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icey--stars · 1 year

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Born For Tragedy: Part 20

Series Index

She was tragedy. Nothing except death, fear and pain followed in her wake. When she was young, she was beaten. Now she’s the one doing the beating as an assassin. A mysterious stranger comes to her, paying an absurd amount of money for her to kill Beron Vanserra, and protect the eldest son until the job is done. She stumbles across a story much similar to her own, and knows what must be done.

a/n: this is mostly just an epilogue (and… well… calanmai again)! thank you all for reading and to those that have followed this story since the beginning (or really, just kept reading this story as it was written…) i love you <3 there might be bonus parts in the future, but not any time soon, but keep an eye out for them!

i probably won’t post any new stories any time soon and take some time for myself as life is getting hectic, but requests are still open! they just may be slow!

WARNINGS: SMUT AHEAD! (PRIMAL PLAY, overstim) MINORS DNI 18+ apologies if the primal play is odd- it’s my first time writing it. also, not proofread, so i apologize for any mistakes <3

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Strangely, life for Valda stayed about the same after that. Eris and her were… tentatively happy. The other High Lords beside an asshole named Rhysand were a lot more pleasant to deal with. However, Kallias seemed extremely unsettled by the fact that it was an assassin helping to rule one of two neighboring courts to Winter.

Valda decided to let the title of High Lady sit for a while longer, however, and instead took up the position of spymaster, both to taunt the Night Court and to get her used to a leadership position. Surprisingly, she was actually really good at what she was doing with the spies, despite it being mostly within the court, and occasionally sending someone to another court to check on some rumor. Even training! But honestly, she should’ve expected that being a spy was basically the exact same as being an assassin besides the planned, paid killing.

Eris seemed incredibly proud as she slowly took on more roles and let her help him with some of the work he was doing for the court. Most of it was boring, however, and either writing letters or making decisions. The fun stuff was when you actually met with someone on the matter. Recently, it’d been lords coming to complain and she’d gotten to snark back like in the Night Court. Not her favorite line of work, but good enough.

Throughout the rest of “summer,” they focused on the Autumn Court and less on other-court relations. Very simple. However, come autumn, it was time to start with trade deals and sadly, invite people to the court for holidays and dinners and balls. The Night Court was not invited, however. Eris had decided that they’d let that one sit for a while before attempting to soothe some sort of relationship between the two courts. The Spring Court was also ignored mostly, seeing as Tamlin denied their invitation to a short dinner. Valda hadn’t been surprised.

She found the autumn holidays much more to her liking however. Harvest and the Autumn Equinox and all the hunting competitions- it was great fun. And there was food. Oh great Mother, so much fresh, delicious corn and bread. Oh, the bread was one of her favorites, especially when paired with some butter and cheese.

Through winter, they relaxed and managed the court through some hardships like a food delivery problem to some of the poorer individuals of the court. Of course, everyone was angry at Eris, as there was so much change and fae always were difficult with change. But, with some light discipline they were set on track.

However, spring came much too fast for Valda’s liking. Calanmai, and the anniversary of Beron’s death and Eris’s rise to power drew near. She was a bit… nervous to say the least.

There were rumors spreading through the Forest House and the entire court. The Maiden.

Her.

Secondly, Eris was acting weird. He seemed apprehensive about something and there were little spikes of happy nervousness when she came into a room or when they cuddled or even when they were having dinner.

She planned to talk to him about it tonight when he got back from training the pups. Well, they weren’t exactly puppies anymore and had grown considerably (Tempus was her favorite because she was the best cuddler out of the three) and were training for tracking and this week they were going to start some basic hunting commands.

But aside from the pups and Eris’s oddness, she was still anxious about Calanmai. Not for the anniversaries or anything, but purely because she didn’t know her job for it. Was she meant to turn into a whimpering mess for her mate in the middle of the forest? Honestly, they need to put some instructions out.

“Eris?” Valda asked one night. She knew Eris was exhausted due to all the work he’d been doing today, but she needed to know with Calanmai only two weeks away.

“Yes?” He asked, his face stuffed into her chest.

“What’s going to happen on Calanmai?” She asked.

Eris didn’t reply for a few long moments but eventually responded. “Nobody is going to force you to be the Maiden if you don’t want to. The Spring Court is the main one where they have to have one.”

“But won’t you…” She hesitated.

“It’ll be fine,” he dismissed. “I’m sure it's not that bad.”

That seems very wrong, considering her memories from the last Calanmai. “But won’t the court want to see proof that we actually are mates?” Valda argued.

“Probably,” Eris admitted, lifting his head now to meet her eyes. “But I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, even if it does leave me insane for a night or two.”

Valda winced at the thought. She didn’t want Eris to suffer.

“I just don’t know what to do for it,” She admitted quietly, glancing down and away from Eris’s gaze. “I know it's a sex ritual and all that you told me before but… it’s different being the Maiden, I’m sure.”

Eris hummed in agreement. “Well, from what I remember, the Maiden is obviously dressed down and when time hits, which is when the High Lord declares an official start to Calanmai, the Maiden begins running into the forest. The High Lord is forced to wait, normally getting quite unhinged before the people holding him free him. Then I suppose, it’s a chase.”

Valda hummed. “No winnowing?” She guessed.

“No winnowing, but I doubt anyone would even know. It’d only make the chase more interesting.”

“Oh?” Valda questioned with a little smirk. “And do you like interesting, my lord?”

Eris smirked. “Only if you do, my mate.”

Valda chuckled, shoving his shoulder as he leaned in to try and kiss her cheek. “Stop it,” she chastised.

Eris only got more insistent until he simply dropped dead on her and finally made her arm collapse at the elbow so he could plant his lips across hers with a happy hum.

Valda rolled her eyes, but made sure to participate in the kiss. She turned her head to force Eris away when he tried to nip at her lip. “Uh uh,” she said, tapping his lips. “You need rest , mister. As do I.”

“You wound me,” he said, tightening his grip on her body momentarily. “But really, nobody will force you to be the Maiden, no matter what. I will incinerate them.”

Valda smiled. “I know,” she whispered, pecking his forehead gently as he laid his head back down on her chest. “I’m just nervous.”

“Because you don’t know what to do or some other reason?” Eris asked.

“Well, I know mostly what to do now, don’t I?”

“So what else?” Eris asked, snuggling closer.

“As you might know, I have very limited experience with being submissive, and with the… primal part of it, I’m not sure.”

Eris hummed in acknowledgement, staying silent for a few moments before replying to her. “It’s supposed to be natural. You follow your instincts, that’s all. And honestly, if you want to chase me, I’m not arguing.”

“The court will,” Valda pointed out.

“Fuck them,” Eris said, chuckling. “If my mate wants to fuck me, I am not saying no.”

Valda rolled her eyes, but felt a bolt of heat settle in her abdomen at the words. “I’d like to do it the way that it was intended, Eris. I’m not breaking any traditions yet.”

“So you’re doing it?” Eris suddenly asked.

Valda hummed before sighing. “Yes.”

Eris chuckled. “I’m going to love you so good then,” he said.

Valda smiled at her mate’s words. “You already do,” she pointed out.

Eris remained silent for a few moments. Then, out of the blue: “I’m going to hunt you down and make sure you know you’re mine. I’m going to chase you through that forest because I need you so badly. Because you are my mate. My prey. You’ll try and run away but I’ll catch you and pin you down and then show you just how much I fucking know and own your body.”

Every word sent a rush of heat down Valda’s spine. Holy fuck. Why did that arouse her so much? Honestly. The idea of Eris chasing her alone was enough to make her knees wobble.

Eris had a shit-eating grin on his face when he looked up at Valda. She had a slightly open mouth like she was already panting from running.

“I knew you’d like that,” he whispered. “You like being my prey?”

Valda was speechless. Absolutely flabbergasted by this side of her mate. But she loved it.

Eris supported himself on his forearms, lifting his head to look into her eyes. “Yeah, you do, don’t you? You want to be chased and pinned down just like any prey out here. Except you want your hunter to catch you, don’t you? You want to be pinned down and taken right on the forest floor.”

Valda couldn’t fucking breathe. Why did she never let Eris be dominant before? It was so hot. So hot she could barely breathe and make coherent thoughts.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you want,” Eris said, smirking above me. He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips before laying back down. “Rest, my prey. When Calanmai comes, I will give you exactly what you want.”

——

Valda was buzzing with energy. She stood underneath a tree wearing a lot less than she usually preferred (in fact, she was wearing a skirt; how terrifying). She wore a black bra that had lace that went down to her belly button with that knee-length black skirt. That still didn’t stop her from being armed, but as she saw Eris slide his shirt off and head to the raised podium nearby, her breath was stolen.

Cauldron, he’d been relentless in his teasing. At every opportunity, he called her “my prey” or “little deer” or something like that and it just set alight a flame between her thighs.

“Welcome, once again, to Calanmai,” Eris said loudly, catching everyone’s attention. “Fire Night at its finest. Let the flames be set alight!”

All around her, fires were sparked and lit up the area around them. There would be no faelights– only the true source of light in this world: fire.

Two of Eris’s brothers, Hue and Kuhn, came up to the podium then and put an arm around each of the High Lord’s to restrain him. The moon rose higher into the sky and Valda felt the magic hum in the air. Tonight was the one night of the year that fae from all Courts could cross borders without consequence. She already saw some people that stood out from the rest.

Valda began to pant in anticipation. Soon, they would release the “Maiden” and then soon thereafter, the hunt and eventual capture would begin. It was overwhelming in the best of ways.

She didn’t bother to look at who, but someone finally yelled “Release the Maiden!”

Valda didn’t waste a beat and began sprinting into the forest. The skirt certainly wasn’t the best to wear for this, but Eris had managed to convince her since it gave him more “access.”

She leapt over a log with ease, however, and continued bolting. She had a plan to make this chase last as long as possible. It’d only make the inevitable catch more exciting. Valda turned toward the Spring Court border, not planning on passing over it, but simply planning to mix her scent up and then winnow once her mate was released.

Too soon, she felt the excitement and energy on her mate’s side of the bond skyrocket. The High Lord had been released and the court awaited the inevitable capture to celebrate Fire Night. Valda didn’t waste a beat in winnowing to the edge of the camp and began running in the opposite direction she’d taken off in at first.

Eris would know she’d winnowed since she couldn’t mix her scent with the Spring Court’s flowers, but he’d still need time to track her. Even if the mate bond they shared was almost like a living beacon. Eris’s emotions were getting slightly weaker as he moved farther away.

Valda began running north blindly now, hopping over logs and circling around trees (even climbing some briefly) before continuing her sprint. By now, she was panting heavily. But her body felt alight with anticipation. She could feel Eris getting closer again. He was coming for her. And she was his little deer.

She ran now, not bothering to disturb her trail anymore as she fell into a blind, instinctual run. Like she really was the prey, falling to her instincts of fear. But it wasn’t fear driving her but lust. Oh, she could feel him near and she needed him. But he had to catch her first.

Eris had been adamant on telling her that he’d capture her on his own two feet. Not shifting into the maddening, terrifying creature of the High Lord or even winnowing. Eris was determined, and she could feel it.

Valda kept running, skirting around a pond that reflected the moon’s light. But then a shadow leaped for her from above and she screeched in surprise.

She was pinned on her stomach, arms behind her back as something panted into her ear.

“Got you, my little deer,” Eris whispered into her ear.

Valda moaned openly, closing her eyes.

“You tried to trick me, didn’t you?” He continued. “You tried to throw me off but it never worked because you’re mine.”

She could suddenly feel her clothing being ripped off however possible. Valda was bare under her mate and she couldn’t be happier.

Eris reached down between her legs and swiped through the wetness gathering there. “Oh, wet aren’t you, little deer? Do I need to clean this up before I take what’s mine?”

Valda could barely think. She hasn’t felt this turned on in centuries.

“Come on, tell your hunter. Perhaps I’ll be kind enough to give you some mercy.”

“Please,” Valda got out. “Please. Clean- clean it up.”

She knew Eris was smirking from where he was. In seconds, she was twisted around and shoved up against a tree where Eris lifted both her thighs onto his shoulders and began to lick her cunt like a male starved. Valda could not control her noises. Nor could she stop herself from barrelling into release only a minute later.

Eris only continued, however, and forced her body into an overwhelming overstimulation. Her mind was fuzz and her body couldn’t decide whether it wanted more or wanted Eris away from licking her clit.

When Eris finally did pull away, it was when she was steadily building toward a second orgasm. His face was a mess but he looked so dirty and it turned her on even more. Was that even possible at this point? Apparently.

“My poor prey,” Eris purred, leaning up to press lips to hers. “So helpless.”

Valda whimpered, closing her eyes. “Please,” she begged, arching her back under Eris.

“Please, what?” Eris growled, grabbing her chin to force her to meet his eyes.

“I need- I need you inside,” she begged.

Her mate smirked and then tore his pants and thrust inside of her hard.

It was fucking perfect. Everything was so much but it was so perfect. Valda couldn’t even begin to make words, but she distantly felt her orgasm building more and more.

Then it snapped and pleasure tore through her as she screamed, shouting Eris’s name as he only seemed to continue thrusting inside of her with more vigor.

“You’re going to stay there like a good girl until I’m done,” Eris growled.

Valda’s eyes rolled back into her skull as she gave herself over fully to Eris and the pleasure.

It felt like centuries passed when Eris finally growled into her ear and came inside of her. She quickly followed him over the edge at the heat flooding her belly, moaning obscenely. The heat wasn’t the only thing however- there was magic completely filling the air. The magic was thick and she knew that it would be felt across the Autumn Court, signaling the Maiden had been caught and that the celebration could properly begin.

When she came to, she was sore as fuck and Eris was gently sliding out, kissing her cheeks gently.

“Fuck,” she groaned, feeling a root digging into her back. She still felt aroused, despite being so sore. It must’ve been the magic, but she was going to need a little break after that.

“You alright, my love?” Eris asked, gently helping her sit up.

Valda leaned onto his shoulder as he moved beside her. “Mostly,” she chuckled. “I’m sore as fuck. Who knew that fucking on the floor of a forest was so bad for your back?”

Eris laughed. “It’s alright, I’ll take care of you.” A warm hand slid down her back to where the root had been digging in, and gently massaged the area. She sighed in relief at the immediate relaxation and pain relief.

“Want to go back to the Forest House?” Eris asked. “We can take a warm bath.”

Valda groaned. “That sounds extremely appealing right now.”

Eris smiled and suddenly, they were in the bathroom. Eris held her up when she stumbled at the suddenness of standing. “I’ve got you,” he promised.

Valda nodded, closing her eyes as Eris leaned down to put an arm under her knees and lift her up to his chest. She heard the unmistakable sound of water pouring from a faucet right after. Eris probably used his magic. He walked to sit down on the edge of the bathtub, kissing her forehead.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated.

She hummed, smiling. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing his cheek softly.

He seemed to beam at that little movement. “I love you too,” he replied. “Mate.”

“Mate,” Valda agreed. “My mate.”

Eris chuckled. “Come on, let’s clean up,” he said, standing and turning to gently set her down into a tub of warm water while he stepped in himself to settle behind her, hugging her from behind.

Eris began to gently clean them both up, rubbing shampoo and conditioner into her hair and washing her body from any dirt stains. He also used that time to use his heavenly fire magic to massage the sore parts of her body. (well, besides one.)

“You’re too good to me,” Valda whispered as he helped her rinse her hair.

“I’m giving you exactly what you deserve, Val. Love and care.”

Valda chuckled. “Funny, I probably wouldn’t have ever imagined myself like this when I first came to the Forest House.”

“Ah, yes. Adira Void. The spunky servant who didn’t bow her head.”

“Now Valda Callahan- hopefully one day, Vanserra. Mate to the High Lord of Autumn.”

Eris chuckled. “I will keep that hopefully in mind, my love.”

Valda grinned. “I know you will.”

“I would do it right now, but I lack the proper materials and the ability to kneel before you,” Eris chuckled.

“I’ll be expecting it then,” she chuckled.

“You won’t expect the timing at all,” Eris replied ominously.

——

Eris was kneeling. Kneeling. The sun was going down, turning a bright orange and beautiful red. Nearby, Lady Merle was gasping while Hue and Kuhn looked at each other in combined surprise.

“Valda Callahan,” Eris began, reaching back to his pocket as he stared up at her. A ring box came up in his palm and he opened it gracefully. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me? Of becoming my High Lady? For the rest of eternity?”

Valda couldn’t contain her smile as she looked down at the ring. It was perfect. Rose gold colored leaves went around each other and then held a beautiful circular bright forest-green jewel– an emerald, if she had to guess.

“Of course,” she answered. “Of course, my love. I would spend all of eternity with you regardless.”

Eris smiled and plucked the ring from the box and Valda offered out her left hand.

Eris carefully slid the ring onto her finger, kissing it and then standing up to kiss her lips properly.

He even dipped her and Valda laughed as they broke apart. “You are so dramatic,” she teased, lifting her hand to examine the jewel. “Emerald, right?”

“Emerald,” he confirmed. “Its meaning is much more appealing than a diamond.”

“What is the meaning?” She asked, ignoring the others around them for the time being.

“Eternal love, peace, hope and new beginnings. I thought it fit well with our pasts.”

Valda grinned. “You’re too perfect.”

Lady Merle’s happy squeal interrupted them as she rushed over. “Eris! I wasn’t expecting this! Why didn’t you tell me?! I could’ve helped-”

“Mother, mother, I was planning on telling you. Right now.”

Merle groaned as she turned toward me. “Welcome to the family, daughter. Eris chose well, with you. You will make a powerful leader and partner for him.”

Valda smiled. “Thank you, Merle,” she replied.

Hue came over and clapped Eris on the shoulder. “You know, I don’t think you’ll be half bad as a sister. As long as I don’t get on your bad side, I’ll stay alive.”

Valda scoffed. “The only family I might kill is my old one.”

Eris smiled and pulled her into his side. “Let me join you,” he said. “Your brother in particular.”

“What did your brother do?” Merle questioned.

“Uhm…” Valda hesitated. “My late father, brother and mother might’ve hit me a lot before I left Hewn City?”

Rage filled Merle’s gaze. “Eris, you’re sending a letter to Rhysand for me,” she said sternly. “Setting up a meeting between my new daughter’s old family and me. Just me.”

Eris swallowed nervously. “Something tells me I don’t want to make that meeting.”

“I’m coming,” Valda volunteered. “It can be a girls’ night,” she said, grinning at Merle.

Merle grinned back evilly. “Girls’ night. Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Alright murderous people,” Kuhn said, placating from beside his mother, “relax. We’ve got a wedding to plan first. And a High Lady ceremony.”

“Yes, indeed we do,” Eris said, smiling and sending warmth down the bond.

Valda scoffed. “Fine. Murder after,” she offered.

Everyone laughed and Valda felt joy unlike any other filling her chest.

This was her family now. Her mate. Her life. Her court. She was at home. And always would be. She was no longer that tragedy of before with her Masters’ words bearing down on her and her brother’s words echoing in her ears. She was no longer born for tragedy. No longer an assassin. But a part of a family.

For the first time in a while, she thought the words “How beautiful” without being sarcastic.

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TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @imma-too-many-fandoms, @mali22, @sassybluebird, @bubybubsters,

#eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #original character #oc #mywriting #acotar smut #smut

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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 2 years

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A mighty good team

(Happy Veterans/Armistice Day, y’all, let’s keep peace in our minds, hearts, and prayers.)

When - immediately following ‘Oh my.’ after you saw that little plus sign on Lori’s pregnancy test. It takes place during the night of S02 Cherokee Rose.

What - that seed of worry about your big brother being a ‘cause for concern’ grows a whole lot bigger when you put two and two together about the new bun in the oven. But it’s okay, Daryl had beers right? You’ll just chug whatever he’s got left so you can get out of your head, right? So long as you don’t topple over on the way to his tent!

Relationships - you and your mangy hick make a mighty good team, just sayin’. As well, you comfort Lori, so three cheers for siblingly/non-romantic love. You also make a cop joke to Rick and Shane.

Genre - i dunno, but there’s plenty of platonic fluff once y’all make your way to Daryl’s tent.

Perspective - You x Him

Pronouns - they/them, feminine implied imo

TWs - language, stress related to the Shane/Lori/Rick baby situation as well as Lori reacting with rejection fueled by fear regarding having another child, and Daryl drank 4 beers

Word count - Quit clucking like a mother hen. Lol, don’t worry, it’s about 3,400, so even shorter than the last one, which was shorter than I tend to do. Do I get a prize in the morning? :D

Refs to other stories - tinnitus following too much ibuprofen, how you and Daryl use the ‘idiot’ and ‘bitch’ to insult one another when squabbling because you hate being called ‘idiot’ and he hates being called ‘bitch.’ Check out ‘Oh my.’ so you know what the little fireside nap dream was.

And there are more references, but thankfully we have a: Link to the Masterlist so you can read up and turn into a bonafide Slowpoke! There’s a Ko-fi link, too, if you can spare something to help me pay toward my tires.

You

“Lori.”

“Y/N—” she stammers, but you’re too busy squeezing her again as all your worries melt away. She’s pregnant! After all this time, she’s finally pregnant again!

You’re smiling ear to ear and even crying a happy tears. “Lori, aw, don’t you make that face, this is wonderful news!” you nearly squeal even as you try to keep your voice quiet. “D-does Rick know yet? I’m so—I’m so happy I could scream! What about Carl, you must be—it must be very early days! Four weeks at most, must be?”

She’s crying too. But you see that those aren’t happy tears.

Oh, Lori. She must be scared out of her mind with worry. Can’t fault her there. “Lore, shh, come here.” You sidle up close to her and brush her hair back from her face. “We found a doctor—well, a vet, but he knows his stuff—and Miss Patricia is a nurse. We found a safe place here. And hey, at this rate, we might will find more survivors who have medical training!” you babble, trying to give comfort but meaning every word. “And Glenn and me, we’ll take a team, go to the nearest library or college, g-get us books on, on childbirth and the um, the VBAC stuff, the blood type incompatibility stuff, all that—”

She keeps crying quietly, barely making a sound. You rub her back and flip off and on from thinking thank you over and over to what can I say to help her?

This is wonderful news. Unexpected, scary, but good.

“This ain’t bad news, Lore. I promise.”

She tries to nod and ends up stammering, “I can’t tell Rick,” as if she’s done something wrong.

Red flag.

“What do you mean?”

She’s even quieter when she whispers, “Shane can’t know.” Her voice sounded frightened when she said that part.

Red flag, red flag.

The seed of dread in your stomach is beginning to bud.

Oh, Shane, what have you done? What does your brother have to do with this?

Red flag, red flag, red flag.

You don’t ask anything else, your brain is working too fast for your mouth to work at the moment. The ringing in your ears gets louder. The wooziness worsens even though you’re seated.

Then the connection meets and the waving red flags come to a halt.

You’re…you’re uncertain if the conclusion you drew will insult her. It’s not your intention.

The buds of dread begin to open as you gently and softly ask, “Would you say you’re four weeks along, or maybe a little further?”

Rick came back about four weeks ago. But…you know Shane and she had gotten close. Maybe ‘close’ meant rather closer than you’d assumed.

Neither Shane nor Lori said anything to you about it. You get why.

And…goddammit, you’re angry at Shane (When will he learn? When?), as much as you wish you weren’t. You can’t deny that; but you can understand how it would have happened.

The world ended. Relationships have been on speed-mode, be it friendship, love, or hatred. And Lori is beautiful, your brother is good-looking, and they’ve known each other for decades.

It even could’ve just been down to wanting a release or comfort, you reckon, just look at what happened with Glenn and Maggie today.

And Lori, she had thought she was a widow. Rick was dead, you’d all thought so! And that was after he’d already been in a coma for a month before the world fell apart.

Her face is buried in her lap. She curls in on herself before confessing it.

“I c-could be up to six weeks.”

Oh my.

The dread blooms.

You breathe in, out.

In. Out.

Resting a hand on her back, you stare unblinking at your backpack. “How long have you been carryin’ this alone, Lori,” you murmur, “before taking that test?”

Her hands are gripping her hair as she sniffs in reply, “Just a week. It, it was after we had the goose that I wanted to find a test, b-but…” Her hands cover her face and she bends her knees to her chest.

Your memories hop back to about a week or so ago, after you and Daryl bagged the Canada goose.

As it was cooking, she wasn’t doing too well with the smell. But even domesticated meat can smell kinda nasty when it’s cooking, so you never considered that it could be something more—and when she couldn’t really stomach the meat, you just chalked it up to it not tasting very edible.

And she’s been tired, but everyone has been to some degree. And it’s possible she really is only four weeks; she knew very early with Carl and one of the ones who didn’t make it. But in the event she’s five or six weeks…well, it’s not like she could consider a late period as a sign right now. Cycles have been going haywire since the outbreaks due to all the stress, dietary and exercise changes, and, and…oh, Lori. What do I say, what do I say?

“Rick won’t hate you or blame you.”

She’s trembling. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

“He loves you.”

“But I can’t do this,” she almost snaps. “Condemn another child to a world like this? How could—I-I can’t, I can’t.”

At that, you feel a chill. That’s not good to hear.

You place your fingers over the spot where you’re stitched up from the same fragments that nearly took your Carl away. “Comfort and safety, even good health couldn’t ever be guaranteed,” you hush. “Even before all this, Lore. And you won’t be doing it alone, you’ll have all of us. Hell or high water.”

“B-but what am I gonna do?”

Shushing delicately, you rest your head on hers and can only think to answer, “Let us help you sleep and eat enough, for a start.”

Her breath catches and she releases a suppressed sob into her lap.

The unspoken problem of your brother is still raising its invisible hand.

Your family wasn’t the type who placed too much focus on blood, how could you?, but the context is different when it comes to fostering and adoption.

This is a somewhat stickier situation. And Shane is…Shane. He’ll get very possessive protective of what he’d think was ‘his,’ at least biologically.

What do I say, what do I say?

“Rick will be so happy that there’s another one in there,” you whisper, smiling. “Carl will be so excited.”

She shakes her head and whispers back, “Shane.”

Inhale. Exhale. Swallow. “Like me, he’ll be overjoyed about our new niece or nephew.”

Pulling away, her eyes meet yours and delve deep as if she’s searching for something. “He has to know it’s Rick’s.”

Holding her gaze and trying not to cry, you nod once. “He will.”

“It’s Rick’s,” she repeats under her breath. “It’s Rick’s…"

You close your eyes and send up more prayers for help as you press your forehead to hers.

Then you recall that strange dream you had by the fire and get another chill when you consider how oddly well it fits.

.........................

Him

He had a fourth beer. Chugged it down once he got back to his tent. All he’s got right now to show for it is that slightly warm feeling in his belly. Still barely even got any spins, must be weak-ass beer.

So long as it gets him sleeping.

...........................

You

Nope, sleep is gonna be impossible. This is way too much thinking before bed and your high pulse is making the ringing louder. You’ve got the mp3 player on but even the lowest setting feels too loud because of the clanging in your ears.

Where’s Daryl?

Daryl had beers. That was an eight-pack you saw back at the campfire, right? Yeah. And if there are none left, well, he’s somehow adept at getting you zen (usually after you squabble, but fuck it).

Thoughts are buzzing around your head like flies around a melted snow cone.

Lori is pregnant, and you’re thrilled to bits about it but…Shane’s possibly the biological father…and, fuck it, Shane is a cause for concern…and Sophia is alone for her fourth night in the woods or wherever she is, if she even ‘is’ anymore…and Carl just had major trauma and surgery…and if Mr. Greene finds out about what Maggie and Glenn did, how will he react?…

Not to mention that today you were in a flood-zone during a rainstorm so kept imagining how Dad got washed away and drowned in one, and this is after you had nightmares all last night reliving finding Mama dead and walking seconds before you killed that man.

Too much thinking, too much thinking, and now you’re regretting eating that oatmeal because your stomach feels queasy. If you didn’t know any better, you’d be convinced the roof of your tent was swirling!

But it’s okay, (it’s okay), it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okayyy. It’s. Okay.

Because Daryl had beers.

You’re gonna go ask for one, right now. Dale’s got scotch, sure, but you don’t know where it is and Dale might could be in bed already. And he turned your request down last night, so you’d have to steal sneak some, and if he catches you, he’ll only want to be all, you know, decent and fatherly and caring and shit, therefore won’t be down for you chugging straight from the bottle because you need to get out of your head!

So screw the idea that you shouldn’t have any alcohol after your painkiller miscalculation, the doc gave you the charcoal, so it’s fine, right?

Oh, that’s right, you don’t give a hoot anymore.

After clicking the music player off and yanking the earbuds out, you grit your teeth in pain as you sit up, then zip down and punch open the flap door to your little camo tent and—oh, people are still awake?

Huh.

…What time is it?

Even Jimmy’s still out. Glenn is still talking about something with him, Patricia and Carol are sitting by each other. Rick is finally outside by the fire, too. And Shane is back as well.

He and Rick aren’t sitting close. That’s been a growing problem and heck if it ain’t about to get bigger.

You grab the raggedy blanket from the corner of your tent and try to ignore how dizzy you feel when you move. You carefully walk to the campfire. Then you take Shane’s hand as you ask, “Rick, what’s the time?”

“Quarter past nine. Hey, um, did Hershel talk to you about his idea for Carl?”

…It’s only 9:15?

Blinking in disbelief that’s it’s not 1a.m., you resume what you were doing and plop your brother down next to Rick before remembering to answer, “He did, but um—too much thinking before bed ain’t advisable, so lemme just tuck you two in, we can chat in the mornin’.”

As you lay the blanket on their legs, Shane stifles a groan, knowing what’s coming. The hard lines in Rick’s forehead smooth out and he smothers a laugh, knowing what’s coming. Andrea’s amused hum clues you in that she’s noticed, and you glance over to see her smirking while finishing what’s in her beer bottle.

You look at your brothers. “Should I say, it or?”

It’s Rick who pushes his nose up with his pointer finger. It’s Shane who loses the try-not-to-smile war and outs with: “Pigs in a blanket, yeah?”

..............................

Him

Come on, sleep. Come on, sleep. Come on, sleep.

He wishes he had an I Spy book or some shit. Ha, he still can’t believe that worked that time, clear knocked him out.

Maybe if he had some weed? But Merle and him used it up the first two weeks of the world fucking ending.

There was some…there was some of the hard stuff left. Saw it in the saddlebag when he remembered the pills for T-Dog. Except blow amps you up, it doesn’t chill you out.

Damn, he’s considering using? Dramatic Darylina, just chug a fifth beer and zen the hell up, little bitch.

He fumbles around for his skinning knife, clicks on his flashlight, picks up the last beer and jimmies the cap off. Except he’s not two gulps down when he hears a quiet, “Oh, he is awake. Daryl?”

Y/N is here? Excitedly zipping the door open, he sees them turn around to face him but suddenly crouch/waver as if they’re about to fall over.

“Howdy. May I take you up on that pragmatic beer now?”

“Why you all crouched like that?” he grunts.

“I’m a tad dizzy.”

“Why?”

“’Cause my ears are ringin’.”

“Still?”

“It’s like Quasimodo is in there or somethin’.” They point with their thumb toward the treeline. “Accidentally took too many painkillers back at the old couple’s house off the trail.”

Shit, do they need their stomach pumped or something? And why is he starting to panic?

“It’s just ibuprofen, Dary-bear, plus the doc already gave me charcoal as a precaution, it’s all good,” they drone. “Might could I please have a beer?”

Aren’t you not supposed to mix painkillers and alcohol? And wait, Y/N knows that stuff, they mentioned it earlier. Plus, there was only one left and he’d—damn, of course he’d opened it.

“This is the last one,” he lamely replies.

“But there were two left…” they trail off. There’s this look on their face he can’t quite place. “Oh Daryl, how many did you have tonight?”

“…Four,” he tells them, feeling weirdly like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t.

They nod to the bottle in his hand. “Is that your fifth?”

Did they just use a teacher voice with him? And not even an annoyed high school teacher voice, that right there was a kindergarten-teacher-telling-the-students-it’s-nap-time voice.

“What about it?”

He hears them tut and watches them frown before saying, “Hand it over.”

“Quit cluckin’ like a mother hen.”

“Quit screwin’ with your liver.”

“Coming from the idiot who took too many painkillers and wanted to wash it down with beer?”

“That’ll mess with the kidneys and stomach long-term, bitch, not the liv—” snips from their mouth until they realize what they just admitted. At first, they look confused. Then, they chuckle as if something was funny.

“Y’all good down there?” Shane’s voice calls from the campfire. Were the two of them arguing that loud?

“Ugh, fuck me,” Daryl grumbles to himself and takes another swig of his beer.

“Shane don’t swing that way, sorry,” is the furthest thing from what he expected Y/N to respond, and he snarfs up some beer accordingly while Y/N waves to their brother and gives him a thumbs up.

Cracking up, Y/N sighs, then moves from their crouched position onto their butt and sharply inhales when they do because it probably made their stitches ache. “‘Quit clucking like a mother hen’ was really funny, by the way.”

“Mhm, I’m here to entertain,” he grits back, both annoyed that he just snarfed up his beer and yet trying not to laugh too openly.

Their eyes flit to the bottle.

He *grumble* offers it to them. They bite their lip and shake their head. “That weren’t exactly my intention anymore.”

He glances at the bottle and…*grumble* then finds himself twisting his wrist so the beer pours out onto the grass. “Pain in the ass.”

............................

You

Beer now watering (intoxicating?) the grass, Daryl scoots back and reclines in his tent, adjusting his back to get comfortable. To your annoyance and concern, you’re intrigued at how his body moved kinda cat-like and how his arms look rather nice above his head like that.

“So, what’s the big secret?” he slurs just a tad.

The big secret? Did he see you and Lori go into your tent and assume—how would he have—???

“We didn’t talk about anything major, uh, it’s…” you trail off. Oh, he meant how you promised you’d tell him about…the man you shot and killed. You send up another simple prayer of I’m sorry regarding him and inwardly knock your head against a table because you’d promised you’d tell Daryl that little not-so-fun-fact over a beer. What a move, Y/N. “I thought you meant somethin’ else, my bad. Um—”

“—Don’t tell me you got more dirt? Was that whatever you and Glenn talked about? He looked like he coulda used a beer after you two were done.”

A monotone, noncommittal sound leaves your mouth as you stare into space.

Pretty night sky again. You consider the wonderful part of the latest batch of dirt. Lori’s pregnant again! “It’s good dirt. Well, half of it is.” Oh, Shane, what’s gonna happen with you?

“What is it, then?” Daryl huffs.

Oops. “Just some stuff.”

“Quarter.”

Okay, you walked into that one. How many quarters for white lies do you owe so far, two?

Appealing to his…dunno, maybe his sense of loyalty, you remind him, “Snitches get stitches, man.”

To which he cracks, “Y’already got some.”

Scrunching up your face in delight, you clap your hands together as you snort, “You’re on a roll tonight,” while trying not to tighten your core too much because ouchhh, those stitches of yours still hurt when you do so. Glancing over at him, he’s actually smiling.

Within seconds, however, he’s back to his usual standoffish self. He waves his hand in question. “So, why you tryin’ to get hammered this time?”

“Well, I ain’t anymore.” You already feel better. And you’d only wanted a beer or shot or two of liquor, nothing too crazy.

Now he’s doing that squinty thing at you as he grunts, “That your way of saying ya wanna drop it?”

You shrug. “What made you start on your fifth beer?”

“Dunno.”

“Quarter,” you tease.

“Stop.”

“Ha-ha.” You run your hand through your hair and realize your dizziness is ebbing. “So, what time we leavin’ tomorrow, 6, 6:30?”

He shakes his head from where he’s laying. “The group is gonna have a meet-up before we all head out. They’ll wanna wait ’til the sun is bright enough, count on 7:30 or 8.”

“We can’t just go earlier?”

“Today, all them kept running into each other’s grids. We need to make it clear where we’re lookin’ and when.”

“Fair play.” Adjusting your position and fighting the urge to lay down, you make sure, “Think you and me’ll be done searching the road and the ridge by 12 or 1?”

“I guess. Why?”

Don’t get mad. “Mr. Greene asked for my help with a medical procedure for Carl. Early afternoon I said I might would be back by.”

..............................

Him

He can’t get mad about that, no way. And early afternoon is enough time to scope out what they’d planned.

But is he…is he that much of an asshole that even Y/N for some reason thought helping a child who’s just been shot wouldn’t seem like a good enough reason to him?

And what the hell does his opinion matter, anyway? Besides, he can do shit on his own, don’t need nobody.

“You take care of Carl, I’ll find Sophia,” he says simply.

But this twitchy sensation wiggles in his chest when they immediately respond, “Deal,” with a relieved exhale. The nice feeling gets stronger when they then mumble, “We make a mighty good team, just sayin’.”

And Y/N then just flat-out lays down on the grass outside his tent. One hand rests on their belly, the other stretches up over their head.

“Hey Daryl? I was so happy to see the flower in the RV,” his friend next mumbles. “Carol said you told her the story, too.”

He isn’t sure how to respond, so he changes the topic. “Y’look like you’re about to nod off right there.”

“Mm, I feel so relaxed now. You did good, dude.”

What does that mean? Weirdo.

…He feels more relaxed now, too, though. Even if the two of them didn’t get into much conversation, they had a fun little squabble.

Maybe he should…yeah, he’ll dump the coke somewhere tomorrow. He’d heard something about a bloated, dead walker in a well out in one of the pastures, so he’ll prolly toss it in there since no one will be drinking from it.

The crickets aren’t as loud tonight. It’s colder.

Just to check on Y/N, he lifts his head slightly.

Seeing them lounging on the lawn like that first makes him contemplate tossing them his pillow, but it’s nasty so instead he figured an alternate plan would be his poncho so they can be more comfortable.

But, he thinks better on it, and “Go on, get your ass to bed,” is what he settles on.

They whine.

He grumbles. “Do I need to get your big brother over here?”

“Psht.”

A smile starts to form that he keep under wraps. He knows what’ll do the trick. “Gonna get ants and teeny little spiders all up in your hair and clothes.”

Sure enough that gets them going, complete with another whine.

“Goodnight, dude,” they snort.

“Yeah, g’night.”

He isn’t sure what made him lift his head to check on them again, but when he happens to look over, their face is contorting in pain as they attempt to position themselves in a way that’s avoiding using their injured arm/shoulder and their abdominal muscles to sit up so they can stand.

.....................

You

Him helping you up wasn’t expected, since he’d been laying down. But just like that, he’s out of his tent and gripping your forearm on your good side to hoist you upright.

Once you’re on your feet, his hand touches your back for a moment and you cup his upper arm to steady yourself.

“Thanks for the assist, man,” you sigh, brushing off your butt in case any dirt or grass stuck to it.

“Yeah. See ya in the morning.”

So, not to overshare, but that simple touch felt really nice. And his arm is hard as a brick.

Eesh, this whole Glenn/Maggie thing is messing with you.

Whatev, you do know one thing: what you told Hershel about feeling safe around Daryl was accurate and honest. Your That mangy hick, for some reason, simply isn’t threatening in that way.

And dude thank God you’d gone to see Daryl, for real. Y'all make a good team.

Wait, what was it exactly you’d sa — oh Moses, your twang had come back full force with him, hadn’t it? You’d said ‘a mighty good team,’ that’s right.

Ha, you talk like such stereotype sometimes.

“See you in the morning, Rick,” you call softly as you pass him on the way to your tent. “Sleep in a little later with Lori tomorrow, you both could use it.”

.........................

Him

He watches to make sure they don’t topple over on the way back. Thinks about how they did indeed mother-hen him, however, in all honesty, he doesn’t mind (that much, anyway).

He wonders where Sophia is sleeping. If she’s safe. If she ‘is.’

Shit, he flicks that thought off and shoves something better in its place: that tomorrow is only day four. He’d survived nine days at a younger age, she could survive, too.

Then, he’s thinking back on how Y/N looked so relaxed there on the grass a few minutes ago...which is a kinda weird thing to be thinking about.

Next he remembers how when they were talking to the doctor earlier, it was plain as day they’d lessened their accent. It sounded damn wrong to hear their voice like that, barely a twang in it.

He compares it to how comfy (and twangy) they sounded when they sighed “We make a mighty good team, just sayin’.”

That little fluttering warms in his chest again at the same time the corners of his mouth raise. And finally, all at once, his eyelids sink down, limbs grow heavy and he at last falls asleep.

................

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arrianna21 · 1 year

Text

~Caramel Eyes, Mocha Paws~ Chapter 3

Summary: As you grow closer to your new werewolf friend, tranquility is disrupted in your small town as rumors of strange creatures begin sprouting.

wolf!yoongi x fem!reader

Word Count: 11,635

#1 | | #2 | | #3 | |

In the last couple of weeks or so, you’ve come to develop a routine. During your shifts, Yoongi usually stops by late in the afternoon for the same cup of coffee before finding a secluded table to sit and work on his music. He claims the calm atmosphere is one of the best places for finding concentration. Something about giving him inspiration when writing lyrics.

Today, he sits in the far corner near the windows as he types away on his laptop. You see the waning sun shine through the glass, casting his dark brown hair into a lighter hazelnut glow. Bringing the steaming mug to him, he glances up at your approach and tugs the ear buds from his ears.

“One hot pistachio latte,” you say, setting the cup down beside him.

His gaze shifts between you and the steaming coffee. “Are you sure you’re not just using me as a taste tester for your strange concoctions before testing it out on the general public?” He wonders as he tentatively picks it up.

You can’t stop the incredulous laugh at his speculation. “No, it’s an actual drink. And how many times have I said don’t knock it until you try it? Besides I even put slightly less pistachio syrup than recommended so it’s not as sweet.”

“With salted brown butter or something nutty related I presume,” he notes after taking a sniff. He carefully sips it, letting the flavor rest against his tongue.

His correct assumption catches you by surprise. It’s even hard for you to smell each individual ingredient despite making it yourself. “Yeah, salted brown butter. You could tell that easily?”

Swallowing, he nods and sets the mug down, steam curling up beside his laptop. “I cook on occasion so I’ve made it before,” he explains.

Nodding, you make note of that piece of information before looking at him expectantly to which he blinks in return up at you. “So what’d you think?”

He shrugs. “Not bad. I like it not as sweet.”

“That’s good. Is it enough to want to get it again perhaps?”

“Only if you’re the one making it, otherwise I’ll stick to my usual,” he answers, already expecting your question as you’ve asked it after every new drink you’ve given him.

It’s a similar response to all the other times, not minding each flavor with the only condition being you have to be the one to prepare it. “Nothing beats that plain coffee does it?”

He props his head in the palm of his hand, eyes watching you with a gleam of mirth in his irises. “Simple is nice. I don’t need all that fancy syrup and flavorings.”

Your face pinches at the thought of such strong coffee, tastebuds immediately reacting to the unappealing memory. “I have to have some flavor with mine or else it’s just too bitter for me.”

“Try adding a splash of milk with a little sugar, nothing else. That should be enough to give it some sweetness,” he recommends, thoughtfully nodding to himself. “Or just a pinch of salt will also do the trick too.”

“Salt?” You eye him dubiously before breaking out into a small grin. “Actually, that makes sense. My parents and I sometimes add salt to fruit so it makes it sweeter.”

“Exactly. It’s the same with coffee,” he says.

“Thanks, I’ll have to keep it in mind. Enjoy the rest of your coffee,” you tell him before heading back to the counter.

While you’re rearranging the desserts in the display case the door bangs open while the poor bell above clangs harshly as two women walk inside. Donning burgundy colored cardigans, their sunglasses cover their eyes while they briefly survey the place. With black hair tied tightly behind her, the first is followed by a shorter blonde who’s on the phone, seemingly arguing about some reservations while her friend in front goes straight to the counter.

You finish putting the treats away and ease your way up to the cash register. “Hi, can I help you?” You politely ask, ensuring your customer service voice is extra chipper.

She shoves her sunglasses above her forehead and gives you a once over before staring up at the chalkboard menu with disinterest. “Yeah, I want a venti hot mocha with two shots of espresso, one pump of vanilla syrup, only almond milk, and add chocolate drizzle and whipped cream.”

Well, it’s not the worst complicated order you’ve ever heard. Scribbling down her drink, you type it up in the system as you carefully read it back. “Anything else?”

She looks behind her. “Diane, what do you want?”

Her friend lowers her phone, keeping her palm over the screen. “I want my usual iced drink,” is all she says before going back to arguing with the unfortunate soul that’s on the other end.

The lady turns back to you. “We’ll do a venti iced vanilla macchiato with soy milk, an extra shot of espresso, six ice cubes,” she emphasizes, “no whipped cream.”

Again, you’re frantically writing it down and transferring it to the computer while repeating it back to her. “Would you like anything else?” Your question filling with dread at the possibility of another ridiculously specific order.

“Yeah, we’ll take two pumpkin scones,” she says though her upper lip curls in disdain as she observes the desserts.

“Actually, can I get the blueberry scone?” Her friend chimes in.

The lady rolls her eyes, not that she notices. “Fine, one pumpkin and one blueberry scone,” she amends.

You read back the orders and tell her the total as she gives you her credit card. Swiping the card, the machine spits out her receipt and you hand it to her to which she crumples it up before tossing it in the trash. “Here or to go?”

“To go, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” she snaps, painted ruby nails tapping against the marble countertop.

Glancing at Elanor who’s still working on the drinks from the previous large order, you figure you’ll just handle these complex ones on your own. Starting on the hot drink, you sift through the fridge only to find a near empty bottle of almond milk. Not enough for any drink let alone hers. Cringing at the upcoming confrontation, you walk to the counter where the women are still standing. “I’m sorry but we don’t have enough almond milk. Would soy or oat be okay?”

“Are you serious?” She scoffs, a hand going to her hip. “The flavor isn’t the same. What kind of coffee shop are you that you don’t have enough inventory?” The woman isn’t necessarily yelling but her voice is loud enough that most people seated nearby can easily hear her complaints as they continuously glance over at the pair. Even Yoongi’s silently observing from his spot in the back corner, eyebrow raised. The woman huffs. “Did you check the back?”

Rather than bothering to argue, you release a sigh yet your customer service smile still remains as you go to the back and open the fridge. Standing there for a moment, your eyes scan the various bottles of ingredients, obviously finding no almond milk before slamming the door shut. You return to the counter empty-handed and do your best sympathetic expression while you set your palms on the counter. “Sorry, ma’am, there’s none.”

“You don’t have another store nearby to borrow some from?” It’s not so much a question but more so an apparent suggestion, as if the tiny shop with homemade decorations and limited space somehow resembles a multi-chain business.

Beside you, Elanor is doing her best not to roughly shake the coffee as she mixes its contents before setting it in the drink carrier and calls out the order.

“No, we’re a local business not a chain,” you tell her.

Crossing her arms, she answers, “Fine, I’ll substitute it with soy milk. If you have enough that is.”

The people with the large order collect their drinks and wince uncomfortably as they head for the door. One drops a couple of extra coins in the tip jar before leaving. Ignoring her snarky response, you snatch a cup and get to work. “We’ll get that ready for you then.”

“Seriously, what is with her?” You hear her mutter not so quietly to her friend. “Could she be any less accommodating? They should be prepared for in-demand items, even if this is a small town.”

“Quit talking before someone kicks us out again and I die of thirst,” her friend complains, having finished her phone call. “You’ll get over it by tomorrow.”

Glancing over your shoulder, the two women are oblivious to the annoyed glares sent their way from the other patrons, most who also happen to be locals here. Even Yoongi watches from his seat, his leg casually propped on the chair in front of him, looking none too pleased at their comments though the only hint is the slight narrowing of his eyes.

You give a small grin when his attention shifts toward you and the corner of his lips quirk up with another slight cock of a brow. Shrugging to him, you’re distracted by the tap on your shoulder as Elanor stands beside you to begin making the iced coffee.

“I’ll beat them with the blender if you help with hiding the bodies,” she mumbles beneath her breath.

A chuckle sounds from you while continuing to prep the coffee. “I think I know a few places in the woods,” you tell her. “Though they’ll throw first punch if you don’t add those six ice cubes.”

She snorts lowly with a roll of her eyes. “We’d still have the upper hand what with all this equipment.”

“True.”

Once the coffees are made, you both set them on the counter to which the ladies take them and leave while complaining how this is nowhere near what the positive reviews people boasted about online. Well, one gripes while the blonde silently listens adjusting her brown-rimmed glasses while carrying the bag of snacks after having slipped a bill into the tip jar. Sharing a look with your coworker, you carry on as usual, thankful they at least left.

Towards the end of your shift, you’re busy sweeping the floors as you finish closing for the night. Elanor already left early as she needed to go to the grocery store before it closed as well. It’s just you with Yoongi as your quiet company who remains seated in his spot.

At least he was, until there’s the distinct clanging of coins hitting the glass tip jar. “Oh my gosh, you’ve got to stop paying for the extra drinks I keep giving you,” you reprimand, setting the broom aside to go fish out his change, earning you a light slap on the wrist.

Yoongi pries your hand away with ease and shoves the container aside before it’s blocked by his arm that he props against the counter. “Consider it a tip for the great service. And for dealing with those rude customers,” he adds with a shrug, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag.

Curling your upper lip at the reminder of those two, you opt to just leaving the jar alone. Both you and Elanor deserve a little something after that. “Yeah, Karens aren’t uncommon unfortunately, especially if they’re not locals. But thank you, that’s really kind of you to do. You heading out for the night?” You guess after glancing up at the clock.

He nods. “Yeah, I need to get going. Do you want help with anything?” He gestures to the chairs though his table already has the seats overturned on top.

You wave him off in reassurance. “No, but thanks. You didn’t have to set your table though again, that’s nice of you to do.”

He tsks at that. “Just being a decent patron. Have a good night,” he says, flicking his hoodie over his head while you wave and respond in return before he ducks outside.

As you finish locking up for the night, you glance around the quiet street, only seeing a few people milling about. Zipping up your jacket, you stuff your hands into the pockets while you head for the forest path to begin your trek home. You listen to the crunching leaves beneath your feet while keeping your attention on the tree line spread out around you. The crickets add to the quiet ambience with the occasional rustling from the wind until a snort sounds on your left. Staring into the darkness, you find familiar amber eyes peeking through the branches, observing you intently.

“Hi Wolfy,” you greet to the lupine who takes that as his queue to step out into the open path in all his seven foot glory. The slight vibrations of his footsteps briefly shake the ground beneath you as he approaches until he’s standing right in front. You raise your hand, palm forward while he bends low and presses his nose against the skin in your usual greeting. “How was your day?” You ask.

Wolfy barks softly, jerking his head in a nod while his tail wags slightly from behind.

“Seems like a pretty good day,” you guess with a smile.

He nods again before bumping his snout against the side of your head with a huff.

“My day was also pretty good. Wasn’t too busy with customers except for some annoying people, but it’s fine,” you laugh.

The wolf grumbles before staring at you expectantly.

“What? That’s really all that happened, just a normal day,” you say as you begin walking again.

He follows after you, staying beside you as the two of you continue towards your home before he leans over to snuff the side of your neck, still remaining focused on you.

Giggling, you rub at the spot to get rid of the tickling sensation. “How are my days so entertaining to you?” You wonder. “Surely you have more interesting adventures than me.”

His response is to silently shrug while he merely blinks.

You smile before proceeding to go into more detail about how you spent your day, even including some of the menial tasks you fulfill at the shop. The wolf listens intently to every word, interest keeping his entire focus remaining on you.

“So after Karen One and Two left, I got a nice tip from Yoongi who always insists on paying for the drinks I keep having him try even though I tell him it’s on the house. Now I’m thinking about how I’m going to use it. Maybe I’ll get a new sweater,” you note.

When you glance over at Wolfy he nods in understanding and barks with approval.

“You think that’s a good idea?” You ask, receiving the same response. “I’ll keep that in mind then.”

The walk home goes faster than you expect as you arrive at the edge of the trail. After you both do the same greeting, bumping snout to hand, you step through the grass all while the werewolf keeps watch from among the trees. Every time you turn around to look back once you reach the door, he’s not in direct line of sight but you still feel those golden eyes observing from afar.

~*~

The next morning you opt for thicker clothes as fall begins bringing in cooler days in preparation for winter. Despite washing your face and performing your usual morning routine, you can’t resist the constant urge to yawn as you rub tears from your eyes while your feet shuffle along the hardwood floor. Heading downstairs, the worn steps creak beneath you while family pictures from a range of outings greet you as you pass by.

In the kitchen, you find your dad sitting at the dinner table eating breakfast while reading the morning paper. “Someone’s up early,” he notes before taking a bite of his eggs. Hearing your approach, Biscuit abandons scarfing down his food as he trots over to you. He bumps into the back of your dad’s chair until eventually finding you, tongue lolling out from his mouth while his blue eyes stare up at you with one being slightly more cloudy than the other.

You hum in affirmation, petting your golden retriever on the head as he keeps knocking against your legs. “One of Juliette’s kids is sick so I offered to cover,” you explain as you go around the counter with the dog at your heels. “Mom already left for work,” you guess upon seeing no sign of her.

“Yep, they needed her again,” he answers without looking up.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, you see it’s barely past five. “This early in the morning?” You question, fetching a glass from the cupboard and filling it with tap water before drinking.

“Apparently her team is still working on that conservation project. They’re pulling extra hours since the deadline’s coming up. And that’s why I stick with the night shift,” your dad responds, the crinkle of paper sounding as he turns the page.

“Because you can sneak away to the break room and get extra sleep without anyone noticing?”

He clears his throat, the chair creaking as he shifts his weight. “I can do whatever I want for that half hour and they won’t care. But the best part is there isn’t another soul in that part of the building. No interruptions, just a quiet space.”

“That does sound pretty nice,” you agree, taking another sip of your water. Even though he’s only worked at Keaton Enterprises, a technological security software company that’s recently expanded to this area, for less than a year it’s been a nice change for him despite the longer drive. While rifling through the pantry you can hear him muttering under his breath. “What are you mumbling about over there? Which sports team lost this time?” You ask, eventually plucking a granola bar out from the various snacks it’s hidden behind.

Your dad grumbles, taking a swig of his coffee before answering. “None of mine, thankfully. But GlamOrg is building another condo place, except this one will be near the town square. After just putting one near the lake last year,” he scowls.

His news causes your face to pinch, already preparing for the inevitable loud construction and overall nuisance to come. It also makes you wonder why they’re still building more properties in this area. Glamour Organization mostly gets its income from the various high-end boutiques and clothing shops from the major cities but has recently begun expanding into some of the more local towns to supposedly offer better opportunities for people. With the increase in the upscale stores, the surge of tourists who come for the “aesthetic wilderness and authentic small town vibes” that piques their interest, it’s helped the town’s businesses overall but the consensus isn’t exactly positive. The locals aren’t going to be as lenient if the expansion doesn’t actually slow down soon.

“Maybe it won’t be too bad,” you say, attempting to sound cheerful if not at least hopeful.

It’s met by him snorting sarcastically. “Hm, you and I both know it just means more traffic and higher taxes,” he gripes. “Next thing you know there’s a fancy, overpriced mall and then things will never be the same.”

You wince, remembering how mom’s hometown eventually went from vast fields to large concrete warehouses for the expanding plant facilities. At least shopping malls are more attractive than chemical plants, but still not quite sustainable either. Already you can hear your mother’s rants about it.

“Don’t jinx it,” you complain, petting Biscuit one more time before heading for the door with your breakfast.

“Tell that to them. Hey, be careful coming back tonight. They’re reporting a possibly dangerous creature in the area. I know you like taking the trails home so just keep an eye out,” your dad warns.

That catches your attention as you stare at him incredulously, fingers about to tear at the wrapper. “Dangerous creature?”

He nods. “Eh, some tourist got attacked by a wild animal, nothing too serious. You’re probably fine, but you can never be too careful. Just stay alert for anything suspicious.”

While you do tend to be vigilant, your new friend can probably take care of it no problem, not that your parents need to know. “Of course, dad, I always pay attention on my walks,” you reassure him as you open the snack and take a bite of the crunchy granola bar before heading outside.

~*~

At work, you’re making multiple hot chocolates and coffees as people seek shelter from the chilling air that seeps across the town. Despite it being a sunny afternoon it has barely thawed away the icy weather from this morning. Though the heater is working overtime, the warmth doesn’t last between the cold windows and entrance door opening every couple of minutes.

Even as you remain busy and constantly preparing drinks, you can’t avoid the recent news that’s spreading like wildfire. Nearly everyone is either reading from the free stack of newspapers or murmuring to each other about the attack. You catch a glimpse of the headline that reads ‘Wild Animal Attacks Hiking Tourist.’ Weird.

When there’s a break in the rush, you head to the back and find Elanor reorganizing and updating the inventory on the computer while you proceed with mopping the floor. “So what have you heard about this supposed animal attack?” You ask her.

Elanor groans with a roll of her eyes. “Ugh, enough to know that I’m tired of hearing about it,” she complains. “But as far as I know it’s just some lady insisting this town is haunted or cursed just because a random animal attacked her.”

“Was it maybe a coyote or bear? I don’t know how bad her injuries are.”

Her eyes remain focused on the iPad while she types in the count for each item, switching between that and the wooden shelves. “I don’t know. According to the paper, it said she wasn’t seriously hurt besides heavy bruising and some lacerations but she’s hellbent on suing the city for not having proper signs that this area has dangerous animals.” She shakes her head. “I think she’s making it worse than it actually is.”

Was all that from the animal or did she fall? Unless she got lucky and somehow didn’t need stitches. As you continue moving the mop across the floor, you consider these possibilities while trying to piece all the information together. “That’s weird though because we don’t really have animal attacks. Not that I can remember.”

“Yeah, I know which makes her whole story suspicious,” she notes, raising her head to face you while her eyebrows quirk up knowingly. “She probably just fell and injured herself that way.”

Before you can come up with a retort to her pointed remark about your own injury, the entrance bell chimes open, signaling the arrival of more customers and Elanor jerks her head in its direction. “You mind taking care of that? I still have to go through all the beans and syrup still.”

“Of course,” you tell her, rounding the corner to find a group of college students coming inside. They give you a long list of to-go orders but at least it mostly consists of caramel macchiatos and hot chocolates along with a few others. As you begin prepping all the drinks, you can’t help but listen in on their conversations as they’re not exactly quiet.

“I’m serious!” One of the guys claims as he shows another girl his phone. “This lady says she was attacked by some monster last night.”

Her face pinches in mild disgust at whatever she sees on the screen before directing her gaze towards him. “You think it was just a predator with rabies?” She asks.

“Maybe,” he agrees, “it seems serious enough that the police are investigating the trail where she was attacked.”

“They’re probably just making sure it’s not a threat to the public instead of some random encounter,” another of the girls chimes in.

The guy standing beside her decides to also provide his own thoughts on the matter. “She could be telling the truth though. Maybe this thing wasn’t normal.” His admittance is only countered with eye rolling and looks of disbelief.

“Oh be serious,” the girl scoffs. “It’s not like she ran into big foot or something.”

“You never know. No one’s been able to find definitive proof yet,” he insists.

While you’re blending, the noise drowns out their conversation yet you don’t miss the distinct chiming of the bell above the door. Turning your head slightly, you see a familiar dark hoodie approaching the counter.

You wave as you head to the cash register. “Hey Yoongi,” you yell above the noise, your greeting drawing his attention away from his phone as he glances up.

He stuffs the device in his pocket while nodding his head at you in return. “Y/N. Long time no see,” he says.

“I know, I can’t believe it,” you laugh. “Just your usual for here?” You’re already ringing it up as he nods and pays. “Okay, it’ll be just a minute.”

Returning to the blender, you shut it off and begin pouring the coffees into cups. Setting all the drinks in two separate cardboard carriers, you hand them to the group of college students which the girl in front takes with a quick thanks. The others each grab their own, leaving a couple in place while they begin drinking. As they head towards the door, you begin pouring the still steaming plain coffee into the mug for Yoongi.

“You and your conspiracy theories, Thomas,” one of the guys jokes with the guy beside him by slapping him on the back. “If only you put this much research into your essays.” The others laugh at his response while Thomas shakes his head.

“She literally told them that if she didn’t know better that it was a werewolf of some kind. That’s probably why they’ll just write it off as a coyote or wild dog,” he interjects.

That causes your head to shoot up in their retreating direction as you’re passing the cup to Yoongi who you barely register stiffening in response. Werewolf? But Wolfy indicated he was a protector of sorts. He wouldn’t harm a human, right? Could it be a rogue werewolf then?

You don’t hear the rest of what they say as the door clangs shut behind them. Frowning to yourself while you’re lost in thought, you jump slightly when the warm touch of fingers meet your own as Yoongi takes the mug.

“Still thinking about that supernatural research of yours?” He muses with a faint quirk of his lips and tilt of his head, brown hair shifting across his forehead.

“What?” The question sounds more concerned than you mean for it to be as you reflexively panic upon hearing the word supernatural.

He lifts his chin toward you. “You were pretty lost in thought for a minute.”

Going around to the counter with all the straws and other coffee fixings the customers use for their drinks, you busy yourself by wiping it down with a rag. “Just surprised by the news I guess. This is usually a pretty quiet place,” you note, roughly wiping away the few granules of sugar and minute drops of syrup. Out of all the days for it to be relatively clean.

“Yeah, weird,” he eventually agrees, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside you much to your surprise. With his other hand, he takes a sip of coffee while casually watching you begin reorganizing the variety of multicolored sugar packets.

Putting the packets into the proper containers, you keep focused while he continues drinking beside you. “New hangout spot?” You inquire, righting the coffee stoppers that haphazardly stick out like a chaotic bouquet of sticks.

His response is to shrug, switching the mug to his other hand near the wall while shoving the now vacant one into his pocket. “Not exactly. More so just wondering why you seem on edge.”

“I’m not on edge,” is your automatic response while you lightly scoff at the idea. The expectant stare you receive has you amending your statement to, “At least not as much as everyone else around here is.”

“The dramatic headlines and hushed rumors aren’t shocking enough for you. But you’re worried about something,” he discerns, taking another swig while keeping his gaze fixated on you.

Crouching down, you open the bottom cabinets to restock the napkin dispensers and buy yourself some time while you think of a response that veers far away from a certain wolf of yours. “Mostly that this town is about to be the next haunted tourist attraction overrun with ghost hunters and people looking for trouble that’s not actually here.” Not exactly pressing matters to you at the moment but it’s also not a lie either. As if GlamOrg or any other corporations need another reason to build more crap here.

“Interesting,” Yoongi hums, a gleam flickering in his brown eyes as he continues sipping his coffee. “Fair point, though why the hostility to ghost hunters of all things?”

“They’re annoying,” you randomly assert. Truth be told you actually don’t give a shit but they’d get old quick if they suddenly decided to explore every inch of town looking for evidence of the supernatural. Not to mention what would happen if they did find something or someone. “Tourists are fine overall but not if it turns Rustic Hallow into some main attraction.”

He ponders this for a moment before saying, “It’d help business at first before bigger companies get the same idea.”

“Yep, and I’m not giving up our parks and hiking trails for stupid blocks of concrete,” you insist, shoving the napkins a bit more viciously inside the container than intended, the thin paper crinkling beneath the force.

From your peripherals, you see him nod in understanding. “True, then the wildlife would be in disarray from the deforestation and you won’t be able to go looking for wolves.”

“Exactly,” you agree, instantly catching yourself but not before you scowl at your mistake. And Yoongi’s smug grin isn’t helping either. “Will you cut it out with the wolf shit,” you complain, throwing a blue sugar packet at him.

It smacks the front of his hoodie and he easily grabs it before stuffing it back into the container. “But it’s so much fun. Nice flags by the way,” he remarks.

“Huh? Oh, yeah that was Elanor,” you say upon recognizing the pink, yellow, and blue sugar packets taped to the wall in a vertical line. “She made the pan flag while I did the trans one,” you explain, indicating to the other one. “We were just messing around but our manager doesn’t mind.”

“That’s pretty cool,” he muses, staring off ahead towards the windows before pushing away from the wall. “Anyway, I’ll let you get to work. Good luck.”

Your face pinches in confusion though it doesn’t take long until realization dawns upon hearing the bell chime as you see yet another large group of people enter. Yoongi gets situated at his usual spot while you return to taking orders and making drinks.

~*~

Later that night you’re walking with Wolfy who seems more on edge. Even though he continues listening to your ramblings, the lupine keeps his eyes trained towards the surrounding forest. When you finish talking, he remains concentrated on the trees, ears twitching every time the wind so much as whistles in between the branches.

“Wolfy?” The call of his nickname has him jerking in your direction with a cock of his head. “Everything okay?”

He nods with an assured bark.

“I guess you know about the attack too?” You tentatively ask.

Another nod.

“Yeah, it’s all everyone’s been talking about today.” Most people have been discussing the news practically all day yet some are rather nonchalant, believing it to be just an unfortunate encounter with a wild animal. The locals carried on about their day with the added gossip, leaving only the tourists and visitors to whisper amongst themselves about whether or not they should cancel their nature hike or skip fishing down at the lake. Though a few of the residents did joke about the idea of a possible werewolf wandering in the woods which just made the tourists more paranoid at the mere thought. Like that one college student.

But Wolfy isn’t feral. Yet you’ve seen him in action, that Halloween night when he decimated those goblins attacking you. He’s powerful but not evil. He wouldn’t do something like that. Right?

A light pat of a bushy tail hitting against your back has you jumping in surprise, inner turmoil immediately dispersing while the werewolf beside you hums in concern. “Sorry, I got lost in thought. People have been getting a little freaked out by it, letting their imaginations get ahead of themselves,” you explain.

He quietly watches you and you’re quick to divert your eyes away. Letting out a soft rumble, he leans close while you keep your gaze fixated on the ground. A huff of air hits the side of your face causing you to eventually look up at the wolf who’s still staring.

You release a sigh before blurting out, “You don’t know anything about what happened, do you?”

There’s a short pause as the lupine processes your words. He shakes his head, scrutinizing you carefully while you do the same, your eyes meeting shining gold.

Your footsteps slow, uncomfortable dread pulling down on your legs, the atmosphere becoming awkward. The heavy steps next to you matches your pace, eventually stopping when you do. “I mean, you wouldn’t, you didn’t hurt anyone, right?” Wincing at what you’re basically implying, you try refraining from spewing out any rambling thoughts, instead adding, “Of course accidents happen, and we haven’t known each other long so I’m still learning, you know?” So much for keeping your prattling in check. Why not just accuse him while you’re at it? Piss off the supernatural creature that can crush bone with hardly any effort.

Despite the cold air, your palms are warm and you wipe them against your pants before you clutch onto the soft fabric of your jacket, holding them still. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound accusing, it’s just the victim described the creature as a werewolf and you’re the only one I know. Not that I think you did anything,” you rush, “I just wanted to ask.” Your words wander off when a cold snout presses against your forehead, putting a little pressure that slightly pushes your head up.

It draws your attention toward the werewolf that bends to match your height while you blink in rapid succession. A huff of warm air fans across your face while he stares directly at you with an intensity that’s not scary but instead unwavering.

Blowing out a gentle breath, you conclude, “I’m blowing things out of proportion, aren’t I?” Your assumption is met with a shake of his head. A claw gently taps against your temple as your friend gives a short nod of approval. “So you like when I interrogate you is what I’m getting at if you don’t mind my questions then,” you jokingly respond.

He sends you a dull stare before rolling his eyes with a shake of his head as he resumes walking, his receding shadow leaving you directly beneath the light of the moon and lampposts.

You rush after him, feet moving rapidly so you can keep up with his long strides while you do your best to follow along. “Could there be a rogue werewolf possibly out here?” You quietly wonder.

Again, he denies the idea with another shake of his head, his eyes narrowing to the ground as he thinks about it.

Pursing your lips, you mutter, “Was it a supernatural creature too?” Your fingers involuntarily lift to twine and untwine together while the wolf contemplates for a moment before his shoulders barely lift in a shrug.

Wolfy shakes his head as he snorts, a growl rumbling low in his chest, shutting his eyes though you catch a glimpse of scarlet that bleeds into his irises. He grumbles in dissatisfaction, frustrated with something before heaving a deep breath and calms himself.

“Everything okay?” You ask, readjusting the jacket you’re wearing, pulling it closer to retain the heat.

He nods, lips pulling back and revealing those sharp canines as he smiles in reassurance. Always being nothing but kind to you and yet you feel a little bad for asking if he did it. Whatever, it’s fine. Everything’s okay.

Silence descends upon your walk home, weighing you down in your own awkwardness as you walk before you can’t take it any longer. “I figured it wasn’t you, just to clarify,” you blurt out, stopping yet again in your own tracks. “We barely know each other but still you’re not—what I mean is,” while you struggle for words he reaches out and carefully lets his hand rest on top of your head.

He pats it once causing your head to bob slightly from the force even if he’s being careful as his eyes remain on yours. Ever so slowly, his hand moves down the side of your face until eventually coming to a stop where he cups your cheek. The side of your face is engulfed in thick fur that carries such warmth yet it’s not overwhelming but rather comforting. Yet beneath the soothing gesture, there’s a faint tremor within the hand that touches you. It radiates up to his forearm, barely noticeable.

You almost miss the scarlet flecks that pulsate within the golden irises as you wrestle for words amidst the intimate hold you’re experiencing. Lips mouthing incoherent words, your brain eventually reconnects as you begin talking again. “I guess what I mean to say is you’re the one that actually protects us from the monsters,” you say after a minute. “I just hope people don’t get the wrong idea and you get hurt because they got scared and reacted.”

In response, Wolfy blinks once then yawns, his jaw opening wide to showcase his fangs yet again before casually licking his lips with a smack.

“Okay well excuse me for worrying about your safety,” you scoff though you’re also smiling. “I know how strong you are.”

He gives a pleased grunt before removing his hand, mindful of his claws as he does and he slightly shakes his head with a snort in return. Then he’s nudging you with a tender push as he guides you forward with a hand against your back.

The chorus of singing crickets is your only consistent background music while you both continue walking. It’s accompanied by you asking, “So did you do anything fun or interesting today?”

His response is to shrug with a short sniff.

“Oh come on, you always say that,” you joke, giving him a huff of your own.

He merely rolls his eyes yet he’s grinning as well.

You happen to look down at your feet just as you catch movement right in front of where you’re stepping. Gasping with a slight yelp, you jerk to an abrupt stop only to suddenly be yanked back and into a strong embrace. Wolfy keeps a tight grip with one arm while his other remains outstretched, his body taut and defensive as he checks for any unexpected attacks. A deep growl sounds from him, reverberating from his chest into your own, bones shivering in response. Your heart pounds rapidly in your ribcage, not just from the surprise but also from his sheer quickness, and you feel his own thrumming against your back as well.

When nothing happens and the forest remains still, you watch the ground as a gray snake slithers across in front. The dim lamppost provides just enough light to shine on the little creature while it carries on its way.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you release the tension from your muscles as you slump against him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so startled. It’s probably just a garden or rat snake,” you tell the werewolf who’s still apprehensive.

At your words, you feel him slowly ease up as he lets you down. Your shoes barely brush against the forest floor before you’re pulled back and pressed firmly against his torso, his hold remaining steadfast. The tip of his snout bumps the crown of your head before he begins walking forward with you still held tightly against him.

“Wait,” you realize, “are you seriously going to carry me all the way back home like this?” You can’t help but laugh when he grumbles from above in response. Tilting your head up, your eyes meet full crimson that catches you by surprise. “Wolfy, I’m okay,” you gently reassure him. Even if your arms are stuck, you manage in raising your hand to pat his forearm. It somewhat helps, the scarlet draining as a deep gold pools within his irises in return.

Regardless, he still proceeds in carrying you the rest of the way, which isn’t much further and you’re eventually set down on your feet right at the edge of the tree line. “Thank you for the free ride,” you tell him to which he responds with yet another snort and bump of his nose to your head. “I’ll see you soon I guess?”

He nods with an affirmed grunt.

Reaching up, you hold your hand out for him to tap his snout against your palm in your usual greeting and then scratch the side of his head just below his maw. Your lips quirk up as his eyes slide shut while he emits a low rumble of contentment that vibrates within the bones of your arm. Once you lean away, he pulls back and shakes his head. “Take care,” you tell him while he huffs in affirmation, nodding for you to do the same.

Backing away, you watch him delve further into the forest before you continue towards home.

~*~

On your day off, you’re curled up in the lounge chair at the bakery while munching on a strawberry roll cake. While still rather cool inside, it at least provides protection from the chilly air outdoors. You take another bite of the pastry while sifting through the books you got from the library. Most of them just talk about the usual myths relating to werewolves in general or depict folk stories from around the world. Nothing quite useful as they don’t seem to match your particular werewolf friend. Again, not some mindless, bloodthirsty monster.

You pick up the Fables or Folklore: What’s in Your City? book and read the back. Cities with various legends that could possibly be true. Finding the table of contents, you skim through the listed cities, bypassing most of the larger ones only to stop short at the sight of Rustic Hallow. How did your small town end up making the list?

Flipping over to the correct page, you see an introduction along with one bolded section. Quaint town home to magic barrier of darkness?

A peaceful place with bountiful forests and wildlife, this small town may possibly be hiding a dark secret. Though no evidence has been confirmed, sources say a barrier lies within the deep recesses of woods where evil creatures lie in wait for unsuspecting victims.

Believed to be a failed ritual by an alleged cult, it’s said that a hole was opened and darkness spread like an infection before eventually being contained by some unknown entity. No one has definitive proof this exists as no one has yet to find it, but what’s better than taking a hike in these trails to find out?

Cringy writing aside, the author isn’t exactly wrong. Yet you also didn’t expect anyone to actually know about the forest of monsters. Checking the sources, it doesn’t list much except for databases and local papers. Nothing about individual people. Even this book itself is written by someone who just compiled all these stories together. Not to mention, what cult are they talking about?

“How’s the food?”

The sudden question breaks you from your reverie as Seokjin slips into the chair across from you. He has a couple of tiny cookies tucked into a napkin while he chews on some more.

“It’s really good as always,” you confirm, wiping up the leftover whipped cream with a berry and pop it in your mouth.

Seokjin grins with a satisfied nod. “Of course, only the best is made here,” he reassures yet the tips of his ears turn a shade of red upon hearing your compliment. “Good book?” He asks, motioning to the splayed open pages.

“Yeah, it’s just about supposed supernatural stories in different cities and apparently we’re in it,” you say with faux surprise.

He reaches across for the little paperback and skims through it before giving an unimpressed scoff. “Sounds fake,” is his response as he slides it back towards you. “Is this for an assignment or some class?”

You tentatively shake your head. “Just for fun,” you admit. “I got curious about our town’s history and now I’m even more intrigued about this cult that’s mentioned.”

“Ayy, don’t be trying to summon demons or make any deals with them,” he warns with a scowl.

“I’m not,” you groan. As if this town needs another creature wreaking havoc along with whatever’s already lurking about. But if you can find out something about this cult, then maybe there’ll be more information about the dark forest and whatever attacked that tourist. If that’s where it even came from.

Glancing at the clock hanging above the decorative potted plants, you chew on your lower lip before letting out a resigned sigh. “I’ll probably get going before it gets too late.” Despite it only being 5:30, the overcast clouds further descend the streets into night. Burrowing beneath your blankets and catching up on your mystery show will have to wait it seems. You can feel yourself recoil upon seeing the condensation forming on the bakery’s windows. “Thanks for the food,” you say smiling as you collect your things.

At that moment, a timer trills from the back, the sound causing you both to jump before Seokjin gets to his feet. “Thanks for delivering the coffee yesterday,” he responds, slipping his apron on while retrieving the bread from the oven. “I was finishing a wedding cake along with a three-dozen order of donuts for someone’s business meeting that they needed last minute and tea wasn’t doing it.” The fresh scent of baked bread wafts throughout the space and it has your stomach wanting to stay for seconds.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. It’s not like your place is far. Though I’m surprised you don’t have a coffee machine for emergencies,” you note.

“Because your coffee is better. Just like our tea is better, no offense,” he adds, setting the tray aside so he can insert another one loaded with red bean buns into the oven.

You shrug in agreement, adjusting the strap of your bag as it nearly slides off your shoulder. “That’s accurate. But so are your baked goods, luncheon meals, and plants,” you continue, pointing out the variety of items for sale.

“Hey,” the baker chides, “just because both of our stores somewhat overlap on desserts doesn’t mean only one deserves all the praise. A café and tearoom slash garden shop aren’t the same.” He restocks the display cases with the fresh bread then proceeds to wash his hands. Drying his hands with a towel, he tosses it over his shoulder before turning back to you. “So please keep telling people we’re not merging,” he wearily sighs with upturned lips.

“Are the elders still insisting on it?” You wonder though you already know the answer even before he nods. “I mean you could just sell regular coffee to appease them.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “The book club members and everyone else that keeps asking can go without it. I’m not encroaching on someone else’s business. Besides, Cindy worked hard to get that place up and running. Plus,” he jams a finger at the tall display case full of gorgeous porcelain tea sets, “we’re a tearoom.”

“True. No one says anything to us, they just get their drink and either stay or leave,” you smugly tell him while he scowls in return.

“Because it’s a café and they accept that but for some reason the tearoom needs coffee,” he complains, offended at the mere thought. “It doesn’t even make sense. Why come here when the café is close by? Even the regulars, albeit not always locals, will recommend adding some as it will help improve business. Serving coffee will help the tea shop, seriously?”

Resisting the urge to smile, you instead keep your face neutral, eyes softening in sympathy while he finishes his rant with a frustrated huff. “There’s always compromising,” you reiterate before letting out a laugh as he painfully grimaces. “I’m just saying. And I highly doubt it’ll hurt the café.”

He situates himself to rest his palms on the granite counter, leaning forward until he’s hunching his shoulders and loudly whispers, “Get out. Or I’ll ban you for soliciting,” he threatens.

You gape at the warning, dramatically pressing a hand to your chest. “The audacity,” you complain. “But then your sales for your blue orangeade tea would drop and that’d be a shame.”

“My blueberry and orange fusion would still do well,” he counters. “Now go, off with you.” Seokjin flicks his hands, shooing you away while you wave in return.

“Tell Hobi I said hi. And I’ll probably see you again soon,” you say, exiting the warm store only to shudder at the cool air. The library thankfully isn’t too far, sitting just on the outer edge of the square and you walk quickly to get away from the frigid weather. As you approach the entrance, a guy is also heading that way and he holds the door open for you while you quietly thank him.

Once inside, you return some of the books but keep a few to continue reading. You head down to the archives and begin searching for history about this town, specifically anything regarding an apparent cult. After poring through the old computers, it does spit out a possible book reference and you jot the number down. Going down the rows, you eventually come to the right shelf, counting each one before peering up. You stretch an arm up but grumble lowly at the shelf that’s two rows too high. Checking the other sections for a step stool or even one of those stick grabbers, you find neither but instead see the guy who held the door open for you earlier. He stands by a shelf, skimming through one of the books before putting it back and reaching for another.

Not wanting to have a near miss like before, you decide on asking for help this time. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you but could you help me grab a book please?” You ask as you approach causing him to glance up from the book summary he’s reading.

“Yeah, sure thing,” he says with an easy smile.

Leading him back around to your particular shelf, you point up to the tan book in the middle. “It’s just up there. The number is H318.” Using his long arms, he retrieves the hardback book with ease and hands it to you. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Anything else I can get you?” He asks and it’s then that you detect the Australian accent.

“No that’s everything, thanks again,” you say, wrapping your arms around the thick tome and holding it tightly. “Doing some research of your own?”

He glances down at his own book with a chuckle. “Yeah, something like that. My brothers and I came to get some fresh air since we’re on break. I wanted to see what landmarks and unique places we could go exploring,” he explains, indicating to the book he’s holding. “Guidebooks can only tell you so much, you know?”

“I get that. We have plenty of places to go but the town square is where you’ll find most of the shops and some of the fields nearby are really pretty. Is there something in particular you’re wanting to see?”

“What about hiking trails? Any good ones worth checking out?”

Please don’t let him be one of those thrill seekers. Judging from his athletic build, he surely seems active enough. Maybe he just likes working out and exercising a lot. You hesitate slightly before answering, “There’s definitely a lot to choose from but I’d recommend the magnolia orchard. It’s usually nice during this time of year. But maybe stick to the daytime rather than late afternoon or evening, just to be on the safe side,” you advise.

This causes him to tilt his head in confusion. “Oh, are you talking about the recent attack?”

“Kind of hard to miss, right,” you note to which he gives a nod of agreement. “But I wouldn’t worry too much, the woods are normally safe.”

His lips turn up into a smile, dimples peeking out as he does so. “Nah, it’s all good. We’re not worried about it. But thanks for the tip.”

“Of course. Thanks for helping me out,” you reply, motioning to your book. “Hope you enjoy your stay here.”

“Definitely plan on it. I’m Chan, by the way,” he says.

You introduce yourself as well and he extends his hand out for you to shake. When your hands touch, you can’t help the involuntarily flinch upon feeling the coldness of his skin.

“Sorry, still a bit chilly from the weather,” he apologizes with a grimace.

“I get it. And it’ll only get colder from here on out. But if you ever need a place to warm up, the coffee shop is pretty good if I do say so myself,” you suggest.

He grins at that, perfect white teeth on full display. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Before either one of you can say more, the grandfather clock from nearby chimes, the sound echoing in the space as it marks the time. Chan winces and rubs the side of his neck. “That’s probably my queue to head back. But it was great meeting you,” he quickly adds.

You nod in return. “Yeah, nice meeting you too. Stay warm.”

“For sure,” he reassures before adding, “you too.”

Waving one last time, you watch as he silently disappears around the corner.

~*~

The next day, it’s just you and Yoongi at the coffee shop where you’re going through the task of cleaning up before closing time. Since he offered to help with sweeping the front area despite you insisting that you can manage, you finish at the counter before moving to the next chore. You head to the back and ensure everything’s put away correctly. But as you turn the corner of one of the shelves, you nearly run straight into a floating yellow dust cloud. Yelping, you lurch into the shelf behind you, knocking over a few coffee bags while a blender clangs loudly to the floor. The will o’ wisp flies back as it shimmers into a pale shade, almost translucent.

Before you can utter a word, the employee door bashes open, slamming harshly against the wall, causing the creature to hide in a flurry. Yoongi stands right at the entrance, body poised in a defensive stance as he frantically scans the room before his bloodred eyes find your own.

“Are you okay?” He gruffly asks, immediately coming over to help you up.

You quietly nod, face burning upon feeling his hands touch your arm and hip as you keep a tight grip on the shelf. “Yeah. Um, are you?”

Panic flits across his face, ruby eyes widening momentarily before he looks away. When his gaze returns to meet your confused expression, those chocolate eyes are back with flecks of amber. “Yeah, just making sure you’re okay,” he answers, giving you a strange look, “heard a lot of loud noises back here.” He glances around the small space and you take the opportunity to do the same but find no trace of the shimmering creature.

Clearing your throat, you mutter, “Sorry, I got startled.”

He looks at you again, slightly perplexed even as his eyes narrow. “By what?”

“A lightening bug,” you mumble, hoping it’s inaudible enough yet he hears no problem judging from the odd stare he’s currently giving you.

It’s silent for a beat too long. “A lightening bug,” he deadpans. The harsh skepticism in his tone only further emphasizes how ridiculous you know you sound.

Still, you’re keeping that alibi as you nod with false affirmation. “Yep.”

“In the fall?”

Shit. “Yeah, that’s why it was so surprising. But it might’ve been something else, maybe like a…moth?” Your question at the end sounds painfully like you’re seeking confirmation from him and you internally cringe. Why didn’t you start with that in the first place?

Yoongi continues blankly staring at you while you’re standing there self-consciously shifting awkwardly. This carries on for several seconds, still much too long for you, so you preoccupy yourself with retrieving all the things you knocked over. Keeping your focus on what you’re doing, you reset the coffee bean bags as well as the sugar and other ingredients all while you can feel him burning a hole into the side of your head.

A blender appears beside you on the shelf, causing you to jump in surprise while he steps closer to help put things away. He picks up an old coffee pot that had also fallen over and sets that on the higher shelf. “Why so uneasy, Y/N?” He inquires, catching your eyes in an immobile hold when you happen to glance over at him.

Scratching the side of your face, you check the floor for anymore fallen objects while also looking for the creature before answering, “I’m not uneasy.”

“You keep scanning the room as if you’re looking for something.”

“I am?” He shoots you a look, causing you to backtrack. “No, you’re right,” you sigh. “I just want to make sure I got everything that was knocked over. It’s been an off few days since people started talking about the animal attack so I guess I’ve just been a little jumpy.”

From over his shoulder, you see the will o’ wisp peeping out from behind some stacked boxes and your eyes widen before you can think to stop yourself. Though you quickly relax your expression, Yoongi immediately notices and begins looking behind him. So you do the only thing that comes to mind and rush forward, throwing your arms around him.

Caught in your sudden embrace, he freezes beneath you going so still that you don’t even think he’s breathing. The ends of his long brown hair tickles the backside of your hands and you have the sudden urge to run your fingers through the strands. And then you become painfully aware of the awkward situation, secretly hoping the floor will open up and swallow you whole before you have to attempt explaining yourself. But of course that doesn’t happen and as the seconds grow longer, you gulp before squeezing your arms tighter around him. He inhales sharply at the movement and you feel a warmth building in your chest where a soft humming seems to resonate from him.

“It’s a cockroach.”

“What?” Whatever mood had been previously developing in that moment dissolves in an instant.

Inhaling deeply, the strong scent of pine that permeates from his hoodie nearly distracts you yet you rush in explaining yourself. “The thing that scared me. It’s a cockroach. A really big, nasty, cockroach that also flies.”

The will o’ wisp shifts into a deep shade of cherry as it quietly seethes at your description. You wave a hand at it and put a finger over your lips before it can begin bubbling in fury. It flits angrily in place and you point to the back door then the shelf next to it. The ghost understands, flying up to the shelf before ducking behind the stacked mugs.

“Could you help get rid of the cockroach? I think it went somewhere back there,” you say, reluctantly leaning away from him as you point in the opposite direction to the cabinets.

“Are you seriously that afraid of a bug?” He sighs.

Still gripping his shoulders, your fingers clench the fabric of his clothes as you peer directly into his eyes where the caramel flecks have gotten slightly bigger within the mocha of his dark irises. “Very,” you whisper. “Please?” You plead with a pathetic pout.

The scowl almost seems to melt before your very eyes as his features soften only for the dry expression to return. “Fine. Didn’t know wolf girl was such a scaredy cat,” he mutters to himself before easing his arms from around you as he begins sifting through the drawers and cabinets.

While his back faces you, you make your way to the backdoor and check for the creature who silently floats down towards the exit. It wraps itself around your hand and you feel its heat warm against your skin.

Once it releases you, you shove the door open where it shoots out into the night. Slamming it shut, you turn back and find Yoongi already facing you. “Got it. It ended up by the door so I just let it go free,” you explain, desperately hoping he didn’t see anything.

Cocking his head, his eyes shift between you and the door. “Thought you were too scared to get near it,” he notes.

Shrugging, you head towards the front of the shop so you can finish up in there. “It was right above the door frame so I just threw it open and it went out.”

You feel him watching you as he follows from behind and you peek over your shoulder to see his lips quirking up. “You’re something else, you know that?” He scoffs.

“That’s fair,” you admit with a smile of your own. Almost everything is put away for the night except for the chairs, so you quickly begin setting them on top of the tables.

From the opposite side of the room, Yoongi does the same, flipping the seats two at a time with such ease. Showoff. It’s quiet as you both silently work, finishing the outer tables before meeting in the middle at the last one.

When the final one is complete, you thank him for the help while he nods, calling your name just before you turn. “Hey, uh, do you want me to walk you home? I mean, so that terrifying cockroach doesn’t come back for you,” he says with a smirk.

You pause, hesitating for a moment to think because what if Wolfy decides to show up? He doesn’t come every night but there’s a chance he could. At your hesitation, his grin falters but before he can immediately retract his offer, you awkwardly shrug. “Yeah, why not? I wouldn’t mind the company honestly,” you admit.

After closing up shop, the two of you begin walking through the forest trail accompanied by the music of rustling trees and crunching leaves in the background. You’ve been keeping an eye out for him, but Wolfy is nowhere in sight, no trace of golden eyes whatsoever. Maybe he’s busy tonight.

“So what do you think about the attack?” You finally ask.

“Odd,” Yoongi plainly answers. It’s a fair way to describe it and he says it so matter-of-factly compared to the hushed whispers and excited gossiping from everyone else. There’s no concern or even slight hint of interest, just his usual straightforward demeanor.

Staring off into the forest, you think for another minute before continuing. “What do you think about what people are saying? That it’s some kind of supernatural creature?”

“You mean like the other day when those college kids said it was a werewolf?” He chuckles dryly.

Returning your gaze to him, you nod. “Yeah, like that.”

He tilts his head in your direction and gives you an easy smile. “Do you actually believe that or are you just desperately wanting proof that your werewolves exist?”

Will he ever let that go? Instead you merely roll your eyes at the mention of your personal studies. “Hey, just because I’m interested in the supernatural doesn’t mean I’m an investigator or hunter of some kind.”

That just causes him to let out a snort that he muffles by covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh, I know. You’re just a fan.”

“You make it seem like I’m obsessed,” you complain, crossing your arms across your chest defensively, “I just think they’re cool.”

From beneath his fingers, you still catch the evident grin peeking out. “Pretty sure you raided the library’s entire catalogue of werewolf books that night.”

“I did not!”

“Did too,” he retorts with a shake of his head. He uncovers his mouth and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Seriously, what would you even do if you met a werewolf in real life?”

“I’d kiss it,” is your immediate response.

Yoongi coughs to himself and his cheeks burn bright pink as he stares at you in disbelief. “What?”

It’s your turn to grin at him. “Mmhmm, I’d smother them in kisses because aren’t werewolves just oversized dogs?”

His face morphs into a confused, almost offended expression at your declaration. “Sure, if you think they’re like Twilight.” He glances away for a second before giving you a sideways look, searching your face for something before heaving a sigh. “Don’t tell me that’s what your basing it off of.”

Surely he could give you a bit more credit than that. Judging from the disappointed groan he lets out that sounds unlikely. “Well then what are they supposed to be like, Mr. Expert?” You sarcastically wonder, your eyes widening with fake curiosity.

Again the expression of disgust is back, his upper lip curling. “How would I know? They’d have to actually be real first.”

Despite masking it as a cough, the small giggle that slips passed your lips instantly catches his attention as he sends you a dubious glare.

“What? Something I said funny?” He asks, raising a brow.

Actually. “No, but,” while you’re staring forward you can still see him from your peripherals as he keeps his gaze fixated on you, “who says they’re not?”

He rolls his eyes. “Considering no one has any solid proof, I’d say they weren’t. Unless you know something I don’t,” he implies.

If only he knew. As if Wolfy would be interested in a meet-and-greet anyway. Of course, you almost wish you could have the chance to prove him wrong but you instead swallow that irresistible urge of satisfaction by answering, “Nope.”

“Shame,” he sighs with mock despair. “And here I thought you were about to drag me to your complete slideshow with all your evidence and theories.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that invested in all this.”

“I don’t know,” he hums, “you seem pretty passionate about it to me. Especially considering you read a bunch of books for research,” he says with air quotes, “and your first reaction would be to kiss one. Sounds obsessive to me.”

The breeze picks up at that moment as the wind blows through the trees and sends dried leaves cascading into the air. A handful smack against your body with a few probably sticking to the back of your jacket while a rather large orange one lands right on top of Yoongi’s head. Yet he doesn’t seem to notice it so you reach up to casually pluck it loose.

He flinches, leaning away as he scowls at you while you show him the dead leaf before flicking it right back at him to which he smacks it in return. “I’m not obsessed, just curious,” you emphasize.

It doesn’t faze him as he shrugs once more. “Whatever you say.”

Muttering under your breath, you look forward and see the break in the trees that lead right to your house. “Thanks for the walk home,” you tell him once you reach the edge of the path.

“It’s no problem. Have a good night, Y/N,” he says. Turning on his heel he starts heading back before you’re snatching the fabric of his cotton hoodie. Yoongi glances over his shoulder at you, silently waiting expectantly.

“Are you actually going to walk back home? I mean, the bus stop isn’t too far away from here,” you note, finger also pointing out its direction.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, it’s not that long of a walk.”

But there’s only the main square with shops and open forest that stretches miles in some directions. “Wait, how far away do you live?”

“Not too far. I take the Old Shaw Trail so it’s fine.”

“Oh,” your brows furrow at that, “I haven’t been down that way before. There’s so many different pathways.”

An owl hoots from nearby just as it flies overhead where you watch it disappear into the branches while he takes a step back to free his clothes from your grip. “Yeah, but they’re fun to explore. Anyway, see you around,” he says with a wave.

“Yoongi,” you call and he turns to look back, “stay safe,” you softly murmur.

He grins in return. “You too.”

Once he disappears from view, you continue towards your house. As you dig in your little purse for your keys, you feel something stiff and crumpled inside. Quizzically, you pull free the large brown leaf where you notice writing scribbled on one side. You hold it beneath the porch light, squinting to read the tiny font.

Full moon, talk soon -WW

— — —

<— Previous | | Next —>

A/N: Yet another chapter update posted in the same month, in the same year?? It surprised me too, but I’m doing my best to actually stay on top of my stories and post them in a somewhat timely manner. Again, thank you everyone for patiently waiting and I hope y’all enjoy!

#yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #wolf!au #fanfic #my writing #Caramel Eyes Mocha Paws

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youhavenoideahowbadiwantthis · 2 years

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I've been waiting to watch The Outwaters since I heard about it a few months ago. I love found footage and I love cosmic horror. Mash them up and you've got yourself a stew.

I found a few days ago that it was available on VOD so I got it for $13. That's a pretty sick part of the COVID film release trend. Love when brand new horror comes out to own for the price of a movie ticket.

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

I'm going to just say the very common disclaimer: "this film is not for everyone."

A bunch of friends go out to the desert to film a music video, apparently. There are constant mysterious booms and shrieks. Desert animals exist around them. A bloody axe man chases them around and kills them. The cameraman/main character (Robbie) wakes up in a pool of blood and looks for his friends and there appears to be a time loop and maybe he's the axe man. There's an, apparently, big, practical effect creature that makes noise at him. Then he finds his dead friends' heads and cuts off his penis and disembowels himself with an animal tooth.

End.

So, if you're reading this, you're probably frustrated at how lazy and lackluster that synopsis was. Right? Now you know how I felt watching almost 2 hours of it.

I promise I will discuss WHY I feel this movie is one of, if not the biggest piece of shit I have ever watched in my life, but first, I want to dissect this movie through other people's words.

"Banfitch has a clear talent for character development, which is thrown out the window as soon as the true horror begins. Yet, getting to know his cast of characters only makes watching their annihilation more gut-wrenching in the end." - Grace Detwiler, Rue Morgue

If you think this character development is outstanding, I'm excited for you to watch literally any other movie, ever. He attempts to create the candid, real characters or Benson and Moorhead films, but they end up one dimensional, typical found footage characters. Think Paranormal Activity characters, but not even douchey enough to be interesting.

"...will likely be most effective for viewers who are strongly affected by the power of suggestion." - Grace Detwiler, Rue Morgue

Lol. I mean...yes. Correct.

"...[transforming] the found footage format into something far more transgressive..." - Meagan Navarro, Bloody-Disgusting

If the boundaries that are being crossed are "good overall filmmaking" into "bad", you're still wrong. Many found footage movies have done that. This is uniquely bad, however, so maybe there's a point there.

"...the film is more interested in immersing us than it is in answering any questions. In this regard, it completely succeeds as it spends longer and longer getting lost in the landscape that has become distorted." -Chase Hutchinson, Collider

Ok, let's talk about this, specifically.

At no point, was I immersed in this movie. The first 20 mins are the, supposedly incredible, character-building, that can really just be boiled down to the phrase, "hurr durr, you reminds me of your parents." I promise, you may relate to the dialogue between these characters, but you're better than them. Seriously. This entire build up is filmed with the tightest camera work I've ever seen. This man forgot to zoom out and he moves the camera quickly and often. You will get sick.

Then they're in the desert. The camera is slightly better because you have a vast landscape behind people most of the time, so it isn't as disorienting. But God help you, he will manage to examine every nook and cranny of a bush and the inside of their tent and the one girl's face, over and over again.

The night time shots are so much worse. Half the time, he's filming with a normal light source that illuminates a large enough area to provide tension so that you only recognize so much of what is on screen. The other half is lit by a gas station pocket flashlight using batteries from the early 2000s. I, like many other people in this day and age, have a large television. So when I have a 65" TV (1809 Sq. In.) and about 1/6 of the movie is filmed through a 3" diameter pinhole, I'm gonna be upset. The power of suggestion does not trump the power of wanting to watch a fucking movie.

Apparently, there was a large, maybe practical effect monster. Couldn't tell you, because it was filmed through this dipshit pinhole. If I spent the money to build a monster for a movie, YOU WILL FUCKING SEE AT LEAST 20% OF THAT MONSTER FOR A FEW SECONDS.

The story was run of the mill. The themes and characters were as deep as a teacup. The cinematography was fucking trash, even for found footage.

This was like a visual representation of a Chainsmokers song, but they were trying to make a black metal song, but the only black metal they've heard was Deafheaven, but the only Deafheaven they've heard was Ordinary Corrupt Human Love, but they recorded it in mono.

Also, a lot of people are comparing this to Skinamarink. Stop. Both films are frustrating and work on the power of suggestion. However, Skinamarink actually leans into the suggestion. It gives you vague pieces to tell yourself a story. Outwaters gives you a story and then lazily slops out blurry garbage that has been done better many times before over the course of almost 2 hours and then just kind of ends. I was not a huge fan of Skinamarink, but in my opinion, it is far more worthwhile than Outwaters and it's insulting to Skinamarink to conflate the two.

I will not say that I could make a feature length film. I don't have the talent or creativity. It's easier to sit and judge than to actually do something. Maybe Banfitch should take a break to reassess his influences to see what makes them worth watching, because this movie is evidence that he has missed the mark.

I hope he gets better.

If you want to watch the movie, sure, go ahead. If you want to watch something that will actually entertain and/or challenge you, might I recommend the following:

Resolution, Spring and The Endless are all wonderful pieces of eclectic cosmic horror by Benson and Moorhead. Good characters and intriguing concepts without giving away every detail.

Banshee Chapter by Blair Erickson is an incredibly underseen cosmic/conspiracy horror film that predates Stranger Things by several years, and in my opinion, does it better (horror-wise).

Bellflower by Evan Glodell is not exactly horror, but is a film that I feel Banfitch to inspiration from. The character development is on point and organic and it has sort of the mumblecore feel that I felt Banfitch was trying (and failing) to develop in the first 20 mins of his movie.

These are just suggestions that I think all do a significantly better job in every respect than Outwaters.

Just my opinions.

Thank you for listening, though I'm not sure why you would.

#the outwaters #found footage #cosmic horror

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darkhighness · 1 year

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Good Omentober Day 9 - Gabriel

Prompt by @disaster-dog

Gabriel reflects on his treatment of his angelic sibling and begins to feel the wrath of the Almighty as he condemns her to Hell.

“What did you do to my child?” The bellowing voice of the almighty rang out throughout the halls of Heaven.

Gabriel looked around him, still clutching the starmaker's journal in his arms. Caphriel was hardly the first Angel he’d sent to eternal damnation but never before had he heard this voice

“My blessed creator I was simply enacting punishment on a misbehaving Angel,” Gabriel assured and miracled the book away, “I’m making sure there are no threats to your plan.”

“I don’t know that you have my best interest in mind, Gabriel. That’s why I’ve created a new position. I’m sure you’ll become quite familiar. The Metatron will speak for me from here on out. I have to clean up your mess before the humans are set to arrive.”

Gabriel felt a sense of guilt suddenly course through his body. As an archangel, he had never disappointed the Almighty before. He couldn’t, however, work out why Caphriel’s punishment was the one that caused such a reaction.

Caphriel was nothing but a mistake. Some little star maker who was a disappointment since day one. Gabriel remembered her creation, after all. The Almighty wanted one more archangel in charge of beauty and imagination. Gabriel, despite being a new angel himself at the time, thought the prospect was ridiculous. How could you have angels in charge of healing and wisdom and decide you want one for something as punitive as imagination?

In her creation, something went terribly wrong. Caphriel, despite being incredibly powerful was hardly at the rank of the archangels. She was weak, and it was immediately obvious she was a mistake. That was the only time Gabriel had ever questioned the Almighty’s judgement.

God insisted that Caphriel was as much one of their siblings as the others but like the runt of the little she was, she was tormented. She would never feel the love of the archangels. She was nothing.

Gabriel would never let her forget it either. Caphriel would always attempt to talk to the archangels about her designs but they were busy doing actual work. When she was first designing her nebulas, she would come and ask Gabriel for help.

“Gabriel?” Caphriel asked softly, clutching her journal in her arms. She had been stopping by less but all the other angels she’d talked to had brushed her off. She was hoping her brother, in her desperation would be able to give some advice, “Could you please just look at one thing-“

“I don’t have time for you, Caphriel. Go disappear off into the stars like you always do,” Gabriel spat.

After that, Gabriel only ever saw Caphriel in passing and when he did she kept her head down and would fly past faster. Occasionally, Gabriel would hear her name uttered in the halls as other angels marvelled at her most recent feats. Unsurprisingly, he never saw the appeal.

---

It wasn’t until the War they ever met up again. Caphriel, as aloof as always, wouldn't commit to a side. Gabriel knew that she would often talk to Lucifer, yet Lucifer knew of her relation to Gabriel. Caphriel would spend every day out in the stars, avoiding as much of the war as she could. Gabriel chalked it up to fear, knowing how weak she always had been. Lucifer assumed it was an act of defiance as she wouldn’t stand with the other archangels.

“I just don’t think we need to fight. Is it really that bad if the humans get free will?” Caphriel asked Gabriel tentatively, returning from the cosmos only briefly to check up on what was happening, “Are we just upset that they will have something we don’t?”

Caphriel never wanted to see any of the angels hurt. She’d known what they were able to do to her and had no reason to believe they would hold back on any traitor. Especially when some of them were known to be her friends.

Gabriel let out a low chuckle, his expression darkening as he turned to his disgraceful sister, “If you care about free will so much, why aren’t you part of the rebellion?”

“I just don’t know if either side is right. Everyone’s quick to judge but no one is trying to understand.”

Gabriel huffed and pulled Caphriel up by her robes to meet his eye level, “We understand. We’re God’s finest angels. You’d do good to remember that. Unless you want to admit that you’ve been a mistake this whole time.”

Gabriel threw Caphriel down to the ground where she let out a forced sob. Despite all the years of torment by the archangels, she was still so surprised her brother could be so cruel. Her body shook with sobs and she curled up into herself, trying to shield herself from Gabriel with her wings.

“What’s this, a grey feather?” Gabriel tutted, holding the feather in his hand. Before his brain fully registered what he was doing, he plucked the feather, gaining a small squeak from his sister. “Looks like you’ve chosen a side after all.”

He inspected her wings, plucking each slightly off-white feather with enough force to break her if he wanted to. With each move of his hand, she twitched in fear but she had nowhere to escape to, instead forced to sit and take the punishment from the figure that was meant to protect her

“Gabriel, please-” She choked, flinching as another feather was plucked from her wings that now had various bare patches and golden blood was beginning to form in tiny drops along its span.

Gabriel kicked her aside and she lost grasp of her journal. She desperately reached for it but Gabriel swooped in to take it away from her.

“You won’t be needing this.”

#gabriel #good omens 2 #good omentober #good omens #angel crowley #pre fall crowley #crowley #heaven good omens #archangel gabriel #tw abuse

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lunar-years · 1 year

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rjk hunger games au is SO GOOD i would read the hell out of that if u ever decided to write more. but also the everlark gifset you reblogged could definitely be a concerned and shaken roy (katniss) latching onto a recently revived and sarcastic jamie (peeta) who’s just casually joking about how he died. and maybe keeley takes on the role of finnick in this scenario, or she’s part of the resistance and supporting from afar.

how do you think jamie won his games? when and where do rjk figure things out for the first time? i don’t think i’m going to be able to stop thinking about this.

The book lines go so hard for that scene too: "You were dead! Your heart stopped!" *Katniss losing it* Peeta: "Well, it seems to be working now" vabvbjcsbj SIR. 1) generally a scene of all time and 2) very excellent content for Roy/Jamie AU yes yes.

I'm not sure how Jamie would win his Games because I want him to do something rebellious :) Maybe in keeping with the THG plot, he orchestrates the Katniss & Peeta berries movie only without the romantic angle. WHAT IF Sam is also in the arena and they become allies... Except Sam at the beginning is like "I am not going to last long here. I cannot kill anyone, I cannot." and Jamie is like...fuck that I'm not just letting you sit here until someone comes along and kills you wtf. So after that they have an unspoken agreement that Sam will forage for them because he's really good at identifying edible leaves and berries and Jamie will do the fighting if/when it comes to it. then when it comes down to just the two of them Jamie is like okay Sam i'm sorry but you have to kill me now. and Sam is like absolutely not. did you not hear me when I said I'm not going to kill anyone? It's okay Jamie do what you need to do. but Jamie of course says ABSOLUTELY NOT and comes up with the berry scheme!! I simply think a hunger games AU deserves a samjamie bestieism side plot.

as for rjk... Roy has isolated himself for sooo long after winning and meeting Keeley and secretly fueling the resistance with her as the liaison has finally given him a sense of purpose again 🥺 so those two are already getting close when Jamie is reaped, and Jamie again is friends with Keeley from school and because she gives him tasks to do to help the resistance. Jamie is still so young, so most of the others in the resistance dismiss him but Keeley sees how desperate he is to help and is like, well why shouldn't he? she's always seen his potential :) So they are also already very fond of each other. and roy and jamie are in their enemies to friends arc because that needs to be the royjamie dynamic in any universe, i don't make the rules. Roy finds Jamie annoying because he's always getting in the way. also in the early days after they meet Jamie tries to give Roy hunting tips just to be snarky lmao and roy is like absolutely fuck you i've been hunting before you could hold a bow. Also Jamie is relentless and nagging and won't leave roy ALONE to his own peace and loneliness in the victor's village. So by the time Jamie is reaped they have a tentative friendship and care about each other but would never admit it.

Then Jamie comes back and is obviously extremely traumatized from the experience, especially since his ally-ship with Sam had him doing all the fighting at the very end. Roy can uhhhh relate to that. more than a bit. So he takes Jamie under his wing in the Victor's Village and starts showing up to check on him and cook him meals. they learn so much more about one another and help one another to heal. Keeley continues to be their access point to the resistance in the District, because she's a bit more under the radar to the Capital since she was never in the Games. It's dangerous for Roy and Jamie to get too involved, but they help Keeley wherever they can and it basically becomes all three of them living together in Roy's giant victor village house. I'm imagining this as a slow burn of like, a year or two after Jamie's back home before they even get together. once they do though, the Capitol finds out about it and starts sending Jamie more and more often to the Capitol :( the only silver lining is that Jamie at least gets to see Sam on these trips, as Sam is another Capitol fan favorite. And Keeley and Roy get angrier and angrier back home about, well, everything but it's so much worse now that Jamie is so relentlessly being forced into prostitution. So yeah, they start getting reallyyy risky with resistance activity. Cue: Quarter Quell :(

#asks #royjamie #royjamiekeeley #ted lasso #hunger games au #i will probably never actually write this because it would need to be a multi chapter and i'm so bad at keeping up with those #but if anyone else wants to write one and borrow any of these ideas absolutely feel free!#maybe i'll write a little snippet or scene from it if there's ever an au challenge or something #a rjk universe where i don't need to know a singular damn thing about football? sign me up honestly lmao

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hermesserpent-stuff · 5 months

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spoilers for transmutation of the soul.

Ryker walks the market, heart aching ever so slightly knowing that they had not found the boys yet. He takes a breath, breathing in the scent of the Markets. A hand gently touches his arm and he spins, ready for a fight.

Her hair is still such a dark brown, framing piercing brown eyes that have the beginning of crow's feet at their edges.

That is the first thought to enter Ryker’s mind as he turns to look at Clelia. Her long single braid is a little loose, with a few strands having slipped out. Part of her hair is swooped rather intentionally over a part of her face.

“Hello.”

The greeting slips out, with no grandness about it. Not a very impressive greeting. She gives a grin.

“Hi. I guess you didnt find them. I can't imagine that you would be wandering around without at least one of them on your hip if you had.”

Ryker looks away embarrassed by his failure. She tugs on his arm.

“I'm sorry, I did not mean to-”

“No, it's alright. I failed to find them and that's a failure I have to live with.”

He interrupts, looking back at her with a shrug. She gives a soft but thoughtful frown.

“I don't think it's a failure on your part. I think those boys are probably scared and hiding. And people who are hiding are naturally harder to find. Come, I have more mead for you. And I’d like to catch up if you have the time to spare.”

Ryker finds himself willingly led back to her stall, ducking into the tent and sitting down on the provided stool. She supplies him with honey-soaked oatcakes and a warm tea-like drink made of honey with dried lemons boiled in water. He sits and speaks of their journey southward, of the Berkians and what had been true in her research and what had been absent. She moves about, working as they talked. She provides him with the going on of the Markets and new information that might be nothing, might be something.

They run out of information relating to the Bloodwrath brothers and they slowly begin to speak of other things. She occasionally ducks out to take care of her stall and ends up closing it early, with Ryker helping her store everything and lock up for the afternoon.

They begin to walk around the market together. They do not hold hands, nor touch. But they walk side by side through the stalls, meandering back and forth. They talk in soft tones about life and the world, the sunlight starting to fade, the last bits of its gold light catching in a rather fetching way in Clelia’s hair. However, the walk has to end and Ryker starts to give his goodbyes.

“I will let you know if I get any more information when you come back to the market… You will be back? Right?”

Clelia asks, hands folding into each other as she looks up at him. Ryker bends his head slightly.

“I do plan to return. We do have to keep our tribe running while we hunt for them.”

“Then I look forward to seeing you once again.”

She says and he takes the gifted mead with a deep thank you.

#ryker grimborn #clelia #httyd #httyd au #stolen heir au #hermes speaks

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survivoirs · 7 months

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Death was such a weird concept in their world. It didn't matter where on the planet you were. What cultures you hailed from. Death was a subject matter that, in some ways, everything revolved around in the end. The end. Wasn't that what death was for many people? Sometimes the beginning, if you believed in something that came after death. But what about those who hadn't quite reached the end? That 'I thought I was gonna die' feeling was one that had many levels. Merrick's own memory of his drowning had certainly had that thought coursing through his mind as Rhys had held him under water as a little boy. He remembered the pain of the water surging into his lungs. The panic. The way he could feel salt from his tears washed away by the thrashing of the freshwater lake. He didn't remember going unconscious. Didn't remember the compressions their father had performed on him after tearing him out of Rhys' grips to get him to start breathing again but he certainly remember how sore he'd been the following days. Rhys had certainly been old enough to know what he'd done but not clever enough to know the seriousness of the after effects with dry drowning when he'd dispatched of their father and left a recovering 7 year old alone in a tent for a day and a half before he'd been found by a hiker. For a kid, spending that long eerily aware of the onset of a growing difficulty in breathing, was a long time to continue to think he was still going to die.

Merrick hadn't realized he'd drifted out of the conversation a bit until the cup of grayed paint water he'd been holding fell from his grasp and clattered on his bedroom floor, spilling its contents all over the paper laid about to protect his floors after he'd turned half of the large farmhouse bedroom into his painting studio. It probably was not the best set up for inviting special guests but that was hardly high on his priorities these days. A work visit was fine enough for it.

"ffycin uffern," he muttered, quickly moving to throw a towel over the spill while Griff settled back down where he'd been laying. Seemingly startled by the sound but not alerting for him yet. Merrick's little moment hadn't been due to more medical reasons at least. It was better on him to keep his stress levels down but he wouldn't make the other man feel guilty about anything if he could help it.

"Sorry, Oliver, I'm listening -- just got, a little --" he waved his hand around near his head in a bit of a circular motion while he tried to piece together his words properly before he just gave up and cleared his throat and finished cleaning up the mess enough to ignore it for now. Oliver seemed much more open about parts of his pain than Merrick was used to with other people. It had taken his off guard, made him feel a pang of sympathy. He couldn't help but want to relate a bit, to perhaps even open up a bit himself if he felt it might make Oliver feel less alone. But maybe Merrick was just projecting his own silent pleas for help at times.

"It sounds like you're a man who has certainly found a calling in turning your fears or pain into art," he chuckled lightly, a tired smile tugging at his features as he turned to face his guest. "I read one of your books before you came over --- wanted to get a better understanding of the type of art that you might be looking for for your next one. You are a very talented storyteller. I must admit I already started a second one this morning before I figured I'd better clean up a bit --- sorry if my studio is a bit --- lived in," he added sheepishly with a glance around. The difference in one half of the room compared to the other was staggering. His bedside portion was immculate. Cozy and a bit cluttered in decor and personal items but very neat and organized. Everything seemingly having its place. Whereas he knew the otherside just made him look like some shut-in artist. Finished paintings stacked up against one wall in rows of canvases. Unfinished hung on the walls until the inspiration to finish them how he wanted hit. Sketches and supplies usually were strewn about on his desk and corner armchair but now at least nicely in a pile or on shelves where they belonged. When he did have guests over, he generally hid the more darker pieces behind the prettier ones but given this man was a horror author, hiding them didn't seem to be efficient given they were about to be working on what sort of work Oliver wanted commissioned for his next novel.

"I can't deny I pull from similar thoughts when I work -- least this job," he added dryly, silently amused by the thought of hanging up any of his darker works at the vet clinic. Probably would not go over too well with his patients' humans.

@deceivesthem

#THREADS. [ drown your demons - Merrick ]#rp #ANSWERED.#deceivesthem #drowning mention cw

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walker-extended-universe · 1 year

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Cordell Fanfiction Masterlist

This is going to be a long one guys. A collection of fics that have Cordell Walker as a main/major character. I've split them up into Series and Stand Alone stories.

Series:

Walker OT3- A collection of stories exploring the beginnings and relationship of Trickidell

Walkercest of the Cordaugust Variety- A collection of stories exploring the Cordell/August ship. Loose relation to canon

Walkernatural- A series exploring the clash of Supernatural and Walker in which Cordell is Sam's long-lost twin brother.

Dog Tags Verse- A collection of stories exploring an alternate universe where Cordell Walker and Trey Barnett met as soldiers on opposing sides of a war

Henry Winchester 'Verse- An AU of Walkernatural in which Cordell and Sam grew up as Winchester twins

A Rose By Any Other Name- An AU in which, rather than dying, Emily is exposed as a serial killer and the Walker family is turned upside down.

Crime Family Walker- An AU in which the Walkers are a crime family that run Austin with an iron fist

The Little Things- A supernatural crossover where the Walkers adopt a hunter's daughter

Sam and Dean Walker- Supernatural/Walker crossover AU in which John leaves Sam and Dean with Cordell and Emily after Mary dies

Stand-Alone Stories:

This is Probably A Bad Idea But....- Texas Ranger Cordell Walker can't seem to crack this case. He gets some unwanted assistance in the form of the eccentric Malcolm Bright

New Boy- Cordell Walker meets a man named Dean Winchester at a bar. Before the night is over, his life has changed forever. But will it be for better, or worse?

Camping 101- You know that infamous 2017 camping trip that August insisted required double-checking all the supplies on the list for because they left the tent at home that year? Yeah. This is that.

It Wasn't Supposed to be You- Death was inevitable. Cordell was only well too aware of it in his line of work. Death was also unpredictable. He always forgot that part.

Don't Cry- One day they would understand. At the very least, they might find it in their hearts to forgive.

Family Matters- He froze at the end of the entryway. It was her. It had been fifteen years since he last saw her, but he'd recognize her anywhere. He never thought he'd see her again. But there she was, standing on his front porch. Smiling at him like she hadn't abandoned him and their kids all those years ago. "...Emily?"

A Killer By Any Other Name- Cordell Walker is accused of twelve counts of first degree murder due to some damning evidence. Problem is, he didn't do it. Liam is determined to prove this so he calls on an old friend, Malcolm Bright, for some help. Meanwhile, Sam Winchester hears of the case and it doesn't take him long to figure out Waker has been pinned for one of their hunts. He can't sit by and watch an innocent man go to jail so he resolves to help in any way he can.

Just To Be Sure.....- Sam and Dean roll into Austin for a case and come across a (scarily) familiar face.

Secrets and Lies- It's amazing what a little lack of self-control can lead too….

"Duke" is a Dog's Name- The reader's family ranch has eneters some tough times and she enters the rodeo in the hopes of earning some extra funds to keep things going. While she's there, she meets an interesting character who calls himself Duke Culpepper. Little does she know that nothing will ever be the same after she meets the tall man with cheap aftershave.

Things They Never Show Onscreen- Just a little thing I wrote because they never show hospital scenes in shows like this and I needed a fix :)

The Long Road Home- Cordell Walker, Texas Ranger, was undercover for 11 months. He went dark for several of them. When he finally came back online, he wasn't the same man he was when he left. What happened and how will he recover? An alternate universe exploration of Walker coming home.

Don't Get (A)Head of Yourself- Cordell and Emily are taking a couples camping trip. Things don't go exactly to plan.

Cry For Help- Cordell knows something is off about how his wife died but he's not quite sure why. He turns to the internet in his time of need and finds an unexpected source of help.

Grass is Greener on the Other Side- An exploration of what might’ve happened if Cordell hadn’t listen to Liam during 2 x 04 (It’s Not What You Think).

It's Probably Nothing- “Listen, I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who Sammy is or why he left you but I’m not him.”///“Don’t worry, Sammy. I don’t know what happened to you but I’ll get you fixed up. You just need to remember me, that’s all. It’ll be okay. Dean's here now.”

Missed You- After a long day, Cordell gets a much-needed phone call from an old friend.

Here For You- It's not until late at night when Cordell has a chance to really process what happened that day. He's handling as well as can be expected. Micki's there to lend an ear.

A Series of Fortunate Events- A collection of alternative endings/events for 2x12

A Difference of Environment- Cordell Walker is undercover, not just as Duke Culpepper, but as an Omega. When his secrets are revealed, he's surprised to find acceptance rather than rejection. And maybe he finds a little something else….

One Last Checkup- Cordell knows what his kids went through today and he decides to check up on them before he goes to bed.

Going Home- Cordell Walker has been held captive for a long time. Now, he plans to escape. Or, a sort of speculative piece on how Cordell might escape the ones that captured him in the season 2 finale

In Another Life- What if Cordell Walker had told Twyla Jean the truth about his undercover mission before the last bank job?

Desperate Measures- What if August had been taken instead of Liam? A little exploration on how he might have handled that.

Groundhog Day is Just a Movie- In which Cordell finds himself stuck in a time loop

Hiding in Plain Sight- 15 years after Cordell ran away from home, he returns to Austin with his wife and new life. He just wants to live his life without worrying about what he left behind. Unfortunately, he moved in right next door to his little brother.

Basic Instinct- In which Cordell storms down to Desert Speed Wars to pick up his kids and his car. Shannon and her buddies have varied responses.

We Just Need to Talk- Liam has a nightmare about his time in captivity and goes looking for comfort. After witnessing Cordell have a nightmare too, he decides enough is enough. They don’t have to talk about what happened, but they are going to engage in some brotherly cuddles and at least acknowledge that there’s a problem.

Worst Kept Secrets- James is worried about Cordell and talks to Micki. Micki tries to talk to Cordell.

The Smell of Fear- Alpha!Cordell has an extreme reaction to seeing his omega brother in cuffs and bruised. He goes feral, kills a few guys with his bare hands, the usual. When rescue finally arrives, he’s still in feral mode and won't let the rescue team near them, so Cassie has to go in and try to cool him off. Eventually, they tranquilize him and keep him under until the feral has worn off.

Paradigm Shift- But there was one more thing Liam needed to get off his chest. He just wasn’t sure he had the guts to do it.

Under Duress- In the cage, Liam was unwillingly turned into an Omega via special pills that were outlawed decades ago. When he goes into heat, Cordell fears for his life and does what he thinks is necessary.

When It All Comes Crashing Down- The Walker family's initial reactions to Abby's collapse

A Special Dinner- Cordell is making a special dinner for his and Emily's anniversary. If only she was coming…..

Behind Closed Doors- AU in which Emily groomed August and no one was the wiser, least of all Cordell. Cordell has to process what his wife did to his son under his nose and August has to accept what happened to him.

How We Get Here- In which Cassie figures out Cordell sent her on a wild goose chase and tracks the GPS on the impound vehicle to find him. She's not exactly happy to see him but they have bigger fish to fry at the moment.

Sweet Child of Mine- When Liam asks to go to the hospital for a checkup, Cordell agrees because he feels Off as well. Little does he know how serious his condition really is.

Parallels- Cordell Walker is finally home after being released by the FBI. His whole family is worried about him but he's a little more worried about August

Under Fire- Cassie and Cordell go down together in the line of duty and get a little too close to death for comfort. Here’s how everyone deals with it

Haunting Melodies- While working late at the Side Step, Cordell meets a lovely young woman named Lucia. They hit it off really well, but Cordell seems to be the only one who sees her.

Confidential Details- Julia is in town for a job. Cordell has some information that would be helpful. If only he could share….

Uninvited Guest- “Oh look who's girlfriend showed up to the crime scene before any other journalist did. Again.”

Wait For Me- Julia's work takes her all over the world at a moments' notice. Cordell just wishes he would have a little more heads' up.

Taking Breaks is Important- Julia is stressing over planning their honeymoon. Cordell uses creative methods to get her to take a break.

About A Boy- In which Cordell decided to be the older brother Kevin lost to the war

Daddy's Girl- Sometimes Cordell wonders if Sadie can suck cock as good as her dad used to

Unexpected- Cordell learns some new things during family movie night

Like a Phoenix, We Rise- Cordell and Hoyt have lived impossibly long lives over and over again. Cordell starts to get bored by the same old pattern and tries to live at least one lifetime with meaning. This ends up with him becoming a part of the Walker family, starting with Abigail in Independence all the way through Abeline and Bonham in modern day Austin. He knew falling in love was risky. He knew having kids was risky. He just wishes he knew how to make it all work after he lost the person that made it all worth it.

It'll Be Okay- Because there's no way that little trailer got pelted with bullets and the only thing that got hit was Cordell's hat

Devil on Your Shoulder- AU in which Hoyt was around during 1x18 and plays the devil on Cordell's shoulder

#walker #cordell walker #cordell walker day #walker fic #walker fanfic #masterlist #my fic #my writing

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erwinsvow · 3 years

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𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

summary: zeke knows it’s wrong. you know it’s wrong. yet something always brings you back to your step-dad when your mom’s not around.

warnings: step-cest, manipulation, infidelity, mommy issues, zeke is the devil incarnate and reader is an angel (figuratively.. for now), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, dacryphilia, daddy kink, praise kink, rough sex, creampie, you've been warned!

author's note: lord knows how long i've been thinking about this one. zeke fuckers, this one is for you. tagging @colossalnova ! hope everyone likes it!

“It must be so nice to have such a good daughter to take care of you,” Mr. Ksaver comments without a second thought, as you head towards the kitchen to get two cups of coffee for Zeke and his friend. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile as soon as you hear the words, delighted with the praise from someone so close to your step-father.

Zeke makes an effort to hide the smirk that comes to him so naturally, because if only Mr. Ksaver knew just how good of a daughter you were for him. But that’s a conversation for another day, he finally decides, turning back to his guest with a smile.

“Step-daughter,” he corrects with the most genuine look he can muster. He could fool a priest with that aura of ingenuity that he gives off without any effort, because after all, that’s how he had gotten you into this position in the first place.

Mr. Ksaver beams back at him, his close friend still completely in the dark.

“Oh, of course, but you two could fool anyone. Say, where’s your wife? I haven’t seen her in a while..” Tom trails off, and Zeke is glad for it. He doesn’t like talking about your mother, his new wife, if he can help it. Business trips and commitments at the salon kept much of her time occupied, leaving only brief interactions with you two, her so-called family. It didn’t take long for him to realize she had been this way most of your life, an absent parental figure since the departure of your father. As cruel as it was, he could easily see why you were the way you were.

Zeke thought you were a lot of things. Pretty was at the top of the list, along with innocent and insecure, but the biggest quality he could see in you, the one that just screamed out at him ever since that first time he had laid eyes on you, was people-pleaser.

It was so apparent in everything you did, from the modest way you dressed to the try-hard behavior you exhibited with teachers and your friends’ parents. He recognized quickly it was because your mother didn’t acknowledge any of it, not the dinners you made for the three of you or the sweet, thoughtful gifts and flowers on special occasions.

It was actually on Mother’s Day the previous year when he had been able to get you alone for the first time. The then-new Mrs. Yeager had booked a full day at the spa as a treat for herself, even though she barely had an ounce of motherly qualities in her body. She had tossed aside the bouquet you had gifted her with, skimmed the card with your sweet, handwritten note, and rolled her eyes at your own watery ones after seeing just how little she cared about this holiday that was meant for you both to celebrate.

After she had left, Zeke had knocked on your door tentatively. It was wrong of him to be as gleeful as he was on the inside, but he’d been waiting for a moment like this for the last several months. He even let twenty minutes pass before coming up to your room to make sure he would get you teary-eyed and upset, just how he wanted.

Any other girl might have told her new step-father to fuck right off, given that he had done nothing to defend you or ask your mother to be kinder towards you, but not you. Ever the people-pleaser, you wiped away your tears with the sleeves of the cardigan you’d been wearing all day, fixed yourself from the position you had been in while weeping on your bed, and told him to come in.

Zeke was fucked the minute he saw you sitting there, dressed purely like an angel in a sundress that had ridden up in your distress and with tear-lidden eyelashes blinking slowly at him. The redness of your nose and cheeks, mixed with how your hair was just a little messed up and your hiccuping whimpers painted an entirely different picture for him. At first, it had just been a game, just to see how long it would take him to seduce his new wife’s daughter, but now it was something else altogether.

But it’s the first sentence you say to him, alone in the house without your wretched mother for the first time, that breaks him.

“S-Sorry Zeke. I didn’t want to eat after that, but I can go get everything ready again for you.” For him. Your mother’s cold behavior had you crying your eyes out before noon, and yet you were still concerned about the lunch you had prepared and if he wanted to eat.

It made his heart burn in a lecherous way, with thoughts in his head about why he hadn’t married you instead of her.

“That’s okay, honey, don’t worry about me. I came to check up on you.” He’s holding up the facade well, he thinks, closing the door gently behind him and hearing the click of the latch. He’s only been in your room a handful of times, and for most of those occasions, you hadn’t been there, so he couldn’t act too comfortable. His eyes roamed around the space, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume that lingered on every object and shoving his hands into his pockets to seem as unassuming as possible.

You wipe away a stray tear, blinking quickly and looking back at him with big eyes. Damn your eyes, honestly, because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against them, especially when they’re so watery like that.

“Check up on me?” you let out in a soft voice. It’s adorable, honestly, how you think your new step-father would be just like your mother and not care about you at all. You’re not used to this kind of affection from anyone besides your friends from school, and even they don’t know about the reality of your home life. You don’t know what it’s like to have a parent check up on you, to have them want to make sure you’re okay, and suddenly you can feel your face burning with heat at the realization that you and Zeke are all alone in your bedroom.

Zeke is handsome according to anyone’s standards, but for some reason, you can never tear your eyes away from him when he doesn’t know you’re looking. He’s old enough to be your father—your real father, that is—but that doesn’t stop you. You always find yourself staring at his golden locks that shine especially bright when he’s in the sun after his daily run, when you’re watering your garden and your mother isn’t home from work yet. Or when he’s just left the shower and every part of his body is dripping wet, walking back to his bedroom and you catch a glimpse through your open door.

It’s easy to think of him as off-limits, though, since you would never hurt your mother like that. She doesn’t show you affection, or care about you like how your friends’ mothers care for them, but she’s still your mom. Nothing would ever justify betraying her like this, by having these illicit thoughts about your step-father. So you make sure you stop staring, avoid being alone with him as much as you can and create excuses to get out of spending time with him, but you don’t think any of that is really working.

Because now, with Zeke in your bedroom and the sleeves of your cardigan wet with far too many tears, you don’t really care if this is wrong. All you care about is how Zeke is inching closer to your bed with every step.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I wanted to make sure you were okay after all that. It’s not easy, I know,” he says in such a soothing tone that you feel yourself getting lost in the daze of it.

“You know?” you question again, wondering if Zeke could really relate to you. You had always felt like such an outcast, the poor girl nobody loved or wanted, without any love in her life at all.

“Uh-huh, I know. I really hate that your mother won’t treat you better, but you know her, she’s not gonna change,” he watches your nodding face and resigned expression. “Can I-?” he motions to the space next to you on the bed.

“Oh, sure, please,” you say quickly, moving yourself over a bit and making room for him, dress exposing even more of the soft skin of your legs now. He tries not to stare, and every part of him wants to put a hand on your thigh and stroke softly, but he doesn’t want to scare you off. Not yet. He’ll take his time.

“Thank you for saying that.” Your voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.

“Of course. I mean, you are my daughter now, aren’t you?” He’s pushing his luck, but oh well. “I guess… it’s sort of my responsibility to take care of you, right?”

He sees your eyes widen a little, probably a million thoughts running through your little head. You’re so used to being alone, not having anyone’s affection, that a few simple words from Zeke have you fucked. Probably feeling the same way he is in this moment, eager and affectionate and ready. You find yourself nodding at his sweet words.

Any other day, you might have doubted the sincerity of what he was feeding you, but your mind was already a little fuzzy from the interaction with your mother. You still don’t know why you had gotten your hopes up so much, when it always led to disappointment in the end. You wish you could go back and warn yourself not to expect so much from your mother, who was almost as absent a parental figure as your father.

In that moment, Zeke’s kind words and welcoming arms didn’t seem so bad. You could only imagine that he felt the same way you did, as you doubted your mother was being a good wife to him from the interactions you observed.

“I…” you begin, but trail off when you notice the way Zeke’s eyes are looking at you. You almost instinctively lean back and away from him, like a lamb avoiding a predator, when you focus on how he’s much too close to you.

You’re entirely overwhelmed by his piercing, concerned gaze and the uncomfortable heat you feel between your thighs—your throat runs dry and you know it’s not from the crying. You think he must notice it too, with the way he leans forward, one more movement from him and you’d be trapped between Zeke’s broad figure and your bed.

He supposes that was the make-or-break moment in this little dalliance between you two. In that moment, had you been uncertain or asked him to leave, he would have listened to you and likely never bothered you again. All the same, he knew you wouldn’t.

You look back fondly on that Mother’s Day, the day you gave yourself over to Zeke without the slightest bit of regret. Your mother had returned home later that night, with nails and hair freshly done, acting as though there could have been no better way to spend Mother’s Day. She walked right past you sitting on the couch with Zeke, ignoring his tousled hair and your swollen lips.

Since then, it had been a fun sort of game. You felt guilty, of course, but nothing could compare to the thrill of the secret you had with Zeke, just for you two and no one else. He was more adventurous than you, always sneaking kisses and lingering touches when your mother was just a room away, fucking you roughly with a hand clasped over your mouth while she was on a conference call in her office down the hall.

Over time, you felt yourself becoming adventurous too. You had never done anything like this before, anything remotely bad or wrong, and it was safe to say that you were sinking further and further into the pit of corruption that Zeke had created.

Which is how you ended up here today.

You brought back two steaming cups of coffee on a platter to the living room, setting them down and mixing in cream and sugar for Zeke’s. You hand the cup to him with a sweet smile, and he takes a sip contentedly.

“Just perfect, like always.” The praise makes you smile widely, cheeks feeling warm despite the fact that you had a guest.

“How do you take your coffee, Mr. Ksaver?” you ask politely, as the elderly man laughs and takes the cup into his hand.

“Just plain black, thank you. I never had a taste for sweet things, like Zeke does.” If only he knew.

You smile again and bid goodbye, taking the tray with you as you leave and heading back to your room. You knew Zeke would be up as soon as he was done, since your mother was still out and you had precious time together, all alone.

As soon as you heard the front door close, and the sound of ignition starting from outside your window, you were alert. You could hear Zeke’s footsteps coming up the staircase, eagerly anticipating him this time.

He doesn’t knock anymore, letting himself in and closing the door gently behind him, as always. You hear the lock click quietly.

“Daddy,” you mumble from your place on your bed. You’re lying against the pillows now, fully on display for him in his favorite dress and already wet at the thought of what he would do to you once he got you alone.

“Yes, honey?” He says, in a tone that’s sincere and mocking at the same time. He’s still by the door, not coming in further like you want him to. He wants you to use your words.

“You said once we were alone..”

“Once we were alone, what? That I’d play with you?” You nod dumbly at his words. He inches closer to you, but still entirely too far away for your liking.

“I want you, Daddy. We only have a little bit before she gets back,” and you know you’re in for it now.

“Oh, is that so? We only have a little time?” Before you can process it, Zeke is hovering above you, a firm hand on your wetness teasing you and making you cry out at the sudden pressure. His hand moves slowly, just barely grazing your clothed clit and you whimper. “Let me tell you something, baby,” he whispers right next to your ear. “I’ll take as much time with you as I want, no matter who else is in this house. You got that?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words, knowing the effect they have on you and the uncomfortable wetness between your legs becoming even more prominent. You could swear that he can see how wet you are, even with your panties still on, and you desperately jerk up onto his hand to get some, any, contact.

“D-daddy, please! I-” you break off into another moan as he rubs your clit firmly. You’re not even sure when he took your panties off, but you can feel two of his fingers prodding at your slit, just waiting as he continues his work.

“Does that feel good, baby? Use your words,” he says, teasing you despite how badly you want him to stop and just be inside you already. Another strange feeling bubbles in your chest, knowing that your mother would be home soon and could be pulling into the driveway right now. You can hardly focus on those thoughts though, letting out a loud squeal when Zeke pushes two fingers into your soaking wetness, stopping at his knuckles.

“Oh god, Daddy, that feels so good, please, please keep going-” the rest of your words disappear as he pushes his thick fingers completely in, marveling at the way you’re so stretched out around them.

“Good girl, baby, you’re doing so well.” You keen at the praise, moaning loudly as he continues fingering you, scissoring his digits inside you and getting you prepared for his cock. He knows he’s on a time limit too, but he’ll be damned if he lets that rush him. No, he needs to take his time with you.

Every time he feels the tightness of your hole, it takes him back to that first time, and he refuses to hurry up.

His thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out quickly, filling the room with a lewd squelching noise, have you seeing stars before long. Every time Zeke touches you, you wonder how you went so long without it. Your own actions when you touch yourself are nothing compared to his anymore. He’s got you so dependent on him, so reliant that you barely want to cum by yourself anymore.

He slows his actions just for a second, just to pull down the front of your sundress and reveal your tits to him. Zeke increases his speed as he latches his mouth around your hardening nipple, flicking with his tongue and taking the pebbled bud between his teeth, tugging slightly and making you cry out as it suddenly becomes too much to handle.

You’re succumbing to the orgasm before you even know it, waves of pleasure washing over your body as the knot in your stomach finally releases and fills your core with heat.

“Good girl, baby, cum for Daddy now,” he says from his place on your chest.

“Daddy! Daddy, I-! Oh!” You know how pathetic you must sound, screaming and moaning helplessly as Zeke doesn’t let up on his actions. You finally put your hand on top of his and make him look up, into your eyes, and press his lips to yours.

A sloppy, hot kiss in the aftermath of your orgasm has you shaking under his grip, entire body feeling hot and sweaty. He pushes his fingers, slick with your wetness, to your lips and you open without any request for him, sucking and rolling your tongue over the digits until they’re all clean.

“Good girl,” he breathes into your neck, whether he places more sloppy kisses. “You ready for Daddy to fuck you?”

You nod meekly, moaning loudly as you feel Zeke align himself with your slit, and letting out a high-pitched squeal when he pushes himself into you entirely. You choke on your breath at the sudden feeling of fullness, completely ignoring the way Zeke’s focus seems to be on something else.

Perfect timing, he thinks to himself, hearing the car pull into the driveway and knowing his dear wife had arrived home. He was too deep inside of you to care, though.

Zeke pulled his hips back slowly, wanting you to feel every inch of him, and then slammed them down harshly. For every motion of his hips, you released a loud, obscene moan, babbling on without making any sense at all as Zeke fucked you.

All you could process were Zeke’s reassuring praises, calling you a good girl as he continued at a brutal pace, fucking you so hard you couldn’t figure out where you stopped and he began.

He picked up the pace and the angle of his cock stretched you out so perfectly, he was hitting against your clit with every thrust and you could swear you were seeing stars again, so close to the edge and screaming out for him, when he clasps a hand over your mouth quickly.

You reacted with a jolt, unsure of why he suddenly silenced you when he placed a kiss right next to your ear, whispering quietly.

“Looks like she’s home. Be quiet for Daddy, okay, baby?” Your eyes widen in panic, flustered with shame and another feeling you can’t put together when Zeke goes back to his quick pace, fucking you rapidly and giving your clit the contact you so desperately needed. You cum again with a stifled, broken noise leaving your mouth and your body jerking up against his, the hand that wasn’t covering your mouth holding you down in place. You feel yourself clench down on his cock, as he rides you through it, thrusting in and out and doing nothing to stop the vulgar noises that fill the room.

You can hear it now—the steps of your mother coming into the house, and probably up the stairs to her office soon enough. Your heavy breathing coupled with Zeke’s grunts are the only sound left as his hips stutter and you feel hot ropes of cum shoot inside you, filling you up. Zeke finally comes to a halt, pressing a kiss to your lips as you hear your mother walk right outside your door, talking to someone on the phone.

Your panicked eyes meet his perfectly calm ones, a devilish smirk playing at his lips as you hear the steps halt and then continue again, walking by your room as though you didn’t even exist.

You release a sigh, Zeke pressing another kiss to you that you return eagerly.

“Good girl. Now clean up while Daddy goes and deals with her.”

You feel suddenly emptier, lighter as Zeke lifts his weight off of you and adjusts his clothes. You sit back up slowly, careful to not make an even bigger mess and ruin your dress, as Zeke grabs your panties off the floor and hands them to you with a smile. You pull them up, fixing your dress and realizing that you need to run a brush through your hair before you see your mother again.

Zeke unlocks the door and leaves with one last smile gracing his face, as you sit up and feel remnants of your encounter inside you.

Moments later, your mother walks by and glances at your open door, which was locked before. She pushes it open, taking a look at you on the bed. You’re certain you look like a mess, hair disheveled and sweat on your body, with limbs feeling like jelly.

“Hi, mom,” you greet, with the most false enthusiasm you can muster. “What is it?” She looks at you coldly, almost as if she knew something was going on and couldn’t quite place it.

“Clean yourself up, honey, Uncle Eren is coming over for the weekend.”

#zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager smut #zeke yeager imagine #zeke x reader #zeke smut #zeke jaeger smut #zeke jaeger x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot smut #fics #tw stepcest

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

Note

If you’re still taking prompts:

“Keeping a secret from your best friend is difficult... but when that secret is that you're madly in love with her, it's downright impossible. At least that's what Cassian thought, until he was a little tipsy and sharing a sleeping bag with said best friend. (College, modern AU)”

With smut please?🧎🏾‍♀️🙏🏽👀🥺

Oh hey bestie! So I think maybe you had like after a college party in mind for this but I went a… different way. Also it’s only smut-adjacent because I think good smut requires a Drabble of its own I think I’m sorry. Hope you enjoy!!!

Camping.

Nesta had two weeks between the end of her internship and the beginning of her last year of college, and somehow, she let herself get dragged along on her sister’s annual camping trip.

Their whole friend group was weird and twisted around like Ivy vines with who was closest to who, who was related to who, who was dating who, who had slept with who’s father (looking at you MOR!), and Nesta tended to avoid the big group things.

But this was only Feyre, Rhys, Azriel, and the real reason she was there… Cassian. Fucking Cassian dragging her off into the woods.

Nesta loved her sisters. She did. She wouldn’t spend time with them and pretend she didn’t hate their boyfriends if she didn’t love them. (Pretending not to hate Rhys and Lucien, for Nesta, pretty much required the energy of a full time job.)

She loved her sisters. But she was there for Cassian. Because she liked Cassian. Genuinely and entirely liked him. Nesta Archeron liked another human being. They’d been best friends since eighth grade when he tried to ask her out on the swing set and she elbowed him in the jaw.

Saying yes to that middle school date would’ve been the worst mistake of her life. Because then she’d have had this short drama filled relationship with Cassian and she wouldn’t have gotten to keep him. And she really loved that she got to keep him. Even if sometimes she wished he’d been her first kiss instead of Tomas.

Anyway, when he said he was going on this camping trip Nesta realized she had to go too. Because there was no way she was spending her free time somewhere that he wasn’t. He was her person. The person she wanted to spend her free time with.

“Pathetic,” Cassian grinned, plucking the pack right off of her back as if it weighed no more than a purse. As if she hadn’t been struggling under its weight for the past 4 kilometres.

“I agreed to camping. I didn’t realize a 7 hour hike was involved to get to the damn place.”

“Two hours at most, sweetheart.” Nesta scowled, pretending, as she always did, to hate his little endearments. “And all of the best spots require a hike. Otherwise they’re overcrowded.”

“Maybe overcrowded is a good thing. Maybe overcrowded means loud and safe instead of offering ourselves up to be a bear buffet.”

“I’ll protect you from any bears, I promise, Nes.”

Nesta glared. “You’re going to fight off a bear if it tries to eat me?”

“Of course I am,” Cassian nodded. “These muscles aren’t just for show.”

Nesta laughed. “How sad I’m going to lose my best friend on this trip. Don’t worry I’ll come up with something nice for the tombstone. “Here lies Cassian. Tried to fight a bear so his muscles would have a purpose.”

“I take it back, you can get eaten by the bear.”

“I’m going to shove you in front of the bear.”

Their water break had landed then both a few hundred feet behind Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel, so Cassian kept hold of her backpack as they moved, teasing her that he was still faster with two packs than she was with none.

When they arrived at the little clearing Nesta had to admit it was beautiful. Serene. A big patch of grass surrounded by trees with a stunning view over the mountains from a clearing just a few feet away.

“Worth the hike?” Cassian asked as he set up their tent. That was the deal. If Nesta was going to camp then he had to do all of the work. Because she didn’t know how to do it. Also he had to share his tent with her because seriously? Why would she own a tent? She wasn’t a damn mountain man.

“It is really pretty.”

“I told you you’d like camping, Nesta!” Feyre called out from over fifty feet away where Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta all banded together to force her and Rhys to put their tent. Far away from the other two. Nesta was so not sleeping on the ground AND listening to her little sister have sex all night.

“Cassian?” Consciousness pulled lightly through Cassian’s sleepy mind. “Cass? CASS!” He shot bolt upright, body instinctively turning to Nesta, looking her over, checking her for injuries or any other thing that might have her yelling his name into the pitch black tent.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Cassian laughed. It was probably 3am and she’d just woken him up, and still he was laughing. Man he had it bad.

“What’s up, buttercup?” He made a show of flipping around to face her even though he couldn’t really see her.

“I’m freezing.”

As his eyes adjusted, Cassian looked her over with a frown. She was bundled up in her sleeping bag, wearing his sweater… which he hadn’t given her, but he had discarded in between them before he went to sleep so that was fair game he guessed. It was far from the first time in over a decade of friendship that she’d stolen his sweater, but man… it still did something to him.

“Your sleeping bag isn’t made for below freezing temperatures, is it?”

Nesta stared at him. Blinked. “No. Why would it have to be? It’s August!”

“It’s colder up in the mountains,” Cassian explained. “Especially over night.”

“Great. I’ve been brought into the mountains to freeze to death and now Eris is going to win the gold medal for our year.”

Cassian laughed, “Well I can’t allow that. The horror.” This was probably a bad idea. No it was definitely a bad idea, but the words couldn’t be stopped from leaving his mouth once they popped into his mind. “Come share mine.”

Cassian half unzipped his sleeping bag and made a show of shuffling himself over.

“You’re too big.” She said.

“Thanks I work out,” Nesta glared at his cocky smirk. “Come on Nes, it’s this or letting Eris win the gold medal.”

Nesta huffed, but unzipped her sleeping bag and crawled over to his, her legs were cool as they tangled with his in the tight sleeping bag. Cassian pulled her in, one arm wrapping instinctively around her shoulders to pull her against his chest, before he zipped the sleeping bag up again after her.

This had been such a bad idea. But what could he do? Let her freeze?

Cassian told Nesta everything, so it was already difficult enough to be keeping a secret from his best friend... but when that secret was that he had been madly in love with her since middle school, the situation became impossible. And pulling her perfect body tight up against his and wrapping her in his arms, hands moving up and down her shoulders quickly to try and warm her up, was not helping the situation.

“Thanks,” Nesta murmured sleepily. “I’m already a lot more comfortable.”

Me too, Cassian thought but would never say.

“Hey Cass?” Nesta’s voice was teasing. “What do we do if you wake up with morning wood?”

Cassian chuckled into her hair, a little bit drunk on the familiar scent of rosehips and iron will.

“Then I guess we’ll finally have sex.” He deadpanned.

Nesta’s jaw dropped. Ok. Bad joke. “I’m not having sex with you for the first time in a tent Cassian!”

Now Cassian’s jaw dropped. That was her issue with his suggestion? “I… Nesta I was joking. But… the tent is the problem? The only problem?”

“Grow a pair!” Nesta batted at him with her hand, an impressive feat considering she was all but pinned between him and the sleeping bag. “I thought this was you finally making a move.”

Cassian stared down at her. It was pitch black, but even with just the shadowy outlines of her features, he could see her exact expression in his mind.

“I wouldn’t use you freezing as a ploy to make a move, Nesta.”

“And why not?” She humphed, “it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“It’s… coercive.”

“Do I look coerced to you, Cassian?” Nesta ran her foot up his bare calf and Cassian shuddered.

“I can’t have sex with you if you’re looking for a friends with benefits, Nes.” Nesta paused her movements. “I… fuck, our friendship means so much to me and I’m so afraid to fuck it up. And if we start having sex I won’t be able to handle it being just sex and you’ll start to resent me so we just… shouldn’t go there.”

Nesta’s arms wrapped around him now, struggling to span the full width of his chest. “And if it wasn’t just sex?”

“Please don’t fuck with me about this,” he whispered. Low and Ernest in a way he almost never was.

“What?”

“Dont joke about this if you’re playing around or I don’t… you have to know, Nes. You have to know how completely in love with you I am.”

“Yeah,” Nesta tucked her head under his chin. “I know. I’ve just been waiting for you to make a move.”

It was dark. Cassian could barely see her. But there, with his arms around his best friend in the world, sharing a sleeping bag to keep her warm, Cassian nudged her out of his chest and found her lips in the pitch black.

Why had he kept this secret for so long? Everything in the world was better when he was kissing his best friend.

#nessian #drabbles open #nesta archeron #acosf #nessian fanfiction #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar #feysand

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bizarrebaby · 3 years

Text

Untouched

Pairing: Pero Tovar/Virgin!Reader

Work Count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Pero spend your first night together, which is your first night with anyone.

Warnings: you guys have penis in vagina sex. Some descriptions/mentions of violence, reference to painful loss of virginity, but we all know Pero’s too good to do that to you

You were a walking contradiction. Nothing was more confusing or intriguing to Pero Tovar than how you managed to exist in these times.

When he’d been introduced to you (it was generous to call it an introduction, seeing as Tovar more or less refused to acknowledge you at the time) he saw you the way he saw most everyone: an annoyance at best, a punishment from god at worst. When he glanced at you, he saw just a little thing, a girl who ought to be at home, out of her depths.

He first beheld your beauty through a veil of bloodshed. On the battlefield you had no equal. People throughout his travels often equated grace to beauty, but in observing you, Pero found that simply wasn’t so. You did not dance with the blade, like twirled silk. What you did was not akin to dancing. It was heavy and destructive, you took to you enemies with the crushing force of a mortar and pestle. You wielded the heavy and challenging kanabo, the force of which caved armor and shattered bones, man and beast alike. When you swung the heavy bat, you looked as a healer pounding medicine. The force itself was destructive, but it was delivered with the righteousness of someone who was preserving life.

You could not always use the kanabo, and you most certainly could not spar with it, for your opponents would be crippled by even a sporting blow. So Tovar sometimes saw your prowess with the sword, the staff, anything nearby. You made many an arrogant man eat their words.

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of flowing locks and fair skin wrapped in silks. He saw sword-cut hair, an oversized tunic, the loosening laces on leather armor.

And beyond the fighting, you did not often make with revelry. Tense in the company of most others in your band of mercenaries, you kept away when they became excited. When you approached him, scowling as he wolfed down his food alone, he dreaded having to endure niceties, persuasions, and prattel from you, and had already decided to be as disagreeable as possible. To his utter surprise, you said nothing to him at all as you kept a couple of meters distance and ate your own meal. You did so day after day, and at first he had been paranoid that this was some plot at inching your way closer, that one day you would ruin this silence and reveal your true intentions. Until one night, Tovar found himself doing something unthinkable: initiating conversation. Or at least, speaking unprompted.

“You do not chatter like the others,” he stated almost mindlessly, not knowing what he was expecting by saying so.

“I try not to talk when I have nothing to say,” you admitted. You looked towards him, half illuminated by the distant, flickering fire.

He found himself studying every detail of your face from the corner of his eye. It was terrifying, for once wanting to observe and actually caring if he was noticed doing so.

“And,” you continued quietly, “they say you do not like to be disturbed.” That was a very kind way of rephrasing how he was often spoken of. In all likelihood, what you were actually told was probably more along the lines of ‘he’s a mean, miserable bastard who doesn’t like anyone’. Tovar didn’t know how he felt about your twisting such words into something that sounded… reasonable.

Understood.

“I don’t like being disturbed either.”

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of lip rouge and silent, unnoticed steps, or curled, dark lashes, of coquettish smirks. He thought of a split lip, and the uneven pace of worn leather kicking at stray pebbles, of tired eyes rubbed with the back of the hand after looking into the fire too long, of the struggle to hold back a wide-mouthed yawn.

Through a few well placed miracles and the incessant meddling of others (William) the two of you had ended up together. And this was when Pero discovered what a contradiction you were.

You knew death in every facet… except for la petite mort.

While other girls snuck off with their paramours in experimental forays of intimacy, you were studying the blade, the staff, the bow, the kusarigama. Raised by a father and uncles who loved you, but did not know how to raise a young lady. Only how to raise a fighter.

When you didn’t scare off any potential suitors, they certainly did.

While younger than Pero, you were still fully grown, and had yet to even kiss a man until Pero had claimed your lips in a passionate fury on the night of his confession.

Pero did not fancy himself a teacher, he saw himself as a taker, one with no patience for uncertainties and incompetence. But for you, he would be anything. And regardless of what he was, what you deserved was a gentle touch. Subtle, comforting, patient, and understanding.

All words that had never been used to describe him.

Over time, the kisses grew deeper, the touches flirted further beneath the clothes, until the night came where he held you against him in his bed, eyes begging for more as you looked to him for guidance. Never had he been so frightened at the thought of bedding a woman. He was a scoundrel with hands only fit for killing, and he was terrified of hurting you somehow.

But he’d be damned if anyone else took this honor.

With every piece of clothing he stripped your body of, you looked at him with such trust. He felt your heart beating in his rough palms, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. Never before had he been responsible for something so pure, so delicate. His relations before you were intimacies he had paid for in coin, encounters that didn’t require any gentleness on his part, where he cared little about any pleasure or pain besides his own. If he were to do one thing in his life with tact and delicacy, it would be this, he promised himself.

“Tell me again, hermosa, how many before me have seen this beautiful body?”

“N-none. You’re the first, Pero.”

He hums in satisfaction, running his hands up your stomach to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke over the hardening peaks, causing a hitch in your breath as you shudder.

“Oh, mi conejita, so sensitive,” he descends, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking almost harshly for just a moment before pulling away, admiring how your breast shines with his spit. You squeak out a shaking moan. “I wonder if you’re this sensitive everywhere else? Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words, feeling the urge to curl in on yourself and hide. But Pero keeps you bare to him as he lavishes eager attention on your breasts, enjoying the whines half-caught in your throat. By the time your nipples are perked and wet from Pero’s hot mouth, your blush has spread down to your collar. He pulls away slightly, gently guiding you to lay down. He takes your thighs in his strong hands and spreads them further apart. His thumbs spread your lips so get a good look at your pink, silky hole twitching with a need you’ve never known before.

Your breath hitches as one of his fingers traces along your sensitive lips, brushing against your clit briefly before beginning to sink into you slowly. He rocks it back and forth gently while admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelids flutter as you go between wanting to watch and being too bashful to. His thumb gently strokes your clit as he works to ease in another finger, and you tense harshly at the new intrusion. He leans down to press a few reassuring kisses against your neck.

“Relax, querida. Let me in.” He whispers, moving his lips to your mouth in an effort to distract you as he coaxes you open. His cock was heavy and hard against the laces of his trousers. You would see it soon, but Pero doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Not yet, anyways.

You breathe deeply in an attempt to relax your muscles as Pero’s fingers reach farther than yours ever could, and it feels as if he holds all of your bodily feelings in the palm of his hand. He continues to coo endearments against your neck to comfort you.

“Bueno, bueno… you’ve gotten nice and wet for me, cariño, so good for me,” a smirk spreads across his face as he feels you tighten with his words. “Oh, you like it when I talk, niña?” He teases, increasing the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the tight circles he’s rubbing into your clit on the verge of driving you mad.

He parts from your neck to take a look at your face in pleasure, and finds himself enraptured by the slight furrow of your brows and the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes the right part of your insides. Your quiet huffing and mewling, combined with the way your cunt is gripping at his fingers, has him more riled up than he’d like to admit.

“Pero, I-I I think I’m gonna cum,” you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He bristles with pride as your hips move to meet the palm of his hand while chasing the pleasure he gives you.

“Cum then, muñeca. Cum for me.”

The coil in your belly winds so tightly it snaps, and white hot pleasure floods your system. Pero groans as you cream on his fingers, feeling his cock throb harshly for the umpteenth time tonight. A tremor wracks your body as the mercenary continues rocking his fingers gently to help you ride out your climax. When they withdraw, he doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, much to your embarrassment. The sight of his tongue against your slick on his hand gives you… ideas. Ideas that will have to wait until another night, maybe.

He leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing you to sit up. He wants to see what else you’ve never done. Wants to know how curious you are.

Pero places one of your hands (which feel so small in his) against the tent in his pants, encouraging you to explore his body the way you’ve so graciously allowed him to explore yours. His tunic is already off, but of course, you’ve seen men shirtless before. His cock feels hot and hard through his trousers, and the apprehension is probably clear on your flustered face, but Tovar finds this entire situation incredibly arousing.

He’s no stranger to sex, but most of his previous sexual encounters had been paid for and, thusly, were with experienced (and sometimes jaded) partners. Though the size of his cock may have impressed a few, it had never been the first they’d seen, touched, or taken. This was different.

His eyes never leave your face as you bite your lip, occasionally looking to him for approval as you move to undo the laces on his trousers. His eyes are lidded and dark with desire, and a smile crosses his face, a little more genuine than the usual smirks he throws in your direction.

“Go on,” he urges, more gently than he knew himself capable. You finally slip down his waistband and smallclothes, and his cock lands heavy against his stomach as he reclines just slightly. You try to contain your startled gasp, attempting to seem less like the blushing virgin you clearly are. The way your lips part ever so slightly as you examine his red, leaking cock with nervous interest sends the mercenary reeling.

Pero almost takes your hesitance as fear, which he’s determined to quell, before you finally reach your hands out to run them along the hard length, drawing a ragged groan from him.

For a moment, Pero feels the strongest compulsion to take charge of you. To guide your head down and order you to get his cock nice and wet before he takes you, to see tears prick at your eyes while you struggle to take his cock in your little mouth.

But, somewhat regrettably, he remembers his first time with a woman well. He remembers the nerves burning against his skin like a thousand needles, the fear of performing well and doing things he’d never even imagined doing. He can only imagine that fear to be tenfold for a girl. You’ve spent years in the company of brash mercenaries, uncouth enough that they brag of their rough, bruising conquests. He knows the type. And what women you do meet often speak of intimacy with dread, or reflect on the pain of their first times.

You are one of the few things in Pero Tovar’s life that he has ever really cared for. And his greatest wish is to make you feel cared for. He has never known patience. But for you, he shall have it in spades. You’ll have plenty of time to play rough later. Or never, if that’s what you want.

Not to mention, he’s just about as hard as he’s ever been in his entire life, and he doubts he would last in your mouth, not with the passionate stare you’re giving him. You have, after all, always been a quick learner when it came to the sword. The way you start experimentally moving your hands along his cock confirm this, as he sighs in pleasure from the light pressure you’re giving him.

“This the first cock you’ve seen up close, hermosa?” you nod, and that teasing smile is once again set on his face. “What do you think of it?”

Your eyes widen just slightly at the question. He takes one of your hands and spits in it before letting you continue to stroke his cock, still patiently awaiting an answer.

“Are they all… like this?” Pero has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he wants you to say it.

“Like what, preciosa?”

“Big.”

He chuckles quietly before cupping your chin in his hand and bringing you towards him for another bout of fervent kisses. In these moments, and most others, he looks at you and sees everything he’s ever wanted. He presses his forehead to yours when he finally parts from your lips.

“No, amor, not all,” he pauses in thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. “Are you worried?”

“...Yes.” The mercenary appreciates your honesty. For your entire life, you have had to be brave. He doesn’t want you to have to be brave with him. He’s never been trusted with something as precious as you. He calls your name with the same softness he feels for you.

“I will never hurt you,” he promises. “And…” his need causes him to struggle with the next part. He’s still not used to being sensitive, not used to caring so much. “We do not have to do this.”

Pero can see the fire ignite in your eyes, that same passion he sees when you get up right after being knocked down.

“I want to, Pero, I want to. Will you take care of me?” his eyes have their own fire now. He guides you down onto your back once again and leans over you. His cock leaks against the soft skin of your belly as he kisses up your neck, sucking in marks as he goes.

“Forever,” he swears.

Pero hoists himself up to look into your eyes as his cock catches at your entrance for the first time. He pushes himself in just barely, giving you a little more each time as he shallowly rocks into you. He watches, feeling lovestruck, as your breasts rise and fall with each short breath you take as he eases himself deeper into your heat.

When Pero Tovar met you, he didn’t exactly respect you, but he wouldn’t have called you soft. You proved quickly that you were a better warrior than most men he’d met, and despite the roughness and inconveniences of mercenary life, you didn’t complain. In those early days, he’d have scarcely called you a woman at all.

But here you were beneath him, soft and warm, and everything he’d never imagined he could be trusted with. Long ago you reached your hands into his hardened chest, with all of its armor, and gripped his heart with all of the hope and reverence of a devout finding comfort in a rosary. The vice of your wet cunt on his cock was an extension of that. An inescapable binding that he had no desire to leave.

“You feel so good, querida, so tight and perfect against my cock.”

And so you pant, looking cherubic against the sheets with your splayed hair and flushed cheeks, lips plumped from Pero’s incessant kissing. The wet noises coming from between the two of you are obscene, and you love it.

“So good for me, amor, taking everything I have to give you.”

He wouldn’t last long. Not waiting as long as he has, not with you looking, sounding, and feeling the way you do. His thrusts aren’t punishing, but they sure as hell aren’t gentle, as he can only restrain himself from wrecking you for so long. And from the way he’s hitting that place inside that makes you sing, you won’t last either.

“Pero, I’m gonna— mmm I’m gonna cum again!” You keen, calling him back from his animalistic fervor. Pero stares into your eyes with a fire roaring behind his gaze.

“I want you to soak my cock, hermosa. Cum. Give me your pleasure, let me make you mine!”

“God— oh, fuck, I love you—“ you pant as he feels you clench deliciously around him. Any hope he had of holding on has fled now.

“Mi amor, let me cum in you, please, querida—“

“Please, do it Pero,”

You can feel the skin of his hips slap against yours as he pistons himself in and out of you, babbling about how beautiful you are and how good you feel until he can’t stand it anymore.

“Te amo, te amo, te amo!” He growls, ceasing his hips as he fills you with everything he has. You jolt at the sensation before relaxing again, his hot cum painting your walls. His elbows stop him from collapsing right onto you, but he can feel your breasts brush against his chest with every breath the both of you take.

He basks in this moment for a while longer before pulling himself out gently, resolving to clean the both of you properly later. Pero lets himself fall beside you in bed, still breathing a little heavily.

“Come here, querida.”

Pero stares at the ceiling as your weight comes to rest against his chest, warm in ways he cannot describe. The arm around you tightens, as if he wishes to pull you further into him.

“Are you… do you feel alright, mi amor? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Never, Pero. I feel wonderful. Was it ok? For you, I mean. I know I’m… you’re probably not used to being with someone so inexperienced,” you trail off, feeling palpably insecure. He gently puts his hand beneath your chin to coax you into looking up at him from his chest.

“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to be perfect for me, amor.”

Taglist:

Pedro Pascal: @auty-ren

From the preview post: @josepedropascal @tintinwrites @computeringturtle @kiwi-the-first

#nsft #writing #drabble #the great wall #pero tovar #pero x reader #pero tovar x reader #tovar x reader #tovar the great wall #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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keisurou · 3 years

Text

build it up

(ft. koutarou bokuto)

minors dni.

wc: 3.2k

Warnings: semi-public sex (in the locker room?), doggy style, mirror sex, mutual masturbation, blowjob, atsumu x kiyoomi ship, atsumu being a lil’ shit and drilling ideas into bo’s head, not edited.

So my friends and I were fangirling discussing and apparently personality-wise, I’m basically a mix of Akaashi and Kenma, and it kinda makes sense because my top two comfort characters are Kuroo and Bokuto. Anyways, this is just a lil’ thing I wanted to try out, and again, this is not edited (i did edit it, and then my laptop just DIED so now its all gone. *sobs*) - does anyone want to be a beta-reader?? Because I literally went on a road trip with my family and just typed this in the car the entire time while my brothers screamed nonsense bs next to me. Hmu if you’re actually interested :)

“Babe,” Bokuto murmurs into your neck, drawing out the word, his hair still damp and smoothed down from his shower not too long ago. You’re trying to focus on the pile of research assignments in front of you, but the way your fiance is rubbing circles on your back has you rereading the same sentence multiple times. “I heard something I wanna try,”

“Hmm?” You hum noncommittally, encouraging him to continue, but you don’t look away from the papers. He frowns, frustration clawing at his belly and lets out a small grunt as he paws at your thighs exposed by your silk pyjamas. When he doesn’t speak, you turn to him and run your fingers through his damp locks before ruffling them slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you tired? You have practice tomorrow morning, don’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, his gaze locked on your lips and the way your tongue peeks out ever so slightly to wet your bottom lip only for a second. Bokuto has been strung tight lately; he had just returned from a training camp after being away from you for an entire week. He had been so excited to come home to you; he missed your smiles, your soft agreements, the way you came apart and lost yourself under his touch. But instead, he came home to you fully decked out in your ‘no sex’ gear. That’s right, from the ten piles of papers you had to mark, and a brand new box of red felt tips, you were ready for five days of no sleep, no fun, and absolutely nothing frisky with Bokuto. Needless to say, he almost cried when he first stepped into the apartment.

But now, with only ten research papers left, you were practically finished. “Babe, let’s cuddle tonight,” You give him a look, and he deflates only a little before quickly adding, “I’ll be good, I swear,”

“Kou-kun,” you lean in and give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he’s so touch starved that he sits motionless, absorbing the way your lips brush against his skin for as long as he can. “You’re always good.” You move away, and he quickly grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “But if I finish up here today, I won’t be able to see you play tomorrow,”

He’s silent as he contemplates this and then promptly hooks a hand around your waist and pulls you to him. His lips slant over yours, and it only takes you a second to melt into the kiss, hands flying to the hem of his t-shirt to drag him closer. Your lips are warm, and he can taste the sweetness of cherries from the dizzying brush of your tongue. He leans back against the sofa, and you clamber onto his lap, your softness meeting the hard planes of his body as you kiss along the smooth column of his neck. There is nothing sexier than the way you press a kiss before nibbling along his jaw, and his hands automatically find their way under your sleep shirt to squeeze at a naked breast.

You let out a strangled moan and immediately press your body to his chest, halting his movements. Bokuto’s eyes widen as he tentatively brushes a thumb on the underside of your breast, only for you to shudder. “Koutarou, wait,” you pant softly, grabbing at his arm to pull it from your chest. “I’m really sensitive today, and it hurts if you squeeze too roughly,”

“Why?”

“I’m on my period,” you say simply, and he blurts out the first thing that pops into his head.

“So, no sex?”

You shake your head, and his erection throbs painfully in his shorts as it strains against the material, somehow understanding the situation but not exactly cooperating. You get up to clear the table, and when you stretch, he can clearly see the way your nipples poke through the flimsy fabric, almost as if begging for his attention. He’s up, wrapping his arms around your waist and breathing in the scent of your hair. “Can I massage them?”

You pause, and when you don’t respond for a few seconds, he cups one breast through the shirt, palming it softly until you melt under his touch. “O-Okay, but no sex,”

He murmurs out a thank you, his golden eyes sparkling, and he’s glad you don’t question his enthusiasm. Once in the shared bedroom, he strips your shirt off your body watches with hooded eyes as you crawl over to join him at the centre of the bed.

His fingers brush against a peaked nipple before slowly pushing down on the nub, and you let out a soft whine before cupping your other breast yourself, rotating the flesh in small circles.

Bokuto briefly wonders how long it could take to make you cum just from your tits, and he turns it into a personal mission for tonight. He pulls at the free nipple, and you gasp sharply. Your reaction brings a lazy grin on his face, and he brings you to sit on top of him, the outline of his erection pressing against your ass so he can feel at least some sort of friction. He swats your hand away and pulls a nipple into the heat of his mouth, suckling the flesh softly as your thighs tremble around his waist. The first contact of his teeth against your sensitive nipple has your breath hitching deliciously as you chant his name, and he does it again, wanting to commit the sound to memory.

“K-Koutarou, please. I’m going to-”

He switches to the other breast and bites down on the nipple without warning. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest as he soothes the abused skin with long strokes of his tongue. The way you pull at his hair sends sharp jolts of pain, and you realise that each time you tug at his locks, he puts his teeth to work.

You tug at his hair again, and he smiles as he bites down for a second. He takes satisfaction in the way you tremble and grind against him when he tugs at a hardened bud with his fingers, twisting and rolling the nub until it borders on pain and pleasure. He’s going to make you come like this even if he doesn’t get any sleep.

Minutes later, you tremble, your hands feebly pushing at Bokuto, and he leans back only slightly. He watches with wide eyes as you roll your hips, the movements unstable and shaky, almost frenzied. Your fingers squeeze at a breast and pull at the tip of the other, and you let out a breathy moan at the sharp streak of pain that quickly turns into pleasure. “K-Kou-kun. I’m s-so close. So close.” You whine out in both pleasure and frustration and reach for his hands so he can help you finish the job. “Please,”

You don’t notice the way Bokuto’s erection grows bigger from under you. He loves it when you beg for him like this, eyes glazed with lust without a care in the world except for how quickly you’ll come. It’s so intoxicating, and you look so desperate that he can’t help but want to tease you until you’re ruined. But tonight, there was no way; you wouldn’t be getting any help from him until he gets off on the image of you sobbing for his fingers and his tongue.

He watches as your eyes widen when you see him take out his cock and grip himself at the base. The tip is red and weeping, and when he smears the fluid all over the head, he’s delighted to see the way you lick your lips and lean forward, entranced. “What is it, puppy?” He purrs and grips himself at the base before moving up to the tip and coming back down again. The way your eyes follow the movement is incredibly sexy, but it’s the tremble in your lower lip that has him growing harder. “F-Fuck. Shit, you want my cock? I thought you said no sex.”

There’s a whine of frustration, and at this point, he can’t tell if it’s from you or him, but the way you rub your thighs together and tug at your nipples has him lifting his hips, craving the friction he can’t have. There are now tears in your eyes as you sniffle. For a fleeting moment, Bokuto considers sliding your underwear to the side; your period be damned, and fucking you into the mattress until the bedsheet is soaked with your tears. His cock twitches in agreement at the mental image, and a shudder goes down his spine.

Instead, he gives himself a few more rough strokes and closes his eyes, listening to your moans echo in the room before he groans, loud and low, as his release lands messily on the bedsheets.

Bokuto is restless at practice the morning after, and everyone knows this because his performance was downright terrible. On the rare occasions when he did score a point, there was no hey, hey, hey, no burst of confidence, no nothing.

There had been days on end where the team would have done anything short of murder to shut Bokuto up, but now that he had, they had no idea what to do. Well, except Atsumu, of course. The setter sauntered over, his lips stretched into a cocky smirk. “Bokkun, what are ya mopin’ about for? Did yer girlfriend leave ya all needy?”

Bokuto grumbled sourly at the blonde before promptly turning away. “I’m not moping.” And when Atsumu raises an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue, Bokuto only sighs and leans back on his elbows. Surprisingly, that’s all the setter needs to understand the situation and begins to laugh.

The entire situation is infuriatingly unfair, especially since it was, in fact, Atsumu who had drilled in the idea of having sex in semi-public places. Bokuto usually didn’t care to listen to the gossip of others much, unless it was related to volleyball or you. During the training camp, the blond setter had been describing how hot it was to do it in a semi-public place where there was a high chance of getting caught, much to Kiyoomi’s chagrin. Bokuto genuinely cannot bring himself to care because obviously sex feels good all the time, so why would doing it outside make it any different? Atsumu had just tutted when Bokuto explained this to him before asking him about you, and that definitely got his attention.

“Bokkun, do ya know what kinks yer girlfriend has?”

“She doesn’t have any,” Bokuto’s response had been immediate, and Atsumu just stared, wondering if the hyperactive male was just pulling his leg. But he wasn’t - Bokuto genuinely knew you didn’t have any because of course you would tell him as soon as you discovered one, right?

“She seriously never told ya?”

“Maybe she just doesn’t know.”

Atsumu had spluttered indignantly to his excuse, equal parts horrified and insulted that Bokuto could even think about suggesting such a thing.

Needless to say, ever since then, Bokuto has been trying to find out more of the things that make you tick in bed. He’d already found two last night, and his body was already tense, eager to find out more today. Especially since you said you’d be visiting after handing back all the papers to your students. They all wrapped up practice, with Meian giving Bokuto extra laps around the gym. By the time he had finished the required amount, Hinata and Meian were about to leave but had stopped to greet you for a few minutes. The sight of you leaning against the door, your lips pulled up into a soft smile filled him with restless energy and he took a swig of his water before making his way to you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” His voice booms, echoing off the walls and you swivel around to grin at him. There is a collective sigh of relief from the other members as they leave the court gym and he sees the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He practically sprints to you and pulls you into a bear hug. He knows he’s sweating and that he probably stinks, but that all takes a back seat as your arms come around to wrap around his waist as you breathe in the feel of him. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod and lean up, puckering your lips to give him a short kiss, and his heart squeezes before he leans down to meet your lips halfway. When you pull back, your face is flushed, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m all better today, we can go wherever you want and do whatever you feel like,”

His golden eyes glint dangerously under the low lighting of the hall, and you immediately know that you’re in trouble. “Now?”

He can see the way your breath hitches and throat constricts as you let out a little whimper. Your voice reaches a higher octave as you whisper out a “Now?” and he suddenly wishes that he could drag you to the locker room in front of everyone. He realises with a start that Atsumu had been right all along and expects the fact to rub him the wrong way, but the thought is pushed to the back as you let out a timid nod.

That’s all he needs. He drags you into the locker room, too impatient to bother with the intricacies of the lock. Everyone had gone home anyway, so what did it even matter? As soon as he sits down, you push his thighs apart and situation yourself between them. Your hands fly to the hem of his gym shorts as you gaze up at him, and the whisper of friction that your fingers provide already has his cock swelling in his boxers.

The first contact your tongue made with his cock has him hardening even further as he sinks his fingers into your hair. He can’t take his eyes off the way your hot tongue glides up the curve of his dick before swirling around the tip and-

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait, baby-Don’t-”

You take him into your mouth, one hand softly massaging his balls, and all the protests die in his throat almost instantly. He chokes at the sight of you on your knees and your pretty, pretty mouth stretched around his fat cock. There are tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggle to take him in any further, and there’s nothing in the word that could make him look away. He thrusts his hips up only slightly, taking you off guard and forcing more of his length into your mouth as you gag around his size.

You make a sound at the back of your throat as you drool around his cock, and it sends waves of vibrations throughout his length. Bokuto eases out of your mouth, and the stark coldness that hits the sensitive skin has him hardening even further. “You did so good, puppy,” he pants out his praise and comes up behind you before he pushes you forward so that you’re on your hands and knees. You’re such a pretty sight that he has to stop himself from entering you straight away. “Are you comfortable, babe? Think you can take it like this?”

You nod vigorously and hold his gaze through the mirror. The head of his cock is leaking and angry, and he’s half tempted to bury himself balls deep inside you without warning. But the moment he pushes the tip inside your wet heat, you arch your back, and his hips jerked forward, craving the way your slick walls spammed around his length.

“S-Shit—” Bokuto grits out, relishing the way the unmistakable sound of your arousal squelching around his cock echoes in the locker room. “God, you’re so fucking messy- baby, I can’t—” his words end on a whine and tries to push himself further inside you, his hands going to grip your hair to wrap it around his fingers.

There’s a low guttural moan from you, and when he looks up, his gut clenches at the sight of your thoroughly fucked face. He wants to commit it all to memory - the way your tongue lolls out while your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cry out for him because he’s the only one who can make you feel like this. He pulls at your hair slightly and immediately feels you clench around him.

He does it again, harder.

Your whimpers thunder in his ears, and he leans forward until he has you completely underneath him, chest grazing the back of your shoulders as he braces his entire weight on his arm. His tongue and teeth are relentless on the flushed tips of your ear, laving the sensitive skin before nipping it harshly as he thrusts into you. “You’re such a pretty puppy, aren’t you? Fucked dumb and drooling on my cock,”

You sob at this, your words slurring. “K-Kou, s’close—” His thrusts become short and fast, reaching deeper as your walls dragging along his cock deliciously. The way you’re needy heat is sucking him in leaves him breathless, his hips stuttering with effort as he struggles to go faster and faster and—

Your walls flutter around his girth, clenching down and squeezing so tightly that he can’t help but arch his back, hands gripping your hips to bring you closer, the curve of your ass flush against his abs. He ruts into you harshly, trying to fuck you through your orgasm, and it’s the loud slapping of skin on skin that mixes perfectly with your lewd keens that have his dick spasming and finally sends him over the edge.

For a moment, all he can hear are the heavy breathing as you both try to catch your breaths, skin slick and glistening with sweat, but then his ears perk up at the telltale whisper of footsteps shuffling. Somewhere, right outside the door, a broomstick topples over something, and he swears he can hear the hushed bickering of Atsumu and Kiyoomi.

Thank you for reading :)

Taglist: @lukehemmingsfan101 @the-actual-audrey @Dontmindme:) @potaytopothato @jadasz @momoraen (those in bold could not be tagged).

Click here for my taglist. If you would like to stop being on my taglist, please just send me a message.

#bokuto koutarou #bokuto #bokuto x you #bokuto x reader #bokuto x female #koutarou bokuto #bokuto smut #hq smut #hq x you #hq x reader #hq bokuto #haikyu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x you #hq x female reader

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