#I was away and became sick these few days

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hii, I hope you're doing well!! This is my first time requesting so I was REALLY nervous :")) I saw some posts about Y/N accidentally calling some of the creeps their "husband", and I was wondering if you could do one with Jeff? I'm really curious of how it would be like with him and I really like him ^^

Listen. Listen. This man has been wormed into my brain for the longest time and my softness for him came out today, and this became like twice as long as I originally meant to to be, because I love him. I honestly ended up wanting it to be longer, but this took me way too long to write, so I cut it short. I hope you enjoy <3

While Jeff would never, ever admit it to anyone, he has spent hours thinking about what it would be like to be married to you. To be married to you, live with you, be able to wake up to you every single day, for everyone around the two of you to fully know you belong to each other. The unfortunate downside to that fact is that Jeff doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't believe he deserves to be so happily married to you with all of the horrible things he's done, with all the horrible trauma he regularly has to deal with and make you put up with (despite you routinely telling him it doesn't bother you at all and you love him all the same, flaws and all). He thinks you're just far too good for him, and so the bitter, depressed part of his brain constantly tells him that'll never happen.

So, needless to say, Jeff is about to get his shit rocked mentally. The two of you were out and about, and you'd bumped into an old friend (i.e., someone important in Jeff's eyes), and introduced them to Jeff. Jeff, in his attempt to seem like a decent person under the watchful eyes of someone you have known for such a long time, does pull himself off pretty well, at least until you accidentally slip up and refer to Jeff as your husband. He feels like you've just punched him straight in the gut. He can't breathe, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he feels like he's gonna vomit, but he carries on with a passive smile, hiding all of his inner turmoil, keeping it locked inside until the two of you can get away from all of the prying eyes in this public space. The entire way home he still feels like he's gonna be sick, trying everything he can just to keep it together. The second you're through your front door he's wheeling around and pinning you to it, arms beside your head as his chest heaves, eyes slicked with a mixture of tears, confusion, and desperation. You can't tell what's wrong with him, and he can't tell why he's reacting so strongly, his mind foggy amidst his air-deprived anxiety attack. The two of you stand there, your hands comfortingly cupping his face while you coach him to breathe, to calm down.

By the time he's caught his breath, he's leaning on you, his body weighing against you as you rest against the door behind you. His arms are tight around your waist as his face nuzzles against your neck, and you're overcome with intense worry, unaware of what got him like this in the first place. "Did you mean it...?" His voice eventually trails off, and the emotion in his voice is untraceable, his trauma brain overtaking as your words replay in his mind over and over again. Your brows knit together as you try to figure out just what it is he's referring to, and he answers the question for you, saying he meant when you referred to him as your husband. He looks absolutely broken in your arms, and a lightbulb goes off in your mind as you finally realize why. You've heard it, the things he says to Liu, or BEN, his words about how he doesn't deserve you, how you deserve to marry someone better than him, soon followed by their chastising words about how that's not true, and suddenly his worrisome behavior from the last few hours that you've picked up on (because you always notice these things) suddenly makes sense.

You reassure him that of course you meant it, why wouldn't you? Jeff feels like he's being chastised once more, his cheeks puffed out in a pout as he avoids looking at you as you lecture him about how you'd love to marry him one day, and how he absolutely deserves to have you, how you're not too good for him, a lecture you should have given him long ago. He ignores the tears streaming down his face once more, ignores the thudding of his own heart in his chest, ignores the dying voice of denial in the back of his mind, but what he can't ignore is your lips slotting so perfectly against his own, or your fingers stroking along his scars in the way that always makes him fall apart. He's still not completely sure he deserves you, but goddamnit, with the way you're looking at him right now, he's sure as hell not gonna let anyone else marry you and take you away from him. Not with how tenderly you're holding him, how gently you're pressing your lips across his scorched skin, not with how lovingly you're gazing at him, as if he's the most beloved person in your life, because of course he is to you, just as you are to him. 'Husband' ends up becoming one of your favorite nicknames for him following that day, a nickname that always has his skin flushing red and his eyes softening in a way they only do for you. A nickname for now, and a title not too far into the future that he wears with pride.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did all it, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 129.

a christmas special.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

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[written chapter]

serim was not good at coping with the cold. she liked the winter, she had always done, since she was little she spent most of the year looking forward to the low temperatures and, with it, the snow, but still, she was not good at coping with that time of the year. she always got sick and she used to care little about it, but since she became a trainee and later a singer she had to start taking care of her health and vocal cords, so in the most recent years of her life she hardly ever left her house during those times, unless she went to the many activities an idol has to do during the holidays or one of her friends insisted so much that she could not say no.

on that day serim's house was extremely warm, because even though she was not working, she was used to doing everything possible to avoid illness, and she was not willing to surrender to the freezing weather in seoul. she felt sorry for her plants, many were not the kind that could stand being in such a warm environment, but it was a force greater than herself.

having an altered perception of climate, she did not even think about the wind and the coolness that would hit her when she opened the balcony door, causing her to jump back inside and quickly close the sliding glass. she was extremely excited, running around the house and talking to her hedgehog who was pacing the living room floor uncomprehending and probably sweating from how high the thermostat was set. she went with speed to her room and threw on whatever winter clothes she could find, then hurried back and tried again to get outside.

still shivering a little, she leaned her forearms against the railing of her balcony and leaned against it, watching the first snow fall in seoul.

she loved winter, and even though it was still a month away, she loved the feeling of christmas approaching. the first snowfall had always been one of those important events for her. one of those that when it's about to happen you can't shake the anxiety, or the sensation that something important is in the air. it tends to fall in late november and serim during those dates was always on the lookout for any sign of what day it would be. she loved it, and as soon as she saw it happening just outside her house, she couldn't contain her joy, standing there motionless watching the snowflakes fall for a long while.

she had nothing better to do, after all, the hiatus was killing her. her friends were fully occupied, her members were in the activities she would want to be in and her family was far away in daegu. she couldn't help that those would be lonely and boring holidays, but at least she had time to appreciate nice things like this one.

or so she would once she opened the door to whoever claimed to see her in the middle of a snowfall.

serim sighed, she hated it when she was interrupted in her few moments when she could enjoy things that excited her. she walked back into her apartment and made her way to open the door.

the doorbell had rung, not the telecommunicator, so she figured it might be one of her bandmates, her manager, or a friend. since she didn't have to work or keep a schedule, she wasn't fully aware of what day it was, so she wasn't aware of what her acquaintances might be doing at the moment or who was free.

what she didn't expect was to find jimin behind the door.

it had been a couple of months since she had seen her in person, although they texted sometimes, maybe since september they hadn't been in one another's presence. she was always busy, she had gone on tour and back, only to embark on a new comeback and promotions season. awards season had started as well and she, as the big star of the year, had to be at every event that happened. while serim had been a little more docile with her, open to the idea of doing some things together if the occasion arose, jimin just hadn't had the time, she wanted to take serim on dates, on trips, be together at her house, go for walks, help her with whatever she needed, but she was overworked and couldn't afford it.

except for that day, one of the few days off she'd had in a while.

jimin had been looking forward to it because she had already planned to go visit serim, even if she threw a tantrum when she saw her, she wanted to at least hug her after those two months without having her around, without feeling her scent nor holding her hands. she hadn't told her she was going because she didn't want to be rejected before she could be in front of the woman, which risked a fit of possible anger from the older girl, but jimin missed her so much that she didn't think anything through.

she just needed a plan, something to do together if serim didn't kick her out of her house, and the snow had come as if it heard her pleading. as soon as she looked out her window and noticed the first flakes, she got ready at the speed of light and frantically went out to find a cab. and now she was in the hallway of serim's apartment, covered in snow, her arms stretched in the air in excitement and wearing a silly grin because of the oldest.

she looked so adorable in that stupid giant blue scarf and her glasses that serim had to resist the urge to throw herself at her, limbs almost lifting on their own, stifling a smile using all the strength in her body.

serim had missed jimin too, of course she had, and she hated herself for it.

"what are you doing here?" the owner of the apartment asked not even greeting her.

"why do you have hello kitty pants on?" she ignored, not wanting to deal with her bitterness, and pointed to the pink garment with drawings of the character.

"because i'm at home." she said obviously.

"it's a choice." she cocked her head to the side without stopping to look at them.

"are you going to tell me what you're doing in my house while it's snowing?" she folded her arms and furrowed her eyebrows.

"that!" she jumped on the spot with glee. "i came looking for you so we could go see the first snow of the year together!" she announced in a jovial tone.

"and why would i want to see the first snow with you?" she was dying to go with her.

"because you love me." she replied simply. "and even my company is better than watching it from your balcony alone." she obtruded.

"how do you know i was watching it from the balcony?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"you're covered in coats when inside your house it's amazonian temperatures and you have snow melting on your arms." she pointed to the detail.

serim raised her arms suddenly placing them in front of her eyes to look at the clues of her actions in these startled, with her mouth slightly open, confirming that she had given herself away. she dropped them on both sides of her body dejectedly and gave the girl a sideways glance, contemplating her proposal, to end up turning around without a word and heading to her bedroom.

"where are you going?" confused, the younger girl raised her voice as she watched her walk away.

maybe serim was feeling very lonely during the hiatus, or maybe she needed jimin more than she liked to admit.

"i can't leave my house in hello kitty pants." she replied disinterestedly, causing the happy grimace on karina's face to widen.

in an extremely awkward silence they made their way to the small park in the gated community where serim resided. they had so many things they wanted to say to each other, but communication had never been their best quality as a duo. serim wanted to know how she had been during that time, if she was tired, and how her busy schedule was treating her, or ask why she couldn't get her out of her mind even when they hadn't seen each other for so long. jimin, on her side, wanted to generate any kind of conversation, it was enough for her to know that serim was enjoying her company. but neither of them dared to let that happen, whether it was out of spite or fear.

but jimin hadn't gone to see her in such particular weather after so many days of not having her around just to be silent, though if that's the way it should be, at least she was happy to have her at arm's length. she took a breath and with the hand that gravitated around serim's she reached for hers, intertwining their fingers once their palms came into contact. pathetically, she found herself closing her eyes for a second, bracing herself for the terrible reaction expected from the woman, but she received none, the girl left her hand there with hers, and jimin turned to check, disoriented, only to find her admiring the falling snow so fascinated that she hadn't remembered she had to hate karina full time.

she smiled to herself as she closed the distance between them, making their bodies rub against each other, securing her grip on her.

she was walking hand in hand with serim, when was the last time that had happened? her heart was beating at such a rapid rate as her senses were lost in the warmth and perfume of the woman that it felt like a drill.

when they arrived at the park it was almost empty. it was not a place where there were never many people as it was in a neighborhood of rich people who didn't have time or desire to walk around the area, and fewer people there were going to be with such weather. they walked calmly to the center in a void of words that was no longer as uncomfortable as a few blocks ago, stopping near the structure that crowned the place to appreciate how the snow fell on it and its surroundings.

"do you like snow?" inquired karina once they found a position where they could appreciate the spectacle and stood there.

"yes i like it, winter it's my favorite season." she gave her a look for the first time all the way there. "even though my immune system is a mess, i always get sick." she let out a sheepish chuckle.

"winter is my favorite season too." she settled in by tying her body to jang's arm. "and that's because you don't eat well!" she complained. "but don't worry, if you get sick i'll take care of you." she arranged a few strands of hair falling over the older girl's face.

"i do eat well only you don't see it." she smiled sideways.

"don't try lying to me." she shot her a look of suspicion, making her laugh.

jimin couldn't hide the satisfaction that this had brought her, feeling that serim didn't hate her for a second, she felt fulfilled. they held each other for a moment there watching the scenery, being as close as they rarely were outside of serim's room, swaying quietly as if they weren't two hurricanes trying to fit together. karina released her grip on her to put herself opposite to her and take the vocalist's face in her hands, leaning her body forward to leave a soft kiss on her cheek. serim wasn't expecting it and the surprise left her serious, speechless, she averted her gaze to the side, pressing her lips into a line, but a slight blush was exposed on her cheeks that she hoped jimin would believe was just from the cold.

"namu." she called to her in a low tone, so that only she would hear. "i have to tell you something."

"what is it?" she turned her eyes to her, face expressionless.

"i..." she took a long breath through her nose, trying to calm the uneasiness in her stomach from nerves. "i want you." she blurted out, pulling her shoulders back a little, puffing out her chest showing confidence. "and i want to spend this christmas with you."

"this christmas you're going to be working." she rebutted with discomfiture. "just like me, i hope." she spoke to the sky as if asking god.

"no, namu." she was already beginning to feel the anxiety of not being able to emit what she felt the right way and was giving her first uneasy hands through the air. "i mean i want to spend this christmas with you and many more." she clarified. "i want you to be my present." she rested her index finger on the girl's chest, pointing at her. "i want to kiss you and have you be the first person i greet." she held up the opening of the girl's coat. "i want to be with you."

serim was having difficulty maintaining eye contact, and even more difficulty finding something to reply to a statement that made her uneasy. "what do you mean by that?"

"i'm confessing." she admitted simply. "that's what you're supposed to do in the first snow."

"a confession is for someone who doesn't know how you feel." sadness returned to her demeanor as it always did when she was around jimin. "i think you've already told me everything you have going on with me."

"really?" her voice rose slightly, getting a little desperate. "do you really think you know everything i feel about you?" she questioned. "do you know that i can't stop thinking about you? that every action i take i think about what your reaction would be?" her breathing was slowly failing. "i have a hard time sleeping at night because i wish you were by my side." she rubbed her face with her palms trying to get rid of the frustration.

"jimin, the problem is that i don't believe you." she interrupted her weakly, her eyes on the floor.

"and what do you need me to do to prove to you that it's true?" her movements were wide and fast because of distress. "to make you understand that i despise myself almost as much as you do for hurting you." she believed her eyes were glazing over, but she didn't have the composure to concentrate on anything at the moment. "i was wrong, serim, i tried to pretend that nothing changed in my life the moment we got the deal, that you didn't shake my floor from the first moment." she was thankful that they are practically alone in the park because she was embarrassing herself. "i tried to do what i thought was best for me and i was wrong, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry." she swallowed hard trying to undo the lump in her throat. "i understand that i hurted you, that i was an idiot, but i want you." she assured. "i need you." she added. "and i don't know how to make you see that."

"do you love me?" she finally dared to face her.

"serim." she diverted her attention to something off to the side, blocking herself completely.

"serim, what?" she bit down hard. "that's what i need." she confirmed. "if you can tell me to my face that you love me, then i'm willing to take the time to work out everything bad that happened between us." she asked. "if you tell me that you love me, i'll leave it in the past."

"i adore you with all my heart." she closed her eyes as if that could make that moment less real.

"but it's not enough."

"no, it's not that." she held her arms so she wouldn't pull away. "it's complicated." tears began to stain her cheeks. "i care for you so much..."

"why is it so hard for you to say you love me?" there was disappointment in her eyes. "don't you feel it?"

"it's not that i don't feel it..."

"then what is it?" she became defensive.

"it's complicated." she reiterated. "it's difficult." she said in a defeated attitude. "this all happened under peculiar circumstances and-"

"then it's difficult for me to forgive you." she cut her off.

serim raised her hands to remove the hold the younger girl had on her and started walking with speed back to her house. jimin watched her walk away, but wouldn't let her go, she ran out after her, catching her, making them face each other. she lifted serim's hand, bringing it to her lips to give it a short kiss while their eyes were connected, thus then grabbing her waist and pulling her close enough that she could rest her forehead against hers just by folding her body a little forward.

"make a wish." she murmured.

"can you leave me alone?"

"if you say it out loud it doesn't come true." she shook her head.

serim dropped her eyelids, a little because she no longer had the strength to argue or resist the questionable things jimin did, and a little because she wanted to stop the approaching crying, karina copied the actions when she saw her do it. after a moment they both, still with their heads against each other, looked at each other again, ruefully and wearily.

"you won't tell me what it is this time?" the blackhaired inquired.

"you said it." she whispered. "if i tell you it won't come true."

—that you can accept that you love me. —thought serim.

"i asked for you to let me go make cookies at your house."

"i can't believe it." she broke off suddenly. "are you serious?" she shouted at her upset.

"i know we just fought, but we always fight." she tried to reason, seriousness of the moment all gone. "i haven't seen you in two months, i just want to spend time with you." she pleaded. "get mad at me later, but don't leave now." she added. "please, stop leaving."

serim hated herself for how aware she was that no matter how angry she got with jimin, for whatever reason, she always came back to her. "if you say it out loud it doesn't come true." she reiterated bitterly as she realized how pathetic she was.

"but you miss me too."

"let's go." she commanded, causing the younger girl to cheer. "but no joy." she pointed her finger at her apprehensively. "i'm too upset with you." she reminded. "these are going to be the saddest cookies you'll ever eat in your life."

[silvertidescribbles]

Sweet Thing

“You made me listen kitten, to those cries, after flirting with me all day.”

Approx. 6.3k words

Pairing: Astarion x OC - See my little post about Alynea here. If you folks are curious to learn more about her, let me know :)

Content tags: MDNI, 18+ NSFW, smut, praise, begging, fingering, (mild) jealousy, depictions of blood/blood drinking.

A/N: Well, here I am posting smut ahah. Not a lot of context is needed, I've written it as much as I can into the fic itself. The vampire man has had a chokehold on me since the game came out, and I was compelled to write up one of my ideas of how he would go about seducing my tav while he's also struggling to keep his emotions separate :P.

Also, I have no idea how censorship works on here! Not entirely sure if this will get flagged in some way but oh well, such is part of learning. If you have the time and patience, feedback is appreciated <3 Is it strange to be nervous about posting smut? I don't know...

I hope this is enjoyable 😊

-Silver

-

Astarion waited impatiently in his tent, flipping carelessly through the pages of the novel he’d snagged during the day’s expedition. Despite his efforts, he found the tale within lacked the substance he needed to distract himself. Hells, he needed a distraction from what was happening outside his tent. He was positively sick of hearing Gale and Alynea geek out over magic together and he insisted to himself that he couldn’t be the only one.

Gale had made a habit of sitting late into the night at the campfire with the pale woman, a sneaky grin shared between them as they spoke of Waterdeep. Her a sorcerer and him a wizard, the two had bonded far too quickly for Astarion’s tastes, especially once it became known that both had been apprentices at Blackstaff. Even with his efforts to flirt with her, Astarion found himself further from the elf than he wanted to be. Another giggle from Alynea floated from the campfire up into the night sky, making him roll his eyes in irritation. Just how long was she going to make him wait? After all, she had promised to come to him after the others had gone to their bedrolls to let him feed.

Peeking out from his tent, Astarion was witness to how Alynea snickered at Gale’s words as she swallowed another mouthful of wine. The firelight cast a warm glow over her features and melded with the cooler palette of her skin and hair while her silvery eyes glittered. Albinism, she had said when asked. It explained the lack of colour in her, why her eyes twitched painfully under the bright sun and why her hair shone as white as bone, her pale skin only barely flushed with any warmth. As his eyes passed over the bruises on her neck, the memory of the first night she aided him rose to the surface.

“I’d hate to lose such a useful person over a little blood,” she had said so sweetly the night he’d tried to drink from her. “If that’s all you need, I’ll help.” He was honestly surprised she hadn’t staked him right there, and even more taken aback that she was willing to leave herself at his mercy. Alynea had struggled against him that night, body shaking as her blood was siphoned away. She hadn’t said anything in the moment, but there was something indescribable about the sudden head rush Astarion had experienced. It was invigorating and electrifying, sharpening his vision as a tingle arced down his spine. He would later confirm the wave of energy that washed over him when drinking from her wasn’t normal; the goblins he’d torn open a few days later did nothing to soothe the vampiric hunger the way her lifeblood did. Perhaps it was due to the magic she claimed burned inside her, though he couldn’t be sure. It was hard to believe at times she was such a fearsome spellcaster with her small presence and diminutive form, but the fireball she’d launched past his head earlier in the day begged to differ. Even though she was the shortest and physically smallest of the ragtag group, the rest of the party had quickly learned to not be the cause of her split hairs, lest they be the target of her next spell.

He was no longer reading the words in his book, fingers paused in the middle of turning the page as he realized he was reminiscing like a schoolboy. How embarrassing, he thought to himself. Sure, Alynea was another pretty face, but he couldn’t fathom why she lingered in his mind the way she did. The woman was a patriar’s daughter for hells sake—by all accounts she should be someone he held contempt for. Should was the operative word however, he was failing to find anything to find truly repulsive about the little elf. Perhaps the tadpole had scrambled his brain more than he’d like to admit. Before he could muse any longer on the thought, there was a noise that drew him back to the present.

“Astarion? Gale’s gone now. I’m… I’m here, if you would like.” Her warbly voice was soft outside his tent as she stood by, picking at the strap of the oversized top she’d chosen as a nightgown. Although intended for a man much larger than her the shirt made for an acceptable nightdress, if a little short. The sound of a book snapping shut alerted her to the vampire shuffling around inside the tent before the main flap was pulled back, a hand inviting her in. Crouching as she stepped within the boundaries of his tent, her pupils dilated as her vision adjusted. Being elves, the lack of light was no issue for them, Astarion could see her perfectly well in the dark, and he knew she could see him as well.

“Oh my... you’re in a distracting outfit tonight darling,” the vampire drawled. Alynea’s cheeks flushed pink at that as her fingers tweaked a strand of hair between them. “I can change if—” He waved a hand, cutting her off. “Oh I doubt that’ll be necessary. After all, I will be needing access to that pretty little neck of yours.”

She swallowed thickly at that, nostrils flaring slightly as his grin made her shiver. As she squirmed under his gaze a strange sense of irritation rose in his chest at the sight of her. The garment she wore hung loosely off her shoulders and low on her chest which left little to the imagination, the hemline only just reaching the top of her knee. It was a dress that, if one could even call it such, practically screamed sex appeal. Knowing she had been sitting shoulder to shoulder with Gale directly prior to this, jealousy stirred in him for a moment before he regained control. That bumbling wizard wouldn’t know what to do with Alynea even if she were to lie nude and expecting in front of him.

That mental image sparked a new sense of discontent in Astarion. He could hardly believe he was competing with Gale for her affections, dismayed at the thought of her possibly seeing them in the same league. In fact, he could hardly believe he was competing with any of them. Wyll was but a bright-eyed child, still wet around the ears. The warlock’s eyes shined with adoration for the woman, but it was clear he was unable to think beyond that. Shadowheart was just as bad, with the way she had roped the sorcerer into listening to her Sharran drivel. Astarion scowled at that, wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Alynea cleared her throat, bringing him back to the present. “Are you alright Astarion?” There was an unknowable emotion in her eyes that made him shy away from her gaze, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Apologies,” he muttered. “I was distracted by a thought is all.” The excuse did little to sway her; she just stared back at him with those large silver eyes. Astarion tilted his head, seeing the way she looked down at the strand of hair she fiddled with. She was well within her rights to still be uncomfortable about the arrangement they’d made, though something whispered to him that it wasn’t fear of him that made her shy. Ever since the first incident, she’d insisted on giving her some of her blood when the group failed to find enough fights for him to feed from. Despite how palpable her nervousness was, she would take a deep breath and shake her head when he offered her an out, even as the anxiety rolled off her in waves.

Astarion shifted, adjusting his position to sit at one end of the tent with his legs spread. Given she was much smaller, he grabbed a pillow he’d swiped from the grove and placed it between his thighs. Frankly, she needed it, so he could reach her neck without craning his own horrendously. Alynea was fragile against him when his fangs were in her throat, and he didn’t want to risk hurting her more than he had to. Her willingness to let him feed from her was a gift and he would not squander it, he thought to himself. No, as much as he wanted to indulge, to feel her warmth fade as he drained every last drop from her body, he knew he couldn’t. Her generosity was one of the kindest things anyone had ever willingly done for him and he refused to ruin it.

He outstretched a hand to her to guide her as she sat down on the pillow, twisting around to press her back against him. The warmth of her skin was pleasant against his cool chest, something he always relished when she let herself nestle against his body. He paused at the way her muscles tensed when his fingers brushed along her ears, sweeping back her ivory locks to reveal her neck. The tiniest drop of guilt bubbled up in him upon seeing the lingering bruises from the last time, but it quickly faded away. He had plans to make it up to her tonight.

“Now, kitten,” he cooed into her ear, his lips only a breath away. “You let me know when you’re ready, darling.” Although she was insistent on letting him receive blood from her, Astarion had found she would flinch when he gave no warning before ravaging her neck. They had tried other veins, including her wrists or arms, but nothing had been as efficient as her throat for drawing enough. Despite how his gut would wrench with hunger at her scent, he found she handled the situation best when she was in control. How innocent, he had thought. But still he restrained himself; he could control his desires and he would.

At first, she had been telling him verbally when she was ready, but much to his surprise the last two times she had simply squeezed his knee to let him know she was prepared. Although she hadn’t been the quickest to warm up to him when they first met, it was the little things that told Astarion he was making progress with her. For all her sweet demeanor, she was a powerful sorcerer he wanted on his side. He’d slowly been gaining her trust and affection, and these intimate nights where she let him drink only accelerated the relationship. This time he was preparing to step things up, the scent of her blood filling him with a carnal desire to bend her over and break her.

“Sweet thing, you smell delicious tonight,” he whispered into her ear. She was wearing perfume tonight, same as the last few times. The aromas of mugwort and balsam floated up from her skin and filled his head as he remembered her picking the herbs earlier in the day. It was a sweet gesture, though it didn’t do much to distract him from his prize. Nevertheless, he was flattered by the effort. Sharp fangs slid out just a fraction from his gums, the pointed ends brushing along the cartilage of her upper ear. Alynea shuddered at the touch, squeaking out the tiniest yelp as one of his hands began rubbing along her arm. It was his attempt to relax her, to ply her to his want and to let herself go limp in his arms.

“Astarion, before you—” She paused, her breath hitching as his other hand innocently rested on one of her knees, thumbpad rubbing circles into her skin. “Yes, dear? What could possibly be the matter?” The low timbre of the vampire’s voice sent shivers down her body and she let out a short breath, unaware she had even been holding it.

“N-Nothing’s the matter,” Alyena stammered. Oh, how sweet that little stutter made her sound to him. She only ever stuttered like that when she was flustered, overwhelmed with her emotions. Those feelings always quieted down when he sank into her though, her shaky voice silencing to a soft “oh…” each time. He could hardly wait to feel her grip at his thigh, to signal to him that he could take her. “But I wanted to ask…” the man paused, lifting his head back slightly from her. She twisted around to look up at him and despite his best efforts, something twinged in the base of his stomach. A primal, growling desire rumbled in him, but he bit his tongue as those impossibly round doe eyes stared up at him.

“Um… Could you possibly take off your shirt before you do it?” A flush crept across her cheeks, a rare instance of her skin becoming rosy. “I… I like the way it feels, when you press your chest against my back, and…” Astarion cracked a devilish grin as she mumbled out her request, tripping and stumbling over her words. Something about it feeling safe when she was held in an embrace, how skin to skin contact felt, and so on. She blushed, biting a nail as she looked up. Liar, he snarked in his head. He knew she was attracted to him, despite her avoidance of the question when he had asked. She wanted a good piece of eye candy, that’s why she was asking.

“As you wish, so it shall be granted, darling,” he replied graciously to her. In a moment, his blouse was untied and slipped over his white curls, tossed aside to a forgotten corner of his tent. She paused to stare for a moment, biting her lip as her eyes took in his shape in the dark before sitting back against him. Alynea felt both panic and excitement rise in her throat as he settled back in, cool skin pressing against hers. She knew he could feel her heartbeat, smell the rush of her blood, though it wasn’t something she could control exactly. Truth be told, she had been working up the nerve to ask him to do this. She wanted the chance to see him up close without his shirt, and now she had her desire.

Although she had tried her best to keep the instances of blood drinking transactional, it had become more and more impossible. Gods, he stared at her in such a smoldering way. The way his eyes gazed into hers, how he cradled her body in his arms as he fed, all made her feel weak in the knees. The last two times after she had left his tent she had laid in her own bedroll, desperately chasing release with her own means. The loss of blood put a pleasant haze over everything, and she found herself soaked with need and desire as she fantasized about the tall, handsome man who practically eyefucked her every chance he could. She wasn’t stupid; she could tell Astarion was undressing her in his mind every time he saw her. She could only hope her eyes didn’t give it away as much as his did.

Astarion’s thumb was rubbing circles again. This time though, she tensed, feeling his hand far higher up than it had been previously. Where his palm normally rested on her knee, his hand had slid down to lay on her inner thigh. The hem of her nightshirt was pushed up, and she blushed seeing her own skin.

“Hm… you naughty girl, you’re not even wearing any underwear,” he purred. His voice made her blink and focus, becoming more alert to the position she was in. It made her blush further, realizing how she was fully lying back against the elf, heart thudding in her chest as his other hand moved lower, finding a spot at her waist. His touch made her voice catch in her throat, a particularly sweet sound coming out only barely above a whisper as he pulled her against him. “I…” she mumbled something, trying to think of a response, but finding none. Was he going to realize? Would he know she’d been planning this night in her mind all day?

“Shh, shh,” he hushed, his fingers dragging their nails over the milky skin of her inner thigh. Her leg twitched at this as his fingers moved closer to her groin, dangerously close. “Do you think I was oblivious to your antics the last two times?” His voice was a low growl now, a dangerous edge to it that she seldom heard, yet caused her belly to twinge all the same in response. “Coming in here, all perfumed, barely dressed,” he muttered into her ear.  “Sitting here, all soft and sweet while you bled for me” he continued. “To then go back to your bedroll and whine the way you do,” he added, Alynea shivering at his voice. “Fucking yourself on your fingers while you moaned my name,” he hissed, mouth hovering over her neck, just behind her ear.

Alynea closed her eyes, her face flushed as she felt her stomach tie into a knot. She should’ve known, she realized. Of course a vampire, an elven one no less, would have been able to hear her whines, no matter how muffled. “Astarion,” she whimpered, her hand squeezing at his thigh. A silent yes, her way of giving him permission.

“The last two times,” he breathed out hoarsely, his tongue dragging along her neck and paying particular attention to the two bruises he’d left. She quivered under his touch, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tried not to squeak. “You made me listen while you made your desires known.” Alynea could hardly breathe, with how tight the tension in her body was coiled. She was melting under every single touch of his now. “You made me listen, kitten, to those cries, after flirting with me all day.” She nearly palmed his head away when his fangs scraped along her ear, making her strain and push against him, rocking her body back. Astarion grinned, his arm coming around to encircle her waist. He had her at his mercy now, unable to pull away as his other hand pushed up the hem of her nightgown even further, exposing her.

“All while acting so innocent to me the next morning,” he growled. She gasped when his fangs pierced her, louder than she ever had before. Her body shuddered against his as she let out a low breathy moan, one that seemed to egg him on as his arm pulled her against him even harder. A sharp pain, now a familiar embrace, dulled her senses and made her weak as she became more pliable in his arms. As she lay there, she realized something; he was drinking slowly, much slower in fact than usual. Blinking, she opened her mouth to say something but only managed to let out a quiet strangled noise

Astarion’s cool fingers had found her. She was already wet, and he found only the slightest bit resistance as he slid his first finger in before her body caved, freely letting him push into her. His thumbpad now circled her clit and she let out the most pathetic little sob of pleasure as he continued to slowly, agonizingly slowly, drink down her blood.

Alynea let out the softest, sweetest little moan, her hips jerking in response. She wasn’t thinking, just moving in reaction to him. Still, he held her firmly, slowly suckling out more of her blood as he dug his fingers into her. Hells, he thought to himself, she smelled and tasted incredible. The arousal he had smelled on her had already tipped him off to her state of mind when she had entered his tent, but now it was a full crescendo. Her little whimpers and moans as she attempted to be quiet, to not wake the whole camp, were like a symphony to his ears. It was a delight to hear it firsthand and by his hand, rather than how muffled it was when she was in her own bedroll, crying into her pillows to reduce the noise.

“Oh, Astarion...” He stiffened at her voice; the way his name fell from her mouth was sinful. He hummed as he slowly siphoned more blood, increasing the flow into his mouth and making her cry out as he slid another finger into her. His other hand reached up, tugging down her nightshirt from her shoulders and freeing her torso from the garment. Her lungs heaved as his fingers worked away at her flesh, pinching and groping and massaging the soft skin. Her whole body jolted at the touch, hips grinding up against his palm. With a loud groan of contentment, Astarion released his fangs from her throat, continuing to suck and lick at the two new puncture marks he’d left behind. He would take more later, but for now his focus was on seducing the sweet treat in his lap.

“Fuck, oh gods…” she whispered as Astarion looked down, smirking at what he saw. “Just me,” he crooned softly. He could see the ghost of a smile at his quip on her lips, but it vanished quickly as she melted into his embrace. Pleased with his work, he committed the image to memory. Alynea curled in his arms with her eyes closed, brows furrowed as she squirmed, her chest bared and blushed pink in various locations where he’d pinched and prodded. She was such a pretty thing, pushing her hips against his fingers. “You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured against her skin. “Isn’t that right? You’ve been wanting to fuck yourself all over my fingers for a while now, you little minx.” Soft, shaky breaths escaped her as she shifted in his embrace while he dug further into her, searching for the soft little pad of tissue that he knew would undo her. He chuckled, nipping at her with his fangs. “Answer me, kitten.”

“A—yes, yes I—” she winced when she bit her tongue fumbling for words as he slid in a third finger. She felt his chest tighten as he sucked in a breath, tasting blood in her mouth. Their gazes locked, her wide eyes looking up at him as his free hand moved to come up to her chin. Firmly, but still gentle, he gripped her jaw as he pushed her to look at him.

Astarion couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her. The smell of her blood leaking from a nipped tongue, mingling with her hot breath made his own belly twinge. Her pupils were blown out, a sight he recognized well as lust. She whined when he withdrew his fingers from her, but he tutted at her softly as he brought them up to his own mouth. “You are perfect kitten,” he groaned softly, reveling in the taste. The smaller elf shivered as his hand left a smear on her thigh as he adjusted her in his arms. He shifted her head to his other shoulder, adjusting his own body to better support her frame as she leaned into him, his thumb pressed against her bottom lip. This night was about her, not him, but she was irresistible to him all the same. The primal, carnal urge within him growled, yearning to take her, though he forced it back down. Not yet, he hissed at it. Not tonight. He wouldn’t destroy this. He wouldn’t.

When he kissed her, he could feel her heartbeat skyrocket. His other hand fell, resuming his motions as she moaned into his mouth. His tongue chased hers, the linger taste of her mixing with her blood, a soft groan escaping him as she whimpered. A sweet thing indeed, he thought to himself. He stayed there, kissing her and lapping at the swollen spot on her tongue that bled just the tiniest bit, enticing him to go further as he kept up the rhythm, fingers reaching as far as he could into her.

Alynea was speechless, her mind racing. Gods, she had been dreaming about this exact scenario for over two weeks now. His fingers felt heavenly as they moved rhythmically against her, every stroke sending another jolt of pleasure through her bones. She could feel her heart in her throat as he kissed her, a strong hand on her jaw keeping her there as his tongue delved into her mouth.

It was all beginning to be too much. Still, she did nothing to stop him as he carried on, feeling herself react more and more sharply the longer he continued. In the back of her mind she could hear herself moaning louder, the sounds harder to control as the pleasure became more intense. Despite the spells inside her that roiled and bubbled up, she kept it down as he slid his fourth finger in, the noises becoming more obscene as her eyes rolled back slightly, waves of heat continuing to build in the bottom of her belly. She had trained her magic well enough to not be worried about a mephit blinking into existence or thornbushes coming up to entangle them, but nonetheless she fought off the tingling feeling in her chest as the tension in her body continued to grow.

“Astarion,” she whimpered against his mouth, catching his attention. His fingers paused for a moment and she whined, rocking her hips slightly as if desperately telling him not to stop. “Astarion, I want you to bite me,” she pleaded, “again, on the neck.” She could feel him smirk against her lips as his fingers started up again, this time more feverish than before. “Oh, you sweet thing,” he whispered, hand still on her jaw. He tilted her head down against his shoulder and she groaned as she felt her orgasm starting to build. She could faintly hear him laugh softly as she began grinding her hips into his hand, biting on her tongue in concentration, legs shaking as she did so. With her head resting in the crook of his neck, she began to moan again, unable to contain her voice as she reached for her release. Alynea had wanted this for so long, her body was on fire with anticipation. She felt his hand leave her jaw, returning to massage her chest and she stifled her cries into his neck. His cool skin provided brief momentary relief as the pressure in her body came to a rumbling boil, but the rush of heat returned just as quickly and fiercer than before.

She didn’t know why he hadn’t returned his fangs to her neck and now she desperately wanted them. A part of her was laughing at the contradiction; his fangs sinking into her often hurt, yet here and now as she was a shuddering mess she wanted nothing more than that sharp, bright pain. Shivers rippled through her body at the thought, muscles straining against his four fingers he kept fucking her with. Fuck, she realized. Did he want her to beg? To plead for him to ruin her further?

Well, if that’s what he wanted, she had no qualms about doing so.

Astarion was a little surprised when Alynea’s hand palmed at his forearm. He didn’t really expect her to be able to think coherently in the moment, given how uninhibited she was making such sweet noises for him. There was something pathetically desperate about the way she weakly pawed at him, unable to put any real strength into her grip. Her head shifted, shaking slightly as her lips moved close to his ear. Sucking in a sharp breath as her lips grazed his neck while her nails dug gently into his skin, he bit back a groan as her tongue rolled over his skin. “You little minx,” he growled quietly, the low register of his voice sending a chill through her.

“Astarion, please,” she mewled. “Please… I need your fangs in me, I’m- I’m so close…” He stiffened a little at that, his own erection that was hidden by the pillow she sat on twitching at her pleas. He hummed, craning his neck down to the exposed skin. “My, my, who would’ve thought our fearless sorceress would be brought to her knees like this,” he crowed. “Moaning and crying like this, begging for me.” In the back of his mind Astarion was gleeful. He knew she was being too loud at this point; Wyll in his tent could probably hear her halfway across the campsite. He knew that the wizard nearby could definitely hear her cries. Perhaps this would finally send the others the message he'd been trying to tell them: She’s mine. She was his to hold close, to nip on the neck and to pleasure.

“Please… I’ve been… been so good, for you,” she whined into his ear, each breathy gasp making him bite the inside of his cheek harder. “I’ve let you take so much… so much blood,” she whimpered. The salt of her sweat left a tang in his throat, lips pressed against her neck as she continued to moan. He could tell she was getting close, with the way she was grinding herself onto his fingers, her heartbeat pulsing through her whole body.

“Oh, fuck, don’t make me keep begging,” she whispered. There was a frantic tone in her voice as she shuddered, continuing to grind against him. “Please, oh gods, I’m so close, I want your fangs in me when I—Astarion, please,” she wailed, completely lost to the hope of staying silent. Was that a tear he spotted in the corner of her eye? He could almost laugh in disbelief, though he would not betray her feelings in that way, at least not in the moment. Planting a soft kiss to her jawline, his fingers tangled themselves into her silver hair. With the slightest bit of force, Astarion pulled her head fast against his shoulder to expose her neck as best as possible. Alynea was shaking with need, sweat glistening down her body as he heard her voice become strained.

She was such a pretty little thing. And she was such an exquisite treasure when she was laid out like this, wanton moans muffled against his body as her nails dug into his arms, her hips moving back and forth against his fingers that continued to push deep inside her. “Sweet thing, don’t cry,” he purred. He could see her chest fall a little at the reassurance, as if some relief had come from his words alone. The sound of her blood rushing echoed in his ears, heartbeat thudding wildly throughout her body as her breathing became even more labored. She was right at the edge now, he figured. They had been at this for over ten minutes and the slow build up was clearly agonizing for her, to be this close.

His fingers slowed for a moment, withdrawing most of the way out of her, his thumb pressing harder against her clit as she cried against him in protest. She was so close, teetering on the edge of her release, but he shushed her to soothe her begging as he planted one more gentle kiss on her neck. “You’re right, darling,” he whispered. “You’ve been a wonderful girl, such a good treat for me,” he muttered against her skin.

“Oh, fuck!” Alynea cried out against his neck as the white-hot pain lanced through her own, feeling his fingers thrust back into her with full force. Eyes squeezed shut, she couldn’t see the wild and unfocused look in his eyes as he began to drink. The familiar hazy sensation from blood loss washed over her with force as he drank deeply, swallowing down mouthfuls of her blood as he fucked her onto his hand.

It was all simply too much. The pressure in the bottom of her belly swelled to a feverish pitch, before it all exploded. She could faintly hear him grunt as her muscles clenched, her whole body seizing up as relief washed over her, ripping through and out her body forcefully.  Her hips bucked hard against his hand, thighs shaking as they tried to press together. His fingers had slowed, but continued to gently fuck her through the high as she felt his fangs begin to retract, her hips beginning to calm down.

After a moment, his fangs finished retracting and Alynea’s gasps settled down to soft mumbles as he lapped at her neck, helping to close over the new marks left by his feeding. There was a groan from her throat as his fingers lazily withdrew from her, her body aching at the sudden loss. She heard him suck in a breath, seeing how the cushion she sat on was freshly wet as a creeping embarrassment grew in her chest.

He grinned at her, not a glint of shame in his eyes as he lifted his hand, dragging his tongue from his wrist to the top of his palm as she watched with a heavy blush. Then, he reached for his pack off to the side and tugged out a cloth. That was enough to erase any lingering worry she felt as her breathing even out. After a moment, she shivered as he wiped her down as well before he placed the rag off to the side to be forgotten. Astarion sat quietly, seemingly unsure of what to do next with the quivering mess in his lap. After a moment she shifted, twisting herself around and surprising him as her arms wrapped around his torso. “Did you enjoy that?” She whispered, head resting still on his shoulder.

Something lanced through him with those words. She asked so innocently, so sweetly, as if he hadn’t just made her lose her mind on his fingers. There was a tinge of authenticity to her tone, something that told him she wanted to know truly if he had enjoyed it. “Darling,” he purred. “You were marvelous.” That wasn’t a lie, he mused to himself. He had enjoyed it, watching her unravel because of his actions made something in him swell with satisfaction. Pride, even.

“The next time you’re so desperate as to keep me up all night listening to you,” he spoke softly, more gently. “Don’t torture yourself. Not when I can help.” She seemed to relax at his words, her eyes unfocused and hazy as her heartbeat began to slow. Exhaustion was calling to her, even as Astarion pulled away to grab another pillow. “You should head to your bedroll, sweet kitten,” he whispered. To his surprise though, she reached out weakly, fingers tangling with his own. “I don’t particularly… care what the others have to say,” she murmured. She was falling into her trance now, voice heavy with exhaustion. “So… let me stay with you tonight here. …Please?”

Again, something in the way she spoke shot right through him. The intimacy of her fingers entwined with his made a strange sensation flood over his face. Although her eyes had closed, he said nothing, only nodding. Pulling a blanket over her shoulder and covering her half naked form, he laid her down on his bedroll. He had never done this part of sex, he thought to himself. Though she didn’t seem to be asking for much. Perhaps she just wanted to stay where a bedroll had already been warmed, instead of making the trudge back to her own tent.

In the morning, Alynea would be slow to wake. When she did, she reached for the amulet Astarion had swiped in the grove, her skin shimmering as the lesser restoration spell shook the sleep from her eyes. To her back was the pale elf, still shirtless from the night before, though he had made distance between them overnight. She blushed when she sniffed the air, heavy with the smell of sex, the smell of her. Yawning, she adjusted her nightgown as Astarion began to shift, waking from his own trance.

Red eyes met silver, blinking silently. Sheepishly, she smiled at him. “Good morning." A slight smile ghosted across his face before vanishing as he sat up, reaching for his blouse. “Sleep well, darling?” He asked. She nodded, reaching up to trace at the nicks left on her neck. She flinched a little when pressing on one of them; the tissue was sore. She looked over to him, whose gaze had also settled on it. Astarion smirked at her, looking down as he laced up his blouse. “My apologies, darling. It seems the bruising is quite... intense this time.”

When she finally left his tent, she cringed internally as she briefly met Wyll’s gaze across from her tent as she slipped inside, hastily changing out of her disheveled nightshirt. She knew the boy had harbored a crush on her since his childhood, and some part of her felt bad knowing he probably heard her cries last night. Likewise, Gale hadn’t come out of his tent yet either. She felt her face flush at the thought of her friend lying in his bedroll, forced to listen as she had wailed so openly for Astarion, moaning his name, begging him to undo her.

Later, the women who had their tents on the other side of the campsite would ask why the men were so quiet. Gale, ever the gentleman, had the grace to brush it off as being exhausted from a bad sleep while Wyll said nothing, staring down intently at his food. Astarion however, had rolled his eyes, scoffing something about humans and their need for sleep. Karlach guffawed at that, pointing out that it was no secret that Alynea had slipped out of his tent this morning and not her own, her neck covered in bruises. True to her word, when Astarion glanced over at the elf, she was chewing on a strip of bacon as she peered over a spell scroll totally unbothered. When she looked up to see the party’s eyes on her, she blinked, swallowing before saying the simplest, sweetest thing he had heard from her yet.

“Yeah, I did. He was good.”

[lucy90712]

Family Christmas- Pedri

A/n: Happy holidays guys. I have a surprise new mini series for new years so get ready

1st December 

The test stared back at me as it laid face down on the bathroom counter while Pedri stood behind me with his arms wrapped around my waist. We have been sort of trying for a baby but not taking it too seriously by tracking my ovulation or anything so I really wasn't expecting to miss my period only 3 months after coming off my birth control. My period was due 5 days ago and I've had no signs that it will be coming any time soon the only usual symptom I've had is a bit of nausea in the mornings and evenings but that's also a symptom of pregnancy. The thought that I could actually be pregnant has me excited and nervous being a mum is a big change in life a change I know I'm ready for I'm just nervous about doing things wrong. 

"Are you ready to find out?" Pedri asked 

"I'm ready" I replied 

"You don't need to be nervous it's it's not positive we'll just try again it doesn't matter ok" he said 

"I know I've just got my hopes up so if it's not positive I'll be a little disappointed" I said 

"And that's ok but let's not think about that right now" he said 

He kissed my cheek then put his hand on the test waiting for me to do the same so we could flip the test together. I took a deep breath and put my hand next to his then we counted down from three and turned the test over. Staring back at us was two distinct lines just as dark as each other so there's no question I'm definitely pregnant. Without me even noticing tears of joy poured from my eyes which Pedri wiped away before pulling me into the tightest hug. This is the best early Christmas present ever and now we can surprise the rest of our family throughout the holidays. 

~~~~~~~~~~

24th December 

Way before we found out I was pregnant we agreed to host Christmas with Pedri's family which at the time was a great idea but now I'm sort of regretting it. There is so much that goes into hosting so I've been exhausted all week because the first trimester is really taking it out of me so coupled with all the extra things I've been doing I can barely keep my eyes open by 9pm. Pedri has helped as much as he can but he's only been off for the last few days so now here we are finishing wrapping presents on Christmas Eve and I still have some food to prep. 

Usually I do most of the work when wrapping presents as if I don't it will look like a toddler wrapped them in the dark as Pedri doesn't exactly have the eye for wrapping. Under my instruction he did most of the work as then I could just sit there and hold the paper while closing my eyes for a few seconds to get some rest. The main thing we needed to wrap was the things we bought to surprise Pedri's family with the news as they don't know yet. We had our first ultrasound just a few days ago so we added some of the pictures to the little onesie we bought that we customised to have the baby's rough due date on. I can't wait to see their faces a when they find out because it's been so hard to keep it a secret from everyone especially when I've been feeling so awful and having to lie and say it's just a regular sickness. 

After we finished wrapping I went to prep some stuff ready to make dinner tomorrow as I don't want to spend all day in the kitchen and not enjoying the festivities. I tried my best to get on with the prep I wanted to do but the smell of the food was making me feel so nauseous I tried to breathe through my mouth or just ignore the smell but I couldn't. Eventually it became too much and I had to run to the bathroom where Pedri quickly joined me to help hold back my hair. To begin with my sickness wasn't too bad but over the last week or so it has definitely got worse there is certain foods that I just can't stomach anymore and the smell of most things makes me nauseous. Once I was feeling better I wanted to go back to the kitchen and finish what I started but Pedri wouldn’t let me he insisted on doing it so I gave him instructions and he did all of it for me. 

Pedri joined me back on the sofa and put on a show for us to watch or for him to watch while I fight to keep my eyes open. As predicted I must've fallen asleep as I was woken up by the squeaky step on the stairs as Pedri carried me up them. When he saw my eyes open he cursed the step before telling me to go back to sleep but I would only do that when he tucked me up in bed and gave me the goodnight kiss I missed out on before. 

~~~~~~~~~~

25th December 

My Christmas morning started out with the most delightful gift of having to run to the bathroom because I woke up feeling overwhelmingly sick. Luckily my hair was already up this time but Pedri still sat by my side and rubbed my back for nothing more than moral support but I appreciate it anyway. He got me a glass of water and helped me up so I could brush my teeth so that we can get on with the days plans. Like the amazing husband he is Pedri made me some toast for breakfast as he knows that’s one of the things I can eat when everything else makes me sick. He also had all my vitamins I'm supposed to take laid out and some water to go with them which so nearly made me cry as all my hormones have had me extra emotional but I managed to hold back. 

We agreed that we weren't going to open any presents until Pedri's family arrived but after we finished eating Pedri handed me a gift and told me to open it. Inside was a little photo album meant to capture every first of a baby's life I flicked through the book to see all the moments we can capture in here then I saw that Pedri has already put the first ultrasound picture in there. That was enough to make me cry I can't wait to fill this book with memories and cry again every time I look at it. 

"Thank you this is the best gift" I said 

"You've already given me the best gift so I had to try and get you something that represents that and I know you love a photo album" he said 

"It's perfect I can't wait to keep adding to it" I said 

We continued to talk about what our lives will look like over the next year and then for the rest of our lives until Pedri's family arrived and I had to hide the photo album quickly. He ran and let them in and helped them with the bags of presents they'd brought with them while I greeted them all as it's been a while since we were all last together as life has been hectic. Rosy complimented my outfit and told me I looked beautiful which really put a smile on my face as I've not felt good about myself since my pregnancy symptoms took over. We all chatted for a little while catching up before I could see Pedri getting impatient and wanting to tell his family already so I suggested we open presents. 

Pedri quickly took over and gave his mum the gift we wrapped yesterday and says it was for all of them so they all gathered round to look at what it was. Seeing the look on their faces as it sunk in made my day. I knew they would all be excited as Pedri's family are all really close but I wasn't expecting the immediate group hug we were both pulled into. I've never heard the word congratulations so many times but it made me happy to know they were so excited as I know our baby will have the best grandparents and uncle. 

"congratulations how far along are you y/n?" Rosy asked 

"I'm just over 8 weeks so not far along but we couldn’t wait to start telling people" I said 

"How have you been feeling?" Fernando asked 

"I've been better but I'm doing ok" I answered 

"She's been quite sick recently and very tired but she's been a trooper and still living like nothings going on" Pedri said 

"The first few few months are tough but it does get better and it's all worth it in the end" Rosy said 

"We can take over everything for today you should be resting and taking care of yourself" Fer offered 

"Oh no I can't have you do that you're supposed to be guests I'm fine really" I said 

"Don't be silly at least let us take over dinner I remember when I was pregnant with the boys the smell of food always set me off" Rosy said 

"Ok but I will make up for it at a later date we will invite you over for dinner and I'll cook for you" I said 

"That sounds lovely" Fernando said 

We opened the rest of the presents we had got for each other but nothing was really able to top the pregnancy surprise we started with. Pedri did get me a little heartbeat reading machine so once the baby is more developed we will be able to listen to their heartbeat at home which I enjoyed. He said he thought about getting this really cute baby onesie he saw but he held back so that we can get the first things together but he did promise to use one of his days off to go baby shopping with me in the new year which at this time in my life is my version of a great day. We also had to joke about the fact that Fer had bought be a nice bottle of wine which of course he wasn't to know was bad timing but it made everyone laugh especially when Pedri said we could pack it in my hospital bag for right after the baby is born. 

Then it was time to start on dinner but I wasn't allowed to lift a finger in fact I wasn't even allowed to get myself a drink of water someone else aways did it for me. I was also periodically fed snacks by Pedri who wanted to make sure I'm getting enough nutrients even when I'm not feeling well. At some point I must've fallen asleep as it was light when I last remember being awake but then it was dark out and very dark out. It was a good nap though as I actually felt refreshed and like I had some energy for once. As I slept for apparently most the afternoon dinner was almost ready so I got up to freshen up as I know I look ridiculous when I've just woken up. I fixed my hair and even put on a bit of makeup which made me look and feel more human which is the most I can ask for at the moment. 

By the time I was ready the table was being set so I tried to help as I've done nothing all day but Pedri steered me away from the kitchen to the table where he pulled out a chair for me and told me to sit down. I wanted to help but he told me that his parents have it all covered so my job is to just sit and look pretty which he said I'm doing a great job of. He gave me a quick kiss before running back to the kitchen to help. It didn't take long before there was a plate of food put in front of me which looked amazing although I had to try not to smell it as it will make me nauseous. The food was lovely much better than anything I could've made but I guess thats what happens when you get chefs to make your Christmas dinner. I ate as much as I could before I started to feel sick which Pedri could definitely tell as he squeezed my hand under the table to check that I was ok. 

The original plan was for everyone to stay and watch a movie after dinner but Pedri's family insisted on leaving us be after cleaning up which again I tried to say wasn't necessary but they insisted on helping out. The house ended up cleaner than it started out so I won't have to clean for a few days which will be nice. 

"Thank you for taking over dinner and cleaning I really appreciate all your help" I said as they were all leaving 

"There's no need to thank us you've done all the hard work preparing for today" Fernando said 

"And if you need anything don't hesitate to reach out even if it's just something small we are all happy to help out" Rosy added 

"Thank you guys we really appreciate all your help" Pedri said 

"Make sure you take care of her bro and you've got to learn to cook now your a father" Fer said 

"I've been trying haven't I love" Pedri said 

"He has and he's definitely getting better I don't have to supervise all the time anymore" I said 

They congratulated us one more time before leaving so it was just me and Pedri. It wasn't late but we decided to just go to bed as it's been a long day. Pedri definitely wasn't tired but I was so he got me to rest my head on his chest as he played with my hair as he knows that always sends me to sleep.

“Good night mi amor I love you and our little baby so much already” Pedri whispered as I was falling asleep

“We both love you too” I whispered back 

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

@beef-brisket

(sorry for the wait this one took a while to do)

Lucifer was tossing and turning in his bed unable to sleep. He was in his suite at the hotel. When he left the rockstar he had two choices of where to go. The hotel or his manor. Right now Lucifer couldn’t stomach the idea of going back to a house that was built on false promises and words.

He felt down right sick the more he thought about it. When he had looked into Adam’s mind he saw everything. Every last memory from the time he was created to the last few minutes. That included all his memories that had Lilith in them. What he saw made him want to go back in time and curse his young self for being so stupid.

Adam was right Lilith never was under his control. He was under hers. He saw how she was constantly ordering him around. Telling him how he wasn’t doing anything right. Then in one memory he still saw when he closed his eyes was her choking Adam.

It was another one of their arguments when Adam decided to try and walk away. She tackled him and wrapped a strong pair of vines around his fragile neck and pulled. He could only watch as she almost killed him that day. This was the same woman he gave everything up and betrayed his best friend for. He thought he knew her, he thought she was his soulmate.

But he was wrong. It only got worse from there, the details weren’t meant to be shared. All he could say was that Adam lived a life of hardship. All thanks to Lucifer. Then he got to a somewhat recent memory.

It happened seven years ago.

The day Lilith left.

She had called a meeting to discuss the proposition of making a deal. She wished to leave Hell along with her position as its Queen. She would never contact nor use her powers against Heaven against Hell ever again. In turn she would be granted paradise. He knew she wasn’t happy with him for the longest time.

To do this though? To abandon her duties and everything they built and rebelled for. Then he thought of their daughter. Their poor, sweet, girl completely oblivious to her mother’s whereabouts. Only that she left.

And she wasn’t coming back.

But that wasn’t what broke him. It was just the icing on top of the shit filled cake. The thing that absolutely recked Lucifer was back when Adam and Eve had just left the garden. They were commiserating over being tricked by people they thought cared for them. Especially the bright eyed angel.

The first man then told the second woman something that Lucifer had never even thought was possible. He told her that he loved him.

Not just the usual love for a friend, but in love with him. Or at least he used to be.

That did it. That was the final straw that broke the camel’s back and opened the flood gates. His best friend was in love with him. The truly shocking thing was…he was too.

Back in Eden, before everything went to complete shit, he was deeply enamored with the first man. He just didn’t know how to say it. Then Lilith came along and he saw how happy was with her. Or at least he thought they were. Thinking he’d never look at him like he looked at her. Then the lies started and it just became one big fuck fest, with Lucifer leading the act.

As he wallowed in his self pity he couldn’t help but think, ‘Can I fix what has been broken?’ Or was the damage too big and irreversible? Because deep down, way beneath within him, past the resentment and anger there was still love for him. Love that never died.

He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t give up. He would make things right. He had to.

Lucifer internally: I will fix this, I swear to you Adam. I will fix this.

—

Adam exhaled in bliss as he fully emerged in the warm water. A week had passed since the incident and Adam had felt ready enough to go back to his penthouse. Verosika said that she’d check in on him and make sure he was doing alright. Even offering to stay for the night. Have a little slumber party she said.

He was more than okay with it. In fact she would be arriving later this evening once she was done at the studio.

So far Steve hadn’t shown up. Yet anyway. He tried to not think about him and just allowed himself to relax in his jacuzzi that sat on his balcony that overlooked the streets of Lust. He slowly closed his eyes, leaned back against the jets, and listened to the sounds of his city. He was finally at peace.

Until…

Lucifer: Howdy do Adam!

His eyes shot open as he took in the sight of the king of Hell standing right outside his hot tub with a stupid grin on his face. Adam glowered and closed his eyes again hoping that he was just imagining things. He wasn’t so lucky.

Lucifer: I know that last time we spoke we left things…

Adam: On an almost murder?

Lucifer: Tense, I was going to say we left things on a tense note. But I think I know how to make up for that. A snap of his fingers and Lucifer was now naked and in the hot tub with Adam. Disgust crept up his throat as Lucifer swam over and caged him on either side with his arms. He was smirking down at Adam, not in his usual way, but with something…lustful.

Lucifer: As king of Hell I’m sure I can make you feel real good. I can make you see the Heavens above as you writhe in the sheets.

Was this man for real?

Not that long ago he almost killed Adam. Twice! Now he wanted to wet his dick in him? Adam merely rolled his eyes before managing to push Lucifer off him and got out of the tub.

Adam: True poetry Lucifer, I’m sure in your mind such words would have had me swooning by now. And yet…

Adam reached over to grab his robe and put it on while Lucifer sat in the jacuzzi muddled. He was so sure that would work. Succubi and incubi feed on lust so he figured that would be the best way to make up to him. He wasn’t lying when he said he was great in bed. At least he thought so.

He got out of the tub and with his magic made it so he was back dry and in clothes. Lucifer: I…well I uh…I did think that would work since your kind typically like it when their talked to dirty.

Adam turned his head to deliver a harsh glare.

Lucifer: Adam I…I just thought it was the best way to break the ice was to break the bed hehe.

Adam: Well I’m sorry your highness but you are the very last person I would even consider ‘breaking the bed’ with. So good day!

He tried making his way to the door but was unable to with Lucifer in the way.

Lucifer: Adam wait! Listen when I saw your memories I saw everything and I mean EVERYTHING. Even your feelings for me.

Adam: What? Complete utter loathing?

Lucifer: No! I know that you love me.

Adam narrowed his eyes. He considered the possibility that he’d see those memories. It didn’t matter though.

Adam: Loved. I loved you Lucifer. Past tense.

Lucifer: Come on you can’t tell me you don’t still hold to your fatal attraction for me because I sure do.

He said giving him a wink and a pose. Hoping that it would at least get Adam to blush. All it served was make Adam even more uncomfortable.

Adam: (scoffs) After all the shit you did to me? I think not. Now if you’ll excuse me I already have enough on my plate. I don’t need you adding on the stress.

Adam stepped around him and tried opening the door but found it locked. He tried over and over again but it wouldn’t budge. He knew exactly who was behind this. He turned around and crossed his arms staring down at the devil.

Adam: Very mature for an older ten thousand year old king.

Lucifer: Look you're mad, and you have a right to be, but I have the right to at least explain my side of the story!

Adam: Like you allowed me to explain my side of the story in Eden?

Lucifer: I was tricked!

Adam: So was I! But at least when you fell for being tricked by her you received a whole entire kingdom to do as you pleased. Me I got kicked out of paradise and had to survive not only for myself but my wife and children. Meanwhile you’re living it up with a hottie on your arm claiming yourselves as rulers of your banquet of madness!

Lucifer: For your information my powers to Hell didn’t come in until I fully embraced my prideful nature.

Adam: Which I imagine didn’t take long, what about Lilith though how long did it take her to discover her powers?

Lucifer: …A few days after we fell but-

Adam laughed sardonically.

Adam: You’ve been painting yourselves as victims this whole time when the real victims toiled and suffered on Earth. All while you lounged about displaying your power and demanding respect when you’ve done literally nothing for your people.

Lucifer: Hey I’ve done plenty as king!

Adam: Yes, like the caste system for the hell born you helped create.

Lucifer: That was Satan! Not me! I didn’t do anything about it.

Adam: Just like you didn’t do anything about Lilith riling up Heaven to spite them which initiated the extermination.

Lucifer: Oh? So I was just supposed to make her stop?

Adam: YES! This whole time you had the ability to stop what she was doing but you didn’t! And you know why that is? Because you care more about making the wrong people happy than those who actually care about you!

Lucifer: HA! You do still have feelings for me!

Adam felt his eye twitch.

Adam: UGH YOUR IMPOSSIBLE!!! The only reason we both know you're here Lucifer is because you feel sorry not for me but for yourself and want to make yourself feel better.

Lucifer: I do NOT feel sorry for myself I do care for you Adam I always have!

Adam: Then why didn’t you ever tell me? Why now? After everything? After your wife left you and seen all the shit she’s done? Is it because your little fantasy of her is ruined and you need a replacement. Otherwise everything you fell for, love and rebellion, both made and encouraged by Lilith, would have been for nothing.

Lucifer bit his lip hard, his fangs drawing blood as he kept trying to make some kind of comeback. Lucifer: I, I, I…What the actual Hell do you want from me Adam!? I can’t go back in time and change history! If I had that power I would but I can’t! Adam: No but you can start by admitting you were wrong. Or at the very least a simple ‘I’m sorry Adam’. But no that’s just too hard of an ask is it? Because you’re the king of Hell, the literal devil, and he’s never wrong is he?

Lucifer: Exactly! I’m not in the wrong! This all of this was just…a misunderstanding. Because at the end of the day I was still am the victim! The victim of Heaven, the victim of Lilith, and the victim of my love for you!

Adam wanted to feel anger, sadness, maybe even pity at him but all he felt was numbness. He never would change would he?

Adam: Do you feel any kind of remorse for what you do? Have you ever once even attempted to apologize?

Lucifer: What you think I should get on my knees begging for your forgiveness and admit that I’ve always loved you ever since you were created but was terrified of rejection and what Heaven thought. But most especially what you would say since you were always so loyal to Heaven and didn’t want to make them upset. But I never should have let it cloud my judgement and hurt you, because hurt you I did repeatedly throughout your existence. And that I should’ve taken the time to at least acknowledge the pain I caused. Because I was convinced since the beginning that you’d never dare to look at me! Is that it?!

Adam: …Yes actually.

Lucifer made a face like he sucked a lemon.

Lucifer: …Well fuck you! And fuck any chance of an apology you think you deserve! Because you don’t! Adam didn’t listen as he finally got the sliding door to open and stepped inside.

Lucifer: And another thing I can apologize but I’ve never had the reason to! But I can, I can apologize to anyone for no apparent reason! Just not you! Not with all the other shit you’ve pulled! You hear me!? I don’t owe you dick!

Adam had enough and slammed the door behind him. Leaving Lucifer panting and trying his best to keep the tears at bay.

Lucifer: …Everyone but you.

Succubus au

@beef-brisket

@fanofstuff01

(This au was originally on @things-aren't-what-they-seem66blog and was originally thought of by an anonymous ask)

The roaring of the crowd and the playing of his guitar deafened his ears but the incubus didn't care. He loved the way they cheered his name while he shredded on his axe. With one final strum, his song was done. He raised his arms and gave the horns, to which his fans reciprocated, and bid them all goodnight. He walked away his hands still raised until he was out of sight from them. Adam sighed heavily and wiped the sweat with his forearm as he made his way to his dressing room.

Once there he flopped onto the couch and groaned. Though Adam loved being a rockstar and having adoring fans, he wouldn't lie to himself, each performance, especially concerts, can be quite draining since he always had to prepare with mic checks and making sure he sounded right. Steve, his producer/manager/on-and-off-again fling, always assured him that these were mandatory. Just one of those sacrifices that come with being a star. Still, Adam felt a little like shit and he needed a drink, a hard one. Unfortunately, his evening wasn't quite over yet as knocking was heard from the other side of the door then a voice called out.

Assistant: Excuse me? Commander? I'm sorry for bothering you but I brought the VIP guests here with me.

Adam sighed completely forgetting about that. Almost all VIPs get access to meet him after every show. Though he loved his fans coming to him and saying how much they loved him, maybe even getting some head from the older crowd, tonight, he didn't want to. However, he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. Unless he wanted Steve up his ass, and not in a good way. Letting out a long groan he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yelled out to her.

Adam: Bring them in.

He closed his eyes and sighed once again as he heard the door open and feet shuffle in. He prepared himself for the immediate responses of squealing and clamoring over to shake his hand. However, he was not prepared for a familiar voice to call out his name.

Charlie: A, Adam?

He opened his eyes and standing in front of him were Charlie, Vaggie, and a one-eyed sinner.

[rowarn]

MONSTER (m.)

neighbor!simon riley x reader

tags: zombie apocalypse au, neighbors to lovers, afab!reader, no pronouns, hurt/comfort, smut, NO MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

cw: description of corpses, simon is aggressive towards you, but also very soft!simon, protective!simon, violence, simon does murder someone, lots of kissing, wet&messy sex, multiple orgasms, edging (simon), missionary position, mating press, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, breast play, squirting, overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names, eye contact, praise, teeny bit talkin u thru it

note: i think that's all the neccessary warnings but if u think smthn else should be added, let me know. please enjoy this MONSTER fic!!!

; you find yourself hiding out in your apartment as the undead begin walking. luckily, you have a well-trained military operative as a neighbor who is more than willing to keep you safe.

16.5k

“Residents are advised to remain in their homes. Authorities are unsure what is causing the severe aggression in people but the military has been called in nationwide. Please stay tuned as more information becomes available.” 

That was the first news broadcast. They reported  people getting sick-- airborne is what they had said. Stay inside, and stay away from other people. 

So you did just that – stayed hidden away in your apartment, glued to your television for every possible news cast that you could get. 

It was only a week later that the whole story had come out. 

The airborne strain is what caused the first swell of infections. Anyone who was susceptible to the infection would have already become sick by now. But those who were infected by the airborne strain turned…feral. They became like wild animals, barely human. Their skin rotted around them while they were still alive. Their brains died but their hearts remained pumping. They were walking corpses that had a vicious hunger for human flesh. 

The bites are what caused the following wave of infections. Something in their saliva turned you into whatever they were. 

You were scared. When you looked outside your window, down just a few floors to the ground, you could see hordes of people stumbling around, shuffling and shambling. 

Sometimes you would hide in your bathroom as the sounds of gunfire filled the city. It was the worst when it was the middle of the night. 

You weren’t equipped to deal with a disaster of this level – humans turning into disease spreading killers. You were having to ration your food, waiting for the day that there would be an announcement that it was safe. 

You wanted it all to be over. 

Then the news broadcasts stopped, cell service dropped, and the populace was left in the dark. 

You kept the lights off in your apartment, scared that the wandering hordes outside would see it and find you.

You had no idea how long you had been hiding in your apartment, spending most nights with your knees to your chest as you watched the static on the TV. You held out hope that the news broadcast would come back, but it never did. You spent the days and nights in mundane monotony, hopelessness settling in. 

The only interruption was a heavy knock on your front door, practically making you jump out of your skin at the sound of it. You hadn’t expected anyone to actually approach your apartment in search of you. It terrified you that anyone could be out there at a time like this.

With wide eyes and trembling hands, you grabbed a kitchen knife off of your counter and tiptoed towards the front door. Peeking through the peep-hole, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

Throwing the door open, you were faced with the familiar balaclava of your neighbor across the hall.

“Simon…” you whispered in relief. 

He wasn’t lunging nor did he have the milky-white eyes of the undead that you had seen on the news. He was normal. 

“What’re you planning to do with that?” he asked, eyeing the kitchen knife still in your hand.

“Oh!” you gasped, quickly placing it on the table by your front door, “Sorry, you– you– startled me when you knocked. Would you like to come in?”

His lidded, brown eyes gaze around your apartment behind you before landing on you again, “You have anyone else in there?”

You blink and slowly shake your head, “No, I’m alone.”

His brows furrow at that, “You’ve been by yourself this whole time?”

You shrug and nod, “What else was I supposed to do? The news reports said to stay inside…”

He hums, “Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine,” you respond quickly, “Why?”

Suddenly there’s a hand on your forehead and you realize he’s checking your temperature. You remain still and allow him to do it before he's shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets. 

“Fever’s the first symptom,” he explains, “I’m goin’ door to door to check on everyone.”

“Oh!” you gasp, smiling, “That’s very nice of you, Simon.”

You knew that Simon was in the military. He was often out on long deployments and sometimes he had tasked you with keeping an eye on his apartment since you were right across the hall from him.

He was a nice enough guy, if not a little cold and blunt. He was tall and broad, clearly well built despite the fact that he usually wore a hoodie that hid his biceps from view. You’d gotten glimpses of his tattoos when you had knocked on his door one evening and asked him if he knew anything about water heaters because your hot water had been out for nearly a month in the dead of winter and the apartment manager hadn’t done anything to help you.

Simon had kindly come to your apartment, even though it was nearing midnight, rolled his sleeves up and fixed your problem within the hour. You had baked him cookies as a thank you that following weekend. 

“How is everyone doing..?” you venture to ask, leaning against the doorjamb as a breeze flows into your apartment from the open door.

He casts a glance down the hallway, almost like he’s thinking before sighing, “Few people are sick. They’ve been…” he hesitates for a moment, “Quarantined.”

“Probably for the best,” you respond, “Keep them from hurting anyone when they…turn.”

It feels so surreal to be talking about confining people to keep them from literally eating the healthy people. But it seems that’s where you’re all at now. 

“I’m going to barricade our floor,” he says suddenly, “Keep anyone from comin’ in that’s not supposed to come in.”

“What if we need to leave?” you ask, concerned, “We’re only going to have finite food and resources between us. The power’s also going to go out sooner rather than later, Simon.”

“I know,” he sighs, “But we should stay indoors for as long as possible. When the power runs out and we run out of supplies, we can figure out what to do next,” he explains, “The military was on the ground here last I heard, you’ve heard the gunshots. I don’t believe they’ll last much longer but it’s not wise for us to go out while they’re tryin’ to eliminate as many of these…undead as they can.”

“I guess that makes sense…” you whisper before his words finally settle on you, “What do you mean you don’t think they’ll last much longer..?”

He levels a hard stare at you that makes your heart race in anxiety. Simon was always a serious individual by nature but this is how you imagine he looks when he’s on duty, “Hundreds of thousands of people are sick out there. The airborne strain no doubt got to hundreds of the soldiers meant to be protecting the civilians. Eventually, they’ll eat each other from the inside out –literally.”

“You mean even the military is going to collapse..?” you ask, horrified. You try not to let the tears fill your eyes but Simon’s words fill you with a dreadful sense of hopelessness. 

“Communications are cut,” he says finally, “Radio’s been silent all day. Not sure what’s goin’ on but it’s not good.”

The tears quickly began to fall down your cheeks. Before you could wipe them away, a calloused thumb was doing it. You sniffled and looked up at him.

“I-I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you confessed softly, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive, Simon.”

“Don’t you worry about that, love,” he whispered, grabbing your chin gently to make you look up at him, “I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

“I don’t want to be a burden…” you explain, wrapping your arms protectively around yourself. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I took care of you,” he joked, though it held little humor, “You won’t be a burden. I’ll teach you what you need to know, alright?”

“You will?” he nods when you look up at him hopefully and you smile, “Thank you, Simon. I don’t really want to die by getting eaten by walking corpses.”

He chuckled under his mask, brown eyes crinkling around the edges a bit, “It is pretty fuckin’ mad, isn’t it?” You laugh, the first genuine smile you’ve cracked since before that first news broadcast, “Why don’t you come across the hall and stay with me, yeah?”

“Is that okay..?” You can’t deny the idea of being with company sounded more appealing than anything. You were definitely beginning to feel the ebbs of loneliness creeping in on you as the days of silence passed. Plus, Simon was…safe, “The news said not to…mingle in case of the disease spreading.”

He scoffed, “Rules like that don’t really apply anymore, love,” he mutters softly, “Plus, neither of us is sick so it’s not like we’ll spread it anyway. I can teach you some knife work and how to use a gun easier if we’re together, yeah?”

“Okay,” you smile, excitement surging in your chest, replacing the painful void of hopelessness you had, “Let me just get some things together and I’ll be right over, okay?”

“Sounds good, love,” you can tell he’s smiling under the mask. He gives you a pat on the shoulder before stepping away, “Just knock when you’re ready.”

You stand in your doorway until he disappears into his apartment. Once you’re alone, you cast a cursory glance around your living room, eyeballing everything you need to take before you dash into your bedroom. From the back of your closet, you grab a duffle bag that you have stowed away in the back of your closet from when you first moved in.

Navigating in the dark of your apartment was a bit of a challenge but you managed to stuff all the essentials into the bag. After slinging it over your shoulder, you step out of your apartment, making sure it was locked before knocking on Simon’s door. 

He opened it quickly, still wearing the same hoodie, jeans, and balaclava as before – his hood still up as well. He stepped aside for you to enter.

Unlike you, his apartment was illuminated by lamps – but his windows were covered with blackout curtains so no light would seep outside. It was pretty plainly decorated, just the essentials and a few photographs on the walls; upon closer inspection it looked like him and, you assumed, his comrades. 

You went to place your bag down but he stopped you, “I cleared out a drawer for you to put your clothes in for the time bein’.”

“Oh…” you gaped at him, surprised to hear that he had done something like that for you, “Thank you, Simon.”

He led you to his bedroom, standing in the hallway while you walked in. His bedroom was darkly decorated, black out curtains on the windows, navy blue sheets and a black comforter on his bed. His furniture was all dark toned as well. 

It suited him, you thought.

There were two drawers open and empty, letting you know that those were yours for the taking. You knelt down and opened your duffle bag, carefully folding and placing your items inside. When you got to your undergarments, you cast a glance towards the door to find that he was no longer standing there. Breathing a sigh of relief, you quickly filled the top drawer with all of your delicates before closing the drawers and standing up. 

Flicking on the light to his en suite bathroom, you placed your toothbrush and toothpaste alongside his, the sight making you blush before you went to add your belongings into the shower as well. 

Realistically, you knew that the water was going to go out sooner or later but you planned to enjoy it for as long as you possibly could until then. 

When you ventured into the living room, Simon was in the kitchen, the cabinets open as he scanned over all of his belongings.

“Is something wrong..?” you asked softly.

“Thinkin’ of how to ration,” he replied quickly, “Have you got any stuff over at yours still?”

You nod your head, “It’s not much but I have some canned food and like...rice and stuff if you want that.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to consolidate all our supplies in the long run,” he explained, “You got your keys?”

“Yes!” you pull your keyring from your pocket and drop it into his open palm.

“I’ll be right back love, make yourself at home,” he gave you a gentle nudge towards the couch before leaving you there. 

You took a seat on the couch, realizing just how tired you were. You hadn’t realized how tense you’re been for so long on your own. Now that you were safe and with company, you could almost feel the tension sliding right off of you. You rested your head against the back of the couch and closed your eyes, intending to just rest your eyes and enjoy the peace you felt. 

You were startled awake by the sound of the door slamming shut. You nearly jumped out of your skin, wide eyes finding Simon’s who looked a little sheepish.

“Sorry, love,” he whispered, “Didn’t realize you’d be sleepin’.”

“Didn’t mean to…” you confess, standing up and stretching, watching Simon lug a bag of food into the kitchen.

“Haven’t been sleepin’ well?” he asked, his back to you as he began to stock up the cabinets. 

“Not really…” with a sigh, you lean back against the counter with your arms crossed over your chest, “I’ve been stressed about this whole situation.”

“It is…” he pauses in his words, placing a bag of dried beans into the cabinet, “Nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“Society is really collapsing around us, isn’t it?” you bravely ask, although you were scared to hear the answer.

“Yeah, darlin’,” his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it and that brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes.

“This is so fucked up,” you cry, burying your face in your hands, “Thank you, Simon. You didn’t have to offer to help me and I really owe you a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he closes the cabinet, the bag he brought finally empty before turning to you, “I’ll make sure you know everything you need to know to survive.”

“I doubt I’ll be as good as you,” you joke, a crooked, wobbly smile on your face. 

He steps forward and cups your chin, brushing his thumb against your cheek, “No one’s as good as me, sweetheart.”

You chuckle softly at his words. 

This is what you needed – someone by your side to keep you sane as society collapsed and everyone that you knew died. 

That night, you slept better than you had in days. Simon had given you his bed, offering to take the couch. You had argued, telling him that you couldn’t take his bed like that. 

“I’m up most nights anyway, love,” he had assured you, “At least someone around here can get a good night’s sleep in that bed.”

When you woke up, fully rested you might add, Simon was already awake, drinking some tea. You sat down beside him, enjoying a nice quiet morning.

“How do you feel about learnin’ some basics today, love?” he asked when he was cleaning his mug. 

“Sure!” you agreed, “I have to warn you though, I really know next to nothing…”

“That’s alright,” he chuckled, waving to you to follow him to the living room, “I’m a good teacher, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you watched as he stood up and went to a closet in the hallway, pulling out an assortment of bags and carriers.

He placed them down beside the couch and took a seat next to you. “I think it’s best if we start with you gettin’ comfortable with the feeling of holding a weapon in your hands,” he explained, pulling out a knife bigger than any you’ve seen, “This is a hunting knife.”

He handed it towards you, his fingers confidently gripping the blade between two fingers. You wrapped your hand around the handle, testing its weight in your hands. It was dangerous and nerve-wracking, holding a weapon in your hands. 

“I know it’s scary,” he assured, “But when you’re comfortable holding knives then you can learn to use them properly to protect yourself.”

“What about guns..?” you find yourself asking, still gripping the knife in your hands, turning it over and adjusting your grip just to desensitize yourself to it. 

“We’ll tackle guns when you get used to knives,” he replied.

“So you have guns?” you ask, letting him pull the hunting knife from your hands.

“Of course I do,” he reaches into a bag by his feet, pulling out a pistol. 

Your eyes go wide as you watch him handle it effortlessly, checking the chamber and moving it around in his hands like it wasn’t a dangerous weapon.

“When you’re ready, I’ll teach you to properly use one so you can use it in case of an emergency,” he explained, placing the pistol on the table carefully.

“I’m going to have to kill other people…” you mutter to yourself.

Simon pulled out another knife, passing it into your hands, “Combat knife,” he supplied simply, “And you’ll have to kill them but…I don’t think they’re people anymore, love.”

“I guess that’s true…” you mutter, holding the knife with a firm grip, “I’ve only seen them on the news before it stopped broadcasting. What about you?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em in person either,” he replies with a shrug, “Some of my…teammates,” the words seem awkward coming from his mouth but he continued, “Were givin’ me some information before they went radio silent.”

“What happened to them?” you couldn’t help but ask.

A brief flash of sadness flashed over his eyes but he quickly sobered up, leaning back against the couch with a sigh, “Not a clue. I guess there’s no way for me to know. I just know it was getting bad. Dangerous.”

“I’m sorry about your teammates,” was all you could find in supply of an answer.

Simon didn’t respond, simply letting his gaze fall back on the knife, “Let me show you some handling techniques for you to practice.”

Realizing that he didn’t want to talk about the world outside anymore, you let him lead you through a crash course on knife handling and knife safety. He took the time to teach you the different kinds of knives in his possession and you nodded along as best you could but if you’re being honest – it was primarily lost on you.

You’re not sure if Simon knew that but he seemed to enjoy teaching you, so you let him ramble on to his heart’s content. 

By the end of the day, you were confident enough in at least not accidentally cutting yourself on the sharp blades. 

In order to repay him, you made dinner for the both of you – though, really, it was just some heated up canned soup-- and did the dishes for him so he didn’t have to.

By the end of the night, you both found yourselves on the couch, watching a movie he had put on. With there being no way to watch anything else, you were grateful he had a collection of movies to his name – you simply streamed your favorite shows and movies and called it a day. 

It ticked late into the night and before you knew it, you were falling asleep on the couch, leaned against his shoulder. You could feel him shift and knew you should open your eyes, but the tugs of sleep at the edges of your subconscious kept you from doing so. Suddenly, you felt the soft beat of his heart against your ear and the heavy weight of his arm laid across you. You briefly registered that you were now wrapped in his arms before the final tug of sleep pulled you under.

When you woke up, you were in bed. 

And Simon wasn’t in the apartment. 

“Simon..?” you called, looking around everywhere for him – to no avail. 

You ventured to the door, carefully pulling it open and stepping out. You looked down the hall towards the stairwell before you heard a grunt of effort from the other end. 

“Simon!” you called, making him look up.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, pausing in his task of pushing a large bookcase towards the elevator. 

“You weren’t inside…” you mutter, wandering down the hall towards him, “What’re you doing?”

“Barricading this elevator,” he replied, giving the heavy object another push with a grunt of effort. 

“Oh, right, you mentioned you wanted to do that,” you mumbled, taking a moment to look over him.

He wasn’t wearing his hoodie for once, instead wearing a tight black t-shirt that was sticking to his skin with sweat. He wore his jeans with a holster and gun on his hip as well. 

“Do you need any help?” you asked but he shook his head.

“No, you can’t help with this, love,” he grunted, giving the bookcase one final, heavy push before it was flush against the elevator doors. 

It was then that you noticed the straps nailed to the wall. He took them and secured them to the other side of the elevators, making sure the bookcase was fastened firmly. 

“Enough people push this and it’ll come down but at least it’s secure enough,” he explained, giving his work a final once over.

“Do you know where the others are?” you find yourself asking as he makes his way to the other end of the hallway

He pauses at that, seemingly thinking of his next words carefully, “I checked door to door. Most of our neighbors got the hell out to go see their families when everything went to shit. A few…were sick and turned in their apartments so I had to…put them down.”

You cringed at his wording, you knew he was trying to phrase it delicately for you but you weren’t sure if you would have preferred him to just say he killed them. ‘Put them down’ made it sound like they were rabid dogs and not people you once knew and smiled at in the halls. 

“Found some notes in some of them,” Simon said suddenly, waving you to follow him back to the apartment – to safety, “Guess we can only hope they made it to their families in one piece.”

“I hope so,” you muttered optimistically, slipping past him when he opened the front door for you.

You quickly realize how difficult it is to tell how much time is passing with Simon’s blackout curtains, which he refused to allow you to open for fear of attracting any unwanted attention. With there being no more news broadcasts or anything on TV, you didn’t even know the date anymore and you were too scared to ask for fear of knowing how long you’ve been living like this. Your food rations were slowly dwindling but neither of you talked about it. 

You know you’re still waking up in the mornings and sleeping at night – Simon seems to run on an extremely specific schedule. When you asked him about it, he told you it was from the military, which made sense. Either way, you were grateful to him for helping you keep on track.

The water and power were both still on, but Simon kept telling you not to keep your hopes up about it lasting long. 

You spent your days learning knife etiquette and practicing stabbing various targets that Simon made for you. You’ve grown much more confident. Of course, you would be no match for your teacher himself but against a bumbling walking corpse? You were sure you would be able to at least buy yourself time to escape if you needed. 

Eventually, Simon decided it was time to move onto what you were most scared of – guns. 

“I’m going to tell you a few things before I let you hold this,” he said, eyes hardened to show how serious he was as he held a pistol in his hands, “Are you paying attention?”

“Of course,” you breathe, wringing your hands in front of you as you eye the weapon.

“You can’t be scared of your weapons,” he advises, “You need to be confident and sure with every movement you make. It’s not a toy.”

“Hard not to be scared of it…” you confess, “What if I hurt someone with it or…I don’t know.”

“That’s why I’m teaching you all this,” he says, “You’ll get confident and less scared the more you handle them. We’re startin’ you off simple and you can build up to bigger and badder guns. For now…pistols will do.”

“Okay,” you swallow around the nervous lump in your throat, “Tell me what I need to know.”

“That’s the spirit,” he praises, holding the pistol up for you to see how he grips it, “First, never put your finger on the trigger unless you’re going to shoot. Just rest your finger on the side like this, see,” he turns his hand and lets you see the way he keeps his finger hovering beside the trigger rather than on it. 

You nod your head, “Got it.”

“Take it,” he says, “Carefully.”

You stare at the offered weapon for just a moment before you reach out and delicately take it from his hands, “Next, never point it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot. Whether it’s loaded or not, keep it pointed away from people and yourself.”

You mimic his grip, grimacing when you realize it's actually much heavier than you thought it would be. It was definitely going to take practice before you built up the ability to hold it for long periods. You follow his instructions and keep it pointed to the ground – albeit awkwardly.

“Here,” he suddenly steps behind you.

You feel your heart catch in your chest when you feel him press against your back. He’s incredibly warm and firm as you lean against him. He carefully takes your hands in his, supporting your hands and holding the gun eye level.

“Just practice lining up your sight and lookin at a target,” he says.

His face is so close to yours, his voice right in your ear, deep and gravelly with that heavy accent. You struggle to process his words, hoping to god he doesn’t hear how fast your heart has started racing.

You close one eye and focus on aiming at a photo on his wall, a small picture frame. His large, gloved hands dwarf your own and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him. He smells like cigarettes and the body wash you may have taken a quick whiff of when you used his shower for the first time. You find yourself wondering when he has time to smoke since you’ve never actually seen him do it. 

Your mind is blank beyond anything other than him. How big and warm he is, how safe you feel with him wrapped around you, how good he smells and how much you love his voice as he utters tips and commands into your ear – sickly sweet in that way he always seems to talk to you. 

If you focused too much on it, you’d slowly come to the realization that you may have a crush on him. But you quickly dash that thought from your head and focus back on his gun lesson as he teaches you how to eject a magazine with ease. 

This is about survival. Neither of you have time to dwell on a silly crush. 

A few days later, you’re standing in the eerie hallway with him. He had offered for you to just stay in the apartment and relax while he did the work but you honestly didn’t want to be alone so you opted to sit with him as he worked.

Your back was against the wall, sipping a cup of instant coffee you had made. Simon was silent as he worked on barricading the door to the stairwell. You both agreed that it was best if it was still accessible just in case something happened, but you didn’t want any unnecessary visitors making their way into the safe little haven you’ve both made for yourselves.

“We should think about looting the empty apartments,” you said suddenly, trying to keep your eyes off of his bulging biceps as he yanked on a strap that was attached to the doorknob to keep the door from being opened. 

“That’s a good idea,” he grunted, stepping back to admire his handiwork when he finally finished testing its durability, “Let’s do it.”

He offered his hand and you smiled, taking it and letting him pull you to your feet. You brushed off imaginary dust in an effort to hide how flustered just holding his hand for that brief second made you. 

You started at the other end of the hallway from your shared apartment. Simon displayed a disturbing aptitude for opening up very locked doors. You chose not to comment on it, instead silently being thankful that he was able to do it at all. 

“How about we make a loot pile in the hallway so we can bring it all inside when we’re ready?” you suggest.

“Alright,” he responds, eyes scanning over the cabinets in the kitchen, “Food is our main priority but it wouldn’t hurt to have some medical supplies.”

You agreed and started helping him pick things out, filling your arms full of canned goods and pill bottles which you then deposited in the hallway by your apartment. 

The two of you made it through a handful of apartments, securing a nice resource pile for the two of you. You were feeling good, hopeful, as you stared at your future right there in the silent hallway.

It wasn’t until you opened one in particular— it belonged to a shy, college kid, you remember— that it seems everything changes for you. He couldn’t have been but 18, away from home for the first time and living in his first apartment on his own. 

Simon is busy looting the kitchen, you can hear him placing cans on the counter, consolidating whatever it is he chooses to bring with him. You check the bedroom, looking through the drawers and pocketing a bottle of aspirin and nausea medication before you move to the bathroom. 

The second you push open the door, you’re met with the force of another person shoving into you. You cry out as you hit the ground, the person falling on top of you. You panic and scramble out from under them, their coughing and wheezing forcing you to look at them. 

It’s the kid who lives there. He’s deathly pale, dark circles under his eyes which are bloodshot. His lips are crusty and dry, seemingly struggling with finding something to say.

“Pl-” he starts to whisper before you see movement in the corner of your eye.

“Simon, wait!” you cry when you see the knife.

But it’s too late, the hunting knife you had held with your own two hands more times than you could count, is embedded in the kids skull, spraying blood all over you. All you can do is make a pathetic squeak, fear and panic rendering you unable to say anything as you watch his now lifeless body flop onto the ground beside you, his still warm blood soaking into your clothes as it runs out of the gaping hole in his head.

“The fuck were you thinkin’?!” Simon suddenly shouts, storming over to you and yanking you to your feet roughly.

You stumble up, bumping into him as you stare at the dead body on the floor, “He..He was alive…I…”

“He was sick!” Simon snarls, roughly wrapping his hand around your throat, forcing you to look at him. There was a fire in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before, making you cower, “You’re lucky he didn’t bite you! Fuckin’ hell, are you stupid?!”

“H-He was talking, he was just sick, Simon!” you argued, tears filling  your eyes as you stared up at him, “W-We could have given him medicine, could have–”

“He was a dead man walking,” he shouts, the volume making you flinch, “He was going to turn. Are you a fuckin’ idiot? Thinkin’ we could save him?”

The tears you were holding fell down your cheeks at his cruel words and you glared up at him, “I-I’m not stupid, I just…h-he talked to me!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Simon’s eyes narrow, “He was a threat. A liability. Don’t fuckin’ worry about him, worry about yourself.”

He releases you with a rough shove, taking out some of his anger on you. He continues to glare at you for a long minute before turning his back on you and stalking out of the room, muttering about how stupid it was that you could have killed yourself over some random kid. 

Your eyes fall on said kid, no more blood coming from the wound, simply coagulating on the floor around him, “Y-You’re a monster.”

The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them, quiet and shaky. But Simon hears them clear, freezing on the other side of the doorway, in the hall. 

“I’m a monster..?” he asks, voice suddenly eerily calm. He turns around, his large body taking up an obscene amount of the doorway. You can tell he’s intentionally trying to intimidate you, a punishment that makes your cheeks heat up in anger, “I’ve been breakin’ my back to keep your stupid ass alive and I’m a monster? Because I put down some fucker that was gonna turn rabid in a day?” he glares at you, squinting through the mask and drawing his dark eyebrows together, “You think it’s easy for me? I’m doin’ everything I can to keep you safe!” he shouts so loud that your ears ring and you flinch from the sound alone, “But if you can’t appreciate that then maybe you should be on your fuckin’ own and see how long it takes before you’re ripped apart by those feral bastards!”

He storms off at that, loudly slamming the front door, indicating his final exit from the apartment. You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks only for more to replace them and you sniffle, casting a sorrowful glance at the dead kid before creeping out of the apartment yourself.

Simon is nowhere in the hall but the supplies you both gathered are still there. 

You carefully open the door to Simon’s apartment and peek inside, finding it completely silent and still. You’re not sure where he went but you decide to busy yourself with loading all your looted items into the kitchen and sorting them all for when he returns.

You’re not sure how long you take to finish but Simon still isn’t back and you become worried.

He had said you should be on your own but surely he didn’t actually just leave the building, did he?

You wander over to his supplies and find a handful of his weapons gone. Your heart shoots into your throat and more tears prick at your eyes before you’re dashing out of the apartment once again.

The door to the stairwell is no longer held shut, indicating that Simon had, in fact, gone that way. You curse yourself. If you had checked sooner then he would have at least been somewhere close but if he really left, he would be long out of the building by now. 

You creep towards the door and slowly push it open. You hadn’t even left the floor since before this whole thing started. It was eerily quiet, but if you listened close you could hear some muffled shuffling from somewhere. 

You crept out, quickly realizing how dark it was. You pulled out your keychain which held a tiny flashlight that you used to navigate when it was dark in the apartment. 

You crept down the stairs, holding your breath with every step until you finally reached the floor below you. You can hear muffled sounds from beyond the door and slowly push it open, flashing the light down the hallway. 

It's too small and weak to penetrate the stifling darkness. The power was not on on this floor for some reason and that immediately set you on edge. You could still hear some shuffling and strange, raspy noises from within the darkness. 

“Simon..?” you call into the impenetrable, oppressive darkness. The noises stop for a moment and you swallow around the nervous lump in your throat, “Simon?” you call again, louder.

The noises return, shuffling, heavy footsteps advance on you. You strain your eyes to see past the weak illumination that your flashlight provides. You’re breathing heavily, you realize, anxiety making your lungs feel constricted as the footsteps get closer and closer.

All of the sudden, a disgusting, rotted face appears in your sights, arms outstretched towards you. You scream out in unbridled terror as it grabs you, its bony, sickening fingers latching onto your shoulders. You attempt to push it away and run but you trip over your own two feet in your panic. Your flashlight flies out of sight, its dim illumination casting down the hallway, leaving you to push at the undead corpse as it collapses on top of you. Its weight is more than you thought it would be, leaving your arms trembling as you struggle to keep it from falling on top of you. It fights your resistance and chomps its disgusting teeth at your face, attempting to get a bite out of your flesh. 

It reeks, you realize, like the smell of a dead animal you pass by on the street. It makes your stomach turn and you fear you’re going to throw up from the smell alone. The rotting skin of its chest slips and pulls away from the bone and muscle and you gag, tears coming to your eyes as you realize the very real and terrifying danger you’re in.

You have no way to get out of this. 

As you look down the hall, where the light barely pierced the inky depths, you can see more figures emerging from further down the hall, shuffling and rasping in interest at your fight with the one on top of you.

Tears fall down your temples and a sob bursts from your chest as you slowly come to terms that this is how you’re going to die. You can’t hold the sheer weight of the undead above you for much longer.

“S-Simon…” you call out, weak and strained. You know even if he’s nearby he won’t hear you. You have to try harder, get your voice out, shout for him. You swallow around your tears and panic, taking a full breath before shouting, “Simon! Please! Simon, help me!”

You don’t even register the door opening behind you. But you do notice when the weight of the corpse is gone, a knife stabbing into its skull before a large hand grabs you by the back of the shirt and drags you back into the stairwell. The undead follow after you, slamming themselves against the door as soon as it slams closed. 

You’re trembling and unable to blink or breathe as the shock of what just happened washes over you. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Simon all but screams, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, dragging you onto unsteady feet that can’t hold you up before slamming you against the wall. You can still hear those zombies slamming against the door. Your ears are ringing and you barely register Simon shouting at you. 

He shakes you and it finally draws your attention to him. His eyes are wide, irises darting back and forth over your face. He doesn’t look nearly as angry as you would expect. Instead he looks…concerned. Scared.

“Simon…” you whisper, the tears not stopping as they fall down your cheeks. He’s the only thing holding you up right now, hands balled in the material of your shirt, keeping you pinned to the wall, “I-I was…I was looking for you…”

He’s panting, shoulders rising and falling as he struggles to compose himself, “Lookin’ for me?”

“Y-You said you were leaving and I…” you whimper, “I-I didn’t want you to go so…I went to find you…I didn’t think that…”

You see his jaw tense through his mask before he slowly lets go of your shirt. Your knees tremble under your own weight and your hands find purchase against his chest.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he mutters, stepping away from you with a heavy sigh, “Just don’t…do that again, got it?”

You nod your head, sniffling as you feel your tears slowly come to a stop, “Th-Thank you, Simon…for saving me…”

“Yeah,” he grunts, turning his back to you, storming back up the stairs to your floor. 

You unsteadily follow behind him, still a shaky and anxious mess. When you get into the apartment, Simon is in the kitchen, barely sparing you a glance.

“Go take a shower,” he orders you.

You linger in the doorway for a moment, hoping that he’ll look at you even for a second. But he doesn’t and you hang your head, skulking off to take your shower with a heavy heart. 

The night rolls around and Simon hasn’t said a word, putting you more on edge with each passing minute. He sits, manspreading on the couch with a glass of Kentucky bourbon in a glass, sipping on it and watching some old movie that he put on play. Usually, he asks you if you’d like to watch with him, but this time he didn’t and that just makes your heart ache even more. 

“Simon…” you venture to ask, casting a glance at him. His hard gaze doesn’t move from the TV, “I-I want to apologize–”

“For what?” he asks, the first words he’s spoken to you in hours. They’re cold and make you wince.

“F-For what I said…” you mutter, tucking your legs underneath you as you turn to look at him, “I…I was mean. I know you’re doing all you can for me and it wasn’t fair of me to get angry at you…I was just…startled, I guess.”

“You were naive,” he snaps, finally looking at you with a harsh glare, “You had no fuckin’ idea what those monsters were and you almost got yourself killed because of it.”

“Y-You’re right…” you whisper, feeling the tears pricking your eyes for the millionth time that day, “I’m sorry, Simon.”

He doesn’t respond, simply throwing back his glass of bourbon, downing it all before he stands up, “Sleep on the couch.”

The last thing you hear from him is his bedroom door slamming shut. You lay down that night, quietly crying into the pillow until you finally fell back asleep.

“Wake up!” a barking voice is what draws you out of your slumber. 

Still shaken up from yesterday’s previous events, you sit straight up, wild, fearful eyes looking around before your gaze falls upon Simon. He stands in front of the couch, dressed in full tactical gear. Even his balaclava is different, with a hard plate in the shape of a skull covering the front. He looks intimidating.

“Wh-What’re you doing?” you ask, turning yourself so your feet are on the floor. 

“We’re trainin’, get up,” he commands and you have no choice but to follow.

You find yourself following him out of the apartment and into the dimly lit hallway. It’s eerily quiet as always and you feel more intimidated than ever standing before him in nothing but some flimsy pajamas while he wears full gear. Even his gaze is different through that skull mask, hard and cold, looking down at you like you’re insignificant. 

It’s so different from before. He was so kind and patient with you before and you can tell that now he’s going to really train you. 

“What’re we doing today..?” you timidly ask, wringing your hands in front of yourself.

“Escaping,” he responds.

“Escaping?” you parrot back dumbly. 

His glare narrows down at you, “You’re going to try to get away from me and make it towards that exit.”

He points to the other end of the hallway, to the stairwell. You glance up at him, where he stands between you and your exit. 

“Okay…” you lick your lips nervously, “Do you want me to just run past you?”

“For now,” he drawls. He sounds almost bored, hands wrapped around the straps of his tactical vest.

You take a deep breath and attempt to bolt past him but his reflexes are frighteningly fast. His arm shoots out before you even realize it, catching you around your middle and halting you immediately. 

The air is punched out of your lungs from the force of his arms and you stumble back with a groan. 

“You’re goin’ to have to do better than that,” he says, looking down his nose at you like you had offended him with your poor attempt. 

You brace yourself again and attempt to run past him. This time, you attempt to fake him out and run in the other direction but it ends the same with his arm grappling around your middle and you still not any closer to the exit.

“Again!” he barks and you can’t help but wonder if this was how he was when he was training recruits in the military. 

You try again and again to run past him, duck under his arm, avoid his reach – everything to no avail. After several attempts, you’re left panting and frustrated. Simon is still as cool as a cucumber, staring at you in pure boredom as he awaits your next move. 

You run again, making rough contact with his arm once again. But this time you start fighting against his hold. You push with all your might, shoving at his arm and his side in an attempt to slip past him. 

“There you go,” he says, though it sounds more condescending than proud, “Fight me.”

You slam your fist down over his arm, successfully knocking it out of the way and giving you a chance to bolt past him. You have a clear view of the stairwell door and you can almost taste the success. 

But you’re stopped suddenly when a rough hand grabs the back of your shirt. You cry out in shock when he yanks you back towards him, carelessly tossing you to the floor. You hit the rough carpet harshly, the coarse material skinning your hands and knees and you cry out at the pain.

“Simon!” you chastise him, glaring up at him when he comes to stand in front of you, “That fucking hurt!”

“Oh, it hurt?” he sneers, squatting beside you, behemoth form still dwarfing your own as he gets down on your level, “It’s not supposed to feel good. This is training. You’re supposed to try and survive, not whine and cry because you fell on the floor.”

You sit on your burning knees and glare at him. He glares back at you, neither of you backing down. 

“Get up,” he commands, standing up, “Go again.”

By the time he allowed the training to be called off, your body was sore and bruised from the amount of times you’d been thrown to the floor. Your knees burn and ache from where the skin had been rubbed off and you fight back tears as you watch the dried blood crust on your skin. 

Simon is no more rough for wear than he was before – all your hitting, kicking, pushing, and biting hadn’t deterred him in the slightest. He wasn’t even winded. 

Worse more, you hadn’t made it anywhere near the door. 

You weren’t sure how Simon felt about it. If he was mad or disappointed, he didn’t say. As soon as you got into the apartment, he went about making dinner after ordering you to wash up. 

When you got out of the shower, he tossed a first aid kit to you and silently sat down in the kitchen to eat. 

Usually, you would sit with him but you found yourself deciding to eat on the couch by yourself. A sense of loneliness settled upon you that you hadn’t felt since before you had moved into this apartment with him and you find yourself hiding your tears in your food. 

Once again, you’re sleeping on the couch. You wouldn’t have minded it if it didn’t feel so much like a punishment. You felt like a dog banished to sleep in the dog house and you can’t help but curl in on yourself at the cold, empty feeling that it causes. 

The next morning follows much the same with Simon startling you awake with a barked order. Your body aches and your wounds sting with every movement you make as you drag yourself behind him to the hallway.

“Do we have to do this again today, Simon?” you ask hopelessly, “I’m really tired…”

“Do you think those undead freaks are going to care if you’re tired?” he snaps at you, arms crossed, making him appear even bigger than he already was, “You’re goin’ to learn how to escape from holds.”

“Simon…” you start to complain but a sharp look from him has the words dying on your tongue and you hand your head in defeat. 

He’s no more gentle than he was yesterday with you, rough grips and manhandling you around to fit his needs. He barks in your ear, ordering what you need to do and when to break various holds that he has on your body. 

He feels so much stronger and more powerful than those zombies had. At least they were mindless and slow. Simon was fast and smart. 

“Put your hand under mine to break the hold!” he shouts, clearly frustrated the more you fuck up breaking his holds. 

“Not like that! Are you daft?” he grits through clenched teeth, “You’re goin’ to fuckin wind up dead if you keep this up!”

You feel your heart rate speed up and you find yourself almost panicking under his completely oppressive energy. His shouting only sets you more on edge and the tears begin to prick at your eyes once again. 

“None of those fuckin’ tears,” he snarls, tightening his hold on you when you squirm and attempt to rid his body weight off of yours, “Do what I told you! You can break the hold if you just fuckin’ focus!”

“Simon, I-I don’t want to do this anymore!” you cry, the tears tumbling down your cheeks as you cry out the words. Your cheeks feel hot and you can barely catch your breath as you weakly punch at his chest.

“There’s no tappin’ out,” he snaps, tightening his grip on you even more. Your body aches where he holds and you know you’re going to be feeling those bruises for days to come. 

“Simon!” you practically screech, freeing one hand and harshly slamming your fist down over the hard faceplate. 

It seems to startle him enough into loosening his hold and you manage to kick back away from him in your panic, foot hitting him square in the chest in an effort to propel yourself away – putting as much distance as fast as you can between the two of you.

“Simon…” you whimper, voice wobbling, “I am not one of your soldiers. You need to stop trying to train me like I am!”

You watch him adjust his jaw through his mask before he pops his neck. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you and every hair on your body stands up in pure fear. 

He’s on top of you before you even have the chance to say another word. You cry out when the force of his body forces you back and your head cracks harshly against the floor. Your vision blacks out from the force and you groan in pain but he doesn’t stop, a rough forearm pinning against your throat, cutting off your air.

“That was good,” he says, voice cold and devoid of any emotion, “You managed to escape, now do it again!”

Your hands push weakly against him, but you’re worn out and your head is starting to hurt like hell. You open your mouth to say something but his hold on your throat ceases any words from escaping. 

You reach up to his face and his cold gaze narrows at you, “You already tried that. It won’t work again.”

But instead of hitting him, your fingers wrap around the face plate and you attempt to push it off – hoping that it’ll obscure his vision enough but he shakes you off with ease. 

He catches your gaze and what he sees gives him pause. Wide, teary eyes, red rimmed and filled to the brim with fear. Tears wet your cheeks and he finally notices the way your entire body is tense and trembling beneath him. 

“P-Please,” you finally find your voice when his weight eases a bit off of your throat, “I-I don’t want to do this anymore, Simon, please.”

That has his own eyes widening and you take his slackened hold as an opportunity to run away. He watches you scramble up from your spot on the floor and stumble back to the apartment, disappearing within with a slam that makes him flinch. He looks down at his own hands and finds that he can’t conjure up any thoughts that aren’t about you.

You hear him enter the apartment, his heavy footfalls pacing around the living room. You’re hiding in the bathroom, leaning against the door with your knees against your chest to muffle your cries. 

He enters the bedroom and pauses, no doubt looking for you before he approaches the bathroom and you feel a brief ping of fear that he’s going to open the door but instead he softly knocks. 

“Will you come out so we can talk?” he asks, voice holding none of the cold, harshness that it had for the last few days. 

“G-Go away, Simon,” you sniffle.

You can hear him sigh before he follows your request and steps away from the door. You can hear him linger in the bedroom for several more minutes, kicking his boots off before he’s quietly closing the bedroom door and leaving. 

The silence and loneliness sinks in once more and you find yourself sobbing into your knees all over again. Your head kills and you feel almost nauseous through your cries from the headache but you can’t stop yourself. 

You have no idea how long you cry for but before you know it, the bedroom door opens once again and you can hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he approaches the bathroom door once again.

“I made something for you to eat,” he says through the door, “Figured you might be hungry.” At the idea of food, your stomach growls, “It’ll be waiting for you at the table when you want it.”

You listen to him walk away and you know this is his way of luring you out of the bathroom. Part of you desperately wants to spite him for being so mean to you and refuse his food but the growling in your stomach is too much to bear and you can’t help but clamber to your feet and quietly pull the door open. 

When you reach the living room, Simon is facing the TV, giving no indication that he realizes you’ve come out of your hiding place. You sneak into the kitchen to see a bowl of soup sitting nicely at an empty spot. You take a seat and quickly devour the entire bowl, barely taking a break to breathe before it’s completely empty. 

You place it in the sink and carefully sneak back out of the kitchen, intending to slide right past him but in your haste you fail to notice that he’s no longer sitting on the couch. Instead, you come face to face with him sitting at the foot of his bed, clearly waiting for you. 

You freeze when you see him and all too soon that headache comes racing back to the forefront of your mind. 

Simon’s no longer wearing the skull plate and instead wears his usual black balaclava with the skull print on it. He wears a t-shirt and sweatpants, obviously having let himself get comfortable while you hid in the bathroom earlier. 

He looks up at you the second you step into the room and the two of you halt in a stalemate, simply staring at one another while you wait for the other to make the first move. 

You’re the first to break eye contact when a heavy throb goes through your head, making you close your eyes and bring your hand to your head until it passes. You hear the bed creak when Simon stands up before his hands are cupping your cheeks.

“You hit your head, didn’t you?” he asks, soft and gentle. 

You can’t stop yourself from glaring and snapping, “No thanks to you.”

His gaze softens as his hand finds its way to the back of your head, ever so softly prodding at the sizable bump that’s there, “I’m sorry, love.”

“If you’re sorry then why did you do it?” you find those damned tears returning all over again as you continue to glare up at him, “I told you I didn’t like it and I wanted to stop.”

“I know…” he whispers, hands once again cupping your cheeks, thumbing your tears away.

“What was your problem, Simon?” you tearfully ask, sniffling pathetically, “You hurt me. You were scary – scarier than those stupid zombies downstairs. Why did you do that?”

“I got…I was…” he struggled to find the right words before he stepped away from you with a troubled expression, “I was angry— scared. I just—I don’t know.”

“You were scared?” you scoff, “I’m the one who got attacked.”

“You think that wasn’t scary for me?” he asks in disbelief, “You almost got eaten alive on my watch.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” you sniffle, angrily storming over to the bed, letting yourself flop down on the comfortable mattress for the first time in days.

“I know,” he whispers, “Just let me explain, okay?”

You lay there silently, listening to his weight shift where he stands. You take notice of how his scent lingers much more on the blankets now that he’s slept on it. It smells good, you note, musky and delicate. He doesn’t wear anything that smells particularly overpowering. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, “Ever since this shit happened, I’ve been driving myself crazy. I lost contact with my team, my friends. I’m not able to get anymore information on what's goin’ on outside. I’m worried about you, I’m trying my hardest to make sure you can go out there and survive on your own if you need to. I feel like I’m going crazy and I’m scared because I’ve never felt this out of control before.”

You sit up and turn to face him, “How long have you been feeling like this, Simon..?”

“A while,” he mutters, turning his back on you when your gaze starts to feel like too much, “And then you called me a monster and I just…” he trails off, seemingly unsure of how to explain his feelings properly.

“I’m sorry for that, Simon,” you mutter sincerely, reaching out to grab his arm, urging him to turn around, “I never should have said that. And I didn’t mean it, really.”

“Well, you were right, weren’t you?” he scoffs, “I am a monster. Fuck, look at what I did to you – how I treated you. I was punishing you and I never should have.”

“We both made mistakes,” you compromise with a wobbly smile, “We’re dealing with a lot, right? The fucking world is ending and we’ve been trapped in this godforsaken building for who knows how long. It’ll get easier.”

He stares at you for a long moment, lashes fluttering as his gaze softens. You can’t find it in yourself to break eye contact. After a long moment, he seems to decide on something before reaching up and yanking the mask covering his face off. 

You feel your breath halt in your chest as your eyes widen, taking in every inch of his newly revealed face. His soft, brown eyes are a juxtaposition to the rest of his ruggedly handsome face. You stand up, never letting your eyes stray from him, a feeling of pure awe coming over you.

“You’re so handsome, Si,” you whisper, reaching forward to brush your fingers over a scar that cuts through his eyebrow to his eyelid, “It’s nice to finally see you.”

“I wanted you to see the real me,” he whispers, “Not the asshole soldier I was.”

“I’m glad you’ve trusted me with this,” you let your fingers wander along his skin, feeling the stubble on his jaw that he hadn’t yet shaved. 

“I need to tell you,” he sounds breathy, reaching up and catching your hand in his, pressing your palm flat against his cheek, “I was so scared when I heard you callin’ for me. I thought I was goin’ to be too late and I’d watch you die. I was terrified that I would lose you.”

“Simon…” you whisper in awe, watching how his soft, brown eyes display every tumultuous emotion that he experiences, “I’m sorry. I won’t do anything to worry you again.”

“I want you by my side for as long as you’re able,” he whispers, throat moving as he swallows.

“I won’t go anywhere,” you agree, stepping closer to him, “I promise.”

He leans in at the same time as you, meeting you for a sweet, tender kiss. It lasts only a second before you’re both pulling back to look in each other's eyes. Then, you’re both surging forward for a hungry, heated kiss. 

His hands grip your waist, squeezing there as he deepens the kiss. You whimper under his touch, standing on your tip-toes to match the intensity of his kiss. 

He moves you backwards, your knees hitting the edge of the bed, causing you to topple down. Simon follows, catching himself on his hands on either side of your head. He only breaks the kiss for a moment to move you further up the bed, easily manhandling you so your head is in the pillows before he’s kissing you all over again.

His hands are rough as they travel over your body, slipping your shirt up just enough to let him touch your bare sides. You quickly realize you’re still wearing your sleep clothes and that you don’t have a bra on. 

Clearly, Simon was aware because his hand quickly cups your bare breast with a rough, callused hand. His thumb finds your nipple, flicking over the bud as you whine into his mouth. 

He pulls back suddenly, cheeks flushed before he’s fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Arms up, sweetheart,” he coos, sickly sweet. 

You follow his orders and eagerly lift your arms up for him to tug the fabric of your shirt over your head. Once your breasts are bared to him, he’s leaning down to wrap his lips around one perked nipple while his fingers busy themselves with the other.

You cry out at the feeling of his teeth nipping at the sensitive bud, hands tangling in his soft, curly hair. He groans against your breast at the feeling of your pulling at his hair before he pulls back just a bit, breathlessly whispering, “Such perfect tits.”

“Simon…” you whimper, letting yourself relax into the bed as he switches to mouth at your other nipple, leaving the other to harden in the cool air before his hand travels down your stomach to your shorts, easily slipping underneath the fabric.

“Simon!” you call out again when you feel the heat of his hand cup your folds through your panties. 

“Shh, just let me do the work, love,” he mumbled, muffled by the fact he refuses to part from suckling on your nipple. 

His tongue drags over your breast, nipping and sucking marks into your skin. As he works the muscle, his hand in your panties remains stationary, just letting you feel the heat of it against your core. The teasing presence only makes you pulse and drool into your panties. You’re positive the fabric must be sticking to you by now from how wet you’ve become from playing with your breasts. 

“Your tits are so sensitive,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “Does it feel good, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, arching your back to offer up your chest to him all over again.

He grins, a crooked little smile that makes your heart flutter. It was so nice to finally see him smile. 

But instead of mouthing at your breasts again, he leans back on his heels and pulls his hand from your panties. You whine at the loss but it’s cut short when he hooks his fingers into them and tugs them down your legs. You lift your hips to assist him but find yourself wincing when an ache goes through your body.

He notices and gently runs the palm of his hands up your thighs, urging you to relax.

“You sore, love?” he asks, voice filled with what you can only call guilt.

“A little…” you admit, biting your lip, “My thighs are killing me, actually.”

He shakes his head at himself and leans down, pressing a kiss next to the scrape on one of your knees as his hands slowly begin to knead the sore muscles in your thighs. You sigh and let your eyes flutter at the feeling. 

With your eyes closed, you don’t realize he leans down until you feel a hot, wet tongue slide from your pubic bone to your sternum. Your cunt clenches pathetically at the feeling. When you open your eyes, Simon’s pretty, brown eyes are half-lidded and his tongue hangs out of his mouth. You can’t resist cupping the back of his head and pulling him for a kiss, whimpering and moaning against his mouth.

“Fingers or tongue?” he asks, muffled and messy against your lips. 

“What?” your hazy mind can’t quite comprehend what he’s asking of you.

“Do you want my fingers or my tongue?” he reiterates, “I want to make you cum.”

You whimper at that, “B-Both!”

He scoffs, full brows furrowing, “Greedy.”

You find yourself blushing at that but he doesn’t deny your request. He sinks down your body, peppering kisses down your body on the way until he kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

He grabs your hips and effortlessly yanks you down so your legs hang off the edge of the bed. 

He spreads your thighs apart and you find yourself holding your breath, watching through your lashes as he trails kisses up your thigh, getting closer to where you want him the most. You’re trembling under his attention and it makes you clench pathetically around absolutely nothing. You’re sure he can see the way your cunt drools and leaks with every small kiss he peppers against your skin. 

Just when he gets close, he pulls back and kisses back down towards your knee. The teasing has you wound taut, feeling as if you’re almost on the edge without him ever properly touching you.

It feels like hours that he does it, kissing up and down your thighs. Occasionally, he nips at the skin there, swirling his tongue over the burning marks he leaves behind to soothe the sting. Finally, he moves his hand and you think he’s going to finally give you something but all he does is spread your folds apart with two fingers, exposing your hole and clit to the cool bedroom air. The action makes you whine but he pays you no mind. 

He carries on kissing your thighs and nipping at your skin. No matter how much you rut your hips, hoping to entice him into touching you and giving you what you really need, he ignores it. He ignores your whines and the cries of his name, ignores the way your cunt clenches and drools around nothing, clit twitching from how much teasing you’re enduring. 

The little bud aches, throbbing as it begs for anything – any little touch that he has to offer. He could blow air upon the nub right now and you’re sure you would explode in pure pleasure. 

When you sob his name, broken and needier than you’ve ever heard yourself, he finally looks up. His eyelids are heavy, concealing half of his iris and it makes him look positively fucked out. 

“Look at me,” he commands, licking his lips slowly, “Right in the eyes, let me see you properly.”

You force yourself to meet his penetrating gaze, almost struggling to compose yourself. You find yourself trapped in the eye contact, almost paralyzed under his intoxicating gaze. He holds you there for what feels like minutes but in reality is probably just a few seconds. 

His fingers finally hone in on your clit, pressing against the twitching, hardened bud. You cum immediately, still locked in that intoxicating eye contact. You cry out, hands slapping against the bed as he draws the orgasm out of you with slow circles on the little bud, sticky clicking sounds filling the room and mixing with your wild cries of pleasure. It seems like the high never stops, more and more cum gushing from your cunt and dripping down to stain the comforter beneath you. 

Simon watches you with keen attention, taking in every expression you make as he makes you cum against his fingers, the bud throbbing wildly until the orgasm finally dissipates. 

When you finally sag against the bed, your thighs fall completely open as the post-orgasm exhaustion quickly hits. You’re left trembling and twitching through the aftershocks, pretty pussy still drooling with every clench of your walls.

Simon takes the opportunity of you coming down to strip himself. He tugs his shirt off over his head and lets his sweatpants drop the floor, carelessly kicking them away. His gaze never leaves you, never leaves that twitching little cunt between your legs.

There’s a slick film of your cum coating your folds and his mouth fucking waters. 

Your eyes fly open, not even realizing that you had closed them, when he suddenly cups the back of your thighs and pins you wide open for him.

“Simon…” you pathetically coo, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair when he comes within reach.

“So sweet for me,” he coos, kissing your thigh once again and you’re scared that he’s going to tease you all over again, “A good orgasm got you nice and sweet, huh?”

“Mhm,” you mutter, dazedly looking at him as you feel his breath on your sensitive cunt. 

That alone makes you clench around nothing. You nearly whimper out loud when you see his tongue fall from his mouth, glistening with spit before he licks a slow, wide stripe between your folds. 

When he comes back up, he holds his tongue out and lets you see the creamy mess of your cum left behind. He makes a show of swallowing every drop in his mouth, making your cheeks flush in pure embarrassment at such a lewd display. 

You had no idea Simon would be so fucking filthy in bed but the way his eyes roll back at your taste tells you all that you need to know. 

He loudly slurps your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sloppy bud as he whines and groans into your cunt. You tug harshly at his hair at the overwhelming feeling of having your clit doted on so expertly. 

His hands keep you pinned open, allowing him to slip his tongue inside you, occasionally taking a moment to visibly swallow every drop of your slick so you can see the way he absolutely savors your taste.

He swirls that offending tongue around your clit again, slurping it back into his mouth before two fingers are prodding at your entrance. You clench against him, the excitement of finally being filled with something making you whimper. Just the sound of you so eager makes him almost want to cum completely untouched. 

Your cum generously coats his face and he absolutely loves it. He pulls away suddenly, dark eyes locking onto your face as he pants from how lost he was in eating you out. He slowly presses two fingers inside you, letting them slide in, hugged by the plushness of your walls.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, love,” he coos, moaning sympathetically when you cry out from the feeling of being stretched on his fingers, “And so warm too, fuck.”

He decides, in that moment, that he doesn’t care if the world is ending outside, he feels nothing but bliss with you. He never wants this to end, he wants to get completely lost in the pure intoxication of you. 

He leans down, flattening his tongue against your clit once again. The feeling is heightened now that he’s got his thick fingers stuffed inside you. You clench around him at the feeling of his tongue on the sensitive bud once more. 

He suddenly crooks his fingers and your legs helplessly kick in the air at the overwhelming feeling of him pressing and prodding against that gooey little spot inside you. Your hips rabbit up and you practically wail at the overwhelming sensations he’s attacking you with. You squeal his name so sweetly before he finally backs off a bit, letting you sink back into the soft cushions of the bed.

He’s completely drunk off of you, off the creamy cum you gush out for him to lick up, off the lovely sounds you let out from how good he makes you feel. His cock is so painfully hard and he wants so badly to wrap his hand around himself but he knows he’ll blow his load the second he does, so he refrains. 

To distract himself from the ache in his cock, he doubles his focus on you and making you feel good. His fingers crook upwards again, prodding your g-spot again with renewed vigor. You cry out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he sucks your clit into his mouth, the suction making your thighs tremble. 

“I-I wanna cum!” you cry out, fingers still tugging harshly at his hair. 

He groans against you but doesn’t dare to part from you, too focused on bringing you to your high to actually goad you into it. His fingers move inside you, fucking you nice and deep, making sure he’s working that sweet little spot inside you as he continues to suck on your clit. 

It doesn’t take long before your entire body stiffens and you toss your head back. The choked out cry is music to his ears and his own eyes roll back when he feels the way your walls tighten around him, soaking his fingers generously. Your clit throbs in his mouth before he releases his suction on it, instead choosing to lick the pulsing little bud with the flat of his tongue to gently ease you through the high. 

You’re pushing his head away long before he’s ready to part but he willingly backs off nonetheless. His chin is wet with your cum, even dripping down his neck and the sight makes you flush. There’s a loud, squishy noise when he slowly pulls his fingers from the hot clutch of your cunt. 

“Scoot back for me, darlin’,” he commands you, slurring a little before he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean of the mess you left behind. 

You do as he says, shakily pushing yourself back so you can lay your head in the pillows. With Simon standing at the foot of the bed, you finally get the chance to take a look at him. 

He’s obviously incredibly well built, broad and firm in all the right places. Most notably, he has numerous scars, some that looked like bullet wounds and others that were long and thin. 

“Are all those from the military?” you find yourself asking as he carefully crawls onto the bed, jostling you as the mattress moves under his weight.

“Yeah,” he breathes, leaning down to press his lips against yours.

You let him handle your body as he pleases, spreading your legs so he can comfortably situate himself between them. His cock, hard and heavy, rests against your folds and you find your eyes going wide at the sight of it.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he chuckles, like he can hear what you’re thinking. 

“That’s not going to fit,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze off the twitching, fat length of him.

“‘Course it will, love,” he breathes, pecking your lips again, letting his lips trail down over your jaw, “I worked you open real good, all you gotta do is relax and let me in.”

With a minute adjustment of his hips, the tip prods your entrance. He grips the base of his length, carefully pushing forward, mouth dropping open as he feels your hot, wet walls spread around the head of him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts, “Jus’ let me do the work.”

Your hands fly down to grip his forearms, nails biting harder into the skin there the deeper he sinks into you. The middle of his cock is the fattest, giving you an almost painful stretch that makes your face pinch up in a way that Simon doesn’t like.

He brings one hand to his mouth, licking his thumb before carefully pressing the digit against that sensitive bud. You whimper at the feeling, cunt clutching tight around him, easing more of his length inside. He circles your clit a few more times, watching your face for any clear signs of discomfort. Before long, his hips meet yours, filling you absolutely full to the brim in a way no one ever had before. 

He plants both hands on either side of your head, abandoning your clit in favor of simply rutting his hips against yours. His large body hovers over you, shielding you from anything outside of him and you find yourself completely lost in everything that is him – how full he makes you feel, how nice he smells, how safe you feel trapped beneath him like you are. 

Your hands wind around his neck, pulling him down so his chest presses against yours. Your breasts squish against his chest and he finds his eyes flickering down just to look at them. The sight makes you smile despite yourself – it’s cute, you think.

Tangling your fingers in his soft curls once again, you bring him down for a kiss. He’s still slowly, carefully rutting his hips against yours, his lower abdomen sliding against your clit as his cock stirs inside you, stretching you and hitting every sweet little spot inside you. 

You whimper into his mouth, gasping at the way he makes you feel so full and good while he barely does anything. Your knees bracket against his ribs, squeezing him so tightly you wonder if it hurts but he just continues to kiss you and circle his hips. 

“Wanna feel you cum around me,” he whispers, barely parting from your lips to request it, “Just like this, cover my cock. Be good for me.”

You knew you wouldn’t be able to disobey even if you wanted to. With the way he stirs you up and drags against every tender spot inside you all while grinding against your clit the way he is, you don’t stand a chance. Your third orgasm creeps up on you and your back arches just as it washes over you.

Simon groans at the feeling of you cumming around him for the first time – the tight, wet clutch of your cunt feeling better than he ever could have dreamed. As he watches you writhe in his bed, moaning and whimpering his name, he’s overcome with a plethora of feelings that just melt his heart. 

He can’t resist pulling you in for another kiss, cupping your jaw as he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock remains buried in your cunt. You’re still working on coming down from the orgasm he just gave you but he’s greedy – he wants to feel it again. He wants to fuck the orgasm out of you, make you ride it out and gush all over him.

He needs to show you how good he can be for you, hoping that this alone can get across just how much you mean to him. He’s never been the best with words, so he can only hope that this is enough for now.

Your hands press against his chest, aimlessly pushing at him from the overwhelming way he fucks you. You’re so sensitive, pushed into cumming more times than anyone had ever made you before. But he doesn’t show any signs of slowing or stopping. He’s a machine, built for stamina and he’s on a fucking mission now – to make you feel as good as he possibly can. 

You’re attempting to push him away, to give your poor, overstimulated body a chance to come down. But he’s having none of it. 

“Hands off, love,” he commands breathlessly. But you just stare up at him with dazed, teary eyes, panting and sweaty. He clicks his tongue, “You ignorin’ me, sweetheart?”

He grapples your wrists in his one hand, pulling yours away from his chest and pinning them above your head. He uses this new hold as leverage to really fuck you, pulling back and sinking back in as deep as he possibly can. His tip kisses your cervix, making your thighs tense up at the twinge of pain that comes with having him so deep. 

But the pain mixes so addictively with the pleasure that you find yourself getting completely lost in the slow, deep rhythm that he sets. Every time he sinks balls deep, his hips slap against yours and he rubs up deliciously against your clit. The pleasure on your bud doesn’t last long before he’s pulling back again, never allowing you to fully build up to another delicious high. 

Simon is lost in the way you whimper and whine. He can swear that he’s never heard anything as incredible as you being denied the pleasure he had been so generous with so far. He likes the desperate look in your eyes; it makes him feel amazing to know that you need him to make you feel good. He’s in charge of your pleasure in that moment and he finds himself relishing in that feeling of control over you. 

You look so sweet beneath him, pinned and helpless with teary eyes looking up at him. Your pupils are blown wide from the pleasure his cock brings you as he continues to fuck you nice and deep. 

Usually, Simon is a fast and rough kind of guy, but he finds himself thinking that he could definitely get used to a pace like this more often. As long as it’s you that’s underneath him. 

It doesn’t take you very long to break, those pretty tears falling down your cheeks as you breathlessly plead with him, “Please, Simon,” your voice cracks so cutely, “I want more!”

He chuckles under his breath and leans down, pressing a tender kiss against your temple before whispering, “What’s stoppin’ you from takin’ more?”

That seems to set you off. You’re bracing your feet on the bed, rutting your hips, rocking yourself against his cock. A moan rips from his chest at the sight of you using his cock like that. His heavy balls press against you and the feeling makes his cock throb, making him realize how badly he needs to cum. But he doesn’t want to give up this little show you’re putting on for him so soon. 

You’re so, so wet that he can feel how your messy little cunt squishes around him. You shamelessly soak every inch of him the more you work your own pussy on his fat cock. You tug your hands free from his grip and he’s left clenching the pillows in his fist when he watches your fingers descend.

He thinks you’re going to go for your clit, to push yourself over the edge like you so deserved for being so good for him. But instead, you reach for your own tits. The breath punches out of his lungs as the sight of you meanly pinching and tweaking your nipples as you continue to rock yourself against him.

Simon feels his balls tighten at the sight and he almost thinks he’s going to cum but he suddenly pulls his cock out. You wail in complete misery at the loss, tearfully watching him wrap his hand around the base of his cock, pinching off the impending orgasm.

You flop back down onto the bed, sniffling pathetically as you glare at him for ruining the orgasm you were so beautifully working yourself up to. He smiles crookedly at you, cupping the backs of your knees, crudely pinning them to your chest so your pretty, wet cunt is open and vulnerable to the way he suddenly stuffs himself back inside. 

With you completely pinned beneath him in a press, you can’t do anything except cry out and wail in pleasure as he finally fucks you fast and hard. His balls slap lewdly against your ass, your arousal dripping off of them. 

His eyes are locked on the way you’re stretched so wide around the girth of him. You’re creaming around him, a milky ring left in your wake every time he pulls out. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe or collect yours, simply fucking you with everything he has. It’s loud, wet, and fucking messy. 

“F-Fuck,” he chokes on the word, voice breaking as it comes out. He’s so close that it hurts, “Play with yourself for me, love, rub your clit.”

Your hand flies down to do as you’re told without a second thought. It only takes a few, quick circles around the hard little bud before you’re cumming with a cute little squeal. Your feet kick helplessly in the air, toes curling from how hard you cum around him. 

Simon groans at the sight and feeling of you losing yourself on his cock. You continue to swirl and tap at your clit, forcing yourself to cum harder and harder until you’re squirting around him with a choked off sob of his name. 

Simon’s hips never still or falter, fucking you fast and deep to work you through the orgasm. Your cum splatters across his hips, thighs, and chest. It makes his eyes roll up into his head before he lets his head fall back. His jaw opens and he moans, loud and deep as his own orgasm finally washes over him. 

His pace falters as you lay there twitching and crying, a few trembling thrusts of his hips as his cock spits rope after rope of cum inside you. He cums longer and harder than he has in a very long time. He continues with short, aborted little thrusts on his sensitive cock as he continues to cum.

Even when the orgasm dissipates, he finds himself fucking into the creamy mess drooling out of your twitching cunt. 

“S-Simon-!” you choke out, nails clawing down his shoulders, “S-Sensitive!”

“I know, love,” he pants, almost deliriously, “J-Just one more. G-Gotta fill you up again.”

You can’t do anything but lay back and let him use your cunt as he works to force another orgasm out of his overstimulated cock. He’s gasping and whining as he moves his hips, pulling his cock out only to stuff it back inside. A mixture of your cum and his drips down, soaking his cock, pelvis, and balls. It’s a heady, lewd mess that he can’t bring himself to worry about now but he knows it’ll be a pain to clean up later. 

You’re trembling and twitching with every one of his movements, tears dried and new on your cheeks. He feels a pang of remorse for you, you’re tired and overstimulated but he just needs to wring this one last orgasm out and then he’ll let you rest.

“You can be good for me, huh?” he coos sweetly, “Just be sweet and let me, fuck, use this pretty little cunt, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whimper, nodding your head as your eyelids flutter in exhaustion.

Simon leans down, pressing his lips against yours. You both get lost in the kiss, with your arms wrapped around his neck. He loves how it feels to have you stuffed on his cock while your pretty, sweet body twitches and trembles beneath him. He knows it probably hurts by now and the fact you’re just laying there and letting him use you like this has him reaching his second high. 

He chokes on a moan, gasping as he cums for the final time. It’s much more lackluster than his first one but he still fills you up just like you both needed. His cock twitches almost painfully inside you as he slowly rocks his hips, wincing at the overstimulation. 

After a few, still moments, he pulls his length free from the soft plushness of your cunt and rolls off of you. You’re both panting, laying on your backs on the bed as you come back to yourselves.

You’re the first one to move, rolling onto your side and wrapping yourself around him. Simon finds himself smiling when he feels the sweet way you snuggle against him, seeking his comfort automatically. 

You start shivering, the mess of cum and sweat on your body causing you to become cold. He urges you to sit up despite your protests. 

“Let’s take a shower and sleep,” he offers sweetly, supporting your shaky body to the bathroom.

He continues to support you and hold you close through the shower. He finds himself grateful that there’s still hot water because you both certainly need it after such a messy tryst in his bed. 

You’re the first to fall asleep, tucked against his chest with your arms wrapped around him like a little koala. His hand strokes up and down your back, just staring into the inky blackness of his bedroom. 

Part of him feels like it’s all a dream, to have someone so sweet tucked against him, offering him comfort and feeling safe as they snooze peacefully. A sense of fierce protectiveness washes over him as he finds himself going through plans in his head – what the future may hold.

He’s torn from his thoughts when you shoot up from your deep sleep with a gasp. Your head wildly turns, looking around the room. His hand finds purchase on your back, making you jump before relaxing immediately in recognition.

“Bad dream?” he asks, tugging you gently to lay you back down against his chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I dreamt that I was trapped with them in that hallway again.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms tightly around you to make sure you feel secure. You go still for a long time and he thinks you fell asleep again but then you ask him a question that surprises him.

“Who are those people in the photos?” you quietly question, “In your living room.”

He hums, rubbing a rough hand up and down your shoulder and arm, “My teammates. Friends, I guess.”

“You guess?” you chuckle.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Task Force 141; Captain John Price, and Seargets John ‘Soap’ MacTavish and Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick.”

“Soap is a silly name,” you comment, grinning up at him, resting your chin against his chest, “What about you?”

“Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley,” he responds with ease. 

“Do you know where they are?” you ask.

It’s an innocent question but it sends a pang of hurt to his chest. If he were a weaker, less trained man, he may have felt tears pricking his eyes, “I don’t know,” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “I was in contact with Soap when everything started goin’ to shit. Lost contact with him though. He’s a tough bastard though, I’m sure he’s fine somewhere out there. I don’t know where the other two were or are.”

“If they’re even half as good as you, I’m sure they’re all fine,” you offer optimistically. 

Simon hums again, reaching a hand up to brush a stray flyaway off of your forehead. His big hand cups your cheek, stroking his thumb over your lips which you offer a gentle kiss against. 

“All I’m worried about now is you,” he confesses softly, “As long as you’re safe, I’ll be happy. I’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” you smile, laying back down to nuzzle against his chest, “I’m okay as long as you’re here.”

He wraps his arms around you again and closes his eyes, letting himself sleep peacefully with you held safe against him.

It’s not even a week later that you’re sitting on the couch with him, peacefully watching a movie with a full belly after cooking a quick dinner with him, that you hear a loud, mechanical thump and you’re plunged into complete silence and darkness. Your heart jumps and races in your chest, mindlessly grappling onto Simon’s arm as he sits still beside you.

“What happened?” you ask, whispering as if you’re scared to speak any louder.

“Power went out,” he responds, not sounding the least bit perturbed, “Knew it was comin’. Water’s probably out now too.”

“What do we do?” you ask, the tremor of fear in your voice practically breaking his heart. 

He stands up and you whimper in fear when he’s out of your reach. You can hear him moving around in the dark before a bright, blinding light lands on you. 

“We can’t stay here for much longer,” he responds, “We’ll have to move out and find somewhere with more resources.”

“How long have you been planning this?” you ask, getting to your feet to follow him down the hall to the bedroom.

“Ever since the news stopped reportin’,” he responds, grabbing a large backpack from the closet, “Let’s pack up.”

You linger beside him and he looks at you with a raised brow, “I’m scared, Simon.”

His gaze softens and he walks up to you, cupping your cheeks tenderly, “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promises, “We’re goin’ to go out, find a small place to hunker down. We’ll look for a generator or a vehicle and get somewhere safe. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nod your head, “Of course I do.”

“Good,” he smiles, kissing your forehead, “Now take this backpack and fill it with what’s left of our canned food, alright? I’m goin’ to pack everything else we need, don’t worry about a thing.”

He offers you a flashlight, which you gratefully take and click on. You’re glad that he gives you an easy task to focus on. You take the smaller backpack he offers you and make your way to the kitchen. You only have about 5 cans of food left and you carefully place them inside the bag before opening the refrigerator to pack a few full bottles of water that you have stored in there. You make sure to toss in a can opener just in case before you place the backpack on the couch. 

Simon emerges from the room with the large, military backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You get it all?” he asks, taking a seat to shove his boots onto his feet.

“Yeah and a couple water bottles,” you respond, approaching him slowly.

“That’s perfect,” he praises, looking over at you, “You should go get dressed. Jeans and a hoodie. Put your sneakers on and make sure they’re tight, got it?”

You nervously do as you’re told, disappearing into the bedroom to quickly dress yourself under the flashlight. You can hear Simon moving around in the living room, heavy boots thumping against the floor with every step he takes. 

You toss the hoodie over your head and make your way back to Simon, who stands in the living room, looking out the window. The sun is just beginning to come up over the horizon, casting a dim amount of sunlight to come through. 

He turns to look at you when he hears you approach. 

“There you go,” he hums, pulling the hoodie up over your head and tightening the strings, “Keep your neck covered. We’ll find you some better clothing somewhere along the way.”

You nod your head and take a glance over his shoulder out the window. You can barely see the ground from your position but you can see people shuffling around on the streets below. A pang of fear goes through you as you realize that they’re most definitely not normal people – the streets are crawling with those undead freaks. 

Simon leads you to the door and unsheaths a weapon for you – a machete he had taught you to wield with relative ease. You grip it in your hands, nervously twirling it around until you find a comfortable position. Simon nods his head and pulls out a combat knife, holding it low at his side before opening the door. 

The descent to the lobby is relatively easy, you walk over the undead that have already been taken care of in the stairwell.

“I took care of these already,” he explains without you even having to ask, helping you jump over a pile of 3 zombies at the foot of the stairs. 

“You got more kills under your belt than me,” you comment, mostly in jest to lighten your mood.

Simon huffs under his breath, slowly pushing open the door to the lobby, “You have no idea.”

You squint and turn off your flashlight when you step into the well lit lobby. The sun is now above the horizon, allowing you to see with ease once again. 

Simon remains in front of you, making your way to the double front doors. You peek around him, heart racing in your chest as your grip on your weapon tightens.

“Are you ready?” he asks, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“No…” you confess, shuffling closer to him.

“Everything will be okay,” he promises firmly and you actually believe him. 

When he pushes open the door, the groans of the undead fill your ears and you find your eyes darting frantically around the streets that you can now see with terrifying clarity. 

Hundreds of undead swarm the streets, stumbling and groaning as they shuffle around aimlessly in search of food. Simon reaches down and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You know it’s going to be the fight of your life but with Simon by your side, you have faith that you’re going to make it through and find somewhere safe together.

 property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.

[divinesolas]

Fighting words

summary: one of the bracken boys has been hitting on you for days now and youre sick of it. He happens to take it too far with you and your best friend shows you a side of himself you’ve never seen. and you like it. a lot.

Benjicot Blackwood x Fem!Cerwyn!reader | 1.3k wrds

c.w: probably very occ as we dont know like anything abt him in the show 😭😭, slightly smutty, takes place before any battles, not proofread

he wouldn’t leave my mind, so take this 😁

masterlist - requests are open!!

tags: @hxtd

“No. Leave me alone bracken.” you try to shove him away from you but the bracken boy just grins at you and leans closer into you.

“Oh come on cerwyn, i see how you look at me~” a scoff escapes your lips as you stare at him with disgust. “In your fucking dreams, seriously. Leave me alone.”

You didn’t even know this guys name but he had been bothering you for the last couple days. It had started out small with him trying to invite you to come drink with him and his friends to him offering to carry around your stuff for you when you were walking around.

“theyre arrows bracken.”

“so what? must be heavy for you youre a girl.”

He grossed you out. But didn’t matter even if he didn’t,

“she said no.”

The two of you turn to look at the new voice and a smile creeps up on your face. The bracken boy rolls his eyes as he glares, “the hell do you want blackwood.”

“she said no. Back off.”

youve been friends with the lord of house blackwood for since you were younger and hes always been so kind to you. It seemed to be obvious to everyone other than him that you were madly in love with the young lord but if he did notice he said nothing about it.

You knew of his, angry? or maybe a better word is his more aggressive behavior. You had never even seen it first hand but multiple people have told you first hand accounts of him losing his temper and blowing up, his normal calm and kind demeanor getting lost to rage and blind madness.

You did not know what to think about the rumors then but seeing the way his eyes twitched and his clenched jaw as he stared at the bracken boy the rumors about him became more and more believable.

The bracken boy stands and gets all up in bens face, “What are you gonna do about it huh?”

Ben tilts his head and a look you’ve never seen crosses his eyes as he glares. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” His voice is hard like youve never heard before and it has you holding your breath, waiting for the straining thread to snap.

And the thread snaps the second bracken pushes bens chest and laughs. “what? you upset this ugly bitch wants me more than you-“ It happens before you know it and suddenly the two guys are on the floor and everyone in the room jumps up to look.

you freeze. What in the hells are you supposed to do? so you merely watch as the two boys beat the fuck out of each other. Ben pulls ahead at some point and manages to get a few more punches in after pinning the guy down until the two are pulled apart.

“never talk about her like that, no. never talk to her again or else ill fucking kill you.” He thrashes around in the arms of the two blackwood lads that hold him back as he continues to spit insults at the bracken boy as he gets dragged off and out of the space.

Your legs move before you can even think and your standing in front of him, he freezes and blinks at you rapidly. Hes covered in blood, you cant tell which is his and which is the other guys but he looks badly hurt.

He had done it for you. In your name. And you could barely take how hot you felt but he needed you. “i have supplies in my tent let me fix you up.” the boys oooo’d and ben barely acknowledges them as he nods and allows you to drag him off to your tent.

The boys call after you two with some unsavory choice words but you just turn and flip them off before you continue to help ben to your tent. You place him on your bed cot and try to ignore the racing of your heart as he stays quiet, merely looking at you.

Hes usually quiet but not around you. Its odd to see him like this. So you shakily rummage around with the stuff in your chest as you nervously begin to talk. “thank you for stepping in i was really nervous he wasn’t going to leave me alone, you didn’t meed to-“ you gasp as your spun around and lips lock onto yours with fever.

One of his hands reach behind you and push all your stuff off your table, lifting up you up to sit on it while he kisses you. You gasp against his lips and he takes the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth.

Your head is spinning. You can taste the metallic taste of his blood seep into your mouth and it laces its way into your kiss. You fear you’re dreaming. You felt asleep on watch shift again and when you wake this will all just be a dream.

Yet when you grip your hand against his waist he pulls away and winces. You are pulled back to reality and try to pull away to grab your medical supplies that now are all spilled all over the floor but he quickly stops you.

“ben you’re hurt.” “i dont care.” He tries to kiss you again but you dodge it and grip his face in your hands. “ben,” His hand slide around your waist and play with the fabric of your tunic, testing the waters and sliding his hands lower and almost under the tunic you wear. “ben.” you say firmer and he pauses to look at you.

“right now i just need to feel your skin, please.” your heart pounds loudly against your chest and your mouth drops open. “ben,” his name shakily passes your lips and he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed. “How dare he talk to you like that. i should have killed him,” his hands slide under your tunic his hot hands run up and down your bare sides slowly. “he should know i take no disrespect to the future lady of blackwood.”

You kiss him unable to take it anymore and he meets your fever eagerly. arms wrapping around you and pulling you so your chest to chest and you can feel him pressing against your trousers.

His lips trail down your jaw as his hands find your breasts and you let out a moan as he squeezes them in his hands. His lips your neck and he sucks at any skin he can get while he grinds his hips against yours. His hands grow more feverish as he uses his teeth to pull down your tunic to expose more of your collarbone and neck, youre sure to be covered in bruises tomorrow but you cant be bothered with that.

One of his hands trails down your stomach and almost gets to reach under your pants until a horn sounds outside and you both look at each other alarmed.

“ugh fuck me.” “wish i could.” you slap him on the chest as he pulls away and he hisses.

“that hurts.” “if you had let me patch you up it wouldn’t be hurting you idiot.” “you certain didn’t look like you were going to complain. not when i was about to-“ “okay! lets go they need us.” you ignore the sound of his laughter as you flap open your tent and rush out leaving him behind, hoping you look presentable enough your men dont ask questions and pray you can continue what you were doing with ben later.

[sillyuin]

Searching you

Genre: hurt/comfort, angts ??, very domestic fluff.

Pairing: Seungcheol x gn!reader.

Warnings: Reader is ill, couple arguments, crying, scoups being a walking green flag.

- Yuin’s note: At this point it is no longer necessary to say that every time I get sick, I write something that completely reflects how I feel.

Seungcheol knows how individual you are and respects that. He understands that you like to do things on your own, how difficult it is for you to ask for help, and even thought he is very proud of you, he will not hesitate to help when the opportunity arises.

However, that day he did not feel very proud. Seungcheol had returned from running some errands and when he entered the dining room, the first thing he saw was an unpleasant surprise. You were slumped over the table, your arms crossed as a pillow, with a thick blanket over your body.

He set the groceries down on the counter and approached, careful not to wake you up, but he barely got closer when you raised your head with clear agitation.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he said, almost in a whisper. “What are you doing here? You should be resting.”

“Waiting for you…” you replied in a broken tone, looking down at the table.

Seungcheol pressed his lips together with frustration, and when he tried to place his hand on your shoulder, you shook him off a bit roughly, turning your face away to avoid seeing him. But that didn’t stop him.

“y/n,” his voice sounded kind and firm at the same time, but it became steady when you shrugged your shoulders and ignored him. “I’m talking to you, look at me.”

You pushed the chair back with a heavy noise, standing up to face him as if confronting an enemy. Not even his concerned gaze made you tremble; in fact, it might have made you even angrier.

“Where the hell did you go?” you asked, raising your voice slightly.

“I went to buy medicine and something for you to eat,” he replied calmly, trying his best to not pay attention to your irritable behavior.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You took a step forward as if you wanted to intimidate him, but Seungcheol stood his ground.

“I wanted to, but you couldn’t sleep last night because of the fever,” Cheol took a step forward trying to reach out to you; however, you stepped back two paces, curling up a bit under the blankets. He swallowed hard. “You needed to rest.”

“That’s just an excuse,” the sad tone of your voice reached Cheol’s ears like a loud noise, and your tear-filled eyes made his hands tremble in a mix of panic and confusion. “I needed you, and you left me!”

A heavy silence filled the apartment. Seungcheol looked at you with a downcast gaze, unsure of what to do. He felt rejected. He was trying to respect your space, your feelings and your illness. The only thing that mattered to him was you to be okay, even if it meant swallowing his pride and pleasing you.

However, his heart skipped a beat when he felt a familiar weight on his shoulder, as you were wrapping your arms around his waist in a desperate attempt to hug him.

He embraced you gently, placing one arm over your shoulders and using the other to pull the blankets away, gripping your waist to draw you closer to him. Your body was trembling with fever, so weak that you couldn’t even cry; still, you clung to him like the world’s gonna end, resting your face against his shoulder as the tears started to flow by itself.

After a few minutes, you regained your breath and barely pulled back to look into Cheol’s eyes, letting him wipe your face with the sleeve of his sweater. He felt that if he broke the hug, you would too, and kept his hold on as the moment lingered.

“I had a nightmare,” you said, tightening your hands around his torso. “I woke up scared, shaking, and when I saw that you weren’t there, I got angry.”

“I'm sorry,” he replied, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“No, I'm sorry,” you rested your face back on his shoulder, adjusting the hug a bit. He instinctively did the same. “I got mad, and you were just trying to help. You’re a sweetheart.”

Cheol smiled, leaving a little kiss on your shoulder. “I think the fever went up, your skin is burning and you’re saying weird things.”

A slight whine made him chuckle softly. “Why are you never serious?”

Seungcheol moved back a little, holding your face between his hands, giving you a big smile, and finally kissing you on the forehead.

“Don’t you like how I am?” He raised an eyebrow, making a face that made you laugh.

“No… I love you just the way you are.”

Cheol gave you another peck on the forehead before picking up the blanket from the floor and guiding you toward the bed. He went to the kitchen to fetch some medicine along with a glass of water, and as he returned to the room, you were sitting at the edge of the bed waiting for him.

“you're so stubborn” he said in a resigned tone and huffed, making you laugh. He was happy to see you in that state despite the sickness.

After taking your pills, you curled up in the blankets. Seungcheol sat on the floor, his arms crossed over the bed with his chin resting on them, wanting to stay by your side until he was sure you were asleep, no matter how long it took.

Your eyes slowly opened, and when you saw him, you couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across your face. You reached out your hand towards him and he took it, tenderly kissing your knuckles.

“Thanks for everything,” you closed your eyes again and squeezed his hand. “You really are a sweetheart.”

“You make me one” He smiled to himself as he pecked your knuckles once more. “I love you.”

[demon-blood-youths]

"Vergil!" Ink smiles, eyes lit up. She is happy to see him safe just like Navarro. Her eyes are full of relief and happiness, seeing the blue-clad man safe and whole as well. However...he isn't as stinky as Navarro here. But the two need a bath anyway. Well...more like everyone on her fraction needs a bath after this whole battle against the Lovely Horrors. The blood, dirt and sweat can make anyone stink.

"Good thing to see you guys alright!" Said Rust. The two are on high alert given the amount of Lovely Horror members they run into. So far...it's just Commander Beasts and the Followers. They haven't encountered the Horrors yet.

Since the four are reunited with each other. What's their next plan. They listened to Vergil's direction.

“ We must abscond from open area and find cover firstly, post-haste, ”

Processing what Vergil had said to them. It means they need to get out of the open sight and they need to find cover first. All three teens nod their heads and agree.

"Sure thing!" Ink replied.

"Right," Navarro answered.

"Okay!" Rust nodded.

And so the teens start to run and try to find a nearby building where they take cover. They find a building that has stores inside. A small mall? Yes, this is a good place to take a breather and restore their stamina. Going inside, they see the place completely empty but all the merchandise is there. Not only that, they find some vending machines near the restrooms. Rust goes to elbow the vending machine so the snacks fall so his friends can take some.

"Thanks," Navarro said, taking some chips before eating some. Since they're now regrouped. They need to discuss what they saw and what to do next.

"Guys....I think the Lovely Horrors are here for somethin." Rust begins. Ink is eating a chocolate bar and offers Vergil one if he wants one.

"That's what I was thinking! We ran into a bunch of Followers and they were looking for someone. One of them is carrying a phone as if they trying to identify some guy." He brings it up.

"They're looking for some guy?" Asked the blond.

"Yeah and..we're just in the way." Navarro sighed.

"Hmmm...that's what those twin cats said. Everyone is fighting and Shdwkyz said on the comms that they were searching for someone that stole from the Horrors." Ink said.

"Okay so....now what?" Rust asked. Should they find the person who stole something from the Horrors or try to find the Horrors, to put an end to their terror.

@vischys

𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 ����𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 but briefly at the bomber’s slip of tongue. It would appear the Phantom youth addressed his demonic apparition with the same appellation. Whilst Vergil had seen the moveset that earned Shdwkyz his sobriquet, he was not privy as to what the teen dubbed it hitherto. Nothing unexpected howbeit, if anything he found it quite natural that the Phantom shared his affinity not just in the choice of weapon but also in ability and nature. Amongst the Youths he had encountered thus far, it was with Shdwkyz whom he perceived a fellowship in spirit.

Though the comical mien upon the irascible youth’s countenance gave him an inkling that the boy was not privy to the extent of his encounter with the Phantom, let alone the fact that he had seen the Slasher’s own brand of demonic double firsthand rather than a secondhand account. Which in turn suggested a deduction that mayhaps the Phantom did not share his matters and kept it to himself, even to his own comrades. Yet another trait that he would find kindred in.

Keep reading

[breadbrobin]

call it what you want

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of aphrodite reader]

summary: he fell first, you fell harder, and all at once.

warning: tooth-rotting fluff. literally i think that’s it it’s just sickeningly cute

word count: 2.1k

(the luke brainrot is so real i wrote this at like 4am last night plsss)

——————————————

luke castellan thought you could have hung the stars in the sky. he wouldn’t know any different, nor would he care to find out. in his mind, you were perfect. the most perfect, in fact.

there was one person that no one could hate at camp, and that was you. a friend to all who’d have you, a sister to those who needed you, and whatever you were to luke.

not even you understood the nature of your relationship with him.

years of friendship slowly became changed, twisted, slightly more than you’d bargained for. it was a happy change. realising you were in love with luke castellan was an ever-continuous process—a little one day, a little more another. but for luke… gods, realising he was in love with you came as easy as breathing. every smile on your lips, every laugh, every surreptitious look across rooms set his heart aflame. fluttering, dancing, swirling.

it wasn’t like you didn’t love him. you did. you surely did. but time hadn’t been kind to your heart and children of aphrodite have never been truly lucky in love. helping others achieve their loves was more common. more often than not, you and your siblings were happy with just that.

“anyone you got your eye on?” you asked one day as you sat with luke on the dock. your bare feet dangled into the water, toes just touching the cool surface.

“maybe. maybe not. when are you leaving?” he avoided the question, gazing out at the water and squinting in the glare of the sun.

“two weeks. i’m staying for my birthday this year.” you looked over at him. “you can tell me who it is, you know? i won’t laugh, i promise.”

he shot you an exasperated look. “what makes you think there is someone, princess?”

you lean over and nudge his arm teasingly, missing the blush on his face. “you’ve been distracted lately. quiet. you smile more though, and i’ve seen you blushing. who is it?”

“maybe i’m sick. what if i’m dying, y/n? then what? you’re assuming i’m in love when i’m actually dying?”

you raised your hands mockingly. “hey, you’re the one who mentioned love, pal. not me. ask yourself about that one.”

he rolled his eyes and elbowed you gently with a soft smile. his smiles were always soft, you realised. gentle and kind—two words you’d use to describe luke castellan any chance you got. you looked at him in the sunlight. and pretty, you thought. gentle, kind and pretty.

late nights were always for thinking.

you’d had trouble sleeping since you were a kid. not just the typical demigod issues with nightmares, but difficulty falling asleep in the first place. when those times struck, and the late hours before midnight slipped by, your thoughts wandered.

as always, your thoughts circled a few items; your family, your friends, then, always, luke.

he was separate to your friends, always had been. you didn’t really know why.

gentle, kind and pretty, you recalled. it had been a few days since the lake and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about who he was in love with. was there some person out there at camp who held his heart, truly and deeply? why did your chest ache? were you having a heart attack?

you pressed your fingers to your pulse point in concern, then pulled them away after a few seconds. you were fine. why did you feel like that?

no one ever said children of aphrodite weren’t oblivious to their own feelings.

time ticked by into the small hours of the morning, and still you couldn’t find sleep.

you rolled out of bed and stepped into your slippers, pulling a fluffy robe around your body and stepping out into the warm night. the air was still and calm, a juxtaposition to your whirling mind as you crossed the camp, stepping down paths and stepping over tree roots in a manner you’d memorised from countless treks on similar nights.

the hermes cabin was always warmer than your own, but tonight the heat was almost stifling. you could feel the heat heavy in the air as you breathed, and sweat beaded on your lip as you crossed the cabin silently to luke’s bed.

he was sleeping half sitting up, a colouring book and set of pencils splayed out on his lap. it was one you’d bought him for his birthday years ago. you had no idea he even used it.

quietly, you packed away the pencils and put them and the book on the side table. as you did, luke’s eyes cracked open. he frowned.

“y/n? are you okay?” he rubbed his eyes, sitting up straight and stretching his neck.

“can’t sleep,” you whispered.

he nodded and pushed his sheets off. he pulled a sweatshirt on and led you out of the cabin.

this was normal for you both. if one couldn’t sleep, you’d find the other and keep each other company until you felt you could rest. it was always nice knowing someone was there to talk to, or even just sit with. there was never resentment, never irritation from the other person. you would always come find each other. finding each other was like second nature to the two of you. you swore you could find luke in any situation, with your eyes closed, all your senses blotted out, by instinct and connection alone. you could find luke castellan without even a second thought.

you sat on the porch of the cabin with your legs hanging over the edge. luke’s legs were crossed.

“what are we doing for your birthday?” he asked finally.

you shrugged. “nothing, probably. maybe i’ll get some cake. i don’t know.”

“you didn’t do anything last year,” he protested. “you need to this year. it’s the big 18.”

“we didn’t do much for your eighteenth.”

he shrugged. “we did more than nothing, though, pretty girl. come on, we have to do something.”

you shook your head. “you wanna do something, you can plan it, pretty boy. i don’t mind.”

he sighed dramatically, leaning back and lying down on the rough wood. “fine. i will.”

you laughed quietly and lay back next to him, staring up at the wooden overhang above you.

you could feel his body heat against your arm as it lay between you. he was like a furnace, honestly, always radiating heat. it was nice in winter, but oftentimes stifling in summer. this was not one of those times. instead, you revelled in the closeness between you and almost—selfishly, confusingly—wished you were closer. maybe even close enough to touch.

your birthday was a quiet affair. your siblings wished you happy birthday and gave you a handful of small gifts, mostly beauty products and clothes that would fit you perfectly, even a cute bikini you put on under your clothes, and then you all went on with your day.

it was nice, honestly, getting well wishes but little attention. you needed no celebration or pizzazz, just friends, smiles and the occasional hug.

arms wrapped around your waist from behind. you yelped in shock and turned around, finding yourself face to face with luke. he had a bright smile on his face and a smudge of glitter on his cheek.

you reached up and ran your finger over it, trying gently to remove some to no avail. “you have glitter.”

“i have glitter everywhere. i guess that’s what you get for asking one of my siblings for wrapped paper.” he removed his arms from your waist to reveal a poorly wrapped gift in purple glittery paper.

you laughed, taking it. “i’m surprised you haven’t got more of it on you.”

“oh, believe me, princess, i do.” he cringed, stepping back slightly. “happy birthday.”

you smiled up at him and opened the present, ignoring the glitter sticking to your hands and the warmth in your chest and cheeks.

he thought you looked like the sun had come down to earth.

it was a colouring book and a set of pencils. you smiled widely and flipped through the pages, revealing beautiful art. “you remembered i wanted one?”

“yeah, mostly because you kept stealing mine to colour in,” he teased. “but of course i did.”

you reached out and hugged him. “thank you, luke!”

“come on,” he pulled back and took your hand. “present isn’t done yet.”

“what have you planned?” you groaned half-heartedly as he pulled you through camp, jogging slightly to keep up with his long strides.

“don’t sound so scared, princess, it’s a good thing. i promise.”

you just sighed with a smile and let him lead you to the dock.

there was a small basket at the end of it.

you gasped excitedly. “luke, you…”

“happy birthday, y/n.” he sat down and pulled you gently down to sit next to him. he opened the the picnic basket and handed you a sandwich and a mini juice box with a bashful grin. “i would’ve sprung for coke but mr d. has a monopoly on the stuff around here.”

you laughed slightly and began eating, sitting cross-legged and looking out at the lake. the sun beat down on your back and your entire body felt warm. you suddenly weren’t sure how much of that warmth was from the sun, and how much of it was from love.

love.

whoa.

you froze with your juice box halfway to your lips.

luke looked over at you. “you okay?”

you nodded slowly, eyes wide, and set down your juice and sandwich. “i wanna swim.”

he frowned. “okay? now?”

you nodded and stood up. you were wearing your new bikini anyway, so you just pulled your shirt over your head and dropped your shorts next to it. “you coming?”

his eyes were slightly wide, but he nodded and stood up, setting his food down too and removing his over clothes.

you sat down on the dock and slid into the water. it was cold, but more refreshing than shocking. you swam out a few paces as luke jumped in directly, the splash hitting you.

“luke!” you gasped as he surfaced.

he just laughed. “sorry, princess. you’re in the water anyway.”

you pouted at him, but couldn’t stay mad, instead, you watched him as he floated a few feet from you.

he looked confused. “are you okay? was it the sandwich?”

you shook your head. “the sandwich was fine. i’m just…” you pursed your lips and swam slightly closer. “was it me?”

he frowned even deeper. “was what you?”

“when i asked you the other day, you said you were in love with someone. was it me?”

you felt a little bad for putting him on the spot as he looked away, abashed, but when he looked back at you, eyes strong and jaw set, and said, “yes,” you didn’t regret a thing.

“why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“why not?” he shrugged. “why does the sun shine? why does the wind blow? just because that’s the way things are. and i guess… yeah, me being in love with you is the way it is.”

you were silent for a moment, a small smile on your face. “well, that’s good then. i’m not sure how long this has actually been a thing, luke castellan, but i guess that me being in love with you is also… just the way it is.”

he swam slightly closer, a smile breaking across his face. gentle, kind, pretty. “yeah?”

“yeah, pretty boy. now kiss me. it’s my birthday, after all.”

“yes ma’am,” he grinned. one of his hands slid around your waist, warm as ever in the cold water, and he pulled you closer to him. he savoured the moment for a beat, just studying your face, memorising the look in your eyes, the sun on your skin and the soft smile on your lips. then he pressed his lips to yours.

you finally understood what people meant when they said ‘fireworks’. they were right. kissing luke was like playing with fire or dancing in the rain, or watching christmas lights twinkle. it was exhilarating, sweet and safe all at the same time; pure and honest love. and he was one damn good kisser.

when he pulled away you were out of breath, treading water still. you swam backwards, pulling him with you by the hand on the back of his neck until you were in the cool shade of the dock, using it to keep you afloat. it was much colder under there, but at least now you had him to keep you warm.

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

[crystallinestars]

How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Part 2 here.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: APPARENTLY THIS IS A GUY NAMED DAVOS BLACKWOOD. But he literally IS Bloody Ben. So he's staying Bloody Ben.

P.s. I'm ageing Benjicot up so he's around 24 or whatever age you want him to be that's over 18 <3

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・It wasn't an arranged marriaged. No, not by any means.

・You had been sent by your Queen to remind the Houses of Westeros their pledge to her. And Rhaenyra had chosen you to go to the Blackwoods.

"I expect you will be welcomed warmly," her Grace said with a warm smile.

You bowed your head and returned the smile.

・You always felt safe around Rhaenyra, she was someone very close to you. Someone who you would fight to the death for.

・The first time Benji saw you, his heart stopped...which was a very fair reaction as you were atop your fearsome dragon, The Cannibal.

・You bonded with the wild dragon when you were 13 - it was the first day of your periods and you were sick and tired of being without a dragon.

・It was in your blood. And you were done waiting.

・Your first flight with Cannibal was difficult - although the blood magic seemed to be strong between the two of you.

・You were the exact person he was waiting for.

・So when your duty came to aid Queen Rhaenyra; she did asked for you to unite with a House through marriage

・That was heavy - a big duty that you did not think would need to happen, since you bonded with Cannibal. Wouldn't you be put on the front lines straight away? Her answer was no.

・But you knew the realities of war and faced your duty head on (you know Cannibal will always defend you)

・Your marriage was a significant one. All the Blackwoods were invited, and Rhaenyra was there to oversee the ceremony.

・However, having all of your family there would have been another Red Wedding, so only a few choice people from your side could be invited.

・Nonetheless, it was absolutely beautiful.

・Dragonfire lit the skies, chasing away the dark. Even Cannibal was having a good time. There were tributes made to him - sheep, cow, goats galore. You swore you saw him smiling.

・What you absolutely weren't expecting was Benji to INTERACT with Cannibal...

・He brought up a bull from the biggest hoard they had. Benji watched as the dragon practically gulped the animal down. However, he wasn't scared - he was impressed. And intrigued.

・You were absolutely moved by Benji's act. Truly. Because it showed his bravery. His daring. And of course his caring. You knew, you could feel the way Cannibal was feeling - and he trusted this Blackwood.

・So you decided to give him a wedding present. A fly.

・By doing so, you broke down every single one of Benji's walls and he knew you were the one for him. His wife. His firt and only one.

・After a tough day, and you both go to your chambers; he'll grab your arm and kiss your wrist. A physical way of saying "I'm so glad you're alive and mine."

・Learns High Valyrian for you. He wanted to surprise you with it. And surprise you he did.

・You call each other: Ñuha jorrāelagon (my love), Ñuha prūmia (my heart),

・ A very particular sentence that Benji says a lot is: Nyke pendagon nūmāzma ao everyday (I think about you everyday)

・Of course he knows you can protect yourself; but that doesn't stop him from defending you. You're his world now. You mean so much to him.

・No body thought this union would work as well as it had.

・So, Bloody Ben & The Rider of Cannibal became a formidabble pair that made men tremble wherever they went.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Like Calls To Like

The Gomez & Morticia Adams

"Think they'll try us?" x "Fuck I hope so."

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Unbreakable Bond

Growth through Adversity

Bickering and Banter

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

The Politics & The Life by Daniel Pemberton

O Verona by The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Gives you complete and utter respect both in and out of the bedroom.

・Has never and will never push you to do anything you don't want to do

・The first time you were together, it felt like your bodies were on fire. Meant to burn together. The words kept replaying over and over in your head as he touched you. A deep yearning overtook you and suddenly time stopped.

・His lips were warm, his hands cold but when he took off his clothes, you couldn't help but grin.

・There's such desire between you two that even your mount can sense it.

・Your sex life is very active - at least once a day. Maybe you're in your Honeymoon period, but you cannot keep your hands off one another when you're alone

・And when you're at feasts, Benji's hands find their way down your thigh, and slowing inching inbetween them.

"Really, here? Now?" You asked n a hushed tone, trying not to draw any attention to either of you.

"Yes. Here, now. Or we can go into the hallway and I will ravish you there. Upto you, wife."

[bloatedandalone04]

Mr. CEO

➪the one where rafe is obsessed with you, his perfect wife who is always there for him when he comes home from work.

Warnings: rafe is a ceo of a made up company, smut, dirty talk, pussy whipped rafe, he eats you out from behind, oh yeah, swearing, unprotected sex, spanking, over-stimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), size difference, age gap (not mentioned, but rafe is 27 and reader is 22), back door touching (that is all), multiple orgasms from both rafe and reader, biting, breeding kink (lowkey), i think that is it.

Word Count: 3.9k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 5.5K FOLLOWERS

Rafe has the perfect life. 

The dream job, dream house, and a dream wife. 

At just twenty seven years old, Rafe had more money than he’ll ever need in his life. A week’s worth of work earned him what most people would make in a couple years, which was kind of insane to him.

He never planned on joining the CEO lifestyle, but after his father got seriously sick and had to take an early retirement, thus having his son take over for him, Rafe was thrown head first into suits and briefcases and weekly meetings. While it was hard to adjust to his new title at Cameron Capital at first, he managed to gain control over everything and become one of the best damn CEOS in the city. 

At just twenty two, he had more money to his name than he ever thought he would, and a few years later he was making steady and much needed developments and deals, and then when he turned twenty six, he met you. 

You, of course are his dream wife, his love of his life, and his entire fucking world all wrapped up into one person. 

Rafe had been so busy for most of his twenties, he was sure he wouldn’t find someone to settle down with until maybe his mid-thirties, but then he met you, and he was head over heels. 

So much so, after knowing you for less than a year, he got down on one knee and proposed to you with the big, fat diamond ring you’ve been wearing on your finger ever since. A few months after that, you and he were married, and Rafe felt like his life was complete. 

He had his never-ending income, an amazing support system, and his forever girl. What else could he possibly need?

-

Rafe’s day started out really good.

He woke up to his perfect wife in his arms, your body still naked from the hour long fuck session you and he indulged in last night. And before he left for work, he fucked you for another half an hour and left you in the mess of sheets in pillows with a pretty, fucked out smile on your face. 

When he got to Cameron Capital, he was greeted by the overly flirtatious girl at the front desk who seemed to be oblivious to the big, golden wedding band Rafe hadn’t taken off since you slid it on his finger. But she made no move on him, and he was off to his office.

Then he was bombarded with paperwork and phone calls, and by the time it was noon, he wanted to call it a day and go back home to you. But he stuck it out, and eventually it became six in the evening, and he got to go home.

When he entered the house, he dropped his bag by the front door and loosened his tie, his eyes trailing over the bottom floor of the massive house he bought with you in mind. He found you in the living room, your body perched on the couch as you read through some files he asked you to go over that was for an upcoming development. You were so much smarter than him, Rafe trusted you with anything that involved paperwork. 

“There you are,” he hummed, a lazy grin forming on his face as he walked into the room, and he was greeted with the sight of you looking up at him with nothing but love and adoration in your eyes. 

Rafe dropped his tie onto the end table as you smiled at him, and he felt his heart tighten in his chest. You were so beautiful, so sweet, he still couldn’t believe you were all his. 

“Mmm, my gorgeous girl,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss you deeply before pulling away to return your pretty smile. “Fuck, I missed you today, baby.”

Your smile grew as you kissed him again, your focus quickly slipping from the papers scattered on the coffee table in front of you. “Yeah?” you grin, bumping his nose with yours as you lean back on the couch. “I missed you too.”

You reached out and took Rafe’s big hand in your small one, pulling him down onto the couch with you. As soon as he was next to you, your hands found his shoulders as you began to knead out the small knots you felt under his skin. 

“Hard day?” you asked, kneeling next to him as you worked on his shoulders and kissed his cheek. 

Rafe groaned, his eyes closing for a few seconds as your fingers pressed into his skin. “Mm, you have no idea,” he answered, turning his head to press another deep, lingering kiss to your lips. One of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek bone when he pulls away. “God, I don’t know what I’d do without you, sweet girl. You keep me grounded…keep me sane.”

You laugh quietly when his other hand finds your waist and pulls you until your body is on top of his. “That’s good,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his as your arms drape around his shoulders. “I like you sane.” 

Your fingers run over his prickly head, his recent decision to buzz off all his hair turning out to be a fucking amazing one since you were obsessed with it. Rafe had never seen you become that turned on so quickly than you did when he first walked into the bedroom after he got it done, and less than five minutes later, you were riding his cock with his face buried between your breasts and your hands running over his rough hair. 

“I’m sorry you had a hard day, baby,” you whisper, leaning down to press soft kisses to his jaw. “My poor husband…such a hard worker. But you’re a sexy hard worker, I’ll give you that.” 

Rafe grins, his hands coming up to squeeze your hips as he tilts his head back to look up at you. “You’re a tease, you know that?” he mumbled, running his nose along your jawline. “Touching me like this when all I’ve been thinking about today is burying myself in my sweet wife’s pussy.”

You let out a needy whine, giving a slow and subtle roll of your hips as you nip at his ear. “Really? Because all I’ve been thinking about is picking up where we left off this morning, but this time you fuck me even harder,” 

Letting out a deep grunt, Rafe’s hands move down to give your ass a firm squeeze before he stands up from the couch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he carries you towards the stairs. “You want it hard tonight, baby?” he huskily asks, his hands gripping you tighter as he ascends the staircase and heads straight for the bedroom. 

Your laugh of excitement had his slacks tightening as he pushed the door open and entered the room he shares with you. “Yes,” you answered, your lips brushing against his ear as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt as best as they could in your current position. “I wanna feel you everywhere…God, I’m already so wet for you. You’ve ruined me.”

Rafe grunted again before he tossed you onto the king-sized bed, shrugging off his shirt as he looked down at you with dark eyes. “I know I have,” he muttered, crawling on top of you and caging you in with his forearms braced by either side of your head. “I’m gonna fuck this tight little pussy, fill you up so fucking deep and ruin you for anyone else.”

You moan at both his words and the way his hand pushed up your shirt before sliding behind the waistline of your shorts to feel the wet patch on your panties. “Feel that, baby?” you purr, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you rubbed yourself against his hand. When he pulled his hand away and shoved your shorts down your legs, you whimpered and looked up at him with wide eyes. “I need you…need my husband.” 

You scratch your nails down his scalp before pulling back to lift your shirt over your head and toss it aside, leaving your top half covered only by your pretty lacy bra. “Fuck,” Rafe groaned, pulling down your bra to free your equally pretty tits. “You’re all mine, baby. These,” he grunted, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples as he palms your breasts. “Are all mine.”

He leans in and kisses you deeply, his hands sliding under you to unclasp your bra so it’s completely removed from your body. You bucked your hips against his, trying to create friction as his hands returned to your chest, and when he tugged at your bottom lip, you let out a needy moan.

“Such a desperate little thing for me,” he coos against your mouth before he pulls back and flips you onto your stomach, his big hand meeting your ass in a firm smack. “I’m gonna take my time with you tonight, baby…wanna hear all the pretty sounds you make for me.” he promised, hooking his fingers into your panties and dragging them down your thighs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off. 

“Yeah?” you rasp, now completely naked as you wiggled yourself back against him, eagerly awaiting his next move. “What are you gonna do? Are you gonna put your mouth on me? Eat me out from behind?”

Rafe grins, running his hand along your reddened cheek before he delivers another sharp spank to it. “Is that what you want?” he asked, soothing your stinging skin with his palm before he lowered his head to take in the sight of your dripping center. “You want my mouth on this pretty pussy, sweet girl?”

You whined and nodded, subtly trying to push yourself back against him. “Yes…please,” you begged, looking over your shoulder at him. “Please.”

A second later, Rafe was burying his face between your thighs, licking a long stripe up your entire slit before he reached the cleft of your ass. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, licking along your folds as he brings his left hand up to tease your clit. “So wet for me.” he praised, easily sliding two of his fingers knuckle-deep inside you and pumping them slowly. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” you gasped, shamelessly grinding back against his face and tongue as your head falls forwards. One of your hands fists the sheets as you wiggled back against him, your core desperately accepting each thrust of his fingers. “Fuck, your mouth is so good, baby.” you moaned, your other hand reaching back to grab hold of his head. 

Rafe hummed, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster as his tongue pokes out and circles your clit. “That’s it, baby, let me hear those sweet, sexy sounds you make for me,” he cooed, scissoring his fingers gently to stretch you out a bit more. His other hand reached around your body to palm one of your breasts, his thumb and index finger pinching and pulling at your nipple. “You’re taking my fingers so well, sweet girl…such a good girl for me.”

His words made your head spin, your pussy clenching around his fingers as you bit down on your lip. “Oh, my God,” you whined, your hand pushing his head back towards your aching core with little force since he was already making his way back to your clit. “Wanna cum, Rae…please, make me cum.” 

Your arm was shaking a bit as you struggled to hold yourself up, and the waver in your voice had Rafe smirking as he kissed your clit. “Cum for me then, baby,” he encouraged, licking your clit again as his fingers sped up their pace. His thumb pressed against your untouched rosebud, not breaching it but applying a delicious pressure that had you shaking. “There you go, baby, let go for me. Cum all over my face.” he urged, feeling your inner walls tighten around his fingers. 

Your whole body begins to shake and tremble, your eyes rolling back as you pull your hand away from his head to assist your other one in holding you up. “Fuck…fuck, yes, Rafe,” you moaned, your body tensing up as you cum for him. 

Rafe groaned, his fingers becoming more slick with your release as he continued to fuck them in and out of your sopping core. “Mm, that’s my good girl,” he praised breathlessly, placing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh before he pulled his fingers out of you slowly. He brings them up to his mouth to clean your sweet taste from his skin, his cock twitching painfully in his boxers as he uses his free hand to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. 

He rises up behind you, one of his hands gripping your hip while his other reaches around to cradle your stomach possessively. His dick was rock-hard as he grinds it against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel just how badly he needs you. 

“I need to fuck you, baby,” he muttered, letting you reach around and guide his cock through your folds, coating it in a thin layer of your arousal. “Need to feel this tight, sweet pussy wrapped around me.”

You were still shaking a little as you looked over your shoulder at him, grinding your sensitive core along his cock. “I need you too,” you whispered, jolting a bit when his tip brushed against your clit. Your hands went back to the sheets, and you fisted them as you held his intense gaze. “Fuck me, Rae. I need you so bad.”

Rafe hummed, his cock nudging against your entrance as he ran his palm along your belly. Without wasting another second, he thrust himself inside you, your wetness and previous orgasm allowing him to bury himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. “Fuck yeah, you’re so tight for me,” he grunted, setting a deep, hard pace as he drives his cock in and out of your soaked pussy, his lips brushing against your ear. “So fucking wet, baby…fuck.”

His hand tightens around your hip and holds you in place as his other one slides up your body, teasing your tits before it finds your throat. He wraps his fingers around your neck, applying a faint pressure as he pounds into you from behind. “Fuck yes,” you moaned, your body jolting forward with each deep thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, only adding to the intimate and steamy atmosphere as you fist the sheets tighter and let out gasps and whines. “Harder…harder, Rae.”

Letting out a harsh grunt, Rafe tightened his hold on you and began fucking into you harder. His hips meet your ass over and over again with every brutal thrust, his cock reaching impossibly deeper in you every time. “You’re my sweet girl, aren’t you? My sweet girl who needs to be fucked hard by her husband, huh?” he mocked, but his voice wasn’t condescending, just full of lust for the perfect woman he got to call his wife. 

His hand tightens a little more around your throat, feeling your pulse jump under his palm as his thumb pressed against your jaw. Rafe leaned down and pressed his mouth to your shoulder, his teeth gently sinking into your skin to mark you as his in another way, and it only made you moan louder. 

“You’re mine, all mine,” he breathed out next to your ear, his hand sliding from your hip to grope your tits, tugging and pinching your nipples as he leaned over you. His body covered yours completely, encasing you in his embrace and filling your senses with nothing but the deep, intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne you love so much. 

“God, yes,” you cry out, squeezing around him tightly as the bed softly creaks under your joined weight. “All yours, baby…God, you feel so fucking good.”

Your soft cries were music to Rafe’s ears as he felt you pulse around him, his thrusts increasing even more. “That’s it, baby, squeeze me just like that,” he murmurs, placing both his hands on your hips as he pulls you back against him to meet his thrusts halfway. “Cum for me, sweet girl. Cum all over my dick like a good girl.”

His words send shivers all throughout your body, and a few seconds later you felt the knot that had been steadily forming in your stomach begin to tighten. “Oh, God,” you whimpered, your eyes squeezing shut as your head fell forward. A long, loud, moan left your lips as you let go and came for him for the second time, coating his pulsing cock in your sweet, slick release. 

Rafe groaned deeply as he felt you spasm and clench around him, your high washing over you and coating his throbbing dick. “Fuck, that’s it,” he said breathlessly, burying himself deep inside you one more time before he came too. He stills, filling you up as harsh pants leave his mouth and a thin layer of sweat settles on both yours and his skin. He leaned over you, his chest meeting your back as he peppers your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, slowly and gently rocking into you. “God, I love you so much.”

You whimper softly, leaning your head back on his shoulder as he fucks his cum deeper inside of you with gentle thrusts. “I love you too,” you sigh, your eyes still shut as you try to catch your breath. “I love when you keep fucking me even after you’ve cum…so fucking hot, Rae.” 

One thing about your relationship was that neither of you ever sugar coated things, and both of you had really dirty mouths. It was like that from the very beginning, and it only added fuel to the fire that was forever burning between you and him. 

Rafe hummed contentedly, his hips continuing to slowly rock into you as he reveled in the feeling of your slick walls enveloping him. “I’d keep fucking this perfect pussy forever if I could,” he mumbled against your skin, grinding lazily against you. “Never knew anything could feel this good.” he added, his hand returning to your belly, where he couldn’t wait to feel his baby grow one day in the future. 

“You feel better than anything,” you whisper, biting down on your lip when you feel him rub against your sensitive walls. Looking over at him with a fucked out expression on your face, you asked, “Can you keep going? I don’t want this to end yet…feels too good.”

Even though you’ve already cum twice, and Rafe had cum once, it was obvious that neither of you could ever get enough of one another. Which was perfect, because he never wanted to be without you - and that was one of the reasons he put that ring on your finger. 

Rafe grinned, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a deep, satisfied grunt. “You want more, huh, baby?” he muttered, starting to move again with deep, long strokes. “This greedy pussy isn’t satisfied until I’ve fucked it raw, hm?”

Bracing one hand on the bed next to yours, he leans down and kisses you deeply as he picks up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder. His other hand stays on your hip, guiding your body back to meet his increasingly rough fucks of his hips. 

As his lips brush over yours, Rafe could feel his cock swell inside you, already hard again even though he just came. But that was the you effect, the one that got him effortlessly hard within seconds. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against your mouth, his forehead pressing against yours as he slid in and out of your full pussy. “I love you so much.”

You moan, kissing him again as he presses you harder onto the mattress. “I love you,” you said back, your nose bumping against his. “So much.”

Rafe would never get tired of hearing you say that, he knew that much as his fingers dug into the skin of your hip. “Take it, baby,” he rasped, fucking you deeply as his eyes shut. He wasn’t going as fast or hard as he did the first time, but it felt just as amazing, because everything felt amazing with you. Everything always would. 

You bury your face in the sheets as loud cries of his name left your lips, and Rafe’s eyes flickered to your left hand, your pretty rings on display as you held onto the sheets with a death grip. 

He reached out and wrapped his hand around your wrist, coaxing you to let go of the bedding, and when you did, he let you squeeze his hand just as tightly. “Cum for me again, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing kiss after kiss to your rings and knuckles as he felt himself get close again. “Let go and give it to me.”

And a few seconds later, you came again for him for the third time. You were shaking uncontrollably as he came inside you once more, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he whispered praises into your ear. 

“You did so well,” he mumbled, kissing your cheek as he held you up against his chest. “Took me so well…my sweet fucking girl.”

You were whimpering and trembling, your eyes squeezed shut as your whole body tensed up from over-stimulation. “Rae,” you whispered, unable to say anything else but his name at the moment. 

Rafe slowly pulls out of you, his softened cock slipping free from your inviting core, and he watches as a stream of white leaves your folds. He carefully turned you on your back as he settled beside you, his hand resting on your hip as he gazed down at you with dark eyes. “How are you doing, baby?” he asked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Was that enough for you?”

You nodded quickly, “More than enough,” you answered, reaching up to stroke his face. “I think I’ll be feeling you drip out of me well into next week.”

Rafe laughed quietly, glancing down at your still shaking thighs as his cum leaked from you and dripped onto the bed. “Good,” he grunted, reaching up to cradle your jaw in his hand. He kissed you again, much softer than most of the kisses you and he shared tonight. “I love you so much, baby. You’re my entire world, my everything…my sweet, sexy girl.”

You smiled, tangling your legs with his when he moved to lay down on his back, pulling you with him so you were resting on his chest. “You’re everything to me,” you said back, laying your head on his shoulder. “Everything you do for me, for us…fuck, it makes me fall in love with you all over again. I never want to be without you, Rafe. I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“I want that too,” Rafe said quietly, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “I promise, baby, we’ll have all the time in the world together. I’ll do anything for you, protect you, adore you, and whenever you need me to, I’ll fuck you senseless and fill you with my cum.”

You hummed, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. “Sounds absolutely perfect,” you sighed, “You’re perfect. And I love you.” 

“Mm, yeah, you’re perfect too, baby,” he said back, holding you against his chest as he feels your racing heart beat against his own. “I love you too. More than anything.”

After placing one last final kiss to your forehead, you fell asleep in his arms, covered in sweat and his cum, and Rafe wanted every single day to end exactly like this.

[benkeibear]

『 Good boy 』

☼ synopsis: Choso is a needy puppy in heat who gets caught jerking off with your panties

☼ character: Choso Kamo

☼ wc: 1.9k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, switch!reader, dog hybrid Choso, masturbation, cum eating, handjob, oral (giving and receiving), creampie, knotting

☼ Kinktober Masterlist

Choso was always a good boy, making sure the house is well guarded as well as cleaned while you went to work, eagerly greeting you at the door the second you came back home. “You're back! Finally!” He said happy, immediately taking your bag and your jacket from you, trying to help you unwind the second you stepped inside your home. “Have you been a good boy today?” You asked amused, able to smell your favorite dinner in the oven already. Choso only nodded, waiting for his daily headpats from you and you giggled at the sight, head tilted downwards and his tail wagging so fast it became a blurred line. “My good boy,” you praised and ruffled through his black hair, making the little ears that adorned his head flop slightly.

It filled you with pride and joy seeing your little puppy so happy and comfortable around you, remembering the time when you just got him. He was in a terrible shape, not taken care of well by his previous owners and fresh wounds covered his body that was already littered with scars - and yet he was trusting and friendly, cautious of course but he still tried to see the positive things in everything. This trait is probably what made you keep him, the way he was so selfless and really wanted to take care of you without expecting anything in return from you but you gave him an endless amount of love these past few months he has been with you.

By the time you finished your dinner, you noticed something was off, Choso was whimpering slightly and his ears were laid back against his head. “Hey… are you okay? What's wrong?” You asked concerned, feeling his forehead gently and frowning when he was burning up a little.

“Let's get you to bed early, should I hold you?” You asked caring but he shook his head, moving away from your touch, which you weren't used to. You just figured that he didn't like to be touched when sick or that he didn't want to risk getting you sick as well, so you let him trail off to bed alone before joining him hours later.

The entire night you kept your distance instead of cuddling up close for warmth and comfort like you two usually do and the way he even whimpered in his sleep made your heart ache.

Morning came fast despite the rough night both of you had and Choso found himself glued to your side, legs wrapped around yours and his arms clinging to your torso.

“Please don't leave… stay home today… I need you,” he whined but you only cupped his face, a pout appearing on his handsome face as he leaned into your touch. “I can't, baby… I have that important meeting in the morning but I promise I’ll come home right after” you promised, your heart threatening to burst at the crushed expression he wore now but he understood - you probably didn't know what was going on anyways, never having owned a puppy hybrid before so he couldn't blame you and let you get up, wanting to take care of it himself.

He watched you leave like he did every morning, trying to behave normal and trying to act like he just felt a little sick over night and needed some extra cuddles that day which you gladly provided, even leaving work early just to take care of your beloved puppy.

This wasn't exactly the case but he didn't have the heart to tell you that he was in a rut, needing to bury himself inside of you and filling you up repeatedly but he could take care of himself… or at least so he thought. His little ears didn't pick up the sound of your keys turning, neither did he hear your worried calls for him. His whimpers of your name almost drowned out the slick sound of his own cum aiding as lube while stroking his achingly hard cock, overly sensitive from all the times he made himself cum already, a small puddle on the floor and some of it dripping off his torso. Even if his ears were occupied, he should have at least noticed your smell filling his senses but his nose was buried in a pair of your panties that he stole out of the laundry, the scent of your cunt so intense and addicting to him.

“Choso?” You asked in a soft voice, unsure if you were concerned or shocked by the scene playing out in front of you. Your little puppy perked his head up, the collar jingling with the sudden movement and his cum shooting all over the floor in front of him. He wished he could disappear in that moment, shying away from you but you were able to stop him before he entirely died from embarrassment. Your palm on his arm made him shudder, a burning sensation spreading through his entire body and the embarrassment was forgotten, big eyes looked up at you “help… please,” he whimpered, dick twitching again already without ever letting him catch a break.

The mess he made of the floor and himself let you figure that he's been at this for hours, probably since you left in the morning and you felt so bad for him, giving him a warm smile and kneeling down to him. “Are you in a rut?” You asked bold, making him blush further as he nodded affirmatively.

“I read about that when I educated myself about owning a puppy hybrid… it's okay baby boy, you're my good boy, aren't you?” You asked with a soft voice as your hand traveled from his strong biceps towards his chest, smearing a few pearls of his cum over his pebbled nipples which made him shudder and goosebumps formed over his entire body.

“But you've been such a naughty boy, stealing my underwear… Do you think I should punish you for that?” You asked, a smirk growing on your lips when he pouted but he nodded, knowing he's not allowed to steal your panties. A little yelp escaped his pouting lips when you pinched his sensitive nipples before tugging his face close to the floor by the collar he wore - something he wanted to do, proud of being your good boy.

“Clean up the mess you just made,” you ordered, trying to sound stern when all you wanted was to help him feel better but he wanted to be punished first, letting him lap at the spurts of cum on the floor while you fondled his tight balls, so pretty on display with his ass in the air like that.

Once he was done you gave a small slap to each of his butt cheeks and allowed him to sit up again “Look at you, my good boy,” you cooed as you reached for his aching length, making him cry out in pleasure from how sensitive he was after all these orgasms. “P-please… I need you,” he begged, gently fucking your hand and you allowed him, pumping his shaft and wrapping your lips around the tip to reward him for good behavior. The cum he used as lube tasted bitter on your tongue but it didn't taste bad, craving to taste some more of him as your tongue teased the little slit on top of his tip and Choso didn't mean to but he pushed your head down on his length, no longer gently fucking your hands, now pumping himself into your warm mouth but you didn't protest.

You knew how much he needed this and he waited the entire day for you without a single complaint so you let him fuck your mouth with utmost care, his sweet moans and whimpers rising in pitch the closer he got. To say it was sloppy was an understatement, your saliva dribbling down his balls and your nose nestled into the small bush at the base. What finally sent him over the edge was your hands fondling his balls, smearing them with your spit and gently squeezing them just the way he liked it. Your name echoed off the walls in a lewd scream, his cum shooting down your throat before he pulled himself out of your mouth, kissing you hungry. Little thank you’s were whispered between kisses and tears threatening to spill from his eyes letting you know that this meant more to him than just getting off - it was personal - it was a need for you and your love.

The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, not having noticed how you tugged your pants down just enough to reveal your glistening slit while he kissed you.

“Can I? You mean it?” He asked excited yet flustered, finally able to make you his forever. All you could do was nod and get on all fours for him, your cunt dripping with arousal.

Finding him desperately fucking his hand while sniffing your underwear turned you on more than you thought it would and the way he was so desperate for you only made it worse. His tail was wagging fast when he licked a long stripe all the way from your clit to your puckered hole before stuffing his eager tongue into your pussy, dying to taste your juices. All you could do was moan helplessly, not expecting him to eat you out like a man starved but he didn't want to stop this. Slender fingers rubbed and gently pinched your puffy clit while his tongue was lapping all over your folds or fucking your tight entrance until the knot in your stomach exploded, your arousal coating his tongue and resulting him to cum untouched while he whined and whimpered into your folds.

You almost had to pry him away after your third orgasm, dying to feel his dick inside of you and who was he to deny you that? With shaking hands he lined his bulbous tip up with your slick core which caused a loud moan to erupt from both of you - he fit so perfectly inside of you and hit all the right spots so that neither of you lasted long.

Choso felt your walls clamp down and the moment you screamed his name in ecstasy it was over for him, panting hard and he really wanted to pull out but your cunt sucked him in so good that he just couldn't stop himself.

“Fuck- fuck I'm so sorry,” he whined loudly and for a second you didn't know what he's apologizing for until your eyes went wide, feeling the giant knot stretching you further than you've ever been stretched. His hot cum was spurting against your insides, your name falling from his lips in cries of pure pleasure and the knot keeping it all inside of your pussy.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled as he rested his forehead between your shoulder blades but you whimpered, the stretch borderline painful but the way you felt so connected to him now made it into something pleasurable. “Feels good… can we stay like this?” You asked breathlessly, not wanting this moment between the two of you to end and Choso only humped his hips against yours in a silent agreement and to let you feel that he was far from being done - cock still hard. His shallow thrusts right against your sweet spot made you moan again, only waiting until the knot swells off so he can fuck you properly again only to knot you to him again and again.

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