idea was that one?” You ask, and Elain practically beams. Ushering forward one of the females in a pale blue gown, chestnut hair rich beneath the warm faelight. “This is Idris,” she introduces, and you incline your chin to look down upon the tall female. “It came from a home recipe,” Idris blurts out, and Cordia grins into her glass—at least she knows to hide her mirth. “My father used to make it for me and my siblings when we were younger, and I thought it would be perfect to share.”

“Your father did the cooking?” Cordia remarks snidely, and you send her another sharp glance, growing impatient with how she’s speaking out of turn. “What sort of circumstances led to that situation?” Idris shifts uncomfortably on her feet—shoes worn without heels, likely in attempts to muffle her unusual height. With a nervous glance your way, she elaborates. “My mother passed away when we were young, so my father had to learn how to care for us. Those snacks were the first things he mastered, so I’m proud knowing they’ve been served to such a vast number of people tonight.”

“He couldn’t afford servants?” Cordia questions humorously.

“Cordia,” you call sharply, pleased when she stiffens, twisting to face you—head slightly lowered. “Remember our earlier conversation about polite company?” You ask mildly, sipping from your emptying drink. The female nods, and you don’t doubt she memorised every word. You swirl your glass idly, before glancing at her sidelong. “Make sure to keep to that category. There are very few exceptions I make when it comes to the people I associate with, and you will not be one of them.”

The female flushes deeply, nodding hastily before mumbling a half-hearted apology to the tall but meek Idris, who accepts, likely out of sheer awkwardness.

You turn your attention to the pale-robed baker, meeting her eyes that flit about the room anxiously. With dark, tea-coloured skin, the dusty shade of red looks almost soft on her round and full lips, and you wonder why she’s decided on a pale blue robe when one that was wine-coloured would be far more suitable. With a dusting of gold over her eyelids, she could sweep a fair portion of the night’s attendees off their feet—both metaphorically and practically.

“Idris, correct?” You muse, nails glittering beneath the light. The female nods, fingers stuttering over the stitches in the bodice of her dress.

The very edges of your mouth raise, elegantly shifting your weight to one hip, running an appraising glance over her figure.

“Would you be interested in catering for another event like this?”

————

Footsteps tap softly along the floor of the open balcony, heels clicking as she finds you beneath the moonlight.

The glass has been refilled, and you gaze down at the revelry below, coloured lights dripping like diamonds, bobbing like fireflies between the shadows as fae sing and dance.

She comes to a stop at your side, waiting for you to address her, and you take another sip, just to make her squirm.

“How kind of you to join me.”

Cordia keeps still, attention keyed to your movements—smart thing. “You wanted to speak with me?” She asks, tone carefully neutral, but unable to mask the twinge of hope in her rich brown eyes. Her skin that must have once been livened from the sun in the Dawn court now lacks its vivaciousness, the colour of dried autumn leaves that crinkle and crunch daintily beneath booted feet.

“Allow me to be blunt as you are not someone I’m willing to soften my words for,” you say lightly, swirling your glass, glancing at her sidelong—watching as she stiffens further, and a twinge of fear creeps into her spiced scent. “You have not done yourself many favours tonight,” you muse, returning your attention to the sky, the clouds that have shadowed the moon. “It would serve you well to understand how things work for someone in your position.”

Her round figure is already fully facing you when you turn to her, fingers gripping her drink too casually.

“First of all, if you are going to target someone, do it with grace. Kicking a child does not prove strength, but weakness.” Cordia nods hurriedly, a sharp dip of her chin, eager to learn. “Secondly, do not go for someone contained within a group who will obviously side with them. Targeting that female when she was surrounded by others she was close with was foolish, and brash. A stupid error on your part, and embarrassing on mine.” She flushes wildly, lips parted, but nods again, mumbling out an apology. “And third,” you say voice icing over, “do not lash out with half-developed quips.” Deathly power condenses at your fingertips, like dew sliding along the taut string of a spider web. “There is a time and a place for mild jabs, but if you are unable to go for the throat, then you have no place in my circle.”

The sour tinge deepens, and your magic stirs in response, like a cat stretching out its spine, claws glittering.

“Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” she responds, a little hoarse.

“Prove it.”

“Prove it?” She echoes, and a small smile sharpens the cut of your lips, death haloing your figure as you stare her down. “Prove you can strike where it hurts.”

A blink reveals her hesitance, and you turn back to survey the city, sipping idly at your drink, as if you aren’t about to make or break the female at your side. The seconds tick by and you can hear how her lips fumble, silently scrambling for something sharp and bladed to gift.

Your eyes slide shut momentarily, mouth set in a sour line. “You can see yourself from the party.”

Cordia practically stumbles, but you don’t deign her with attention. “Reconsider,” she requests, gathering her pieces together, holding firm. “My answer is final,” you repeat idly, watching as a small circle appears below, people leaping and dancing as the round the small fire.

“Please,” she repeats, and through your peripherals you can make out as she discards her drink on the balcony, hands clutching the muted tones of her dress as she dips into a deep curtsey, holding the position flawlessly. The edges of your lips raise, before finally giving her your attention.

“I suppose it would be a shame to waste your dancing abilities,” you muse lightly, glittering black earrings tinkling as an icy breeze washes in. Cordia doesn’t dare look up, keeping her gaze trained on the round velvet of pitch dark heels. “Put on a show that will impress me,” you say at last, “and I will reconsider.”

“Thank you, my lady,” she breathes, relief soothing her muscles as she raises to a stand. “It will be the finest—”

“Down there,” you smile, gesturing with your chin to the bonfire far below, where the lower classes thrive and mingle, robes lacking the lustre and vibrancy of rich saturation, a sharp divide between the two spaces.

Cordia’s smile drops faster than a millstone through water, skin leeching further of colour, turning ashen. But she dips her head, understanding the ultimatum.

And so she leaves to dance, even if it will mean setting herself ablaze in the process.

No sooner than she’s out of sight, a familiar figure prowls silently out onto the balcony, stepping out of shadow and into the moonlight, bathed in silver.

“Azriel,” you greet, smiling faintly as he glides from the darkness, all calm quiet and reassuring grace. In a world that’s ever-shifting, he’s a constant, keeping the same cold attitude and unreadable mask wherever he goes. But then there are those moments where something warmer glimmers in his eyes, and your axis shifts a little, centre of gravity swaying as you enter his orbit. Rare moments where flame licks between paragraphs of conversation, small embers being allowed to warm before they’re once again fearfully stomped out.

“You could have chimed in when your friend was practically spitting in Mor’s face,” he says lowly, bypassing you entirely to lean calmly against the balcony railing and you blink, pulled back into your own realm. Features shift into a mask of soothing ease, moving silently to stand at his side. “She can handle herself,” you reply. “Besides, I won’t tell them what to think.” Through your peripherals you mark the slight frown between his brows, the displeasure in his mouth as he looks out across the midnight city, rendered in dark, inky blues and sparking pale starlight. You keep your back to the view, attention keyed to the male at your side, all thoughts of Cordia vanishing along with the task you gave her to complete.

“But you stepped in when it was Elain?” He asks, still not looking at you.

“Would you have preferred I said nothing?” You return dryly, sipping on your drink, casting your gaze back to the ballroom.

Azriel shifts, pushing up from his rest on the balcony, turning to look at you. “What would Rhys think?” He asks, and there’s something in his tone that has your full attention openly moving to him. “He’s like a brother, why would it matter what he thinks? We’ve all done bad things,” you reply grimly, memories pulling across your skin. “He’s your High Lord,” Azriel reminds quietly. “Your master, too.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “that bond hasn’t been called upon in generations. And besides, he’s too soft-hearted to ever use something as outdated as that.” A note of affection has entered you voice, despite the slander you’re spewing. You peer up at Azriel, smiling faintly, “he refuses to so much as peek into someone’s mind without them knowing, he could never manage the bond. Much less given our relationship.”

Likely dozens of centuries ago, the both of your families had been powerful. Yours powerful enough that the dominant lineage grew wary of the necromancy that passed from blood to blood, never losing its potency no matter who it was bred with. Eventually a bond of submission was forged, rumoured that a hand had been forced, and ever since then, your blood has been bound to the ruling one’s. An oath of obedience sworn with each new ascension.

Admittedly, when Rhys’ father had been killed, and your own mother passing as collateral, you had hoped to escape it. Having grown up together, arranged to be married, lived in the same city for centuries, you’d thought perhaps something would change with you. Instead something had changed in him, after the loss of his family. A proposal had never been offered, and hopes of absolute freedom had been abandoned. You’d taken the oath the day he returned from Spring, blood still dripping fresh from his leathers, violet eyes so abnormally cold and cruel you’d done what you could to return their warmth. Shown you’d chosen to stay by his side, needless of a prompt.

“Still,” Azriel says, pulling you from recollection. “The fact remains. Stepping too far out of line will only force an unpleasant decision upon him. One that will likely be unpleasant to receive, too.”

“You don’t understand what you’re talking about,” you say softly, darkness gathering down your spine, festering and writhing. Fifty years worth of memories he has yet to understand. He watches you quietly for a moment more than usual, before his attention is stolen by a figure entering your shared privacy of the balcony.

Azriel visibly relaxes, standing straighter as Elain walks up to him, greeting the both of you with a warm smile that noticeably reduces the strain in the air. She comes to a stop at his side, and you frown as they exchange a quiet look, feeling too close to the outside of his neat circle for once, having been unaware of the constraints tightening. She leans into him, and you feel a frown emerging on your brow at her forwardness. Maybe she should take her own advice and find something to soak up the alcohol.

“Elain,” you greet, inclining your chin slightly, plastering on a pleasant expression as she turns to you. “Thank you for offering Idris another opportunity,” she says sincerely, voice soft as cotton. Azriel stiffens at the small revelation—nothing Elain would notice, but something you have no trouble spotting, almost perfectly attuned to him. “She loves cooking, though she doesn’t let it show that often,” she continues, oblivious to the Shadowsinger’s tension. “So even if she’s already said it, I wanted to thank you, too. I think it’ll help her in ways none of us can—getting to finally do something she loves, and getting to do it well.” Deep, swirling cocoa rises to meet you, tender and soft with emotion, so easy to target should someone want.

“It’s no concern at all,” you smile pleasantly, the corners a little too sharp to be entirely sincere, an edge in your stomach at her proximity to Azriel. “Though I appreciate you upholding the pretence that it’s anything but a self-serving action—very gracious of you, I must admit.” Her brows furrow a little, tilting her head, but then she shakes it, smiling faintly, “you like your mask, don’t you?”

Before you can ask—or even react to—what she means, she’s turning to Azriel, pushing up onto her toes to press a light kiss to his cheek, before smiling again kindly, and taking her leave. You watch her go, silently, until she’s disappeared between sweeping bodies, turning to Azriel. Raise your glass to your mouth, “well that was interesting.”

The rigidity is beginning to make sense now.

“How long are you going to let it drag on?” You ask, averting your attention to the fire below, fuelled by twigs as fae and faeries dance about. He’s quiet, and you fight against the muscle in your jaw, the urge to grind your teeth at his silence. Jealousy isn’t a pretty colour.

“We’re together,” he says at last, and you scoff.

“And I asked for how long,” you reply, not looking at him.

He’s silent again, and your lip twitches in disgust, pushing up from the balcony, turning to face him. “And when were you going to tell me you were fucking Elain?” You ask bemusedly. “I can understand keeping your other lovers private, but Elain Archeron?” You marvel, voice dripping with fake incredulity. “What does Rhys think?”

“It’s serious,” he replies quietly, and you scoff again.

“Uh-huh. And the Mother’s going to kiss my hands when I go to heaven,” you reply sardonically. “Seriously Azriel, what the hell are you thinking?”

“I’ve already heard this talk from Rhys and Feyre. I don’t need it from you,” he says coldly, and you pin him with a hard look.

A heavy breath blows from your chest, and you return to the balcony, surveying starlit Velaris. “Whatever. Even I can’t stop you from making this mistake.” Your name hisses lowly from his mouth, but you ignore him. Instead you focus on a small, female figure appearing below, emerging from the shadows as she meekly approaches the bonfire. A smile sharpens your mouth, and you lean forward. “Evening entertainment is starting,” you hum to him, shifting the subject.

There’s a pause on his end, and you know he’s considering dropping it, picking up on your cue to change the topic. Move away from the unpleasant conversations in favour of lighter topics. The air shifts, but he glances over the railing to where you’re looking. “Let’s see what the little chestnut has, shall we?”

“What did you do this time?” He sighs, a note of familiar exasperation in his tone, a faint smile softening your mouth. “Why do you always think I’m behind it? Can’t she enjoy a night on her own?” You ask, shifting to face him, jaw resting on your palm.

A muscle flickers grimly in his jaw, darkness simmering in his gaze. “She’s taking her top off.” You blink, turning to peer over the balcony. A sharp, surprised laugh cuts from your throat, more a harsh bark than mirth, because there she is, undoing the corset portion of her bodice, revealing the translucent white fabric beneath, swaying as she joins the revellers. “She’s certainly putting on a show,” you muse, pleasure shimmering across your skin as you wonder at the humiliation she might feel. What you hope she does feel, and what will go unrewarded. You would never have allowed someone like her to join your circles to begin with.

Beside you, Azriel shakes his head. “You’re going too far,” he mutters, “stop it.”

“Stop it?” You echo, “but she’s just beginning to enjoy herself,” you croon softly, watching as a male figure joins her on the ground below, hands greedily skating up her waist. Your name is again pulled from his chest in a warning, dragged out deep and gravelly. “What am I to do?” You muse, returning your gaze to his, now cold and hard, lethal beauty painted in pale moonlight. “I can hardly order her about from up here. Besides, I know what I’m doing, and this is a small price to pay for what she tried to bring my way.”

His lip twitches in disgust, and your heart skips a sudden beat, heat swarming your chest. The familiarity of that gesture—it’s one he’s learned from you. Like how behaviours can rub off on other people, you’ve left your own mark on him, and here it is, presenting itself to you. Nerves squirm around your throat, warmth fluttering through your lower stomach at the thought. Biting back a small, helpless smile, averting your gaze.

“You’re a nasty piece of work sometimes,” he mutters lowly, and this time you allow a fraction of the genuine smile to show, warmth gathering beneath your skin as you accept his invitation, falling back into the cruel dance of life, sparring with sharpened blades. “And you just perfectly captured Elain’s future thoughts when she finds out the things you do, Spymaster,” you reply, amusement lining your features. “She might not see that blood, but I do, and it’s not something you yet know how to fix.”

His features harden to ice, hazel eyes glittering with frozen cold as your words crash against his scar-toughened skin.

Down below, more clothes are being stripped away, and you grin, wondering how far she’s prepared to take this dance. How far she’ll go to preserve her precious face.

“How do you feel about trying a new restaurant this weekend?” You ask, distracting from the show. “After the embarrassment of that last time, I think it’s fair we go to a place I like for once.” You turn to face him, smiling faintly, but you’re met with emptiness.

At some point within the last minute, it seems he’d simply walked away.

Leaving you quiet on the balcony.

————

The ball had quickly lost it’s appeal after the small shock—what on the Mother’s head is he thinking? Elain of all people.

Fingers rub across your chest, just below your collar bones, massaging the area to relieve pressure. Him and Elain. Why hadn’t he told you? From how casually she’d stepped into his side, it has to be something that’s been going on for a while. The others must have known about it…why were you left out? Brows twitch but you pull back on the frown, anxious to avoid any suggestion of lines.

The conversation reworks itself in your mind, repeating until you practically have it memorised.

She might not see the the blood…

With each replay you can see as he walls himself off. Can spot those self-defence mechanisms kicking in, as thoroughly ingrained in him as the scars on his hands. That’s not what’s supposed to happen when he’s with you. He’s supposed to open up, not close himself off. Maybe it was the wrong thing to say… You’d thought it clearly a game, but maybe he’d been taking you more seriously than you’d anticipated.

…but I do, and it’s not something you yet know how to fix.

And he’d left after that. You don’t even know if he’d heard your rather bold dinner invitation, or if he’d winnowed elsewhere. To be at Elain’s side. To enjoy her as he would a ripe fruit. Maybe she is something to be wary of… If their relationship is so out in the open… You can’t remember a time Azriel had ever been okay with any of you meeting a partner, preferring to keep them to himself, hidden away until he got bored or it fell apart. Whichever happened first. It’s unnerving to find your constant shifting, and not in a favourable direction.

The tightness builds in your throat.

While it wouldn’t be long, you’d rather not have to sit through their relationship for the few years or so, even if you know it’s bound to end in misery, just as it always seems to be when it comes to him. Like a little black raincloud.

Your heart stutters in your chest, pulse increasing and you have to even your breaths.

Yeah…you should say something to him. Even if he likely won’t accept your apology due to cripplingly low self-esteem and issues with vulnerability, you hope the effort will be worth it. You don’t want him to wall himself off around you. You want him to bleed and gush, guts spilling, allowing you to see the mess you know lurks beneath his skin. A mess you could easily find in yourself, too. If only you could open up enough to show him your similarities. The connection would be obvious, and maybe…maybe you’d get to have someone who understood you, too.

Maybe he wouldn’t hate his own darkness as much if he was able to see how deeply rooted it is in your own, soulless body.

————

The dinner happens as usual, and you try to resist sinking into the off feeling.

It’s nothing obvious, but it’s lacking the usual cohesiveness, the fluid conversation feels dwindling and forced, and you realise he isn’t pushing back as much as he normally does. The snide remarks you make are left untouched, no disciplinary glances or displeasured frowns when you pass a quick judgement. Even when the comments become unfair to your own ears, he ignores them, instead choosing to pay attention to the food.

Once again, despite all your protests, you’re here at the same place you always go. He claims it’s his favourite, but you can’t bring yourself to believe he could possibly enjoy a place where the air is so thick and heavy, to the point of being stifling. You can practically smell the sweat and grease with each breath, and your skin crawls with disgust at having to frequent the restaurant so often.

Eventually the meal reaches its end, and the two of you leave, Azriel having paid once again. You think it’s only fair, since it’s his spot. There’s no way you’re paying for such a mediocre meal and such poor service.

The skies are heavy and grey, verging on thunderous, the air dense even once you’ve breeched the wards that keep the restaurant alive with heat. Cobbles are slightly crooked in places, and you take care walking, wary of the thin pencil-wide stilts that serve for your heels. All around, folk are enjoying their suppers, sat beneath water-proof gazebos as day at last utterly yields to night, faelights warming the streets dimly through the bizarre heaviness of the darkness.

“Azriel,” you call from his side, voice coming out confident despite being so unsure how to go about touching on yesterday’s subject. He makes no sound to acknowledge he’s heard you, simply continuing on with the leisurely stroll, and yet you know he’s listening. Just as he always is. Ever attentive.

“Yesterday, when we spoke,” you begin slowly, intentionally shifting your gaze to brush disinterestedly over shop fronts and seating areas. Nerves crawl uncomfortably around your throat, tightening but you keep your spine straight, shoulders pulled back as had been drilled into you. “You seemed closed off,” you say, unable to look at him. Not with the stutter of your heart.

When he makes no effort to speak back or elaborate, you push forward, anxious to keep your feelings tightly concealed. “You understand I was joking with you, don’t you?” You ask, counting each step, marking the cracks between the grey cobbles. He hums, not really and answer. Your throat rolls, gaze sliding to eye him sidelong, the clean cut of his profile against the dark blues of the night, skin keeping its soft warmth despite the swiftly plummeting temperature.

“You took your time to tell me about Elain,” you remark, switching topics hastily. Quickly dancing away from the apology that was sat so readily on your tongue—just unsure how to come out. What words to join together to express your grief over his own reactions while not feeling an ounce of regret for what was said. You won’t take it back, but you wish he wasn’t…however he is, with you.

“About that,” he says, and your attention keys to him entirely, as it always does whenever he seems prone to revealing a little more of himself to you. “Things are going to change,” he elaborates, “Elain and I will be going out to dinners together, and because of our lives, this is going to have to find time somewhere else.”

You blink, steps faltering, heels stuttering over the cobbles as you stare at him but he keeps up the idle pace, forcing you to push your body into fluid movement, flowing after him. “What… Az, what are you talking about?” You ask, tone confused, lacking its usual sharp edge as apprehension tightens around your throat. “These suppers,” he repeats, attention remaining ahead, “they’re going to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because Elain and I are together, and we—”

“Shut up about Elain,” you say sharply, voice lowered, coming to a stop on the cobbles. Azriel pauses, features superficially neutral as he takes in your stance. Waiting patiently, as he’s always prepared to do.

“These are our dinners, Az,” you hiss, keeping your voice low, wary of eavesdroppers. “They’ve been our time for almost three centuries. And now you’re trying to replace them because you got laid?” Disbelief drips from your hushed voice, staring at him incredulously, shaking your head. “We’ll talk about this again when the blood’s returned to your head,” you hiss sharply, but his brow dips in displeasure, and you’re kept from walking away.

“Don’t talk like that. About me, or her,” he says bluntly, irritation itching across your skin. “Az, you’re thinking with your cock,” you hiss again, stepping closer to reduce the chances of being overheard. “These dinners are the only times we get to be together. You are not cancelling them just because you want to get between her legs, is that clear?”

Azriel makes a sound close to a sigh, and emotion—raw and unfiltered—sears across your chest, licking like flames as you stare at him. “Don’t bother getting frustrated. I’m not asking, I’m telling you what’s going to happen. Besides, the family dinners are still open.” Even if you haven’t attended one in almost two-hundred and fifty years.

Your heart pounds in your chest, long-suppressed rage rearing her head with such force there’s nothing you can do to muffle her. “Don’t pull that, Az,” you warn lowly. “You know that’s not a solution. You can find time elsewhere, these days are the only ones that work for us.”

“She’s my partner. She comes first.”

“And what about me?” You hiss. “You’ve known her for—what? Two years? Have been in a relationship for less than that, and I’m the replaceable one? Pull your shit together.”

His brows narrow, gaze hardening as he takes you in. Hazel eyes cool, freezing over as his patience is relieved of its duty. “I want to eat with her. I want to spend my time with her,” he says coldly, “you are tiring and draining to be around.”

“Tiring and— What has gotten into you?”

“This isn’t anything new,” he replies, “she and I have been together for a while now, and this is how things happen.”

“How long is a while?” You hiss, feeling as if the cobbles are falling away beneath your feet. “Long enough,” he replies monotonously.

“This is how you treat your century-old friends?” You ask, power writhing in your stomach. “Pushing them aside when something new and shiny comes along?” You hiss, emotion whipping at your heart until blood leaks out. “Fine. Fuck the tightness out of her for all I care. See if you’re still interested once you’ve gotten what you want.”

“Do not—”

“I have everything, Azriel. I’m the most sought-after female in this city,” you hiss, pressure building behind your eyes but you shove it away—you can’t have the kohl running. “Males have crawled on their knees to gain an ounce of attention. My life is perfect, I don’t need anybody but decided you might be worth my time.” Anger heats your skin, features twisted in an ugly carving of rage.

“If your life is so perfect, why do I pity you?” He replies harshly, rain beginning to drip from the heavy skies.

“Pity me?” You echo, faintly. “You pity me, shadowsinger?” You grit out, lip curling back with disgust. “I don’t want your pity. My life is perfect. People would die to be in my position. To be as coveted I am, and I gave you a chance at that.” You spit, seething, keeping an eye on the rain—looking like it’ll become heavier. It’ll ruin the curls you kept pressed in if you don’t get inside soon. “You can’t replace me,” you scoff, staring at him beneath lightly dipped brows—careful of wrinkles. “You’ll never find someone as good as me.”

A vindictive smile stretches across your dark-painted lips, triumph searing across your skin, heart pulsing in a way you’ve been craving for decades—centuries. “I’m everything you could ever want: beautiful, intelligent, rich. Not to mention excellent in bed, anyone would be blessed by the gods to call me their own,” you point out, baring your teeth with victorious rage. “You can’t deny we’re perfectly suited for one another. Everyone and their mother knows we’re a strong pair, practically untouchable. We spend all of our time together—there’d be no difference between how things are now and how they would be if you would just open your damn eyes and realise how much you need me.”

“I’m the one you confess your sins to, I’m the one who absolves you, I’m where you go to seek comfort,” you hiss, wary as a strand of neatly curled hair falls out of place. “And you think Elain is anything in the face of that?”

Breath puffs from your chest, air curling in thick tendrils as the crispness of the breeze deepens in its chill. Fingers tremble at your side, skin immune to the swiftly plummeting temperature, spurred on by self-righteous anger. The need to right a wrong becoming satiated now he understands what an awful choice he’s making.

Azriel’s expression doesn’t shift, hardly shows a grain of emotion, the rain beginning to drip into the soft, inky locks of his hair, weighing the strands down to curl over his brow.

“I spent my time with you because I thought I could fix you,” he says blandly, making you falter. “You’re so self-obsessed, convinced the whole world would pause everything for you—I can’t even begin to understand how insecure you must be to have reached such a severe state of delusion.”

“Delusion?” You snarl, freshly manicured nails piercing the soft flesh of your palms, hours of pampering ruined by a single outburst. “The only one who’s deluded is you, for even considering picking the flower-baring whore over me.” Hazel eyes gutter, taking on a glittering icy hue as his jaw tenses.

“You’re the court torturer, and I’m the necromancer—there’s never been a better pairing cast together, and there never will,” you seethe, death and rot simmering at your fingertips that his eyes trace warily. “You’re really so selfish you’d latch onto Elain and bring her down with you?” You ask, watching as the blade finds its mark, hazel flinching. “I’ve seen your darkness, and you’ve seen mine. The mother couldn’t have made our match more obvious.”

“You know I’m right, Azriel,” you crow, taking a step forward, needing to wrap this up quickly—people are murmuring, rain growing heavier. You can already feel it beginning to take the silky sheen from your hair. “I’m the better choice. Now and forever. I will always be the better choice.”

His expression shifts to something you can’t place—almost like sorrow—thick brows narrowing over dark hazel eyes. He takes a silent step forward, the edges of your mouth kicking up with a spark of success. Vicious pride blazing in your gaze—warping into tunnel vision.

“I will tell you only once,” he bites out, glittering fury lighting the deep hazel of his gaze. “Never speak of Elain that way.”

“Or what?” You bark, staring up at him, arms folding indignantly to plump up your chest. “You choose that bitch over me, and it’s over between us,” you declare, victory within your grasp. “You forget I know where her father’s buried,” you hiss viciously, keeping your voice low enough for only him to hear.

A blind person could spot his kindness from a mile away, as useless as it is. He would never put himself first, especially not before you. You’ve had centuries to observe his behaviour, you know this is his weakness, the cripplingly low thought of himself, somehow unable to appreciate the divine beauty of his own features, looking as if he’d been hewn from the heavens themselves then unleashed upon earth to wreak destruction.

He’s equipped with the weapons to be a heart-breaker, to have whoever he wants, yet has somehow managed to overlook his own beauty. A rare gem for you to take for yourself, to treasure and polish to perfection, to stare at and admire in the guarded privacy of your own heart. He’s the first, and only one who’s ever managed to get past those impenetrable walls of ice, having thawed you out over likely thousands of dinners, and nights out, and not-so-casual brunches.

But Azriel shakes his head slightly, sighing in the freezing air, breath curling in a smooth twirl, whisked away by the chill breeze. “You’re doing this to yourself,” he says quietly, hazel piercing into you beneath a narrowed brow, gaze filled with ice. “I’m not going to choose you.”

“So you’d throw away three centuries of simmering pleasantries?” You spit out, an icy drop of rain slipping down your generous cleavage, goosebumps raising. “Don’t be so arrogant; it’s unbecoming.”

He takes a step forward, casting you in his darkness, his warmth remaining just out of reach, pulling you into his orbit. “You think anyone will love you like I will?” You ask, but your voice shakes as the words slip out. Throat rolls, nails slicing into already ruined palms. “I know you, Azriel,” you grit out, “what you are. What you do.” You shift on your feet, spine straightening, shoulders flattening. “Do you really think anyone else will stick around for that?”

Shadows flick over the peaks of those great wings, wreathing them like dark halos as hazel shutters. “Walk away,” he murmurs, darkness swirling idly about, like early morning mist. “Walk away, and you can keep your fragile sense of self intact.”

“Is it the number of people I’ve slept with?” You grit out, glaring up at him. “We can pretend that never happened, if you want me to be more like her. I can learn botany—it wouldn’t be an effort. I have gardeners that could arrange bouquets, and lace my hair with wild flowers. I’m sure someone’s found a spray to keep bugs away, so—”

“I’m not picking you,” he says harshly, eyes pinning you to the cold, icy cobbles.

“Why not?” You hiss, but he shakes his head, exhaling a short sigh.

“Just go back home,” he replies, a little softer. “Save yourself the embarrassment. I’d hate to be the one to shatter your carefully cultivated image,” he mutters, turning on his heel.

Panic surges, blindly reaching out, heart clenching in your chest as both of you stare at your hand gripping his wrist. The murmurs hurry in intensity, but fall away as hazel meets your gaze, narrowed and wary. You know he must be able to feel the tremble of your fingers, but you can’t let go now, that would be admitting defeat. So you step closer, his warmth washing over you, night-kissed scent wrapping with your own.

“I can change,” you manage, voice hoarse in the freezing rain, weighing and ruining your curls. Tiring and draining, he’d said. “Tell me what to do, and it’ll be done. I can fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” he replies shortly, “I spent a long time thinking I saw glimpses of myself in you—when you used to quieten in the evenings instead of plastering on one of your catty smiles. When you used to enjoy the silence instead of trying to fill it with numbing activities.”

You stiffen in the cold, grip tightening on his wrist, gaze locked with hazel.

“At some point you might have been salvageable, but not anymore,” he continues, small pieces of yourself trembling with each word, raw and tender. “And what about yourself?” You reply, heart tight in your chest. “You think that you have the right to pass judgement on me? With the things you’ve done?” You stare up at him, pulse beating to a nauseous rhythm. “You’ve lied, murdered, and tortured your way to where you are. I’m an angel compared to you.”

“You’re rotten to your core,” he hisses, wings flaring wider, towering over you. “Rotten, spoiled, and utterly unloveable.”

Something faintly familiar stings through your stomach, wrapping in knots and dragging outward, twisting.

“No one would pick you—has anyone even thought of doing so?” He asks, sharp hazel eyes piercing like blades through the thawed out ice of your heart.

“You did,” you whisper, lungs filling with choked-down aches. “You chose me, Azriel. So I’m choosing you back.”

“That’s not how it works,” he hisses, pulling his arm from your grip like your muscles are made from rain-soaked paper. “I gave you a chance to change. You could have been better if you’d tried.”

You shake your head, staring at him, fingers cold as icy water drips over their outstretched tips. “That’s not fair,” you whisper, “I didn’t know I was being tested.” But he pays you no mind, turning on his heel, making to leave you out in the rain.

You’re moving without thinking, darting into his path, blocking his way.

“Fine,” you breathe harshly, fingers trembling as they clench at your sides. “I’ll say it.” Alarm flares in those beautiful swirls of colour, his lip twitching but you ignore the familiar expression, gone with a flash of pain.

Your throat rolls thickly, staring up at him, aware of the whispers from beneath cafe shelters, hardly bothering to keep their volume low. “I don’t—…” you fumble, shocking humiliation twisting across your stomach. Are you really doing this? Is he worth your pride? Worth losing those cultivated defences? They’ve been up for so long, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to swallow the emotion that’ll inevitably swamp you.

Hazel waits silently, all quiet grace and reassuring shadow.

“I don’t have anyone else.”

The words burn across your skin, the admission having nausea roiling in your stomach, pulse pounding wildly. Stripped bare, emotion flayed to a raw, bloody pink.

“She has other people,” you whisper painfully, lip curling in disgust. “She doesn’t want you like— She doesn’t need you like…like I do.” Despite the way your confession sears through your blood, hurting like a scar picked open, he already seems to be done with the conversation. Ready to move on and leave you behind.

“You don’t need me, or want me,” he replies blandly. “You’ve been so emotionally numb for the past dozen decades you’re addicted to the first drop of feeling you’ve gotten. You like the idea of being with someone after such a long period of loneliness, and you’ve misunderstood whatever you’re experiencing as love when it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that,” you whisper, heart fluttering in your throat so high you think you might be about to regurgitate it at his feet. “I’ve kept to myself because no one else has been worth it. No one else has made me even consider talking with you like I sometimes do.” A cold wind blows through your skeleton, a shiver shuddering in your stomach, hands clutching your exposed arms.

“I’m far more beautiful than she is anyway—”

“No,” he cuts in, “you aren’t.”

And suddenly you’re reduced to your adolescent self, secretly sneaking into her mother’s purse, snatching at all the makeup you can find and scurrying away to the bathroom to paint yourself beautiful. How heavily the bright lipstick had weighed on your lips, slippery and over-lined. How your eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot once you’d finished with the thick stick of kohl. The pins that had curled your hair into a matted mess, tangled into a unsolvable nest.

How proud you’d been of your work, parading out into your mother’s chambers, eager to show off your likeness.

She’d taken one look, and screamed, landing a hard smack across your cheek. Staining the carefully applied lip tint, pushing it onto gleaming white teeth that bit into your tongue with the force of the impact. She’d dragged you by the hair back into the bathroom, tub filling to the brim with freezing water where she’d shoved you in, clothes and all. Grabbed a towel and started scrubbing at your face, the water clogging your airways as her nails scraped and poked until your skin was raw. She’d wasted no time unpicking the curls from your hair, simply ripping them out, or in some cases, sheering the locks jaggedly from your scalp.

The following weeks had been the worst of your life, keeping your head hugged in a kitchen cloth, not having any of your mother’s precious silk caps to prevent friction and fraying. You’d hardly taken your eyes off the ground, keeping your gaze trained to the pretty bows on your shoes, clutching the straps of your bag tightly.

There had been other instances like that, but none quite as debilitating—the time a month later your’d put together a small breakfast, teetering up the stairs one at a time in your freshly pressed dress, starched and aired, before pushing her door open. She’d screamed worse than last time, and your feet had frozen to the floor. It was only when the glass vase had smashed against your temple that they’d unstuck, hands shuddering as you tottered backward, stumbling until the door had slammed in you face.

Whether it was that specific instance, or the litany of other formative moments of your childhood that had be warped and distorted into something cold and cruel that had led you to this moment, stood opposite him in a freezing cold street, gossiping whispers passing like a sickness between onlookers as the rain drips down cream-smooth skin, you’ll never know. Too many actions uncorrected for too long for you to ever understand when you truly became her spitting image. At what point you went from a young girl trying to fit into her mother’s skin, to fully embodying her rotten perfection.

Plump, rosey lips hiding a mouthful of foul, fetid teeth.

“So you’re—… You’re really…” something warm and wet drips down your cheeks, and you realise with mortifying humiliation you’re crying.

Azriel sighs harshly, the impatient sound slicing across your breast bone. “That’s not going to work,” he says coldly. “Cry all you want, it’s not going to change anything.”

Your heart flutters wildly in your throat, as if trying to break free, stomach twisting and turning in vicious knots. You don’t understand why he’s walking away. “She won’t… She’s not going to treat you better,” you manage, voice cracking along with your heart, shattering with such painful slowness you can practically feel it fracturing. Ice splintering off into shards.

His jaw works, and you resist the urge to turn and run beneath his gaze. He shouldn’t be seeing you like this. It’s gutting your chances.

“I trust her,” he mutters lowly, rain hissing on the cobbles. “I trust her not to take advantage of my weaknesses. To see them and accept them.” He steps closer, and your legs tremble. “Not to turn them into ridiculous little games designed to make herself look better.”

“That wasn’t—… I was helping you.”

“You enjoy succeeding where others fail,” he hisses, his warmth at last brushing over your skin, close enough for his scent to wrap around you fully. “You get a kick out of proving you’re better, no matter how good your life is.”

Your jaw trembles, nails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. “I have worked for my supposedly good life,” you say sharply, tone wobbling.

“Your predecessors worked,” he hisses, “you were born with a power that made you precious. Without it, you’re nothing.”

“Power is everything.”

“And that’s exactly why no one’s ever loved you.”

You flinch.

Stumble a step back.

“That’s not true,” you whisper. “Rhys loves me. So does Cassian, and Mor. You do, too.”

“You wouldn’t know love if it knocked you to the floor,” he snaps, and a long-forgotten memory flashes across your skin.

“I love…I like myself.”

He rolls his eyes, brows narrowing in disbelief. “You hate yourself more than I do.”

Shoulders bunch together, curving inward. “Doesn’t that make us perfect?”

He blinks, caught off guard by the tone, bathed in broken curiosity. He’s known for a while there’d been something wrong taught to you, but you’ve never really allowed him close enough to find out what.

Then he shakes his head, turning away. “Mutual hatred doesn’t equate to love,” he mutters, pausing. Looks at you from over his shoulder. “We spent three centuries together, and you couldn’t even figure that out?”

You remain silent, lips parted as you search for an answer.

He huffs in disbelief. “No wonder you’re always on your own.”

————

You’re hardly able to stumble your way back home, looming before you in a great mass of shadow.

You’re at the threshold of the tall gates, when a voice calls your name, and you turn to find a female with rich brown hair with deep eyes to match, skin just a little to wan for your tastes. Cordia.

“Leave,” you order coldly, the tall iron gates swinging open upon your command, power thrumming beneath your veins as you make your way up the road, thick forestry lining the edges. Breath drags raggedly from your lips, lungs spasming as emotion rages in your chest, ripping itself open upon the now jagged shards of ice that he’s splintered, damaged and bruised.

“You’re in a sorry state,” she calls mildly, following behind you as you march up the steep road with little difficulty, body shaking and trembling as raw feeling strikes at your core repeatedly. Teeth grit together, nails digging into your upper arms as you huddle against the cold, choosing to continue along the rain-soaked path in favour of winnowing.

“That was quite the performance you put on there,” she hums, and you freeze in your steps. “Oh? That got your attention,” she smiles, stepping into your path. “Yes, I saw your breakdown. So did Andriette, so did Sangria. Anybody who is anyone will have heard about your little-girl tantrum within the hour.” Terror thuds in your throat, stomach lurching as your meal is upended into the shrubbery nearby. You hear Cordia make a sound of disgust while tears prickle at your eyes, nostrils burning as your stomach spasms, retching over and over until you’re struggling for breath.

“And to think after all that effort too,” she gloats. “All that beauty and power, and you still couldn’t have the male you wanted. Serves you right for being so picky,” she hisses gleefully, watching as you remain hunched over, knees sunken into the dirt after your legs gave out. “I guess you’d call that karma. You destroyed me, now you’ll hit the bottom of the barrel too. How’s it feel to be in the shit-gutter with me, huh?”

The tremors become violent, and she laughs, stepping away. Breath shudders in and out, hyperventilating as you spiral away, discipline and control turned weak and mushy from flayed emotion, humiliation and terror mixing in a deadly combination. “Does rejection feel good to you?” She asks, arms folded across her chest, and you barely gather the strength to stand.

And that’s exactly why no one’s ever loved you.

You wouldn’t know love if it knocked you to the floor.

No wonder you’re always on your own.

Fresh tears sting at your eyes, stomach lurching again, retching and a palm presses to vomit coated lips, the taste bad enough to make you try to throw up all over again. Cordia makes a sound between disgust and pleasure, relishing the moments she’s being gifted. “Everything you have,” she marvels, “land, money, beauty, power. At least you’re an ugly crier. Who’d ever want to kiss piggy lips like yours.”

Rage burns you alive, hands wrapping around her throat, ripping her life away in seconds, reduced to dust, mixing with mud that you take minutes trampling deeper into the wet road. You wipe your mouth, staring grimly at the mess on your shoes, stomach turning but you feel a little better now that things are fairer.

When you reach your home, you make no effort to dampen your power, allowing it to roll in thick waves from your soaked body, rat-tailed hair slicked away from your features. Let the message convey itself, for every maid and servant to leave immediately, or face the consequences. Livid emotion rocks and shatters across your chest, swirling with unstoppable intensity and you kick off your shoes, heading up the stairs, treading rain into the clean white rugs.

A maid rounds the corner too quickly, slamming into you, and your urge to kill finds its target, power piercing into the quaking female. You grit your teeth, yanking at its leash, guiding it elsewhere to keep from murdering an innocent. Instead your hand pulls back, taut like a bow string before lashing across her cheek, the sharp jewels on your fingers biting and tearing at her skin as she’s shoved backward. “Get out,” you hiss, voice distorted and raw, power recoiling and refocusing, licking its lips as it finds the maid again, but she’s already scrambling away.

Breaths rage in your lungs, and you manage to make it to your bedroom, eyes skittishly darting to and fro in search of something, something you need—

Tears spill heavily, a sigh of relief and wonder releasing from your body as the razor drags across your forearm, short and sharp breath stuttering as that pressure builds and builds, the steel flying across your skin until you could peel the flesh apart like the crusty pages of an old book.

You pant heavily, arms trembling unsteadily with adrenaline you haven’t felt in years, suddenly crushed by the weight. Groans drag from your chest, sobbing wretchedly as you settle on the floor, ripping the clothes from your legs, slicing and slicing and slicing as you cry and smile and scream and die— Like it’s all condensed into fluttering feelings, passing through, forcing their way so intrusively through your mind it’s shards of glass nicking at your head, wrapping your brain in a bag of needles then tossing it down a flight of stairs.

Blood paints your floor, dripping heavily and exhaustion sticks to your skin like sweat, the compulsion to purge the poison dulling with your heartbeat, thudding weakly in your chest and life bleeds thickly and fluidly from your body, gashes torn through your skin already beginning to stitch themselves back together. Exhaustion fills you, taking adrenaline’s place, and the last thing you can manage it a flick of your wrist, transporting the blood-stained rugs to the large kitchen sink a few floors below, filled with water to keep it from setting.

You’re slumping to the floor, bones digging jaggedly into flesh as it’s ground into the hardwood floor, body relieved of consciousness, shuddering strain seeping away, washing like a cool breeze in the peak of summer up your spine. The world fades away, taking with it the heaviness of emotion, the searing ache across your breast bone, lungs stuttering with deep-seated pain.

At last escaping it.

————

Heavy thuds pull you ungraciously from sleep, coming from your front door.

The first thing you feel is a deep ache across your body—back and shoulders stiff from lying on the floor. Your lids feel thicker…heavier than usual, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth as you peel it away.

Memories hit you like a sack of bricks, passing in a flash before delightful numbness banishes it to some dark and lonely corner of your body. To sit until you’re ready to face it, or until it rots away to something harmless and unbothered. Whichever comes first.

The thuds repeat, and you close your eyes, sinking into your floor, skin thick with imagined grease, hair tangled at the base of your neck, skin hurting with stinging pain when you attempt movement. While the cuts have faded, the echoes burn beneath your flesh, small needles embedded beside bone, prickling and spiking with every motion. Whoever’s at the door can dissolve into the wind for all you care, you’re in no state to deal with anyone.

Magic clicks through the house, and you startle, as if zapped by a whip of static. Your heart pounds as the door unlocks, disobeying its enchantments and allowing entrance to the stranger. Except it’s no stranger, the only soul who has access to your house is the High Lord himself, a condition of the bond that stretches between you, malnourished and untouched.

Quiet steps to the staircase reveal him stood in the hallway, hands placed with deceptive disinterest in his pockets, clothing fine and tailored perfectly. Just as it always is.

Cold, violet eyes flick to you, stood atop the case, but even he’s unable to entirely conceal that razor’s edge in his gaze, glint cutting through purple-blue. Sharper than steel, colder than ice.

“What do you want?” You ask, not bothering with pleasantries. He clearly isn’t here for tea and biscuits.

He’s silent for a pause, gathering his patience, or…you don’t know what. But he takes his time, as if to set you on edge. “Come down here,” he says at last. There’s not a single note of inflection in his voice, lethally soft, whispering effortlessly across the marble of the front entrance.

Your features remain set in their hard, bland line, gazing down at him with mild hatred. Whether it’s a side effect of the bond, or his natural terror as High Lord, something inherent warns you not to disobey, reluctantly descending the stairs, glittering black dress still clinging to your body, hair a ragged mess at your shoulders, lips likely stained and eyes smudged from the kohl.

“What do you want?” You repeat lowly, bare feet settling on the floor, level with him. Darkness seems to whisper at his back, thrumming throughout the halls, muffling all those usual noises, becoming abruptly silent. Vibrations dying in his wake.

Cold, violet eyes run over you appraisingly, though he makes no comment over your dishevelment, and it’s somehow worse than if he had struck the mark. As if he knows he doesn’t need to sink that low to hit where it hurts, biding his time to deliver the fatal wound.

“Can you guess why I’m here?” He asks softly, wrath underlying his poisoned tone, hairs prickling at the nape of your neck. Your pulse spikes as his attention skims the lavish halls, entirely empty, before turning for the door that will lead him to the sitting room. “I’m too tired for your games, Rhys,” you mutter bitterly, following after him warily. “There’s nothing playful about the decision that’s about to be made,” he replies icily, nodding to one of the sofas as you pass by. “Sit down.”

“I think I’ll remain on my feet,” you say with forced calm.

A muscle feathers in his jaw, features remaining cold and disinterested. Warning chimes drill up your spine, alarming you to the off-ness about him. The tautness to his usually elegant movements, fluid and lethal. Now cut to something harsher, hewn to something more brutal.

“Tell me,” he orders quietly, “why you think I’m here.”

You stare at him silently. Sullenly. Stinging all over your body.

“You wanted to say hello?” You say at last, lacking any humour to the response, too drained to muster up even a spark of emotion.

The edges of his mouth quirk, no mirth to be found in his face. A grin a he would have given Under the Mountain. A grin you’ve come to despise, and one you thought would never be shown again. Sharp, glittering talons prickle at your mental shields, hardened to steel on their outer walls, utterly impenetrable without permission.

Or so you had thought.

In one clean slice, the razors have cut through your adamant as if it were fatty flesh. Not a single brittle bone impeding the clean incision. Shock paralyses you, breath stolen as that faint grin ices over, threat now rolling visibly from his shoulders, darkness condensing into something almost solid, gaining density as it slinks closer to the ground.

The sound of skin smacking against skin cuts through your mind, a sharp inhale stolen after, shuddering gasps rasping through the silence, followed by panicked footsteps as she flees. Your cheek burns, feeling the metal bite of jewelled knuckles upon rubbed-raw skin.

Fingers rise, trembling as you check absently for a mark, brushing lightly across the afflicted area self-consciously.

“Why do you think I’m here?” He repeats, the whisper as quiet as a last breath on dying lips, cold and utterly lifeless.

For the first time in three hundred years, terror filters through your veins. Cloying, and dominating, pinning down and twisting your senses. “It was for good reason,” you breathe, becoming acutely aware of the lethal brush of darkness. A single touch that could reduce you to a red mist.

“Stop,” he says, quiet and sharp, like scissors snicking through hair. “You’ve been toeing the line for a while now, and that was the last step you’ll take in my city.”

My city. Velaris.

Your mouth opens to speak, nausea rising, stomach twisting as emotions begin to seep back into your body, satiating your mind with painful vibrancy. But the words are stuck in your throat. You stare at him, eyes round and wide, at once blank and contorted with raw feeling. Rushing and spilling as guts twine together, restitching themselves after being sliced across the floor.

“You’re an infection,” he hisses lowly, talons tightening at your neck, and you remain helpless. Powerless. “I don’t care for whatever excuse you’ll try to spin. I’m done with you. We all are.”

The talons retract, and air burns at your lungs, nostrils and eyes prickling as you gasp, hunched over, stomach spasming enough you think you might vomit again, and you’re thankful you didn’t put anything in it. The thought of reaching for your own magic hadn’t even occurred to you.

“Whatever remarks you want to make, I will tolerate. You are, and have always been your own person,” he says lowly, prowling forward on predator’s feet. “But the second you lay a hand on one of my people, it’s over. You will not return from it.”

“I hardly even touched her,” you choke out, lip curled back from your teeth, emotion thrashing and raging against your ribs, volatile in your blood as you stare up at him. At once having given you everything, and left you with nothing.

“I saw the memory,” he hisses, “she told me what happened. How you treat—” His nostrils flare, freezing in his tracks. Pupils dilate then contract to slits, and you stare as he turns on his feet, making for the closed kitchen door. Where the blood soaked rugs and sheets remain.

“Rhys…” you rasp, stumbling forward. “Rhysand.”

The smell of iron is sharp, bursting throughout the room with a potent tang, saturating the air with its distinctive metallic scent. The water is a deep red, concentrated with cold blood, almost opaque with its thickness.

The High Lord is utterly still in the doorway, taking in the devastation of the kitchen, some of the sheets laying strewn wetly across the floor, and it occurs to you he will not know that it is your blood dripping across the white tiled floors. That’s it’s your blood staining the pristine surfaces.

Undiluted terror crushes into you a second before his own darkness does, breaking across your skin as you’re flung across the room, smacking against the ground as the air is knocked from your chest. Your ears ring with the impact, lips parted, back arched in pain, hands trembling as memories flash across your skin.

You wouldn’t know love if it knocked you to the floor, he had said.

You stare up at cold, merciless violet.

Both of you know what he’s just done, but only one of you cares.

Words fail you, unable to admit to your own stupidly self-inflicted disciplines. Shame ruptures across your skin, unable to move from the shock of being floored in a heartbeat, after having had centuries to put between the last memory of pain this deep. It always scars more when it’s from someone close by.

“I don’t know when you lost yourself,” he breathes heavily, staring down at you, twisted and warped from the force of his magic. “I don’t know when, or how, or why. And I don’t care.” The words break on your skin like whips, cracking and splitting still-healing flesh to put the pain deeper. “You hurt one of my people,” he hisses lowly, watching as you struggle to your feet, limbs moving disjointedly from pain he’s unable to see.

He takes a step forward, and you have to force your legs not to stumble back, to hold strong as he prowls closer, night rippling through the room. “Many people are hurt in your city,” you grit out, “many people are hurt in your court. And yet you’re finding fault with me?” You shake your head sharply, glaring at him from beneath your brow. “You went too far,” he hisses, the sound like hail and ice slicing skin. “Every day you pushed a little harder, and I let it slide because I thought you needed the freedom, that you needed to at last understand you were free of her.”

“Fucking shut your mouth,” you spit, death leaking across the floor, rising to meet his own.

Both of you know who would win this battle, but you don’t seem to care any more.

“I kept my mouth shut for too long,” he counters, striding closer and magic sparks and crackles, tendrils colliding then recoiling as it’s mixed in the confined space, pressure building in your fingertips. “I let you get away with too much. Leeching off Az until even his patience ran out. Putting Mor down because you couldn’t stand to see someone from your own position escape, and live. We offered you help and you chose to walk away.”

Fury lacerates through your heart, burning at your mind as you meet his step, moving forward as you bare your teeth, the house quaking as more power is funnelled into it’s contained space. “You dragged me beneath that godsforsaken mountain, Rhysand,” you hiss lowly, “I stayed with you for fifty godsdamn years, while they got to stay here, because I was the one who was common knowledge.” You shove at his chest, but he hardly budges. “I was there for you, whenever you fucking needed me. So don’t you dare try and spin betrayal on me.”

“It is your duty to stay by my side,” he snarls, hand gripping your jaw in a vice-like hold, muscle spasming beneath his touch. “Everyone suffered in those years. Everyone sacrificed something. Everyone had something taken from them.”

“You chose them over me!” You spit, nails tearing at the rough skin of his knuckles as heat burns at your eyes. “You protected them. You suffered, and gave up pieces of yourself for them. None of it was for me.”

He stares at you, unreadable emotion raging behind writhing violet, lips parted as darkness rumbles through the house. “Why would it be for you?” He whispers, still staring at you. “You’re so wrapped up in your own life you forget anyone else exists.”

“You’re lying,” you mutter, “that’s a fucking lie, and you know it.”

“You threatened to bring their father back from the dead,” Rhys snarls, the damper on his power coming clean off, air growing thin as pressure crushes down on your bones, too much to possibly be contained.

“I don’t care if you’re bound to me until the day that I die,” he hisses, and you can feel that fatal strike being prepared to wound. “I don’t care if you have no way to disobey me should I give you an order. I don’t care if I could command you to never abuse your magic like that again.”

“Rhys…” you breathe, staring at him, fear bubbling away. You’d told Azriel he would never touch the bond, that he would never do that to you, and yet… “Rhys, don’t…”

“I can’t,” he hisses, defeat lining his features.

Relief washes over you like a wave of cool water, shoulders slumping from their tension, magic beginning to dissipate.

He shakes his head, a lock of neat, blue-black hair falling out of place. “But if you aren’t out of Velaris by the time the sun rises tomorrow…”

He’s in front of you in a flash, but your power doesn’t respond. Not as he appears before you, or as his hand slides around your throat. Not even as he forces a bargain upon your flesh, ink burning as it’s stamped in plain sight.

“You will not only lose your powers over death, but your life, too.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #heart dividers by cafekitsune

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sevs-corner · 17 days ago

Text

Tf 141: Mafia AU!

Chapter 2: Jobless? More like Job-bless

A/N: Link to prev ch + mini epilogue of the chap (where it goes to another character’s pov aside from the reader :DD) :

Preface:

After the mess of a morning, you instantly got roped into the orderly chaos of the bakery. Under a contract (a list of chores really) you are now tied to the place Nonna and Nonno calls home.

Although, you soon come to learn that it is the home of other certain individuals as well.

With a groan, you wonder how many things are left on the chore list posted on the to-do board, pinned with all sorts of menus, post-it notes, old recipes, and photos of people you don’t really care to know or recognize; although, you were curious of who that one handsome man was.

Which you kept at the back of your mind to ask Nonna during your break later.

For now, you had to focus up and sort this damn mountain of trash.

You even got scolded by the trash guy for having mixed the recyclables and non-recyclables! You pouted, mumbling that it wasn’t your fault but the old couple who ran this place— yet all he did was wave you off, saying that he’d make an exception and come by tomorrow, ‘as long as the trash is sorted.’

To be honest, you’d rather sort him to the non-recyclables pile.

Rancid- the whole lot of it was! You couldn’t believe it got stocked up until the second floor of the building… but you kinda have to wonder if they threw it from below with an underhand throw or dropped from the room you were currently in.

The latter seems more plausible.

Until you saw Nonna, spin and accurately place another bag on top- winking at your gaping form, knees bent with your elbows resting on it exhaustion.

“Is that nasty sickness gone?” She asks, arms folded on her chest as she leans by the doorway.

“I think I got another type of nasty sickness,” you raised your arms and showed the dirty yellow rubber gloves and apron covered in grime.

She laughs and nods, “well better get to finishin’! Else, you wouldn’t make it to the lunchtime rush.”

“Is that part of the list too?” You asked, stunned, you were very sure that was on there until Nonna waved you in. Pointing at the pin board by the doorway.

You slightly let yourself, making sure none of the guck got in the place you just cleaned. Bending and craning your neck upward, you gasp at how the checklist just became double its size from before, a stapler at both ends of the first one connecting to the next.

You quickly turn your head, tone accusatory- “you added onto it!”

“There’s a lot to do,” she shrugs, “didn’t quite give you the full list.”

She points to the first saying how that was Nonno’s list while the next was made by her. You pouted, finding it unfair- knowing how it wouldn’t be completed in a day, actually more than a week no less!

“How am I supposed to help you guys tomorrow if I can’t find my place today?”

She hums, tapping her chin before snapping her fingers and roughly pinching your puffed out cheeks.

“You stay upstairs with us, of course!”

“WHAT?”

You reflexively scream reacted, falling to your dramatically as your hands catch your upper body before it fell into the door way face first.

“Not a bad deal, right dearie?”

“Rightly so, dear wifey!”

You could hear the old couple tease you (with the old man coming in to see what the racket was that disturbed him from his cooking routine, only to see his wife amusing herself once more with the new kid she “adopted” (nonna’s words not his)) making you feel even more depressed, wondering what made you think it was a good idea in the first place to sign up to this deal.

You wanted info- and they needed a helper. The end.

You should have read the Terms and Conditions really. (The non existent one aka, reading between the lines and the vibe of the couple.)

Alas, you accepted your fate, resigning to it really as you stood up, looking at the list before retuning to the trash area, where the old couples kisses and giggles were still echoing by the back door way. A reality slapping reminder of what you needed to get back to immediately.

Kneeling by the pile you left, you spot a cat- a strangely pristine white one with bright blue eyes. It looked a bit fancy to be wandering around this part so you checked its neck for a collar yet there was none.

Humming to yourself, you called to it softly as you removed your stickily sweat gloves.

The cat, as if heeding your call, comes closers to your whispers of encouragement and ultimately sits before you meowing and nudging its head towards you.

“Aww!” You gleamed, immediately petting it with your finger tips, but melt even more as it long and fluffy tail wrapped around your fingers- as if urging you to continue your pampering.

“You’re such a cutie! Aren’t ‘cha?” You continue cooing at it, and with how immediately comfortably attached the cat was with you- you decided to try and carry it by opening your arms.

The cat crawls pause, sensing your pets has stopped and stares at you.

You stare it back.

Like a lightbulb popping up, the cat meows and stand up, crawling closer and…

“Now who the hell is there?”

You and the cat screech, both jumping in the air.

Although the difference between the two of you was one landed on their ass while the other ran away.

Unceremoniously once again.

You heaved, looking at the man intimidatingly making himself known by the entrance of the alleyway to the back door of the bakery, smoke in hand while the other was on his side- a holster you assume as you see something gleam below the morning light.

You noticed that he wore a suit quite similar to the men you met last night. Although this time, it was dark navy blue in color with a heavy coat on top, and brown shoes that seemed quite shinier that the jewels he wore on his fingers.

As you picked apart his outfit, he came in closer, noticing how you shivered at his presence (you weren’t it was just cold and he surprised the beejeebus out of you.)

So he stopped a bit aways away, five feet apart to be safe of the unexpected accusation that might come along by strangers at the street side.

“Got any business with this place?”

“Huh?” You look up at him, finally looking at his- less irritated, more confused than anything- face. His slicked back blonde hair made his eye brow raise and forehead creases even more noticeable as he tossed to you his questionable stare.

“Oh, uh yeah- I do.”

He nods, “right.”

You deadpanned, with you not believing him and him not believing your words— you decided to start the conversation again by standing and introducing yourself.

“I’m Graves,” he does the same, and stuff his hands in his pocket, offering a nod and grin.

“Like…” you paused, “the tombstone?”

He deadpans this time and sighs, shaking his head.

“You... you can put it that way,” he waves his hand, “but what’s your business here anyway, shortstack?”

You grumble to yourself about his nickname but placed in the back burner for later, where you would also burn him- but that’s a plan in the making.

“Why do you need to know?” You reply, a bit apprehensive of his prying. It’s not like he lived here- as far as you know.

…Maybe he was going to hustle you for messing with his favorite smoking spot?!

“Oh!” You turn to him, making his mouth clamp shut. “This might have been your smoking spot right? My bad.”

You bowed your head in a slight bow when apologizing, “its just that the owners of the bakery told me to clean up here,” you pointed to the pile of dump on the trashcan, “but as you can see, its taking me some time.”

He laughs, finally connecting the dots in his head and figuring who you were.

“Those old hags giving you trouble?”

Suddenly his arm was on your shoulder, slinging you forward and into his space which made you slightly flinch away, half uncomfortable and the other half making you hope wouldn't dirty his- clearly expensive- suit then blame it on you and pay for cleaning or worse... replace it.

Yeah, you didn't want to think about that.

So, you shook your but deeply sigh anyways, "it's all good."

You didn't know why but you wanted to reassure the stranger. In hope of getting him off your case? Maybe so- but it was more likely that his suit quite stank from the smell of cigs and alcohol, but with the mix of his- high end- cologne- it was just a smell that spelled disaster for your senses.

"Really now?" Unconvinced he was again but at this point, why did you continue to care?

So you huffed, sliding out of his grasp- surprisingly easily- and went by the back door, arms crossed just like a certain someone had done moments ago.

"Really," you rolled your eyes, "but its up to you to believe it or not."

Graves' eyes sparkled, smirk widening as he sniffs out a challenge- a challenge to his authority.

He scoffs out an amused chuckle as he sees you stomp back into the bakery in a huff, clearly cutting short your interaction with him and the conversation.

A conversation he quite wanted to continue.

So he follows, interest now piqued, wondering if you were a new face in town or simply a fleeting face he'd forget in a momentary notice. Whatever it was, he wanted to know.

His gut feeling says he has to--

it hasn't proven him wrong after all.

Entering the warm bakery as compared the cold breeze the outside gave made you shiver, hoping your body would better quickly adapt to the temperature change.

Quickly hanging your apron, you called out to the two that you came back for the lunch rush, all the while washing your hands in the kitchen's sink.

Whistling a tune, you think back to the words of Nonna earlier, having said that you would have to stay here until you get the end of your bargain. At least, that was what you think she meant until the list is done and dealt with.

Your actions slow as you think of an alternative-- you could text your co-worker and ask them right now, but that was embarrassing to think of doing. They gave simple instructions of how to get at the place, yet you somehow got lost and stumbled upon so much more people than you think you would have before coming into this reputable city.

To be honest to yourself for a moment, you didn't want to admit it to them not because of embarrassment- but because of how you felt ashamed of yourself. You didn't like having yourself in this position, squandering away for any penny you can make, scraping by with each paycheck, and most of all, for being so stupid that you can't even repay the kindness your co-worker has shown you. It felt like a waste, that you weren't using it right now-- staying at their place and slowly making it up to them by paying back every single money they spent to pay for rent, utilities, and food that they provided.

So you resolved yourself, slapping your face with the washed hands to wake yourself up from the quite long (short) introspection of your situation right now.

You did owe Nonna and Nonno for staying here, but for the boss of Soup? No... Suds-? Anyways, you had to repay that guy's boss as well for the lodging last night.

Maybe you can rearrange the agreement with the couple to provide- at least- the minimum of minimum wages so you wouldn't be just free labor for their amusement.

Despite thinking that they really might need some help, looking around at the state of place.

"Seems like you washed your hands extra clean."

You hear a sip behind you, jumping once more as you naturally glared at the person that spooked you.

"Could you like," you waved your hands around trying to find words, "not spook me every time you appear-- are you the boogeyman incarnate or something?"

This man in front of you, as formal as he looks, just breaks into cackles.

Downright fits of laughter that continuously bubble out of him.

Wheezing and all that-- but you wait, staring at him strangely and for him to catch his breath.

After a couple minutes pass and he doesn't, even leaning against the doorway as he covers his face (which was bright red) in attempt to limit his giggles, you sigh and untangle your arms. Pushing yourself off the sink and moving him aside so you could start the lunch shift.

"Wa-wait!"

You hear the man wheeze out and in frustration, you grumble out a- "what?"

"I- I was only ask-asking about you earlier bec-because--"

"because he's la famiglia, cara!"

You turn to the sudden pop of Nonna at your side, looking at her in question, "what do you mean-?"

"He-!" She quickly slaps his back to cough out his remaining laughter, "is one of my sons!"

"Son?" you ask, head tilting as you think back to that photo on the board. You turn to the board, checking if you were right-- and it was as if fate checked mate you as your eyes locked onto the boy at the far right side of the one completed family picture (you assumed) which had a lot of members.

'Blonde and blue eyes...'

The man, who has just been a disaster a couple of minutes ago, had now regain his composure and grinned at you as if it didn't look like he was losing his balls earlier.

"That's why I was concerned shortcake," he wraps his arm around Nonna (who just snuggles into him), "'cause I'm her son."

'Oof. '

Well, now that you know that they were all their (adopted) children in that picture, you find yourself more at ease in Graves' presence as Nonna chats to him about what happened ever since you showed up, with him humming and commenting from time to time.

As they sat at the side, you continued to do your job, managing the register and the back of the house- sending orders in and plates out.

You did it so much that by the time another table came, you were in auto pilot, customer service mode.

"Hello and welcome! What can I get for y'all started with--"

"Well, aren't you worse for wear."

Hearing that out of place comment made you snap out of your stupor, finally taking in the faces before you.

"The guys from last night!" You gasp, "and Suds' boss!" you glanced at the man with a beard and you could see him smile and nod, reaffirming who he was.

"Yes, that's me-"

Yet he gets cut by the rounding laughter of the table, making you confused, muttered a small, "what?"

"Suds--" The kind man from the other night manages out before falling into another fit of wheezing.

"His name ain't Suds, darlin'," the guy with a rough, scratchy voice talks and you now see that he was wearing a skull mask on the upper part of his face, then a black clothe covering his lower half.

"It's not?"

The man in question groans out, "its Soap you nest-head!"

You clicked your tongue, "Now I'm less inclined to call you that, Suds."

Now even Price chuckles at this exchange, making 'Grickky' looking at him in shock.

"Did you sleep well?"

Price redirects the conversation and you turn to him with a smile and nod, "thank to you sir."

You politely bowed your head and told him how you were gonna pay him back for it, but he just shakes his head- telling that you "shouldn't worry your pretty lil' head over a lil' cash."

"But its not a little amount!" You protested and they looked at you in shock. Thinking that you would just accept it and be done with it.

"I know better than anyone how both kindness and money is precious, so I'll work to pay you back sir."

The determination flaming in your eyes makes them quite stunned at the moment before Price just chuckles, "do as you wish." He says in contentment of the moment, and he was quite satisfied from how you reacted- bubbling and smiling as if you weren't laying sick mere hours ago when they last saw you.

"Cara!"

You hear Nonna call for you and you pause, asking for the four to wait a moment while you walk to see what Nonna needed until you see her approaching in excitement.

"Nonna-?"

"Oh my gosh!" She squeals into your arms, "I can't believe you're meeting all my boys today!"

"Your...boys?"

You stare at her for a moment before redirecting it to the sheepish four who sat there.

Welp... now your proclamations sounds a little awkward...

There was no way she would let her own son pay for lodging at his parent's place.

Even though you've only known Nonna for a couple hours, you were quite sure. A conclusion which made you throw your head back in embarrassment once again.

"just how many sons do you have?!"

A/N: Long chapter for the 2nd one because I got inspired! And also for the warm reception and the attention my silly lil AU for Tf 141 is getting hehe so thank yall <33 Cheers to more chapters to come !!

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world-of-aus · 5 months ago

Text

The Arrangement - Chapter 2

Pairing: Mobboss!Bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Feels, Angsty Dialogue.

Author's Note: Any and all writing errors are my own. Chapter 2 is here and I hope it is portraying enough story for you all! I haven't done a series in a hot minute so I am trying to get my bearings and make this content enjoyable for all you that are excited for this. I hope this chapter is good for you all. As always Happy Readings.

“Sign here.”

You look at the open spot next to Bucky’s name, his signature already signed and sealed. Flashes of your sister appear in your mind as you reach a shaky hand towards the awaiting pen.

Were you really going to do this, could you stoop to your sisters level and just take what was right in front of you?

Your signature glides across the paper signed and sealed, you’d blame it on the stars.

There’s sincerity in Winnies eyes as she looks at the two of you, “it’s done, welcome to the family sweetheart, we’ll celebrate the two of you properly at the reception in a week’s time.”

You manage to pull a smile on, albeit shaky as the room congratulates the two of you, his hand still resting on your lower back. Your dad must notice the uneasiness in your eyes, “it really was a pleasure to do business with you as always and we look forward to bringing two families together the day of the wedding,” he directs to the Barnes family, “y/n sweetheart are you ready to go,” he questions his eyes on you now “surely your mom is going stir crazy waiting for us to get back.”

You snap out of your revere eyes zoning in on your father, your lips part to speak but Bucky beats you to it, “actually Mr. Y/l/n if it’s alright with you I’d like to take y/n out to lunch,” he pulls you closer into his side, “she and I have some catching up to do.”

You did?

You did.

You can feel his eyes on you as you scan the menu, a menu you don’t even need to look over – you always managed to get the same thing every time you came here though it had been some time since the two of you had been here together. You can vividly remember when this was your place, it was quickly replaced by a newer, not so hole in the wall Diner that had become their place.

It had been replaced just as quickly as you had.

“Is this what’s become of us?” You bring the menu down slightly to meet his stormy cerulean eyes, brow raised in question he continues, “we’ve become strangers to one another.”

You bring the menu down placing it upon the table, hands crossing above it, “Strangers,” you question “is that what you think we are? I was certain we were more.”

“It’s what we’ve become. I don’t see you anymore, we don’t hang out, you’re not around, I feel like I barely know who you are, you’ve become a shell of my best friend.”

And whose fault is that?

Anger simmers in your chest as you look at the man before you, “you must forgive me,” you grit, “but like you, I have a job to do, I promised my father I’d live up to the family name just as you promised your father, and up until yesterday I’ve been helping my sister plan your wedding, every last detail, I’ve barely had time for myself so please give me some grace, there’s only so much of myself I can give.”

Only so much hurt I can take.

You catch the subtle shake of his head, “what happened to us?”

My sister.

“We grew up James.”

You catch the tick in his jaw, “oh so it’s James now? I’m no longer Bucky, Buck, Bee.”

You sigh shaking your head, “Bucky please.”

“No y/n, what happened to us, you can’t tell me nothing has changed its -”

“You chose her,” you almost yell, “you chose my sister, I was all but discarded by you and your family without another thought the night you decided to end our contract because and I quote ‘I can’t do that to your sister’. You scoff, but he could do it to you, “Rebecca was the only one who cared what happened to me after you made it abundantly clear that it was my sister you loved. I was embarrassed,” you continue, “I was hurt, I thought I had everything I could ever want only to have it all torn away.” You tilt your head to the sky willing away the tears, you would shed no more for the man before you. “I needed time, and even that I couldn’t get because I was planning YOUR wedding to MY sister, a wedding that should have been mine. So forgive me for skipping out on our visits, family dinners, Diner hangouts, I just couldn’t Bucky, I couldn’t because every time I was reminded of what no longer was mine.”

You didn’t think it possible to ever get the man before you speechless but you had managed. Your waitress pops in then a cheery smile on her lips as she asks the two of you if you’re ready to order. You meet her eyes rattling off your usual, you look back at Bucky who still seems frozen, “I’ll have the same thing.” he manages. Before she can skip away you say, “can we get this to go please.”

“Of course doll, I’ll get it out in a jiffy, have your ticket out front!”

You move to exit the side of the booth you took, the weight of what you got off your chest crushing you once more. Bucky’s reaching for you, there’s a pleading look in his eyes, “please don’t go, sit down, talk to me.”

You shake your head, softly removing the hold he has on you, “I’ve said enough for one evening Bucky, I need time, please.”

And he lets you go, just like he let you go that night, you don’t know what hurts more.

He’s sat at his father’s old desk, the one that has become his since his old man passed. His eyes are trained on a single contract the one you thought had been discarded, his name and your name signed and sealed at the bottom, this one was much older though years in the making like the two of you. He remembers the night your parents took the two of you aside, sat you down and had the conversation with you.

He thinks how the two of you then hadn’t hesitated to sign your names. He thought it was just two best friends doing a job, stepping up to the plate for their family.

Had you really loved him that long?

How could he have not seen it.

There’s a soft knock on the office door, his mother enters slowly a tired smile on her lips. “My boy, what are you still doing up, it’s late.”

“How long?”

Winnifred looks at her son in question, “how long what James?”

“How long did she love me for?”

His mother lets out a quiet noise as she moves over to her son, her arm landing on his shoulder rubbing his clothed skin. “I think she’s loved you for longer than she even knows, there’s always been an adoration in her eyes for you, she’d have done just about anything for you.”

Bucky shakes his head, “Why didn’t I see it, why couldn’t I tell?”

Winnie laughs now, hand squeezing “oh my boy, you Barnes men are always a little slow.” He laughs but there’s no actual amusement behind it, “you let me discard this contract like nothing that night, why? Why didn’t you stop me?”

His mother sighs, “we all saw how encompassed you had become with her sister, and while it gradually occurred, we all saw it, the one who saw it most was y/n. Before you came to us yourself, she had come to me first, she held me to a promise that should you ask for the contract to be reconsidered to please do so.” She smiles sadly, “she just wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with her, but I know that night, she was hoping it would be.”

“Why,” he breathes, “why didn’t you stop me?”

“We believed this is what you wanted son.”

He’s shaking his head more vigorously now, “I thought all this time she didn’t feel the same, I never saw the signs, I never -” he's like a lost boy meeting his mother's eyes for the first time, “what do I do ma?”

“You do what you should have done then, choose her.”

The Arrangement Taglist: Kindly reminder if at any point you'd like your tag removed please message me, Thanks!

@learisa @greatenthusiasttidalwave @barnesxstan @calwitch @h0nestly-though @wintrsoldrluvr @esposadomd @roofwitty779 @pattiemac1 @sebastians-love @scott-loki-barnes @mrsnikstan @metanoiablxxm @lostyx @missvelvetsstuff @casa-boiardi @shoutingcardinal @tiedyedghoulette @littleeuphoriaelf @polireader

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #mobboss!bucky

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

No Sugar Tonight 3

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Brock Rumlow

Summary: A regular customer becomes more than just a familiar face.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your shifts are often tedious. Slow and dull. You like the night shift because it’s not as stressful. Or was.

That night you spend looking out the windows in expectation. For each customer that walks across the tiles with echoing footfalls, you wait in expectation. They come and get their treats and go. None of them are him. That stranger. The one who looms like a shadow in your mind as he had that day on the street.

Dayani is late. You give her the keys with a yawn. You get a day off and you’re more than eager for it. You’re relieved to leave shy of the dreaded encounter.

You head off through the front doors and turn down the street. The tree planted between the sidewalk blocks splits in too and as a figure emerges from the shade. Oh no.

You make to walk past the dark-haired man who prefers his coffee black. He simply turns and walks parallel to you.

You glance over at him warily. He doesn’t look back. He keeps walking, only reaching blindly to take your hand in his. You go rigid but don’t pull away. You’re jittering in terror.

“What are you--””

“You think anyone’s gonna mess with me?” He says flatly.

“No, sir, but--”

“Brock,” he says, then recites your name. “Now we know each other.”

Your mouth opens and closes. His hand is hot and a woodsy cologne wafts from his jacket. His skin is rough against yours. He squeezes as if he can sense your reticence.

“Brock,” you repeat. “Okay.”

“You got a day off.”

It’s a statement. It’s without a sliver of doubt. How does he know that?

“I told you, you’re easy to follow. You need to look around more.” He reprimands. “Too late to see me. I’m here.”

His tone is eerie. It makes your skin tingle. He drags you on but not towards your usual route. He also told you not to take the alleyways.

“Sir, er, Brock?” You murmur.

“Those muffins are too sugary. You need a full breakfast.” He insists.

“Right, that’s... okay. Erm...”

“It’s a nice place. You’ll like it,” he says bluntly.

You don’t know what to say, or do. You want to run away but can’t. His hand is a snare and you’re a helpless rabbit caught in it. You look down at his thick fingers. You don’t understand. He was always so silent. You were sure he hated you.

He takes you into a diner. You’ve never noticed it before. It’s quiet this early. He brings you to a booth and sits across from you. You fold your hands in your lap as you sit on the bench and wait. You could try then to escape but you wouldn’t want to make a scene.

“Coffee, black,” he orders as the waitress comes by. He looks at you for the first time and as you ask politely for a green tea, he doesn’t look away. His eyes bore into you. The waitress goes to get your drinks.

“Quit.” He says.

You frown, “huh? What am I doing?”

“Your job.”

“My job?” You utter.

“No need for it.” He says.

“Sir, Brock. I... I have to pay my rent.”

“No. You don’t.” He lifts his menu and drops his eyes to the laminated list. “You have to eat.”

You follow his lead, only to have something to do. You take the menu and read it. The waitress returns and puts down your drinks. He gets sausage, bacon, and eggs. You get a waffle. She goes and you’re alone again.

“Good.” He says.

Your confusion tautens in your cheeks. Good what?

“Call your boss.” He says, “then we can enjoy our meal.”

“I really can't afford to quit–”

“I didn't ask. In fact, I didn't ask a single question. I'm telling you.” He sneers.

Your heart flips and you bit your lip.

“I'm more than happy to tell him myself. He pays you shit. I'll take care of you.”

“I don't… what do you want from me?” You croak.

He snickers, the most humour you've seen in him. He reaches for his cup and drink. He grimaces at the taste. “That's dog shit.”

You sigh impatiently. You're getting frustrated by his terse way. Somehow he is straight to the point but you're completely missing it.

“You. Just you. That's what I want.” He sits back and pushes his shoulders wide.

“Me?”

He stares at you and nods.

“Are you asking me out?” You wonder.

“I don't ask,” he jabs his finger into the table with each word.

“I… I don't know you, I–”

“You're too old for roommates. The place is shit anyway. Those old wires will start a fire and the sprinkled are rusted.” He overrides you. Again.

“No.”

“No,” he echoes with a snort. “Again, no question marks here.”

“You can't do this.”

“Can't do what? It's done.”

“No.”

“Give me your phone,” he demands.

“No, you can't–”

“Give me the damn phone. Now. Or I'll burn down that box you call a home myself.” His eyes are black pools that threaten to drown you.

You reach into your purse and take out your phone. He snatches it before you can react. His thumb taps and drags quickly across the screen. He puts it to his esr as the waitress returns with your food.

You thank her quietly as he ignores her.

“Yeah, I'm calling on her behalf. She quits.” He doesn't wait for a response. He hangs up and dials again. “She's tendering notice. Moving out. Fill the lease.”

In a few fell swoops, he's cut every string holding your life up. It all comes crashing as he hands the phone back and turns his attention to his food. You're not very hungry. A glance from him changes that. You lfit your fork to ease the edge in his jaw.

“Good girl,” he says as he cuts into the sausage.

#brock rumlow #dark brock rumlow #dark!brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #crossbones #series #no sugar tonight #drabble #au #captain america #avengers #mcu #marvel

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bad268 · 4 months ago

Note

I love you work oh my lord !!! Can you do another Pezzy x reader I adore them and no one seems to request them much !! Something fluffy !! ( established relationship if possible !)

Confess or Drink Pt. 2 (Pezzy X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Clearly (I also combinded this with @strawberrycheesecake3 's request of Confess or Drink pt. 2. Hope y'all don't mind <3)

Warnings: language, jokes of domestic violence (trust it's light-hearted)

POV: First Person (I/me)

W.C. 1283

Summary: The day after the infamous Truth or Drink stream.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<- Part 1

~~(^Pinterest)

The ride to the nearest iHop wasn’t bad. I had ridden with Pezzy before, and it wasn’t any different than the hundred other times I rode with him. When we pulled up to the iHop, Pezzy shut off the bike and held out his hand to help me off.

“Well, thank you, kind sir,” I joked in a posh accent as I stepped off the bike and pulled my helmet off.

“Oh of course,” He joked back, taking his helmet off as well before standing up and gesturing toward the door. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I took his hand as he led us inside. There weren’t many people, so we got seated pretty quickly. We got to our table, ordered coffees, and sat quietly as we looked over the menus as if we both didn’t already know what we were getting.

“So,” I trailed off as I put my menus down and took a slow drink of my coffee. “Do we wanna talk about last night?”

“Let me just say this first,” Pezzy rushed as he put his menus down too. “I just need to know if it was a bit for the stream.”

“No…? What made you think it would have been a bit?” I asked confused. Everybody knows that alcohol brings out the truth in people, and I was certain he felt the same. At least, that’s what Grizzy told me, so I left loose for the stream. I decided before I started drinking that if I said anything, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“It’s just,” Pezzy hesitated, looking anywhere but at me. “With our job, we like to exaggerate things, and I don’t know if that’s one of the things.”

“Max,” I stated, and his attention snapped to me. In all the years I had known him, I never used his name unless I was being serious. He was always Pezzy or Pez to me. Always has been. “I wouldn’t fuck with you like that. What I said, I meant. You don’t understand how long I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you, and when y'all invited me for the truth or drink stream, I thought I would just go with the flow. If I confessed, I confessed and we would figure it out later. We’ve always been a team, and I couldn’t stop myself from falling. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want.”

“I never said I didn’t want you,” Pezzy said quietly as he reached across the table to hold my hand. “I have waited years for my dream to come true, I’m just a coward and never took the first step. I would have rather been your friend than risk losing you altogether. Your confession was the best thing ever.” He stopped for a second and looked expectantly at me.

“This makes sense,” I laughed, leaning my head down to rest on the table for a second before looking back up at him, resting my head against my open palm. “Our whole friendship has been flirty because we were harboring feelings for each other. It’s no wonder the fans thought we were dating the first day I joined your stream.”

“No way the fans clocked us first,” Pezzy groaned as he smacked his face into his hand. Just then the waiter showed up to place our orders. We both ordered our breakfasts/lunches, and the waiter took off to put the orders in. That’s when Pezzy turned his attention back to me,” So where does this leave us?”

“Where do you want us to go from here?” I teased, taking a small sip of my coffee as I eyed Pezzy over the rim of the mug.

“I’d like to take you out,” Pezzy replied confidently as he also took a sip from his coffee, looking at me the same way I looked at him.

“I really hope you mean on a date,” I chuckled, causing Pezzy to choke on the hot liquid.

“Well, what the hell else would I mean?” He hissed as he leaned closer, confused.

“Take me out like,” I pause as I make a gesture of slicing my neck. Pezzy’s expression went from confusing to shock in seconds as I laughed. “I’m kidding just so you know.”

“I would hope so! I’d never take you out like that!” Pezzy gasped before smirking. “I’d use a gun.”

“Woah! Not even through our first date and you're talking about murdering me,” I said a little louder than the rest of our conversation as the few patrons looked over at us concerned. Pezzy frantically slapped at my arms to get me to quiet down. “Oh, and now you’re hitting me? This is domestic abuse!”

“No, no, no, stop,” He groaned with a small smile, knowing this was just how I liked to tease him. Everyone was still looking over at us, concerned, so Pezzy tried to remedy the situation. “It’s fine, we’re joking!”

“Um, your food,” The waiter said confused as he stood in front of our table with the food.

“Oh, thank you,” Pezzy said, uncomfortable with the amount of eyes on us.

“If we didn’t take the bike, I would suggest we take it to go,” I laughed as the waiter set our food down.

“We still could,” Pezzy offered. “I could drive slower than normal and we could head home. Or we could go to the park that’s like a block away.”

“I like that plan,” I smiled at Pezzy before turning my attention to the waiter. “Could we next boxes and the check please?”

Later that night Grizzy and Droid came back to the house, and we had Puffer over again. We didn’t plan on filming, but we were a group of friends who had nothing else better to do that night. We were all sitting in Grizzy’s recording room as the four of them played Mario Kart. I sat at Grizzy’s desk, so I could read chat.

“What happened after the stream? I need to know.” A lot of the chat had this or something similar, and part of me wanted to ignore it, but another part of me wanted to see what Pezzy felt.

“Hey guys,” I got their semi-attention because they were in the middle of a lap, “Chat wants to know what happened after the stream.”

“Pezzy got laid, that’s what,” Droid said immediately as all of the guys laughed minus Pezzy and myself. “Okay, not really. Grizzy and I stayed at Puffer’s place.”

“And we went to iHop,” Pezzy said just before cursing as he got hit by a red shell.

“Is that code for something?” Puffer whispered to Grizzy but their mics caught it clearly.

“No, it’s not code for anything,” I laughed at them. “We went to iHop, made a few questionable jokes about killing each other, and left to come home. It’s not that deep.”

“Not that deep! Pezzy never goes to iHop!” Grizzy pointed out as they all crossed the finish line with Puffer winning (shocker!). “He must really like you if you convinced him to go to iHop.”

“He took me there on his own accord,” I admitted as I put my hands up in mock surrender.

“Because I know you like it!” Pezzy defended himself, and silence fell around the room. All of us looked between each other before I slowly turned my attention back to the screens. I briefly looked directly into the camera before leaning into the microphone.

“Pezzy and I may or may not be together now, so that also happened,” I whispered into the mic before glancing back at the rest of the boys who were not shocked at all.

“FUCKING FINALLY!”

~~~~~

#pezzy x reader #pezzy #pezzy x you #pezzy x y/n #big puffer #bigpuffer #elastic droid #elasticdroid #grizzy #youtuber oneshot #youtube #youtuber x reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268 #part 2

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justlemmeadoreyou · 1 year ago

Text

Temporary Fix*

In which you meet a stranger at a bar, and he becomes your good night

Word Count: 3.3k of pure filth

Warnings: Smut, 18+ content, cursing, spanking, hair pulling, p in v sex(use of protection), aftercare

There he is again.

The devilishly handsome stranger, sitting at the bar two stools away from where you are seated.

He had been here every night you had been, and always looked at you from across the room, or gripped your waist on the dance floor when you were really drunk. But whenever you thought he would make a move, he disappeared.

Maybe tonight was the same too.

So, you decide to ignore him this time. You turned towards the dance floor, holding a classic gin martini in your hands, and stared at the sweaty bodies , moving rhythmically to the pulsating beat. The smooth notes of the gin martini matched the electrifying atmosphere.

Taking a few more sips, you got down and walked to the dance floor, and just then, an upbeat song started to play.

You saw one of your girlfriends there, and she pulled you with her to dance.

You had no idea how to dance. You did when you were drunk, somehow, but right now, the alcohol hadn’t kicked in.

Yet.

As you began to move, swirl your waist, awkward moves ensued, but hey, at least the enthusiasm was there.

A few moments later, you felt the oh-so-familiar hand gripping your waist, and before you could blink, the man had pulled you into him.

Your body collided with his, his grip on your waist tightening. Your mouth dropped open, eyes droopy as you looked up into his hazy emerald eyes.

They were dark, pupils blown out in lust.

Maybe today was the day.

You sneaked your arms from beside your body, and gripped his arms. His muscular biceps that looked so hot, and you immediately imagined him on top of you, his biceps bulging as he fucked you into oblivion.

You blinked your eyes rapidly to remove that image from your mind, and focused on his face.

You both stared into each other’s eyes as you moved to the beat. A few moments later, he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Y'look really hot tonight”

You smirk, before replying, “Thought you wouldn't notice.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he offers, sliding his hands downwards towards your hips.

“Sure” you reply.

Soon enough, he’s leading you towards the bar. His hand on your waist, pulling you closer with each step.

You both reach the bar , the dim lights casting a warm glow on the polished counter. The faint hum of conversation and clinking glasses fills the air as you take a seat on the cushioned stools.

The bartender, approaches. "What can I get you two?" he asks with a knowing smile.

He turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. "What would you like?" he inquires, a subtle yet inviting grin playing on his lips.

As you ponder the menu, the atmosphere around you seems to buzz with anticipation

“A rum, neat”

“Same for me”

“Sure”

The bartender turns around, and begins to prepare the drink for you both.

“I’m Harry, by the way”

You smile, his name, laced with an accent, falling beautifully from his perfectly pink lips.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, Harry”

“Y/n. That’s a beautiful name. So, you from around here?”

“Nope, moved from California, about 6 months ago. Completed my degree, and then landed a job. How about you?”

“Oh, California? Wow, I guess you left the sun for... well, this place. Brave move! And a job? That's like, responsible and stuff. I'm just a regular dude, you know, not as fancy as someone who completed a whole degree. I’m a musician. Came from England.”

“England, huh? That's, um, across the ocean, right? So, like, you're pretty far from home. And a musician, you say? That's cool. I mean, I played the kazoo once in elementary school, does that count?”

He chuckled, making you blush. His dimples were on show, and he looked so pretty.

“Yeah, that’s actually a really uncommon instrument. It’s cool you learned it, though.”

“Yeah, I don’t really remember anything about that now. How about you? What do you play?”

“The big ol’ guitar. And a bit of a piano, that I learned recently.”

The bartender slides the drink on to you, and you both grab it, before continuing the conversation.

“That’s really impressive. So, where do you live?”

“I own my own Residence. A bungalow, if you will. I’ll be glad to show it to you sometime.”

You like where this is headed.

You take a sip of your drink, and it’s really good. Something strong. Exactly what you needed at a Friday night out.

He brings his glass up to his mouth, and that’s when you see his tattoo-a cross on the back of his hand, near the thumb.

“You-you have tattoos?”

“Mhm, many. Would you like to see them?”

You’re surprisingly intrigued. You stare down to his chest, and you could see he had two tats near his collarbones, both sides. Another one was on the middle of his chest, which was only partially visible due to his unbuttoned shirt.

You gulp down hard. Damn, was he hot.

“yeah…”

Your voice trails off, and you hear him keep the empty glass on the table. You look up at him, as he is sliding off his bar stool.

“So, where shall we go?”

“Oh…how about your place? You wanted to show me, right?”

He smirks, “Great idea. Can we get our check here, please?”

He pays for your drinks, before offering you his hand. You gladly hold it, and he leads you out of the bar, to find a taxi.

“Is it too far? I forgot my jacket!” you say, feeling the coldness of the night once you reached out. You rub your palms on your arms, hoping to get some warmth.

“No, just about a 15-minute ride. You cold?”

You stare up at him, and he starts taking off his jacket.

“Right. Here” he wraps it around you, and it instantly makes you feel at ease.

“Thanks, Harry”

“No problem, love”

As the taxi arrives, you both get in, and he gives the directions. The driver starts to drive, and you can't help but notice the subtle, intoxicating aroma that fills up the car. It's Harry's cologne and it smells so fucking amazing.

You gulp down, and turn towards him. Holding on to the backrest for stability, you grab the hem of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

It is unexpected, but he likes it. He immediately gives in, kissing you back with the same frevor.

Your lips are cold, but the kiss is hot.

You try to shift on the seat, and get on top of him. But, he pulls back and holds you back down.

“Hey, slow down, bunny. We’ll reach home and then I’m all yours”

He pulls your face back, uttering those words in your ear. You feel a bit embarrassed, but a kiss was definitely better than awkward silence during the whole drive.

“I know…it’s just, you’re so hot, Harry” you control yourself from releasing a moan at the end of your sentence, knowing that the driver was probably hearing everythong.

“I know, baby” he smirks, and pushes you back down on the seat, turning your face up front. You are about to frown and pout at that, but suddenly you feel his cold hands between your legs, pushing them apart.

You quickly turn your face, looking into his eyes with urgency. He stares back into yours, and gives you a questioning look. You realize he’s asking for permission, and you silently nod.

His hand spreads your thighs wider, the dress riding up. You pull out is jacket from your back, where it had fallen messily when you had jumped him. You put it over your thighs to cover yourself.

He reaches your panties, and gently pulls the crotch aside. You spread them wider, giving him more access, you are so desperate. His cold hand touches your clit, and you almost moan in pleasure.

“Shh” he whispers near your ear, before continuing the task in his hands.

His fingers find your clit, and he lightly grazes them on it. You swallow down a whimper, and pull your lower lip between your teeth.

His fingers travel downward, finding your labia and pussy lips. Without warning, he spreads them apart, and starts to rub your arousal throughout your folds. You close your thighs around his hand, and look up at him again. He gives you a look of warning, and you spread them open again.

His finger pushes in, feeling intrusion. He retracts it, and slowly starts to rub circles at your clit again. It makes you wetter, and makes it so much more hard to be completely quiet. He gradually increases his pace, feeling more arousal seeping through your folds. Spreading it all around, making a complete mess of your dress and thighs.

You throw your head back, and he pushes one finger in. It goes in with ease, and he starts to finger-fuck you.

You look down at his hands, his sleeves rolled up and prominent veins protruiding up. The said cross earlier is between your thighs, drenched in your wetness, making it more sinful.

You are getting close, the alcohol making your high approach faster. His long fnger hitting your g-spot, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your stomach starts to ache, the rush of the approaching orgasm coming faster and faster. You just need a bit more, a little push, just a little bit more and…

“We’re here”

He immediately retracts his hand, and you blink open your eyes, mouth falling open. You take a few moments to realize that you’re in the back of a taxi, and you need to get out soon.

The car comes to a halt, and you pull your dress back down. Pushing your legs closed together, your wet, drenched panties get rolled up messily, making it more uncomfortable.

With Harry’s jacket in your hands, you try to pull yourself out gracefully, but your legs are wobbly, and your cheeks are flushed red.

You look so fucked out.

You stand by the car as Harry pays him, and he leaves.

As soon as he leaves, he puts his left hand into his mouth, licking off the remnants of your arousal.

That bastard.

You hurry behind him, as he walks across the road and opens the gate. He unlocks it, and then another one. Almost 2 minutes, and you’re finally in.

As soon as the door is locked, you throw away the jacket, and climb up on him again. He catches you, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He pulls your dress back up, grabbing the panties harshly and tearing them apart, and pulling them off from between your legs.

If you were not so desperate to get fucked, you would’ve fought him over them. But right now, you are desperate to get fucked by him.

He walks you to his living room, and to the sofa where he puts your down on the armrest. You both start making out again, tongues sliding messily into each other’s mouths. You can taste the rum in his mouth, and his intoxicating smell makes you whimper into his mouth.

“So desperate…” he remarks, and you grab his hair, getting his mouth back on yours.

A few moments later, you both pull back, desperate for some oxygen. Your hairs are disheveled, lipstick smudged. But to Harry, you look so beautiful.

“Y’gonna let me taste you? Have my tongue between those pretty thighs?”

On another day, you would. Spread open your legs and have him eat you out for hours. But right now, you just want to feel him inide you.

“No, I-I want to feel you, Harry. I wanna feel your cock inside me” you stare into his eyes.

“Fuck, you’re so damn hot. Where do you want to have me? Here? In my bedroom?”

“Here. Please?”

“Yeah? Want me to bend you over this couch and fuck that pretty little pussy of yours?”

“Yes, please?”

You look up at him with doe eyes, and he pulls you back down. Grabbing your waist, he quickly flips you over, and pushes you on the couch, so that you are nicely bent over in front of him. He spreads your legs using his, and your drenched pussy comes into view.

He unbuttons his pants, and quickly pulls them down, along with his boxers. He reaches the pocket for a condom, and tears the foil with his teeth.

Using one hand, he rolls it down on himself, and the other goes back between your thighs.

“Fuck, darling, you’re so wet”

He collects you wetness on his fingers, swiping his fingers between your folds. You push your head into the couch, his fingers diving deeper.

“So, so wet. Bet you drenched the car seat too, didn’t you? Dripping all over it. Bet the driver knew too. Your face was so red, cheeks blushed, lips bitten into your mouth. And your eyes, so full of lust and hunger.”

He pushed two fingers in, and started to finger you, while simultaneously stroking his cock. You moan out into the couch, grabbing into the backrest, anything to pull on. He pushes them to the hilt, and stills his movements, gently twisting them so you would feel his cold rings.

“Fuck. Jesus Chrust”

You whimper and moan, his fingers expertly fucking you back to an orgasm. Your legs clamp close around his hand, and you let out a wild shriek of his name, as you cum hard around his two digits.

“Fuck, fuck me”

Your breathing becomes ragged, and you turn your face, so that your cheek is on the sofa. After a few moments of letting you catch your breath, he speaks up.

“You okay, love?”

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay”

“Good. Want me to fuck you?”

“Yes. Yes, Harry please?”

He pulls out his fingers, and you whimper again, feeling empty. But that is gone soon, as you feel his cock line up with your swollen folds.

“Ready, love?”

You nod, and he finally pushes in.

You gasp loudly, his tip pushing its way in. His length follows, and you realize that he is a lot bigger than you had expected.

“Fuck, Harry-I-Fuck”

You curse into the couch, and he gently and slowly pushes his way into your tight cunt. You take in deep breaths, as you adjust to his massive girth spreading you open wide.

“Can I continue?” he asks.

“Yea-yes”

He pulls back, before gently pusing back in, till he is fully in. He repeats the same motion a few times, till you’re fully adjusted to his size.

Your mouth falls open, warm and heavy breaths passing through your mouth. He is going really slow, and it’s for your own good. But, you want it faster.

Harder.

“Harder, Harry-I-I want it harder”

He groans, before pushing back in, but with more fervor. A broken moan falls past your lips, and you gulp down, your mouth going dry.

“Is that good? Or you want it harder?”

“Harder”

“Oh, baby, you have no idea what you just asked for”

He pushes your legs wide, and grabs your hair, holding them in a makeshift ponytail for leverage to plunge himself inside you. You arch your back, and he pushes back in.

This time, there was nothing slow. He was going hard and fast from the beginning, making your legs shake and your eys to roll into the back of your head. You are impossibly wet, your wetness drenching his cock, making it easier to fuck you.

“Such a tight little pussy, fuck”

He curses, his cock fucking you into oblivion. His thrusts are rough and hard, making your toes curl. You feel his hand rest on your bum, and you want him to spank you.

“Har-Harry- I want you to-I-”

“What, baby? You want me to?”

“I want you to spank me-Harry-”

He quickly lifts his hand off, and strikes you with impact, making you moan filthy, and your pussy to clamp down on his cock.

“You liked that?”

“Mhm, yes, more please”

He spanks you again, and establishes a smooth rhythm of spanking you with each thrust inside your sopping wet cunt.

You feel so fucking good, on the cloud nine of pure pleasure. His cock fucking you so good and deep, one hand pulling your hair while the other spanks your bum red, you feel so fucking good.

“Harry-I'm close-” you mutter out, before falling back limp, your pussy clenching desperately around his length.

“I know. baby. Your pussy's getting tighter with each thrust. You gonna cum for me? Cum around my cock?”

“Yes, please, Har-”

You scream out his name, your eyes falling shut as you feel your orgasm take over. Black and white dots dancing behing your closed eyelids, a beautiful kadeidoscope of pleasure. Your legs begin to shake as his cock fucks you though your euphoric high.

After you're done cumming, he doesn't stop, chasing his own high.

“I'm close too, baby. Gonna cum inside this perfect cunt.”

He grabs your waist harshly thrusts, shallowing and slowing down as his orgasm approaches.

“Fuck, Mhm, Jesus-So fucking good, Christ-”

He rambles as his orgasm takes over, and you feel his warm cum inside your pussy, filling up the condom. Your tight cunt milks him off all he has, and he continues to fuck you till he is completely empty.

He stills inside, his cock throbbing and making you close your legs shut, wanting to keep him inside for longer. He catches his breath, gasping for air as he tries to pull out slowly.

“No, don't- I wanna feel you inside for longer”

You manage to say it in one breath, hoping he won't take you to be desperate and needy, even though it is what you were mere minutes ago.

“As you wish, darling” he stills back, holding you and pulling you back up. You both scoot awkwardly, and fall down on the sofa, you on top of him.

You could feel his chest on your back, rising and felling with each breath. You carefully turn around, keeping your legs on either side of his waist, and you face him.

He looks so beautiful, his post-orgasm face making you feel so warm and giddy. You lean down, and sweetly kiss him on his pink lips.

There’s comfortable silence between you two, the post-orgasmic glow taking over and making you feel so good and droopy.

“That was-really really good. Like, the best I've had in a long time.” you blush while admitting that, and he holds you close, making you feel safe.

“Glad you liked it. It was incredible for me too”

You both smile fondly, feeling so much connected in that moment.

“You okay? Want something to eat? Water?”

“Yeah, but afterwards. Wanna hold you for a while.”

“Sure, baby. You can hold me for as long as you like.” you grip your arms around him tightly, not wanting to let go.

>>>

i hope you like this! please don't hate me

here's my ko-fi if you feel generous

requests and feedback is welcome and much appreciated!!

>>>

general taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888

let me know if you want to be added, removed

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kiwi-on-ice · 3 months ago

Note

we need ashe smut w fem reader if u can🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Ashe x fem!reader

Summary: As the new waitress at Panorama Diner, you quickly meet the infamous Deadlock Gang, while also gaining the interest of their ruthless leader.

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+ smut, dom!ashe, no use of y/n, lots of flirting, fingering, strap ons, spanking, slight overstim

Notes: Thank you for requesting my fav fav fav character anon! God i love Ashe and I love writing her. Also phew this is the longest fanfic i've wrote so far, hope it was worth the wait!

Having recently moved, there was one resounding fact you’ve learnt from practically everyone you’ve met so far; don’t mess with the deadlock gang.

Getting a job as a waitress along route 66, you’d been told by neighbors, new friends, even fellow colleagues to watch your back. That the deadlock gang were dangerous, unpredictable, undefeatable. And as you glance at the wanted posters that adorn the diner wall, your eyes are drawn to the leader, her mascara running down her cheeks. But its her expression that really strikes you, how severe and intense her gaze is. Reading the warning ‘Dead or Alive, Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe, $65,000,000 reward’, it really dawns on you how threatening she seems. Your finger traces the edge of the slightly ripped material, not being able to identify why exactly you can’t rip your gaze away.

Not being able to idle for long, you tear yourself away and get back to serving food and drinks, getting used to the flow of the diner and its patrons. It’s almost relaxing, most customers being pretty polite and calm as you work. You fall into a routine, especially since you have a specific uniform to wear. The diner’s management thought it would be good to have almost a 1950s theme, meaning you and the other waitresses were given blue stereotypical dresses to wear, complete with a small white apron to go around the waist. Yours was a little too tight, not that you minded. It flattered your figure quite nicely, even gaining you a few compliments.

It was quite a slow day as you stood behind the counter, in your own world as your fingers tap rhythmically on the marble. Light streamed through the glass windows, brightening the fairly empty diner as you daydream passively. Although the other waitress on staff seemingly drops a cup on the counter, causing you to turn at the noise. She seems...flustered, just as the bell rings to signal the door has opened. Following her nervous gaze, your breath catches. The deadlock gang, well only three of them, but the leader you’d recognise anywhere from how often you find yourself gazing at her wanted poster. Your colleague quickly busies herself with some coffee that you’re sure hasn’t been ordered, leaving you to seat them. You breathe slowly as you walk towards the new patrons.

Ashe seems a little frustrated, snapping at who you assume is her lieutenant as they wait to be seated, her rifle idly resting over her shoulder. She turns to look at whichever waitress will probably annoy her today, and then she sees you. Immediately her demeanour changes, looking you up and down as the furrow of her brow dissipates.

“Welcome to Panorama Diner, table for three?” you say softly, a polite smile etched on your features.

“Yeah, thanks. Preferably by one of those windows.” The leader replies, her red eyes not moving from you as you lead them to their table. Placing their menus down, you smile and leave them to decide. Releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you catch the other waitress glancing at you slightly apologetically. But you don’t particularly feel that threatened or scared…but you’ve been wrong before.

“Ready to order?” you ask with your notebook out, once again putting on the customer service smile.

“Three coffees, black.” Ashe says, before looking you up and down again. “That a uniform? Or d’you just like to dress like that?”

“It’s a uniform, management are going for a 1950s theme.” You reply with a soft laugh, which Ashe seems to delight in.

“Suits ya dollface, can see why they suggested it.” She says smoothly, causing heat to unexpectedly rise to your cheeks.

“I’ll grab your drinks.” You say quickly, turning and hoping she didn’t catch how flustered you looked. You reprimand yourself as you put the coffee on, why on earth were you affected by a simple compliment? You get compliments all the time…and especially why were you affected by the compliment of a criminal gang leader? You try and shake those thoughts from your mind as you pour their drinks, placing them on the tray and carrying them.

“Here you are, can I get you guys anything else?” you ask as you place their mugs in front of them. The two men shake their head dismissively, but Ashe hums softly.

“Hm…any recommendations?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Well a lot of the waitresses here recommend the apple pie.”

“But not you?” she asks, her eyebrow quirked.

“To be honest I hate apple pie.”

This dry response cause the gang leader to laugh, actually laugh, causing the two men to stare for a moment, bewildered. “That right? Appreciate the honesty there sweetcheeks, what would you recommend?”

You take a moment to think. “The French toast is lovely, and we also have a few cakes on stand that the staff made. Chocolate and red velvet.”

“Well I think red velvet would be just sweet enough, thanks doll.” Ashe replies with a small smirk, her red lipstick illuminating as the suns rays pierce through the glass panes. You nod and quickly go to get her a slice, a little short of breath from her intense gaze. You really need to stop acting like a blushing schoolgirl, you reprimand yourself. Coming back and serving her the cake slice, she thanks you, and that delicious accent of hers has you fidgeting as you turn and serve another table.

You try and continue your shift as normal, although her occasional glances at you prove difficult to ignore. Still you manage to keep your composure until one of her lieutenants pipes up.

“Hey lady, can we get the check?” he says loudly, snapping his fingers a little condesendingly, and as you hurry to the table, you see Ashe glare daggers at him.

“Don’t snap your damn fingers at her, she ain’t a fuckin’ dog.” Ashe seethes at him, which causes him to shrink a little and nod.

“Cash or card?” you ask, before Ashe pulls out a wad of cash from her pocket. Counting how much they owe, she places it on the table. You collect it as they stand to leave, but before they do Ashe stands to her full height and steps in front of you.

“Your tip, and an apology for my lackey’s rudeness.” She says, handing you a wad of cash. Your eyes must betray your shock at how much she’s giving you, as you shakily take it and start thanking her profusely.

“Don’t mention it dollface, didn’t catch your name.” You tell her, and she hums and smirks at you. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, guess I’ll be comin’ in here more often.”

With that, she tips her cowboy hat which makes you giggle softly before leaving. You watch as they step outside, mounting their motorbikes. You glance down to check your tip, counting the money in amazement. She’d tipped you 200 dollars, at least that’ll go a long way to paying this weeks rent.

Making good on her statement, two days later the gang are back. This time it’s Ashe and three members of her gang, alongside two omincs. One looked smaller, with a hood and a sniper rifle, but the other was huge, his hulking frame contrasting the cute little bowler hat that lay askew on his head. Even though a waiter was on hand, you almost sprinted to be the one who served them.

“Welcome back to Panorama Diner, table for…five?” you ask as you count them, and Ashe nods. They all seem a little dishelved, a few cuts and scrapes present on the human members which causes you to wonder where they’d been or what trouble they’d caused. You lead them to a table, connecting two so the bigger omnic could fit more comfortably, which seems to please Ashe greatly.

“Wasn’t sure ya’ll accepted omnics, there are a lot of establishments who sure as hell don’t.” Ashe remarks, causing you to shake your head.

“Of course we do, we don’t discriminate.” You say with a smile, before glancing at the bigger omnic. “Love the hat.”

He gives a nod and a little thumbs up, as Ashe continues. “His name’s B.O.B, he ain’t a talker.”

You nod, flipping your notebook out. Two coffees and a milkshake, to which Ashe raises her eyebrow at the dark-skinned woman clutching a laptop to her chest.

“Seriously Frankie?”

“What? You said it was a celebration.”

You smile a little. “So two coffees and a milkshake, got it.”

Leaving them to it, you go to prepare their orders. You can’t deny that you’ve been secretly picturing Ashe coming in again, giving you a small rush now that it’s actually come true. You try and convince yourself it’s just for the possibility of another tip, and not for the way her voice makes you weak at the knees, and her eyes are the most gorgeous you’ve ever seen.

“Here you guys are, anything else just let me know.” You say brightly.

“Thanks doll.”

God you can’t deny how much that nickname is affecting you when it slips from her red lips, as you turn and serve some other tables. You notice a few patrons glancing at the gang as they eat, but you aren’t afraid anymore, and you sure as hell aren’t gonna turn them in, however you try and push away the feeling of guilt at how flippant you’re being regarding a wanted gang of criminals. All because the leader was hot.

Still, you go about your shift easily, growing to like whenever Ashe would unashamedly look at your ass whenever you bent over to pick something up from a table; in fact, a few times you did it on purpose in the hopes the older woman was looking at you. After a while, it was near closing time so you check on them to get any final orders. Upon asking for the check, you hand it to them.

“Cash or card?” you ask.

“Cash” the leader replies, this time opening a bag that was sat beside her. You can’t help but glance inside, and the sheer volume of dollar bills nearly has your eyes watering. That explains why they look so bruised and scraped, you think to yourself, as she counts out the amount and places it on the table. As they get up to leave, Ashe is again the last one as she hands you another wad of cash.

“Your tip.” She says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh…miss I really cant accept that much again- “

“You can, and you will.” She replies, her tone leaving no room for argument as you shyly take the money, electricity spiking up your back as your skin brushes against hers.

“Thank you so so much, I really can’t thank you enough.”

“No need sugar.” She waves her hand dismissively as she grabs her rifle. “Stay safe, these parts ain’t gonna be quiet for too long.”

You nod a little at her warning as she leaves, your heart beating rapidly. She gives you a final look up and down as she leaves, and you release a shaky breath, god you really have to stop getting so worked up about her. Although it’s hard when you glance at the 300 dollar bill tip she just gave you.

However a few days later, things really take a turn for you. Two of your fellow waitresses invite you out to a bar, and you’d been polite enough to say yes despite your reluctance. Once you arrive, they’re both taken with a few men who buy them drinks, leaving you alone at the bar, tapping your finger anxiously on the table. You get a few offers from guys trying to buy you drinks, but you blow them off, your dress suddenly feeling too tight in the warm lights. Thinking about leaving, you move a bit through the bar before you hear raucous laughter from a nearby cards table.

The deadlock gang…they were here. Clearly nobody was brave enough to ask them to leave, or hell they might even own the place…it strikes you just how little you know about them; dangerous considering the leader now knows your name. The same leader who you’ve just locked eyes with, the red hue causing your breath to catch. Hesitating, you turn to leave. Maybe she didn’t recognise you outside of your waitress uniform, as you attempt to walk casually towards the exit.

“You better not be leaving doll, not when I’ve just saw ya.” You hear a smooth southern voice say, and god it’s like the blood rushes to your face immediately. Turning, you see Ashe coming up to you, her lips, tie and eyes all the same colour. Danger.

“Seems my friends have left me, I was just heading out-“

“Awe don’t worry, how about I be your friend, hm?”

It feels like the devil tempting you as you hesitate for a moment, but ultimately you find yourself nodding before you even realise. The smirk on her face makes her look like the wolf whose seduced the lamb into her den, as she leads you into the bar with a hand on the small of your back. Taking you to a smaller table away from the rest of her gang, she looks at you.

“Let me at least buy ya a drink.” She offers, and goes to order what you asked for. Tapping your fingers nervously against your thigh, you glance around as you wait. Her gang are still sat where you’d seen them, laughing and playing cards. You recognise a few of them who’d came into the diner, but quickly look away before they catch you staring.

“There ya go sugar.” Ashe says as she gets back, two glasses in hand. You quickly thank her as she slides into the booth with you, her thigh slightly touching your own. “So y’friends abandoned you?”

Laughing a little, you nod and explain that they’d been whisked away with some patrons who’d caught their eye. The smirk on Ashe’s face gives away her train of thought.

“But not you?” She inquires, eyes glancing around your face as if mapping out every detail.

“I prefer girls.” You say before even thinking about your words, but the older woman smiles all the same.

“Perfect.”

Forcing yourself to not show how flustered you are, she starts to ask questions about your life, your job, your family. As you speak, she seems genuinely interested in what you have to say, something you can’t say you’ve ever had with the dates you’ve been on in the past. Not that this is a date…

“What about you?” You ask softly.

“Me? All ya need to know is that deadlock is my family now.” She says, before grinning. “Well, B.O.B is extra special family.”

“The one with the little hat, right?” You reply, peering over her shoulder to her gang, where the hulking omnic sat with his eyes firmly on the two of you.

“Yeah that’s it, my bodyguard. Not that I need him all the time. Best believe I can handle myself.” She smirks, leaning in to murmur the last bit close to your ear, causing you to giggle a little.

“You’re known for being quite dangerous around these parts, right?”

“Oh you could say that doll. What, you scared?” She teases, before you quickly shake your head. “Good, I like a brave girl.”

Smiling a little at her praise, you aren’t even focused on the fact she’s a gang leader anymore. Like Eve biting the forbidden fruit, you let Ashe place her hand on your knee as you speak, the sinful spark of electricity seemingly travelling from her manicured fingertips all the way up your spine. As you both talk, her fingers tracing small circles on your knee, before slightly rising higher.

After an hour or so, her gang approach, rowdy and clearly intoxicated as they giggle.

“C’mon Ashe, let’s hit up some other places.”

You smile at the cowgirl, thinking it’s the end of the night for you. But she hums, glancing at you for a moment before replying.

“Ya’ll go and have fun, but not too much.”

One of her lieutenants tilts his head, “huh? You ain’t comin’?”

Ashe cuts him a glare that tells him to shut his mouth, before readjusting herself so her arm is around your shoulder. “I’m doin’ just fine here.”

With no room for argument, her gang takes off after Ashe gives a nod to her omnic bodyguard. You on the other hand feel your breathing quicken at the feel of her arm around you, subtly leaning closer to her as you giggle.

“You’re doing just fine here?” You ask, to which she smirks.

“Damn right I am, got a pretty girl hangin’ off my every word. What’s not to like?”

At the reassurance that she does in fact find you pretty, the heat rises within you. Not being able to help glancing at her lips for a moment, the ever perceptive criminal obviously noticing, her breath tickling your cheek as she speaks.

“But just cause I’m doin’ fine here, don’t mean we can’t go somewhere else…maybe away from pryin’ eyes.”

At her announcement, you glance around to notice the other patrons sneaking glances as you. But another thought comes creeping through your mind, the thought of going home with her. Of letting her touch you in the way you’ve been fantasising about ever since she came into the diner. You wouldn’t dream of admitting the nights you spent playing with your clit, imagining the infamous gang leader’s fingers instead. So you nod, knowing you’d give in, and the self-satisfied smile on her face tells you that she knew you’d say yes.

She leads you with by the hand, warm and slightly callous in your own, before coming upon her motorcycle parked outside the bar. Seeing your expression, she giggles softly.

“First time on one of these?” she asks, to which you nod, “Don’t worry sugar, just hold on good and tight f’me, alright?”

And you really do, clinging on to her waist as she speeds down dirt roads, hair wispy in the wind. Try as you might to relax and take in the scenery, you can’t deny the relief you feel when she finally brings the bike to a stop. She takes you once again by the hand and leads you inside, shutting and bolting the door behind you both. Now should be the time to feel at least a little intimidated, but butterflies of excitement uncurl in your stomach as she glances at you.

“Want another drink?” she asks smoothly, to which you shake your head. Drinking really is the last thing on your mind, especially as she stalks closer to you. “Maybe you want somethin’ else…”

Feeling your back against the wall, you nod slightly as she brings her hand up to slowly trace your cheekbone. Her thumb rubs smoothing lines, and at this proximity you can see every line and pore on her beautiful face, every eyelash, how her tongue darts out a little to lick at her lip.

“D’you want me doll? Gotta tell me now or I ain’t touchin’ ya.”

“I want you.” You say, trying to sound confident but melting at her grin.

“Alright, you gotta know though…I’m a woman who likes control, likes to be in charge. You sure you can handle that?”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning as she says that, nodding quickly again. At your consent, she leans in and kisses you, the tension between you both finally exploding. She presses you further up against the wall, tongue running along your bottom lip before exploring your mouth. Eagerly swallowing your slight whimpers, she uses her free hand to wrap around your hip, keeping you where she wants you. Pulling away, she observes the slight red stain her lipstick as left on your mouth, before kissing along your jaw.

“So sweet sugar, like candy.” She mumbles against your skin, kissing down to your neck and licking. “Gonna let me leave a mark?”

You stutter out a yes, before she sucks a dark hickey into your neck. There really isn’t any going back now, she’s marked you. The leader of the deadlock gang has truly staked her claim on you, and you couldn’t be happier.

Feeling the material of your dress, she slowly inches the fabric up, exposing more and more of your thighs as she kisses to the junction between your neck and shoulder. She lets out a soft moan as she grips your upper thigh, feeling the soft skin under her touch and squeezing. Although she quickly grows tired of waiting, instead slipping between your thighs to grope your clothed pussy instead. At the action, you can’t help but buck forward into her touch, feeling her smile against your skin.

“So wet already, bet you were drippin’ in the bar huh?” she accuses you, knowing she was right. Her fingers cup your panties, feeling the wet material beneath her skin, exploring. With a soft whimper, you let her touch you how she wants, eyelids fluttering closed before she slaps your pussy lightly.

“Nuh uh doll, eyes open.”

When you do as she instructs, she rewards you by slipping into your panties and rubbing your clit in slow rhythmic circles. The result is instantaneous, a quiet needy moan escaping you as you feel her touch. Her eyes never leave your face, head tilted as she watches your reactions.

“Look so pretty, y’know that? Know how pretty you are?” she praises you teasingly, meaning every word but mostly saying them because of how flustered you act when you hear them. Her praise goes straight to your cunt, clit throbbing under her touch as she speeds up her movements.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen sugar. You’re gonna cum on my hand, and all I’m gonna do is play with your clit. If you’re a good girl and do what I say, imma take you into the bedroom and fuck the brains outta ya.”

Her tone doesn’t leave any room for argument, and you voice your confirmation. She grips your waist, encouraging you to rock into her hand as she keeps up the movement of her fingers, strumming your core expertly. It’s clear to you she’s experienced, and you wonder if this is a normal occurrence for her; to seduce and play with pretty girls who happen to cross her path when she isn’t out being a criminal.

Shakily, you grip on to her waistcoat for stability, feeling yourself get closer and closer the more she touches you. When she releases your waist to grope your tits, that’s when your thighs really start to shake, grip harder on her outfit.

“Yeah baby, that’s right. Cum on my hand, make a mess.” She encourages, her voice igniting that fire inside of you as you finish on her hand with a soft cry. Not slowing down, she gets every last bit of your pleasure before she finally removes her hand, bringing it up to the light to observe your fluids sticking to her digits. “Awe, ya really did make a mess.”

Catching your breath, you blink for a moment as she uses those same fingers to tap at your lower lip, before parting them to clean her fingers for her. Tasting yourself was a little strange, but it was worth it for the way her pupils dilated and her breath caught in her throat at your performance. Without another word, she grabs your upper arm and hauls you into the bedroom.

Getting you on your back, she grabs the zipper of your dress and yanks it down, removing it quickly as she leans to give you another kiss. Moaning softly, you reach to unzip her waist coat, pushing it off her before your hands go to her tie. She grins against your lips and helps you undo it, before he grips your wrists and pins them above your head, mattress squeaking slightly.

“Can you guess what I’m about to do?” she purrs, before wrapping the red tie around your wrists, not tight enough to hurt but just enough to give the illusion of incapacitation. Bound like a present for her, she straddles your waist and looks at her handiwork, before slowly unbuttoning her dress shirt. You buck up a little in excitement, as she reveals her white bra. Removing her fingerless gloves, she tugs your ruined underwear down roughly, exposing your dripping cunt to the dim light of the bedroom.

“So many things I wanna do to you baby, so many things.” She says as she runs her finger along your pussy lips, smirking as you twitch. “Anythin’ completely off limits?”

You tell her and she hums in acknowledgement, before glancing at the wardrobe. She lifts herself off you, hissing at you to stay still as she grabs a box from beneath a few clothes and bullet shell casings. Bringing it over, she smirks as your eyes widen at the sheer number of toys in the box.

“I’m a wealthy woman doll, and I’m a wealthy woman with…needs.” She answers your silent judgement, before leaving the box on the floor next to the bed. “Now if you do well, I promise I’ll fuck ya, how does that sound?”

Before being able to ask what you need to do well at, she unbuttons her trousers and slides them down her legs, removing all of her harnesses and belts with precision. Just in her bra and underwear now, she winks at you before ridding herself of her panties before climbing up your body. Oh. You know what she wants, and you whimper desperately in anticipation.

Grabbing the headboard, she positions herself over your face, thighs on either side. You’re practically salivating, as she moves your bound hands to be resting on your stomach. Without warning, she finally sits on your face, and you get to work immediately. You lap at her pussy, wanting to taste her all night and finally being given the opportunity. She groans softly, the feeling of your warm tongue between her thighs was heavenly. She wanted you like this since she saw you, in that silly waitress dress that was too small for your curves.

Rocking into your tongue, she watches you squirm with glee, moving one hand to hold your hair; keeping you in place as she uses you. Uses your mouth, all for herself. Whimpering, you lick up to her clit before sucking gently, delighting in how a soft moan escapes her throat. She tightens her grip on your hair, pulling to angle you to where exactly she wants. Her pussy was dripping, mixing with your saliva as she makes a mess of your face. Not that you mind, excitedly pleasuring her as best you can.

“Fuck sugar, ain’t you a good girl.” She slurs out, as you move your tongue over her cunt. “Keep it up and I’m, shit, I’m definitely fuckin’ ya.”

You whine in excitement, doubling down on your effort, jaw slightly aching as you please the criminal above you. Feeling herself get close, she grinds faster into your tongue, taking the sensations you’re willingly providing her. She finally cums in your mouth with an uncharacteristically higher pitched moan, her hips slowing until she stills.

You catch your breath rapidly as she climbs off you, leaning into her hand as she wipes your mouth of her wetness. The action causes your chest to feel tight with happiness, before she taps your cheek in a slightly condescending manner.

“Alright then doll, I’m a woman of my word.”

With that, she leans off the bed to rifle through the box, before bringing up a bottle of lube and squeezing a glob onto her fingers. With a nod of confirmation from you, she pushes two fingers slowly inside, feeling how your practically suck her in. She groans quietly, as you make a stranged gasp at the sensation. Removing them, she sinks them inside again before repeating, the wet noises from your cunt echoing off the walls.

“Hear that? Hear how much this pussy wants me?” she taunts, curling them to prod at that spot inside that makes your toes curl.

She sets a slow but firm rhythm, focusing on stretching you out for whats to come as her other hand gentle strokes circles on your thigh. You’re having the time of your life, hands still bound helplessly infront of you as your digits flex. This is exactly what you wanted from her, what you needed from her, and she hadn’t even got to the main event yet.

After a while though, and a third finger being slipped inside, you grow impatient with the growing desire for her to fuck you. So you do your best to voice that desperation, hips twitching and voice pathetically higher pitched than normal.

“You want it baby?” she says, slowing her fingers to a halt before grinning at you. “Say it nicely.”

“Can you please fuck me Ashe?” you ask.

With a nod and a quick spank to your oversensitive pussy, she leans down and grabs the strap on she was keeping which causes your eyes to widen. It’s a black harness, with a purple dildo attached. It wasn’t overly big at around 6 inches, but it certainly seemed thicker than anything you’d taken before. Suddenly glad of her prep, you watch as she moves a pillow beneath your hips, before lubing up the fake cock.

She pushes in slowly, and you both moan at the sight and sensation. God you look gorgeous, she thinks, as her red eyes watch your face contort in pleasure and the slight pain that comes with the stretch. You whimper her name softly, cunt tightening around the dildo as Ashe strokes at your hips soothingly.

“I know, I know sugar. But you can take it, I know you can take it.” She praises, bottoming out inside you. Thighs shaking, you’re grateful for the way she lets you adjust to the size, and after a few moments you offer her a shaky nod.

Smiling, she pulls out slowly and pushes you back in, getting you used to the rhythm of being fucked as the grip on your thighs tightens a little. She clearly has a lot of core strength, able to keep the pace effectively and slightly speed up when she senses you get more comfortable. The slick sounds of your pussy getting fucked by her should make you embarrassed, but the shameless noise only serves to turn you on further.

“That’s it, look at ya. Takin’ my cock so well, such a good little girl.” She grunts out, cowboy hat laying askew on her head as she keeps fucking you. You lift your bound hands to paw at her bra, before she clearly gets the hint and chuckles. Not slowing down at all, she reaches behind herself and practically rips the garment off, exposing her breasts to your gaze. You go to touch them before she grabs your wrists easily, moving them above your head as she moves your thighs up.

This new angle means she can drive the toy impossibly deep inside you, pinning your hands down and making sure you have nowhere to go, nothing to do but take. You moan louder at this, eyes nearly rolling back as you’re sure she’s fucking your brains out. The mating press makes her feel good too, the harness bumping her clit with every thrust, serving the mental image of her fucking you with physical sensation.

“So cute, like my own little doll. Maybe I should keep ya.” She drawls, causing you to whimper more at the insinuation. Hell, in this moment she could threaten to lock you up in her basement and you’d probably blindly agree, needing to feel more of the delicious friction she was providing you. Moving her one hand down, she rubs a little clumsily at your clit, causing your cunt to tighten around the dildo.

You aren’t sure how long she fucks you like that, time an illusion that pales in comparison to the pleasure of being fucked by the gang leader, but eventually you need to cum. So you tell her, beg her, which only fuels her dominate headspace further.

“Yeah keep beggin’ me, that’s right. You know who’s in control right now.” She groans out, slamming her hips against yours. Every muscle in your body tightening, you barely have time to tell her you’re gonna cum until you’re gushing around her fake cock with a drawn out moan. Grinning, she slows down, stroking at your arms.

“Good job, you looked so pretty baby.” She whispers, red nails gently dragging on your skin soothingly. Just when you’re about to thank her though when she pulls out, she grabs under your hips and flips you, landing face first into the mattress with a grunt.

“Ashe-“

“Oh come on darlin’, you didn’t think we’d just stop at one, did you?”

With that, she pushes into you for a second time from behind, your back arching. This time she doesn’t wait for you to adjust before pulling back and thrusting inside. With your loud, overstimulated moans, she grins sadistically and starts to fuck you again, your hands limply in front of your face.

“Oh fuck doll, ain’t you just the prettiest thing.” She gets out through her shaky drawn out breaths, focusing on railing you firmly into next week. Your thighs tremble with every thrust, feeling your g spot get battered by her dildo. You feel a sharp smack as she spanks your ass, and at your reaction she repeats the motion.

Eyes rolling back, your front falls into the sheets as you lose the strength to hold yourself up, moaning incessantly at her rough treatment. She fucks you like she already owns you, like you’re her property, and you love it. The sensations are so much, you find yourself whimpering her name over and over.

But a part of Ashe wants you to call her by her first name, a name she hardly lets anyone call her. But ultimately decides against it, it feels too real, somehow too intimate. Reluctant to break down her walls, she instead channels her mental doubts into fucking you better, harder, with more passion. She holds your hips for stability, pushing your hands down so you can crudely rub yourself while she fucks you.

Soon it all becomes too much, and you feel yourself barrelling towards your next orgasm quickly. Your breathy whines and whimpers let her know, as she moves her hand up your spine before nestling her fingers in your hair. She gives a sharp pull, forcing you into an arch as she coos in your ear.

“Awe baby, you gonna cum again? Gonna let me fuck another one outta ya?”

You nod dumbly, almost drooling as your pussy tightens yet again.

“Good, make some noise for me m’kay?”

Making good on her word, she thrusts into your g spot with conviction, forcing noises to come tumbling out of your throat as you cum for a third time that night, twitching and almost convulsing. This time when she slows, she pulls out for good, unclasping the harness and letting the strap fall to her side as she takes you in her arms. She tosses the cowgirl hat and nestles herself into the pillows, pulling you with her so you’re laying on her chest.

“That okay for you?” she asks, like she hasn’t just given you the railing of a lifetime, but you giggle softly anyway and nod. “Alright good, just checkin’. I’ll run ya a bath in a minute, how does that sound?”

You relax into her embrace, content to let her take care of you as you hum softly in appreciation. Her nails gently drag along your scalp, the soothing gesture threatening to send you to sleep before she can clean you up. You can’t deny how safe you feel, in the arms of someone so dangerous. But she’s showing you such affection, such softness which contradicts the rumours that swirl around her.

“Are you gonna come to the diner more?”

That innocent little question you ask, so full of hope and contentment causes an unfamiliar sensation to rise up in the cowgirl, as she glances down at you.

“You want that? You wanna see me some more?”

At your nod, she swallows thickly. You actually want to see her more, maybe as more than someone to fuck. Someone to…she doesn’t let herself finish that thought, instead smirks teasingly.

“Sure doll, gotta come back to the diner. Gotta make sure nobody else is tippin’ my favourite waitress as much as I am.”

You giggle at that, teasing her back. “Oh? So if someone tipped me higher then you’d match it?”

“I’d go beyond matchin’ it darlin’, might have to start paying your bills as my tip.”

You really laugh at her dramatics, cuddling up to her more and making her cheeks involuntarily flush. With a soft sigh, she allows herself to bask in the moment before slapping your ass gently.

“Come on then dollface, let’s get ya in the bath.”

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