#miranda's. miranda's just in such deep shit. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zyafics · 9 months ago

Text

PLAY FAKE | 04

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

Dedication — for @rivaiken, iykyk! <3

The next couple of days have been radio silence. You don't try to communicate with Rafe and he doesn't try to communicate with you. You just throw yourself into your work, scolding to yourself how this was such a bad idea.

It wasn't meant to be a fuck relationship. It was meant to be fake. Nothing more than public displays of affection and going on to ignore each other behind the scenes. Rafe, himself, said that he wanted to continue doing all the shit he's doing now, just with you as a shielded layer of protection against his father.

Whenever you think back to that moment in the country club bathroom, your stomach recoils. Not because of the sex, but because of how willing you are. You always saw yourself as an independent person. Someone who can handle your own needs. You had to be; you grew up with no parental guidance and raised two younger sisters. You take care of people, you think of others. You handle everything yourself.

But you remember you were deep on your knees, ready to give him anything; when you were splay against the counter, begging him to make you come. God, you feel embarrassed by your own desire.

Maybe it's the control. Maybe it's because you're so used to it in the real world, for once, you want to give the reins to someone else. Especially in the bedroom. And Rafe perfectly takes it.

The only problem is he doesn't give it back.

Asshole.

You're behind the counter, telling Miranda about the new backlog of orders that the system hasn't placed, and a spill in one of the corners, when the bell rings, signaling the entrance of another customer.

"I'll be right with you!" You shout over your shoulders, quickly summarizing the last of the tasks for Miranda before turning to the new customer who walked in.

You plastered on your service smile, ready to take their orders.

Only to realize it was Rafe.

Your smile drops.

"What do you want, Rafe?" You ask pointedly, setting the towel down on the counter as he slides into the seat before you, a casual demeanor to his own presence.

"I need you to play the part again." He says, without so much as an apology or acknowledgement to what happened the other night. "It worked. My dad likes you."

"That's great," your voice is empty of emotions. "Are you coming here to tell me about what a perfect plan you made?"

"No," he shakes his head. "I need you to attend a party with me."

"Business?"

"No, at my house."

Your answer is immediate. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Can't make it."

"You don't even know what it is about."

"Let me guess," you cross your arms, pretending to ponder. "Your dad trusts you enough with me, so if he sees you and me at your party, he would assume I'll be able to control you and you won't push yourself over the edge?"

His reply is silent. That's how you know you're right.

"Guess my Pogue brain caught up fast enough."

You turn around to grab a small glass, pouring out a shot of tequila on the table before tipping your head backwards and taking it all in without a chaser. You need it for whatever this conservation is about to go. "I won't be able to go. I have a double shift."

"I haven't told you the day yet."

"I have double shifts all week," you declare sharply, the bitter taste burning your throat. You squint your eyes for a moment, readjusting, before you find his gaze again.

"I'll pay you."

"God, is this party that important?" You huff out of astonishment at his persistence. "The answer is still no. I don't want your money."

Rafe's brows furrow together. He doesn't understand why you're acting so cold to him. He came in with a good proposition; you wouldn't have to do any of those silly dinners with his father, all you had to do was make an appearance at a party long enough to satiate Ward and then you can do whatever the hell you want. Why are you being so difficult?

"What the fuck is your problem? Why do you have such an attitude?"

You laugh, abruptly, because this is so ironic and humorous to you that the sound rips out. The reckless prince, the man who received a collegiate degree from UNC Chapel Hill doesn't know what a Pogue is thinking.

You don't answer him, deciding to take one of the tasks off of Miranda's hands and clean up the spill yourself. It’s better than being cornered by Rafe. You move to the other side of the counter for the flip-door exit, stepping out from behind the booth.

Heading to the back to grab the supplies, Rafe follows you. Once you step into the backdoor, grabbing the mop, he slips in behind you, blocking the exit.

"You gonna talk or just avoid me all day again?"

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

His forehead wrinkles. He truly doesn't know. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?"

Having enough, you throw your arms out in frustration. "I'm talking about the fact that you're the one who fucked me in a bathroom after some problem with your dad," you snap, lashing out from all your pent-up anger. "You refused to talk to me. All you did was used me as your fucking toy."

He staggers back for a moment. Before a cruel smile appears on his lips.

"I remember you were begging for it."

You slap him.

It was so unprecedented, without thought, that it shocked the both of you. The next few seconds were quiet, too quiet, like it was a live wire waiting to spark.

Your voice is calm, almost deadly. "I want you to leave."

His anger comes back tenfold. It's almost a match made in hell; how your rage matches his, how he doesn't back down—but neither do you.

You were going to drive each other insane.

And some sick part of you liked it.

"When have I ever fucking talked to you, Pogue?" He snaps back with dark fury. "We're barely even friends. If I want to fuck you, and you let me, I'm taking it."

"Whenever you had a problem with your dad, you came to me, in this bar," you gesture out to the door. "You talked. I listened. That was the deal."

"We never said that in our relationship."

"Well, I'm putting it in," you declare. Approaching him, stepping a foot closer to close in the distance between the two of you. He doesn't move. He doesn't waver. He watches your step with heavy breathes, dark eyes. In a low breath, you warn, "you want to fuck other people? Fine. I don't care. You do that. They aren't the ones sticking with you, helping you with your dad. They don't have to carry the weight of you being you."

You know the last line was a hard hit, but it was true. You were tired of being seen as another Pogue, someone on the bottom of the litter meant to be used and thrown away. You need to make your stance firm.

"But if you want to fuck me," you conclude, pointing to yourself, "you talk to me, first."

He says nothing. Your anger is filling your adrenaline. It could also be the tequila. Whatever it is, you don't know what provoked you to say the next sentence.

"I wasn't on the pill, goddammit."

For a moment, sobriety reigns over Rafe's features. His eyes widened. "Did you—"

"I bought a Plan B, you asshole." You cut him off, not wanting him to think you're too stupid to think of the consequences. You knew. That's why you told him to pull out. "I wasn't going to carry your babies in me. But, it was expensive. Do you know how much that cost out of my paycheck?"

To him, that may seem like nothing. Nothing more than scraps rolling around his room, in his pockets that he could spare. But for you? That's money that could've gone to paying off your debt, to helping Sailor, to taking care of your siblings.

He remains silent.

You continue.

"You cover for me however you want. You host that party if you want to so fucking badly. But I can't do it. I have work."

You push past Rafe and he lets you, grabbing the mop out of the corner and stepping back into the open atmosphere of your bar. You may hate the noise that comes from the place, but it was better than being suffocated in a room with him.

Rafe quietly follows after you after you return behind the counter.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his words were not coming out. His gaze flicks to you, jaw clenched.

"I... I didn't know," his voice is a whisper, almost indistinguishable, that you can't help but let out a bitter chuckle.

"Yeah," you agree. "Because you refused to talk to me."

He says nothing, muted by his own anger, looking down at his hands, before he walks out of the bar. He doesn't bid farewell and you don't expect him to. All you know is he's going to get shit-faced soon and you had nothing to do with it.

—

As you are helping your little sister with her math homework—where all her struggles were about multiplication tables and recognizing whether a fraction is improper—you miss the early days of your life. Where you don't have to think about anything else.

About the bills. About the loans. About how to take care of your siblings.

About a stupid Kook prince you can't get out of your mind.

Your baby sister is seated on the couch, reading some children's book that you made a couple of years ago, stringed together with yarns and colored pencils. Her delicate voice echoes through the joint living room, sounding out the words on her own as she heard you read them million of times before.

Your sister, Amara, pulls you back to reality as she taps your arm, pointing to her problem on the kitchen counter that she's struggling with. She points to the question, reciting her logic of how she got there, and you return with praising her thought process but reminding her of her multiplication tables.

"Ohhhh," her voice drags, giggling at the realization. "I see."

You chuckle softly, laying your chin on her small shoulder and picking up your phone off the counter. While she fixes her mistake, you scroll through social media.

A notification flashes at the top of your screen.

topperthornton: hey

Why the fuck is another Kook sliding into your DMs?

you: hello?

He quickly responds, asking if you are your name.

you: why?

topperthornton: idk if u know but rafe is hosting a party tn

you: so i heard

topperthornton: well, you should come

you: i don't think so, white boy

topperthornton: it's rafe.. he's asking about u

Something in your chest sputters. You pretend it's not your heart.

you: ?? for what

You hope you didn't come off too eager. You don't want to be. You should be pissed, goddammit, but something about knowing Rafe, drunk right now, is thinking about you, makes you weak.

You hate it.

topperthornton: idk what happened between the two of u but he's drunk and crossed out of his mind and he's just been rambling about u

You stare at the text for a hot minute, before another one follows.

topperthornton: u need to come immediately

Fucking hell.

You know you shouldn’t. You just came out of a long, tiresome shift. You have siblings to take care of. You have a math problem that has yet been corrected. But, something in your chest caves. The idea that Rafe needs help, that he's asking for you specifically, and you aren't coming? Makes you uneasy.

You have to go.

There's no other way around it.

Scrambling, you pull your Amara off your lap as you run out the door and race down the block. When you stop in front of Pope's house, you pound your fist against the door, praying someone is home.

It's Pope.

"Hey," he greets. "What's up?"

"I know this is last minute but I need you to watch the kids," you announce breathlessly. His eyes follow you, concerned.

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine," you wave off. "I just have to go somewhere and I don't know how long I'll be. Amara is doing her math homework and Leilani is just reading a book. They're really sweet, I promise."

Pope laughs you off casually. "I know," he says with a smile. "I've babysat them before."

"So," you string the words together slowly, hoping your anxiety isn't coming off too strong. You don't want Pope to feel obligated. "Can you... do it?"

He nods. "Of course. Pogues help each other out."

You smile, pulling him into a quick hug, before handing him the spare key to your house. He heads over to take care of your siblings while you run to your beaten-down car, reversing out the road.

When you arrived at Tannyhill, you truly underestimated how large the party was going to be. People crowded all over, dancing, swinging, just having a reckless and wild time at Rafe Cameron's place. While you know you should be slightly embarrassed by the long pajama pants and braless baggy tee you're wearing right now, feeling overdressed, you step out of the car and head inside.

Topper spots you at the porch.

"Thank God," he mumbles under his breath. "He's been out of it."

You wonder if Topper knows about your arrangement with Rafe.

"Yeah," you nod. "Where is he?"

"I put him in his room with some water but I gotta tell you, he's wasted. Some of the things he says... may not be tasteful."

You scoff. We've already crossed that bridge. "I think I'll be fine."

Without another word, Topper pulls away and you head up the familiar stairs of the estate, descending down the hallway you were here just days ago. It feels, for some reason, like a lifetime since you visited.

You knock on the door, twice, to no answer. Deciding to go for it—praying you won't walk into some lewd act—you step into the room to find it peacefully quiet. Rafe laid out on the mattress, his eyes closed.

You scan the room, trying to see if there's any destruction—any thrown chairs or broken bottles—to find everything in the same condition as you visited prior. The only difference is a pink bag, sitting in his drawer with a bouquet of flowers sticking out.

Your stomach twists in jealousy as you wonder who that could be for. At what fool is receiving such gifts or who gave him such.

When you peek inside, you notice a couple of things: a white envelope, a bundle of red tulips, and like ten-plus stacks of Plan B.

You stiffen your laugh. You realize the fool is you.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The bed creaks and you jump at the sound, seeing Rafe pulling himself up on the mattress into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision, before he finds you, standing in front of him.

He says your name. He thinks he's hallucinating from the drugs.

"Yeah," you nod, cautiously approaching him as his glazed eyes follow your every move. "It's me."

"I thought you said you had a double shift."

He didn't mean for his words to come off so sharp.

"I locked up an hour ago." You explain, brushing past his aggravation.

Rafe nods at your explanation, but his movements are sluggish. Lag. He truly is out of it. You're surprised he went this hard.

His head hangs, staring at his lap, before he asks quietly. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug. You don't know either. You thought he needed help. The idea of him asking for you, but you weren't there for him, kills something inside of you. But, you can't say that. Not after everything you said to him. Not after what this relationship is based on.

You are nothing more than a fake girlfriend.

"Topper said you needed help," you evade any sense of responsibility. Of care. "He texted me."

His jaw clenches, and he looks up at you. "Top has your number?"

"No. He found my Instagram," you answer, wondering if that is jealousy you hear. But, you settle that it can't possibly be the case. "He DM'd me and I came over."

Now it's your turn to be vulnerable.

"I thought you needed help."

Rafe scoffs, bitterly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Unless you can get this headache out of my heart, I don't think there's much you can do, sweetheart."

You nod, your feet shift to the door, ready to leave. If this is all, if that's all Topper is worried about, Rafe should be fine.

"Come here."

You find yourself listening. Again. Your feet pads against the hardwood floor as you streamline over to him, stopping just in front of his legs hanging off the ledge of the mattress. His head tilts up to meet your gaze; his cloudy blue eyes staring back at you. You bite back a thought.

"I know something that would make me feel better."

You scoff at the suggestive tone. "Let me guess: fuck?"

"Sit on my lap."

You hesitate for a moment. You don't want to be another fuck. But, when his hand lands on the side of your thigh, gentle and earnest, you relent.

Slowly, you settle onto Rafe's lap, both legs on either side of his waist. Your body facing him, and despite him in the lower position, he meets you at eye level.

"Better?" You tilt your head, watching his shoulders unwind every-so-slightly.

"Much." He murmurs, his eyes tracing your face. "God, you're gorgeous."

You flush, knocking a weak palm against his broad shoulder. "Shut up," you say, feeling anything but. You're wearing scraps for clothing, something you planned to go straight to bed—not attend an extravagant party hosted by one of the island's finest.

"I'm fucking serious." He snaps, but his voice doesn't have that hard edge. You blame that on the alcohol too. "I saw all those girls tonight. And yet, here you are, in your fucking pajamas and getting me hard."

You scoff, turning away. "So it does lead back to sex."

"No, it means that they pale in comparison to you," he cups your chin, gently, pulling your gaze back to him. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Believe me."

You're afraid that if you move up against his lap, coming closer, you would feel his erection. Not to mention, if you do, you don't know if you're going to start dry-humping him like you did the other day. But, you remain firm on your stance.

You're not going to let him fuck you unless he talks to you.

The atmosphere thins into a silence, as you take in the low hums of the downstairs party blasting in distant music.

"How was the party?" You ask, probing for a conversation starter. "Was it everything you dreamed of?"

He scoffs. "You're looking at it. I basically drank and smoked until I got sick."

His vices. At least you didn't have to hear about the women he hooked up with, if that's the case. Something deep inside of you hope there isn't.

You nod silently, finding your fingers tracing the outline of his shoulders, your nails scraping against his hot skin and trailing up the crook of his neck. Rafe lets his eyes flutter close for a moment, breathing in a shaky breath.

"Don't do that."

"Why?" You ask, genuinely curious. "I'm just tracing."

"Because anything from you right now feels good," he confesses quietly, and your breath caught in your throat. You hand stills. "Fuck, don't stop."

"You're going to have to give me one signal here, Rafe," you roll your eyes. "You can't say green and red light at the same time."

He pauses for a moment. Contemplating your words.

"Green," he whispers. "Definitely green."

You return to your outline of Rafe's silhouette. He lets you. He says nothing as you follow down to the curve of his arms, skimming against his defined biceps and the muscles instinctively flex under your touch. It made you smile. You pretend you aren't proud of it.

This is done in complete silence.

Then, out of nowhere, Rafe confesses, "I shouldn't have touched you like that."

You freeze. You knew immediately what he was referring to.

"I—I was out of it. I took it out on you."

He still doesn't get it.

You abandon your artwork and use both hands to cup the underside of his jaw, forcing him to tilt his gaze and look up at you. With a sigh, you say, "that wasn't the problem." Your eyes study his face, "it was the fact that you didn't talk to me or explain to me what happened."

His gaze is broken; so incredibly so. The whites of his irises are a faint shade of red, bringing out the deep set of his blue eyes.

"I need to know these things, Rafe." You continue gently. "It's not about me being nosy, or a bitch, or anything. If I'm getting into something with you, I need to know the full picture so I can help you." You swallow your voice as you mumble out the next one. "So you can help me."

You hope he doesn't know the strain in your tone, how hard it was to say those words. You hope he doesn't press on it.

"Okay." Rafe nods, dipping his chin into your palms. "I get it."

"Easier said than done, darling."

Rafe knows it is. He's been struggling to string words together before you came into his life, much less with you in it. But, he was willing to try.

He begins at the dinner. With a stumbled start, he explains how Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you.

You stop him to ask questions. "He said that?"

"No," Rafe shakes his head. "But it's the look on his face. It's—the way he acted. You should've seen how he looked at me when he complimented you, like I'll never compare."

You frown at those words; you didn't even notice.

When he satisfied your questions, Rafe continued on with his story. Rambling further. Each word spilling out easier than the last. He assumed it's because of the alcohol, or the drugs, or perhaps it was neither altogether and it was just you. All in all, he knew.

It was easiest to talk to you.

It reminded him of the bar. He put himself in that setting. His words tumbles out of him with the impression that you won't share it with anyone else. The idea that you were just you, a bartender, who probably had to deal with this shit a thousand-times-over with other talkative customers. That it was you, who he is confessing a vulnerable part to, without the retaliation of judgment.

Rafe breakdowns the comments Ward made. The little conversation they shared after dinner, when you were helping with the caterers. Your clothes. It all became too much to him; like he was the problem. That nothing he did was good enough. His mind was spiraling by that time and having nothing else to pour it into—the drinks, the drugs, the partying—all he had was you.

And he used that to his advantage.

You listen intently, nodding along and following his words without further interruption. Only on things you truly need to clarify. When he finished, even with his incoherent noises and words, something in his chest lightens. It feels more at peace.

You stare at him for a few moments, digesting the information. A protectiveness forms in the pit against your stomach because fuck Ward, you decided. Sure, there may have been admiration from your end about his ability to become a Kook but that means shit now. You hate how he treats Rafe. You hate how you didn't notice.

"God, your dad is a dick."

Rafe doesn't agree like you expect him to. His gaze hardens, like he can't stand you insulting him. You realized, in that moment, you crossed a line. That he may harbor all these hurt and anger and resentment, at the end of the day, it's still his father.

"Sorry," you mumble softly. "I didn't mean it like—"

"I know what you mean."

That came out with an edge.

You swallow, deciding that you should leave. Maybe you being here isn't the right decision. Your legs are starting to cramp from their overstretched position and the inside of your thighs burn from the overuse. You peel your hands off his shoulders and slowly will yourself off of Rafe's lap.

"I should go," you declare, glancing at the exit.

Something in his chest tightens. He wasn't mad. He just wasn't used to regulating his emotions, especially about his father. All he knows is that he doesn't want you to leave.

"Wait," Rafe declares as you pause in front of his bedroom door. He stammers for an excuse. "I never made you come."

Your eyes slightly widen from the suggestion. "It's fine," you say, even though, in that moment, a small part of you hated him for that. "I... I finished myself off when I got home."

The image of you, in your bed, alone, touching yourself to relieve your aches, does something to him. Both in guilt and in arousal.

"No," he raises from his bed, approaching you. Now, with him standing on his own two feet, he towers over you—dominating and intimidating. "It's only fair. I should give back."

"Rafe," you place a hand on his chest, laughing awkwardly, because you don't know how you feel about him pleasuring you. "It's fine. It's not a tit-for-tat thing. You don't owe me anything."

He feels frustrated again. That's not what he meant.

"Fine." He snaps. "You want my words? I want to make you come. I want you to feel as good as I did that day."

You stare at him, the air stolen from your lungs, not knowing what to say. Then, suddenly, an idea occurs to you and a sly smile rises to your lips.

"You want to help me come?" You ask sweetly, watching as he nods his head like an obedient dog. "Okay."

Your hands travel down to the hem of his pants, to his belt, and unbuckle them. Rafe's face conveys surprise, that you're so eager to accept, and when you pull out the leather strap, you stop. Just for a moment, you glance back, asking in confirmation. "My pleasure, right?"

He doesn't know what you're trying to do, but he nods anyway.

"Turn around."

Rafe does what you say. You take both of his wrists into one of your hands—a struggle that Rafe had to assist with—and pins them behind his back. Using the belt, you tie them together.

"Sweetheart..." His voice is low, unsure of how you're able to proceed, but the arousal travels through his body at the uncertainty.

"Trust me." You whisper, buckling them into a firm lock. When you walk back around to face Rafe, your panties dampen at the sight before you: him, standing tall, with his arms pinned behind him, almost helpless. "Sit."

Rafe takes the seat on the desk chair you pulled out, his bounded arms touching the back of the seat as his focus is pinned on you, standing before his bed.

You let out a shaky breath, excitement bubbling in your stomach at the idea of what's about to happen, before your fingers hook to the band of your pants, slowly pulling them down to your ankles. He watches every little move; like a strip tease catered specifically for him. Something he can see. Something he can't touch.

Rafe can feel his erection hardens in his jeans.

"What are you doing?" Rafe's voice is rough and once you step out of your pants, revealing the white panties underneath, he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to make myself feel good," you declare evenly, trying to calm your racing heart, "and you're going to watch."

His Adam's apple bobs. "How do I help?"

"I look at you as I do."

A complaint lodged in his throat but you caught it before he proceeded. "My pleasure, right?" You remind him, to which he, with great reluctance, nods.

You leave your shirt on, deciding it would be unnecessary to take off, and settle down on his bed. Your back pressed against the mattress, you position yourself comfortably in a way that allows Rafe to watch.

And he's watching.

"Are you going to use your fingers?" Rafe asks, deciding that he needs to talk to keep him sane.

"Mhm," you answer, spreading your legs. Arousal licks up your stomach as you feel the cool air brushes the inside of your thighs, raising goosebumps against your skin. You feel the urge to laugh to dispel some discomfort in your body, at how intense Rafe is studying you, but you choose not to. "I might only use two. It'll be tight."

Fuck, Rafe thought.

With a tentative hand, you brush your fingers against your panties, feeling your wetness forming a spot. The light touches ignites heat in your core and your eyes flutter close for a second.

"Look at me." Rafe commands, trying to regain some control. It doesn't work, but you listen anyway.

You watch him as you continue to stroke yourself, pressing against your clothed pussy, not quite entering, as a light coat of your slick covers your fingers. You tip your head back with a small moan.

"Sweetheart," he groans, "stop torturing yourself."

When he truly means to stop torturing him.

You pull your hand back and stuff your fingers into your mouth to cover with saliva, tasting the faintness of your arousal, before returning back to your pussy. Pushing the drenched fabric to the side, a forefinger slips inside easily.

A whimper escapes you, your back arching slightly from the intrusion of your touch. Rafe's breath hitches in his throat as he watches you steadily pump yourself, in-and-out with one digit. You focus on your own pleasure, how good it feels, with the heightened sensitivity of Rafe's attention all on you.

And he's fucking hard.

Rafe watches as you spread your wet folds, slipping in another finger to your tight cunt. It kills him that he can't do anything about it.

"I bet my fingers would fill you more," he offers seductively, trying to remind you of his existence. That he can do it too. You laugh softly, not taking the bait. "What are you thinking about?"

"How good this feels," you whisper, hearing the sound of your wetness squelching in the air. You mewl. "You."

Rafe grunts at the confession. You try to keep your eyes set on him, to remember what you're doing, who you're doing it with, but the build-up is causing you to lose control and makes you close your eyes.

"Eyes." He demands, his voice sharper than before. You open them with great resistance, each second longer is a struggle to keep them focused on him.

"Oh, god," you moan, quickening your pace as you connect your gaze with Rafe. The way he looking at you right now. It reminds you of the night at Topper's house, the time in the country club's bathroom. "Yes, yes, fuck."

He can't stand this. He's straining against his jeans, his cock painfully hard without any relief, while his wrists are bound and reddened by how tight you locked him in. How he's pushing against the leather, trying to break free.

You close your eyes again in pleasure. Your orgasm is getting close.

Rafe swallows hard. "You feelin' good, sweetheart?"

You nod eagerly, flicking your gaze back to him. "You enjoying the view?"

He clenches his jaw, not responding, but you can tell. The impressive outline of his bulge against his pants, how hungry his eyes are. How much he wants you.

It lights something carnal within you. You start to pump harder and faster inside your pussy, your moan growing louder and without inhibition; Rafe's very own porn show in front of him.

He has enough.

"I need to touch you." Rafe declares desperately, rising from his chair, his eyes never straying from the perfect image of you, on his bed, fucking yourself, writhing in ecstasy. "Come on, sweetheart, I can—fuck—I can make you feel so much better."

He's bargaining, goddammit.

A small laugh leaves you, mixed in with the sound of your own pleasure, and you don't acknowledge his comment. His pleads. He steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

Rafe growls out your name.

You glance up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze. "Hmm?" You say innocently, pulling your hand out of your pussy. His eyes glance down at your slickness glistening off your fingers, his chest tightening.

"Say yes." He demands weakly, his voice rough and filled with so much restraint, like he's seconds away from losing it. "Tell me I can touch you."

You pull yourself to your knees, bending before him, your smile full of satisfaction. "You want me that badly, baby?"

He doesn't even bother denying it anymore. "Yes."

"My pleasure, right, baby?"

"Fuck, yes," he groans. "Please."

You grin, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and pressing it against his full lips. He takes you in, sucking your arousal clean from your hand, his eyes still on yours, and you, finally, finally nod.

"You can touch me."

Rafe breaks his belt buckle in one swift motion, surprising you, before his hands immediately cover your body, grabbing at any flesh he can find. His mouth claims yours, pulling you into a hungry kiss and pushing you back against the mattress as his weight pins you down.

"You can't get enough of me." You tease, moaning at how good he tastes, how you can taste yourself on him, and your fingers find his hair. When he breaks, his hard eyes land on your face.

"You don't know how fucking badly I want to punish you right now," he confesses lowly, his hand lowering to the space between your legs. "For torturing me like that."

"It doesn't feel good, does it?"

Rafe scoffs, capturing your cheeks in one large hand, squeezing them together. He runs the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mumbling, "this fucking mouth."

You provoke further. "You love it."

He doesn't answer you, silencing himself with a bruising kiss against your lips and sucking all the air out of your lungs. When his hand lands on your pussy, his fingers begin to run tight circles around your clit, causing you to arch into him.

"Oh, god," you moan into his mouth as he swallows the sound. Breaking from the kiss to glance down, he watches at how responsive your body is, how you're writhing under his touch, and smirks.

"Feels good?"

"So good," you whisper needily, "please keep doing that."

Rafe descends down your body, kissing a trail from the navel of your stomach to your wet cunt, aching and waiting just for him. "I'm going to make you come on my fingers, tongue, and face. Think you can do that for me, sweetheart?"

He doesn't give you time to answer, covering his mouth over your swollen nub and sucks.

"Oh, fuck," your hips involuntarily bucks against his face. He grins against your pussy, in satisfaction, at how good he's making you feel. At how good you taste. To be denied of this, for the past hour, was torture. He wants to pleasure and punish you, all in one. "Don't stop, don't stop."

Your legs wrap around his head in a lock as he ascends you towards your peak, slipping two thick fingers into your pussy. The size makes your walls clench around them. Rafe groans, the vibration against your clit pushing you further into your climax.

"Please don't stop, please." You moan in desperation, afraid of him pulling out again, tipping your head back against his pillows, your fingers gripping his hair harder. Rafe twists his fingers, entering at a new angle, allowing the cool sensation of his ring against your hot cunt and amplifies your sensitivity.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Rafe quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in with precision and hitting all the right spots. In addition, he slurps harder, tonguing your clit in a way that causes stars to blanket your vision. Writhing in pleasure, you moan and whimper, racing towards your orgasm.

"Come for me," he commands, feeling your walls twitching towards a desperate end, “let me hear my girl."

You release with a heavy cry, coming on his face and slumping back against the bed from pure exhaustion. Combined with the day you had, the double shifts you've been pulling, and the incredible orgasm you're given, all you want to do is sleep.

"Get up," Rafe declares, but you don't move. "Come on, sweetheart."

"Give me five minutes," you yawn, holding out five fingers while your eyes flutter. "I just need to..."

You don't finish your sentence, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That's what you tell yourself, and the last thing you remember before you fall completely in your slumber.

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Navigation — Part 03 | Part 04 | Part 05

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horeformilfs · 9 months ago

Note

I have an ask for you. So this can either be with Alcina, Donna, or any of the Dimitrescu daughters.

All I really want is like reader going absolutely ape-shit on some kind of foe. For whatever reason you want. Whether it be Eathan or just some random person trying to hurt her lover. The circumstance is completely up to you.

Oh, and if reader could have some kind of power, plant manipulation, shape-shifting, whatever, that would be loved.

Aaaanyway, thank you very much for even reading this. If you don't like it, just ignore me. No harm done. Have a fabulous day/night, and stay safe!

💐💐

I love this idea and made it kinda angsty

I'll Protect You...Because I Love You

Dimitrescu Family x Fem!Reader

TW: Arguing, Drinking, Fighting, Stabbing Blood, Fainting, Ethan Winters being a dick, Death

--------------------------------------------

In the dimly lit corridors of Castle Dimitrescu, Y/N moved with practiced ease, her footsteps echoing against the ancient stone walls. She had become accustomed to the labyrinthine layout of the castle during her time as Lady Alcina Dimitrescu's maid, navigating its sprawling halls with a sense of familiarity that bordered on intimacy.

But Y/N's relationship with Alcina transcended the boundaries of employer and servant. Over the course of eight months, their connection had blossomed into something far deeper—a love that defied the constraints of their disparate stations. Alcina's formidable presence had initially intimidated Y/N, but beneath her regal facade lay a woman of unparalleled complexity, whose icy exterior belied a warmth that Y/N found impossible to resist.

Despite the differences in their status, Y/N and Alcina had forged a bond built on mutual respect and unwavering devotion. In the quiet moments between their duties, they stole fleeting glances and exchanged whispered confessions, their love growing with each passing day.

And it wasn't just Alcina who had captured Y/N's heart; her affection extended to Alcina's three daughters—Daniela, Cassandra, and Bela. Initially wary of their mother's new paramour, the sisters had gradually warmed to Y/N's presence, finding in her a kindred spirit who shared their love for the sprawling grounds of Castle Dimitrescu.

Y/N's connection to the Dimitrescu family ran deeper still, for she harbored a secret that she had kept hidden from Alcina and her daughters—a power as ancient as the castle itself. Y/N possessed the ability of chlorokinesis, the power to manipulate and control plant life with but a thought. It was a gift she had inherited from her ancestors, one that she had honed in secret, fearful of the repercussions should her abilities be discovered.

But despite the challenges they faced, Y/N's love for Alcina remained steadfast, a beacon of hope in the darkness that threatened to engulf them. And as the sun dipped below the horizon and the castle came to life with the flickering of candlelight, Y/N knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, she would face them with unwavering courage, guided by the love that bound her to Alcina and her daughters.

As Y/N approached the door to their shared bedroom, she could sense the tension radiating from within. The air crackled with an uneasy energy, sending a shiver down her spine. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit chamber.

Alcina sat at her vanity, her usually regal posture slumped with frustration. Y/N's heart ached at the sight of her beloved in such turmoil, her concern outweighing any fear that lingered in the air.

"What's wrong, Alcina?" Y/N ventured softly, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness of the room.

Alcina's response was immediate, her words tumbling forth in a torrent of anger and resentment. "That blasted Miranda! She thinks she can dictate every aspect of our lives, as if we're mere pawns in her game!"

Y/N listened in silence as Alcina ranted, her heart breaking with each word that fell from her lips. But before she could offer solace, Alcina's frustration reached a boiling point, her hands clenching into fists as she unleashed her fury upon the unsuspecting vanity.

The sound of splintering wood echoed through the room, mingling with Alcina's ragged breaths. Y/N moved closer, her instincts urging her to comfort her lover in her time of need.

"Alcina, please," Y/N pleaded, reaching out a trembling hand in a futile attempt to soothe her. "Let me help you."

But Alcina's response was sharp, her eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down Y/N's spine. "Stay back, Y/N! This is none of your concern!"

Y/N recoiled at the venom in Alcina's voice, her heart pounding in her chest as she took a cautious step backwards. The sight of Alcina unsheathing her claws sent a wave of fear coursing through her, the primal instinct to flee warring with her desire to stand by her lover's side.

With a heavy heart, Y/N made her decision, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. "I'll leave you alone, Alcina. I... I need some air."

And with that, Y/N turned on her heel and fled the room, her footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as she made her way downstairs, the weight of Alcina's anger heavy upon her shoulders.

As Y/N entered the dining room, her steps heavy with the weight of her emotions, she failed to notice the three figures huddled together at the far end of the room. Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela exchanged concerned glances as they watched Y/N's distant demeanor, their hearts aching at the sight of her pain.

With a shared understanding born of years spent in each other's company, the sisters moved as one, their footsteps silent against the polished floors as they approached their beloved Mămica. Y/N's shoulders sagged with the weight of her burdens, her trembling hands reaching for the crystal decanter of whiskey that stood sentinel upon the table.

The clink of glass echoed through the room as Y/N poured herself a generous measure, her movements mechanical as she downed it in one swift motion. The sisters exchanged worried glances, their concern deepening as they watched a solitary tear slip down Y/N's cheek.

Bela, the eldest of the sisters, stepped forward first, her voice gentle as she addressed Y/N. "Mămica, are you okay?"

Y/N startled at the sound of Bela's voice, her eyes widening in surprise as she met the concerned gazes of the Dimitrescu sisters. She attempted to muster a reassuring smile, but it faltered at the edges, her facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions.

"I... I'm fine," Y/N replied, her voice betraying the turmoil raging within her.

But Daniela wasn't convinced, her keen intuition sensing the truth behind Y/N's facade. "Did you and Mamă have a fight?"

Y/N hesitated, her gaze flickering between the three sisters as she struggled to find the words. "Yes, but it's nothing for you to worry about."

Cassandra reached out a hand, her touch gentle as she brushed a stray tear from Y/N's cheek. "You don't have to pretend. We're here for you."

Y/N felt a sense of comfort envelop her as she sank into the plush cushions of the living room couch, Daniela nestled in her lap like a protective shield against the storm raging within her. The warmth of the fire cast flickering shadows across the room, a soothing counterpoint to the turmoil churning in Y/N's mind.

Daniela, ever the embodiment of affection, wrapped her arms around Y/N, seeking solace in the embrace of the woman she regarded as her other mother. Y/N returned the gesture, her touch gentle as she ran her fingers through Daniela's hair, the rhythmic motion a balm to her frayed nerves.

With a deep breath, Daniela ventured to broach the subject that hung heavy in the air. "Mămica, what happened? Why are you so upset?"

Y/N hesitated, her heart heavy with the weight of her confession. "It's... it's nothing, darling. Just a disagreement with Mamă."

But Bela, ever perceptive, sensed the gravity of the situation, her gaze piercing as she pressed for answers. "But why did you leave? You always stay with Mamă when she's upset."

Y/N's resolve wavered at Bela's question, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke. "Because... because Mamă got so angry... her claws came out."

The revelation hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the depths of Alcina's fury. The sisters exchanged shocked glances, their concern for Y/N mingling with a sense of unease at the thought of their mother unleashing her wrath upon the woman they held dear.

"That's... that's never happened before," Cassandra murmured, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Y/N nodded, her own disbelief mirroring that of the Dimitrescu sisters. "I know. That's why... that's why I had to leave."

And as the flames danced in the hearth and the night stretched on before them, Y/N knew that no matter the challenges they faced, they would navigate them together, bound by the unbreakable bonds of love and family.

As the warmth of the fire bathed the living room in a soft glow, Y/N found solace in the embrace of the Dimitrescu sisters, their presence a comforting reminder of the love that bound them together. Cassandra and Bela nestled into Y/N's side, their forms molded against hers as they sought refuge from the storm brewing outside. Meanwhile, Daniela remained perched in Y/N's lap, her attention focused on the book in her hands as she read aloud in a soothing cadence.

But their tranquil moment was shattered by the arrival of Alcina, her footsteps heavy with the weight of her frustration. She swept into the room, her icy gaze fixing on the group gathered before her.

"Why aren't you all in the dining room? Dinner should have been ready by now," Alcina demanded, her tone sharp with irritation.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably under Alcina's gaze, her protective instinct kicking in as she sought to shield the girls from their mother's anger. "We were just spending some time together, Alcina. We'll be there shortly."

Alcina's response was a dismissive roll of her eyes, her frustration palpable as she turned on her heel and made her way to the dining room.

As they sat down to dinner, the atmosphere was thick with tension, the strained silence punctuated only by the clinking of silverware against porcelain. Alcina's mood cast a pall over the table, her brooding silence a stark contrast to the usual lively chatter that filled the air.

The daughters exchanged uneasy glances, their resentment simmering beneath the surface as they grappled with their mother's recent outburst. Y/N's heart ached at the palpable discord, her own frustration mingling with a sense of helplessness in the face of Alcina's wrath.

But amidst the awkwardness and resentment, Y/N found solace in the unwavering support of the Dimitrescu sisters, their presence a reminder that no matter the challenges they faced, they would weather them together, bound by the unbreakable bonds of love and family.

As Y/N raced downstairs, her heart pounded in her chest with each step, adrenaline coursing through her veins at the revelation of Ethan Winters' presence in the castle. She found Alcina in the main hall, her imposing figure a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around them.

"Alcina, what's happening?" Y/N's voice trembled with urgency as she approached her lover.

Alcina's gaze flickered with a mix of fury and determination as she turned to face Y/N. "Ethan Winters has escaped Heisenberg and infiltrated the castle. But don't worry, I'll deal with him."

Y/N's mind raced with a myriad of emotions, fear and concern warring within her as she processed Alcina's words. "What about the girls, Alcina? Are they safe?"

For a moment, Alcina remained silent, her expression unreadable as she locked eyes with Y/N. In that brief exchange, Y/N sensed the truth—the girls were still in the library, unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows.

Without waiting for a response, Y/N broke into a sprint, her feet pounding against the cold stone floors as she raced towards the library. Alcina followed close behind, her presence a reassuring presence in the face of uncertainty.

As Y/N rushed towards the library, her heart pounding with fear and urgency, she flung open the doors, relief flooding her as she laid eyes on the girls, safe and sound within the comforting embrace of books.

"Mămica, Mamă, what's going on?" Daniela's voice cut through the tension, her brow furrowed with confusion.

Before Y/N could respond, a deafening gunshot shattered the tranquility of the room, the sound reverberating off the walls as time seemed to slow to a crawl. Instinctively, Y/N moved to shield Bela, her body tensing in anticipation of impact.

But she was too late.

The bullet struck true, searing pain tearing through Y/N's abdomen as she staggered backward, the force of the impact sending her crashing to the ground. Shock and disbelief painted the faces of Alcina and the girls as they watched in horror, their cries of alarm echoing in the chaos that ensued.

Ethan Winters emerged from the shadows, his presence a menacing reminder of the danger that lurked within the castle walls. Y/N fought through the pain, her voice strained as she addressed him.

"Why are you here, Ethan?" she pleaded, desperation coloring her words.

But Ethan remained silent, his gaze cold and unyielding as he turned his attention to the Dimitrescu sisters and Alcina. Panic surged within Y/N as she watched him advance, her instincts screaming at her to protect her family at all costs.

With a fierce resolve, Y/N pushed herself to her feet, her body protesting with each movement as she positioned herself between Ethan and the ones she loved. "Stay back!" she warned, her voice trembling with a mixture of pain and determination.

But Ethan showed no signs of relenting, his gaze locked on his targets with a chilling intensity. With a resigned sigh, Y/N braced herself for the inevitable confrontation, her mind racing with thoughts of how to keep her family safe in the face of overwhelming odds.

As Y/N summoned the vines with her chlorokinesis, her focus shifted solely to protecting Alcina and the girls from the imminent threat of Ethan Winters. The tendrils of greenery twisted and coiled around Ethan, ensnaring him in a tight grip as she launched herself into the fray.

The girls and Alcina watched in stunned silence as Y/N unleashed her power, their eyes wide with astonishment at the revelation of her hidden abilities. The air crackled with energy as Y/N and Ethan clashed, each blow resonating with the weight of their opposing desires.

But despite Y/N's valiant efforts, Ethan proved to be a formidable opponent, his desperation driving him to strike out with renewed ferocity. As he delivered a final, devastating blow, piercing Y/N's abdomen with a merciless stab, a cry of anguish tore through the air.

With the last of her strength, Y/N summoned forth a vine, twisting it around Ethan's neck in a desperate bid for survival. With a sickening snap, his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, the threat he posed extinguished in an instant.

Exhausted and wounded, Y/N collapsed to the ground, her body trembling with the effort of her exertions. Alcina and the girls rushed to her side, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief as they surveyed the scene before them.

"Daniela, keep her awake!" Alcina's voice rang out, laced with urgency as she knelt beside Y/N, her hands trembling as she sought to staunch the flow of blood from her wounds.

The youngest Dimitrescu sister nodded frantically, her hands gentle as she cradled Y/N's head in her lap, her voice trembling with emotion. "Stay with us, Mămica. Please, don't leave us."

Y/N's vision blurred as she struggled to remain conscious, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she met Alcina's gaze with unyielding determination. "I'll protect you because... because I love you," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper before darkness claimed her, her body succumbing to the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With tender care, Alcina lifted Y/N into her arms, cradling her gently as she carried her to their room, the girls trailing behind in solemn silence. The journey felt endless, each step a testament to the weight of their collective worries as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors of Castle Dimitrescu.

Upon reaching their sanctuary, Alcina laid Y/N upon the bed with infinite gentleness, her touch reverent as she began to tend to her injuries. With practiced precision, she cleaned and dressed Y/N's wounds, her movements deliberate as she worked to ease her lover's pain.

The girls watched with a mixture of awe and concern, their hearts heavy with the realization of Y/N's sacrifice. As Alcina finished her ministrations, they crawled into bed beside Y/N, seeking solace in the warmth of her embrace.

Bela nestled close to Y/N's side, her touch light as a feather as she draped an arm over her, while Cassandra snuggled against her other side, her breaths soft and steady against Y/N's skin. Daniela settled in the crook of Y/N's arm, her presence a soothing balm against the ache of her injuries.

Alcina took a seat in a large chair nearby, her eyes never leaving Y/N's form as she held vigil over her beloved. With a book in hand, she settled in for the long night ahead, the pages offering little distraction from the weight of her worries.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Y/N stirred from her slumber, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of the Dimitrescu sisters gathered around her bedside, their faces radiant with relief and joy.

"Mămica, you're awake!" Daniela exclaimed, her voice filled with unrestrained delight as she threw her arms around Y/N, her embrace warm and comforting.

Bela and Cassandra echoed their sister's sentiments, their smiles bright as they showered Y/N with affectionate hugs and whispered words of gratitude.

Alcina watched from the foot of the bed, her heart swelling with love and relief at the sight of Y/N awake and alert once more. With a soft smile, she approached Y/N, her gaze tender as she spoke.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Alcina began, her voice laced with sincerity. "For what happened last night, and for the hurtful words I spoke. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make amends and to work on controlling my temper."

Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude at Alcina's apology, her own forgiveness offered freely as she reached out to take her lover's hand in hers. "Thank you, Alcina. I know we'll get through this together."

With the tension of the previous night lifted, the day unfolded with a sense of newfound peace and harmony. The Dimitrescu family spent the hours together, basking in the warmth of each other's company, the laughter of the girls filling the air with joy.

As they shared meals and shared stories, the bond between them grew stronger, their love for one another shining brightly amidst the shadows of their shared past. And as the day drew to a close, Y/N found solace in the embrace of her family, grateful for the second chance they had been given to cherish the moments they shared together.

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shogvnate · 2 years ago

Text

Insomnia. headcannons

re8 ladies with a s/o who's an insomniac

contains; mother miranda, mia winters, alcina dimitrescu, donna beneviento, bela dimitrescu, cassandra dimitrescu, daniela dimitrescu.

‎

warnings; none.

‎

🐦‍⬛ mother miranda

honestly she's also an insomniac herself so it's not really a problem for her

if you're not busy, she'll ask you to accompany her while she's doing late night experimenting.

she's… surprisingly domestic?

she doesn't talk much when it's late (she doesn't talk much in general though), and you don't either so it works out.

sometimes forgets that you're not a mutant like her, but when she remembers she'll help you fall asleep. She'll find a way, she's a scientist, after all, a mad one at that. Nothing is impossible with her.

entertains you with her crows if her experiments get too dangerous for you.

the type to make you play chess with her over a cup of tea.

you have zero idea how to play so she teaches you.

???

how did the two of you end up playing uno??

…

why are the two of you playing go fish now?

🪡 donna beneviento

also an insomniac

but she's not as noticeable because she wears a veil and no one really sees her face.

late night reading, not healthy for both of your eyes but who cares?

donna is surprisingly active at night (not like that).

living with her includes hearing the kitchen being rummaged at 3 am only to find out it's her trying to cook pasta.

either that or she's trying to find her missing tool.

she can be forgetful sometimes and you are too, but remember, two negatives makes a positive! (you two still haven't found where your blue pen went.)

makes you and herself some soothing lavender tea.

she wears her hair down when it's late, and she's fucking gorgeous goddamn.

the sight of her alone makes you sigh dreamily.

you don't need sleep, you're already living the dream.

angie bites your toes if you look at donna funny for too long.

🍷 alcina dimitrescu

for the love of all that is holy, please stop trying to scare the maidens, it's 2 in the morning.

she's very tired.

she's the opposite of an insomniac, her line of work makes her really cranky at night.

technically she doesn't need sleep, but it's refreshing so she does it and hates when she's disturbed.

just imagine having to be a single milf girlboss with a massive dump truck, must be tiring for her, damn.

sorry. anyway, she'll find a way to help you.

perhaps you need medicine? she can give the Duke a quick late night call and make either Cassandra or Bela fetch them (because she doesn't trust the maidens will come back alive if she sent them this late.)

sits up with you until you're tired, but all the time she'll look like someone who hadn't had a blink of sleep since 500 b.c.

you decide to help her sleep instead, you don't mind.

so you ended up being cuddled by her while she's in her deep sleep, yay!

❄ mia winters

she's tired, not like alcina kind of tired, but just tired.

at some point in the night, she noticed you're not sleeping next to her, again, which made her wake up and get you.

you make her feel safe and when you're not there she gets reminded of her Louisiana days, which, isn't fun.

depending on the day, she can either haul you back to bed for her to cuddle or ask you whether you need something to calm your nerves.

stays up with you, but falls asleep in the end.

cuddling on the sofa with her is heaven so you don't mind.

in the morning you'll be so sore and stiff though, because when she cuddles, she's not even a koala, she's literally merging with you.

her warmth usually brings you to sleep, it's likely her general comforting presence that helps you.

buys you medicine to help with your insomnia if you ask so, but she'll do it tomorrow.

for now, she'd like to rest.

🦇 bela dimitrescu

contrary to alcina, the three of her daughters, and especially, bela, are insomniacs.

they do random shit at 1 in the morning.

one time bela got dragged into having a karaoke session, which meant you also got dragged by the other two sisters (read: daniela).

it's fun though, you got a good laugh from them.

which is great considering your insomnia is making you more and more mentally exhausted.

once they all let their energy out, bela can finally get some time with you.

bela may or may not bring you to her bedroom, depending on whether or not her sisters will tease her for it.

doesn't know how to make tea, so don't hope she does or ask her for it.

silence.

it gets really awkward when she's just sitting there staring at you and expecting you to just get bored and sleep.

you end up having candlelit dinner? breakfast? at 3 am.

🗡️ cassandra dimitrescu

as mentioned before she also has insomnia. she sometimes still manages to sleep though, but it usually happens at day or at random times.

after the whole late night shenanigans, usually she's the most tired because she matches daniela's endless energy but also bela's crankiness.

she enjoys laying down doing particularly nothing so expect her to lay on the same bed as you while staring blankly at the ceiling.

when asked she usually takes a few moments to respond, and as it turns out, she accidentally slept with her eyes open. kinda neat.

she's also like daniela, she can't sit still.

may make random small talks before she just… had it.

so she decided to ask you to spar with her in the armor room.

if you're tired, she'll suggest doing something else like taking a walk around the castle.

one time she's feeling generous, she actually asked you to waltz on the grand hall.

she still remembers the steps despite being dead for God knows how long but you absolutely have zero idea how to waltz.

and you're losing your shit whenever she smiles at you softly.

how uncharacteristic for the murderous vampire who gouged a maid's eyes out for looking at you wrong.

needless to say, your nights are always productive with cassandra.

🌹 daniela dimitrescu

with daniela, it's like gambling your sanity.

there's half the chance that she's feeling hyper that night, or the other being that she's feeling hella tired and doesn't want to be disturbed by the maids. (meaning if she sees someone messing up while she's in this mood, there'll be one more barrel in the cellar.)

either way, none of them meant anything good for you.

drags you to the library to read her stories, more often than not, she's asking you to read her fairy tales which is super valid. I also love them.

makes you play with her hair while you're reading.

very unpredictable, no wonder she's dimitrescu's wild card.

she sleeps when her energy runs out, which may take a long time.

she sleep talks, mostly slurring out your name or whining about how cassandra is always so unfair to her.

softly snores

you always end up being the one cleaning her mess if a maid died that day.

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brandyllyn · 4 days ago

Text

Frostbite

Max Phillips x f!reader

Summary: By all that was holy in the world, you were going to slap the ever-loving shit out of this man. Words: 1.9k

For the #pedrostoriesgift24 Holiday Gift Exchange. @almostfoxglove asked for:

* max gets reader/character for their office's secret santa (or vice versa) * office christmas party

And y'all know I can't resist Max.

My Masterlist <- So much more Max stuff here y'all. I've missed him.

Rated: Teen Warnings: This is romantic and sweet and I make no apologies for that. Max being Max, however.

If you had to listen to George Michael complain one more time about what happened last Christmas, you were going to cause a scene.

Looking around the room, you took some small solace that no one else seemed to be having a good time either. Derek had taken up a post near the exit, obviously waiting until just enough time had passed that he could make a break for it. Malika was on her third hard cider - if she wasn’t careful she’d be the Monday morning gossip.

And the very next day, you gave it away…

You slip your phone from your pocket as surreptitiously as possible, checking the clock. Not even 6:30, there was still the speech from the CEO, the sales award, and of course the office secret Santa to get through before you could make your escape. They always saved secret Santa for last - everyone marching one by one to open their gift from the table in the center of the room. Showing everyone the mug they had been given.

It was always a mug.

The table looked extra sad this year - filled almost entirely with bags, half of which didn’t even have a festive spray of tissue. It was the laziest possible wrapping job. Nothing more clearly said ‘I put no thought into this’ than a dollar store bag, taped shut.

You had wrapped your gift. An oblong box with a festive red bow. Inside was a designer tie - one you had been lucky to find at a local thrift store. You had no idea if your giftee would like it, he ran so hot and cold you never could tell if he even liked you. Or anybody for that matter.

“Hey there sweet cheeks, looking for me?”

Speak of the devil.

“Never.”

He sidles up next to you, all long limbs and expensive cologne. His suit is perfect; crisp navy blue with a sparkly snowflake tie. As usual he stands too close, forcing you to shift slightly sideways to avoid brushing against him.

“You tease,” he pouts with a puffed out lower lip. “You’re gonna break my heart.”

Max Phillips, rising star of the sales department. Arrogant, conceited asshole and inveterate flirt. He was handsome too, which was honestly just annoying. If someone was going to be that obnoxious, they should at least look like half a roasted ham.

“I have it on good authority you don’t have one,” you point out.

He pats his chest for a moment, giving you a wounded look. “Stacey tell you that? Don’t be jealous, baby.”

“Miranda.”

He has the decency to hesitate, eyes darting across the room before back to you. “Well, someone had to be my shoulder to cry on.” You snort at that and he grins, shifting closer again and almost backing you to the wall. “And don’t worry about them, that’s business.”

You were pretty sure whatever that was you had walked in on in the copy room hadn’t been ‘business’ but you don’t point it out. Miranda hadn’t been the same, something viscerally off about her, ever since.

“You,” he leaned into you and you felt a cubicle wall at your back, “you would be nothing but pleasure wouldn’t you?”

“We are at work.”

“Most couples meet at work.”

“We’re not a couple.”

“We’re not a couple, yet.” He takes a deep breath and frowned. “You don’t take good care of yourself.”

“Excuse you?”

It came out close to a shriek, several heads turning your direction. Max gave them a dazzlingly wide smile and as one they smiled back. Even Richard, the grumpiest at the best of times, blushed. He blushed.

“You’re not eating right.”

By all that was holy in the world, you were going to slap the ever-loving shit out of this man. He wasn’t even looking at you, eyes scanning the room while he talked out of the corner of his mouth. “Dave is doing his speech,” you try to point out but Max gives you his attention long enough to roll his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject, babydoll.”

“What subject?”

Max takes the proverbial shovel you offer. “You’re gaunt. You’re not getting the right vitamins.”

“From the man who has an ‘allergy’ to sunlight.”

The grin he gives you is wolfish. “That’s documented. I have a doctor’s note.” You can’t help the small smile and of course he notices. “There now, was that so hard? I’m being charming all over the place here.”

“Why?”

The word is a hiss of air and he blinks at you, confused. “What do you mean, why?”

“You’ve fucked half the office.” You try very hard to keep your tone too low for anyone else to hear. “Am I keeping you from bingo or something?”

Another one of those deep breaths and he leans in to you, so close you think he might actually nuzzle you. “I like you.”

You snort, turning away.

“I do.” He scans the room again before he turns, blocking your view with his wide shoulders. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“I said no.”

There’s silence for several heartbeats before he admits, “You intrigue me.”

“You’re a liar.”

“All the time,” he concedes. “But not right now. There’s something for my people, a knowing of sorts…”

He trails off and you can’t help but ask, “Your people? Wasps?”

“Something like that.”

“Max Phillips!” The call of his name comes from out of the blue.

“Gotta run, sugar tits, duty calls.”

Of course he’s won the sales award. He shakes the CEO’s hand while accepting the plaque, turning and smiling - not pausing for even a moment when he realizes no one is going to take his photo. It doesn’t stop him from playing mayor of the cubicle farm, waving at a few people before stepping to the side. You notice him looking at you and studiously avoid meeting his eyes.

The secret Santa starts and you take a quick tally of how many people participated this year. Even if half the people make a fuss about it, you should be able to leave in fifteen minutes - twenty tops.

Since Max won the award he gets to go first, picking up the box you had carefully wrapped and tearing into it with the gusto of a toddler. He fingers the silk and you swear his eyes dart to where you’re standing.

There is no way he could know you’d bought it for him. No way.

“Looks like we may have a tie for best present.”

People laugh at his terrible joke and he steps to the side, letting the next person fetch their mug. You try to be surreptitious as you gauge his reaction. Does he like it? Does he think it’s tacky? With one hand he pulls off the one he’s wearing and loops the length of red silk around his collar, deftly tying a full Windsor.

It looks good on him.

Dammit.

Your name is called and you shake yourself out of your stupor, avoiding looking to the side. The present is in a bright orange bag - not even a holiday color - and stapled closed. You reach in and pull out the small bottle.

“Iron supplements.”

There’s a small scattering of applause and you stare at the offending object for so long the new HR lady has to gently move you aside.

Iron supplements.

Your secret Santa got you fucking iron supplements.

“You don’t look happy.”

The tie you so carefully picked out mocks you. You put thought into his present - and your Santa did what? Clean out their medicine cabinet? You wouldn’t be surprised if the bottle was already open.

No, you were not happy. You were fuming.

“You look pale.”

“Shut up.”

“And you’ve been having headaches lately.”

“How would you know?”

“I told you, you intrigue me.”

Something clicks and you finally look up at him, bottle clenched in your fist. “This was you?”

“You’re anemic.”

He sounds so absurdly reasonable you barely resist the urge to kick him. “You are not my doctor.”

“Do you have a doctor?”

You don’t, not that he needs to know that.

“If you did they might tell you your iron count is dangerously low. You should get checked for an autoimmune disease.”

“I do not have an autoimmune disease.” Derek shoots you a surprised look and you give him a wide smile before jerking Max’s arm and pulling him into a supply closet. “This is not appropriate. On like a hundred levels.”

“Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Tell me.”

“Don’t take that tone with me.” You shove a finger into his chest. “You may get other people to leap to your bidding but I’m not one of them.”

“I know,” he grins, “it’s fantastic.”

“Fantastic?” you repeat.

“Fantastic.” He’s faster that you expect, grabbing your wrist and flattening your palm to his chest. “Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?”

He sounds genuinely concerned and you deflate, giving in. “I don’t have the money for fresh food. I’m living off ramen at the moment, okay? I’ll probably develop scurvy soon.”

“We pay you a decent amount - not what you’re worth, of course - but market value.”

You don’t bother asking how he knows that. “My ex took a loan out in my name. I’ve been paying it off.”

“Why isn’t he paying it off?”

“Because he’s an asshole and I can’t make him do anything.”

“Want me to kill him for you?”

It’s said so casually you almost think he means it. “It’s fine. It’s only another year. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re going to get rickets.”

“Isn’t that what Tiny Tim had?”

He nods. “Yes, and you’ll be begging for a Christmas bonus just like he did, too.”

“I think that was his dad.”

“Which one did Kermit play?”

You scoff, trying to pull your hand away from him. “Have you only ever seen the Muppet version of a Christmas Carol?”

He doesn’t let you go. “It’s the only one worth seeing.”

“Max,” you say softly. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, for worrying about me. Even if this-” you hold up the supplements with your other hand “-is by far the worst gift I have ever gotten.”

He gifts you with that wide, easy smile of his. “Let me buy you dinner, to make up for it.”

“Sure you don’t already have a date?”

“I’d cancel any plans for you.” If you didn’t know better you’d say he was serious.

“Big words, don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep.”

“I never make a promise I can’t keep.”

He’s standing close, so close your chest brushes his when you take a breath. “Max…”

Tingles shoot to your fingertips as his lips capture yours. A rush of heat floods through you and you can’t help but moan when he sinks his fingers into the back of your neck. The sound he makes is close to a growl, his mouth opening and his tongue is suddenly there, licking at the seam of your lips.

Would it be wrong to climb him like a tree in the supply closet?

He apparently has the same idea, lifting you from underneath your ass with an ease that takes your breath away. Your back is pressed to the wire shelves and his hips settle between your thighs as though he’s always belonged there. Your neck arches into the palm of his hand and he nuzzles beneath your ear.

“Take your damn iron pills.”

“What?”

“Your iron,” his teeth scrape along your jaw, “and maybe a multi-vitamin too.”

You were going to slap him. Just soon as your head stopped spinning from his kiss.

For updates on stories please follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

Tagging in @almostfoxglove once more. Hope you liked your Max.

#max phillips #max philips x reader #pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #it christmas!#merr christmas

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jaynovz · 11 months ago

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I'm watching 1.7 and the break in Flint's voice when Gates is questioning him in the stable and he's like "I'm trying to answer the question" is devastating. The facial acting that Toby is doing here is like, he does great body language here and the trembling voice and nervous swallowing and darting eyes, you can see him trying to stave off some kind of extreme anxiety attack. Because. Like. God the flashbacks he must be having to London and Hennessey and Alfred Hamilton. Anyway, what he is saying just gets more and more desperate throughout the exchange, but legit he is trying to level with Gates the only way that he can in this moment. There is no version of Flint right now who could tell the whole truth, bc of his background, bc of the trauma, bc of what happened last time he trusted someone like that. So when we see what appears to be a mental BREAK, and he tells Gates his vision of sequestering a portion of the Urca gold for the future of Nassau and their men, that's him trying to explain his motivation the best way he can.

And the worst part is, he just sounds crazy and meglomaniacal and Machiavellian and DERANGED. It's exactly the wrong thing to say to Gates at that moment, they have already broken apart, it's too little too late, it's ten years too late!! Gates is hearing a lying maniac being conniving and cold and awful about Billy. But tbh, when I hear Flint say "He fell. Why? What do you think happened?" I just hear someone that WE KNOW doesn't know in his heart of hearts WHAT HE DID, WHAT HAPPENED, and he just... it would be easier if someone just told him.

I know we joke about Flint being full of SHIT, and he is in MUCH of the show, he does SO MUCH LYING. But this entire exchange doesn't feel like that. It feels like he's cracking and reaching and grasping and trying. And he has no earthly idea what path he would even take to get Gates back on side.

Gates says, "This is what we do. You orate and you dissemble and I look the other way..."

And the saddest fucking part, the most tragic of the tragedy is that HE'S NOT WRONG. That is what they do!! and it's. It's over! It's too much!

But poor fucking Captain, he just... He doesn't know how else to be.

And with regard to SilverFlint, and their arc... I've been thinking this go round about why it's different from Flint's relationship with Miranda or with Gates or with anyone...

And, well... It really is just a case of finding deep understanding from a person you never expected, isn't it?

At first it is extremely begrudging, because he doesn't have another choice, unwilling allies due to strife. But eventually it does becomes voluntary.

At its core, I think the reason that relationship is different, is because that becomes clear to Flint over time, and then he is able to offer up all the sides of himself to be further collated and understood.

And then faster than the speed of fucking light we get to 3.10 and 4.9: "You asked me where I began, and I felt that you were entitled to an answer. To the truth." and "I cannot do it without you." Silver says, "We might be friends by then" and by fuckin god they ARE. "As my partner as my friend" and "You know of me all I can bear to be known. All that is relevant to be known. That is to say, you know my genuine friendship and loyalty." So, what I've been circling is... sitting down in the woods and just telling Silver everything that happened in London is exactly what he can't do with Gates in 1.7 :////

#when I think about it I feel like somebody is pulling my guts out slowly #this got a little long it's expanded from some discord rambling #thoughts #black sails #black sails meta #black sails lb

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ladykailitha · 9 months ago

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Icarus Part 6

Hello! I don't know how long it's been since I've updated this, so if you don't remember much, I recommend going back and at least rereading part 5.

In this Steve and Eddie talk and you meet Steve's bandmates and best friends outside of Robin, Eddie, and Dustin.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

After the shower and the best sex Steve had ever had, Eddie and he lay curled up on the bed.

“I hate lying to everyone,” he murmured. “It eats me up inside. But if one person found out...” He buried his head into Eddie’s shoulder.

“But one person did find out, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. He rubbed Steve’s back soothingly. “The world didn’t end. Your secret is still safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “I trust you. I do. It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

Eddie threaded his fingers through Steve’s hair and brought their foreheads together. “So trust me to keep everyone else at bay. Can you do that?”

Steve let his eyelids flutter closed and he took a deep breath. “Yeah, Eds. I can do that.”

“Just one more thing, sweetheart and you can go to sleep.”

Steve opened his eyes and asked, “Yeah, what’s that?”

“The boys want The Fallen to join Corroded Coffin on our next US tour,” he said with a grin. “What do you say? You think your band would want to do that?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Like for real? All the guys signed off on us opening for you?”

Eddie tilted his head in confusion. Where did that question come from? But as he thought about it he knew exactly who Steve was referring to.

“Yes, even Gareth,” he said with amusement. “They all love your guys’ sound. You’re even his favorite bandmember.”

Steve snorted. “I wouldn’t be if he knew who Abbadon was.”

He winced, Eddie really wished he could refute that but Gareth was sure that Steve would swoop in and take Eddie away from the band, leaving them high and dry.

Steve wouldn’t have done that prior to being in his own metal band, but it was even less likely now.

“Gareth has his own hang ups,” Eddie said. “Don’t you be worrying about them, okay?”

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, I just wish I knew why he didn’t like me very much.”

Eddie pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “He doesn’t like anyone who could break up the band by being ‘Yoko Ono’. You, Miranda, anyone any of us have dated ever. But it’s okay if he dates, because he knows to make sure that the band is his top priority.”

Steve pulled away a little and leaned up to look Eddie in the eye. “Wait, what?”

“Yup,” Eddie said, gently pulling him back down. “So don’t you worry your pretty head about it, okay?”

Steve kissed him deeply and buried his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck, nuzzling the column of his throat.

Soon they had both drifted off to sleep.

****

Steve was woken in the early hours by Eddie kissing him goodbye.

“I’ve got to go before anyone gets wind I’m here, darlin’,” he murmured. “But I’ll text when I can, okay?”

Steve nodded and snuggled back into his pillow to go back to sleep.

Eddie shook his head fondly. He slipped out into the hallway where Robin was waiting for him.

She was leaning up against the wall with her head down and her arms crossed.

“Miss Celeste,” he murmured, miming tipping a hat.

She pushed herself off the wall and turned to him. “Are you going to be trouble for us?”

She tossed him a plain black hoodie which he quickly pulled over his head.

“You and Ste–Abbadon?” Eddie asked cocking his head to the side.

Robin shook her head. “All of us. The whole band. Abbadon and I aren’t the only ones hiding our identities. I don’t want them outed anymore then I want Abbadon outed. I mean it’s not that big a deal for me. I can be their manager no matter what I look like now.”

Eddie regarded her for a moment, thinking. He had a pretty good idea who the other bandmates were. And it made sense. They had separate lives that could be ruined if word got out they played for a metal band.

“I don’t know shit, Cici,” he muttered. “And that stands for as long you need me to.”

She blinked at the new nickname, unsure if she liked it or not. She waved the thought away, she had more important things to worry about.

“I’ll hold you to that, Munson,” Robin said pointing her finger at him. “Do not ruin this for us.”

Eddie gave a jaunty salute and started down the hallway back the way he’d come up.

Immediately he ducked his head and changed his gait, becoming a completely different person.

Robin watched until he was out of sight.

She shook her head. She had been so concerned about the geniuses that she had been blindsided by the idiot.

Granted this idiot was in love with Steve, but she wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

She supposed only time would tell.

****

Robin sat with her boys. Steve was her soulmate, but these three were her brothers. She loved all of them.

She looked at each one of them in turn. Shane Kendrick was a bright-eyed, freckled red-head. His hair was a riot of curls and sheered on the on the sides. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at her like a lost child.

Simon Olsen was on the sofa with Steve. He was practically a video game main character. Dark hair and eyes, chiseled jaw, dashing good looks. He was leaning heavily into Steve’s side as Steve draped a comforting arm around his shoulders.

The final member of the group was Spencer Peters, a blond haired, blue eyed man with a crooked nose and a mischievous grin.

“Okay guys,” Robin began. “i have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Bad!” they chorused.

Robin shook her head at these absolute dorks. “The bad news is that someone clocked Steve as Abbadon.”

“Shit!” Spence hissed. “What happened?”

Steve chuckled. “Apparently I had a secret admirer for years.”

Simon looked up at Steve in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Eddie Munson has been in love with our Stevie so long that he clocked Steve from the two little moles on the underside of his jaw,” Robin said dryly.

Shane leaned forward, eyes wide. “Are you for real right now?”

“Eddie Munson?” Spence echoed. “As in frontman for the biggest band in the world?”

Steve cackled. “That would be the one.” They all stared at him like he had grown an extra head. “Come on, guys, you know that I’ve been friends with him for years. I even went to school with him. It’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

“Holy shit,” Spence said, eyes wide. “You totally fucked.”

Steve turned a bright red.

Simon leaned a little bit away from Steve to look him in the eye. “You slept with Eddie Munson. Was that before or after he found out you were Abbadon?”

“After,” Robin said. “He sent flowers to Abbadon’s dressing room last night with a note letting him he figured it out.”

The three other men gasped in shock.

“Weren’t you upset?” Shane asked. “I think I would be regardless of who had done the guessing.”

Steve licked his lips. “Was it harrowing for a bit there? Sure, I’m not going to lie. But I trust this man with my life,” he said. “But I’m not going to trust him with yours. If you want him to know, you can tell him, but otherwise, Celeste and Abbadon ain’t gonna say shit to him, and Robin and Steve don’t know jack.”

The three men looked at each other.

Spence shrugged. “Like he’ll probably figure it out.”

Simon sat up fully and blushed. “I think he spotted me as he was coming out of the dressing room, if that was him.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Robin and I hauled him in there to make sure he actually knew and wasn’t just fucking around.”

Shane licked his lips. “Just so I got this straight,” he said, “Eddie Munson figured out Steve is Abbadon because he’s mapped out every freckle and mole he has, he sent Steve flowers letting him know he knew, they fucked about it, and he most likely knows that the rest of us are in the band, but probably not who’s who for sure. That sound about right?”

Steve and Robin shared a glance and Robin nodded.

“That sums it up, yeah.”

Simon collapsed back into Steve’s side. “What’s the good news?”

“Corroded Coffin wants us to open for them the next time they go on their US tour,” Steve said with a grin.

Suddenly all three men were on their feet and staring down at Steve in shock.

“There is no way,” Spence hissed. “Is this because of you and Eddie?”

Steve shook his head. “No. I can see why you’d think that. But all us getting together did was give Eddie the chance to ask. The other members of the band are fans of ours.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “But not Eddie?”

“Yeah...Eddie’s a music snob,” Robin said with a grimace. “He thought the band was gimmicky.”

Spence snorted, throwing himself back on the chair and crossing his arms. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.” He half shrugged. “A lot people thought like that with our first album and we kinda were. But now that we’ve settled into our personas better, we’re going to hear that less and less.”

“I can’t believe you’re taking Eddie’s side,” Simon said with a glare, curling back up against Steve like a large house cat.

Steve rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s okay. He changed his mind when he saw us live. Just like a lot of people. You can’t keep nitpicking something that he’s since changed his mind on, especially since you didn’t know about the other thing until we told you.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but wisely said nothing else.

“When and where would we be touring?” Shane asked, settling back down on the floor, cross-legged.

“Not for awhile,” Steve said. “They just got back into the studio. Something that our own record label has been begging us to do since we started our second leg of our US tour.”

Spence nodded. “Which gives me and Shane time to write our third album and get it some of it recorded before they want us back on the road.”

Shane did their music and Spence did their lyrics. That was another thing that surprised a lot pundits when The Fallen first came out. Drummers weren’t usually a band’s writer. But it worked for them.

Steve could play guitar and sing, but he couldn’t write music and his poetry had caused many a partner to laugh out loud at his attempts.

But Spence was really good at getting to the heart of Steve’s emotions and channeling them into soulful lyrics.

Steve would come to them with a idea for a song and between the three of them they would work it out.

Simon didn’t mind not being a part of that process. If Steve’s poetry attempts were bad they were nothing compared to Simon’s attempts at writing a fantasy novel.

He had two thousand pages of...well. Simon called it a mess and no one could disagree. He had read several books on writing, attended lectures and classes, watched Masterclass for half a dozen writers, and it boiled down to one inescapable truth.

Simon was too wordy and did not take criticism well. So anything he wrote was for himself and for fun.

He had published a couple of RPF fanfics about a couple of actors from some detective show, but they never really got any attention and then when the band took off, he just never had the time.

He was more than happy to just lay on the guitar riffs and solos when they needed him to and let them do the rest.

Plus it was fun watching the three of them take Steve’s word vomit and turn it into a hit single.

“I’ve also got someone coming in and deprogramming our personas,” Robin said, “so we don’t look like weirdos with no spacial awareness.”

Simon giggled. “Just how many of your friends thought you were cursed, Steve?” he teased their frontman.

“Oh hardy ha,” Steve grumbled.

“Most of them them,” was Robin’s cheerful reply.

Steve stuck his tongue out at her. “So just to reiterate, Eddie knows about me and Robin and will probably guess about you three, but it is up to you if want to tell him. We’re going back into the studio for our third album and Corroded Coffin is currently recording their ninth. And while we’re there, we’re going to learn how to be regular humans again. Then after they’re done and hopefully us, too,” he added as an aside, “and they set the dates, we will open for them for just their US portion of their tour.”

He looked around at them.

“Any questions?”

The three other members just shook their heads.

“Great!” Robin said cheerfully. “Anybody got plans for tonight? Or are we doing the post tour celebratory dinner tonight since someone wasn’t there last night?”

“Post tour dinner and drinks are okay with me,” Simon said. “Though it was great to just crash last night.”

Shane and Spence nodded.

“I’m down,” Shane said, stretching his long limbs. “I could use a beer or three tonight after this meeting. Holy fuck.”

Steve nodded solemnly. “Mood.”

Everyone turned to Spence.

He blushed deeply. “Is it all right if I bring someone along?” His head snapped up and he waved his hands as the implication just hit him. “She doesn’t know, so if you don’t want her there it’s fine. But my sister set us up before the tour and we’ve been messaging back and forth.”

Steve laughed. “Take her on a proper date on Friday, you asshole. Tell her you’re still a bit jet lagged and want to be fresh and awake for her to give her the attention she deserves.”

Spence blushed and pulled out his phone to do just that.

Shane licked his lips with a mischievous grin. “Just tell me again why you were single for so long with moves like that?”

Robin snorted. “Because he had a crush on Eddie.”

Steve turned bright pink.

“You are positively hopeless, Steve,” Shane said shaking his head.

“Oh I don’t know,” Steve replied. “It seemed to work out pretty well.”

Robin hit the back of his head. “Only because you got lucky and Eddie figured you out.”

Steve’s expression softened and turned wistful. “Yeah. I’m really fortunate to have him.”

Shane and Spence looked at each other and sighed.

“Looks like there are going to be a couple of sappy loves songs on this album,” Spence said, rolling his eyes.

Steve half shrugged, completely unrepentant.

Robin just shook her head fondly. God how she loved her boys.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 25

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copperbadge · 7 months ago

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I was watching hockey earlier today and it got me wondering what sports are played in Askazer-Shivadlakia. Football & surfing’s been mentioned, what else is played in the country? Does it snow enough in the highlands for there to be any winter sports enthusiasts? What’s the state of women’s professional sports? Does the country compete in anything internationally? The Olympics are awful, but does the Ask send a delegation of athletes anyway?

It's not something I've thought a lot about outside of football, I admit, though thinking about the football program has clarified some aspects of it. Mainly I just am not entirely sure how a lot of sports...work, so I kind of stay hands-off.

Askazer-Shivadlakia has never been a super wealthy country. Jason was a bit of a traditionalist and Michaelis was concerned with modernizing but he wasn't an innovator per se, unless pushed; by the end of his reign the country was reaching a point where it had the kind of money to sustain a university or expand its public services fairly radically, but only just. Gregory is a big part of that because he trained as an economist, and while he's only been king for about two years, he's been working in the administration for much longer. He's been able to institute changes that have led to a comfortable surplus in the budget.

So for example, Michaelis wouldn't let the government fund a professional sports team of any kind because the money it would take was already being spent on the youth sports program. He felt that giving kids the chance to play sport was more important than sustaining a team, and said that their athletes were a gift they gave the world. And now that elite players are returning from playing abroad with money and the intention to spend it on supporting a team, his investment is actually, unexpectedly, paying off. Michaelis just wanted the kids of his country to learn self-discipline and good sportsmanship but in doing so he also ensured that if you leave the Ask to seek your fortune as an athlete, once you've got a fortune, you come back home to spend it. And Gregory's work means the government can help.

Football and F1 racing are the two big passion sports the Shivadh follow, though F1 is a fandom, not a pastime. There's decent surfing but that's more a tourist thing. Definitely there are regions that get cold enough for winter sports, but like surfing most of the ski/board sites are tourist-focused, places that ranch dairy cattle in the summer and then host tourists in the winter when the cows are in the warmer lowland pastures. Undoubtedly there are Shivadh snow sport enthusiasts and the country supports them if they compete internationally (both in terms of cheering them on and financially) but there's no program or deep tradition of it. If I ever actually write about those areas extensively that might change, though.

Women's sport has equal support to men's generally, whatever level that might be -- Askazer-Shivadlakia has always been relatively progressive but when Michaelis was elected, Miranda made it her business to push legislation that explicitly protected things like equal funding for women's sport and education and access to birth control and abortion. (She's also the reason weed is legal and Gerald can get Adderall in Europe, where it's banned in a lot of places; there's something to be said for the scion of old conservative nobility who is simply ready to wreck shit.)

There is no golf. Michaelis detests it personally and there's no room for it anyway. If they ever build Askazarama Amusement Park, they might get a mini-golf course.

I don't really know how the Olympics and other international competitions work. If there are talented athletes who want to compete and seem capable of qualifying, there's state funding for them, but there's no formal program where like, the MPs sit down every two years and pick out the top athletes they want to send. Likely most people interested in elite sport competition have to leave the country to train, and represent other countries as a result -- like Paolo in the football novel, who left when he was a young teen to attend a junior academy in France and entered professional play from there.

Shivadh still feel ownership of them, mind you. For example, Felix (the love interest in the football novel) played on the Italian national team and kicked a winning goal in a World Cup for Italy, but Askazer-Shivadlakia consider that cup theirs. A Shivadh did it, ergo it is a Shivadh victory. If an athlete were to say, represent France in an Olympic decathlon and take the gold, they would consider that to be a gold medal for Askazer-Shivadlakia.

The country is very excited about finally having a football team of their own. Shivadh Royal Football Club could lose every game it ever plays and still nobody would let a word be said against them. Fons-Askaz on match day is just a sea of hideous orange Shivadh RFC jerseys that say NARAN JUICE on the front. (Their major sponsor is local juice box and sports drink maker Naran Juice Box Co.)

#shivadhverse

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mrfoox · 1 year ago

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When I realized many people (mostly dudes in my life) see and think of the world as facts and not attaching their opinion to it... I am doing better at understanding them

#miranda talking shit #I'm so worried about people I loves opinion so I always want them but my dudes just stating facts and I ask #What THEY THINK about it and they're like???? Lawl idk #I told the dude I was worried I smelled bad or something and he just... Sniffed my hair and went “you smell like candy”#And older me would be like (haha ok but fr is that good or bad what do you think about it?)#But now I just laughed and went okay good I assume you like candy then #I sort everything around me into bigger or smaller piles of “I don't like” or “I like”#I don't think about... How exactly something is often? Like describing a smell... I struggle with #To me a smell is just good or not...#Insert something cringe and deep about how I just want to be loved and liked by my cherished people #But like yeah to me everyone I like... Have and do their own things and I see them and I often love it #I'm understanding now many people just... Can see things and just go “that's a thing” and not think about... It more?#Leave it as a fact. Meanwhile I see something. I attach my feelings onto it and then store it in my memory

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issa-pheonyx · 1 year ago

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Yandere!Lord DImitrescu&Sons X Fem!Reader🔪 [Part 4]

𝗜'𝗺 𝘀𝗼 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗔𝗔𝗔𝗛𝗛𝗛-𝘀𝗼, 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗟𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗗𝗶𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗰𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀. 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘀, 𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗹, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗕𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻?👀😳 Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

Being locked in a luxurious bedroom still felt like a prison. There was no way you will be able to escape unless you're willing to jump out the window, however it was too high. You just laid on the bed staring at the ceiling-drained out of your mind, thinking of what other plan you can come up with. "Wait...when I screamed there was some sort of impact from it." Predicting back when his sons were almost devouring your state of fear and more they seem to be shifted off their feet from the scream. "Mom would give me medication for me to be always calm-not being loud and stuff. OR should I say Mother Miranda." Getting up you look around to see if there is something you can test on if your theory is correct

There was a glass chalice by a wooden desk amongst other stationary essentials as you move it in the middle, kneeling down, and clearing your throat. "Okay, lets see what happens." You took a deep breathe and slowly start to raise your voice. Once your voice starts to pitch it didn't sound like your normal scream it was some sort of siren like high key note. The chalice immediately breaks and the items on the desk start to fall off to the floor from the impact as you cover your mouth,"Oh god." Quickly, you pick them up and put them back in place. The doorknob shakes as if someone was trying to break in. The door breaks open revealing Cass, Benjamin, and Daniel looking terrifying with their sickles in hand like the first time meeting

"Who was it?" "You okay, sis?" "Are you hurt?" Cass checked around the room, Benjamin stood next to you leaning down your height making sure you have no injuries, and Daniel was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "You guys you need to chill...and stop saying sis!! I'm not your sister." You backed away from Benjamin going to the corner of the room,"And I'll never will be." They all freeze and slowly turn to look at you. 'Fuck, okay I'm dead.' They all burst out laughing, leaving you confused,"What's so funny?" You asked and they all turn to a herd of flies and back to normal as the three were towering you and cornering you

"You're just too cute to be our sis, ya know?" Benjamin says with a sweet smile on his face. "Cute sure...but, to eat-" Daniel elbows Cass,"Stop it! Then you complain why she's scared of you more." Cass just rolls his eyes,"Yeah, whatever, but isn't that what brothers do?" The two shake their heads. "Anyways, I think I will be her favorite brother~" Daniel puts an arm around your shoulder and squeezing the shit out you,"Urgh, stop it." You said,"Aw come on. Usually, everyone falls for me first!" He then messes with your hair making you growl,"Enough already." You shove him off as he giggles. Fixing your hair all of a sudden you were being lifted off your feet with a gushing Benjamin,"Awww man she is even adorable when she is angry like a little kitty~"

'This has to be a joke. They have to eat me eventually.' You just let it go and didn't want to budge off Benjamin's grip. "Boys!!" Lord Dimitrescu yells from downstairs as Benjamin puts you down,"Father is calling." Benjamin and Cass turn to flies as they left the room. Daniel being the last one to winks and says,"Don't worry, I'll let father know you're in no trouble with the door being broken, okay? You should get some sleep now." He closes the door and now you could leave, yet your eyes getting heavier tell you otherwise to get some rest and figure all of this out the next morning.

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

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littlelesbinonny · 8 months ago

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The Devil's Den

Chapter 45: In Which Quicksand Is Less Than Quick

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

"Don't make it weird."

"What do you mean?"

"Just... don't make it weird."

"Make what weird?!"

Cassandra gave Daniela a look as she sucked her blood cocktail through the glass straw in her tall cup, tilting her head causing the messy bun atop to flop, "when they come out tonight; don't. Make it. Weird."

Daniela narrowed her eyes still leaning on the marble countertop with a near-scowl at her sister, "why do you think I'm going to make it weird? When did I give the inclination I'm going to make it weird?"

"You haven't," Bela added with a sly smile, "you just tend to get excited about stuff. Sometimes weirdly excited."

Daniela pushed herself off the countertop and threw her hands in the air with some exasperation, "is weird my new default adjective? When have I ever made something so weird that you two speak of?"

Cassandra and Bela exchanged glances.

"Dani." The brunette enunciated.

"CUH-SAAAWN-DRUH." Daniela exaggerated back.

"Dude!" Bela hissed, "shhh, they are still sleeping - let it go -" she pointed at them both, then to Cassandra, "don't be a pest," pointing now to Daniela, "just be chill... k?"

Daniela tsked, "I will, god," she huffed leaning back down onto the countertop, "am I like the only one interested in mom's new girlfriend?"

"No, I'm excited to get to know her," Bela replied, "this one is clearly not going anywhere and I, for one, am happy for mother. She will more than likely be a big part of our lives now, at least, if she isn't ready to run from her first introduction to our world." She giggled.

"Yeah, Mother Miranda certainly gave her a dramatic welcoming, if you can call it that. Not sure how I'd feel getting sucked into a war that had nothing to do with me, then have to kill said person who sucked me in, tried to kill me, and then... yeah wow, what the fuck, that poor girl is probably traumatized as shit."

With a large dramatic sigh Cassandra pulled her other knee up to her chest on the bar stool and put her glass down on the counter, tugging at her oversized forest green zip-up hoodie back around her angled shoulder, "most likely, and with what they both went through the last three days I'll actually be a little surprised if they make it out of the bedroom tonight." She wiggled her eyebrows playfully at her sisters.

"Ew. Gross. Why."

"Oooo, so they didn't do any of the nasty last night?" Cass grinned at the redhead, "I figured with your bedroom being the closest you'd have - "

"Oh! My fuck!" Daniela spat, "No! I didn't hear anything. That's the last thing I'd ever be listening for, Jesus."

Cassandra cackled and Bela shook her head.

Waking up to Alcina like this was a whole new sort of feeling.

You were in her bed, in her home, in the underworld, safe under her watch and care.

Some sort of twisted invigoration spurred through you, and with that sleep drunk smile on your face you nuzzled back into her with a sigh of contentment. This really felt like home.

"Mmm," Alcina hummed sleepily herself, "my mighty warrior, awake..." she grinned with her eyes still closed as she wrapped her arms about you tightly, brushing her lips over the top of your head nestled under her chin, "have you slept well?"

Nodding mutely, you took a deep breath and sighed, "you?"

She hummed low in her chest and it rattled lusciously against your cheek.

"When you are in my arms, the dead have nothing on me."

You chuckled, still very groggy, "I give the term sleeping like the dead new meaning, huh?"

"Definitely new and improved."

Pressing your face further under her neck, you relished how relaxed and comfortable you were, knowing if you were to stay here for much longer you'd likely pass back out. It didn't sound like too bad of an idea, really. Before you'd both climbed into bed, you were worried about getting back to your life above ground; stressing over what kind of mess you would be facing to clean up. Now, in the bliss of this, you were on the brink of forgetting it all.

"What time is it?" you eventually uttered begrudgingly against yourself.

Alcina, just as procrastinating as you, lazily looked to the golden clock on the far wall in the dim light and squinted, "it appears to be midnight."

"Dammit all," you mumbled, "I don't want to go."

"So don't," Alcina replied softly, "stay. You needn't leave for any reason unless you just want to."

Again you sighed and closed your eyes, "just up and leave my life like aliens abducted me?"

"Why not?"

A stupidly completely valid point. So valid you couldn't, or maybe perhaps didn't want to, counter it with reason. Were you really going to go back to your job? Your desk prison? What was left up there in the human world aside from Malka? Nothing would ever be the same now.

"Listen, you're taking advantage of my sleepy state and making too much sense. I've at least got to go get my plants and clothes."

Alcina chuckled deliciously and rolled you over, peppering you with slow sweet kisses everywhere, "draga mea, I can't help but indulge my selfishness," her nose nuzzled your earlobe, "I promised to take you home, and so I shall, as much as I'd like to keep you here. Decisions can be made later, if you must keep me pining."

"Well I certainly don't want to be the cause of you pining."

"Oh," she moaned, "but you're sooo good at it dragoste."

You both giggled and gave into the last few minutes of unbothered happiness before finally rising and getting ready. Well, Alcina got ready, you made a half-effort attempt at just making yourself presentable to make it out of the underground and to your apartment.

Though, you did get to watch your lady of the night dress and put on her makeup, and that was a treat that made the choice of choosing to live down here so much more tempting.

She was meticulous but fast in all her application. Now whether that was from your necessity to get home or just how she did this every night you weren't sure, but the woman had you captivated in the simple tasks and you blushed without regret when she caught you studying her in the mirror.

Alcina smirked through her last swipe of red lipstick and hummed, "see something you like?"

Her voice was cool and tinted with the bedroom tone that made you all but swoon, and you shook your head through a nasally huff, "only everything," you smiled.

Rising from the vanity bench, you took your bottom lip between your teeth as she stood before you now fully prepared to take on the night. She wore a pair of loose black pleated pants, much like the ones she'd taken Mother Miranda down in, looking flawless as she did, and a maroon chiffon blouse that was tucked into said trousers with a simple yet elegant black belt with a gold buckle cinched around her waist. If the underworld had a Miranda Priestley, Alcina would be it. She looked like an unintended seductress; too regal, too beautiful, to not be completely dangerous.

Alcina smirked and sauntered over to you perched on the chez lounge, leaned down and took your chin into her grasp, "you make this too easy." She sighed as she kissed you through a smile.

"What?" You inquired as you caught her glimmering grey hues.

"Adoring you."

Her daughters were in the kitchen as you two were leaving, and it seemed they were even more awkward about the whole thing than you were, at least in Daniela's case. She knocked over her wine glass on the attempt to straighten her posture and address you and her mother as you passed. Alcina merely rolled her eyes as she went to grab her trench coat.

"I shall return shortly, girls." She stated, trying to hide her amused grin.

Tangled 'ok's' and 'mhm's' were muttered in response. Cassandra and Bela gave you kind nods and small smiles. Daniela gave a weak, unsure kind of wave of her hand and more of a toothy grin, and then Alcina was tugging you by the arm out of the manor.

You did not ask for clarification on that situation.

Meanwhile, not moments after the door had latched, Cassandra grinned smartly.

"Told you you were going to make it weird."

"Oh shut up!"

Bela with a huff and loud eyeroll, she removed herself from the counter, leaving her sisters there to do as they may and headed upstairs to the turret.

Now that you were able to really take in your surroundings, the underworld city of vampires and lycans was seriously impressive. The cavern in which this place was so intricately built made you genuinely question what else about life was hidden under human noses. To think that an entire city hid under the bustling state that was New York made you feel childlike in the wonder of it all; a world within a world that no one knew about. You loved it. It was so beautiful, so terrifying, and so meticulously kept. There was no trash to be found in any corner, nothing broken, or run-down, no stains on the cobblestone or cracks in the sidewalks, let alone the buildings that still looked brand new aside from their ole world architecture. And, there was no vegetation either you realized. The street lamps were bright, and the buildings emitted light of their own from windows, but there was no natural occurring light down here at all. It was a little claustrophobic at first, but overall it was a wonderous sight.

As the two of you walked, you noticed it was rather empty and quiet. Either everyone was still slumbering or they were out in the city feeding or doing whatever it is vampires and lycans do. Eventually you did pass a couple vampires as you got closer to the edge of the city; their glances were long yet attempted to be understated as they eyed you, but shallow bows were offered in silence as Alcina lead you on.

She held your arm on hers proudly without any noticeable disturbance from how they gazed at the two of you. You smiled. That aura of pure prowess of hers emanated at great length.

Getting out of the underground was even more intriguing to you since you'd been unconscious when Miranda's heathens brought you here. The tunnels were pitch black in some areas as you went and you held just a little tighter to Alcina's arm. You couldn't see it but you were pretty sure she was smirking stoutly at your literal blind trust.

As light began to syphon slowly down the current corridor you walked, your eyes adjusted accordingly and your grip loosened, and before long you were coming up several sets of stairs and into the belly of a church. This must be St. Patrick's. The events that took place last time you were here set off the tumbling of dominoes that oddly enough lead you to this very moment. You wondered how that situation had been handled and if -

"What in Gods name has been happening?!"

A voice halted you and Alcina with a jerk.

Alcina didn't miss a beat.

"Ah, and good evening to you as well, Father."

A disheveled looking priest was now in front of the both of you, his wide bloodshot eyes and tired expression trying to hide under the facade of, well, several expressions. You recognized him from before and he looked even worse for wear than last time.

"What has happened?!" The father asked again, throwing his gaze between the two of you, finally setting to staring at Alcina as though he was parched, "I've had to shut the church down for two days! The - the - those things! Hundreds of them! Came barreling through here! And the rumbling and - and - explosions? Th-the sounds coming up from the tunnels! I've not had any sleep - I haven't left - I sent everyone home - I -"

"Father," Alcina said, halting his rambling and heavy breath, "rest assured, everything has been handled."

His face went blank before erupting into another twisted grimace, "what does everything mean!?"

Alcina, in a most uncharacteristic fashion, placed her palm on the priests shoulder and squeezed it softly, "you will give yourself a heart attack if you do not relax," she mused, tilting her chin upwards slightly before taking another paused breath, eying him intently, "the everything of which I speak is that very threat we all faced. The ones who mauled and killed your deacon? Well, they have been neutralized. It's over, Father."

Watching the worry and tension melt off of him was nearly comical. You weren't sure if he was going to collapse to the floor by the news and you glanced up carefully to Alcina who looked all the more pillar-like as she seemed to hold this man together somehow.

"Oh..." the word fluttered from his parted lips, "I... that is... that is wonderful news," he sighed and dropped his gaze most heavily, "I feared the worst... the silence over the last several hours has had me on edge - I - I assumed those... white-eyed creatures would emerge from the underground again and it would be over."

Straightening her spine, Alcina cocked an eyebrow, "Father Sullivan," she uttered slyly, though you could hear the hint of playfulness, "that might be the most hurtful thing you've ever said to me."

You watched as the horror and worry returned to his face as he peered to Alcina with his jaw dropped again in the need to defend himself.

Alcina grinned most eagerly, "to think we, and I, have defended this world and your church for so long, and you assume some fancy-fangled new breed of vampire could swoop in and take us down?" She placed both hands on her hips and huffed, "I must say I'm a little disappointed in you."

Her wink finally lessened the leash of his fear again.

He started to laugh, taking his quivering hands and running them along his weathered cheeks with a smile emerging, "I doubt I will ever be able to fully follow your wicked calm and sense of humor, Lady Dimitrescu, but I am grateful to you, as I always have been, despite our differences and disagreements."

"Think nothing of it, Father. Relax. As I have told you many, many times in the past, you are far too uptight for your own good. Everything is under control. You are safe, your priests and deacons are safe, your church is safe. And now, I really must be getting this lovely lady home." She smiled over at you.

"Oh, oh yes," he sputtered and swallowed, nodding at you with a weak smile, "forgive me, how rude I have been," he outstretched his hand for you to shake, "I am Father Sullivan... and you are?"

You took his hand but before you could reply, Alcina was introducing you for you, proudly.

"And she is half the reason for the armies defeat and that we are all safe... she is to pass freely in and out of your church without question."

Father Sullivan nodded, "yes, of course. You may come and go as you please. The side door where Alcina will lead you is always unlocked for her kind, you may use it the same."

Alcina smiled once more before taking your arm in hers, "thank you, Father. Now go home and rest. I will visit you soon to discuss matters."

You could tell he was far too exhausted to say anything else. He folded his hands in front of him, bowed his head graciously, and then you parted ways.

Your apartment looked very much the same as you left it. But the notifications on your phone were anxiety inducing.

16 missed calls and 4 voicemails. Work, Malka, and your co-worker Blair. Oh boy.

While you were looking through your texts and listening to your voicemails, Alcina was checking to make sure all locks on your windows and doors were still operational and nothing was broken from your kidnapping. Perhaps the best of news was that everything seemed fine.

She turned to you as you sighed heavily while leaning against your kitchen counter, plopping your phone onto the surface while rubbing your face with aggravation.

"That bad?" she asked resting her hand on your shoulder, eyeing you sincerely.

"It's not so much bad, it's just chaotic," you mumbled, finally locking eyes with her, "everyone is freaking out that I've vanished. I've been gone two days, going on three. Blair said my boss is reaching out to authorities, soooo I've gotta come up with some kind of story as to where I've been, and dear god I do not want to deal with police. I have no idea what I'm going to tell everyone. And then there's Malka who is worried as hell, especially since she... erm, well, knows about you and what's kinda been going on. I texted her first and told her to call me when she wakes up."

Alcina narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, trailing her hand down your back while leaning on the counter next to you, "let me worry about the police," she instructed, "I'll deal with that if your employer has contacted them."

You tossed your eyes to her with confusion, "how?"

"Draga mea, you forget already how far my reach is?" She smirked, "the deep city officials and our kind have worked together for over a century, remember? Who do you think has to play clean-up whenever a vampire or lycan gets out of line and causes a disturbance? Don't worry about them, I will take care of it for you."

Shaking your head with a bit of relief, you chuckled at her, "you never fail to blow my mind."

"A cherished pastime," Alcina smiled brighter, grabbing for your hands and holding them to her lips, "now, about your story."

Staring with a sigh, you shrugged your shoulders, "I'm drawing a blank. I'm a shit tier liar."

"Mmm... perhaps you were struck by a vehicle in a crosswalk and have been in the hospital. You of course asked said hospital to call your work, but we all know the incompetence of the medical profession from time to time, so the call was never made, therefore it isn't your fault you've been "missing", but you are mending and will likely need... two, three weeks off work to recover?"

Her twinkling eyes and greedy smile made you giggle, not to mention the decently detailed story fabrication.

"Have you been concocting this for a while?" You chuckled.

Alcina grinned, "the walk may have given way to some inspiration."

"And I'm sure the two to three week recovery period has everything to do with my injury and not your ploy to spend more time with me, right?"

"What an insinuation!" Alcina pursed her lips, "of course it has to do with your injuries. You may have a horrible concussion, draga! Perhaps whiplash, broken bones even? The possibilities of such an accident really are endless... you may even need a month to fully recover, but I must speak to your doctor to be sure."

You were fully laughing now, "and who might my doctor be, ma'am?"

"Well that would be the Attending Physician Dr. Beneviento; Donna Beneviento, draga mea - we've known each other for many years, you know. She's brilliantly smart, one hell of a physician."

Her unwavering smile made the majority of your worry dissipate as the story did hold merit if it could be pulled off.

"So what, you give Donna a call; give her the details; she works her magic, and poof - I have a doctors note?"

Alcina nodded, "that's about it, yes. Just say the word and it is done."

"Well, this makes more sense than anything I could probably come up with. I guess it's a couple week long recouperation for me under your, erm, Dr. Benevientos' watchful care, huh?"

"Mm yes, I think so."

"Good," you said as a twinkling of mischief appeared in your own yes, "that'll give me plenty of time to get my shit in order and for you and Malka to meet."

The sharp turn that sentence gave Alcina played out perfectly and you were fighting your urge to laugh. Watching her struggle with the glee that you were free for several weeks to a very clear 'damn you' was everything you needed right now.

Draping your arms over her shoulders you kissed her cheek over and over, "I think it's cute."

"Mmm?" She hummed, securing her hands on your lower back.

"Your jealousy."

'"I am not jealous," Alcina replied all to quickly, looking at your smirking face inches from her, desperately trying to believe her own lie, "I am simply protective."

It was your turn to raise your eyebrow, "well then meeting her should put all of that at ease."

Doing all she could not to roll her eyes, Alcina narrowed them and pulled you tightly against her, kissing your lips light and tender, "if it pleases you, draga mea... I shall."

"It would please me greatly."

"Fine."

Kissing her through another smile you sighed once more, feeling like there was some control back in your grasp.

Alcina returned the smirk, but hesitated to let go of you, "I suppose this means I need to get back to the underworld and speak with Donna," she sighed, "my life is going to be very interesting over the next few weeks... will you be staying here?"

You tilted your head in contemplation briefly, "maybe I should until it mellows out down there?"

"Your presence will more than likely be demanded when the clan leaders show up in groves."

Your eyes bugged, "I have to meet more leaders? Didn't I already do that?"

"Only the local branches of my area, the rest will undoubtedly be on their way as the news of Mother Miranda's death reaches far and wide. Remember, there are nine clans."

Your head spun for a second, "wait, I thought the council members that I met were those leaders?"

"Mm, no draga, those are the local heads of this particular section of the underworld; vampire and lycan. The ones I speak of are like me; matriarchs and patriarchs of their own cities."

"Oh god," you dropped your head, "I dunno if I'm cut out for vampire politics."

Alcina chuckled brightly, "you aren't being put on trial dragoste, that will be for Ethan and Mia. You will simply be a local celebrity, as it were. You helped me take down one of the oldest and most infamous of our kind... that in itself, outside the fact you are a mysterious creature yourself, will have curious admirers dying to meet you."

Your visage flattened, "a terrible, terrible pun."

She kissed the tip of your nose, "if I must meet Malka -"

"That is COMPLETELY diff - "

Alcina placed a long slender finger to your lips and smiled, "you'll be wonderful and well received, I promise you."

The scowl you bore weakened and you huffed once more through her immobilizing beauty, "Un. Fair. You forget I'm just a boring tiny human in a big world of beautiful vampires and fearsome lycans. I'm not used to the glamourous, big to-do's you all... do, or whatever."

"Dragoste," she cooed, "you are not human, and the life you have lived has not been kind nor nurturing of you and your power. You - are a mighty Fae - and the world in which I govern is more for you than I think you might realize. Give it a chance. Believe me, it is not all grandeur and glory. But being with those more of your calibre might suit you."

You considered her words. Maybe she was right.

Maybe.

"It's still scary," you admitted, "I feel like a flopping fish out of water in pretty much every aspect of my life right now... I haven't had a lot of time to really digest it and... it's pretty surreal. Everything has happened so fast. I was like, normal last spring, before I met you," you teased, "then I find out vampires are real. I fall in love with you. I start to change and have no idea what's happening. Malka tells me I'm magickal - then all of a sudden my powers show up - THEN mutant vampires attack your city, we take on a deranged vampire and kill her, aaaand now life is supposed to... what, go back to normal? What the fuck even is normal now?"

Her smile was soft as she caressed the side of your face, "I understand. You're right, what is normal? But you have me. And... Malka, and Donna, and even Karl, Angie, and anyone else you choose to confide in - you won't be alone in the journey, draga mea. I am with you the whole way."

The surrealness really was setting in now that you'd said it out loud. Grasping it was harder than holding sand.

You plopped your head into Alcina's chest and held her tight, "thank you... It feels so strange."

Alcina understood the conundrum well. She too had her whole life flipped upside-down. From one moment dying in bed, to a choice that gave her immortality. How does one not go mad at the thought?

"If it is any consolation, you aren't strange. You are simply walking a very unique path now," she squeezed you firmly, "a whole new world and life is at your fingertips."

While it felt like a blip of an eternity had gone by standing in your kitchen embraced by your vampire in silence, you pulled back and looked at her, "so... what now?"

"As I said earlier, I need to get back to speak with Donna to get your work off your back. Then find out what knots in the city need untangled, deal with the mutant problem, see the hidden underground where Miranda was hiding all this time with said mutants, and meet with the clan leaders as they show up. There will also be a very interesting trial for Miranda's little nuisance minions; Mia and Ethan."

Her wicked glimmer of a smile said without words she couldn't wait for that.

Once more Alcina traced her finger over the side of your face, "if I don't see you until then, I will be here tomorrow night." She then eyed you firmly, "what do you need from me until then, draga mea?"

"Nothing, you've got it under control babe. I'll wait patiently for my Queen of the Underworld to return to me."

She scoffed, but smiled, "more power was everything I didn't want, and now look at me."

"I think it's kinda hot."

"You would," she shook her head, cupping your face, "and indulging you is hard to resist."

Upon reentering the underground, Alcina reached into her trench coat pocket and retrieved her small brass cigarette case; plucked one from the lip and lit it with a similar lighter as she walked, eyeing her surroundings with a new sensation.

This was all hers now. Untampered. Without an absent thumb pressing down upon her any longer.

She would reign over her people with more understanding and openness than ever before. Her hands would no longer be tied by a tyrant who wanted her to bake her a cake with half the ingredients. These were her people, all of them, and she would do all she could to be the leader they all deserved and more; not for her vanity, but for the good of their livelihood and the future that was inevitable. Her role didn't seem so cumbersome anymore. Somehow, in the dramatic events that had occurred, she felt sturdy and honored with her title. The once looming threat of her silent, lurking enemies seemed far from her now. She didn't feel the poisonous glances she'd experienced for the last several decades, no, she felt no lingering trace of danger at all. She'd made her stake. Her claim. A bloody, deadly demand for respect that would echo for centuries to come. If one were to be so bold to challenge her now, somewhere in the depths of her soul she felt no qualms with fear or hesitance. Why that was she may never know, but it felt good either way.

Change would come, and she would meet and forge it. And she wanted you by her side through it. If it were at all possible.

Turning down the cobblestone towards City Hall in her quest to find Donna, Alcina heard commotion as she approached the inner city. She came to find several groups of vampire and lycan alike, huddled and gathered around large amounts of stone and construction gear, blueprints being passed and scoured over, and sounds of work being executed further off down another street. Repairs were already underway; she loved how quickly things were happening.

Almost on cue as she thought about who was responsible for such promptness, Dmitri, Mitch and Sylvia came out of City Hall conversing amongst themselves, handing off more papers and orders to workers and continued on with their task. She stopped and stood to admire the scene, but as her eyes moved around something different about City Hall caught her eye.

Narrowing her vision as she looked up the facade of the grand building, there above the large stone entrance was a bloodied, mangled mess of long blonde hair tacked just above the towering double doors.

Alcina took a very long drawn out drag as she studied it.

"I see you've found Angie's handiwork," Donna stated unamused as she approached her friend from behind, coming to stop at her side and look as well.

Without a breath of an expression on her face aside from her narrowed eyes, Alcina let the smoke blow from her red lips as she tapped the ash from the tip of her cigarette onto the stone at her feet.

Donna wasn't sure if she should panic, "I can have it removed immediat -"

"No," Alcina cut her off, a smirk tugging now at her lips, "leave it," she looked over to Donna taking a shorter puff, "but at least confirm the rest of her body, whatever might be left after your vulture of a sister, and no doubt Heisenberg took from it, made it to the sun tower?"

Unable to hide her own smile, Donna nodded but didn't get to answer.

"I can confirm that on behalf of Miss Beneviento," Dmitri offered approaching the women, tucking his long white hair behind an ear, "that tower was sealed over an hour ago with my supervision. Miranda's jaw remains in Karl's possession, I'm not entirely sure what Angie took, but the skull fragment," he motioned to the hall, "is all that's left otherwise. Not my choice of decoration, but, it does make a suitable statement." Alcina shook her head and tongued her teeth, "I suppose there is no subtlety about her death. Perhaps it's a statement that needs made... I'm sure the clan leaders well let me know." She smiled.

"Yes, and speaking of that," Donna began, "Marguerite will be here by the end of the night. I've received word from a few others, but I assume in no more than three days time, all clan leaders will be accounted for. The council will adjourn to address the happenings and I've been busy gathering all intel for it. I sent Mateo with several of Karl's military to Miranda's manor in Connecticut, and Dmitri has several of his people working with Salvatore in the secret lair Miranda built here collecting whatever we can."

"Ah, yes," Alcina remarked, "I would like to see this place as soon as it is feasible."

"I can take you whenever you are ready." Dmitri affirmed with a nod.

"Excellent, but first I must speak with Donna." Alcina said grasping her arm softly, "Dmitri, may I meet you here in half an hour?"

He nodded graciously and the two women set off inside City Hall.

The half hour that was spent inside the disheveled council room seemed to take much shorter than Alcina realized. Donna was happily running 100 miles an hour to get your needs in order. She was carrying the cell phone Angie had hidden in the house and used it to contact her and explain her duty in the workings for your cover. Alcina proclaimed she was judging her quite harshly, as she knew if her daughters found out she'd never hear the end of it. Donna simply shrugged and begrudgingly admitted cell phones were handier than she cared to admit. But they finalized and mobilized to get you taken care of and Alcina was then seeking out Dmitri.

Miranda's hideout was quiet literally next door to them. In the furthest reaches of abandoned tunnels at the North end of the city, hidden behind a faux wall, lay one entrance to her lair. It was a ridiculously obvious choice to make as she normally came from the North East tunnels from her Connecticut abode. But, no one had any reason to go looking or snooping, though the agitation remained for Alcina that this had all been done right under their noses.

There was a steep drop to a long set of winding stone stairs that lead to the belly of the cavern. The ceiling was no where near as tall as the city's, and it felt cramped for all things considered. But it was large. Easily half the size of Alcina's city. Which made for a nice fit for her army that were standing about mindless, unmoved, and vacant of all light behind their eyes under the watch of several of Dmitri's soldiers.

Alcina couldn't help but seem a semblance of sorrow for them as she walked through, following Dmitri to what she assumed to be an important area of this whole debacle.

Through the vast, dim, elongated cavern, they came to an area to the right that had a single red door that was halfway open. As they approached, Dmitri motioned for Alcina and ushered her in.

This room looked nothing like the rest of this place.

Clearly this was Miranda's chambers. The walls were covered in papers with notes, maps, and pictures. The myriad of tables and benches were filled with similar paperwork. Off in the far corner was a bed well made, a small vanity, and a wardrobe with several articles of clothing. Alcina gritted her teeth briefly before Dmitri approached her with a leather back journal.

"We've found countless, heavily detailed, hand-written documentation of Mother Miranda's escapades down here... this is one of her personal diaries. I thought you may want to look it over," he said handing it to her.

Taking it slowly from him she peered down and began to flip through the article. Her handwriting was very clean for cursive, and Alcina mused only a little on the words as Dmitri continued.

"I've not gathered this room up entirely as I wanted you to see it."

"Have you given your people any time to rest, or did you begin this immediately after my command to go and rest?" She smirked with a knowing gaze.

Dmitri bowed his head shallowly with a smile, "you know me far too well to know that I sit by idly when things need done. These matters needed attending to. I won't deny my gnashing curiosity for Miranda's activities lead me on to find answers. I feel we're scratching the surface at best; the piles and stacks of... all of this has been extensive. And, there's many more where that came from, but the journal you hold is the most recent. The more we dug, we found some dating back nearly twenty years."

"Twenty years?" Alcina repeated looking up from the pages with disbelief.

Dmitri nodded, "this has been in the works for a very long time, it seems. Though, this is not the worst of it."

"I would assume not. What else have you discovered?"

"An experimentation room."

Those three words made her stomach churn.

"Show me."

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu/female reader #alcina dimitrescu/original female character #alcina dimitrescu/reader #lesbian #f/f #fanfic #wlw #donna beneviento #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu

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agathaandbrienneslesbian · 8 months ago

Text

Heart of Gold - Part 2

Miranda Hilmarson x Mounted!Police!Fem!Reader

HELLO EVERYONE <3 I finally managed to finish Part 2 of my Miranda Hilmarson Fic. I'm sorry it took so long but it's finally here. I hope you enjoy this little addition to the first part. I'm not yet sure if I should make a 3rd part but if you guys want one, I'll look into it <3

Huge thanks to @weemssapphic for proofreading this part <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: Talk of bullying, talk of death and dying, descriptions of blood, death and being shot (I'm sorry... this is an angsty one)

Authors Note: Hurt/Comfort with a shit ton of Angst. I hope you guys enjoy <3

Words: 2'400+

AO3 Link

Taglist

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“Why do you care so much about me?”

You look at her, unable to answer the question. Should you tell her? Should you take the risk and risk the friendship you’ve built? Miranda looked at you intensely, chest heaving from being dragged around. You tried to collect your thoughts but just as you were about to answer, Miranda dropped her head, looking down at her feet. A sigh of defeat left her lips.

“It’s a joke to you as well isn’t it?” she asked through clenched teeth, tears threatened to spill from her eyes any second. You looked at her in shock.

“No! No Mir that's not the case!!! That's not the case at all-”

“Save it!” Miranda looked up at you, eyes red, tears wetting her face as she furiously wiped the back of her hand over her cheeks.

“I should have known… you’re like everyone else… I- I should have never trusted you…” and with that, Miranda stormed out before you could say anything else.

The defeat on her face, the betrayal, the way she looked so full of hope only for it to be replaced by pain, a pain you felt right in this moment with her. How could you have fucked up this bad… you should have just told her… you should have just SHOWN her. You had to catch up to her. Without further hesitation your feet carried you through the stables towards the parking lot only to see her drive off in a hurry.

“Shit… SHIT'' Defeated, you return to the stables to gather your things and leave. You’d see her tomorrow! You’d get your chance to talk to her again… hopefully.

—

However, luck wasn’t on your side. Miranda had started avoiding you, leaving the room when you entered, walking the other direction when you walked towards her. And this had been going on for a few weeks now.

It hurt.

You knew better than to follow her but… it hurt. After a particularly busy day, you went to get some drinks with your colleagues, wishing you were with Miranda. A heavy sigh left your lips as you absentmindedly picked at the label of your beer. You felt sick…

“Hey guys�� I’m gonna go home… I don’t feel too well…”

You stood, handing your beer to your friend, and gathered your things. Of course you were met with protest but you just ignored it, and soon enough they figured that it might be best to just let you leave. So that is what you did.

Exiting the pub you felt the cold breeze on your skin. The air was a bit chilly and it smelled like rain. Cool darkness enveloped you and you stood there for a minute, just feeling the breeze on your skin and the smell of rain. When you opened your eyes again, that’s when you saw her.

Miranda anxiously stepped on a cigarette she’d just finished. It looked as if she were considering coming into the pub or not. She hadn’t seen you yet. Should you approach her? Go back inside? Before a choice could be made, she looked up, making eye contact. You were expecting her to run away, to flee from your loving and pained gaze once again but…. She didn’t. She held your gaze, waiting.

“Miranda-“

“Can we walk?”

She interrupted. You looked at her, surprise painted all over your face as she just waited for you to reply. Quickly, you nodded, walking over to her and following.

“Miranda… I am so sorry. If I have done something that hurt you please just let me know I-“

“Don’t apologise… I should-“

The blonde took a deep breath, shoving her hands in her vest pockets and looking down at her feet, kicking some stones around as she walked with you. She had missed you… but she needed time to think.

“I should have let you answer that night… I am sorry…”

Suddenly, Miranda stopped, looking out over the beach and the dark ocean. You stood beside her, your eyes trained on her face. You had to tell her how you feel. You had to let her know that she is worthy of love and affection. That she is beautiful, wonderful, perfect. In your eyes, Miranda was perfect.

“I care because you’re worth it.”

Miranda was avoiding your gaze, but you saw her eyebrows furrow. This just spurred you on more.

“I care because you are worth the time and energy. I care because you are the sweetest and most adorable and kind person on this planet. I care because you lit up my world when I met you the very first time. You make my days better and I cannot fall asleep or wake up without thinking of you.”

Miranda looked down at you, her eyes, usually so blue and bright now seemed grey, and were welling up with tears. Carefully, you took her hand into yours, giving her a reassuring squeeze with your hands.

“I care because I fell in love with you…. Miranda… I love you”

You said it, admitted your feelings, and it sent a rush of anxiety down your spine, leaving its sticky tingling feeling behind. You were expecting her to leave again, to get upset at you… what you didn’t expect were her lips suddenly pressed against yours, a big hand with long, slim fingers, gently cupping your cheek and pulling you closer.

Miranda had hoped you would say that. It took her a while to realise… several weeks. She simply wasn’t used to it. No one had ever shown her the care and affection you had. And she found herself falling for you. Afraid you would hate her if she admitted it, she kept quiet.

But that night…. She had to know.

However, as soon as the question left her lips, she felt herself getting anxious. She was terrified. What if you said you pitied her and that’s why you ‘acted’ like you cared so much? So, before you could answer, she pulled away. She ran away. To protect herself, not noticing how much her actions had hurt you. Until she saw how your smile faded, how your eyes stopped shining, how you seemed to have lost your joy. And she hated herself for hurting you so much.

“I am sorry Y/N… I… love you too. I was just anxious and-“

Now it was your turn to interrupt her with a kiss. Your arms wrapping around her shoulders, holding her close. You didn’t need to hear more. It was no secret that Miranda was oftentimes anxious. Who could blame her… she’s been through a lot.

“I’ve heard everything I needed to hear Mir… you don’t have to apologise. You’re okay. I am not mad at you. I’m glad you told me…”

Your whispers and words of affirmation and understanding caused Miranda to completely dissolve. Her tears flowing freely as she held onto you, finding comfort in your embrace. She did not know how she deserved you, but she would be an idiot if she’d ever let go of you. You loved her… and she loved you.

—

And so it happened that the two of you became the cutest couple at the police station (at least according to you two. Who cares what the others think).

More often than not, you brought Miranda a coffee, some treats or even flowers. You started spending almost every waking moment together, only separating to go home and sleep.

Both of you wanted to take it slow. There was no hurry. You weren’t going anywhere and neither was Miranda. The love you experienced in each other's embrace and kisses was enough to keep you two glued together. No force could ever part you… not even a routine patrol that ended more dangerous for you than expected.

—

It was like every Wednesday afternoon.

You were patrolling the promenades before going back to the stables and calling it a day. Already excited to spend time with Miranda after work, you did not realise that the altercation you rode towards, would end up being almost fatal for you.

Of course it had to happen.

You knew you shouldn’t have split up with your colleague. But there was no harm in thinking that if he took the lower road, you could take the higher one and still be close enough to hear each other.

The second you realised that there was a gun pointed at you, you started calling for your colleague. Reaching for your own gun, you suddenly felt a piercing pain in your shoulder. A BANG was heard and then your ears were ringing. The pain in your shoulder increased, dragging its disgusting talons over your neck to the back of your head, digging deep into your skin. You started feeling faint, head pounding and everything started looking fuzzy and far away. At first you hadn’t even noticed that your horse was galloping towards the stables. Your hand just instinctively grabbed onto the horn of the saddle and your grip tightened.

Artemis was huffing, whining and neighing the closer she got to the stables. A place she knew was safe. She felt your shift in energy, understanding the severity of the situation more than you. The smart horse she was, she stopped in front of the station, making a ruckus to get the other officers’ attention.

Miranda looked out the window, expecting to see you waving at her but what she saw, sent her into a panic. She rushed out to you and Artemis, gently pulling you from your mare and asking you questions. What exactly she asked, you didn’t know… you didn’t hear. All you knew was that you were in Miranda’s arms and it soothed the pain you were experiencing.

Meanwhile Miranda tried to stay calm. She had called the ambulance, staying with you and holding you close, trying to stop the bleeding. Her hands, your shirt and her sleeves were covered in thick, dark red, warm blood. Your blood.

Miranda tried really hard to keep it together, to stay strong for you, but she couldn’t keep the sobs in. Tears coated her soft pale skin, huffs and sobs escaped her lips, frantic breathing accompanied by the fear that she could lose you. She couldn't lose you… Miranda wouldn’t survive without you, she knew that. She needed you. She loved you.

The next few hours were a blur for Miranda. You were unconscious, the medics doing everything they could to keep you alive as she accompanied you, holding your hand throughout the entire drive to the hospital. There, you were separated.

But Miranda didn’t let up.

She waited, and waited, and waited. Minutes turned to hours, hours filled with anxiety, fear and pain. She did not even wash up, her hands, shirt and trousers still soaked in your blood. Now cold, sticking to her skin, as if death itself latched onto her.

It wasn’t until 4 hours later that the nurse finally went to fetch Miranda. She did ask her to at least wash her arms before bringing her to your room. There you laid, unconscious, but breathing. You were breathing. Miranda immediately went to your side, gently brushing some hair from your face, caressing your cheek, and holding your warm, soft hand.

“I need you… please don’t leave me just yet…” She whispered.

“I love you. Come back to me…” She begged.

“I can’t lose you..”

She breathed.

Miranda hoped you would hear her. She would tell you about all the things she wanted to experience with you, places she wanted to show you and future plans she had dreamed about. For more than 48 hours, Miranda sat by your side. The nurses had to force her to at least eat and drink something if she wasn’t going to sleep or go home to get changed. She sat by your side and wouldn’t leave. It was as if Miranda was in a frozen state. Holding your hand and pressing kisses to your cheek and forehead. She was only ripped from her trance as the heart monitor flatlined. She shot up, calling out for help, screaming, begging, sobbing, but no one heard. She was alone… and you were gone… —

“Miranda?”

Suddenly, Miranda felt a soft hand on her arm, another on her cheek, wiping away tears that escaped her eyelids once more. She opened her eyes, finding herself in her bedroom. Her breathing ragged, panic evident on her face, she started looking around. Where were you? “Miranda… darling… It’s okay. It was just a bad dream…” Her eyes shot to the direction of the voice, and she started sobbing. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close and kissing her head. Miranda’s arms immediately wrapping around your middle, so as not to hurt your healing shoulder. She pulled you close and that's when she realised where she was. Miranda was at home, in her bed, with you holding her, consoling her.

“I am here Mir. I won’t go anywhere… I promised you I won’t.” Your soft voice brought her peace. This wasn’t the first time she awoke in this manner. Once the nurses and doctors were happy with your recovery, they allowed you to go back home. Miranda insisted you live with her, so she could take care of you and protect you. Of course you said yes. But ever since then, Miranda was plagued by nightmares. One worse than the other, the outcome was the same every time. She couldn’t save you. She couldn’t protect you. You were gone, leaving her alone in her pain and loneliness.

But it was just a dream. Every night she would feel your arms around her, your soft voice rousing her from the hell she fell into. Every night, you would reassure her that you were still there, that you survived, and that it was thanks to her quick thinking. Every night, you would dry her tears and have her fall asleep with her head on your chest, hearing your heartbeat. You were alive, and you were with her. It would take some time for the two of you to overcome the trauma, the horrors both of you faced each night. But you would overcome it. Together. Miranda could overcome it with your love, and you with hers. And her heart of Gold.

So, just like every night, you reminded her of that. A kiss pressed to her head as you noticed her relaxing in your arms, sleep ready to take her again. You whispered, so as not to wake her again: “Miranda?”

“Hm?”

“I love you”

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End Note: As always, reblogs, comments and likes are well appreciated <3 Taglist: @vivendraws @erinyaya @phexyce @aemilia19 @weemssapphic @gela123 @winterfireblond @Xxmecverxx @unicorniusfallapatorious @gwenistheloml @yourgaeyisshowing @readingtheentrails

#queer #gwendoline christie #sapphic #fanfic #wlw #reader insert #ao3 #gwendoline christie fanfics #Miranda Hilmarson x Reader #Miranda Hilmarson fanfic #Miranda hilmarson #Fanfic #x reader #angst #hurt comfort #heart of gold part 2

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