#[dawn voice] please my nerves can’t take this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jar0fhoney · 2 months ago

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PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 (NSFW) / PART 4 /

PART FIVE (NSFW)

Warning: Mentions of Pregnancy and virginity. piv.

You started Sunday the same way you always did. Wake up before dawn, start breakfast for you and Ma, stare out the window and think about the list of chores you could never keep up with.

“It’s a beautiful morning!” Your mother shuffled past your open door towards the kitchen, “Are you sure I can’t just handle all the work in the field today? Won’t you want to relax before your friend arrives?”

“Mother, please do not blow this out of proportion.” You scolded her light-heartedly, “I’m just going to do my work as usual, and when he stops by I’ll take a break-”

“My baby is getting courted by a big strong orc~” She sang out to you. You followed her to the kitchen. “How did you know he’s courting me?”

“So he is courting you.” She swayed back and forth in front of the hearth, throwing bits of kindling onto the fire.

“Well- I-”

“Y/n, don’t you remember. When I told you about the family that lived in the neighboring plot. The wife told me so much about how strange orc courting was, especially with her being human, and-”

“You didn’t tell me it was a half-orc family…”

She turned to you with a devious smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to know about a half-orc family.” “MA!” You grabbed an apple from the table (a bright red one that matched the color of your face) and ran out the door. You weren’t really mad at her, but this entire situation was so out of your comfort zone. The only experience you ever really had with being pursued was desperately avoiding Milo for the past two years.

You glanced at the sundial in the garden. Three hours. You had three hours to try and get some work done in the field and shake off the nerves.

The tomatoes were a mess. No wonder, this was a corner of the field that had been sorely neglected this season. The sun was climbing higher, and the heat of its rays were beginning to lick the back of your neck. What time was it anyways?

“SO NICE TO MEET YOU- OH YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE!”

Your mothers voice was loud enough to carry all the way to your little corner in the tomato patch. You shot to your feet, craning your neck to see her enthusiastically fawning over a slightly nervous Khargaad. You could hear him nervously chuckling as the two exchanged words.

Well, might as well go save him. You looked down at your work clothes covered in grass stains and mud. Hair was sticking to the back of your sweaty neck. Gross. Probably didn’t smell pretty either.

Your mother caught you out of the corner of her eye and pointed excitedly, “THERE SHE IS!”

You cringed. Gods she was making all this fuss and you looked like you just crawled out of a ditch.

“Hello! I see you met Ma.” You were trying to casually wipe the mix of dirt and sweat from your face, wading over to them through the field. He felt his heart skip a bit when you got closer. You smelled so earthy. And the musk of your sweat was… it could drive him feral.

He started imagining all the ways he could steal you away and worship you. Fill you. Taste you.

“Um… Khargaad?”

He jolted out of his sinful haze, “I couldn’t show up empty handed.” He thrust a basket into your arms. It was laden with fancy imported fruits. “This- This is too much. This must have cost-”

“Hush now,” his voice was like warm honey, “I hunt big game, I can afford it.” He had a cocky little smirk on his face. You thanked him, motioning to follow you into the cottage.

He looked back at your mom one more time, “It was so nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

Your first lessons together went just as well as predicted. By the end he was properly frustrated, arms crossed and everything.

“The letters. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s all… mixed up.”

“Let’s just end it here for today.”

He was so cute like this. All flustered.

He stood up from his seat, being careful to crouch as he easily exceeded the height of the ceiling. “Alrighty, let’s get to work.” He crossed the room in one long stride, pulling his shirt over his head. He looked strong, but not in the way statues are with their lean bodies and taught chiseled muscles. He looked like a man who ate well and worked hard. Your eyes wandered to the slight love handles that peaked over the waistband of his trousers. Gods you were no better than a man, thinking about how bad you wanted to feel him in your hands.

He glanced behind his shoulder, “Where first?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Khargaad.”

“Do you think I’m going to just leave with all this work to be done?”

He followed you like an excited puppy to the tomato patch you had been working on. You had tried to tell him that he didn’t need to waste the rest of his day helping with this. But he knew he didn’t need to. He wanted to. And who was going to stop him? Certainly not you.

He started on one end, and you the other, working slowly until you met in the middle. By the end, your hands were red and scratched up from pulling the thistle weeds. Of course, Kharghaad’s were so calloused that it was like he had a pair of gloves on. He gave a little gasp when he saw your sore fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything…” He scooped your small hands into his, as delicate as you would pick up a fresh baby bird.

Every time he touched you it was like this great release. Your mother, as loving as she was, never quite developed a touchy-feely nature. You were so used to it fleeting as soon as it was there. Quick handshakes, brushing against someone in the market. You craved physical touch.

So when Khargaad didn’t let go of your hands. When he held them so carefully and tenderly. So deliberately. You found yourself trying to memorize every little second of the moment.

“I’ll have to buy you gloves.” He muttered, picking out the little needles with surprising dexterity. He took his canteen and went to rinse off the skin. “I can wash my own hands, Khargaad.” You chuckled.

“But I want to,” He blurted out with immediate embarrassment, “Sorry, I guess you could say it’s an orc thing? It’s sorta like… we’re very communal. There’s no reason to do much of anything alone, if you think about it…” He sort of trailed off like he was getting ahead of himself. He paused.

“I hope I'm not smothering you. Maybe humans aren’t like that-” He went to let go of your hands, and a part of you cried out inside. You were tired of trying to play this stoic lone wolf character. It wasn’t who you were. It’s not who any of us are. We all need each other.

“Please, don’t stop…” You whispered to him, thrusting your hands back into his. You uttered the magic words. The words he had been waiting for. He pulled you into his chest. It didn’t matter how gross, hot, and sweaty the two of you were. Or that your mother was most definitely watching joyfully from the kitchen window. Nothing mattered. “Can we go somewhere?” His voice was muffled as he whispered into the top of your head. He was taking long deep sighs, taking in your scent.

“Please…” The need in your voice was palpable. He didn’t waste another moment, leading you to the forest behind your property. “Khargaad… the road is that way.” You motioned behind yourself. “I know a quicker way.” He glanced back at you with that sweet little smirk on his face.

Once past the treeline, the soft light of dusk struggled to breach the overhead foliage. You walked together for some time, before the sound of running water bubbled ahead. He had led you to a little clearing, where in the middle stood a circular style tent. A creek babbled away off to the side. The moon was full and provided plenty of light for you to take it all in. “Do you live here?”

He nodded, looking down at you expectantly for approval. You grinned, “It’s lovely.”

He snaked a strong arm around your waste, pulling you in. His other hand cupped the back of your head, tilting your face up to his. For a moment he hovered over you, as if waiting for your permission. You reached up to cup his face, thumbing over one of the tusks jutting out of his mouth.

His lips met yours. It started slow, like sipping on a glass of fine wine. Then it was hungry. Like you had both been starved. You were getting drunk off of the needy little grunts he was making, pulling you in flush with his body. You could feel him through his trousers, and it startled you out of your stupor a bit. You hadn’t been with anyone before, and it was bound to happen sooner or later, but this was a bit more than you ever imagined.

It was almost like he sensed your tension, pulling away to look into your eyes, “Let’s get clean.” He had brought his thumb up to caress over your cheek, planting a small peck before jogging to his tent. Watching him disappear under the flap, your mind raced. What if you weren’t ready? What if he’s not patient?

He bounded out towards the stream, beckoning you over. He started to frown as you got closer, like he could smell the apprehension coming off of you, “Do you need to go slower? Do you want to go home? Nothing has to happen. Nothing at all. You are in charge.”

He started unlacing the ties of his trousers. You instinctually looked away, giving him privacy he clearly didn’t need. With the sound of water sloshing you looked back at him submerged up to his sternum. You approached the water’s edge, looking down into the little bubbles churning in the current. “Hey… what’s wrong?” He waded over to the edge, leaning onto the grassy bank. There wasn’t any aire of seduction in his voice, just one of genuine tenderness.

You sucked it up and opened your mouth, “I’ve never done this before…”

“With an orc?”

“No like… I’ve never done this before… ever.” You winced as the words came out. You were a grown adult, this conversation shouldn’t feel embarrassing. But it did nonetheless.

“And so you don’t want to do this?” He didn’t seem fazed at all by the information. “No!” You yelped out a little too enthusiastically, “No- I mean, yes. Yes I do want to. I want you.”

You started to pull at the ties of your shirt, face so flushed it was probably glowing red. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You ripped the shirt off your head like pulling off a bandaid, exposing your chest to the warm summer air. You went to fiddle with the strings of your work pants. He still didn’t look away, and you didn’t ask him to.

And there you were, clothed only in moonlight. Khargaad thought, maybe the moon had come out just for you tonight, to see your beauty for itself.

You stepped down into the water. “Are you sure you’re human? Not a beautiful fairy playing tricks on me?” Khargaad was completely entranced by you, eyes roaming over the curve of your shoulders to the curves of your breasts.

You felt some of the tension ease, snorting at him “I don’t think a fairy would smell this bad.” He gasped a bit as if he had just remembered, grabbing a bar of soap he had retrieved from the tent. “May I?” He asked, lathering up the bar in his hands.

You nodded, letting him wade closer to you. You felt the palms of his massive hands begin to work themselves into your hair, massaging his fingers into your scalp. “Oh-” You exclaimed a rather embarrassing moan, but it felt so good. He finished and went to clean his own hair. “Hey, it’s my turn now!” You scolded him. He was more than happy to let you clean him. As he said previously, it’s a part of orc culture to do things with other people. That includes bathing.

And oh how he loved to see you doing orc things. Like wearing that yellow dress dyed with orc spices, and making those pickled eggs for him. It made him think about how great it would be to bring you home with him, to meet all of his family. For you to find a place in his tribe. He missed home a lot, and now you were a part of that picture. You finished running your fingers through the curls of his clean hair.

He heard the sloshing of water, turning around to see you drying yourself off. He joined you. You cast a quick glimpse below his waist, blushing furiously at his partially hard cock.

You walked together to the flap of the tent. The inside surprised you. It was so… cozy. “Ah-” He had leaned down to nuzzle into your neck, you loved the feeling of his tusks against your skin. He pulled you to what could best be described as a nest. A nest of pillows and blankets. He very carefully leaned you onto your back, “Is this okay?”

You giggled at him, “Yes Khargaad. I will tell you if I need to stop, okay?”

“Promise?” He leaned back on his knees, his olive green skin looking lovely in the warm glow of the lantern lighting the tent. His member was on full display, completely unashamed. The way it twitched in anticipation made your stomach flutter. “Yes.”

He lied down next to you, peppering little kisses in the crook of your neck. His hands began to roam your body, starting with your shoulders and slowly moving down to your tits. His calloused palm grazed over the sensitive peaks, causing you to let out a breathy sigh. He took your left breast into his hand, thumbing over your hardened nipple. He palmed your chest for a few moments more, like he was savoring each and every new part of you he explored. You felt his cock hard against your leg. You shifted your thigh, giving him just the lightest sensation of friction. The groan he mumbled into your skin made you feel hot between your legs. You clenched your thighs together, trying to get some relief.

His hand traveled down to your stomach, caressing the curves and grabbing a soft handful of skin. “Good…” He whispered. You shivered as his hand glided over your hips, so close to your entrance. He reached for the inside of your thigh, pulling it over into his cock. He let out another breathy sigh that left you completely slick with desire. His hand hovered over the mess of hair covering your mound. You opened your legs, giving him permission.

He started by slowly palming you, just beginning to give you the attention your pussy was desperate for. You felt a finger slip past your folds, getting drenched in the slickness. Khargaad shifted you up a bit so he could have better access to your chest. He dipped down, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucked playfully. “Oh f-fuck-” You were stuttering at the pleasure of it all. He grinned into your chest, “Keep making those noises sweetheart.” The pet name made your heart flutter.

He kept gently probing a finger up and down your slit, until he dipped one down just at the beginning of your entrance. His fingers were bigger than your own, but this wasn't so much of a stretch. He slowly sheathed the finger in you, “Tight.” He grunted. He made a come hither motion into that sensitive spot of your inner walls. You yelped out a completely sinful moan as he prodded you a few more times. His finger exited your hole, pulling the wetness of your cunt onto your swollen and sensitive clit.

“Khargaad-” Your hips bucked up into him as he swirled long languid circles around that little bundle of nerves. He pulled off, and sat back on his knees, “Can I taste you?”

It was the way he asked more than anything. Like he was close to begging for it. You nodded, spreading your legs for him. He settled down in front of you, using both of his thumbs to spread your lips apart. You felt the tip of his fat tongue probe your needy pussy. He reached up to play with your nipples, while he moved up to your throbbing clit. He started with light kitten-licks, making you whine and buck up into his mouth. That wonderful tongue of his made swirls and then quick flickering motions over the sensitive spot. At this point you were almost completely lost in pleasure, and reached down to thread your fingers through his soft brown curls.

You were already sensitive when he started, so you were very close to finishing. You actually yelled when he inserted a finger into you. Prodding that sensitive spot while attacking your sensitive clit; it was making the most obscene wet noises. “Close.” That was all you could manage as he devoured you. There it was, feeling crushed over you like a ton of bricks. You coated this hand, legs spasming. He dipped down to lap up the remnants of your release. Your taste, your smell, the feeling of his hair clenched in your fist. He was addicted.

He leaned back, taking in his work. You had a hand on your forehead and a hand on your chest, calming down from what you just experienced. You glanced down at him, both hands on his thighs. His cock was completely erect, tip glistening with pre-cum. It was so heavy it bowed down under its own weight. “Y/n…” He was trying to figure out what to say next. His cock needed to be buried in your pretty little cunt. He needed to bottom out into you. He wanted to hear the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your skin with every thrust. But he couldn’t say that, though. He didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready.

So when you propped yourself up on your elbows, legs spread for him, he almost felt like crying. His human mate was so strong. So ready for him.

He crawled over you, pinning your legs over his shoulders. He took the base of his cock into his fist, guiding it slowly over your folds. You were so warm for him. He pushed his pulsating tip past your lips, wincing from the sensitivity. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, but you were completely entranced watching his cock slide into you. His tip found your hole, sliding in but not going any further. He was absolutely strangeling the pillow he was resting his hand on, trying to maintain control. Khargaad was watching you, every little subtle expression. He kept sinking himself into you, stopping when you made the first wince of pain. He was big, and you were so tight.

“Y/n?” You looked up at him through those pretty lashes. He nearly lost it all right there, just from the eye-contact. You got off of your elbows, leaning down completely. You gave a little nod, still making direct eye contact. Slowly and gently, he worked his way in until his hips were flush with yours. He leaned back, still buried in you, letting you adjust to the stretch.

He wouldn’t last long at all, seeing you like this. Your little face with knotted brows, arms thrown overhead. Khargaad brought his hand to your stomach, rubbing little circles into the soft skin with his thumb. You were perfect. Perfect to take his seed. Perfect for growing a little half-orc.

He wouldn’t yet, of course. Not until you were ready. For you, he would wait as long as needed. But his strange orc hormones and instincts craved it beyond explanation.

He began rocking out and back into you, keeping a slow languid pace. You reached out for him, and in an instant his head was nuzzled in your neck again. His pace started to ramp up a bit, earning little mewls from your lips. Oh he definitely wouldn't last much longer. “W-where…” His breath hitched in your ear. “Huh?” You were too flustered to try to understand what he was asking.

“Going to-” He was hissing and groaning, barely able to work out a sentence, “On your body- ah- or o-on the bed?” His motions were getting jerky. “Fuck- sorry- oh fuck.”

He pulled out just barely in time to empty himself onto your stomach. He fucked his rough fist through the climax, sighing at the sight of his seed coating your tummy. It felt a lot warmer than you expected, and much more… volume. He finally let go of his cock, reaching for a linen cloth and dunking it in a bowl of water he had set nearby. “I made a mess…”

He sounded so guilty, and you giggled at him teasingly. One of his hands cupped your face, while the other softly wiped the length of your cunt, messy from your own slickness. He wiped the cum that was coated across your stomach, being careful not to spill any on the bed.

“You did so good.” He started cooing sweet nothings to you while running his thumbs across your cheekbone, “Wore me out…” He chuckled, throwing the rag across the room. He yawned and stretched his arms above him.

“Do you want me to go home now?” You were all too familiar with the stories women told about men finishing and ordering them to leave. You didn’t quite have the confidence yet, to advocate for yourself. To tell him you wanted to spend the night wrapped up in his arms.

For Khargaad, this question felt like an arrow to the heart. Had he not done enough? To make it clear how badly he needed you with him? He laid down next to you, pulling you close, “I would kill the person who would try to take you from me right now.”

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Here is Part 5 for you lovelies <3 <3 <3 btw Khargaad is living in a yurt, that's what I was trying to describe lol.

I attached a playlist I put together. These are the songs I've been listening to while writing this, if anyone wants to hear the vibes :3

Tagged List <3

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786

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srslyscary · 4 months ago

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Late Night Calls

contents/warnings: SFW, reader is written as she/her, slightly ooc, lowercase intended

including: felix x reader

note: inspired by “late night calls” by p1harmony. lately I haven’t been able to stop listening to that song, it’s really beautiful. seob’s part in it too is SO addicting. this was really last minute because I’ve been wanting to update but I recently started an 8hr nonstop shift, and I’ll be keeping that shift till next Friday. I hope you enjoy!

“Our secret late night calls. Dreamlike, beautiful sound of you and me.”

felix sat on the edge of his hotel bed, the afternoon sun streaming through the partially drawn curtains. his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, and his fingers danced nervously over the screen of his phone. he took a deep breath, feeling the familiar flutter of excitement and nerves that always accompanied the prospect of hearing her voice. with a glance at the clock, he realized that back home, YN would just be winding down for the night.

fifteen hours. the time difference was brutal, but they'd found ways to make it work. their relationship was partly built on these late-night calls, stolen moments of connection amidst the chaos of touring. felix smiled, thinking about the countless nights they'd spent talking until the first light of dawn.

he swiped his phone screen and tapped on her contact, his heart skipping a beat as it started to ring. on the third ring, she picked up.

“hey, lix,” YN's voice was soft, a little sleepy, but full of warmth.

“hey, love,” felix replied, a wide smile spreading across his face. “oh- wait did I wake you?”

“no no, I was just lying here. how’s the tour going?”

felix leaned back against the headboard, picturing her lying in her bed, surrounded by pillows. “it’s going great. we had an amazing show today. STAYS were incredible. but I miss you.”

“i miss you too,” YN said, her voice tinged with longing. “it’s always hardest at night when you're not here.”

“i know, angel. I feel the same way. but these late-night calls, they keep me going. they remind me why I’m doing all this.”

YN laughed softly, the sound like a melody to felix’s ears. “you and your sweet words. you always know how to make me smile.”

felix’s heart swelled with affection. “i just speak the truth. how was your day?”

“it was good. busy, but good. i’ve been working on that project we talked about. i can’t wait for you to see it.”

“i can’t wait either. everything you do is amazing.”

they fell into a comfortable rhythm, talking about their days, sharing stories and little moments. felix loved these conversations, the way they could make him feel close to her even when they were thousands of miles apart.

after a while, felix heard YN stifle a yawn. “you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“a little,” she admitted. “but I don’t want to hang up yet.”

“stay with me, then,” felix said softly. “even if you fall asleep, just stay with me.”

“i’d like that.”

felix shifted on the bed, making himself more comfortable. “do you ever think about the future? I mean.. with us.”

“of course I do. why wouldn’t I silly?”

“not sure.. I guess that was a weird question.” felix said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. “i was thinking about the future, what it means for us.”

“and what do you think it means?” YN replied. “i’m curious cutie.”

“i don’t know what it means, that’s why I asked angel.“ felix laughed slightly, sighing after breathing in.

“sorry sorry,” YN said, her voice barely above a whisper. “you know.. your voice is my favorite sound.”

“really?” he took a second to think, smiling to himself. “of course, it brings me comfort in so many ways you probably wouldn’t know.”

felix smiled again, not saying much. they fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts, connected by the invisible thread of their love. after a while, felix spoke again.

“do you want me to sing for you?”

“yes, please. i’d actually really love that.” YN said, her voice filled with anticipation.

felix cleared his throat, closing his eyes as he began to sing. his voice was soft and tender, filled with emotion.

YN sighed contentedly. “you always know how to make everything better.”

felix smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. “that’s my goal, to always make you happy.”

“you do, love. you always do.”

they talked for a little while longer, their conversation growing quieter as YN's eyelids grew heavier. felix could hear her breathing becoming more even, a sure sign that she was drifting off to sleep.

“goodnight, angel,” felix whispered, his voice filled with tenderness.

“‘night, lix. I love you.”

“I love you way more.”

felix stayed on the line, listening to her gentle breathing, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. these moments, these late-night calls, were the lifeline of their relationship, the threads that kept them connected despite the miles and time zones that separated them.

as he lay back on his bed, felix thought about the future. he knew that one day, they’d have more time together. but until then, he would cherish these calls, these stolen moments of intimacy that made everything worthwhile.

“Late night calls, so sweet. Just tell me you love me.”

#skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #felix x you #felix x y/n #felix x reader

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syluscore · 1 year ago

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I need a part 2 for Dinner and a Show!! 💗 Mean Leon >>>>>>

Encore

Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader x Chris Redfield

PART ONE

Word count: 2646

Content warnings: sex toy, public sex, mean leon, switch leon, begging, teasing, unaware third participant, third person joining in, public orgasm, dominant chris, degrading, praise, bisexual men, bisexual awakening, chreon action, threesome, blowjob, oral (male receiving), male giving blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, overstimulation, the men kiss each other, eiffel tower

This story heavily contains male on male content. Bon appetit my loves.

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS BLOG AND POST ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!!!

You gripped Leon’s arm tightly, pulling his attention away from the group he’s currently speaking with.

“Yes?” He speaks quietly, only loud enough for you to hear.

You lean your head into his shoulder, your mouth just inches from his ear. “Can I speak to you in private?” His face is pressed against yours and you feel him smirk at your question. A few seconds passed without a response from him. “Please.”

“What do you need to talk to me about?”

“Please,” you plead with him softly.

He finally nods his head and excuses you two from the group. Both of your arms are wrapped around his right arm, your hands cradling his hand between them.

He walks slowly, smiling and waving at various people. You tighten your grip on him, urging him to hurry up, but he ignores it.

A few painstakingly long minutes later and he finally pulls you into a secluded hallway just off of the party. You press your face deep into his chest and let out a pitiful whimper into his suit jacket. He reaches out his hand, cupping your chin and pulling your gaze up to meet his.

“Is something the matter, baby?” He feigns innocence with his cooing tone. You look up at him and give your best death glare.

“Turn it off,” your voice is serious, hoping you can convey the urgency with your statement.

He laughs meanly. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t care that it’s on the lowest setting, Leon. It’s uncomfortable. I can’t stand it any longer. Just please. Please help me.” You're begging him at this point, but you have no other options. You can’t focus, you can’t stand still. You can feel the constant gentle vibrations throughout your whole body. It’s nauseating. It’s downright cruel at this point.

Leon hums in response as he finally pulls the remote out of his pocket.

“The lowest setting isn’t working for you? Here, maybe this will help.”

You throw your head back as your legs threaten to give out beneath you. The vibrations kick up and send all of your nerves into a frenzy. He chuckles as you rock your hips, unsure of what you’re looking for. More friction or less. Any relief.

“Hey, you two alright?” A deep voice calls out from deeper down the hallway as footsteps approach. Leon’s gaze shoots towards the voice, smiling casually.

“Yeah, we’re perfect.” Leon assures him.

As he gets closer and you shift your focus to the figure. Realization dawns on you as you recognize the man. It could’ve been anybody, there’s hundreds of people at this damn party. But of course it’s Chris fucking Redfield. The man you bring up to tease Leon. Years ago you had a small schoolgirl crush on him and for some reason you confided in Leon about it. Crucial mistake, but you take your power back by teasing Leon right back.

You silently beg whatever higher power may be listening to get Chris out of this fucking hallway. But nobody must be listening because now Chris stands just a few feet away from you two.

“Now that I think about it, can you help me with something Chris?” Leon runs his thumb across the remote still in his hand. “I’m trying to figure out how to work this remote, but I’m not sure if it’s even working at all.”

Leon hands the remote to Chris as you shoot a terrified look his way. The remote is officially out of his control and in a clueless Chris’ hands.

“What does it even go to?” Chris looks at the little remote puzzled. It’s a tiny thing, with a power button and then two buttons that look similar to volume keys. He gazes up at Leon who just shrugs in response.

Chris holds down one of the buttons and the vibrations stop completely. You let out a sigh of relief as you try to steady your heart beat again.

“Does the other button do anything?”

Your eyes widen at Leon’s prompting, obviously trying to get Chris to turn the vibrations back on.

Before you can stop him, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and your knees give out. You collapse against Leon’s chest, unable to hold yourself up. You’re panting heavily as you grip Leon’s shirt again.

“What the fuck is this?” Chris looks between the two of you and the remote. His face scrunched up in confusion.

You’re unable to hold back a long whine from escaping your mouth. Leon tries to hold you steady, but you go limp as pleasure courses through you. You fall to your knees, pulling Leon down with you.

Chris must finally catch up with what’s happening. “Leon, what the fuck?” He spits out angrily before holding down the other button completely turning the vibrator down again.

You whimper as you’re pulled back from the edge. You were so close and now you’re unable to think clearly. You reach out for Chris’ arm and grip pathetically.

“Please.” You repeat the word over and over, begging him to turn it back on, to give you what Leon’s been denying you.

Chris stares into your watery eyes, trying to process what you’re asking him. He holds the button, turning the vibrations up to the max.

You throw your head back and pant, “Yes, oh my god, yes. I’m gonna, fuck I’m gonna fucking come. Oh god, oh fuck, yes, yes, I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Your body trembles as the waves of your climax crash through you.

One of your hands is still clinging to Chris’ arm while the other clings to Leon’s shirt. Your arms are shaking but your hands are locked tight. You begin to whine as overstimulation sets in, almost curling in on yourself at the sensations.

Leon taunts you, “You were begging me to turn it off a few minutes ago, then you begged him to turn it back on, and now you want it off again? Make up your mind, would you?”

Tears start flowing from your eyes and you look up at Chris who mumbles a curse and shuts the toy off again. With the vibrations finally stopping, you take deep breaths and finally start to relax your aching muscles.

Chris scowls down at you, “Get up, now. Both of you.”

Leon stands and holds a hand out to help you up, but Chris swats it away, offering up his hands for you instead. He pulls you up on your shaky legs, smoothing your hair before intertwining your fingers with his.

He reaches out and grabs Leon’s hand with his spare one, pulling both of you after him.

You reach the end of the hallway, Chris looking around to ensure no one sees you three before opening the door and rushing both of you inside. You enter the room and stand by Leon as Chris shuts the door behind him and leans against it.

You look at the floor, shame causing your skin to heat up.

“Look at me.” Chris speaks firmly, leaving no room for argument. You slowly raise your head up to meet his gaze as he looks between you and Leon. “You both think you’re so clever? Not taking the party I’m hosting seriously. This is a work event, but I doubt either of you need that reminder.”

You slowly shake your head. “I’m sorry, Chris. It wasn’t my intention to disrespect you.”

He sighs. “What am I going to do with you?” He crosses his arms. His stare is so intense it has you avoiding meeting his eyes again. “Strip.”

Your eyes dart back to him, but you’re not the one to speak.

“Wait, what? What are you doing, Chris?” Leon questions disbelievingly, not sure if he heard that right.

Chris chuckles at him. “You too, pretty boy. Both of you naked and on your knees. Now.”

You look over at Leon who once again is just shrugging in response, undoing the button on his suit jacket and pulling it off.

“Um, can someone unzip me?” You ask shyly, giving your back to them. Chris is immediately behind you, fiddling with the zipper on your dress.

In less than a minute, you and Leon are stripped completely bare and on your knees in front of Chris. He stares down at you two, an amused look on his face.

He undoes the buckle on his belt before slowly pulling it off completely. The movement pulls your attention down to his groin for the first time and you see his cock straining in his pants. Based on the bulge at eye level with you, you can already tell he’s massive.

You glance over at Leon and see him holding a stare with Chris.

“Take my dick out.” Chris demands. Leon turns to look at you, but Chris reaches out and turns his face back towards him. “I was talking to you.”

Leon’s Adam's apple bobs as he swallows nervously. You can’t do anything besides stare as Leon leans forward and reaches his hand into Chris’ pants. You whimper at the sight and Chris looks over at you with a devilish smirk.

“You like that, do you? You want to see your husband play with my cock?”

You nod immediately.

Leon looks in your direction, confusion lacing his stare. He hadn’t anticipated anything like this happening. He thought he’d embarrass you and Chris would be disgusted, maybe never speaking to you again. What could shut you up more than that? If you ever mentioned Chris again, he’d just laugh and know he wouldn’t come near either of you by his own free will.

But now you’re both on your knees for him and Leon isn’t ready to acknowledge how fucking hard he is right now. He turns back to Chris, biting his lip as he pulls his cock out of his trousers. You both stare at his now exposed cock amazed. He’s so thick, the definition of a fat cock. Your mind wanders as you think about how much you’d like to suck it. And secretly, Leon fantasizes about how much he wants to as well.

Everyone in the room is on the same wavelength apparently.

“Now who’s going to be the first to suck my cock? And don’t worry. Everyone will get their turn, but perhaps my volunteer will be on my good side tonight.”

Without hesitation, you crawl forward until your mouth is right in front of his cock. You look up at him with wide eyes and he nods at you approvingly.

You poke your tongue out of your mouth, flicking the tip of it along the head of his cock. His hand reaches out and grabs a fistfull of your hair, guiding you until your mouth is wrapped around his tip.

“There you go. Being such a good girl for me. Show him how to suck my cock.”

You whimper around his length, taking it deeper into your mouth. As you pull your head back, Leon can see how you’ve coated his dick in saliva. He’s transfixed, lost in a daze as he watches.

You swirl your tongue around Chris’ shaft and his head falls back as he groans loudly. His head snaps back up and he gently pulls your head from his length.

“I’m gonna give your husband a taste now, okay?”

You nod enthusiastically, scooting over to make room for Leon. Leon slowly moves himself until he’s positioned before Chris’ dick. You can see how nervous he is and reach your hand out, holding his gently and caressing it reassuringly.

“You know how you like it, right? Just replicate that. He’ll teach you what he likes.” You smile at him and he smiles back, nodding his head.

He takes a deep breath before leaning forward, wrapping his wet lips around Chris’ tip. He starts to bob his head as he takes his cock deeper into his mouth.

“That’s it. Good boy.” Chris praises Leon causing him to whimper pathetically as he stares up into Chris’ eyes. “You suck dick like a professional.”

Now it’s you lost in a daze, your core throbbing and leaking your arousal as you watch the two of them. Leon’s movements are more enthusiastic as he becomes more and more comfortable. Chris’ fingers are tangled in his hair, guiding him until his cock is in the back of his throat.

Leon fights back tears as he tries not to gag, but they break past his lash line.

You can’t hold yourself back anymore. You nuzzle yourself next to Leon, bringing your mouth to Chris’ balls as you suck them into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, look at the two of you. So fucking desperate.”

Leon pulls off his cock and sucks on Chris’ balls as you take his length into your mouth, alternating back and forth.

Chris backs away from the two of you, leaving you both staring up at him as drool coats your chins.

Chris points at you, “You on your hands and knees.” Then he turns to Leon, “And you fuck her mouth while I take her from behind.”

Leon’s instantly shooting up off the floor and hurrying over to the bed and you follow after him, barely able to keep up. Leon positions himself on his knees as you crawl up to him. Chris positions himself behind you as Leon starts thrusting into your mouth.

Chris lets out a laugh behind you. “Almost forgot.” He reaches inside of you and pulls out the idle vibrator. “Clean this up for me, will you?”

Chris shoves the toy in Leon’s face and forces it between his lips. Leon whines as he sucks your juices off the toy, continuing to fuck your mouth at a punishing pace.

You feel Chris line up with your hole and it takes all of your power to not push yourself back into him. Thankfully, you didn’t have to find inner will power for long as Chris suddenly thrusts all the way into you.

Your mind goes numb as Leon fucks your face and Chris fucks you from behind. You’re so full and it feels so fucking good.

Leon and Chris stare at each other as they fuck you from either side. Chris grabs the back of Leon’s head and presses his forehead into his. They stay like that, breathing in each other’s air as they fuck you faster and harder.

You’re fast approaching your high, Chris hitting that sweet spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Leon’s close too, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he continues to stare at Chris.

Suddenly, Chris brings Leon’s mouth to his own, locking him into a searing kiss. That’s all it takes for Leon to begin shooting his load down your throat. The taste of Leon sending your orgasm crashing through your body and the clenching of your walls sends Chris over the edge as well.

Leon slowly pulls himself out of your mouth before collapsing on the bed. Chris pulls himself out of your spent pussy and you follow after Leon, throwing yourself on his chest.

You both lay there holding each other, trying to catch your breath.

A throat clears from the foot of the bed and you both look up, seeing Chris standing there fully dressed as if nothing just happened.

“You’re mine now. I’ll be in touch.” And then Chris is out the door, turning the lock before shutting it behind him. You and Leon look at each other exasperated. Did that really just happen?

Neither of you speak as you pull your clothes back on and fix your appearances.

As you begin walking towards the door, Leon grabs you by the arm and pulls you into his chest. His lips lock onto yours and you sloppily make out with him.

Yeah. That really just happened.

~masterlist~

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mimsynims · 1 year ago

Text

Fool For Love

part 5

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

~~~

Author’s Note: This is becoming longer than expected, but I’m grateful for everyone staying on for the ride.

(Btw. When I’m writing, I’m imagining this with my own Tav, but I’ve been trying to keep it GN.)

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… now you do.

You’ve finally made a decision on how to handle it, but it turns out it might not be that easy to actually do as planned.

And then you go and make it even worse.

~~~

“Tav, wake up.” A hand on your shoulder tries to gently rouse you awake. “Tav, come on. It’s time to go.”

“Nooo, just let me sleep.” You were having such a nice dream. The details are a bit fuzzy, but you remember a body on top of you. Lips, hands, teeth. Warmth.

“You go on ahead, I will make sure our fearsome leader gets back to camp in one piece.”

Astarion. That fucker. He’s the reason why you are like this. Still half-asleep, still half-drunk. “No, not you.”

Someone — Karlach? — mumbles something.

“Go.” Astarion again. “I’ve got this.”

Perhaps if you ignore him, he’ll go away.

“Tav, darling, get up.”

The nerve. “Don’t call me that.”

“Stop acting like a baby and I will consider it.”

That has you finally opening your eyes and sitting up. “I can get back on my own.” In a bit, anyway.

“Perhaps.” Astarion steps up to you and holds out a hand. You can’t see his smug smile in the darkness, but you have no trouble imagining it. “Not sure we should risk it though.”

Just as you take his hand, it dawns on you that you finally have him alone. It’s just you and him, with nothing to interrupt your conversation.

Except you’re far from sober and in a bloody awful mood, to boot.

Feeling his fingers grasping yours, the arousal sparked by the dream stirs awake again. For a few heartbeats, you do nothing but stare at this beautiful man, this wonderful, enraging man.

Everything that has been bubbling inside you comes to a head, overwhelming you until the only thing you can do is tug him closer.

“Kiss me?” You know you’re doing it again, distracting yourself, but you’re feeling too much and the only thing that can make your mind go blissfully blank is him.

“Tav, darling.”

“Please.”

“I never could say no to you…”

There’s a strange note of exasperation in his voice, but you have no time to reflect on it when Astarion gets down on his knees and cups your face oh-so-gently. The kiss is unexpectedly fierce, matching the turmoil inside you.

“Astarion, I…” You dive back in before you say something foolish.

Sex with Astarion has never been boring, but there’s a new level of recklessness to it as you both tear at your clothes and give yourself to each other. You will probably have a bruise or two tomorrow — as will he — but it’s exactly what you need; it’s as if he knows what you crave even though you can’t voice it out loud. A part of you mourns that this doesn’t mean as much to him as it does to you — that you don’t mean as much to him as he does to you. Even as you scream his name in pleasure, sadness lingers in the outskirts of your mind, tainting the satisfaction and exhilaration.

The moon and the stars watch over you as Astarion drags you into his arms, both panting from exhaustion after your mutual climax. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you revel in the feeling of intimacy, lying like this.

Inhaling, you take comfort in the scents you’ll forever associate with him: bergamot, rosemary, brandy. Blood. It’s faint, but it’s there, beneath his perfume.

You go still. Blood. He didn’t bite you. Even if he doesn’t always drink from you, he always bites you during sex.

But not this time. Why? Whatever the reason, it makes you feel rejected. Not good enough.

Perhaps he only slept with you out of pity.

“I must say I am pleasantly surprised, Tav,” Astarion purrs. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to invite Gale to your tent.”

“Perhaps I was.” It’s a lie, one you will have to make sure doesn’t reach Gale’s ears. You should take it back, but you’re hurting too much to be sensible. “Still could.”

“Him?”

“He’s a nice man.” Too nice for you. “And if he could bag a god, he’s probably good in bed too.”

Astarion sits up to stare at you. “You must be joking.”

“Why?” You feel cold, naked, and not just physically. Reaching for your clothes, you turn your back to him and try to put them on. Easier said than done. “We haven’t made any promises to each other.”

Astarion rises too and places his hands on his hips, unbothered by his state of undress. “I know, but–”

“I’ve seen you, with the others. I know. And it’s fine.” Even in the darkness, it’s difficult to face him, but you force yourself to do so. To stand your ground while you do this. “At least it was fine.”

“You are not making any sense, Tav.”

You’re too worked up to notice the note of desperation in his voice. “I saw you tonight, with the others, and I realised I’ve had enough.” This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, but you can’t stop yourself now. “We should end this.”

“What? Why?”

You ignore his obvious confusion. “I know you only propositioned me to make sure you’d be under my protection.”

“I–” Astarion sounds taken aback. “Yes, that’s true, I guess, but listen, Tav–”

“Don’t worry, for as long as you stay with us, I’ll never let anyone harm you.”

“So that’s it?”

He sounds hurt, but it’s most likely just his wounded pride. “I’m sure you can find comfort in the arms of Halsin or Shadowheart.” Or both.

“As you will with Rath and Gale, you mean?”

The bitterness has you frowning. He has no right because as you said, neither of you made any promises. “Maybe, maybe not. That’s none of your business, is it?”

You wish you could see his face more clearly, but it’s probably for the best that the night hides his expression. The silence feels heavy as you wait for several pounding heartbeats for his reply. A wildly optimistic part of you hopes that he will object, that he will tell you how wrong you are.

When he finally speaks, it’s nothing more than a whisper. “I guess not.” Without another word, he grabs his scattered clothes, tucks them under his arm and walks away, leaving you behind in the smothering darkness.

~~~

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #fic wip

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mustainegf · 6 months ago

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idk if u write for bottom dave but could u write the reader overstimulating him? i feel like he'd be so whiny and giggly when he's overstimulated and it's just ouuuh i can't stop thinking abt him HEUEUHH😿😿

YESSSS I already had something like this written so I hope it gets the job done!!

Dave moaned as the cool air hit his cock, it was so hard from all this waiting. “Fuck- that feels good,” he moaned, his hips bucking upwards.

I took him in my hand and stroked the length of it slowly. “Look who’s in control now?” I grinned. It began to dawn on him what I was going to do. He realized I was going to do exactly what he’d done to me.

“Baby-” he started but I cut him off. “Shh… just enjoy it,” I said, my voice husky with lust as I stroked his cock slowly.

I didn’t need any of my spit, he was already leaking with precum and there was quite a bit of it. He moaned, his hips twitching upwards as I continued to stroke him.

“Please,” he whimpered, his voice strained. “Please let me cum.” I couldn’t help but smile at his desperation.

“Fuck- that feels good,” he groaned out, his hands fisting in the sheets beneath us. “You like that?” I asked, my voice low and husky with lust.

He nodded frantically, his hips bucking upwards as I continued to stroke him slowly. He was in heaven, the feeling of someone else stroking him after all this stimulation.

“Please, baby, please,” he pleaded, his voice high and whiny. “I need to cum.”

“Not yet,” I teased, speeding my pace slightly and adding a little more pressure. It was driving him crazy. His climax was coming quickly, and he couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck- baby! I’m gonna cum! Please!” he begged, his voice trembling. I sped my pace even more and the pressure increased. It was too much. He exploded, his cum shooting out of him in waves.

I continued to stroke until the last drop was milked from him. And just as he had assumed, I didn’t stop stroking him, exactly as he had done with me.

His body writhed in pleasure. I ignored him though; I was enjoying this too much to let up now that the deed had been done.

He had never been overstimulated like this before, the tip of his dick was throbbing, he could hardly take it.

“Good boy…” I whispered in his ear. I’d never called him that before, and it only turned him on more. He giggled helplessly, his body twitching under my touch.

I kept stroking him slowly, my hand moving up and down the length of his cock. He was so sensitive that it felt like I was touching every nerve in his body.

“Please, no more,” he whimpered, his voice breathy. “I can’t take it.”

“Just a little more,” I murmured, my voice dripping with satisfaction. Without any warning at all, I jerked him off as fast as I could move my hand.

He choked on his breath, gasping for air. He was cumming again, and it felt like his whole body was imploding.

“Fuck-” I whispered in his ear as my hand slowed down to a stop. He was spent. His body felt like jelly, and his mind couldn’t think straight.

“That’s a good boy,” I said softly as my hand left him to rest on the bed beside us. He couldn’t move. His body was too sensitive, and his mind had been fried.

“Baby-” He kissed me softly on the cheek before whispering in my ear again: “I love you.” I climbed off the bed and stood up, I was still wearing my panties from earlier. I looked down at him with a smirk on my face.

“We’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he groaned with a chuckle as his cock twitched again.

“Fuck-” he groaned out as I walked away from him, my hips swaying seductively. “I’m going to go take a shower, you can join me if you want,” I winked. Despite his aching body, I knew he would give in.

#dave mustaine x reader smut #dave mustaine fluff #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine fic #dave mustaine imagines #dave mustaine fanfiction #dave mustaine smut #dave mustaine #megadeth x reader #megadeth smut #megadeth imagines #megadeth fanfiction #megadeth #mustainegf #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction

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eoieopda · 1 year ago

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helloooo! i saw you were taking requests, esp for skz, and i could not resist asking for changbin x reader, please! dealer's choice for genre & whatnot, but maybe with a lil' pining in there somewhere? 🥺💕

order up!! 🥰

the one with changbin and the houseguest

pairing: seo changbin x gn!reader type: drabble (fluff) au: roommates to ?, mutual pining rating: pg13 wc: 1.5k (oops) summary: there’s a new tenant in your two-bedroom apartment, and it is not on the lease. it is, however, on your ceiling. cw: pov switch, no gendered language used for reader, reference to changbin previously attempting to lift reader (not stated whether or not he could do so if reader hadn’t flailed and unintentionally bonked him), spider(s), one of my favorite tropes. a/n: just a couple of cowards moonlighting as idiots in love! 💘 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Changbin can’t say he’s used to being ripped awake by the sound of shrieking, but living with you has resulted in him being surprised more often than not, so he tries his best to expect the unexpected.

For what it’s worth, he also tries his best to kick his feet free of his blankets. He fails — flails, more like it — and winds up crashing to the ground with enough force to make his nightstand shake. The army of cups he keeps forgetting to bring to the kitchen wobbles ominously but stays standing.

Even though his body is nowhere near awake enough to handle this level of activity, he peels himself off the ground with shocking speed. Nothing that comes next is graceful. Bleary-eyed, he stumbles towards the door and reaches a fumbling hand out for the knob.

As he jerks it open, he calls out your name. You must not hear it over the thwack of the door hitting the wall, or the cha-ching of your security deposit being forfeited, because he certainly doesn’t hear a response.

“Fuck,” Changbin hisses to no one in particular, picking up the pace.

It dawns on him after nearly kicking your door down that he probably should’ve knocked first, but he’s less worried about finding you indecent than — well, deceased. Thankfully, you’re standing in the corner of your room, fully clothed and fully alive. You’re cowering, though, which he’s not at all a fan of.

Voice still heavy with exhaustion, he asks as urgently as possible, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

All you do is point.

Straight up to the ceiling above your bed, where it’s way too dark for Changbin to spot the problem. He frowns, wondering if he’s blind, pranked, or both.

“Spider,” you finally peep.

And oh god, your voice is a fatal combination of soft and scared. He barely survives his heart squeezing in his chest at the sound. Then, you have the nerve to look at him with your giant eyes shining like that.

You repeat yourself even more quietly, now even more embarrassed by his silence. “There’s a spider — above my bed.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Changin would love to be brave for you, but he’s drawn a firm line here, and he’ll be goddamned if he lets eight disgusting legs cross it.

He skirts around the perimeter of your room on tiptoe with his palms pressed flat to the wall, giving the spider a wide berth. He knows exactly how ridiculous he’s being, but doesn’t care. His focus is dedicated solely to grabbing your hand — not thinking about how small it is in his — and pulling you out the door behind him.

When you’re both clear, Changbin all but slams the door shut behind him. His back immediately presses against it, forming a barricade that’s far from necessary. Panicked eyes flick over to find you standing there, now looking more amused than afraid.

You purse your lips together to keep from smiling. You don’t laugh at him, though, and you don’t let go of his hand, either. He’s grateful on both counts.

“What now?” You whisper, gazing pointedly at the room you’re definitely not sleeping in tonight. “If I won’t catch it, and you won’t catch it — what the hell do we do about it?”

“That is her room now.”

He’s dead serious, and yet you giggle so hard that you snort. Your free hand slaps over your mouth to muffle the sound, but it’s too late. He’s already a goner, too endeared to survive.

When you manage to stop laughing, you start pouting. “Do you think it’s laying eggs in my bed?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Changbin responds, earnest.

The second he says it, he clocks the way your anxious eyes go wide again.

Nope, hate that.

Quick to fix it, he fashions a band-aid out of a joke and a wink. “And now our rent is going to skyrocket because there’s gonna be a thousand new tenants on the lease.”

—

As soon as Changbin rescued you from your bedroom, you knew exactly what would happen next:

You’d move to take up refuge on the couch; and he’d refuse to let you. He’d offer his bed; you’d insist that he didn’t need to lose additional sleep because of you. The entire time, there would be a little voice inside your head praying for an alternative outcome. Some secret third option where you’d wind up together somehow.

The result you expected — pulling an all-nighter to watch movies in the living room because you’re both too stubborn to cave — wasn’t the one you got.

Instead, you got Changbin glancing you up and down as he assessed you. A shrug when he shared his findings, sans context: “Eh. You’ll fit.”

Before you could demand that he elaborate on that finding, he was circling around behind you.

Thankfully — for once — he didn’t attempt to hoist you off the ground like he usually does. Apparently, he’d learned his lesson after the last time. All it takes to knock sense into someone is an accidental elbow to the skull, it seems.

Unexpectedly, you felt the weight of his tired frame leaning into your back; two palms flattening gently against your shoulder blades. Just like that, he guided you forward towards his bedroom door, as if he was pushing a sled at the gym and not an entire human being.

Carefully, though.

Always carefully.

Now, you find yourself on the left side of a bed you’d only ever wondered about sleeping in. Sweatshirt hood pulled up over your head, blankets pulled up to your chin, shivering. Happy, nonetheless.

Changbin’s eyes are closed — a fact you learned by staring at him in a distinctly normal and platonic way — and his breathing is slow. Even. But then he speaks out of nowhere and shatters the illusion that he’s been asleep since he laid back down.

“D’you want me to close the window?”

He sounds so tired, all groggy and gravelly in a way that makes your stupid heart flutter. Before now, you thought it was his morning voice that was designed to ruin you. His middle-of-the-night voice is especially dangerous, unfortunately for you.

You shake your head, which he can’t see with his eyes still shut.

Duh.

“No,” you reaffirm in a whisper, like disturbing his sleep isn’t a ship that’s long since sailed.

You don’t say the quiet part out loud: you’ve burdened him with enough of your problems tonight, and you’d rather die than have him make another concession on your behalf.

Changbin likes sleeping in a cold room — you know this — and you will suck it up, even if it kills you.

He cracks one eye open. The second he sees the way you’re bundled up, he chuckles and you swoon a little more. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Probably because I’m lying.

You don’t say anything, you just burrow further into your cocoon to hide your shame.

“Come here, then.”

At this, you balk. “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” he insists. To emphasize his point, he grabs the comforter and pulls it up and away from his chest. “I’m not gonna sleep for shit if you’re over there shaking. You’re not gonna sleep if you keep pretending you’re not cold —”

Honestly, you have no idea why you fight him on this, but you roll your eyes in spite of yourself.

“— So, come here.”

“Fine,” you groan, like this isn’t exactly what you wanted.

Like he’s the unreasonable one, and not the unfailingly thoughtful person your subconscious keeps shoving into your dreams, unsolicited.

You wiggle over to him like a lovesick little caterpillar, try to keep that certifiably dopey smile off your face when his arms wrap around you and pull you close. Hesitantly, you let your head fall in the crook of his neck. A beat can’t pass before his chin comes down to rest softly on the top of your head.

You peep, “Is this okay?”

He nods, careful not to crush you with that unreal jaw of his. “Perfect,” he mumbles, already half-asleep again.

Another moment crawls by in silence.

You can’t help yourself.

Why can’t you ever help yourself?

“Changbin?”

You cringe a little, recognizing that you’re an unrepentant pain in the ass. He grunts quietly, which you take as permission to continue.

“Do you really think it’s laying eggs in my bed?

He sounds stern — he’s trying to be — but the slight twitch of his lips is a dead giveaway. As tired as he is, he’s still smiling. “Go to sleep.”

#changbin #seo changbin #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin drabble #changbin imagines #changbin scenarios #stray kids #skz #stray kids drabble #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #jade writes #jade’s request #sunny!#moots #re: the one with changbin and the houseguest #cb

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maiochiruhanabiraaa · 4 months ago

Text

Love Letter (Pau Cubarsí.)

Summary: Pau writes a heartfelt letter to Y/N despite his insecurities. He gives it to her nervously in the park. Y/N is deeply moved and accepts his affection. Their bond grows stronger as they begin a journey of love together.

⚽

Pau woke up early, the morning sun just beginning to filter through his window. His heart raced with anticipation and nerves as he sat at his desk, a pen and paper in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, he began to write:

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. There are so many things I've wanted to say to you, but whenever I try, my words fail me. You're constantly on my mind, and I find myself longing to express how much you mean to me.

Your presence in my life has been like a gentle breeze on a hot day — refreshing and comforting. You're the person I look forward to seeing every day, the one who brings a smile to my face with just a glance.

It’s not just your beauty that captivates me, though you are undeniably stunning. It's your kindness, your intelligence, and the way you make everyone around you feel special. You're like sunshine in my life, brightening even the darkest of days.

I know my handwriting isn’t the neatest, and my ability to express myself verbally might fall short, but please know that every word on this page comes straight from my heart.

With you, I feel like I can be myself without any pretense. You've shown me what it means to love and to be loved in return. I cherish our moments together, whether they are filled with laughter or quiet understanding.

Please accept this letter as a small token of my feelings for you. I may not have said everything I wanted to, but I promise to spend every day showing you how much you mean to me.

Yours sincerely,

Pau

His hands trembled slightly as he folded the letter carefully and placed it in his pocket.

"My handwriting isn’t pretty," he thought anxiously, "but I hope she'll understand."

Throughout the night, Pau had worried about how best to express himself.

“I am worrying all night about my bad handwriting," he sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Which is about as bad as how I express my feelings."

Despite his insecurities, Pau knew he had to try. He wanted Y/N to know how much she meant to him, how she had changed his life simply by being in it.

"I try to sincerely express myself but I can’t get it out," he admitted, staring at the crumpled drafts scattered on his desk.

As dawn approached, Pau made a decision. He folded the letter into his pocket and headed out, his heart pounding with each step towards the place he knew he'd find Y/N.

"When do I give her the letter in my pocket?" he wondered aloud, his thoughts consumed with the upcoming moment.

Spotting Y/N sitting on a bench in the park, bathed in the early morning light, Pau's nerves threatened to overwhelm him. But he steeled himself, taking a deep breath to calm his racing pulse.

"Can you give me your hand?" he asked softly, approaching her with hesitant steps.

"Here, this is for you."

Y/N looked up, surprised but curious. She took the letter from Pau's outstretched hand, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. Pau stood there, heart in his throat, waiting for her reaction.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she read Pau's heartfelt words. She looked up at him, a smile breaking through her emotional haze. "Pau," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and gratitude.

"Thank you."

Pau smiled back, relief flooding through him. "There are still so many things I ended up not able to tell you," he confessed softly, feeling the weight of unspoken words lift off his shoulders. "But I promise, I won’t leave you and run away."

They sat together on the bench, the world around them quiet and serene. Pau wrapped his arms around Y/N, holding her close as they watched the sunrise paint the sky in hues of pink and gold. "I will always be by your side," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

And as they sat there, wrapped in each other's embrace, Pau knew that his love for Y/N would continue to grow with each passing day.

Together, they had begun to write their own story, one filled with love, understanding, and the courage to express their deepest emotions.

#fc barcelona #footboller imagine #fluff #pau cubarsí #pau cubarsí x reader #pau cubarsí imagine #Spotify

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amazingmsme · 1 month ago

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Looking For This?

AN: Aaahh, it’s that time of year again! Tickletober is finally here, so why not get cozy & read some great fics? To kick things off I have a really cute Fjord/Jester fic for y’all to enjoy! Can’t wait to see what this month has in store!

Fjord was going to go crazy. He was currently searching his cabin frantically, turning the room upside down in search of one accessory. A very important accessory. Without it, his whole look was ruined. A captain's hat needed a large feather.

It was regal, it was a status symbol, and it just tied the outfit together. Without it, he'd look fucking stupid.

He didn't even know how he'd lost it! It had been pinned to the hat, and last he had checked it had still been there. They were supposed to be leaving soon, and he refused to leave without it. He was Captain Tusktooth, and he needed to look the part.

Jester watched from the doorway as Fjord grumbled to himself, looking through drawers and pulling back the covers on the bed. She smirked to herself, hiding the source of his frustration behind her back.

"Where the hell did it go?" he finally cried in frustration.

"Looking for this?" she asked in a lilting voice, pulling the feather out from behind her back. Fjord jumped at the sound of her voice and turned around, relief washing over his voice.

"Jester, you're my hero! I've been looking for that everywhere, thank you!" he exclaimed, holding his hand out expectantly. His relieved smile faded when Jester just stood there with a wide, innocent smile, twirling the feather between her fingers. "Um, are you gonna give that back now?" he asked, eyeing her hands nervously.

She giggled and cocked her head to the side. "And why would I do that?" she asked sweetly. She rocked back and forth in her feet, tail lashing behind her mischievously.

"B-because I need it. Because it's mine-"

"Finders keepers though! I just found it sticking off this goofy hat, and thought, "hey, wouldn't it be better if I just took it?" So I did!"

"Goofy? Your mother gave me that hat!"

"Oh relax Fjord, I'm just teasing! I think you look very handsome in your hat," he complimented, mostly to keep him at ease.

"So can I have it back?" he pressed, motioning with two fingers for her to return it. She bit her lip and gripped it closer.

"In a minute."

"Jester-"

"I just wanna play with it first!" she whined, jutting her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. Fjord furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Play with-" it suddenly dawned on him and his eyes flew wide and he cut himself off mid-sentence, "No! Jester, don't! We're supposed to meet Caleb and Essek soon, we really don't have time-"

"There's always time for a bit of fun. Don't you think?" she cocked her head and batted her lashes, the picture of fake innocence.

"No. I'm serious, please give it back," he requested yet again, trying not to let his nerves seep into his voice. But she could read him like a book, and knew that he was getting worked up. It was too perfect not to take full advantage of.

"But you're so tense Fjord! You need to loosen up before we go to dinner," he insisted, taking a step forward. He took a step back.

"Absolutely not! Stay away from me!" he threatened, pointing at her accusingly.

"What? I thought you wanted it back. I'm just returning it to you," she was doing a poor job of holding back her grin. He shook his head.

"Mm-mm, I'm not falling for it."

"Falling for what?"

"Jester!"

"Fjord!"

He leaned back, griping fistfuls of hair and groaning in amused frustration. He wore a flustered smile, watching her from the corner of his eye.

"We have to get going, they'll be waiting on us.”

"They can get a table! It won't kill them to wait a few minutes."

Fjord whined, realizing there really was no way out of this.

"You're lucky you're so cute. Alright fine. Five minutes, but no more," he finally caved.

"And no less," she purred, waltzing over to him proudly now that she got her way. She began slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

Fjord opened his mouth to quip back, but a breathy chuckle escaped as she drug the feather down his chest. He twitched away, but she followed the movement, caressing the skin with soft plumes. He snorted when she moved down towards his ribs, throwing his head back when she sawed the feather in the spaces between the bones.

"Jehehes- plehehease!"

"Please what, Fjord? I'm not a mind reader, you know," he teased, sweeping the feather higher towards his armpit. He clamped his arm down with a loud bark of laughter, heat rising to his cheeks.

"Oh come ohon! D-don't behehe mehean!" he snickered as the feather traced his belly.

"Aw, don't you worry, I am being so nice right now."

"Thahahat's debahatable!" She gasped at his words, fluttering the feather a little faster. He shrieked before falling into a fit of giggles. He blushed and latched onto her wrists, but didn't bother pushing away.

He offered her five minutes of fun, and he was a man of his word.

And, well, maybe he was enjoying himself... just a little.

#it’s finally here!#tickletober #tickletober 2024 #fjorjester #fjord stone #jester lavorre #critical role #critical role fic #critickle role #critickle role fic #ticklish!fjord

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arabellasleopardcoat · 1 year ago

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Hi babe, congrats on your milestone!❤️

It's so hard to pick between all these choices😩

Would you please write for Harwin Strong - spanking🧎🏻‍♀️

Win some, lose some (Harwin Strong x Reader)

Summary: Harwin and his wife have a disagreement over communication skills. The end result is exactly as the title says.

Warnings: Mature language. Spanking. Established dom/sub dynamics. Light aftercare. I'm not sure it counts as smut but smut?

Requested: Yes! I get it, tough choices. Hope you enjoy!

A/N: Due to a mistake on my part, I did not erase the space for spanking on time. I got two requests. So, Alicent anon, don't worry. I will write yours too, but I will try to space it out to not post two similar fics.

You sit on a small armchair by the fire with a sullen expression. Nerves pool on your stomach, but they are quickly won over by the feelings of annoyance. You have been told you will get punished after he is done working, but you are more angry than scared. You did act out to get his attention, and even then, Harwin cannot even pretend to care. He is just treating your punishment as another task in a long list he has to fulfill before going to bed.

Harwin sits at his desk, going over something that has countless numbers and math. A budget, most likely. You know the Master of Coins has been pressuring the gold cloaks into tightening their belts, or so to speak.

The transition of leadership has not been an easy thing. Many of the men were loyal not to their cause, protecting the citizens of King’s Landing, but to their previous Commander.

You do not begrudge Harwin for taking the position. It was an honorable one, being the Lord Commander of the City Watch. It spoke of the trust both his father and the King had in his abilities at combat and leadership. Yet… You can’t help but feel that the change has taken its toll on your marriage.

He is always busy. Gone are the days that you would spend lazing around in bed or curled together by the fire. Or even the days Harwin took you for a ride or hunt. Now, he comes to your shared rooms at odd hours, and gets up every day at the crack of dawn.

You try to remind yourself that Harwin is a busy man, and that his attention and opinions are required elsewhere. The men need him to direct the training exercises, the council wants his input for the security of the King as he visits the small folk. It’s a good thing.

You squirm in your seat, pouting. Harwin looks up from his papers and tuts.

“Don’t. You will only get yourself in more trouble if you keep pouting.”

“I just don’t think I deserve to be punished.” You answer, bravely. And it’s the truth. You don’t feel like you deserve a punishment. Why did you have to obey his silly rules when he was not there to witness the consequences of your disobedience? What was the point, even? Harwin was never home.

“I doubt that’s your decision to make. If it depended on the rule breakers, all the cells would be empty.” Harwin’s voice was collected and calm. Cold, even. Yet, it was not that what made your blood boil. His words were. The comparison. It reminded you of the reason all of this started. Why did he have to bring work into everything? It seemed that even in your time together, he was not fully present. He simply cared more about his job than he cared about his wife.

“… You said I was allowed to stay in your study if I didn’t distract you.” You retorted, gritting your teeth. Your whole face was heating, not in shame but anger. Your ears were burning, your neck felt hot, and you were about to do something that you would really regret. Closing your eyes, you breathed in deeply.

“And what did you do?” Harwin put the parchment and quill down. He looked at you for the first time. His expression was unreadable. You thought of getting up and grabbing that dammed budget and tearing it to pieces.

“I was not distracting you! I was only… Playing with myself.” And what if you were? Really. It could hardly be called that. You had only been squeezing your thighs together. And perhaps rolling your hips a little. “And I never touched myself!”

Why did you have to obey his silly rules? He was never here. The prohibition for touching yourself had started as a fun way to spice up your bedroom activities. Harwin enjoyed your neediness, when you had not been touched for a while. You suspected he also enjoyed the idea of being the only one that got to touch you in such a way.

Before, it had not been hard to comply. As any self-respecting young maiden, fearful of the Seven, you had never even approached a hand towards your cunny. Only for washing yourself, and never lingering or exploring too much.

Harwin had been the one who had introduced you to the pleasures of the flesh. It had been him who had encouraged you to explore all the wondrous feelings your body had to offer. Doing it without him seemed silly. You had touched yourself at his instance, and found great pleasure, but it was not the same that when it was his hands on your skin.

But after nearly a month of not being able to have sex with your husband, you understood exactly why you would want to please yourself. You craved the release. Even if you knew it would not be the same, you were so desperate, any peak would be better than no peak. Even if it were one brought on by yourself.

It was hardly your fault. Anyone would feel aroused after nearly a month with only stolen kisses to get you by. The sight of your husband in only a linen shirt and pants, bent over his desk had been too much. Watching as the muscles of his back flexed, how his big hands swallowed the quill he was using to take notes. All that, mixed with the goblet of wine you had been nursing and the fact that Harwin had handed you his cloak to keep warm. Surrounded by his smell, inhibitions lowered by the wine, it was a miracle you had not jumped his bones yet.

You felt like you were burning up with need. So you squeezed your thighs a little, and rubbed against the edge of your chair. You didn’t try to be subtle, secretly hoping that the sight of your neediness might entice him to do something about it.

“That’s hardly better, little one. You were purposefully looking for loopholes.” Harwin said, oblivious to your thought process. He wore a stern expression that made you want to fold immediately.

A month, you reminded yourself. You had been feeling alone for a month.

“I know, but you had not been paying attention to me!” You complained, steeling yourself. This was a discussion you truly wanted to have beyond brattiness. It had not only been the lack of marital duties, but you missed spending time with him.

It comes out whinier than you intended. Much more pitiful, too. You don't realize, but Harwin's mood immediately shifts, from playful to serious. He can tell this is truly bothering you.

Harwin pulled his chair back and spread his legs slightly. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight of his thighs spread in a pose that was so dominant.

“Come here.” He ordered, brows pinching together. You didn't want to, knowing only punishment could await from your defiance. But you still did. Once you were in front of him, Harwin caressed your cheek with his thumb. “Was my poor wife feeling neglected?”

To your horror, your eyes started to feel watery.

“You spend all your time with the gold cloaks. Never with me.” Then, in a whisper so small, it tugged at Harwin's heartstrings. “Do you not want me anymore?”

“I had not noticed you missed me so.” He confesses, pulling you into his lap. His touch is gentle, as always. His hands feel warm and solid against your waist. You straddle one of his thighs, still pouting. Harwin pulls you even closer. “I will make time for you, from now on.”

“Thank you.” You mutter shyly on his neck. It's what you needed to hear. You stay on his lap for a while, cuddling in silence. The steady thump of his heart and his warmth comfort you. It's something you have deeply missed.

Despite wanting nothing more than just curl into his lap and sleep the night away, you still feel restless. Your button throbs between your legs, wanting attention. You cannot help but wonder what it would feel like, getting ravished by your husband after so long. How his hands would feel on your skin, deliciously calloused. How his face would pinch in the sweetest agony. How he would sound, entering you.

Would he be capable of sliding right in, with how wet you are? Or would Harwin have to open you up as he had done on your first night together?

You squirm. Harwin, thinking you are uncomfortable, shifts you to sit properly on his lap, resting his forehead on top of your head. The casual display of strength makes even more wetness gather between your thighs.

“Are you alright, Wife?” Harwin starts running his hand over your hair, soothingly. He is unable to see your expression, and you are glad for it. You are so embarrassed it's starting to be physically painful. Here is Harwin, trying to comfort you, and you can't think of anything else but getting him into bed.

"You are much too pretty to be shedding tears over the likes of me. I apologize, for being so lacking lately. I have been paying so much attention to my duties with the King and forgotten about my most important ones.”

“Harwin…” That he regrets it had not even crossed your mind. Too blinded by your feelings, you had never thought about how your outburst would make him feel.

“As your husband, I made a vow. To be always yours. To protect you. I have not fulfilled either of those duties, being so far away.” He whispers, very quietly. You want to reassure him, but are unsure how.

“You always come home to me.” You go back to your previous position, straddling his thigh, to be able to look him in the eyes. It breaks your heart. His brown eyes are all hurt puppy.

“Perhaps physically. But my mind is still away, even when by your side. It's not right. You are my Lady. Mine to cherish. I have been a poor husband to you.” And it is true. You had thought about it, using much harsher words. Harwin clearly didn’t mean to hurt you, but you had been trying to rile him up on purpose. It makes you feel awful. You don’t want him to feel bad about himself, you just wanted to air out your frustrations.

“Never say that. Never.” You muttered, fiercely, touching your forehead to his. “I have never thought you a bad husband.”

“Only because you are too kind. I will do better, Wife.”

You sigh, knowing it's no use contradicting him. Instead, you pull him in for a kiss, hoping he can hear all you cannot say. The kiss starts to get heated very soon, his hands grasping greedily at your hips. It has been a month since you had the time to do more than just kiss. Time to play one of your games. Both of you crave it, need it.

As you pull apart, you give him a naughty little grin.

"I still broke your rules.”

Harwin chuckles. His eyes have turned dark, pupils blown with lust.

“Dirty girl. Do you want a punishment?”

“Yes, please.” You look up at him, all starry eyed. Perhaps he will tell you to spend the night on your knees, serving him. Or perhaps you will have to obey his every command. Or, if you are very lucky, you will get to peak over and over until you pass out.

Your breath hitches in excitement. You can't wait.

“Over my lap. Hike up your nightgown.”

The words burst your bubble immediately. Your shoulders slumped and you went back to pouting. Spanking was not what you had expected. While the physical side of it was fun, a little pain to go with your pleasure, it always wore you out mentally. There was something about it that left you feeling very vulnerable.

You understood why Harwin did it, though. It was an easy way to put you in your place. Spanking you in such a manner tugged at your subconscious. It was the manner in which children were punished. He doesn’t need harsh words or much pain to force you into submission. In fact, it stings even more when he does so with gentle words. You feel silly, after it. Harwin will coo and call you his good girl, and you will melt for him and do as he says.

"But… But…” You protest, despite knowing it’s useless.

“You thought you would get something else?” Harwin asks, carefully tucking your hair behind your ears. His hands almost swallow your face. It gets you all shy. “My poor wife. Where did all your intelligence go? You know you did a poor job of communicating your needs. Instead of telling me of your loneliness, you threw a tantrum."

“I… Harwin…” You plead, looking up at him. You are not sure what you are begging for. For Harwin to guide you, perhaps. You feel helpless.

“Over my knee.”

Faced with the choice, you cannot bear the thought of disappointing him further. He is right, in a turnabout way. You could have done things different. In another life, a perfect one, you would have knocked the door to his study and asked to talk. You would have sat, like two adults, and told him you were frustrated because you missed him. Instead, you had mixed the games the two of you play with your real anger, turning into a bratty mess.

You want to fix things. To not have to think, anymore. You take off his cloak and fold it neatly. Then, you hike up your nigh shift and lay down on his lap. You rest your hands on the floor, stretching to be able to do so.

“Don't. You could hurt yourself.” Harwin rubbed your arse, gently. Warming you up. Then, without warning, his hand came down. You nearly shrieked. The sting was harsh, yet he seemed unwilling to let up. His hand came down again and again, in the same spot. You knew Harwin, though. Soon, it was not only going to sting. He liked building you up to it.

His hand moves to your other cheek, spanking you with a slightly curved hand. It hurts differently, that way. It allows him to feel the overheated skin, how the flesh wiggles with each impact.

Shame curls around your spine, twisting your stomach. You are still wet. It’s a deeply humiliating feeling. You are unable to think clearly, your mind slow and weary. As if you were treading through molasses.

“I will not make you count, but you have to behave. No trying to get away.” Harwin warned, before spanking you again. This time, you started wiggling your toes in discomfort, fighting the urge to kick and scream.

Your bottom feels already hot and abused, but Harwin is not letting up. You are really starting to hurt. Your vision starts to blur, and you try to grasp at the carpet, fighting to stay afloat. It’s no use, no use at all. Soon you are weeping with all you have.

“Are you going to stop being a good girl for me?” Harwin asks, rubbing soothingly at your shoulder blades. It’s only then that you realize you have been wiggling around, trying to get away from the pain.

“I’m… Har-…Harwin… Sorry.” You blubber, unable to form the sentence right. You want to speak, but you are crying too hard for it. You feel dumb. Look at you, a noble lady with access to the best education Westeros has to offer. You had the best tutors, a Septa all to yourself. An education fit for a Princess. Yet, you can’t create a single sentence, overwhelmed by your feelings.

Too big feelings, Harwin had called them once. You were, after all, a silly girl who needed her husband to guide her. Sometimes, your feelings get the best of you and make you unable to think clearly.

That was why you liked these games. Submitting quieted all the voices in your head. There was nothing except obedience requiring your attention. Harwin made all the tough choices and took care of you, and you could focus on only being.

“You are doing so good.” Harwin whispered, as he rubbed at the already abused skin. You hated how much it made you preen, getting praised. “So good for me. Just a little longer, and we will be done.”

You slump on his lap, defeated. The hits keep raining on your vulnerable behind, and this time you are unable to quiet down. You whine, and weep and scream, but do not move an inch. You are sweating with the effort from keeping still, and there is nothing you want more than to bang your palms against the floor in a fit of rage. But you do not. You keep still and focus on being good for Harwin.

Your mind slows down. There is nothing but the pain, and breathing through it. Like being submerged in syrup, thoughts barely form before sinking heavily. You blink, trying to focus, but are unable to. There is only Harwin.

His smell, his hands so big against you. His warm thighs under your stomach. His erection pressing against you, the way he sounds, excited little inhales at each hit. How he times them, alternating the placement in a predictable two-one count. Reliable. To care for you, hold you down, push you when you need him too.

Time drags on. Perhaps it’s only a few minutes, or perhaps hours pass. You are unable to tell. Harwin lowers you gently to the rug and lays down beside you, careful not to press into your arse.

“How are you?” He asks, tenderly brushing your tears away. You blink up at him, hazily. Still trapped in molasses, the words seem uttered from far away. You sniffle.

Harwin smiles at you. You don’t feel capable of speaking just yet. With great effort, you raise your hand and brush his cheekbone. He leans into your touch.

“I see, I see.” Harwin chuckles, and pulls you closer to him. You go willingly, nearly purring in contentment.

You drift off like that, head on his chest, nestled close to his heart.

#harwin strong x reader #ser harwin x reader #harwin smut #harwin x reader #harwin x you #harwin strong smut #harwin breakbones #harwin strong #ser harwin breakbones #ser harwin strong #cristi's bingo #sir harwin #harwin breakbones strong

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shady-tavern · 1 year ago

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Vampire’s Lullaby Part Three

The last and final part of Vampire’s Lullaby, part one and two can be found here. I hope it turned out alright! This is another long one.

Warnings ahead for mentioned child murder, please take care of yourselves.

***

Annabelle had worried the letter thin at the edges, folding and unfolding the piece of paper so often it started to fray a little. She was no fool, she knew exactly what Charlette was promising her. What she was trying to do.

Annabelle had often felt helpless and small in her life. She had felt it every time she had raced away from the shadows at dusk and every time she had chased after the sun at dawn. She had felt it every time she had to watch Dion step outside with no way of helping him.

She felt deeply touched that Charlette wanted to do something. That she cared enough about Annabelle, cared for her enough to want to change things for the better. Annabelle just wished she could help as well. She had never been an overly protective person of her loved ones, but she absolutely wanted them safe.

She just had no means to make that happen.

"You don't have to worry," Ophelia said, sitting on her windowsill tonight after Annabelle had invited her up.

She had her son with her, who was climbing all around the roof, playing lookout with excited determination. The little werewolf looked very cute, much like an overly enthusiastic boy rather than a monster of fur and claws and teeth.

"Charlette is very tough," Ophelia added. "She had claimed a pretty big territory both in her old home and here as well. And you did notice how no one's coming to this part of town anymore, right?"

"I know, it's not that I don't think she can do it, I just wish I could support her," Annabelle answered. Of course Charlette was capable, but that shouldn't mean she had to do everything on her own.

Ophelia tipped her head in thought, one ear swiveling constantly to keep track of her boy and the hunters down on the streets. "You can't fight night folk," Ophelia pointed out, rather unhelpful in Annabelle's personal opinion.

"I know." Annabelle forced herself to set the letter aside. "If you see her, make sure she's taking care of herself, would you?"

Ophelia nodded. "Of course, she's family after all." Then her head snapped around and she made a quick growly noise in warning when her son tried to creep towards the edge of the roof where the hunters would see him.

"I should get to bed," Annabelle said quietly after a moment. "Thank you, for keeping watch."

Ophelia offered a gentler, less toothy smile. "You're my friend too, you know? Of course I'll be here if you need me." With those words she clambered off the windowsill and easily jumped onto the neighboring roof to join her now more cautious son.

Annabelle got ready for bed and struggled to fall sleep for long minutes, staring up at the dark ceiling. There had to be something she could do to help.

The thought occupied her mind throughout the following day, right up until they got another order from an impatient noble who wanted to have a notebook done by tomorrow to gift to a friend whose birthday he had forgotten. He was willing to pay triple the regular price for the rush order that would force them to stop working on all other orders.

Annabelle offered to work late again to finish up the notebook and Mr. Bell left with a reminder to be home before the sun was gone entirely.

"I'll be careful," Annabelle promised and focused back on her work. The trick was to not get sloppy despite feeling the urgency to head home, the fading light making her restless after a lifetime of fearful hurrying.

Even though she was very sure nothing would happen to her, considering the protection she was under and the friend and lover she had now, that needling along her nerves remained.

She was nearly finished when the front door of the shop opened with a jingle. It made her startle, heart leaping into her throat, right up until she heard Ophelia's voice.

"Annabelle? Why aren't you home yet?" the werewolf called out and a glance towards the window showed it was pitch-dark outside. She had entirely lost track of time despite her best efforts.

"I'm back here," Annabelle called out. "I was finishing up an order."

The door creaked open and Ophelia poked her head in, ears swiveling as she listened and nose twitching at all the scents inside.

"I've never been inside a printing shop," the werewolf murmured as she ducked through the door, hunching down and shuffling to make her large frame fit. "It kind of reeks, though."

Annabelle couldn't help but chuckle. "I can imagine, my nose is nowhere near that sensitive, but even I don't like some of the smells around here." Especially some of the glues Mr. Bell sometimes bought. If he went for the cheaper stuff, their books always needed some time to air out to stop smelling.

"I was just wrapping things up," Annabelle said. "Thank you, for checking in on me."

Ophelia offered a wolfish grin, revealing fangs and teeth strong enough to bite straight through bone and metal. "Of course. Could I watch? I've always been curious."

Annabelle gestured her closer and showed how she put on the finishing touches.

"You know, if you ever want to stay late, you could," Ophelia offered. "I don't care if we sit around here or if I'm keeping watch outside your window."

That was a very nice offer and one Annabelle seriously considered taking. She could get so much more work done that way. But for now, she needed to go home or her family was going to lose it.

"You'd have to sneak me out my window if we want to return here," she said. "I have to be home or my parents and brothers are going to think I died."

Ophelia winced a little. "Yeah, that's fair, we don't want that. Let me know when you want to come back to the shop." She grinned again. "I could offer you a ride. I'll bet you I'm faster than you."

Annabelle snorted. "I'm not even going to take that bet, I know you are faster than me." There was a reason why hunters didn't run from the night folk unless panic took over. Why they chose to attack and lay traps instead.

She wrapped the book up in a soft cloth and left it to be picked up the next day. When she locked the store, Ophelia keeping watch, she jumped in surprise when the large werewolf suddenly started to growl, fur bristling.

"Peace," a calm voice spoke from the shadows. "I have not come here for blood."

Ophelia slowly settled down, tail lashing a bit and she kept standing half in front of Annabelle.

"If I may have a word with the human?" the voice asked and Ophelia snorted.

"How about you show your face first," the werewolf rumbled. "Then she can decide."

After a moment's pause, a tall, willowy man stepped into the light of one of the sparsely placed street lamps. His dark eyes held a red shine and he was dressed neatly and cleanly and offered a polite bow of his head.

"You are Annabelle, correct?" he asked and Annabelle stepped away from the door, resisting the urge to fiddle with her keys. "The one who convinced Charlette to pick a fight with our kind?"

That did not sound like it would be a pleasant conversation. Ophelia's ears pinned back a little and Annabelle answered, "I am." While Annabelle hadn't asked Charlette to fight other night folk, she knew her words had had an impact on her vampire.

"Do you think it possible for us to get along? Humans and night folk, I mean," the man asked, watching her closely.

"I think it's going to take a lot of work," Annabelle answered after a moment. "But if I can befriend night folk, why can't anyone else? If the killing stops, we could start building something better."

He was silent for the longest moment. "I think you are very naive. It is not that simple. We night folk have tried, you know? To be part of your world."

He stared off into the distance, something dark and grim crossing his face. "There are children no humans want, even though they are of their people. So I took them in. I loved them and cared for them, clothed and fed them and paid for their education. Do you know what happened to them?"

Annabelle found her mouth growing too dry to speak at the tone of his voice, her throat closing up when their eyes met. Fury and grief made his eyes glow a deep, dark red. Like blood. He was a vampire, she realized.

"I woke with the sinking sun to find them all hanged in secret," he said, low and with an underlying snarl that sent a stab of instinctive fear down her spine. "Children who had done no wrong. Children who died for consorting with monsters, as your lot call us. You humans didn't want them, but you didn't want anyone else to have them either."

He took a step forward, eyes blazing, only for Ophelia to step a little more firmly in front of Annabelle. He stopped and took a deep breath to reign himself in.

"I hold no insignificant sway in my part of this city," he said, voice calm again, but the darkness kept lurking in his gaze. "I will not support Charlette when we gain nothing. When the humans we dare to care about get slaughtered by their own kind. I will not fight for that kind of world, nor will all the others who agree with me."

He straightened, looking tall and imposing despite his willowy frame. "We are not the only ones who will have to change our ways." He then briefly bowed his head, polite enough but a little stiff now. "I said my piece. Do with it as you will."

Annabelle's mind was reeling too much to speak as he disappeared in the shadows. Ophelia glanced over her shoulder at her, a questioning look in her eyes.

Annabelle swallowed, wetting her lips, before she managed to speak, "Has this happened to many monsters?"

Ophelia looked away, her ears drooping a little. "To enough. It keeps us from trying to get closer to humans and it makes the other night folk more angry as well. It feels like we can do nothing right in the eyes of humanity. As though, after humans took our king, they now want to blame us for everything wrong in their lives."

"I'm sorry." Annabelle had no idea what else to say. Ophelia sent her a reassuring look.

"That's hardly your fault. Come on, let's get you home before your family worries too much."

They walked in silence and Annabelle's family was indeed very upset at her late return. The hunters outside who had escorted her home the rest of the way had scolded her as well, looking worried.

As she sat in her room, belly filled with a cold but delicious dinner, she found she was too restless to even consider sleep. The vampire's words kept circling in her mind, followed by what Ophelia had said. It wasn't until she restlessly fiddled with the papers on her desk that an idea hit her.

She couldn't grab a weapon and fight, at least not without dying needlessly in the process. She had no idea how to wield weapons after all and she especially couldn't help Charlette win against other night folk.

But there was more than one way of fighting and more than one battle that needed to be won. She grabbed a piece of paper and her quill and began to scribble furiously, writing and rewriting parts until she thought she had gotten it right.

She shoved to her feet and hurried to the window, paper in hand. "Ophelia?" she called out in a whisper and the werewolf looked up form her perch on the neighboring roof. "Can you look at this real quick?"

The werewolf jumped across the distance easily enough, accepting the paper Annabelle held out. She was silent for a long moment after she read it and Annabelle fidgeted nervously.

"What do you think?" she asked and Ophelia looked up, astonished surprise on her face, then she grinned.

"I say you are amazing. What will you do with this?"

Annabelle smiled in relief. "Can you take me back to the shop?"

"Sure," her friend answered, puzzled and curious. "But why?"

"I've got an idea." Annabelle was already climbing out the window and was easily picked up by a big, strong arm covered in warm, soft fur.

Ophelia hauled her onto her back as though she weighed nothing and went bounding across the rooftops far faster than Annabelle would have traveled on the streets. They arrived at the shop in record time and Ophelia watched curiously as Annabelle got to work.

Annabelle printed two big stacks of flyers and by then exhaustion started to catch up to her. She had worried at first to blatantly use so much paper and ink, but should Mr. Bell ask, she'd come up with a fabricated story about tripping when she hurried to leave and spilling ink everywhere and that she had to regretfully toss things out.

"Can you help me spread these?" she asked the werewolf, who grinned, wide and a little wild.

"I can do better than that. Wait here." Ophelia ducked out of the shop and a moment later, Annabelle heard a loud, howling call. It was answered by others, near and far and as she peeked out the window, she saw shapes move and gather along the edges of artificial light.

"Annabelle, come meet our friends and bring some of the flyers," Ophelia called out and Annabelle took a deep breath and lifted her chin. She would not be afraid, she told herself. If night folk were meant to share a world peacefully with humans, fear had no place in it.

She walked out with a stack of paper in her arms and made sure to smile at the gathered night folk. All kinds of creatures had gathered and they all stared at her with varying levels of curiosity. She spread the flyers among them and within seconds she heard low chatter and murmur, the click of claws and clatter of hooves and the ruffle of wings.

"We will help," a raspy voice of a spindly, pale creature said and it smiled with a mouth full of sharp needle teeth. "We are tired of a never-changing world that does nothing but hate."

Ophelia ducked into the shop to retrieve the stacks and Annabelle decided that she would not worry about being this close to other night folk while her friend was gone. No one made a move to attack, on the contrary, the nearest night folk offered a bit of polite small talk. They were nothing like the stories of feral beasts she had heard all her life.

Soon every one carried a stack of flyer as tall as Annabelle's hand was wide and they left with excited murmurs and chatter, dispersing to spread the paper all across the city.

"That's just the first step," Annabelle said as she locked up the shop and Ophelia carried her back home. "Are you and they willing to help more often?"

"Of course," Ophelia said with a smile. "We've all wanted and waited for a real chance to change things. While some night folk have fallen too deep into the dark to return, many others who will take this chance with both hands and not let go."

*.*.*

The entire city was in uproar the next day. The flyers hadn't simply been dropped in the streets, the night folk had put them up on shop windows and street lamps and along all the intersections. They had even shoved any leftovers into mail boxes. It was impossible to go anywhere and not see at least one flyer.

Annabelle heard people curse and tear the flyers down, not wanting to hear what she had to say. But that was alright, minds didn't just change overnight. The few glimpses she got of people silently pocketing flyers, looking contemplative, was worth it.

She printed flyer after flyer as the days passed, sacrificing sleep gladly. And the more she did it, the more she told the truth, the more she spoke of injustices and wrongs committed that had to be made right and the possibility for actual peace, the more people stopped to think.

They started to look at the traveling groups of clerics and town guards differently, who tore down the flyers and demanded the heads of those who had done this. They all remembered the humans killed for being seen with monsters.

They hadn't known about the dead children, but someone had broken into the cleric offices and had returned with proof that such things had indeed happened. They had spread the information all over the city and people had been furious ever since.

Annabelle saw the expressions in the eyes of the citizens change as more and more things came to light. Most of all, people wanted safety and peace. The idea of no longer fearing the night, of not sacrificing their children or spouses just to try and keep the rest of the family safe was a very luring call.

Of course, the nobles weren't going to take this sitting down. Fear was one of the things that kept them in power, after all. Fear was what the clergy was built upon and how they got their money, by making people think they could buy safety off of them, as well as blessings for their homes.

Considering how swiftly the nobility retaliated, Annabelle knew that she was on the right track. Houses of rebellious fractions got raided and one day, the guards stood in front of Mr. Bell's shop as well.

"Feel free to look around," Mr. Bell said, making a sweeping gesture. "You won't find what you're looking for."

As the guards stomped past him, Mr.Bell met Annabelle's eyes, his expression telling her that they were going to have a long talk. It made her swallow nervously.

"You're very low on ink and paper," the head guard rumbled and Mr. Bell nodded.

"Yes, our resupply shipment will arrive tomorrow. It always looks like that at the end of the month. Especially with the rush-orders from various nobles we've been getting."

Annabelle involuntarily held her breath. This was not what their shop looked like at the end of the month. So Mr. Bell had noticed, of course he must have, that their supplies had dwindled down fast. Why hadn't he said anything?

"Show me the receipts," the head guard demanded and Mr. Bell dug out more bills than there should be.

Annabelle didn't let her confused and worried tension show and soon enough the guards left, having found nothing suspicious. Not even a stray flyer anywhere. Annabelle made sure to remove any and all hints of her activities and any messed up prints she took home to burn in the fireplace while her family slept.

"So," Mr. Bell said as he watched the guards march down the street towards their next destination. "Explain to me why you've been making those flyers."

At her surprised, startled look, he huffed. "I'm no fool, girl. I know how much stock we have and how much we use. You're lucky I forged some receipts in advance when I realized what you've been doing. So, why have you decided to become a rebel?"

The entire story tumbled out after a moment of hemming and hawing and Mr. Bell listened carefully and intently, asking questions when he needed her to clarify things. At last he leaned against the counter in thoughtful silence.

"I know some supplies who sell under the hand," he said at last. "They'll bring us more ink and paper than we officially need."

Annabelle stood up a little straighter. "You'll help me?"

Mr. Bell chuckled. "Oh, my dear, you're looking at a rebel yourself. I might be getting old, but I've caused quite some mischief and trouble in my younger days." His eyes were bright and he grinned, excitement starting to shine through. "And here I thought I was going to have a quiet, boring life until I died. So, what's next on the agenda?"

Annabelle managed to collect herself, drawing away from the reeling surprise to lay out her plans. Mr. Bell had some great ideas himself and together they started to build a more solid plan of attack.

"I can't let you work on the flyers during the day, in case they come back for another surprise search," he said regretfully. "You'll be safe coming in after dark?"

"I am," she promised and he nodded.

"Then do that. In the meantime, you'll go and get some sleep, I'm sure we can throw something together." When she tried to protest, he waved her off. "I can handle the work by myself for a few hours. If necessary we'll refuse some orders in the future. We have enough money to give us that leeway for a couple of weeks."

He gestured at the book she had finished for the noble. "And if we get more orders like these, we don't have to worry about money for even longer."

Annabelle couldn't help but hug her old mentor, who chuckled and gave her back a pat. "

Now, none of that," he said when she tried to thank him or to reimburse him by cutting short her earnings. "If anything, you are doing me a favor. I was wondering what to do considering that everyone keeps urging me to retire. Having a purpose is very fun, isn't it?"

She couldn't help but smile and he ushered her away to get some rest on their coats on the floor, while he got started on their remaining orders. Annabelle managed to doze off for a bit, waking up again when the noble dropped by to pick up the book. A well filled coin purse was left behind and Mr. Bell grinned at her when he saw her sit up.

"Ready for work?" he asked and she hurriedly got to her feet to join him.

Mr. Bell left in the afternoon and returned cheerfully. He kept what he had been up to a secret, right up until the evening bell rang and someone knocked on the backdoor. The one they only used to bring out trash to the small alley.

To her surprise, three young men were there, delivering crates of parchment and ink. Mr. Bell paid them and sent them on their way with a cheerful wave. The boys briefly peered at Annabelle with silent curiosity, though they said nothing.

"I'll keep the backdoor unlocked," Mr. Bell said as he ushered her out the front door. "Please use it just in case some guards show up to patrol at night in order to try and catch the flyer-rebel."

The thought made her nervous, but Annabelle took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. If this was how she could help, she would do it, no matter the danger it brought. Things had to change.

She returned home, ate with her family and was glad to hear that Dion would return home at the end of the week. He'd stay in his bed for another week and then he'd have to return to guarding the house.

The only reason Annabelle wasn't deeply scared for her brother was the knowledge that their part of town had become very, very safe. Not a single monster showed its face, at least not to attack anyone.

Ophelia waited by the window the moment her parents and brothers had fallen asleep and Annabelle climbed out and onto her back. They traveled along the rooftops once again and Ophelia dropped into the small alley to let Annabelle use the backdoor.

They printed another round of flyers, more monsters showing up to disperse them. Some smiled at her, others looked curious. Some seemed hesitant to be hopeful, but they had come to help all the same.

Annabelle didn't print flyers every night. Neither Mr. Bell nor she had the funds for such a thing, but she made as many as she could. Aside from flyers, she printed posters to leave on market squares and when one of the monsters handed over a well-worded letter their daughter had written, she published that one too.

Dion was home at last and she made sure her brother was comfortable. He looked tense and unhappy, though his worry eased whenever his hunter friends visited. They had told him they had guarded his family in his absence and how quiet things had been recently.

"It's weird, in all honesty," one of his best friends muttered, the woman who always waited and made sure Annabelle came home safely. It was the day before he had to resume his duty and he'd been high-strung since this morning. "Sure, there are times when things are calm, but never to that extent and never for that long."

Her brother was quiet that evening as they ate and he only grimaced a little in pain when he sat up for too long. Everyone knew he shouldn't return to duty tomorrow, but no one spoke up either. Annabelle kept her head down, her determination to change things stronger than ever before.

If the fighting and bloodshed ended her brother could finish healing in peace. Everyone could heal.

A knock at the door made her family and she startle. It was too late for visitors, there was only a faint glow of light remaining in the sky, the sun itself gone.

"Open, in the name of the Inquisition," an authoritative voice shouted and Annabelle jolted in her seat, heart leaping into her throat.

Everyone knew the Inquisition. They were the ones who dealt with those who loved monsters, with humans who had gotten 'corrupted', as they called it. They also took care of rebels and 'threats to the city', which usually meant threats to the nobles.

Nerves made her stomach clench and her appetite vanished in an instant. Her parents exchanged a nervous, confused look, before they got up to hesitantly open the door.

One of the head priests was waiting on the other side, flanked by two of his subordinates and behind them were three guards.

"How can we help you?" Annabelle's mother asked, shifting a bit to stand more firmly in front of her children. "I fear we do not have enough food to feed you all, but if you seek a safe place for the night, we offer our humble home."

"We are not here for peasant gruel or to beg a spot in front of your little fire," the head priest said with disdain. "We are here to question you on the integrity of your family."

"There is nothing to question," her father said sharply. "We are good, upstanding citizens."

"That remains to be seen," the head cleric sniffed, pushing forward until her father yielded and stepped back.

Annabelle watched warily as the priests and guards walked through the open door and when they didn't bother with closing it, a bad feeling began to churn in her gut.

"Leave the door open, woman," the head priest demanded when her mother rushed to close it. Her parents and siblings stilled, nervous and tense. Dion glanced to where his weapons sat by the door, gaze calculating.

Annabelle saw his hunter friends milling outside, watching warily and inching a bit closer, half of them staring at the open door, the other half watching the surroundings keenly.

"We wish to question your daughter," the head priest demanded, those pale eyes boring into Annabelle, who scarcely dared to breathe. She sat ramrod straight, hands a gnarled knot in her lap as she gripped her skirts tightly, her heart pounding.

The way he looked at her said it all. They suspected her. They didn't know for sure yet, which was the only reason she wasn't getting arrested, but they heavily considered her the culprit.

"Our daughter has done nothing wrong," her mother said, shifting to stand more firmly in front of her. "Anything you have to say to her, you will say with all of us present."

The head priest looked faintly annoyed, but continued on without pause, "Seeing as lately someone has been stirring up the masses, we've conducted a thorough investigation as to the people capable of such foolishness. And we've now come to you, Miss Annabelle. Care to tell us if these are yours?"

He reached into his pocket to pull out some of her flyers, unfolding them and tossing them onto the dining table.

"They aren't," Annabelle answered after staring at them for a second, heart pounding so hard she felt as though her very bones were rattling in time with the beat. "I've seen them stuck on walls before though, why do you think that I made them?"

"Because she works at a print shop?" her oldest brother asked sharply, smiling in a thin and very much unamused way. "Our little sister has worked her ass off to support this family and you come in here, accusing her?"

"I do not like the tone you take with me, boy," the head priest said sharply and at a look from her mother, Rudi settled down with a fierce glower.

"Do you have any idea who could have made them?" the man asked Annabelle, who shook her head. "Or anything else you can tell us?"

Annabelle reached out to the closest flyer, coincidentally the newest one, pretending as though she was inspecting it. "The paper is thicker than the one we use in our shop," she said and the head priest's eyes narrowed. "And we don't own that shade of midnight blue either, it doesn't work as well when you want to print books."

She had never been been more relieved that Mr. Bell had gotten things for her under the hand, otherwise she could not have made those claims.

The head priest appeared faintly miffed, but turned to her parents next.

"Has she come home on time every night and not left again?" the head priest asked.

"She's shown up at dusk every day and she doesn't leave before dawn," her father said firmly. "We never heard strange noises or saw any wounds on her. Neither has she brought home gifts we couldn't explain. Go ask the hunters if you don't believe us." He gestured at the lurking neighbors outside.

"I shall," the head priest said, sounding colder and more displeased now. "You better hope your stories line up."

"They will," her mother said firmly. "Please leave now, we don't wish to invite monsters in and we still have to finish dinner."

The head priest stared Annabelle down a moment longer and she knew he didn't quite believe her, but he must have other suspects with how easily he accepted her answers. For now, at least.

"Have you considered that a monster printed these?" she found herself asking just as the man turned around to leave. "I heard some are smart."

"They're all mongrel beasts, mindless and driven by bloodlust," the head priest said sharply, looking at her over his shoulder, his eyes burning cold. "Don't be mistaken, girl, they can fake intelligence long enough to ensnare you. There is nothing more to them than instinct."

It was a fight to look appropriately chastised and agreeable and Annabelle made herself dip her head in embarrassed supplication. The head priest looked a bit mollified at that and stepped outside with his companions and guards, striding towards the waiting hunters.

Her mother closed the door, not quite slamming it but it made a clear, decisive sound. The entire living room was utterly silent, then her mother exhaled heavily.

"We will finish eating and then we'll wait for Dion's friends to knock." She turned around to look at Annabelle. "And you will tell us what exactly is going on here."

Startled, Annabelle glanced at her family and found all of them watching her with troubled frowns. She swallowed, nodding, and found herself too nervous to take another bite. No one ate in fact and Gerard soon got up to clear the table. It was almost unbearably quiet.

It didn't take long for someone to knock at the door and the hunter woman poked her head in. "They're gone. What happened?"

"Please come in and close the door," her mother said after a moment. "I think no monsters will attack, will they?" She looked at Annabelle, who ducked her head a little.

"No," she answered quietly. "They won't."

The hunters filled in and Annabelle found herself in the uncomfortable position of explaining what had happened weeks ago. Haltingly at first and then with more and more passion the story tumbled out of her.

She did not tell anyone about the kiss she had shared with Charlette, worried that it would be a step too far for them. Not because she had kissed a woman, they weren't like that, but because she had kissed one of the night folk.

Heavy silence rang after she finished, everyone staring at her with varying expressions. Dion looked guilty, Gerard and Rudi baffled, her parents incredulous and confused and the hunters were thoughtful.

"Is it possible to speak to one of these, erm, night folk?" the hunter woman asked.

"I think so," Annabelle said, thinking of Ophelia who was most likely waiting on the roof. "I can ask."

"Outside, not in here," her father said. "I just..." He sighed heavily, briefly rubbing his hand over his head. "What were you thinking?"

"She wanted us safe," Dion answered in her stead to her surprise. He sounded tired but understanding. "I can't say I blame her, father." He took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm tired of fighting for my life. Of worrying what will happen to you all when I fall. If there can be peace, I want it more than anything."

"As do I," the hunter woman asked and the other hunters of their street hummed and nodded in agreement, though they looked like they didn't really believe it possible either..

"I can go ask right now," Annabelle offered. "I could meet you outside?"

"Alright, we'll wait in the alley where no one will see us," the hunter woman said. "We just...we've got to see you're right, girl."

She got to her feet with a nod and hurried up the stairs. She heard voices rise behind her, but they were too quiet to understand individual words. It sounded like a hissed discussion, though.

"Is everything alright?" Ophelia asked the moment Annabelle opened the window. "I saw those fuck-awful priests prowling around."

"I have a request," Annabelle asked. "Would you be willing to meet my family and, um, our hunter friends?" When Ophelia reared back in surprise, she hurriedly tacked on, "It's safe, I promise. They just found out about everything and they want to talk to you. To see if peace is actually an option."

Ophelia was silent for a long minute, then she exhaled heavily. "I trust you, so, yes. Alright."

Annabelle smiled in relief, then visibly surprised her friend by climbing out the window. Ophelia easily hauled her onto her back and hopped down to the alley. Considering how everyone startled in surprise at her appearance but eased up immediately upon seeing Annabelle unharmed on the werewolf's back, Annabelle had chosen wisely to go with her friend.

"Everyone, this is Ophelia," Annabelle introduced her, clambering off her back and easily accepting the big, clawed hand that her friend held out for easy support. "Ophelia, meet my family and our friends."

"A pleasure," Ophelia said, sketching a bow, though she never took her eyes off of the hunters, who stared at her with the same intensity. "Annabelle said you have questions?"

The hunters hesitated, before Dion took a step forward, face tense but hope lurking in his eyes.

Slowly, with every question, Annabelle watched as the suspicion, the battle-ready worry, began to easy and fade. She watched as hope began to glow brighter and brighter instead. As if a gentle hand had found an ember that had been about to go out and brought it back to life with steady care in order to create a fire.

"Alright," the hunter woman said at last, turning to Annabelle. "How can we help?"

At Annabelle's surprised look, she grinned fiercely and added, "We want peace and we want things to be fair. For everyone, nobles and commoners. And those night folk too, if they help us. So, I think it's high time we join your little rebellion."

Ophelia looked positively surprised and approving, grinning back just as fiercely. "Oh, I like you."

The hunter chuckled in her low, raspy voice. "The feeling is starting to be mutual." She turned to the others behind her. "What do you say, are you lot ready to go and fulfill our dreams of cozy fires and full bellies and night skies we do not have to fear?"

The hunters rumbled strongly in agreement, faces determined and even her parents and brothers looked convinced. They met her eyes with care and a supportive, if worried gleam.

Annabelle felt relieved down to her bones and she realized she was grinning just as fiercely as the hunters and the werewolf at her side.

*.*.*

A knock at the door drew Annabelle out of her concentration. "I'm almost done, Ophelia," she called out without looking up. "Just a minute."

"I'll wait," a familiar and sorely missed voice made her startle and she looked up to find Charlette stepping through the backdoor.

Annabelle grinned wide in happy relief. Her vampire looked a little worse for wear, but proud in a way that told her of won battles. Her gait had changed as well. Where Charlette had been confident before, now she moved with the prowling knowledge of power, of tested strength and defeated opponents.

To her surprise, Charlette wasn't alone. The willowy vampire she had spoken with what seemed ages ago accompanied her, tipping his head respectfully.

His eyes were considering as he watched her, then he looked at the flyers and posters she had printed. It was getting easier and easier to find just the right words to convince the people, to sway their minds and draw them to the side of change.

"I didn't believe it, at first," the vampire said as he slowly stepped forward to get a closer look. "When I heard of humans rallying behind the cause of this one."

He nodded at Charlette, who curled her lips enough to reveal one impressive fang. He rolled his eyes at her, but looked fond rather than annoyed.

He continued, "I didn't believe it either when I heard of hunters willing to lay down their weapons and hearing us out. Of other night folk protecting them from their mad cousins."

Annabelle had been surprised most of all when she had heard of the change that had traveled through the city ever since her conversation with the hunters. Of the impact the people who joined her had.

Whoever had broken into the office of the high priests had done so again, publishing more and more damning material. They had brought proof as well for their claims, spreading committed misdeeds and crimes all over the city. More murdered children, stolen money, people forced and blackmailed into admitting night folk had threatened and thralled them when that had not been so.

The opinion of the night folk continued to shift slowly but steadily. Annabelle was helping where she could, doing her best to be a voice for the unheard. A voice for the people.

"None of that would have been possible without Charlette," she said, smiling at the vampire who smiled back with a warmth so sweet it made all the accumulated aches and stress and tension melt away.

Annabelle yearned to be held by her love, but held back for now. She wouldn't want to be rude in the middle of a conversation by getting distracted.

The willowy vampire raised a brow. "And none of it would have worked without you." He glanced between them. "Somehow, the two of you have done what I thought impossible. You're bringing our two separate worlds back together, piece by piece."

"People don't want to fight anymore," Annabelle said. "They want warm fires and full bellies and peaceful nights."

Or rather, most of them did. And those who wanted to continue fighting, well, there were always horrible night folk that still needed slaying. Just like there were horrible humans that the guards arrested to stop their evil deeds.

At this point, all that was left was getting their hands on the aristocrats, on the high priests, to force them to bow so they could cement the changes the people were demanding with increasingly louder voices. So they could have the peace back that greed and hunger for power had stolen from them.

"I will fight for that soft world," Charlette said firmly.

"Yes, you have proven as much," the willowy vampire tipped his head in respect and acceptance. "I only doubted if the humans would as well, but that doubt...it has waned with every sunlit voice that joined your cause."

He stared at the flyers for a moment longer, then looked up. "You will have my support. Every night folk from the warehouse district to the Emerald Park will immediately cease any hostilities towards humans and instead work with them when safely possible."

Annabelle's breath caught in her throat. That was...that was easily a third of the city. She stared at the vampire in surprise, who smiled thinly.

"Your Charlette isn't the only powerful one and I have many, many night folk to protect. I would not offer my support easily or foolishly. But you have convinced me, mortal maiden." He swept into a low bow. "I look forward to working together."

Annabelle hurried to curtsey back. "As do I. Thank you, really. This might...this is just the help we need to for a last push."

"I do my part as long as you do yours," he said and stepped back, gesturing at a finished and twine wrapped parcel of flyers. "I take it those are ready for distribution? May I take them?"

At Annabelle's nod he picked the thick parcel up. "I will spread these and I will get into contact with other night folk willing to help. We shall speak more on this matter tomorrow night. I believe it is high time both humans and night folk plan together."

With those words he excused himself and Annabelle stared at Charlette in baffled surprise. The vampire smiled at her.

"I've been kicking a lot of teeth in lately," Charlette said with a casual shrug. "He's had to bend the knee to me, but that doesn't mean he had to help."

"I missed you," the words were out before Annabelle could stop them, though she didn't want to either.

She got a glimpse of Charlette's face softening, then the vampire stood in front of her between one second and the next, opening her arms. Annabelle threw herself forward to hug her tightly, strong, cool arms wrapping around her firmly, holding her securely.

"I'm so glad to see you again, well and happy," Charlette murmured against her hair. "It was hard, not coming back sooner. But I had to make sure I could return with good news. And I'm so proud of you, for all you've done for me and mine."

"This is our world," Annabelle said and pulled back enough to look up. Charlette gently touched their foreheads together. "Let's fight for it together."

"We already are," Charlette answered in a whisper and when she grinned, it was fanged and fierce and not at all human and Annabelle loved her so much in this moment. "And we will win."

#my writing #vampires #wlw #lesbians #they be lesbians harold #I hope this turned out alright!#it took me forever to get this final installment done so I hope it doesn't disappoint!#I definitely learned to finish writing multiple-part stories ahead of time before posting #but this has been a lot of fun #I tried to have more of a closed ending #but with the sort of story I ended up telling it worked best this way #they're going to change the world for the better

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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The Road

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍫🍫🍫

The exhaust blows a cloud into the dark, the engine rumbling in wait as you toss your bag in the backseat with Birdy. She’s quiet, her eyes hooded as she can barely keep them open. She slumps against her own bag as Candy adds her to the heap on her other side.

You get in the driver’s side and fix the seat. Candy takes the passenger with a groggy grumble as she slides open the lid of the insulated cup. She gulps with a sigh and offers it wordlessly as you buckle up and check the mirrors. It’s going to be a long drive.

“Maybe we shouldn’t bother with all this business shit next time,” Candy yawns, “maybe something more… subtle.”

“Maybe,” you agree as you shift into drive, “Birdy, you doing alright back there?”

“Yeah,” her fluttery voice rises as she nestles against her duffel bag.

Silence overtakes the car as you set off. You steer slowly through the sleepy town, tension roiling in the tight space as you focus on the centerline of the road. The long drive isn’t the worst of it, it’s the snow that worries you most.

Candy chuckles and shifts in her seat. She shakes her head and takes another sip. You grip the wheel tight and peek over at her.

“What?”

“Oh, uh, just a stupid thought,” she rubs her cheek as he leans on the door, “reminds me of the girls’ trips I used to take back in the day. Wake up at the crack of dawn to drive up to some cottage or whatever.” She chortles again, “this one time, Lindsay, she took us to her hook-ups place and I guess he forgot to tell his wife he’d promised it to his sidepiece–”

You laugh and roll your eyes. You can’t judge. Before Bucky, you weren’t much different, dancing on tables and all. It really makes this all seem all the more surreal. How did you ever come to this?

“Had a boyfriend in college,” you start, talking as much to keep yourself awake as to calm your nerves, “fiance, actually… turns out, that was bullshit. He was already married with kids. He wasn’t even enrolled in the classes. He just lurked around to pick up girls.”

“Ewwww,” Candy exclaims, “oh, god, Coco bean, you really do attract the best types.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Birdy shuffles in the back and leans forward, “I only had one boyfriend before Steve,” she says, “but he was also my mom’s boyfriend.”

“What?” You nearly veer out as you turn your head sharply, “Birdy!”

“I… was young.”

“You’re still young,” Candy chides, “no judgment, baby girl, well, not with you. That man sounds nasty.”

“Oh, the nastiest. I don’t think there’s a single–”

You slam on the brakes as suddenly a cone of light shines across your path. The large truck rolls across the road and blocks the way. You swear and kick into reverse, making it only a foot before you stomp the brake again, a van appearing at your tail lights. Fuck.

“What the hell is this?” Your heart hammers in your chest, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Is it them?” Birdy whines, “Steve?”

“Fuck me,” Candy pops open the glovebox and takes out a thick club, “these fuckers aren’t getting it easy.”

“Shit,” you hit the wheel as your stomach curdles, “shit, shit!” Your panic swells to your throat. No, no, no! You can’t go back. You can’t. You’d rather die.

The truck opens and a figure jumps out, boots crunching the salt. You squint through the windshield as Candy grips her door and the club. You push yourself back into your seat as you gap at Bucky. No, it’s not him. It’s Nick.

“I knew it…” you murmur.

The van door slides open to your rear. You shift gears again and crank the wheel. You hit the gas. Fuck it. You crash into the side of the truck as Nick dodges out of the way. You push through, little by little until a deafening bang shatters the back window. You let off as Candy hisses and claps her arm.

“Fuck!” Candy squeezes her shoulder, “shit! They fuck–” she moves her hand just a little, a dark splotch spreading down her sleeve, “fuck, I’m shot.”

“Candy!” Birdy squeals and bends between the seats, “no!”

The back door opens and a figure looms in the dark, the yellow light of the headlights limning the angles as he grabs Birdy by the hair. She shrieks and cries out as she’s yanked back. You reach for her but he waggles his gun at you in warning. It’s the man from the cafe.

“Lloyd,” Birdy whimpers, “what are you–”

“Fucker,” Candy growls, her voice dwindling as she slouches forward, “she… she told him…”

“Birdy, did you–”

“I just wanted to say goodbye–”

“Shut up!” Lloyd snarls as he tears her across the seat.

The handle on your seat snaps back as someone tries to open it from the outside. Nick shatters the window with his elbow as you shield yourself with your arm. Candy’s door opens and her seatbelt clicks as the large shadow on her side untangles her limp body. She’s not moving anymore.

“Get–” you slap at Nick as he grabs at your seatbelt, “get away! Who the fuck– why the fuck are you doing this?”

“Shhh, baby, keep yourself under control and I won’t hurt you,” he lets the belt repel and grabs you by the front of your coat, “much.”

He hauls you out as you claw and kick. You hear Birdy sobbing and the heavy footfalls of the other man. You see Candy in his arms and you flail helplessly. It’s over. Someone’s finally come to claim their bounty.

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x coco #nick fowler x reader #the 355 #au #sweet treats #dark!fic #drabble #drabble series

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years ago

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Victim of the Circumstance, Part 2

Summary: Mirabelle is trying to get you in trouble

Pairings: James Mace X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: toy play, female masturbation, mentions of deceased parent, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.6K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Benning, will you put the clothes that are in the washer in the dryer, and that basket in front of the washer in there, please? Mirabelle, mommy needs you to start setting the table,” while Benning may groan, he does get up off the couch and walks into the laundry room. And the sweetest little angel of a daughter jumps up to grab the plates you had set on the counter.

“Baby, slow, okay? This isn’t a race. Mommy hasn’t finished cooking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” her chubby little fingers reach for one plate at a time. Keeping her busy, while also ensuring that you didn’t get another broken plate on your hands. “Mommy, I made sixty dollars at my orange juice stand, I did.”

“Sixty dollars?” You turn around to look at her, and she just nods her head proudly. “How did you make sixty dollars?”

“I don’t know how to make change. So I didn’t. Nope. And Uncle Bill brought his crew over there, he did,” she looks at you slyly. William hated to be called Bill. William or Will is all he would allow. Mirabelle and Benning were the only exception to that rule. “Mommy, how do you know when you’ve fallen in love?”

“Oh, my sweet darling, you shouldn’t have to worry about that for a long time. Who do you think you’ve fallen in love with?”

“An older man,” she gives you a little giggle, heading to the counter to grab the forks. “Do you think you will,” she catches sight of her brother, and she looks at you, shaking her head. “Never mind. Benny, did you have a good day at school today?”

“It was fine,” his voice was flat. It was never fine. Recently your son acted as if the world was on his shoulders, and there just was nothing to make him happy. “Can I go to Trent’s house this weekend?”

“Why? You never want to spend time with me and sissy anymore.”

“Well, Trent’s dad is helping us with my telescope,” ahh. The dreaded ‘Trent’s dad’. Trent’s dad did everything with his son, and extended that to yours. You were grateful of course. But sometimes you want Benning to yourself. Had tried to make time for just him, but you were just a mom. You weren’t a dad that knew about telescopes

“Well, can’t I help you with your telescope?”

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Isn’t that what YouTube is for? You telling me that Mr. Beck knows exactly what he’s doing?” Beck was starting to get on your nerves. He was getting all this time with your son who was growing up too fast, and too far away from you.

“Yeah. He hardly ever looks at YouTube. So can I go or not?”

“Watch your tone.”

“Please, mom, can I go to Trent’s house?” It was better. But you were not going to have him be disrespectful. The dreaded teenage years were around the corner, and if this was what you had to look forward to, you were not excited.

“Fine, now, let’s eat,” quietly the two of them go to the table. A table with four chairs, and Sy never got to sit in one. Each of your children eat their dinner slowly. Conversation almost eliminated by Benning’s bringing up the fact he didn’t have a father.

“Mommy, can I bring a friend over for dinner one night?”

“Do you even have friends?” Mirabelle pouts at her brother, and his face completely changes. The light in his eyes coming back for a moment when he sees he hurt his sister’s feelings. They used to have the sweetest relationship. “I’m only kidding, Sissy. I know that Dawn is your friend.”

“No, not one from school. I met him today.”

“Did a little boy come into the store? Sweetheart, a lot of people that come in that store are tourists, and…”

“No, over there,” she points over to the new build, and you take a deep gulp. There were men around your daughter. You knew that Hazel or Harley, and even William were right there, but they couldn’t watch her every second.

“Mirabelle, I don’t want you to set up your stand over there anymore. I’ll talk to Harley and Hazel and…”

“No, he was really nice. Even Uncle Bill liked him. Told him he had to keep an eye on me, and…I want him to come to dinner with us one night. He’s very handsome, he just needs a haircut, and…” her eyes move down to the table when the screech of Benning’s chair echoes in the kitchen. “Benny, I’m sorry.”

“What is this? You got your four year old picking you up dates?”

“Excuse me?”

“What don’t you get about your vows?”

“Benning Kepler Syverson, you stop this instant!”

“No! No one is ever going to be dad! I don’t need a dad! I want mine back,” standing up, he stomps towards his bedroom. It was like you never could move forward with him. Four years later and he was still angry that you were replacing his father, and you hadn’t even looked at another man, forget about touching.

“Mommy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make Bubba mad,” holding out your arms, you let your confused daughter crawl into your lap. Brushing back her hair as she cries. “I don’t want Mace as my daddy. But…but how come Benning got to have a daddy, and I didn’t?”

“Baby, Benning is just very angry right now. He misses daddy.”

“I don’t get to miss him though, because I never met him. I want a daddy, too,” dramatic evenings were becoming too common. Hearing the loud music coming from Benning’s room, you hold your baby even tighter. The baby that Sy had begged you for. He had wanted her so much. Dreamed about who she would look like. And he didn’t get his wish, because she favored him instead of you.

“Mommy can you get me a daddy?”

“Not tonight. How about mommy makes you a bowl of Miss Hazel’s fresh orange sherbet before bed?”

“Okay. I still want a daddy though. I didn’t mean for my new friend to be a daddy. I just think…it doesn’t matter anymore,” you give her a quick kiss, and still holding her as you start to make her a bowl of her favorite treat. Waiting until she fell asleep before you dealt with your son.

You lean over to give Mirabelle a soft kiss to her forehead, and she rolls over, squeezing her raggedy seahorse stuffy. The first and last gift her dad had ever gotten her. She was growing up too fast, and with every year older you were reminded of how many years you had been alone. And just how many years it was just you and them.

Turning on her sound machine, you gently close the door, and walk down the hall to Benning’s room. Not even bothering to knock when you walk in, “What are you doing in here?”

“That was uncalled for,” his eyes roll up to look at you slowly. “I know you miss him. I know you hate the thought of any man coming into the picture, but…”

“You’re not even taking your vows seriously!”

“Do not tell me about my vows that I made. I was loyal to your father. He was on a tour and overseas, and I was your mother and that was it. I waited on your father. Do not talk to me about my vows to him. I loved him. He was my everything. And I know you’re hurting, but so am, and so is your sister.”

“She never even met him. How is she hurting?” These feeling were all too common for military families. Too often kids were left without a mother or a father. Or worse, neither. You thought you would be different. You thought wrong.

“You’re so angry that you don’t even see how you being hurt, hurts her. She might not have met your dad, but she stares at his pictures all the time. She asks about him all the time. She tells me she remembers him touching her through my belly all the time, but you’re too busy worrying about your own pain instead of hers. Benning, what do you want me to do?”

He shrugs, sliding down more onto his bed. With your hands on your hips, you try and think of the best things to say to him. You had never imagined a life where you didn’t have their father. Never could have prepared yourself to be a single mother to two kids. And now. You had a young boy who was just angry all the time.

“You’re not going to act like that and disrespect me. We’re going back to counseling.”

“No!”

“And you need to remember, I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. I’m not saying I am ready to date, and definitely not ready to bring any man around you. But I won’t deny myself affection from a man,” he rolls his eyes, and turns his back towards you. “You can be mad, son, but…daddy wouldn’t have wanted me to be alone.”

“Daddy would have wanted you to only love him.”

“I did. And now he’s gone, and I can’t physically love him anymore. I can love his memory, and I’m still in love with his memory. But this…this every night causing some form of drama, we’re not doing. We’re going back to counseling, or you can go alone. I don’t care. But I want you to put your anger towards something else. Because I am doing all that I know how to do. Just remember how much your sister adores you. She loves you so much. And this is confusing to her. I love you.”

You stand still waiting for his response. Watching him rub the silky outline of his baby blanket, “Benning, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Goodnight,” you whisper, turning out his light. It was like he felt responsible for the household. He was the man of the house, and he was letting that title crush him, instead of dealing with his grief.

He was too young. His father was taken from him when he was too young. Walking into your bedroom, the last family photo of you three, and a Mirabelle bump makes you angry. “You left me with this, Sy. You said this was the last time, and you not coming home is not how I interpreted that. We were supposed to be a team. We were supposed to be together forever. Why did you tell him he was in charge when you left? Why couldn’t you have told him to be a little boy?”

Night’s like these were always the hardest. Both your babies going to sleep upset, and you frustrated. “I didn’t agree to be a widow before I turned forty. God, I didn’t agree to be alone, and raising two kids. Two amazing and beautiful kids. Sy, I need you. I need you to just hold me and fuck away the sad and angry tears to blissful ones. And…fuck!” You whisper scream going over towards your drawer.

Pulling it open, you grab your hitachi magic wand to plug up. Looking back at the door, Mirabelle still woke up randomly. It was too risky to leave it unlocked. “You did this Sy. You should be laying in this bed while I took my anger out on your cock,” you could even remember the way his thick hands would grab you, placing you where he wanted you, and use you.

There was so much love between you and Sy, but the best way for both of you to work through anger was sex. You both offered your bodies up freely. Clicking on the vibe, you close your eyes remembering better times with Sy. The way his hand would hold your mouth to keep you quiet, and his hips would roll into you with so much force. A constant moving of the bed because his thrusts would slam the bed frame into the wall.

Or on the rare occasion that you would push him on the bed and ride him like your life depended on it. His hands gripping your hips, and pushing you further onto him. God, he loved when you pushed yourself to your limits. Not ever stopping after orgasming. Just keep bouncing on him harder and harder. Your juices spilling out on him, and not stopping until your legs were trembling, and he was cooing how you were just such a good slut for him.

“Mommy?”

“Dammit,” you pant. You were almost there.

“Mommy, I can’t sleep. Mommy, the door is locked.”

“Hold on, baby,” no wonder you were frustrated. Every time. Every time you were stopped just shy of an orgasm. This was the worst type of edging. “Mirabelle, give me just a second,” you stuff the wand back in the drawer, and try to calm your breathing. It was right there. Right in your reach. But mommy duties didn’t wait for an orgasm.

“Why are you breathing funny?”

“Because I was sleeping.”

“Last time you were breathing funny, you had that microphone on your bed, and you said you were singing. Were you singing? Is the microphone on the bed? Can I use it?”

“No!”

“I can sing. I can. And you have a pink microphone. Please, can we just sing together?”

“It’s late,” you take a deep breath, picking her up, and instead of hugging you, she moves her body away. “What?”

“You need to turn the air on higher. You’re sweaty.”

“Mirabelle, baby, it’s late. Get some sleep.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so sweaty if you didn’t sing alone in the middle of the night. You forgot to unplug your microphone,” she was too smart. Way too smart. That hyper awareness was one hundred percent her father. “One song. I see it in the drawer.”

“It won’t be there tomorrow.”

“I can find it.”

“I wish you would leave this alone, baby. Sleep,” you drop her on the bed, all giggly, and she snuggles her seahorse tighter, waiting on you to join her. “Get some sleep, my love. You have to go to school tomorrow.”

“Uh uh,” she fake coughs, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes, “I’m sick. Can’t Miss Hazel teach me to make change tomorrow?”

“Sleep, baby.”

“Mirabelle Nova, get your butt out of the floor,” Hazel scolds the little girl who was sprawled out on her back in the floor of the store, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Miss ma’am it is time for your behind to put up the oranges, and get ready for the day.”

“It’s hot.”

“It’s Florida,” Mirabelle sits up, and looks over towards the build. “You made good money yesterday. Little swindler.”

“I don’t know what that means. I don’t. Can I have oranges at the stand, too? Oranges are a dollar or two for five dollars.”

“Your math is atrocious.”

“I’m four,” she declares, standing up to get a basket, stuffing oranges in them. “My friend will be there today, he will. Uncle Bill said he and Casey are going to take me shopping this weekend. I guess mommy will be all alone, she will.”

“I wish your mommy would find her a good man. It ain’t right for her to be alone with you babies. You going to stack the oranges, ma’am?” Mirabelle points from her basket to her stand, but Hazel just taps her foot. “You getting Harley to build that stand was because you promised to stack the oranges on the shelf every morning. Stack,” throwing her head back, the little girl goes over to the shelf, a shopping cart of oranges ready for her.

Placing each orange exactly where they were supposed to be. Mirabelle’s early reading was the names of different oranges. She might not be able to read a book, but she could read orange names. “Can I take some marmalade to my new friend, too?”

“He doesn’t pay for it then.”

“But you said…”

“Mirabelle Nova Syverson do not correct me. I know what I said, and what I’m saying right now is he’s not paying. Tell your Uncle Bill I want to speak with him at lunch.”

“Okay! I will,” rejoicing when the final orange is put up. She scoops up a jar of marmalade to put in her basket before running to her stand. Looking out at the build, and trying to find sight of Mace before she starts to walk over there.

Her little head bounces around as she skips towards the build. Seeing multiple people, but none of which were her uncle or Mace. Bebopping closer, too close when Mace grabs her up, and throws her over his shoulder. “Mace! You came back today!”

“It’s kind of my job, darling. What did I tell you about being near here?”

“I don’t know.”

“To not do it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because there are men working and you can get hurt.”

“Why?”

“We’re doing this again?” He asks, sitting her down on her stool. “You’ve got oranges today.”

“Uh huh, and I brought you some marmalade, and I didn’t sneeze in that one, I didn’t,” Mace snarls his nose animatedly, and Mirabelle giggles, “I didn’t! Sometimes I do it on purpose because Hazel has to give it to me. These I didn’t, that’s why they’re at the store. I got it off the shelf myself. Mace? Oh!”

She looks up at the tall man, and he gives her a smile before squatting down at her level. “What do you think?” He asks, rubbing his hand over his head to show her his new haircut. “You like it?”

“You look very handsome, you do. Your eyes look prettier with that hair cut. Mace do you have green in your eyes?” She asks placing both hands on his cheeks. “You do! You do have some green, right there. And I would like for you to come eat supper with me sometime.”

With her hands still cupping his cheeks, he gives her a little smile, and Mirabelle has to look away. “You are very handsome with this haircut, so can you come eat supper with me and my family?”

“Hmm, I can’t intrude.”

“You’re not, I asked you. Uncle Bill can bring you, he can.”

“Aren’t you supposed to quit calling him that?” She shakes her head no, grabbing one of the oranges out of the basket, and begins to peel it. Mirabelle had no intentions to stop calling him Uncle Bill. “You really are a peach, huh?”

“Ew, who eats peachies?”

“You don’t like them?” Mirabelle shakes her head no, and points over to the grove. Stuffing an orange wedge in her mouth, before handing Mace one. “You only eat oranges, huh?”

“Yep. They provide you with vitamin c, and marmalade, and juice. We are the sunshine state, oranges look like the sun. This is a sunshine fruit. Sunshine, Mace. Sunshine. You like that one?”

“It’s pretty good. Tastes like an orange.”

“Pfft, that is a cara cara orange. It’s very sweet. Clementines are my mom’s favorite. They’re not as sweet, they’re not.”

“You know a lot about oranges. Huh?”

“Yeah. Mace, how do I get your attention if I can’t walk over there?” The man looks around the clearing. Wanting to make sure the girl stays far enough away from the build, spotting a stump not too far away, and not hidden by an oak tree.

“That right there. You see it,” Mirabelle nods her head, looking at the stump, and turns back towards Mace with a smile. “You can’t sit there for too long because there’s no shade, and I don’t want you to get sunburnt, but it’s a sure fire way to make sure you’re seen without being too close. That can be Mirabelle’s stump. But no closer than that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s nails.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re building.”

“Why?” She giggles, almost falling to the ground with how hard she was laughing. Hands on her belly. It was the sweetest little laugh.

“We’re not doing that again.”

“Why?”

“You turkey!” This time Mirabelle does fall to the ground, and she covers her eyes, wiping away tears because she is laughing so hard, and Mace leans over to tickle her even more.

“Hazel, what do you know about that man?” You point over to the man that was tickling your daughter. You could hear her laughter all the way over here, and it made your heart swell. You knew how easily Mirabelle got attached to men, but this seemed different.

“That one?” You nod your head, stepping closer to the window. Seeing your daughter jump up from the ground, and pour him a cup of orange juice. “His brother and William were friends.”

“Were?”

“He was…honey, you know how the military works.”

“What about him? Was he in the military?”

“James was a lot younger than his brother. He never enlisted. Why are you asking?”

“Does he see her everyday?” There was a familiarity between the two of them. This had to be the friend that Mirabelle was telling you about.

“Everyday. She takes him lunch, too. Every morning he talks with her, and then they have lunch together, and he tells her goodbye. Well, some mornings she’s at school.”

“She looks happy,” you wipe a stray tear from your eye. You feel guilty that you couldn’t give this to her for the last four years. Mirabelle deserved a dad. William tried. But he was just a good uncle. “I failed them.”

“No, you didn’t. You’ve given them a good life. Military life isn’t easy. When that man leaves for his next job, she’ll adapt. She always does. She doesn’t know any difference.”

“I matched with someone on that app. And then I deleted it,” the dating app was Casey’s idea. She even encouraged it. Didn’t make you feel guilty for wanting to try again. But you just couldn’t. Feeling guilty for getting out there, but then worrying you would never find someone good enough for you, and knew there was no one good enough for the kids.

“Why?”

You turn to look at Hazel, giggling. That was always your daughter’s favorite line. “I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right. Benning hates me. But I just…I’m lonely. And this is too much, but I just want a man, ya know? I’m tired of doing it all alone.”

“Sex doesn’t equal love.”

“It does to me. Will you keep an eye on her?” Sex was so much better with someone that you were attracted to their body and their mind. You wanted someone who just knew you and knew how to take care of you, and you wanted to be that person for someone else.

A little twitch of the nose meaning that he wanted you face down and ass up with a wet cunt and ready to take a pounding. A rub of the belly meant that when the kids went to sleep you just wanted to grind on his cock slowly while you made out. You wanted more than just a quick way to get off. You wanted every day and every night to mean more than just sex. You wanted a partner.

“I always do,” Hazel says softly, looking out to Mirabelle and Mace.

“Stop. Stop! I can’t breathe. I brought you something,” Mirabelle’s hand goes into her pocket before producing a neon threaded bracelet. “It’s a friendship bracelet. I can’t tie it though.”

“I got it,” she was the sweetest angel that Mace had ever met. For her to only be four, she knew the way to soften his head. He had never let anyone new into his life. Not to the point where he said more than three words to someone. Mace kept to himself. The less people in his life, the less disappointment he was. “I love it.”

“Yeah? So about dinner?”

“I think your mom should be the one to ask. I don’t know if she would like you dragging some random man into her house.”

“Hmm,” Mirabelle rocks on her stool a moment thinking. Wondering just how she could get Mace to her house. Tapping on her head to think harder. There had to be some way to convince him to eat dinner with her family. “Maybe we can have a karaoke night.”

“You guys do that?”

“No. But I think mommy is practicing. She has a pink microphone in her bedroom,” Mace chokes on his orange juice, spitting out a bit. There was no way that this little girl was talking about what he thought she was talking about, but Mirabelle keeps talking. This was the perfect idea. “She keeps it in a drawer or under her pillow. I can’t figure out how it works. It just buzzes.”

“Maybe you should leave it alone.”

“There’s a secret to it. I just know it. Mommy won’t tell me. She’s caught me sneaking to try and find the new hiding spot, she did. But whatever she’s practicing it must be a lot of work because it makes her breathe funny, and she gets all sweaty.”

“Okay, I think it’s time for me to head back to work. Leave your mom’s bedroom alone.”

“Why?”

“It’s not nice to snoop in people’s bedrooms.”

“Why?”

“Some things are not meant for kids,” before Mirabelle can ask another why, Mace puts his hand over her mouth to quiet her. “Promise me that you’ll leave your mom’s — microphone alone.”

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone. But we can have a karaoke party. And you can come. Or! Every Friday Uncle Bill and Casey come for dinner, and sometimes we go over to their house. Do you think that’s when mommy really practices when she’s alone?”

“Yep. I’m sure she really likes using her microphone when you’re not there. Mirabelle, I really gotta go, darling. Leave her microphone alone, okay?” Mirabelle rolls her eyes, but says okay. “I’ll tell the boys to get some oranges and juice if you leave your mom’s stuff alone. You’ll be able to do something with the money. I’m sure you’ll make up a different excuse tomorrow.”

“Shh, don’t ruin my hustle.”

“You ain’t right. See you in a bit. Get some rest.”

“Come over for karaoke night!”

“I’ll talk with Bill…Will!” That child was a mess. Mace was sure that you had no idea that you were snooping in your room. Definitely didn’t know she was telling your secrets to people, but it got him curious. A woman that could raise such a kid, and one that…used a microphone regularly enough. No. He couldn’t get attached. But sex could just be sex, right? Would it be right to have thoughts about having sex with someone you hadn’t even met? His brother did always tell him that mothers make the best lovers because they were freaks and knew what they were doing.

But Mace couldn’t possibly want to entertain an invitation to dinner from a four year old in hopes of getting his dick wet, could he? It would beat his hand. Mothers could surely have sex without getting attached. Because Mace didn’t want to get attached. Didn’t want to let anyone in. But he did want some soft curves to grab onto. Just for the night.

He had never even met you, and he was coming up with ways to fuck you while your kids slept. It made him feel awful. Dinner was fine. It felt weird to talk to your child everyday, and not even know who you were. He would talk to Bill — Will, and ask him what he thought. It was the polite thing to do.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @elrw24 @midnightramyeoncravings @midnightramyeoncravings @maroonsunrise83 @resurrectedlily

#victim of the circumstance #james mace #james mace x reader #james mace x fem!reader #james mace x y/n #james mace x you #james mace fanfiction #james mace fic #james mace fics #chris evans #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfiction #sunshine #sunshine fanfiction

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typical-simplelove · 1 year ago

Text

Train Ride to Paris (R. Spiers)

Summary: Ron is supposed to be this cold-hearted soldier, but on a train ride through the French countryside, a new side of Ron is introduced.

Author's Note: Ah! This is the first time I'm posting a Band of Brothers fic. I've been writing BoB fic for a while, but I've never felt ready to post it (unlike all my other fandoms). I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know what you thought!

Word Count: 969

Warnings: implied!female reader; canon-typical mentions of war and Axis powers (let me know if I missed anything)

likes are appreciated, but reblogs are better!

It was rare to get the chance to leave the front lines and have a weekend to yourself. Sometimes, it felt like the days muddled on, day after day, not knowing when the next batch of orders was going to come through.

Ever since the Allied success at Normandy and the following measures to try to get through Nazi lines and into Germany, it’s just been one thing after another. However, one morning at breakfast, a weekend pass was slammed on the desk in front of you–Paris. You had been given the opportunity to spend the weekend’s forty-eight hours away from the constant reminder of the war, in a city full of love and laughter and excitement, recovering from the Axis onslaught.

With your proper “outing” uniform, you boarded the train to take you to Paris, your nerves shot, wondering what would be awaiting you. All your life you dreamed of going to Paris, but you always thought you’d have a partner with you. It never dawned on you that you would be visiting the city of love by yourself.

Halfway through the ride, your book half-open on your lap, your eyes and head watching the French countryside pass through the window, you hear a male voice clear their throat from behind you.

“Is this seat taken?”

You look up, enchanted by the roughness but also the soft tone this voice holds. A smile overcomes your face when you see who it is. “Captain Spiers.”

A small smile is on his face as he echoes your name. “May I sit next to you?”

“Of course,” you answer, moving your bag from the seat next to you on the floor, between your legs.

Ron’s smile isn’t a smile per se. His lips don’t curl up as most other people smile; they remain still. It’s hard to tell if he’s smiling, but the minute your eyes land on him, you know Ron’s smiling. The smile lines that form around his face illuminate and make his eyes sparkle. As he sits next to you, placing his bag down, too, Ron’s giving you his version of a smile. You know you should be wary and nervous around this man, knowing all the rumors that circulate around him, but you can’t help it. You’re drawn to him–the warmth leaving his body feels like a warm blanket coupled with a fire during a blizzard.

He’s not what the rumors say he is. You can just sense that he’s so much more than that, and honestly, he might not be any of those things.

“Heading to Paris for the weekend?” he asks, his eyes still crinkling in his smile.

“Yes, weekend pass,” you reply, “and you?”

He gives you a curt nod, the sun streaming in through the window illuminating his hair, giving him an almost ethereal aura. Who knew the guy everyone was scared of and could frighten even the strongest soldiers could be so beautiful?

The conversation goes stagnant, Ron opting to lean his head back against the chair and catch some sleep as you pick up your book again. You try to read, but your thoughts are only on the man sitting next to you. Here was a man shrouded in mystery and danger, but he wasn’t oozing any of that. This man appeared to be full of compassion, kindness, and sincerity. He’s the exact opposite of the reputation he holds.

Interrupting your thoughts, Ron remarks, “Thanks for letting me sit next to you. I wanted a familiar face during this train ride.”

“I’m familiar?” you say, your eyebrows quirking in confusion, honor, and awe.

He nods, his smile returning to his face, but this time, the ends of his smile quirk up, and his cheeks turn a light rose color. “I remember seeing you around Curahee, running and training with Easy. By far, you were the best one amongst your company.”

Snorting, you look at him, eyes wide in laughter, neck growing warm. “I know for a fact that that is certainly not the case.”

“Well,” Ron begins, clearing his throat before he continues. “In my books and in my honest opinion,” you are the best soldier in this regiment. I might be biased, though.”

“Biased?”

“Seeing you around or having you around or thinking of you always warms my body but also procures a pinch–happy pinch–in my heart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, turning your head out the window, not sure how to respond.

Ron nudges your shoulder. “You can’t imagine what it was like when I saw you on the train earlier. I was walking down the aisle, and I saw you; it took me a while to work up the nerve to ask to sit next to you. Lucky me.”

“I don’t know how to respond, Ron.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that I care about you a lot. I don’t fully understand the way I feel, but I’m looking forward to figuring it out. There’s, um, there’s nothing you have to do really, but I just, I just wanted you to know.”

Your body is warm and inflamed. Who knew Ron had these kinds of words? You wanted to go back and tell your friends and defend the man they think he is, but you wanted to keep this to yourself. You want to see where this goes and where your heart can take you.

“Okay,” you reply, a soft smile on your face. Ron reaches his hand into your lap and links his pinky finger with yours and exhales, very deeply that it seems like it’s the first time he’s breathed in months. Now, you’re starting to feel that same warm, happy pinch in your heart that Ron described. Who knows what this weekend in Paris will entail?

#ronald spiers #ron spiers #claudia writes #band of brothers #ron spiers x reader #ronald spiers x reader #band of brothers fic #op: 2023

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lucky-clover-gazette · 1 year ago

Text

The Past is Beyond Our Control

Chapter 2: A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

AKA: Shadow and Vio Drink Root Beer; Are Evil

Rated T | Vio/Shadow | Modern Slasher AU Heavily Inspired by Until Dawn (2015) | 3,994 words in ch.2

His mind made up, Vio sighs and leans back in his chair. “You know what hurts my feelings the most?”

Shadow takes a deep sip of root beer, swallowing loudly. “Uh, were the terrifying chase sequence, attempted drugging, and general betrayal not enough?”

Vio reaches for the second can and pops it open with a satisfying fizz.

“You never even thought to ask for my help.”

Read it on AO3 (RECOMMENDED) or under the cut (with author's warnings AT THE END):

12:00 A.M.

One Year Ago

Vio takes a deep breath and enters the guest bedroom, gently shutting the door behind him.

“Hey,” says Shadow, all curled up on the window seat. He gives Vio a lazy wave and looks back to the snowy night sky.

“Hi,” Vio answers, brow furrowed. “Can I sit with you?”

Shadow makes some space. Vio sits.

“So,” Vio says slowly, “I can’t help but notice you’re not with the others.”

“Neither is Link,” Shadow points out, “and they’re his friends.”

“But not yours.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Shadow shakes his head. “I put up with them. Link seemed excited to have them visit. But I think I like it more when it’s just us.”

At that, Vio’s heart does something indescribable. “I was actually just thinking the same thing. The stuff they talk about, I just don’t understand why it matters. We’re going to graduate soon, get the hell out of here, set out to have whole lives of our own… but all they want to talk about is, like, prom. They just can’t see the big picture.”

Shadow turns to Vio, this time with his full attention. “The big picture?”

“Forget it. Clearly I’m just insecure that I don’t get along with the normal people.”

Shadow shakes his head, reaching out apprehensively. Vio loves the way he paints his nails and lets them chip. “I want to know what you think,” he says, placing his hand on Vio’s shoulder. “I’ll listen.”

Vio’s heart does the thing again.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he says, although he makes no effort to pull away. “We should find Link, and get back to the others…”

“Do you want to be here?” Shadow asks, even though they both already know the answer. Honestly, they’ve known for a while.

“Yes, but—”

“Vio,” Shadow interrupts, moving slightly closer. “Forget about Link and the others. This is about us. I’m tired of pretending, aren’t you?”

“Pretending?” Vio asks, his voice nearly a whisper. “Pretending what?”

Shadow presses his forehead against Vio’s. “Pretending that we’re just friends. Pretending we want anyone else in the room, when it could just be the two of us.”

“Ah,” Vio says, nuzzling closer.

“Pretending I don’t care what you do after graduation,” Shadow continues, his voice quietly cracking. “Pretending I’m not scared you’ll leave me.”

Vio’s eyes widen. “I’ve never wanted to leave you.”

“Pretending that I’m not relieved to hear that,” Shadow chuckles softly.

“Pretending,” Vio begins to say, but then stops. He steels his nerves and tries again. “Pretending that I don’t want to kiss you right now.”

Shadow’s eyes light up like the moon. “You want to kiss me?”

“Yes. Please don’t make me say it again.”

Shadow just looks at him. Vio feels fear creeping in.

“And you…?”

Shadow comforts him with a kiss. Vio’s first kiss, actually, and he assumes it’s Shadow’s too. Neither of them has ever shown much interest in anyone else—not when whatever they’ve had for the past several years has always felt so right.

It’s nice, Vio supposes, on a purely physical level. He likes cupping Shadow’s face and smelling his cologne. The warmth of Shadow’s body, so close to his own, is more than welcome on this freezing night.

But deep down, Vio knows it means even more than that. It’s Shadow’s body. His body, and his brain, and apparently his heart, too.

“Sorry about the letter,” Vio mutters as they finally pull away.

Shadow raises an eyebrow. “What letter?”

─────────────────

12:00 A.M.

Now

Vio smacks the can out of Shadow’s hand.

“Hey, my root beer!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Vio hisses, waving Shadow’s phone in his face. “Explain this. All of this,”—he motions to the entire room—“right goddamn now.”

Shadow takes the phone with a sour face. “So you’ve seen the texts.”

“And the blueprints, and the newspapers, and the mannequin wearing my clothes, Shadow, what the FUCK?!”

Shadow pulls out a desk chair from beneath the workbench, gesturing to it with a small smile. “Sit down, Vio.”

“Like hell I will!”

Shadow pauses, seeming to accept his refusal. Too little too late, but Vio appreciates it all the same. “I’m not hurting anyone, you know.”

“Of course not,” Vio scoffs. “Just giving them emotional scars to last a lifetime.”

Shadow’s words turn sharp. “It’s the least they deserve.”

“But why me? Why scare me, chase me, try to knock me out?”

“I was just gonna use laughing gas,” says Shadow, almost offended by Vio’s offense. “Did you not see the tank and the mask? Would have been just like the dentist, if you hadn’t fought me so hard.”

“You are not a goddamn dentist, Shadow!” Vio says between gritted teeth. “Nitrous is a whole fuckin’… fuckin’ uncontrolled chemical, that’s—”

Shadow throws up his hands in exasperation, wearing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s the best I could have done, Vivi! You should be grateful I was there to catch you, protecting that pretty little head of yours from the cold hard ground.”

“Oh, right,” Vio huffs, collapsing into the offered seat. God, he is exhausted. “Super considerate of you, to hold me steady while you forcibly knock me out.”

“Comfier than how I dropped Blake and Reed.”

“Jesus Christ, Shadow,” Vio groans, running a hand down his own face, “you could have killed them. Actually killed them. If you’re going to do something like this, you have to—”

Shadow raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “I have to do what, Vio?”

“Forget it. I’m mad at you.”

They sit in silence for a moment, sobered by their own respective outbursts. Eventually, Shadow cracks.

He rolls his eyes, but his voice is ragged. Off, in the same way it’s been all day. Like he’s playing the part of a character and not a real person causing real pain. “Vivi—”

“Call me that again and I’ll call you Greyson.”

More silence. Shadow opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “…Violet?”

Vio sighs. “What, Shadow?”

“I really haven’t hurt anyone. Not physically.”

“You said you dropped Reed and Blake.”

“Onto the carpet, I was exaggerating.”

“That’s a really fucking weird thing to exaggerate about,” Vio snaps. “And I don’t know if I can trust you, anyway.”

Shadow’s frown deepens. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For chasing you, and trying to knock you out.”

“That’s all?”

Reluctantly, Shadow nods. “You wanted me to be honest, so I’m being honest. I’m not sorry for what I’m doing to the others, but I never should have involved you.”

Vio feels tears roll down his cheeks.

“Shit,” Shadow says, eyes widening. “Shit, Vio, are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not okay!” Vio exclaims, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “This isn’t just a game or a prank, you scared me! I thought I was going to die!”

“Everything was under control, you would have been fine.”

“I thought you were dead, too. How could you do that to me, Shadow?”

Vio’s concern appears to genuinely surprise Shadow. “It had to be convincing,” he weakly explains. “You had to think I—”

“Save it,” interrupts Vio between sniffles. “You know, even before tonight I was scared for you. It’s the only reason I came here in the first place.”

“Scared of what?”

Vio looks him dead in the eyes. “You disappeared for so long, and I knew you were alone. You know what.”

Shadow just sits with that for a moment.

“Vio,” he eventually says, “I won’t lie, I’ve been having a pretty rough time up here. I may have gone a little stir-crazy, but grief does that to people. Grief and anger, because what they did to Link was wrong and it got him killed. What I want is revenge, and I can’t get that if I’m dead too.”

Vio shakes his head. “They didn’t want him to die. They didn’t even want to hurt him, they were trying to do him a favor. If there’s anyone who’s responsible for Link leaving the lodge that night, Shadow, it’s us.”

Shadow looks surprised by the admission. “If you really think that,” he asks, “why the hell did you come back?”

“I already told you why. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Fine, touchy,” Shadow mutters, regaining a slight bit of humor. “You do get that I’m not taking an eye for an eye though, right? I don’t want them dead, I just want them to feel bad. Remember how cruel they were to us when Link disappeared? They never took accountability for anything. Even tonight, none of them have acknowledged the reason we’re here.”

“They might not want to make things uncomfortable, Shadow.”

“They should have thought about that last year,” Shadow says, vulnerable in his rage, “when they humiliated my brother and treated it like a joke.”

Vio thinks back to the way the others had acted after Link’s disappearance. He’s tried to bury his own disdain, for the sake of moving forward, but it is still there. That anger, that resentment. General dislike mixing with a legitimate vendetta, creating the perfect cocktail of negative emotions that led him to ditch everyone for a bath in the first place.

Shadow and Vio may have been the catalyst for Link leaving the lodge, but you know what? That chemical reaction wouldn’t have happened at all if the others had just minded their business.

“So the goal isn’t to hurt them,” Vio says, “but to… humiliate them? Punish them?”

“Ultimately,” Shadow explains, “I want to expose them. I’ve been fucking with their relationships and emotions all night, and slowly manipulating them to where I need them to be for a final confrontation. Reed and Blake first, using you as bait, and then Grant and Zelda.”

“Kind of like what they did to us,” Vio realizes aloud.

Shadow nods, almost grimly. “I’m going to force them to confess their guilt. People tend to be more honest when they think they’re about to die.”

“Like, in front of a camera? To show the investigators?”

Shadow shakes his head. “No. I just want them to say it. Then I’ll leave you all alone, forever.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Shadow laughs dryly. “You definitely should. I’m in pretty deep with this plan, and there’s no going back now.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this,” Vio says, “but I’m in pretty deep too. We all are, thanks to you.”

“This isn’t a bit you want to commit to, Vio,” warns Shadow. It’s a half-hearted warning, though, and his face is full of intrigue.

His mind made up, Vio sighs and leans back in his chair. “You know what hurts my feelings the most?”

Shadow takes a deep sip of root beer, swallowing loudly. “Uh, were the terrifying chase sequence, attempted drugging, and general betrayal not enough?”

Vio reaches for the second can and pops it open with a satisfying fizz.

“You never even thought to ask for my help.”

─────────────────

12:07 A.M.

One Year Ago

“What letter?” Shadow asks, tilting his head.

Oh, shit.

Vio turns to see the bedroom door wide open, a balled-up piece of paper dropped at the threshold.

“Fuck,” he says, ripping himself out of Shadow’s arms.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Vio leans over the railing, down to the foyer where the others sit. The others, minus…

“Link!” Vio exclaims, gathering their attention. “Where is Link?”

Blake raises an eyebrow. “Uh, he’s supposed to be in the room with you.”

“Is everything okay?” asks Reed with genuine concern.

“Vio,” Shadow says quietly, pulling at his sleeve. “Vio, why is the front door open?”

“I don’t know, but it’s letting in the cold,” Zelda complains. As if on cue, a freezing gust of wind floods the lodge.

“This is my fault,” Vio says. “I thought it was Shadow, and I—”

“Is he outside now?” Shadow asks the group, almost tripping as he runs down the stairs.

Grant widens his eyes, now properly alarmed. “We didn’t hear him leave, I swear—”

“He didn’t even bring his coat!” Shadow shouts, shaking the puffy white jacket in his hand. “It’s cold and dark as hell out there, he’s going to—”

“He’ll be okay,” Vio says, immediately by Shadow’s side.

“Oh, leave him alone,” Blake dismisses, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think he wants to see either of you right now, anyway.”

“I think Blake is right,” Reed says softly, still snuggled up to his own prom date. “He might need space to process. I’m sorry, I thought that you liked him, and he liked you, so—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” says Zelda. “It’s not our fault he’s overreacting.”

Vio calls her something very unkind in his head.

“Zel,” Grant warns, but doesn’t follow through with any particular threat.

“Fuck you all,” Shadow mutters, stepping into his snow boots. “I’m going to find my brother.”

Another cold gust of wind fills the lodge. Vio looks at the wall thermometer and winces. “Shadow, I don’t know about this…”

“You too?” Shadow snaps, meeting Vio’s eyes. “It’s fucking fine, my parents own the mountain, I know where I’m going.”

Vio knows Shadow should go. Shadow knows Shadow should go. But something deep in Vio’s gut screams for them both to stay right here, inside the lodge, warm and safe until Link returns.

“But if you both know the mountain so well,” Vio says carefully, “wouldn’t Link know where he’s going too?”

Something crosses over Shadow’s face. He stops fastening his boot.

“I’m not sure,” he says, expression grim. “I feel like something bad is going to happen to him out there.”

“It’s just a feeling,” Vio counters softly, as if he isn’t acting on his own. He turns back to the others, harsh again. “Do you know if he brought his phone?”

“Do you see it anywhere?” asks Zelda, almost bored. “Because if not, I think you can assume he’s got it on him.”

Vio turns to Shadow. “What do you want to do? We can try to give him a call, or…?”

Shadow glances outside, into the frigid dark night. Then he looks back at Vio.

Vio swallows, his stomach turning at the thought of Link out there alone. Every second they spend searching, the farther away he could be. There are bears out there, and perilous structures, and god knows what else left over from the abandoned asylum and partially-collapsed mines. Link could suffer from any of those hazards and die out there alone.

Or he could be totally fine, listening to music with a 86% battery, and finding much-needed clarity in the cold. In that case, it’d probably just make him feel worse to see them both.

And if Link is in danger, the most selfish part of Vio thinks, there’s no reason Shadow should be too.

Shadow spares one last glance outside the lodge, and then he shuts the door.

─────────────────

1:14 A.M.

Now

“Quick, untie me!” Vio tells Reed and Blake, back in the abandoned hotel room where the mannequin wearing his clothes once sat. Reed gasps at the sight of him, while Blake only narrows his eyes.

“That goddamn creep,” he mutters, helping Reed free Vio from his bonds. “You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Vio says, avoiding his eyes. “What the hell happened to you guys? Is that blood?”

Blue looks down at not-Shadow’s blood staining his letterman jacket. “Ugh, yeah.”

“Whose?”

Reed and Blake exchange a glance. Reed turns back to Vio, expression soft.

“We found an injured elk in the woods,” he lies. “Attacked by a bear or something. Blake put it out of its misery.”

Vio forces himself not to scowl. “Oh, I’m sorry, that sounds awful. “

“But don’t worry about us!” Reed continues, motioning to Vio’s whole chair situation. “What happened to you?’

“I was taking a bath,” Vio recalls, “but when I got out, I realized someone took my clothes. Went I left the bathroom, someone had set up a bunch of balloons leading me to the home theater. Then I got chased into the basement, and there was this mask…”

“The maniac,” Blake mutters.

“You’ve seen him too?” asks Vio, eager to catch them both in their lie. Reed and Blake wince.

“Tell him the truth,” Blake tells Reed. “He deserves to know.”

Is that a hint of sympathy in Blake’s voice? At first Vio assumes it must be towards him or Shadow, but then he remembers what exactly Reed had done in the shed. He chose Blake over Shadow, resulting in Shadow’s ‘death.’ No wonder he lied at first.

Reed takes a deep breath. “You already know how dangerous he is,” he tells Vio, motioning again to the chair, “so you have to believe that I had no other choice.”

Yes the hell you did, Vio thinks. Except… was that even true? Shadow’s fake death was far too elaborate to be one of several possible outcomes. He must have rigged the trap so Blake would always live.

“He...” Red continues, as tears fill his eyes. “We were with Shadow, using the Ouija board, and we got some kind of message from Link. Link—Link’s ghost—told us to search for evidence of his killer in the library. Shadow freaked out and left, but Blake and I went anyway. We found some newspapers there, and the headline was about a guy with a grudge against the Farores, possibly hiding out in the abandoned sanatorium on the mountain. And then we found a super threatening note, bragging about Link’s murder, and went back to show Shadow… but he got to me first and I blacked out.”

Vio turns to Blake. “And you?”

“Also blacked out,” he says, somewhat sheepishly. “Some kind of gas.”

It is kind of funny to Vio, that the mentally ill theater nerd managed to take down a jock.

Not funny, he reminds himself. None of this is funny.

“And what happened to Shadow?” Vio asks, a little too eager to watch them both squirm. Shadow himself, watching from a hidden camera in his control room, probably feels the same way.

Reed looks to Blake, tears now running down his cheeks. Blake sighs and nods, continuing the story himself. “I woke up tied to a board next to Shadow. Reed was stuck on the other side of some bars. The maniac told Reed to choose one of us to live, and one of us to…”

Vio does his best shocked expression. “Blake. Where is Shadow?”

Reed sniffles.

“Blake.”

The jock meets his eyes dead-on. “Shadow didn’t make it.”

Vio squeezes his eyes shut, channeling the anger and grief still lingering from Link’s death. “I don’t want to hear any more of this.”

“Good,” Blake says, “because it was a super fucked up way to go.” Reed elbows him in the gut. “Hey!”

Vio takes a deep breath. Time to get this show on the road. “We’re going to find him,” he tells the others, “and we’re going to kill him before he can hurt anyone else.”

“Screw that,” says Blake. “Let’s just hide until we know he’s gone.”

“You’re helping me, at least,” Vio tells Reed. “You owe me that much.”

Blue rolls his eyes. “No he doesn’t. What happened to Shadow has nothing to do with you.”

That’s exactly what Vio would expect him to say, given his original response to Link’s disappearance. Maybe Shadow was right, these assholes will dodge responsibility until the day they die. If he wants an apology, he might have to convince them today is that day.

Vio shakes his head. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“But it does,” Reed says sadly. “It’s my fault he died, and I know he meant a lot to you. We didn’t know him like we knew Link, but we still liked him too.”

Somehow, Vio finds himself wanting to comfort Reed. “I know,” he says, a little sheepish.

And he’s alive, he wants to tell them both. You don’t have to be guilty, because he’s alive!

But Link is still dead. And isn’t that the whole point?

“I still think we should stay the hell out of this freak’s way,” Blake says stiffly, “but I guess there’s no guarantee he’s not watching us right now.”

“Let’s hope he isn’t,” Vio says, glancing over at the hidden camera. Shadow will like that. It will put him at ease. Vio doesn’t think he’s genuinely dangerous, but he is unstable. Hopefully Vio can help to mitigate some of his rage so his plan stays together at the seams.

What happens after the plan, Vio is trying not to consider. Knowing Shadow, he’d take the blame for it all. And his parents are very rich. As long as no one gets hurt, they both could get out of this with clean criminal records. See? Harm reduction.

“When did he get you?” Blake asks, glancing behind his back. “Have you been down here before, or did you just wake up here?”

“Well, I put up a good fight,” Vio says, “while he chased me through the basement.”

Rede’s eyes widen. “Without your clothes?”

“I had a robe.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

It was, Vio reflects. Thank you, Shadow, for leaving it.

“But he did eventually manage to knock me out with the gas,” Vio continues, turning back to the hidden camera. “Only someone very clever and resourceful could have successfully evaded him.”

He can picture Shadow’s smile so clearly.

“Anyway,” Vio says, “I think I know where I’m going.”

He supposes he should be acting more distraught over Shadow’s death, but this isn’t the first sudden loss of a friend they’ve all experienced together. They know, probably better than most, how people can grieve differently, and often suppress their emotions for the sake of getting by.

Guilt tugs at Vio, for multiple reasons this time. He shakes it off and heads for the door.

“Come on,” he tells Blake and Reed. “Are you armed?”

“No,” Blake grumbles. Good.

“Vio,” says Reed, “are you sure you’re okay?”

Vio turns on his heel to face them again. “I’ll be okay when I get justice for Shadow.” And that, at least, is the truth.

“Do you think this is where he’s been planning everything?” Reed whispers as they enter the utility space.

“Seems likely,” says Vio. “And look—he’s been practicing.”

Passing the still-open meat locker, Blake and Reed loudly gag. Vio holds out an arm to stop them both, right beside the closed door to Shadow’s workshop.

“Okay, look,” he says, pointing to the half-open door at the end of the hall. “See that?”

“Uh-huh,” nods Reed.

“I think that’s where the hotel connects to the abandoned asylum,” Vio explains. “And didn’t you say something earlier, about the killer hiding out there?”

Blake sighs. “I really don’t think we need to go looking for him. We should go back to the lodge and hide.”

“Fine,” Vio scowls. “You two can bail. But I’m getting that fucker, for Shadow and Link.”

Reed and Blake exchange another loaded glance. Finally, Reed speaks, taking Blake’s hand in his own.

“We’ll come,” he says, although Blake clearly still disagrees. “We owe them that much.”

It’s close to the confession Shadow wants, but still not quite right. Reed might just be talking about his choice tonight that resulted in Shadow’s death, not even thinking about the way he and the others had acted last year. What they’d enabled, and how they hadn’t even lifted a finger to help.

It wasn’t enough, but at least they were getting somewhere.

“Thank you,” Vio says flatly, leading them to the door at the end of the hall. “I think once we’re in there, we might be able to find some weapons. We could use his arsenal against him.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake admits. “See how he likes it.”

“Revenge is the best medicine,” Vio agrees. He opens the door and holds it for the others, motioning inside. “Hurry on in.”

#my writing #four swords #four swords manga #vidow #fsff23 #vio link #shadow link #red blink #blue link #fs

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