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draconicks · 20 days ago

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THE CALLING

pairings: remmick x indigenous!reader. this is very self-indulgent because i am indigenous! warnings: 18+, slow burn, blood, gore, owls as symbolism, dirty talk, stalking, possessiveness, non-consensual turning. a/n: in this fic, remmick has the ability to shape shift - i couldn't get the idea out of my head and i really wanted to incorporate southeastern tribal culture into the story, especially cause that's where i am from.

tags: @beboppbaby @madkingcrowley

The deep Mississippi marsh had called to you, your name breathing from the weeping trees and in the symphony of cicadas. The wind carried through the house you had once called a home, the doors hinges squeaking ever so slightly.

It had felt surreal, time no longer felt real as you stared down at the pictures that decorated the shelves.

Family photographs from when you were a small child, a toothless grin adorning your face in the pictures. You didn't even recognize the people, feeling little familiarity with the woman and man in the photo.

There was a certain disconnection you had felt once you returned to the home, the warmth was still there, but it had become foreign to you.

Moving from the Delta to the city where people were cold towards one another wasn't an easy adjustment, but it didn't take long before you became accustomed to the city life.

It became all you knew, all that there was - an extreme contrast from where you grew up, where everyone knew each other and where everyone was family; a community.

But, coming back home from the city life had made you jarred.

You didn't really think of coming back home - you never would have thought you would, not after the deaths of your grandparents.

What did make you come home was the calling of your name from the marsh.

Life is funny like that; always keeping you on your toes and leading you places where you never expected.

It didn't help that you had always felt drawn, felt compelled to this specific location, like some entities were calling you home; the place where your flesh and blood meshed with the water and soil, where your family and ancestors had bore their children and died on the same grounds.

It was beautiful.

At the same time, it was chilling - the history that was here.

You could always feel it, even away from home, like a thrumming in your body and eyes on you.

It never failed to make your heart race, you knew someone or something was always watching over you, shadowing your every step.

Always.

"You listen here, child," Your grandfather had said, "This here land is yours. No one can take it, even if you tried to give it to ''em," He leaned forward and gently cupped your face, "Your family is here," He waved around the air with his hand, "And when you need them, they will always be here."

A shiver ran down your spine at the memory.

Your grandparents were the apples of your eyes, always there whenever you needed them, which was a lot growing up. The relationship between your father and mother had always been distant, cold, but when it came to Ome and Papa...it was different.

They were there, not just doing the bare minimum. They loved you something fierce, their love was a warm hug on a chill, Autumn evening, waiting for you to arrive. You never expected that treatment out of your parents.

However, they were no longer here - your parents or your grandparents.

The hearth that raised you was just as you left it, but it was empty. Fragile. Just as you were.

That had been the reason you'd left to begin with - nothing changed around here. And you weren't going to stay in a community where you saw no future for yourself, so you saved up enough money and bought yourself a train ticket.

Then, you were out of there.

But, the deep thrumming and the calling within you never stopped.

And neither did the eyes shadowing your every move, like razors on your back.

You sighed and turned your back on the shelves, sitting down on one of the dusty chairs that still sat in your old living room. It didn't surprise you that your parents didn't take anything with them when they moved out.

They somehow knew you would be coming back.

You furrowed your brows, it was just too uncanny how it seemed like fate was dragging you back here - like you were born to leave only to return to your roots.

Some people that did such a thing never came back, while others did.

Others made home where they journeyed.

Papa used to always tell you that home wasn't a place, it was in your heart.

But, you knew that was only half true.

---

The moon was full, the scent of petrichor and honeysuckle flooding your senses. The wind gently blew through the trees, waving the limbs.

You took in a deep breath, breathing the marsh in - just as it breathed you in.

It was peaceful. Bliss. Just as you had remembered, a place where you could lean into and know you would be caught if you were to fall, where you knew that you would be watched over.

You began to slowly rock in the chair, your heels digging into the wood below.

Just then, the wind shifted, not harshly, but just enough to make the cicadas hush for half a second.

The thrum in your chest stilled, replaced by a hollow pause - like something was waiting.

You stopped rocking the chair and squinted at the far end of the driveway.

The shadows at the edge of the marsh, near the drive, shifted with more purpose than they should have. A figure then stepped into the moonlight, quiet as mist, dressed like a man.

You slowly stood up, walking toward the edge of the porch. Not many people came out this far out of town.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The figure asked. You blinked, you didn't recognize the man.

Almost as if he sensed your caution, he playfully threw his hands up, "Sorry, if I spooked you, I was just on my nightly walk and couldn't help myself to stop by." His accent sounded slightly off, almost forced, but that didn't bother you too much.

Cautious, but still curious, you walked toward him, feet still never leaving the porch "May I help you?" You asked the stranger.

He came forward a little bit, the moonlight illuminating his features, making your breath hitch ever so slightly.

He was gorgeous.

He had a sturdy build - his white button up shirt and dark pants clung to him, highlighting every crevice of his body. He had dark hair that covered his forehead, and complimented his features.

He was clearly not from around here, though - your instincts told you that. "My name is Remmick," He paused, eyes raking your body up and down, "I'm just passing through." He flashed you a grin, too sharp at the sides and too plastered.

A chill ran through your body, but your core squeezed.

"Well, nice to meet you, Remmick." You weren't good at faking friendly. "Where you from?" You asked him, tilting your head. Something about him rang old - old like the roots of the cypress trees.

But not the kind of old that belonged to this land.

He didn’t answer your question right away. Just stood there, that too-sharp grin lingering like a bad taste in your mouth.

"Nowhere special," He said finally. "Everywhere and nowhere, depending on the year."

That wasn’t an answer, and you both knew it. But something in his tone made it sound final.

You shifted your weight, "You some kind of traveler?" You asked him. A feeling of dread began trickling down at you as soon as you asked the question.

The wind picked up again, curling around your ankles like it was trying to warn you. Your Ome used to say that when the trees whispered too loud, it meant someone didn’t belong.

Remmick let out a soft chuckle, his eyes then locking onto yours, "Somethin' of that nature, I been here a long time." His brown eyes danced - you weren't sure with what, but he looked at you like how a cat looked at a toy.

"Odd time to be out walking," You said, folding your arms loosely. "Especially this deep out. Roads are easy to get lost on, if you’re not from here."

"Oh, I don’t get lost," Remmick said smoothly. "I tend to find what I’m looking for.

His eyes darkened, the weight of them made your skin tighten, like your body recognized something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

You’d felt watched before—but this was different.

This was personal.

"You live here alone?" He asked, voice gentle, but wrong in some invisible way. Like a bell rung just off-pitch.

You turned your head, eyes never leaving him, "Depends on who’s asking."

That made him smile wider. The cicadas hadn’t started up again. "Fair enough," He murmured. "I just noticed the place - the porch light, the quiet." A beat of silence, "It called to me."

That stopped you.

It called to me.

Not many folks talked like that. But your family did. Your people did. Remmick wasn’t one of them.

You two stood there for a minute, eyes never leaving each other, one of you rigid, the other one...hungry. The weight of the tension became unbearable for you, you had to say something.

"Well," You cleared your throat, "I best be heading back in now, it's getting awful late."

His teeth glimmered in the moonlight, canines looking too sharp, "Yes, I agree with you," His voice deepened, "You stay safe now."

It felt like a taunt more than courtesy.

You never left the porch before Remmick left your sight, and when he finally left, you exhaled a breath of relief.

Then, you heard an owl hooting.

The owl’s hoot echoed low and long - close enough to feel in your chest. Owls didn’t usually call this near the house, not unless something had stirred them.

Papa used to say owls were messengers. Ome would whisper when she thought you weren’t listening, "Don’t look ‘em in the eye," She'd said once. "They see more than we do."

You cast one last glance toward where Remmick had vanished into the woods, but the trees had already swallowed him whole - like he’d never been there at all. No crunch of underbrush, no footfalls, just quiet.

---

The next day came slow and sticky, the Mississippi sun pouring down in thick sheets that clung to your skin and made the house creak like it, too, was sweating.

You moved through the house, but your mind had wandered, drifting back to the porch, to him.

Remmick.

All night as you tossed and turned, the sound of an owl hooting outside your window had kept you wide awake. Owls didn't come to this side of the Delta either - which made you nervous. It hadn't been the first owl you'd seen, but it was enough to make you wary.

No matter how many times you told yourself he was just a traveler- some odd man with a silver tongue and a stranger’s charm - you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had brought something with him.

Something that didn’t belong to the land but recognized it all the same.

You still felt that gaze again suddenly,like knives digging in your back and the thrumming slowly made its way up from your toes up to your neck. The memory of the moonlight lingered too. The way it had spilled over his skin, made his smile too bright, too sharp.

You began to bury it as you prepared your regalia.

The movements were grounding, familiar, brushing out the fringe, checking the beadwork your Ome once did by hand.

You breathed in the cedar oil you’d dabbed on your wrists, hoping it would quiet the buzz beneath your ribs.

By the time the sun dipped low behind the trees, you were on your way to the pow wow grounds, your shawl folded over your arm and your heart feeling heavier than it should.

The sky was on fire - rose gold and rust - and the scent of frybread and smoked meat danced on the breeze.

The gathering was small but full of life.

Children darted through the grass in a blur of color, ribbons trailing behind them like comets. Aunties sat in circles, gossiping and teasing. The men stood off to the side, nodding to the beat of the drum, arms crossed, eyes soft.

You found a spot at the edge of the circle, close enough to feel the rhythm of the drums in your bones but far enough to keep your eyes on the treeline. You told yourself it was nothing.

But your instincts knew better.

Miss Marla was already in the middle of a story, she sat just outside the main drum circle, her voice as rough and warm as a gravel road after rain.

Everyone quieted when she spoke—elders and toddlers alike.

"Back in the old days," she said, "before the river changed Her course and the fences went up, there was a creature that walked like a man but fed like a beast. It didn’t cast a shadow. Didn’t breathe. It could slip into your dreams, wear the face of someone you loved, take the guise of a night bird, but it had one weakness—it couldn’t lie to the land."

The little boy next to you gasped softly.

"The land always knew."

A few children squirmed in their seats, but the adults didn’t laugh. They knew better.

Suddenly, your heart began to beat a little harder, like your body was sensing something that you weren't just yet. Confused, you brushed it off and tried to refocus on Miss Marla.

The cicadas were still singing in the trees, but you could hear something else beneath the forest, it hummed in your chest like a warning.

You scanned the edge of the circle without thinking. Just beyond the last firepit, where the light faded into shadows, you saw nothing. And yet…

That feeling.

The weight of being watched.

You hugged your shawl tighter around your shoulders, suddenly cold despite the heat. The story went on, but the words began to blur, Miss Marla's voice growing distant and fuzzy.

All you could focus on was the way the moonlight had lit up Remmick’s face the night before—and how the trees had gone quiet, and most importantly, the feeling of being watched.

The way the Earth held Her breath.

Miss Marla's words seemed to go completely mute, your mind somewhere else.

Your body was thrumming, your eyes couldn't seem to stop flickering to the forest.

The calling.

And then, from the tree line...

A scream - high, sharp, and raw.

It ripped through the field like rough hands on fabric.

Everything stopped. The crowd froze, heads snapping toward the woods. The children went silent, the elders’ faces turned grim.

You stood slowly, heart hammering. The scream had sounded human… but not right. Something about it curled your stomach, like it had come from a mouth that didn’t quite know how to scream anymore.

Miss Marla didn’t flinch. She just stared into the trees and muttered low under her breath, a prayer you barely caught. "Eyes wide, children. That ain’t no animal."

Fear tore through you, your nerves hijacked and your hair standing straight up.

Your stomach was getting twisted in knots, and you began to lightly tremble. 'What the hell is happening?' You thought to yourself.

Miss Marla's scanned the circle carefully, observing every single person. But her eyes, once soft turned sharp once they landed on you, her gaze resembling that of a mountain lion - predatory and fierce, "Y/N," her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes shot towards her, "Is there something you need to say?" She asked, her voice knowing. You couldn't even think of a response.

You were just as stunned as everyone else was.

But, deep down, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were to blame.

Blame for what? You weren't so sure just yet.

With a shake of your head, you casted your gaze onto the fire pit, and you watched as the flames danced and licked upwards into the sky.

---

After the dances had ended and the elders began to gather their young to leave, you stood off to the side, watching your family as they packed up their belongings.

Some were still spooked by the scream, while others had pushed it to the back of their minds.

You kissed and hugged your cousins goodbye, wishing them farewell on their short journeys back home, the little ones ran up to you, sticky with sweat and grins.

You leaned down to hug them, pressing your face into their hair, inhaling cedar and sweet grass. You kissed the tops of their heads and gave soft goodbyes, your voice caught somewhere between love and unease.

"Y’all be safe now," you said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Auntie Marie pulled you into a hug next, her arms sturdy and grounding. "You coming back to the house?" she asked. "We’ve got leftovers."

You shook your head. "Not tonight. I need some quiet."

She didn’t press you. Just gave your hand a soft squeeze. "Be careful driving home." You nodded.

One by one, the cars began pulling out. Headlights flared, laughter faded, and smoke from the fire pits rose into the darkening sky. You stayed put, the crowd thinning until you stood alone at the edge of the clearing, the lingering hum of something that refused to die with the drumbeat.

When the last car disappeared down the gravel road, the silence settled in.

Heavy.

Your ears rang from the sudden absence of voices. The trees loomed taller now, the shadows deeper. You didn’t want to move, but didn’t want to stay. The thrumming got stronger.

Somewhere behind you, in the woods, a twig snapped.

You turned sharply, expecting - what? You weren’t sure. But all you saw was shadow. Shadow and trees, and the glow of the dying firelight at your back.

Then, you saw it. Perched on a low-hanging branch at the tree line, still as stone, was an owl.

A barred owl, feathers soft and streaked with dusk, its wide eyes catching what little moonlight peeked through the canopy.

It didn’t hoot, it just stared - not at you.

But through you.

Something in you twisted—both in fear and in recognition. The kind that comes from blood memory, from stories told so often they’d become part of your bones. Ome’s voice whispered through your mind, low and steady.

"When the owl comes quiet, watching, it means the veil’s been brushed. It’s a spirit, child - sometimes a messenger. Sometimes a warning."

You swallowed hard, the warmth draining from your limbs. It wasn’t just the owl itself. It was the stillness around it.

No cicadas.

No frogs.

No wind.

Just that gaze.

And suddenly, you were back on the porch, bathed in moonlight, with Remmick’s too-sharp smile and the trees holding their breath.

The way the cicadas had gone silent then, too.

The way he had looked at you - like he knew something you didn’t. Like he could see straight through the years and the land and the skin you wore.

Your mouth went dry.

The owl blinked once, slowly, but it didn’t break eye contact. It didn’t move, and you felt seen. Marked.

Just for a second, in the way the moon curved against its feathers, the silhouette looked wrong. Not like an owl at all.

Like the shadow of a man.

You stepped back instinctively, hand brushing the beaded fringe of your regalia like it might anchor you. The owl finally turned its head, unnaturally slow, and took off, wings spread wide and ghostly, disappearing into the trees without a sound.

You were left standing alone, but you didn’t feel alone.

Not anymore.

---

Hot sweat covered you from head to toe, your bedsheets tangled around your body as you jerked from side to side, your chest heaving with terror.

It was off, it was all off.

You were in your apartment back in the city - everything looked the same, felt the same, but the outside was different, there were no street lights, not sound of cars passing by, nothing.

Dead silence.

The closet just across from your bed was slightly opened, the shadows covering the dresser that sat neatly next to it - covering the chair infront of the mirror. You never left your closet door open, but you were unable to get up and close it.

Panic surged through you.

You couldn't move.

You tried to bend your fingers and your toes, but nothing moved, not even slightly.

Then, you heard a deafening creak from across where you slept. The closet door opened achingly slow, long claws gripping the wood as the creature made its presence known.

Blood red eyes glared down at you, hungry and possessive. Your breath caught in your chest, your body going cold with horror as the creature stepped out of the closet, the silhouette only showcasing a shadowy outline.

"I've waited for you, sugar,"

The voice was deep - too deep for a human and raspy, like it had something caught in its throat.

It then closed its eyes and took a deep sniff, turning its head up towards the ceiling, "You smell just as divine as the day you left," it looked back down at you, taking steps towards the foot of the bed, "I can only imagine just how good you taste," the voice growled towards the end.

Your heart hammered so fast in your chest you thought you were going to pass out.

"I've been calling for you to come back home, my love," it tilted its head, admiring you, "Everybody missed you while you were gone."

'Everybody?' You thought to yourself, you didn't know what the creature was talking about, but it began to slowly loom over you, the mattress dipping as its weight pressed against your body.

Cold.

You whimpered, wishing you could move away, but you were completely paralyzed.

"I missed you the most, though," the creatures eyes trailed downwards, over your chest, your belly, and downwards, between your thighs. The creature then smiled - sharp, bloody fangs filling its mouth, grotesque and beautiful.

The creature tsked, its claws resting on your waist, sharp and freezing, "You always had belonged to me though, from the moment I laid eyes on you," it said, turning its head up slowly and locking its eyes onto yours.

Covetous.

Your eyes flickered toward the window, and there you saw a floating black feather.

"And now," the creature leaned forward, its face buried in the crook of your neck, "I'm going to take what's mine." Your eyes widened, wanting desperately to fight back, punch it, kick it, something, but nothing happened - not even as it's tongue licked your neck, fangs piercing down and-

You screamed, your throat raw and desperate, your body shooting straight up from the small bed you slept on.

For just a second, you were unsure on where you were, but then you looked outside through the window and you saw the familiar marsh trees - lined up in a row in-front of the house.

Relief filled you, your heart slowing down and the room seemed to breathe you back in again, calming your nerves.

It was just a dream.

It wasn't real.

You looked down at yourself, sweat was soaked through the sheets and the comforter felt sticky, like the humidity had seeped through the worn fabric. Disgusted, you stood up and began to strip the bed, including the pillow cases.

Hopefully, you'd be able to get better sleep the next night.

As you gathered up the sheets, you slowly felt the familiar crawling feeling of something watching you - this time, it was different.

It felt impatient, ready to pounce.

Your stomach twisted in knots, but you pushed the feeling down. It was too late at night to be dealing with this.

You moved through the rooms, gathering your clean sheets. You were too tired to worry about a comforter - it was too hot anyways, so once the bed was made, you laid back down and attempted to doze back off to sleep.

The last thing you saw before closing your eyes, were two faint, red dots, peeking down at you from the treeline.

---

The kettle whistles just as you finish telling Aunt Marie everything - the owl perched outside your window the night you came home, the strange energy that swirled around you at the pow wow, and that dream you had your first night back.

The scent of chamomile tea fills the kitchen as Aunt Marie turns off the stove.

She doesn’t look at you right away.

Instead, she sets the kettle aside, her movements slow, deliberate. You hear the creak of the old floorboards under her house shoes as she walks back to the table and sits across from you, her face shadowed by the low light.

Her eyes are fixed on her hands, which are clasped tightly together—knuckles pale, a silver ring glinting faintly on one finger.

"You said his name was Remmick?"

You nod. The name still tastes strange in your mouth, like it doesn’t quite belong to this place.

Aunt Marie looks up then, and the softness in her face is gone. Something older and harder has replaced it - something that reminds you of your Ome when the weather was about to turn bad and she just knew.

"You need to be careful with that man," she says, voice quiet but firm. "There's something...off about him," she murmured as she stirred her tea.

You frown, leaning forward.

There was definitely something off about him, but what were the chances of him being connected with the owl? A white man turning into an owl made you almost smile, if it weren't something you were considering right now.

Aunt Marie sighed, fanning the heat, "Did you give him your name?"

You shake your head, you never even gave him your name, but you knew his.

Her expression softens, relief coating her weathered features. "Well, atleast you're smart enough to not give him that."

A chill runs down your spine.

He didn't need to ask, because he could have possibly known already.

You brushed the thought away, it was impossible.

"The owl was your warning, though," she says softly. "Our people have always known that. It watches, it waits. It carries messages from the other side, from the ones who walked before us. And what you felt at the pow wow—that wasn’t just energy, girl. That was your blood remembering something your head forgot. That was the land calling you back—and calling you to protect it."

You feel your throat tighten. "Protect it from what?"

Her gaze darkened, her hand falling to her lap, "I don't know. But, you might - sooner or later."

You blinked rapidly, not sure what to make sense of what she was saying, whether it was a threat or a promise or both. She then looks up at the ceiling and closed her eyes, her chest moving slowly up and down, "You've always had the gift." she whispered.

You frowned, "That's what Miss Marla and some of the elders used to say."

Aunt Marie dryly chuckled, her gaze landing back onto you, "Well, they're right. You've always been able to look through the veil, baby, you just ain't never paid close attention." Her words made tingles go up your spine and radiate across your arms.

She then leans across the table and gently grabbed your hand, a soft smile etching onto her face, "People who are able to listen to the ancestors and hear their words have the gift."

She releases your hand and stands, walking to the her purse, where a tight bundle of sweetgrass hangs. She pulls a strand loose, lights it, and lets the smoke curl through the room, circling you both.

"This is for whatever it is that ails you, my dear. Everything will be okay soon."

---

The night air was still, very little wind compared to previous nights. You sat there on the porch, arms wrapped around your knees, blanket draped across your shoulders. The cup of untouched tea sat besides you, no longer warm like how you preferred.

Your thoughts churned - from the owl, to Aunt Marie, to Miss Marla's words at the pow wow... to Renmick.

You scoffed, there was no reason why a stranger should be taking over your brain this much, but it no longer surprised you. Nothing really surprised you.

You closed your eyes and listened to your surroundings - the beat of the cicadas, the creaking of the wood beneath you, the frogs in the nearby water, the inhale and exhale of the marsh and it's deep humming, almost lulling.

The sound of a twig snapped.

You looked up, and there he was; same as before - at the end of the drive near the tree lines that were lined up on the side of the house.

The hairs began to stand up one by one, goosebumps blanketing your skin. He looked the same as the other night he had showed up - same white shirt, same dark pants.

Same too sharp grin.

He didn't speak at first, just watched you, a familiar glint in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, "Hello, Remmick," You adjust yourself in your chair, "You on another walk?" You asked him.

"I only came cause you left the light on," He said, his voice soft yet filled the space between y'all. You turned your gaze up at the light bulb above you, its light flickering slightly.

"Yes, I tend to leave my outdoor lights on, no matter what time of day it is," You responded to him.

He then began to take steps towards you, like he was being careful, but was still at ease with himself. He walked with a purpose, nonetheless, shoes shuffling against the earth.

Remmick spoke up, voice just slightly louder, "I'll make mental note of that next time I come around," He stopped in his tracks, "May I sit up there with ya?"

You hesitated, but nodded once and gestured to the empty chair across the porch, just a few feet away from you.

He shot you a grateful look before passing by and sitting down in the chair - you had noticed he scooted it closer to you, but you paid little mind to it.

You two sat there for just a little while, absorbing the moonlight and the fresh air. Knives stabbed into you all over your figure, and the thrumming in your chest hadn't paused, it shifted - no longer in your sternum, but instead in your core and stomach.

Remmick was watching you, analyzing you.

The awkwardness and tension began to settle in, and you felt the urge to break it, his eyes boring straight through you.

"So, how long you been here?" You asked him, turning to him. Sitting directly under the porch light, his hair appeared slightly darker, a reddish tint peeping through.

Remmick smirked at your question, "I'm not sure. I've been here for...a while,"

You quirked a brow, "How long is a while?" You had never seen or heard of him before, so you thought that maybe he had moved to the Delta sometime after you had left.

Suddenly, and maybe it was your imagination, but right after you had asked him that question, it had looked like a flash of red went across his eyes.

It was for barely a second, but your heart had stuttered once you saw it.

His tongue peeked out over his lips, leaving a glisten of spit in its wake, "You sure do ask a lot of questions," He tapped his foot, "I moved here a long time ago."

A beat of silence was exchanged between the two of you. He wasn't going to elaborate and something told you not to press.

He then spoke, "What about you?" He asked. You uncurled your arms from around your legs, "I was raised here,"

You continued, "My whole family was. We were raised here - died here. I think I might have been the only one to leave," You said.

"I was raised primarily by my grandparents, although I lived with my mother and father. Ome and Papa were the ones who taught me everything there was to know about everything; life, medicine, my culture," Your eyes flickered to Remmick, "Spirits."

You swallowed before continuing, "Ever since I left this place, I've felt a calling to come back, like I had unfinished business. I guess, I've felt this way since I was a child - that no matter where I would go, I would always been drawn to come back here."

Remmick nodded his head in understanding, but there was something in his eyes. The curiosity and charm was gone and seemed to be replaced with a longing, a longing you had never seen before. The shadows from the porch covering his head.

"Aye," He said softly, "I sure wish I felt that way about a place, I don't think I'll ever feel that way again,"

Again.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, he looked at you and beat you to it.

"You sure are beautiful," He leaned closer to you, "I didn't get the chance to tell you before."

You blinked.

Then, you felt heat running up to your ears, "Thank you, Remmick. That's awful sweet of you."

He chuckled at your reaction, "I can't lie, not allowed to, so just know that I'm telling the truth." You couldn't help the smile on your face, although now you had even more questions.

Despite the friendliness that Remmick was displaying, you couldn't shake the deep feeling of something feeling off. Something felt too foreign, too intense about him.

You couldn't put your finger on it, but your instincts were raising flags within you.

At the same time; you felt drawn.

You just couldn't help but wonder more about him - it was eating you alive.

"Do you plan on staying here?" He asked you, his gaze venturing off.

You furrowed your brows, you really weren't sure if you were going to stay, but you knew that you were back here for a reason.

What reason? You were still figuring it out. You were trying to figure everything out.

"I'm not sure," You sniffled, "I might, but I really don't know." Remmick nodded his head stiffly, almost like he was containing something.

A whip of coldness then settled in the air.

"If you do leave, where would you go?"

The trees paused and the air went still for a second - as if they too heard the tone of his voice. The question sounded innocent enough, but his voice was suddenly too deep, almost gurgled.

Like the creature from your dream.

Fear penetrated you, your hair standing from head to toe. The shadows began to eclipse the rest of his features, now you were unsure as to what you were exactly looking at, like a man but not quite.

You couldn't find the words to say something back, but he then chuckled and stood up, the shadows covering his entire body, "I think it's time I head back home," His voice had returned to its natural state, but the effect it had on you were still just as apparent.

"I'll see you later, darlin'." His eyes flashed for a second.

Red.

It wasn't your imagination.

After you stepped off the porch, you immediately flew up and into the house, slamming the door shut behind you.

You needed to contact Miss Marla - and soon.

---

Your eyes darted under your lids, frantically searching for something out of nothing.

The sheets were tangled up around your body, cocooning you in their own little sanctuary as you twitched in your sleep, your legs and arms flinching.

The moon over the Delta had turned to blood, cascading a red glare over the land.

You stood barefoot in the marsh, skin damp with sweat and river fog, your breath quiet as the trees breathed with you. Spanish moss hung like funeral veils from the cypress branches, the air thick with something older than rot. You knew this wasn’t the real world—no chirps, no wind moved the reeds.

You’d been here before.

A chill ran through your body, you felt him before you saw him.

A dark figure, cloaked and red eyes then stepped from between two trees like it had always belonged to this place, like it was the creature's home and you were a visitor.

You took a step back, ready to run before the figure then changed. You couldn't believe it.

Remmick.

He was shirtless, his pants unbuttoned and what appeared to be dried blood coated the hem of his jeans. A gold chain was hanging loosely on his neck, moving slightly with each step.

"Hello, sugar," He whispered, voice like silk dipped in ash.

You didn’t speak.

Words were useless here. He moved closer, and the wilderness pulsed around him, every creature gone silent, every shadow leaning toward his form.

"I can smell your blood - your soul - through your dreams," He said, leaning in so close his lips nearly grazed your ear.

"It sings of fire, of bone, of old deities you still whisper to when you think I’m not listening." He took a deep inhale, his nose pressing firmly against your jawline.

"Perfect." He purred.

Your breath hitched.

He reached out - cold fingers grazing your neck, your collarbone, dragging over the ridge of your shoulder like a memorized ritual.

"Do you remember what it felt like, last time?" he asked. "When we were here in the marsh together, when you cracked open and something older slipped between us?"

His mouth brushed your skin, not biting yet - just pressing, lingering, teasing. A ghost of a smile, a genuine smile, threatened to break out on his face.

Two arms snaked around your waist and yanked you closer to him, your body completely flush against his, not letting you go and having no plans on doing so.

Then, without warning, the marsh changed.

The trees bled sap the color of ink, running into the water beneath. Howls and hoots began to echo all around you, meshing into what sounded like human screams. Clouds churned and hissed with unseen wings, the sound of Jericho's trumpet to be expected, but never coming.

Remmick’s eyes turned black, no iris, no white, just endless dark.

"You brought me here," he hissed, voice now layered, inhuman.

"You called me with your grief. Your land is dying, your bloodline hunted, and still... you dream of me."

His hand snaked between y'all and pressed against your chest, palm flattened against your flesh, but not to comfort.

To hold your heart still.

"I helped call you here." That made you break, a vicious sob ripped from your throat. You tried to twist out of his grip, but that only made him hold you tighter.

"I need you to let me in," he whispered. You squirmed and wiggled against him, but it didn't bother him any. If anything, it made him fall deeper in awe.

"I need you to let me in completely - not just in your dream. Let me bury myself within you, in your soul. I will make you just like me - so you can remember everything that’s been taken from you. Forever."

"No, no, no," You cried. This couldn't be happening, this wasn't real, this wasn't going to be your fate. You were back in the city, far, far away from here, far away him.

He then leaned opened his mouth, revealing a line of fangs - saliva dripping down on the sap beneath your feet.

The hand on your chest moved up to your throat, not squeezing but not gentle and he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

A sharp pinch.

You woke.

The room was almost completely dark, the only thing you could see was from the moon peeking through.

And a single whisper in the air, soft and trembling:

"Next time, you won’t wake up."

---

You sat curled on the edge of your couch, hands clutched around a lukewarm mug you hadn’t sipped from in an hour.

The nightmare still clung to you like smoke. No amount of distraction, tea, or whispered prayers could fully shake it loose.

You had half a mind to call Miss Marla, you even picked up the phone before hanging up, guilt wracking you still from the day before - you still thought you were tied to it.

Besides, what were you even going to say? "Something is watching me", "I think a nightmare creature wants to devour my soul?" "The man that I've been seeing might want to kill me?"

No.

But Miss Marla would’ve understood. She always did. She saw the signs before anyone else did—like she had been born watching shadows dance behind the veil.

She always told you since you were a small child, that you were someone who could bring people - spirits - from the beyond the veil.

You never took it into full consideration until now.

Sharply, you jumped up and grabbed your coat hanging next to the front door. You had to see her face. You had to hear her voice, just to make sure - just to feel assured.

As you drove through the Mississippi marsh, the sun had began to dip behind the trees, leaving behind a canvas of purple and orange and red in its wake, leaving behind the day creatures and welcoming the night.

Although you knew you weren't in a time rush, you couldn't shake the feeling of running out of time. You had a gut feeling - no, not gut - a deep, intuitive feeling - that this was going to be it.

You knew it, and the marsh knew it.

The loud calls had turned to whispers, no longer echoing through your ears.

Instead, it became hushed, tedious, with something dark and predatory rearing its head - rushing hastily to call your name, claim you.

What was it? You knew, but you didn't want to accept it.

The air had become too heavy, too still. No cicadas. No frogs. Just the dull rumble of your tires against dirt and gravel.

When you pulled up to her farm, her porch light was off and the horse pen was wide open.

Odd.

Miss Marla never let her house go dark. Not once. And she sure as hell never let her horse gate wide open.

Immediately, dread twisted in your guts.

You stepped out cautiously, gravel crunching underfoot, your breath puffing white despite the spring warmth. A sense of wrongness pressed in around you like fog.

"Miss Marla?" You yelled out, voice trembling. No answer.

The door was open. Not wide, but just enough. You hesitated at the threshold, but something deep in you told you needed to find out what had happened.

You looked down and your body went cold.

An owl feather.

Taking a sharp breath in, you pushed the door open.

The smell had hit you like a train - pungent.

The entire house reeked of copper and soil. Like something rotten had sunk into the floorboards, and made its way underneath the house.

Gagging, your hand flew to your mouth, eyes watering immediately.

Then, there she was. You stumbled back a step, stomach clenching—but it was too late.

You saw her.

Miss Marla was there, slumped in her chair beside the coffee table. Her head bowed like she’d fallen asleep - but the stillness was all wrong. Her eyes were open, glassy, staring at nothing. Her throat torn, mouth slack.

Blood, old and dark was painting across her lap, running from the large gash that protruded from her throat. Her hair, from the midway down, was soaked.

Your knees nearly gave out beneath you.

Tears spilled hot down your cheeks as you backed away, hand clutched to your chest, bile threatening to rise in your throat.

This was a message.

You didn’t remember getting back in the car, didn't remember starting the engine and reversing down the narrow road.

All you knew was the pounding in your ears, the shaking in your hands, and the single, terrible truth sitting in your gut like a stone:

You weren’t safe. Not here. Not anymore.

---

The screen door slammed behind you, you wasted no time in running to the bedroom to grab your bags.

Your body moved on instinct, grabbing your suitcase, stuffing it with whatever you could, your hands shaking, breath coming fast. You’d just left the station, hours of being watched, questioned.

Nobody could believe it, that someone would target her.

But, what made it even more grotesque, was that it had appeared someone had ripped her throat out with her mouth. When you explained this to the officers, they had tried to downplay it until they were dispatched and had seen it for themselves.

The blood had been everywhere.

But, after they were done questioning you, they ordered that you stay put, so they would know where to find you when they needed any answers to their questions.

Yeah, right.

It had been night by the time you left the police station. You knew that time was limited and you needed to get somewhere, not then, but now.

Trembling, you grabbed the phone and dialed, every second an eternity until the line clicked. Relief ran through you, grateful it went through.

"Aunt Marie?" Your voice was barely coherent.

"Baby, what's going on?" Her voice was hushed, but full of concern, she'd been worried over you since the last time she had visited you, which felt like forever ago, but you knew it had only been roughly a few days ago.

"It’s Miss Marla. She’s—" Your voice cracked. "She’s dead."

A beat of silence and then a sharp breath. "How?"

Tears stung your eyes, a painful lump forming in your throat, "Her throat was ripped open, it looked like something-"

"You’ve got to get out of there. Now. Come here. Bring salt and bring your thread. But you don’t look back, you understand me? You don’t look back." You heard her hands tremble over the phone.

Before you could respond, deep, painful thrumming erupted in your chest. You winced, grabbing your chest and clenching the fabric.

And then you heard it.

That low, wrong owl call outside the house.

Slow. Purposeful. Close.

You turned toward the front window, heart already sinking. He was standing just beyond the porch.

Remmick.

Not a shadow this time, a voice on the wind, or a creature from your dreams. He was a man.

Impossibly still. Eyes black as drowned night, the last sliver of sunlight caught the edge of his jaw, the faint curve of a cruel smile.

He stepped toward the screen door.

You dropped the phone. Aunt Marie’s voice was still calling your name, but you barely heard her, all focus on the man that was approaching you - hunting you.

"I always knew you’d come back," Remmick said gently. “You tried to run, but this land… this land calls you home. Just like I do."

"Stay away," You whispered.

He stopped before the entrance of the home, patient and hungry, his teeth no longer dull, but instead a row of knife-sharp fangs.

"I knew what you were before you did," he said. "You walk the boundary. Between flesh and spirit. Between root and bone. You think you hid it, but it’s in every step you take on this dirt."

He tilted his head, eyes glinting and mouth wide.

"You speak to the dead when you dream. You feel the breath of your ancestors in the wind and think it’s just instinct. But it’s more than that. You’re a beacon. You shine through the veil like a lantern in fog - and I saw you. I felt you."

"That’s not your gift to take," You said, voice shaking. "It belongs to the land. To my people. To me."

His gaze sharpened. "It belongs to whoever’s strong enough to claim it."

Bile rose in your throat, "You mean destroy it."

"No," He said, stepping close, eyes devouring you. "I mean preserve it. Through me. Through us."

He pointed up at the entrance of the door, his patience beginning to wear thin, "You need to let me in, darlin'" He purred, "Or else, I'm gonna pay your little auntie and cousins a final visit."

Ice spread through you. You knew he was being serious.

For a split second, you thought of the sweet grass in the kitchen. Maybe if you lit it and prayed he would go away? No. Maybe some garlic from the cupboard.

You shifted, he took a step back, letting you know he would do it.

Tears fell down your face.

You could barely breathe. “Why me?”

His voice dropped, velvet and grave-deep. "Because, sugar, I love you. I’ve loved you before you were born. Before your name was ever whispered by firelight. You’re not just connected to the dead - you belong with them. With me."

Lips pressed firmly in a thin line, you took a step forward. You weren't going to risk the life of your cousins - barely old enough to be in school and the life of your aunt who only wanted to help you.

Besides, you knew that Remmick was partially right, you did belong with the dead; your ancestors. You always had.

"If I'm going to step out, I need you to back away." Your tone was flat, completely devoid of emotion. This was it.

A flash of victory passed over his face, and he began to step back, leaving you plenty of space to walk outside to him.

Your steps were heavy, like you were stepping in quicksand rather than wooded floor. The closer you approached him, the happier he got, his hand extending out to you. His claws protruded, curved and black. "I'm here for you, baby."

Once you reached the entrance, you took a deep breath. One more step and you were his.

Your eyes darted. He was standing about 5 ft- maybe 6ft from the door, and there was an opening on the porch, next to one of the chairs, where it led straight to the marsh. Could you make it?

He beckoned you, fingers curled in a 'come hither' motion, "Come on, I gotcha'." He whispered.

It's now or never.

You darted.

You slapped his hand out of the way and took off, feet as quick as you could possibly bear it. Your throat and lungs burned, the marsh opened to you and ushered you in, the scent of it -

Two rough hands snatched your waist.

Cold and territorial.

"Now, now, pretty thing," He whispered against your ear. "We both know that you can't run or hide from me, so don't bother tryin'," He pressed his face against yours, lips on your cheek as he inhaled deeply.

"You make the dead sing, and I am so, so tired of silence."

You struggled and began to scream before his hand slapped over your mouth. "Now, don't make me upset now - screamin' won't get you nowhere,"

He bared his fangs.

"Screamin' was what ole' Marla had done," His voice hushed, "But, that didn't last for very long - not before she invited me in,"

Your heart ached, the thought of Miss Marla-

A guttural wail bubbled up, unleashing into his palm as he tried to shush you, his nose buried in your hair, "It's okay, baby, I won't make it hurt too bad now,"

His head trailed from your hair to the crook of your neck, before nuzzling against you. Hot, wetness hit your throat, his tongue lapping at the fragile skin. You stilled, too scared to move. This was it, this was how you were going to die.

Remmick opened his mouth.

Then pain - blinding, searing - as his teeth sank into your neck.

Your knees buckled, his arms tightened you against him, never letting you go. Loud groans of ecstasy came from him, as if it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. It reminded you of vulgarity.

Darkness blotted your vision, replacing the lightness as you began to feel yourself drift away.

Time unraveled.

You saw the faces of your ancestors, you heard their screams, you watched them vanish.

The world dimmed.

Your heartbeat faded—

And stopped.

When your eyes opened again, everything was different.

You could feel the earth like a drum beneath your feet. You could hear the ghosts calling. But they did not answer you anymore, instead they watched you.

Remmick looked down from above you, smiling - triumphant and adoring, blood coating his chin and shirt.

"You were the one who heard them," He said, brushing your hair from your face. "Now you are one of them."

You were no longer just of the land. You were cursed to haunt it.

Forever—

with him.

#sinners 2025 #remmick sinners #remmick x reader #remmick x indigenous!reader #jack o'connell

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aphrodicci · 11 months ago

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ɴᴏʀᴛʜ ɴᴏᴅᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪɢɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇꜱ

follow for more content!

and this was a prize post for surpassing a following milestone? im not sure but either way thank you for everyone who has helped me gain this much supporters <3

north node is now cheaper when trying to buy asteroids/others through my paid readings :)

i did my research by talking to close friends and researching celebrities! take the degrees with a grain of salt.

♇ the north node is about your individual path your life takes and inevitably becomes. can mean where you are exposed, what you could fear and even obsess over.

♇ north node in aries/1h [1°/13°/25°] ⟶ becoming a leader, being the face of something, a company, a show etc. being the first to do something, specifically within your family. anger issues, passion for sports or being a champion. excellent at theatre/acting, people might want to expose your life, your goals so they can steal. if not careful can become filled with rage, could have accidents with the head. could have a fear of being pushed aside, not recognised.

celebrities with this north node placement ⟶ mariah carey, emilia clarke and martin luther king.

♇ north node in taurus/2h [2°/14°/26°] ⟶ excellent cooks. to become rich, and obsession with feeling beautiful, could be obsessed with money. very possessive over other people or their own possessions. very vocal people. could get sore throats a lot, can have their privacy exposed/boundaries crossed. great singers, distinct voices, a need to be heard. and could have a lot of people wanting to be them, could have a fear of losing their value, or losing their possessions. classis beauty.

celebrities with this north node placement ⟶ lana del rey, sharon tate and bella hadid.

♇ north node in gemini/3h [3°/15°/27°] ⟶ spokespeople, known to say silly things. like to win arguments, very direct people. other people might ridicule or nitpick everything they say. insecure of not being taken seriously, be careful of car accidents or just bad drivers, being associated with cars. amazing at marketing, people could parade the person a lot.

celebrities with this north node placement ⟶ khloe kardashian, jfk kennedy and billie eilish.

♇ north node in cancer/4h [4°/16°/28°] ⟶ to make a family, a foundation or a legacy and leaving a will. to have a tribe, obsession with sense of belonging. conflict with family. disconnection with family, can also be a try-hard. can com from a popular family.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ britney spears, prince harry and michelle obama.

♇ north node in leo/5h [5°/17°/29°] ⟶ charismatic, can be obsessed with achievements and goals. famous children. are very goal-oriented, can have a fear of failure, which sometimes causes them to be strict. protective over children, having children with popular/wealthy people and they can be easily admired and glorified. succeed in their talents and hobbies.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ beyoncé, angelina jolie and kim kardashian.

♇ north node in virgo/6h [6°/18°] ⟶ could have a problem with health, obsession with being perfecting. servicing others, a worker, deep insecurities. copying others. could have a fear of not being perfect, anxious, can be harsh with your words. very erratic as well.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ kylie jenner, jennifer lopez and kourtney kardashian.

♇ north node in libra/7h [7°/19°] ⟶ could be obsessed with getting into relationships. could have a fear of being disliked. beware of too much cosmetic surgery. inevitable marriage, soul-mate finding. marrying someone famous/wealthy. can be very flaky, needs to find balance. sometimes could find themselves with troubling marriages. fear of ending up alone.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ madonna, michael jackson and ashanti.

♇ north node in scorpio/8h [8°/20°] ⟶ be careful with cosmetic surgery. obsessive spending, money obsession and sex. fear of losing everything, possessions, money and power along with liberty. destined to be or become rich or leave a legacy. obsessive, easily addicted to drugs and can be vengeful. could be stalkers or are the ones stalked and scrutinised by others.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ megan thee stallion, paris hilon and jungkook.

♇ north node in sagittarius/9h [9°/21°] ⟶ teachers, students of life and researches. fear of feeling stupid or stuck in life. not believing yourself. can be very conceited, others might like to steal from others. feeling like a God, superiority complex; obsessed with learning. burn-outs or spoiled. can be too lustful; becoming publishers, directors and screen-writers. even Gurus, people looking up to them. trading illegal stuff, talent with bitcon.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ ariana grande, cardi b and demi lovato.

♇ north node in capricorn/10h [10°/22°] ⟶ unbalance with power, authority issues. public clashes, fear of being forgotten or overlooked. seen as attractive, some can be crazy or pushed to be crazy. ambitious, rich and bold. can mean accidents, fear of being watched, fear of failing. obsessive with reputation and legacy, destined to be known for something, becoming a boss, or another high position.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ adele, selena gomez and gwyneth paltrow.

♇ north node in aquarius/11h [11°/23°] ⟶ fear of loneliness and losing friends. could be a controlling friend or have friends who are controlling/manipulative. random fame, random wealth. fame from the internet, getting money from the internet. inventing something, creating trends and being a humanitarian. ego-death. accidents. deceptive friends or is the deceptive friends, angry conflicts on the internet, with friends or with people in the same community as them.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ lady gaga, miranda kerr and the weeknd.

♇ north node in pisces/12h [12°/24°] ⟶ falling into delusions. obsessive and intrusive thoughts, can become famous, but fame will be very damaging fo the mental health. addictions, specifically with alcohol. nightmares. making sacrifices, people having ill-intent, doing witch-craft on you or you could be someone who practices it. can mean moving far from home place, nasty hidden enemies, having your dreams come true.

celebs with this north node placement ⟶ rihanna, justin bieber and marilyn monroe.

masterlist

paid chart readings

♇

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8hsaturn · 8 months ago

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astro observations #4

- The idea that your north node = fate and destined path doesn’t feel accurate. After all, north node aka rahu is literally illusion and material obsessions and is also considered a malefic in multiple astrological circles. I find it to be more of an indicator of what our fantasies and guilty pleasures may be.

- People with prominent Leo/Aquarius axis tend to focus their astrological study on their personal placements from what I noticed. As they get deeper however, they start to venture into what other placements might be like. But for most part, the focus tends to be on their placements first.

- 7th/8th house placements tend to be the opposite, being very curious to know why people around them, their role models, and others in general act the way they do and therefore using astrology to understand that

- 9th house placements are the ones who study every placement just for the sake of it or out of curiosity, some 3h placements might also

- Taurus + Leo = curly hair

- Taurus placements, especially if aspecting Lilith or mars or coupled with mars ruled placements, tend to be into vampires bc throat (Taurus) and blood and injury (Mars) as well as the seductive/taboo nature of vampires (Lilith)

- 3h Saturn/ 3h in Capricorn might take quite a while to get their drivers license

- What others tend to say about u : 3h from 7h : aka the 9h.

e.g. 9h in Aquarius : people talk about how you’re unique, popular or friends with a lot of people, humanitarian. They might also discuss how you’re eccentric, disconnected or apathetic.

- Whatever houses are ruled by Venus in your chart can give you an idea of how your relationships impact you as well as how you behave when in a relationship.

e.g. Libra risings have Venus ruling their first and eighth house, they tend to have very transformative relationships that end up changing them completely. They might also benefit from personal glow-ups during certain relationships thanks to their partner’s resources. Opposite can be true with weak Venus or malefic influence on the houses of Venus.

- 8h is underrated as an intelligence indicator. That’s the house of research, uncovering mysteries, and finding out the hidden. If one of the most common intelligent tropes -detectives and mad scientists- work within 8h themes, that is for a reason

- 6th house Lilith could indicate suffering from eating disorders.

- I noticed that even people who don’t know anything about astrology (sometimes especially them lol) tend to have markers of their signs all over their online presence. my ardra stellium friend has pearl as his username (ardra is symbolized by the diamonds and jewelry), a lot of shatabisha (especially the men) like wearing bracelets and rings (reminiscent of the empty circle that symbolizes shatabisha) etc.

- 10th house could signify what traits do you have that are different or stand out from ur family. For example, Jupiter in the tenth house could mean different beliefs, maybe a taller build compared to your parents, I also see it as which members of your family do you resemble the most. 10th house Jupiter might look like their grandparents while 10th house sun their dad, and moon their mom etc.

- Saturnian tend to be gatekeepers because Saturn = scarcity and limitations.

- 4h mars/sun could indicate having more close male friends n vice versa for 4h Venus/moon.

- Sun nakshatras and ashwinis look really good when the sun is shining on them. They might be particularly fond of golden hour selfies.

- 11h synastry can indicate starting a business together, whether it’s benefics or malefics will indicate if the business will succeed or not.

- Lacking aspects to the luminaries can mean feeling disconnected from your parents, as if there’s a certain distance between you and them that can’t be bridged. An empty 3h + unaspected 3h lord can also indicate feeling that way towards your siblings.

- A strong Mars + Venus = good dancer. Also prominent dhanista and snake yoni Nakshatras (Rohini, mrigashira).

- Anna Popplewell and Nancy ajram look similar and I found they have quite the similar placements besides both having nodal (Ardra/Mula) and Saturnian (Uttara Bhadra/Anuradha) influence.

Nancy Ajram (Top) : Jupiter in Anuradha, Sun DK in the first Degree, Sun and Mars in Krittika, Ketu in Mula.

Anna Popplewell (Bottom): Venus in Anuradha, Sun DK in the first degree, Jupiter in Krittika, Sun, Mercury, and Saturn in Mula.

this is it for today <3 please don’t hesitate to share if any of this resonates!

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thehighladywrites · 3 months ago

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Disciplinarian

pairing: bodyguard!azriel x spoiled, rich, partygirl!reader

summary: You have never been disciplined a day in your life; your parents are too kind and overlooking, so you get away with everything. When your parents have to leave for a year on business, you're assigned a bodyguard to look after you. What do you do when it is someone you can't stand?

warnings: 18+, smut, reader is kinda stuck up and spoiled, brat taming, enemies to lovers-ish, forced proximity, drug use, alcohol, questionable substances, grinding on random men in clubs, intoxication, azriel acts like he'd never touch you but he will, best believe

amara’s note: alright gang, let’s try this one more time. and tumblr pls don’t delete this🫶🏽

Azriel can't fucking stand spoiled, rich, entitled girls like you. Seriously, you have it all – jewels, status, servants at your beck and call, enough money to buy a country, and a family name that practically scream elite and untouchable. Your parents never say no to you, and they make sure you know it.

You adore your parents and they love you, and in a court where genuine love is rare, you hit the jackpot. Their approach to discipline is nonexistent, which means you practically have a free pass to everything you do. You might here the occasional sigh but never any real repercussions.

All that, and you still manage to fuck it up and waste your fortune and good luck on trashy things.

You fucking love your life and live to the fullest, diving headfirst into hookups, trying questionable substances, sipping drinks, fucking everyone with a pulse, flaunting your body in slutty clothes, dancing and splurging on shopping sprees until your arms can’t carry more bags.

To Azriel, you are like a walking, talking embodiment of everything he despise about the privileged members of Hewn City. You live in a bubble of luxury, completely disconnected from the real world. It drives him up the wall to see someone who has never faced a single challenge or hardship, someone who probably can't even spell "struggle" if their life depends on it, act so mindlessly stupid and oblivious.

You can't fucking stand Azriel either. He is an annoying, obnoxious, attention-grabbing loser with a mouth that could make a sailor blush, and manners that were more suited in a battlefield than in a refined courtroom. The way he acts all mysterious and unbothered, pretending not to notice his effect on people grinds your gears. He is nosy, annoying, and you are pretty sure he thinks personal space is just a suggestion, like ew.

And your dislike doesn’t lessen when your parents ask Rhysand for someone to guard you while they are away on business. And of course, Rhys can’t say no because your father practically funds Hewn City with his money.

—

“Rhysand, we need to discuss my daughter's safety while we're away on business. Could you arrange for someone to guard her at all times? We will be away for a while and we wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary.”

Rhysand nods, knowing he can’t refuse. Your family weren’t the typical mean and evil family in Hewn City. Your family had been wealthy for generations, a family from a long line of very influential faes.

“I understand your concern. But may I ask why the sudden need for extra security? Is there something wrong with her current guards?”

“Well, as you might now, our daughter is somewhat of a wild card. She is just going through a phase but she is still my babygirl and I need someone to look after her so she doesn’t get hurt while we’re gone. Sure, her current guards are fine but I need someone who keeps her in line.”

Rhysand supresses his smile and clears his throat. Wild card was certainly an understatement and he was pretty sure that not even The Mother could keep you in line. “I see. I'll make the necessary arrangements.”

After your parents leave, Rhysand shakes his head, knowing the challenges that lie ahead. He asks Azriel to meet him at his office, reluctantly asking him to take on the role of your bodyguard.

“Azriel, I need you to do me a favor. I have someone in my court that has requested extra security for his daughter while they're away, and I can't refuse. I need you to guard her.”

Azriel narrows his eyes at him, skeptical at the sudden request. “Guard duty? Really, Rhys? You know i have more important things to do than babysit some rich kid.”

Rhys sighs and grips Azriel's shoulder firmly. “I wouldn't ask if it weren't important, Az. Her safety is at stake, and her parents trust us to protect her.”

Azriel's suspicion is evident. Rhysand would never ask so nicely and calmly. “Who am I guarding?”

Rhys bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a laugh, knowing Azriel , he’d refuse if he sensed any hint of amusement. “It’s Y/N. I know you two don’t get along, but it’s very important. Her parents are very worried she’ll do something to herself.”

Azriel frowns and grits out. This was the absolute last thing he wanted to do ever. Like literally the last thing. “Fine. But you owe me big time for this, Rhys. And best believe, I will cash in.”

With a heavy sigh, Azriel walks out, mentally calculating the headaches and eye rolls that await him.

—

So he becomes your personal bodyguard, having to follow you around everywhere, and he certainly doesn’t make an effort to hide his dissatisfaction with his High Lord’s decision. He’s always so fucking close.

The other day you had brunch with your friends and had to cut it short since he was scaring them with his presence.

Of course you don’t make it easy for him either. Sneaking out and meeting people for secret hook ups while he looks all over Velaris for you. But he always manages to find you before anything real starts.

Tonight, feeling rebellious, you made the daring decision to sneak out while Azriel was tied up in a meeting with Rhysand and Cassian. Clad in a barely-there black minidress and your nicest heels, you snuck out to hit the club with your friends.

As the pulsating music enveloped the club, the beat flowed through your veins, heightened by the drugs coursing through your system. You found yourself surrounded by a group of men, their hungry eyes glued to you as you grinded in one of their laps. With the hem of your dress pushed up to reveal your black thong, you felt a rush of exhilaration as their hands roamed freely, exploring every curve and contour of your body. Their touch sent shivers down your spine as you gave in to the euphoria.

Suddenly, one of them pulled out cash, showering you with bills. They fluttered around you, each one a temptation. More men joined in, adding to the pile of crumpled notes at your feet.

As the money rained down, adrenaline surged through you. With each bill, you felt their attention, relishing the power it gave you.

You had no need for the money, you simply enjoyed the sensation of it raining over your body. Basking in the attention the men gave you, you felt invincible, loving every moment.

But perhaps it was the drugs whispering in your ear, distorting reality. Lines of white powder adorned the fancy oak tables, drinks on every surface and questionable pills lay everywhere. Yet no one dared to utter a word or report your group of high-spenders; after all, you practically funded the club with your outings. And if worst comes to worst, you can always sweet-talk Cassian who handles all arrests and oversees the city’s safety.

Azriel seethed with annoyance as he discovered once again that you had slipped away while he was preoccupied. Fuming with frustration, he used his shadows to locate you. Determined to bring you back safely, Az brought Rhys and Cassian with him to retrive you.

Following Rhysand’s lead, the trio made their way to the filthy club famous for its debauchery and depravity. With every step, Azriel's fury just became stronger, fueled by the fear of what dangers you might encounter in such a place. If you were dead, it would be such an inconvenience.

Azriel's shadows sensed you up on a table, stripping your dress off little by little, like it was nobody's business. They clocked you right away, noticing how you moved all smooth and slippery, and how your eyes darted around like you were up to no good. Your pupils were wide as saucers, and your gaze was vacant. You were swaying on your feet, barely holding it together, like you were one step away from crashing down.

With a frustrated huff, Azriel closed the distance and hoisted you over his shoulder in one swift motion, your limp form draped over him like a sack of potatoes before you could strip completely. Meanwhile, Cassian and Rhys stood nearby, barely containing their amusement, a smirk playing at the corners of their lips as they watched the show unfold.

Furious, you pounded your fists against Azriel's back, demanding to be released.

“Put m’down, you stupid fucking bastard! What the fuck, get your hands off me! How dare you put your lowly hands on me!” you shouted, your voice laced with anger and defiance. Despite your protests, Azriel held firm, his grip unwavering as he carried you away from the chaos of the club.

Spotting Rhysand’s handsome self, you suddenly shifted gears, your influenced state blurring the lines between defiance and flirtation. “Heyyy, Rhysie!” you slurred, flashing him a lopsided grin and throwing him a kiss.

“Long time, no see. You... you lookin' really fucking fine tonight, wanna cme home with me? I can p-promis’ ya a really fun nigh’.” you slurred, your words dripping with exaggerated seduction as you glanced down at him from Azriel’s shoulder, your attempts at seduction hindered by his fast pace.

Rhys couldn't help but grin at your intoxicated attempts at flirtation, amusement dancing in his eyes. “If you want to have fun with me, you need to sober up, darling,” he replied with a chuckle, his grin widening as he played along with your intoxicated antics, though his gaze held concern beneath the amusement.

Although you were high as fuck you weren’t stupid. You had grown up with Rhys as children of the most powerful people of Prythian. Rhys was an absolute catch and you heard the High Lord had a wicked side to him, but he was someone you hadn’t dared to try.

Yet.

You bit your lips at the idea of him on top of you. Surely he’d be a fun little distraction while your parents were away. Well, anything to get you away from Azriel. He was a real party pooper and you’d speak your mind if he just put you down.

“Wher' ya takin' me? I demand ya put me down, I wasn't finished dancing! Oh, I hate you s’much, just wait ‘til I tell my daddy!”

Azriel snorted at the weak threat,

“Your daddy gave me full permission to keep your ass in line.”

Rhysand winnows everyone to just outside The House of Wind before you can scream. Azriel, with wings spread wide, prepares to fly you up, the movements almost making you vomit. Rhysand and Cassian shout words of luck before flying off to their respective homes.

Azriel dumps your body onto the couch with a bit more force than necessary, his arms folded across his chest as he glares down at you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

“What did you take?” he demands, his deep, comanding voice edged with worry.

You shoot him an annoyed glare, irritated by tonight’s potential cockblocking, and decide to play with him a bit.

“Oh, you know. Just the usual. Coke, heroin, meth, xanax, percs, ecstasy, ketamine, acid and molly,” you respond cheerfully, your words slurring together as you exaggerate the list of substances.

He narrows his eyes, clearly not amused by your attempt at humor, and waits for a more coherent answer.

Rolling your eyes at him, you marvel at how someone can be so uptight.

“Oh, please, take the stick out of your ass and relax,” you retort, your words tinged with sarcasm. “I did shots and smoked mirthroot. And maybe I also took some weird pill, so what?”

You shoot him a challenging look, daring him to continue interrogating you.

“The next time you try to sneak out or do something like this under my watch, I’ll chain you to your fucking bed.” he says coldly.

You shoot him a daring look, refusing to be intimidated. “Chain me up? Careful, Shadowsinger. I might just like that,” you tease, a mischievous glint in your eye.

As Azriel’s jaw clench, he grabs your arms and leads you to your temporary bedroom. Struggling to keep up with his hurried pace, you nearly trip over your own feet, prompting him to scoop you up in his arms.

As Azriel pulls back the covers on your bed and drops you onto the mattress, you shoot him an irritated look before launching into a fit about the poor quality of the bed.

“Seriously?” you complain, gesturing to the flimsy mattress beneath you. “What is this, a-a fucking joke or somethin? I can't sleep on this... thing! I know for a fact that Rhysand doesn’t sleep on this so-called bed. Give me a good room or take me home and guard me there instead. I refuse to spend the night in this offensive excuse for a bed.”

Your frustration is palpable as you express your disdain for the accommodations, unimpressed by the sleeping arrangements.

Azriel's lips quirk into an amused smile as he listens to your out of touch complaints.

“You’ll live,” he taunted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

His tone shifted, becoming more wickedly excited. “And you're going to have to lose that nasty little attitude of yours,” he continued, his voice firm. “I know you haven’t been properly disciplined, like ever, but don’t worry. I’m here to keep your ass in line,” Azriel says with a promising voice.

With a swift motion, Azriel reaches into his shadows and retrieves a bright orange vial containing a mysterious and glowing liquid. Without hesitation, he brings it to your lips, forcing you to drink the bitter concoction.

As you swallow, a worried expression crosses your face, but Azriel sighs and reassures you. He explains that the drink is meant to reverse your intoxication, soothing your concerns. You might have some slight memory loss but you’ll be fine.

“Girl, please. You're not dying on my watch,” Azriel reassures you bluntly before rolling his eyes. “Gods know my reputation would be completely destroyed if people found out I couldn't keep a mouthy little diva alive.”

Before you can retort, he turns on his heel and exits the room. As the door clicks shut, exhaustion washes over you, and you realize just how tired you are. Your head sinks into the disgustingly flat pillow, and the thought of discussing the cheap bed with Rhys can wait until tomorrow.

Right now, all you want to do is sleep.

—

The harsh rays of the sun rudely awaken you, and immediately your mood sours. A throbbing headache accompanies your groggy state as you toss and turn on the stale bed. Confusion washes over you as you take in the unfamiliar smell of the room, the questionable quality of the sheets, and the height of the bed.

This wasn't your bedroom. Where the hell were you?

Sitting up, you curl into a ball, forehead resting on your knees. Your throat is like sandpaper, swallowing feels impossible. The details of last night blur in your mind; right now, all you can focus on is the need for water. Ignoring the mystery of where you are, you struggle to summon the strength to stand.

You grab the edge of the bedpost and wobble before landing backwards on the flat mattress. Without being too sad about not being able to stand up on your own, you just slip back under the covers. You’d just sleep for a few more hours.

“Pathetic.”

A deep, disgusted voice echoes through the room as a dark figure emerges from the shadows. Azriel looks so buff, dressed in a sinfully tight shirt, his wings hanging proudly behind him as he looks down at you with his arms across his chest, dark tattoos decorating rippling muscles.

“How dare you speak to me like that?! Do you know who I am? I should have you punished for this, just wait until my father comes back, you kidnapping son of a bitch.”

“Absolutely pathetic. It’s almost 4 in the afternoon and you’re still in bed?” he scoffs, totally ignoring you.

Irritation fills you as you start to remember yesterday. He had practically kidnapped you from the club to bring you to this dinky place. This was so fucking beneath you and Gods know someone will hear your complaints.

“Stop fucking talking to me. I’m still tired, and your annoying voice isn’t helping,” you retort sharply, your annoyance evident in your tone as you push back against him.

“Sucks to be you, now get up. Your father expects a healthy, happy, safe daughter, and that's what you'll be,” Azriel commands.

You raise your eyebrow challengingly, meeting his gaze head-on. “You really think you're gonna controll me? Daddy said you’re here to guard me not boss over me.”

“I'm not as lenient as your daddy, so yes, I do. As long as you’re under my care, i’m in charge,” he retorts firmly, ripping the comforter off you, leaving you exposed to the chilly air. He then leans down and pick up your curled body up, walking over to the bathroom before he very rudely puts you down.

“Get yourself ready. I’m coming back in exactly 10 minutes,” Azriel states blankly before leaving, leaving you simmering with annoyance.

Despite your irritation, you realize you need a shower and something to eat. To make Azriel's life more difficult, you decide to winnow outside instead of waiting for him after finishing a much needed shower. Why would you need his permission to walk around your own city? If you wanted breakfast, you’d go out and get some before he most likely forced you to drink eggs or whatever he called breakfast.

The sun shines beautifully, birds sing, and everything feels serene as you head back to your own house. This is exactly what you need, just a sunny morning and beautiful day. But suddenly, the clouds darken, the birds go silent, and the air turns chilly. Of course, Azriel stands right in front of you, blocking your path.

“Are you annoying on purpose, or are you actually just stupid? Was I not perfectly clear when I told you to stay put?” Azriel pulls you to the side of the road as he glares. Wow, he really can’t stand you.

“Am I a dog? So what if you did? Listen, I’m going home because I have something called free will and working legs, so excuse you,” you retort, pushing past him defiantly.

He grabs your arm, his grip firm and unyielding. “You’re not going anywhere without me, so I suggest listening.”

“What, you’ll force me to stay? What could you possibly do to make me listen?”

His eyes travel over you, lingering on your chest for a moment. All of a sudden, you were glad you weren’t wearing a bra. “Don’t push me. I have my ways.” he says, his voice low and rough before commanding you to walk infront of him.

As you walk back to your house, you can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you. His words echo in your mind, making you truly wonder: what would he do if you misbehaved?

—

Out of sheer curiosity and perhaps a bit of horniness, you started to annoy Azriel throughout the weeks. Casually picking on him, rolling your eyes, ignoring him. You desperately wanted to know what would happen if you reached his limit. Would he yell, murder or fuck you?

Azriel’s freaky bedroom activities were no secret to anyone in Velaris. You knew his dick made people go insane. It was not strange to hear people who had been pleasured by him go on and on about him.

“He actually tied me up and fucked me. It was the most exciting thing I had ever done!”

“I got bent over and spanked until I couldn’t walk for days!”

“His dick is so big, I thought I was going to choke to death…”

—

Azriel was sitting at your kitchen table, sharpening his knife. The rhythmic sound of metal against stone filled the room as you strolled toward him, dressed in a little black nightgown, hoping to catch his attention.

“Hey, Az,” you purred, trying to sound casual. “What do you think of my outfit?”

He glanced up briefly, his eyes lingering for just a moment before returning to his knife. “It's fine,” he said flatly, not giving much away.

Your eye twitched in annoyance before you leaned against the table. “Just fine? I was hoping for a bit more enthusiasm.”

It was a very, very slutty little gown you had on. Like, if anyone in court found out you were parading around in scraps of fabric that made your tits almost spill over infront of the bastard-born Shadowsinger, there would be extreme consequences.

Yeah. That’s how whoreish you looked.

He sighed, finally setting the knife down. Gods, he was at his limit. Day in and day out, you were doing something new. “It's not my job to comment on your fashion choices. My job is to keep you safe.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a step closer. “But can't you do both? I’m sure a smart, handsome guy like you have room for compliments.” Your tits brushed against his bicep as your nails found his arm.

He narrowed his eyes at the way you stroke his arm with a manicured hand, tilting his head slightly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing. I'm simply bored. Entertain me,” you commanded, hiding your smirk as you stepped back, hands on your hips. Surely, he'd get angry at you ordering him around and finally snap.

Azriel's gaze darkened, but instead of snapping, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “You think ordering me around will get you what you want?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You tilted your head, maintaining eye contact. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing how far I can push you. Will you punish me, Azriel?”

He stood up slowly, closing the distance between you. “Don’t push your luck.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you held your ground, chin lifting defiantly. Just one last push. “I'm not afraid of you, Shadowsinger,” you spat, eyes narrowing. “You’re just hired muscle, here for my protection. There’s nothing you can do to me,” you added, your voice dripping with faux disgust as you look him up and down.

Azriel didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to your bait. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. The calm confidence in his expression only made your blood boil more.

“I understand it now,” he said, his voice low and amused, his tone casual like he had you all figured out. “You want some dick. And since you’re not allowed outside without me, you're not getting any, are you?” His eyes gleamed with mocking amusement, like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

You hated how your pulse quickened, despising even more that his words hit far too close to the truth. “Then let me go outside and fix my problem,” you snapped, lifting your chin in defiance.

Azriel raised a brow, pretending to think it over before shaking his head with a smug grin. “Don’t think so. Who knows what kind of riff-raff you’d drag in here?”

Well, there’s no use hiding it anymore. You huffed, crossing your arms. “Well, if I can’t go out, then you should help me. It’s the least you can do.”

“Is it?” he asked, arms folded, eyebrow arched, fully aware he was in control here.

“Yeah, I’m a woman who has needs.” you said, narrowing your eyes.

Azriel’s smirk deepened, eyes flashing with amusement. “If you want it, you’ll have to beg. And make it real pretty. Let’s see how bad you need it.”

Your anger flared. Who the hell did he think he was talking to? “I’m not begging you for anything,” you snapped, voice sharp.

He shrugged, turning on his heel. “Your problem, not mine. Guess you’ll just have to pleasure yourself. And I know it’s nowhere as nice as just laying down and taking it like a good slut.”

Your eyes widened in lust, hating how much you needed this, hating even more that you had to ask him for it. “Fine! Okay, just-Azriel, please,” you grumbled.

He cupped a hand to his ear, faking confusion. “What? Didn’t quite catch that.”

Your jaw tightened as your thighs rub together. This was really fucking humiliating but you were only a woman and he was a hot man who you wanted to fuck real bad. It was a waste of time trying to play hard to get or act like you didn’t want to get bent over. “I said, Azriel, please fuck me.”

He finally turned around, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he took a step closer. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”

—

His dick is life-altering.

He actually managed to dumb you down, leaving you a drooling, mumbling mess. Your little brain was all mush, all scrambled. You couldn’t formulate anything. All you knew was how good you were feeling.

God, he was really mean but his strokes were even meaner. They were carnal, desperately deep ones. The kind of ones that forces your whole spoiled princess act into the back of your mind.

Wads of milky white was oozing out of your swollen cunt as Azriel took his time appreciating the way you were tightening around nothing, just throbbing for more of him.

“C’mon, p-please don’t stop.” You manage to whine out for him, pushing your hips back to him in an attempt to get him back in.

Azriel’s cock is disciplinarian. It’s fat and veiny and slides right back into your needy cunt. He bottoms out with a grunt as hot cum drips down your weak legs.

For what seemed like forever, he was breaking down you walls of defiance and turning you into this obedient and submissive thing.

He leaves you cross-eyed as he starts to drag his thick cock against your sensitive walls, deliciously fucking you. “remind me again, what do you not do?,” he asks in a husky voice.

The slight curve of his dick hits your g-spot deliciously, it makes your arms give out so your whole chest is scraping against your pricey cotton sheets, pebbled nipples getting a real nice stimulation.

“oh my godd, fuuuuck, right there, r- right thereeee, Az.”

You couldn’t have answered him if someone had hold a gun to your head, there was too much pleasure, too much of his big dick just filling you out so fucking good.

“aht, aht. we’re not doing that. don’t go all dumb on me now, I want answers.” He jackhammers into you, sneaking a hand down your pants as he rubs circles on your clit as the other hand grabs your throat and pulls your back flush against his chest.

“u-um, i’m—” your eyes are rolling into the back of your head. this new position is too deep, your cervix feels every jab of his cock, every intentional stroke.

“That’s not really an answer, dummy. I’ll ask you one last time, or I’m leaving you like this,” he warns, voice low and dangerously firm as he slaps your sensitive pussy once, twice even three times until you’re not as hazy. “What do you not do around me?

Your breath catches, frustration mingling with need as your head turns to look at him. “N-No! Don’t leave—fuck,” you stammer, heat flooding your face. “Um, no attitude. A-and I listen to you! I swear I will—just let me cum again, please.” The words come out so desperate, trembling on your lips. Any sort of self-respect just flew out of the window.

Azriel’s lips curl into a slow, wicked smile, dark amusement flickering in his gaze. “sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice smooth as silk, “you say that now. But I’ve seen that mouth of yours. a sharp little thing, always pushing your luck. How do i know you’ll be a good girl?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes wide, feeling utterly undone. “I’ll be good, s-so fuckin’ good for you Azriel,” you whisper, breath hitching. “I promise. I’m never gonna disobey you, just p-please,” your eyes wide with submission, with a promise you’re willing to let go for him.

Azriel’s breath stutters, his heart thudding harder in his chest. He was only supposed to put you in your place, nothing more but the way you instantly gave in, soft and eager, promising to be good for him, made his control slip.

His jaw clenches as something twists deep in his stomach, hot and restless. What the hell was this? Just one look into your fucked out eyes and he wanted to keep you as his forever.

“Careful,” he mutters, voice rough and strained. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m not sure I’ll stop there.”

Before you can say anything he flips you around so you fall onto your back before putting you into the meanest mating press, your knees are pushed back, legs dangling over his shoulders and all you can do is hold onto his tattooed biceps.

Your whiney moans filled the room as his weight pressed into you, thrusting in and out in a fast pace. Azriel’s view is unbeatable. You’re on display — hair messed up, heated cheeks, teary eyes rolling back and a pink tongue damn near lolling out in pleasure.

He is fucking you so stupid.

he’s holding you in place and using you as he pleases, spreading your legs so that his long, thick cock reaches so deep inside you. you’re so helplessly on edge under him and so fucking happy.

“gonna cum pretty for me, yeah? gonna give me what I want? gonna let me cum in that tight, pretty pussy?” you don’t answer them because you will- and he’ll make sure that you do.

“Yes, i will! P-please… t’s too much! I can’t, ahhh—” you tighten around his cock before your whole body shakes as that tight coil finally snaps and you go limp.

Azriel’s hips don’t slow down at all, his groans and crude words filling the room as static noise plays in your ears.

“Cum inside, please. Need it inside.”

Your mindless babble, erotic, fucked out voice and nails digging into his biceps is enough to make him shoot ropes of cum inside, his weight settling over you.

You can’t even catch your breath before he flips you over and let’s you know you’ve barely started the night.

—

“Honey, we’re home!”

Your mother’s voice barely registers — not when Azriel’s lips are moving against yours, slow and commanding. His warm hand traces down your back while the other grips your hair, anchoring you firmly against him. Everything else fades away; it’s just his touch, his presence, and the heat spreading through you.

Maybe you should’ve gone down to greet your parents after their long trip but right now you couldn’t care less. You were sooo into making out with Azriel that everything else became background noise.

Azriel pulls back first, and you let out a frustrated little whine.

“No, no, nooo—why are you pulling away?? Keep going, kiss me again,” you pout, trying to close the space between you again. But all he does is stick two fingers in your mouth.

He tilts his head, a smug smile tugging at his lips before he presses a loving kiss to your forehead instead. Thst was something he started doing a fee months ago, forehead kisses. and you loved the way it made you feel like a princess.

“No whining, baby. You know better by now. We’re going down to your parents because they’re back and you’ll behave, yes?” His fingers slip out after he explains and you nod. Sometimes you needed a physical gag instead of just shutting up and it was a comfort knowing the way you ran your mouth.

Your lips part, but no sass slips out, just a breathy little exhale as his words settle over you. He’s right. He always is, and you hate how much that makes your stomach twist with heat. Damn it, you were down bad for him.

Azriel had spoiled you rotten in some ways but stripped away your brattiness and horrible attitude in others. You never ever speak to him like you used to. The man had you under his control. It didn’t take much — just a firm hand and that piercing gaze when you got out of line. Just one look and you usually stopped whatever you were doing.

Still, he indulged you more often than not. And gods, you lived for the praise when you behaved. Azriel loved it when you listened to him, when that submissive side came out and you completely gave yourself up to him.

It was wild how, in just a year, the bitter tension between you had melted into something far more dangerous — a possessive, all-consuming love that neither of you planned on letting go of anytime soon.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go downstairs then. But don’t touch me, my parents don’t know. Or should i tell them?”

Azriel arches a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Tell them, huh?” His voice dips, teasing. “Go ahead, princess. Let them know exactly who keeps you in line.”

Your face flushes hot. “Shut up,” you grumble, swatting at his chest. “I'm serious. No touching, or l'Il-”

“You'll what?” he cuts in smoothly, leaning down just enough to make your breath hitch. “Whine about it later when you're begging for me to touch you again?”

Your glare falters, and Azriel's smirk only grows before he kisses your plush, swollen lips again.

“Thought so,” he murmurs, brushing past you toward the stairs. “Come on, baby. Let's play nice for mommy and daddy, hmm?”

You walk after him, muttering under your breath, “You're the worst.” Words that earns you a slap to your ass.

—

“So, babygirl, how have you been? I assume The Shadowsinger treated you well?” your dad pulls you into a warm hug, his tone light but curious.

You glance at Azriel, who stands tall and composed, though his sharp gaze flickers to yours. Now, you could either lie or tell the boring truth.

“Sure,” you say with a playful smirk, “he was a real pain in the ass at first—an overbearing shadow who insisted on following my every damn move. But… he took care of me nonetheless.”

Your dad chuckles. “That right, Shadowsinger? Well, you do seem calmer. Did the Shadowsinger set you straight, honey?” His eyes gleam with curiosity. The wild daughter had finally calmed down? The day no one thought would come was here at last.

Azriel’s lips curl into a small, knowing smile. “Yes, Lord L/N. Though,” his gaze shifts to you, dark and heavy with unspoken promises, “it seems I may not have set her completely straight just yet.”

Your father laughs, oblivious to the double meaning, but your heart races. That subtle edge in Azriel’s voice, the warning gleam in his eyes—you were so going to pay for that later.

And gods, it would be worth every second.

535 notes · View notes

dollypopup · 1 year ago

Text

"Colin had no trauma related to love and self worth like Anthony. Anthony watched his father die, watched his mum turn into a ghost of a person, and didn't want that for his wife"

Bestie. . .they have. . .the same dad???? They have the same mum???? Literally all of the Bridgerton children except Hyacinth watched Edmund die? They all experienced Violet's immense sorrow? He and Violet obviously have a very close connection and so of course he saw her wilting (plant pun, if you were wondering) or at least knew about it and has responded with being particularly gentle with her?

Trauma shaped all the Bridgertons. Colin was a young boy when his dad passed and everyone in the family experienced an immense grief and, unlike his brothers, Colin was twelve, he wasn't the heir, he wasn't the spare, and had no responsibility but to go to school (sent off elsewhere after his dad passed away, thus disconnected from his circle of support and family) and figure out how to be a man from strangers and rakes. Literally no one had space for his grief and sensitivity? He even cries alone in his bedroom in Season 1 and stops talking about his travels after he gets made fun of in Season 2 and claims that hardly anyone replied to his letters in Season 3 like what do you mean he has no trauma related to love?

Colin was right there on the steps watching his father cradled in his mother's arms as she wept over his sudden passing. Of course he has trauma related to love? Colin's entire arc was about how he only felt he could be cared about if he was pleasing the people around him or being useful in some way and putting on a mask and a persona so he wouldn't be hurt by how much no one else wanted the real, messy, authentic him around? His mum and dad lived a love story and Colin watched it fall to pieces just as all the Bridgertons did, he just internalized it differently. His entire family was grieving so he decided to be useful by offering levity where he could, especially as the brother raised predominately with his sisters, Eloise and Daphne.

And yet despite the fact that this was such a huge tragedy of his childhood, Colin still is incredibly emotionally available and as soon as he realized what he felt for Penelope was romantic, he takes initiative and he cuts into her dance with Debling and he chases after her carriage so he can confess that he can't stop thinking about her and he's not at all angry at her, she doesn't vex him, it isn't frustration at her- it's torture because he is so damn besotted with her that he dreams of her and the kiss they shared haunts him but it's torture he embraces because he's a romantic soul who is incredibly emotionally brave and he cares about Penelope more than he cares about his ego or image or past hurts.

Give my man his flowers.

#colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton #polin #i stan 1 (one) man #sorry i saw this and. . .y'all bonkers #out here acting like they're literally not the same family? like what????.

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viharbinger · 5 months ago

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can i request a fred weasley x slytherin (maybe someone from black family) reader? thank u so much!!

๋࣭ ⭑ The Lion and the Snake

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Reader

plotline: reader is a Slytherin with a death eater family. You're kinda disconnected from them and gives valuable information to the order of the phoenix, letting you stay at Grimmauld Place— where the notorious troublemaker Fred Weasley is. not to mention his giant crush on you.

A/n: I would like to do Fred x reader from the black family but I can't because I think it's kinda weird I'm sorrey 😭

Warnings: mentions of blood and violence and also it's a bit rushed sorry I was writing until 5am and didn't even sleep plus it's a school night😭💔

Grimmauld Place was where you and Fred Weasley met each other for the first time. Surely as fellow Hogwarts students, you've met each other before once or twice, right? Nope! You were part of the Slytherin house and he was in Gryffindor and shared only one class together.

But you've definitely seen him before for sure, whenever he and his identical twin were getting detention or losing house points very loudly in class. Even when you've been ushered out of the library when it was starting to get late at night, you'd notice the twins sneaking off somewhere from their tower.

They'd never taken the initiative to talk to you, though, as they never really needed to. But Fred does notice the way you've been targeted for your family name. Even Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson might try to talk with you to join forces but you just ignore them everytime, earning some foul expressions in return.

Yet he can't seem to ignore the fact that you're breathtaking. He can't believe it himself that he's thinking of you in such a way.. And he definitely lingered his eyes on you a little too long one time during the Yule Ball. Eventually, he started asking people around what you're like, what you're up to if you left the class abruptly or who you went to the Yule Ball with— which was weeks ago.

He could never catch you alone though. You would somehow always blend into the crowd and disappear or just be too busy with something else to be talking to anyone.

Fast forward, you spent the last few months sharing information with your favourite teacher, Professor Lupin on some information about the death eaters' plans you heard from your family which granted you a spot in Grimmauld Place. Your family isn't exactly the kindest folk and will likely not even notice you gone for a whole summer.

Everything Fred's ever thought about you became old and he could learn everything about you all over again— properly.

"Fred, right?" That was probably the first time he's ever heard your voice. Well, the first time he's ever heard it clearly because he'd only ever hear you softly whisper questions to the teachers privately about upcoming tests. And he wouldn't lie... He liked your voice. He liked the way you said his name.

"The one and only." He jests, sticking a hand out for you to shake. You beamed up at him and proudly shake his hand. He had an eruption of butterflies all over his stomach there, but painfully ignored it.

"How come I've never met you in Hogwarts?" He questions, even though he perfectly knows why. The question colors your face into a darker hue, "Well, I just didn't really like talking to people." You shrugged.

"Not even me? I'm sure me and my brother have been quite the topic is every conversation these days." He boasts, to which you laugh at. "No.. I've just been a little busy with my own studies is all." A little busy? He's been trying to catch you at every opportunity! "Are you sure you're a Slytherin? Seems like you're an overachieving Ravenclaw to me." He teases, peering over the books you held up to your chest.

"I plan to do something big in the future." You smiled before walking off. That's definitely the most he's ever heard you say in one sitting. Has something changed you over the summer or what? Not that he doesn't like it of course.

Despite your efforts in telling the Order some truths and details, Molly wouldn't let you in on the meetings because you were too young. Like Harry, Fred and the rest of the group, they were frustrated about it!

๋࣭ ⭑

After a quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy couldn't keep it in himself to make fun of the Weasleys. He got a little too far and started insulting Molly and the aftermath of it wasn't pretty at all. Draco got beat up by George and Harry, Fred had to be restrained by his teammates, and Umbridge started being unfair again.

She took away Fred, George and Harry's brooms and positions in their quidditch team permanently. This earned a foul mood from Fred the entire week, which even got you concerned.

You finally got him to alone one day outside the Gryffindor tower when you were on your way down to the library. "Hello, Fred. Fancy a study with me at the library?" All of a sudden, his bad mood seemed to falter. But he hates the idea of studying now that he's realised his dreams, honestly— which was to open up the joke shop with George. Not to mention he was planning to cook up some more products to ruin Umbridge's day at the moment. But this was the first time you've ever invited him somewhere and he wasn't going to say no!

At the library, you sat side by side sharing a book, awfully close to each other. "I've heard you lost your broom and can't play for Gryffindor anymore. I'm sorry about that." You whispered, not looking up from the book. "Sorry for what? It just gives me more reason to need to ruin Umbridge's life." He grinned, completely forgetting about the book in front of him.

"I saw you earlier, you looked like you were throwing daggers behind Malfoy's head—" You were about to say but was cut off by his words. "Let's not talk about that right now. I want to know more about you." He says suddenly, earning an eyebrow raise from you.

"What do you want to know?" You eyed him carefully, earning a nervous feeling from him. "I just wanna know what my favourite Slytherin is up to these days." He shrugged casually. "I've been busy reading up on the syllabus lately and decided to watch your game a few days ago." You start off.

"Fred, you've got to do something about her! She's driving me mad! I could barely take enough from the other Slytherins, let alone her!" You suddenly exclaim before he could form up a response to the first thing you said. He's never heard you be so worked up over something, earning a sharp glare from Madame Pince the librarian.

"Okay, okay. I was planning to anyway. Just hold on, because me and George are gonna give her hell." He whispers to you, earning a lovely smile on your face which he wants permanently etched onto his mind. "Promise me that. I don't want to see Ron get his broom taken away either." You held up your pinky to him.

Ignoring the temperature rising in his face, he hooks his pinky around yours. "I'll do it for your sake so you don't end up in Azkaban for something worse." He jokes so you wouldn't notice how giddy that childish pinky promise got to him.

๋࣭ ⭑

Weeks go by and the school was taken over by Umbridge. Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy were giving you a hard time everyday for some reason. One day, you spoke out of turn with Pansy when she started probing you on why you never talk to anyone, earning a hard slap on the face.

Then, came the blood out your nose. No amount of tissues could help you out then. As onlookers go by, Fred was walking around with George when he notices your never ending nose bleed. He ushers George away before you could look up at them, earning a smug look from the other twin.

"What happened? You alright there?" He immediately sits by you, patting your back. "Pansy." You grunted, keeping the tissues over your nose. "That slithering...!" He was about to stand up but you pulled him down.

"Shut up and help me. I know you can fix this, that's why you're here, right?" You glared at him, your innocent and shy facade seemed to be replaced by a true Slytherin at the moment.

"Oh. Right." He quickly pulls out a purple coloured sweet from his pockets and hands it over to you. A few seconds went by and the iron taste in your tongue and blood were finally fading. "Perhaps I didn't take care of myself properly these days to be bleeding this much over a slap..." You muttered, fidgeting the wrapper and tissues in your fingers.

"Maybe you should put down the books for a change. I know our exams are coming up but you could use a little relaxation." He smoothly slides his arm over your shoulder, inching closer to you. "Your product really worked! You must be really clever to be able to pull this off. Is this what your mum gets so worked up about at Grimmauld?" You exclaim, examining the wrapper closely.

Perhaps the praises he was getting from you was making his stomach do flips. He was up close and personal with you now, to tell you something over the noise of the students walking by.

"Well... Okay, I'll let you in on a little secret. I—" He was cut off by a magical force that pulled you and Fred apart. "Remember the rules, children!" Umbridge tuts with her wand out, and walks past you both with her loud heels echoing in the hallway.

That interaction certainly made you both blush a dark hue, even though you weren't about to do anything... Were you? "I'll be seeing you then. Thank you for... This." You stood up to clear the tension, waving the wrapper to show what you meant. "Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it." He plays it off as you walked away.

He sighs and brushes his hair and mentally curses that god awful Umbridge. Why did she have to come by just then?

๋࣭ ⭑

Fred and George just played the craziest prank on Umbridge. They disrupted the O.W.Ls with their charmed fireworks- beautiful fireworks. They have always said they wanted to do something outside of their academics, so they wouldn't really care if they were expelled.

Their act of bravery became legend, they were now even conversation expressions. Students were now pulling pranks on Umbridge as well and saying "I'm about to pull a Weasley!" It was really funny. But you never got to see the twins after that because you were still stuck in school with your nose in books, dreadfully waiting for the next holiday break to see them.

The most dreadful day for the Order came. Sirius Black passed away from the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. And the announcement of Voldemort returning for good was grim. Everyone was dreadful and sad for weeks.

However, the opening of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes brought smiles upon faces and yours too. You've finally got the chance to meet your favourite Weasley twin.

"Thought I'd never see you come by, L/n." Fred says, puffing out his chest to show off his new outfit. "Fred, this store is amazing! And you're looking dapper." You gasp, looking him up and down.

"Oh, you make me blush." He plays it off. "Can we have a chat? I think George can handle himself for a little bit, no?" You tugged on his sleeve, slowly pulling him towards the entrance. "You mean I can get away from him? Don't mind If I do." He laughs, looking at George for a moment before following you outside.

The outside of the store was depressing. Not many shops were open and the mood was different compared to the inside. Ever since the attacks from the death eaters and Voldemort, everyone's been too scared to be outside.

You hugged Fred tightly the moment you got him out. "I missed you. Why couldn't you wait to get expelled till it was our exams?" You whined, swaying him back and forth.

"If I knew you'd miss me this much, I wouldn't have done it." He pats your back, dropping his head onto yours. "I loved those fireworks you did, it was brilliant! Smart! And your store... I can't believe you're really making it out there." You gush, looking at the store.

"Yeah, well... Me and George just thought people needed a laugh these days." He shrugs it off like as if his insides aren't fluttering right now. Has the weeks that had gone by while he was gone made you even more gorgeous?

"I think you're amazing with what you do, Fred." You lowered your voice. Was it just him, or was the street getting really quiet, too? The proximity between the two of you was getting closer. "I just did what I thought was right." He pretends to not notice the warmth from your body being so close to him.

"I'm sorry but would you mind if we... Kissed?" He quickly says, clearly frustrated by how painful the tension was. "Not at all." You replied, your face just inches from his. And the gap closed.

You were kissing... You and Fred were kissing! You couldn't believe it yourself. You reckon it was the quiet street driving you mad to start kissing this troublemaker. Your left hand were clenching his hair, the other on his cheek. His was on either side of face, like as if you'll run away if he lets go. The kiss was so soft and sweet, he wanted more. But you had to let go when George called out for Fred to come back.

"I'm not done with you, yeah? I know you've graduated, so you can certainly come back here anytime. So.... Come back here, soon?" He looks at your eyes with so much love. "Why are you talking to me like I'm not already dating you?Of course I will." You joked, beaming up at him before slowly letting go of him.

For the rest of the day, Fred was buzzing with excitement and excitedly promoted products to his customers with even more enthusiasm. George thought he's lost his mind.

Like and reblog to help a girl out!

#fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred x reader #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #george weasley #harry potter #harry potter x reader #fred x you #fred x y/n #fred weasley x reader

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cutielando · 9 months ago

Text

i worry | lando norris

synopsis: in which you’re both worried about him

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: depressed!lando norris x worried!reader

my masterlist

Ever since he could remember, Lando has always been a vocal advocate of how important mental health was to him, always encouraging people to get the help they need and not feel at all embarrassed about needing it and asking in the first place.

It was one of the many things that you loved about him, how passionate he was about making sure his words would encourage people all around to get better.

But that also meant that he sometimes forgot to take care of himself. The last couple of races before the 2024 summer break were very tough on Lando, both physically and mentally, but they especially took a toll on his mental health.

You had seen it ever since Silverstone, after McLaren had clearly fucked his strategy and jeopardized yet another chance at a win, he was heartbroken. Hungary was especially hard for you to watch, especially because you were in the garage when everything went down.

For days after, you couldn’t get the radios out of your head, the way the team had spoken to Lando, basically emotionally blackmailed him into giving up his position to Oscar. Lando’s broken expression when he finally made his way back from the trophy ceremony; his eyes searching for you in the crowd of personnel he couldn’t bear to see at that moment.

It was a very hard pill to swallow, especially in the days following the race, once everything had really settled down into his mind, once he had time to talk it through with the team as well. He never should have been put in that position, and the team knew they fucked up, but that still didn’t help how your boyfriend was feeling.

Let down by the people in whose hands he puts his life in every race weekend, by the people he trusts with his life and who have helped him make all of his dreams come true. He was let down by the people he considered a second family. And he didn’t know how to feel about that.

With the summer break, you figured that he would finally disconnect from everything, find himself again and recharge his batteries for the remainder of the season.

But then came the videos from Grill the Grid.

You always watched the videos, finding comfort and laughing wholeheartedly at the competitiveness all the drivers displayed in such meaningless little games, it was heartwarming for everybody watching.

However, this time, that wasn’t the case.

From the very beginning of the first video, you had noticed something was off with Lando, in every single segment that he was in. He was quiet, he didn’t have the energy he always showed when doing the challenges. He seemed like it was the last place where he wanted to be, he was doing something he would rather not even hear about. At least, that’s what his demeanor showed.

Seeing the way Lando was through the entire video, it only added to your worries.

You had just touched down in Greece with a couple of your friends, and you were laying on the soft bed of your hotel room while Lando was taking a shower. He hadn’t heard what you were watching, he probably would have stopped you from even clicking on the video. He didn’t want you to see him like that, he didn’t want to make you worry even more than you already were.

Pausing the video and putting your phone on the bed next to you, you sat there, chewing your bottom lip while thinking things over in your head. Should you ask him about it? Should you just ignore it?

No, you had to check up on him. You knew him better than anyone, and you knew he tended to bury his feelings deep down and just shut everyone out whenever he was feeling down. And sadly, you feared that was happening right before your eyes, and you hadn’t noticed until then.

You hadn’t been waiting on the bed for long before the bathroom door opened and Lando walked out, a towel hanging low on his hips and water dripping from his freshly-washed curls.

“Hey” he said, glancing your way briefly before he made his way to your shared walk-in closet to find some underwear and clothes to sleep in.

You smiled at him, your eyes following his every move. You went back to chewing your lip, your mind overwhelmed with dozens of thoughts attacking you at high speeds. You were itching to just blurt it out, make him sit down and talk to you about whatever it was that was bothering him.

But you knew you couldn’t do that. He would never open up if it felt like you were pressuring him into doing so. You were aware of that, but you also knew that he desperately needed to talk to someone, and you preferred that someone be you.

“Hey babe?” you called out, waiting for a hum in reply before you continued. “Do you think we could have a little talk?” you called out, your eyes stuck on your fingers while you waited for a response.

There was silence for a couple of minutes before Lando emerged back into the bedroom, now freshly dressed in a pair of boxers and a white T-shirt. His eyebrows were furrowed, worry settling into the pit of his stomach.

“Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly, taking a seat next to you on the bed and resting his hand on your knee.

You sat up and crossed your legs, shuffling closer to him and taking his hand in yours.

Looking up at him and admiring his beautiful eyes, you noticed the turmoil going around behind his irises, making you smile sadly at the poor boy in front of you.

“You know they posted the first Grill the Grid video today, right?” he nodded, still looking at you eagerly. “Well, I was watching it, because you know I like the little challenges they make you all do. And I couldn’t help but notice a few things about it” you carefully worded your ideas, trying not to seem like you were attacking him in any way.

“What do you mean? What things?” he asked, the worry in his stomach growing stronger and stronger.

You sighed, looking down at your joined hands on your lap.

“Baby, are you okay?” you asked, looking back up at him with worried eyes.

His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, his heart suddenly beating out of his chest. He was okay, right? He had to be okay, he didn’t have time to be anything but okay.

“I’m fine, why are you asking? Babe, what’s going on?” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’m worried about you, Lando. The person I saw in that video is not you, baby. You didn’t smile once during the video and I know how much you love filming Grill the Grid. It looked like you didn’t even want to be there, baby” you explained, shuffling closer to him until your knees were touching.

Lando had since looked away from you, his gaze stuck on the fuzzy carpet at the foot of the bed.

He knew you were bound to notice he wasn't himself. As much as he had tried to hide it and pretend like nothing was wrong, he knew he couldn’t hide from you for much longer.

Truth is, he was tired. Tired of always pretending everything was okay, tired lt making it seem like he was positive and trusting in his team, a team which had let him down in the last weeks more than anybody else in his entire life.

He couldn’t pretend anymore, he didn’t want to pretend that he was okay when everything inside of him was screaming for help.

“Yeah, I’m worried about me too. I was hoping I’d get better before you noticed” he mumbled, chuckling sadly as he took your hand in his and started playing with your bracelets.

Your eyes widened, worry sinking even deeper into the pit of your stomach. You had so desperately wanted him to tell you what he was feeling, that everything you had thought you had seen was in your head, but he did the exact opposite. He had confirmed every painful suspicion you had had, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about it.

“Talk to me, baby. What’s going on?” you urged him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He sighed, biting his lip. He really thought he would have had more time to prepare for the conversation, but he might as well just tell you everything now. It would make it easier on him.

Looking up at you, he turned around so he was facing you, making you sit up straight and look at him worriedly.

“Truth to be told, I haven’t been doing all that well these past couple of weeks, and it’s got nothing to do with you or our relationship” he said, putting some of your concerns to rest. “Ever since Miami, everything’s been feeling half-done, or thrown away in a way. Max took me out in Russia, the team fucked up my strategy at Silverstone, they made me give up my win in Hungary, they fucked everything up in Belgium. I just don’t understand why they’re behaving like this” he confessed, making your heart break a little.

It was extremely disappointing for you to see how let down Lando felt by his team, a team that he considered to be his second family. He had dedicated his entire Formula 1 career to make sure McLaren would become great again, and now that it was finally happening, he and Oscar were taking the brunt of it, and he wasn’t okay with that.

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry you feel this way. I know how tough things can be, and I wish you'd told me sooner. I hate knowing how much you were hurting and I wasn’t there to comfort you” you said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and bringing him into a side hug.

“I didn’t realize how much it was bothering me until the summer break began, you know. I finally had some free time to think about everything, and I don’t like the conclusions I’ve drawn” he said, his voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

“And what are those, baby?” you urged him on, knowing he needed to get everything off his chest before he truly felt relieved.

He sighed, changing his position so he was now laying down on the bed with his head in your lap, your fingers almost immediately latching onto his curls.

“I’ve given them my entire career, I’ve stuck with them for such a long time and I signed an extension for even more years, and yet they seem to forget about all of that. Even when everyone was telling me to look elsewhere, when I got offers from Red Bull, I never even thought about leaving the team. I just sometimes wish they would show me the gratitude and respect I think I deserve after sticking with them for so long” he explained, shutting his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of your hands playing with his hair.

You bit your lower lip, nodding softly as you stared off into the distance.

“I understand how you feel, and I wish there was more that I could do to help you. But I think you just need to disconnect from everything during this break, like not even think about racing at all for the entire month. You need a break, spend some time with me and your family, enjoy just living your life for a little and then you get back with a fresh mind” you suggested, your other hand cupping his cheek.

He hummed, but eventually nodded.

“You’re right. I just want to spend some time alone with you, I haven’t been able to just enjoy having you with me these past couple of weeks and I need to make it up to you” he said, opening his eyes and giving you a little smile.

You smiled back at him, leaning down and pressing your lips against his.

And even though you knew you and Lando still had a long way to go until he would finally feel content, you were determined to get through this.

Together.

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