#and now us!! from the beginning!! has returned to him
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
how would konig feel about sex toys… i bet he would be pissed about the reading using them and ban them forever
CW: 18+, female!reader, brief mentions of König being “immature” or “toxic”. 🔞 Not proofread - ignore the mistakes. ☺️💐

He’s already insecure enough as it is, and you using sex toys instead of using him for your sexual pleasure only amplifies his fears of not being good enough for you.
In a fit of fury, he throws them into the trash, grinding his pearly teeth together before locking himself in his office all day in a huff. He takes his dinner into his office instead of his usual routine of eating with you - which is very unusual as he’s always adamant on enjoying a meal together.
König can’t deal with his emotions maturely because he’s afraid of lashing out on you - that’s why he explodes when you argue, because he has so much built up anger that he refuses to communicate with you. He knows he needs therapy - maybe marriage counselling - but he’s too worked up on not being sufficient as a husband.
And after a hard, long, and exhausting day of work, you come to your beside table, eager to work out some frustration after a rough day, only to find they’re now missing. And you’re not dull; you know exactly where you last placed them, and based off König’s attitude all day, you suspect him of taking them from you.
Once confronted he then lashes out. It’s your usual arguments where König fears he isn’t good enough. He knows he’s toxic for this. It’s like that one time you refused to have sex with him and he blew up on you, screaming that if he isn’t enough, then why are you two together. His tendency to overthink is the reason he isn’t a good husband.
“Why is it that I’m never good enough for you?! If you want sex, I’m right here!” He yells through his fury, avoiding eye contact with you. And at this point, you don’t even care. You just need to get rid of that need and craving to feel euphoric that you begin stripping naked, throwing your panties and bra at him with an annoyed expression on your face. You hate giving in to his wants, but you can’t bring yourself to have some self respect and fight back. And König can’t help himself from the sight. This is what he wanted.
“Well? What are you waiting for. This is what you’ve been birching about all day.”
And with a surprised expression on his face, he begins to unbuckle his belt, the sound worsening your patience. He slips his shirt off, sounds of clothing hitting the ground filling the room between his laborious breathes. His calloused hands wrap around your waist, fingers slowly trailing up your back and back down to play with your rear.
He shoves various objects off his desk, bending you over it with one large hand seated on the small of your back, keeping you in position while he rummages through his drawers, looking for lube to prepare you with. He coats his fingers in the lubricant before easing them into you, still huffing about how unfair it is for you to use sex toys when he doesn’t - because he has you, and that should reciprocate the same in return. You turn your head over your bare shoulder, shooting him a glare.
“Show me that you’re better then.” You mutter, the sides of your lips quirking at the furious expression on his face.
Before you can even comprehend what you’ve said, you feel his large hand whip your rear. You yelp out in shock while your thighs clamp together, biting your bottom lip at the way his fingers curl inside of you. A newfound ambition and passion to show off his skills now evident. “You shut that mouth.” He grumbles, now stroking his hard cock with his over hand, smearing his pre over your hole before aligning himself.
One hand coated in your lube grips you by the scruff of your neck, the other now on your hip as he bottoms out inside of your prepared and creamy hole. A whiny squeal leaves you, that spot now being hit by his slick head. His thrusts are slow, deep, and everything you’ve been craving.
“Say you’re sorry,” He starts, cutting himself off with a deep and low groan and he pushes himself out from the warmth of your hole and flips you over onto your back, hiking up your legs before throwing them over his broad shoulders and sliding back inside. “Say I’m better.” He continues, one hand now locking around your throat, starting to dig into your skin. You look up at him, eyes glossy, your bottom lip starting to burst from your teeth biting into it. You gasp as he slides back out, his broad hips meeting your rear and his hung ballsack colliding with your cunt. His eyes are dark and hard to read, but all you know is that you’re in for a pounding.
“Fuck- you’re better- God, the best.” You manage between deep breathes and slaps to your thighs. He lets go of your neck, both hands now holding your waist intimately as he throws his head back, eyes rolled back at the sensation. He can’t help but quicken his needy pace, now erratic and sloppy, the messy sounds of your squealing like music to his ears, everything he was dying for. Your moans harmonise with the sounds of your skin sticking together, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His length pulses inside of your slick heat, two fingers reaching your nipple to twist and squeeze. He presses his chest to yours, hard buds and sweaty skin sticking to his.
König’s breath is deep and heavy, his eyes are rolled back and his jaw is slack. Your eyes shut tightly as you groan out, mumbling out curse words at the way his hits your cervix, how you flutter around his cock. You stumble over your words trying to find them, brain turned to mush at his will. He can only bury his head in the crook of your neck, his words now sweet and tender, sounding almost pathetic as he apologises profusely for being mean - for being so bitter and insecure.
Through an apology, you lose control, only worsening the effect you have on him. Your walls pulse around his, your toes curled and your back arched off the cool wooden table. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and the sight of your clammy skin and perky breasts, your thighs coated in your pleasure was too much for him to bear. His hips stutter and collide with yours, his fingers nestling themselves in your hair, his breath on your skin before he kisses down your collarbone, releasing pearly drops of semen inside of you.
He lays like this for a while, finally having you where he wants you.
“Fuck, König- you’ve definitely proved that you’re better…” You chuckle, your legs still wrapped around his waist, his head still buried in your neck through shame.
#orla speaks#könig call of duty#cod x reader#könig#konig x reader#call of duty modern warfare#könig cod#könig x reader#modern warefare ii#cod mw2#konig#konig call of duty#cod konig#könig fanfiction#könig x you#könig smut#call of duty
491 notes
·
View notes
Text
rock… paper… fix it.



Mr. Terrific (Michael Holt) x fem!engineer!reader
During a late night working session, you want Michael’s help, but he’s busy. You find a creative solution to your dilemma.
1.5k+ words, minor/vague Superman (2025) spoiler, fluff, banter, brief angst, mild injury, comfort
Masterlist | DC Masterlist | Request Info
Raising your hand slightly, you adjust the solder between your fingers as you blow on the circuit board on your overused metal soldering tray. You’d come into the office this morning to find two destroyed T-spheres on your desk. Mr. Terrific was hunched over his keyboard, working on coding a program, so you’d gotten to work without a word.
Ten hours later, you’re still working. You’ve gotten up a few times, Mr. Terrific has made noise behind you, but neither of you has spoken. You haven’t eaten, haven’t been outside, but you’re nearly finished. With the first one, you remember sullenly.
Distracted by the realization that you’ll probably be here overnight, you overlook the side of your palm drifting toward the small blade resting beside your keyboard mat. The moment your skin scrapes against the sharp edge, you hiss in pain and drop the solder. Luckily, you’re conscious enough to keep the soldering iron upright in your other hand. As you shake out your injured hand, you turn off the iron and set it aside to cool.
“Fatal?” Mr. Terrific asks without looking up.
“Doubtful,” you reply softly, turning your palm upward to see the scrape. “Now that we’re talking-“
“We’re not,” he interrupts flatly.
“Okay,” you drawl. You nod to yourself, looking up at the crowded shelf above you. “Could we?”
“About what?”
Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you try to remain polite and professional. “About what happened to the T-spheres,” you answer.
“Superman’s dog,” he says. “And I need them fixed, so if you’re not bleeding out on my carpet, get back to work.”
“Yes, sir,” you grumble.
Getting an internship with the Justice Gang – “Stupid name,” you’d told your professor – was a blessing that resulted in a scholarship. Then, Mr. Terrific hired you as soon as you graduated, and you’ve never looked back... except when you’ve needed a reminder that he used to be nice to you.
“What’d you do?” he inquires after a moment, the clicks of his keyboard slowing.
“What?” you ask.
“Before you hissed.”
“Oh, yeah, just scraped my hand.”
Mr. Terrific looks over his shoulder, unsurprised to see you’re already watching him. “Need anything?”
“No, thanks,” you answer with a smile. “I think I’ll live this time.”
You return to your desk, frowning when you realize that your hand isn’t the only evidence of your unfortunately timed movement.
“Uh, Mr. Terrific?” you begin carefully.
He sighs heavily, then pushes his chair away from his desk.
“What are the odds we could just replace the T-spheres?” you ask when he turns toward you.
“You’ve been working on them all day,” he points out. “Why are you deciding now that they’re hopeless?”
“Because I accidentally soldered the entire circuit board,” you admit. Immediately, you inhale, press your lips together, and hold your breath as you wait.
“Replace the circuit board and keep going,” he instructs.
“Well, the-“
Mr. Terrific stands, walks to your desk, and pushes your chair out of the way before he leans toward your project. He taps the metal, then lifts it toward the light.
“I’m not fixing this,” he says. “But it can be fixed. No need to start over.”
“You’re not fixing it,” you repeat disbelievingly. “It’s your T-sphere!”
“And you’re my employee,” he argues, setting the sphere’s internal processors down carefully. “So, get back to work.”
You watch him for a moment, locked in a surprisingly comfortable staring contest.
“Alternatively,” you propose, “we do something to decide who has to fix your tech.”
“We already did. I assigned it to you, so it’s your problem now.”
“Rock, paper, scissors,” you explain, completely ignoring his last statement. “Winner gets to find dinner and the loser has to work on the spheres.”
Mr. Terrific clenches his jaw and tips his head quickly. He gestures to the dark office and asks, “Do you know why I got this place?”
“To store all your nerd stuff?” you guess sarcastically.
“To get away from the- from GL and Hawkgirl. So I don’t want to hear another ridiculous idea that could have easily come from them.”
You think about agreeing and getting back to work. Mr. Terrific is grumpy – grumpier than usual, you amend mentally – but you’re in the mood to press him a little.
“I didn’t know you thought I was a better logician than you,” you muse, gripping the edge of your desk to pull your chair back onto its mat.
He extends his foot forward, blocking your path. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“That I’ve been around you long enough to subconsciously analyze your behaviour. I know what you’d pick, so I’d beat you in the game and then you’d have to work, settling for my favourite restaurant instead of whatever weird circle-shaped food you’d get.”
“Circle-shaped-“ Mr. Terrific interrupts himself with a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not a real thing.”
“Whatever you need to hear,” you agree.
“Fine,” he snaps, turning to pull his chair closer to yours.
He places his right fist on his left hand, raising one brow beneath his modified domino mask. You hide your smile and match his positioning, nodding before you speak again.
“Rock,” you begin, “paper-“
“Wait,” Mr. Terrific murmurs, reaching forward.
You freeze when his fingers wrap around your wrists. He tugs your hands closer, unintentionally bringing your chair closer so that your legs slot between his. You watch, feeling your mouth go dry as he looks at your hands.
“Does it hurt?” he asks.
You see his mouth move but don’t register what he’s saying, so he drops your hands and removes his mask.
“Does it hurt?” he repeats.
“Huh? Oh, no,” you mumble, holding your hands exactly where he’d dropped them. “Thanks.”
“The knife was hot,” he realizes. “That’s why it’s swelling.”
You look down, finally noticing the redness spreading as your skin becomes inflamed. “It’s fine,” you force out. “And I’ll get back to work.”
“Don’t.”
Glancing up, you meet Mr. Terrific’s eyes. His gaze is steady on you, and you no longer feel like you’re at work.
“Sir?” you whisper.
“Let’s go get dinner,” he decides, pushing away from you suddenly. “We’ll look at the spheres again in the morning, and then we can decide if they’re worth salvaging.”
“Sure,” you say slowly. “Where are we going?”
“Let’s get your favourite.”
“We don’t have to do that,” you insist.
Mr. Terrific doesn’t reply as he brushes past you to exit the office. You watch the doorway with furrowed brows until he returns with a first aid kit.
“Sit,” he demands.
You perch on the edge of your desk, watching him. His face is still painted in a few places, but his jaw is tight and his eyes focused as he places a bandage, a tube of burn cream, and some tape on the desk by your hip. When he offers his hand, you lay your palm in his so he can move your hand however he needs it. He works quietly, your mingled breaths and the steady hum of a fan keeping you from a tense silence.
“Michael,” you whisper when he hesitates to wipe your skin.
His swallow is visible, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple preceding his eyes dragging up to yours.
“It’s okay,” you promise. “It’ll sting, but I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re supposed to be safe,” he begins, pausing when he drags the wipe across your palm. You grimace, and he remains quiet as he reaches for the prepared bandage. “When I asked you to help, when I hired you, I thought you’d always be far from the dangers we face. You getting hurt… it isn’t supposed to happen.”
“Michael, it’s a scratch and a tiny burn,” you remind him. “I do worse than this trying to cook. You didn’t fail to keep me safe – which, by the way, isn’t a burden you have to bear.”
Michael’s tongue peeks out of his mouth as he licks his bottom lip. “What… what if I want to?” he whispers.
Your lips part as he finishes, your breath leaving slowly. “I’d never ask you to do that,” you whisper.
“But would you let me?”
Turning your hand, you push your fingers between Michael’s. “Only if you beat me at rock, paper, scissors,” you answer, smiling up at him.
Michael shakes his head, but you see his lips quirk up slightly. He places his fist on his palm again, and you begin the game normally, then raise your hand in a half-heart shape.
“What is that?” Michael demands, holding his scissors up.
“It’s love,” you answer, as if it’s obvious. “It defeats all.”
Michael takes your shoulders, shakes you gently, then offers his hand to help you off the desk. He turns you toward your messy desk and points over your shoulder.
“First thing tomorrow,” he says, “fix that.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” you agree with a firm nod.
“You’re so annoying,” he grumbles, moving toward the door.
“You flatter all your dates like this?” you taunt, catching up with him and taking his hand. He squeezes your fingers in reply, which you take as meaning no, but you’re special.
#hanna writes✯#mr terrific#mr terrific x reader#michael holt x reader#michael holt#mister terrific#fem!reader#dc comics x reader#dc comics fic
107 notes
·
View notes
Text
ROOMMATES I ROOM 10A. ITOSHI RIN
EPISODE 01 [The Shampoo Incident ]
you have a sneaking suspicion that rin has been stealing your shampoo.
WC. 0.8k
content. banter. rin wants you so bad, you just want your shampoo. story under cut
Rin steals your shampoo and never admits it. You came to this conclusion once you started noticing that the usual time it took you to finish one bottle, had halved. The first time it ran out, you replaced it without question. But after the second and third time, you began to worry about the amount of money you'd have to spend on shampoo every month. Either you were using way more than you thought you were- which could not be true, because you had become so paranoid you started counting how many pumps you used, or someone else was using it too.
There was no one else in your apartment apart from you and Rin. Literally no one else has access to your beloved green tea clarifying shampoo. It was a very clear argument with an even clearer resolve, and yet Rin always denied it. He would shut down the conversation the second you even suggested something remotely related to him using your shampoo.
"Hey, Rin?" You duck into the kitchen, hanging onto the frame of the open archway. You dangle your empty bottle of shampoo in your free hand, the nozzle jostles around inside as you shake it. You were prepared to finally get him after three whole months failed confrontations and lack of hair wash. "Did you use my shampoo again?"
"No." His back is turned to you as he shoots you down immediately. He doesn't say anything else, just returning to stir frying vegetables on the stove.
"What do you mean no?" You furrow your brows, walking up to him from behind, hands on your hips with the shampoo bottle tucked under one of your armpits.
"No, I do not use your shampoo." He rejects again, still not looking at you.
"Well you've got to be using something. And seeing as you don't even have shampoo in the shower anymore, I know for a fact that you're using mine." You stand next to him by the stove, placing the empty vial on the kitchen counter.
"How can you be so sure?" He hums, mixing the greens with a pair of chopsticks. His eyes slide over to you, deep set and unfazed.
"Because..." You reach up to tug on his ear, pulling him down to level with you. "It's not possible for me to finish a whole bottle by myself in less than a few weeks and also," You make sure he's looking at you when you lean in. The smell of green tea and jasmine is light, but it's still very much there. "Your hair reeks of it. I can smell it on you."
The heat creeps up to Rin's face and you don't miss it. You notice the way his ears tinge pink in your hold. His breath hitches, chest seizing due to the proximity you ensued. It takes Rin a long while before he can find his breath again. Long enough, to the point where he could see the satisfaction beginning to form on your face. He wouldn't let you have it.
"Are you sure you're not smelling yourself?" Rin rebuts, freeing himself of your grip on his ear and leaning over to yours instead. His face hasn't stopped flushing red, but he refuses to let you have any more leverage. He stills, mere centimetres away from your face, his lips pursed. "Because you smell of it too."
"Ugh," You groan, pushing his face away with one hand and turning the opposite way to hide your face in embarrassment. It was now your turn to clutch at the feeling that bloomed in your chest as you spin away from him. "I know you use it, you little shit."
He smirks, ever so slightly when he slides away, continuing to cook the spinach and carrots over the flame. "I don't" He sighs.
"Why you-"
Rin shoves a carrot into your mouth before you can continue your sentence.
"Oh hey that's pretty good..." You muse as the faint taste of sesame oil coats your tongue as you chew on the carrot. You narrow your eyes at him, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. "I was talking!"
"Were you?" He raises a brow. The smile on his lips grows a little more.
"I swear I'm gonna put cameras in the bathroom to catch you." You cross your arms, as you pick up the empty bottle of shampoo once more. You frustratingly discard it into the recycling bin by the counter as you begin to walk away.
"That's illegal, you perv." He chides.
"Then just admit you steal my shampoo!" You throw your hands into the air, your words becoming more and more futile by the second.
"I do not."
You give up, and buy him an extra bottle of shampoo the next time you go to the store.
🏷️. @saturnkais @elliehenry24
thanks for tuning in even though it was a short chapter today, consider reblogging if you enjoyed !
CHAPTER LIST I MASTERLIST
#roommates - blue lock#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#bllk#rin itoshi#rin itoshi x reader#rin itoshi x you#fluff#blue lock oneshots#oneshot series#oneshot#alternate universe#r
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
This time, Kane's somewhat expecting a consequence to follow; He's spoken back, after all, and used a curse word to bring his feelings for the other across instead of just taking it, instead of curling into himself to appear small.
Perhaps he should've done that. Perhaps he should've just bitten his tongue and acted like the stupid little nothing the other keeps seeing him as - the thing that's not alive, an existence that only copies and mimicks instead of developing further.
It doesn't take long for said consequence to be executed, not at all. Within the blink of an eye he's dragged off the bed and pushed against a wall with too much force, knocking the breath out of his lungs in return, the impact creating a dull ache that shoots through his body like a sharp electric current. He groans, followed by a small gasp, with Kane's own hands moving out of reflex - fingers trying to curl around that arm that keeps him pinned, applies so much pressure against his collarbone that part of him worries it could break apart.
Breaths turn into wheezes, teeth grinding together, jaw clenched as Kane, not-Kane, it exists like this - way too close to that man who's smelling like death, bottom lip trembling because of how rigid he is in return. A gaze drills itself into his very soul, that's how intense it is, prompting Kane to stare back with his brows knit, eyes glistening; Brown irises have changed during the whole of this, appear almost white by now, combined with that colorful shimmer that seems to have gotten a bit brighter itself.
He's called a bitch again, with that unknown man trying to push him further, trying to get a reaction out of him.
Perhaps that guy is right - perhaps he could kill Kane, could end his life and leave his body to be cut apart by the lab boys. Perhaps there would be no one there to stop him from applying a fatal blow, from using his weapon to deal with a life that has barely just begun to grow, begun to understand, to see what this is truly about---
The thought causes something inside Kane to tear apart, has him swallow against what tries to tie his throat shut; He can feel the tear running across his cheek before he's even aware of the fact that he's crying to begin with, brows remaining knitted, his frown carrying more than just pure anger - he's afraid, he's scared, he's outright terrified, but at the same time he's seething, he's devastated, he feels sad, hopeless.
Kane, not-Kane, it, cannot win, no matter what he'll do, he's aware of that. That asshole says it himself, in some way; They want Kane to fight back, to show aggression, most likely to confirm whatever they've written down about him - which, in the end, could mean that he'll be executed, eradicated, because he's turned out to be a danger to society and too unstable to remain alive.
But, in return, that very same guy provokes him with the fact that, if he keeps holding back, he's a nothing. He won't prove anything, won't make it apparent that he has feelings, that he's experiencing emotions, that he's able to create his very own mosaic out of what had been given to him. All of this, the knowledge that Kane will most likely lose his life in one way or another - it hurts. God, it hurts.
Taking a shaking inhale of air, sharp and sudden, he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment - wished that he wasn't so alone, wished that he could get out of this in some way. To be helpless, out of hope, might be one of the most intense emotions he's ever felt so far - he hates it, he hates how it cuts through his flesh and bone, how it makes his racing heart skip a beat or two every now and then. He hates that he might be at fault for this - at fault for Dr. Harrow to be wherever he is right now, to be neurologically evaluated, whatever that truly means...
All because of Kane, not-Kane, it, having wanted to see the rain. All because of Kane, not-Kane, it, having found comfort in a cup of tea, in talking to the one they'd assigned to watch him, figure him out. All because of Kane, not-Kane, it, having wanted to be... alive.
To be a someone rather than a something.
"...You'll continue to see me as a nothing, no matter what I do." Quiet, close to a whisper, but still sharp as Kane speaks those syllables out into the inch of rotten air between them - eyes flicking back open, brows remaining knitted, teeth bared.
"No matter what I do - no matter whether I'll fight back or simply take it like the bitch I am---" Another inhale of air, the pressure against his collarbone beyond uncomfortable, "---You'll see me as a nothing anyways. I can't get out of this. ---So do your fucking thing, asshole, and get it over and done with."
A bottom lip still trembling, he sucks it between his teeth once Kane finishes speaking. Biting the soft flesh, trying to keep it still. Waiting. Preparing himself mentally for what is about to come.
It's... sad, really. Very, very sad. He'd hoped to get to taste the rose-flavored tea, to do another puzzle, perhaps. To... speak to Harrow for a bit longer, to listen to him reciting poems and tell him about his bad leg.
But this might be it. And he's so, so damn sorry for having caused that man who'd started to see him as a someone, who'd sat with him and held his arm out into the rain, so much trouble, in the end.
I'm sorry, he thinks to himself. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done any of it.
Eyes close again, brows furrowing as Kane, not-Kane, it, accepts his fate. Part of him wants to fight, and he thinks he knows that he could, in theory, get a hold of that man's weapon... but it would be futile, make things worse than they already are to begin with.
He'll... miss this. He'll miss the conversations, the tea, the books, the puzzles. Kane will miss Harrow, yeah, he will.
The words hung in the air like shattered glass, sharp and dangerous. Whatever reflected in them was nothing but hostile, Six freezing immediately; it wasn’t in shock, nor was it in fear. It was rage, easily ignited and even easier to lock in on - it flickered like static behind his eyes, boiling through his jaw and making it clench so hard that it ached. Immediately, his face was nothing but fury - fire in his eyes, hands balled into fists.
The alien spoke back. It spoke back. It used words that shouldn’t have been permitted, if Six had an opinion, and it gave an emotion that no one had ever seen from it. Harrow had pushed for it, only a bit ago - but the man hadn’t been able to commit to it. He hadn’t been able to push hard enough, stopped by his bleeding heart - Six wasn’t the same.
Six wanted this. He was already finding more information than Harrow had - he had proof that the little bastard had a fire in him. He had anger in him, if you dug in the right places - and that was good. That was so much better than good.
“What did you say to me?”
His voice was soft, soaked in false care and dripping with something far too heavy. He turned slowly, just enough to face Kane full-on again; his face was still, all except for his jaw, which was clenched so tightly that the veins along his neck were straining beneath his skin.
“You think you get to do that?” He demanded. “You think you get to mouth off, in here? You think you can fuckin’ talk to me like that?!”
He moved.
Fast.
Six grabbed Kane by the front of the shirt again, harder this time, dragging him forward and off of the bed. Whether Kane caught himself or not didn’t matter; the goal wasn’t to restrain. It was just to cause impact.
“You wanna pretend you’re a person, asshole?” Six hissed. “Fine. Let’s see how well you take a fuckin’ hit like one, huh?”
He shoved Kane, full force, against the far wall - but he followed too closely to let the man fall, his hand not releasing. His arm shifted to pin the man hard, pushing way harder than necessary, putting pressure along Kane’s collarbone and forcing his back against the cold tile of the walls.
“Subject initiated verbal provocation,” he spoke to the cameras. “Logged response escalation. Will keep subject stable.”
He could phrase it however he wanted. He was the real man, here - Kane was nothing but space dust.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his breath hot in Kane’s face. “Say it again, and I’ll give them the footage they want. The little alien being hostile, the little fucking thing getting his ass handed to him."
His breath reeked of rot. Coffee, bitterness, something sour under the tongue - his grip stayed firm, however, the weight of his body pinned against Kane’s clavicle.
“Little bitch,” he continued. “Look at you, pinned like a fuckin’ lab rat. Trying to look like something delicate, huh? Hoping that I’m gonna give a shit, if you’re pissed? Hopin’ you’ll look like the good guy, if you cry about how you don’t deserve it? Huh?”
He pulled back just slightly, enough to look the other in the eye. Enough to grin, his breath still rotten as he exhaled another laugh; “I could kill you right now, y’know. They’d just mark it as an anomaly - most of the lab boys wanna cut you apart, anyways. Bit by bit, see what makes you tick. See if there’s anything here, or if you’re just fuckin’ decoration.”
It was true, to a point - he could kill the man, with no true consequence. The only reason to not to was because he’d lose the sight, the joy of shoving the little thing around.
“You gonna do something? You gonna hit me, or are you gonna take it like the bitch you are? Huh? Are you something? Or are you nothing, bitch?”
#preemptivejustice#interactions; shimmer!kane#plotted verse; preemptivejustice (kane)#(... dont mind me. i'm not sitting here crying right after having gotten up. No. would never. :') )#(hey six so just so you know you'll die because of this. :))) )#(ok but. what if Harrow rewatches security footage once he's back to know what has happened and he sees all of this :))#(and can also listen to the convo bc it has been recorded :) )#( hey six. i think you'll die for sure. :) )
145 notes
·
View notes
Text
Midnight Intruder



matt murdock x f!reader
warnings – fluff, banter, i originally wasn’t planning on it, but the end gets a little sappy! reader and matt are in a relationship. matt makes a comment about “another woman” so reader was written as a woman, but i don’t think i mentioned gender anywhere else! no use of y/n. very quickly proofread, i apologize if there are any mistakes!
word count – 1.2k
a/n – my first time writing for matt! i hope you all enjoy, feedback is always appreciated :)
────── .✦
The dip of the bed is what wakes you from your slumber. You should be alarmed, but you’re not. You know it’s just Matt.
“Are you just letting yourself in whenever nowadays, Murdock?” You mumble, sleep still heavy in your eyes. You yawn, rubbing your eyes to shoo the sleep away. When you open them again, you see the blurry figure of Matt leaning onto your bed, over your legs.
“You gave me a key, remember? Isn’t this what it was for?” He retorts, laughing more to himself than to you. You feel his rough, warm hand trail up your bare leg, nails scratching lightly. July heat in New York was unbearable, so you’ve grown accustomed to sleeping in one of Matt’s large Columbia Law t-shirts that hangs down around your thighs and a pair of loose sleep shorts.
“No, it was meant for during the daytime like a normal human being, not in the middle of the night.” You argue back, meeting his hand that’s now above your knee with your own and threading your fingers through his.
“It’s not the middle of the night, it’s barely even one in the morning, sweetheart.” He corrects you, squeezing your hand in his and replacing the weight of his hand on your thigh with his lips, now ghosting light kisses against your soft skin. The stubble of his beard tickles you as he moves higher up your leg.
You close your eyes, humming in contentment, but still find one last snarky remark in you to slip past your lips. “I see why you’re such a good lawyer, Matthew. You love to argue technicalities.” This causes him to laugh, his warm breath fanning over the top of your thigh. You reach down with your free hand and thread your fingers through his hair, pulling lightly to guide his face up to yours. He obliges, leaving one final peck against your thigh before raising his body up so that his face is finally level with yours. You scratch lightly at his scalp with your fingernails before resting your hand back at your side.
You see his face in the moonlight that is shining in through the window. His tired, but nevertheless beautiful face. He has a cut across his eyebrow—that’s the first thing you notice. You let go of his hand and he places it beside you on the bed, holding his weight up. You’re now caged beneath him, but it feels like safety. You raise your hand to his face, tracing lightly over the cut on his eyebrow, then across his right cheekbone that now is sporting a reddish-purple bruise. It hasn’t been there too long. It’s maybe a day or two old at the most.
“You should see the other guy.” Matt says, cutting off your brain from thinking too much, too hard, about the new additions to his face. You scoff, lowering your hand to rest on your chest.
“What, like you’ve seen the other guy?” You return, a short laugh escaping your lips.
“Well, of course not. But trust me, I know he looks worse than I do right now.” He answers, and you know he’s telling the truth. No one walks away from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen with less injuries than the Devil himself leaves with. Well, some of them can’t even walk away.
Matt leans down and places a kiss on your forehead before you have a chance to respond, then he’s up again. He’s off your bed like he was never even there in the first place. You watch in the dim moonlight as he makes his way to the desk that’s against your wall. He knows that it’s exactly 7 steps away from the bed. Matt has your apartment mapped out in his head just as well as he does his own. With how often he’s there, how could he not? He begins to undress himself. First his shirt, then his pants. He’s left only in his boxers. He folds the clothes and places them neatly on the surface of your desk.
“Who said you could stay the night?” You tease, already scooting over in your bed to make room for him.
“You’re right, I should probably go. There’s another woman a few blocks down who would let me crash there with no arguments.” He says, smiling, but he’s already making his way over to your bed. You fake gasp, lightly hitting his arm as he sinks down into the bed, making himself comfortable. He doesn’t even bother with your duvet, it is too hot for it tonight.
You’re lying side by side, arms touching. It’s comfortable. You’re looking at the ceiling, tapping your fingers against your stomach. “So, are you taking the night off from your grave yard shift?” You question, turning your head to the left to view his side profile. His eyes are looking towards the ceiling. He blinks. Then, “Yeah, just for tonight. Had one too many with Foggy and Karen at Josie’s for me to be out there tonight.” He says, and there’s finality in his voice, so you don’t push—even though you feel like there’s something he’s not mentioning.
Instead of responding, you turn on your side to face him. You place a kiss against his bare shoulder before throwing your arm across his stomach, resting it there. You trace shapes against his stomach haphazardly with your finger. You listen to his breathing, the rhythmic sound of him breathing the air in, then blowing it out. It’s soothing to hear. The nights you share with Matt are the closest you ever feel to being at peace. Matt was your safe zone, just as much as you were his.
“I hope you know how proud I am of you, Matt.” You speak finally. “Fighting both day and night to keep the city safe. Your city safe. I know it takes a toll on you that you don’t always speak about, but just know that I see you. I see all that you do. How much you give for this city, how much it takes from you. You don’t give up, and I admire you for that. You’re so strong, Matt. I love you.” The words flow easily from your mouth. They’re nothing but the truth and both of you know that. Matt doesn’t even have to listen to your heartbeat to know that the words you spoke are true.
He’s quiet. You think he might not respond. You’re okay with that. You didn’t tell him that to get a response, you told him just so he knows that someone sees him. Both sides of him, and loves him no matter what.
Then, he nods. “I love you.” He says finally, raising his arm, a cue for you to rest your head against his shoulder. You follow his unspoken command, resting your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your neck, placing his large hand on the back of your head. He scratches at your scalp before turning his own head to face you, placing a sweet kiss against your forehead before getting comfortable again. His hand lands on your arm and he squeezes it gently.
You’re both quiet now. You listen to Matt’s breathing again, you feel the rise and fall of his stomach underneath your arm. You’re sure it will be enough to help you ease back into the dream-filled sleep you were in before Matt made his way into your bedroom tonight.
You know in the morning you will wake up sticky from the sweat that his warm body heat will cause you, but you don’t care.
Right now you want nothing more than to be held safely and securely by Matt as you drift slowly back to your deep sleep—which is exactly what happens.
#matt murdock x reader#matthew murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matthew murdock x you#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock#matthew murdock#daredevil#daredevil fanfiction#matthew murdock fanfic#charlie cox
43 notes
·
View notes
Note
Re: people hating Jinshi
Something hilarious I've noticed is that the TVTropes page for the series completely ignores the romantic interactions between Jinshi and Maomao, and focuses heavily on the idea of Jinshi being a creep ("abhorrent admirer", derogatory mention of the frog scene) instead. No mention about Maomao returning his feelings. No discussion in the heartwarming tab about scenes where they clearly care for and like each other. Not even any real mention of Maomao liking Jinshi's childish personality, or major romantic scenes later in the novels (even tho it DOES mention other stuff from the novels)
If someone read the TVTropes page before getting into the series, they'd probably be completely convinced that it's one sided and being forced on Maomao, against her will. Even tho the anime itself has given plenty of hints towards it being reciprocal by now.
I can only assume the people running the series page have something personal against jinmao, and are imposing that on the page itself, despite the fact that it should be impartial at best, or at least be acknowledging canon at worst
I haven't read the TV Tropes page so i dont think i can say much abt it.
But I will say, people need to stop downplaying Maomao's feelings for Jinshi. To do so is basically denying her growth in itself, her accepting Jinshi isn't as some sort of "reward" for Jinshi nor is it for the sake of a romance finally fulfilled.
Since the beginning of series we've learned that Maomao has always been closed off, her aversion to love and heck even friendship is something she doesn't ever willingly admits.
We get to see the full state of her feelings finally when she admits that she cares for Chue (mind you this is the same person that is reluctant to admit she cares for Xiaolan and Shisui as a friend) Her admittance to that finally led her to accept Jinshi's feelings.
She didn't accept him bcs "she had no other choice" or bcs she's resigned herself to it as the fandom oh so gloriously love to claim. She accepted him bcs SHE'S finally ready to face her own feelings. (Which btw if y'all were truly reading you'll know that it's been growing for a long time)
Maomao is an unreliable narrator, and while i do agree that we shouldn't use this at every given opportunity as an excuse, its also important to be able to read the line between what she says vs what she does. When it comes to Jinshi, she lies to herself. A Lot.
I have no idea why people hate Jinmao so much, I've heard a lot of reasons actually but none ever fully make sense. (Theyre all stupid.)
And don't yall fucking dare discredit Natsu Hyuuga by saying "she was forced" to add Jinmao, bcs 1. No one can ever force a creator about their own work, not even their family.
2. A forced relationship wouldnt EVER be this well written/developed. This series started back in freaking 2011 and Jinmao has only recently become canon in Ln13 (Japan) which was released not so long ago. She had every opportunity to have them get together, there was no need for the push-pull shit they did starting from Ln5. But she didnt, because Maomao wasnt ready to face her feelings and Jinshi wasnt nearly mature enough on how to handle HIS feelings for Maomao -how he should treat her, the consequence of it all, etc
Do yall not hear how fucking dumb you sound when you say this?
#anon ask#people who kept using antsu hyuuga's words against her piss me off#how fucking DARE YOU to claim that all her work these years are merely half assed#that she was forced. that she had NO HAND AT ALL abt the firection of her crafts#dumbass#the apothecary diaries#also anon i wouldnt pay attention to tvtropes too much tbh#theyre almost as reliable as wikipedia is#i know a lot of medias have gotten lost in translation bcs they never do manage to. how do i say#crosscheck? theyre either inaccurate or just incomplete
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Grand Pursuit|4
Glossed Lies & Glances



“Some wounds are loud. Others come wearing lipstick.”
MID-MORNING – VILLA KITCHEN
The kitchen buzzes with quiet energy. Coffee brewing. Cutlery clinking. Outside, the sun finally returns after a night of rain. Y/N walks in, fresh-faced, messy bun, wearing a soft fitted top and biker shorts.
Natalie, already seated, beams at her.
Natalie:
“I’ve decided your vibe is ‘hot girl who doesn’t even know she’s hot.’”
Y/N (grabbing a cup):
“That’s because I’m a hot girl who just wants coffee.”
Cassie, sitting nearby with Jessica, snorts. Loudly.
Jessica (not looking up):
“Or maybe it’s the ‘hot girl who pretends to be chill so the boys think she’s not like other girls.’ You know — the usual pick-me thing.”
The whole room freezes.
Y/N (slowly turning):
“Sorry, you say something, Jess? Or were you just practicing being passive-aggressive out loud?”
Jessica (standing):
“Just tired of the fake act. You always roll your eyes at gloss, makeup talk, girly stuff. Like it’s beneath you. Classic pick-me.”
Y/N (steps closer, voice calm):
“You think not obsessing over Fenty gloss makes me a pick-me? I love makeup. I just don’t need it to be my whole personality.”
Jessica (mocking):
“Right. You’re not like other girls. You’re just so effortlessly real. That’s why the guys eat it up, right?”
Y/N (voice cool, but eyes burning):
“No, Jess. They like me because I don’t perform. I wear gloss, I contour when I want, but I don’t weaponize femininity to manipulate people. You hate that I don’t have to try.”
Jessica (steps even closer):
“No, I hate that you act like you’re better than all of us for trying.”
Y/N:
“I don’t act like I’m better. I just don’t fake friendship with girls while competing with them. That’s your thing.”
The room is silent. Cassie looks like she’s about to cry.
Revan is watching from the hallway, lips pursed.
Oscar walks in halfway through, hears the tension — and doesn’t step in.
Y/N notices. Her eyes flick to him. He looks away.
CONFESSIONAL – Y/N
“I’ve defended myself before, but this felt different. Like something cracked. And seeing Oscar stand there — silent — after last night? That stung. But I’m not chasing anyone.”
POOLSIDE – OSCAR & CHARLES
Oscar sits with his arms crossed, sunglasses on.
Charles sips orange juice beside him.
Charles:
“You okay?”
Oscar:
“Fine.”
Charles (studying him):
“Didn’t look fine when Y/N was looking for you to speak.”
Oscar (tight):
“Not everything’s about her.”
Charles:
“No. But when you ignore her like that? It says a lot.”
Oscar (after a pause):
“Maybe I don’t want to play anymore.”
Charles (nods slowly):
“Then someone else will.”
TASK ANNOUNCEMENT – “TRUTH CIRCLE”
HOST (voiceover): “Today’s task is called TRUTH CIRCLE. You’ll each draw a card with a question. Answer it. Honestly. Or take a consequence.”
“If the group decides you're lying, you face a double consequence.”
Gasps and groans ripple across the garden.
Lando (whistles):
“So this is where it gets juicy.”
Natalie (half-laughing):
“Or messy.”
Revan (to Lando, whispering):
“Be careful what you say in front of her. She’s dangerous when she’s quiet.”
Lando (glancing at Y/N):
“I like dangerous.”
TRUTH CIRCLE BEGINS
Everyone sits on lounge chairs around the firepit.
QUESTION: “Have you developed feelings for someone in the house?”
Charles:
“Maybe. But I’m not naming names yet.”
Laila:
“I think everyone has a little crush by now. Even the ones pretending not to.”
Revan (glancing at Lando):
“Some people are very... flirt-happy.”
Lando:
“Is it flirting if it’s just facts?”
Jessica (eyeing Y/N):
“Yeah, like calling someone real when she’s clearly acting.”
Y/N (smiling calmly):
“If I’m acting, I should win an award. You’re the one on a full PR tour every time a camera’s on.”
Laughter breaks out. Even Carlos grins.
QUESTION: “Who would you trust the least in a relationship?”
Oscar (quietly):
“Probably myself. I tend to overthink everything. Or shut down when it matters.”
Everyone’s surprised by his honesty.
Y/N looks at him for a moment. He doesn’t look back.
QUESTION: “Who in this house makes you feel the most seen?”
Lando (glancing at Y/N):
“There’s someone here who doesn’t try to impress anyone. Doesn’t chase. Doesn’t fake it. I see that — and I think she sees me too.”
Revan stares. Her fists clench in her lap.
Y/N’s breath catches.
Charles notices. His smile fades slightly.
NIGHTFALL – VILLA HALLWAY
Y/N walks alone toward the kitchen, barefoot. The air is still.
A voice cuts through the silence.
Lando:
“You always walk like you own the place.”
She turns. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
Y/N:
“Or maybe I walk like I’m not scared of it.”
Lando (softly):
“You’re not scared of anything, are you?”
Y/N (shrugs):
“Of being misunderstood. Maybe.”
He steps closer.
Lando:
“I get it. You walk into a room, and people either want to be you or tear you down.”
Y/N (quiet):
“And sometimes both.”
He moves in front of her. Close now. Too close.
Lando (lower):
“I don’t want either.”
She tilts her head.
Y/N:
“Then what do you want?”
He reaches up, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
Lando (whispers):
“To be the only person in this house who doesn’t need to impress you.”
Her breath hitches. His thumb brushes her jaw.
Y/N (softly):
“You already don’t.”
There’s a beat of silence. The space between them electric.
Then... he leans in.
Their lips brush — not fully kissing — just a taste. A tease.
She lets it linger for a heartbeat before pulling away.
Y/N (smiling):
“That’s dangerous.”
Lando (grinning):
“Then you’ll like it.”
From the hallway above, Revan watches. Unmoving.
CONFESSIONAL – CHARLES
“I don’t get jealous. I don’t. But seeing them like that? Something twisted in my chest. And I’m not sure what it means.”
SECRET FOOTAGE
The episode ends..
Laila sneaks into Y/N’s room, whispering something we can’t hear.
Y/N’s face freezes. Her eyes go wide. Her hand covers her mouth.
She whispers back:
“They said what about Oscar?”
To Be Continued
@dessashippr
#Spotify#formula 1#f1fics#formula1imagine#f1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 × reader#formula one#f1 imagine#charles leclerc#lando norris#oscar Piastri#max verstappen f1#Lewis Hamilton#carlos Sainz#Franco Colapinto#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri × reader#franco colapinto x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#max verstappen x reader#carlos sainz x reader#charles leclerc fanfiction#lando norris imagine#ln4 imagine#cl16 × y/n#ln4#op81 x reader
47 notes
·
View notes
Text



green means go
toxic!ex!bf!rafe cameron x toxic!reader
You broke up with Rafe nearly four months ago, addiction driving the wedge between you deeper than you could've imagined. When all else fails at winning your heart back, Rafe invites you to a party, buying you a dress for the occasion. What he didn't tell you was that it was a traffic light party, and the dress he bought you was red.
warnings: two toxic babies sitting in a tree..., mentions of addiction, much angst, rafe being sulky
wc: 2.9k
rafe cameron masterlist
Finishing your day at work at your parent’s firm, all you could think about was how good a hot shower and your bed would feel. Fate apparently had other plans. You crack the door to your bedroom, instantly being greeted with the soft breeze of your perfume and room spray.
On your perfectly made bed sat an overly large box, a small letter lurking on top. You throw your handbag to the floor, dragging your feet over to your bed. The envelope has two words scrawled on the front, that handwriting unmistakably Rafe’s.
Open me.
Rolling your eyes, you slip your acrylic nail under the seal, pulling out the letter. It’s short, which surprises you, because ever since you broke up with Rafe, you’ve become used to his overly long, whiny, apologetic letters and extravagant gifts.
You appreciated the effort, but there was no way in hell you were going to continue being in a relationship with a raging cocaine addict.
There’s a party tonight, Top’s house. Bought you an outfit. See you at 9.
You place the letter on your bed, reaching to pull the lid off the oversized box. The contents make your mouth go dry. You begin opening the items one by one. There’s a Cartier love bracelet, a white Jaquemus handbag, a pair of black Rosalie Louboutins, a double heart Tiffany necklace, your favourite perfume, and red silk flooding the bottom of the box.
You don’t even look at the dress, instead reaching for your phone, texting Rafe.
You: this is a little overboard, don’t u think?
His response is near instant, like he already knew what you were going to say.
Rafe: do you think i’m poor or smth?
You scoff, sending back a quick reply.
You: ur lucky i’m not busy tn
Rafe: i’m lucky anytime i get to see you xx
You force yourself to throw your phone, not wanting to engage in any further conversation with him. You’ll see him tonight, and you’re sure he’ll be lurking close enough to converse for most of the night.
The dress is gorgeous. Red silk, ruched down the side seams. It will hug your curves perfectly. You can see exactly why Rafe would’ve bought you this dress. You’re going to look like an absolute smokeshow tonight.
After having a shower, you return to your bedroom, tinkering with Rafe’s box of overly pricey gifts, not knowing where to start. Your hands find their way to the jewellery pieces, internally cringing at the tiny house-deposit priced items in your hand.
You put the jewellery from the box on, appreciating that he’s aware of your choice in metals. They’re beautiful and compliment your skin tone perfectly. He may be an idiot for spending so much money, but lord are they beautiful.
Your hands reach for your forgotten phone on your bed, pulling up Sofia’s contact. You type a quick message, not particularly wanting to go to this party if she’s not going to be there.
You: are u going to tops tn? rafe bought me a whole fit, now i feel like i gotta go
You see the three bubbles pop up on the screen, her fingers evidently taking their sweet time replying.
Sof: after i spent two weeks trying to find a sexy green dress? hell fucking yes.
You snicker at her response, wondering why she was being so specific.
You: green? babe you look hot asf in any color.
Anger begins to bubble in your chest when her reply eventually comes through.
Sof: it’s a traffic light party lol i’m tryna find a mans
Is Rafe serious? A red dress for a traffic light party? Your fingers respond quicker than you can even think the words.
You: meet me at the boutique in 20? i’ve got a green dress to buy.
Sofia responds almost instantly this time.
Sof: i thought rafe bought your fit??
You: he did. a red one.
Sof: see you in 20 HAHAHA
You’re all dolled up, having gotten ready with Sofia at your house. Your hair and makeup is done flawlessly, everything on and ready besides your dress. Sofia holds the sealed boutique bag up from earlier, ready to help you get changed.
‘Hold up. I need to make him think I’m playing his game,’ you tell her, reaching for the red dress you’d left on your bed. You slip it on quickly, sending him a quick photo in the mirror. As rushed as you put it on, you take it off, putting your green dress on for the party.
Sofia can’t help but laugh at your antics, sipping on a cocktail at your vanity.
‘He’s going to lose his shit tonight.’
‘That’s the plan.’
The ambient air at the party smelt of weed, sweat and alcohol. The typical scents of a Figure Eight party. You’d gone in the front door with Sofia, eager to find a top-up on your booze, which seemed to be located through a crowd of partygoers.
Sofia drags you through, a bunch of boys in green all looking your way, hollering as you pass. Realistically, you weren’t here to find a man. Hell, wearing red seemed more appealing. It was the fact that Rafe thinks he owns you that cemented your desire to arrive in green.
You finally pour yourself a drink, and as you tap your plastic cup to Sofia’s, you’re taken aback by a heavy set of hands on your shoulders.
‘Well look at you…’ Rafe drawls coldly from where he stands behind you. Sofia’s eyes widen in amusement and she brings her drink to her lips to conceal her smirk. You give her a cheeky wink before spinning to face Rafe.
You’d been waiting for this all evening. The look on his face when he realized you weren’t playing his game. The jealousy in his voice thinking you’re ready to move on from him. Getting under his skin filled your soul more than you cared to admit.
‘Hi Rafe,’ You say sharply, taking a sip of your drink as you feign boredom. His eyes rake over you, feasting on your skimpy little dress and the way it accentuates every inch of your body.
Your eyes briefly scan his outfit, a burgundy button-up, black chinos, perfectly tailored, and every last button of his shirt undone, flaunting his toned figure. He’s even got his sleeves rolled up, leaving you wondering why he even bothered putting a shirt on.
‘Green, huh? I think red is more your color,’ he remarks, the hand not holding his drink coming up to run along the thin strap of your dress.
‘I think she looks hot as fuck in green, but I’ll let you guys bicker alone.’ Sofia butts in, her voice laced with amusement. You feel like you have to fight the instinctual eye roll, keeping your eyes firm on Rafe.
‘Green is a little bit more accurate, y’know? With the theming and all.’ Your words are cold, knowing exactly how to get him all riled up, even in front of a hundred other people.
‘Accurate?’ Rafe scoffs in disbelief, continuing on with a heated passion in his voice, ‘You went through all this effort to prove a point when you know what this is anyway.’
He motions between the two of you, his drink coming dangerously close to splashing out of his red plastic cup. You laugh bitterly, patting his sturdy chest a few times mockingly.
‘We knew. Past tense. I don’t belong to you anymore, Rafe.’ His jaw is set angrily, his cup beginning to crumble in his grasp.
‘You walk around in green like you’re up for grabs… don’t act all shocked when someone turns up hurt.’ Rafe snarls, his hand reaching to drag you closer by the waist.
‘Is that a threat?’ Your eyes narrow on him, seemingly unbothered by his words externally. Internally, it’s hard to ignore your pulse thumping between your thighs, your body all but crying out for his touch.
‘Take it as a warning. I don’t like games.’ Rafe practically spits through his clenched teeth, his abs contracting with the anger coursing through him.
‘Then stop playing them, Rafe.’ You give him the same energy he gives you, turning on your heel and making your way through the sea of people, searching for Sofia.
You eventually find her, chatting up another guy in green. You stand there and weigh up your options for a brief moment, deciding to not be a cockblock, and searching for someone else to start talking to.
Your eyes settle on Topper, a pretty close friend of Rafe’s who always treated you like royalty. The heels Rafe bought you dig into the soles of your feet with the intensity with which you approach Topper.
‘Hey Top! Thank you for inviting me!’ You approach him from the side, watching his head flick over to you at the sound of your voice. A smile lights up his face, his arms opening to welcome you into his embrace.
‘I didn’t know you were coming! It’s so good to see you!’ Topper beams, pulling you in for a tight hug. You wrap your arms around his waist, his hug tight around your shoulders.
‘Of course! I wouldn’t miss one of your infamous matchmaking evenings,’ you say with a jestful wink. Topper nods in understanding, pursing his lips briefly, his eyes lowering to your dress respectfully.
‘Speaking of matchmaking, you’re in green tonight? Are you and Rafe like, actually over?’ Topper’s question makes your skin crawl, knowing that Rafe still hasn’t officially told anyone you’re not together, nearly four months after your breakup.
Sure, there’s been rumors, but it’s hard to believe when the source is telling you they’re just ‘going through a rough patch.’
Rough patch my ass.
‘I’m standing here in green, aren’t I?’ You conclude, motioning to your dress. Topper laughs dryly, standing by your side, redirecting your vision to the other side of the room.
‘He’s still over there in red.’ Topper nods in Rafe’s direction, and your eyes lock onto him through the sea of people, his tall frame overshadowing most of the crowd. He’s watching you like a hawk, and suddenly you feel a remnant of guilt in the pit of your stomach.
You let out a sigh, bringing your drink to your lips for a moment.
‘He can wear whatever he wants. So can I.’ You mumble out, just loud enough for Topper to hear over the music. He shakes his head, impressed by your determination to prove your point. He lets out a contagious laugh, your own forming very quickly in your chest.
‘You’re literally just poking the bear,’ he snickers out. ‘He’s crazy and you’re-no offence-just as bad.’ You laugh at his words, swatting his arm in retaliation.
‘That’s low, Top, so-’ A hand around your wrist startles you from continuing. Your eyes drift away from a now timid Topper, landing on a buzzed frame clad in that stupid sexy burgundy shirt.
‘Can we talk?’ Rafe’s voice is as equally demanding as it is pleading, as is the firm look on his face. His chest rises and falls like he’s just ran a marathon, your actions affecting him more than he’d care to admit.
‘What is there to talk about? If you don’t like my dress you’re more than welcome to eat some concrete and-’
‘It’s not about your dress. Please.’ Rafe is practically begging, cutting your cold-hearted words off with a demanding impatience. You look to Topper for backup, but he just stands there and shrugs.
With a roll of your eyes, you follow Rafe to an unoccupied bathroom down the hall. He closes the door behind you both, his hands immediately running up through his hair in exasperation.
‘Topper? Seriously, princess?’ Rafe snaps, trying his best to keep his cool and stay out of your personal space.
‘My friend, Topper? The one that I was just having a civil conversation with?’ You retort, eyeing him with a sense of disbelief at his childlike actions.
‘You-fuck! Don’t you see everything I do for you?! I’ve tried so hard to tell you I’m sorry and you keep pulling stunts like this to make me jealous! You’re driving me fucking crazy!’ You let Rafe have his outburst, his hands moving erratically as he vents.
‘I don’t need your shitty gifts or whiny letters, Rafe! I don’t need your money! I wanted a boyfriend who cared more about me than his next fix. I wanted a boyfriend who wasn’t irrationally angry because he was too coked up to care! Sue me for wanting to find someone who is actually ready to treat me right!’
Your words come out louder and more emotional than you had planned, but seeing him here, on the verge of breaking down stirred up feelings you thought you’d let go of. Feelings you tried so desperately to keep from breaking the surface.
Rafe steps in closer, his hands reaching for yours, tugging you closer with his unravelling grip. His forehead falls forward, resting on your own, and you wished you had the power to push him away. To tell him to fuck off. But you don’t.
Because deep down, you know he’s a broken little boy.
Rafe is a good person, even if he’s made shitty choices, but that’s not someone you’re willing to settle for.
‘Rafe, you should go.’ Your voice is hushed, unsure, and it doesn’t sound convincing, even to you. He shakes his head lightly against yours, a shuddering breath falling from his lips.
‘I can’t.’ His voice cracks, his eyes beginning to glass over. You’ve never seen this side of Rafe before, and you’re torn between wanting to run and wanting to hold him and tell him you never stopped loving him.
‘I haven’t touched anything. No coke. No pills. Nothing.’ His words make your chest clench painfully, your eyes fluttering shut to try to drive the tears away.
‘Not since you left.’ Your heart is throbbing violently in your chest, your pulse being felt throughout every inch of your body. A tear slips down Rafe’s cheek. You’ve never seen him cry before. Not when his dad died. Not when his sister ‘died’. He was the definition of emotionally constipated.
Yet here, in this moment with you, all his walls have come tumbling down. Maybe you weren’t just a game to him. Maybe whatever you two had actually did mean something.
‘I swear to god, I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying so fucking hard because…’ He chokes up, his hands clenching impossibly tight around yours.
‘Because you’re stronger than every drug I’ve ever touched. It feels like I’m drowning without you.’ Your eyes flutter open, glassy, locking onto his reddened orbs. The contrast of the red on his normally bright blue eyes draws more attention to the fact that he was crumbling right in front of you.
‘Rafe…’
He doesn’t let you continue, ‘I’m clean. I’m sober. I’m…’ He chuckles helplessly, the knot in his chest reaching the tightest of tensions.
‘I’m trying to be the man you fell in love with again.’
Your heart breaks into a million tiny pieces at his words. The fight in you drains out like a river that flows into the sea. You shake your head, trying to convince yourself that you’re making the wrong decision.
‘I should go.’
Rafe looks at you, your hands falling weakly from his grip. He nods in understanding, his lips pulling into a tight grimace as he tries to hold his pain in. He’s done this all for you. He’s turned his whole life around, but it’s too late.
‘Maybe you should.’ He moves out of the way, letting you reach for the door handle. Your hand lands on the cold metal, but it doesn’t move. Your heart hammers in your chest as you listen to Rafe’s shallow breaths behind you.
Everything in your body is telling you to go, but when he says those words, your entire body tenses up.
‘Tell me you don’t love me anymore.'
'Tell me you never want to see me again and I’ll let you go.’
His voice sounds ruined, like those words cost him more money than any gift he’s ever bought you. They’re heavy and they force your hand to grip fiercely around the door handle. Your eyes begin to burn, emotions threatening to flood out with tangible proof.
You need to leave. You know you need to leave, but before you can stop yourself, you whip around, crashing your lips to his, before your brain even has time to catch up with the weight of your decision.
The kiss is messy, and holds the weight of a million unsaid words. Rafe’s arms clutch at your waist, painfully tight, like he was afraid that if he loosened his grip, you’d disappear right in front of him.
You stagger backwards as he leans into you, your ass eventually hitting the edge of the basin. You feel Rafe’s hands snake around, reaching for the zipper on your dress, his lips trailing from your mouth, down your neck.
‘I fucking hate that I still love you.’ You breathe out, your hips already rolling against his through his pants, your body falling right back into that sweet rhythm you had all those months ago.
Rafe pulls away from your neck slightly, his hot breath moving up to your ear.
‘Tell me you hate me.’
Kiss.
‘Tell me I ruined everything.’
Kiss.
‘Just don’t tell me it’s over.’
taglist: @rcwhore @mariechristine00
inbox, dm, reblog or comment to be added to my taglist <3
#rafe cameron#outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#maybank!reader#outer banks imagine#outer banks social media#rafe outer banks#bithewayellie#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagines#outer banks fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe imagine#rafe x reader#rafe obx#outerbanks rafe#obx rafe cameron#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx#obx smau#obx x reader#outerbanks#obx pogues#outer banks fanfic#outer banks x reader#rafe cameron angst
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gonna preface this immediately by saying I adore Jorge and his work and I think EPIC is an amazing piece of art that clearly had an abundance of love, passion, and thought poured into it. HOWEVER, that doesn't make it perfect, and I do have a couple of gripes with the storytelling of it,
For example, the whole main theme of EPIC can be encompassed in the lyric; "Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves." EPIC is framed as a story of character development, where we see Odysseus go from an "Open Arms" adjacent approach to a more "Ruthless" approach by the end of the musical, as seen in "Odysseus". However, I've tried to read the Odyssey from this viewpoint, and yet I just cannot find this narrative for Odysseus prevalent anywhere. And while I think it is fine for Jorge to create an entirely new narrative that isn't tied to the Odyssey (I have no problem with innacuraccies, only with creators who don't specify these innacuraccies, and Jorge has definitely specified many times that EPIC isn't accurate at all), this creates a HUGE issue for the Ilium musical he has in plan.
My take on the narrative of the Odyssey is that we've already answered the question of ruthlessness being a mercy upon ourselves. Odysseus knows that it is. He always has! Odysseus' narrative in the Odyssey to me is more adjacent to Scylla's lyrics; "There is no price we won't pay, We both know what it takes to survive." I like to joke that Odysseus is the cockroach of the epic cycle, but he really is! With the longest, most perilous nostos (home-coming) in ancient Greek literature, Odysseus embodies the value of resilience throughout his journey home. Whether that be in a good, or bad way (considering the concerning amount of times he had to hold himself back from killing his crew lol).
The way I see it, the Odyssey is a story that asks us; "what is worth surviving for?" and, "at what point should we give up on this survival?". There are two key points in the Odyssey that signify this change (the former is slightly changed in what feels like a damaging way in EPIC, while the latter is entirely omitted from EPIC). Odysseus exemplifies his true cockroach self right after his crew is entirely zapped away to the underworld by Zeus for slaughtering the cattle of Helios. Right after this ordeal, Odysseus is left clinging to a tiny piece of driftwood from his exploded ship. The storm created by Zeus sweeps Odysseus from the island of Helios all the way back to the strait of Skylla and Charybdis. Now with no ship to steer, he's pulled directly into the gaping mouth of Charybdis. In a desperate attempt, he jumps up, and with whatever semblance of strength he has left, cling onto the branch of a fig tree on the side of the strait. Unlike in EPIC, Odysseus isn't sure that Charybdis will eventually regurgitate that little piece of driftwood. Yet, he still clings on. He survives. He has hope. We are used to this by now, seeing Odysseus full of determination and hope to return home. However, this is met with a heart-wrenching contrast when the Phaeacians send him home. They bring him to a small cave on the outskirts of Ithaca, settling him down on the soft sand, careful not to rouse him since he had immediately fallen asleep upon boarding their ship (and after hearing his story, they were not about to wake this guy up from what was probably the first time he slept soundly in years). When he wakes up though, Odysseus isn't relieved or excited to be home– he's terrified. He immediately thinks the Phaeacians have deserted him on some random island– that that was their plan all along. He begins to have what I can only perceive as a panic attack, paranoid of the monsters and aggressive peoples that might be lurking on the island. Of the goddesses that might be there for him to appease to no end. Of the creatures that might pelt him and his crew with an endless barrage of misfortune. Where was his crew? Where was he? He doesn't recognise Ithaca anymore– the cave being a sacred place of the nymphs that Odysseus would've once been all too familiar with, is now but a foggy memory that he can't pull to reality, not past his paranoia at least. Odysseus even thinks that he should put an end to his misery now before the monsters or goddesses or men can get to him. He's tired. He's given up. It's not until Athena, disguised as a little boy, comes down to tell Odysseus that he is in fact in Ithaca, does Odysseus finally breathe.
We see him take this total 180, from being rightly full of hope, stubborn to survive, to quite literally wanting to die. And we see this at Calypso's island too, where he does genuinely tries to kill himself. To me though, it hits so much harder here. On Calypso's island, he really didn't have any means of escape, but here, there's a great chance he could be safe on Ithaca, and yet he's so riddled with trauma that he just... Gives up. The fear outweighs the potential benefit. And to me, that breakdown is precisely what the narrative of Odysseus in the Odyssey is about.
Tying this back to EPIC, like I said, I would be fine with Jorge taking a different narrative approach– the only thing is that this character development arc doesn't suit Odysseus. And if he wants to keep Ilium linear with EPIC, he's written himself into a corner where writing an Iliad accurate Odysseus becomes impossible. Because Iliad accurate Odysseus is a fucking MENACE. Iliad accurate Odysseus is evil as all hell! He's ruthless! He does whatever it takes to get the job done! Iliad accurate Odysseus' mentality is the embodiment of "the ends justify the means". Definitely NOT "Open Arms", a thought like that wouldn't even cross Odysseus' mind.
This leaves us with a big plot hole, because someone has to be the evil mastermind here. And if it isn't Odysseus, then the blame naturally falls to... Agamemnon. And, I hate to be so mean, but a lot of the nuance was already stripped from Odysseus in EPIC. If Ilium strips the nuance away from Agamemnon, and we have yet another adaptation that paints him as a dirty power-hungry supervillain (which, yes, he kind of is, but there's SO much more to him too!), I'm going to freak. out. But I don't want to make too many assumptions, Ilium isn't even out yet and neither do we have any leaks or teasers at this point in time, so I'm not gonna jump the gun and be like, "Jorge's gonna mess up XXX!" I'm moreso positing the question of how he's gonna write himself out of this dangerous corner that he's created through EPIC.
And in case you missed it, I LOVE EPIC. I think it's amazing, and I have no doubt in my mind that Ilium is going to be just as if not even greater. I'm very excited for it, but like everyone else, I have my fears too! Anyway IT'S HAPPENING. DIOMEDES IN AN ADAPTATION. IT'S BEEN A LONG HARD WINTER BUT I SEE THE LIGHT SOLDIERS.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text

Soundrod - The Black Thief and the Knight of the Glenn AU
“So you got yourself into a fine pickle, young Prince. A bet to steal the treasure of the great Knight Tarn.”
“Just tell me if you will help us or not!”
“I will. If the price is right.”
WHOOO my first Soundrod Fairytale AU on this blog! Took me long enough given it’s one of my favourite TF ships.
Like for Jazzprowl I apologise for using a more unknown fairytale for this AU, but none of the well known ones (aka the ones Disney turned into movies let’s be real) seemed to fit them/I had already used them.
This AU is based on the Irish Tale “The Black Knight and the Thief of the Glenn”
But obviously there will be some changes so it’s not a 1:1 adaptation of the fairytale.
Roles:
Hot Rod as the eldest brother
Cheetor as the middle brother
Bumblebee as the youngest brother
Soundwave as the black thief
Tarn as the Knight of the Glenn
Megatron as the King
Starscream as the king’s advisor.
The story begins when, after the death of his conjunx Optimus, Megatron sends his sons (Hot Rod, Cheetor and Bumblebee) away to live hidden away on an island on a lake, as he feared for their safety if they remained at the court, believing his conjunx’ illness was caused by poison.
So the three princes grow up hidden from the world on a lonely island until one day their father’s advisor (and the one behind Optimus’ death) finally found out where they are.
Starscream travels to the brothers’ island and challenges them to a card game for a geasa (a type of vow).
The two younger brothers lose the card game and Starscream sets his geasa: The brothers must steal the treasure of Tarn - The Knight of the Glenn. But Hot Rod wins the card game and sets his own geasa: He will accompany his brothers and Starscream must leave Cybertron and never return if they manage to steal the treasure.
The brothers thus go on a journey to the Glenn. But on their way they get ambushed by a thief named Soundwave. The brothers do manage to overpower the thief but do notice just how incredibly strong he is. So the oldest brother, Hot Rod, offers the thief a deal: We will pay you if you accompany us to the knight of the Glenn and help us steal his treasure.
Soundwave agrees and the trio turned Quattro journeys for days to reach the Glenn. During that time Hot Rod and Soundwave start to grow mutual respect for each other (after starting out hating eachother’s guts with Soundwave assuming Hot Rod is just a whiney useless princeling and Hot Rod viewing Soundwave as unnecessarily rude and stuck up) and eventually developing feelings for each other.
On the night before they are to reach the Glenn, Soundwave and Hot Rod are huddled around the camp fire (Bee and Cheetor already fast asleep) and Soundwave and Hot Rod opening up to one another. Hot Rod reveals to Soundwave that he is scared about possibly confronting the Knight of the Glenn. What if he kills him? He can’t die yet! He has to look after his two little brothers. They’d be helpless without him. And Soundwave says he understands Hot Rod, the he is in the same boat. He cannot die at the hands of the knight under any circumstances. He has a bunch of sparklings to feed and look out for. If he died, who’d take care of his children? He also explains how he took this job on only because the brothers’ pay was good. With their money he would be able to keep his sparklings fed for at least a month.
Hot Rod is surprised, he did not expect for the rude thief to actually be a family man with a soft heart for his children. But Hot Rod tells the thief that if they all make it out alive he will put in a good word for him with his father the king and get Soundwave some actual stable work at the palace.
The day of confronting the Knight of the Glenn comes and the group sneaks into the knight’s castle to steal his treasure but despite their efforts they all get caught by Tarn.
Now in the fairytale the knight says he will kill them all one by one (going from the youngest to the oldest prince and the thief). But the thief manages to convince the knight to let them go by telling him 4 stories from his adventures to proof he had been in bigger danger before.
Now the thief in the fairytale is obviously a bit more of a trickster and it is left ambiguous in some versions if the stories he tells are real or not. But I don’t personally see Soundwave as a trickster and I imagine the scene being closer to that one scene in Princess Bride where Whestley tells Prince Humperdinck how he would “deal with him” before escaping with Buttercup.
So yeah Soundwave will either convince Tarn to let him and the princes go by telling tarn in INTENSE detail how he once skinned a mech 4 times is own size alive or he will keep Tarn occupied with his stories while Hot Rod and his brothers free themselves and grab the treasure before Soundwave takes Tarn out by pulling the stunt he did in the final episode of Cyberverse without the whole dying in the process thing (or maybe he does die if you prefer it that way I am not your boss).
But the group happily returns to their homeland with the treasure, Starscream is banished (or killed by Megatron cuz knowing Starscream he probably blurts out on accident that he was the one who killed Optimus) and they all live happily ever after the end
As always: If you have thoughts or ideas for this AU let me know. Or heck you can post your own version (and if you do please tag me in it, I would love to see more Transformers Fairy Tale AUs)
#transformers#maccadam#maccadams#transformers one#soundrod#megop#fairytale au#moodboard#edit#fairy tale au#tf hot rod#transformers hot rod#hot rod#tf soundwave#soundwave#tf cyberverse#cyberverse soundwave#cyberverse hot rod#hot rod x soundwave#soundwave x rodimus#rodimus#rodimus prime#rodimus x soundwave#dpax#opmeg#dad soundwave#dadwave#parent soundwave#cassetticons
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Will Dance
(Part two)
Part one Pairing: Remmick x Black oc Summary: A look into Lorelei and Remmick's love life and how she deals with the afterlife as a human-vampire hybrid. 11k words Wattpad link Enjoy my babies <3 ---------------------------
The last six months of a brand new life has been a pleasured blur now in the back of Lorelei Boone's mind. From being the timid country girl that had never stepped foot out of Clarksdale, Mississippi, she's now the well traveled better-half to a vampire a hundred times her senior.
There aren't days that she's ever tired or unhappy, even going from having one friend to now dozens who worship the ground she walks on as Queen Lye, the hybrid doyenne.
With the strength of sharing thoughts and emotions amongst each other, Lorelei has expanded her vocabulary to the point of her southern twang becoming extremely faint and nearly invisible. She's able to speak multiple languages now, including her favorite, the mandarin-tongue that she uses while gossiping with her friends Bo and Grace Chow.
Although she lacks the talons, fangs, and vampiric eye-gleam, her strength is enough to move mountains and her health has never been better. She has never danced so much in her entire life, now educated in all cultures and melody due to the shared mind-hive, she has become a song bird along side her mate, Remmick. Chanting his every Celtic hymn as if she had known them since the day she was born.
"...Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born Cut a stout black thorn to banish ghosts and goblins Brand-new pair of brogues, rattling over the bogs And frightned all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin One, two, three, four, five..."
The family proceeds to grow in each state that they travel into, continuing to build the community that Remmick lost years ago due to English colonialism in his homeland of Ireland.
Wined, dined, spoiled with fine furs, gold, good loving, and incredible sex, Lorelei has never been happier. But as time passes, an ache in her spirit reminds her of the one thing that she's never been able to completely get rid of— her human emotions, her humanity.
Leaving a path of blood through all of the east coast, the horde of vampires most recent stop is a quaint farmhouse on the outskirts of Vermont. As they arrive, three simple words is all it takes to welcome her family inside, "come on in" their Queen calls, dropping the supernatural hold at every threshold with her warm greeting. As they enter inside this home, it isn't long before the eighty year old farmer who lived here alone with his dog is torn to pieces... So badly drained of blood and shredded by fifty vampires that it is impossible for him to reawaken. Lorelei has seen this happen before... this amount of hunger and greed that a body is nothing left but stained carpet.
Even with all that the dog has witnessed, the poor pup still feels that his job is to guard and protect. It finds immediate loyalty within Remmick and hasn't left his side since. Renamed as 'Buddy', he and the gray and white speckled mutt have made instant friends.
Even the most sinister thousand year old vampire is precious enough to protect.

For now Vermont is their home. The land around the house is about a mile and a half away from anywhere else, leaving the vampires to their privacy as they rest during the day and scavenge through the night.
With an end goal of bringing his people back to his homeland, the group will carry onward through Vermont and into Canada where a longtime friend of Remmick's has a ship— a vessel large enough for them all to make it across the pond and towards the bonny banks of a loch in Ireland.
Their home, the vampiric beginnings.
———
Safely back home after a night of prowling, the vampires return to the barn before dawn and Remmick returns to the farmhouse as he prepares for slumber in a house that is curtained and sealed from any sunlight.
"A ghrá (my love), I've missed you little one." Their home is quiet and the others respect Remmick and Lye's privacy, letting the farmhouse be of only theirs as if it were their kingdom. "You missed an excellent evening tonight. We walked up on a Jazz band leaving a gig at the local bar, they tasted delicious— sounded even better."

Remmick had stayed inside the club for the entire night, smoking a cig by the bar as he measured the band's value on how much he enjoyed their music.
"I can hear them." Lorelei's folded arms and even tone is a clear indicator that she isn't happy. "New music— the new sounds are being shared with me. So, they are a part of us now? In the barn with the others?"
"Indeed." Kicking off his blood-stained shoes, Remmick smiles with a pleased sigh as he eases back into the furniture. Beginning to yawn, he scratches at his bearded-shadow already growing back in from a cleaned shaven appearance earlier that day. "Our numbers are up to fifty-five now. We are absolutely unstoppable in numbers, you know that."
Even after a night of feeding— belly still digesting a gallon of blood, Remmick reaches for the farmer's bourbon, pouring himself a night cap. "What is the matter, A stór (my treasure)? Tonight, something pains you."
His gentle worry is comforting, allowing Lorelei to loosen her lips with a confession. "Sometimes... well, sometimes I miss the sun on my face."
...
Remmick immediately brushes it off with a chortle that is of pure mockery. "Your human emotions." He sips, "that is all my dear, you will be just fine."
"Not everything has to do with being a crossbreed. You don't think the others feel this way too?" She scoffs. "Well, I can assure you that they do. But you're in their head, they wouldn't dare think it out loud for you to hear."
His jaw tightens. Of course he can hear his creations' thoughts... but that's just what vampires do, they share, they become one. Remmick's sure if there were something to be said, his family wouldn't fear him. He knows that he'd be kind enough to listen.
But what he hates the most is not being able to hear Lorelei's thoughts at all... Such a strange flaw from how she was created, having the ability to hear the mind-hive but can't share her thoughts with it.
"I miss seeing my mother." Her faint voice is loaded with despair, and it aches him. The only emotion that Remmick understands and wishes her to have is the complete happiness of a fully blooded vampire.
He exhales, faint annoyance prevalent in his breath. "I told you that I would turn her for you Lye, and that way you'd be together forever."
"Mildred Boone loves the sun! She loves to sit on her porch and to garden!" She snaps, voice quickly raising from the thought of this idiotic idea. "Why would I ever take my mother's love for gardening away from her? Remmick you sound so foolish! Let's just blame the bourbon for your careless ideas and call it a night..."
Offended by her shouting and insults, a hotheaded Remmick gives it right back to her. "Christ, I swear If I had known you would've hated being one of us so badly, I would have never changed you in the first place!"
"Lying sack of shit." Lorelei scoffs as her southern drawl reveals itself again, "you still would have turned me and you know it! Who do you think you're fooling?" She immediately calls his bluff, imbedded in his brain so deeply that he can't even lie if he wanted to.
"Fine... When it comes to you? Yes!" Only truth spills from his tongue, making Lorelei immortal has been his greatest accomplishment yet. He wouldn't change anything that he's done, regretting nothing at all now that he's found his fated love. "Wait..."
...He's left puzzled by something.
The mind-hive is an important sharing ground for the vampires, but after a while of getting used to it, there are ways to have private thoughts of only their own. With a little practice and mental strength, not everything they think of needs to be shared.
Remmick has mastered this mind-blocking skill for centuries now, using it whenever he needs to— especially in the moments where he rather not share with his family the experience of knowing how Lye climaxes and moans his name during sex...
But today, only a moment ago, Remmick was using this very blocking skill on Lorelei, hiding the fact that he doesn't regret turning her and would do it again if he had to— yet she read through him as if it were no slack at all.
He pauses. "No honestly Lye, how did you do that? How did you read my thoughts when I took that access away?"
He has always known that she cannot share with her mind, but to stiff-arm her way through his?... This is a first. An entirely new revelation, a secret kept from him, and it's unacceptable.
The tension of the room becomes too much for her... Faintly she sways as her feet begin to misstep in her heels from her body's sudden weakness... Lately she's been refusing the night-hunt, letting the others go while she stays home and eats human food instead.
"Goddamnit, Lye— Just hold on, I've got something for you." Already expecting his stubborn lover to be near starving by now, he's brought her the sustenance that her new form needs whether she wants it or not.
Remmick steps outside, risking the chance to be burned as night comes to an end, however lucky enough to beat the sunrise and avoid being touched by its rays. Back inside the kitchen with a girl in a silver dress, she is suddenly thrown to the ground. Her hands are tied, mouth gagged with a handkerchief, and the tears have her dark eye-makeup streaming down her face. "The band's jazz singer." He flicks open a pocket knife. "Will you? Or should I?"
Lorelei cringes at the thought of consuming anymore blood. As time passes in this vampire cult, she has become extremely sensitive to certain killings... only willing to kill the ones who deserve it because guilt of killing an innocent has become quite the issue for her humanity.
He runs out of patience, lowering his head Remmick pierces the girl's throat with his side-most fang, making a constant pour spill out of her jugular as if she had an installed tap. Remmick licks the drop of blood from his lip, chasing after the stream of crimson with a drinking glass.
Bratty as ever, Lorelei rolls her eyes. "And what are you doing with that?"
"You're weak, Acushla (pulse of my heart)." Sympathizing with his lover, Remmick understands her confused human emotions— yet he still manages to demand her to feed as her maker. "Today is not the day to fuck around and go raiding crackers and cheese from the icebox and cabinets, you need real food, you need this blood."
"Take this. Now, Lorelei." Although his voice— an insensitive tight grit, he will always have her best interest at heart.
Lye knows that in order to keep up her strength, normal food only worked for her when she was alive and a full blooded human, but now, every once and again she must feed. With nostrils flared in aggravation and disgust, she snatches the glass from him. She holds her nose and knocks the twelve-ounces back like a massive shot of whiskey, shaking the chill and coming gag from her body, Lorelei slams the empty glass on the counter and wipes her bloodied mouth with the back of her sleeve. "Happy?"
Remmick grins, his sly smirk creeping at the corners of his handsome lips.
She rolls her eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You and blood, my darling." His aroused growl is prominent in his throat. "Not a sight better to stiffen me."
"But!" He refocuses, "now that you won't pass out on me again, tell me about this hybrid power of yours, the one you've kept hidden from me. I can't hear your songs, can't hear your thoughts... but you break through mine as if I were hiding them behind a thin wall of dried mud."
She exhales, calming herself from finally getting over the metallic taste of blood that she has yet to get used to. "Your mind Rem, just like any other establishment— I don't need a goddamn invitation to infiltrate."
... His held tilts in curiosity.
What an interesting confession... Something she's managed to hide for quite some time now. Her witty rebuttal makes Remmick chuckle, this is the exact wit and charm that has had him pussy-whipped for half a year now.
The singer drained of blood finally rises from the floor. Awakened to her immortal afterlife, Remmick and Lorelei can hear her history and songs coursing through their blood. "Ahh, good morning love." Remmick sarcastically welcomes the newest member of his community. "Your band is waiting for you in the barn. Might want to get there before daybreak, aye?"
Lorelei purses her lips, smacking her teeth in pure irritation. She watches the newest vampire leave for the barn, counting in her head now how many members they have added and how hard it's becoming to keep them all hidden and safe— especially safe from the Choctaw tribe who has hunted Remmick for centuries now.
"And then there were fifty-six." Her remark is a snark complaint, reminding her lover that too much of a good thing can quickly become bad.
"The more the merrier— but you, A chroí (my heart), you amaze me." He bites his lip, changing the subject as he becomes heated by bourbon and the sight of his woman. "Want you to fuck me, the way that you fuck minds, my favorite little progeny— come." Becoming one with the couch again, Remmick calls for his lover with the motion of his finger. "Why don't you come take a seat here..."
She tries to deny him... But he waits patiently with a grin that reminds Lorelei that Remmick can already hear the quickened human heart rate of her chest.
She slowly joins him on the couch, straddling his outstretched legs and sitting into his lap where the stiff erection of his groin prods just where she is hot and needy through her intimates.
Remmick exhales... enamored by the slight rocking of her hips and her way of acting as if he can't feel or notice her titillated behavior. "Not there, closer."
She's pulled forward, her stacked figure gently pushing the air out of his stomach and lungs as she inches across his midriff. "Closer, Acushla."
With hands running up the sides of her thighs, he rids her panties as he pulls her by the fold of her knees across his prickly shave. His mouth has already started to drool as it does when he's soon to feed— although he is indeed soon to feed, blood isn't on the menu this sunrise, instead, Lorelei's warm and generous cunt. Her thighs press against his ears, burying his chin, nose, and mouth into her heated mound. The gleam of a monster stares back at her, the only portion left available on his face— eyes that refuse to blink as he watches her come undone on his tongue. Remmick groans into her core, his tongue a wordless praise as he worships her flesh in ways that make her dumb with lust.
"Oh!" Her swollen bud is suddenly suckled and flicked by his tongue. His hands grip her dress, forcing it above her head for a better view of her shapely frame. Nude and seated on his face, Lorelei is encouraged to ride with a gripping slap to her ass.
His skilled lolling splits through her labia, bundling and savoring her wet arousal on the tip of his tongue. She squeals, thighs beginning to squish Remmick's head as she's eaten right off the bone. With hands cupping her breasts, the dimpling of her fleshy globes tweak at her nipples until her hips stutter against his mouth. Her body's slow surrender alerts him that she's close, but he refuses. He forces more of the slowed-grinding with a dominating grasp to her hips, "don't stop." He muffles, forcing her to drive deeper into his face—fucking him until he's drowned in her cream.
Her body is controlled by the strengthened movements of his embrace. She attempts to slow his guidance with a grip to his thick biceps, begging for just a minute to breathe. But eating pussy isn't only for her, no, not when Lorelei's taste is Remmick's favorite daily-bread with warm human blood coming in at a close second.
"What are my thoughts saying now?" He inhales air for only a moment, returning to feast.
"Mm-shit!" Focused on the lewd attack between her legs, Lorelei's gift to mind read is as good as gone. "I—I don't know!"
For him, she tries harder... "Your thoughts—" Like the erection in his slacks, Lorelei thinks long and hard on her telepathy. "Baby... They're too vulgar to put into words."
"Say them." His baritoned command hasn't any supernatural compulsion, yet it immediately makes her speak.
"That— That you know how I like to be licked."
"And do I, Acushla?"
"My God!" She cries, "—yes."
His chuckle is a warm breath that twists her stomach into knots. "And what else?"
Although he asks for his mind to be read again, he fights her off as long as he possibly can, wanting to see the strength of this power for himself. He knows that she'll soon break through his mental wall, but when she does, he will make sure that his thought is one that she'll never forget.
What comes into his mind immediately frightens her...
The bucking in Lorelei's hips stop and each of his lapping licks through her cunt slow into deliberate torturous precision. Her eyes widen as she listens in on his subconscious. It's a silent threat.An assurance that regardless of her access to different powers, she'll never be as old, wise, and dangerous as the one that made her. Remmick reminds her that his every thought that she can read are words that he would proudly say in the plain of day... making her power out to be nothing but child's play. It's clear that he's angry, using his vulgar affliction as some sort of sexual punishment. Lorelei tries her best to lift herself from off of him but is suddenly forced back into position by the strong muscles of his arms, locking her down around her thighs as he forces her orgasm to breach across his lips.
His thoughts are heightened— louder, more vicious, pissed off as if he were screaming into her brain while his eyes watch from below! His unbothered stare assuring that she hears him loud and clear. Silently putting Lorelei in her place, she is made well aware of just who her creator is, who holds the power, and who will fuck her into submission each time that she decides to be defiant. She is reminded that she is his— the thought causes her body to quake as her jaw falls open with a muted moan, her orgasm reverberating through her body as she makes an utter spectacle out of herself. His claim over her today is meant to be cruel and taming, but hearing who she very well belongs to has never made her cum so hard.
His thoughts continue, her powers aren't to be used against him a second time or there will be hell to pay. They are to conduct only as a unit together and never let secrets come in between each other again, especially now that he's well aware of the extreme clairvoyance she has been hiding for the last six months— skimming through Remmick's and the other's minds in times that they aren't willing to share... A cradle-robber to one's privacy.
Guilt eats at her for keeping this from him, as does the shame of enjoying being mind-fucked, licked, and scolded at the very same time. "I'll be better Rem, I-I promise."
His tongue retreats, grasping a taloned hold of her throat as he sits up and pulls her into his fiery gaze. Fallen backwards against the cushions of the couch, Lorelei gasps as his hand tightens against her windpipe. He watches closely... burning holes into her without a single blink, making certain that what he has said is well understood. "Good girl." As Remmick trusts that she understands, a dagger-like thrust of cock roughly digs into her unexpected heat. Lorelei squeals, tears eating at the waterline of her lashes. "Now I want you worn thin. Finish on my cock or we'll just have to start over."
———
As time continues to pass on the farm, Lorelei's humanity worsens.... Sometimes even feeling more human than anything else. She tries her best to enjoy the nights spent together with the family that adores her. In the beginning it came to her so naturally, the vampiric blood coursing through her veins made her feel so free of worry and guilt, but now the memories of that night at the Juke Joint seem to haunt her.
Her guilt worsens as they celebrate tonight's evening with fellowship around a lit fire. Breath stolen as she sets eyes on Little Sammie who steps into the moonlight, face still scarred from taloned-size gashes the night that he was turned. His stolen soul reminds Lorelei of his very vampiric future— never to see his parents, visit the church house, or hug his younger siblings ever again.
His song begins, and instead of the soulful blues that Lorelei once loved, she hears his guitar-playing like nails on a chalkboard— flashing memories through her mind of the night that everyone she ever knew was torn to pieces because of her welcome inside.
"Something I been wanting to tell you for a long timeIt might hurt you, hope you don't lose your mindWell, I was just a boy, 'bout eight years oldYou threw me a Bible on that Mississippi roadSee, I love ya, Papa, you did all you could doThey say the truth hurts, so I lie to youYes, I lied to youI got the blues"
She covers her ears with her palms... With eyes tightly shut, Lorelei tries her hardest to remove the memories of blood-curdling screams and chaos that tore through the Juke Joint months ago. It eats at her, the screams that she danced through as if they were music, unmoved by the thought that in later months she could possibly come to regret it all completely.
Although Sammie's blues is Remmick's very favorite sound to ever exist, he can't seem to focus on it with his lover distraught and trembling on a log beside him. "Take my hand, Lye."
She grabs hold of him immediately— anything to get away from hearing this song, anything to get her away from remembering the day that music died for her. As they leave the light of the fire burning, Remmick embraces Lorelei closely against him, watching her weep with hands pressed against her temples as a headache pains her like nothing before. The memories of that night are killing her... especially the one that hurts her the most— the memories of what happened to Nadia Ruth.
He leads her to the middle of the field, the shine of stars throughout Vermont's sky remind them of the fireflies that once filled Mississippi's. "Come my love, let me show you the stars."
She's swept into his arms bridal-style, crying and wetting his shirt with her tears yet feeling just a tad better now that she is in his embrace.
The thousand year old vampire plants his feet firmly into the dirt, lifting with one swift jump that sends them into the night sky like a bullet. A not-so-secret power of his own— ascending from the ground, an ability that no other vampire has.
Together they part the fluff of white clouds in the dark sky— soft like Mississippi cotton. The flight is enough to hold back her tears, eyes opened wide as she is taken to a place she's never seen before. Up so high that the air is freezing cold, yet the moon still feels warm on their flesh, the only light source that is allowed to touch their fluorescent skin of diamonds.
Remmick smiles warmly, content with seeing the amusement and adrenaline of defying gravity in his Queen's brown doe eyes. For her happiness he'd do anything... he kisses her forehead, ensuring no more tears during this lovely evening.
Expecting something romantic to chill him with her sweet-honeyed voice, Lorelei pleads for something that breaks his heart completely. "Drop me."
...
"Wh-what?" He frowns, lips parted in disbelief and taking a moment to assure that he absolutely heard her correctly. The air is taken from his lungs with an exhale. "Drop you?"
He'd never do such a thing, he couldn't even think of it if he wanted to! ... and so Lorelei does it herself.
Releasing her grip around his neck, Lorelei purposely lifts out of his strong arms, soaring hundreds of feet back to the ground.
And as she falls, she feels weightless. Even the weight of her guilt easing for just a moment in time. She prepares to hit the ground and instead of fear, she only feels freedom. Is this what they all would feel to be released from the curse of vampirism?A smile graces her face, repenting for all that she's done in hopes that the next time her eyes open will be at the gates of Heaven— even Hell if in the end that is where she deserves to be.
Foolishly believing that she is soon to become splattered and one with the dirt, Remmick surprises her a step ahead, already footed in the field's soil as he catches her. She lands firmly in his arms, immediately put down as he walks away without a single said word.
In the moment, so pissed, he's afraid if he speaks he'll regret what he has to say. What she did just then, was give up... A love that consumes him daily, and yet it still isn't enough to comfort her.
"Remmick?" She calls for him. More additional guilt beginning to eat away at her. Not only has she destroyed the lives of all that she's ever known, but now she has disappointed the one man that loves her unconditionally. "Please. Have I done something, baby? I-I just wanted to fly is all!"
"DON'T— belittle me." He yanks from her caress, a pathetic attempt to soften him when he knows her truth. "You're suicidal, Lorelei."
"I'm not!" She pleads. "Don't tell me what I am! You can't even read my thoughts! You have no idea what you're talking about—"
"IT WAS IN YOUR EYES!" His shout mutes her... He knows her far too well and he's absolutely right. "I don't need to be in your head when it's written all over your face..."
"You've been changing, Lye." The gulp is painful in his throat. "A little bit more each day than the one before and you've become absent, I can't help you if you just won't let me in."
The screen door of the farmhouse slams shut as Lorelei quickly runs behind him. He turns once more as another realization strikes him. Remmick stops her racing pace behind him as she runs directly against his chest. "It's about Nadia, isn't it?"
She clinches her eyes shut from the graphic reminder of hearing her friend's name. "Please, don't."
The night of the Juke Joint opening, Nadia hid behind the counter when Lorelei led the vampires inside. Her hands braced the fearful weeps trying to escape her mouth as she heard the murder of everyone inside the Juke. By time she was found, the dead had already turned, leaving her to be the last human standing. But, the new immortals had begun to awaken with hunger— they were out for blood and only she was around. The newborn vampires as well as the rest of them loved Nadia— excited to have her as one of the family members. They only meant to bite her, turn her, have her join their community, but the ignorance of overfeeding is what made the shit hit the fan. Just as they did to the farmer who owned these very acres of the farmhouse, the vampires fed so hard that there was just nothing left of her.
Lorelei grieved the loss of her friend that night, but the high of vampirism ended it within seconds as soon as another song played and the family continued to chant and celebrate their new lease on life. But one thing about grieving is that it always comes back to you— especially for humans with hearts who continue to beat and to feel.
"A chroí (my heart), I did not know that they would consume her to barely bones that night." Remmick takes blame for the pain that Lye feels. "The family— they did not realize what they had done, she should've been bitten and turned, not fed upon—"
The thought is too much as Lorelei interrupts. "Shh! Just stop! I can't blame anyone but myself for that night, I was the one to invite you inside."
"Do you regret that evening?" The words escape him as quick as a breath.
"The night that I met you? The night that I finally danced?" Her fingers are delicate against his prominent jawline. "Heavens no."
"But it was all—" She sighs, sniffling back her tears. "It was just a disarray of joyful haze." Lorelei explains her grief the best that she can. "Vampirism is a blinding high! It has been for a while now. But Remmick, you forget that I am not fully turned."
"OH TRUST— that is something you never let me forget." His cruelness hides beneath his tone.
"And what does that mean?" She squints, holding back insulted rage.
Remmick notices his lover taken an offense as her gentle caress drops from his face, but in a way he's just as appalled. "A disarray of joyful haze?" He repeats, feeling insulted. "What, are full blooded vampires just simpleminded now? Frolicking in joy for eternity because we are all idiots, right?"
"I didn't say that!" Lorelei refuses the words that he tries to put in her mouth. "What I'm saying is the delight of fellowship can be blinding! As part vampire I've been blinded by it too! Here I am having the time of my life by your side, but as a human... My soul aches for the innocents we committed to this life. Take as an example, Sammie—I mean, Sammie was nothing but sixteen years old! So obsessed with his songs, you took his life and pretend to be some white-savior! Wanting his rhythm without his blues, you have no idea everything that he went through to become so soulful!"
He scoffs, stunned by his lover making him out to be a hypocrite, like any other white devil who rob from the culture for personal gain. "What's next Lorelei? — You have a problem with the music and fellowship I crave, next you'll be disgusted by the way we feed!"
...
Her silence is a clear indicator that she indeed already is.
"You are, aren't you?" He frowns in utter disbelief. "Tell me Lye, if we must dodge every innocent out there, then where the hell would you have us hunt?"
Lorelei shrugs, struggling to find an answer off of the top of her head. "Prisons, men who deserve it!"
He snickers, "right, so instead of being invited into one building, we would have to sit and wait to be invited into each and every goddamn cell? ���And then after we finally feed, if they aren't absolutely destroyed by the shred of our teeth their bodies will rise again and join us!" He heats in refusal. "No! I might have been lucky enough to change the heart and mind of two klan members, Lorelei, but I draw the line at murderers and rapists joining our family and the mind-hive."
"Your technique is sloppy." She argues, "the Natives are after us and your face is on every wanted sign all over the goddamned east coast. We need to be skillful with our killing, If I invite you across every threshold on Earth you'll run out of human blood to feed on. And then what will you eat?"
...
She has made a relevant point, but Remmick who only cares for joy and fellowship has grown tired of this constant bickering, now returning to a wise ass with piss-poor answers. "Well my darling, I hear that rats and dogs taste just as good as chicken if not better."
Buddy, the loyal hound beside his leg whines out loud, causing Remmick to giggle and pet him as he continues to take nothing serious at all anymore. "Ahw, not you ol boy, you're part of the family too, no worries."
Stuck at another dead end of conversation, anger builds through her expression. "You take nothing serious... Living life day after day as if everything is just a joke. As I said, a disarray of joyful haze." Lorelei grabs warmth from a coatrack that she no longer even needs being that her hybrid body no longer requires insulation. She tosses a coat around her to not draw attention as she leaves to walk the streets of Vermont in its many inches of winter snow.
Guilt stiffens a knot in his throat as Remmick watches Lye prepare to leave. He hates this. He can't stand being where she isn't. "Lorelei, where are you going?"
She ignores his interrogation, wanting to spend the night alone and far away from this godawful farm.
He shouts once more, fuming with gritted teeth. "Lye!"
———
Visiting the city of Vermont is a lot different than the towns in Mississippi. In Clarksdale, town is where you'd find the farmers market, cleaners, pharmacy, and a post office if you're lucky. But here in the cold winter streets of Vermont, their city has anything you could ever think of. Honestly, everything up north looks like New York City to Lorelei— it's easy to get lost when the world around her looks like what she is used to seeing when she'd go to the pictures and watch it on the big screen.
Lorelei strolls through the streets of the night enjoying her solitude, however she's very aware of the heavy police presence here in the city. The 'police' in Mississippi like to dress up in white robes, and although the men living up north wear different uniforms, the smug entitlement on their faces is a clear sign to Lorelei that they ain't nothing but the exact same people.

She crosses the street to read the wanted signs stuck to one of the light posts, already very familiar with the details of the picture drawn of the man wanted.
Nearing six feet tall, murderous, last spotted at Hyatt's Jazz Club two nights ago, strikes at night with a group of multiple raced-vandals, etc.
"Damn it Remmick..." She sighs, "got the whole world out here looking for you."
Through the night, the policemen continue to post the flyers around for all to see come morning. Lorelei prays to not be identified as one of Remmick's companions as she keeps her head low while walking. She tries her best to stay unrecognizable, but the sudden frantic arguing of a young woman at a newspaper stand makes Lorelei's humanity immediately intervene.
The stand's owner is seen closing down his business for the night, however the young woman bothering him begs for just one paper although her money is short. She has a baby bundled warmly in a walking-carriage, yet it's still far too cold for them to be out here tonight. "You have to understand, my folks are older! They look forward to the local newsletter every morning!" The woman's pleading is heard by police officers and of course, they make matters even worse— beginning to grab the woman and push her around as school-bullies would.
She's terrified. A young black mother all by herself, a baby in her carriage, and a toddler holding her freehand... She also wears a hairpin of a peacock— similar to a hairpin that Nadia Ruth once would wear everyday with her curls lying to the side. Lorelei groans... Her humanity overtakes her common sense as she just has to go and help the girl who reminds her so much of her former friend. "I've got it. How much is the newspaper?"
The men harassing the woman freeze in place, expressions growing angrier yet full of mischief. Instead of there being one black woman to harass, now they have two. "More than you can afford." A police officer spits, "why don't you get where you were going girl."
The business man only wants his money. "Look lady, the paper is ten-cent, not the three measly pennies that she gave me. Do you have it or not?"
Lorelei opens her pocketbook, handing the man a full quarter. "For your time, keep the change." Her arm is suddenly grabbed by a cop, "where'd ya get money like that from? And don't lie, I can tell when your kinda people lie."
She rips away from his crude hold, "my husband, thank you very much! The same husband who wouldn't be very pleased with you placing your hands on me." She lies through her teeth, knowing that the money in her pocketbook is collected wealth from the vampires' victims. "Goodnight, officers."
Lorelei steps onto the sidewalk with the young woman and her family, she turns back once more, remembering their white faces for meals that she'll be bringing home to her family of vampires later tonight. "Come on honey." She softly smiles, peaking at the newborn babe as she makes sure the woman gets home safely. "You have such a beautiful baby. I'm Lorelei, might I ask what you're doing out here so late? It's really unsafe..." She half mindedly describes the danger of not only white police officers, but a group of roaming vampires that she's very familiar with.
"I thank you for what you did back there, Lorelei. My name is Christine, these are my children Renny and Myrtle. I know it's not safe to walk with them alone at night, but they've come from my workplace with me— You see, I work night shift as hospitality at a retirement home." The young woman's smile is warm, reminding Lorelei of southern hospitality like the people she knew back home. She continues, "please, would you come inside for a cup of tea? It's the best I can do to pay you back... As you can see, I don't exactly have the funds to repay your quarter."
"Oh please, it's the least I could do." Lorelei begins to wish her well. "I should get going actually, it was nice to meet you Christine, I'm glad I could walk you home."
"Please?" Christine pleads, gently holding her hand and warming Lorelei with compassion. "Tea would be nice, and if I'm honest, I could really use a woman's hand as I put my house to bed."
...
The woman's begging eyes easily guilt trip her, Lorelei can't help but to agree, wanting to be as much of help as she can. "Okay, maybe for a few minutes..."
Together they approach an apartment the size of a shoebox, as they enter inside, Lorelei immediately counts the beating hearts around her and listens to the many snores coming from the bedroom.
"My parents." The tired-lines beneath Christine's eyes are prevalent, yet still she smiles. "They're getting old and sickly, I take care of them when I'm not working." The young woman laughs, "I know it seems like a lot is on my plate, but my husband is in the military stationed down south. He'll be home soon! I miss him so much— I love getting letters from him at the post office... but, haven't gotten anything recently though."
Lorelei gulps, praying that the army base that her, Remmick, and the family ripped to shreds in Virginia wasn't where Christine's husband was stationed at...
Christine gets a kettle of tea brewing on the stove, handing Lorelei her newborn as she puts her oldest to bed. "She's a good baby, won't wake up a bit. Do you think you could just hold her until I put this one down?"
"Uhh, no! I really shouldn't—" With the baby already placed in her arms, Lorelei still hesitates... She feels unclean, unworthy, and not deserving to embrace something so precious. She sighs, "it's fine, just hurry back."
Christine pats her toddler on the bottom, ushering him towards the bedroom as he kicks off his tiny leather shoes.
The pure innocence of the perfect little baby in Lorelei's arms is the first thing that makes her smile in such a long time. She stands from her seat at the dining table, beginning to rock the baby in her arms as she slowly circles the kitchen. Although the woman's house is poor and seemingly falling to pieces, her babies are beautiful, well loved, and healthy— the only thing that matters.
"What a sight to see... You with a cute lil' babe on your ample hips. We undead can't have one of our own but damn if we can't try." Through the opened kitchen window, the sound of Remmick's baritone startles Lye as he leans against the window ledge.
He chuckles, pleased with the sight of his woman as the others laugh and jive lively behind him.
"What are you doing here?!" Her words are a taut whisper.
"I made you A ghrá, I feel you wherever you are." He sniffs back a deep inhale, smelling the many living-pints of blood between these walls. "Now let us in, Lorelei. There is food to eat."
Her eyes widen in fear. Suddenly the kettle on the stove begins to whistle, alerting that the tea is done and instantly waking up the crying baby.
"He knows your name, are you with him?" Back from the bedroom, Christine turns the stove off and takes fine-china from her cupboards.
Knowing what the family is capable of, Lorelei begins to hyperventilate. "Nadia step back!"
"Nadia?" Christine frowns in confusion, taking the crying baby from Lye's arms and placing her in the sitting room's bassinet. "Who's that?"
Remmick hears the mistake too... Immediately recognizing the similarities between this woman and Lorelei's past best friend, his expression softens. "Damn it Lye..."
"I'm— I'm sorry, I meant Christine." She corrects herself and becomes cut off once more by Remmick. "I'm so sorry to disturb you tonight ma'am, but yes, Lorelei is with me." His smile is a falsehood of a handsome trustworthy man. "You see— my wife and I had a little dispute earlier tonight, but I'm glad to see you've been keeping her good company. If I could just come inside, I'd love to get my wife home safely."
Blushing from Remmick's natural charm, Christine falls for it. "How romantic, well let me just set another cup out for tea! Why don't you come insi—"
Before she can finish, Lorelei knocks her out with one of the porcelain teacups as it shatters across Christine's head.
He growls, "why would you do that?!"
"She almost said it , she almost welcomed you inside." Lorelei gulps, feeling immense guilt about the woman who lays unconscious on the kitchen floor.
"I KNOW THAT!" Remmick shouts, growing more aggravated by the second. "Your people are hungry!"
Lye refuses. "Her home is full of children and the elderly."
"Congratulations!" He booms with sarcasm, "now they can live forever for just a trade of a few pints of their human blood." With talons growing from his hands, Remmick grips the windowsill, snarling with anger. "Come out here, right fucking now."
She doesn't recognize this side of him... Even after all of her explaining of what is morally right and wrong, he would still let his hunger consume the most innocent. "Why?" She asks, startled by the blaring red gleam in his eyes. "To hurt me?"
...
Remmick softens, his monstrous expression slowly beginning to fade. "To hurt you A ghrá? Would I ever?"
With the heat in his eyes tonight, Lorelei isn't too sure.
....
Heartbroken, he gulps— wondering if the woman he adores truly could expect him to abuse her... But then again, with their history of Remmick turning her by force, maybe his darkest side is capable of something so sinister after all.
Groaning in impatience, Lorelei watches the sweetest people who she had grown up with all her life impatiently crave baby blood. "Let us in Lye! Come on now girl!" Stack and Mary laugh as Smoke and Annie agrees. She cringes, before these people were turned— this wasn't them. No, it wasn't them at all.
Remmick lifts his hand, immediately silencing the group behind him. "Come family, let's go."
"We're leaving Lye?" Cornbread asks, still seeming to have Lorelei's back even in death.
"Perhaps Lorelei is showing us exactly which side of her blood she connects with more." Remmick's words instantly ache her like a stab to the gut.
"That isn't true!" Tears begin to bud in her eyes, her voice breaks as she stops them from leaving. "If you leave, where will I find you?"
"You know where home is."
"Where is it?!" Frantically she shouts.
"Beside me, A ghrá."
Remmick calmly nods before turning and walking into the night, breaking Lorelei's heart once again as she struggles to manage the differences in her half human- half vampire existence.
———
As promised, Lorelei puts Christine's family to bed. Even Christine as she takes the young woman's shoes off and lays her in bed— kissing her forehead as if she were saying goodbye to her friend Nadia all over again.
Walking home she grabs hold of the policemen who posted Remmick's wanted signs and harassed her this evening. "For the ones who were hungry..." She drops the unconscious bodies to the floor of the barn, knocked out cold by their very own police-batons.
The family attack the men as if they were starved, yet Remmick continues to brush the barn's horse without an appetite tonight.
"You're upset with me." Lye's voice stops him from petting the animal.

He isn't, he couldn't be if he wanted to.
"No, baby." He refuses. "I know the girl— she reminded you of Nadia Ruth." Although it's all so new to him, he understands the pressure it must be to be pulled by the arms of vampirism and humanity. He knows that if he isn't careful, she will soon be torn between the middle of her two personalities. "Just don't ever leave me again."
"You can say that you're upset with me." She insists, "it is what makes life beautiful, feelings and emotions that fit the moment in time."
"As you said, that is the beauty in life." He corrects his young complicated progeny. "But this is the afterlife and the beauty of an immortal is never feeling an ounce of pain ever again." Remmick grasps the softness of her arms, pulling his lover against his chest as he kisses her forehead. "You might not accept it now, but you will understand it."
His palms grace down her arms, touching the body of the woman who's enchanted him like no other. "It hurt me to hear you fearful of me. But as your man, and your maker, all I can do is be better in proving your importance to me. I love you, and I worship the ground you walk on. Never will I hurt you, you are to be treasured."
"The girl—" She gulps, "I gave her one of your gold coins."
Remmick sighs softly. Having had those shillings for a thousand years now he's always felt them to be his good luck charm, but with Lorelei by his side he feels like the luckiest vampire alive. "And do you think it will be meaningful in her life?"
"I do." She nods, reminiscent on the poverty she witnessed tonight in a family whose husband and father may never be coming back... "I think it will change their lives for the better."
His thumbs circle the soft flesh of her hips. "Then that's all that matters, A chroí."
A singular tender kiss sets both of their souls aflame. Beating the sunrise, Remmick and Lorelei journey back into the farmhouse, finding the bedroom where he buries himself between her legs. The slow thrusts are the most intimate fuck they've shared in a long while. Their bodies tangle against the sheets and their moans are lewd and worn thin. During their short time apart, Remmick has missed Lye so much that he wishes to be as close as possible to her— biting her neck as he's deep inside her, tasting her battery acid blood, and being as close to living in her skin that he could possibly ever be.

Tonight he watched Lorelei with babe in her arms, being the most stunning image burnt into his memory. He'll keep it forever, filling her womb this dawn with the thought of future generations— regardless of it being possible or not.
———
As day again reaches night, the farmland awakens with the sound of uncomfortable starving groans. With over fifty vampires in the barn, the policemen were far not enough.
Remmick paces the kitchen with overwhelming thoughts... He needs an event with plenty of people to feed off of, but the entire state of Vermont has been shut down with a curfew and finding bystanders in the night is nearly impossible. "My people!" He worries out loud. "Can't you hear the mind-hive? They are starving, they need to feed!"
Feeling guilty, Lorelei gulps... She knows that it is her duty to welcome the family across the threshold of homes, but recently the thought of it makes her ill.
"The policemen were a treat." He calms his pacing, sitting in a chair for a moment to think. "But our people need more. A party, a school, a church!"
"I know." She agrees, dressing in a coat she finds herself once again heading to prowl through the night. "I'll find something, just— give me time."
"Lorelei." Remmick trembles with fear for his family, "they're growing weaker."
She kisses his worry away, "I said I'll fix this." With a promise she isn't sure she can keep, Lorelei sets out on foot with an army of musical vampires behind her. Although starving, not once has music left their hearts, making far too much noise to sneak up on anything living from their constant glee.
The police presence is heavy tonight, but they foolishly underestimate the strength of fifty-six hungry vampires. Lorelei cringes as the family wipes them out clean, staining the entire street red with blood, the vampires take down the entire force in an instant as they consume anyone foolish enough to be walking the Vermont sidewalks tonight.
Happy to see Remmick's worry fade as his vampires feed, she still has a task to find a few more houses until they are full. The street they chose tonight is luckily quiet with mostly abandoned warehouses, although it makes her job tougher, at least she can't feel guilty for inviting blood thirsty monsters into someone's home as they sleep.
She walks by multiple homes and hears nothing... Suddenly, Lorelei gasps at the sound of four healthy beating hearts.
Not wanting to have this sleeping family in a tiny blue house killed tonight, she gulps, afraid to welcome the vampires inside— but, she knows that she has too or her people will soon begin to raisin and desecrate if they are not fed... Just like losing them all over again.
"Once more Lye." Her lover tucks a curl behind her ear, kissing her gently and trying his best to be understanding. "This last house will be more than enough for a long while."Remmick promises. "Just go inside my love, invite us in."
Her legs tremble as she approaches the door and hears it creek open... Slowly Lorelei walks into the bedrooms and becomes confused about the three sleeping bodies, but four heartbeats... Her eyes widen when she suddenly realizes. "No Rem, not here."
Annoyed, Remmick groans from the porch. "Not this again Lorelei! You see them getting sick— your people!"
"I know!" She still continues to refuse. "But we will have to find another house!"
His fist hits the side of the house, nearly making it shake and waking the inhabitants. "Goddamnit! What the hell are you doing!?"
"It's two parents and their child!" She begins, "a mother, a father, and a teenage girl." Stressed to the max, Lorelei presses her fingers to the temples of her head. "Look, the teenage girl hasn't told her parents yet, but she is pregnant, I can hear the fetus' heartbeat— I know you can too."
"Fuck this. I can't wait any longer!" Bert and Joan complain about their hunger as their muscles begin to atrophy and weaken. "We will just have to hunt on the way back to the barn, we can't stand here all night— daylight is approaching."
Remmick sighs, "the sun is rising A ghrá, we must leave."
As the noise begins to wake the humans, Lorelei can't risk them walking outside and being torn to pieces by her group. "So leave with them." She directs the nod of her head to their community of vampires escaping the morning sun by ducking off into the woods. "I'll be fine, I'll pretend to be a girl that is lost or something— I'm sure these people will understand."
He wouldn't dare risk it... Not after enduring an impossible night without her just the day before.
Remmick stays as the sun meets the horizon. "I rather burn here than be without you ever again."
Steaming heat begins to come from off of his back and Remmick continues to take on the sun without a blink.
"Remmick..." Lorelei's heartbeat drums out of her chest as she watches the love of her life char. "Remmick! My god, stop!"
He refuses, continuing to burn as sunlight touches his back.
"COME INSIDE!!!" The welcome nearly bursts from her throat.
Remmick falls into the house as Lye slams the door shut. His shirt is burned to shreds and his back is full of blisters as his skin almost took flame. So close to losing him, Lorelei cries as if she has an endless amount of tears, holding him against her chest and coddling him from the floor as she kisses every inch of his face. "Foolish man."
He chuckles, weakened yet his charm beams from his perfectly crooked smile. "Aye, but your foolish man. A man who loves you, my wild Irish rose."
———
Before needing to explain to the family of this house who they are and why they are there, Remmick and Lorelei lock the family in their rooms until nightfall comes once again. Surely they'll be stunned by the indecent stains of vampire sex on their couch, but at least they get to keep their lives.
Another reason to be proud of her lover today. Although hungry as ever, Remmick showed restraint that he never knew he had and left the family unharmed. Lye sees now a bright future that she wasn't too sure was there before. With her as the hybrid Queen, she can now be sure that her vampire family aren't completely out of touch with the humanity they once had in life.
Back into the night sky, there is a sense of solitude around them. With changes within themselves, the night feels a bit brighter and the joy Remmick wishes Lye to feel— is finally there.
Together the dark woods are their playground as they laugh, flirt, and kiss like school children. With their love, it is an eternity worth of the honeymoon phase and the two wouldn't have it any other way.
As they find their way back to the farmhouse on the outskirts of town, although night, something familiar to the sun illuminates the entire ten acres of farmland with light. The confusion causes the vampire couple to take a pause from their joy... Immediately being chilled to the bone as they witness the barn being burnt to the ground.
Without the chance to react, Lorelei and Remmick are bagged over their heads, skin burning from rope that had been soaked in pickled garlic.
The Choctaw Indians.
After chasing Remmick for years, they finally have caught up to him. Lorelei said that with the messy trail they had been leaving behind, the Indians would be coming, but sadly he has realized it far too late.
As Remmick is tied to a stake, prepared to perish for his thousands of years of preying on humans, Lorelei is—examined... The ear of a Choctaw Indian rests against her bosom as he listens in on what sounds like a live heartbeat. "Release the girl, her heart beats— she is human. She would have soon become his victim tonight." Suddenly Lorelei is unbagged and untied. "Run child. Save yourself from the attack of the devil's minion."
But she's frozen in place as her eyes land on her lover. Remmick smells of something flammable, tied to a stake in the middle of the field, and silently saying a goodbye with a gentle tearful smile— refusing to give up Lorelei's true nature to the Indians.
They chant in their native tongue, opening a case with a traditional carved wooden stake inside, they are to first pierce Remmick's heart to assure his death before he burns. Expected to be running away, the tribe of Indians worry about the girl on the ground no longer as they slowly chant and walk together towards Remmick. But she refuses to see it happen. Without much thought, the ceremony is interrupted as Lorelei lifts from the dust and immediately blocks his body.
"NO-" Coming to his rescue, her plead is cut short as she takes the stake to her heart instead.
...
The world grows silent as everyone around watches the young woman's wounded body drop to the ground.
"Acushla?"Remmick blinks, trying to awaken himself from this nightmare.
The Indians begin to panic with the thought of having murdered a human girl. "Why would she protect a vampire!?"
The elder peels open her lips. "Look at her teeth, no fangs— only a girl, you've stabbed a human that was kept hostage."
"We must be quick." One trembles, "end the demon vampire, we've tracked them from Mississippi we must cover our tracks!"
With heartache like never before the ropes of garlic that burn against his skin is no match for the pain Remmick is feeling now, he breaks out of them with proof of burn scars on his wrist. Rabid like an animal, he tears all five Indians apart. Their speed and strength are no match for a vampire who has just absolutely lost his mind. Remmick's body is covered in blood, drenched in it as if he had bathed in it.
Dropping to his knees he hears Lorelei's faint gasping. Although the sharp wood staked her, it missed by only an inch, causing splinters in her heart to cause her the utmost pain.
He holds his Queen, shattered at the sight of the object stabbed through her soft body— heart practically skewered on the end of a wooden stake. He sobs, wanting terribly to bring her comfort and take it out with the hopes of her body healing, yet he knows it will only cause her more damage.
As she faces death for a second time around, Lorelei is just as fearful and in denial. "I know it's bad Rem, but— tell me baby, how bad?"
"No it isn't bad at all Lye." His denial sets in. "You're fine, we've been through much worse! Hey-hey, do you remember that night we made love on the beach? We slept so soundly in each other's arms by the waves that the sun came up and charred us so good that we needed a week of recovery in the cave."
"You see? It's just like that!" He attempts to convince her and himself as well. "Just a week of healing doll, you'll be good as new."
She breaks through the barrier of his thoughts, aiming for the honest truth. "It's worse, isn't it?"
Holding her tighter, Remmick sobs louder.
"You don't have to say it." Her hand caresses the bristle of his unshaven face. "I've seen this before, this pain— I'm familiar."
"Don't leave me." He begs pathetically, noticing his fated mate slip from him. "I love you, A ghrá take me with you."
The warmth of a freeing soul reminds her of the hot Mississippi rays she once felt on her mahogany skin. The feeling is glorious, she can't wait for the day their family all sees the sun again. She chuckles, "Oh but Rem— there she is. That sun that I've missed so."
"It is night, Lye!" Shaking her limp body he refuses it. "The darkness is ours where we spend our time dancing beneath the moonlight. Please." He begs. "There is no sun!"
His fingers— although stained in Indian blood traces the contour of her face. He pleads for a response from her, dying to hear that hybrid heart beat for him once more.
But Lorelei's brown doe eyed gaze is lifeless in his arms. His denial continues to wash over him but as it finally hits him, he gasps. Trembling in an over-stir of emotion, he realizes that his sweet Lye is no longer with him. "Why? My foolish, foolish, sweet girl. Why save me? By saving me, you have killed me!"
Blaming himself, he wishes that he had just listened to her. If they hadn't left a trail across the east coast, the Choctaw would have never found him. If he wasn't pussyfooting around and creating a larger community, he would have had his people on a ship to Ireland by now!
"I won't live here without you."He whispers against her lips, kissing flesh that is even colder than before. Her lack of response pains him and the shine of the barn's fire eats him alive. Again he is all alone. No family, no mind-hive, and not even one tune in his head.
Blinded by tears, Remmick takes another look at his true love. Her body is a lifeless doll and her soul has been set free, but come dawn her flesh will flame and become nothing but ashes. He refuses to let that happen, he will get her home even if it kills him in the end.
Silently carrying the lifeless body of his Queen through the woods, Remmick hears the voice of a woman inside an Indian caravan. She hushes crying children and suddenly hears the cracking of twigs under Remmick's feet. "Hush now." The Choctaw mother coos, "that must be them coming back now, soon we will be home, safe from the demons that walk the night."
He realizes that the Indians didn't travel alone, some brought their wives and children along with them. Although Lorelei would disagree, as Remmick grows into the demon they claim him to be, she is no longer with him anymore to stop the chaos that is soon to come.
A rage so deep burns inside of him looking for revenge... Remmick's talons tear through the caravan and rips the women and children into absolute shreds. Their body parts are thrown out by pile loads, and Lorelei's stiffening corpse is placed inside.
This caravan will be making it back to Mississippi for certain, but the tribe of Choctaw Indians will not.
———
With several nights of dodging the sun on his way back to Clarksdale, if there were people he had missed up the east coast, Remmick surely finished them on his way back down. Fueled with such fury, he has become something Lorelei would completely loathe— an entirely different kind of monster.
Thresholds no longer can contain him. The sting of barging through unwelcomed places is insufferable, making the air in his lungs feel as if it were filling with fire for being in places he wasn't invited in. But still this pain does not stop him, for the cruelness of losing true love is more powerful than any invitation. If he can't have Lye, then he will settle for the every limb of any person he sees.
After a week's worth of chaos and hiding in the shadows, the caravan makes it back to Clarksdale on his last night of traveling. Drawing back the curtains of the caravan, Remmick begins to ache and sob once more as he carries Lye's body into the graveyard of Clarksdale's only black owned church. Immortal promises of community no longer can sweep him. He is tired, and hurt— wanting only to be where she is right now, the closest bond he's ever had.
Lye had told him stories about growing up in this church. How much she enjoyed being part or the choir and how nice it was to have Sammie's father as the reverend. He'll bury her here in the place she called home. Remmick moves quickly as dawn begins to appear, deciding to dig Lye's grave beside the freshest one. He finds worn tools in a shed nearby that is almost fallen in, taking the shovel from it, he begins to kick up dirt as he digs Lorelei's grave. Suddenly taking an immediate double take at the name carved into the gravestone of the freshest grave beside her, his heart shatters even more. 'Beloved Mother, Mildred Boone.' It reads. 'Died of a broken heart.'
It soon comforts him to know that Lorelei's mother will accompany her into the afterlife. If the stake hadn't killed her, the news of her mother's death surely would have. "Go Acushla, be with her now. I will find you again."
Her body is placed inside the cold Earth while her lips are kissed for a very last time. Remmick buries her deep enough for an uninterrupted rest, patting the dirt down to make the grave look as neat as possible. A hand full of lilies are snatched from the ground and separated into two. He places one half on Mildred's grave—thankful to the woman who created his greatest gift in life. And he places the other half on Lorelei's grave— thankful to the woman who showed him what life was.
The night begins to lighten as dawn rises around him. He reminisces on Lorelei's sweet voice, "I miss the feeling of the sun on my face." The words she once said now pain him knowing that she never had the chance to truly feel it again.
But today, he will feel it for her.
His anger has made him his own worst enemy. Wiping out the entire east coast has made him the same as the Christians who wiped out his community in the 12000s. For his sins he is willing to die, better yet— he is ready for it.
With the sun peaking over the horizon, Remmick catches whiff of his own flesh beginning to burn and boil. He chuckles, "I feel the rays for you A chroí, and might I add that the sun is wildly overrated." His scorched muscles lock his entire body as he is being roasted.
Remmick faces the sun and falls onto the dirt of Lorelei's grave. Beyond suicidal, his melancholy can only be relieved by death. Not even bursting into flames could compare to the pain of losing his mate.
He smiles, tears becoming evaporated mist on his cheekbones and his mind without thought yet still determined to follow Lorelei Boone into the afterlife. He promised Lye that he'd rather burn than to be without her again, and he meant this wholeheartedly. Even keeping his vow that her home would be forever by his side.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Remmick keeps his promise to the very end, letting his powdery remains become topsoil to Lorelei Boone's forever grave.
#remmick sinners#remmick#sinners movie#sinners x reader#sinners 2025#sinners remmick#sinners fanfiction#sinners smut#sinners#jack o'connell#jack oconnell x reader#jack oconnell smut#smokestack twins#smut#dark romance#er0tica#dark romanticism#bwwm wmbw#bwwm love#rough kink#breeding k1nk#age g@p#dubc0n#remmick x reader#remmick x you#remmick smut#remmick fanfic#sinners fanart#remmick x yn#remmick x femreader
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Beginning of Relationship HC
Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x GN!reader Content: Fluff!!, probably ooc a/n: Ugh, I lost the message when my computer crashed, but a very sweet person asked for headcanons about what Dex would be like at the beginning of a relationship. I feel so bad, but here you go!! Hopefully they see it, lol. Anyway, this is my first time writing headcanons, kinda nervous. But it was a lot of fun, would do again. Also, formatting is insane. Enjoy :P Masterlist
━ ◎ ━
I like to imagine you and Dex would meet at some point during his daily routine.
You’d cross paths at the cafe he stops at on Fridays before work.
Like you’re in line before him and forget your wallet at the register.
Since his whole thing is trying to be a good person, he’d return it to you while you’re waiting for your order.
I think you’d have to be the one to start a conversation.
He didn’t initially intend for the interaction to go anywhere.
You’d end up exchanging numbers, under the guise of you owing him dinner (his choice!)
He kind of forgets about it until a week later when you text him and ask him his favorite restaurant and to name a time and place.
Most of that dinner is spent talking about yourselves, likes and dislikes and work-related things (mostly from you, I feel like he’d be kind of cagey about the FBI).
You two hit it off, and he’s actually the one to suggest you meet up again.
That leads to you getting food together at least once a week.
He unintentionally incorporates it into his routine and looks forward to your talks.
Again, you’d have to be the one to ask about trying dating. I don’t think he’d want to risk ruining what routine you guys already have by changing the nature of it.
He’s almost relieved when you ask.
And BOOM, you’re dating now.
Btw, I don’t think there’s a scenario where he’d date his North Star.
The idea of a North Star is an idealized version of a person that he wants to be.
The relationship would fall apart the second his North Star did something to break that illusion.
With all the spiraling that would cause, the relationship would probably last a week at most, lol.
Not much changes after you two make it official. You guys just meet up more and text/call more.
And I mean nothing changes.
It doesn’t even occur to the two of you that displays of affection are allowed for the first few weeks, lol.
Like Dex would walk you home, and at most you’d hold hands, but even that’s rare.
I think it would click with you one day after closing your door, like ‘wait a second…’
And then you run back out to catch him before he’s too far away and give him a kiss.
It doesn’t open the floodgates, or anything, but it reminds you two that you can do that kind of thing now.
Dex likes to kiss your forehead. Idk I just feel it in my soul.
I think Dex would be the driest texter ever.
He means well, but holy shit, it’s kind of painful.
This man has never used an emoji in his life.
Chronic single-word replier
You’ll be telling him a long winded story, and he’ll just reply with ‘sorry’
But don’t worry! The next time he sees you in person or calls you over the phone, he’ll comfort you or be angry/upset on your behalf because he read the whole thing.
He’d also let you rant and rave about it in person/over the phone if it makes you feel better.
He does like it when you use stickers as emojis, though. They’re more expressive, and the feeling they’re supposed to convey is easier to decipher.
Ouuu, museum dates.
I think his favorite would be the Met.
I headcanon him to be one of those people who will sit and sketch the exhibits. It’s soothing to him.
I also think he’d love day trips to Washington, D.C. for the Smithsonians.
LOVES THE CAPTAIN AMERICA EXHIBIT!!! I don’t care, this is canon!
Captain America is as good as it gets in that world, so Dex has idolized him since he was a little boy.
My goofy ass, unrelated headcanon that Phillip Coulson once tried to buy a pack of limited edition Captain America trading cards off of him on a trading site in 2010, but Dex wouldn’t budge.
He kept one close to his chest while he was in the military, like it was a picture of his lover back home, so it’s special to him.
He lowkey mansplains the exhibit to you, but it’s genuinely so cute how excited he is, so you don’t mind.
He’d also be down to go to any exhibit you wanted to.
I think he’d just like hearing you talk about things you like in general, tbh. Like his own personal podcast.
In fact, when he gets overwhelmed or stressed, he’ll sometimes call you and get you talking about something you’re really into. It calms him down a little bit.
Definitely told Ray about you within the first month of you two dating.
It’d be in passing, like ‘can’t stay too long, I’ve got dinner plans’ (with you)
Ray would tell Seema, and I think she’d get Ray to invite you and Dex over for dinner.
Idk how the FBI works in terms of days off, but I think Dex would bring you lunch on his hypothetical days off.
Like you’re doing whatever it is you do, and your coworker comes up to tell you a guy is looking for you.
You’re like ‘???,’ but go out anyway and there he is, standing with a takeout bag from your favorite place.
He’d leave you a little note or doodle something to make you smile.
Even better if he made the food himself.
I headcanon him to be a good cook because he has a stupid amount of knives for someone who doesn’t cook well.
On the topic of him cooking, he’d definitely invite you over to make dinner for you.
He’d have you sit in one of those chairs at his bar counter to keep him company, like your very own cooking channel show.
He’d ask you about your day and let you taste test the sauce.
I think it would be a while before you guys spent the night together.
Not for any crazy reasons, but realistically, I think your waking and sleeping schedules would be super misaligned, especially if you work a traditional job.
He’s kind of nervous the first time. Y’all probably fall asleep kind of far away from each other, but gravitate towards each other throughout the night.
It’s like that for the first few times, but finally you guys just intentionally cuddle lol.
He holds you like you’re going to run away.
I think he’s a weighted blanket fiend (coming from someone who stacks two)
Sleeping in the same bed as him feels like you’re taking 9 Gs sometimes because he’s got you wrapped up in a suffocating hug and a weighted blanket + duvet over you two.
You’ve woken up sweaty many times before, which is probably an insane feeling because he sleeps shirtless.
So if you also sleep shirtless, you two are slippery, and if you sleep with a shirt, it sticks to his chest and to you.
His solution is to turn the AC on full blast, so his apartment feels like the arctic past 10pm.
He will let you go if you need to get up, but even in his sleep, the second the mattress dips again, he’s pulling you back against him.
Not one to watch tv shows, but I think you two would have one designated show that you have to watch together.
Does like watching movies with you, though.
He hates going to the movie theater, but is down to curl up with you on the couch to watch whatever has caught your eye.
I don’t think he had a tv in his apartment on the show, so it’s always at your place.
He has a framed picture of you two on the wall next to his front door.
It’s one from a day trip to Washington, DC. You’re in front of the Smithsonian Castle, bundled up in winter coats and beanies. A passerby offered to take it for you.
He also has one on his bedside table.
It’s a candid of you absolutely demolishing a croissant at a bakery on one of your first official dates.
You didn’t even see him take it, but he refuses to get rid of it.
It’s his favorite.
I don’t think he’d use pet names very often. He probably uses the occasional ‘babe,’ but he prefers your name.
You did go through a phase where you’d refer to him with increasingly weird and specific pet names until he started ignoring you until you called him ‘Dex’ again.
Although if you sound upset that he isn’t playing along, he’ll feel bad and answer immediately.
Sometimes, you’ll call him Ben or Benjamin, but you default to Dex because that’s how he introduced himself.
Sometimes stares at you when you’re talking or doing things.
Not crazy like or anything, just in awe.
Like, you could be doing your laundry, and he’s just entranced.
Speaking of laundry, when you first started dating, he was really peculiar about not leaving stuff at your place.
It wasn’t even intentional. He’s just really meticulous.
And I like to think that after the first time he lent you clothes when you stayed over at his place, he was like ‘wait, I can get behind this!’
So, Dex being Dex, he just straight up picks out some shirts from his closet, folds them, and then presents them to you the next time he comes over to your place.
You take them, and the next time you invite him for a movie night or spend the night, you wear one.
I could go on and on, but you get the gist.
━ ◎ ━
#bullseye#benjamin poindexter#bullseye x reader#benjamin poindexter x reader#ben poindexter x reader#a-ha.writes
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
Love your writing, it's amazing! Could I please request 🌼 5:25a.m. and Jason Todd if possible? Thank you very much!
Thank you, you're so sweet!! I had a lot of fun with this one; I hope you enjoy!💛 Join the live by daylight celebration here!!
Jason Todd x fem!reader fluff, quick allusion to showering together, 0.7k+ words
5:25 a.m., Jason's Return
A window closes in your apartment, a brief flash of sunlight peeking in between the curtains. You hear the lock slide into place before footsteps pad into your kitchen. The sink turns on for just a second, something metallic is set on the countertop, and a zipper is pulled down quickly but quietly. As you tug your blanket tighter around your shoulders, you roll over to face your open bedroom door. The clock on the far side of the bed changes to 5:25 a.m.
“You’re late,” you whisper when a shadow fills your doorway.
“M’sorry,” Jason murmurs, approaching the bed carefully. “Did I wake you?”
You shake your head, unwilling to tell him that your body clock has become so attuned to him that you wake up before he enters, no matter what time he arrives. Jason smiles as he brushes his thumb along your cheekbone. He used to be terrified of waking you, worried that you’d open your eyes in the dead of night and be scared of him. Now, he can’t remember the last time you weren’t waiting to greet him with heavy-lidded eyes and a sleepy smile.
“C’mere,” you mumble, reaching towards Gotham’s most feared vigilante.
“I need to shower,” he argues, taking your hand as he kneels beside the bed. “And there’s breakfast reheating in the oven from the bakery you like.”
“The one by the manor?” you ask, keeping one eye open as you sink deeper into your pillow.
“Of course. I know you.”
You smile at that, fighting the urge to hide your face under the blankets. Jason squeezes your hand kindly, then presses a kiss to your knuckles before he stands.
“Jay,” you call, lifting your arm up to create an opening in the nest of blankets you’ve made. He begins to speak, but you shake your head. “I don’t care. We can shower later, wash the sheets, whatever. I just need you.”
Jason’s shoulders move up and down in the darkness of your bedroom before he sheds his jacket. His boots are probably sitting in the corner under your living room window, his helmet tucked behind your coffee pot, and the thigh holster dropped somewhere along the way.
Jason sits on the bed, then slides his arm over your waist and tugs you against his bare chest. No longer conscious of the scars lining his skin, he holds you close, drops his head toward your neck, and breathes you in like you give him life.
“Long night?” you ask, dragging your nails gently down his back.
He nods, shifting even closer to you as his breathing slows.
“I’ve got you,” you whisper.
“I’ve got you,” he replies.
“It’s not a contest.”
Jason hums against your neck, presses a kiss to your collarbone, and says, “Kind of is. And I’m winning.”
He kisses you again, and you give up. Jason doesn’t play fair, but you’ve learned to love losing to him.
“What about breakfast?” you inquire breathlessly. “I never heard the oven.”
“Yeah, well…” Jason hesitates, then admits, “I was going to heat them up after the shower, but you kind of interrupted the plan.”
Laughing, you lean back and take Jason’s face in your hands. His hair is frizzy from wearing the helmet all night, his knuckles scraped and red from fighting, but he’s still Jason.
“Get some sleep,” you encourage before kissing his forehead.
Jason watches you until he can’t hold his eyes open any longer. He clings to you and drifts to sleep just as the sun rises over Gotham. You gently lift his heavy arm and scoot backward to get out of bed. The least you can do is make sure breakfast is ready when he gets up. And your book order was delivered last night after he left for patrol, so it seems that a day of sitting too close and reading is in order.
“Don’t leave,” Jason mumbles as you stand.
You smile and walk around the bed to kiss his temple. “I’m right here,” you promise. “Even at the crack of dawn.”
Jason nods, still mostly asleep, and burrows against the pillow, his hair pointing in every direction. “Gotta find one,” he sighs.
“Find one what?” you inquire softly, tracing his jawline.
“A time when you’re not so pretty, not waiting for me.”
You hum, smiling as you wonder if he’ll remember this when he wakes in a few hours. “And what will you do when you find one?”
“Is’sa secret,” he mumbles, then stops talking as his breathing deepens.
“I love you, Jason Todd,” you whisper. After kissing him once more, you make your way to the living room, nearly tripping over his gun holster in the hall and waking up the entire building.
#fmq live by daylight#hanna writes✯#hanna's blurbs#jason todd x reader#jason todd fluff#jason todd blurb#fem!reader
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
Magical Girl Jinu Part 2
Part 1
Word Count: 2.6k
Summary: Jinu starts training to wield the honmoon's magic and things don't go very well, but Huntrix (and especially Rumi) is there to support him
Content & Warnings: Cartoon logic, cartoony humor, slight fantasy violence, heavily implied Rujinu, Rumi briefly thirsts over Jinu (but no eye popcorn), parallels to the bathhouse Rujinu fight (and other parts of the movie)
“I don’t understand how this happened,” Jinu sighed in exhaustion as he sat on the floor of their training room. It was used for learning choreography, but it easily doubled as a room to practice fighting. Killing demons was a full-time gig. After getting back to the tower, the girls tried to get him to repeat whatever in the world he had done back at the convenience store. That was over an hour ago.
“Well, I think it’s rather simple!” Zoey pulled down a screen filled with her scribbling. “Demons consume souls and Rumi is a demon.” She pointed to a chibi doodle with a metal stick. “He gave up his soul to empower her to defeat Gwi-ma.” The others tilted their heads in confusion. “Once Gwi-ma was sealed and Jinu’s soul stayed on this side of the honmoon, what was left of it returned to his normal form. Or what it should be, anyways. That part I’m still working on.” Her stick flew between multiple parts. “Jinu somehow connected his soul to hers. The permanence of the honmoon no longer limits this world to three hunters. Anyone can theoretically draw power from it through the fans and wow Jinu has a lot of fans. With his knowledge of how the magic works and no longer being pure demon he’s able to wield the—“
“Okay okay.” Rumi was starting to get a headache. “I think I understand now.”
“I don’t.” Jinu propped his chin up with a fist. “I’m a guy. Guys don’t get to be hunters.”
“Now they do,” Mira smirked, summoning her weapon.
“Don’t worry, I think it’s cute!” Zoey reassured him, summoning her knives.
“Woah, hold on.” He stood up and backed away. “What do you guys think you’re doing.”
As they advanced, Rumi surprised him by the side with her sword drawn. He backed away from her too. She continued to walk towards him with the others supporting her. “Now that you have access to this power, it is your responsibility to use it and protect this world from demons.”
“Now hold on—“ he fell backwards.
“To protect the world, you must first learn how to wield it properly.” She reached her hand out to him. “Are you willing?”
Lips parted, Jinu looked at the offer being extended. Be it fear, be it doubt, be it something else entirely: he didn’t want to take it. At the same time, the look in Rumi’s eyes fired up his spirit and gave him courage he’d lacked for four-hundred years. She did things to him that he couldn’t help. It only left one option.
“Yes,” he said, making his decision. He reached for her hand. Rumi pulled hers away and brushed off her shoulder with a smug face.
“Great.” She reveled in his reaction. “Your training begins now.”
The training was not going well.
First things first, it took forever for Jinu to summon an actual weapon. When the Huntrix did it several years ago, it came easy, like second nature. They knew in their hearts what they needed to defeat the demons. Jinu, however, had no idea what he wanted. With his indecisiveness, Rumi suggested he try different weapons out until he found the right one.
So he started with a sword. The same as Rumi’s.
“Look, I know I said any weapon but—“
“But what?” He balanced his stance and pointed it at her. A challenge. “Scared you’ll lose?” he asked, completely overconfident. Her facial features shifted from annoyance to her own meritable confidence that came with years of fighting demons. Another sword appeared. It pointed at his chest.
“No,” she said, readying her own stance. A purple eyebrow quirked up. “Just scared I’ll ruin your beautiful face.”
Jinu’s eyes widened. She swung at him before he could react. Dodging, he quickly got back into a fighting headspace and started deflecting her attacks. The iridescence of their blades swung around in a flashy dance of colors. Both gave their all in the fight. Rumi, quicker on her feet, swept his feet out from under him. His sword flew. On the floor, he barely managed to hold back the blade pressing in from above.
“This feels familiar,” he said through his teeth. Both his and Rumi’s muscles shook from exertion.
“Yeah.” She doubled down with her weight and bared her teeth in a feral sort of way. “The only difference is I’m not trying to kill you this time.”
“Oh come on, we both know you want to stab me so bad.” The way he said it sounded like a flirtation. She flared her nostrils.
“Yeah! Go Rumi!” The girls cheered. Rumi looked up at them, distracted, and Jinu successfully pushed her off of him. With his weapon back in hand, they returned to their previous back-and-forth dueling. When it was like this, the skills and experience were evident. Not only was Rumi faster, but she knew just where to strike, just where to move her feet. By the end of it, Jinu was tripping over himself and lacking the grip to hold his sword any longer. The honmoon reclaimed it; along with Rumi’s shortly after.
“You did well,” she complimented him, extending a hand out in good faith. He looked at it in distrust, but he reached for it. Their fingers brushed and hesitated, then gripped onto each other as she pulled him up.
“Eh, swords are alright.” He brushed his shoulder without concern. “I think I’ll let you keep your aesthetic.”
“Pf-hwa-what? My aesthetic?” she said irately. She couldn’t believe this guy. With his stupid face and stupid clothes and stupid honmoon magic—
“So, next weapon.” Jinu clapped his hands and ignored her in favor of Mira and Zoey. “I was thinking I could try your guys’—“
“Nuh uh.”
“No way.”
They stood firmly with folded arms and shaking heads. Jinu pouted glumly. Finding the right weapon would be a lot harder than he thought. Luckily, they had all day.
At Zoey’s suggestion, he tried something more traditional. The mubuchae was a fan that glided through the air with grace and precision. Created by the honmoon, it was thin, strong, and sharp. A little too sharp. While practicing twirling around with it, he ended up slicing a chair clean in half.
At Rumi’s suggestion, he attempted to use a whip (which was a bad idea since it required even more precision). To her surprise, he handled it rather well. The snake-like form swung through the air and successfully hit the targets they set up. He got a little bold, however, and kept whipping it around until it somehow managed to wrap all the way down his body. With just enough time to process it and not enough time to stop it, he tipped sideways and hit the floor.
At Mira’s suggestion, he played his hand at a nunchaku. Really, it wasn’t any easier than the whip. He swung it around wildly. In tandem, the handle flew up to hit his face and down to hit his groin; leaving him sagging to the floor in pain.
“Ooh…” the girls winced.
Surely archery would be easier, right? Jinu pulled back the string, arms flexing, and let three arrows fly at once. Zoey ducked as one shot right through where her head just was. The second one stuffed itself into the top of Rumi’s braid. Mira caught the third between her fingers.
“Hey! Watch it!” Zoey clutched her skull protectively. Jinu smiled anxiously with wide eyes and hid the bow behind his back. It dissipated.
“Wow,” Mira commented blandly, eyeing the arrow she caught before letting it disappear. “That was like, really bad.”
“Guys, let’s be nice.” Rumi had that same deranged look on her face as Jinu while she yanked the arrow out of her hair. He nodded, and she gathered them all forward for new ideas. They locked in with their shoulders and looked at each other.
“How about an axe!”
“Too violent.”
“Maybe I could try a dagger?”
“That’s basically a mix between my sword and Zoey’s knives.”
“What about two daggers…”
“Mira! Not helping.”
“Fine. What about a shield to protect us? That way he won’t actually be injuring anybody.”
“I like it!”
“No offense, but I don’t think using a shield against demons will help me ‘protect the world’.”
“Aww… Rumi he’s quoting you…”
“Zip it Zoey. We’ve gotta focus.”
“Ooh! Maybe we could dress him in one of our battle outfits to get him in the spirit!”
Jinu, Rumi, and Mira all blinked at Zoey. The two girls’ faces stretched into smirks as they side-eyed Jinu, and Jinu returned the look with a nervous one. Nodding vigorously at the idea, they started pushing Jinu out of the room and into their massive closet. After thrusting some clothes into his arms and shoving him behind a curtain, they waited for no time at all for him to reappear. Two of their faces puffed out in withheld laughter while Zoey caved immediately and fell to the floor.
“Guys, I really don’t think this is working,” He said while looking down to examine the ridiculous outfit. Every piece of it was too small; stretching over his masculine frame. The worst was around his shoulders since the fabric looked like it was about to tear at the seams. Or cut off circulation. The only parts of him spared were his bare legs and waist.
“It’s too bad you don’t have abs.” Mira added sleazily, drawing in closer until she was face-to-face with his stomach. Rumi pulled her back by the collar.
“Don’t worry, we can try something else,” she said, scratching out the idea on Zoey’s notebook.
“Or we can try putting on makeup,” Mira suggested deviously, brandishing three different cosmetics between her fingers like knives. Hearing her hyped Zoey up and she started fist-pumping the air.
“Yes! Yes!” The two of them got in Jinu’s personal space with devilish grins and sparkles for eyes. Their fingers reached for his shrinking frame and ignored his sweating expression as he cowered against a glass pane.
“Or we can try giving him some space.” Rumi grabbed them by the scruffs and pushed them out. Zoey pouted with puppy eyes. Mira just shrugged, then returned to her mischievous smile.
“Next time,” came her dark promise.
With the two out of the way and heading to the kitchen to raid the fridge, Rumi let the stress fall off her shoulders. Sighing in relief, she brushed invisible dust off her hands and turned around. The last thing she expected to see was the side profile of Jinu taking the shirt off without even using the curtain. An unsavory noise came out of her mouth, and her eyes turned into unpopped corn. The material stretched around his arms; baring his entire back and shoulders. He had a solemn look on his face, but Rumi didn’t notice at first while she drooled like Zoey.
When he finally looked at her, she caught herself and wiped her chin. No words were exchanged while he shrugged on his signature hoodie before grabbing his pants and disappearing behind the curtain. When she saw him again, he still had that look on his face. The only thing she could name was confusion. Tentatively, she followed him out of the closet and to the balcony.
At this time of night, the view was its most stunning. A million lights twinkled from the buildings afar and below; creating an imperfect mirror of the stars above. Lightly covering it all was the iridescent sheen of the honmoon in all its glory. That was a rare sight only Jinu, Rumi, and a few others were privileged to. It felt special to share it with him now.
“You know, it was almost worth it, just to see this view,” he said, leaning into the bar to take it all in. A breeze caressed his hair, carrying the newfound calm that contrasted all of earlier’s shenanigans. Rumi’s braid joined the fray as she did the same beside him.
“What was worth it?” she asked, only glimpsing at him for a moment.
“Giving up my soul.”
Blinking multiple times, she could only manage an “oh”.
“The honmoon really is beautiful.” He went on with his earnestness, sinking into the bar. Rumi subconsciously did the same.
“Yeah,” she said before turning to look at him again. “It is.”
Jinu continued to gaze at the view. “Maybe I should have betrayed Gwi-ma sooner,” he chuckled. “It would have been the perfect revenge for taking my soul and turning me into a demon.”
“You know you gave me your soul right?” She teased, bumping into his shoulder.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” He returned her energy, bumping back into her. Smiling, she drew out an eye roll with the movement of her head.
“Oh nothing.” She finally focused on the city beneath them. No matter how much she looked at the honmoon, it never failed to fill her with a heartwarming sense of pride. The world was safe, and she was the one who had helped accomplish that. This beautiful landscape was something she created. It would forever be her greatest feat; more than any popularity score or idol award.
As she continued to dwell on the honmoon, Jinu balanced the switch of attention by focusing on her. Above the fabric of his elbow, his eyes trailed up the patterns on her arm, shoulder, and face. The same iridescence of the honmoon shimmered over them. He had them too, but on Rumi, they were so much more breathtaking to look at. There were times where he was tempted to touch them, but managed to stop himself. Now was one of those times.
“It really is better than gold,” Rumi absentmindedly commented, still overlooking the city..
“Yeah,” he replied, just as absentminded. “It really is.”
Before either knew what was happening, he was reaching out to her arm. Rumi flinched at the contact, and he hesitated, then continued. Fingertips smoothed over the mesmerizing shapes; reverent and gentle. They stopped just shy of her neck before dropping back to his side.
Rumi started to clutch her arm with a hand, then stopped. On the spot, she found herself saying something she hadn’t found the chance to these past few weeks. “I used to think they would hate me for them. I used to think they wouldn’t love me because of them.” She was talking about Zoey and Mira. While they had sat and had deep discussions over her heritage and the shame Celine induced into her, this wasn’t an insecurity she had fully brought up yet to her best friends. “It was a fear that consumed me constantly. That’s why I—“ she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but Jinu understood.
“That’s why you hid them.” He completed. “Why you were so set on finishing the honmoon.”
Putting it that way always made her uncomfortable. “Well, that wasn’t the only reason. I still wanted to save people from demons; still do.”
“It’s okay,” he insisted, leaning in closer. “Sometimes being a little selfish can be healthy.”
“Because nobody can be perfect, right?”
“Well—“
“Because Celine never seemed to love the parts of me that weren’t.” The light words were overshadowed by the deeper meaning. She turned her gaze back to the city.
“I love the imperfect parts of you.”
The confession was simple. Easy. Maybe a little too easy. It left them both silent and staring, until Jinu looked away and Rumi did the same with a matching flush to her face. She thumbed a purple and yellow curl on her arm. He scratched a similar one under his bracelet.
“They… they look nice on you too,” she said a little quietly.
“Thank you.” His eyes softened. His lips curved beneath a blush. No more words were shared that night. They enjoyed the peace provided by the enchanting atmosphere and subtle breeze. Even with that, they couldn’t help but steal a little glance here and there.
The view really was beautiful from this high up.
Part 3 (coming soon)
#kpop demon hunters#kpdh#jinu kpdh#rumi kpdh#rumi x jinu#zoey kpdh#mira kpdh#kpdh fanfic#kpdh fanfiction
22 notes
·
View notes
Text

Alone, but Together
poly!jily x gn!reader
WC: 1.3k
CW: reader is overstimulated; fluff; hurt/comfort
Summary: Moving in with your partners has been amazing. But as an introvert, you're struggling with the lack of alone time. James and Lily comfort you.
A/n: self-indulgent and my biggest fear if i ever live with a romantic partner
--
When James and Lily asked you to move in with them, you were absolutely and totally thrilled. It was a big step, sure, but one you were ready for. You loved your partners more than life and wanted to share a home with them- to wake up with them, enjoy James’ breakfasts that Lily always raved about, and do your girlfriend’s laundry after she had a long week at work. Moving in was easy, and you folded right into the domesticity. It felt as though you’d always lived there.
But despite all the goodness of living with your partners, there was one downside, and that was your lack of alone time. As an introvert, you needed more time alone than time you were with people. Living by yourself made things easy. After a long day of work or an afternoon with friends, you could go back to your quiet flat and recharge, binging tv or reading a book. There were no social standards to uphold, just the loveliness of your own company.
While you felt no need to “perform” around your partners, living with two other people guaranteed you’d never enjoy silence. In the mornings, James was up before the sun, murmuring sweet nothings to you as he set off to the gym. When he returned, all three of you were up and getting ready, and Lily always enjoyed soft banter and conversation over your daily routines. Then, it was off to work, where you were surrounded by people all day long including annoying coworkers and pesky bosses. You got maybe 20 minutes of peace upon arriving home before James would return, and you loved him, but he was always loud. He’d be all over you, kissing you, hugging you, and going on about his day. Of course, you wanted it all- the affection and the chatter- but you also really wanted a break. Then Lily returned home and it’d start all over again. And then it was dinner and quality time together and bed. Not a single drop of alone time.
To put it frankly, your battery was dangerously low, and every interaction with any human being was beginning to grate on your nerves. So when you arrive home from work in the evening and you see that James has beat you there, you nearly burst into tears. Those twenty minutes of peace were the only semblance of solitude you had left and now they were gone. Your boyfriend, of course, is none the wiser, and jumps up like an eager puppy when the door opens. He bounds over to you, wrapping you up in his strong arms and smattering your face with kisses. Despite your grumpiness, you flush under his affection and the sweet kiss he presses to your lips.
“How was your day, sweetheart?” He murmurs into your skin, slowly walking you back towards the couch.
You shrug, your exhaustion making you nearly nonverbal.
James’ brows furrow and he coos, “did my love have a bad day?”
“Not bad, just tired,” you slur.
He kisses your forehead, “m’sorry. Wanna have a bath when Lils gets home? Or I can make you some tea? Or we could watch your favorite show or-“
“I think I’m gonna shower,” you say abruptly, cutting him off.
James wiggles his eyebrows, “ooh a shower sounds nice, I’m sure Lily will agree. And she can use her nice products on you. They always make my face feel so soft-“
The brunette keeps eagerly rambling on and you want to curl into a ball. His touch is too much. His voice is too much. It’s all too much.
“James” you respond sharply, more sharply than you intended, “I meant alone.”
His face falters and you instantly feel guilty, but you need to get away. You climb out of his grasp desperately, feeling claustrophobic, and clamber up the steps, shutting the bedroom door behind you resolutely.
You find solace under the hot water and in the silence. The isolation is what you needed, although the guilt clawing at your throat doesn’t ease. James really did look like a wounded puppy and you feel awful. You stay in the water for a while, letting the heat ease your muscles before you pull on your softest clothes and climb into bed, keeping the lights off, the curtains drawn, and your headphones on, canceling out the world. With your eyes shut, you don’t settle into sleep but into peaceful daydreams.
It’s not until you feel a soft palm on your cheek that you realize you’re no longer alone. Your eyes flutter open to meet your favorite shade of green, and your heart warms. Lily taps her ear and mouths, ‘can you take those off?’ Your stomach turns as your gaze flits between Lily and James, but you nod, pushing the headphones down around your neck.
“Can we talk?” Your girlfriend mutters sweetly, her voice thick and warm like honey in tea.
You fidget with your shirt but hum in consent. They both find a seat on the bed but give you plenty of distance. Still, their worried gazes feel a little suffocating.
“Jamie said you’ve been off since you got home. Wanna tell us what’s going on?”
A lump forms in your throat and you shrug, eyes refusing to meet theirs.
“Sweetheart, you know you can tell us anything,” James adds, his tone reassuring, “and I’m sorry if I upset you before.”
The guilt twists in your stomach as you look at your boyfriend’s sad face, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jamie.”
You twist your fingers anxiously and take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, “m’just feeling really overwhelmed.”
“What do you mean, my love?”
Lily awaits your answer patiently, her gaze soft and encouraging.
“I- I’m just struggling with…living with you guys.”
Their faces twist into confusion and hurt and you’re quick to correct yourself, “not-not you guys. I- well I’m struggling to live with other people…in general.”
James’ head cocks thoughtfully, “not us but people in general?”
You huff and tug at your shirt. Lily grabs your chin gently, forcing you to look at them.
“It’s not anything you two are doing that’s making me upset. It’s just that… I’m used to living alone. Or, when I lived at home, having my own room. My own space. You guys know I’m an introvert and well…”
Your lovely girlfriend hums in understanding, “It must be a lot for you to go from having a lot of alone time to none at all, hm?”
“Oh is our darling feeling a little burnt out?” James coos, “you should’ve just said so.”
Your face feels hot with shame and you shrug, “didn’t want to make you guys feel bad. I love you both, you know that. And I love living with you, really. It’s just-”
“You just need some time to yourself too?”
You nod.
“Can we touch you?” Lily murmurs.
You nod again and she pulls you into her arms. Any anxiety melts out of your muscles at her touch and she kisses your forehead. James’ hand rubs up and down your back, “we can absolutely do that for you, sweetheart. You just say the word and we’ll leave you alone.”
Your eyes flit between the two loveliest people on earth, “I don’t wanna kick you out of places in your own home, either. And I do like spending the evenings with you. I just need some quiet. Time to decompress.”
Lily kisses your nose, “well why don’t we be alone, together, hm? We can all lay around in the bedroom or sitting room and not talk, but still enjoy each other’s presence quietly?”
“You’d do that? It’s not too much?”
James smiles at you and shakes his head, “of course not, my love. We’d still be together, and that’s all I can ask for.”
You nod slowly, your brain starting to accept the lovely idea- alone, but together.
#poly!jily x reader#poly!jily x you#poly!jily x y/n#jily x reader#jily x you#jily x y/n#poly!jily x gn!reader#jily x gn!reader#poly!jily#poly!jily fluff#poly!jily hurt/comfort#poly!jily oneshots#poly!jily one shot#poly!jily fic#poly!jily fanfiction#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter x y/n#lily evans x reader#lily evans x you#lily evans x y/n#james potter x gn!reader#lily evans x gn!reader#marauders fandom#marauders fanfiction
28 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you please share a fic rec to us that you’ve prepared ages ago but noone has asked for yet? Hope you had a good day ❤️❤️❤️
Hi Nonny!
YEEEEES!!! I love when you guys ask me this because I inevitably run out of asks for specific lists so then I put these kind of asks aside so that I can just not have to think too hard putting a list together!
Let's seeeee. Ah, here's a list I don't think anyone will ever ask for but didn't know they needed LOL. Enjoy, and if any of y'all have some to add, please do, as always!
CRYING JOHN
Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.
whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.
State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance, Humour, Masturbation, Love Declarations, Bottomlock, Brief Suicidal Ideations) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.
How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.
Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.
A Love with No Name Series by aceofhearts61 (G to M, 49,955 w. across 20 stories || Asexual Sherlock / Straight John, Est. Rel, Queerplatonic Relationship, Romance, Cuddling, Fluff, Platonic Romance, Domestics, Rape/Non-Con) – In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.
A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space
Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...
Scars by SilentAuror (E, 60,494 w., 5 Ch. || Rape / Non-Con / Abuse, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Dub Con Elements, Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice) – S3 rewrite, showing Mary’s manipulation of John as he realizes his love for Sherlock. Mary is not having it.
The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w., 10 Ch. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary's betrayal and Sherlock's deceptions.
The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.
The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w., 58 Ch. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – "Do you just carry on talking when I'm away?"
Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)
30 notes
·
View notes