#and how much he's consistently pulled through doing exactly what he says (in THIS area) rather than when he's contradictory

[pinkaditty]

Can i pls request some facesitting headcanons for Satan, Mammon, Sitri and leviathan with a fem s!o? Thank you ❤️

hihi this was my first non-anon ask and yes ofc u can!! <3333

summary: facesitting and pussy eating. how will the men of WHB handle it?

a/n: woohoo i've been excited to do this ask tbh!! like seriously i've really been looking forward to it!!!! the only one i don't know much abt is Mammon buuuuut i do know his personality and idiosyncrasy so im hoping that's enough to characterize him properly!

cw: fem!reader (sorry, the one time i don't do gn... I PROMISE GN NEXT TIME!!), reader has a vagina, facesitting, pussy eating, suffocating (leviathan), cardiophilia (Sitri), pygophilia (Mammon), spanking (Satan), male whimpering, masturbation, and lots of tongue usage. NOT PROOFREAD!

MINORS DNI AS USUAL!!!!! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY! THANK YOU!

Satan:

well. he does like spanking!

he won't say no to you sitting on his face ofc that's whatever, as long as he gets to spank your ass while he does it.

he especially doesn't care which way you're facing, because either way, there's an ass close enough for spanking. good enough for him.

will definitely just roughly massage and spank your asscheeks while he makes quick work of you with his tongue.

don't really know why but i think he's totally masterful at it.

knows exactly where your sweet spots are in seconds and abuses tf out of them.

pays especially close attention to the clit, and he's the most gentle with his tongue there. he doesn't mind spanking you, but he doesn't want to hurt you, especially not your sensitive areas. he won't mind if his nails leave a few marks, though.

he won't really stop until he's satisfied. you can't pull yourself off of him because you're not beating him in the strength department.

sorta thrusts his hips up into the air as he eats you out. gets painfully hard really quickly.

His nails, sharp as claws, dig into the skin of your ass, leaving deep bruises and small cuts. You groan painfully, curling your hands into fists and twitching at the sensation. You reach out and pull on his hair. He only grunts, continuing to draw soft circles around your clit with his tongue, smacking your ass once with his right hand before cupping your cheeks and pulling you closer to him. The sensation of his tongue swirling around your clit is almost enough to distract you from his nails still clawing into your backside. His tongue is gentle and slow, tracing soft circles around the sensitive nub. His pace is consistent; not so slow you'd lose your mind, but not so fast that you'd be overstimulated. He takes his time, even pausing gentle stimulation of your clit to lap at your hole, already dripping juices from how delicious it all felt.

This back and forth continues, at the same constant pace. Every time you reach orgasm, he smacks your ass again and continues on his pace, gently licking soft circles around your hardened clit.

At this pace, you'll hardly be able to take whatever devil energy he can give you.

Mammon:

well. he's similar to satan in that he likes ass (similar to me too lol).

will probably be doing almost exactly like what Satan's doing, just with less spanking and more groping and general ass appreciation.

will definitely prefer you facing away from him so that he can really be immersed in ass.

he's really slow with it, though. like where satan will put you through multiple in minutes, mammon will give you one every agonizingly long stretch of time filled with not enough pleasure to get you off, but enough to keep you squirming and impatient.

he will find your sensitive spots, but rather than abuse them, he switches between them. he'll take his time getting you off. he's very slow with it, so much so that it almost feels like he's edging you (he sort of is but he's greedy he likes to savor it and take his time. he knows you're already his anyway. why not take his time?)

will lick stripes rather than circles. he will lick your clit directly instead of teasing swipes from a circular motion.

will also dive his tongue between your folds very often, lapping at your juices like a dog does water.

is constantly squeezing, groping, and rubbing his hands all over your ass, simply enamored by it regardless of size.

definitely without a doubt gets hard but probably won't acknowledge it. he's greedy for you, not his pleasure (though he absolutely will be later).

His tongue switches back to your clit, licking slow stripes, pushing the flesh up and down with his tongue. Idly, you wonder how he can keep at this for so long, but such a thought does not last- not when the repeated, slow motions scatter your thoughts with how ridiculously good it feels. You tense up, eagerly stifling your twitching and staying in place, feeling the pleasure build up at last. He keeps going, licking soft stripes up and down your clit, moving his tongue so masterfully rhythmically that barely a sound comes from his technique. You clench and unclench your hands, your eyes spin in your skull, your heartbeat quickens, and your breathing deepens. Surely this was it, surely--!

You feel the telltale motion of his tongue giving one last rough, prolonged stripe to your clit, before he switches back to your waiting hole, diving his tongue inside hungrily and dragging it along your insides, collecting all the juices his greed so desires. You curse, having been so close, and he teasingly squeezes your ass in return. You can feel him smirking into your folds.

Sitri:

oh boy. ohohooooo boy.

he could care less which way you're facing. what matters is, regardless of the position you take up, your thighs are pressed directly against his ears. he can hear your heartbeat from afar but it's never enough.

will wrap his arms around your thighs to ensure that you stay put and to really press your thighs into his ears. he just cannot get enough of your heartbeat. thump, thump, thump...

is less careful with his fangs than the other demons. absolutely will not hurt nor bite you but when he's tonguing your folds the smooth edges of his teeth may slide against you. not painful.

is not very calculated with his technique but doesn't really need to be with your heartbeat as a dead giveaway. he just laps and laps tirelessly like a parched dog but somehow it hits the good spots.

honestly it's the way he does it that turns you on more than how it feels. how desperate each stroke feels is what really does it.

strokes with his tongue are wide, all-encompassing, and sloppy. he's drooling so much that it only makes you wetter.

buries his face as close as he can so he'll often pull back for air before burying himself again.

eats you out like he's never eaten anything before.

gets hard very quickly and will gently remove his hand from your thigh to jack himself off. does it quietly so you won't notice because he thinks it's embarrassing. eventually his muffled moans into your folds give him away and you just start riding his face. not that he minds.

He just keeps lapping. Like a dog at a water bowl after a long, dry walk. He just doesn't seem to stop. It feels good - almost too good. You writhe and twist, curling your toes from how delicious it feels, but you can't move much; his strong arms still holding you down in place and keeping your thighs hard pressed to either side of his face. He just has to listen to your heartbeat in his ears. He just can't get enough of it, of you. He keeps lapping, his tongue sliding between your folds, gentle but quick, sliding across your hole and just barely tickling your clit before he retracts and licks again. The buildup feels slow, but you've finished before you know it, the gentle tickles of your clit driving you to orgasm. Your whole body shakes and your eyes roll back, and he lets you ride it out, keeping up his gentle strokes against your clit. You shiver as sparks pop behind your eyes, slowly coming down from your high. He squeezes your thighs once more, and breaks away, taking a few deep breaths. The cool air hits your folds and you flinch, twitching just slightly at the sensation. As quickly as he pulled away, he dives back in, dragging his tongue across the length of your labia, gently slipping between to tease what's there. You groan, feeling sensitive, the continued motion making you feel overstimulated. You curl your toes, shifting yourself just slightly, trying your best to bear the overwhelming feeling. It just feels too good, the gentle drag of his tongue, the soft tease of your hole and clit, and the finality of it all before he immediately starts again. You can't take it.

You feel the pressure of his hand of your thigh gently lift. You can't be bothered to pay much attention to that until you hear the soft clink of a belt being undone, and you know what he's doing. You can barely smile in satisfaction due to overstimulation, but you manage, and reach down for his blue silky hair, pulling tightly on it. He moans, and stops lapping, simply holding his mouth open, preparing for you to ride him. He's practically shaking, trembling in silence except for the repeated sound of his hand sliding up and down his length.

Leviathan:

the less he can breathe, the better.

literally. no if's and's or but's. the less he can breathe the better. surprisingly he's not much into choking you... rather he wants you to choke him.

and he doesn't care how you do it.

so suffocating under you while you take what you need from him, yeah! he is more than on board for that.

prefers you facing forward so you can use his nose to rub your clit on while your folds are spread over his lips, revealing your hole, perfect for him to stick his tongue into while you move back and forth over him.

this way, he can't breathe! and yeah, he gets off to that really fast.

will attempt to hold your hips as you ride him, but may be unable to focus much so he might claw his hands into the sheets.

while he's totally into this, you will have to lift off of him occasionally. but not for very long.

you can watch as his eyes roll back from the relief of finally being able to breathe, his face red as a cherry, his tongue lolled out and covered in your juices.

and then you sit right back down and he can't breathe anymore. but he's not complaining. at all.

he's thrusting his hips upwards, as though he's desperate to feel some friction. he's so into being suffocated, he can't even focus on his own arousal.

won't really touch himself. after your first orgasm or so he's already cum untouched.

for every one orgasm of yours, he's probably had one to three.

You're riding his face like you would a horse, using the chain between his horns as reins, pulling his face deeper into you. He obliges, following your pull ever so obediently, burying himself deeper into your folds. You're moving your hips along his face as fast as you can, his nose providing the perfect stimulation for your clit. You can barely see his eyes peeking over your thighs, but they're there, rolled back in ecstasy. His face is bright red, and he can't breathe. He's clinging to the sheets, gripping them tightly for some semblance of grounding, but he's too far gone.

You're much the same, dizzy and blissful from how good it feels. His nose is gently pressed into you, your clitoris rubbing back and forth over it. His nose supplies just the right amount of pressure, enough to send you over the edge. His open mouth and lolling tongue are perfect for catching your juices and teasing your hole, pressed right against it, and you feel every tremble and every moan. Sometimes he moves his tongue just slightly, circling your hole as you move. It makes you grip the chain harder, putting pressure on his horns, to which he moans rather loudly.

When you finally feel the orgasm coming, the building blissful pressure turning into a peak, your folds twitching with anticipation; you suddenly push the chain away from you, pressing his head into the sheets. Your hips follow him, pressing his face deeper into you and his head deeper into the pillows. His already jerking hips suddenly thrust into to the air, and you hear and feel a strangled moan as he reaches his peak, his whole body quivering as he soils his pants. You press deeper into him as you orgasm yourself, you clit quivering against his nose, your juices spilling into his mouth. For a moment, you stay like that, holding his chains so tightly they leave indents in your skin. Soon you release, letting go of his chains and lifting off of him a little, giving him a chance to breathe. He's twitching, all red in the face, and panting heavily, his mouth wide open, tongue lolling out. You only give him a minute before you sit right back on his face again. He moans, satisfied, and ready for another round.

a/n: okay so perhaps i got a little carried away with my blatant displays of favoritism. perhaps. but it's not my fault!!!!!!!!! i like them submissive. :(

okok but anyway i hope you all enjoyed woohoo!! one more ask after this, but ill do pervert pt 3 before I answer that ask. anyways, please please please let me know if you all enjoyed it!! leave a comment, do a quick reblog, and submit an ask if you want something written just for you! im happy to write for you! thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate you!

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Safe Word- Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: Your boyfriend Matt decided to get a little too rough with you and you needed to use your safe word

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Smut, P in V, Unprotected sex (wrap it in a snickers wrapper if necessary and desperate), safe word, crying, rough!dom!Matt, Sub!fem!reader, degradation, praising.

A/N: I LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT!! This is kinda loosely based on that one scene from Fifty Shades of Grey when Ana uses her safe word!

PSA: DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR ANYTHING THIS IS MY WORK! I wrote this! dont use this for “inspiration” or anything else!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I had been teasing Matt all day. I purposely wore my sluttiest outfit to an LA party the triplets were invited to and of course, since Matt and I are a package deal I went with him. My outfit consisted of a tiny black latex skirt with a graphic baby Tee and black thigh-high heels. I knew he hated this outfit, he wasn't insecure, he just loved being possessive over me in a healthy manner. We hadn't had sex in about a week, our schedules were not matching this week to give us any time together besides when we both got home we were too tired for anything else besides sleeping. All in all, we were both sexually frustrated and I desperately needed to be dicked the fuck down by him.

The music was loud and the lights in the enclosed venue were nonexistent beside the area lights that were flashing colors around the place, and with all the drunken people around I doubted anyone was looking at me anyway.

Matts's hands gripped my waist pulling me closer to him as my hips swayed to the music and loosened my body from the lack of freedom I've had.

“When we get home I need you faced down and ass up” Matt growled in my ear placing a small kiss on my neckline making shivers go down my spine.

“I'm really feeling this party Matt so we should stay a while” I smiled devilishly knowing he couldn't wait any longer to have me all to himself.

My response only made his grip on my waist tighter. He let out a small grunt as he pushed my ass into his now very obvious boner.

“You feel that? you feel what your slutty little outfit does to me?” he whispers in my ear and softly nibbles at my ear.

“I honestly have no idea what you're talking about Matt,” I say smirking knowing damn well exactly what he meant.

“Fuck this” he says gripping my wrist softly and dragging me around the venue finding his brothers.

“Matt, what the fuck?” I say almost whining.

“Hey so Y/N isn’t feeling well, do you guys wanna come with me or do you want to call an Uber home when you wanna come home?” Matt questions his brothers still gripping my wrist as I sit there like a child being dragged around Walmart.

“Oh girl I'm sorry, too much alcohol?” Nick says laughing.

“No actually-” i start before Matt interrupts me.

“Yes she had a little too much and doesn't realize she had that much” Matt says looking at me with disapproval.

“Just call an uber Matt” Chris says as his arm is wrapped around some girl he probably just met tonight.

Matt nods and pushes through the crowd of people still grabbing my wrist. We find our way to the car he opens the door for me practically shoving me into the passenger side as he gets in the driver's side.

Matt pulls out of the parking lot at a rather concerning speed making my head jolt back “Jesus Matt could you at least be safe getting us home… fuck” I say in annoyance.

Matt doesn't reply he just places his hand on my upper thigh and softly grips it. I place my hand on top of his holding his intex and middle finger.

Matt speeds through the interstate hurrying to get him only making me wetter and wetter by the second, questioning in my mind all the things he'd do to me. How he would thrust his cock deep into me, the way he would have his arms around my waist so tightly, thinking about all the nastiest shit he would whisper in my ear as his cock hits all the right places in me. All these things pacing through my head make my thighs subconsciously squeeze together which matt obviously caught on.

“Such a dirty fucking whore” he whispers under his breath.

My lower lip gets trapped in my teeth at his words, i. Always loved the way his voice got lower as he spoke to me sexually.

After what felt like hours we finally arrived at the house, quickly ran around to grab my door for me and once again, he gripped my wrist softly yet firmly as he unlocked the door and guided me to our bedroom.

Matt's eyes darken with more than just lust, he slowly creeps up behind me and rips my shirt right in half making me squeal.

“Matt are you serious” my jaw dropped to the floor watching my shirt fall off my arms.

He once again didn't answer and unclipped my bra allowing it to fall off my shoulders and down to the floor. His hands crept their way to my hips dropping my skirt off from them as i step out of my skirt.

He pushed me down on the bed by my shoulders and used my ankles which were dangling off the bed to flip me over with my ass in the air and my face in the mattress.

This has got to be the quickest this man has undressed. In no time his cock was free slapping his stomach and he was completely bare. He quickly spit in his own hand rubbing his spit down his shaft and spreading it around. He moves a little closer to me using the excess spit from his hand and spreading it around my folds making my hips jerk forward and sending a smirk to his face at my reaction.

He aligns his cock with my entrance and immediately bottoms out. “You think you're so fucking cute” he grunts out as his hand pushes my head down on the mattress as he thrusts his hips into mine. “Teasing me all fucking day huh? You think you're all innocent? Making everything think you're a sweet innocent little whore? You want everyone to know you're a fucking slut” he spits as my head further into the mattress.

The room was filled with my moans and cries of pleasure and the sound of my ass recoiling from his hips as he thrusts into me at an almost ungodly pace.

“MATT” I muffle out.

“Oh, you like that? You like my fucking dick being shoved so deep in your tight pussy” he groans out.

“MPHF- MA-MATT” Tears form in my eyes as his hand repeatedly smacks my ass leaving a red and white handprint on my ass as his cock abuses my cervix.

“Such a dumb fucking slut already” he laughs out as his grip on the back of my throat gets tighter.

“BUTTERFLY” i scream out with tears streaming down my face, lifting my head to the best of my ability which sends Matt into a panic, and immediately pull out and flipping me over to face him.

“Baby? Are you okay? did i hurt you?” his hands cup my cheeks wiping away the tears that had been pouring out of my eyes.

“Y-y-yes” i whisper out as i flince at his touch.

“S-shit” he studders out “Where did I hurt you, my love?” his voice softens.

“Y-you h-had y-y-your hand o-on the back of my-my throat a little too tight” My breathing shudders “I-i I couldn't breathe” I sniffle out.

“I-am so sorry sweetheart, you know i would never internally hurt you, i-i-i just got carried away” he looks down fiddling his fingers.

“N-no i-i-i know..” my voice trails off as my eyes water.

“Come here” he opens his arms for me to lie in them as his hands run through my hair. “I'm so so sorry” he whispers.

“I-its okay” as i bury my head in his chest.

“Sh sh, don't speak” he kisses my head. “I was too rough with you, you felt the need to use your safe word” his voice cracks as tears of his own start forming in his eyes. “I promise you i won't be that rough with you again” he kisses my head again.

I lift my head up a little “n-no i like when you're rough i just like my ability to breathe matt” i softly smile.

He returns a smile before placing a loving small kiss on my lips and laying back as my head lays back on his chest.

“I love you” he whispers out slowly massaging my scalp.

“I love you too” I mutter before falling fastly asleep in Matt's arms.

“I love you most” he replies kissing my head and also falling into a deep slumber of his own holding me the rest of the night.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/n Pt 2: AHH THIS ONEE I STG I JUST KEPT TYPING AWAY SO I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE!!!! And tysm again for over 500 followers!!!

XOXO

Gabs 💋

[lemonhemlock]

Adding to your nuanced discussion regarding Sara Hess. Although I have no personal vendetta against her orientation like some of these unhinged freaks, and can fully acknowledge her merit as a screenwriter when working within her area of expertise, I must admit that on the other hand, her bias against certain characters is sort of off-putting. The interviews that she did explaining her thoughts and feelings about Daemon (a character I personally dislike) as well as the decision (whether it was hers or not) to make Aegon the Elder a rapist, did have an effect on how I view her relationship to ASOIAF. The "civilians don't count" comment reeked of such flippancy that it only furthered my skepticism. I don't know that I would call it "unprofessional" but it does make me annoyed in the same manner I would be whenever engaging with a work of fiction wherein the author clearly hates a character and goes out of their way to paint them in a negative light. It's even worse when you remember that these are GRRM's characters and however limited their descriptions may be in Fire & Blood, it still requires a level of maturity to put aside one's own biases in favor of keeping their characterization consistent. Am I being too harsh? Does this even make any sense? Feel free to critique.

It is genuinely so annoying when you can sense authorial bias emanating through the text, whether positive or negative, and it betrays an immaturity of craft. I have to take my hat off to GRRM here, because, as annoying as his boner for Daemon is, he does give Daemon plenty of unsavory traits and does narratively punish him. Not once in Fire & Blood is the reader invited to consider how poor Daemon was just a misunderstood scapegoat and never deserved the things that happened to him.

Considering Daemon as a whole, I think it's fair to say he is the type of character that GRRM wrote out of self-indulgence and just because he thought him >cool<. Which is honestly fair game - he is a secondary character in a background story and has no true bearing on the main series. I think he is allowed a little fanboyish service to his own preferences in a whole saga that spans thousands of pages.

However, when you make it the main story, you have to take a little care so that your biases don't make the end product look like wish fulfillment fanfiction. And, for all their posturing that Daemon is not a good person and how shocked they are he has so many fans, both Sara Hess and Ryan Condal have never given Daemon the same treatment they've reserved for the greens. Daemon is whitewashed in the show compared to his book!counterpart and, even when he pulls his fair share of shit, he never gets punished in the same way Alicent, Aemond or Aegon do (and for far less grievous crimes, too).

What consequences does Daemon face exactly at the end of Season 2? He's spent the entire season trying to mount an alternative claim to the throne to Rhaenyra, yet she immediately takes him back when they reunite. They made Blood & Cheese a misunderstanding to make him less culpable, even had Helaena guide him in a vision. Even Alys Rivers is just trying to help him get on the right path. They nerfed Nettles, so, unless they'll turn Rhaena into his mistress in Season 3 (which they don't have the balls for), they've pretty much removed any source of conflict between him and Rhaenyra. He'll go to his death secure in his marriage and fighting for >the greater good<, whereas the greens have had their family unit completely disintegrated with nonsensical narrative choices.

I just fail to see how that is balanced. How that is a "both sides = bad" narrative. The favouritism is so blatant; they're not even trying. If this were a Disney spin-off, no one would care to criticise such blatant bias, but Ryan and Sara are out there pretending they're making prestige television.

[sasha199]

Gale/ Wyll/ Rolan drama pt. 10

Y’all…this game hits different when your Tav is a stand in for yourself.

My sister and I are playing a multiplayer as ourselves, as sisters. I was romancing/flirting with both Gale and Wyll. I made a move on Lae’zel too but THAT ended in tears. Sister is pulling both Astarion and Shadowheart

(I’m Sasha, sister is Marlie.)

“What do you mean Rolan saw you naked?”

I cover my face with my hands, and peek at my sister through my fingers. “Exactly that. He. Saw. Everything.”

We’re in the basement of Last Light raiding the wine racks. There's a surprisingly large stock pile, I'm not complaining. 

Marlie shrugs, she’s working the cork off of an Arabellan Dry with her dagger. “I’m sure you looked great. But, explain to me how that happened when you were only alone for a couple of minutes.”

“Ah, well that’s not all…it was more…” I’m beginning to regret this whole conversation. “involved than that.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me, “ ‘Involved?’ ”

Gods above, can I even say it? I tap my temple. “Do you want me to just show you?”

“FUCK no!” She points her dagger at me as if to fend off whatever I might tadpole her.

“Right. Well, we shared a mental image, but it was more… I mean I could…feel him…”

The cork comes free with an echoing *pop* startling us both. 

“You mind fucked?”

 “Well…yes. But like REALLY-” I clap my hands together rhythmically a few times, making a solid consistent sound. 

“Wow.” She takes a big swig before passing the bottle to me. “That's intense.”

“Yeah.” I drink deep, the wine is sweet but dry, lighter than what I’m used to. 

“Good for you, I guess.”

“NOT good for me!” I splutter indignantly. “I’ve decided to be with Gale.”

“I mean, is it cheating if it’s in your head?”

I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks. I take another gulp. “Well, after we experienced…that…he kind of kissed me…and stuff.”

“Damn.” She puts another bottle in her bag with a clink. “I swear it couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes once the door closed.” 

“Why did you let the door close?” My tone is carefully polite, not accusatory.

She shrugs, “I’m your sister, not your dad.”

I sigh, a bit of wine dribbles down my chin with the next swig. “Can we get out of here please? Gale already went back to camp.”

“What are you going to say to him? When we get back to camp, I mean.”

“The truth.”

“You think he’ll understand?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Maybe don’t tell him.”

“No way, he knows a lot about the Weave. He might be able to explain what happened.”

“I say leave it. Sounds like it was just an accident. At least the first part was.”

“I can’t lie.”

“I know, I’ve watched you try.”

My head is soon buzzing from so much wine on an empty belly. As we make our way topside I’m careful to peek down hallways and around corners, the last thing I want is to bump into Rolan on accident. 

I know I have to say goodbye to Lia or she’ll be suspicious. That line of thinking confuses me, because I’m pretty sure I did nothing wrong, but I sip more wine and let it go. Maybe she won’t even be with Rolan, he is kind of mean. As we enter the common area, to my dismay the tiefling trio is sitting in their usual corner together at the bar. 

Marlie goes over to Astarion, who is standing near the front doors with Shadowheart, casual as can be. 

I try to wave to get Lia’s attention but she has her back to me, listening to something Cal is saying. I swallow hard and walk over there. Rolan doesn’t even look up from his silver tankard. “We’re heading out,” I say, I’m trying to be cool. I don’t think I’m succeeding. 

Lia glances at the bottle in my hand, she smiles a little, “Celebrating?” 

“Yep,” I proffer it to her, “every day with you out of Moonrise is a day worth celebrating.” Rolan does glance at me then, I’m careful not to look at him. 

“When will you be back?”  

“Oh y’know. Soon.” 

She chuckles at me, and reaches for the bottle. As she takes it her face looks suddenly quizzical, her nose wrinkles. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” 

She pulls my wrist forward and turns it to look at the raised lines on the back of my hand. I pull back without thinking, tucking it behind me. “Oh nothing, I’m just clumsy and stupid and…it’s nothing.” Rolan’s eyes are boring into me from over her shoulder. I don’t look at him. I can’t. 

“Alright…” Lia hands the wine back to me after taking a small sip. “Let me walk you out.”

“No no no no no no. That’s quite alright, you sit. Relax. Recover. I’m fine.”

“Very well.” She turns to Rolan, “You walk her out then.”

Rolan chokes on his drink. 

“Lia, it’s really okay. I’m good. I’m great.” 

I’m drunk, I need to leave.

“You need to take care of yourself, love.” She pulls me into a fierce embrace, I squeeze her back just as tightly. “You need anything, I’ve got you.”

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” I whisper to her, she nods. 

I take a few steps towards the front doors before I realize Rolan is walking with me. I pause to drink more wine and say nothing. My tummy is starting to hurt. 

After we exit the common room and start moving towards the bridge he says something to me. 

“What?” I ask, half expecting an insult.

“I said give me your hand.”

“My hand..?”

He already has it between his warm fingers. The parallel marks stand out plainly on my skin, red and puffy. He traces them gently with his thumb. 

“I hurt you.”

“N-no. Not really.” Damn it, am I out of wine? “Lia made me bleed way more than that earlier. ‘Course it was an accident…”

“I’m sorry.”

I blink stupidly at him, “You’re sorry?” 

“Yes,” he lifts my hand to his lips. He softly kisses the length of the scratches, from the top of my wrist to where they taper at my knuckle. His lips radiate heat and I swallow hard, wondering what it would be like to feel those lips in other places…

He raises his eyes to meet mine, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Rolan…” we’ve stopped behind Tali’s quartermaster tent. I can hear Astarion and Shadowheart chatting at the bridge, they’re waiting for me.

“You are the most willful creature I've ever met...it's quite maddening.” His gaze is as intense as ever, brows furrowed, golden eyes gathering the light despite the darkness around us, but there’s something different there too, something earnest. “My family is… well, they’re all I have left. It’s no excuse for how I’ve treated you, but you must know I -"

He lets go of my hand but he takes a step closer, "It was never my intent to hurt you.”

I don’t know what to say, my mind is fuzzy. I should say something, make a joke, break the tension, but all I can think about is the way his teeth felt on my neck, his tail wrapped tight against my leg, that faint rose water smell. I can smell it now, with him standing so close. He’s looking at me expectantly.

So I kiss him. A gentle kiss, tender and slow. Full of all the feelings I can’t quite express. He leans his forehead against mine as our lips part, breathing deep. 

"Perhaps," he murmurs in a deep timbre, "you can put that willfulness to good use. And stay alive, a little longer."

In response, I sweep a hand across the breadth of his shoulder. “Machte virtute." Three opaque shields dance around us, flashing bright for an instant before the shadows sweep back in. 

I give him a tentative hopeful smile, and with a soft brush of his tail he turns away and is striding back towards the bright lights of the inn.

[ficfanatictrf]

Could I get something happy for viktor, like let's say his s/o is a the medical feild and after a lot of work they somehow found a way to cure his Lung sickness. So he didn't like..die? I hope that makes sense, THANK YOU

The Epiphany

Summary: When a solution is found

Warnings: Don't think there are any. Simple fluff, lots of science jargon that I tried to limit to keep from being too boring. I wrote this rather quickly cause I was just too excited - I seriously love the area of study I am in (Human Biology)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had all started from a passing comment from a Professor, explaining how the body knew exactly what cells to attack or leave alone. You had asked the question to the Professor after class, one why some illnesses were able to run rampant without the body doing much to stop them before they were causing serious harm. And it all boiled down to one thing. 

The virus hid inside the DNA of other cells. 

And so you had begun your deep dive into something you had never believed you would have spent any time on, but as the months progressed and every step brought you closer to your goal, you continued the painfully slow process…all the while you watched as your dearest friend was withering away. You couldn’t tell him what you were doing, if it all led to a dead end, you would never forgive yourself for getting his hopes up just to dash them later. 

You were nearing the end of the sixth year of you working on the project as you headed into your lab. You had gotten Professor Heimerdinger to give you a special lab, specifically making sure that the people who had access to the lab didn’t include Viktor. 

As much as you adored him, would want his brain at times, you would not present this to him till you had enough proof. 

So as you came in, sitting down at your desk to look over the tests that had been set to run that night, it was all normal. This was what you did everyday, set up tests that would take hours to get back, come in the next day to see the results and create new tests, new ideas before having to leave it for hours once more. 

Only, as you glanced over the first few sheets you realized that this was not like any other day. This was THE day! 

You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, quickly looking to see that the same results were on each of the papers for each test you had done. That the results were consistent, the control being the only thing that spiked which meant the test was also working properly and that this wasn’t a false negative. 

In your haste you grabbed everything you could think that you would need, shoving it all into a bag before tearing through the campus to the lab that Viktor and Jayce shared. 

As you entered, you saw exactly what you were expecting and still it didn’t hurt any less. 

Viktor weakened form, how tired he always looked, the tissues nearby that you knew would contain blood. And yet, as you bolted inside, his gaze only turned towards you with a kindness in them that only he could have. And as he went to welcome you in, you cut him off to hold up one of the results you had just looked over. 

“I can tell you now” You said, the understanding quickly flashing in Viktor’s eyes before he reached hastily to get you a chair to sit down on. 

“Then come, come. I have been looking forward to this. Always so secretive about your work” He teased, before already he was trying to take the paper from your hand that you pulled away with a frown. 

As you sat down you took a few breaths, trying to steady yourself mentally as you went into your explanation. Viktor would want to know the science behind this, not just the end result. 

“You said before that the lung virus that spreads in the undercity was one that liked to go unnoticed until suddenly you were dying from it. So it made me wonder if perhaps this was a disease that would lay dormant in the body like the herpes virus or how chickenpox comes back later in life as shingles? Both involve a virus putting its own DNA into the DNA of other cells, which is why it goes dormant for a time before suddenly showing up one day. When that cell dies, the virus's DNA is released once more.” 

Viktor nodded along slowly, it was up to date on this information. This wasn’t really new, but he was wanting to allow you to take the conversation where it needed to go. 

“Well, it was in the early stages, but I heard of another person who was using CRISPR to highlight different parts in cells to try and create new cell and animal models. But, it got me thinking…what if I could find the part of the DNA, that extremely huge list of code and find the part that was the virus’s DNA. I could highlight it, mark it as something harmful to the body and then-” 

“The body’s own immune system would get rid of the virus…not only the virus but the cells harboring the virus…” Viktor ended, slowly leaning back in his chair as he tried to take in what you were saying. 

You nodded, finally reaching into your bag to start pulling out all the papers that you had brought with you. 

“These are all the other trials that I’ve done, we were working on mice but this was the one that would say yes or no if it was time to head to human trials. And Viktor, today every single one of them- every fucking one of them tested negative for the virus. They all had it last night, but today they tested negative.” 

He took the papers slowly from your hand, reading over the printed out information with shaking hands. 

“We can move to human trials, to people who have your disease, to you! Viktor, I am almost certain that with this…I…I can cure you. It’s been what I’ve been working towards for years and finally I can tell you” Standing up straighter, you pulled out the final paper. On it was the exact chemical combination that was used in this. Holding it up you felt your own hands trembling, finally achieving the thing you had been working on for years. 

“This is my gift to you, so that I can confess with it. I love you Viktor…I love you and I think I can cure you” 

Everything for a moment was still, neither of you moving as you both were waiting for the other to make a move. Yet, as Viktor slowly reached out to take the paper in your hand, you watched as he completely missed and then ended up falling out of his chair. 

“Oh shit, are you alright?” 

Helping the man sit up, you were surprised to find the man laughing, not sure as to why falling would be funny. 

“Well, that makes it clear this is no dream.” He chuckled softly, one of his hands reaching up to cradle your cheek in his hand. 

“Thank you” Was whispered, his forehead resting against your own. “When I test negative I will respond to your…declaration. But for now…I suppose, I am in your care.” 

“I suppose you are, it is my study after all” You teased back, though it was mostly to hide the embarrassment you felt at Viktor not rejecting you…but also not accepting either. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The next few weeks had been hell for Viktor. As much as you were proud of your work, it did come with the fact that it needed the human body’s immune system being at its top shape to work. With how tired and worn out his immune system was, he had been put onto a diet plan, a sleep plan, a work out plan…all things that felt like ripping teeth out when it came to Viktor. 

Yet, as the fourth week came to an end, the treatments that you needed to do as well as the different plans to help his immune system best it could, you had seen the changes to how often VIktor was coughing. 

And then finally five weeks into the treatment, Viktor looked over the results of his own testing as he had said that he ‘felt good about this one’. You waited, a little peeved that he was taking over your own study in such a Viktor way. 

“Would you have dinner with me tonight?” 

That was until he suddenly asked you that. 

“...w-what?” 

You looked for his meaning from his expression, but all you got was a kind and warm smile. 

“I told you, once I test negative I would respond. Well- “ He held up the paper with a grin. “I am negative. I am responding and I would like to take you out to dinner and was hoping tonight would be alright?” 

Standing up, the man fixed his suit before heading towards the door. 

“And don’t try to be cute when it comes to who is paying. You literally saved my life, anytime we eat together I am paying. I’ll pick you at 7, there are some things I need to do” And with that he was gone, you left sitting in your lab as your friend…boyfriend? You weren’t even sure you had left. 

But, as you looked outside, you saw exactly what Viktor had been needed to do. As soon as the man was far enough away, you watched as he just screamed. Screamed into the sky with everything he had. 

Screamed from the pain, the anger, the injustice of it all. Screaming because he hadn’t died from this illness, that he was free from its hold, that it wouldn’t take him. And screaming because he could - his lungs would always have some damage from the virus, but it was now clean. 

And so he screamed, screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore.

[wrathfulrook]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

bc I’m terrible at WIP Wednesday lol

Tagged by @direwombat. Tysm!

Tagging (for WIP Weekend or next week’s WIP Wednesday or whatever/whenever you want): @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @strangefable @trench-rot @vampireninjabunnies-blog @inquisitors-grave @deputyash and anyone else who’d like to share bc 1) I’m terrible at keeping a semi-consistent list and 2) I genuinely love seeing everybody’s WIPs!

Below is a bit more from Wrathling (an earlier bit than previous WIPs bc I’m editing old chapters rn):

“It’s difficult for me, how resistant you are to accepting my help.” He raised a single brow, cueing her to speak.

She didn’t.

He crossed his arms across his chest, amusement clear on his face. “You’re much more demure in person than over the radio, Deputy.”

“Well, I’m in a bit of a bad situation right now, and I’m trying not to make it worse.” Don’t be a smartass, don’t be a smartass, don’t be a smartass.

A smile tugged at the creases of his eyes. “You think you’re in a bad situation?”

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

She stayed quiet.

The mirth drained instantly from his features. It was terrifying how he could do that. “This is not a bad situation, Deputy. This is the first good thing to happen to you in a while, I’d wager. There will be pain. But the pain is necessary to confess, to atone. And in the end, when you are free of sin and filled with clarity, you will look back with nothing but fondness and gratitude.

“Nothing you say will make this process any worse for you. In fact, you should be as candid as possible throughout your confession. You need to be honest with yourself, with me, with God. You need to truly confront you sin in order to be free of it.”

“And what if I don’t want to be free of my sin?”

He smiled kindly and spoke gently, “Sinners often cling to their sins. That’s why you need a baptist to help you. That’s why I’m here. It’s natural to be afraid. Though it will hurt, you won’t be permanently harmed, and you won’t be killed.”

She fought against the urge to roll her eyes, her ire at the man nearly overcoming her fear of him. “The only reason you won’t kill me is because you can’t. Joseph said that I had to be saved, or you wouldn’t get to ‘walk through Eden’s Gate.’ You can’t kill me without risking your immortal soul, or whatever.”

John Seed glared at her, and she wished she had never spoken.

“There are fates far worse than death, Deputy.”

He turned his back to her, rummaging through the implements he’d replaced onto the bench, settling for the long, pointed icepick that he’d brandished earlier. He offered her a kind smile that she didn’t trust for a second before he strolled over, pulling a chair behind him. He sat across from her, much too close for comfort while he twirled the icepick through his fingers. He leaned close, bringing his mouth to her ear, his dark facial hair scraping against her sensitive skin as she pulled away as much as she could while tied down.

His whispered lowly, almost seductively into her ear, “You will confess to me. Every sin you’ve ever committed, no matter how small, no matter how petty, no matter how you justified it at the time… You will confess.”

Before pulling away, his hot breath still on her skin, he drove the icepick into the meat of her left thigh. Then he pulled back slowly, his eyes never leaving her face, watching her react.

Patience had never been stabbed before. Not anywhere, not by anything. She’d once gotten a puncture wound from a sharp stick while running on the beach as a girl, but that was nothing. Nothing in general and nothing compared to this. She’d managed to make it through her fight with the cult so far with only bullet grazes and one shallow bullet wound. She had never experienced anything like this.

She couldn’t exactly feel the metal that was stuck in her flesh. Her brain had no way to process it. But the area felt both ice cold and too warm for comfort. The pain felt both sharp and dull. Nausea was involved, somehow.

Her eyes were blown wide, watching John Seed, the man who had just stabbed her, lean back in his chair. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t scream. In fact, no sound at all came out. He didn’t react to her shock, and so she turned her gaze downward. The blue plastic handle of the tool stuck almost straight out of her leg, with only about two inches of the metal shaft outside of her leg with it. She was amazed at how it had pierced so cleanly through the denim of her jeans, the light fabric only barely stained red around the metal.

She was dimly aware that that was a stupid thing to be preoccupied with. Was this what shock felt like?

As she stared dumbly at the scene, a tattooed hand crept into her field of vision, wrapped its long fingers around the weapon, and yanked. He did not yank it straight out, and Patience noticed it snag on the hole in her jeans, and then so much dark blood spill out, before she felt any pain.

And then she felt the pain.

And this time, she did scream.

She screwed her eyes up tight, threw her head back, and wailed. This pain felt more tangible, less abstract, and she felt her awareness slam back in full force.

“FUCK! JESUS FUCKING-“ She gasped and opened her eyes, glaring at the man across from her. “Fuck you! FUCK!” She squirmed against the ropes and breathed harshly through clenched teeth.

“Now, Deputy, there’s no need to start with your biggest sin. We have all the time in the world.” He smiled as though he’d made a particularly clever joke. “We can start small. Ease our way in. Work our way up. So, I’ll begin with a simple question: What is your name?”

[mottlemoth]

No worries, friend. Your questions are cool and I'm happy to try and answer.

(Under the cut for length)

(1) Honestly, I don't have a full enough understanding of the shape of Stede's arc now we're post season 2. I don't know if I can put my finger on how he's changed as a person. He has a boyfriend, but I can't personally point to consistent growth in any particular area, queer or otherwise. It's hard to answer because we now have a Schrödinger's season 3 until further notice - Stede both has and hasn't finished his character arc.

Maybe someone in the reblogs will have some better insights here.

(I'll stress that "I do not have a boyfriend" -> "I have a boyfriend" isn't a character arc in itself. We'd be looking for something like, "I do not have a boyfriend because I fear society's treatment of men like me" -> "now that I no longer let that fear rule my life, I allow myself to have a boyfriend")

(2) Absolutely. Maybe something along these lines:

Adjust Izzy's two lines about loving Edward, making them more fatherly if that was indeed the goal. "I'm concerned about you, Eddie" - "when I told him that I cared about him"

Lose Ed's remark about Izzy the morning after ("He's jealous")

Instead of having Izzy sing a romantic song in drag at Calypso's birthday, have him in a corner somewhere, whittling maybe, vibes of a straight dad feeling a bit out of place at Pride. There, supportive, but not a central part of it.

Remove the paired mirror scenes - "who even are you?" and the later one with Wee John, where the answer is seemingly supplied (someone who longs to wear drag and sing)

The crew giving Izzy a new identity ('the new unicorn') resonated with a lot of queer fans - finding and embracing yourself through community is often a part of the queer experience. Unicorns aren't exactly the butchest of creatures. That image of Izzy moved to tears by the gesture - keeping the note inside his glove, standing proudly at the prow of the ship - is so powerful. (And part of why it kills me that the image we were eventually left with is a grave.) He was so alive, so changed, so glad to be a unicorn. The Izzy in season one would have gutted someone for suggesting that. They could have stripped the queer themes out here with a peg leg and a note saying some variant of "Pull yourself together" - "We need you" - "You were Blackbeard, too" - so many options.

Lastly, no whittled shark for Lucius. Or at least show that everyone was gifted a whittled something. Gets rid of the parallel with Pete whittling a gift for Lucius. (Not a major point, but why not. Let's leave no doubt.)

Cutting these scenes would have left time for much better establishment that Izzy served as Ed's mentor. Even a single conversation between Ed and Stede where Ed recounts some old times with Izzy would have achieved this. We hear it reported secondhand that Izzy taught Ed everything he knows - but honestly, I thought that Stede was making it up, flattering Izzy into agreeing to train him. Hearing it directly from Ed would have made a huge difference.

The idea that Ed and Izzy created Blackbeard together, and that Izzy has to die before Ed can be free of Blackbeard... it could work. But it was massively undermined by showing Izzy striving to also leave Blackbeard behind. From what we were shown, he was actually fighting a whole lot harder than Ed was. Leaving just a glimpse or two of impatience or callousness in him, or maybe a hint that he will always consider Ed to be Blackbeard, would have paved the way for a necessary-seeming death. A quick slip of the tongue in a moment of stress, calling Ed 'Blackbeard' again. It would have helped.

Those are just some thoughts. Other folks might have more to add. Thank you for asking, @ourflagmeansgayrights - I'm sorry I can't give you a better answer about Stede. Further study on my part is needed.

Last thing - I also want to stress, I very much want to avoid fights as well. I'll argue against ideas but I'll shy away from arguing with people. There's enough of that happening elsewhere. It's not productive and it's not cool. Anyone new who arrives hoping for fisticuffs will just go silently onto the blocklist.

Seeing a few "those MEDIA ILLITERATE CHILDREN still INSIST that the finale was BURY YOUR GAYS" floating around.

I'm happy to break down my reasoning:

David Jenkin's post-finale interviews all make clear that Izzy's death was decided upon - even if only by David himself - at a very early stage.

Having established that Izzy would die, the writing team then chose to give him an explicitly queer narrative arc of self-discovery and joy, one they knew was going to end in a painful death.

They gave no other characters that strikingly queer arc of self-acceptance and expression - just the one they'd already decided to bury by the end. There were other queer characters, in queer relationships, but they didn't get queer arcs. (A character arc is the transformation or inner journey of a character over the course of a story. Being queer is not itself an arc; for example, Lucius's arc was about overcoming trauma. A character can be queer without a queer arc.)

The only character who did get a queer arc also got a grave.

You should be concerned by this choice from a writing team, especially if you are queer.

You should not be belittling the people who are voicing their concern.

As a side note, I was born in the 1980s. I grew up in the UK under Section 28. For what it's worth, I also have a first in English Literature. I've been suffering terrible media representation of gay people my whole life, and when I see it in a show which made a point of encouraging gay fans to feel safe and seen and respected, I'm going to point at it and scream very loudly.

[perennialwitness]

RILEY

He’s in the backseat of a silver Honda Accord crossing over the Monroe Street Bridge. George, a man in his 50s who suffers from retirement-induced insomnia, is driving. He’s got the radio tuned to a 24 hour Christian Rock XM station and the A/C on high.

“You’re up early, heading to work?” he says over his shoulder and Riley sighs. They always want to talk.

“Nah, long night.” George gives an approving nod, both hands on the wheel at 10 and 2 he drums with his thumbs while he drives. After 2AM all of the street lights become yellows and blinking reds which allows them to move quickly through the city.

“Handsome guy like you and you’re going home alone?”

“Who says I’m going home?” His phone buzzes in his hand, Sabrina: Where are you dude? He taps out a quick response, Omw how much you need? He’s hoping that it’s enough to pay his insurance for the month, his recent DUI has raised his payments by over a hundred dollars and with what he’s spending on lawyer fees, court mandated driving courses and the lease on the alco-blow in his car it feels like he’s barely treading water. He’s not a dealer, this is just a side hustle until he can get back on his feet. He was fronted by a guy named Sticks, not much, enough for him to move during his spare time. What he hadn’t anticipated was the sheer amount of dealers that inhabited the Downtown area. Everyone had a guy and it was like pulling teeth to get them to buy from him even when they wanted it, their brand loyalty overpowering their desire for more. He only seemed to find luck at fringe afterparties, usually the ones too far out of the way for any of the other dealers to bother with.

George is making a right turn onto Boone when he says,

“So, what’s new in Country Homes?” Riley shrugs, his gaze is focused out of the window, they’re approaching Division, the city’s main North/South arterial.

“You’re asking the wrong guy.”

Riley wishes Marcus were here, not only would he be more than happy making conversation with George he’d also be able watch his back at the party. He has a sixth sense for trouble that Riley is becoming appreciative of, he always knows exactly when to make an exit oftentimes giving a quick tap on his elbow and saying something ridiculous like, vibes are in the shitter, just before a fight breaks out or the cops show up. Riley hasn’t told any of his friends that he’s dealing, they’d label him a liability if they knew. K.C. for sure would have a problem with it. While Nat and Marcus tend to accept their moral grayness, K.C. still naively believes herself to be a genuinely good person and in her warped view of ethics taking drugs is redeemable, but selling them is a step too far. Her reasoning is that people who profit from addiction are inherently manipulative while the users actions only harm themselves. Riley can name a hundred flaws in that logic, he’d tried the last time the conversation arose but Marcus stopped him after the first three.

The sedan hits a pothole going thirty causing Riley to look up for a second and he makes the mistake of meeting eyes with George in the rearview mirror.

“You know my son is about your age, good kid, but dumber than a cow in shit sometimes.” Riley’s phone buzzes, Sabrina: Just get here. “Kid just can’t seem to get right, keeps jumping from this to that, new job, new major, new girlfriend every few months.” Riley taps out a response. I only got a couple gs on me. “Y’know I told’em ‘You keep changing your mind and you’ll end up with nothin’.” George sighs like someone who knows their judgements are unfair. “I just wish he’d settle down before my wife has a conniption.” The Northtown Mall passes on their right and Riley feels a twinge of dread at the prospect of working his shift at the Barnes & Noble coffee stand in seven hours. “What do you think, is it generational?” His hands always smell like dairy. Most people only ask for water, those who do buy coffee never tip. The majority of his diet consists of leftover pastries. He’s pretty sure the heavy fluorescent lighting is giving him cancer. “You okay back there?”

Riley snaps out of it, Division has now morphed into Highway 2, a slew of storefronts(most unchanged since the 70s and 80s) and their empty parking lots. The American marketplace stretched out over miles along an eight lane stroad. One hand clutches his phone the other his kneecap.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, “Tired.”

“I bet you are. So, what do you think?”

“About what?” They’re crossing over a short overpass and into the suburbia of Country Homes.

“Is your generation a lost cause? Are you all spoiled and lazy or is my boy a special case?” Riley takes a breath.

“I think we were lied to, I think your generation made a lot of empty promises, painted pictures of opportunity and then failed to deliver. You told us that if we followed in your footsteps we’d be fine, but you didn’t tell us that you were going to burn the bridge behind you. Some of the faster ones made it across, but most of us, we’re down in the ravine now just trying not to get swept under. You know what two things look a lot alike? Depression and laziness, when was the last time you asked your son how he was feeling? About his life, about the future, maybe you should do that instead of asking a fucking stranger.”

Is what he wants to say, but instead he mumbles,

“I dunno, maybe.”

The car is silent, aside from Casting Crows, as they pull up to a burnt orange, ranch style home. There is an ample amount of available parking on the street out front which Riley finds suspicious. He hesitates getting out of the car.

“You sure this is where you’re goin?” George says with his neck craned, he senses something off as well. It’s the address she gave him, but the windows are dark, the driveway empty. Scanning the yard, he can’t help but feel like he’s being set up. The pop of his seatbelt ejecting is startlingly loud and causes George to flinch, they’ve been sitting there for a minute in silence waiting for something to happen. Fuck it, he is going to try the door.

George waits until he’s at the porch to pull away. It is so quiet that Riley can hear the putter of the car’s engine until he reaches the interstate. He goes to knock but there’s a large browned wreath, red bow and all hanging from the knocker. Spiders have made a nest out of it, it’s probably been there for years. He texts Sabrina, I’m here, then shoves his phone into his pocket. Kicking around the porch he examines watering buckets and work boots until the door creaks open.

“Hey,” Sabrina says at a whisper. “Come in, hurry up.” He takes two steps toward her and his doc martens unleash a flurry of acoustics as they meet concrete. Sabrina flinches at the sound. “Take your shoes off, jesus.”

“Are there other people here?” he whispers back, tugging at the heels of his boots. She eyes him with her doe-like pupils that seem to sink into the heavy bags under her eyes then glances to her left and snickers.

“Yeah, yeah we just gotta be quiet up here cuz my roommates a bitch.” He picks up his shoes and follows her inside, they cross the carpeted living room where paintbrushes and tarp are strewn about and into the hall. She’s wearing pajamas, an oversized shirt and a pair of booty shorts with the word Pink written across the ass. Her thick jet black hair is half-up in a messy top bun. He spies the kitchen at a distance on the other end of the hall, it is pristine, no evidence of a party at all. Sabrina leads him through a door and then he’s standing at the top of a staircase. She starts downward and he hesitates, something deep inside him is screaming Do not follow that White woman down there! The ancestors have had enough, there have been too many red flags and they can ignore it no longer. Riley, talks them down, it’s Sabrina, she’s a hippie she’s not gonna set me up. I fucking saved her dog’s life that one time, she wouldn’t do shit to me. And like who does she even fuck with that would be tryna get me? It’s good, it’s good. His feet begin to move and he’s following her down into the basement.

He’s more than relieved when instead of a dungeon they enter a sixties style man-cave that has been modified to suit the needs of two twenty-something Liberal Arts majors . Aesthetic pieces like the shag carpeting and massive recliner are there, but where the pool table should be there is a chest-high, steel examination table, atop which are strewn polaroids, magazine clip-outs, finger paintings, and other various physical media underneath a naked bulb. At the far wall is a bar made of what was at some point polished wood, where the selection is limited to PBR and Wild Turkey. There’s a sweet stank to the place, and a biologically induced humidity that causes Riley to rub his palms. Noodle, a bespeckled blonde from the scene, is stretched over the bartop in an attempt to reach a beer on the other side. She’s wearing a sports bra and spanks. Her voice is husky from smoke inhalation when she says,

“You want a beer, baby?” with her back to them, and Laura, who Riley hadn’t noticed on the floor flipping through a milk crate of records responds.

“Yah, get four.” They’re all in sleepwear, why are they calling a dealer?

“Hey, so,” he starts and Sabrina snaps her fingers.

“Oh, yeah. Um, hang on.” She dashes off toward the bar and slips by Noodle who is happy to see him.

“My guy! What’s up Riley I didn’t know you sold,” she says through squinted eyes as she tosses him a can with a spacey nod. She bends over to kiss Laura on the forehead and drops two into her lap. It takes everything he has not to stare at her body, it’s tight, she either works out or is extremely active. There’s the shadow of a six pack on her stomach, her thighs and shoulders bulge. He sticks a hand in his pocket and wraps his fingers around the six grams he’s holding.

“I’m not really selling, I’ve just got extra that I’m tryna get rid of.”

“Fersure fersure,” she says and they crack their seals simultaneously. By the third sip things start to get awkward.

“So,” he lets it drag, “What are y’all… doin’?” She smiles and cheerses him.

“We, are performing a Moon ceremony,” she says the next bit with a hint of whimsy. “We’ve been awake for uh, what is it now,” she laughs and then mouths out a series of numbers, “thirty hours? Eighteen more and we’re certified lunatics.”

“I cried to this song for nine months straight, like every time I heard it,” Laura is saying to the room as she drops a record onto the portable turntable at her side. Riley isn’t distracted.

“So what, y'all took a bunch of adderall or somethin’?” Weird ass White girls torturing themselves out of boredom. Noodle waves her hand,

“That would be cheating, nothing made in a lab and all that.” She’s saying this with the air of someone explaining their plans for Labor Day weekend. “Once we’re properly loony we’re going to perform a ritual in the back.” The strings on Let Go by Frou Frou begin to work up and Laura lights a cigarette. “We raw dogged the first day more or less, but we started losing focus so we did some mushrooms earlier, realigned ourselves, that’s wearing off now I think.” She waves her hand in front of her face to check. “So last resort is coke, just to get us through the day.” She laughs again manically this time.

“Isn’t cocaine made in a lab?” Suddenly serious, her dirty blonde brows drop like rocks into a furrow.

“Coca leaves are naturally occurring, dude. If you’re gonna sell the shit at least know where it comes from.” She’s whacked out for sure and Riley has conflicted feelings about this, their attempt is heroic, peak hedonism to be fair, but being in a basement with three half-naked queer White women out of their minds with sleep deprivation feels wrong. The image of a waterlogged Emmett Till flashes in his mind. He shouldn’t be here, he’s beginning to think that it might actually be a set up when Sabrina returns with a wad of crumpled cash. She counts it while she talks,

“I’ve got, uh, seventy— seventy-six here.” He shakes his head.

“That’s not enough.” She thinks for a bit about where she might have more cash and then from the floor Laura says,

“Do you take Venmo?” He thinks on it, Can that be traced? No, there’s no way to know what the payment was actually for. It’s a bunch of numbers moving around, it’s not tied to anything.

“Yeah, you can Venmo me.” Sabrina rushes off to get her phone, he can’t resist adding. “This song always reminds me of Garden State.” Laura wails like he’s said the secret word,

“Yesssss!” He shrugs.

“I mean, Natalie Portman, c’mon.”

They’re basking in their shared childhood crush when Riley notices that the walls instead of housing guns and taxidermy are plastered with photos of Sabrina and another woman, a blonde with aggressive features who he assumes is her roommate, posing with different animals, domestic and wild. From squirrels, to ducks, to wolves. There are so many that it seems as if they’ve taken a photo with every single animal they’ve ever seen. Their poses are always identical, a squat and sideways peace sign, the same exact photo recreated hundreds of times. He’s marveling at their dedication to a bit when Sabrina taps her phone against his.

“How much?”

“One-twenty,” he says, head still on a swivel. Is that a python? Noodles is aghast,

“One-twenty? Fuck Sticks, we should just call him.” Sabrina prods her screen a few times with shaky thumbs.

“Okay, done.” He snaps out of it, withdraws two baggies from his pocket and places them in Sabrina’s hand. She tosses one to Laura, who immediately begins measuring out a mound on the record sleeve for Details.

“You can hang if you want,” Noodle says with a quick beckon, “just don’t let us fall asleep.” Definitely a setup. He motions toward the door.

“Nah, I’ve got work.” She’s incredulous,

“Is this not work?”

“I mean, like actual work, at my job.” She flicks a hand out and lets it hang,

“Oh, boo. Okay, well see ya.” He makes for the stairs and then stops,

“Sabrina you got my info, right? In case y’all need any more.” She doesn’t look up at him, she’s dipping a wet finger into her baggie and rubbing her gums.

“I do.” Of course she does, that’s why he’s here in the first place. Dumbass. He scales the stairs, crosses the house and then slips out through the front door. On the porch he lights a cigarette and calls a Lyft. While he’s pulling on his boots he gets a notification, Venmo: Sabrinatheteenagebitch has paid you $120.00 for [snowflake emoji, snowman emoji, santa emoji, eight-ball emoji, all-seeing eye emoji, full moon emoji]

[the-nysh]

To Stand and be Strong...

While Garou’s words vs actions may often be contradictory (for example, how he often ends up doing the opposite of what he says he’s gonna do, much to his chagrin when he can’t properly follow through with his monster plans), there’s one thing I can certainly applaud him for always adhering to no matter what, where he consistently pulls through practicing precisely what he preaches, and that’s his repeated, personal mantra to ‘stand up.’ To stand up and be strong.

All you have to do is be strong. If you can’t stand on your own, don’t expect someone to come and save you! It’s situations like this you need to be strong for!

The words he tells Tareo AND (with consistent parallels) later expects from the beaten S Class heroes to show him too:

BECAUSE…for this whole time, to even get himself this far, he’s pushed forward demanding those same expectations from himself.

Every time...no matter how tough it gets, how hard he’s beaten, or even despite suffering repeated lethal injuries, he still manages to stand up.

Bang (to Bomb): If you were to suffer such injury…would you still be able to stand?

Amazingly, he rises and does exactly what he says/tells others to do too, but by defiantly sticking to his guns (expecting the most from himself here) and absolutely refusing to back down or lose. During these moments he’s got no one but himself to rely on for a rousing pep talk (and it’s probably been this way for years ever since he strove on his own to become stronger ;.;). So whenever he’s pushed down, backed into a corner, or staggering on the verge of dying losing consciousness, he tells – no, forces himself to get back up again.  

Gyoro Gyoro: This determination of yours, where does it come from?

Demonstrating that kind of consistent resolve, dedication, endurance, and unwavering tenacity is certainly impressive. But most of all, it’s because the bigger reason he’s fighting for (which goes way beyond monsters) is too important for him to give up and die here.

So in the end...did I want to die like this? (No way!)

By continuing this way, he’s hardest on himself to keep going in these desperate moments, but that determination’s kept him on his feet despite every hardship endured. He can’t afford to end things here, so he pushes forward, mentally berating telling himself to be stronger each time, and resolves to stand up no matter what. Even if he can’t always follow through with his monster plans in comparison (cannot actually kill anyone except monsters as he claims), it’s this area instead where his consistency and grit really shine.

Additionally, this same mantra to ‘stand up’ was established in Goketsu vs Suiryu too...but with a huge glaring difference.

Goketsu: Stand up...and show some grit...within three seconds.

Suiryu: This is...inhumane! He truly is...a monster!

While this situation feels like a prelude of what to expect from Garou later, unlike what he does, Goketsu’s method is clinically cruel, cold-blooded torture. Designed to break his victim’s lingering spirit to resist. (Poor Suiryu...) Detached and heartless, beating them when they’re already down...just like what a monster would do. (And just as Suiryu puts it, he’s inhumane.) Perhaps there’s similar roots in their discipline as martial artists, but in contrast, Garou is definitely not like this (the biggest distinction: he’s not monstrous because his heart’s still human).

Jump forward to what Garou similarly demands from the S Class later in the webcomic, and his method to get them to stand is instead a test where he gives them ample time to rise to his challenge. (“If heroes have a reason for existing, now’s the time to show me.”) He’s goading and disciplining them to properly stand up and step forward with the same amount of determination (or greater, after all, they’re supposed to be heroes) that he’s required from himself this whole time. He wants to see what rouses their heroic spirit what they’ve got.

(^Just not...with that kind of determination. Heroes no, don’t fight like that.) Because surely, if he’s come this far, enduring the worst and forcing himself to stand up with a reason to keep on fighting, then those who call themselves heroes must also have what it takes to rise and match him with their own. Oh wait, but what if they can’t? All the more reason why he feels (his) ideal version of a hero needs to properly stand up and become stronger too.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied (Part Two)

Series: Undercover Hotch fic/series™

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader 

Word Count: 4,408 | Rated: T | Warnings: swearing, discussion of domestic abuse, possibly compromising positions(?), an almost kiss

Tropes: bedsharing, fake married, mutual pining

Chapter Summary: after holding hotch's hand for a few minutes, it wouldn't be a problem to hold it for most of the morning? because now the retreat gimmicks begin as the two of you search for information while dealing with the events.

A/N: sorry for the delay on part two -- had some family things going on this month <3. look out for part three :) Thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera for always letting me bounce ideas off of her and generally being amazing.

“Where do we start?”

The retreat lodge was larger than you imagined — with sprawling grounds that weren't just limited to the main lodging area where the couples stayed — but extended beyond to woods, hiking trails, and beyond. Hell, you glanced out the window at a nearby mountain, you wouldn’t be surprised if they owned a mountain as well.

“I have no idea,” you murmur, your arm intertwined with Hotch’s, as the two of you stepped into the lobby for the patented mix-and-mingle with the other couples before breakfast. Not only mind-numbing, soul-churning mingling — but with other couples with marital issues -- exactly what every vacation needs, “this place doesn’t seem big on technology — I haven’t seen a single computer or cellphone,”

“The front desk only has paper logs,” he shakes his head, “I asked about the lack of technology in the rooms. A noted policy of no tech — including the employees. I don’t think we are even allowed our cellphones after this breakfast.”

You scan the couples beginning to shuffle down now, “If there’s no tech here, where do you think they keep their guest and employee files?”

“I don’t think breakfast is ready yet, sweetheart,” he replies, as your gaze snaps to his cheeks burning, as you realize a couple approaching your six, “but I’m sure you won’t have to wait too much longer,”

“I’m right there with you,” the husband winks at you, his stomach shaking as he laughs even before he jokes, “if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to lose one of my only reasons for coming to this place,”

And something tells you it isn’t much of a joke either.

“But not the reason for coming here, isn’t that right, dear?” his wife assumedly smiles at you, icily, “Molly Chapman. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and you are?”

You introduce yourself, forcing a straight face on as you manage to say your alias, offering your hand, “This is my husband, Thomas,” as Hotch introduces himself to Molly’s husband, Harry, who claps your boss on the shoulder.

“So,” Harry leans in, almost clandestinely, “what are you two in for?”

“Harry!” Molly chastises him, but her eyes hook onto your expressions, her lips pursed in disapproval if only to hide her smile.

“Well, if it helps, me and the missus here need some help communicating,” he crosses his arms, shaking his head, “never learned much about that growing up,” and he elbows Hotch, “but I’m sure you can relate — we’re practically in the same generation,” And you nearly snort, trying and failing to hide your smile — which Hotch notes, as you see him shoot a small glare your way.

Harry and Molly don’t notice, too busy reprimanding her husband again, before she sighs, pinching at the bridge of her nose, “It’s just as well, we are all going to find out about each other’s problems anyway,”

And you furrow your brow, “I saw group therapy on the itinerary — is it mandatory?”

“It is,” Molly nods, “Dr. Rosen, the therapist who helped design the program, insisted on it — otherwise it would just be a vacation, not a couples retreat,” and she raises an eyebrow, “didn’t you read that in the paperwork when you signed up?”

“I did most of the paperwork,” Hotch intercedes, his fingers intertwining with yours, “my love here was busy wrapping up some loose ends for work so I ended up taking the lead on it,”

“Oh well now I know what’s wrong with you two,” Harry chuckles, as Molly elbows him again, half-heartedly, as he gestures to you, coffee in hand, “you wear the pants in the relationship, got that one wrapped around your finger, now don’t you? Not surprising, with the age gap and all--” as he looks you up and down, winking at Hotch, as you gape at him, “nicely done, sir.”

Your blood begins to boil, several insults picked out and fine-tuned on your tongue as you open your mouth, “Well—”

“We’re working on it,” Hotch clears his throat, jerking his head toward the now ready breakfast buffet, “Harry, it looks like—”

“Food’s on!” and he’s scurrying away to the table, as his wife follows suit, giving both of you a nod, as you glare at his retreating back.

“Food fucking saved his life,” and your eyes slide back to Hotch, as he gestures for you to head over to the breakfast table, “and so did you,”

“Well, I figured you murdering someone on our first day here would attract some unwelcome attention,” he steers you away from the direction of the Chapmans, his hand now slipping around your waist, and you do your best to ignore the flip of your heart, focusing on the fancy finger foods the retreat put out for breakfast, until you feel Hotch’s fingers drum on the small of your back, “do you see that?”

You glance at him, following his gaze until your eyes fall on a door that says ‘Employees’ Only’ around the corner, the manager slipping through the door, locking it behind him. You glance away nonchalantly, helping yourself to some mini-breakfast sandwiches and some fruit, “Do you think they keep the employee files?”

“Maybe,” he breathes in your ear, as he reaches over your shoulder to grab some food, making you shiver at the closeness, “but how do we—”

“Welcome!” a voice booms from the foyer, sweeping arms as he steps forward cutting through the dining room, “Please everyone take a seat. Help yourself to some breakfast.”

You both make your way to a table, and Hotch pulls out your chair for you, giving a small smile, as he takes his seat beside you.

“I hope you all are beginning to get to know each other, but that is not all you will be getting to know today,” he clasps his hands, he bared his teeth with his fake white smile, “I am Richard Rosen, and I will be guiding you through your time during this six-week retreat, where you are not only going to learn about our facilities, about mindfulness, and about yourselves,” his eyes scan the crowd smiling, “you’re going to learn about each other.'

Oh, how wonderful.

You had read up about this guy last night — went to Harvard — Harvard College in Indiana, and got his certification in Psychology after four weeks of surely intense training. After that, he opened his own practice in New York City, which folded after several complaints ranging from sexual harassment to fraud. Unfortunately for his clients (and fortunately for him), there wasn’t enough evidence to get his lack-luster certification yanked. He then moved from city to city, learning from his mistakes, and never stuck to the same city for long enough for someone to catch onto his treatment packaged charade. Until eventually, he settled upon White Mountains Retreat, where he was allowed to stay in one place, but with a revolving door of patients.

He was one of your suspects — no record, but had easy access to the couples, and intimate knowledge of their relationships.

"But our time will begin together tomorrow,” he beams at all of you, “Right now, I'm going to pass it over to the man who you will be coordinating your incredibly list of daily activities during your stay here — the man responsible for all the wonderful memories you will make — Mr. Brock Hillen," Rosen steps aside, welcoming Hillen to take over, and he doesn’t wait a beat, checking his watch before disappearing down a hall.

“Where’d he go?” you murmur, and Hotch shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” Hotch murmurs, lips barely moving, “but do you see that?”

And you spot cuts on Brock’s arms before he tugs the sleeve of his shirt down to cover it, “Could be consistent with causing those injuries our victims,”

And Brock Hillen was no less suspicious than Rosen — with a criminal record to match. With two charges of domestic assault, Hillen already had a history of violence with his ex-wife, but since she divorced him, he has had no other charges. Yet, because of his record, he went job to job, until he found himself as the Activities Coordinator of White Mountain. Could it be that his rage over his wife leaving him led to the murders? Maybe something in the last few weeks that triggered it.

“Hello all!” he greets, holding his arms out, his fake blonde hair nearly blinding under the bright light of the chandelier that hangs above him, “thank you Richard, for that all too kind introduction,” he begins his spheal on the healing nature of the resort, the efforts of his team in coordinating the next six weeks for them, and you begin to lose interest around his third sentence with the word “enchant” in it.

And your eyes can’t help but slide to Hotch a moment, whose arm rests on your lower back still, the metal of his watch gently pressed against your shirt, and you swear his thumb brushes against your spine. You almost want to brush it away, his touch is so gentle, so sweet, so intentional, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t.

“For our first event,” and now you’re blinking back to Brock — to the reason you were here — to catch a killer, “I’m going to have you do one of the very things that Richard mentioned — an activity that will allow you to you learn more about yourselves and each other,” and he gestures around you, “as well as the grounds themselves,” Other employees start handing the couples a clipboard, “your task will be to get each of your stamps from around the retreat — this obviously includes our grounds and other facilities, including our spa, chapel, gardens, and so on.”

“Seems like a perfect opportunity to look around,” you murmur — as Hotch takes the clipboard, flipping through the scavenger hunt -- at least there wasn’t some cheesy shtick to this activity.

“To symbolize the journey you all will be embarking on together as couples, you must complete the task hand-in-hand,” Brock brings his two hands together, “please, there will be staff all over the facilities, if you need a hint, feel free to ask, and I will be here as well to provide any assistance,” he gestures to employees behind the couples, “now, at the sound of the gong—”

At the sound of the what—

And then a loud crash fills the air, rattling your eardrums, making you jump, “Take each other’s hand, and begin!”

Couples begin scattering about, pulling each other along — you spot Molly dragging Harry away from the breakfast table.

And Hotch rises beside you, offering you his hand, clipboard in his other hand, “Ready?”

You glance from him to his hand.

Probably not, but— your fingers intertwine with his, his calloused fingers warm, and the cool metal of his band brushing against your skin—

“Ready.”

What other choice did you have?

~~~

“How many more do we have?” So far, the first few stamps have taken you all around the other facilities — the spa, the garden, the sauna — but none inside the retreat center itself. Not a single one had given you a change to find where the files were kept in this place.

“Two more left,” he murmurs, “I assume the last one will take us back into the main building, so the other must be—”

“At the chapel,” you glance at the map of the place you were handed by an employee who took pity on you two after you had wandered around the grounds — completely lost, “at least we don’t have to bother figuring out the riddles now,”

“You mean you don’t need to bother,” you shake your head, “i’m sorry, I’m just—”

“Are you okay?” he asks, as the two of you stroll towards the chapel, everyone else out of earshot, “the first day can be—”

“No, it’s not that,” you look around the grounds, and you resist the urge to flex your fingers, but he notices you tense — and you know he would drop your hand but he can’t, so he steps away a little, “It’s not you—”

“But it’s you?” he chuckles, as you bite your lip, “I know it’s a lot,” he sighs, as you two reach the chapel, a relatively small building built on top of a hill. It’s a white marble building, its one spire splitting the sky above it asunder, practically gleaming in the sunlight. The double mahogany doors are drawn open for the couples, another just leaving as you two arrive. You watch him stare up at the chapel, “it is for me too.”

You frown, as the employees at the entrance greet you, and direct you to sit near the front together for a few minutes — to take solace in the quiet before you receive your stamp. Hotch hands them the clipboard as you both wander down the aisle together.

The aisles are lined with white pews, light streaming through beautiful stained glass windows. Your footsteps echoed against the stone floor. You step and sit into the pew beside Hotch, sitting back a moment. The chapel itself had no denomination — it was clear it was made for the sake of religious and non-religious functions — likely an intentional choice not to exclude any religion or atheists for that matter.

After all, money was money in their eyes.

You two are quiet a moment, your hands still interlaced for the sake of the employees still watching the two of you, “I think for me,” your voice low, “it’s just weird to be this close with anyone,”

“You mean physically or?” you shrug.

“It’s part of it — it has been a while since I’ve shared a bed with someone,” you purse your lips, “but like you said, it’s hard for me to let someone see me, like all of me,” and you glance at him, “and it’s hard when you’re literally the leader of a team of, you know.”

“I know,” he leans against the back of the pew, “it’s impossible to hide things from the team even when when we don’t spend every minute with them, and now that we’re spending the all of the next six weeks together--”

“There won’t be much we can do to hide,” you nod, looking down at the floor.

And that was what scared you the most.

The employees hand you back the clipboard at that moment, excusing you both back, and the two of you step out of the chapel, “I just want you to know,” you say, as the two of you reach the bottom of the hill, “you don’t have to hide anything from me,” and he raises an eyebrow, as you add, “if you don’t want to.”

“Do most people hide anything because they really want to?”

“No I meant,” you chew your lip, “This is probably hard for you, and I don’t want to act like I know what you’re going through — I don’t,” you would never deign to think you knew what it was like to lose your the love of your life, your best friend, and mother of your child in one fell swoop, “but you don’t have to pretend,” not with me, you want to add, but you don’t — you can’t.

He blinks a moment, eyebrows raising only for a millisecond, before he sighs, “It’s easier to pretend,” he presses his lips together, as another couple approaches, “and that’s what we’re here to do,” and he begins to walk forward, gently pulling you along, as your cheeks burn, your head fixed on the ground, until he adds, “but I appreciate it,” and you meet his gaze, several emotions in his eyes, before he tears it away, “thank you.”

You don’t get to respond, as the two of you step inside to find only most of the couples still hadn’t returned yet — still collecting the last of the stamps, and most of the staff floating around the grounds to corral and nudge stragglers along. And their absence left an opportunity.

So you glance around, before tugging a distracted Hotch along, wandering around a corner, “What—”

And you grab him by the shoulder, pinning him to the wall, cheeks burning all the while, not daring to meet his gaze, but its just the same because you hear the small gasp of your name that leaves his lips in a whisper, and his body tenses against your palm.

You lean up closer, before slowly craning your neck around the corner, “We’re a couple at a retreat looking to sneak away,” you murmur, lips barely moving, as you lean closer, nose brushing his neck — god he smells good — but you refuse to let your lips brush against his skin, “or that’s what it will look like to anyone.”

His tenseness melts away, and he’s pliable to your touch, as your fingers graze his neck now, your thumb resting against his cheek, as he stares down at you — so adoringly as you tug him by the shirt away from the wall, following you with such ease.

You’re next to the employees only door — your fingers reach for the knob, turning — “It’s locked,” you murmur, and his brow furrows, as you cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to the lock.

And he’s spinning you around gently so that you’re pressed to the wall, your breath catching in your throat, as he looms over you, his fingers cupping your chin. His arm around your back, pulling your lower half close to him, but he’s holding the door knob in place while he tries to pick it with his other hand.

Your cheeks burn as he looks down on you, his gaze freezing you in place, far too close — his breath warming your lips, taking the breath from your lungs and replacing your blood with lava. And you can see so clearly — the cut of his jaw, the soft lines of his face, and the curve of his lips—

And then the lock clicks open.

He’s turning the knob, as you spare one glance over your shoulder to see if anyone sees either of you, but then the door is shutting behind you. You feel the wall for a light switch, and you flick it on, while you hear the click of the door locking again.

And you blink, a glorified break room — a few tables and a basic refrigerator stuck in the corner, a worn couch stuck against a wall, and a sink stuck in the corner with a subpar dish rack — far from the accolades that were in each guest’s room — but then again, the employees weren’t paying through the nose for the rooms.

You two stay close, as your eyes scan for anything that could be a camera — even one that isn’t obvious — placed in a smoke detector or lamp shade, “No cameras,” he pulls away, and you try to swallow the lump in your throat, tucking away the embarrassment to dwell on another time (likely right before when you’re trying to sleep).

But then again, the guests weren’t the ones working 18 hour shifts on their feet.

Hotch calls for you, pointing towards a few file drawers stuck in the corner, and the two of you head over, running your finger down the label on the drawers, “These are all client records — administrative, financial — nothing on the employees.”

“They must keep the employee records somewhere else that employees don’t have access to,” and you’re rifling through the folders, for something — anything.

“I haven’t seen any other employee areas,” you shut the drawers, and then you glance around, your eyes falling on another door in the corner of the room — “unless—”

“It must be Rosen and Hillen’s offices,” you walk over, reading the placard — Administration Offices, “locked?”

“This isn’t something that can be picked easily,” Hotch shakes his head, “it has a bump guard — it prevents—”

“--lock bumping,” and Hotch looks over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you my reason if you you tell me yours,

He snorts, “I learned it sometime between 6th grade and military school,” and it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, “my father — he—”

“You don’t have to—” you shake your head, “unless you want to—”

“I’ll just say, it wasn’t a good childhood,” he raises to his feet.

And you can’t help but give a small smile, “But look at how well you turned out,” and he’s shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Hotch,” you make him meet your gaze, “you’re a good man — don’t doubt that.”

His eyes meet yours again, warm, as he looks away to the floor for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching, “Thank you,” he breathes, and he’s stepping forward, “I—”

And then the doorknob is jiggling. Your heads snap to the door, before looking back to each other.

Shit.

Before you know it, his wrist is around yours, and he’s tugging you to the couch, as you fall backwards onto the soft cushions. He’s halfway kneeling between your legs, his body draped over you, and he’s leaning closer, murmuring an apology as he lips draw close to yours, “Hotch—”

And then the door is opening, as his lips nearly brush yours, “Hey!”

An employee stares at the both of you, as you both stumble to your feet, adjusting your clothes, “This is employees only — what are you—”

“Sorry!” you yelp, jumping to your feet, “so sorry,” and you brush past them, Hotch following at your heels.

And the two of you find your way back to the lobby, your heart still in your throat, as you tug on your clothes, “Thanks for the —” your cheeks burn, “I mean, good thinking—” you shake your head, "you know what I mean."

He snorts, his fingers finding yours again, giving them a slight squeeze, "Anytime," and your heart oh-so-helpfully skips a beat, tongue-tied, but luckily you don't have to response as Hotch glances at you, "you never did tell me how you learned about lock picking."

You shrug, “I have a checkered past,”

“That’s not much of an answer,” and you shoot him a half-smile.

“I have to keep you interested somehow don’t I?” you reply right as Brock begins to speak again.

The event wraps up with another talk from Brock — who has an employee approach him towards the end of his talk, whispering in his ear, and he nods, waving him off, “and one last thing — I know you all came to rejuvenate your marriages and partnerships through this retreat and we fully encourage you to do so but—” you swallow thickly, realizing just which employee must have whispered in his ear right then, “please refrain from doing so in restricted areas that are not for our guests.”

You cannot even bear to look at Hotch, keeping your gaze straight ahead, grabbing a drink on the tray, and sipping at it — and you wondered if you were masking your mortification well.

Probably fucking not.

~~~

Brock then adjourns them for the rest of the day — not wanting to “overwhelm them” on day one (or rather padding their time here with nothingness) — welcoming them to have their meal in the dining facilities or up in the rooms.

Most people head off to their rooms, while others linger in the lobby — chatting amongst themselves — he spots Harry rushing off to the dining facilities, his wife in tow.

The rest of the day goes off without much to-do. Hotch glances around — not a single thing of note learned about the guests or the staff. The other couples are all sociable to some extent — some more reserved than others, but none of them fit the unsub’s types so far — placing you two directly in the paths of the unsub.

By the time it’s time for bed, his body is aching for nothing but sleep — and it looked like you had the same idea. Already slipped under the covers, you’re curled up, half-asleep as your eyes flutter heavy with sleep.

Neither of you felt the need to stand guard in the room — the doors were securely locked for each of the couples, and the team was monitoring the situation at the local precinct. But you both kept your weapons close by — concealed in case someone happened to find their way in.

“Are you asleep?” Hotch whispers, and you mumble, shaking your head, turning to glance at him — your shoulders tense and brow furrowed.

“Is something going on?”

And he shakes his head, “No, sorry,” and you relax back in bed, but your lips still pursed, “I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier,” and you tilt your head — and he almost smiles at your sleep-induced confusion.

“Earlier?” and then it floods back to you — as you blink, glancing away from him, “oh—”

He shakes his head, “I just don’t want you to think I was—”

“Hotch, I know you weren’t,” you slowly sit up, “if you hadn’t done that, I think we would have been on our way home on our first day,” you chuckle, “and I know you wouldn’t take advantage — especially when we have a job to do.”

Right, a job, he chides himself, It was a job.

“If you want to sleep—”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” you yawn, turning around and getting comfortable again, “good night, Hotch.”

And he looks at you, a small sigh parting his lips — until he finally settles in bed beside you.

His arm resting across his forehead, he glances at you again. He had spent so much of today holding your hand, his fingers nearly flexing at the memory. It had been so long since he had held someone’s hand, so long since he had worn a ring on his finger, so long since he called someone his partner.

It felt so nice.

Nice — not only because he hadn’t realized how much he had missed having someone, someone beside him, someone there — but because —

Because it was you.

And he knew that because — he didn’t want to let go of your hand.

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

[harrywritingsbyme]

The one about Harry's leather suit

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: So I know it’s like a week late, but Harry won a Grammy...and I’m so proud of him. I wish I could’ve written this sooner, but I’m not as talented and as quick to come up with fic ideas like so many other writers on here. So I decided to just write a smutty and little blurb for y’all. This one was rlly hard to write, not bc I was writers block or anything; simply bc there were just too many good concepts to choose from. Plus the timeline of events of said concepts and the fic in general would be shitty and I didn’t want to jump from one time to a new one and not have a cohesive fic…that takes a lot of practice lmao. So I had to leave some stuff out even tho I rlly didn’t want to. But I hope what I was able to put together isn’t trash…the ending sucks but that’s okay I guess. enjoy🙃

3.7k wordsss

You were going absolutely insane right now. As you sat at the end of the bed and watched Harry get ready for his performance, you were finding it incredibly hard to maintain your composure and hold on to any shred of sanity you had left. Your eyes followed his every movement as he floated through the room, not once stopping to focus on something other than Harry. The only times you looked away were when he caught you redhanded staring at him. But even then, your eyes were trained right back on him once he wasn’t looking in your direction. As you sat there, you could feel your body becoming warmer and warmer, little beads of sweat forming along your forehead and the back of your neck as you watched him. You could also feel the area between your legs becoming stickier and stickier as the time went on. Now you always loved the clothes he wore on stage and how he made just about anything look great. You were also consistent with the mindset that Harry was the most gorgeous man to ever walk the earth. 

But for some reason, in this moment he was even hotter than normal and you were completely obsessed with what he was wearing. His outfit managed to make him look even hotter than usual, his gorgeousness managed to make his outfit look even more stunning and hot, and the both of them together managed to push you to the brink of exploding into a billion tiny pieces. On top of all that, even though you knew his nerves were flowing regarding his first and opening performance at the Grammys where he was nominated an incredible three times, you could still feel his excitement and confidence radiating off of him. Which only contributed to you being pushed even closer to exploding into tiny pieces. The combination of feeling proud of Harry and his accomplishments, being very enamored for him, and being extremely hot and bothered over his mere existence was a whirlwind that only Harry could pull you out of. 

“Okay, so how do I look babe?” Harry asks as he turns around to fully face you, his voice breaking you out of your riled up thoughts. 

“You look great.” You quickly reply, trying to suppress the fiery need you had for him that was rumbling nearly uncontrollably inside of you.

“Are you alright Y/n? You seem a bit out of it.” He asks, his voice filled with concern. Well, pretend concern that is. He wasn’t going to just call you out on being so turned on right in front of his team; he wasn’t going to embarrass you like that. He was already doing it in very subtle ways. From keeping the bathroom door open a bit so that you could watch him change, to making sure to catch you staring at him, to even taking the time to shower you with love and attention. Harry knew exactly what he was doing to you and he got such a kick out of watching you crumble and become desperate for him. Maybe that was just his self proclaimed narcissism working in the form of a mild embarrassment kink. Either way though, Harry knew exactly what he was doing and he knew the effect all of the little things he did would have on you. He also knew that he’d have to take care of you before he was sucked into the madness of it all. No matter how much he loved driving you up the walls with his antics, whether it was turning you on beyond compare or annoying the hell out of you, Harry was always going to make sure you were alright. Plus it ended up working out in his favor since he could really use a pre-first time ever Grammy performance round to loosen him up and shake all the nerves that were running through his body. And you looked too cute just sitting there at the edge of the bed watching him.

“Hey Harry, how much time until we have to leave?” Harry asks his stylist, his attention still in your direction.

“A little over an hour.” His stylist promptly replies. 

“Can I have 30 with Y/n please?” Harry asks, his attention still in your direction. He could see you beginning to squirm a bit under his gaze and he wasn’t going to let up until you two were all alone and he could dive into everything that was going on with you right in front of him.

“And not a second more Harry! And Y/n!” He replies, poking his head around the corner to point his response at you as well. “We have to get pictures and all before we leave.” He then proceeds to get the other two of his team members together and out of the the door. “And please don’t get anything on the clothes!” He shouts back, already having a pretty good idea as to what you two were about to get into before closing the door, leaving you and Harry all alone. 

Without saying a single word to you, Harry steps closer to where you’re sitting on the bed and reaches out to grab your hands and pull you up from the bed. To which you immediately oblige and stand up in front of him at the end of the bed. And in what seemed like a blink of an eye, Harry switches positions with you, sitting at the end of the bed before pulling you right on top of him and into his lap.

“What are you-“

“Don’t act like you don’t want it.” Harry interjects, deciding that if he only had 30 minuets with you, he wasn’t going to be playing any games. 

“But we only-“ 

“Do you want to stop throbbing down there or what?” He asks sternly, cutting you off again.

“M’throbbing so bad.” You sigh, completely giving into him and beginning to move yourself against him a bit.

“Why doll?” He asks, wrapping his hands around your thighs to pull you higher up into his lap before helping you move back and forth against him. 

“You just look so good daddy.” You moan, letting out a little sigh at not only the image of him that was stuck in your head, but also at how good it felt to have some type of friction down there. You were craving any type of touch or attention from Harry and you were finally getting it.

“You like what daddy’s wearin’ for his performance?” He breathes out in response, beginning to get a bit more riled up himself. He was already quite turned on at how you were trying so hard to keep it together. But now you were on top of him, a little subby, and falling apart. He could feel his cock growing and growing in his pants beneath you. And the more you moved back and forth on him, the harder he got and the more desperate he became to have your walls around him.

“Mhm!” You whine, continuing to move back and forth against him. “Need you so bad!” You whimper, leaning into him a bit more so that you could dig your clit down into him. Which in turn causes your moans to become a tad higher. 

“Is that little clit of yours tingling for daddy sweet girl?” He asks, bucking his hips up into you a couple times, picking up on the slight change in your movement. “Bet it’s nice and swollen f’me. Always so sensitive and ready to be played with.” He continues on, reminiscing on all the times where he made you squirt multiple times simply from toying with and sucking on your cute little bud. 

To move things further along, Harry removes his hands from your thighs and he brings brings them up to your waist before lying back against the bed and pulling you higher up in his lap. You were so caught up in how good it felt to be relieving some of the pressure between your legs against the bump in Harry’s pants that you didn’t even notice Harry taking a peek underneath your dress. 

“Well I see someone decided to wear panties today.” Harry chuckles as he pushes his index finger up between your folds a bit to pull the panties that your pussy had practically engulfed out, causing you to snap out of your pleasured trance.

“Figured it was appropriate for the occasion so I decided to just throw a pair on.” You explain through your soft pants, a cute little smile spreading across your face in the process. 

“Cute. But if y’gonna wear panties sweets, make sure they can fit all of y’pussy.” He chuckles, admiring how the glistening and fleshy lips of your cunt practically swallowed up all of the material from your panties.

“But I thought you liked that daddy.” You whisper though a little pout, lifting your dress a little higher to take a peek down there yourself. 

“I do sweet girl. It’s just that I prefer easy access y’know. Never know when I may wanna fuck you or eat your pretty little peach.” He explains. “Don’t want anything in the way.” He continues on, swiftly pulling your panties, which were pretty sticky by the way, to the side to expose your even stickier pussy to him.  “Now that’s even cuter.” Harry huffs, his need to feel you growing by the second. You were so wet that all the curly little hairs around your pussy were completely matted from all of your sticky juices. He had to feel that around his cock.

“Thank you daddy.” You whisper back, feeling a warmth rising to your cheeks at his comment and the fact that he’s just ogling at your pussy. “Now it’s your turn.” You whisper excitedly, moving down off of his bulge some more and shifting your focus on undoing his pants. “I see someone didn’t have the same idea.” You note upon seeing that he was completely bare underneath his pants. 

“Don’t like t’be confined baby, you know that.” He replies simply. “Again, easy access.”

“Just don’t get hard while you’re performing, you know how you get.” You warn. See, given the fact that Harry loved performing, on top of the fact that he was again, a self proclaimed narcissist, he tended to get a bit of a performance high so to speak. And as a result of that performance high, Harry would get excited. And since he is now a 3x Grammy nominee, and performing for that matter, that performance high was definitely going to be intensified. 

Once you’ve completely undone his pants, you immediately push your hand down into them and you pull his cock out. At this point he was fully hard and throbbing, begging to be lodged in between your walls. You could see and feel all of the veins running up and down his shaft and his head was a reddish color with glistening precum beading at his slit. As you stare at his very sizable cock, you couldn’t help but be a little bit intimidated at his size. He was so big and even after the countless times he’s pushed into you, it was still incredibly hard to fathom all of him being able to fit inside. But that didn’t meant that you didn’t want him to be inside of you. So without wasting any more time, you lift yourself onto your knees and you move up to hover over Harry’s cock, keeping your hand wrapped around his hard yet soft shaft. When you do this, Harry uses his free hand to bunch your dress up at your hips so that he could watch you sink down onto him. 

“Don’t be scared of it baby. Just take it inside like the good girl you are for daddy.” He encourages through his breaths, pulling your panties to the side a bit more. You then begin to lower yourself down onto him, stopping when you feel the thick crown of his cock nudging at you. Since you couldn’t really see, you feel your way around, pushing his cock around the warm and ready area between your legs. Once you have him positioned at your entrance, you begin to slowly sink down onto him. 

“Oh my-fuck daddy!” You whimper, feeling the familiar sting that came along with taking Harry’s cock.

“Doin’ so good f’me baby!” Harry praises trough his grunts, becoming a bit overwhelmed at how good you feel around him. Your whines were like music to his ears as you filled yourself with him and your walls were like heaven. 

By the time you make it a little over halfway down his cock, you’re all floaty and incredibly overwhelmed that you can’t even go any further without stopping. When you open your eyes to look down at Harry, you see him staring back at you with intense yet proud eyes and you couldn’t help but clench up around him a bit. 

“Can I have more daddy?” You moan, moving mack and forth against the portion of his cock that was already inside of you. Instead of verbally replying to your question, Harry lets go of your panties and brings it up to your waist so that both hands were at your waist for him to guide you the rest of the way down. And as he does, the both of you let out the most frenzied moans, you and Harry feeling the deepest part of you becoming full with his cock. There were even little tears welling up in your eyes because it just felt so good. When you’re fully sitting in his lap again, you immediately begin moving against him. You have keep both hands planted on his bare chest as you grind and bounce yourself on his cock

“Fuck Y/n! Takin’ me so well doll.” Harry grunts, keeping his hands tightly wrapped around your hips as you move. Even though your movements were a bit sloppy, they were still nothing short of perfect. At some points you’d get a good bouncing rhythm going, lifting yourself and dropping back down onto him over and over again. And then you’d hit that spot inside of you, and you’d just keep yourself down and grind and circle your hips around to apply pressure and friction to that spot with his cock. Other times you’d be moving on his cock, but you’d be digging your clit into the slightly coarse hairs surrounding Harry’s cock, that being your biggest pleasure point. Harry was positive that your little button would be all swollen and even more sensitive than it already was once you were done but you could’ve cared less. All you were concerned about was feeling good. And so was Harry. 

He loved and thought you looked absolutely cute being all selfish and trying your hardest to relieve yourself. While you were consumed with pleasuring yourself, you were in turn pleasuring Harry in ways that were beyond belief. On top of the obvious fact that your walls were the best and the only thing Harry ever wanted to be around his cock, your juices were also playing a part in his pleasure. Since you were practically gushing around him, your juices were constantly flowing out of you. They were dripping right out of you, down from his cock, and down to his balls and even further to his entrance. It felt so good to Harry, he wished he could have more. You were making him feel so good that his moans were just a song of your praises.

But even though you were making Harry feel absolutely amazing, you were becoming exhausted. At this point, it was too much and you could barely hold yourself up let alone keep moving back and forth against him. Upon seeing this, Harry takes control of it all and flips you two over so that he’s on top of you. When he does this, his cock slips out of you. But instead of immediately pushing back inside, Harry brings his hands to your thighs to push them apart before pulling your panties back over to the side and attaching him mouth to your oh so sensitive clit.  When you feel Harry suckling on your clit, you lose it. You could feel him suckling and sucking on your button, quickly flicking his tongue back and forth against you, not once letting up. You could also feel him using his free hand to lightly scratch at the inside of your thigh which was also very sensitive. Harry then lets up from your clit to give you one wide lick from your entrance all the way up to your clit before going back to sucking at it. And at that moment, you realize that you wouldn’t be able to wait and cum with him. You just let go right then and there. To be more specific, you squirt all over the lower portion of Harry’s face and part of his chest. When he feels your warm juices splashing against his face, he begins to suck even harder; making your moans intensify and your hands tug even harder on his hair. Once you’ve stopped squirting, Harry detaches his mouth from your clit, and quickly licks and slobbers all over you before coming back up. Even though your juices were all warm, it was still a little refreshing considering the fact that he was quite literally burning up in the all leather look that you loved so much.

“Now what you have between your legs is a Grammy winning pussy sweetheart. And it deserves every other award there is to give.” He praises through a chuckle, causing you to let out a little, tired out laugh. Harry was completely in awe at how amazing your cunt was and what you just did. But he doesn’t spend too much time being in awe though because he can feel his release bubbling in his lower stomach and the time he has left with you was running low. So he taps his cock against your very pink and swollen clit before sinking back into you and going right into pistoning himself in and out of you over and over again. With every stroke, Harry could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He could also feel you tightening your walls up around him with every thrust. You were incredibly sensitive from your last release and you were on the brink of another. Whenever he slams back into you, he almost grinds up against you, aka your clit. 

“Gonna cum again daddy!” You cry out to him, digging your heels into the bed and clawing at the sheets, feeling a second wave building up inside of you. 

“Cum with me baby.” Harry growls, feeling himself approaching the edge of his release. And with two more swift thrusts, you and Harry are catapulted off of the edge. As you squirt for the second time (thank goodness he had them pushed down far enough so that they wouldn’t get all wet), Harry unloads all he has into you, dropping his head into your neck as he releases spurt after spurt of his cum into you.

After a minuet or two of catching his breath, Harry lifts his face from your neck and he slowly pulls himself from you, making sure to quickly pull your panties back over to keep his cum from spilling out and making an even bigger mess between your legs. And to really keep all of that cum secure inside of you, he pushes your panties back up between the lips of your pussy. They were going to end up in there anyways so why not. 

“Thanks for the sugar high doll.” He hums as he hovers over your disheveled and adorably fucked out figure, his bended knee right between your limp and spread legs. “I love you” He softly sings with a dopey smile. Proceeding to bring his hand up to lightly choke you and  cup your chin before connecting his lips with your slightly parted ones for a kiss. It was supposed to be And as he sponges his lips against yours, you could feel his tongue gliding perfectly against yours, taking complete control and exploring your mouth. 

“I love you too.” You reply with a little laugh once he pulls away from your lips, still floaty from it all.

He then stands up and pulls his undone pants back up. He looked absolutely gorgeous right then and there. When you see your phone lying on the bed where you tossed it a little bit earlier, you quickly reach over and grab it to capture a quick snap of that undeniably hot moment that was right in front of your eyes. His pants were undone like they were when he first put the clothes on and because you missed out on that first opportunity to capture him like that, you weren’t going to miss out on this one. Especially when he’s covered in that amazing post sex glow. 

“Are you takin’ pictures of me?” He smirks as he begins to do his pants back up. 

“Mhm, how could I not?!” You ask, dropping the phone back onto the bed to fully take in his actions in front of you.  “Plus, I want to be the first to memorialize this suit.”

“Well you’re first one to christen it that’s for sure.” Harry jokes. “I do look pretty hot though if I do say so myself.” Harry admires, looking into the mirror beside him. 

“Very hot. The leather is just doing it for me for some reason.” You admire.

“Well m’glad you like it sweets.” He Hums “Gotta get up though, I have a feeling they’re about to kick down the door.” He replies, quickly doing his pants back up before leaning over to grab you up from the bed. 

“Cant feel my legs.” You tiredly huff, doing your best to move with Harry’s tugging motions.

“Well if I win on Sunday you won’t be feeling your legs for the entire week.” He replies mater of factly.

“And if you don’t?” You ask, deciding to poke at him a bit as you sit at the end of the bed.

“You won’t be feeling your legs for the entire week.” He chuckles, repeating his previous statement.

“Now I’m really looking forward to Sunday. I mean…I get to watch you perform in this suit again, I get to watch you achieve something major in your career, and I get the opportunity to be railed at the end of it all. I’m the real winner here.” You happily reply to Harry before falling back onto the bed. 

Masterlist

[queenshelby]

THE ARRANGEMENT – SEALING THE DEAL

Featuring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 3522

Warning: Sugar Daddy, Submission, Smut, BDSM

Notes: I will use this headline to write more smutty encounters between Tommy and the Reader. But they will get a bit heavier in the BDSM department. So if this is not your thing, don’t keep reading.

Requested: Yes

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………

The Proposal

Today marks the day you’ve been working for at the Garrison exactly one year. A job you found by sheer accident when you moved to Birmingham.

You had no money when you fled Northern Ireland and were in need of employment. Your parents were involved with the IRA and with a well-known surname like yours, it was difficult for you to find employment.

You always tried hard to disassociate yourself from your parents with whom you did not agree on political matters. They were terrorists and you stood elsewhere on the Irish question.

When you arrived in Birmingham, you were offered a job at the local whorehouse. You declined. The last thing you wanted was to lose your virginity to some filthy married patron who paid you as little as 2 shillings for your services.

When you saw a job advertised in the paper at the local pub, you applied. This is when you met Grace Shelby who hired you.

Grace was there by sheer accident herself, arranging the new fit-out for the pub. She was Thomas Shelby’s wife and no longer worked herself.

She was a kind hearted woman and had been in your shoes many years ago. No one other than Grace believed that you would last in a job like this. But here you were, still working behind the bar and serving alcohol to drunk men.

To your disappointment, Grace had passed away six months ago and your husband Tommy has never been the same since.

For the first four months following her death, he got himself and his family into lot of trouble. The majority of his family members were serving prison time for a robbery. But not Tommy. He was working on their release while continuing to build his family’s wealth.

Ever since their arrest, he attended the Garrison frequently, most often late at night after he had visited one of the up market brothels owned by him.

Of course, he didn’t tell you that, but it was obvious to you. It was his way of coping with life and to stay focused.

You talked a lot. He would often be the last patron at the Garrison and ask you to drink with him. You didn’t drink much, but would allow yourself a glass of whiskey on occasion.

Tonight, was one of these nights where Tommy and you were alone, just talking and drinking.

He walked into the Garrison at 11 o’clock, greeted you and ordered a whiskey.

‘You are early tonight Mr Shelby’ you said.

‘Well, Y/N, things have not been going my way today’ he responded.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ you asked.

‘I rather not’ he responded.

‘Alright, no talking then’ you said with a smile.

‘Do you have a man in your life Y/N?’ he then asked all of a sudden. His question took you by surprise.

‘I do not. Never had. Why are you asking?’ you wondered.

‘No reason. Just curious why a woman like you works in a place like this’ he said bluntly.

‘It pays well, I get good tips. I had a job offer from one of the mistresses at one of your brothels. I declined. I rather serve 50 drunk men a night than fuck ten of them’ you laughed.

‘This seems like a reasonable choice’ Tommy chuckled.

‘So, you ever get bored of them? Knowing that sex is no more than a transaction to them and you are no more than a client must be frustrating’ you asked.

‘How much whiskey did you have to drink tonight Y/N, eh?’ Tommy asked sheepishly, being surprised by the directness of your question.

‘More than a little. It’s my birthday’ you laughed.

‘That’s what I thought. Happy Birthday Y/N’ Tommy said.

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby, but you didn’t answer my question’ you smirked.

‘The good thing about prostitutes is that they do exactly what you pay them to do. They fuck. They don’t expect feelings from you, just money. You are right, it is a simple transaction’ Tommy said.

‘Sounds boring and repetitive. Wouldn’t you rather have someone consistent? The same skilled woman every time, someone who gets to learn exactly how to please you, always around right at your disposal and with no strings attached?’ you asked.

‘I’ve read that, in France, rich businessmen and politicians keep themselves mistresses rather than going to brothels. It’s discrete and it’s safe. The men provide their mistresses with accommodation and visit them for sex whenever they please’ you added.

‘A mistress, eh?’ Where do you think I would find such a woman Y/N? Tommy joked.

‘Well Mr Shelby, I know of someone who would be very interested to come to some sort of arrangement’ you smirked.

‘You realise that I am about twice your age?’ Tommy asked sheepishly, knowing exactly that you were talking about yourself becoming his mistress.

‘I do and this makes it even more interesting’ you suggested.

‘You are quite young Y/N. How many men have you been with?’ Tommy asked

‘None’ you said, causing Tommy to choke on his whiskey.

‘No’ he said firmly. ‘I don’t do virgins Y/N. It’s not my thing’ Tommy added.

‘Think about it, I am like a clean canvas. You can teach me exactly how you want to be pleased’ you smirked.

‘You are clearly drunk Y/N. I shall drive you home’ Tommy said.

And so he did. After you closed up the pub, he drove you to your apartment which was located in one of the worst areas of Birmingham.

As he drove you home, you brought up your proposal again and Tommy appeared more open to consider it at this point. But not tonight, not with you having been influenced by alcohol.

You were an attractive woman, clean and easy to talk to. You worked in the Garrison for a year and he knew you would be discrete and he could trust you.

‘Come to my office tomorrow at noon if you decide that this is what you want and then we talk, eh’ Tommy said as he pulled up in front of your apartment.

You nodded before saying goodnight to him.

The Arrangement

The next day, you attended Tommy’s office as instructed.

‘Y/N, I am surprised to see you’ Tommy smirked as you walked inside his office.

‘You thought I wasn’t serious, didn’t you?’ you smirked as you sat down in front of his desk.

‘Let’s just say, you surprised me’ he said with a grin.

Tommy then went on to ask you what you expect from your arrangement if he was going ahead and agree with it.

You didn’t have many demands other than being looked after financially.

Tommy then advised you that you might change your mind if you know what his desires were.

Thomas Shelby was no ordinary man and he didn’t enjoy ordinary sex, which is one of the reasons he was getting bored with the prostitutes.

He was looking for what some might call a submissive. He enjoyed authority, even in the bedroom.

He wanted to be in charge, always.

With that in mind, you agreed. You were ready to be his and sealed the deal with a passionate kiss.

‘Alright, it’s a deal Y/N. But, to ensure that you understand, you belong to me. You are my property and you are not to fuck anyone else, understood?’ Tommy said as he pulled his lips away from yours, his hand holding onto your hair tightly.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you said, biting your lip.

‘You will be available when I need you to be available and you will submit. Is that understood?’ Tommy then said.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you answered before his lips met yours again in a hasty kiss.

‘Good. Now, since you are a virgin, the first time, I will take it easy on you’ Tommy said as he kissed your neck, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume.

‘Here are the keys to your apartment. 15 Watery Lane. I will visit you tonight at 8 o’clock and this is what I expect you to wear. Nothing else’ Tommy said as he handed you a small bag.

‘Before I come over, I want you to think of a safe word which you can use at any time’ he added, causing you to nod. He had explained the premise of a safe word to you earlier when you discussed what he would expect from you.

Sealing the Deal

Later that evening, after you settled into your new apartment, you were waiting for Tommy in nothing but the black lace panties he gave you.

He was right on time, letting himself into your apartment at 8 o’clock.

‘Do you like what you see Mr Shelby?’ you asked as he walked through the door.

‘I do, very much so’ Tommy said before he kissed you and ran his hands over your breasts and down to your stomach, making you moan.

He continued the gentle gestures for approximately five minutes, kissing you gently and exploring every inch of your body.

‘What have you decided on for a safe word Y/N?’ Tommy asked after he broke the last kiss.

‘Red’ you said.

‘Red. Very well.’ Tommy said before taking off his jacket, waistcoat and gun holster and placing them all onto one of the armchairs.

He then walked back over to you and gave you one more quick kiss.

‘Now be a good girl and get on your knees. And Y/N... eye contact. I want you looking at me’ Tommy said as he pulled your hair downward to bring you to kneel in front of him.

He kept his hand wrapped in your hair behind your head but clutched onto your skull tightly. You were about to be Tommy’s, in complete submission.

With his other hand he unzipped his pants and slowly pulled out his impressive length. You gasped. This is the first time you saw a man’s most intimate parts right in front of you.

‘Open your mouth’ Tommy instructed as you looked up into his blue eyes.

You obliged and Tommy pulled your head forward and forced your lips around the head of his erect cock.

Your hands shot up to his thighs to try to hold him back but he charged forward, making you take the first few inches of his length into your mouth.

You closed your eyes, trying instantly to focus and control your gag reflexes. There you thought that he was going to take it easy on you. If this was him taking it easy, what would he otherwise be like you wondered.

‘Look at me’ he instructed as he began to notice your eyes fall close.

Your lips were completely stretched around the girth of his shaft as he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth.

Your ravishing eyes opened and looked up at him, his face full of want and desire for you.

As you looked at him you started growing more comfortable as the minutes passed.

You relaxed your grip on his legs and began opening your throat a little for his intrusion.

You kept eye contact whenever you weren’t suppressing a gag reflex. Your mouth soon began to move with his rhythm while your tongue was stimulating him.  

After about five minutes Tommy released his hold on your hair and reached down to your breasts, playing with your already hard nipples. You moaned around his cook as he stimulated your breasts and the wetness began to grow in between your legs.

You bopped your head up and down his length, trying to take as much of it into your mouth as you could.

Your hands soon joined your mouth, and stimulated the end of his shaft which didn’t make into your mouth.

‘Is this what you wanted, Mr Shelby?’ you asked.

Tommy nodded politely in between moans, running his fingers through your hair again.

He pushed you down on his cock a few more times, making you take him deeper than before, while he looked down, admiring the view.

‘Good girl, that’s it, take it all in’ he groaned as he guided your head.

You struggled, finding it difficult to breath, but you obliged.

The sight of you taking him like this drove him crazy and, after several more strokes, he pulled your head back up and, without warning, re-entered your mouth with vigor and dominance.

You squirmed below him and your hands moved back to his upper thighs, attempting to press him back.

But Tommy had other ideas and swatted your hands away from his legs.

‘Cross your wrists behind your back Y/N’ Tommy ordered.

‘Tommy’ you pleaded.

‘I make the rules Y/N. You don't get to resist. If you want me to stop, use your safe word’ he said.

With reluctance, you placed your wrists behind your back. Some twisted part within yourself enjoyed this, him taking you like this. In your mind, you were nowhere near at your limits.

Just like this, Tommy took hold of your hair again and thrusted forward into your open mouth, deeper and deeper until he bottomed out in your throat.

You could no longer retain eye contact and he didn’t seem to care as he continued to thrust into your mouth a few more times until he decided to relent.

He soon released the grip on your hair and made you look up at him.

‘Come up, you’ve done well’ he said as he pulled you up towards him and pulled you in for a kiss.

His hands moved in between your legs.

‘So fucking wet eh’ he said as he ran his hand over your soaked panties.

‘Take them off’ he instructed and you didn’t resist and pulled them off in a haste.

‘Now Love, I think it’s time for us to sort out this little issue for yours, eh?’ Tommy said with a smirk.

‘Yes Mr Shelby’ you said nervously, knowing that he was about to take your virginity.

While you always thought about this moment to be romantic, you were at the point where you just wanted it to be over with. You were soaking for him and you wanted him to fuck you just the way he wanted. You wanted to be taken by him, right then and there, regardless of the pain.

‘Shall we go to the bedroom?’ you asked.

‘No Love, right here will do just fine’ Tommy said as he turned your ass on to the edge of the kitchen room table, and gently pushed your back down on to it.

His eyes gazed over your perfect body, taking in the view of your breasts and your soaking wet mound.

‘Open your legs’ he instructed just as he lowered himself in between them.

You weren’t sure what he was doing and watched him nervously as, all of a sudden, he dipped his tongue into your wet slit.

You squealed in surprise, but it was already too late to plead for him not to, his tongue was already murdering your senses.

He sucked and licked over your clit just as you could feel two fingers enter you.

You expected pain, but it was nothing but please when he began to slowly thrust them in and of you.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as Tommy worked his magic on you.

You weren’t sure why he was doing this. Wasn’t it all about his pleasure and his pleasure alone? But, when you looked at him, he seemed to be enjoying this. You squirmed helplessly beneath him.

As he circled his tongue over your clit over and over again and carefully pushed two of his fingers in and out of you, you could feel an unfamiliar sensation build up in your stomach.

Soon you we trembling to your own unbidden orgasm. You were already aroused beyond your own redemption.

The intensity or your climax was so all encompassing, that your muscles from your stomach to your knees, spasmed and contracted. Your legs slammed together trapping Tommy’s head in a wrestlers type grip, and his eyes bulged until you relaxed a little.

As your orgasm washed over you, you could feel Tommy grin against your mound.

‘I think you are ready to take my cock now Love’ he said after you came down from your high and he positioned himself in between your spread legs.

Within seconds, Tommy hooked his hands under your calves and lifted them to rest on his shoulders. Now he was ready, you were flat out on your new kitchen room table, and in no position to refuse him.

He held your knees apart. and maneuvered his cock to your bright wet slit. He rubbed it up and down a couple of times before commencing his intrusion.

‘Don’t worry Love, I will be gentle since it’s your first time’ Tommy said as he pressed forward slightly and pushed his cock into your small, warm, and unbelievably tight pussy.

Despite his best efforts, you moaned and screamed at the same time at the intrusion but there was nothing you could do, not now.

‘You can take it Love. I know you can. If you want me stop, use your safe word’ Tommy said as he pushed into you further.

You moaned loudly has his length invaded you and pushed past your barrier, causing you to let out another moan and scream until, finally, he was completely inside of you. Tommy had just about split you in two and you had never felt like this before, you were full and he could feel your body trying to get out of the way

Tommy let you adjust to his size and then began pulling on your hips, before thrusting into you gently.

‘God you are so fucking tight Y/N’ he moaned as, slowly, you began to relax completely.

After several gentle thrusts to, Tommy pressed your knees back together and then he pulled out and rammed it back in again.

You cried out once more, but this time not in pain but, instead, in pure pleasure. You felt him running up and down your love channel and it felt better than anything else you had experienced before. There had been no event in your life that could have prepared you for this.

‘Oh my god Tommy, please make me cum again’ you begged him.

Tommy grinned and didn’t care to correct you on your language.

He began to fuck you mercilessly and rode you past your pain into a world of pleasure.

The unassailable flush of desire and the insane delight of him being inside of you overcame everything you were, or ever had been. As he thrusted in and you over and over again, harder with each stroke, you got lost in the grip of irrepressible lust, a powerful inarticulate lust.

It wasn’t long until he fucked you just the way he wanted, hard and fast. You were ready for it and you took it, every single bit of it.

And, just like that, you could feel another even more intense orgasm wash over you.

‘Good girl, cum around my cock’ he moaned as he picked up his speed and pounded into you.

With one loud moan, your walls contracted and your quivered beneath him. You were a shaking mess and screamed his name as you rode out your orgasm.

Just as you came down from your high, he pulled out of you. He was not done with you yet.

Without letting you recover, he pushed you back onto your knees in front of him.

‘You know what to do’ he said just as he pushed his cock back into your mouth firmly while grabbing onto your hair.

This time, he held your head in place while he began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth.

Your eyes shut again instantly and unintentionally in order to deal with the gag reflex.

‘Look at me’ he instructed and you obliged, opening your eyes and looking towards his face.

‘I'm going to cum in your mouth’ he said, causing you to nod.

‘I hope this was understood, but I expect you to swallow’ he added and, just like this, with several more thrusts, his warm cum spurted into the back of your throat.

You gagged again, trying hard to allow his warm seed to run down your throat as he thrusted into you until, finally, he came to a hold.

You licked the last of his cum from his hard cock, making sure to swallow every single drop.

‘You did well Y/N’ Tommy said with still laboured breathing.

‘Thank you, Mr Shelby’ you said as you stood up and had a drink from his glass of whiskey.

‘I will see you on Friday, same time’ Tommy said as he zipped up his pants and buckled up his belt.

‘Friday it is’ you grinned with excitement before he gave you a passionate kiss.

‘We will try something new then and I won’t be as gentle with you then’ he said.

‘I am looking forward to it’ you winked as you said goodbye to him.

[tobesolonely]

queen anne’s coffee

A/N: hello everyone! I am not D/deaf or Hard of Hearing. However, this was requested more than once I wanted to do my best to provide. In this story, Y/N is a part of the Deaf community. if I have misrepresented the Deaf community in any way or wrote something inaccurate or offensive, then please DO NOT hesitate to let me know (respectfully, of course!) i wanted to fulfill this person’s request and be as inclusive as i could, as i don’t typically see stories with a Deaf!reader. shes short and sweet but i hope you all enjoy anyway! as always, feedback is very much welcomed and appreciated! :)

Summary: Y/N visits Harry’s coffee shop every Tuesday and Thursday and always orders the same thing. Harry HAS to get to know her!!!

word count: ~1.7k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Every Tuesday and Thursday at exactly 3:50 PM, Y/N placed an online order that consisted of an iced chai tea latte with oat milk and a butter croissant from Harry’s coffee shop, Queen Anne’s Coffee.

Y/N never forgot to add, “warmed up pls! thank you :)” in the section for comments, and she always tipped. She would then come into Harry’s shop approximately ten minutes later, walk up to the ‘pickup’ counter, grab her items, smile at Harry, and promptly leave. Harry never even so much as said hello to her, but he was irrevocably captivated––even if she was a complete stranger.

Harry decided that when Y/N came in today for her usual, he’d finally talk to her.

Business had been unusually slow for a Thursday afternoon but Harry didn’t mind–when Y/N came in, he’d be able to have a proper chat with her without having to rush the conversation along to help other customers. His gaze kept floating up to the cat-shaped clock hanging above the door, anxiously awaiting 3:50 PM when Y/N’s order would come through on the iPad and he got to read the words, “warmed up pls! thank you :)”

Harry didn’t know why he was so nervous to speak to her. As the owner of his very own coffee shop (and it’s only employee), he got to know the people who came in regularly well, even developing genuine friendships with some. It bothered Harry that this beautiful person gave him business two days a week and the only thing he knew about her was her name, which is only because he can see it when she places her order online.

When the iPad Harry keeps plugged up atop the counter chimes, he doesn’t even have to glance at it to know it was Y/N but he does anyway, feelings of excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He was finally going to talk to her! Harry contemplates scribbling his number on the side of her cup as he’s writing her name but decides against it, not wanting to be too forward before they even formally meet.

When Y/N comes in ten minutes later, Harry can immediately sense something is wrong. She hardly looks up once as she shuffles from the door to the counter, hoodie pulled up and drawn tight over her head.

“Are you okay?”

Y/N doesn’t look up or even acknowledge the fact that Harry spoke. Even though there’s only two other people in the shop besides them, Harry figures she might think he was talking to someone else and addresses her by name.

“Y/N?”

She still doesn’t address Harry as she gives him a small smile before hurriedly exiting the shop, the bell above the door signaling her exit.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

When Tuesday comes, Harry’s out of bed before his alarm jolts him from his dreams.

He thought about Y/N all weekend as he impatiently awaited Tuesday’s arrival, excited over the prospect of finally seeing her again. He hoped she was doing better today than she was last week, and he really hoped she was in the mood to chat with him today.

Harry’s grateful the shop is busy today. It helps to keep his mind off of Y/N, and his eyes off the clock. When the iPad chimes at 3:50 on the dot, Harry decides he’ll wait until she comes in to prepare her order. It didn’t take him over two minutes, anyway. He figures this will give him a bit more time to chat with her, at least say hello and see if she’s doing better.

Much to his pleasure, Y/N has a big smile on her face when she bursts through the door ten minutes later. She floats to the pickup counter, then furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she looks up at Harry.

“Sorry, I’m working on your order right now,” Harry grabs a purple marker off the counter, scribbling Y/N’s name on the cup used for iced drinks. “How’s your day so far?”

Harry watches as Y/N cocks her head to the side in confusion, then pulls her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She quickly types something before holding her phone out for Harry to take.

“I can’t hear you! I’m Deaf.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he reads what she said. He now understood why Y/N didn’t answer him when he tried speaking to her last week, and he’s secretly relieved that she wasn’t ignoring him because she hated him or anything like that.

“I know a bit of sign!” Harry types before handing Y/N back her phone. He watches as her eyes skim his words and she looks up, a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Great! This is much faster.” Her hands move quickly as she signs. “Did my order work or not? Wi-Fi is bad at home today.”

Harry realizes he doesn’t know as much sign language as he thought he did.

“OK. I am rusty.”

Y/N smiles at this and pulls her phone back out, typing what she just signed to him before passing it back to him. A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he learns she was just asking if her order came through alright, seeing as it was not yet ready. Too embarrassed to tell her he intentionally waited until she arrived to prepare her order, he just nods.

“I’ll have it ready in no more than two minutes… and refund you, too. I’m sorry for the wait.” Harry looks up at Y/N as he passes the phone to her, eyes not leaving her face as he tries to gauge her reaction.

“No!” Her head shakes as she signs. “Happy to pay. Thank you.”

Harry understands Y/N but refunds her, anyway.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Why do you always come Tuesday and Thursday? Same time?”

“Exams every Tuesday and Thursday.” The look of obvious dissatisfaction on Y/N’s face makes Harry laugh. “Your chai and pastries cheer me up after.”

Harry’s face turns red at Y/N’s admittance, so he instead looks down, pretending he’s distracted by something on the iPad. He decides at that moment that he will no longer charge Y/N for her oat milk latte and croissant. She was a college student after all––if her financial situation was like Harry’s in any way when he was in college earning his business degree, it would probably be beneficial for her to save her money, anyhow.

Ever since Harry and Y/N’s first real interaction, Y/N had been coming into Queen Anne’s nearly every day, school supplies and laptop in tow. She always sat at the table closest to the front counter, directly in Harry’s line of vision so they could sign to each other.

Y/N provided Harry with some much needed (and enjoyed) company when business was slow, and she was helping him brush up on his sign language. Harry learned that Y/N is Deaf; her hearing is completely gone in her left ear and almost completely gone in the right. She’s the only person in her family who is Deaf. She also hated eggs, is lactose intolerant (hence the oat milk), has two older siblings, is a master’s student, and a plethora of other things that Harry had committed to memory.

“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoy.”  

“Who is A-N-N-E?”

Harry grins. “My mother. Back in London.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “London? Amazing! You must have an accent.”

It dawns on Harry that Y/N has never heard his voice before. “Yes. Are you from here?” Y/N nods in response.

“Whole life. Small town, but it’s home.” Her pinched hand moves quickly from her mouth up to her ear.

“Sorry. What?”

“H-O-M-E.”

A look of realization floods Harry’s face as he nods in response, signaling for Y/N to give him a moment as the bell above the entrance jingles. It seems as if the few people who walk through the door act as a catalyst for others to enter, and soon Queen Anne’s is at maximum occupancy and Harry is trying to make several drinks at once while taking orders. He locks eyes with Y/N a few times and she gives him a sympathetic look, not able to do much to help him out.

Harry decides that once business dies back down, he’ll find out if Y/N is interested in a part-time job.

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was interested in a part-time job.

She was a fast learner and a hard worker. Harry was more than delighted to show her how to make every drink on the menu, and consume her failed attempts. It was nice having someone else behind the counter with him––he wished he’d gone about hiring someone to help him much sooner, but he was glad to now have Y/N by his side.

“So much chai! I thought only I drank this stuff.”

Harry’s gaze lingers on Y/N for a beat too long, causing her to shift slightly. Harry’s hand moves to scratch the back of his neck. “Yes. I like chai. With milk.” His hand forms a ‘C’ then closes to form an ‘S’ twice for the word “milk”.

“Regular?” One of Y/N’s eyebrows raises as she asks her question, setting a hot chai latte atop the “pickup” counter.

“S-O-Y.”

Y/N lets out a quiet snort of laughter as she shakes her head. It was the first time Harry ever made her laugh out loud. After hearing her laugh once, he never wanted to stop––it was music to his ears. “Not surprised!”

Harry’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Why?” His eyes remain on Y/N as she walks around the small area, cleaning up a small coffee spill she had earlier.

“You just are a S-O-Y boy, H. My S-O-Y boy!”

Harry’s cheeks immediately turn pink as they did the first time Y/N said something that flustered him, but he doesn’t look away.

“You’re my O-A-T girl.”

⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Thank you everyone for reading!!! This is only the beginning of Y/N and Harry I think <33

[uvobreakmylegs]

Haze

i saw a meme and it made me want to write a Morel piece. then @ramwrites​ suggested making him a banshee and i loved it

i have definitely bastardized banshee lore but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do for a story

Warnings: manipulation, mentions of death

A hiking trip up to a nearby mountain trail had been on a list of things to do for you and your friend group for a while. Your friend Denali had suggested it, and she assured you all that it wouldn't be anything too difficult; it was just a beginner's trail that would consist of a few hours of walking up the trail and back. And then maybe you all could grab some food after.

You were pretty excited for it, as the idea sounded refreshing to you. Another thing that added to the anticipation of the hike was the fact that it had also been a little while since everyone in the friend group had been able to hang out together.

Or more accurately, it had been a while since you were able to make it to one of these friend meetups.

Some kind of bad luck had been plaguing you recently; the last few times an outing for the four of you had been planned, something unexpected came up for you and you needed to cancel last minute. Be it work obligations, family emergencies or just you getting sick the night before, it had been a while since you hung out with them like you once had.

Aiden, Denali and Colton all seemed to take it well, but you swore you could sense a growing annoyance in them. They seemed to be shorter with you in texts, and there had been a few times now that you'd sent a picture or said something in the group chat and it had been ignored. You worried that they were starting to think you were making up excuses instead of genuinely being unable to see them, but every time you tried to talk with them privately, they told you that there wasn't anything wrong and that you were just overreacting.

That hadn't made you feel any better. You just felt like a bad friend.

But today would be different.

You made a point to ensure that you had the day completely cleared for the hike, getting the day off from your work well in advance and doing your best to stay away from anything that might make you sick. The morning of your friends had all confirmed that it was still on, and after a little while they were going to rendezvous at your place to pick you up before you all headed out to the trail.

Things were going to be different today, and you were excited for it.

And things were different.

But maybe not in a way that you had expected.

You didn't notice the second car that had pulled up behind Denali's initially when they stopped outside your place. You only noticed that something was different when you approached Denali's car and noticed that one of the seats in the back had been taken up by a pile of backpacks, leaving no room for you.

When Aiden stepped out of the first car as you came out to greet him, he explained the situation. Without your knowledge, Aiden had invited someone from his work, a woman named Fawn. Evidently during those times when you couldn't make it, your friends had been hanging out with her a lot, and they had figured that she should be invited on this trip as well.

That they were hanging out with other people didn't upset you; they had every right to spend their time with people that were able to show up. But you felt slightly hurt that you hadn't been asked or even given a heads-up that this was happening. You had been anticipating spending time with your old friend group for this trip and instead you would be trying to reconnect while also navigating a new group dynamic.

But you decided not to say anything about it. You just nodded and smiled when Aiden told you that you'd be riding with Fawn in her car. Although it was unexpected, you told yourself that new people wasn't necessarily a bad thing. You could probably make good friends with her while also berating yourself for your first reaction to her being disappointment. That sort of attitude was no good.

Despite all of that, you quickly came to feel that you didn't like Fawn very much.

For one thing, the woman was one of the most reckless drivers you had ever come across. Virtually blowing through stop signs, running several lights and swerving around drivers that she felt weren't going fast enough, there were several times during the trip that you felt she was going to cause an accident. She also passed by Denali's car for some reason, and when you asked her why, she said she thought it would be fun to see who could get to the mountain first. You didn't agree, but there was literally nothing you could do but hold onto the inside of the passenger side door for dear life. The motion sickness you'd gotten was so bad that by the time you made it to the parking lot next to the hiking trail, you'd needed to lean against the side of her car and take in deep breaths in an attempt to not throw up your breakfast.

At least she seemed pretty apologetic when she saw you like that, and she offered you a bottle of water which you gladly took. But the second Denali's car pulled up she seemed to switch her focus to that completely, going up to the rest of the group to greet them. She had something of a one-track mind, it seemed. It didn't make her a bad person, but you still wanted a bit of distance for now.

After recovering and making sure you had everything you needed in your backpack, you approached Aiden while the others were getting ready.

“Hey,” you said, “you think you and I could switch places for the car ride back?”

“Oh c'mon, it couldn't have been that bad,” he said, “you'll hurt her feelings if you do that. She really wants to know you.”

Fawn walked up right after, and since you weren't willing to criticize her driving right in front of her, you dropped it.

Meanwhile the mountain loomed above all of you. Tall and imposing with a rather dense white fog that almost obscured the very top of it. There were parts that were heavily forested, and you briefly wondered if you would need to worry about anything like bears or some other kind of large wild animal.

“How far up are we going?” you asked Denali.

“Not too far. We'll be sticking to the marked trail; there's a cool little observation deck at the end of it,” she told you, “I figure we'll head towards that and then come back the same way.”

You nodded, but before you could give any real response Colton called her over for something, and she left to help him. Aiden and Fawn were chatting about something, so you stood silent and at the ready, looking up once more at the mountain.

Despite the distance, you swore you saw something moving. You wanted to say it was some large kind of four-legged creature, though it was impossible to tell what exactly it was.

“Are there bears on the mountain?” you asked aloud.

“Nah.”

That was all the response you got.

For about ten minutes after the hike started, Fawn had stayed at the back with you, asking you some basic questions about yourself that you would in turn ask her once you had answered. You hoped that the interaction wasn't as awkward as it had felt to you. Maybe it was but she also didn't want to say anything about it.

Then when your group came across an old, crumbling well, Fawn had run up towards Aiden to get some better pictures of the structure, and when the group began to move again, she chose to stay there next to him.

Denali had taken the lead with Colton right behind. They were talking, though what they were talking about you couldn't be sure as you only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. A few steps behind them were Aiden and Fawn, talking about something that was going on at their workplace. And a few steps behind those two was you, trailing behind the group and unable to join either conversation. Although Aiden had said that Fawn wanted to know you, she hadn't said much of substance to you before she turned her attention back to him. Although maybe that was your fault. Maybe it really was obvious that you didn't care for her much. You thought that you were doing a decent job at being polite, but maybe she could tell that you were still a bit annoyed about her driving earlier.

Or maybe she just wanted to talk to Aiden right now and you were overreacting again.

You weren't sure.

It just felt like you were being excluded.

Of course. The first time in forever that you were able to make it to a meet-up with them, and it felt like you weren't wanted.

You sighed to yourself as you walked behind silently, trying to tell yourself that it was unreasonable to be thinking like that and that you wouldn't have been invited if they didn't want you there. The hike had just started; you couldn't decide that the whole thing would be bad just because of a rough beginning.

At least for now you could enjoy the scenery, and you looked about the woods as you walked along the trail, noting the different types of trees and plants and just how many of them surrounded you as you walked by on the trail. You stopped now and then to take a few pictures with your phone. Although you could hear the distinct chirping of birds in the distance, you didn't manage to see any, and despite the movement you thought you had seen while in the parking lot, it didn't seem like there were any other animals in the area. Denali had said this was an easy trail; maybe people frequented it enough that most animals avoided any areas close to it. That was too bad, but not that big of a deal. At least you were still getting nice pictures of the forest.

Your group came across a wide set of wooden stairs with a wooden barrier on either side after a bit, beginning a steeper ascent towards the higher parts of the mountain. Nothing had really changed within the group, though you noted that the conversations had mostly died down in an effort to appreciate the nature around you. Colton was also frequently looking behind to make sure everyone was still there. The two of you managed to lock eyes at one point, and you smiled at him. He gave back something of a half-smile before looking back in front of him. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but you noted that he didn't look back after that.

The walk continued, and all of you were quiet now, looking about the scenery. Some of them occasionally made remarks whenever they spotted something unusual, like an oddly shaped tree trunk or rock. You stayed silent, though, remembering your messages that had gone ignored and worried that if you said anything, that would be ignored as well.

Were you being too anxious about this? Probably. You sighed to yourself again as you tried to keep those kinds of thoughts from running amok.

Just distract yourself by looking around, you told yourself.

You paused when you glanced over to your right.

It looked like there was some sort of stone pillar standing in the distance. The dark rock was covered in moss and vines, but the shape was such that it couldn't have been a natural formation. Someone human had put it there some time ago. It also looked as though there was similar wreckage behind the pillar, and you wondered if it may have once been some kind of building.

Taking out your phone and pulling up the camera, you zoomed in on the the ruined structure. You briefly glanced over to your friends as you did, making sure they weren't leaving you too far behind.

But when you looked back to the phone, you let out a small sound of surprise.

There was a man standing by the pillar.

Your eyes immediately went back to the pillar as you wondered where this guy had come from.

The shadows over in that area made things a bit darker, but you were able to see a general shape that looked like a person. You squinted slightly as you looked at him, trying to make out any details. But strangely, you couldn't. It was just the shape of a rather broad man, and as you continued to look, you found that it looked almost wispy, like a few pieces of cloud had floated down and arranged themselves to imitate what a person might look like.

…. Why did it feel like it was looking back at you?

“What are you doing?”

Aiden's voice called to you, and you snapped out of your stupor to find that the whole group was standing there waiting on you.

Your mouth fell open to try and offer some explanation, to tell them about what you were looking at, but when you glanced back to where the shape had been-

He wasn't there.

And when you looked back to the camera, you found he was gone from there as well.

Had you imagined it?

The entire thing had happened within mere seconds. The pillar wasn't large enough that he could be hiding behind it, and no one could move that fast without making some bit of noise. Looking between the view from your camera and the pillar a few more times, you decided that you had imagined it. Though you were certain you had seen something standing there, there was no way that could have actually been the case. Maybe a shadow just looked weird within the lighting at that moment?

Aiden called out to you again.

“Sorry!” you called out, putting the phone away as you hurried up the stairs to rejoin them.

“What you were looking at?” Fawn asked you.

“Something back there,” you explained, “ it looked like there were some ruins of a building.”

“Oh, did you get a picture? Can I see?”

“Ah, sorry, I didn't.”

Fawn pouted, asking “why not?”

“I thought I saw someone.”

They both looked at you strangely.

“You couldn't get a picture because you thought you saw someone?” Aiden asked.

“I don't know. It was just weird,” you said, getting a bit flustered as you continued “I thought I saw a guy for a second – or something that looked like a guy – but then he was gone.”

“... 'Something' that 'looked' like a guy,” Aiden repeated.

“Oh wow, I didn't know you could see ghosts!” Fawn exclaimed, giggling a little, “we've got a coworker who swears that the printer room is haunted. Maybe we should bring her here and see if she also sees something.”

…. You weren't sure if she was making fun of you or not, so you stayed silent. Aiden was still looking at you like you had two heads while Fawn was pulling out her own phone, preparing to walk back down to take a look at the ruins herself. Then Denali called out to the three of you, asking what the hold-up was. That was enough to spur you to begin walking again.

“Aw, I wanted to get a picture,” Fawn said as you began climbing the stairs once more.

Fawn then looked to Aiden as he said to her “we can always snap a picture on the way back.”

“That's true.”

“And did Nell say that the printer room was haunted? I thought she said it was the third floor bathroom,” Aiden then said.

“It could've been both. According to her a lot of places are haunted. Something about weird energies,” Fawn responded.

They were talking about something from their work again, and since you still had no way to join in, you walked behind them in silence. As your group continued the ascent, you glanced behind to see if there was anything weird with the pillar from this angle. There was a nagging feeling at the back of your mind, and you felt as if there was someone watching you.

There was nothing, and though the feeling wasn't going away, you told yourself to forget about it.

Time passed as the clouds parted some to show how the sun had moved higher in the sky, and your group came to a wooden platform with benches and tables that were clearly meant as a rest stop for any hikers. The others decided that it was a good time to have lunch and settled themselves at a table. You, on the other hand, were still feeling some side effects from Fawn's driving earlier, and as you really didn't want to get sick in the middle of the hike, you opted not to eat. You sat with them at first, but when you once again felt like you couldn't contribute to the conversation, you stood up, the amateur photographer in you feeling fulfilled somewhat as you snapped a few more pictures of the scenery.

You wandered over to a different part of the platform, leaning your elbows on the wooden fencing as you looked out at the forest.

At the beginning of your trip it had been fairly overcast, and only after you had started this excursion had the clouds thinned and allowed the sun to shine through. But just as the weather started to clear up, it seemed to be turning overcast again as a mist began to fall, seemingly sliding from the top of the mountain and through the thick forest of trees. Was rain a possibility? Maybe, and of course you hadn't brought anything with you if that did happen. You had made a point to bring a first aid kit in case either you or someone else got hurt, but nothing to protect you in case the weather turned bad.

A flash of white caught your eye while you were caught up in your thoughts.

Glancing to your left, you found yourself staring at a white rabbit.

It was nice to finally see some wildlife for the first time since this hike had started and at first glance it seemed perfectly normal. But the more you looked at it, the more.... Odd it seemed.

It was sitting upright facing away from you, not moving at all. That didn't seem quite normal, since you thought most rabbits were inclined to hunker down and try to blend in with their surroundings if they encountered something they thought was a threat. This one didn't seem to be hiding, it just sat still, and the more you looked, the more it didn't seem like it was even breathing. It also seemed strange to find a pure white rabbit up in the mountains. The color was striking against the earthly tones of the forest, and presumably that should've meant that it would have been easy prey for any natural predators that roamed the area. In fact, it didn't look the slightest bit dirty, making you wonder if it was someone's pet that had escaped.

And the more you looked at it, the more something about it just seemed to be off. Like it had some kind of weird energy to it.

And yet you felt an urge to get closer to it.

The instant you moved closer it reacted by twisting it's head around to face you, and you saw it's face for the first time.

Or rather, it's lack of one.

No eyes, no nose, no mouth, no sort of features whatsoever. It's face, and the rest of it for that matter, was completely blank, and it seemed less and less like a living creature the longer you looked at it.

You stared at it, unsure of how you were supposed to react to such a thing.

“The rabbit doesn't have a face,” you said aloud.

Your friends didn't hear you. In their defense, you hadn't spoken all that loudly.

When you moved again it bolted, vanishing behind surrounding tree trunks.

Follow it

Maybe it was because of the shock you felt at seeing that thing that you didn't even question the thought. You just climbed over the fencing and headed out in the same direction you had seen it run off to.

It wasn't long before you caught sight of it again, and once more you were struck by how odd this thing was. It was sitting up again, staring at you. Almost like it was waiting for you.

Did you really want to follow a faceless rabbit into the woods? Apparently you did, because when you got close again it ran off, and the process repeated itself as it began to lead you through the forest, taking you further and further away from the hiking trail and down an unmarked path. The rabbit never got too far before it would stop and wait for you to catch up, and it stayed still during the few times that you would pause for a break. It really was waiting for you, and somehow, it didn't seem like it was running in any random direction. More like it was leading you somewhere.

A haze had seemed to form in your mind. Somehow, none of this seemed questionable to you, that you were running off in pursuit of a white rabbit like a heroine from a Lewis Carroll book. Or at least some darker version of that tale given the rabbit's lack of a face which you still weren't able to make sense of. There was no reason for you to be running off of the trail like this, into terrain that you weren't familiar with, but every time you caught sight of the rabbit, something inside you told you that you needed to go after it.

You did just that for some time until the haze finally broke.

In the midst of your pursuit, you happened to step on a hollow, rotted log, and the wood was weak enough that when you put your weight on it, your foot went right through. You shrieked, stumbling forward as you desperately pulled your foot out. To add to your panic, there had been a fair amount of bugs living inside of the log, some of which had attached themselves to your shoe, and you kicked your foot out rapidly to get them off of you. They scattered, and you stumbled back before landing awkwardly on your ankle. Pain shot through you, and you fell against the trunk of a tree where you sank to the forest floor, one hand steadying yourself while the other was over your chest as you tried to calm yourself down.

What the hell am I doing?

The thought struck you. Why had you gone off the trail like this? And for some weird rabbit creature, of all things? What was the point of this excursion? What if you got hurt?

You put some weight on the foot that had gone through the log and you hissed as another sharp bolt of pain hit you.

Scratch that. You'd already managed to hurt yourself.

It seemed like your ankle was sprained. Clearly you had landed on it wrong after getting your foot out of the log.

Ah, this was the worst.

You gingerly removed your shoe and tried to get a look at the damage. It didn't look too bad yet, but there was definitely something wrong with it as you only felt pain every time you moved it. How fast does the swelling set in? At least you'd had the forethought of bringing a few rolls of elastic bandage wraps, though you felt like you'd need some help to get it properly wrapped.

Which meant you'd need to find your way back to your friends.

How far away were you from the trail by now? You weren't even sure how much time had passed since you had left them. It was all so strange, that you had gotten such extreme tunnel vision like that and had run off. And because of that, you had gotten hurt and would have a hard time making your way back, or else they would need to come in to find you.

They'd be upset with you, wouldn't they?

You probably wouldn't be able to continue the hike, and you were sure there'd be some resentment if this outing was cut short because of you. Maybe you could just wait at the rest area? They'd be coming down the same path when they came back, so maybe they could continue the hike and you could rest up and join them on the return trip. It'd be boring for you but then at least the trip wouldn't be a waste for them.

You sighed as you began to shimmy your shoe back onto your foot. Today was a bust. First the thing with Fawn, then the way it seemed like you were being ignored, and now this.

They hadn't even said anything when you jumped the fence to chase after the rabbit, had they? Not that you'd really been paying attention, so maybe they had, but they sure hadn't gone after you.

… Not that it was on them to look after you. You were an adult and therefore not their responsibility. It was wrong to think like that.

You sighed again.

Everything that had happened today really had been your own fault, huh? It was all you could do to hope nothing else bad would happen.

You remembered some old superstitious saying about bad things happening in threes. If that was true, then maybe your bad luck was over for the day.

Trying to get off of that particular train of thought, you looked about for something that could work as a walking stick, something strong enough to hold your weight for when you made your way back to the path.

A voice called out from far away, and when you paused to listen, you heard the voices of your friends calling out your name.

That was actually really good.

A new creeping fear was that you would be lost in the woods and have a hard time finding the path, but as long as they were calling out to you, you could use the sounds of their voices to find your way back. As you were about to push yourself to your feet, you allowed yourself to be a little hopeful, feeling that the bad things were done for the day.

You heard something then, as though something had dropped onto the ground next to you.

In an automatic response, you turned your head towards the sound and found a pipe laying atop the dirt and fallen leaves.

Had that been there earlier?

It was moderately sized, a black stem with a little bit of intricate gold detailing on either end, while the bowl at the end of the pipe was more of a darker bronze.

Wouldn't you have noticed this earlier? Or had you been that distracted when you'd been desperately shaking all of the bugs off of your foot?

Without really thinking about why you reached out to grab it as you wondered to yourself if there were still people these days who smoked using pipes.

It was warm when your fingers made contact, and as you raised it up to inspect it more, you noted how clean it was. If it had been out here for a day or so there would've been more dirt on it, but with the state it was in, someone must have dropped it not too long ago.

At least it gave you some comfort knowing that you weren't the only one who had wandered off the trail, though you were probably still one of the dumbest to do so since you had gone off in chase of a freaky rabbit.

Should you take the pipe with you? Was there some sort of lost and found box down at the parking lot? Would the person who lost it even still be looking for it, or would they have already accepted that it was gone forever?

With those thoughts swirling around your head, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps that came closer until they stopped right next to you.

“Are you alright?”

A man's voice broke you from your thoughts, and when you turned your gaze upwards, you found an older man standing above you, leaning an arm against the same tree trunk you were resting against. White hair, a gray dress shirt with a red tie and wearing black sunglasses despite the clouds overhead, he looked down at you with a clear look of concern on his face.

“Ah – yes! Well, mostly,” you said once you realized he was waiting for an answer.

“Mostly?”

“I think I sprained my ankle.”

He knelt down next to you, asking “may I?” as he motioned to your aforementioned ankle. You nodded, and he inspected your ankle. He was gentle with you, looking over the injured area carefully and apologizing any time he caused you some discomfort.

“How bad is it?” you asked him after a moment.

“I'd say you were right. It looks sprained.”

You groaned a little, disappointed that you were correct.

“Do you have anything to wrap it with?” he asked.

“Yeah, in my backpack,” you answered, “I was gonna get my friends to help me with it once I got back to them.”

“Where are they?”

“Back by the path, I think. It sounded like they were looking for me just now.”

However, you could no longer hear them. In fact, the whole forest seemed oddly silent now, the only exception being the wind that would at times whistle through the trees. And had it gotten darker?

“That's weird,” you said more to yourself, “I know I heard them.”

The man who sat patiently before you, with your ankle still in his care, looked about for any sign of your friends before he spoke again.

“Well, I'm here now,” he told you, “care if I patch you up instead?”

“Um, as long as it isn't too much trouble?”

He smiled at you.

“It's no trouble at all.”

Saying that it would be easier for him to work on you, the man carefully picked you up and moved you so that you sat on a nearby boulder, kneeling down in front of you again as he waited for you to fish out the bandages from your pack.

“I'm Morel, by the way.”

You gave him a small smile in return, introducing yourself as well as you handed off the bandages.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked as he began to wrap up your ankle.

“Hiking with friends.”

“I figured that much,” he said, grinning a little, “but the trail is a good distance from here. How did you end up off of it?”

“Ah....”

Despite the pain in your ankle and the circumstances between you and your friends, it hadn't been lost on you that Morel was pretty handsome. A bit rugged, but in a good way. And though you knew nothing about this man – for all you knew he had a wife and child at home waiting for him – you didn't want to say something that might make him think you were an idiot. Telling him that you had gone chasing after a rabbit would definitely make him think you were an idiot.

And you didn't want to mention that you thought it had no face. Then he'd think you were crazy.

“I saw some ruins down at the base of the mountain; thought it'd be cool if I went exploring and see if I could find some more,” you lied.

“Unfortunately, any ruins would be down at the bottom. Nobody would've built anything this far up,” Morel explained.

“Ah, I see.”

You stayed quiet a moment, looking back in the direction where you'd heard your friends calling. You still couldn't hear them, and it worried you that something may have happened.

There was also that white mist from earlier that had grown thicker while Morel wrapped your ankle, slowly settling down around you and making the scene around you look more ethereal.

“Why did you wander out on your own? One of them should've come with you,” Morel said suddenly.

“Oh.... I kinda, um, ran off without telling them anything.”

So much for not sounding like an idiot.

Morel paused, glancing back up at you as he asked “did something happen?”

“... Not really? I mean, kind of, but...” you trailed off for a moment, “it's mostly my fault. I'm the one who isn't trying hard enough to talk it out with them. Ah, I really hope I haven't ruined this trip.”

“I doubt you running off could've ruined it.”

“I hope not. But still, I'll need to apologize, maybe take all of them out for a meal after to make up for it,” you said.

There was a sad expression on Morel's face when he looked up at you after you said that. Something in the way he frowned and his brows furrowed at your words made it seem like he knew something you didn't.

You didn't get a chance to question him on it as he finished up wrapping your ankle, handing the remaining bandages back to you as he announced “all done.”

“Ah – Thank you.”

He seemed a bit more cheerful now, though he looked off in the direction you had been looking in.

“Those friends of your still on the trail?” he asked.

“I'm not sure? It really did sound like they were looking for me earlier.”

“I see. Then if they're looking for you maybe we should stay put. Wait for them to get to us. It won't do any good if we all get lost trying to find each other.”

That made sense, and you nodded.

Morel sat down next to you, the boulder being large enough to fit both of you, though he did need to squeeze in a bit closer than you would normally be comfortable with a complete stranger. You found that you didn't mind much, though. Although for the sake of your friend group you wanted to be found soon, you didn't dislike the idea of spending more time alone with Morel. He seemed trustworthy, and being in such close contact more than made up for all the stuff from earlier.

…. Good lord. Were you really this weak for a random guy you found attractive?

The mist seemed to be growing thicker, but you could still make out most of the trees that surrounded you.

“What are you doing up here, Morel?” you asked, “it doesn't look like you're dressed for hiking.”

“I live here.”

“Really? On the mountain?”

He nodded.

“Wow. I didn't know anybody lived up here. Is it just you or are there others?”

“There's a few of us up here, though my neighbors tend to keep to themselves,” he told you, “a lot of them just want to be left alone.”

It seemed surprising to you that there was more than one person who lived up on a mountain like this. Especially since you had been under the impression that the area was part of a park. Maybe his place had been built beforehand and he was grandfathered in somehow?

The more you thought about it, the more you felt that didn't make a lot of sense. But before you could voice that opinion, it was like the thought was forcibly torn from your mind, and something within you encouraged you to try and learn more about him.

“Are you one who wants to be left alone?” you asked him instead.

“For the most part,” he answered, “but I don't mind people on occasion. My neighbors, not so much.”

“Would they have gotten mad at me?”

“Definitely.”

“Guess I'm lucky you found me and not them,” you said.

He smiled at that, but didn't say anything, and you continued.

“Although if your neighbors want isolation, isn't it inconvenient that the trail's been set up here? Don't you have to worry about people trespassing?”

“Most people know not to go off the path,” Morel said, “though I guess you're not one of them.”

“It wasn't my fault!” you insisted, “there was a rabbit, and I just - I don't know, needed to follow it.”

Why had you done that again? You'd been questioning it before Morel found you but you'd gotten distracted. It was strange. And did the rabbit really have no face? Maybe your mind was just tired and had made it up or something and you just ran off because you were an idiot.

Where had it even gone, anyway?

Morel tilted his head, smirking at you.

“I thought you said you were looking for more ruins? You mean you were actually chasing after rabbits?” he asked.

….. You forgot that you lied.

Your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt while you looked away in embarrassment.

“.... I didn't want you to think I was stupid,” you mumbled.

He laughed at that, and you felt worse about your lie, turning your head away further as you made a point to not look at him.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it,” he said, one of his hands coming up to playfully tousle your hair. You glanced back at him then, and the sour look on your face lessened a little when you saw how he smiled at you.

“I've also gone off wandering after random things,” he continued, “I've hurt myself a few times, too, so don't feel bad.”

That made you feel a bit better, and you relaxed a little more.

“What kind of things have you gone wandering after?” you asked him.

“Things that you probably wouldn't believe if I told you.”

That answer was oddly cryptic, though you supposed that made two of you, since you were still too nervous to divulge the fact about the rabbit lacking a face. Maybe Morel had seen freakier things up here. But since he didn't seem to want to go into that, maybe it'd be better to steer the conversation away from the potentially supernatural.

“Were you wandering after something when you found me?” was your next question.

“No, not today. I was in the middle of looking for something I had lost.”

“Oh. Sorry,” you said.

“For what?”

“Distracting you, and making you wait here with me.”

“It's not that important,” Morel said, “and what kind of guy would I be if I left you out here by yourself? Especially with that fog that's settling in.”

“I'd probably be okay. Oh. Unless there's bears. Then I might not be.”

You remembered the shape you had seen when you had first arrived, and you asked him “are there bears on this mountain?”

“I've never seen any.”

You hummed at that, thinking again about what you had seen and trying to figure out what it was.

“Did you see one?” asked Morel.

“I don't know. I saw something weird when I was in the parking lot, and I'm still not sure what it was,” you explained, “I've seen some other stuff, too. Some a bit more freaky than a bear.”

“Like what?”

“.... Do you promise not to laugh at me?”

“I promise, I'm done laughing at you,” Morel said, grinning a little.

Despite being unsure if you could trust him in that regard, you decided to speak anyway.

“So, the rabbit that I saw earlier – I'm not really sure why I followed it, but I noticed it back at the rest area. It seemed kinda weird when I saw it, because it didn't look like it was breathing? And when I got closer, I swear, it didn't have a face. No features at all. It was just blank.”

You prepared yourself for him to laugh at you again. When he didn't say anything, you looked back to him.

Morel looked surprisingly neutral.

“That does sound strange,” was his reply.

“.... Do you believe me?”

Morel looked away from you, leaning back on his hands as his gaze seemed to go to the cloudy sky above the trees that surrounded the two of you.

“You know, I think I do. Living up here, I've had my fair share of strange occurrences. Not quite like that, but maybe I just haven't encountered that before.”

It was a relief to hear that he wasn't mocking you, and it was even more of a relief that he actually believed you, as you had been worried that his reaction might resemble what had happened earlier with Aiden and Fawn. Him believing you spurred you to speak more.

“I saw something before, too,” you said, “down near the ruins, at one point I thought I saw a man standing next to them. But when I looked up from my camera he was gone.”

“What did he look like?”

“Not sure. I saw him, but I somehow didn't really see him? Or I just saw his general shape,” you continued, “the others were joking that it was a ghost.”

“Could've been,” said Morel, “this is ancient land with a lot of older things attached to it. There are probably more than a few wayward souls that have found a home here.”

“..... Do you think they could be dangerous?” you asked him.

“Maybe some of them. But most people should be safe if they stay on the path.”

He grinned again when he looked back at you.

“Who knows. You could've come across something bad,” he said jokingly.

“Don't you and your neighbors live up here? It can't be all that bad if that's the case,” you responded, “though I think I'll try to keep from chasing after anymore weird rabbits.”

“Probably a good idea.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you. The mist had expanded as you continued to wait for your friends, who you hadn't heard in some time now. It should've worried you more that you couldn't hear them – they hadn't given up on you, had they? Even if they were really annoyed with you they surely wouldn't go that far. Yet you found yourself thinking even if that was the case, it would be okay. Morel was so nice, he wouldn't just leave you here if they didn't show up, right? At the very least, he'd take you back to the trail.

If your friends had bailed on you, then maybe you should repay him by taking him out to dinner.

The tops of the trees were slowly becoming more obscured as the fog continued to drift down, and all you could think was that it looked pretty.

“Is it nice living up here?” you asked him.

“Yeah, pretty nice. Lots of good scenery.”

He seemed to be thinking about something, and you noticed that his shoulders sagged slightly.

“Being completely alone can get to you, though.”

There was a sadness in his voice. He did say that him wanting to be alone was just 'for the most part'. Unless that was a lie. What sort of circumstance could drive him to be living alone in the wilderness if he didn't actually want to be here? You wanted to know, but worried that might be crossing a boundary of some sort, and that made you hesitate to question him further.

“Do you not want to be here?” you asked him softly.

“No, I do,” said Morel, “but I also liked being around people. It just became hard to be around them after a while.”

“Hard to be around them?” you repeated.

“Yeah. It's.... It's just tough to explain,” he said.

“Sorry.”

He shook his head.

“Don't worry about it.”

It confused you, and while you wanted to ask a few more questions, you got a sense that he didn't want to talk about it anymore.

You found yourself wondering if Morel suffered from some extreme form of anxiety or agoraphobia. He seemed like a pretty calm person, but maybe that was only because he was in an environment where he was comfortable. That could have made sense, although you mentally berated yourself shortly after for jumping to conclusions like that just because he didn't want to talk about it. Maybe you should try to move the topic to something else.

“Does anyone come up to visit you?” you asked.

“No.”

Ah. Okay then.

“Then...” you trailed off briefly as you tried to find the right words, “ as long as it isn't too hard to be around me, would you care if I came back to visit you? I could repay you with all you've done for me with a dinner. Maybe bring it by next week or something like that?”

Morel smiled at that, and yet to you it seemed forced. You got another sense that he knew something that you didn't, and that he was intentionally keeping that information from you.

What would he know that he'd be keeping from you?

The thought left your head just as quickly as it entered when he spoke again.

“I guess I could handle having you stop by,” he said jokingly, “you're pretty tolerable.”

“Ah, that's good. Glad to know I can at least be tolerated,” you answered back in a similar joking manner.

He chuckled at that.

“All jokes aside, it'll be nice to have some company up here,” he said softly.

It felt good that he accepted you so easily. Maybe he accepted you a little too easily given the short amount of time he had known you, but if he was living up here all by himself maybe he was just that desperate.

And the argument could also be made that you were similarly being too trusting of him. It was possible that this was just a facade of his that would drop the instant you were vulnerable. That'd probably be what Colton would tell you if he knew the thoughts going around your head.

Although you were already pretty vulnerable, weren't you? Alone in the wilderness with a man you just met and a sprained ankle, so you weren't even able to run if you needed to. Even with your friends that were hopefully close by, with Morel's size it would've been easy enough for him to drag you off if he wanted. Helping you, sitting down and waiting with you for your friends just to gain your trust seemed to be a bit too much effort if his ultimate goal was to take you away.

You forced down those silly, anxious thoughts of yours. Morel wouldn't hurt you, you were certain of it.

The mist around the two of you was growing thicker still, but you didn't pay it much mind as you looked back down to your lap.

Something was sticking out of the front pocket of your jacket, and then you remembered that you still had that pipe you had found this whole time, having absentmindedly stuck it into your pocket when Morel moved you earlier. A thought then occurred to you as you looked at it again.

“This wouldn't be yours, would it?” you asked him as you pulled it out to show him.

Looking down at it, you noted that he didn't seem too surprised as he said to you “it would, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. That's what I was looking for when I came across you,” Morel said.

“Huh. That's some weird coincidence,” you said as you extended your hand out to give him the pipe.

“It happens,” he said. He thanked you as he took it from you, pocketing it before his hands went back to where they had been before.

There was no urgency within you as you continued to sit with Morel, the mist still swirling and settling around the two of you. The more the mist grew, the more the thoughts of your friends and the worries within you began to slip away.

You had nothing to worry about.

Had you been paying more attention to him, you would've seen Morel stiffen ever so slightly, maybe even heard him curse under his breath as he sensed something that was now in the general vicinity. But you only noticed when he stood up suddenly, hands on his hips as he turned to face you.

“Hate to say it, but this fog'll probably only get worse. I'm not sure it's a good idea to keep waiting here,” he told you.

It had seemed to become exponentially worse as soon as he spoke those words, the fog that had been fairly moderate now surprisingly thick, to the point that you had a hard time making out the trees that were closest to you. Somehow you hadn't noticed just how bad it was until now.

“Ah. Yeah, you're right,” you said, “I think I remember which direction the trail is in. I should be able to make it back on my own.”

“What – no, that's not...”

Morel was rather flustered now, a hand running through his hair as he continued “even if you can make it back there, I doubt you'll have an easy time going down those stairs with your ankle like that. And with how hard it is to see right now, there's a 100% chance that you'll end up falling.”

You nodded, though you weren't certain where he was going. It seemed like a lot to ask him to walk you back in such circumstances, and far, far too much to have him take you back down the mountain.

“Since we're not sure what happened with your friends, I think the best thing I can do is take you back to my place for the time being.”

That hadn't been what you were expecting, and you opened your mouth to second-guess that idea until he spoke again.

“Just until the fog clears,” he assured you, “and this way you can get some actual rest inside instead of sitting out in the cold like this.”

… Morel's proposal seemed a lot nicer, you had to admit.

“I guess,” you began, “as long as you're sure it isn't too much trouble.”

He smiled at you as he said “I promise, it isn't.”

Any worries that this may be overstepping some kind of boundary faded from your mind after his reassurance, and you looked about the forest again.

“I guess we should try to find something for me to use as a walking stick,” you said, squinting your eyes when the fog proved to be too thick to see clearly, “unless you're okay with me leaning on you.”

“I've got a better idea.”

With that, Morel turned around and knelt down, his arms stretched out behind his back as he said “I'll carry you.”

After assuring you that this way would be faster, it didn't take much for you to take him up on his offer. After you made sure not to put any weight on your ankle while you climbed onto his back, Morel slowly lifted you up after he had your legs secured around his waist and you loosely held on around his neck.

With the sensation of you being pressed against him, of your warmth and virtually feeling the way your heart was steadily beating against his back, Morel let out a quiet, relieved sigh as he began the trek back to his home. He was grateful that you hadn't questioned him or tried to insist that he take you back to the trail anyway. If he hadn't been able to convince you, he'd need to take you by force. Such a thing would have been easy for him to do, and it was probably more common for those like him to take their captured humans while they kicked and screamed.

But he didn't want to traumatize you during the journey to your new home.

Luckily his aura that had been slowly engulfing you was able to influence you enough that you weren't questioning him on much, so the trip would be a peaceful one, although it was marred by how dishonest he was being about all of this.

If only he could just sit you down and explain everything, why he was doing this. But he knew you wouldn't believe him.

No reasonable person would believe him if he told them he was a banshee.

Saying that would only make you feel unsafe, maybe try to run from him, and then you'd end up even more injured in the process, and even more upset when you found that you could no longer leave the mountain.

But even that would be better than the alternative.

Morel just didn't like seeing people die.

The role of a banshee was to warn when death was coming. To let out that unearthly wail so the human marked for death could prepare and make peace with their fate. For Morel, when he saw someone who was marked to die, it looked like a cloud had settled around them. An aura that grew darker and darker as the human came closer to the time of their death until the aura had blackened completely. Then Death came to collect that unfortunate's soul.

And Morel was unable to do anything but give a heads up.

It was depressing. Being part of that cycle, watching as human after human had that cloud around them turn black and vanish as it left their lifeless bodies behind. And during the last years he had spent in the heavily populated areas, he found that more and more people were panicking when they heard his warning as a fear of death had grown stronger as time had gone by. The people who feared for their lives did everything in their power to try and prevent their deaths, and more often than not their attempts to thwart death ended up being what caused it. All because they had heard his warning.

It began to feel as though he was the one responsible for those who had died that way, and that felt even more depressing, to know that they had died because of him. By the end, Morel had grown tired of it all.

So he left.

He left the areas that were overrun with humans and found a home on an ancient mountainside. And for a while, he found some peace.

But time moved forward as it always did, and evidently, people forgot what areas were meant to stay sacred when they put together the hiking trail. It had angered many of his neighbors, but most were compelled to stay away from it and leave the humans alone as long as they stayed on the path.

And yet some of them couldn't do that, and on occasion the ones that strayed would run into some of the more malevolent spirits that resided on the mountain alongside him. He could usually tell when someone would die to the supernatural. The aura about them just had a certain feel to it, but Morel chose to stay out of it completely, not wanting to cause problems with his neighbors.

Even after trying to get away, he was still forced to see that cloud of death.

It was no different when he saw you after you first arrived.

Morel had happened to be at the base of the mountain when he saw you, the death cloud around you one shade off of completely black. You'd be dead before the end of the day. Perhaps during your trip in the woods, he had thought to himself. Yet as he observed you more, he felt that wouldn't be the case. Something told him that you would make it through this hiking trip of yours, but you would die almost immediately after. You seemed pretty healthy, so illness didn't appear to be the cause. An accident, then? That would be more likely. While he couldn't determine what exactly was going to happen, whatever it was would be sudden and violent.

Looking at the rest of your group, he found that none of them were marked for death like you were. Whatever happened after you all left, you would be the only one to die.

Something compelled Morel to keep watch over you, and so he followed behind, listening in on the conversations your friends were having and waiting for you to speak up.

You weren't saying much, however, and when he moved off the trail to walk beside you so he could get a better look at your face, he was taken aback by how dejected you seemed.

Something was eating at you, but you were keeping quiet about it as you continued to follow behind, almost unnoticed by the others in your group.

Your last hours of life were going to be spent with you feeling ignored and lonely, and that depression Morel felt when it came to these things returned. You shouldn't need to die today; you should've had years left of your life, not a scant few hours. It wasn't right, but there was nothing he could do.

Or was there?

An idea came to Morel, and he became lost in his own thoughts as he found himself walking away from the trail as your group came closer to the stairs. He made his way towards what had been a chapel for some long-forgotten deity, mulling over the thought in his head.

There was something he could do to alter your fate, both him and the magic still in the mountain powerful enough to allow him to lay a claim on you. But was it worth angering Death itself to keep you safe?

As he contemplated what to do, he looked back to you.

You had taken your phone out, holding it in a way that made it clear you were aiming to get a picture of the ruins he just so happened to be standing next to.

It took less than a second for him to realize what had happened when you blinked in surprise and took your eyes off of your phone.

You could see him.

You may not have been aware of it, but your eyes met his in that moment. Based off how you looked him over, you weren't able to see him all that clearly, but he could still tell when your eyes met again as you tried to make out any features of his face.

Then one of the people from your group called out and you looked away, and Morel made himself vanish. The confusion was clear when your head turned back and found him to be gone, and you ended up following your group again with your brows furrowed.

It was something that happened on occasion with certain people, another confirmation that you were close to death: as your final hour drew near, the barrier between you and the spiritual realm was thinning and you were beginning to see things that you weren't meant to.

When you looked back one more time, you managed to look in the exact spot where he had been standing, though this time he made sure you couldn't see him. He felt the way your eyes met his again before you turned your head back, that black cloud of death still engulfing you.

Something about your situation and that sight made Morel snap.

Screw fate. He needed to save you.

As he made his decision and began to follow you in earnest, a part of him was aware that saving you wouldn't do anything for the countless people that died every day, but he felt that if he could save at least one person from an unfair and untimely death, he could live better with himself. If he could keep you alive and happy, it was worth it.

He'd been worried that luring you away with the rabbit wouldn't work. You were far enough along that you could see it for what it really was: a creation that he'd made out of mist and smoke. Yet during the time you had spent getting up to the rest area, he had expanded his aura around you for long enough that any reservations you may have had about the slightly horrifying thing before you were easily pushed to the side as he compelled you to go after his creation, to get you further into the woods and by yourself.

He hadn't planned on you getting injured in the process, and when he heard your friends calling for you sooner than he expected he threw his pipe next to you in an act of desperation and just hoped that you would grab it. As long as you picked up something that belonged to him of your own free will, then you would belong to him.

You had done just that. And therefore, he was now free to do whatever he pleased with you.

“Is there a reason why we need to get to your place fast?” you asked him as he carried you back.

“You see how thick the fog is, right? I need to get us there before I lose my way,” Morel said, “can't embarrass myself like that, can I?”

Actually he just wanted to get out of there because of the other being that had been approaching the two of you. As much as he was able to hold influence over you, you would no doubt panic if you saw a headless woman sitting astride a horse casually come up to you.

“That makes sense,” you said. Then you giggled a little to yourself.

“I'm still mad that you laughed at me earlier,” you told him, “so if you do get lost, then I'm allowed to laugh at you.”

“Fair enough. If I get us lost you can laugh at me,” he agreed.

You laughed a little bit more.

“I won't actually do that. If we do get lost I'll probably be more concerned with trying to keep calm.”

“Don't worry; I know this mountain like the back of my hand,” he assured you.

If you had really been thinking about it, you might have questioned him on that. If he knew his way around that well, why couldn't he take you back to the trail? Why was he insisting on taking you back to his home?

But with the way his aura was enveloping you completely, no such thoughts came to mind, and you instead softly rested your head against him, feeling content.

You were rather easy to influence, and that fact made Morel feel badly for manipulating you the way he was.

He'd make it up to you, he told himself. He'd done good by wrapping up your ankle, and now he'd take care of you.

Glancing back at you, he felt satisfied to see that the black cloud of death had vanished. You no longer needed to fear anything like that.

You belonged to him now, and Morel would keep you safe for the rest of eternity.

[oneprompt]

ITS ME AGAINN HI LOVE!! I love your writing I cannot resist <3. Maybe, a one night stand with ace ? (Nsfw I’m down bad yes….) and female reader. it’s kind of like the typical one night stand, you meet somewhere and things get heated quickly…. BUT ALSO LIKE you’re literally the best he’s ever had and he’s pretty surprised UMM IDK IF THAT MAKES SENSE 😭😭 IK IM KIND OF AWKWARD HAHA but I hope you’re having a good afternoon 🧡

authors note: hello , dolly <3 im deeply sorry for doing this so late ;; hopefully this makes up for the wait... please indulge yourself to the fullest + i just realized how short this is .. my apologies ;; i’ll make sure to make your next request the best i possibly can ..

NSFW WARNING BELOW , DO NOT READ IF SUCH A TOPIC IS DISCOMFORTING.

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Ace x F! Reader , One Night Stand Oneshot

tags : ( brief mentions of ) alcohol , vaginal sex , rough sex , ( brief + slight ) masochism

All it took was a few cups of vodka to have you two landed upon each other, limbs tangled up, pleasure coursing through your veins. It had all happened so fast, you could hardly remember what had happened.

You merely attended a party full of different crews, a banquet of sorts. Not a fancy one, no. A fun one, one that disregarded the need for cotton shirts and newly shined shoes. you had met Ace, chatting up a storm with the young man. Well, less chatting and more so flirting. Wether it was through seductive purrs or the occasional rub of a palm against his scorching skin. You two didn’t bother to hide your shameless flirting throughout the party. Not that it was a huge deal, most people went there trying to make their way into the pants of others

You had no shame as you and Ace went off to a more private area. I mean, what was there to be ashamed of? Who didn’t want to sleep with Fire Fist Ace?

And now, you laid down upon your stomach, Ace’s hands wandering your body. One spread out your soaking hole, your greedy pussy dripping with excitement. His other hand stayed gripping your hip tightly, preventing you from squirming away.

“You’re so wet, Y/n... what’s that all about?” Ace cooed out in a rather teasing tone, showing zero regards for the blush that perked upon your cheeks after he said that. He knew exactly what it was about, he just wanted to hear you say that.

You buried your face further into the depth of the pillows that laid atop of the bed sheets. “You know exactly what that’s about,” you huffed, which caused a raspy laugh to fall from Ace’s well sculpted frame. You could just tell what face he was making, just from the tone of his voice. An endless plane of smugness splayed across his freckled features. What a dick.

You were about to snap back with a snarky remark but your thought process was cut off as soon as you felt a sudden sense of fullness intrude the depths of your cunt. God, he was big. Was he in all the way? You couldn’t help but wonder. Part of you hoped so, as his dick was already pressed firmly within you but you also couldn’t help but wonder what pained pleasure could come from it being even larger.

A loud moan was swallowed by the pillows your face was pressed into, the cotton absorbing the noise you made as Ace slammed balls deep into your warmth. He was far bigger then you could’ve imagined. But again, what should you have expected from the son of the late Pirate King? You should’ve expected nothing but the best.

You continued producing lewd noises, ones that consistently were swallowed by the pillows. Ace really didn’t hold back, never ending the blunt force of his hips, his hips quaking desperately to fill you with every inch of him. You felt so god damn good, the way your insides clutched upon his shaft made Ace’s body tremble with ecstasy everytime he pulled back to push further in.

You were so good, almost too good. You were merely a one night stand, a woman who could surely extend into a friend after this night. Just a friend and nothing more. Well, that’s what Ace had planned. Ace wasn’t low enough to have sex with a girl and never speak to her again but he had planned to just become your friend, nothing like a boyfriend or anything of the sort. But with the way you writhed and tightened on him, it was giving him second thoughts. You were far too delicious to only feast on once, he knew that.

The view of your ass shaking with the needless pounding of his dick was a view he couldn’t pass up. Everything about you was perfect. The moans you let out were painfully erotic and the way your body was highlighted with sweat was far too sexy for him to ignore.

Perhaps... you’d be happy enough to be his fuck buddy or better, his partner. Ace wasn’t sure about status yet but all he knew was that he couldn’t let you go, he couldn’t let this type of sex slip through his fingers so easily.

And so, he didn’t. Even if it was just for tonight, Ace would use you to the fullest, pumping your pussy full of his musky semen, filling you to the brim. You were too good, certainly the best woman he had ever done such a thing with, upon all of his voyages.

And you were so hot. Everything about you made him go crazy, it seemed. It was that way even as the night was young. The way you fluttered your lashes at him as your hand would playfully collide with his shoulder made him tent in his pants every so slightly. You were too much for him. Ace wanted you more then anything. The thought of you screaming his name through the entire night never ceased to be. When you approached him in your rather skimpy outfit, Ace could only imagine bending you backwards upon the bar, taking you then and there. Now, he could. And there was no way in hell he would pass up the chance to milk this.

Even if he wasn’t aware, the feeling was just as mutual. You had been purposefully rubbing up on him all night, wether accidentally letting your thighs rub against Ace’s as you would get up to talk to your friends or placing your hands on his arms to ‘feel’ his muscles and inspect his tattoos. All of that had made your crotch ace and drip, every inch of him was infatuating to you. You couldn’t believe Ace would even do such a thing with you.

Many women could only imagine being plowed by Portgas D. Ace, son of Gol D. Roger. And you were one of the few women to have him inside of you, that feeling alone was electrifying. You could only imagine the jealous glares you’d receive if anyone found out. Part of you wanted that, yearned to see people jealous over you, over the fact you were drenched with Ace’s cum and repeatedly rocked back and fourth by his girthy dick.

“Ace!” You cried out, throat growing dry and tight from the strong strain of your vocal chords. This was too much for you, it felt so good. The way Ace used his hips with euphoric, he was one of few men who knew what to do with their bodies, surely. It was magical, running from your overstimulated brain to your curled toes. “I think...i’m going to cum!” You whimpered our, voice filling the room, pillows no longer capable of containing the beast.

Beads of sweat dribbled down Ace’s well built chest, grazing the hues of his nipples. He looked down at your body, feeling your walls close upon him, squeezing him as if they were yearning for his seed.

The sensation of Ace’s thick cum shooting into you triggered something deep inside of you, breaking your self control in two pieces. The way it reached your deepest parts made your eyes roll back, long lashes dotted with hot tears.

Your fluid coated his dick, slinking it’s way downward to his balls. Your arousal painted his shaft and the sheets that held you two, becoming damp with both sweat and cum.

Ace hadn’t bothered to pull out, yet didn’t move. The room was merely full of nearly eternal panting and gasping, shaky breaths acting almost endless. It took you quite a bit to muster up the energy to speak, your brain still rendered useless from all the pleasure.

“That was amazing...” You looked back at Ace, giving him a tired smile. Your heart sunk as you noticed Ace smirk widely, snickering ever so slightly. Oh boy....

“Who says we’re done, Y/n?” Ace whispered huskily, pushing his black curls backward, wiping sweat from his brow as he stared down at your nude form.