#also i never really slept well so i was very tired most of the day :/ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sage-green-matcha · 1 year ago

Note

can you please do “there’s only one bed” trope with Ethan Landry and it’s pure fluff but reader and Ethan are just “friends”, pretty please and thank you 🩷🤗

THE PERFECT PAIR - ETHAN LANDRY 💐

“You know me, better show me that you could say it to my face. 'Cause you know we're the same, there's worse things I can take” - beabadoobee

Content includes: fluff!! Sweet Ethan!

A/n: thank you smm for the request! I hope u love it!

"Damn Y/n, is your bag really that heavy?" Sam watched as your shoulder sunk to one side, the heavy bag pulling you down. "Yea you're struggling, do you really need all of that?" Tara chuckled.

"Okay well first of all, Yes. I do need all of this. Also yes, it's really heavy" you mumbled, kicking the bag in front of your legs as you walked. "Hey, woah! You're gonna snap yourself in half" Ethan lifted the bag off your shoulders, sliding it easily into his. "Thanks..." Chad smirked as you looked up at Ethan.

Everyone knew you two had a thing for each other, which is exactly why they made a plan. A very thought-out one, but not very original. "It's working!" Mindy mumbled with a big smile. "It hasn't even started" Chad looked back at the two of you with a smirk.

Ethan had confirmed he was crushing on you, accidentally slipping it out when he was tipsy. For days he begged Chad not to tell anyone. But the whole group already knew. That was just confirmation. "You sure this is gonna work?" Tara walked by his side. "I know this is gonna work"

"Okay! Pair up with your hotel room buddies" Everyone ran to one another, it seemed like you and Ethan were sick with how fast they paired off, avoiding the two of you. "Well uh, guess we'll be good roommates right?" You nodded, your heart beating like crazy. You didn't wanna room with him, you couldn't. Being next to him made you all giddy so staying in the same room with him? You could never.

"Okay, good!” Mindy smiled, walking up to the front desk. "We have a reservation.." You blacked out as she talked, nerves filling your body. This could go so wrong. Or so good. Or it could be the most mediocre thing that you're overthinking about. But you also knew that nothing that included Ethan was mediocre.

"Here's the room keys" she handed them out, everyone slumped as they walked over to the elevators. "I'm so tired" you mumbled, everyone, shaking their heads. "You slept the whole ride, Ethan's shoulder suffered from your fat head" "Mindy, shut up!" You glared at her.

You all got to your floor, everyone spreading out to find their rooms. "What number is it?" You stood on your tiptoes, holding onto Ethan's arm. "306" you furrowed your eyebrows. "Huh...that's separated from everybody else" he just shrugged, pulling up your bag while he looked around. "Looks like It's on the other side of the hall"

You eventually found the room, swiping the key onto the door lock. You searched for the light, your eyes widening when you saw the bed. "Uh...are we sure this is the right room?" He plopped your bag down, looking around the room. "Well..? The key worked"

You ended up dragging Mindy and Ethan to the front desk, making her ask for a different room. "Sorry kids, that's the only one available at the moment. We're packed for the next couple of nights" You wanted to die. "Tara, please! You know damn well you're gonna sleep in the same bed as Chad. Just trade rooms please?" She shook her head, hiding her smile. "No, I'm not sleeping with a drunk ass Chad" you groaned, covering your eyes.

You asked everyone. They all said no. "You guys are so rude" you mumbled, walking back to your room in defeat. "So...what did they say?" Ethan prayed that they all said no. As much as this was uncomfortable for him he was kinda happy about it.

"They said no" You slipped off your shoes, sitting on the bed next to him. "I can just sleep on the chair…it’s fine! Really!” You shook your head. "It's whatever, we'll figure it out" You knew it was wrong, that you didn't wanna figure it out. Your heart bounced around inside of you, nervous for the night. It could be normal, one of you on the couch and the other on the bed. But maybe, somehow you two could end up together on the same bed.

After a long afternoon of chatter and laughter in Tara and Chad's room, you headed back to yours. You were too tired to even care about the bed, completely forgetting about it till you opened the door.

"What are we gonna do about the bed?" Ethan mumbled, wiping his eyes. "It's okay, we can share" "Are you sure? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. I can just sleep on the chair..." you took a glance at the red chair in the corner of the room. "It's okay Ethan, trust me. That chair is way too small for you" his face got hot as he saw your smile, watching you grab your pajamas before walking into the bathroom.

A swarm of butterflies flew around in your belly, making your face heat up. You didn't wanna get too excited. You wouldn't even be facing him anyways. He was just a friend and nothing more, this was just a friend thing! You tried to convince yourself but you couldn't get that feeling out of your stomach. You felt creepy. He definitely didn’t feel the same way, but you decided to let your delusions take over for a bit.

As you walked out of the bathroom Ethan was already laying in bed. He cuddled up to one of the pillows, his face smushed against the fabric. He looked so cute.

“Is it okay if I keep one of the lamps on…?” “Uhm, yea it’s okay” You peeled back the white bed sheets, adding your favorite throw on top. The room was dark besides the lamp and the moonlight that peaked in through the blinds. The smell of cleaning products filled your nose as the sound of a fan played in the background.

You were glad Ethan let you keep the light on. You could never sleep with it being pitch black, it gave you the heebie-jeebies. You positioned yourself, trying to get comfortable as you faced away from Ethan. You tried your best to get comfortable but you couldn’t, turning around to face Ethan’s back.

Ethan quickly caught onto this, also feeling the same amount of discomfort you were in. “This bed isn’t very comfortable, is it?” His voice was low and raspy, facing you with a small smile. “Uh uh” your hair rubbed against the sheets, the small sound filling your ears.

You scanned his face as he stared back at you, noticing details that you never got to see before. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, small marks all over his skin. “You have really nice eyelashes” It just fell out of your mouth, but you meant it. “I- oh. Thank you” You noticed how his cheeks filled up in a pinky hue, gaining you some confidence.

You could go on and on about his face. How full his lips were, the pretty color of his skin. But you didn’t wanna creep him out, keeping it to yourself. “I like your lips…” you held back a smile, covering the bottom of your face with the blanket. “Thank you” your laughs were whispered, Ethan, noticing how flustered you were getting.

You felt yourself move back as he brought his hand up to your face, realizing how weird it probably was. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know what l was doing” You chewed on your lip as he brought his hand down, pulling the side of your face closer to his. “It’s okay” your whisper was unstable. Your nervousness escaped your body through your voice.

You watched as his eyes scanned your face. From your lips to your eyes, an unorganized pattern of movements that slightly confused you. You could tell he was nervous, his hand getting warmer with each second that it was on your skin. His face was inches away, feeling his soft breath on your face.

You had begun to grow impatient, lips seconds away from touching. The anticipation made you go insane, only paying attention to the way his heart was beating with your hand on his chest.

As crazy as it seemed his was probably pounding harder than yours, lips on lips. “Don’t be a tease E” Your lips brushed against his, the feeling of warmth and satisfaction filling every pore in your body.

Your face grew hot, Ethan pulling you in as he became addicted to your taste. Your lips were soft and cushiony, perfectly fitting onto his. Breaths and words were jumbled as you two got even closer, Ethan’s hands finding their way to your hips.

All you could feel was fire. It was like a giant firework was exploding in your stomach. Your hands ran through his soft curls, noses touching as you pulled away for air. His face was so red. Making you giggle with a hand on his cheek.

“You look so cute when you blush…” you combed your hand through his hair, pushing it all back as he admired you. He pulled you closer, hugging your body tightly into his. “Better?” “Way better”

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codfanficedits · 1 year ago

Text

Cheating Ghost, full version.

I've always posted this in the parts as I wrote them, this is the full story. This story came to mind after I've suffered childhood abuse, and now my brother is following in the footsteps of my father.

Also, happy birthday to me.

CW: Domestic Violence, mentions of sex/describing sexual acts, mentions of rape.

18+ MDNI.

Ghost POV:

My hands on her hips, my lips leaving hickeys on her neck, my hard cock against her stomach. It all felt so right. Expect she wasn’t you. She was better than you, sexier, hotter, willing to try all the positions you wouldn’t do. She looked at me with the most hypnotizing eyes when I called her a good girl, those same eyes sparked when I called her my filthy slut. She was everything you couldn’t be for me. The first few times I felt incredibly guilty, I would spent minutes watching over you when you slept, cursing myself for being so weak, but as time passed, my heart stopped aching. Instead your flaws were showing even more. I knew you too well for you to be ever exciting again, I knew the way your lips tasted, the way your body felt on mine, I could predict your every move.

It took me 2 extra days to come home to you again. I had been dreading the moment, waiting until the very last moment to come home. Her smell still wrapped around my body as I set foot into our bedroom.

YOUR POV:

You and Ghost have been together for three years. You moved across the country for him, 10 days after you met him. You had been at his side ever since. You were there after the good missions, the bad missions and the failed mission. You were there to kiss his bruises, to hold him while he cried about a fallen teammate, you were there to celebrate every success he had in his career.

But lately things had changed. His mission taking longer than you were used to, him being more distant, no longer sharing the details of a mission with you. The first few weeks you tried to ignored it, thought it was because of a bad mission, but after a while you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Something was going on. Ghost was away on a mission when you received a text from one of his teammates, telling you he had seen Ghost leave with another woman. It left your heart shattered. You wouldn’t believe it at first, Ghost would never do this to you. But you knew it would fit, it was the missing piece of information to tie all of his odd behaviour together. You tried to ignore it at first, until the place you used to call home, was no longer appealing to return to. You could hear him set foot into the bedroom. You waited, pretending to sleep so you wouldn’t have to face him. He just stood there, as if he was waiting for you to make the first move. “Hey..” You said, making your voice sound hoarse. “How long have you been standing there?” You ask him.

“I was just admiring the view.” He answered. The fucking liar. You kick back the blankets and pat on the bed. “Come here, I’ve missed you.”

He starts to undress, and you pretend you don’t see the hickeys on his happy trail. Looking at it makes me feel sick. He slides in to bed with me, and you can feel the distance. “How was the mission?” You ask, your fingertips caressing his jawline, like you always do. “Oh you know, same old, same old.” He tells you. You can smell her on him, her perfume smells floral and expensive. He didn’t even have the respect for you to at least take a shower before coming home to you. You roll over to your other side, “let’s go to sleep, you must be tired, baby.” You say.

He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close and kissing your neck. Her perfume invading your bed, his erection pressed against you. “How about we have some fun first, hm?”

You don’t know what makes you feel sicker. “I’m really tired, sorry.” You say, being too disgusted to even feel horny.

“Fine.” His voice got cold and he rolled away from you, refusing to touch you. Fine.

Your mind was racing, trying to make up a good excuse for him, it was trying to diffuse the situation. Surely there must be a logical explanation? He had fallen asleep next to you, you were wondering how he even could sleep at night. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he.. Maybe he.. But your mind couldn’t come up with a good reason, it was way to easy to connect the dots. But you needed to know for sure.

You saw the screen of his phone light up. Bingo.

Careful to not wake him, you got up from bed, slowly taking his phone from the nightstand, trying to not make a sound. You snuck his phone into the bathroom, you tried to unlock it, his passcode was your birthday for ages. Access denied. You frown, maybe you made a mistake typing it. You try again, this time even more careful. Access denied.

Fuck.

You decided to type his own birthday, maybe he just happened to change it? It worked. As you scrolled through the messages you couldn’t really find anything. Soap sending him some memes. Captain Price reacting with two thumbs on everything Ghost send him. Gaz sending him pictures of food. Even their group chat was innocent.

You scrolled through everything. Until you found a hidden folder with pictures. Your eyes widened by the view. The pictures started looking innocent. Just some nudes, nothing too special. You could live with this.

Then they became more graphic. She was sitting on her knees, her tongue stuck out, semen on her face. You guess whose it was. You swiped again. It was her again, lying on a bed, looking at the camera with her hungry eyes.

A video. Against your better judgement you click on it. Your heart drops when you do so. He was fucking her like there was no tomorrow. She was on all fours, her face down, her ass up. You could tell by his pace that he was about to cum.

She helped it put it in again when it slipped out of her. It made you sick to your stomach. Yet you can’t stop watching. You’re torturing yourself. You can see his thick semen being shot on her back. You could imagine him grunting while he did so. You watch it again, pressing the volume button once. The sounds made you sick to your stomach, but your eyes were glued to the screen. The grunting was as you imagined, they were dancing with her moans. His voice cracked when he called her beautiful and you could feel your heart shatter.

A large hand slaps the phone out of your hand. “Do you always snoop through phones that aren’t yours?” A deep voice growled.

“Simon, what the fuck is this?” You ask. “What the FUCK is this?’ You yell at him.

“Oh come on, it’s nothing big.” He answered. “I’ve always been there for you!” You start to raise your voice again. “With every mission, good or bad. I have ALWAYS been by your side.”

His hand grabs your wrist. “Are you going to fucking behave?” He hisses in your ear. “Quit being a fucking drama queen.”

“Why? How could you?” Your voice sound defeated. He laughs at you. “Oh come on. You became boring. I can tell how you react at everything. It’s no longer exciting or new anymore.” He scoffs. He takes a step towards you. “Did you really think I loved you? Jezus Christ, you’re so fucking naïve.”

His words cut through you like knifes. Part of you wanted to change for him, be a more exciting person, anything so he wouldn’t leave you. But you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no coming back from this.

“I need you to get the fuck out of here.” You hissed. “Go sleep at Price or something.”

It was his laugh that sent the shivers down your spine. “I have to get out of here? Do I need to remind you this is my house? Take the few fucking things you own and get out before I kick you out.”

With tears in your eyes you grabbed your bag. You stuffed it with some clothes, your phone, your laptop and your wallet. He is right behind you when you walked out. Not saying a word to you. When you turned around to beg him to let you stay, his cold eyes told you enough. He slammed the door in your face. Leaving you all alone.

Ghost POV:

Of course I didn’t want it to end like this. She was always the safe option, but at least something was better than nothing.

I grab my phone, calling the girl I had been fucking for the past few months. A frustrated grunt leaves my throat when she doesn’t pick up. So I call again, and again until she finally picks up.

“What the fuck do you want?” She hisses at me. “It’s fucking 4 in the morning.” I let out an amused chuckle. I loved it when she was so feisty. “My girlfriend is gone for the night, and I don’t expect her home until noon. Care to come around?” I asked her. It’s quiet at the other side of the line and it is making me feel rejected. I hate that fucking feeling. “Well?” I ask, trying to hide the annoyance in my tone.

“You have a girlfriend?” The woman on the other side hissed. “You’re such a fucking pathetic man.”

I was taken aback by her reaction, where did she get the nerve to trat me like this? After all, she was nothing more than my toy. A toy I used to pass the time, but she didn’t let me answer her, her angry rant going on. “You’re a horrible, horrible man, if I had known you had a girl waiting for you, I would’ve never let you touch me.” She continued. “Lose the number, you fucking asshole.”

She hung up on me. The fucking bitch had the audacity to hang up on me? I scoffed. I didn’t need a stupid fucking toy anyway. I had you to come back to. After all, you always came back to me, no matter how much I fucked up.

I sat down on the couch, my fingers lingering over the screen of my phone. Fuck it.

“When are you coming home?” I texted you.

5 minutes. Five whole minutes had passed and you still didn’t text me back. Usually you’d text me back within seconds, like a fucking needy dog.

“Listen, I’m sorry you feel this way. I can change. I promise” I texted you again.

8 minutes. It had been eight minutes since my first text, and you didn’t hadn’t sent me anything back. It caused me to pace around my living room like a caged animal.

“Please come home, I miss you.” I texted, once more. It started to irritate me that you didn’t answer, but I couldn’t let you know.

14 minutes. The anger was getting to me. What the fuck were you doing? It was 4:28AM. You couldn’t possibly be doing something useful.

“Get your fucking ass home.”

???? POV:

He had known Ghost was a cheater, but he always tried to ignore it. Until he met you. God, you were gorgeous. It pained him that you only had eyes for Ghost. He fell in love with you the first time he met you. The way you walked, talked, your smile. Your beauty was out of this world.

But of course you were in love with Ghost. Ghost was everything he wasn’t. Mysterious, handsome, tall, confident, a deep, hoarse voice. So he hid in the shadows. He wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.

But the guilt began to eat at him when Ghost started cheating on you, bringing some blondie back to the base after a mission. Her loud moans filling the empty halls. He couldn’t ignore it anymore after Ghost had brought back the second girl, but he was to afraid to tell you. It took him two more years to finally find the courage to tell you. He couldn’t even do it face to face. No, he texted you, like a coward.

But he had finally told you and that is what mattered.

He started to hate Ghost for this. The idiot had the most precious woman in the world and he tossed it out of the window for a little thrill.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw your text. You’d gone through his phone, and now he had kicked you out?

Damn.

A feeling of guilt washed over him, if he hadn’t told you, you’d be safe and sound in your bed, not wandering the streets at 4 in the morning.

He texted you his address, offering you a place to come to if you were lonely.

Your POV:

You felt alone. So god damn alone. You’d left everything, everyone behind to move in with Simon.

There was nothing you wanted more than to get back to Simon, to feels his strong arms around you again, but you weren’t stupid. You knew those arms would never feel like home again. You knew you’d never trust him again. The common sense in your body told you, you were worth too much to worry about him, but the love you felt for him tried to prove your common sense wrong, still. You could change for him, right? You could try to be less boring, to be less predictable.

A nearby bench in the park became your new place to stay, just so you could gather your thoughts. The bag you’d been carrying with you got dropped on the ground. A big sigh followed. How does one even go from here? Back to Simon was not an option, you refused to be his second choice.

Your phone buzzed. It was Simon, asking you when you would come home. Your heart skipped a beat. He still cared about you. Of course he did, otherwise he wouldn’t be texting you! You’re trying to convince yourself, but it’s not working. Something is different. For once, your love ending didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

You fidget with your phone, ignoring the messages that come rolling in. You pressed the phone against your lips, your mind working overtime. What was it that you wanted?

After what seemed like forever you make a decision. You don’t want to be alone, not right now, so you decide to text him. Not Simon, no, he wasn’t worthy of your presence. You text the person who tipped you, after all, he had always told you he would be there for you if you needed him. It takes every ounce of your selfcontrol to not text him the whole story, so you give him a short update. 3,5 minutes. That’s how long it took for him to answer you. It’s just his address, and you take it as an invite that you’re welcome. As you open the navigation on your phone, it shows you that it is just a ten minute walk. Perfect for you to clear your head, so you wouldn’t be all in your feelings when you got to him.

It's 5:25 AM and the sun is starting to rise again. For a moment the world doesn’t seem so bad after all.

Your hands shake as you ring the doorbell. The door swings open almost immediately.

Johnny.

Ghost POV:

I was starting to lose it. You’d come online, but you didn’t read my texts? How dare you? Where the fuck do you think you have the audacity from to ignore me?

I texted you again.

“At least have some fucking respect and answer me.”

An uneasy feeling starts to linger in my stomach, causing me to pace around the living room. What if you really did decide to leave this time? No, you wouldn’t. I was sure of that. But then why didn’t you answer me?

No it shouldn’t bother me this much. I can just go to the bar and pick up a better version of you, a prettier one, a more adventurous one. Then you did the thought of you leaving me sting so much?

I lose my temper, and an empty teacup flings across the room, against the wall. The brown liquid dripping down.

A few deep breaths and I should be okay again. Wrong.

The uneasy feeling in my chest stays and there is nothing that I can do against it. Why would you do this to me? Why did you have to make things so hard? Why couldn’t you just come home when I asked you to?

God, you’re being a pain in my ass right now. Making such a fuss, and for what? Because I had a little fun? That was your fault really, you had always been a little boring, why couldn’t you just be a little spicier in life.

And now your behaviour is making me feel bad? I don’t think so. I sent you a final text.

“You’re gonna get it when you get home.”

Soap POV:

He was waiting in the living room for her, nearly falling over his own feet as he made his way to the front door. The sight of you standing there, with your broken heart is the hardest thing he had to watch.

‘Even in her agony, God is jealous of her beauty.’ Soap pushed that thought away, he wasn’t here to hit on you, he was here to be the friend you needed. He stepped aside to let you in. “It’s not much, but it’s safe.” He said, gesturing around his living room. It was clear a single man lived here, the pizza box from last night still on the table, his dirty socks and shoes next to the couch. A sheepish smile on his face, hoping that you wouldn’t judge him too much.

He was mesmerized by your eyes, but he could see the sadness, the hurt in them, and it made his heart ache.

He signalled for you to sit on the couch, handing you a beer, his own in his hand, as he took place in his recliner, wanting to keep a distance. There was a silence between the two of you, but to him it didn’t feel awkward at all. It felt like coming safe home after a long, stressful day.

He glanced over at you. You looked so fragile on his couch, a large pillow being used as a shield, as your gaze met his. A nervous smile.

Your phone buzzed, and he could see it was from Ghost, his eyes narrowing as he read the text. “At least have some fucking respect and answer me.”

But you were strong and you didn’t pay any mind to his text, you tossed the phone next to you and met his gaze once more.

Then the words started to pour out, and you told him everything. How you couldn’t believe it at first, how you finally started to connect the dots. How Ghost dared to come home smelling like another woman, the video you had watched. He took an occasional sip from his beer every now and then.

With every full sentence he could see your mind working overtime, telling you to not go back to that relationship anymore. It made his heart beat faster in his chest.

As if it’s natural the conversation shifts to a lighter one, as if you want to leave Ghost and the darkness that he brings with him in the past, and Soap was happy to oblige.

You tell him about your job, your hobbies, your favourite crystals and he takes in all the information as if it is the most important thing he has ever heard.

Your phone buzzed again and the both of you look at it at the same time.

“You’re gonna get it when you get home.”

Those words made Soap’s stomach drop, he had always known that Ghost had a temper, a bad one, but even this felt low for Ghost. He looked over at you, expecting to see fear in your face, but instead you just laughed. As if you were freed from the chackles Ghost had put on you.

“Shit.” Your voice sounded like giggle. “I should really put him in his place for speaking to me in this tone.”

‘God, her laugh could light up a room without trying.’

No stop, he shouldn’t think like that.

Maybe it was the beer talking, maybe it was the lack of common sense from the whole situation, but he had an idea. An idea that would put Ghost in his place.

“Come with me.” Soap told you, as he made him way to his bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy compared to his living room. Sure, the bed wasn’t made, and his backpack was casually tossed into the corner, and now that he looked around, his nightstand were a mess too. But the dirty socks were limited to the bathroom only and that was something.

“I need you to trust me, I’m not a pervert, I promise.” Soap was rambling, a treat he had when he got nervous. He swallowed some air before he started explaining. “I need you to get on my bed on all fours, I promise I won’t look okay.” The rambling continued.

You didn’t even question it, you just did what he asked you to do. He took a step closer to your ass, his breathing getting hard to control. “Look at the wall.” He muttered. The shadow being rather, suggestive.

‘Life was an artist and you were the fucking masterpiece.’

He couldn’t help but look down at you, the sight of you presenting yourself like this, God it got him hard, the blood going straight to his growing erection. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand, he had to contain himself.

You handed him your phone, allowing him to take a picture. If he didn’t know any better the shadow suggested he was actually fucking you. The thought of how tight you would be, how good you would take it, it was flooding his mind. Shit shit shit. He needed to stop.

He handed you your phone back, stepping aside, it would drive him insane if he kept looking at your ass.

Soap looked over your shoulder as you sent Ghost the picture. A grin on your face when you started to type.

‘Sorry, I was busy.’

Ghost POV:

It has been more than a fucking hour since I’ve sent my last text, and yet you lack the fucking respect to answer me. You’re a fucking worthless waste of air.

I look over at the table when my phone buzzed. “Sorry, I was busy?” I repeat your text to myself. My fingers are quick to open the picture you sent me.

My phone buzzed. A text from you.

No, no, no, no, NO.

I could feel my stomach drop from that picture. You’re a fucking disgusting slut and you know it. How the fuck dare you? After all we’ve been together you’re throwing us away like this? How fucking dare you?

My anger gets the best of me. I want you to be hurt. I want to take away the things you like. I want to see you cry, beg me for the mercy you don’t deserve.

In a blind rage I pull out the cutlery drawer in the kitchen, I was looking for some scissors but couldn’t find them, so I took our kitchen knife. The fucking stuffed animal I had won for you at the fair was the first to go. God it felt so good to take my anger out on something. Besides, who the fuck has a stuffed unicorn?

The rest of your clothes became my second target, a maniacal laugh leaving my throat as I could hear the fabric rip under the force of my knife. Shit it felt good, too good even. For a second I would imagine you there instead of your clothes and the rage would leave my body, but it’s temporary, I want to destroy you.

If I can’t have you, no one should have you.

My hands tremble when I look at the picture again. My eyes widen when I recognize the room, I recognize his fucking backpack, the idiotic sunglasses on his fucking nightstand.

God fucking damn.

My best fucking friend. The fucking son of a bitch.

Where the fuck did the two of you get the fucking nerve to betray me like this?

Granted, Soap had been more distance towards me since I’ve started to cheat on you, but he never had a problem with it during my last relationship. This must’ve been his idea. Letting you catch me cheating, so I’m the bad guy, while you’re getting your pussy pounded by that fucking traitor.

I’m angry, furious even. Part of me wants to take the knife and stab the both of you, watching as the life leaves your eyes. I can feel the rage boil inside of me.

A sudden wave of relief washes over me. I know what I have to do.

I leave the knife in our matrass, I don’t even grab my jacket. I know the way to his house, it’s a short walk and I know what I’ll find when I get there. You all loveydovey in his arms, as the goddamn slut that you are.

The walk there pisses me off even more, it gives me the time to think about you, about that fucking traitor of a man I used to call a friend.

My fists bang on the door. “Soap! I know you’re in there with this filthy whore.” My voice is a mere bark.

“Be a fucking man and face me.”

Your POV:

You had nearly forgotten about Simon. Not really obviously, you knew you still had to face him one day. Half of your belongings were still at that house. But for now, for now you could forget him. Soap’s bedroom was filled with laughter, you had more in common than you thought, memories, hobbies, even the same dishes you liked.

Although he liked olives, and the mere thought of them was enough to make you shudder.

Soap was in the middle of a story about Captain Price, something about his hidden porn stash when three loud bangs made the both of you quiet. It was unmistaken who’s voice it was. It felt as if a hand had reached out to your throat, squeezing it shit. Your eyes pleaded to Soap, begging him to stay in his bedroom with you. Surely Simon would leave, right? Right?

The banging got louder, more violent, his profanities carrying out over the street. All you wanted was for the ground to break open and swallow you whole.

“I have to face him.”

“What? No Johnny that’s ridiculous.”

“He won’t leave, I can just explain what happened. I’ll tell him you don’t want to see him.”

“But he sounds dangerous.”

“I’ve known him for years, lass. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You couldn’t ignore the knot in your stomach, the horrible feeling as if something was bound to happen, Soap had closed the door behind him, as if he wanted to shield you from what was about to happen. You hid away in the corner, your knees brought up to your chest, as if you wanted to make yourself as tiny as possible.

You could hear the door open. Soap’s voice was the first to be heard. “Hey man, I know this looks ba-“ His sentence got cut short.

Something was happening, but you couldn’t make out what it was. The closed door muffled the sounds to much.

Yet the sounds of a person falling was clear to you. A man begging another man to stop, the faint sound of fists hitting their target.

Your bag.

It was still on the couch, you knew it was there, all you could do was to pray that Simon didn’t find it.

Your mind was racing, where had you put your phone? You knew it was in this room, somewhere, you had used it to text him that picture.

Oh god, why did you do that?

This was all happening because you just had to be petty. Johnny was getting murdered and you were having a pity party. Selfish bitch.

You had to find that fucking phone. Call someone. Call the police even.

But you were too scared. Afraid that if you were to move, Simon would hear you and come for you.

The sounds of footsteps on the stairs snapped you out of it. You wanted it to be Soap, you really did, but you knew it was Simon. “I know you’re in there you fucking filthy slut!”

You pressed yourself against the wall, hoping that you could blend in, maybe disappear while you’re at it.

The bedroom door swings open, and the man before you is no longer the man you once loved. His eyes are wide, his nostrils flared, a predator looking at his prey.

You can hear the soft groans coming from downstairs. You want to escape, you want to leave, but your body betrays you.

“Simon, I, I, I.” You start to stutter. His hands grab a handful of hair, forcing you to look up at him.

“You really thought you were smart, huh?” He hisses through his gritted teeth. He lets go of your hair, and for a second you think you can breathe. That was a mistake.

His right fist hits you, then his left, right, left, right, left, right. Until you start to lose count.

You hold up your arms to defend yourself, but it’s useless. He is trained to do this, and you’re his target.

You start to beg him, beg him for your life, but you can tell he is enjoying this, your tears, the fear in your eyes, it is nothing but fuel to his anger.

His hands grab your hair again, dragging you towards the bed. You’re too stunned, too terrified to even react.

The sound of his zipper going down makes your eye widen in fear. “I’ll show you who the fuck you belong to.” He hisses at you.

It is Soap who stumbles into the room that make the both of you look up. God. He looks horrible, he looks as if he was dragged through hell and back. The pain is visible in his eyes, the blood on his face, the red marks on his body.

A broken promise.

Ghost let’s out an annoyed grunt. ��I’ll take care of our little problem.” He whispers into your ear. His voice, the tone, the words, it sends shivers down your spine. The sound of his zipper going back up is a blessing and a curse.

You’re safe, for now.

You can only watch in horror when you can see Ghost make his way over to Soap. You want to react. Your mind is screaming at you to do something. But your body can’t.

It seemed as if time was slowing down. The sunset slowing illuminating the room you’re in. The tension in the thick air. It looks like a horrible nightmare, one you wish to wake up from.

You’re held captive by your own body and mind. No control over what you’re thinking or doing, it makes you feel helpless.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths. Snap out of that freeze response, no more freezing. You need to fight or you need to get out. Go. Go. Go.

Your body handles on it’s own, despite the pain you’re in, you manage to get up, stumbling over your own feet.

Get out or fight.

It’s the gunshot that follows next, that puts you into freeze again.

Your POV:

Ghost looked at his hands, he was visibly confused by the blood on them. His blood?

Your hands are shaking, your mind goes back to a date you and Ghost went on 2,5 years ago.

It was a sunny day, and he was so excited to take you there. He had been talking about it for a few weeks and you finally decided to give in.

Who would have thought a silly little date to a shooting range would save your life one day?

Not you, not Ghost.

You had spotted the gun in Soap’s backpack, the will to survive took over, your body snapping out of your freeze mode before your mind was able to.

“That’s a good lass.” A Scottish accent broke the silence.

Ghost dropped to his knees, his hands pressing on the gunshot wound. So much was happening at once, yet you tried to take control over the situation once again. Your hands tremble as you load another bullet into the chamber.

“Stay down or I’ll fucking shoot again.” Oh how you try to be confident, but the words are a mere whisper as the tears start to roll down your cheek. You try not to choke on your shallow breaths.

The tension in the air is horrible. You can tell Soap is holding on for dear life, not knowing how to continue. You can tell that Ghost is defeated, as if the shot held a mirror in front of him, he was no better than his father and he knew it.

And you, standing there. Holding on to that pistol for dear life, your knuckles white from the tight grip.

A few loud bangs, a loud voice, a small army of police men joining you in the room, the rest of the day a blur.

You didn’t exactly look innocent, holding a loaded weapon, pointing it to an already wounded man.

And God, for the first time you felt lucky. You could show the texts he had sent you, the way he had torn up the place you used to call home, you had only shot him once, and it was a non-lethal shot.. It all ruled in your favour, the judges ruled it self-defence.

Ghost on the other hand didn’t get as lucky, all the evidence pointed in his direction, even after you’d shot him.

Although the sentence he got was a joke.

Sixty days.

He would spent two months in jail for traumatizing you, for harming you, for destroying what belonged to you, for harming Soap, for making your home feel unsafe.

Just sixty days.

But, for sixty whole days you felt safe. You knew he wouldn’t be lurking around the corner, you knew that for sixty whole days you could breathe again.

Ghost POV:

I lost it all. And for what? For a little toy, for a little smile, for a little weak moment. Sixty goddamn days of my life.

It wasn’t even worth it. It made me lose the job I worked so hard for. Price didn’t want to hear shit after I got my sentence. I tried to explain how it wasn’t really my fault. After all, you and Soap had planned this. No matter how innocent you tried to act in court. I knew what had happened.

I really tried to live with my anger. I had to go to therapy, but that was a waste of my fucking time. I have one little outburst and all of the sudden I am the problem?

I had to sell the house, because of you. Everything reminded me of you, at night I thought I saw you stand in the doorway, I swear I could hear your footsteps, your laugh, your voice. But you were never there. It haunted me, you know that? So I sold it, bought another house. Tried to forget about you. The money I had made during my time in the military, it lasted me a long time. I didn’t have to work, no I could drown my sorrows in liquor and hookers. The funny thing was, money doesn’t last, just like we didn’t.

And I really tried. I tried to get new jobs, but they would never last. God, people are morons and I just cannot deal with them. Do you know how hard it is to keep your house when you’re not able to keep a goddamn job? And furthermore, do you know how hard it is to keep a relationship when you’re not able to hold a job, when the bills are stacking up?

God, and even if I could hold a job, I’m not able to keep a relationship, I keep searching for a piece of you. Even when they’re a perfect match, they’re still not you.

I hate myself for letting you go, I crave how predictable you were, I crave your touch, your voice, you.

Yet at the same time, I am so angry at you for taking everything from me. I deserve better than this. You took everything I worked so hard for.

The anger is tucked away, for now. It reappears whenever I hit the bottle. Everything I’ve been holding in comes out then. It’s not a pretty sight when I get my shit together again, it makes me feel ashamed.

Your little action has made me unable to look into the mirror. I see my fathers eyes whenever my eyes linger to long on the man I see in the mirror. I became what I hated the most and I can only blame you for it.

I even tried to make up with the last woman, the one you found the video of. I went to her house, tried to explain myself. I even apologised for calling her my toy. She had the audacity to laugh at me. She told me to fuck right off. Hell, she even pulled her girlfriend to her side when I asked for a second chance. It left me broken. Not even my back up wanted me anymore.

Lately I’ve been wandering the streets, as a soul without a purpose. I avoid the large windows, I cannot stand to see my reflection in them, the shell of the man I was supposed to be. I had such a good life ahead of me, but it was all ruined. My days are filled with sorrow and time is slipping through my fingers.

It is a good day, a beautiful day, so I decide to go to the park, maybe it would ease my mind, before I would go home and get drunk again. I wander around in the park, aimlessly, the sun on my skin is a nice feeling, it beats the feeling of feeling sorry for myself.

My heart skips a beat when I see you. You’re standing close to the water, and I can’t tell what you’re saying to the man in front of you, but you look happy. The clothes you’re wearing fit your body perfectly, and truth be told, you look better than you’ve ever looked before.

God I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much. I start to make my way over to you, I want to talk to you, maybe there is a new chance for us to be together. The guy you’re with can suck it, I can show you what you deserve.

My blood runs cold when I see the man in front of you go down on one knee.

No.

Your POV:

You never stepped foot into that house again, you tried, but the tea stained wall was enough for you to back down. All your belongings you had left behind were things you could replace.

But that wasn’t your biggest worry. Soap had risked his life for you, and for what? Because you needed to prove a point to Simon? You felt so, so, so goddamn guilty. Luckly for the both of you, Soap ‘only’ had two broken ribs, a black eye and a few other bruises. You both knew it could have ended different.

Soap was a kind soul, and you knew it. He offered you a place to stay when you couldn’t go back to the place you once called home. He insisted on taking the couch, even with his injuries. He insisted that you were the one who deserved to sleep in his bed after everything you had been through.

In return you made him breakfast every day. The man was a sucker for fresh pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, maple syrup. All of them together, or just one of those things. It didn’t matter to him, as long as it was something you had cooked, this man was content.

What started as just breakfast, quickly became dinner too, lunch followed shortly after. Although Soap slept on the couch, he wouldn’t hesitate to come running up the stairs when he could hear you having a nightmare, eventually you’d start having flashbacks of that morning. The events repeating themselves in your mind time after time, leaving you frozen in place.

Soap was there for you, no questions asked. He was on medical leave anyway, and he wanted to care for you, protect you. He would always be there when the nightmares or flashbacks started. Holding you, grounding you, bringing you back into reality every time.

After one particular flashback the two of you stayed on the couch, even though it was late at night. You didn’t dare to go to sleep, worried that the nightmares would keep you up again, and Soap wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.

The next thing you knew was that you woke up with him in your arms. His head resting on your shoulder as you held him tight. The best part of it all? It never felt awkward. When he finally woke up he had a boyish grin on his face.

“Best night of sleep I’ve had in a while.” He told you, before he gave you some space again. “How about I make you some pancakes this time?”

You had always thought that Ghost made you feel at home, but Soap.. Holy shit, Soap was something else. When the night fell that day and it was time to go to bed you held your hand out to him, he didn’t have to sleep on the couch anymore. Not if it was up to you anyway.

You could tell he was hesitant to take your hand. “I want you to, no, I need you to know you don’t have to do this to pay me back in any way, shape or form.” He began. You shushed him. This wasn’t about paying him back, this was about the feeling that had began to grow inside your heart.

He responded with a simple kiss on your nose. A token of appreciation.

It was the start of something beautiful, Soap was so much kinder than Ghost had ever been to you. Because it was Soap who woke you up with a thousand and one kisses on every inch of skin he could get his hands on, it was Soap who made sure you were always comfortable, no matter where you were or what you were doing. It was Soap who made sure you would at least get a text every day when he was on a mission, it was Soap who hid little love notes around the house when he was away.

Soap brought you stones from the missions he had been on, always proudly telling you how he picked the prettiest rocks, just for you. Even when he was away on missions, he always made sure you never, ever felt lonely.

He had just come home after he went to a little bakery to get you both breakfast, so you could sleep in.

“I saw some ducklings in the park when I walked back.” He told you, before he took a bite of his croissant.

“Really?” Your voice is filled with excitement. “Can we check them out after breakfast?”

“Only if I get a kiss first.”

“Deal!”

“Ah shoot, I should’ve asked for more.” The Scot pouted while he stole your last piece of pastry.

“Hey! That was mine.”

“Sorry lass, boyfriend tax.” He grinned as he swallowed the stolen bite.

“Now.” A devilish grin formed on his lips. “You still owe me a kiss.”

A laugh escapes your lips before he kisses you, his strong arms wrapped around you, as your hands rest on his waist. “That was worth all the ducklings in the world.” He whispers to you as he presses a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Come little lass, before those ducklings are fully grown ducks.”

He doesn’t let go off your hand for the whole walk to the park, the two of you walk in silence, and it’s nice. His presence is enough for you, and you are enough for him.

You look around the little pond to see a glimpse of the promised ducklings, but they are nowhere to be seen. You have your back turned to him, as your eyes scan the area.

“They’re gone.” Your voice sounds disappointed. “Well damn it, I want that kiss back Jo-“ Your breath hitches in your throat when you turn around to face him.

There he is, on one knee in front of you, a little black box in his hand.

“Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

Note

Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!

I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea

Can't wait to read more of your fics!

Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written. Anyway, here’s your fic!

there’s orange juice in the kitchen

You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps.

You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine.

It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice.

The hormones don’t help either.

But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out.

You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off.

—

You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain.

It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie.

Ah, right. Jamie.

Your boyfriend.

Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago.

Shit.

You call him back and he answers on the first ring.

“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”

You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”

“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”

“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”

Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”

You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side.

“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff.

Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate.

“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

—

Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags.

“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross.

Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.

Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun.

“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”

“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out.

For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross.

So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.

A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does.

“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”

“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”

Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are.

“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking.

“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out.

“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt.

“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”

You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”

“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”

“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”

—

It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 months ago

Text

Metamorphosis

(Sequel of Feast)

08/02/2024

Pairing: Vampire!Hozier x reader

Word Count: 7,629

Warnings: vampire au, language, blood, blood sucking (a little), fatigue, dizziness, fainting, masturbation, fingering, penetration (same reader as in Feast, so same characteristics apply)

Summary: After your passionate night with Andrew, you wake in his bed. And with you a multitude of feelings that lead you to question the unusual nature of your relationship.

A/N: Here we go again, Feast Part 2. The story did not really feel finished after Part 1, it still doesn't, but I can rest my head a lot easier after writing this continuation.

Picture found on Pinterest, edited by me

If you enjoy my story, liking is great, but leaving a comment or reblogging is the stuff that keeps me going. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Andrew did not dare to move in his wingback by the window. He could sense that you were getting closer and closer to reality again with every soft breath, and still he did not want to wake you. You needed all the rest you could get. But there was this other desire inside of him as well. A desire that even forbade him to blink. For more selfish reasons though. Because the moment you would open those magnificent eyes, he could not afford to miss it. And it would tell him everything he needed to know.

But when it finally came, he was not prepared at all. Slowly you began to stir, your eyelids fluttering as you rolled onto your back with a sigh. The sheets drifted the slightest inch down your body, catching his attention in a heartbeat. It was not much he could see, only a vague hint of the two globes that awaited underneath, barely perceptible, and yet it was enough to make him almost miss the moment he had been waiting for all day as memories came rushing back to him. So soft, so pliable, as they had pressed against his palms, eager for his caress. And those hardened buds, he would never forget how they had tasted, how they had felt against his tongue, between his teeth.

And as if you had been listening in on his thoughts, he watched them grow underneath the pristine sheets, the most enticing moan leaving your lips as you stretched your limbs and readied yourself to leave the world of dreams. He felt dreadful, abominable for wanting you this much when this, you, in this almost comatose state, was the very result of the same greed that was taking hold of him right now.

But all of that was drowned out in an instant when your lids finally fell open, a pair of drowsy, dull eyes finding him immediately. He had feared this moment as much as he had awaited it, and your smile, so placid, so warm and affectionate was so much more than he could ever have hoped for. Actually, to him it had been the most unlikely of all the scenarios that had played out in his head. It was almost painful, downright blasphemous when your eyes fell away to take in your surroundings. For the first time, since you had been completely gone when he had carried you here.

“You have a bed?”

You were teasing, also something he had not expected from someone who had slept for almost twenty-four hours. Still he found himself chuckling.

“Only for guests. My coffin is actually next door.”

“I knew it.”

Gosh, you were too sweet for your own good. Just lying there, snickering softly about his stupid joke, and when your hand reached out for him, he let himself glide out of his chair, and found himself on his knees instead, right beside your bed, your hand firmly clutched in both of his.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Hm.” He took a moment, his lips finding your knuckles. He had expected your fatigue, it was normal, to a point. As long as there were no other signs of hypovolemia. “Are you nauseous, too?”

“No, just very, very hungry.” Thank the heavens, he thought. Maybe he had not taken quite as much as he had feared. Or you were an exceptional fighter. It would not surprise him if that were the case. “How long did I sleep?”

“Almost a full day.”

“What?”

And there it was again, the suffocating guilt. He had betrayed your trust, violated the sacred nature of your transaction, and he would never forgive himself for it.

“I am so sorry. I’ll explain everything to you, I promise.” He pressed another kiss to your hand, and then he stood. “But now you need to eat.” And with that he made his way over to the door. “There are some clothes for you,” he nodded towards the bedside table before he lifted his arm to point to the wall across the room, “And you’ll find the bathroom through that door.”

“Clothes?” you mumbled, but he was already gone. Where the hell had he gotten those? You were still frowning as you reached for the bundle and pulled it into your lap. Blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Were those his clothes? But when you unfolded the shirt and revealed the black lingerie that had been carefully hidden away, you were pretty sure that those were definitely not his clothes. Did he have them on the ready then? Always a spare set of jeans and a shirt at hand. That did probably come in very handy with a flock of women frequenting this bed. Especially for the passionate nights, when dresses were ripped and blood was spilled in the rapture of the moment.

But as much as you did not want to believe you were just one of them, not after last night and everything you had shared, you had to admit to yourself at some point that you were just that, one among many, insignificant, nothing but another meal, tomorrow he would feast on someone else. And you better realised that sooner than later, before any damage was done.

It surprised you though, as you sat up, how immaculately the dark lace cupped your breasts, how perfectly it fit around your chest, how the cool touch as you pulled it up your legs and against your pussy made you shiver, how it made you forget there were other clothes to put on, made you want to lounge on the bed, your body on full display for him once he got back.

As had all the others done, it came rushing back to you, and that was all you needed to pull yourself together and slip into the other two items of clothing. They fit you just as well, and you sighed as the dark lace shimmered through the thin white cotton of the shirt. What a waste.

The bathroom proved to be just as opulent as the rest of the house with its huge tub, large mirror and polished marble, but it was also just as disappointing. There were towels waiting for you and toiletries aplenty, everything you could ever find yourself in the need of after a night with this man. This creature, you corrected yourself, and you could feel a touch of bitterness resonating.

Well, time to step out of this fever dream and get real again, to go about your bathroom routine, maybe eat a little and then leave. And so you did, at least you managed to brush your teeth and untangle the knots in your hair before reality stroke a bit too harshly for your taste. You had been leaning over the sink, splashing a few hands full of that ice-cold water into your face before you blindly reached for a towel and buried your face in it while you were getting up. You were not even standing fully upright again when you felt the rush of blood. You could hear it, the white noise it carried along as tiny fragments of light started to dance before your eyes.

No. No, no, no. This could not be happening. You could not black out in his bathroom. Not anywhere inside these walls. The towel falling from your hands, you reached for the sink instead, grabbing the rim tightly and leaning back down a little. It took a while, but slowly the tiny flecks of light faded and the rushing stopped. Maybe it was a good idea to get back into bed again. Just for a moment.

But you had only just made it to the door when the next wave of dizziness hit you, stronger this time. The lights were back, clouding your sight as they danced wilder than before, almost ecstatic, so out of control in fact that the world began to spin around you. This was not good, you managed to compose one clear thought in the chaos inside your mind, not good at all. And with no furniture close by to hold onto, you let yourself sink against the doorframe instead.

It was unusually soft upon impact, and warm. So plush against your face and hands. And it smelled oh so familiar, captivating and yet homely, inviting you to just rest your head against it for a little while.

“Angel?”

You must have passed out. Why else would the doorframe suddenly start talking to you? Or secure you in place so you could not fall, one arm draped around your middle. It even had hands. One of them now cupping your cheek. This was wild. One of the wildest dreams you had ever had.

“Angel?”

You could even see its lips, so enchanting as they moved. You wanted to feel them. No, you needed to feel them, as if your life depended on it. But somehow you could neither use you arms, nor your legs. And still your body moved, shadows flitting by, until something soft and cool pressed against your back while your face somehow still rested against the fuzzy doorframe.

This was nice though, you thought, clutching more of that plushy doorframe in your fists. And that scent, still so rich and heady. You inhaled deeply, letting it invade your blank mind until it was completely filled by it. There was a word at the far back, no, a name, slowly pushing itself to the foreground until it was clear for you to read.

“Andrew,” it came out in nothing but a mumble, however much you tried to say it out loud.

“I’m here, angel.”

Angel. You had heard that one before. You could not recall where or when, but it made your heart flutter, made you all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

“Andrew,” you mumbled again, and this time you knew. You knew with all your heart. That scent. Of course. That bloody vampire. He must have come to your rescue just as you had been about to black out. How convenient. And just your luck.

It all came rushing back in a flash, almost making you dizzy once more, but this time you fought it. You fought with all your might, pushed yourself out of the dark, until you could feel the strength return to your body. You had control again. At least a little. It would be sufficient to push yourself off of him though. It had to.

“I’m fine,” you managed to press out rather convincingly to your own ears. Then again for good measure, “I’m fine.”

But somehow this did nothing and when you finally managed to open your eyes, you found yourself still clutched against his chest.

“You’re not. Far from it.”

There was something strange about his voice, something you could not quite put your finger on. Was it anger? Disappointment? Remorse? Could he even feel any of those emotions?

You tilted your head, looking up at him, and you immediately wanted to slap yourself. Of course he could feel those emotions. They were written all over his face, reflecting in his eyes, the language of his caress speaking loud and clear when it found your cheek again.

“And I am so sorry for doing this to you.”

“What did you do?” you asked, still a little confused. “Did you make me pass out?”

“No,” he chuckled, “well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose I did.” His hand drifted down to your neck, his fingertips finding your pulse, making you shiver once more. You were hardly able to suppress a wanton moan. What the hell was wrong with you? “You just tasted so good. I…I could not stop in time when I cashed in my side of our bargain. It should never have happened. It’s unforgivable.”

You could feel your heart break in two for him. His eyes so full of sadness, of self-loathing, it killed you just to watch from the outside what must be playing out inside his mind. What had probably tortured him this whole time and glued him to your bed all day.

“Well, it’s not your fault I’m such a snack,” you tried to lighten the mood. But instead of earning you a smile, the creases on his forehead grew even deeper.

“Do you think this is a laughing matter? I could have killed you.”

You felt that he wanted to move, but he did not. For your sake, you realised. And so you pulled yourself up along his chest until your face was close to his.

“But you did not. I am still here, Andrew.” Your thumb traced his brow, the other fingers easing the creases away. “I am still here.” He closed his eyes as your fingers moved along his temple, his cheek, some finding bare skin, others soft stubble on the way down to his lips. Without hesitation they fell open with a sigh and now it was you who could not stop. Slowly you leaned in, your eyes falling shut somewhere along the way, until you could finally taste him. It was gentle and soft, yet so intense. Everything you remembered from last night and more. You could have kissed him forever, could have given yourself over to that feeling until you had completely lost yourself in it, but before you could, he pulled away.

“You need to eat,” he stated matter of factly, reaching for the tray full of the finest breakfast foods he must have placed at the foot of the bed in a hurry.

“I was just about to when you so rudely interrupted me.”

He grinned, like a school boy, you thought, and for a second you were wondering if vampires could blush.

“Food, I mean. Real food.” And with that he put the tray across your lap. It looked amazing, and it smelled even better. There was a bowl of porridge with fresh berries, and more fruit waiting on a silver plate. There were pancakes, too, and eggs, bacon, toast, butter, honey, marmalade, some juice and a huge glass of cold milk. Of course you had spotted the flowers too, wildflowers, freshly picked, and you were tempted to take them out of the vase and bring them to your nose to inhale their sweet scent, but that would be much too cheesy of a gesture for your own taste. This was not a scene from a sappy romance novel after all.

“Would you like some too?” you asked after you had shovelled the first few spoons of porridge into your mouth. With the most ravenous hunger sated, your manners seemed to return somehow. Unfortunately, your knowledge about his eating habits had not resurfaced from the fog with them.

“You know I don’t. But thanks for the offer.”

“Why don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I just don’t enjoy it anymore. It tastes like nothing. Imagine having a really bad cold, your sense of smell and taste completely gone. And on top of that it does nothing against the hunger.”

His voice had dropped as the last word came over his lips and with it his face changed for a tiny moment. You wished it had lasted a bit longer. Long enough to show you those divine fangs again. Your walls were quivering just thinking about them. His eyes narrowed suddenly, as if he had been listening in on your thoughts. No, not your thoughts, your heartbeat, you realised, and the moment you did, you could feel it stumble again. He was just about to open his mouth, probably to ask if you were okay, when you cut him short.

“Why make everyone cook for you then?”

“Because it gives me time to observe, to get to know the donors.” The ‘donors’, so that was what you were to him. “It also relaxes them. They are occupied with their task which in turn takes their mind off of what is about to happen. It also gives this whole transaction a touch of normalcy, you know, having dinner together, like on a real date.”

“Except that your dinner is having dinner while you watch. That’s not exactly what the average person would call normalcy, is it?”

He obviously had not caught on to the biting nature of your comment, or he chose to ignore it.

“Probably not. Then again, hardly any of them ever notice that I leave my plate untouched.”

“Well, I did. Also, the cooking did not relax me at all.” And the staring, feeling his eyes on you the whole time, getting you all hot and bothered.

“I know. I almost thought you’d never relax and…you know…get in the mood.”

“In the mood, huh?” you repeated his words, putting your spoon down with a harsh clinking sound. “That’s what you wanted all along? To get me in the mood? Well, you could have saved yourself a lot of effort then. I swear I was in the mood all right when you handed me that glass of wine. All it took would have been one more word, one more touch and I would have begged for you to take me there and then.”

Had he always been this close? Had his eyes been this dark during your entire conversation? And was he leaning in now, his fingers grasping your chin? He was almost there, right where you wanted to feel him again, his breath already wafting across your lips, making them fall open the tiniest bit.

“Shame,” he whispered, “I would have loved to fuck you in the kitchen.” You moaned, the thought of him lifting you onto the counter mixed with his breath in your mouth enough to have you on the edge of begging again, when he suddenly let go of you. “But I rather liked the way it turned out in the end. Apart from…” he drew away further, making his way over to the edge of the bed where he stayed, face turned away from you.

“I told you, it was no big deal, Andrew. I am fine.”

“Is that what I saw a moment ago when you almost fainted? Is that your definition of fine?” he snapped as he spun around to face you again.

“It’ll pass. I’ll be as good as new in a few days,” you tried to reason. This was really not as bad as he made it sound.

“Exactly. But you are far from fine now. And as long as you are not, I cannot let you go.”

You could not believe your ears. Did he just…would he…

“Well, what do you intend to do? Keep me here as your prisoner?”

“What? No!” Now he looked just as confused as you felt. “All I meant was that you should not be on your own in this state. You should probably stay in bed and have someone look after you.”

“Jesus, then you should have just said that instead,” you sighed as you leant back against the pillows, “I almost thought you’d lock me up in a dungeon in your basement.”

“There is no dungeon in the basement,” he smirked. “It’s actually in—”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t want to know,” you cut him short.

“I was joking, angel.” He reached for your hand, but you were quick to pull it away.

“Not the best of times for a joke, maybe.”

Andrew took a deep breath, “Duly noted.”

“Anyway,” you stated, putting the tray aside to make your way to the other side of the bed. “This is stilI not going to happen. I don’t want to stay in bed, being confined to this room like a patient in hospital for the entire day.”

“Night,” he corrected.

“What?”

“It’s nighttime, angel. I was merely asking you to stay in bed all night, like the average human being.”

Well, that was actually quite a reasonable thing to ask. Nevertheless, he would not get to decide for you. You were a grown woman and as such you knew what was best for you. And that was anything but staying in bed to rest for the foreseeable future.

“Fine! I don’t want to stay in bed all night either.”

He sighed. A long, drawn out sound of resignation.

“All right. Can you stay here for another ten minutes then? Ten minutes, that’s all I ask.”

Ten minutes sounded doable. And whatever was going to happen, if you would not like it, you could still leave after those ten minutes. He held no power over you. You did not belong to him. Not that he had said any such thing. But just for yourself, just to be sure, you needed that little reminder.

He was still sat there, across the bed from you, watching you intently. His patience was almost admirable. There was no anger or irritation in those attentive green eyes, just the flicker of a faint hope. And as soon as you found yourself nodding your consent, he was gone.

You had no watch to be sure, but when he stepped through that door again, not a single bead of sweat on his forehead to confirm that he had been in a hurry, you could have sworn it had not been more than five minutes. He walked straight over to you, to the side of the bed you were still sitting on and before you had even the slightest chance to process what was happening, you found yourself lifted into his arms.

“What are you doing?” you protested. A weak protest, you had to admit, as your arms had already snaked around his neck, obviously accepting your fate before the rest of you did. “You can’t—“

“Oh, believe me, I can. How do you think you got from the bathroom to the bed, or up here into this room last night?”

You could feel the heat crawl into your cheeks as the memory returned. And not just the fact that you had mistaken him for a doorframe not even an hour ago, but also the images of last night made your heart race in your chest. Last night. It had been…you were still void for words. But you could not allow yourself to fall down that rabbit hole. Not now. Not again.

Instead you chose to study the only thing you could really make out in the dim light of the staircase he was climbing with you now: him. This was probably not a better idea than thinking about last night, seeing how beautiful he was. His curls, that fell around his face freely tonight, accentuating his high cheekbones and prominent jawline. It was right in front of you, you could have leaned in, just a little, and press your lips right to it, into that soft auburn stubble. Or you could rest your head against his shoulder, bury your face in the crook of his neck, against that alabaster skin. Would his skin still have the same taste as yesterday? Honey-sweet, with a pinch of salt. You could check real quick, let the tip of your tongue glide along the silky softness. Would he chide you? Or would he enjoy your foolish impulsivity? Maybe he would moan again, ever so softly, or he would remind you of the true nature of your relationship. That everything came at a cost. And that unfortunately, you had momentarily run out of the only currency he accepted.

With a sigh you abandoned your ideas, all of them. He was just being polite, probably fearing it might ruin his immaculate reputation if anything were to happen to you. That was why he was so keen on keeping you here. To monitor you, to nurse you back into an acceptable state. Nothing more.

“Are you all right?”

Politeness, that was all it was. There was nothing more to the creases in his forehead, to the furrow of his brows or the narrowing of his eyes. No worry, no affection, no care. Just politeness.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you heard yourself repeat for the umpteenth time today, lacking almost all validity at this point.

“We’re almost there. The fresh air will do you good, you’ll see.”

Fresh air? Where the hell was he taking you?

But before you could voice your question, your eyes picked up a flickering glimmer of light. It illuminated the last steps of the way, waiting for you at the head of the stairs and when the full image slowly came into view, your heart melted on the spot. It stung at the same time, contracting in your chest as the last bit of rationality inside of you protested sharply upon your mesmerised state. This was not real, it was just another part of the game the two of you were playing. But why did it feel so real then? And what did it matter anyway? Why not give yourself over to the illusion for one more night?

And the setting made it so easy. The sea of candles that illuminated the roof terrace, their golden shine on the island of blankets and pillows in their midst, and the multitude of stars above, sparkling like diamonds on the dark blue canvas of the night sky.

Carefully, Andrew set you down in the cozy pillow fort he had built before he let himself glide down right next to you.

“Do you like it?” he inquired, his voice so full of hope, and yet he seemed to be genuinely unsure what your answer would be.

“At least it’s better than that stuffy, old bedroom of yours,” you teased, but before your words could do any harm you leaned in, your lips finding his cheek for a soft kiss. “It’s beautiful, Andrew. I love it.”

He was about to turn his head, maybe just to look at you, but you could feel the possibility of so much more hanging in the air between you as you let yourself sink down onto the pillows.

“It’s really a shame there is so much light from the town,” you sighed. “Sometimes I wish I could go back in time, just to see what the sky looked like without all the light pollution.”

“I could show you,” he said as if it was nothing.

“Do you mean to tell me you own a time machine?”

He laughed, out loud, and it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

“No, I don’t. But how about this?”

He snapped his fingers, just once, and the candles around you went dark. It took you a moment to realise, but it were not just the candles that had died. You found yourself in complete darkness all of a sudden. And if it had not been for the soft touch of his jumper against your arm, his leg coming to rest along the length of yours, you had not even known that he had decided to lay down beside you.

“How?” you whispered, the quiet tone seeming appropriate in the darkness.

“Vampire party trick.”

“Neat.”

He chuckled. “It does come in handy sometimes.”

“But what if people notice?”

“It’s the middle of the night, angel. Hardly anyone will notice.”

The two of you went silent then. In awe you watched the myriad of stars that had appeared above you. You had never seen anything even remotely like this before. It was fascinating, magnificent, this glimpse into the endless expanse of the universe, and you were lying here, not more than two specks of dust, maybe even less, in this unimaginable vastness of existence.

“What’s it like to be a vampire?”

Your question must have surprised him as he took a moment to ponder the question, and when it finally came, you were glad you could not see him properly.

“Lonely, most of the time.”

The sadness in his voice was enough to make your heart heavy for him, seeing it reflected in his eyes would have killed you.

“There must be others like you.”

“There are.” You could feel him stir beside you. “But, ehm, let’s just say I like to keep them at a distance.”

The truth was, he was an outsider. He had made himself one the day he had decided to stop killing. But since he had chosen to do so, he liked to see it as an active act of isolation, not the shunning it actually was. He knew he was probably watched, monitored closely and frowned upon. But as long as he did not step out of line or did not put others at risk with his new lifestyle, he would be fine.

He would not tell you that, of course. Maybe another time. But it was not a topic he wanted to discuss tonight. Not with you lying next to him, your heartbeat speeding up whenever you realised the non-existent space between you and him. It gave him hope. And he did not want to spoil that with grim tales of the past.

Still you seemed to sense how much the topic had upset him. At first it were just your fingers, gliding between his, but somehow you thought that it was not enough to comfort him. So you moved, and when he felt half of your weight on top of him, your head resting against his chest, he knew you had been right. This was much better.

You squeezed his middle gently, imitating a hug as best as you could, and his answer came promptly. Like a pair of wings his arms wrapped around you, so warm, so safe, keeping you so close to him. And once again, the two of you fell silent for a long while.

“Are you tired?” His lips moved against your hair. “Should we go back inside?”

“No.” You fisted his plush jumper. “I’m good.”

“Just good?”

His insincere displeasure about your answer made you snicker. “I’m perfect.”

“Good, excellent. Everything less than perfect would not have done at all.”

Blindly you reached for him in the darkness and as you found his cheek, you let your hand rest against it. It did not take long before he found you as well, covering your hand with his. He turned his head, just a little, so he could press a kiss to your palm before he brought your joined hands to his chest, somewhere close to your face, you assumed. He kept them there, just holding on to you. But after a while his fingers began to play with yours, and you knew that something was off.

“Will you stay with me?”

His question confused you as much as it surprised you. Was that not what you were doing already? You had decided to stay with him, just a little longer, and against your better judgement. It was a bit superfluous to ask about that now, was it not?

“For the night?”

“No,” his answer was accompanied by something between a huff and a laugh, “that’s not what I meant. Although I really would like you to spend the entire night, here, with me.” He paused, phrasing his next words carefully in his head before he uttered them. “What I meant was…will you be mine, angel?”

It was not a decision consciously made, it was pure instinct as you pulled your hand out of his and sat up.

“To fight the loneliness?”

You felt him sit up as well, and when the candles flickered back to life with another snap of his fingers, the same confusion you had felt a moment ago was written all over his face.

“You said being a vampire means being lonely. Do you need me as your pastime then? Your little pet to keep for company?”

Suddenly his face cleared, a few wrinkles appearing in the corners of his eyes.

“No,” he smiled as he reached for your hand, and this time you let him take it, “no. I mean, to be honest, you are good company. You’re easy to talk to, you don’t run screaming even though you know what I am, that’s a huge plus. You’re funny, entertaining in a way, intelligent and sweet,” he leaned in to let his lips brush along your neck, higher and higher, until they found your ear, “and that pussy of yours is simply divine.”

You were lost. Completely and utterly lost. There was nothing you could have done to stop that moan from falling from your lips, the same lips he pulled against his to sate that hunger you felt, that deep yearning to feel him again, now, always.

“Is that a yes then?” he breathed against your mouth.

“Let’s say it’s a maybe. For now. So…” now it was your turn to lean in, to let your cheek glide along his until your lips had reached his ear, “you better convince me, vampire boy.”

His answer came without delay, “Gladly,” but then he pulled away, “Not tonight though. You’re still very weak.”

You were shattered, betrayed, silenced by the ease with which he had built up your want for him just to tear it all down seconds later. You knew what you wanted and what your body could handle, you were not a child. But if he chose to treat you like one, he would get the fitting reply. And so you nudged his arm, as hard as you could. He did not even flinch.

“What was that for?”

“To show you how very un-weak I am.”

Your antics amused him at best, still he pulled you close again for another kiss. He might have hoped to appease you with it, and you had to admit, it was tempting to give in and concentrate on it fully. On his taste, the feeling of his tongue against yours, the softness of his lips…but you were on a mission here. You wanted more, wanted to taste all of him, feel all of him.

At first he did not seem to notice your fingers. They had sneaked underneath the hem of his jumper, carefully venturing deeper until they had found bare skin. It was warm and silky smooth, growing even softer the closer you got to the hem of his dark grey slacks, but before you could dip your fingers underneath it, his hand closed around your wrist.

“Angel, please,” he warned. And still his grip was not too strong, his words already beginning to lack authority.

“I need you, Andrew. I promise I’ll be fine.” You were shamelessly begging now and you did not even care. You wanted him, so much. “Just be gentle with me.” You had given it your all, and he was still not fully convinced yet. “Okay, fine. Just tell me you don’t want me and I’ll stop. But you have to say it.” You leaned in again, your head diving into the crook of his neck. You knew exactly what you were doing, letting your tongue dart out to draw patterns on his skin, placing a strategic kiss here and there, sucking in his sensitive skin until it drew a hiss from his mouth. “Say it, Andrew.”

You could sense it, the moment he let go of his caution and gave in to his desires. It came with a growl and he moved with precision, like the predator he was, wrapping his arms around you and spinning you around until you found yourself on your back, right underneath his taut body, hands pinned in place above your head.

“I can’t,” he pressed out, his chest heaving, “you know I can’t. Because I want you, angel, so much. So fucking much.”

You hated the agony in his eyes. There was no need to fight. You both wanted the same. It was so simple.

“Then have me,” you breathed, lifting your hips to roll against his, while your teeth bit down on your lip, hard, until you could taste blood.

He was tempted, his eyes going dark the second they took in the single drop of crimson liquid. “I don’t deserve you.” His voice was low, hoarse, snapping your last bit of sanity in a heartbeat.

“Oh, yes, you do.”

And finally, finally he dove down, another deep growl rolling through his chest, hitting you deep to pry out another moan from you. Eagerly he licked your lip, sucking it in to draw another few drops of precious liquid from you. It took him everything to stop, to pull himself away from your bewitching taste, before he would forget himself and sink those fangs of his into you. They were already showing, your eyes growing wide with arousal as they caught a glimpse of them in the dim light. It was intoxicating, dangerously so, but he wanted nothing more than to give you what you needed. He would put them to good use then, show you what else they could do. He would enjoy teasing you beyond reason. As would you.

And he was proven right when a wanton mewl echoed through the night the second he grabbed that white cotton and pulled it from your body. It did not even resist, ripping so easily, exposing your chest and stomach to the starlight. You looked so tantalising, arching your back, the sudden touch of the cool night air making your buds pebble underneath the black lace.

“I had hoped I would get to see that lingerie on you, angel,” he admitted as he let his free hand roam your skin. “What a shame it is obstructing my view.”

It was only now that he let go of your hands. He had known you would bury them in his hair the second he freed you, and there was nothing he wanted more than to feel them raking through his curls as he dipped down to your chest now. But then he halted, to look at you again, to bask in the unveiled lust in your eyes as he smirked, his lips drifting apart to bare the set of pearly white fangs to you. You wanted to squirm and writhe underneath him, but he held you perfectly still, he needed to if he did not want to risk breaking that delicate skin of yours. And then you stilled too, watched him as he got closer and closer, his teeth finding the fragile piece of black fabric that connected the two cups, just to slice straight through it.

You were still moaning when he licked a long stripe along the newly bared skin, the wild flutter of your heart clear against his tongue. But he knew you wanted him elsewhere, you were pulling him, so deliciously, and he let you until his lips hovered above yours. Then he stopped, just to frustrate you once again.

“I hate you, vampire boy.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

And with that you pulled him against your lips. Your kiss was searing, and he could taste the same hunger on your tongue that he thought was his privilege and pain alone. Only that your hunger could be sated, and he would not make you wait any longer.

You felt his hands move down your body, felt them unbutton those jeans and you knew he would have to break away soon, and still you whined pathetically when his lips finally left yours. Eagerly he gripped the blue fabric, hooking this fingers underneath the hem of your slip as well to lay you bare in one swift motion.

His want for you was more than apparent, but he was a giver and so he took his sweet time to return the favour and peel himself out of his clothes right in front of you. This was impossible, absolute madness, your heart racing faster upon the sight of every inch of his pale skin that came to light. He was so beautiful, so heart-wrenchingly beautiful, and you had never wanted anyone with the same maddening fervour that had befallen you the second you had first laid eyes upon him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, gazing down at your naked form with those ravenous eyes, and he knew exactly what he was doing when his fingers wrapped around his already hardening length and began to stroke.

You whimpered, wanting so much to touch him, to feel his weight on top of you as he pushed in deep, but you also knew that he would not. Not yet.

“Spread those legs for me, angel.”

And you did, exposing yourself to him even further, and you loved every second of it.

“Good girl.” His free hand found your thigh, tenderly caressing the sensitive flesh that had so eagerly awaited his touch. “Now touch yourself.”

Not once did your eyes let go of his, not as your hand made a show of wandering down your body, pinching your nipple on the way just to watch his eyes narrow for a split second, not as your fingers found the wetness between your legs, diving down all the way to gather some of the slick juices that had collected there, not as you moaned when your fingertips found the hidden pearl and began to rub it gently.

“Mmh,” he hummed, “that’s it. Just like that.”

And as a reward his fingers dug into your thigh a little harsher, kneading the softness they found there. You could tell he was holding back, he wanted to take over, coax those sighs and whimpers from you himself. Your little show had gotten him so hard for you, so ready to dive into that heat and feel you around him. Not long now, you thought, as his fingers began to drift up your thigh. The movement was slow, but you noticed it anyway, and then his fingers found yours, joining them, guiding you at first, applying even more pressure until you moaned his name in sweet agony, and he moved on, deeper, lured by the call of the heat that awaited him so ardently and then he pushed in, gently, slowly, burying himself all the way.

“Fuck,” he concluded, “so ready for me.”

You could have come from feeling him inside you alone, but when he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them up into the light so he could watch them glisten before he let them vanish into his mouth to taste you, you were lost once again.

Your eyes must have fallen shut from all the pleasure, your senses completely overwhelmed, but the second you felt him, the rub of his entire length against you, the demanding push, they snapped right back open. You could not miss this, wanted to see him the moment you became one, and you were not disappointed. His hands holding your hips, he lifted your behind off the blankets, pulling you onto himself until he had vanished inside you completely. His head lulled back upon the sensation, exposing his long neck. And then his lips parted in a lustful moan as he let the world know of his desire for you.

“Andrew,” you whispered, and he needed a moment to come back to you. But then his eyes found you, and you would never forget the moment they lit up, as if this was the first time he had ever taken you in.

“Y/N”, your name fell from his lips as he lowered himself onto you, lured by your call, and you basked in the moment of finally feeling him skin on skin, his weight on top of you, as you had craved for what felt like an eternity.

Slowly he moved within you, his arms cradling your head as he planted soft kisses along your cheeks, your jaw and finally, finally, against your neck. You arched upon the sensation, pressing yourself into him with a moan that left no doubt about how much you longed for his touch.

He used the chance to let one arm glide around your middle, and you knew he would give you that extra pleasure when he pulled you even closer against himself. Increasing the speed of his hips, he took you faster, deeper, harder and you loved every second of it. You keened, wrapping your arms around him as he drove you closer and closer to that high that would deliver you from your lunacy at last. Or push you even deeper into it. You did not care. You did not care at all.

You had him, his breath against your neck, his soft moans collecting in the tiny space that remained between the two of you, his body moving with yours. And that was all you needed. Or at least you thought it was all, until you could feel it built. It came fast, no faint sensation deep within that steadily grew with every thrust, with every moan. It almost leapt at you, coming over you with a might nothing could have ever prepared you for. And amidst the storm it had thrown you in, it was him that you felt. Just him. You felt him as if there was nothing between you, as if you were the same person. Transformed into one, metamorphosised, impossible to separate ever again.

And it was in this very moment that you knew. It was plain to see, as if it had always been this way, bound by fate. He needed to know as well, needed to hear it from your mouth that you understood now what he must have realised all along. He had expressed it in that simple question, but you had been too proud to see. But you knew now. You knew. And nothing would ever change that again.

With a sigh, you rested your cheek against his, ready at last to give yourself to him completely. “I’m yours, Andrew,” you breathed, right next to his ear, “I’m yours.”

***

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@lowkeysimpinloki

@fightmespideyboy

@itsleilabxtch

#hozier #vampzier #vampire!hozier #vampire!hozier x you #hozier fanfiction #hozier imagine #hozier fanfic #vampire fiction #gothic fiction #feast #metamorphosis

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midnightsunnyday · 4 months ago

Text

With Good Intentions (Chapter Three) ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) Masterlist A03

➥pairings: MC & Everyone, MC/Everyone ➥content warnings: Not Beta Read, We Cook Our Stories Like Solomon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Some Humor, Explicit Language, Not Canon Compliant, Though Sometimes It Is, Fighting, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Emotional Manipulation, Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lesson 016 Spoilers, Post Lesson 016, Other Additional Tags To Be Added. ➥summary: after the events of chapter 16, MC learns three important lessons: one, that Diavolo is an asshole. Two, as it turns out, being immortal doesn't make you smarter, wiser, or mature, it just gives you a thousand more chances to be a fuck up and not learn and damn thing from it. And three, that there are no therapists in hell. Though they could really all use one. Or in which MC suffers an existential breakdown and Diavolo and the brothers learn that maybe throwing a party wasn't the best response to someone dying. ➥A/N: hello everyone, it's good to see you again. I hope everyone is doing well and whether you're a return reader or just getting started, thank you for your interest in my story. Work has been kicking my ass, but still we persevere! Anyway, until next time, take care and enjoy this very long chapter.

He could tell his brothers grew tired of it. That whenever the topic of their sister was brought up, Belphegor always felt an underlining exasperation, as if they’d all been over the subject for some time and were only waiting for him to do the same, as if she were nothing more than a ghost who’d overstayed her welcome in the rebuilding of their lives.

Or maybe they were just tired of him. Tired of his whining about her. Tired of his disgust for Diavolo’s ideals. Tired of his hatred of all things human. He barely smiled, barely ate, and slept for most of the day. He wasn’t the “sweet, innocent Belphie” they knew and loved. The one who found wonder in everything around him and whose laugh, though rare now, lit entire rooms. No, something within Belphegor was broken and they’d have to accept that it would never be whole again. Not without Lilith.

But who said death was pleasant? That it was something one should simply get over? Loss never leaves one gentle. It doesn’t decide to remove itself after a month, a year, or centuries after. It stays with you, becoming part of you. Some days it gives you the illusion of respite and on those days you go through life barely noticing the quiet, emptiness of it all.

Yet on other days, it breaks you, leaves you shaking and crying, wishing for your thoughts to cease so you can finally be “normal” again. Grief, also like loss, never comes when the moment is decent, does not give you warning. Grief strikes when it chooses to, replaying the moment of your loss ad nauseam, until the whole of you becomes nothing but a shell of memories, wading away to the tides of time.

Most days Belphegor remembered Lilith. Sometimes it seemed he was the only one who did. He remembered her in lunchrooms when the desserts were particularly sweet. He remembered her in corridors, the kind they’d both raced down as fast as they could. He remembered her in dreams, luring him into the forests they used to play in, with trees as high as the sky and where the wind swept through and made waves of shimmering sunshine. In the distance would be Lilith, the years waning upon her memory, yet she waved as she always did, an insult to every petal, every ray of sun. He would run to her, feel the tears wetting his cheeks, his tongue tripping over her name over and over again: Lilith. Lilith. I’m here. Please.

He remembered blood. Too much of it. The kind that no matter how much you scrubbed yourself raw, the stench would remain clung to you like death. The fall was not a pleasant one; they did not streak across the skies like beautiful jewels, they were burning, dying. The landing nearly killed them, sent the earth running each and which way in disgust of them.

How through it all even the Father, no matter how hard they prayed, was always silent. Maybe he too, saw what was to become of them, and closed his heart and ears to it. It was easier, at least for Belphegor, to believe that he’d simply abandoned them, rather than knowingly allow the pain that would scar them for centuries to come.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The Celestial Realm had no seasons, but on days when the light was mild and winds smooth for flight, Belphegor and Lilith would sneak amongst the forests, finding shelter under the tall, dense trees. For Raphael, who’d come to search for them in time, the siblings were abandoning their duties, but for Belphegor and Lilith, it was simply a break, albeit a long one.

“Oh, Belphie, he’s simply divine."

Divine. An odd choice of words for a mortal, yet Lilith thought otherwise, not that Belphegor knew enough to object. After all, he’d just learned of the man’s existence a few moons ago, and what he knew was only through her words of him. He wasn’t rich by any means. His family tended animals and sold what they could in the town market. There was a time when the family lived well, but some of the animals were stricken with disease or killed by wolves, and they suffered greatly for it. Even so, this man had “a spirit worth more than all the wealth in the world,” she exclaimed. That despite his awful predicament, he made a way for his family, taking on various forms of labor to keep them fed.

"He's very skilled with his hands." Lilith winked, to which Belphegor pretended to gag. Relations between humans and angels were not unheard of, but ones with the image of his sister he'd rather scrub from memory.

In any case, this man could "literally do anything" and Belphegor sat in awe of this. If all this were true, then Lilith found someone beyond any human he could think of.

Belphegor watched as she twirled about, nearly skipping in her joy, her long hair unfretted and chasing the wind. She was led by a tune only she could hear, her dress gathering at the thick of her sun-kissed legs.

“He’s so polite, a true gentleman,” said Lilith. “He picks me flowers, opens doors, and by Father is he handsome.” She sighed lovingly and clasped her hands against her flushing cheeks. “He could give Lucifer a run for his money, you know?

Belphegor snorted. "A man as beautiful as Lucifer is surely a sight to behold."

"It's true, you know," she said, ignoring his skepticism. "That and he’s strong. Can tend a whole field before sundown without breaking a sweat. Why, I saw him raise two goats on each shoulder and…”

Belphegor rolled his eyes. Though he had no reason to doubt her, his sister found ways to bolster the human past the point of believability, at times. Extravagant. Amazing. Beguiling. Was it even possible that so many adjectives could describe one person? Yet Lilith went on, singing the praises of this fabled man she’d found such importance in.

“He’s just so…so…you understand, don’t you Belphie? How interesting and unique they can be?”

He did. Belphegor loved humans. He found them special, more than most creatures. It was their mundane everyday ways. It was the way they sought purpose from them. It was how they loved and celebrated and burned away life until none was left. Compared to angels, who were created and bound to fates unchanging, mortals were born with the blessing of choice, and it fascinated Belphegor what they did with it. So he watched and soon enough, went to gather in their joy. However, it wasn’t long until his curiosity prompted Lilith’s own, and the young angel began to visit the human realm of her own volition.

While Belphegor didn't fully understand his sister’s ways, he couldn’t help but be drawn into her joy. She’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow, trapped in an endless spring. It’d been beautiful to witness, and while such things didn’t strike him as important before, Belphegor couldn’t help but think of his love, whenever or wherever that might be.

“Belphie, are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm?” He said, led from his thoughts. “What was that?”

“I said Lucifer plans to meet him.”

Belphegor shrugged. “Well, so much for that.”

“I’m serious, Belphie!” She stamped her foot, pouting. “You know how big brother is.”

“Maybe he’ll like him,” Belphegor assured, swallowing his lie. Lucifer wasn’t the best at being impartial, especially when it came to Lilith. She was the youngest, barely new to the world, and he’d sooner have her wrapped up and tucked away than allow any harm to come to her. This man she’d found, without his or any of her sibling's knowledge, was an anomaly, a blind spot in Lucifer’s ever-watchful eye.

“Honestly, he’s always so worried. I told him there was no need, but he insisted.” Lilith’s face fell, eyes widening to some unfounded fate. “What if he doesn’t like him? What if he forbids me from seeing him? Tries to lock me away, key and all? Then what am I to do? I’d have to change my name, hide amongst the humans. We’d be outlaws. Fugitives!"

“Lilly!” Belphegor laughed. She always had a flare for the dramatics. “It’s ok. Lucifer is strict, but I’m sure he’ll come to see him as you do.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I’m sure of it…probably.”

“Oh, you!” she swatted at the air between them. “But you know, maybe you’re right. After all, Lucifer would never do anything to upset me, considering I’m his favorite and all,” she said in a snobbish tone. Lucifer spoiled her. They all spoiled her, really, and it seemed to be rubbing off.

But there was one question Belphegor failed to ask. The most important of them all. “Does he have a name?”

Lilith smiled. “Of course he does, silly. H̵̸̷̶̸̨̡̘̯͇̾̀͋̓̍i̶̴̷̶̷̥̠̬̖͖̋͐̄̎͆s̵̶̷̵̵̢͈̟͕̝̊̌̅̾͒ ̷̵̶̸̵̱͕̦͕͕͑̓̀̍͠n̴̸̸̴̶͈͍͍̯̳̎͛͂̄̏à̵̷̷̷̴͚̟͈̲̃̑̍̾͜m̷̵̵̶̷͉̗̜̗̻̓̀̽̀͝e̴̶̸̷̵͔̻̜̳̣̽̃̋͑͠ ̴̷̵̶̸̧̰̲͙̺̀̃̐͗͑i̶̷̴̷̴͎̪̳̫̬̔́͐̈́͝ş̵̴̴̶̵̠͕̰͕͗̅̅͋̕…̴̷̸̶̵̯͚̲̯̺͐͌̑̔͠

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“Lucifer! Please, tell them. Tell them they can’t do this!”

Belphegor turned to his brother, who looked as if the world was ending and there was no way to prevent it.

The Father spoke through Michael: Lilith had committed the unpardonable sin, one in which there was no forgiveness. She would be wiped from the face of existence, never to be a part of the cycle of creation again. All this for stealing a fruit, though it was said a simple apple led to Eve’s downfall; what difference would there be for his sister?

Belphegor dug his nails into his palms, neck burning with heat. The Father had refused them council, choosing to lay His judgment through the only other angel he abused more than Lucifer. Did He truly not care for them? Was fighting His battles and upholding His will all they were good for?

“The Father’s word is final,” Michael’s voice was calm, yet short. “Lucifer knows this as well as I do.”

“So you expect us to stand aside and allow our sister to face a fate so cruel?”

“Belphie, please,” Lilith cried, shaking. “It does not matter my end—“

“—But it does matter. You matter.” Belphegor pointed at her with angered assertion. “Not some mortal who was fated to die sooner than you are to blink.”

“Our brother is right, Lilith.” Leviathan shook his head as if trying to unravel what was happening. “Your actions…they make no sense.”

“No,” Lilith spoke, “what makes no sense is a Father who would sit and watch while death and sickness run rampant throughout his creation while having the power to prevent it.”

“How dare she’s” and “heresies” spiraled into the air, forming a tornado of indignation that grew louder and more violent with the need for retribution. Belphegor sneered at the angels who formed a ring of judgment around his sister. It was hard to believe that at one time any of them could be called his brothers and sisters.

“Enough.” It was Raphael, who, unlike Michael, held little reservations in his approach to an otherwise dire situation. “You stand amongst the divine court. Your blasphemy will not be tolerated.”

“Ah, can it,” yelled out Mammon. Someone gasped from the crowd. “You threaten the life of our sister. You better believe we’re gonna cause more than just a ruckus.”

Belphegor looked to Lilith, his eyes imploring her, though there was no answer she could give that would make any sense to him. “Even if he didn’t die today,” he said, “he would’ve died regardless. What then? Why risk your eternity for something so finite?”

Lilith parted her lips as if to form some half-uttered verb. Then she began again, though her mouth did not quiver. She stilled her face, hardened her lips, and spoke her words simply, “For the life of the one I love, I would do anything.”

Belphegor winced, his sister’s words a slap in the face. He would be angry if only there wasn’t so much to go around. What about their love? As if theirs hadn’t outlived kingdoms for her. What love could a being of such little potential possibly give?

It was Beelzebub’s turn to speak, pain shaking his voice. “But…what about us? How could you be so willing to leave us here to grieve you?”

Lilith was quiet, her face turned to some far, distant place. Belphegor wanted to shake her, to wake her from this eternal dream of love that did nothing but harm her.

“There has to be something we can do,” Asmodeus spoke, looking desperately at Michael. “It can’t end like this.”

“And just what do you plan to do to avoid her judgment?” Raphael’s eyebrow rose with his question. “Are any of you willing to take her place?”

They all looked at each other. Not in fear of Raphael’s words, but because neither of them could see themselves as the Father’s children, the remains of their allegiance shattered and pooled in the pit of their stomachs. In the end, what they gained for their loyalty was death, but they would not go without a fight. Finally, Lucifer stepped forward. It was clear to Belphegor that something inside his brother shattered, too. Not broken, but free.

“If the father’s word is law,” he said, “then maybe such laws should be challenged.”

“Be mindful of your next words, brother.” Michael stood with all the caution of a vigilant lion. “Think of the lives of your siblings. Of what you’re sacrificing.”

Lucifer stood, clearly battling himself. Belphegor only wished to know what his brother and Michael were thinking then. Both were close, so much so that they could be mistaken for twins. Maybe they both wanted to see something in the other that was no longer there. By then, Belphegor and his brothers gathered beside the morning star, unwavering. It was clear where their loyalties lay and always would.

As if in understanding, Michael sighed, and drew his blade as if the entire issue were a mere inconvenience. “Don’t make us do this, Lucifer.” Raphael, however, had already summoned his spears.

“You all still have the chance to repent in front of the Father. This will not go without punishment, however.”

“And Lilith?” Asmodeus said, his voice almost hopeful.

“She will leave this plane in peace.”

The once favored son of morning yanked his blade from his sheath and with it t̸̵̵̵̵͙̼̫̗̥̉́̇̈́̈́h̸̶̸̴̴͚͖̥̗̖̊̾̄̒̕e̶̶̸̸̸̻͈͍̗̱͒̆͊̋̒ ̸̵̶̵̵̜̥̭͎̝̑̓̓̀̾h̷̸̶̴̸͓̠͙̹̤͌̄̈́̂̚ḙ̷̸̷̷̸̢̯͖̄̂͂̾̾͜ȧ̴̶̷̴̷̩̯͓̤͋̄͊̍͜v̶̷̸̶̷̧͙̺͇͔̓̇̽̆̔e̴̴̸̴̶̢̖͍̰̫͊̍̔̉̉ņ̶̶̷̴̵̻̣̹͗͊̉͆̎ͅs̴̵̴̵̴̝̻͚̟̖̆́̇̇͠ ̶̸̵̸̶̨̩̞̗̖͒̊̀́̓c̸̴̶̶̶̬̼͎̱͔̈́̏̑͂̑r̶̷̷̴̵̯͚̫͕̳̓̽͂͐͝ĩ̶̶̸̶̷̺̙̠̰͖̏́͆͘e̸̴̸̵̷̹̰͉̫̠̓͌̆̃͂d̸̴̶̶̵̨̻͉̮͕́̈́̈̽̈́.̷̷̵̸̴͓̱̲̘͖̑̓͒̾̕ ̴̸̸̷̴̙̬͉̱͗̉͂̀͂ͅ

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not once had Belphegor known the smell of blood until that day. It ranked of rusted metal, and it took all within him not to vomit in the middle of battle. An angel he once played with amongst the lilacs of the Celestial Garden fell limp, a sword thrust through his chest. Mammon had done so without hesitation and proceeded to chop the head of another, his strokes quick like thunder strikes.

A scream, this time from his right. It was Beel caked in a thick carnage of blood and feathers. He’d torn through their attempt at a flank, their weapons barely grazing him as he ripped wings from flesh, bodies spiraling towards the earth.

“Look out!” Asmodeus yelled, his shield snapping against metal. Belphegor leaped to the side, a beam of light zipping downward where his body would’ve been, leaving a hole of ozone in its wake. Belphegor raised his bow in return, his arm unsteady. Shakily, he aimed, barely managing to wound the angel who’d gunned for his head.

The realm was drowned in chaos. A frenzy of limbs and wings dancing to the tune of annihilation. He’d only seen Lucifer once, his body burning white as he bathed the battlefield with righteous fury, sending angel after angel toward their doom. Belphegor had only heard stories of Leviathan’s skills in battle; it was another thing to see him flay a throne alive.

“Lilith,” he heard Mammon cry.

“I’m ok,” she called back. A twang of metal after. “Just focus on yourself.”

So many voices, Belphegor thought. It was hard to keep his bearings. He was nowhere near a child of war. He’d never honed a weapon or raised it against another. His purpose was that of a virtue, to spread the word that with faith and hard work, one would gain ever closer to what was promised. But his life had been so easily tossed aside, his diligence made nothing. And now that one was threatened and the other gone, what then would become of him? Of his brothers? For a moment, he stilled, unable to focus on the battle at hand. It was as if all the air had left him, his breaths jagged and choking.

“Belphie!” Beelzebub’s voice rumbled. Belphegor squinted his eyes toward the sky. It was hard to make them out at first, little glints of sunshine that they were, yet as they drew closer, Belphegor saw the sharpened hatred of a thousand arrows bearing down towards him. He turned.

“Lilith,” Belphegor wailed. She’d been near him, maybe trying to call out to him, for that he’d never know. By then the first arrow struck her wing, then another, piercing through her flesh as her body flailed unnaturally. Beelzebub leaped towards him, tucking him deep into his grasp as they fell downward.

From above them rang a cry so loud that it shattered the noise. Lucifer broke through the sky like a roaring flame, barreling downward towards his sister. It was then Mammon who fell after him, then Leviathan, then finally, Asmodeus. Belphegor’s ears filled with a humming static, the world becoming focused and pin-like. He willed his head to gaze at Lilith. She hurdled downward, specks of ash trailing the air as her wings caught flame. With arm outstretched, he reached for her, ţ̴̶̸̷̶̨̛̠̖̤̈́̔̋̌ḫ̸̷̶̴̵̬͉̞̗͑͋̈́̅͝e̵̶̵̷̷̼̮̝̿̀͑̓͗͜͜ ̶̶̶̶̴͓̘͓͎̼̾̋͒̏͝w̸̸̴̷̵̨͈̼̯̞̉̆͆̒̌ơ̶̵̸̷̶͖̠̬͈̻̈́̓̎̽r̴̸̸̴̵͕̘͚̬̩̾̍̑͒̕l̷̵̷̶̸͕̱̜̯̙̑̈̂̎͠d̵̴̶̶̷̡̰̼͇̊̑́̒̾͜ ̵̸̶̷̸̳͙̭̱̂̍͋̓͘͜f̵̶̶̸̷̙̪̘̟̙̊̽͂̾̕ǎ̵̴̸̴̶̪̰̣̳̫̌̓͛̚d̸̶̸̴̴̻̪̘͇̻̒̅͆̀͛ḯ̷̶̴̴̵͙͇̞̲̜̽̈́͆̔n̶̶̴̵̶͇̲̭̰̻̍̾̑͂͘ǧ̷̶̷̶̶̡̺̪̻̦̃̃͌͝ ̶̵̶̶̴͇̗̠͉̣̍̀̆̂̐

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“What?”

"̸��͛W̴̻̒ẖ̵͝a̴̖̓t̴͔͝?̸̢̓"̵̢̒

“Come again?”

“I said have you calmed down yet?”

Calmed down. As if he were a child who’d thrown a tantrum and was placed in time-out.

“What do you mean?” Belphegor gazed at Lucifer through hair-draped eyes, annoyed at being interrupted by what would’ve been a critical moment of his performance. He’d begun talking to himself. Wasn’t sure when it started, yet if only to break the monotony of his current tenure. In his mind, Belphegor was the sole performer on a brightly lit stage. In front of him, his audience, cheering for his one-night, one-man show.

Ladies and Gentlemen, he’d say, on behalf of the entire circus troupe, I welcome you to one of the most astounding shows you will ever see! I promise you, it will be something truly special, like a wonderful, fleeting vision—“

“--Belphie?” Lucifer called to him.

Oh, right. This asshole. “What?”

“What is it with you in needing things repeated?” Lucifer said. “I told you to use your time in here to calm down and rethink what you said earlier.”

Belphegor spat, rolling his eyes to some corner of the room. If one were to ask his brother, locking Belphegor away was done for his protection. That it was love, not pride or sick devotion, which forced his hand that day. If not by Lucifer, then Diavolo, and if the rumors regarding the castle’s torture dungeon were true, therein lied the many ways of subjecting the seventh born to a fate worse than boredom. If anything, he should be grateful that the only current threat to his health was the admitted lack of ventilation and an idle mind.

Yet if one were to ask Belphegor, he would’ve gladly accepted torture just to spite him, the unyielding screams of the forsaken a welcomed company compared to the horrid solitude of being trapped in a fucking attic.

“In that case, I’m going to be stuck in here forever,” Belphegor said. “Because there’s no way I’m ever going to take back what I said. No way am I ever going to change my mind.”

He was adamant then, on his hatred of humans. The day he learned of Lilith’s death, from Diavolo of all people, was the day any ounce of empathy he had died with him. Once again, the prince would prove to be a never-ending red stain on his sister’s life. Even after death, he found ways to dishonor her memory, if not through the subjugation of his brothers, then through the announcement of his shitty exchange program, one that Belphegor vehemently denounced. Yet Lucifer, being the boot licker he was, had other plans. It was hard to tell how many days passed since then, let alone how long Lucifer planned to keep him here.

Lucifer sighed and gazed over at the canopied bed. Belphegor had found a few Christmas ornaments packed amongst the attic’s boxes--a nutcracker, a gingerbread man, and a tiny reindeer--to act as his makeshift audience. In noticing Lucifer’s quizzical look, Belphegor hissed, literally hissed, at him in embarrassment.

“Oh, calm yourself,” Lucifer said, stifling his amusement with a cough, remembering that the moment was supposed to be serious. Hell forbid it was anything less. “Regardless, we’ve gone ahead and chosen the second student from the human world.”

“Really…Well, that’s awful news,” Belphegor said, stomping over to his bed and smothering his audience with gathered sheets, his skin heated.

“This time it’s not a powerful, elite sorcerer like Solomon, but a regular, average human.” “And why are you telling me this? I’m not interested in hearing about any hu…”

Belphegor’s smile was wide. “Actually, wait. Maybe that’s not true. Bring that human to me right away, Lucifer. I’ll tear them to shreds so tiny that there won’t be anything left of the body or soul when I’m done.”

Maybe being tucked away inside that large castle of his made the prince a bit dull-minded. Solomon was deemed one of the most powerful magic users in the world, one who—without even raising a hand—could turn even the strongest demon to ash.

But a regular human with no power and no way to defend themselves? It was as if the universe simply hated this human, one that would surely shit themselves after being summoned out of thin air to a realm, as far as they knew, should not exist and amongst beings that only lived amongst the pages of their various religions and stories. It was a tragedy waiting to happen and one Belphegor, with quivering hands, planned to bring forward.

“If this precious student from the human world were to meet an end like that,” Belphegor went on, “it would bring this little exchange program to a screeching halt, wouldn’t it? And what’s more, there’s no telling what it might do to Diavolo’s reputation.”

Lucifer observed him with a sort of veiled heatedness. It was clear his tantrum held little weight, but would end it if needed.

“Oh, I know. If you refuse to bring that human to me, then I’ll call them here myself,” Belphegor clasped his hands together, pleased with his plan. “I may not be able to get out of here, but I can certainly lure a single human half-wit to me without much trouble.”

“Impossible,” Lucifer spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“And why’s that?” Belphegor raised his brow, his unease growing.

“The door to this room can only be seen by demons. It’s invisible to humans. Also, I put a curse on the stairs leading up here so that no demon other than me can climb them. No one will ever find you, and no one will ever know you’re here, be they human, or demon, or any other creature.”

Of course. Leave it to Mr. Kill Joy to take the fun out of homicide.

Belphegor’s face slumped, sucking his teeth. “You’ve taken quite the precautions, haven’t you? I’m touched that you’d go to such lengths for me, your good for nothing brother.” Lucifer was taller, about a few inches so, but Belphegor met his gaze all the same. “What exactly are you so afraid of Lucifer?”

“I’m afraid of losing my brother,” Lucifer said, quickly and without a hint of dishonesty.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Belphegor said. He wouldn’t allow it. To feel sympathy for the devil. Not after losing what mattered most, and what may’ve been his only chance to correct it. He needed to be the one hurting in this situation and needed Lucifer to be as one-dimensional as possible. “What scares you is the thought of disappointing Diavolo, isn’t it?”

Lucifer was…silent. For what, Belphegor wasn’t sure. Was the answer truly that complicated? Maybe there wasn’t anything more to his brother. Maybe he had become nothing more than a loyal lap dog.

Belphegor pounded his foot against the attic’s ancient floorboards, them rattling as if to collapse. “Say something Lucifer,” he yelled. “The old Lucifer wasn’t like this. He wasn’t afraid of what someone else thought of him. He wasn’t pathetic like that.”

“You’re free to think whatever you want, Belphegor. Also…” Lucifer turned towards the attic door, his voice low and solemn, “I’d say you changed as well.”

“Lucifer!” Yet Lucifer would never turn. Never question any part of himself that held weakness.

As the bars to the attic room clanked shut, Belphegor heard his brother’s footsteps trek down the towering staircase and into the house. Once again, he was left alone, spiraling into the silence of the attic.

He wouldn’t mind being tortured at all. Not at the glint of the blade as it sliced his flesh. Not at the blood that pooled from his wounds. Not even as his limbs were torn from his body or flayed alive. The rush of pain and paranoia would keep him, startlingly, sound. At least then he could see what harmed him. Give it a name, his fury. Tell himself that logically, it was ok to cry, scream, and lash about as he was now, smashing mirrors and ripping pillows to shreds.

But in this attic, this fucking horrible attic, there was no one to blame, and it left Belphegor with only his thoughts, screaming over and over: It’s your fault. It’s always been

your fault

YOUR FAULT

It’s always been

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not my fault. It’s not my fault!

It was a lie, of course. Your death was in motion the moment you appeared in front of him, doe-eyed and disturbingly lax for someone in your position. For all Lucifer’s scheming, he’d forgotten one fine detail: that idleness didn’t weaken sloth, but enabled it.

But it is, Belphie. It's what you did.

He didn't think you were dumb enough to believe his story. A human "just like you" who'd been captured and trapped by Lucifer, yet you proved otherwise. Even when his true identity was revealed, you continued to help him as if the threat hadn't shown itself. Things were moving about too easily; the universe truly did hate you.

No that's not...I did it for you. For us.

Admittedly, he'd wrestled in the corners of his mind about it. Argued until there was nothing left to argue. A part of him had grown to like you, strange, dull-headed thing that you were, but if he weren't to kill you, what then? Would he live his life, seeing you coddle up to his brothers? Eat from their plates and take part in their celebrations? Would you somehow charm Diavolo and have the rest of your ilk invade here? Hell forbid the fools began to fall in love with you, then he’d have to bear witness to some half-assed love story, and that he couldn't live with. So he stilled it down. Beat back the part of him that doubted his conviction. This was for Lilith, always for Lilith, and nothing more.

Oh Belphie, you knew I never wanted this. This was always about you. This was your revenge.

How he killed you was deliberate, too. Strangulation was one of the more intimate forms of death one could give. To do so was to be conscious of your victim’s suffering and to take pleasure in it, having the power of life and death weighted within one’s grip. Humans were fragile. Anything more than disembowelment would be too quick and he needed you to feel it. To know how little your life meant as he wrung every inch of it from you.

Please, I'm sorry. I didn’t know. Didn’t know what they were to you.

He admits enjoying it, laughing as the confusion mangled your face. It didn’t take much to knock you on your back, even less to pin you down. You were so weak. How you managed to survive this long was merely incompetence on his brother’s part. They were fools, too cowardly to do what needed to be done. But not him. He’d end your life and soon any hope of continuing this miserable sham of a program.

It’s not about what they were to me, Belphie. You took a life. And you can never take that back.

You withered and flailed beneath him, trying to lift yourself to no avail. A numbing high swept over Belphegor as he took it all in. The beating of your heart, the sound of wheezing lungs, the sweat that drenched your brow, the bright red of your blood. All the colors and sounds bled into a final point until he was overcome with it, twisting, clenching, enamored in the hues of your dying face. Your eyes bulged and the quakes of your death throes rumbled the floorboards. You clung to him, nails scraping the skin of his wrists. When that didn’t work, you clawed for his eyes. The desperation. The fury. He could laugh, so he does, slamming your head into the floor when you attempt to swipe at his face. Your head bounces forward, then goes limp, throat giving way to a sick crunch. He squeezes tighter, breaking through bone, through artery.

Finally, you stilled and so does he.

He assumed your death would be less monotonous, the fires of euphoria dwindling into barely an ember. A cold realization sweeps over him, sending his body to chill and his empathy to reanimate. No, he won't allow weakness. Not a moment for remorse or sorrow. He shakes them from his mind, putting it up to shock and nothing more.

He gazed at his hands, flexing them, feeling like an outsider in his own body. He sits in silence. The attic does not answer with its usual hum of wood. The house does not creak. Instead, it engulfs him in a sea of quiet, and for a moment he wades in it. Hearing his heart, his breathing, the tiny hiss of air that escapes you. For some reason, he cannot will himself to look at you longer. Your face is uncannily calm, though your neck is twisted into unrecognition, the flesh bruised and mangled.

Now, there was nothing left, but still so much to be done. He wrings you by the collar of your shirt, and it seems an eternity before he reaches the attic door. The attic steps feel smaller and out of focus, the house halls a labyrinth. He’d almost forgotten where the main entrance lay until he heard his brothers, their voices joined in a chorus of "where are they?" and "They should be" and "could be." It's the only time he smiles. Not for his brothers, though it was Beel he missed most, but because he finally, finally would have his audience.

Slowly, as he reaches the landing of the stairway, a thought inches forward. Yet this one he couldn’t shake away. Over and over it repeats itself, almost pleading:

Oh, Belphie.

Belphie.

J̸̸̷̷̴͔̪̗̱̊͑͋̈̚͜ J̸̗͑u̸̼̎s̴̬̔t̴̗͌ ̵̅͜w̵̪͘h̸̥̀a̶̮̓t̵͕̅ ̷̱͊h̸̼͝a̴̛̪v̶͕͆e̷̫̍ ̵̩̈́y̶̲͝o̶̫̕u̷̞̍ ̷͉͌d̵̦̐ọ̸́n̸̪̽e̷̫̓?̸̡́

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Belphegor lurched forward, sweat chilling him to the bone. His dreams were becoming too vivid for his liking. In the corner of his eye sat a large figure, blanketed in the cover of darkness. He blinked. Was he still dreaming?

“What...I...Beel?” He spoke, gasping for breath. How long had he been sitting there?

“It's ok,” Beelzebub said. He sat on the edge of Belphegor’s bed, stroking his shoulder as if to still the chills away. “You had a bad dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Belphegor choked, words rushing from his mouth,” I did it I did all of it I killed Lilith and then I killed them and I…I…“

“Just breathe, Belphie.” But there was nothing Beelzebub could say or do, only wait until the torturous spell was over.

Belphegor placed his hand to his chest, heart beating as if it were going to burst from him and go running off into the world.

In and out. In and out. It didn't help his breathing much, but it made him focus on something other than the panic. Everything felt so heavy like the sky had fallen upon his shoulders.

"It's all...my fault," Belphegor heaved, “my fault.”

In a way, he should be grateful. Lilith lived a long, happy life and that’s all he could ask for. Still, it all felt like a dream and in that moment, he’d forgotten where he was. That the Devildom, despite its idiosyncrasies, was a punishment. That they were damned and whatever fate held for them was often cruel and rarely giving. He knew they were uncomfortable at the party, could feel their quickened breaths rising in an off-tune chorus of sheltered panic. He should’ve helped them, walked them through their spell. Instead, he froze, feeling the judgment heavy in the room, the waves of anger and disappointment hitting him in a heated haze. He watched you run away and with it, his redemption.

“That’s not true, Belphie. Don't blame yourself. If anything...” Beelzebub paused, and Belphegor listened between breaths for the words that never came.

He was about to blame himself again, he thought, yet he could not will himself to assure him otherwise, his breaths still too quick and sharp. Instead, Belphegor buried himself into his twin. If he could not use words, he’d use his actions. Surely Beel, who wrapped his brother in a tight hug, would understand him. Beelzebub, after all, was but a wall to Belphegor’s emotions. Allowing his tears and agony to fall upon him, but never breaking himself. Instead, Beelzebub sat in silence, and together, they rocked each other through the darkness, waiting on the morning hours to break the curse that was Belphegor’s anguish.

Surely, you’d forgive him, he thought. That night at the party meant nothing. That disgusted look you gave him meant nothing.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me lilith #obey me fanfic #midnightsunnyday writes

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dumpster-diving-rat · 1 year ago

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Rating bsd characters (Port Mafia) based on how likely I think they are to fall asleep on you

(Asked for by kurayamiakura ♡ Also just like the first one, this is mainly while you're both work in the pm, but if you want to think of it as anywhere, do so as you will)

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

1/10

-He definitely doesn't just sleep at work, even if he doesn't have much stuff to do

-Even so, he does have a more calm side

-He will only fall asleep on you if no one is around, and if he thinks nobody will just come into the room

-Rests his head on your shoulder while sitting next to you

-You can obviously feel him doing this, so you decide to bring it up

-"Shut it." You didn't even get a chance to say what you wanted before he said this

-He eventually falls asleep on your shoulder, his breaths getting calmer by the minute

-He's a light sleeper, and is more alert after waking up

-He doesn't make noise in his sleep, and doesn't have many nightmares, as far as you can tell

-If he has a nightmare, he won't say anything, and will appear calm

He's a calm sleeper, but will berate you if you mention him ever falling asleep on you

Chuuya Nakahara

2/10

-He's an executive, I don't think he really has much time on his hands

-However, he had multiple missions that day, and it wore him out just a bit

-Personally calls you into his office if you aren't already in there

-"Hun, I'm going to need a favor." He just wants to rest his head on your lap

-Does rest his head on your lap, getting comfortable almost immediately

-He sighs, it has probably been a long day at work for him

-Slowly falls asleep, comfortably

-He's a heavy sleeper, but would wake up if you called for him, or shook him

-He grumbles angrily in his sleep

-He only has nightmares occasionally, but they're mainly about The Sheep, and how they betrayed him

-Other than that he's pretty relaxed in his sleep

Angrily grumbling in his sleep, but you see him smiling slightly as well. Maybe he's thinking of you?

Oda Sakunosuke (don't really plan on writing him that much, but I had an idea for him)

5/10

-It's not completely unlikely for him to just rest with you, or on you

-He does like to have an arm around you typically as you both sleep

-However, there was a change

-The night the orphans died, he sobbed in your arms, unable to find himself letting go

-Instead of having one arm around you at night, he started completely bear hugging you as you both slept

-Occasionally, he cried, sometimes, he blankly stared out as he hugged you

-Restless nights went from almost none to at least two times a week

-He found himself unable to rest with you next to him, afraid that you'll fall to the same fate as the kids

-This night, he rests his head in your lap as you work silently

-His arms are around you, and he isn't facing you

-He falls asleep slowly, breathing slower by the minute

-He's a light sleeper, but he used to be a heavy sleeper

-He sleeps soundly, occasionally having nightmares

-Although you can't exactly tell he's having a nightmare, you can tell the moment he wakes up with wider eyes, his breathing transitioning from slow and calm, to quick and unsteady

-It's been a harder time for him, but once he sees you, he slowly calms down more

He seems to sleep calmly, even when he's having a nightmare (I apologize for writing this 😭 IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO ME)

Dazai Osamu (not the 15 arc, this is when he's 18 for clarification)

4/10

-Honestly, he only does this at work when he's bored, I doubt he'd do this on a regular basis

-Rests his head on your lap, probably complaining about everything going on in the Port Mafia

-Tired rambling until he falls asleep

-Mumbling in his sleep quietly

-Very light sleeper, but could be a heavier sleeper sometimes

-Has very few nightmares, but doesn't mention them ever

-Sleeping calmly, but if you make barely any noise he'll most likely wake up

If you ever mention him sleeping on you, he'll act like it never happened, and then sleep on you the next hour for no reason

I'm sorry it took such a long time! I feel like this is not my best work either 😭 If you have any requests, I have an ask box, or you can comment the request. No incest, noncon, dubcon, or NSFW though. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #akutagawa ryuunosuke #chuuya nakahara #oda sakunosuke #dazai osamu #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons

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release-the-hound · 1 year ago

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as a havanese owner, what would you say their energy levels are like? trainability? grooming needs? looking into getting small dogs in the future and havanese are on the list of possibilities

I think part of the reason Havanese are so wonderful for so many people is that their energy levels are extremely variable. A well bred Havanese should match its energy levels to its owners for the most part. There are days where I have only taken Whim outside to potty, and spent the rest of my time sick in bed, and she has happily cuddled up next to me and slept by my side. But she has also happily galloped alongside me for a 5km run, and been eager for more. Ultimately what Havanese want more than a specific amount of activity, is to be doing activity with their person.

Of course, I always celebrate doing more with your dog. I try to give Whim at least a 20 minute walk daily. Along with minimum 5 minutes dedicated training session and a food puzzle for enrichment. Often I am able to do more than that.

(One if my favorite off-leash adventures with Whim. A 3 hour walk through unusually deep snow. So many sniffs and lots of excellent recalls!)

When my sister died, I was frequently doing less, for weeks. And she didn't devolve into a frustrated barking mess, didn't chew up my apartment, she was a little bored, but she was never miserable. She just lay in my bed, by my side, day after day, until I was ready to face the world again.

(I cannot overstate how good Whim is at cuddling. If there was an international competition for it, she'd win it every year.)

I really think for disabled people, Havanese have the ideal energy level. You can meet their base needs fairly easily, but if you are up for adventure they're always ready to come along for a ride.

(Whim travels frequently on airplanes with me, and is always complimented on her good behavior.)

Grooming needs are the sticking point for many people, unfortunately. While Havanese are genrtically capable of producing a short coat, it's against the breed standard, and so I don't know of anyone intentionally breeding for that.

For me, a non-shedding dog is worth extra grooming, but I know that's not the case for a lot of people. I have Whim shaved about every 4 to 6 months. This means that I go over her coat to comb out any mats about once a week, and I trim the fur out of her eyes on occassion. But other than that, I dont worry about grooming. I bathe her when she's stinky and trim her nails when they get long, which you need to do with every dog. I know @girlhorse keeps Enzo in a much fuller coat. If you want to keep a fuller coat, she might be willing to talk about the grooming experience.

It's also worth noting that due to their small size, combing Whim's fur is like, a 20 minute process.

(I often miss Whim's coat from when I kept her long. She was so unbelievably adorable.)

Havanese are my FAVOURITE dogs to train bar none. I'm not a professional trainer in any sense of the word, but between group classes and my job I have seen how a lot of dogs learn. @thelittlespanielthatcould and I often compare Havs to a CKCS with a little more spunk. They are very clever and very eager to work with you, but when they have an opinion they make it clear.

Whim can be entirely focused on me for an hour long lesson. But she won't do work she's not fairly compensated for. Personally, I like a dog that won't let me push them around. If it's a hot day and I haven't given Whim enough water breaks, she'll march herself over to her bowl whenever she damn well pleases. If I'm not using a high enough value treat, she will take it from my hand and spit it on the ground. I like these things because I like dogs that set their own boundaries. I want my dog to tell me when she is tired or thirsty, when I'm not rewarding enough, when she's frightened. Because I get clear feedback from her on what I'm doing wrong, I can alter my methods very quickly to keep us in sync. I like that my dog can tell me something so clearly and I can say back to her "ok, I'm listening."

Whim does very well in Rally when I can afford the classes. She loved agility. Havanese also make great trick dogs. They have amazing handler focus (once they mature). They love spending time with you, so they love training. You just have to be fair to them. I guess I'd describe them as eager to engage, but not eager to please. She wants to spend time with me, she wants to play my games, but she isn't afraid to stand her ground if she's not having fun. Training her brings me so much fucking joy. Even writing about it now has put a smile on my face.

(Whim and I had so much fun in agility. She loved the tunnels so much she used to go off course just to run them a second or third time. Until I started bringing out the big guns (cheese) and suddenly she was an angel again lol.)

Realistically, no breed is ever going to be ideal for every person on the planet. But 2 words come to mind when I think of Havanese. Fexible: they thrive in many different living situations, energy levels, and activities. And Communicative, about their needs, their desires, their fears, their pain. They make it easy for dog owners to figure out what to do. For these reasons, I think Havanese match well with a lot more people than the average dog breed.

Whim has been my best friend for more than a decade. I have never second-guessed my decision to bring her into my life. I wake up every day knowing that I am profoundly loved. In my brightest moments I picture a future of adventure unfurling before us. In my darkest, her joy reminds me how to find my own.

TL,DR: Get a Havanese.

#sorry this is long and sappy and maybe excessively pro-havanese #but the thing is they are just. so. SO GOOD.#Whim has been my heart for 12 years. I adore her.#get a Havanese. the only decision with a 0 regret rate.#(i cant prove that but i know it in my soul)#Look at her! Hiking! Skiing! Agility! Obedience! Tricks! she can do it all!!!#i love my dog so much you guys #whim the havanese #havanese #dogs #dogblr #alt text #havanese pawpaganda #anomymous #asked and answered

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luimagines · 5 months ago

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HI PINKY ! 🎻 Anon here ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

My finals went overall quite well! (Except for one final but my overall grade was still fine so we're all good) I did end up having my ceiling of my room collapse though! (⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻ Gotta love landlords that refuse to do proper house maintenance on century old homes. So right before finals had my ceilings collapse, then had finals while stuck sleeping in the living room (to be fair the couch was comfy but the whole setup is less than ideal), and then literally the evening after my last final flew out to literal other side of the planet for college visits. So needless to say I've been rather tired recently! It's been fun though and I also got to see some family that I rarely see again so that was nice. BUT! I finally have the mental bandwidth to send in an ask again. So enough with the dramatic rambling about my life I have more ideas about the human hero reader I thought of!

So! I learned just the other day that an army captain is actually kinda low rank. (At least in the US military, can't speak to other systems) And you usually get there within like 4 years of your career as an officer. And if Wars is around 24-26ish (at least that's how old I usually imagine him since he's one of the older members of the group but not like OLD) and he would have started his time in the military as like a 17-18 year old, buddy boy would actually be behind on his career. (Stick with me this will all come together I swear!)

So I imagine human hero reader (I'm calling them hh!reader for my sanity to specify from here on out for my sanity) ended up getting pulled into the military after saving Hyrule. They really don't like being there, but the royal family of that time doesn't really give reader a choice. I'd imagine them most likely being a very low rank enlisted soldier. (If you require explanations for anything just let me know. I am more than happy to explain and understand most people haven't been raised around this stuff) But because reader didn't want to join the military in the first place and Warriors is one of the MOST wary member of the chain they would probably butt heads quite a bit. I imagine reader with an attitude of while they're usually a very nice person to be around they can hold a strong grudge and aren't afraid to tell someone if they're being an idiot. Not something that goes over well in the military. So reader probably targets at least some of that frustration to the resident military man. And something that would be rather easy to go for is that fact that he still hasn't been promoted. This would probably devolve into him telling them that they suck as a soldier until reader snaps and said they never had any choice in the matter and they storm off. Probably one of the their merry little band would go after reader. I think Sky might be best since he's a knight himself so he'd have a better idea what they were going through. Wind would also be an interesting option especially if it's after the whole "We're the same since we both made the active decision to save Hyrule!" moment. Both are good chances at bonding. Oh yeah I guess it's relevant that I see reader at an older teen age, like 16-17. Yay sibling dynamics (I say this like my only younger sibling doesn't drive me up a wall). I'll prolly add more later but I am tired. And I have a relatively early morning tomorrow.

Hope this was coherent but I actually had motivation for once so I went for it. If any clarification is needed just ask. Make sure to drink water and eat a snack! Self care is important to help prevent burnout. Have a lovely week. Good day/evening) ┌⁠|⁠o⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠o⁠|⁠┘⁠♪ See you maybe once I've slept and ate. Bye!!

Oh, I thought you going to go the path of Reader outranking Warrior and him not being able to do anything about it. ^.^*

It reminded me of that one post for Marvel where Tony got excited because Rhodey, being Colonel, outranked Steve and could tell him what to do.

I'd imagine if Warrior pulled out the whole "you suck as a soldier" Wild would have to push back a bit because if they suck, what does that make him? He died! Hello? At least Reader had something going for them. They still won in the end with minimal loses on their side.

Wild lost everyone.

So what does Warrior actually think of him then?

#pinky replies #human! reader #hero! reader #put the man in a corner #trap him in his own words

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whitespiderlilies · 2 years ago

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Yo! Hope your day is going well

Wally x a very sleepy reader??? Like they fall asleep literally anywhere anytime, optionally the reader is also a Moth? One of those fluffy Silk Worm Moths

Ignore or decline this request if you wish and have a good day/night!

Actually, that's a pretty cute idea!

And I apologize dearly, for the late response.

I taking a nap and then I woke up to my phone blowing up and then I took another nap to process why my phone was blowing up.

Anyways.

Just A Little Sleepy.

Wally Darling x Reader

-Gender neutral reader

-Reader is a silk moth

-Reader sleeps everywhere, if not, on everyone.

________________

When you first came there, Wally—the person who first wanted to greet your arrival, was horrified at the sight of a limp silk moth surrounded by boxes.

Nevermind, turns out you were sleeping.

Some neighbor could be walking around, and then at most, find you randomly resting on a tree branch like a sack of potatoes or laying face flat onto a bed of flowers.

Wally was that ”some neighbor”. (Poor guy)

You both would be chatting, talking about your interests, and all of the sudden you would just lay on his lap, or rest your head upon his shoulder.

He was a bit shocked, but kinda found it cute.

And the fact that you were very fluffy, especially your chest fur.

You both would just be stuck in that position, sharing naps.

Sometimes on walks, too.

It's quite tiring to walk for 5 minutes, let alone talk about stuff for 10.

So you would end up sleeping on Wally, in which you would just be carried to your house by him.

Though, it wasn't always Wally that you would regularly sleep on.

You found the others would be great to rest upon.

Barnaby's very warm and fuzzy, Julie would also snuggle with you, Howdy has a great set of arms—ready to carry your sleeping figure, Eddie has a good build to keep your weight and Frank usually plays with your hair.

Though, Wally's was your favorite to rest on.

You slept whenever he painted you—you looked so peaceful.

He understood that you get tired quite easily.

Wally would ask you to be his muse, and halfway through—you'd fall asleep.

You stood quite still when you were asleep, which was a good thing.

One time, he drew you sleeping in one of Howdy's apple stands in his store.

And after so, he'd either sleep with you, nuzzling his face into your fur—or carry you to your bed.

Another time, Howdy had to carry you both to your homes cause he found you both sleeping in the apple isle for the 9th time, this week.

Your fur was awfully very soft, which was quite good for a resting pillow.

At most, he'd visit you to share your 12th nap of the day.

Kidding, he never really slept. He liked seeing your peaceful, sleeping face.

And also how you were the perfect body pillow.

He'd just sneak into your arms and just *INHALE*

#welcome home wally #wally darling x reader #welcome home #wally darling

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ticklygiggles · 10 months ago

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An Acting Queen Consort and a Captain | Sariphi & Lanteveldt

Commission for @wertzunge

A/N: Thank you for your patience as always, kind Max! I hope you enjoy this little fic with our favorite Acting Consort and hyenafolk! I'm still quite new to this fandom, so I apologize in advance if they are a bit ooc *sobs* I hope you enjoy it, though. Thank you Max!

Summary: Sari is tired after losing one night of sleep, but why is her guard putting an attitude in if he's the reason why she hasn't slept?! An apology is needed.

Sariphi gave a long sigh as she collapsed into the seat of the carriage. Her feet hurt and she felt like her arms and legs were as heavy as blocks of steel. It had been a very busy and eventful couple of days in Maasya. Sari was happy to have fulfilled another trial as Acting Queen Consort, but mentally and physically she felt exhausted. Who would have thought that her simple human eyes would ever be so helpful - she had just saved Lante's life. The new Captain had been a handful since the very first moment they met, but Sariphi was thankful for having him. She perfectly knew he meant no warm to her nor the Kingdom of Ozmargo, (included, most importantly, His Majesty), but she was glad they now know this on Maasya as well.

Still… he could've been a bit nicer before, hmm?

Sari sighed again, closing her eyes and slightly tilting her head to the side tiredly.

“Sari…,” Clops said in a troubled voice as it gently jumped into Sari's lap, Cy mumbling a worried ‘ri’, also jumping on her lap.

Sari smiled warmly, gently rubbing their heads. “I am alright, Clops-chan, Cy-chan. Don't worry about me.”

“Tch, honestly, why did you even have to stay up just to help me out? I could've solved the problem without your help,” Lante said stubbornly, lying on the seat opposite to Sari.

“Oi! How can you talk to Sari like that after all she did for you!”

“For you!”

Lante’s voice sounded sharp and aggressive, completely annoyed by the whole situation, but Sariphi knew better, oh she did. It wasn't his fault for being as distrustful as he was; Sari was no expert, but she had studied profusely and knew perfectly well that being a hyenafolk wasn't easy even if they had good intentions - Lante's ancestors had decided to blacken the name of all future generations by their acts in the past. It was sad he had to suffer the ugly looks and mean words and she thought, perhaps, they were on the same page, after all, she was still under those ugly looks.

Well, that didn't really matter anymore. Lante had sworn on his life to protect Sariphi and she trusted him, but still… wasn't he being a bit too much talking like that? Sariphi didn't help him because she wanted to manipulate him, regardless, she thought he could act a bit nicer to her. Wasn't he the one that put her life in danger? She was sure he was going to save her but… still!

“Hmph! I didn't ask Sari to help me, did I?” He asked, although he wasn't even looking at Sari.

“You! How can you say that?!”

“That!”

“Now everyone, please calm down. Cy-chan, Clops-chan, thank you for worrying about me, but please don't get too mad, okay?” She smiled sweetly at them, but her smile slowly faded as she looked at the Captain. “Lante.”

He immediately sat up, ears and tail perked up and eyes slightly wide as he stared at Sari. Sariphi was not one to be angered easily, she actually didn't like being mad at someone for too long and this was the case with Lante - first of all, she had never been mad at him, if she had to name her initial feeling towards Lante, it would've been ‘uncertainty’ and ‘expectation’, perhaps also a bit of fear but not too much. So right now, she was just playing.

“We've been through a lot, Lante,” she said calmly, her voice serious and slightly cold. “And I haven't once heard an ‘I am sorry’ from your lips, do you think that's fair?”

Lante jumped slightly. “I- I have nothing to apologize for!”

“Apologize!” Cy and Clops yelled.

“Apologize, Lante,” Sari said before a spark of playfulness twinkled in her eyes. “Or else… I will tickle you.”

She grinned as Lante's ears twitched. It was funny to see his expression twist from fear to surprise and then embarrassment. Sariphi couldn't help but giggle as Cy and Clips jumped on her lap.

“Get him, Sari! Get him!”

“Him!”

Lante huffed, crossing his arms and legs as he leaned back. “Heh, I'd like to see you try, Acting Queen Consort. I am not sensitive, that's childish. I think you'll have to think harder than that.”

Sari chuckled. Lante wasn't ticklish? She'd like to see that! Even someone like His Majesty was sensitive, there was no way Lante wasn't! Sari liked a nice challenge like this once in a while.

“Then, you wouldn't mind me trying, right?” She asked, smiling at him as she gently put Cy and Clops off her lap so she could move and sit right beside Lante. The poor hyena jumped slightly, highly aware of Sari’s presence. Someone who was not ticklish could act this way? Sari giggled and Lante turned his head away from her.

“G-Go ahead,” he said. The confidence in his voice was gone, and Sari knew she was going to have a lot of fun. “I don't mind at all.”

“Very well!” She said and her hands wasted no time; her fine fingers touched his side, just a touch of her fingertips against Lante's warm, fluffy side. The knight shivered slightly, almost imperceptibly, and his ears twitched a bit, but his face didn't show much emotion. Sari grinned as she started to wiggle her fingers against his side, going up and down in a way she had learned always made His Majesty let out soft giggles.

It seemed like Lante wasn't immune to that touch either. He started to shake slightly and he closed his eyes tightly. Sari watched as one of his shoulders rose involuntarily, and his elbow twitched back a bit.

“You know… I wonder if someone not ticklish would be squirming like you?” Sari teased playfully, poking Lante's side and making him jump slightly.

“W-What d-do you m-m-mean?” He asked through gritted teeth. “I'm not s-squirming at a-all, you- gah! S-Sahari, w-wait!”

Sari's gentle and tickly fingers had reached one side of his ribs and he flinched away, pressing his arms tightly against his body in an attempt to stop her, but her hand was trapped in and she had no other option but to tickle him more, of course. The strangled sound he made when he felt Sari clawing at his ribs made her laugh softly.

“Are you sure you're not ticklish, Lante? You seem quite ticklish to me.”

Lante shook his head, ears pressed back against his skull as he refused to even speak, but Sari could feel him shaking under her touch, trying to hold back his laughter.

“He's ticklish, Sari!” Both Cy and Clops jumped on Lante's lap, hopping up and down a bit too excitedly, perhaps a bit happy that Lante was, for once, being taken down a notch. “Get him good!”

“Good!”

Lante tried to slap Cy and Clops away, but as Sari reached for the other side of his ribs, he lasted a total of two seconds before he erupted into loud laughter. His arms wrapped around his ribs as he leaned forward, trying to escape from Sari's fingers.

“Are you laughing, Lante?” She asked playfully, fingertips digging into the spaces between Lante's ribs. “Are you laughing when you said you weren't ticklish?”

“SAHAHARI! Plehehease dohohon't!” He cackled, jerking heavily as Sari found his highest ribs, near his armpits.

“Get ‘im! Get ‘im!” Cy and Clops chanted happily, bouncing from leg to leg whenever Lante kicked desperately.

“Ribs? Ticklish,” Sari said, her hands suddenly burying under Lante's underarms. Lante let out an uncharacteristic shriek as he threw his head back with loud laughter. “Underarms? Very ticklish!”

“SAHAHARI! STAHAHAP!”

Sariphi actually thought that Lante was telling the truth. She really thought he wasn't ticklish, but she had to know better. Why wouldn't he? If His Majesty was ticklish, it seemed impossible for Sari to think that the other beasts were not. Even Anubis, but she didn't wish to lose her hands trying to tickle him, but Lante was another story. He trusted her and Sari knew that even if he acted a bit grumpy when she stopped her attack, he wouldn't actually get mad at her. Besides, wasn't his tail wagging? How cute!

Sari didn't know how, but Lante had fallen flat on his back in the carriage seat, laughing wildly when Sari returned to his ribs. Sari could feel Lante's soft fur above his clothes and she couldn't help but but think about scratching a puppy's tummy. When her fingernails scritch-scratched his ribs, Lante shrieked, throwing his head back.

“Sari! Sari!” Cy called for her attention, both creatures now jumping on Lante's belly. “Try his belly, Sari!” Clops finished and Sari smiled.

“Oh? Right here?”

“NO MOHOHORE!” He begged, but Sari didn't hear because he was laughing so much! “SAHAHARI! D-Dohohon’t scrahahatch mehehe!” He cackled, wagging his tail as Sari scratched his tummy. “I'm nohohot a dohohog!”

“I know you are not,” Sari giggled. “But the scratching makes you laugh more!”

Lante shook his head. “SAHAHARIPHIHI! STAHAHAP!”

“Of course! I'll stop when you apologize, Lante!”

“NEHEVER! I DIHIHIDN’T-

“Sari! Sari!”

Sari lookef at her little companions and her eyebrows raised when she saw them, easily sneaking under his arms, giving Sari an opening to tickle him there again. However, Sariphi was surprised how easy it was for Cy and Clops to move his arms. It seemed that Lante's weakness really was being tickled huh? Feeling a bit mischievous, Sari gently closed her hand around one of his wrists and lifted his arm above his head. She couldn't help but widen her eyes.

“What's the matter, Lante?” She taunted, the fingers from her free hand walking up his side and ribs towards his underarm. “Even I can pin you down like this?”

Lante shook his head, eyeing the delicate fingers doing their dance towards his tickle spot. “S-Sahahari plehehease! Li-Listen! I lied okay? I'm actually vehery ticklish, yes? If you tihickle me there again, I'll die!”

Sari giggled, “what? You're ticklish? How weird, I didn't notice!” Cy and Clops giggled, rolling around Lante's tummy, making him twitch and flinch. “I already tell you how to make st-

“I refuse!” He gasped, giggling brightly when Sari's fingers finally touched his armpit, but didn't tickle him right away. “S-Sahahari, plehehease!”

“I'll give you three seconds,” she said, her finger drawing circles around Lante's underarm. “Three seconds for you to apologize!”

“Three seconds!”

“Seconds!”

“I wohoahahaHAHA!” Hysterical laughter filled the carriage. Sariphi was slightly surprised no one came to check on them, but she didn't pay much attention to that thought, instead, she focused on wiggling and digging her fingers against Lante's under arm, driving him up the wall.

Lante barely jerked to free himself and Sari giggled. “Cy-Chan, Clops-chan. Does Lante look ticklish to you?”

“Yes, Sari! Very ticklish!”

“Very ticklish!”

Sari grinned, giggling when Lante crackled as she scratched the center of his armpit. “Do you think he should apologize?”

“Apologize! Apologize!” The creatures chanted and for a minute, Sari thought Lante would faint at any moment as he still refused to apologize to her.

She wouldn't like to kill him, but just as she was thinking of stopping, Lante’s yell surprised her.

“I AHAHAM SOHOHORRY! Plehehease, Sahahariphi- NOHOHO MOHOHORE!”

As if his words were a spell, Sari's mischievous fingers stopped and in the blink of an eye, she, Cy and Clops were sitting on the other side of the carriage in front of Lante, as if Sari hadn't been tickling him like crazy. Sari watched with a smile as Lante tried to catch his breath while small residual giggles made him bounce slightly. She then noticed that his eyelashes were wet with tears of laughter. His chest fell and rose hurriedly and for a moment she worried.

“Was it too much, Lante?”

The hyenafolk didn't answer right away, but after a few deep breaths, he shook his head, cleaning the tears off his eyes. “I'm a-alrigh. It wahas… my first time getting t-tickled by a human… it was a wide experience.”

Sari smiled warmly at him before looking down at her lap. Her gentle hands that only a couple of minutes ago were pulling out loud crackles from Lante, were now rubbing Cy and Clops’ little heads. The two little monsters had fallen asleep, tired after all of that jumping around and cheering for Sari. She chuckled and then looked up at Lante.

He had calmed down completely, simply laying down with sleepy eyes.

“Lante?” He sat up, hyperware and Sari chuckled. “Thank you, Lante.”

The Captain blinked before his eyes softened. “No, thanks to you, Sari.”

Warm spread across her chest and she smiled brightly.

She couldn wait to see His Majesty again.

#sacrificial princess and the king of beasts #sariphi #lanteveldt #tickle fic #ticklish!lanteveldt #heavy mentions of His Majesty being ticklish #mia's commissions #commission

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