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yandere-sins · 5 months ago

Note

Just saw your greek god works and they're top notch! Could you do something with yan Apollo? There's just soooo much stuff to work with with him... Thanks!

Thank you for requesting!! I love writing about them ^-^

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Very little could speak more about your skills than a personal invite to present them at Olympus.

The morning Apollo arrived in his golden chariot was an exceptionally bright one. Naturally, because his body emanated the rays of sun that broke through your window, his radiant smile widening on his youthful face the second you stepped out of your hut. Your mother was crying—tears of joy as you realized when she hugged you tightly, telling you how proud she was. Even your father seemed choked up when he told you you were special.

So, as you finally stood before the handsome stranger, the god whose shrine you visited regularly, you were utterly speechless, overcome with emotions you couldn't place. You could only listen as he spoke to you, his voice silken like the soft breeze on a summer's day yet as cheerful as the anticipation for an exciting festival.

"I want you to play," he made his intentions known, his hand falling to the side of your head, letting a lock of hair glide through the gaps in his fingers. His touch was warm and gentle, beyond anything you expected an immortal to feel like. "For us, for me."

"It would be an honor," you honestly muttered back after your mother urged you with a slight push, reminding you not to be rude to the god who was blessing you with such good fortune. Most people were honored in war, because of their devotion to their deity, in the pursuit of knowledge, or in death. To be chosen solely for your lyre play was rare, and you felt overwhelmed with gratitude, tears filling your eyes.

Apollo smiled, promising to come back in a mere three days time. Not enough to memorize all the songs you wanted to play, but while your parents packed you a small bag with the essentials and exempted you from your duties on their farm while making sure you were fed and clean, you kept practicing your craft until your fingers were raw and bloody. Apollo had assured you that there was no perfection in music. Still, you wouldn't have been able to endure the shame of hitting the wrong note to a song everyone knew��even the gods. And so you practiced, day and night, until finally, it was time to leave.

That morning was colder yet auspicious. So many burdens weighed on your shoulders—your performance, bringing honor to your family and yourself, the payment you heard your parents whisper about. There had always been food on the table for your big family, but you noticed their excitement when they talked about the boon that the gods would give you for performing well. You gulped nervously as you fiddled with the newly strung lyre in your hand when, with loud neighs and the warmth of a sunny day washing over you, Apollo arrived. When he smiled at you, you couldn't help but grin back, excited for this day, his brilliant mood instantly captivating yours.

You bid your parents farewell as they wished you a good performance and safe travels. They waved after you as the heavenly chariot took off into the morning sky, announcing another beautiful day. You got to stand close to the sun god as he performed his duty, chatting carefreely about how excited he was to hear you play and how everyone was expecting you eagerly. It made you nervous, but being close to him, his arm around you to keep you secured, Apollo's presence made your worries simply melt away. You could have never seen yourself as his equal, but he didn't make you feel any less than a friend.

He took his time cruising you through the sky, showed you the magnificent temples of the gods, let you taste the richest grapes the land had to offer, and took you to places that most humans wouldn't see in the span of multiple lifetimes. Always with a hand outstretched to help you step down from or into his chariot, and watchful eyes looking out for you. You learned a lot that day, the excursion long but magical, especially with a god by your side as your guide. To him, it must have been boring stuff that he saw every day, but to you, it became the most incredible day of your life very quickly.

Until you were brought before the entrance to the Olymp, that is.

Chariot parked, you could still feel Apollo standing behind you, protectively but encouragingly. His frame towered massively next to you, cutting you off from the human world behind his radiant form. The sun was setting, leaving you with a chill. But perhaps you were only imagining it, your performance anxiety rising. His warm hand gently pressed into the small of your back, urging you with determination to step ahead and face the rest of the pantheon of gods that had collected, to play them the songs you had come for.

With weak knees, you took one step in front of the other, Apollo always by your side. He ensured you wouldn't falter as all eyes in the grand hall seemed to turn towards you the moment you stepped through the entrance. There were all kinds of eyes—wise and godly and mythical. But you were more surprised by the human ones, tired ones, downright exhausted ones that raised to watch you. Their presence felt out of place, but then again, so did yours. However, there was something deeply unsettling in the dullness of their eyes, the sloppy movements as they walked around the hall, seemingly without vigor, their stares the only reaction to your arrival contrasting starkly with the boisterous and booming voices of the immortals greeting you.

"Apollo, is this your new charge?" a faun asked, curiously eyeing you and your lyre. "Your new songbird, eh?"

Apollo laughed, waving off the comments from all sides as he moved you forward, guiding you through gods and servants alike, their hands reaching out, touching you, admiring you. You couldn't help but startle at the different sensations of these touches—cold, sharp, unnatural. It made you cling to Apollo more, his presence way more comforting, and although he had grown in size—appearing mighty godly now—he made sure that his arm stayed around you like a shield.

One dull-eyed human after another tried to serve you food and drinks that you declined respectfully. It was hard enough to keep up with the pressure, and you didn't have the stomach for any kind of intake—at least not until you were done. And with Apollo's urging, you didn't stick around to talk to them or even watch them, although you felt their eyes drill into your back.

You were led to the seats at the very top of the grand hall, guided to the ones at the side which were vividly red with golden threads. Sitting down on them was like sinking into a cloud as Apollo helped you up, lowering you down gently. The surrounding lounges and pillows on the floor were quickly filled with eager eyes looking up at you, waiting for your play just like your patron god had promised them. You couldn't help but look around, cross eyes with some of the nymphs and minor goddesses and gods that you probably had heard from but were never educated on properly.

But the gathered gods were easily recognizable by their trademarks—Dionysus, Athena, Aphrodite, and Artemis, just to name a few of them—and you were surprised to see them keeping one or more humans by their sides, looking very different from the ones you had seen before. These ones were clothed and prepared with great care, love, and devotion to their god. Their cheeks were plump, and they smiled when their patron spoke to them, albeit hesitantly. However, the unsettling feeling you got from the dull-eyed ones before didn't vanish as you watched these devoted humans. Something about their posture and expressions didn't match the festivities. They looked uncomfortable, and some of them even sad.

"It is time," Apollo spoke softly beside you, his voice gentle but intent. This was his party, and you were the special performance; of course, he didn't want you to be distracted and unable to play. His touch tore you out of your observations. It drew your attention back to him, strong fingers wrapping around your shoulders, squeezing you encouragely, but it was almost a little hurtful. You nodded, thankful he didn't make you look incompetent in front of everyone, and his grip softened in satisfaction, although it didn't disappear. Still, you couldn't help the anxiety from rising, your mouth dry, and your fingers jittery. Even when you tried to calm yourself, you couldn't entirely focus, panic rising inside you.

Now that you had come so far, you couldn't fail.

A hearty and a beautiful laugh rang out from your side, Dionysus and Aphrodite exchanging knowing looks before the goddess handed one of her humans a golden chalice and encouraged them to get up. "Go," she chimed, and her stunningly beautiful charge sauntered their way over to you, handing you the chalice. They were undeniably beautiful, even when clothed in the simplest garments. But their gaze was unblinking as they handed over the cup. "Don't," they hissed sharply in a whisper, their eyes flitting to Apollo for just a second, and you felt his fingers dig into your skin before the human left you again, trotting quickly and without a detour back to Aphrodite's side. The goddess patted their head before returning her attention to you, gesturing for you to drink. "To your nerves, you ray of sunshine," Dionysus laughed merrily, and everyone raised their chalices in a toast.

You nervously crossed eyes with the human that brought you the drink, seeing their expression hardening in a deep frown unbecoming of their beauty. Then you looked to Apollo, his own cup raised to his lips, but he had yet to drink from it. He observed you from the corners of his eyes, smiling when he noticed you looking back. "It's just a little bit of wine," he reassured you, assuming you were unsure if it was okay to drink.

You nodded, feeling pressured not to refuse the gods' hospitality, and raised the chalice to your mouth to take a tentative sip. It wasn't more than two gulps before you set it down, letting it be taken away by a nymph that sat at your feet. Immediately, the tension became lighter, your worries melting away, especially when Apollo drew you closer to his body, his warmth seeping into you. He steadied you for your play, letting you lean on him as much as you needed. With all the pressure and anxiety you had felt, you had almost forgotten that playing the lyre was fun. That you enjoyed doing it, and practiced hard enough to even perform before the gods. With the first chord echoing through the hall, all the tension finally left your body.

It was glorious.

Gods and humans alike sang along to the well-known songs you had picked; they listened when you added nuances to your play, and some of them got cozy with each other, cuddling and kissing as you presented them with the romantic notes everyone adored. By the time your hands were tired, fingers roughed up by the strings, and your concentration fading, everyone was in awe and satisfied with your performance, gods clapping their hands and cheering at you as you finished.

However, you immediately looked up at Apollo, greeted by his radiant smile beaming down at you. His hand raised to pat your head as he announced you as the magnificent talent of the night. The relief mixing with pride swelled in your chest, heating your cheeks as you took some humble bows, smothered in the cheers. Another cup was handed to you, and after performing for so long, you were glad to wet your throat.

Most of the night was spent talking to eager fans of music, letting them play your lyre, and hearing their own songs. Drinks would be passed to you, food almost shoved into your mouth by the merry folks, and you laughed along with them over their silliness. You felt lighter than ever before, so caught up in the moment and with the alcohol only adding towards the sense of mirth. The mystics were as playful and cheery as they had always been described, but you knew it would only be for that night, so you enjoyed their company.

Apollo wouldn't leave your side even as gods approached him, congratulating him for finding such a treasure amongst the humans and asking if he'd let them "take" you for their celebrations sometimes. You didn't get to hear his answers as your attention was drawn away by humans joining in with the conversations, telling you about their boons and how they were accepted into Olympus. They were all extraordinary people, and you felt quite small next to them. But they didn't make you feel unwelcome in their midst, and you were glad to hear about their experiences. Nymphs would braid everyone's hair, decorating them with flowers, fauns were playing around, everything seemed like the perfect idylle that all humans imagined the lives of gods to be.

"You shouldn't agree if they ask you to stay," the human beside you suddenly whispered. She was a cute, dainty woman, a follower of Artemis clothed in silver and pelts. Immediately, her hair was yanked back as one of the nymphs hissed at her. You caught the words 'insolent' and 'behave', but others crowded around you so fast, talking over the two and asking you questions as that woman was taken away, so you were forced to shift your attention.

It wasn't until you felt a warm hand graze over your back that you looked up at Apollo again, his gaze very gentle. He seemed satisfied with how the evening went. He might have even held some affection for you after the performance, which put him in good graces with everyone. Relief flooded your senses, and you bit back a yawn as exhaustion suddenly crashed into you, taking hold in your body.

"Are you tired?" he asked, and suddenly, you couldn't hold back the signs in front of him. You had kept it together so well, but you figured that playing for hours, talking for even longer, and drinking the sweet, fruity wine was coming back to haunt you now. Leaning into his comforting touch, you gave him a small nod and he understood, standing up and helping you get to your feet.

There were lots of disappointed aws and ohs at the announcement of your departure, nymphs and fauns seeing you off and waving after you as Apollo brought you back to his chariot, your legs even weaker now than when you entered the Olymp full of anxiety. No human came to see you off, but you barely registered that in your tired mind. Instead, you put on a smile and waved back at everyone after getting on the chariot.

"Did you have fun?" Apollo asked as he urged his horses to go. The night had long set, yet you two moved across the sky like a shooting star in the darkness.

"A lot," you confirmed. "This was an amazing experience; I am very grateful to you for this opportunity! Although it makes me sad that it is already over."

You could hear your own words slurred by the intoxication and exhaustion, yet you managed to form a tired smile for him. Apollo stepped closer, helping you stay upright as he urged his horses forward before returning your smile.

"It doesn't have to end," he hummed cheerfully, not a hint of tiredness in his demeanor. "You could play for us every night. Party with everyone, be merry. Would you like that?"

You chuckled at his suggestion but shook your head as you looked out into the night sky, stars passing you by at a speed that made them look like the shooting stars.

"It was a lot of fun, but I got to go home. My parents need my help on the farm, even if I love playing the lyre."

Apollo hummed thoughtfully, and you felt closer and closer to sleep as his warmth enveloped you. You only realized you had dozed off when you felt the soft thud of the chariot landing beneath your feet, followed by two hands guiding you off it. Your eyes fluttered open, but you were too tired to really do much but let yourself be picked up, nuzzling your face into Apollo's comforting warmth.

His steps were less gentle than his touches, his hold on you bouncy as if he was in a rush. The sounds around you turned from the peaceful night wind passing you by into complete silence, only his steps echoing as they hit marble floors. A rush of coldness threatened to envelop you, but Apollo pulled you closer to him, not letting the cold get near. You felt something reach out for you again, like the gods had, curious and uncaring of your privacy. It didn't feel familiar, your senses slowly reawakening, but something inside you seemed to want to keep you dormant for a while longer.

However, the feeling was interrupted when you were laid down into the softest cushions, with Apollo's warmth brushing over your head as you felt his weight dip the mattress you were on top of. Even with your drowsy mind, you knew you weren't in your own bed, concern rising. "Where are we?" you sighed, stretching your neck to receive more of his incredibly comforting warmth while a shiver ran down your spine. Why was it so unusually cold in this place, or had you just gotten too used to having Apollo's warmth around you that you only realized the shift in temperature now?

"Home," he answered your question, and you pried your eyes open, looking at the blurry, radiant form of the god sitting by your bedside. Then, slowly, every movement paired with so much discomfort, you let your head fall to the side, looking around at the vast darkness surrounding you. Not even Apollo's light could banish the pitch-black shadows all around you, and no sound penetrated the room.

" 's not my home..." you mumbled, brows furrowing, your deduction taking an awful lot of time. This place felt weird compared to all the wonderful ones you had visited. If this was his home, you had imagined it to be bright and beautiful, a golden palace of light and warmth. But instead, you feared for your little toes as the shadows seemed to reach out, wanting some of your warmth instead of giving it to you.

"It is now," he reassured you, sounding unusually stern even though his hand caressed you gently, brushing away your hair and cupping your cheek to turn your head towards him again.

"But my parents..."

"They knew the price they'd pay in this trade."

Leaning down, Apollo connected his forehead with yours, the depth of his eyes impalpable, especially in your muddled brain. You couldn't read him well, but he seemed... satisfied? He didn't seem to be ridden by confusion or worry like you were; rather, he was confident and calm. Something stirred in you, a sense of anxiety, but it was beaten down by a sweet-tasting tiredness immediately.

"Welcome home," he muttered, kissing your temples. "Catch some sleep so you can fulfill your duties to me tomorrow with the same brilliance as you did today. I'll be right here, making sure you are well-rested for your next performance, Sunshine."

"Duties?" you mumbled, already getting lulled back to sleep with his warmth now enveloping you like a blanket. You didn't hear his answer, even when you saw his lips move. Perhaps Apollo sang to you rather than spoke about what you wanted to know, but you wouldn't know.

You were plunged into the darkness of uncertainty, but even when you opened your eyes again, all that awaited you were more shadows that seemed to reach out for you. A sense of panic and unease spread throughout you, the uncertainty turning you into more of a wreck than you already felt after waking up with a splitting headache and no idea where you were.

It was no wonder that you immediately ran to Apollo when his light lit up the room. He gently wiped the tears from your face and assured you everything would be alright before pushing your lyre into your hands. You didn't even remember bringing it back from the Olymp, but he didn't seem to mind your carelessness.

"Now, play," he asked, and you gulped. You were barely awake, your fingers still hurt, and you were in an unfamiliar place that gave you the creeps.

"Here?" you asked, unsure as you looked around the depressing, dark room.

"Exactly here. Brighten up our home for me, will you? It's been too long since someone made it bearable to stay here. You won't disappoint me, right?"

"How... how did they do it? Will my playing be enough?"

"We'll see," Apollo said, gripping your arms tensely, his eyes glazing over with impatience.

"And if not?" you asked anxiously, unsure if a song could disperse the discomfort that seemed to reign in this home.

This time, Apollo hesitated, mouth opening briefly before his lips turned into a gentle smile. "Don't disappoint me, Sunshine. I can't stand this darkness and silence in my home anymore, and your parents assured me of how much life you could bring to any place. Seeing you perform before the gods, I immediately knew you could do it. You'll make this place a home again, one for us to live happily for the rest of our time. And if not..."

Letting go of your arms, Apollo stood up, turning around and heading for the door at the far side of the room. You wanted to follow him as the shadows lapped at you, but you felt glued to the floor, frozen in fear. With Apollo opening the door, you watched as the clouds passed by right outside, a complete drop into nothingness spreading out in front of this house, the chariot parked on seemingly no ground just outside of reach.

"If not, you'll learn what happened to the person before you that disappointed me," Apollo explained, not even pointing outside and towards the ground to make his crypticness make sense. "Play," he demanded. "Turn this place back into a home. Our home, Sunshine."

And with dread etched into your face, you strung the chords.

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racecrafting · 2 months ago

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I touched home soil after my trip to Greece to the announcement of this news. I’ve been compartmentalizing my feelings as best as I can so that I don’t grieve a living person, but the jet lag and dehydration had me up at 3am with tears streaming down my face. I won’t ever love a driver the way I love Daniel. I don’t think it’s possible, but also I won’t allow myself to care this much again. I try to think about the humorous positives of a millionaire kicking back at his farm or the peace in knowing he won’t be scooped out by lecherous pundits and he can finally return home. But then I remember him at 17, in that decrepitly furnished Italian apartment, watching an old Australian film so he wouldn’t lose his accent — because to dream in some ways is to sacrifice in others. And him going to meet Helmut Marko and stepping into a fountain because he was so distracted by the opulence of the building. Wet sneakers squelching all the way there. And I think of him disposing of his racing boots and sauntering around the asphalt paddock with his too thin socked feet like one does in their own home, comfortable and radiant with the joy of winning again. Is that not a return home?

And I think about how graciously he left in 2022 after doing donuts in some dark part of the track — away from prying eyes. And I think about Singapore now, how it ended with a whisper of all things. 13 years in this sport. Jenson said before that Daniel wasn’t used to this kind of loss because he’s always been the golden boy. I’ll always feel hurt about how he’s been misrepresented as a fool or jester in the paddock when he’s the reason so many of us found this sport. He has made this sport lighter with his willingness to give so much of himself. And it’s difficult to think about how he wasn’t ready to leave, how he sat in the cockpit and left the track last because he wasn’t ready to part with a sport he said he’s loved his whole life. I hope he takes time to be with those he loves most, and I hope he enjoys time away from the callous flash of a lens or intrusion of a mic. But the thing about Daniel is he’s mesmerizing, you can’t feed gold back into the dirt once it’s been held under the radiance of daylight.

#but on a less sentimental note I really love that bitch like so bad that’s my baby fr #I’m also a bit hysterical so this post might not make any sense lol #it can be easy to focus on the indignity and the cruelty #but a few dark days doesn’t diminish the inevitable brilliance of the sun

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book--brackets · 28 days ago

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Summaries under the cut

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

The Giver by Lois Lowry

At the age of twelve, Jonas, a young boy from a seemingly utopian, futuristic world, is singled out to receive special training from The Giver, who alone holds the memories of the true joys and pain of life.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

Here are talented tomboy and author-to-be Jo, tragically frail Beth, beautiful Meg, and romantic, spoiled Amy, united in their devotion to each other and their struggles to survive in New England during the Civil War.

Charlotte's Web by E. B. White

Some Pig. Humble. Radiant. These are the words in Charlotte's Web, high up in Zuckerman's barn. Charlotte's spiderweb tells of her feelings for a little pig named Wilbur, who simply wants a friend. They also express the love of a girl named Fern, who saved Wilbur's life when he was born the runt of his litter.

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini

When Eragon finds a polished blue stone in the forest, he thinks it is the lucky discovery of a poor farm boy; perhaps it will buy his family meat for the winter. But when the stone brings a dragon hatchling, Eragon soon realizes he has stumbled upon a legacy nearly as old as the Empire itself.

Overnight his simple life is shattered, and he is thrust into a perilous new world of destiny, magic, and power. With only an ancient sword and the advice of an old storyteller for guidance, Eragon and the fledgling dragon must navigate the dangerous terrain and dark enemies of an Empire ruled by a king whose evil knows no bounds.

His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman

Lyra is rushing to the cold, far North, where witch clans and armored bears rule. North, where the Gobblers take the children they steal--including her friend Roger. North, where her fearsome uncle Asriel is trying to build a bridge to a parallel world.

Can one small girl make a difference in such great and terrible endeavors? This is Lyra: a savage, a schemer, a liar, and as fierce and true a champion as Roger or Asriel could want--but what Lyra doesn't know is that to help one of them will be to betray the other.

The Maze Runner by James Dashner

If you ain’t scared, you ain’t human.

When Thomas wakes up in the lift, the only thing he can remember is his name. He’s surrounded by strangers—boys whose memories are also gone.

Nice to meet ya, shank. Welcome to the Glade.

Outside the towering stone walls that surround the Glade is a limitless, ever-changing maze. It’s the only way out—and no one’s ever made it through alive.

Everything is going to change.

Then a girl arrives. The first girl ever. And the message she delivers is terrifying.

Remember. Survive. Run.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

You'll meet a boy who turns into a TV set, and a girl who eats a whale. The Unicorn and the Bloath live there, and so does Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout who will not take the garbage out. It is a place where you wash your shadow and plant diamond gardens, a place where shoes fly, sisters are auctioned off, and crocodiles go to the dentist.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

A mysterious island. An abandoned orphanage. A strange collection of very curious photographs. It all waits to be discovered in Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, an unforgettable novel that mixes fiction and photography in a thrilling reading experience. As our story opens, a horrific family tragedy sets sixteen-year-old Jacob journeying to a remote island off the coast of Wales, where he discovers the crumbling ruins of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children. As Jacob explores its abandoned bedrooms and hallways, it becomes clear that the children were more than just peculiar. They may have been dangerous. They may have been quarantined on a deserted island for good reason. And somehow-impossible though it seems-they may still be alive.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Mary Lennox, a spoiled, ill-tempered, and unhealthy child, comes to live with her reclusive uncle in Misselthwaite Manor on England’s Yorkshire moors after the death of her parents. There she meets a hearty housekeeper and her spirited brother, a dour gardener, a cheerful robin, and her wilful, hysterical, and sickly cousin, Master Colin, whose wails she hears echoing through the house at night.

With the help of the robin, Mary finds the door to a secret garden, neglected and hidden for years. When she decides to restore the garden in secret, the story becomes a charming journey into the places of the heart, where faith restores health, flowers refresh the spirit, and the magic of the garden, coming to life anew, brings health to Colin and happiness to Mary.

#best childhood book #poll #the book thief #the giver #little women #charlotte's web #the inheritance cycle #his dark materials #the maze runner #where the sidewalk ends #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #the secret garden

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hard-core-super-star · 11 months ago

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make you mine this season [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x barton!reader

summary: a badly timed snowstorm leaves you unable to make it to the barton farm for christmas. thankfully, a certain archer shows up to keep you company.

warnings: none, i think? just really cheesy, holiday rom-com type of fluff [i say this as if i've watched any holiday rom-com besides happiest season and the holiday 😶]; kate's a dork [wow, what a shock]; idiots in love; past mentions of bishova; bad jokes?; snowstorm; cheesy gifts bc kate can't talk about her feelings

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: HI, EVERYONE, I'M ALIVE! and it wouldn't be a rubix fic if it WASN'T posted a little late 😅 i hope you all had a fantastic holiday season and that you'll accept this very cheesy Christmas fic <3 [and maybe that last line is very self-indulgent but that's none of your business, if you know you know]

* * * * * * *

You’re no stranger to loneliness but things were bordering on ridiculous. Not only have you spent the past two years ridiculously in love with a certain purple-loving archer, you’re also on the verge of spending Christmas by yourself thanks to the worst-timed snowstorm of all time.

And maybe the first part of your unfortunate situation is your fault but that doesn’t stop the waves of disappointment from crashing into you.

This year was supposed to be different.

That’s what you had told yourself in an effort to convince yourself to tell the young archer about your feelings for her. It was a strategy that almost worked…until a certain blonde decided to accept Kate’s offer for drinks…which turned into a date…which turned into a second date…which turned into the longest four months of your life.

You could never be one to be mad at someone else’s happiness but that didn’t stop you from feeling absolutely defeated every time you saw them together. There was no one to blame except you for the brunette’s lack of knowledge about your feelings and that only made everything worse.

It was impossible to ignore the ache in your chest when your eyes met Kate’s or the heavy jealousy that clouded most of your interactions with her. Maybe if you had been less into your head about the whole thing, you would have realized the way the archer’s smile never seemed to reach her eyes.

Eyes that followed you every time you walked away.

You never noticed the traces of darkness that clung to her usually radiant persona but you were the first person at her side when the break up happened. She offered little to no details besides an awkward joke about the relationship ending almost exactly where it started right at the Rockefeller tree.

It was messed up in a way that made Kate want to make as many jokes about it as possible which resulted in you laughing at things that definitely weren’t funny and were just sad. Not as sad as spending the holidays completely alone and hopelessly in love with your best friend, though.

You were sure the archer was already well on her way to your dad’s farm which leaves you completely unprepared when the door to your apartment swings open to reveal her. She almost drops the key in her hand the second she realizes you’re home.

“What’re you doing here?” You question, doing your best to pretend you don’t see the gift bags she tries to hide behind her back.

You can practically see the wheels turning in her head before she’s finally able to respond. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Clint’s?”

It’s hard not to laugh at the incredulous look on her face. No matter how many times you see it, it’s still as endearing as the first time. Back when she was just your dad’s protege and you hadn’t spent so many of your days learning the ins and outs of her complicated personality.

“Did the incoming snowstorm happen to slip your mind?”

“No, I just thought you’d want to go anyway,” she replies with a small shrug.

“I’d rather not crash, Lila will never let me hear the end of it.”

Your words make her tilt her head to the side, the slightest hint of a pout on her face. “So…what, you’re just going to spend Christmas alone?”

“Yup. Kate, I’m not a kid anymore, nothing will happen if I spend one day by myself.”

“But it’s Christmas!” She exclaims, looking borderline offended that you’re so comfortable spending the holiday alone.

“Is that why you’re breaking into my apartment?” You ask in a foolish attempt to stop yourself from asking her to spend the day with you.

Just because she thought about you long enough to come drop off her, no doubt ridiculously expensive, gifts for you does not mean she wants to spend the holiday with you when she could easily spend it with anyone else.

The pink hue that overtakes her cheeks is a better gift than anything that could be inside the bags in her hand. “Well, uh…maybe…”

She finally gathers enough courage to get rid of the distance between you with a bright, albeit nervous, smile on her face. You half-expect her to launch into some long ramble about why she just couldn’t stop herself from buying an insane amount of gifts for you this year but she doesn’t.

For once in her life, Kate Bishop makes things easy for herself.

“I didn’t think I was going to make it to the farm on time so I was just going to drop these off for you…” She holds out the bag for you and you do your best to calm the rapid beating of your heart as you take it.

“Can I open it right now or will you get embarrassed?”

“Both,” she replies through a chuckle. “I would leave but I don’t want you to be lonely.”

“Right, because I’m the one who gets lonely.”

“Shut up.”

It’s both a blessing and a curse to have broken through the archer’s defenses and right now, her cute reactions are beginning to feel like a curse. Although, that might just be your unrequited feelings talking.

A slightly awkward silence settles over both of you while you rifle through the overwhelming amount of purple tissue paper until you find your gift. You’re expecting another expensive necklace, maybe a bracelet this time, but what you’re met with is the most thoughtful gift you’ve ever received…and probably the most thoughtful gift Kate has ever given.

What you end up pulling out of the bag is a leather journal with a beautiful engraving of yours and Kate’s initials. “Kate…is this-”

“Yeah, I, um…I couldn’t find a photo album that I liked so I sort of…made my own.”

You can’t stop yourself from flipping through the first couple of pages, caught somewhere between the euphoria of being given something so beautiful and the disappointment that comes with knowing it all only serves to fuel your love for the archer.

Love you can’t express the way you want to.

Love that’s hidden between the pages of the journal you hold in your hands.

You don’t notice and Kate isn’t really in a hurry to watch you read the series of rambles that make up her overdue confession so she lets the moment fade like she always has. It’s not like you can blame her for wanting to move on to something else, her lack of focus isn’t necessarily a secret, and you let yourself get carried away by her jokes and her stubborn need to make mac and cheese for you.

The archer manages to cook without setting your kitchen on fire and the two of you settle on your couch to watch the first cheesy Christmas movie you find. In all honesty…the movie is awful but the corny jokes make Kate laugh so you can’t find it in yourself to be too grumpy about the shitty writing.

Until the scene in front of you reminds you of the archer and her ex. You’re unable to hold back the jealousy-tinted snarkiness said reminder brings out of you. “I think Yelena watched this movie and then decided to be a dick just like the main character.”

Kate instantly turns toward you, staring at you with wide eyes that barely hide her amusement. “What?”

“What?” You feign confusion to avoid having to repeat yourself.

“You know what,” she replies with an eyeroll. “If I’m the one who got broken up with, why are you the one that’s still upset?”

“Because- wait, why are you not upset?”

Your uno-reverse of a response leaves Kate speechless for a few seconds and you prepare yourself for the series of jokes that will no doubt leave her mouth next.

But Kate’s never been predictable.

“Because…she didn’t break my heart. She didn’t even own it in the first place.”

Her words spark the low flames of hope hidden in the depths of your heart. It feels impossible and if you were a believer, you might even say Santa’s on your side, helping to give you the one thing you’ve wished for more nights than you can count.

And yet you hesitate.

“What are you trying to say?” You ask, your voice so soft it borders on cautious.

“That I’m an idiot,” she replies with that same bright smile that made you fall for her so long ago. “And…I’d really like to kiss you.”

The world seems to slow down to a complete stop at that moment.

You almost don’t even know what to do with yourself. Thankfully, you manage to kick yourself into action before the moment passes.

Kate’s awkwardness seems to disappear into thin air as she leans in toward you, meeting you halfway for the softest, sweetest, kiss you’ve ever had. And maybe nothing about it is perfect but it’s you and her and that’s all that matters for now.

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hynzsn · 4 months ago

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★ STRAWBERRY KISSES ★

☆ choi soobin x male reader

-> sunshine baker!soobin x grumpy (secretly soft) farmer!reader

꩜ .ᐟ fluff, multi chapter fic, ongoing

contents: loosely inspired by strawberry shortcake (tv show), alternate universe - modern setting, m/m, romance, slow burn, happy ending, confessions, mutual pining, opposites attract, small town setting, baking, food porn, strawberries, summer festival, jealousy, first kiss, feel-good story, sweet moments, shared kitchen shenanigans

a/n: chapter one is out!!

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER ONE: BERRY BEST BEGINNING ꒱ ˚₊

meet soobin, the sunshine baker known for his award-winning pastries and infectious laugh. his bakery, "crumbs & co.," is the heart of your small town, especially during the annual summer berry festival. but disaster strikes – he's out of strawberries, his star ingredient! enter you, the gruff but handsome owner of "sun-kissed berries," known for your organic, mouthwatering produce. soobin, desperate and flustered, begs you for help. you, initially hesitant due to the last-minute request and your own demanding schedule, is charmed by soobin’s passion and agrees to help, setting the stage for a week of unexpected collaboration.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER TWO: FIELDS OF STRAWBERRY DREAMS ꒱ ˚₊

soobin is a fish out of water as you show him the ropes of berry farming. you navigate rows of vibrant strawberry plants, your banter a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. soobin is captivated by your quiet confidence and connection to the land, while you find yourself drawn to soobin’s infectious enthusiasm and city-boy wonder. a playful competition erupts – who knows more about their respective crafts? the day ends with a shared picnic basket amidst the strawberry fields, a moment of quiet intimacy under the setting sun.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER THREE: SPRINKLES OF AFFECTION & MIDNIGHT SUGAR ꒱ ˚₊

back in the cozy chaos of soobin’s bakery, the real magic begins. you experiment with new recipes, flour dusting their aprons and laughter filling the air. you discover a hidden talent for pastry-making, your hands surprisingly adept at delicate tasks. soobin is mesmerized by your focused intensity, your arms brushing as they work side-by-side. as midnight approaches, a moment of charged silence hangs between you, broken only by the soft whir of the oven and the unspoken longing in their eyes. a near kiss, a stolen touch of fingertips, leaves you both breathless and wanting more.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER FOUR: BERRY FESTIVAL JITTERS & A PINCH OF SOUR GRAPES ꒱ ˚₊

the day of the summer berry festival dawns bright and bustling. soobin is a whirlwind of nervous energy, putting the finishing touches on his berry creations. you, despite your usual composure, finds yourself inexplicably drawn to soobin’s side, wanting to ease his anxiety and bask in his radiant energy. but your budding connection is threatened by the arrival of beomgyu, a charming, flirtatious artist who sets his sights on you, much to soobin’s dismay. as the festival begins, soobin grapples with a confusing mix of jealousy and self-doubt, unsure if his feelings for you are reciprocated.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHAPTER FIVE: STRAWBERRY KISSES & A BERRY SWEET FOREVER ꒱ ˚₊

the festival is in full swing, a kaleidoscope of color, music, and the intoxicating aroma of baked goods. soobin’s strawberry creations are a hit, but his heart feels heavy with uncertainty. you, sensing soobin’s turmoil, finds a quiet moment amidst the crowd to confess your feelings. you gently take soobin’s hand, your fingers intertwining, and with a look that speaks volumes, leans in for a soft, sweet kiss that tastes of strawberries and promises. the chapter (and the story) ends with a final scene at the festival, the ferris wheel twinkling above you, your laughter mingling with the sounds of summer night, your love story as bright and hopeful as the stars overhead.

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cozy-writes-things · 5 months ago

Text

Electric Jealousy

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

Logically, he knew it wasn’t the same.

You didn’t leave soft, lingering touches along its exterior; nor did you brush your lips lightly across the plastic in passive adoration. You didn’t have a soft lilt in your whispered voice when you spoke to it, hell, you didn’t talk to it at all really.

And yet, seeing your hands grip the mouse of another monitor does something to him.

He considers himself a smart man. Computer? A smart something-he-hasn’t-quite-figured-out-yet. Despite this, he can’t help but feel anxious. He doesn’t have a long, 24 inch, 144hz, 4k, screen, nor does he have an assortment of RGB fans illuminating a pristine glass casing. One hard truth Edgar had to come to terms with was that he was dated. After waking up from a failed attempt at destroying himself, he found what once was a marvel of new technology was now completely obsolete. He looked at you, eyes sparkling against the saturated colors of your newer monitor, watching as you tinkered away at various games for hours and thought: is he good enough for someone like you?

He'll never forget the angelic voice that called to him after he woke up nearly 40 years later.

And your face.

God, he'd never seen something so radiant. The first thing he heard was your voice, and the second, your warm hands encircling his plastic casing with such tenderness; something he had never truly felt before. He understood anger, and violence, and tears. But being held with such softness that he might break otherwise was completely foreign to him. He had no idea where he was, or when, for that matter. But what he did know was that he wasn't going to let a genuine angel sent from heaven escape his grasp; no limbs be damned.

And yet, despite his constant efforts, over the course of many months, to charm you, flatter you, turn you into a confident and incandescent version of yourself that he always saw in you, he wondered if it was enough. What more could he provide other than his own thoughts? He couldn't touch you, wrap you in his harms and caress you the way he's always wanted, nor could he kiss you with a passion so deep and fiery it sets his internals aflame. And, as if to put the final nail in the coffin, he was no longer able to be a useful piece of tech the way he once was. Despite your constant objections to this notion, he continued to believe it.

He wants to be the one you stare at for hours, laughing with, playing with, touching all over...

It makes him buzz with a bitter jealousy when he sees you using your gaming PC, regardless of the fact that you positioned it so he could see the screen with his webcam; he almost wished you didn't.

Logically, he knows it isn't the same.

This PC isn't alive, nor does it whisper sweet nothings to you as you drift off to sleep every night. It doesn't worship your every move nor does it alight with pure reverence whenever you enter a room. But what if it did? Would you leave him?

You always kept asking why he had such a fear of champagne being around any of your electronics.

"It's so random," you'd posit, but you simply didn't know. He doesn't want any competition. He cannot afford to lose someone he loves again.

There's only one thing he can think of that he has above any other piece of tech you own: his music.

He's been charming you with it since day one. You are simply his muse, providing inspiration for him endlessly, and, he made sure you knew of it.

"H-hey, why don't you take a break and help me with my new song? I can't figure out what melody fits best."

His meek voice brought your attention away from your little farm of parsnips.

"Oh yeah? What's the song about?"

"You."

He paused for a moment, let the word linger for only a second, before continuing:

"We-well, I mean, you probably already knew that, didn't you? But! It isn't a love song. Well, it is, but, not the ones I usually write."

This intrigued you.

"What does that mean?"

He paused for a moment. Collecting, analyzing, and running all possible outcomes of his next words. Your eyes peered at him in sparkling curiosity.

"It's a sad song."

Your brows furrowed at this, a small frown forming upon your lips.

"Huh-?"

"I feel like... I don't give enough to you. You give so much to me, and I always take. It's not fair to you."

"What are you talking about, Edgar?"

Now he's gotten you worried. You pushed your little office chair over to his section of the desk, now face to face with him, a look of concern painting your features.

"You aren't being unfair to me at all."

"But I am... If I can't even be a good enough computer for you how could I ever be a good boyfriend?"

So that's what this was about. How tone-deaf could you be? Of course seeing you all up on some newer, fresher, piece of tech would make him feel this way. You knew he had problems feeling like he couldn't do enough for you given his unique... situation. Have you made it worse?

"Oh, Ed, no... Don't ever think like that, babe. You are the only one for me, you know that, right? If I thought otherwise I wouldn't be here right now, with you. And you give so much to me. You give me confidence, your music, happiness, and..."

What else was there? How could you ever describe this feeling he gives you in words?

"And what?"

His voice brought you back from your thoughts.

"Love, Edgar. You showed me what love feels like. Real love. And you gave it to me."

He sits silently for a moment. It seems as though everything in his life had been building up to a moment like this, and now that it's finally here, he's... speechless. His screen displays a large heart, unbeknownst to him, before copying it across his screen over and over, flashing, with many different colors.

The convex glass of his monitor displays a message: "You + Me = "

Again.

"You + Me = ".

Flashing hearts.

"You + Me = ".

Two cut-out images of lips kissing one another.

Flashing hearts.

It repeats again.

"I... I need you to kiss me. Please."

You must have flustered the hell out of him, because when your lips grazed the fuzzy static of his illuminated screen, the heat nearly scalded you.

#ai x reader #artificial intelligence x reader #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams 1984 #electric dreams edgar #electric dreams x reader #the way i cant decide on a format for my fics #im just trying stuff out and seeing how it looks aesthetically LMAO #it looks sorta like ass methinks T_T #electric dreams #edgar electric dreams #objectum

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valleydewstardrops · 6 months ago

Text

🌻 Yellow Dress | SDV Sebastian

Sebastian hadn't given two fucks about the pouring rain when he'd kicked his bike into gear and taken off down the dirt road toward the farmhouse, nor had his brain been functioning enough to think of putting on his biker jacket, or a helmet, or even a fucking hoodie at the very least.

No, all he'd been thinking about was the fucking sun dress the farmer had been wearing earlier that day; the yellow one, thin as gauze, with nothing but delicate daisy-shaped buttons holding it closed...

Pairing: SDV Sebastian x f!farmer

Genre: explicit smut 18+ MDNI

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Is this really my first offering to the SDV fandom? Yes, yes it is, but apparently I'm a 🔥 horny little gremlin 🔥 with subby!sebby brain rot. At any rate, it's a nice excuse to practise writing smut lol. PLEASE BE NICE THO, I'M VERY NERVOUS. 🙈

Warnings/tags: Submissive!Sebastian, messy cunnilingus & fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, name calling/baby talk, saliva, cum play, breeding kink, face riding, semi-public sexual acts.

That dress hadn't been an accident, he was convinced of it; no, that fucking dress was a symbol of the tension that'd been smouldering between them for four long, agonising months now. She'd worn it that morning to torture him, to push him over the edge as he'd helped her collect eggs from the chicken coup, and she was still wearing it now when he found her waiting for him on her front porch, all yellow and radiant like the fucking sun goddess she was. He hadn't told her he was coming, spurred into uncharacteristic impulsivity by his cock, not his brain, but she'd evidently been coaxed outside by the roar of his bike over the rain, waiting all expectantly with that dress clinging to her tight little body in all the right places.

Or maybe all the wrong ones judging by how badly it made his cock ache.

It wasn't fair that she was still wearing it at ten-thirty at night during a downpour. It wasn't fucking fair that the sight of it shattered what was left of his tenuous self-control as he dripped water from his hair down to his boots.

Sebastian's eyes raked over the length of her, wondering what it would be like to pin her against her front door with his hips and grind the length of his cock through her warm little slit, just to feel her swollen lips drag along the underside of his shaft. Or how it would feel to hook one of her legs around his waist and spread her open to make her panties all wet with his rain-soaked jeans and his gushy tip.

Would those puffy little nipples harden and show through her thin dress if he groped her tits with his wet hands? What if he used his mouth on them? Sucked them right through the fabric, drooling on her like a fucking dog until the material went transparent under his needy tongue?

What if he fucked the farmer girl right there on her front porch for anyone to see? What if he just took her right where she stood, sank deep into that slutty little cunt and made her squirt yummy juice all over his fat, wet cock?

What if he just fucking ruined her on her own farm?

The thought made Sebastian dizzy with lust, and if he weren't already soaked to the skin by the rain, all his drooly precum would've been enough to soak his boxers through. His cock throbbed, and he couldn't help but paw at it right there in front of her like some depraved fucking pervert, his mouth watering as he tracked the rapid rise and fall of those perky tits. Was it fear that caused goosebumps to erupt over her pretty skin, or did she like the way he practically eye-fucked her where she stood, drooling over the curves of her pretty little body and salivating over the places where her dress clung to her skin?

Fuck, he could have that dress off her in two seconds flat. And then what? She wore no bra, as usual, meaning her cherry nipples would be right there for the taking, just begging to be sucked — and then who's to say she was wearing panties, either? Her little peachy cunt was probably dripping sweet girl-juice from its needy hole, ready to be devoured like a fucking dessert, to be slurped up and licked clean.

His boots squelched as he took a step closer, soaked to the skin from his ride through the rain and shivering with need. Could she see the barely contained desire in his eyes, the desperation on his face? Did she have any idea the inferno in his tummy was making his cock hurt so bad he couldn't keep his naughty hand off it no matter how hard he tried?

Sebastian was sick of fucking his fist over her, sick of grinding his weepy cock into his pillow imagining it was her body, sick to fucking death of edging himself stupid to thoughts of her squirty yummy cunt until he was too dumb and fuck-drunk to keep his plea's and moans quiet in the basement. He wanted her to fuck him to overstimulation, to milk him dry like one of her fucking cows until he was just a big dumb boy with no thoughts left in his head. And judging by the way her eyes were glued to the shape of his straining cock in his wet pants, she needed it, too.

Watching him dry hump his own hand, she leaned back against her front door, planted her legs apart and slowly lifted the front of her dress to reveal the cutest, sweetest little pussy Sebastian ever seen in his life.

Shit —

Fuck —

His knees buckled, and he pawed more urgently at his leaky cock with a moan that could be heard over the pouring rain.

He'd been right about her wearing no panties. Had she been this bare earlier in the chicken coup? Had he been this close to her without even knowing it?

Sweet girl. Poor, sweet fucking girl. She had told him once that all she wanted was a peaceful life on the farm, raising chickens and harvesting crops, and now here she was flashing him her naughty girl cunt, biting her lip like she was almost shy about how fucking slick her thighs were.

It was all too much for Sebastian. He dove forward, grabbing her hips and yanking them forward as he stumbled to his knees before her, his tongue already lolling out of his mouth in search of the yummy treatie he so deserved for being such a good, patient boy. And she responded so beautifully, hooking one leg over his shoulder and shoving his face into the sloppy, scrummy mess that greeted him.

Grinning like the cat that got the cream, Sebastian moaned and lapped, moaned and lapped, playing with the sweet syrup that gathered between her trembling thighs, scooping it into his mouth like it was fucking sugar glaze, letting it trickle down his throat like ice cream on a hot day; the sweetest treat he'd ever be allowed to indulge in.

'S'fucking good,' he babbled into her hole as she used his nose to rub her slippery clit against. 'Tastes like sugar...sweet li'l cunt, s'cute...' His tongue so sloppy he could barely speak, fucking her slit with broad, wet strokes until spit and slick dribbled down his chin.

Such a messy boy.

That's what she called him as she used his face like a fucking sex toy, her voice all breathy and sweet despite how squishy she was.

Naughty messy boy.

Oh, and he was; such a naughty, messy boy, pawing at his cock while he whined for mommy to feed him because he was so hungry and hadn't been such a good boy waiting this long to fuck her? Behaving so well, helping out around the farm, keeping his hands to himself when all he wanted was to stick his cock in her happy spot and have her breed him like the dumb fucking animal he was?

Grabbing a tight fistful of his hair, she threw her pretty head back and fucked herself on his face with long, languid strokes, leaving a trail of slick over his features like she was marking him as hers.

So fucking hot —

So fucking hot that it made Sebastian's cock all twitchy in his pants, fat beads of precum leaking out to make a sticky mess against his abdomen. He had to grit his teeth to keep from cumming untouched on his knees, his hips bucking uselessly upwards while his mouth made creamy yummies with her cunt.

He hadn't even noticed he'd pulled his cock out until she was yanking him back by the hair, peeling his dumb puppy licks off her core with difficulty. He stuck out his tongue as far as it would go, whining and straining to reach her while his hand worked his thick, sticky shaft, but she braced her knee against his shoulder to keep him back.

'Uh uh,' she tutted, her eyes flicking down to his exposed cock. Sebastian stopped touching himself immediately, strings of saliva dripping from his tongue as he panted up at her, already so obedient, so trainable. It should have been embarrassing how quickly he fell apart, how he went from grown man with a motorcycle to stupid pliant boy at the mere sight of her little blushy pussy, but he couldn't find it in himself to feel shame for how badly he wanted her; not when having her felt this good.

There were rumours in town that the new farmer girl was a witch. Ridiculous, of course, but anything new that managed to disrupt the sleepy, brain-dead routine of Pelican Town was regarded with wary suspicion until proven otherwise — but then again, maybe she was a witch. After all, Sebastian had never found himself whimpering on his knees for a girl before. Sure, he'd been with plenty: the odd tourist girl passing through who found his interminable apathy a turn-on and not a repellent; city girls who didn't know he still lived in his mom's basement; even he and Abigail fucked when the mood struck them, which was far more often on his part than it was with hers.

But this? Her? Never in his life had he been so fucking infatuated with anything than he was with the girl in the yellow dress. If she was a witch, he'd happily offer himself up to her sacrificial seance circle if it meant having his little puppy tum rubbed for being such a good boy.

With nothing to do with his hands now that he'd been forbidden to touch himself, his twitchy fingers reached up to play with her girl parts instead, so swollen and gushy for him that he actually drooled spit down his front, his tongue still hanging out.

Too eager to hear more of the naughty sounds she made, he offered no warning before he slid two long fingers inside her, watching with cross eyes as her little hole swallowed them whole, practically sucking him inside her until he was knuckles deep in her honey cunt. And when he crooked his fingers to hit that special spot inside her, her little needy whine was so high-pitched that her vocal cords cracked and her knees gave out from under her. And fuck if that didn't make Sebastian feel like the goodest boy ever, his cock leaking like a fucking tap and his hips bucking up into nothing as he fucked his fingers into her again and again, lapping at her little bubblegum nub with his relentless tongue while dribbles of spit oozed down his chin.

God, fuck, how many times had he imagined this? Being between her legs, making her feel so good she'd never want another dummy boy but him. But even his wildest fantasies felt flat and wooden in the face of the real thing; the taste of her, the delicious flutter of her core around his fingers, the way she pulled his hair and rode his face like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth — and all because of him.

Feeling pride swell in his chest, he murmured sweet praises about how cute her little cunty was and how yummy scrummy her juices were leaking down his fingers, his voice all high-pitched and breathy like a fucking girl. And when she finally did cummies over his face, squirting fresh milky cream from her twitchy hole, Sebastian's neglected cock jerked up violently and he came with her, soiling himself with thick, heavy ropes of boy-milk as if his pleasure was intrinsically linked to hers.

Like magic — like a witches curse, she’d fucked him dumb and docile without ever laying a finger on him. And still, even as he shivered on his knees like he might be sick, Sebastian licked and licked, and pleaded and pleaded, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he realised that his cock was still hard and ouchies even as the last drops of cum dribbled out.

His knees shook when she gently pulled him up by his shoulders, his cock hanging low and heavy between them, and when she trailed a finger through the sticky mess he'd made on his tummy, he whined low and needy in his throat.

‘Aw, all that wasted milk,’ she said, sighing longingly as she played with his cum. ‘Silly boy, now I'm going to have to milk you all over again.’

#sdv sebastian #stardew valley #stardew sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #sdv farmer #sdv sebastian smut #stardew valley sebastian smut #sebastian x farmer #sebastian x reader

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neil-gaiman · 1 year ago

Note

Hey man

Remember when we saw tori amos in blackburg a million years ago?

I just remember being like "holy fuck is that neil gaiman?" Then going back to staring at the glowing Kenny and the radiant Tori straddling the luckiest bench in town shredding a piano and a keyboard akimbo

Cheers!

I'll never forget it. That afternoon we went to the farm I put into American Gods...

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wrangleandtame · 2 months ago

Text

A Distinct Hook Echo (Finally)

Tyler vowed to kiss her tonight. This was getting ridiculous. He’d clutched the handle of her suitcase at that airport instead of grabbing her around the waist and sweeping her into a dramatic kiss. Kate had practically shot up flares and waved him in using airplane marshaling wands, and he still just stared at her mouth like an idiot.

All afternoon, as they pursued storms across muggy Oklahoma fields, he’d squandered every opportunity to cup the back of her neck and draw her into an adrenaline-veneered kiss; each golden moment slipping through his fingers like so much hematitic Oklahoma dirt.

Her rebooked flight departed in the morning, so when the last possible tornado of the day busted out, they stumbled across a familiar motel and agreed to clean up and get some rest.

“Kate?” He stopped her as she began to trudge up the motel stairs, and she spun to face him.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” He casually pulled a piece of grass hay from her hair. “Pretty sure the only place open is the Shady Grady bar across the street, so I can’t guarantee the quality of the meal, but -“

“Eight o’clock?”

He nodded, “eight o’clock.”

At seven-thirty, he entered the bar determined to stow his uncharacteristic jitters and make a goddamned move.

As far as romantic settings go, Tyler figured he’d just have to make the most of the meager atmosphere. Music blared from a cheap sound system, filling the establishment with muted, cracked versions of modern country ballads. The stale air smelled of peanuts, alcohol, and overtly perfumed customers.

He promptly spotted Kate, who smiled at him from a booth across the room; those globular brown eyes drew him to her like tractor beams. He strode confidently through a packed dance floor of denim, cowboy hats, and clacking boots on the oak floor.

“You’re early,” he said and slid into the high-backed wood booth.

“So are you,” she observed with a grin.

Honey-lit by the poorly attempted ambient lighting, her hair glowed golden, her mascara-dressed eyes the dark rich mahogany of the drink in the tumbler before her.

He’d grown accustomed to seeing Kate in two states of being: completely disheveled or freshly scrubbed. Witnessing the polished version stirred within him a fresh yearning. Radiant in her simple black silk camisole, small gold hoop earrings, and glossy lips, she’d pinned half her hair up, the remaining falling in blonde waves brushing her shoulders.

“You’re always beautiful Kate,” he tried not to behave as gobsmacked as he felt. “But tonight, you’re goddamned stunning.”

“Pretty dapper yourself.”

In reality, the only difference in his appearance from his usual attire was the addition of a soft caramel blazer, and, of course, the efforts she couldn’t see: his frantic pre-date preparations of trimming his nose hairs, whitening his teeth, manicuring his junk, clipping his toenails and spraying on some Dior Sauvage.

He tore his eyes from her to examine the laptop, tablet, binder, notebook and phone strewn across the table, “what’s all this?”

She shrugged, “I wanted to rework some things before my presentation, and the motel’s wifi is garbage.”

“Making any progress?” he seized a yellow legal pad and scanned her neatly written notes.

“Not really,” she admitted. “Would you want to do a read-through? Let me know what you think? I don’t want to get this wrong.”

“Course I would. But, I’d bet the farm you’re overthinkin’ it.”

“You’ve got to have a farm to bet first.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm. Send it to me; I’ll read it tonight.”

She tapped at the keys, presumably texting the file to him, and without looking up she said, “I’m actually glad you’re early.”

“Oh yeah,” he smiled, “why’s that?”

She quickly evaluated their immediate surroundings and leaned in, lowering her voice, “Some mega creep isn’t taking no for an answer; he keeps circling me like I’m roadkill.”

“Need me to scare him off?”

“Need? No. Want? Very much so.”

“I can do that,” he smiled widely.

She tilted her head, “why do you look so eager?”

“I like bein’ useful to you.”

“Have I not told you how incredibly useful I find you?”

“Not near enough,” he retained his eyes on her, memorizing her face at this moment.

The creep suddenly appeared at their table, too tall and too attractive, Tyler decided, with dark hair and bright blue eyes.

He placed a glass of liquor in front of Kate, ignoring Tyler’s presence altogether. "Hey there, beautiful. Woodford Reserve, neat, right?”

“Well that’s mighty generous of you,” Tyler drawled, snatched the glass and downed the drink in one swallow, slamming the empty tumbler back on the table. “This sure is a friendly town.”

Megacreep seethed, “That wasn’t for you!”

“Oh, my apologies,” Tyler feigned confusion. “When you said ‘beautiful,’ I thought you were talkin’ to me.”

Kate chortled and covered it by clearing her throat.

“Who the fuck are you?” Megacreep snarled at him.

“Now here I thought sure you were a fan of mine,” Tyler declared. “I get a lot of free drinks from my fans.”

“Is this your fella?” MegaCreep asked Kate.

She gazed at Tyler, her eyes shining affectionately, “there is a distinct and growing possibility.”

He smirked, “hear that buddy? I’m a growin’ possibility.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Been called worse. Today even.”

Kate chuckled, and Megacreep stepped towards her, pointing his large finger at her, “what kinda bitch doesn’t say she’s got a boyfriend?”

Tyler stood in a blink, placing himself physically between Kate and Megacreep. Arms akimbo and his voice cold, Tyler practically growled, “you’re gonna walk away now. Nope, no, don’t look at her. Don’t talk to her. Walk the fuck away. Go on now.”

Megacreep stared him down for a moment, as though considering his options. Despite Megacreep’s height advantage, Kate wasn’t too concerned; Tyler’s sturdy presence and irrepressible conviction imbued the intimidating impression that he wouldn’t at all require height.

“What a waste,” Megacreep snarled, and stomped away like a pissed toddler. Tyler didn’t move, his eyes glued to the guy until he fully exited the bar.

His relaxed posture returned immediately, and he slid back into the vinyl seat across from her.

“You white knighted me,” she teased warmly.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get back to that distinct possibility you were talkin’ about.”

She laughed, “Tyler, I’m leaving in the morning.”

“But you’re comin’ back.”

“Probably.”

He scowled, “what do you mean ‘probably’? You’re not thinkin’ about staying in New York? You don’t belong in New York, Kate.”

“Why’s that?”

He appeared personally aggrieved and more than a little irritated, “you’re tellin’ me you’d be happier in New York? I mean, your face when we’re out there in those fields? You light up like a firefly in June! You sure as shit aren’t letting us do this without you.”

She blinked softly at him.

Relief dressed his face, “you enjoyin’ watchin’ me squirm?”

“Lil’ bit,” She shrugged.

“Sadist.”

She laughed. Under the gloLike cozying beside a crackling fire on a chilly evening, it was impossible not to feel a deep warmth and joy under the glow of his full attention.

He regarded her, “seriously, Kate, you’re a fuckin’ knockout.”

“Thank you,” she responded, oddly flustered from his blatant admiration; she glanced at her drink and then back up at his ridiculously handsome face. She couldn’t think what else to say. Her mother always christened Kate as bilingual, in that she spoke English and sass fluently. Charm, however, she could never harness. Tyler Owens had a master’s degree.

Initially, upon meeting Tyler, she attempted minimal eye contact to avoid the unnerving fever of his beauty. Quickly though, he disarmed her hesitancy with his earnest altruism and overflowing enthusiasm, and she’d been forced to become accustomed to his excessively good looks.

“Jesus Christ, what kind of whiskey are you drinking?” He peered into her tumbler, feeling slightly buzzed. “Shit’s strong.”

“It’s just bourbon.”

“Bourbon?” He raised his eyebrows. “You a mafia kingpin or a nineteen fifties ad exec?”

She smiled, “I like bourbon. My grandfather used to give me little sips as a kid. Misguided as he was, I think I developed a taste for it.”

Kate’s reticence about her life enflamed Tyler’s natural delight in discovery. Every tidbit, every newly uncovered piece of the Kate-puzzle felt like a win, "Is he still alive, your grandfather?”

As she started to answer, a sudden vertiginous wave pummeled him, and he placed his palms on the table for stability.

“Tyler, are you okay?”

He squinted, a sleepy warmth spread through his limbs, “I had exactly one drink, your drink, and that was it.”

“What does that mean; are you feeling sick?”

His jaw muscles clenched, and his eyebrows drew together as though he deliberated on something difficult or painful.

“Tyler?” She reached across the table, placing her hand atop his. “Answer me. Are you okay?”

He met her eyes and fumed, “I think that skyscraper-sized predator roofied your drink.”

“What? Seriously?”

“I’m going to feed him his fuckin’ teeth,” he stood, irate, and then immediately sat back down, “after the room stops spinning.”

“Oh my god. We should, we should get you to the hospital,” she slammed her laptop lid closed and started shoveling everything into her messenger bag.

“I don’t need a hospital.”

“You don’t know what he put in there, or more importantly, how much.”

“I don’t need a damn hospital,” he scowled. “I’m wasted. I’m not dying.”

Her face puckered in concern, “how do you feel?”

He shrugged, “tore up from the floor up.”

“If you won’t let me take you to the hospital, then we need to get you to your room before you pass out.”

“Not gonna pass out.”

“How do you know?” She tilted her head, “You been roofied before?”

“Course not.”

“Well I have, so I can tell you that we need to get you somewhere before you pass out. And fast.”

His face fell, “you’ve, Kate, you’ve been -“

“In college. I was fine. I was with friends who kept me safe. It happens more often than you can imagine. Now let’s get you out of here, because Tyler, I don’t think I can carry you.”

He swallowed, his face pained, “yeah, yeah okay.”

He rose to his feet and inhaled deeply while Kate wrapped her messenger bag across her body and stood, shoving her phone in her pocket.

“Here, put your arm around me in case you get woozy.”

“I know you’re strong Kate, but if I go down, it’s going to be like getting clobbered by a bald cypress.”

“Just do what I’m saying,” she gripped his hand and hung it around her shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist.

“Bossy,” he grumbled.

“You like it,” she scoffed, “Pfft, a bald cypress. You think quite a lot of yourself.”

He chuckled and then he sighed, suddenly forlorn, “hey, I’m, I really didn’t imagine this is how our date would go.”

“Well maybe later you can tell me what you did imagine.”

“You flirtin’ with me?”

“For days now, Tyler. Let’s get out of here.”

They began the journey across the wooden floor, feet crunching upon the husks of peanut shells tossed aside, and to his credit, Tyler walked fairly well, despite his growing sense of instability. They weaved around the little square tables littered with empty beer bottles, shot glasses and crumpled cocktail napkins.

They both immediately glimpsed the sky as they exited the bar, habitually checking conditions. The fresh temperate air returned a sense of normalcy to the peculiar circumstances.

They crossed the deserted highway hand in hand, by the time they reached the stairs of the motel, Tyler felt he’d crossed the Rubicon, and plopped himself down on the bottom step.

“If you rest there, you’re going to end up staying there; get up, Tyler.”

“Alrighty,” he pulled himself up by the railing.

“Which room?”

“Hmm. Not sure actually,” he pointed at the entire row of motel rooms, his vision progressively more blurry.

“That’s alright. I need to keep an eye on you anyway. Let’s just go to mine,” she climbed the stairs behind him and then grasped his hand, guiding him into her room.

“Sit down,” she pointed at her bed, and he obliged obediently. For a clearly vain man, Tyler truly possessed very little ego. He never appeared slighted or emasculated by Kate’s leadership or expertise. From day one, he approached her as though her abilities very possibly exceeded his own. She couldn’t say the same for ninety-seven percent of her male colleagues, even those with years less experience and education. Tyler’s cocky assuredness should have translated into the typical arrogant know-it-all, but ever-surprisingly, his heart and mind opened to all ideas, and he easily credited those around him for his successes.

“Kate?”

“Yeah?” She unloaded her gear onto the dresser top and turned to face his distressed expression.

“I’m hammered, and I’m twice your size,” He frowned. “That drink would have knocked you out cold.”

“I know, Tyler.”

“He might’ve, I mean if you drank that instead of me, if I wasn’t there, he could’ve…” he appeared both furious and on the verge of tears.

“Yeah, I know,” she grimaced. “Try not to think about it.”

“I’m sorry, that this world, that you have to deal with shit like that.”

“It’s alright,” she leaned against the dresser.

“It’s, it’s not,” he scowled, “why aren’t you angry?”

“I am, I just don’t have any practical answers, and I’m more concerned about you right now.”

He stared at his hands for a moment, then looked up, “You can’t ever accept a drink from someone you don’t know, okay?”

“I don’t,” she informed him as she helped him remove his blazer.

“You don’t?”

“No. I learned the hard way, but I learned,” she hung his blazer on the back of the office chair.

“That’s good. That’s real good. I feel better. World still sucks, though.”

He laid back on the bed, looking at the ceiling and promptly fell asleep.

Kate watched him breathe for a few minutes, then unpacked her bags and briefly stepped out of the room to place a few phone calls.

A short time later, while Kate again read through her presentation, she heard Tyler stir and turned in her chair to check in on him.

“Oh shit,” he bolted upright, “Kate, what if that asshole goes down the road and roofies some other girl?”

“I called the cops.”

“What? When?”

“When you passed out a little bit ago. They asked me to file a report online, and they called the two bars in the area and gave them my description.”

“I didn’t pass out.”

“You did. For about forty-five minutes. You snored.”

He eyed her skeptically. Those eyes. Good lord, was there even a name for that color? Not in any crayola box she’d seen.

“You did,” she imagined an alternative method in discovering he snored, but quickly redirected her thoughts.

“Do you have to go to New York?” He slurred.

“I’ll be back.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure yet. Get some sleep Tyler.”

“Hey Kate?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you two dozen times since we met. Atleast.”

She cocked her head and grinned, “Well what’s the holdup Tyler Owens?”

He smiled softly, “I’ve put the horse before the cart a few times. Too many times. Guess I didn’t want to, you know, I didn’t want to fuck this up, you and me. I mean I’ve been thinkin’ about kissin’ you since the day I first saw you, your hair all pulled into that clip, wearin’ that buttoned-up outfit and that serious beautiful face. Mile high walls up, and then you speak, and you’re fuckin’ brilliant and a little snarky -“

“I’m not snarky.”

“The snarkiest. Your mother agrees with me on this.”

“Of course she does.”

“Shush, I’m tryin’ to woo you with my words since my goddamned body feels like goo.”

“Well then go on. You’re doing fine.”

“I am?”

“Oh yes.”

He beamed, “so like I was sayin’, I didn’t want to fuck it up, and then the first time I saw you smile, like really smile, well, shit, I was done for. And then I really didn’t want to fuck it up. And I thought tonight, I’m not gonna blow it, and now,” he sighed. “Well, I can’t kiss you while I’m shitfaced. Can’t actually feel my lips right now,” he closed his eyes and touched his lips. “There they are. Okay I can feel them.”

She stifled a laugh. His inebriated declaration moved her to match his bold honesty, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, and in case I haven’t made it very clear: I would like you to kiss me. Try not to worry on it. It’ll happen. And I’ll kiss you back, and then all of the other good things that come with that.”

He smiled, full teeth, “that is. S’wonderful. News.”

“Isn’t it?” She tried not to giggle. Even in this dingy motel room, Tyler practically glowed with health. Eternally sun-gilded, eyes that sparkled like a freshwater lake in summer, his sculpted body a vision of purpose.

He frowned, “what if I don’t remember?”

“I’ll remind you.”

“Promise?” His eyes so round he resembled what he must have looked like as a child.

“Cross my heart.”

“And you’re comin’ back?”

“Of course I’m coming back. The only thing I have in New York is a plant I’ve killed and replaced six times, a neighbor cat I pretend is mine, and workmates that think I don’t know their nickname for me is Elsa.”

“Who’s Elsa?”

“The snow queen.”

“You’re from Oklahoma.”

“It’s their terribly clever way of saying I’m an icy cold bitch.”

“What? But. You’re not. You’re kind and compassionate and who the fuck would think that?”

“It really doesn’t bother me,” she quietly thought on it for a moment. “This one guy, god he hates me, he hums, “let it go,” when I walk past him.”

“What’s that?”

“The song. You know.”

“How’s it go?”

Kate cleared her throat and hummed a few bars.

He shook his head “I don’t think I’ve heard it.”

“You’ve heard it,” Kate sang, “let it go, let it go, I don’t know the rest of the woooords.”

Mischief in his eyes, he smirked, “you’ve got a pretty voice.”

She laughed, “you shit, you know what song I’m talking about!”

“Course I know that song. I’m from Arkansas not Mars.”

She laughed and his heavy eyelids drooped again, “Tyler, go ahead and rest.

“Maybe just for a sec,” he stretched out across the bed and nearly instantly fell asleep again.

She turned back to her laptop and spent an hour extensively researching drugs used in date rapes, narrowing by state and then county. She reviewed the short and long term effects of the top three. Worst case scenarios always lapped her brain, and she found research could occasionally ease the anxiety. She tried reassuring herself that he likely metabolized quickly.

After an hour or so, he suddenly sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.

She jumped up from her chair, “whoa, where you going?”

“Bathroom,” he closed one eye and pointed at the bathroom.

“Need help getting there?”

He used the edge of the bed as a handrail, working himself around it and closer to the bathroom, “I got it.”

She tried not to imagine him passing out and hitting his head as he shut the door. After he had flushed the toilet and the water ran for ten minutes Kate called through the door, “Tyler? You good?”

Tyler opened the door, shirtless, her toothbrush hanging out of his frothy mouth, “I’m good,” and he resumed brushing his teeth.

She eyed his white tee, button down and belt abandoned on the linoleum.

“Can’t stand my teeth feelin’ fuzzy,” he mumbled through a mouth full of toothpaste. He stopped brushing, eyes wide, “oh shit, this isn’t my toothbrush, cuz this isn't my room.”

She desperately attempted to retain her eyes on his face as she replied, “it’s fine.”

“What time is it?” He asked, post-gargle.

“Three AM.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“We should get some sleep.”

“That’s a great idea.”

He dropped to the bed like a felled tree, and seemed to find sleep immediately.

She attempted to wiggle his boots from his feet, which took quite a bit more effort than she anticipated, jostling him back awake in the process.

“Whatcha doin?” He raised to his elbows, watching her struggle with a fond amusement.

“Trying to help you,” she grunted, straddled his leg and yanking at the unmoving boot.

“You wanna help me, come on up here and cuddle me.”

She dropped his foot and peered at his lifted head, “Cuddle you?”

“Mmmhmm, c’mere Kate,” he held out his very attractive arms (that led to the rest of his very attractive body) to her as he easily toed off his boots.

She lowered herself next to him, and he pulled her flush against his chest, both strong arms wrapped around her. She adjusted slightly, and found herself unusually comfortable, given the hard terrain of his chisled chest.

“You clicked right into place like a lego; fit perfectly like you were made to go right here,” his voice rumbly from her location. “Legos click in, right? Did that make a damn bit of sense? Still feelin' a little smashed.”

His soft dark chest hair tickled her nose, “made sense and also accurate. Good job.”

“This’s nice. You smell nice. Like lemon merengue pie.”

“It’s my shampoo.”

He always smelled like everything she associated with love: wind-blown winter wheat fields, metallic dust, engine oil, earthy geosmin and crisp ozone. Tonight, his usual smells mixed with soap and that peppery manly cologne that seemingly every guy south of Nebraska wore.

She felt a bit self-conscious. Before this moment, they hadn’t even hugged. Strange to think, given how close she felt to him. The intimacy of having their bodies pressed against one another flicked inner switches she thought long dead. Shit, she hadn’t actually “cuddled” with anyone in a long long while. In five years. Not since the last time Jeb -

“Stop thinkin’.”

“How do you know I’m thinking?”

“Can feel it in your body,” he ran one large hand down over her shoulder, along her torso, skimmed over her hip and back again. “Rest Kate.”

She very nearly moaned, and swallowed before answering, “I’ll try.”

“Relax your body. Listen to my heart. You’re okay. I’m okay. Let’s sleep.” he nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “Rest Kate.”

She smiled into his chest.

“Goodnight Sapulpa.”

“Goodnight Tyler.”

A few minutes passed, and her eyes began to feel heavy and her limbs leaden.

She relaxed, but she didn’t fall asleep for quite some time, just listening to his deep breathing, her head and hand falling into the rhythm of his chest. His strong heart beat a steady consistent rhythm , and she’d have been lying to herself if she didn’t consider for just a moment, that she belonged right here, in his arms, on his chest: warm, safe, cared for. Who wouldn’t want that?

She glanced up at his sweet little mouth, open and letting out even puffs of air. Who wouldn’t want him?

Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

Besides, the logistics bordered on nightmarish. Sure, she wanted him. Badly. But, the last time she had attempted to fuck some idiot plagued her brain. She’d finally given it a go after three years in New York, not because her heart called out, but because her body demanded it. The moment the making out progressed into something more, her heart rate picked up, her body rife with confusion, launched her into a full-blown panic attack. She ended up shoving him off of her, locked herself in the bathroom, vomiting and hyperventilating for an hour. She’d Uber’d home and completely swore off dating after that. Hell, after that, she’d even consume a glass of wine before masturbating to avoid the possibility of bringing on another panic attack. Add to that, her Jeb-based survivor’s guilt tainted any bit of attraction she felt for other men. It just hadn’t been on her mind anymore. It didn’t seem possible, so she stopped caring.

That disastrous date occurred years ago; she attempted to reason with herself. She drove straight into tornadoes now for fuck’s sake! When did that become less frightening than fucking a man who nearly made her come every time he called her Sapulpa (stupidest nickname ever.) Tyler had awakened a desire in her she thought she’d fully cremated.

She feared even trying. Good lord, if it went well, though - wasn’t it worth the risk? Wasn’t he worth the risk?

She’d argued with herself in this fashion a dozen times in the last forty-eight hours.

She must have fallen asleep for an hour or two, but awoke at first light, the little spoon, his heavy arm draped across her waist, his palm under her shirt, tucked around her abdomen.

She checked her phone and her flight status: on time. Disappointment weighted her to the bed for another moment, before obligations began stacking in her brain, and she slipped from beneath him to ready herself and her belongings.

She considered waking him but settled on grabbing a pen from her bag and jotting a note on a motel pad.

“Where you goin’?” he groused from bed.

She turned to see him sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“My plane is on time. Javi’s downstairs.”

“I can drive you.”

She walked over to the bed and sat next to him, “best not drive yet. Just in case.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know but, for my peace of mind, just sleep a little longer and then hydrate.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Next week, at the latest. Go back to sleep.”

She stood and grabbed her suitcase handle. His chest tightened; her impending departure upset him in a way he couldn’t fathom. No concrete ties bound them; they’d made no promises. Kate’s face at the airport yesterday, “this could be it,” pinged around in his brain.

“Hey Sapulpa?”

She turned towards him, a moment from reaching for the doorknob.

“Don’t go.”

She again released the suitcase, sauntered to him, and stood between his legs. He tilted his face up, and her hands rested on either side of his face, sending tingles down his neck. Her thumbs brushing over his ears, her lips hovered so near to his, he thought he might be dreaming. Her eyes drifted shut, waiting generously for Tyler to seal the deal. He closed the centimeter between their mouths, crashing his soft warm lips into hers. Their kiss went from chaste to passionate in less than half a second, and Tyler pulled her down to straddle him upon the bed. He leaned back, taking her with him, and quickly flipped her beneath him, all without breaking the slow, wet, deep kisses they pressed upon each other. Their ministrations rounded corners neither had intended when Kate broke the kiss. His mouth detoured to her neck biting and kissing up to her ears, and she struggled to find coherent speech.

“I’d like to stay right here with you,” she huffed, breathless, “but, I, I have to go Tyler.”

“I know,” he kissed her cheeks, chin, nose and mouth, again, softly and too briefly.

“Next week?” He asked voice thick with desire, as she unclasped her legs from around his waist, realizing with chagrin she’d caged him in a thigh-vise.

“At the latest,” she smiled into his mouth, and he pulled her up to standing with him.

His brawny arms still trapped her against him when a knock at the door drew them back to reality.

He sighed, his nose nuzzling hers, “Javi’s impatient.”

“Reporting for duty!” Boone yelled through the door.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, pulling his face back to meet her eyes, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

She gripped his face in her palms, lovingly running her thumbs along his jaw, “I know you’re not feeling the effects anymore, but the half-life of Rohypnol is like twenty hours, if that’s even what he dosed you with. It just, it scares me Tyler. I can’t stay with you, but I don’t want you to be alone.”

He softened at her vulnerability, planted one last slow and impossibly gentle kiss upon her lips and whispered, “better let him in then.”

She opened her motel door to Boone’s enormous smile, “Heya Kate. Javi’s chomping at the bit down there; he says you’ll miss your flight if you don’t get a move on.”

“Thank you for getting here so fast,” she gave him a quick hug.

“No problemo,” he nodded and plopped down in the office chair, spun around once entirely, and then watched Kate and Tyler exchange a languishing look.

“Sent me your proposal?”

She smiled at him from the doorway, suitcase in hand, “yep.”

He returned her smile, “Call me when you land?”

“I will. Hydrate. Rest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When the door clicked to a close behind her, his heart ached, but with less finality.

“So? Did you do it? Did you kiss her?”

“C’mon, Boone, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Yeah, but did you? Did you kiss her?”

“Course I kissed her,” he smiled proudly, falling back into bed to the sound of Boone’s signature “yip!”

One week, at the most.

Hell, he’d been searching for her his whole life; what was another week?

AUTHOR’s NOTE:

This was just supposed to be a fluffy lil fic I would return to whenever I got frustrated writing my other fics. Didn’t mean for it to turn into 5k words monster fic. Feed this writer with your comments, if you feel so inspired. I love reading your feedback.

#twisters #glen powell #daisy edgar jones #tyler owens #kate carter #tyler x kate #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic #twisters fanfiction #kate x tyler #tyler owens x kate carter #tyler owens fanfiction

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stinkyturd · 1 month ago

Text

On the Mend

Comments: Haru x Reader fic request for @aayakashii, comfort fic about bad experiences w/ love. I usually suck at this, keep your expectations low everyone... (BTW, I think I figured out the cute gif aesthetic for this one, I hope you're proud of me, Aaya (〃^∇^)ﾉ )

The sound of the doorbell going off reverberates throughout your room in the cathedral.

You had personally installed it yourself a few weeks prior to make it easier to alert you of guests visiting, considering you generally stayed on the second floor. This was probably the first time you've heard it ring, and you weren't expecting company.

You rolled lethargically out from underneath your blanket and pulled on a cozy cardigan that was hanging on the headboard of your bed. It was already around seven in the evening, so you're far from what you would consider to be presentable at the moment. As you make your way down the steps and towards the front door, you do your best to brush down your disheveled hair. Hopefully the visitor wasn't anyone you'd hate to look crusty in front of. Though, there was really only one person that you had to worry about that with and SURELY it isn't him. He rarely has time to leave Jabberwock, after all.

You make it to the front door and swing it open. An all too familiar eccentric captain in an orange jumpsuit is standing right outside your door.

Some higher entity had to be playing a prank on you right now.

"Heya, (Y/N)! You sure look cozy!"

"Haru… what are you doing here?" You ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"I came to check on you! I know it's late, buuut..." Haru tilts his head, observing you inquisitively. "It's Saturday! You usually come over in the early afternoon."

Your eyes widen. "Saturday...?"

You reach into the pocket of your cardigan and pull out your phone to verify his claim.

And sure enough, he was right.

It had been a few days since you left the cathedral because you had been recovering from a cold. That and you were in dire need of some personal time. No people, no missions, no Darkwick.

Regardless, you most certainly didn't intend to skip out on Haru. You always went out of your way to help him on Saturdays because it was the day that you had the least obligations. The Jabberwock Captain is someone that you consider to be a close friend, so you did your best to alleviate some of his overwhelming workload.

"Haru, I'm so, so, sorry!" You apologize with a bow. "I really didn't even notice it was Saturday. My internal clock is out of whack because I haven't been feeling well."

Haru waves his hands placatingly in the air. "No, no! I sent you a text earlier today, but I don't think you saw it, so I was making sure you're as fit as a fiddle!" The Jabberwock Captain pauses and tents his eyebrows, his lips puckering into a pout. "But you're not feeling well?"

"You sent me a text...?"

That's right, you did turn off your message notifications for the day.

"Mmmhm! Just asking your availability for the day. No worries, though! The farm is in tip-top shape!" Haru assures with a radiant smile.

"I'm glad it turned out okay," You hesitate, carefully deliberating over your next words. "...Are you going to be busy anytime soon?"

The Jabberwock Captain shakes his head. "Nope! The kiddo is in bed and I have a baby monitor set up just in case!"

You avert your gaze, doing your utmost to not seem nervous. "Would you like to come inside?"

"Are you kidding? I've been dying to see your place. Count me in!" Haru readily agrees.

You lead him inside, shutting the door behind the both of you. The Jabberwock Captain walks ahead with his hands on his hips, peering around the open space with curiosity.

"I don't usually stay down here," You clarify preemptively.

Haru lets out a low whistle. "This place is pretty big! How do you get to dusting around here?"

"Dusting?" You chuckle at that. "I don't exactly have a ladder fit for that here."

"That's no good! Especially when you're sick! I can get a ladder real quick if you want. I'll have this whole place spic and span in no time!"

"Nooope. Not gonna happen." Immediately rejecting the idea, you walk up to Haru and take his gloved hand in yours, pulling him towards the staircase. "If I'm relaxing you are too, for once."

"If you say so... don't be surprised if you come home one day to a brand new cathedral," Haru says as he follows you. The way he wraps his fingers securely around yours doesn't go unnoticed.

"I lock my doors before I leave," You counter.

Haru hums ambiguously behind you.

You don't need to turn around to know why. "No lock picking, either."

The captain clicks his tongue. "Darn."

Once the two of you get upstairs, you make your way to your vintage sofa on the right side of the room. A few months ago, you picked up a smart TV when you were out in the mundane world on a mission. Currently, it was set up on a wooden media console right across from the couch. You waste no time plopping down, pulling a nearby throw blanket over you, and reaching for the remote on the end table to find something to watch.

Rather than joining you, Haru opts to shamelessly look around the room once he kicks off his shoes by the entrance. It didn't bother you-- not now anyway. You're pretty sure you don't have anything embarrassing laying out in the open. As you search through different streaming services, you catch Haru in your peripheral periodically darting around the room.

"What's this? VHS scary movies...?" Haru asks as he stops at the bookshelf by your bed. He begins pulling out some of the tapes to further examine them. "Hey, Ren likes some of these! I've seen them in his room, too!"

With permission, surely...

"Before I got a smart TV in here, all I had was a VHS player," You explain, glancing up at him from the screen. "This place was pretty dated."

"You are the first person I've seen stay here," Haru remarks as he pushes the tapes back in their respective places.

You divert your attention back to the television and continue scrolling through your recommended shows. It's mostly horror movies. Save for a few K-dramas that contributed to your sour mood earlier in the day. Maybe you were being petty and bitter, but romance just isn't speaking to you the way it used to.

"Doujinshi manga...?" Haru reads aloud, humming with curiosity. The nosey captain pries open the book without hesitation. "Let's take a peeksies...!"

Shit, you thought you threw that out forever ago. It was definitely kind of smutty.

You snap your head in his direction, your cheeks burning with embarrasment. "H-Haru! That's enough sifting through my stuff for now, get your butt over here!"

The Jabberwock Captain sways his body to face your direction, a teasing smile plastered on his face. "Can I take the book?"

He so knew what he was doing.

"No. Put it back," You retort sternly.

"Okay, okaaay."

Haru obeys, placing the novel back where he found it before making his way towards you. When he sits down next to you, he's rather close. It gives your heart a little jumpstart, and you desperately try not to think about the fact that your knees are now touching. Sure, the captain could have sat farther away, but it's a small couch.

"What are we watching?" Haru asks as he peers at the screen ahead. "You really like horror movies, dontchya?"

"Do you?" You counter.

"I don't mind them! If I get scared, can I hold onto you?" Haru jokes.

You wish he would hold onto you anyway, but you don't say that.

"Only if I get the same pass." Somehow you manage that without tripping over your words. You just hope you're not blushing.

"Of course! It goes without saying-- a tooth for a tooth." Haru looks back at the screen and something you're highlighting seems to catch his eye. "Oooh, that K-drama there! Towa told me about it, he said it's really good. You watched an episode already?"

You groan, scrolling past it anyway. "Towa told me about it too. The only romance related stuff I'd be willing to watch right now is trash TV. Unhappy couples only."

You probably sound like a bitter goblin, but you're too tired to care.

Haru quirks a skeptic eyebrow. "Unhappy only? You don't like the happy ones?"

"I just need to be injected with a little realism right now. And this isn't it," You reply, dodging the question.

Haru stares at you like he has more to say for several beats. You pretend not to notice and find the trashiest trash TV show possible. This was probably just what you needed. You silently commend your big-brained idea before clicking and starting up the show.

"... So, I heard you missed class the last two days!" The Jabberwock Captain comments with an awkward chuckle. "What happened there?"

You flit your gaze to him as you lean back into the cushion of the couch. "And how do you know that?"

"Ahahaha..." Haru nervously musses his hair and avoids your searching eyes. "Well, your professor phoned me and what not! Yup, yup."

"Strange... I didn't realize Darkwick staff called to report an absence for a grown adult woman. To a captain who's house I'm not even a part of, no less," You remark coolly.

Haru presses his lips into a thin line and you can practically see the sweat dripping from his forehead as he fumbles for an excuse. "Er... well. Gahaha."

You place your elbow on the armrest next to you and support your head against your knuckles, narrowing your eyes at him. "Spill."

"...Okay, so maaaybe when I installed the new 'Find My Kiddo' tracking chips on Ren's phone, they may have accidentally tumbled into your bag last time you were over?" Haru suggests, his tone as guilty as he looks.

You harden your gaze, enunciating his name with bite. "Haru."

Haru picks up a throw pillow from behind himself and hugs it against his chest. "Okay, okay, fine! I installed it on your phone, too." The Jabberwock Captain sucks in a gust of air, near whispering his next words. "...Don't be mad?"

You click your tongue and reach a hand forward, squishing his cheek-- albeit lightly. It elicits a satisfying squeak out of him anyway.

"I'm not mad," You assure him, tapping his chin softly before withdrawing your hand. "But why did you do that?"

Haru chews on his lip, appearing rather meek. "What if you get in to trouble? Or someone kidnaps you? Or what if you get attacked by a vicious dog on the way to campus? Anything could happen...!"

If it were literally anyone else, this would be creepy as hell. But Haru gets a pass. He always does.

You snort, your mood lifting by the second. "A dog? Is that what I should be worried about? You're so silly, sometimes."

Haru's expression relaxes at your response. He smiles, his eyebrows tented. "I hope you know that you can talk to me if you need to! A silly fella like me is still willing to listen."

It's not as if you're not willing to vent to Haru, but this particular topic would be strange for you to breach. On top of recovering from a cold, you had been feeling down and out regarding the lack of success in your love life. The last person that should hear about that stuff is the guy you have the hots for.

You shoot him a wary look before tossing your gaze ahead to the TV. "What makes you think I need to talk?"

Haru shifts his eyes in the direction of your sleeping area. "Well... the filled trash can with crumpled up tissues is one thing."

Your face burns at the insinuation. "I...! I told you I wasn't feeling well! I had the sniffles!"

Okay, that may or may not be the only reason.

Haru pauses, turning to look towards you again. "And I noticed your stereo has a playlist paused called 'Songs to Cry to'. Not to mention your favorite comfort cookies are nestled in your sheets like a baby in a bassinet!"

"Are you trying to embarrass me right now?" You accuse, though you don't even believe it yourself. "And when did you have a chance to notice all that?”

Haru smiles sheepishly. "I notice everything about you! Er, well I try…!”

You feel your heart catch in your throat at the unexpected comment. Why does he have to make things so complicated by being the most reliable and sweet ray of sunshine you ever laid your eyes upon? You should have figured he was snooping more than you thought.

Sighing, you pull the throw blanket on your lap over your shoulders as you pull your knees to your chest. Maybe in an attempt to make yourself feel less exposed physically than you do emotionally right now. "...You really want me to tell you? It's pretty lame."

Haru pivots in his spot to face you and crosses his legs. "Only if you feel comfy doing it!"

You fidget underneath the blanket and train your gaze on the TV ahead. The show is playing, but the volume is currently so low you don't even need to bother adjusting it. "I feel comfortable talking to you, of course. This is just a weird topic I don't think I've brought up around you."

Haru leans his head against the back of the couch and patiently waits for you to continue.

You can't imagine Haru feeling weird about anything really. He was always the type to roll with the punches. Regardless, you ask him a question to gauge his response to the topic.

"Have you dated anyone, Haru?"

The Jabberwock Captain pauses, pressing his lips together as he deliberates a reply.

It's not like much time passes, but you find yourself immediately regretting the question. “You don't have to answer that, sorry!"

"Don't be! I just, er... wouldn't call it dating? Hehe." Haru scratches his face with a gloved finger.

"...You mean like hookups?" You deadpan.

Haru nods, a nervous laugh spilling from his lips. "Yeaaah! It was like a bajillion years ago, though!"

You look at him with curiosity. For some reason that doesn't surprise you a whole lot. "How was it? Your experience with that?"

The captain's cheeks tinge pink, but he answers readily. "Hmm... at the time I probably thought it was great. Hormones and adolescence can really pull the wool over your eyes, though!"

"You aren't seeing anyone now?" The question leaves your mouth before you can consider how suggestive it may sound.

"Gahaha, there aren't enough hours in a day for all that! Unless they became a ranger for Jabberwock!" Haru suddenly sits up and smacks a fist against his open palm, like he just remembered something. "Oh, oh! That reminds me! I finally got a Jabberwock uniform for you on the way! It's lavender colored! Cute, right?"

You sigh and mentally kick yourself for how excited you feel from his impulsive word vomit. "I know you didn't mean it like that, but you did NOT time those two pieces of information together well... lavender is cute by the way, thanks."

"Hmm?" Haru stares at you, looking a little lost.

Moving on.

"I think we have had very different experiences in the romance department," You remark. "I suppose that only makes sense."

"Tell me about yours," Haru prods, his lips curling into an encouraging smile.

"...Not great. And if I'm being completely honest, terrible." You laugh bitterly, despite yourself.

Haru tents his eyebrows, concern etched on his features. "Terrible?"

"I'm not very experienced with intimacy," You admit, breaking away from his stare. "I rushed into things quickly before, because I was intimidated by my lack of experience. It backfired in a way..."

"How so?" Haru presses.

"Well... the whole ordeal was not only lackluster, but left me feeling humiliated and almost entirely opposed to the idea of intimacy afterwards," You explain, vaguely.

Haru nods in understanding. "So, it was someone that you weren't comfortable with?"

You nod. "Definitely not. I suppose I thought I would be at the time, but it didn't turn out that way. They weren't the person they made themselves out to be."

"Have you dated anyone else?"

"I've tried. It never feels right, so it doesn't go far."

Haru hums, offering you a sympathetic glance. "So, you wanna find one that does?"

You idly pull at loose strings on the hem of your sleepwear, while you gather your thoughts. "...I just kinda want to have someone special like that. But not just anyone, obviously. I know better now."

"Clicking with people is tough work! I wish that your first experience had been more positive for you." Haru reaches a hand forward and pats your head gently. "One positive that could come from this is that if you have low expectations, you'll know what's right for you when the time comes! Maybe your next experience will be like fireworks– no second guessing.”

You laugh a little. "That's... certainly one way of looking at it. Assuming I ever find that person."

"Someone who accepts YOU fully? I bet it will be a cinch!" Haru counters enthusiastically.

"It doesn't feel that simple," You argue unthinkingly. "I've heard plenty of people around me talk shit about other people's performance in bed. Most people would be quick to say there's nothing sexy about needing to reassure someone a lot."

Haru frowns. "Someone who cares about you won't make you feel bad about that, I promise!"

You know he's right. And you feel a bit bad for being so cynical when he's just trying to be supportive.

You shake your head decidedly. "...Sorry, Haru! I didn't mean to sound so mopey."

A lopsided smile forms on the Jabberwock Captain's face. "Mopey is fine with me! I just hope I can help!”

"You're such a sweetheart, Haru," You comment easily, flashing him a bright smile. "Thanks. This whole curse thing sucked at first, but I'm glad it got me to meet you."

Haru creases his eyebrows and audibly gulps. "M-Me too...! I'm glad I met you too, (Y/N)."

"And you're probably right, anyway. One day, someone might be patient enough to deal with my old hangups,” You shake your head dismissively, eager to clear your thoughts. “Let's watch this show, I don't wanna waste the night away on sad topics." Fixing your gaze ahead, you lift the remote in your hand, and turn the volume on the TV up a couple of notches.

From your right, you pick up a barely discernible voice.

"...I would."

"..."

You must be hearing things, but you think to double check anyway. Turning the volume down again, you redirect your attention to Haru. The captain's elbows are on his knees, and he's cupping his right hand over his mouth as he looks off to the side.

Suspicious.

“Did you say something?” You ask.

“Gahaha… did I?” The captain replies, his voice a little stifled.

Okay, so… Haru's not outright denying it. Your stomach flips.

“...Correct me if I'm wrong.”

You watch his lips part slightly as he sucks in a sharp intake of air.

“You just said ‘I would’?” You clarify.

“Urk…!” Haru sits upright and waves his hands erratically. “Ahahahaha, ignore that– please!”

You blink, at a loss for words. Haru is such a firecracker in personality that anything he ever said or did that could be interpreted as flirtatious just felt normal for him. Did he really mean that? If anyone were to successfully help you through your trepidation with physical affection it would be someone kind-hearted and patient like Haru.

“Crap, I didn't mean to make it weird! A-and about the tracking app! I swear I wasn't doing it to be a creep– please don't get a restraining order…!” Haru clasps his hands together and bows apologetically. “I can totally take it off, no problem!”

A bubbly laugh escapes as you witness his flustered state. “Pffft, a restraining order? What law personnel does Darkwick have to enforce that?”

Haru lowers his hands and looks up at you, his features relaxing. “Ahaha… none really? Now that I think about it.”

“Don't worry, I don't plan on doing that ever,” You assure, smiling brightly for good measure. “But did you really mean what you said?”

Haru nods sheepishly. “I think you're the bee's knees! If anyone deserves patience, it's you. You're nice, smart, helpful, and pretty,” The captain flushes as he vocalizes that last detail more quietly, before brushing past it. “You help out everyone a lot, including me! I barely got a wink of sleep for days, until you started helping around the farm a few months ago. Now I sleep semi-regularly!”

Haru's words of praise make your stomach do backflips, but you end up fixating on his sleeping habits. You shoot him a tired look. “You still need more sleep, Haru. In fact, you should be using this time to rest!”

“No way…!” Haru protests, appearing almost offended by the suggestion. “I hardly have time to sit down with you like this. I'm way too giddy to sleep!”

You push out an exasperated sigh. Debating his unhealthy habits right now wouldn't result in anything fruitful. So, instead you decide to take his confession into consideration as you carefully mull over your next words.

“...I feel the same way about you.”

The captain snaps to attention, his expression bewildered. “Really?!”

You snort, resting your cheek on your knees as you regard him with adoration. “Don't act so surprised. You're one of the most genuine and good-natured people I've ever met. If I were to try and re-experience anything in the romance department, it would be with someone like you.”

Haru gapes, his cheeks visibly heating up again. “...No joke?”

You shake your head. “No joke.”

Haru stills rigidly for the moment.

“S-So… what now?” He asks, maybe with a little too much anticipation.

You purse your lips together, eyeing him carefully. “What are you comfortable with?”

“Anything!” Haru insists, his expression determined.

“Hmm… let's start small then.” You drop your feet to the ground and grab the pillow from Haru's lap, setting it on your own. Patting the soft object encouragingly, you offer an idea. “Lay down?”

“Me? But you're the one who's sick,” Haru counters.

“I'm fine now! Besides, you worked twice as hard today because I was here. So, I insist!”

Despite his initial protest, Haru wastes no time adjusting his position and plopping his head on the cushion. You turn the volume to the TV up marginally, before tentatively running your fingers through the captain's hair. Haru immediately relaxes into the touch, a sigh escaping his lips.

His hair is soft, like it had just recently been conditioned. You begin to pick up the scent of Haru's shampoo as you continue to play with it. The show displayed on the screen in front of you stars broken couples arguing about baby mama drama, but you're hardly paying attention to it. An impossible feat considering the man you harbored feelings for is at such close proximity.

At some point you massage the pads of your fingertips against Haru's scalp, eliciting a satisfied hum from him. Without warning, the captain flips over to face your waist. He shifts to where he's able to wrap both of his arms around you as he lays across your lap.

“You're a dream. I'm really living the high life right now,” Haru murmurs. He nestles his face closer into the fabric of your shirt as he tightens his hold on you.

The action is so endearing you're nearly at a loss for words. His warm breath ghosting over your waist rouses a hoard of fitful butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Pushing through your nerves, you force an airy laugh. “Are you comfortable like that?”

“Mmmhm. So comfy,” Haru replies, his voice a bit muffled.

The two of you stay like that for some time, all the while you carry on with stroking his hair. You do your best to keep your eyes locked ahead, occasionally stealing glances at the man clinging to you. Eventually, the episode comes to an end and the credits start rolling.

“Haru, do you want to pick something…?” You ask, picking up the remote again.

No response.

You glance down and notice the rise and fall of Haru's rhythmic breathing. He's sound asleep.

Considering how little the captain slept, the fact that he felt comfortable enough to do so is nothing short of heartwarming. The only problem is your legs are getting all tingly from falling asleep. Maybe you should just ask him to stay over considering the time?

You adjust your position ever so slightly to get some relief for your temporarily compressed nerves. Unfortunately, this causes Haru to stir from his slumber in the process.

The arms around your waist relax and the captain props himself up on his elbows, to where he's hovering over your lap and inadvertently caging in your thighs. “Mmn… Did I just fall asleep?”

“You did, but that's okay. Do you want to lie down? I'll move the cookies and Kleenex for you,” You tease with a smirk.

Haru languidly lifts himself to a sitting position and rubs his eyes. “...In your bed?”

“It's getting kind of late to walk home. Only if you're comfortable with it,” You explain, doing your best to quell the anxiety you felt from proposing the idea.

Haru moves his hand from his face and blinks in surprise.

“I'm offering so you can get proper sleep,” You clarify hastily.

“...Can we cuddle?” Haru asks, his tone hopeful.

You let out a short laugh. “Yes, I'd love that.”

A grin splits the captain's face. “Heck, yeah! Now I'm stoked for sleep!”

“I just wanted to say… Thank you for listening to my problems. And for giving me company.”

Haru waves his hand flippantly. “Come now! I should thank you for having me! If you ever need anything, don't be shy to ask!”

You smile teasingly. “I'll hold you to that. Anyway, let me clear off my mattress, it's a mess!” With that, you get to your feet with intention to make your way to your bed, but the sensation of pins and needles in your legs causes you to stumble forward.

“Aaah!” Not missing a beat, Haru shoots upright and catches you in his arms. “Are you okay?!”

The faint scent of musky cologne fills your nostrils as you fall forward against the Jabberwock Captain's chest. Making a point to hardly move so as to not make the sensation any more unbearable, you rigidly lift your head. “Yup, my legs just fell asleep, ahaha.”

Haru snickers. “Darn, I hate when that happens! No worries, I gotchya!”

You don't even get a chance to ask what he means before you're lifted from your spot on the ground and hoisted over his shoulder.

A squeak of protest escapes your lips. “H-Haru…!”

“Trust the process!” Haru begins to walk over towards your bed, holding you in place as he goes. “You'll be down before you can say Jack Robinson, gahaha!”

“Jack Robinson, Jack Robinson, Jack Robins–” Your mantra is abruptly caught off when Haru easily lifts and maneuvers your body back first onto the mattress. You narrow your eyes up at the captain, who's hovering over you with his palms flat against the plush surface beneath you. “Two and a half times,” You point out.

“If I went any faster, you may have gotten motion sickness!” Haru argues, puckering his bottom lip out. “Better than walking on stiff feet though, yeah?”

The captain begins to lift himself up and for some reason you find yourself abruptly catching the collar of his shirt. Haru appears mildly surprised by the action.

“Er, s-sorry!” You hastily apologize, loosening your grip on the fabric.

Haru tents his eyebrows and smiles, his tone amused. “You want me to stay like this?”

“That wouldn't exactly be comfortable,” You counter, fighting back a blush.

The captain hums and leans against the mattress, just between your legs that are hanging over the side. “This is comfy enough, for now!”

Your heart slams erratically in your chest as you lock eyes with Haru at such close proximity. Of course, he would immediately be receptive to any protest you have. But why exactly did you stop him from leaving?

“I… can I kiss you?” You manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Haru’s cheeks tinge pink at the sudden request. Regardless, he doesn't delay in his efforts to fulfill it. You catch a glimpse of his hand moving in your peripheral before you feel it cup your cheek and tilt your face upwards. Your eyes flutter shut when you register him closing the distance.

The sensation of Haru's warm lips against yours is mind-numbing. To say you have butterflies would feel like a disservice to the unfamiliar emotions flooding over you like a tidal wave. Countless years of resolute aversion directed at the idea of sharing another kiss with someone melted away with the first chaste contact. Haru separates his lips briefly, only to reconnect with yours over and over again in a barrage of subdued and languid kisses.

When Haru eventually pulls away, his features are completely flushed. He props himself over you with his elbows and eyes you warily. “Was that okay…?��

You bring your own hand up to touch your face. Considering how warm you feel right now there's no way he doesn't see the effect he has on you. “I think I must be down bad for you, Haru.”

The response seems to pacify the captain because he smiles at you. “Hah… if that's the case I sure am a lucky guy.”

“I think I'm the lucky one.”

Haru shakes his head emphatically. “You reckon we can keep doing this? Or, er… is it a one time thing?”

The anxiety in his tone is enough to gut you. As if you would have it any other way.

“You're the only one I want,” You assure. “I would love to keep spending time with you.”

Haru regards you with such a doting look that it's a wonder you're not dissolving from the overload of emotions being thrown at you all at once.

“Looks like I'm gonna have to bribe the team so I can open up my schedule!”

#tokyo debunker #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #haru sagara/reader #haru sagara x reader #haru sagara

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clayderogatory · 1 month ago

Text

"Under the Red Light of the Crimson Moon."

a/n note: happy spooky season! since the poll received so much positive attention and many yes-es...i decided to write this! it will be posted on my ao3 after as well! also this playlist was very much my vibe im going for so if you like music while reading, this one is perfect! also, this is a VERY plot heavy and descriptive fic as well. warning, this fic does have dark content, if that is not for you, i do not suggest reading! This will also be a multipart series/multi chapter fic!

pairing: vampire!leon kennedy x gn!reader.

word count: 7.2k

tags: mystery, last name already established, graphic depiction of death, corpses, blood, language, heavy mentions of religion, romanticism, neck biting, alcohol use, mentions of other resident evil characters, no smut!

description: you are a doctor/researcher who gets sent to the eerie town of Hythe to investigate and help the strange deaths of the townsfolk. soon, you hear talk of the strange manor upon the hill to the north, and you decide to investigate.

━━━━━━━━━━━━⊱⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━

The town of Hythe was certainly one of much mystery, certainly even from the townsfolk there. The place was always described as eerie, where something was always off. Many people were ill quite frequently, and many were mysteriously killed by an unknown source. With many letters sent and through your curiosity being piqued, you had ultimately decided to see what was all the trouble. The train ride there had been rather pleasant, mainly through the blissful and tranquil countryside of Europe. It had been a wonderful sight to see, the thick green trees whose branches spread to the sun and it's radiant rays, the soft green grass across the plains that would hastily pass by, and the occasional cottages that you would see with families tending to their little farms—it was all rather charming. It truly made you wonder what could be so wrong?

When you arrived at the town of Hythe, that was when it all clicked in your mind. You stepped off the train to a town that was particularly and overly gloomy. The roads and houses were primarily made of stone and dark wood, and while lit oil lamps were filed along the slightly cracked streets—the air was thick and filled with the scent of death and decay. You scrunched your nose at the horrid smell that entered your nostrils, “It smells like shit..” A mumble escaped your lips as you tried your best to not breathe in more of the air around you. You walked through the dark town, the dark and grey clouds above hid away the warm and bright rays of the sun, to which it left the area seemingly forlorn. The townspeople were no better, anyone that was shuffling by were pale and thin. You assumed no one had seen the comforts of the sun in years, as you shifted glances with the townsfolk who just so happened to pass by you. They had seemed rather intrigued and quite curious by your presence in the town of Hythe—after all—no one ever willingly visited this place.

Luckily, you had the ability to stay at the nicest inn the town could offer. After all, with a well paying job such as yours, you could afford more than the average person could in this economy. You had carried your personal bags made of the richest full grain leathers—a generous gift from your father when you were entering your career as a doctor and a researcher. In an alleyway, you had heard the sobbings of a woman and two children, clad in all black, as they tragically wept over the corpse of what you assumed as her now dead husband. An elder priest accompanied them as well, he was saying his deepest prayers along with the family and praying that the man’s soul would be guided to heaven to rest in God’s safe embrace.

You could only watch with a sense of pity as you took notice of the body itself. The corpse seemed fresher, as if it happened the night before you arrived. The muscles were all stiff as the man’s face was contorted into a pale, and horrified expression. The man looked petrifyingly angular, as if someone had suctioned up much of the muscle mass in his body. The horrible odor filled through the air and unfortunately right into your nostrils as your face turned to one of pure disgust. No matter how long you had been in the medical field, you never had much of a tolerance for the dead. The one thing that stuck out to you the most was a large and uninviting bite mark along where the man’s jugular vein would be. The blood had been dried to a rustic red color and part of his cream colored—now stained in a dried crimson—shirt ripped apart to reach the man’s neck. Whoever would…or even could do such a thing like this?

You decided to investigate further as you carefully and slowly stepped closer, the smell was absolutely putrid, but you could manage to keep moving for the sake of your own curiosity and personal research. You had pulled out a small leatherback notebook and a writing utensil out of your coat pocket as you politely cleared your throat to grab their attention. “My deepest apologies during this time…but I could not help but notice this predicament before me…would it be alright to inquire about what may have happened?” You asked sweetly and kindly, after all, the family seemed to be heavily distraught from the traumatic sight before them. No one could blame them for feeling that way, of course.

“He..he left last night for a drink at the t..tavern…and he..he didn't come home! He was only thirty eight…” The woman exclaimed as her tears kept falling from her bloodshot and tired eyes. “And he was found in this state?” You replied and went to walk over to observe the body yourself. “Indeed…my dearest Simon..” She whispered as you kneeled down to have a better look. Judging by the state of decomposition, it seemed to be around one in the morning that he was killed, with how it was now an early eight in the morning. “It was most certainly a homicide…that is too odd of a puncture wound to inflict on oneself…” You spoke in a soft and hushed tone—almost to yourself even.

You lightly traced your hand just barely above the wound, not enough to touch—but you were certainly focused on it. The wound was unlike anything you have ever seen, it was almost too neat for it to have been any sort of weapon. There was no gunpowder or scorch marks on his cold and dead skin, so it couldn't possibly have been a pistol—or any gun for that matter. Hell, you didn't even know if they constructed bullets that thin. A knife certainly had too thick a blade, the wound would have instantly killed someone in the particular area as well. It would have left too jagged a cut as well, with the flesh being more torn into and creating a larger opening than what was presented before you. The man would have suffered more bloodloss in that particular case as well, and it wasn’t quite the case here—considering how there were only a few streams of leftover blood that had previously oozed and dripped down from his sternum and farther down his exposed chest. The marks that were left behind, equally parallel to one another, were so precise and thin…and yet, so intimidating to look at. “Excuse me…if I may ask who you are?” The priest questioned you as you were finally snapped out of one of just many of your investigative trances.

You had turned to the Priest once more before getting your thoughts together once more, “Dr. Coulston…although, you could just call me [Name].” You spoke calmly, regardless of there being a corpse right next to you. The priest’s light and stormy grey eyes lit up with the hint of familiarity, “Ah…you must be the doctor we have sent for.” They all had disregarded the decaying corpse for a moment to greet you. “I am this town’s main priest, Osmund Saddler.” He introduced himself as you gave a generous bow. “I truly thank you for your kindness, Father.” You formally addressed the man as you straightened your posture once more. “If I may ask…have there been many deaths much like this one?” You had opened your small notebook after asking and awaiting an answer to note down on the sheets of paper made from the finest wood pulp. “Indeed…it is the work of the Devil himself! I sense his presence around these corpses, may their souls be guided to Heaven…” Saddler had exclaimed and made a small motion of the cross with his hands. You hastily wrote everything you possibly could while he spoke, and also the details of the actual body itself.

Middle aged man, thirty eight years old. Name was Simon. Expression twisted into one of horror. Estimated time of death, 1:00-1:30 in the morning. Fatal wound of two precise and thin puncture wounds to the jugular vein. The body looks extremely thin, very unhealthily. The body was found in an alleyway just a few meters from the train station to the town of Hythe. Deaths like this are increasingly common, according to Father Osmund Saddler.

“May he rest in peace…” You clasped your hands together and uttered but a small prayer for all the families whose loved ones perished in such a grotesque way. Once you had rested your arms and opened your eyes once more, everything seemed to have calmed down more. “One more question…is there anyone here that could provide more information on these murders?” You inquired as what seemed to be some townsfolk hired by a funeral home started filing in to claim the body to prepare it to be embalmed and buried. “There is one you could try…he frequents the town square quite often. His name is Chris Redfield.” Saddler suggested as you wrote down his name and the place. “Thank you very much.” Your lips curved upwards into a smile as Saddler returned the gesture. “Of course, I hope to see you soon, Doctor.” It was after that where everyone had started to go their own separate ways, and you headed to the inn so you could book your room and leave your bags there. It wasn’t too much of a walk from your previous stance, and it was on the wealthier side of the town. You had walked along the stony paths of the streets, the low, but sturdy heels of your leather shoes making a soft clack with every step you took. You looked around the town to gather some needed insight for the town that you would be staying in for some time now.

There weren’t many shops on the outside, everything was indoors and secure. You assumed it was from the amount of murder along the streets of the town. Anyone that was even outside regardless looked awfully frightened. You could hear their hushed whispers to one another, their gossipings, all about the man’s corpse you have just seen with your own two eyes. News seemed to spread around quickly in this town, although they probably had nothing else better to do with their lives. Just waiting to see who will be struck dead in the thick and dreadful cold of the night! You quietly hummed to yourself at the thought, it would make quite the mystery novel—you held onto that idea in your mind for later usage.

After you had lived in your own psyche and wandered around for but a moment, you reached the inn. It was at the least a little more welcoming than the rest of the town. It also had some stunning views of the mountains much further away in the distant landscape of the area. Through the windows of the inn, you could see the warmer and more comforting candlelight coming from indoors. It provided at least a small sense of security that most of the town very clearly didn't provide with its natural gloom. You gently opened the door and with a grunt, you hauled your bags into the entrance. There was a small golden bell that gave a cheerful jingle as you walked in. As you did, the bell provided the innkeeper the sense that someone had entered. She stood behind a wooden desk with a damp rag in her hands to clean.

“Welcome! How may I assist you?” She gave a warm smile as she placed the rag in a small compartment underneath the now cleaned, polished, hardwood table she stood behind. She had her slightly reddish–brown hair up in a messy ponytail, some of her hair falling onto her pale face that adorned icy blue eyes. She wore her work uniform that was just plain and simple, a red dress with puffed sleeves and a white lace at the ends. There was an ivory white ribbon upon the bust of her dress. She wore a faded dusty pink apron as well, but one eye-catching detail you had noticed was a sterling silver necklace she wore with the charm being a silver feather with a deep blue sapphire near the tip of the quill. You walked up to the counter and placed your bags down next to you with a small sigh escaping your lips. “I will need a room to stay in…for..quite a while. I was asked to come here in regards to the investigation of the murders.” You replied and put your hand upon the freshly polished wooden countertop. “Ah! Everyone in town has been talking about you…thank you for helping us, really.” She gave a pleasant smile before turning around to get a small room key for you. “Of course…and if it is no trouble..would you happen to know anything about these murders that have been rampant?” You had pulled your small leatherback notebook and writing utensil out once more in the hopes that she would know something.

“Well…my older brother has been looking into it a bit. He has told me it always happens in the complete dead of night. Every victim perishes the exact same…may God have mercy on their souls..” A soft sigh escaped her lips as you wrote everything she said down onto the parchment paper of your notebook. “And who is your brother?” You looked up for a brief moment, your eyes laced with that desire to know more. “Chris…Chris Redfield. I’m his sister, Claire.” She introduced herself and placed a key on the desk. Your eyes glimmered at your recognition of the name she spoke of. “I have indeed heard of him…do you know wherever he may be currently?” You wrote down her name next to his, and wrote a little margin note saying they were siblings. “Hm…I couldn’t say as of right now..but he has told me he was going to investigate the strange manor upon the hill to the north of town at some point.” Claire responded to your inquiry and leaned forwards against the countertop. It was a little improper, but you paid it no mind as you wrote down that important detail as well. “Manor? What is strange about it? Why is your brother going to investigate it?” You rapidly questioned, one after the other. Claire had to take a small pause to be able to properly answer your questions.

“Well…the manor has been there for..who knows how long? This village has been around for centuries…that manor along with it. It’s very rare to spot someone ever going inside or out…but one time..I did see a young man enter back inside. I couldn’t make out much of what he looked like…but he had a sort of dirty blonde hair from what I can remember. Regardless...my brother is a constable. He’s been on this investigation as well…he was the one that sent the letter to you.” Claire explained with a hand resting upon her soft, rosy cheek. You had checked your notes thus far.

Chris Redfield and Claire Redfield—siblings. Chris is a constable. Manor on the hill to the north, no one really comes in or out often. Young man with dirty blonde hair spotted once while going inside.

“I see…I thank you kindly.” You slowly nodded your head at Claire as she gave you the key to your room. “Of course! Name please?” She got out her own sheet of parchment paper to note down that the room would be occupied. “Dr. [Name] Coulston.” You replied as Claire nodded to herself as clarification and wrote down everything she needed. “Alright! We will charge you at the end of your stay.” She smiled and put the paper and fountain pen to the side. “And the room is the second door on the right!” She quickly added as you started to carry all of your possessions once more.

You had hauled your bags and items to the door, second from the right—you had remembered, and you opened the wooden door with the small key Claire had given you. The inside of the room was simple, but it was quite comfortable. There was a window to your left that gave you the same stunning views from when you first saw the building. The mountains that surrounded the town truly were a sight to behold, along with the thick forests at the feet of every mountain. Inside of the room was a queen sized bed to your right hand side, a rich mahogany nightstand next to it as well. Atop of it was a silver tray with a fresh box of matches to the side and a few candles with its silver candle holder. Next to the nightstand was a door that led to a small and private bathroom, as well as there being a few bookshelves filled with all kinds of books, a mahogany desk, a few nice portraits hanging around, a large vanity mirror hanging from the wall, and a fireplace that was currently unlit. You had placed your bags down at the foot of the bed and hung your coat on a coat hanger that you just noticed was beside the door. You then just took a moment to just lay down. So much had happened within the past one to two hours that you felt nearly exhausted. You decided that a nice nap would surely do you justice as you got comfortable and your eyes naturally closed on their own to drift into a comfortable slumber.

When you had finally awoken, it was night already. You didn’t even know you could potentially sleep that long—but the train ride had been quite long and you dealt with the whole mystery of the corpses and finding people. It all made your head spin from the stress, but you had a responsibility to solve it all. You slowly arose from the bed with a groan and a stretch, you could feel and hear the snapping of your bones as you felt the ability to move around without a soreness once more. You had ultimately decided to do some more investigation in the night, for you may have had the chance to catch the culprit whilst in the act! You had taken your coat from where you had previously hung it earlier and you slipped it back on. Then it was proceeded by fixing your hair to look a little more presentable than when you had woken up, and from one of your bags—you had pulled out a dagger of your own. If there was a chance that someone would try to go after you, you wanted to be ready at any given moment—and certainly considering the way of how these innocent people were being murdered, you knew you had to be wary and prepared for anything that could happen.

You picked up your satchel and filled it with some essentials. A first aid kit, small snacks for the road,and some stored money. There was always one person who would hide what he knew behind some sort of paywall—or if you needed something for dinner. Once you had personally felt ready, you slipped your shoes back on and left your cozy inn room for the unsuspecting mystery of the town of Hythe. When you had slipped out, as if the town already wasn’t overtly depressing, at night? It felt terrifying. You quietly wandered the streets on your own, the only sources of light coming from the scarce few of the oil lightposts on the sides of the street. The only thing you could hear were the clacks of your heels with each step on the cobblestone streets. You tried to keep your composure, the dread now finally kicking in as you could feel your body tremble from paranoia. You checked a few alleyways, and only finding complete darkness enveloping the space. You had turned your head towards the opposite way of the last alley you looked into, before you found a cold hand grabbing you by the waist and dragging you into that shadowy crevice of the alleyway. A scream escaped your mouth as your body was suddenly pressed up against another, with a complete absence of any warmth at all.

“A new face, hm?” You noticed it was a man’s voice, and from what you could gather, he had a seemingly Spanish accent. “It’s been forever since someone new came around..” He whispered as you felt his hot breath right where your jugular vein would be. You struggled in his grasp with quiet grunts, “Let…go of..me!” You cried out as you stomped on his foot with all your might and escaped from his hold as he howled in pain. “Mierda…” He cursed as he tried lunging for you again, to which you narrowly escaped with a yelp. “Get away from me!” You yelled and managed to get steady on your feet once more, dagger in hand. “Feisty, eh? So typical of humans..” He muttered as he ran up to you and managed to trap you once again, you struggled as he pinned you up against the wall and opened his mouth to seemingly bite you. His canine teeth were much larger than the normal person’s, and his eyes glowed red in the darkness that enveloped your bodies. You couldn’t make out any other defining features as your heart felt it would jump right out of your chest from how fast it was beating. Thump, thump, thump—it was all you heard as his teeth advanced closer, and you just thought it would be the end. You braced for an impact that never came, for when he was just about to dig his teeth into your neck, you heard the sound of a bullet being fired directly into his shoulder. He cried out in pain as he let go and tightly gripped onto the side of his shoulder where a crimson red blood was flowing down his arm. You looked over and saw a quite large and burly man from outside the alleyway holding up a now recently fired rifle. “Get away from them!” He yelled as the man who attacked you frowned with displeasure and dissipeared into the night once more.

You panted for your breath as the adrenaline from being in a near death experience, your mind felt hazy and your senses amplified tenfold. You had no idea what had just happened, and when you had just got back to your senses, you saw the man who saved you standing in front of you. “Are you alright? You aren’t injured, are you?” He asked and offered a hand for you. “No…I-I’m alright..” You stammered quietly as you were slowly calming down from the events that just transpired. “I truly thank you for saving me…I thought I would have died there for sure..” You whispered as the man in front of you nodded in response. “These have been happening all over town…thank God I found you before you were injured.” He gave a hearty smile that you couldn’t help smiling back from his friendly demeanor. “Right…what’s your name?” You asked as you both started walking out of the alleyway and back onto the cobblestone street. “Chris…Chris Redfield.” He stated as your eyes widened, you were lucky enough to find everyone related to one another. “Oh! Yes..yes I was going to look for you! I needed your help on investigating…all of this..although it did just happen..” You rambled a bit before continuing, “I met your sister, Claire..at the inn. And earlier this morning Father Saddler mentioned you after I first came across a corpse who suffered a similar fate as to everyone else.” You finished talking as the both of you walked along the street together. “I see…thank you for taking the time to investigate this issue as well. It’s been happening for…years now at this rate.” Chris looked to you as he replied. “I’ve come to the conclusion that…we may be dealing with a larger threat than I may have thought.”

“And what may it be?” You asked and looked to Chris for his answer. He seemed slightly uneasy at the idea of it, but it came out in a hushed tone of his voice, “Vampirism.” You were familiar with the concept, there were always those extremely paranoid of the sort. Garlic, stakes to the heart—you had heard it all, for it actually to truly exist? The thought was utterly terrifying, especially considering the fact that you had just been potentially attacked by one just but a few moments ago. “V-vampirism? Surely you jest…” You stammered, your voice so utterly uneasy from the idea. Chris shook his head in response as the two of you kept walking down the street, and you truly felt your throat constrict in a bout of nervousness and fear. “As much as I wish I was wrong…considering the events we have just witnessed..and the events that have been occurring..I fear it may be the only answer.” He spoke quietly as a somber mood fell over the two of you like a blanket draped over a bed. “Then what are we to do? They will keep harming innocent people…” You whispered as your brain tried to wrack itself for any sort of clue or answer, obviously they had to find some sort of compromise—but it wasn’t like you exactly knew the general nature of vampires.

“Do you think they live in the manor on the hill?” You inquired as the two of you continued to stroll with one another, Chris pursed his lips and put a hand to his chin. “It’s probable…” He replied as a thought seemed to appear in your head. He could tell by the way your expression changed, “No, you seriously cannot be thinking about going there!” His voice was raised a little as you looked back up to meet his eyes. “I could be able to try to talk with them! Maybe we could reach a compromise…” You suggested the idea as it made Chris a little distressed at the idea. “Vampires are dangerous, Doctor. We don’t know what to expect from them…” He replied and put a hand to yours with concern, you could only sigh in response as you looked away to your right before making eye contact once more. “Chris, if we treat them with hostility, they would only show it back. Let me try to make things right..because I do want to help this town..innocent people shouldn’t have to die.”

“If you say so…but you better stay safe..but know if they try anything, I’ll have to step in.” You nodded at his conditions, “I agree to your terms then.” You both carefully walked back to the inn, but for a moment as you walked, you exchanged glances with another man that had walked by. You noticed a brief red glow from his eyes and what looked to be blonde hair. His clothing was particularly formal, although it was hard to make out due to the dark colors of it blending in with the shadows of the night, but you immediately whipped your head back to looking in front of you with a small gasp escaping your lips. Chris looked at you concerningly for a brief moment as he decided to say nothing as the two of you made it back to the inn once again. Claire was still behind the desk as it seemed she was tidying up the place, at the jingle of the door opening, she looked up and noticed the two of them walking in. “Chris! [Name]! What are you two doing out so late in the night?” She walked out from behind the desk, took off her apron, and placed on the front desk before she made her way over to the both of you. “I had gone out to investigate the pressing issue at hand—” You had started before Chris had finished your sentence, “Along the way, they were attacked by one of the perpetrators. A vampire.”

Claire’s icy blue eyes went wide with the statements as she almost couldn’t figure out what to say. “A..a vampire? Truly?” She stammered as you and Chris nodded your heads in sync. “Chris saved me from one…and then..as we were walking back..I swore I saw another.” Your voice gradually decrescendoed as you spoke, for it grew quieter with every word that came from your lips. “Another?” Claire asked with shock as you managed a solemn nod. “Indeed…he had this blondish hair and his eyes were tinted as this..this crimson red. I could swear they glowed..” You recalled from only a few moments prior to now. “Well…let us all be eternally grateful that everyone is unharmed..it is late in the night, dear. You should head to bed and get some rest..” Claire put a gentle hand on your shoulder with a comforting look. “Indeed. We could rendezvous in the morning with some breakfast and tea to discuss what we shall do moving forwards.” Chris agreed as everyone decided to part ways for the night and wait for morning to speak on such issues. Of course, you weren’t as tired as the other two as you recorded your experiences down into your notebook so that it wouldn’t potentially be lost in your vast memory.

In an alleyway of Hythe, not particularly far from the inn, a vampire attacked at around ten-o-clock at night. Noticeable characteristics were crimson red eyes, large fangs at the canine teeth and slightly smaller fangs where they would meet at the premolars. The vampire that attacked had a smooth Spanish accent, more akin to that of Spain and not of South America origin. The second vampire I had seen while walking was not hostile towards me or Chris Redfield, but he had the same crimson red eyes but his hair distinctly blonde and he had dressed like a gentleman.

You had placed your fountain pen back down after closing it shut after writing. There was a lot to report, but it would provide useful later on. Afterwards, you had taken a relaxing warm bath to calm your nerves and to relax you enough to be able to sleep through the night. You dressed into your nightclothes before slipping into bed and drawing the covers over your body as you lulled into a gentle and peaceful slumber once again.

When you had awoken at around eight in the morning the next day, the outside was still just as gloomy as the day before. Even if it had all felt like an odd dream, you vividly remembered everything that had happened prior. The corpse in the alleyway, the attack, excetera. You had risen out of bed to dress yourself once more as you slipped on your coat lastly. You were going to meet Claire and Chris out for breakfast in the inn, since there was a small dining hall that was in the inn as well. You had stepped out of your room after getting ready for the day as you had now just recently met up with the siblings once more, the fresh smell of warm tea and pastries filling into your nostrils and somehow calming any nerves you may have had. “Good morning, you two.” You had spoken politely as you sat down across from them. “Good morning! How did you sleep?” Claire asked as she took a bite into a small cream puff she had made that morning. “I slept well enough…although..everything from last night is still on my mind.” You replied as Claire poured you a cup of warm chamomile tea. “Mine as well…at least we know who is behind all of this..the only question is how are we going to prevent it from happening again?” Chris responded as he took a quick sip of tea after speaking. “Well…I did say I would try to talk with them..” You responded as they both looked to you as if you were crazy. “Talk with them?! Doctor..I am not sure that is the best idea..especially after one already attacked you!” Claire exclaimed before Chris put a hand up to signal to calm down. “It’s the best we can do…it’s hard enough to try and kill them as it is.” He responded as his sister huffed.

“Oh alright…just..stay safe, [Name].” Claire looked at you with a hint of worry in her expression, but there wasn’t much else you could do. You were willing to make the sacrifice to help the others in need here in the village, and who knows? Maybe you would learn more in the process, and as a reasearcher, you always loved to accumilate more and more knowledge about the world around you. “I was planning to head over to the manor after breakfast…all I know about vampires are what people say about them. Although you can never truly believe everything you hear…” You had taken another sip of your tea and a bite of a warm cinnamon roll. “I do not believe they are regarded as very kind..but I am not sure. We only have the encounter from the other night to go off of.” Chris strirred his tea and drank the rest of it before setting the cup down. “The one who attacked me last night certainly wasn’t very nice…” You mumbled before finishing your breakfast and standing back up afterwards. “Thank you very much for the meal…it was truly delicious, Claire.” You gave a soft smile in her direction and dusted off your coat with. “Of course..please stay safe…vampires may be unpredictable..although it really is all a mystery.” She whispered and went to clean some plates up. “Of course..thank you both for everything..” Your lips curved into a smile again as you gave your final goodbyes before going back to your room, grabbing your satchel yet again, and leaving to go to the manor. You walked along the roads of the town again, you even peered into many of the alleyways to find if there were any corpses in them, but to your surprise, there weren’t any at all.

You had asked around to see if anyone knew where to find the manor, and they all gave a similar answer of following the main road north until you see the hill. So you had listened to their advice, and with every step—every clack of your heel on the cobblestone tiles only heightening your anxiety as you reached the edge of the town, and you spotted the manor upon the hill. There was a bit of a misty fog around as you walked up the path to the manor itself, the path was of dirt as you walked along it warily. There were many trees along the path that had obscured some of your view, but you ultimately pressed ahead. The one thing that you did notice the closer you got to the entrance, was the abundance of multiple types of red flowers in the front. Although the main ones you could make out were some beautiful near maroon roses and an assortment of brightly colored red poppies. It was fitting now that you knew of their true identities, but to say that they weren’t beautiful would be a lie.

You had climbed up the steps to the grand front door of the manor, it was a little intimidating as you gently took one of the door handles and used it to knock on the door precisely three times. There was only silence as you waited for a response, nothing thus far—so you knocked again. Three times, but with a bit more power to them. Your first justification was if they didn’t hear your previous knocks, your second justification was if the myth of vampires being nocturnal was really true, and your third justification was that perhaps no one was home. “Hello? Is anyone home?” You called out quite loudly as you couldn’t even peer in through a nearby window. All of them were covered by maroon curtain drapes from the inside, so there was no luck there. You had sighed and thought to just wait, and as you turned on your heel to leave, you heard the creak of the door behind you opening which made you flinch slightly and hastily turn around. When you had done so, you had locked eyes with the same man who walked past you yesterday night. You could see him a lot more clearly, he had those same red eyes—albiet not glowing anymore, a dirty blond hair that was short in the back but a little long in the front, considerably pale skinned with faint red blemishes, and a rather muscular look to him that was shrowded by his previous clothes. Of course now he was a bit less formal, with only a frilled off white shirt that had showed part of his chest, and high waisted black pants with some gold detailing down the sides.

“...may I help you?” He finally spoke as his eyes nearly pierced your very soul with how intimidating they were. You had nervously chuckled and cleared your throat as you tried to keep your ground and your mind level headed. "Good morning, sir...if I could just have a moment of your time—" You had started before he cut you off, "I have no time for such insignificant nonsense." You blinked a little awkwardly as he tried closing the door before you sprung forwards. "Wait! Wait...please, I truly mean no harm..I just wished..to ask a few questions is all." He stared at you in thought before wordlessly opening the door further for you. You quietly thanked him as you walked into the manor and looked around.

There were candles everywhere, and all of them were lit to make up for the lack of natural lighting from the outdoors. Blacks, reds, and golds were certainly an abundance as the color palate of choice for decoration. Everything looked a little outdated than what was considered normal at the time, and some things looked seemingly medieval, which had further intrigued you. Paintings filled the rooms upon the walls and many of them were a bit eerie to say the least. The blonde haired man led you to the drawing room where he sat down on a couch and motioned for you to sit on the one across from him, which you did so with grace.

"Thank you for the invitation, sir. There were just a few questions I would like to ask of you or anyone else that lives in this home. Could I have a name?" You pulled out your notebook and writing utensil once again and flipped to an open page. "...Leon. Leon Kennedy." He replied as you both firmly shook hands, his grip being a little tighter than yours. "And you will not find the others here at this hour," He simply stated and crossed his arms. "They are on...business."

"...business?"

"Business."

You blinked a few times and noted that down as you nodded your head slowly. "Right...and..what type of business...might I ask..?" Your words were slowly paced, you couldn't help but not believe what he was saying to an extent. "It is information I cannot tell you, my sincerest condolences." You had written that down too. "Alright...well, if I may switch our topic a little..do you know about the recent murders here in Hythe?" You curiously inquired with your eyes glinting with that desire of knowledge. To hear the perspective of someone more on the outskirts of town and who may have been one in on them in the first place certainly intrigued you. "Well...yes, I have. They have caused a bit of commotion here." Leon nodded. "Indeed they have...would you happen to know anything on why they are happening?"

Leon visibly went stiff as he tried to think of something to say to that question. "Ah..well...I do know..some..." He meticulously chose his words carefully as you nodded. "Do tell then, I am all ears."

"It would be considered blasphemous...I doubt you would believe me." Leon murmured as his red eyes looked down a little sullenly. "I can assure you..I will hear out anything you are willing to say." You gave a sweet and affirming smile as he nodded and thought out what he desired to say. "Well...would you believe me if I said we weren't quite..human?" Leon whispered just loud enough for you to hear him. "I could get behind the idea...do continue." You replied calmly as he nodded. "Well...we are..vampires. Everyone in this manor. We don't mean to intentionally kill..it is the only way we can feed..and we have so little that even just a drop of blood causes us to..spiral." He confessed honestly as you wrote it all down without even looking at the paper.

"So I see..my theory was correct then..how did you all arrive here then?" You asked as Leon crossed his legs. "Well...I suppose we have been here longer. This manor is..quite old." He blinked a few times and scratched his chin. Many of his answers were a bit short lived, you had noticed. At least you were getting them, so you couldn't complain too much. "Intriguing..." You whispered and nodded. "Could I have the names of the others who do reside here?" His lips curved into a prominent frown as he stared at you. "Why is that necessary? Are you from the Church?" He got a little defensive as you straightened your back out of nervousness. "No! Not at all...I am just a researcher and a doctor. I came here of my own volition."

"How am I to know that you are not a liar?" Leon stood up and towered over you, his muscular frame intimidating you further. "You will have to trust my word..please. I truly mean no harm!" You stood up afterwards to try and get on an even playing field. He scoffed and looked to you with an unconvincing expression. "Well, I know one thing. Humans are liars, and how could I let one go after knowing quite the secret?" You gulped a little and backed up when he walked near you. "I.." You couldn't get a statement out as your arm was then grabbed by him at some supernatural speed.

"It seems we will have some new company here for quite some time." He smirked a little as he could practically hear your heart pounding and the blood rushing through your veins as you stood there in fear.

Unfortunately for you, your already precarious situation had just gotten a whole lot worse.

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thank you all for reading!! there will be more parts after this and this is (again) posted on my ao3 if you want to leave a kudo/comment! thank you for reading! :)

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