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[zibanejad]

TBR @ NYY 7.22.24

[kamaluhkhan]

LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to: 

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE! 

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later. 

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year. 

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER 

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy. 

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too. 

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow. 

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!” 

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis. 

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples. 

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!” 

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears. 

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond. 

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand. 

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it. 

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.” 

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.” 

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you. 

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke. 

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat. 

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly. 

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you. 

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface. 

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all. 

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father. 

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief. 

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes. 

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.” 

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze. 

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained. 

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up. 

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others. 

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways. 

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why. 

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s. 

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too. 

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars. 

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all. 

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely. 

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he���d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him. 

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you. 

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.” 

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you. 

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking. 

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed. 

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….” 

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time. 

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash. 

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully. 

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too. 

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together. 

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill. 

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise. 

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw. 

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves. 

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost. 

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly. 

it fell just as quickly. 

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others. 

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids. 

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow. 

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party. 

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun. 

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away. 

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.” 

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways. 

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy. 

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.” 

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.” 

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. 

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.” 

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart. 

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile. 

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way. 

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you. 

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit. 

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you. 

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased. 

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further. 

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.  

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin. 

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.” 

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?” 

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. 

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes. 

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner. 

so, it’s fine. 

this, this thing with eros, is fine. 

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.” 

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden. 

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin. 

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words. 

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not. 

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more. 

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger. 

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?” 

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.” 

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego. 

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face. 

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three. 

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers. 

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into. 

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while. 

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it. 

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies. 

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.” 

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over. 

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.” 

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really. 

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together. 

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too. 

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you. 

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief. 

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while. 

but that isn’t all. 

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat. 

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move. 

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS. 

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness. 

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night. 

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday. 

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on. 

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters. 

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.) 

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake. 

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how. 

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was. 

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder. 

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything. 

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same. 

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were. 

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out. 

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts. 

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship. 

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too. 

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”  

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army. 

and once it was all over? 

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood. 

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?” 

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience. 

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question. 

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though. 

by the end of august, you’d be gone too. 

now 

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.  

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water. 

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —" 

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.” 

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope. 

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

nothing.

[seaslugandscylla]

Some notes under the snacking issue of Sebastian post caused my brain to weeoweeo it way too much than I expected, so well here are the continuing of topic xd

Sorry it's an essay because I can't write succinctly

1. How did the evil corporation(insert it’s name please) feed?

As far as I’m concerned, the shady corpo experimented on him to check/make people to able to breathe under water. Keeping him alive was quite crucial to success so I think they would provided him with proper amount of of food or at least the full nutrient content preparation. However, it changed when his body started to rapidly mutate, grow and evolve into what he’s now. The vast increase in his need of food and the fact that the gills didn’t develop very well, due to the scientists not very smart move - mixing his DNA with atmospheric oxygen snake and whale, caused the team to shrink his portion and gave him bare minimum in form of drip-feed… Auch

2. How didn’t he die from literally any nutrient deficiency sickness?

As I said it before I do not know the lore very much only basis. So forgive if I mess up some facts about the events. Going back to topic, after the event of beating the life out of his guards/special troops everyone left the lab immediately. Leaving everything behind including the rations, which were sent there for the staff to eat, all kind of medicine - pills, drops, syrups, injections etc. and whatever crops left( no idea if in the game is any „farm” but the transport would be extremely expensive so I think they would love to slash costs especially when there are vertical farms which are efficient, cheap and easy to maintain and during evacuation they could simply destroy it if nothing like this exists there). He simply gain most of crucial elements via all those supplements. Especially via drips which are the least painful without activating all digestive track. I like to think the reason why his extra arm is in the bandages is the fact that he often injects himself with various needles and his veins are in horrible state. At some point point all these supplements will end and it won’t end well for him, but not yet. That’s solves a bit the issue of lack of scurvy, nyctalopia and any other issues alike. Here’s the misery fish and his banana bag of lovely Zn and vit C

3. Another snacking issue

He is in constant state of hunger. No escape from it. The small human stomach ruthlessly dictates the size of his next snack and for how long he cannot eat, because it’s full, but it’s better to have at least one full than none. That could cause another big issue which is connected with the unconditional reflex - food in mouth equals activiting the synthesis of digestive enzymes and HCl in both tracks at the same time. Both are connected to one nervous system and the information goes to both, no matter if only one should start working. Not good situation, one belly is digesting itself,easy way to get ulcers or esophagitis, which not only are extremely painful but also deadly especially in his case with no health care or even chance to get any. He had to figure it out quite quickly how to make his eating as harmless as it’s possible. The easiest way I think would be simply some herby stomach drop, the one which highers the ph and stops HCl from being created. But I fear it works on human part- So he had to create strict timetable - when he eats, when he takes drops, when he can eat again. To keep the snake stomach in check and never letting it be fully empty and miraculously avoid the sinister autodigestive ideas of snake element. So his best friend is a tiny bottle of disgusting drops from a nurse office

4. How not to starve to death with body like that?

Dense soup. Maximum proteins in the smallest velocity and in easy to consume and digest way. It passes both stomachs faster because tough long chains are already broken into smaller ones so it can be faster absorbed and used. It’s also very easy to make and can contain many ingredients giving the biggest diversity in one sip. Still starves because it’s not enough, but there is no better way :”)

And no he wouldn't threaten anyone that he would add them to his soup. He was a human and he exactly knows there are too many weird fellas out there. No way he'll risk getting new traumatic event, he won't take it anymore-

The last thing is this two sentences:

Honestly I wasn't prepared to read something like this with straight face at 6AM. It wasn't in my weekly bingo card, but jup it made my day, thanks

[pwettybbybunny]

E-Whore (GN! Lewd Streamer Reader x HSR men with lewd intentions

Veritas Ratio | Sunday | Blade | Jing Yuan (different scenarios for each men ♡)

Kinda degrading terms used for reader simply because he would do it canonically, and i have a humiliation kink

Being a Trailblazer is amazing, but since it technically made you jobless, you needed some way to fund your shopping sprees when you visit new planets, so while some of your crewmates resort to farming calyx, you chose the easy way.

You had a hot body and you knew how to use it, making you an instant hit on the streaming site, moreover, as the site connected to servers in multiple galaxies, the chances of anyone you knew or will meet in real life knowing your side hustle are slim enough to never happen, right?

Wrong.

Despite Dr Ratio being a man of virtue and self-righteousness, he still has his moments where he is simply Veritas, a man with urges, annoying urges, and hormones that hinder his progress and goals, and despite him being able to overcome those distractions most days, today simply wasn't one of them.

So he reluctantly laid on his bed, putting up whatever porno that could get him going, till his eyes wandered out on the pesky ads flashing on the screen, beside the video he was jacking off to.

An ad for a streaming site, displaying a 'currently live' bouncy little thing stuffing their holes with a sizable vibrating dildo while making the cutest aroused faces as their body shuddered in pleasure. And out of character for him, his fingers automatically pressed on the link before his brain could even process it, as he got redirected to the streaming site.

Blink.

Blink.

"Ohh", he let out audibly, as he felt his dick twitch. It's you, the troublesome little trailblazer that was too foolish and defiant to hear out about their own stupidity, pouting and calling him pretentious (although that one was because of his mask), for when he told you 'how you're a hindrance for the work environment' when he first saw you in Herta's space station prancing around mindlessly, flirting and greeting the scientists during their working hours.

And now here you are, not only are you a pesky idiot, but also, a whore spreading their legs on camera for the whole world to see. But despite how low he thought of you, god did you look so good.

He let out low grunts, as he pumped the length of his shafts, pleased by the soft moans you were making on-screen, cute little whore, whining as a customer sent you a paid request to increase the vibration level, adoring the way your body shuddered.

So, stripping himself of his morals, he opened the token store, fingers moving as fast as possible to finish the payment as his fist was getting tainted by his precum as he sent you a tip, immediately hiking up to the stream's top donor, and despite him never consumed any lewd stream before the way your face lit up when you saw the big tip made him shiver in pleasure, ejaculating hard as you moaned out 'Ver' his username he put up in a hurry.

He laid there for a few minutes his mind hazy, and the post nut clarity hitting in hard, he really spent his money on an e-whore, him, the esteemed doctor ratio wasting his money just to hear you moan out his name.

And the worst of it was he knew he would do it again.

(Ps - He will call you whore or generally call your activities in private when he see you again irl)

[storiesfromafan]

Benny x Reader

A/N: first off, want to say this is my first time not only writing a Benny fic, but also writing something different to my usual stuff. So please be kind, as I am terrified to post this haha.

I have been thinking about this idea, and possible series, for over a week. So I finally bit the bullet and wrote out the first part. It's more of a set up for the reader, as I want to make this a series. As well, I left out places and such, but tried to do it in away that its not bad. Only because I'm from Australia and don't really know much with America, only what I've seen in movies and TV shows.

If it is not really liked, I will take it down. But if anyone is interested, I am happy to keep going. I have two more parts kind of planned out. But there is a few idea's I'm not 100% sure of. So if anyone want to talk Benny and these ideas, please message me.

Alright, I guess on to the story then...

“Tell me about the first time you met Benny?” Danny asked moving his microphone towards you.

You were sitting on your couch, lit smoke in hand. “Honestly, the first time I saw Benny, that was something. He saw me more then I really saw him”.

“What did he say to you? Or what did you say to him?” Danny asked adjusting the recorder.

You chuckled. “We never said anything to each other, well I said something but it wasn’t to him. You see I’d just gotten back from living with my Aunt for over three years. I’d gone to live with her when I was nineteen, prior to that for the last ten years the woman had been on my dads case. She believed a man couldn’t raise a girl. My old man wouldn’t listen to her. So I grew up a tomboy, eventually he entertained her request”.

You took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers, before releasing the smoke. “I can tell you living with that woman was torture. Along with her daughter, who had just gotten engaged when I arrived. They both took to teaching what is expected of a lady, how to dress, walk and talk. The only way I survived it was when I made friends with some locals there that raced motorcycles. When my Aunt found out, she flipped out, sent me back after I wouldn’t change my ways...”

~~~

How you managed to pack up three years in two large suitcases surprised you. But here they were, back in your old room on your families farm. The room looked just as you had left it, only a tad dusty from half assed cleaning courtesy of your dad and brother. Looking around brought back memories. Your best friend pushed past you and took a seat on your bed.

“Can see the males of the house don’t know how to clean properly” she commented running her hand over your bedding.

“Unfortunately not. If they did, along with being able to cook, then women would not be required” you laughed lifting and bringing a suitcase over, before dropping it on the bed.

“Agreed" she laughed with you.

You began to unpack the suitcase, which had mostly shoes, tops, bottoms, personal items. Once that one was done you removed it from its place before replacing it with the second suitcase. This one had a few more tops and bottoms, but mostly your dresses.

“Lilly, do you mind getting the dresses out and I will hang them up?” You asked her as you put away the last of your tops and bottoms.

“Sure” was her response before taking out the first dress and handing it out to you.

You thanked her while taking the garment from her hands, putting it on a hanger and then placing it in your closet. While doing this together Lilly filled you in on the town gossip, along with that of people you had gone to school with.

“You remember Anne, right?” – You nodded your head – “she has turned into a real Miss Prim and Proper! No doubt it’s her mummy’s doing, dolling up her daughter in hopes for her to catch a big fish!”

You laughed. “Really? You believe her mum would do that?”

Lilly gave you a pointed look. “Just about every girls mum wants her daughter to land the perfect catch. They practically raise girls to be perfect house wives. My mum done it with me, it’s only half stuck” she laughed pulling out another dress.

You felt a pain in your heart at your friends words, for you didn’t have the luxury of growing up with a mum. You only knew your mum till you were eight, before she died. You love your dad but you missed your mum, and all the stuff you missed out on learning from her. Thankfully Lilly’s mum was a great second mum, not to mention your Aunt when she would come and visit would also give you a little of what you missed out on.

Lilly sighed holding your dress to her body, “I’m so jealous of all the lovely dresses you have”.

You smiled softly. “They are nice, but not ideal for a farm”.

“Well of course not! But when we go to town or parties, they will be perfect! Maybe I could borrow one or two sometime, specially when I have a hot date” Lilly asked leaning toward you batting her eyelashes.

You laughed taking the dress. “Sure, but make sure they are cleaned before returning them. Don’t want any suspicious stains on them”.

She gave you a disgusted look retrieving another dress. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m a lady” Lilly proclaimed sweetly.

You laughed taking the dress from her hands, while she gave you an offender look before she in turn laughed, not hurt by anything you said or done. That was your friendship, completely open and honest. Since you were both children you got on like a house on fire. You told each other everything and not once judged each other. Lilly was the sister you never had.

Once you had finished unpacking that was when you heard the revs of a motorcycle. You looked to Lilly, just as she looked to you. Without saying anything the both of you left your room and headed outside, hearing the revs again you figured it was coming from the old barn away from the house. Both giggling at the intrigue, you both headed for the barn. You were the one to put your weight into opening one of the barn doors, wiping your hands on your jeans walking into the space, Lilly right behind you.

Before you was your older brother, Andy with a racing bike. He looked up when realizing he wasn’t alone, wiping his hand on an old rag. Once his eyes landed on you did he smile brightly before pocketing the rag and coming over to engulf you in a big hug, which lifted you off the ground.

You laughed. “What a great welcome home”.

Andy laughed swinging you around. “Welcome home kid. I’ve missed you!”

You hit his shoulder telling him to put you down, which he did reluctantly. “You saw me a few months ago”.

“Still missed you!” He laughed.

You shook your head at your older brother, before eyes going back to the racer. “Project of yours?” You asked as you walked toward the bike.

Both Andy and Lilly followed you. Andy took the place he had originally been when you entered the barn, while you moved to the other side of the bike, Lilly chose to stand back. You looked over the bike, admiring it’s beauty. Motorcycles was the one thing you and your brother had in common. It was a great way to bond together when you were a teenager.

“When did you start racing?” You asked running a hand over the bikes seat. “Does dad know?”

Andy rolled his eyes. “Yeah he knows. I’ve been racing on and off for seven or so months”.

“He has ever since joining the Vandals” added Lilly.

You looked to your friend before back to your brother with a raised eyebrow. “Really? The Vandals huh? When were you going to tell me, hmm?”

Picking up a tool, Andy went back to adjusting something on the bike that you couldn’t see while shrugging his shoulders. “Does it matter?”

“You usually tell me these things Andy, I feel hurt you didn’t mention it” you said with a touch of sadness. “And dads fine with it?”

He laughed. “Of course, he’s fine with it. Since he knows most of the guys in the club”.

You nodded. “Alright.”.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), Uncle Johnny keeps an eye out for his boys” Lilly spoke up, knowing you worried about your brother.

Yes, you recall Lilly mentioning her Uncle Johnny, and that you had met him a few times when he had stopped off at Lilly’s house, was the leader of The Vandals. He seemed like a nice man, always looking out for his family. You also recalled her mentioning the club, but you hadn’t been around when it turned into a riding club, just when it was in the early stages of a racing club.

After that you and Lilly chatted with Andy while he worked on the bike. The atmosphere had returned to a happy and fun one. You learnt about what had been going on with Andy and the farm, along with your dad, who you still hadn’t seen yet. You couldn’t wait to see your old man, you had seen him a few months back when you saw Andy, but you missed the time with him. You had missed both men in your life. But now you were back where you belonged.

“There” sighed Andy dropping the tool in his hand and turning the bike off, “I think that will do for now. Just have to test her”.

“Her?” Both you and Lilly questioned looking at Andy.

“Yeah, her” he replied moving to kick up the bikes kickstand and holding the bike up. “It’s been nothing but temperamental and trouble, just like a female”. His tone was teasing, telling you he was joking around.

“Sounds more like a male” retorted Lilly with a laugh.

Andy shot her a dark look before laughing himself. You shook your head laughing at the two of them. Eventually he admitted defeat when he and Lilly went back and forth a bit more.

Andy began to move the bike around and then out the barn door, both you and Lilly following behind him. Out in the sunlight you can see the bike better, watching as Andy gave it another look over. You stepped up to him and watch him. Once he was happy with the bike, Andy was about to get on when you stopped him.

“Could I give it ago?” You asked softly. You’d ridden bikes before when you were a teen. Plus when you were living with your Aunt, which may or may not have upset her.

He looked at you unsure. “I don’t know kid. She hasn’t gotten all the kinks worked out of her. I still have this issue with her taking off when you go up in gears, she just accelerates and can be hard to handle”.

You nodded but smiled. “I promise to be careful and not go too fast. Please, can I?” You gave him the biggest puppy dog eyes you could.

Andy wasn’t sure if he should let you, but Lilly came to your defense. “Come on Andy, you know she will be careful. It’s just a few laps, it won’t hurt”.

Reluctantly he agreed and you shot Lilly a big smile, which she returned. So with his consent, you grasped the handle before moving to swing your leg over the bike, and sat down taking hold of the other handle. Andy stepped up and walked you through starting her up, you knew what to do but let him instruct you. He went over everything; front brake lever, throttle, clutch lever, gearshift lever and rear brake pedal. With his instructions he stepped back from you and let you go.

You started out slow, going around in circles before both your brother and friend. Lilly was cheering you on, which made you laugh. Gradually you picked up the speed and at Andy’s words, you did wider laps.

“You look so cool!” Called Lilly. Which you rolled your eyes at.

“Alright kid” Andy called. “Why don’t you take her back up behind the barn, then down toward the house and then turn right to take the long way back to the barn, get her speed up a bit more”.

You nodded giving him a solute, which made Lilly laugh and your brother call out for you to keep your hands on the handlebars. You did as he instructed before turning around and riding up behind the barn. As you looped back around you revved up the bike, and as you straightened up and headed for the house, you shifted the gears. Unfortunately the little issue your brother warned you about decided to come forth as you gained speed. The bike jerked with the acceleration, you held onto the handlebars tightly doing everything to keep the bike in check.

Andy noticed the change in your body and figured out what had happened, panic setting in he began calling out to you. He couldn’t do much more than that. He prayed you could handle the bike, and didn’t want to think of what could happen to you.

All the while before you had gotten on the bike, none of you were aware that your dad had returned home. Along with him were two men from The Vandals, the older male had dark hair while the younger dirty blonde hair, with stubble to match. They were discussing some business before heading around to the back of the house, when they all caught the sounds of a bike.

“Take it Andy’s working on his racer” the older male commented to your dad.

He laughed. “Yeah, the boys determined to smoke the competition Johnny”.

Johnny laughed. “He’s a good kid and rider, no doubt he will beat them”.

The Three started to make their way around to behind the house. They all looked up to the barn to see the bike take off up behind the old building. Your dad noticed two figures standing by the barn, one looked to be Andy, which confused the man. He wondered who was on the bike then. That was when the bike came back into view, heading towards the house. The shouting from the barn caught everyone’s attention, worry setting into your dad.

You had been so focused on staying in control of the bike you hadn’t noticed the three figures walking into your path until last minute. Upon seeing them you quickly dropped the gears on the bike before hitting the back brakes. With the light weight of the bike you managed to turn it right, planting your right foot to the ground and pulling off a slide stop. Dirt kicked up at your manoeuvre, you sat there a little stunned as the bike idled away.

You blinked a few times before turning to look at the males before you. But mostly to your dad, who looked just as stunned as you.

“Ah, hi dad” you said slowly. “Didn’t know you were home”.

He looked at you, to the bike you sat on and then back to you. “What are you doing?! You shouldn’t be riding that!”

You flinched at his slightly raised voice. “I was testing the bike for Andy...”

He shook his head. “Did he tell you about the issue it has with acceleration?” – You nodded – “and he still let you ride it!?”

“Well I promised to be careful” you replied.

Your old man shook his head. “You shouldn’t haven’t gotten on it (Y/N), what if you had crashed! Turn it off and get off it, now!”

“But I didn’t crash, I think I handled her pretty well” you defended as you turned off the bike before getting off it.

By this time both Andy and Lilly had jogged down to the scene. Your dad turned and began to have words with your brother, while he took the bike from you.

“Seriously Andy, I thought you’d know better than to let anyone on that bike before getting it sorted out” he said with a deep sigh.

Andy looked down while apologizing.

“It’s not all his fault, I wanted to ride it” you came to your brothers defense.

“Yes, well I’m disappointed in both of you. What if something had happened to you? Your brother would have to live with that” he guilt tripped you.

“I am sorry dad. But I kinda knew what I was doing...” you said softly not looking at the man before you.

That was when you noticed the other two on lookers. Suddenly you felt embarrassed that both of them were witnessing you and your brother getting a scolding.

While from the time you had stopped and until you finally noticed them, the younger of the two males had been looking at you. He was surprised when you had slid stopped the bike you were on. It had been like an Angel had slid before him. He was impressed by how you had not only handled the bike, but also your dad. But found you cute when you got embarrassed by him and Johnny. He could tell there was more to you, and it was fascinating.

Before you could really take in the two Vandals, your dad sighed once more. “Andy, take the bike back to the barn. (Y/N), go back into the house with Lilly”.

Lilly walked up to you and linked arms with you and began to pull you to the house, reluctantly you let her do so. All the while Lilly softly comment on the events. But before disappearing into the house, you watched your brother push his bike back up to the barn, then you looked to your dad and the older male watching your brother. Looking to the younger Vandal you saw him looking at you, and not to were the other two beside him was looking. But then Lilly pulled you into the house, severing eye contact to the young Vandal.

“What was that Fred?” Johnny finally questioned.

Your dad sighed. “That was my daughter. She got back today from her Aunts”.

Johnny whistled. “Might have your hands full with that one. But I will admit, that stop was impressive”.

Fred shook his head. “Don’t let her hear that. Don’t want to encourage her” he laughed darkly. “Come on, the sheds this way”.

Your dad started to walk again, while the other males followed. Johnny continued to ask about you, which your dad filled in. He said how he’d lost your mum when you were eight. How he did his best to raise you, all the while his sister-in-law kept hassling him about letting her take you in and raise you.

“The old battle-axe didn’t think I could raise a girl” Fred said with a sigh. “She was kinda right. I raised a tomboy”.

Johnny laughed while the other male smiled. “Nothin’ wrong with that” comment Johnny.

“I agree” said Fred, “but (Y/N) missed out on a lot not having a mum around. Thankfully Lilly's mum was there when it came to female things”.

Johnny nodded before following Fred into the shed. The younger male decided to wait outside, which was fine with the pair. Walking over to a fence before the shed, the young male lent back on the post, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. Taking out a cigarette, he pocketed the packet and pulled out his lighter. With the cigarette between his lips he sparked the lighter and lit it. Taking the first drag he put away the lighter, eyes looking back at your house as he released the smoke into the air.

Honestly, he can say he had never seen a female ride a bike before. Usually the females that were around The Vandals were always on the back of one. So seeing you handle that bike like you had was not only impressive but also a turn on. He hoped to cross paths with you again sometime soon.

Johnny came out of the shed with Fred. “Come on Benny, were done here”.

Moving from the fence post, Benny followed both men back to the front of the house and where their bikes were. Once on their bikes, they both started them up. They sat there for a few minutes, which allowed Benny a few more drags from his smoke before tossing it off to the side. He and Johnny began to move their bikes back to turn around, when Benny got a glance of both you and Lilly by the window. With a small smile, they both took off, heading back into town and to the bar.

~~~

“As I said, it was something. Me embarrassed by my old man having words with me. I didn’t really take Benny in at the time” you stated putting out your cigarette.

“You said Benny noticed you more?” Danny asked checking his recorder.

“Yeah, he told me so later on. He’d call me his Angel on wheels” you laughed.

“So the next time you saw Benny, you finally spoke to each other?”

You laughed more at his words. “Unfortunately, no. We might have if the time was right. But that second time I saw Benny, I really saw him...”

A/N: please don't hate me for this lol. I am also sorry for the use of (Y/N).

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’d Break the Back of Love for You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (No France)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), sexual situations

Summary: You have some serious appreciation for Daryl’s shoulders.

A/N: As you should, reader. As you should.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“How long will you be gone?” You asked before popping a strawberry into your mouth. Daryl had brought them home upon his return only two days prior. You didn’t ask where he found them and he didn’t offer, but he wasn't banged up so he likely didn’t risk life and limb for them. Well, anymore than he always did by going outside the safety of the Commonwealth. 

He was already gathering supplies to head out again after a broadcast that Eugene had picked up on the radio. There wasn’t much to it. Just a couple of scrambled words and a lot of static. Not enough, in your opinion, for Daryl to run out and risk himself. 

The archer gave you a quick look, a corner of his mouth tugging upward when he noticed the plate of strawberries by your hip. “Few days maybe.” He answered, wrapping some bread and grabbing a couple of refilled bottles of water. He placed the items next to his shirt, on the counter you were currently calling a seat. 

When he scratched at his chin, your eyes followed his movements but lingered once he had dropped his hand and moved on with packing. His goatee was more of a starter beard these days, no time for trimming. It didn’t bother you. The salt-n-pepper hair felt good when scratching against the right patches of skin. 

There were so many things about your archer that you could admire in that regard all day if you ever had the chance. 

The obvious one being his cock. You couldn’t say it was the biggest you’d ever seen but it was definitely to be admired. The first time, back on the Greene farm, he’d pushed into you and you’d nearly came from the stretch alone. It wasn’t just about size though. The man knew how to use it to make you come apart over and over. It always made you want to giggle when you would think back to how socially stunted he had been one day and then the next, he was fucking you stupid over Hershel’s porch railing. 

His hair was so long now, the waves taking off a few inches. It was well onto his back when wet. You could still remember when it was barely over his eyes. You had loved it then too. But now, when you would bathe together, you’d have him sit in front of you so you could wash it for him. You’d always end up playing with it; braiding it or carding your fingers through it. However, the best thing was how it clung to his face and neck when he was sweaty after a thorough fucking. You’d push it off of his face, letting your fingers catch on the tangles as you kissed him. 

His hands were so much bigger than yours. On the few lazy mornings you were granted, when Carol would get the kids to school for you, you’d just lie there and hold your hands together. With your palm flat against his, he could bend his fingers over the tops of your own. It was easy to imagine his thick fingers inside of you. He had sent you tumbling into oblivion plenty of times with only one curling within your walls. Those hands didn’t just hold weapons; they worked magic, too. 

But it was the man’s shoulders that did you in. All that lean muscle that contracted and moved as he lifted and tugged at things to pack. You’d never admit it, but the nights alone in his absence, it was the thought of your legs over those broad shoulders and his face buried in your cunt that brought you to completion over and over. 

You really needed to hide any of his shirts that weren’t tank tops. 

Who would’ve thought that out of any part of that man, the one that would make you almost instantly wet was his “shoulders—”

“What?” 

You shook your head and looked around a bit wildly until you found his gaze and locked on. “Hmm?” 

“What ‘bout my shoulders?” He asked as you lifted another strawberry toward your lips. His question had you fumbling the fruit, catching it at the last second before it could fall to the floor. 

You laughed nervously. “Shoulders? What? I didn’t say—” you stuffed the entire berry into your mouth to stop your embarrassing rambling. Hopefully, he’d just let it go and keep packing. 

That hope went careening out the window when he looked down at his right shoulder and then back at you, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. 

“Nah, ya definitely said somethin’ ‘bout shoulders.” He sat the canteen he had been about to fill next to the sink and started walking toward you. “Still got my hearin’, Sunshine.”

You felt heat pooling in your cheeks and…other places when he leaned into your space, a hand braced on either side of your hips. The strawberry was swallowed down with an audible gulp. 

“I, uh, like your shoulders.” You whispered. Daryl laughed in the form of an exhale and leaned in closer, his lips coming to press against the side of your neck. Maintaining any sort of control was almost futile. “Daryl, you need to get packed.” You attempted to sway him but he simply hummed against your flesh. 

“Whatcha thinkin’, pretty girl?”

You groaned but leaned back your head to grant him more access. “A lot of things that are gonna make you late.” He didn’t respond to that. Not verbally. He grabbed your hips and pulled your body to the edge of the countertop, your groin coming into contact with the evidence of his own arousal. 

“You’re right.” He rasped against your collarbone. With one roll of his hips, you both gasped from the friction. “I guess I should be gettin’ on with packin’.” He rolled his hips again, growling against your jaw. “D’rather have those legs’a yours over these shoulders.”

You whimpered and squirmed against him, mewling when the rough fabric of his jeans grazed against your sensitive core through your thin sleep shorts and panties. That voice of his always made you putty in his hands. “I—please, Daryl.” 

“M’gonna give ya whatcha need, Sunshine.” He leaned back and tapped both of your biceps. “Up.” Your arms were immediately raised and your shirt pulled over and off. The cold air against your nipples had them hardening before Daryl could even touch you. 

Your small hands found his shoulders, gripping tight while he worshiped your breasts with mouth and hands. The skin of his palms was rough and calloused but that alone brought you so much pleasure. He cupped your left breast, kneading the soft mound and pinching your nipple while circling his tongue over its twin. You had never been so sensitive to a man’s touch in your life, but Daryl could play your body like an instrument. 

He pulled off of your breast with a wet pop and searched out your lips, his tongue pressing through to tangle with your own. 

“Lay back.” He ordered against your mouth. You did as you were told, only slightly embarrassed by how you knew your wetness was showing through your shorts. Of course, that was the first thing he noticed when he took a step back. “So wet for me an’ I’ve barely touched ya.” His thumb pressed into your clothed opening and trekked upward, earning a few panted moans and a raise of your hips. 

He continued past your pussy until he reached the waistband and turned his hand to dip his fingers underneath it. Joined by his other, he pulled your shorts and panties off in slow movements, letting them fall onto the floor. 

His large hands pressed into your inner thighs to open you up so wide that it bordered painful. All you could do was bite your lip and watch him. His tongue creeped across his bottom lip, and you shivered. 

“Prettiest pussy there ever was.” He commented absently, releasing one of your legs so he could slide his index finger up and down your slick lips. He was rewarded with a needy whine and the sight of you clenching around nothing. With a smirk, he moved his finger straight to his mouth, not pushing it past his lips until you opened your eyes. “Sweet lil’ thing too.”

“Daryl.” You whined. You both knew you weren’t above begging. It was only a matter of whether or not he wanted to hear it this time. 

“I gotcha, Sunshine. Gonna make ya feel real good, okay?”

You had zero doubt about that. 

“Sit up for me.” 

You planted your palms on the counter and came up to meet him, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to drag him in for a kiss. He chuckled, a sound you adored, and pulled away from you to sink to one knee. A sweet kiss was pressed into your left thigh and then he was looking up at you. Oh, you were burning that sight into your memory for later. He placed his hands beneath your knees and stilled, smirking. 

“You’re gonna need to hold on, pretty thing.”

You gave him a quizzical look but then he pulled you forward, his face diving into your waiting cunt as his hands quickly moved to your ass. You had just enough time to twist your fingers in his hair before he was rising from the floor. 

“Oh, fuck.” You yelped, not just at the sensation of his tongue breaching your opening, but also at being six feet off the ground. How the man knew where to walk was anyone’s guess but his steps were sure. Your back pressed against the wall beside the refrigerator, giving him a little leverage to really work at your pussy in earnest. 

The initial shock had worn off, now replaced by the sensations his mouth was causing and the absolute thrill of legitimately being perched on those fucking shoulders while he devoured you like a man starved. 

“Fuck, that feels good.” You praised, fisting one hand in his hair while the other came up to palm the wall beside your head. He knew exactly what he was doing in every sense at that moment. You could feel the tense muscle below your thighs. His tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. His nose rubbing against your rapidly swelling clit. His beard scraping your overheated flesh. 

A new wave of arousal seeped out of you and he groaned, happily lapping it up with sounds that definitely did not belong in a kitchen. The cord inside you was heating up, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, an absolutely delicious feeling of both tension and ecstasy building and yearning just below the skin. 

When he slid his tongue up through your wetness to flick at your clit, you almost couldn’t stand it; desperate to cum and hear him cooing praises after he drank every drop, but also wanting to savor the delectable journey toward an inevitable mind blowing orgasm that would likely leave you unable to speak anything but his name. 

“Fuck, oh, right there!” You slapped your palm once against the wall with a long, wanton moan. You wanted to grind against his face, aid in coaxing your high out of you, but he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. His grip on your ass tightened and he pressed face even closer to you, lips encircling your bundle of nerves to suck at it while his tongue worked it from inside his mouth. “Goddamn, Daryl! Fuck!”

He went back to kitten licks, tilting his head down so his nose continued to press at your pulsing nub while he slurped up any new arousal that had dripped out of your entrance.

He was killing you. And you loved it. 

Daryl Dixon may have been called many things in his life, but absolute destroyer of pussy needed to be added to that list. When he wasn’t sucking your ability to think right out of your clit, maybe you could remember to call him that in front of one of your friends. 

“Fuck.” You felt like you could almost cry, your orgasm not just creeping closer but sprinting. “Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna cum.” He gave your ass a hard squeeze, his way of demanding you let go. 

It was gradual, a pins and needles sensation that started from where his lips pulled tightly on your clit and spread out through your limbs, causing them to begin trembling. Then it was all at once, a wave of pleasure hit you so hard that you jerked and the back of your head hit the wall while your hands pulled roughly on his hair. There were a few moments unaccounted for, your vision overtaken by darkness and stars and the distant sounds of your own screams of his name. 

When you came back to yourself, your arms were dangling uselessly. You were panting while your body spasmed through the last pulses of your high. And Daryl was eagerly lapping up every drop. 

Once you were completely spent, you felt one of his large hands slid up to brace the small of your back while the other lifted one of your legs from his shoulder. He switched, gripping just above your hip on that side to keep you from falling while he moved your other leg. Then you were sliding down until he stopped you just in front of his face, his lips readily pressing against yours. 

You could taste yourself on his tongue, feel your own wetness smearing across your face from where it had gathered on his beard. The kiss itself was sweet and lazy and loving, whispered praises between each press of his lips. Your feet slowly touched the floor and his hands came up to cradle your face. 

You wanted to melt against him and beg him not to leave you. To clean you up and take you to bed so you could surprise you both by climbing above him and riding him until he filled you over and over. That fantasy had you reaching to cup him through his pants, feeling the straining hardness for only a moment before he gently grabbed your wrist. 

“Let’s take a bath an’ getcha cleaned up an’ ready for bed.”

You pulled back, frowning in confusion. “Don’t you have to leave?” You felt your heart spin when he gave you the sweetest smile; the one he gave to only you. 

“Nah, need to be here.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, one side and then the other, before gently cupping your chin and kissing you. “They can send someone else.”

“You mean it?” You asked, eyes sparkling with more hope than you meant to reveal. 

“Nah, lemme go an’ finish packin’.” He started to turn away but you caught one of those beautiful shoulders to easily spin him back to you. He deflected your attempt to smack him by ducking and hoisting you up over the very same shoulder you had grabbed. “You’re stuck with me.” 

“Oh, woe is me!” You laughed, kicking your legs to get out of his hold. You didn’t even remember you were still naked until he gave your ass a gentle smack as he walked up the stairs. Once at the top, you wiggled forward so you could reach and slap his ass one good time. “Hey, if that’s what happens when I say your shoulders are sexy, what would you do if I said you have a nice ass?” 

He barked out a laugh that you didn’t hear often enough and used the heel of his boot to kick the door closed. 

[tf2heritageposts]

i feel like making the sniper thing it’s own post so

when sniper’s parents found sniper as a baby after being jettisoned via his parents, they were around their early 30s. they were farmers, extremely poor ones at that, who mainly got their income selling their crops and meat (mostly meat) on the generational farm. sniper would go multiple years wearing shoes that were too small for him and dirty worn out shirts with holes in them. it didn’t help his ability to make friends in school so he spent most of his life making friends with the sheep, which he had the job of protecting from coyotes with the shotgun his father taught him to shoot.

as he got older, he realized his parents were getting too old to care for the farm anymore. they were on the tail end of becoming 60 and didn’t have any savings due to them trying to give mick the best life they could even at their own detriment. sniper heard around some shadier joints that becoming a hitman paid amazingly, and sniper figured since he was already (in his own words), a “lost cause” since he couldn’t afford college and had too poor of a gpa to go anywhere really, he should just bite the bullet so to speak and become a hitman to give his aging parents the best last few years he can have

his dad famously did not care for it, even though it did end up giving them a lot of money that sniper would send over anytime he got paid. his dad wanted him to just work on the farm like all of the men in his family before him did, but sniper knew he didn’t have much choice

once sniper got a job picked up with mann co, he sent over half of his paycheck every month to his parents. they had a tv for the first time ever, were able to finally buy new clothes and tools for the farm, and lived the most comfortable they had ever been. sniper didn’t get to hear it firsthand, but when they did end up passing, his father was very proud of him and his sniping

[svp3rrn0va]

A Night With the Sallows (NSFW)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow & F!MC

Summary: Your best friend Anne invites you to the cottage in Feldcroft for a long overdue sleepover while her uncle is away. You're excited at the prospect of spending quality time with your best friend and her twin brother who you've secretly pined over for years. You end up confiding in her about your feelings for Sebastian, which causes him to act a bit strange from that point on -- until the middle of the night.

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, fluff, creampie, public(?) intercourse, friends to lovers

Word Count: 4,973

I've legit been writing this one on and off for months lol I've had insane writer's block and also self-doubt cause I think my writing could be so much better, but here it is haha

(also I realized after posting that I messed up on the positions, during sexy time they are in one position then after they finish I describe Sebastian collapsing as if he was on top of her the whole time uhhh just ignore that that's just genuinely me forgetting and I'm too lazy to change LMFAO)

Hello,

I wanted to let you know my uncle Solomon will be away for the weekend, so I’d like to invite you to Feldcroft for a sleepover. I’ve really missed you this summer and I would love to see you!

Sincerely,

Anne

You were so excited you almost didn’t even send your owl back to inform Anne of your visit before heading to the Floo Flame. Of course Anne wouldn’t mind if you’d shown up without notice beforehand, but a response is always polite.

Anne was your best friend since your very first year at Hogwarts. Now you’re in your seventh year, and this happens to be the very first time you’ve been invited to her cottage. Her uncle has never been fond of her having visitors, and you were alright with that. You preferred to avoid him entirely, as he’d always been incredibly cold towards you, as he is with everyone. You never understood why he seemed to be so mad at the world.

As much as you were eager to spend the night with Anne, especially with no adult supervision (Because who wants that at 18?), you couldn’t deny you were highly anticipating spending a night with her brother Sebastian as well. You’ve known Sebastian as long as you’ve known Anne, and you know each other pretty well, but you’ve never been as close with him. However, your relationship is friendly and you are comfortable around one another.

But what he or Anne doesn’t know is you’ve been harbouring a massive crush on him for years. It started around fourth year when he’d hit puberty. His voice changed, he grew taller, and his face looked more mature. Although now, the three of you are 18, and he’s grown into a very, very, very handsome young man.

Sometimes you wondered if he could’ve ever reciprocated those feelings, and at times it seemed like maybe he did. You’d catch him giving a few too many glances in your direction, or getting quieter in your presence, like he was almost bashful. Although you chalked it up to delusion.

You sent back your owl informing Anne that you will be at the cottage in an hour’s time knowing Anne likes to keep it extra tidy so she’d have to do little to nothing to prepare for your arrival.

One hour later on the dot, you found yourself in Feldcroft walking up to the Sallow cottage. You almost hesitated with knocking as you thought you’d appear a little too eager being perfectly punctual, but you knocked on the door anyway.

You nearly felt like your lungs had collapsed when the door opened and you found Sebastian standing before you. You’d only seen him at the end of June and it was late August now, but he looked much more tan and his arms had noticeably grown muscle from his work on the farm.

“H-hello,” you stammered a bit pathetically.

“Welcome,” he replied, giving you a devilishly handsome smile. “Anne’s just in here baking some biscuits. Make yourself at home.”

Sebastian stepped aside and held out his arm to invite you inside. What a gentleman. Anne stood in the kitchen and she turned to see you, her face lighting up.

“Yay, you’re here!” She stepped away from the oven to approach you and engulf you in a big hug. “I’m so happy to see you. I know seventh year only starts in a couple of weeks but I couldn’t wait any longer!”

“Neither could I, I couldn’t say no! The biscuits smell delicious, by the way.”

“Thank you!” Anne squealed. “I wanted to be productive this summer, so I thought I’d take up baking. I’m quite good at it, actually.”

“She is,” Sebastian mumbled with a mouthful of apple pie.

Anne scoffed. “Sebastian, I told you that last slice was for her!”

His face dropped as he swallowed another bite. “Oh…”

“That’s alright,” you reassured with a laugh. “He deserves it, he looks like he’s done a lot of hard work recently.” You didn’t realize you had been staring and chewing your lip until you saw his cheeks turn a bright red.

“I suppose so,” Anne grumbled obliviously. “But I’ll have to bring you a pie when we go back to Hogwarts, and Sebastian will keep his claws away from it.”

Laughter filled the room from you and Anne as Sebastian rolled his eyes, but a smirk grew across his face. It was rare that you got to spend time with the two of them alone as you were often in a crowded castle, or in the Undercroft along with Ominis. Admittedly, you were really excited that Ominis wasn’t there. Nothing against him, but your heart raced at the fact that you’d ultimately get more attention from Sebastian than usual since he only had one other person to divide his attention towards rather than two.

Anne returned to the kitchen to continue on the biscuits, silence beginning to grow throughout the cottage. You found your gaze falling back onto Sebastian just as he traced his index finger along the plate, wiping up sauce from the pie. You felt vibrations course through your body as he put his finger into his mouth and licked it clean. Your neck cracked at how fast you whipped your head away once he made eye contact with you after that innocent but incredibly lewd action.

“So,” he piped up. “How was your summer? Get up to anything exciting?”

“N- not really,” you croaked, quickly clearing your throat in embarrassment after your voice cracked pathetically. “I’ve just been doing a lot of research for the career I want to get into once we graduate.”

His eyebrows raised. “Oh really? Have you decided on anything yet?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe. I suppose? I don’t really want to work for the Ministry. I want to do something more… more impactful. Something inspiring. Maybe teaching.”

“Teaching,” Sebastian smirked. “I always thought you’d get into something like that. It’s fitting for you.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” You asked, scratching your head.

He smiled again. “Good thing. I just mean you’re great with people.”

“Oh,” you replied softly. “Thank you.”

Your friendly conversation with Sebastian was interrupted by Anne sighing and mumbling in frustration from the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, Anne?” Asked Sebastian.

“I’ll be making beef stew for dinner tonight. I was just making sure that we had all the ingredients, but it turns out we don’t have the beef stock. I can’t make the stew without it,” she grumbled.

Sebastian stood up with a shrug. “Not to worry, I can take the floo over to Hogsmeade and pick some up. Gives you both time to catch up.”

“No, it’s fine. I can go get it for you as a thank you for cooking for us,” you offered.

Sebastian put a hand out to stop you. “No, you sit and relax. It won’t take me long at all. Besides, I’d like to stop at The Magic Neep anyway.”

“Lovely. Thank you, Sebastian,” Anne replied.

He grabbed his floo pouch and headed towards the front door. He turned back to you both with a smirk.

“Don’t have too much fun without me.” He winked, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

***

15 minutes had passed full of you and Anne gossiping about your summers. Granted Anne had much more to say. Feldcroft always felt so quiet when you were there, but as it turned out it had a lot of drama.

Just as you were getting ready to begin reminiscing about previous years at Hogwarts, you went silent when you saw Anne pull out a fresh can of beef stock.

“Isn’t that—“

“Yes, it is,” Anne interrupted. “I knew we had it the whole time. I just wanted an excuse to get Sebastian out of the house.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

“I just wanted some girl time,” she smiled. “I’ll just hide it so he doesn’t find it and think he wasted his time.”

Anne brought the can over to the China cabinet and hid it in a tall teapot, and you laughed.

“What? He isn’t going to think to look in there,” she chuckled.

She came and sat beside you in the lounge. You froze as you noticed her looking at you quite intensely, like she was hesitating to say something rather direct.

“Is- is everything alright?” You asked a bit nervously.

Anne scratched her chin and sighed. “Alright, I’ll admit it. I didn’t want Sebastian gone just for us to have girl time. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nodded slowly.

“Do you like Sebastian?” She asked bluntly.

You nearly felt the air escape your lungs, and you felt the only appropriate response was to play dumb.

“Of course I do.”

“No, I mean… do you like Sebastian?”

She saw right through it. You should have known. She knows you too well.

“How did you-“

“Aha! I knew it! You know you’re really not that discreet,” she gloated.

“If you did then why did you ask me?”

“I just wanted you to admit it,” she grinned. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. You’ve looked at him that way for a long time now, but today you’ve been very obvious about it.”

You felt your cheeks burning up. “I have, haven’t I?”

The two of you sat in silence for a bit. You were unsure what to say, and Anne felt guilty for putting you on the spot after noticing how shy you looked, and didn’t feel obliged to further pressure you.

“Are- are you… alright with it?” You asked quietly.

She gave you a reassuring smile. “Of course I am, don’t worry.” She put her hand on your shoulder, and you felt relieved. “You can’t help the way you feel, that’s alright. Just don’t fawn over him to me. That would be gross.”

The two of you laugh. You thought if anyone knew the way you felt about Sebastian, you were happy it was Anne.

“How long have you liked him?”

“Since fourth year.”

“Really? That long? Why haven’t you told him?”

“Are you joking?” You chuckled in disbelief. “It would be strange. We aren’t that close, and I’m sure he barely knows anything about me.”

“Are you joking?” Anne repeated. “You met Sebastian the same time you met me. Ominis might be his best friend, but we’ve all spent an incredible amount of time together. I guarantee you know a lot more about each other than you think you do. You are by no means strangers.”

You nodded. She was right. You’ve just always been too insecure to speak up.

“He asks about you, you know. Quite often, actually,” she admitted.

“Really?”

“Mhm. I have lots of friends at Hogwarts but he doesn’t ask about them nearly as much as you.”

The butterflies in your stomach were so intense you thought you’d cough one up.

“I just-“ You twiddled your thumbs as you found the words to say. “I really admire the way he protects you, or protects anyone he loves. He’s not afraid to put himself in danger for anyone. He’s really ambitious, to a fault, really. But he’s so smart he’ll have no trouble achieving anything he wants to achieve. He’s so kind, and he genuinely has interest in what anyone has to say. But he’s also stubborn which can be really annoying. No one’s perfect, though.”

Anne smiled. “That sure does sound like him. I’m glad you see him that way, although I think he’s an utter knob.”

The both of you laughed. She was right, Sebastian can be an utter knob.

Just then, the door opened. Sebastian had returned with the beef stock in hand. You stopped laughing rather quickly, your shyness coming back round in an instant. Anne, however, remained completely natural, like your conversation hadn’t happened.

“Thank you very much, Seb,” Anne said, standing up to retrieve the can from Sebastian, which unbeknownst to him was not needed.

“What are you two giggling about?” He asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Anne lied. “Nothing a silly boy would understand.”

***

Dinner went by smoothly. The three of you laughed and reminisced together about times spent in the Undercroft as children. Anne was right, Sebastian did know a lot about you. He asked you about hobbies you used to be interested in, things you didn’t even remember being interested in.

“Do you still take up knitting these days?”

“Knitting? When was the last time you talked about knitting?” Anne asked with a laugh.

Not since third year, and you had only mentioned trying it out once. You were pretty astounded he managed to remember that, or even care. How much attention has he actually paid you? How were you not aware of that?

You also noticed that since he returned from Hogsmeade, he seemed to… look at you a lot more. In fact, he seemed to hardly be able to take his eyes off you. Did he know something?

That night, you found yourself tossing and turning when you tried to sleep. You considered that maybe it was because you were sleeping on the floor (and Anne had graciously offered that you sleep on her bed, which you refused since she went through the effort to make your meal) but you knew you were lying to yourself. You felt anxious, and you had regretted being so open to Anne about your feelings to Sebastian. What if she spilled the beans to Sebastian? What if he started avoiding you if he knew how you felt? You trusted Anne, you knew she would never tell other people your secrets, but you always tended to dwell on the worst possible scenario.

An hour later, you finally began to feel groggy, and the pit in your stomach started to fade away. You turned on your side and closed your eyes, grateful that Anne could somehow manage to make even sleeping on the floor so comfortable.

You felt yourself drifting off to sleep, your breathing getting slower and your thoughts becoming a jumbled mess as you were losing consciousness. However, you were suddenly pulled out of that sleepy state when you felt the blankets next to you shift. You ignored it at once, brushing it off as a hypnagogic hallucination.

No. The blankets were definitely being lifted, and you could feel someone else’s body warmth next to you. You slowly turned your head back, and your eyes were struggling to adjust in the darkness, but you could still make out the silhouette.

It was Sebastian.

Your mind began to race, and your thoughts started to scream at you. Is he sleepwalking? He has to be sleepwalking. Anne never mentioned Sebastian having a sleepwalking problem… maybe she didn’t know?

Sebastian didn’t seem to notice you had turned your head, so you slowly turned your head back and rested it back on your pillow, telling yourself that if he is sleepwalking you won’t bother to wake him up since it could be dangerous.

You almost passed away when you felt his fingers gently brush over your hair and pull it behind your ear. He must have felt your breath hitch, because you heard him gently whisper-

“Turn around.”

Obviously, you complied. Something in you told you that you’d regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t. You turned to face him, and your eyes had adjusted to the darkness better. Seeing his face this close had your mind whirling — he was so beautiful.

He brought his hand up to your lips and brushed his thumb across your bottom one, and you exhaled out of your mouth as he did so. His actions were so soft, but so seductive at the same time.

“What are you-“ You began to ask, but you were interrupted with Sebastian planting his lips on yours.

You wanted to moan, but you remembered Anne was just sleeping feet away from you both in her bed. The cottage had no doors, only curtains separating the space, so you had to stay as quiet as possible.

You’d only ever kissed one other boy before — Isaac Cooper. It was during a weekend in the library, and you were doing some extra research for an essay. You always preferred weekend studying because it was a lot more likely the library would be empty with most students enjoying their time outside the grounds. It wasn’t empty that time, however.

Isaac is a Quidditch player, a very popular one at that. He’s developed a massive ego from the constant praise and ogles from desperate girls, causing him to believe he can have anyone he wants.

You found yourself alone in the library with him, as he had been ordered to use his time on the weekends studying since all his focus on quidditch was causing his marks to drop.

He approached you with his typical cocky and obnoxious demeanor, and you made it very clear to him you were not interested, no matter how many shallow and demeaning compliments about your appearance he threw your way. Isaac thought he could change your mind, so he grabbed you and pulled you in for the sloppiest, most disgusting kiss known to man. His tongue flapped and licked all over your face like he didn’t know where your mouth was.

You shoved him off and he retreated rather quickly after you gave him a big, humbling slap to the face — not before calling you some unfriendly words first.

With that said, despite you not having much experience prior to this, you knew Sebastian was doing it right. It was like he had practiced kissing his entire life, or maybe he was simply born with the skill. You didn’t want to think about how many girls he’d possibly kissed before you.

His kiss was soft and tender, then it would evolve to be more passionate and desperate, then back to soft and tender. He was strategic with the use of his tongue, he didn’t use it too much or too little. It was just right.

“Seb…” you breathed as he pulled away from your mouth and pressed hungry kisses to your cheek, jaw, and neck.

He lifted himself off you, bringing a finger to his lips to silence you. You complied. After a few more kisses and sucks of your soft flesh that were sure to leave marks, he removed his mouth and you almost whimpered at the sudden loss of contact. Sebastian placed his hand on your shoulder and began to push. Not aggressively, but gently, as if he was guiding you. You turned your back to him once again.

Assuming that he wanted to spoon you, you scooted back, pressing your body up against his. Your eyes widened as you made contact with the unmistakable hardness in his pajama trousers. That’s when you felt his hand disappear under the blanket covering the two of you, and his fingers pinched on the bottom of your nightgown and began pulling it up.

You subconsciously reached down as well to attempt to grab the gown to prevent him from pulling it up any higher, but you stopped yourself. You wanted this, you’ve wanted this for years. No, you craved it.

Sebastian groaned quietly when he noticed you weren’t wearing any undergarments. You never wore them to sleep as you’ve always slept better that way. You gasped when his big hand grasped and squeezed your arse cheek. His hand slid lower and lower down to your kneecap. His fingers dipped in between your knees, lifting your top leg up and over him, resting it over top of his legs.

He began kissing the nape of your neck again and you shivered. His fingers rubbed up and down on your thigh before he slowly reached over you, his hand inching down closer and closer to your slick core.

He bent his other arm which was resting across the pillows, and brought a finger to your chin to turn your head to face him, where he began to kiss your lips again. Your eyes slammed shut and your mouth opened wide in the middle of the kiss when his finger pressed against your clit.

You bit down on your lip hard as Sebastian began to rub your clit gently. His slow circles along with his soft, wet lips pressing sweet kisses on your jaw felt heavenly. The pleasure was nearly making you forget Anne was sleeping just to the right of you both, so you had almost slipped up and made noise more than once.

“How’s that feel, baby?” He whispered, his breath hitting your ear sending goosebumps through your body.

Baby. That nickname alone nearly brought you to an orgasm and he’d only just started touching you.

“S-so good, fuck,” you choked.

You began rocking your hips as he rubbed faster, pressing your lower half back into his groin, a relieved sigh emitting from his lips.

“I want you to come, darling,” Sebastian purred. “Come for me.”

After those words left his mouth, his middle finger dipped into your slit, dragging across to collect all your juices before continuing to rub circles on your swollen nub.

“So fucking pretty, my baby.”

That was all it took, only the praise to send you over the edge. Sebastian softly chuckled in satisfaction in the nape of your neck as your legs began to shake. Your mouth opened and Sebastian’s hand quickly clasped over it to keep you quiet as you ran out your orgasm, his finger still rubbing your clit delicately as your pussy throbbed.

“Well done,” cooed Sebastian as he licked your mess clean off his finger, just like he did with the pie. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen.

Once you had recuperated, you thought it was over, but Sebastian’s boner was so evident you thought it unfair for these activities to end without him getting his share of pleasure as well. You were quite relieved when you felt Sebastian starting to shimmy his trousers down behind you.

You tried to lift your leg off him so it would be easier for him to do so, but he grabbed it to stop you.

“No, keep it there. It’ll be easier to fill you like this.”

Your heat began to burn once again at his dirty words, and they sounded even better in that sultry whisper.

“Don’t you want me to touch you?” You asked, a bit embarrassed at the slight desperation in your tone.

“Baby, I’m so hard I don’t need you to, I just want to be inside you,” he replied, gently moving some hair out of your face. “Remember to be quiet, alright?”

You nodded, and he gave you a sweet peck on the lips.

Sebastian rubbed his tip along your slit, lubricating it in your juices, and you clenched your fist against your pillow. He gave you chills as he placed a hand on your waist while he gently pushed into you.

You winced in pain as he filled you, your pussy still being too tight for him. He stopped quickly once he noticed your reaction.

“Are you alright, baby?” He asked calmly, running a hand through your hair. “Would you like to stop?”

“N-no, just keep going,” you said. “Let me get used to you.”

Sebastian continued to push his cock inside you, inching in as slow as possible to let you spread for him with little to no pain. You shivered once he was all the way inside you and his balls pressed against your ass.

He asked you if you were alright one more time to check on you, you nodded, and he began to gently rock his hips into you. With the position you were in he was able to hit you at an angle, perfectly rubbing against your G-spot. You felt tingles in your stomach with every thrust and you were seeing stars.

“Fuck….” he purred into your ear. Sebastian leaned in even closer to you, dragging his lip sensually along your along as he fucked you.

His arm snaked underneath yours, reaching around you to cup and massage your tit as he began to thrust into you even faster. He tried to avoid going all the way in as the sound of your skin slapping together could be enough to wake Anne, who was still sound asleep in her bed, none the wiser.

You admired his hand as it squeezed your breast– the way it flexed, how manly and veiny and how big it was. He could fit your entire breast in his hand.

“Merlin, I've fantasized about your pussy, feels even better than I imagined,” he whispered.

Your heart fluttered at his words. He has fantasized about you… you wondered if he'd done it as often as you have about him. He has no idea how many times you've gone to your dorm after spending time with him in the Undercroft, making sure the bedroom was empty before crawling into bed and petting your clit, filling yourself up with your fingers wishing it was his cock instead.

Now here you are, with his cock inside of you, and you realized just how useless your fingers had always been. They've never given you the satisfaction you needed, but Sebastian’s dick stimulated you in all the right ways that it didn't take long for you to approach your peak again.

“Sebastian, I'm gonna-”

“Me too, you feel so good I'm not going to last much longer,” he breathlessly replied.

He lowered himself down and pressed his soft lips against your nipple, swirling his tongue around the peak and sucking softly. That was it for you.

Your second orgasm approached rapidly, and it was so strong your brain went fuzzy. You clenched your legs around his waist and dug your nails into his back as your vision began to blur at the overwhelming pleasure.

“I-I love you,” you blurted unintentionally as you were fully lost in your release.

You bit down on your lip forcefully and held your breath, internally screaming at yourself not to make noise as the pleasure spread throughout your entire body.

As for Sebastian, your sudden admission was enough to bring him over the edge as well, along with your walls pulsing around his shaft. He could hardly hold his weight and practically collapsed on top of you as his cock spilled.

You let out a quivering sigh as you felt his warm load spray inside you while his length twitched between your legs.

The two of you lay there panting softly, chest to chest with Sebastian's head resting in the crook of your neck. 

Creak.

You both shot up at the speed of light, whipping your heads toward Anne, who was turning into her opposite side, still completely oblivious to the act you two had just committed practically right beside her. 

You both quietly chuckled and Sebastian returned to his position nuzzling your shoulder.

“I can't believe she slept through that, thank Merlin,” you whispered. “She'd probably kill us both, or die of horror. You should probably get back into your bed, Seb…. Seb?”

Somehow, in that brief moment, Sebastian managed to fall asleep. You considered waking him up, but he looked so peaceful, and you loved having him touch you like this. You let him sleep, and you used your free arm to stroke the back of his head. You couldn't fight the smile that spread across your face as you listened to his soft breathing as he slept.

You decided you'd just wake him up early so he could move back before Anne woke up. But that didn't happen.

“Ahem….”

The two of you were woken up the next morning to Anne standing above you both, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“Good morning,” she stated.

“Shit,” Sebastian grumbled.

“I don't know what happened in the middle of the night that led to this, and I don't think I want to know. Anyhow, I'm getting ready to make breakfast. How do you like your eggs?” She asked you.

“Erm, s-scrambled,” you answered shyly.

“Scrambled,” Anne chuckled, before muttering so softly you could barely hear her. “Something certainly was.”

She walked off towards the kitchen, and Sebastian ran a hand across his sleepy face and let out a small laugh. “She'll get over it. At least she didn't hear anything.”

“Right. But, um-” you hesitated, and Sebastian looked at you expectantly. “Why did you- I mean how did you know- what if I didn't want that?”

“Well, you did, we fucked.” You rolled your eyes as you elbowed him, and he laughed again. “I'm just teasing you, I didn't know. Well, I knew you had feelings for me. I heard you talking to Anne. I was listening at the door before I came in, when you were saying all those nice things about how I'm smart and protective and such.”

“Oh.” Your face began to burn with embarrassment, but it faded once he placed a finger over your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“It was really nice, thank you. I've felt the same way about you for ages, if that wasn't obvious by now. And I didn't know you'd want that by the way… I just knew if I didn't make a move last night I'd be too shy to later. But after we kissed, I just- I couldn't resist you.”

You smiled, and he gave you a soft peck on the lips.

“I'll help Anne set the table for breakfast,” you said as you began to get up.

“-by the way.”

You couldn't hear what he had said between Anne making noise in the kitchen and the ruffling of blankets as you rose. “What?”

“I said I love you too.”

[thoughtsfromlayla]

Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific. 

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined. 

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things. 

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts. 

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off. 

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it. 

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly. 

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world. 

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house. 

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile. 

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food. 

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it. 

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly. 

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move. 

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher. 

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead. 

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene. 

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again. 

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved. 

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you. 

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu. 

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream. 

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you. 

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by. 

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments. 

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat. 

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead. 

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket. 

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again. 

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?” 

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond. 

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose. 

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you. 

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow. 

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment. 

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens. 

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious. 

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing. 

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again. 

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city. 

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place. 

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor. 

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety. 

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion. 

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life. 

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread. 

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him. 

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude. 

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways. 

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then. 

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place. 

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.” 

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds. 

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card. 

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself. 

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection. 

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer. 

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile. 

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside. 

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval. 

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink. 

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along. 

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming. 

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions. 

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks. 

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t. 

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself. 

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room. 

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around. 

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway. 

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up. 

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks. 

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news. 

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove. 

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made. 

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself. 

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak. 

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh. 

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink. 

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie. 

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding. 

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body. 

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open. 

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake. 

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead. 

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body. 

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up. 

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again. 

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back. 

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign. 

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly. 

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth. 

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet. 

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here. 

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?” 

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water. 

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver” 

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control. 

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief. 

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going. 

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer. 

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words. 

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason. 

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense. 

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you. 

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream. 

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily. 

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks. 

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water. 

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake. 

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you. 

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him. 

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall. 

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream. 

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer. 

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life. 

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment. 

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine. 

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment. 

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.” 

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber. 

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers. 

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath. 

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?” 

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin. 

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh. 

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead. 

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger. 

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out. 

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave. 

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails. 

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together. 

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in. 

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter. 

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice. 

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside. 

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you. 

“Help me,” She pleads. 

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table. 

“Please.” She sobs again. 

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring. 

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago. 

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces. 

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her. 

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck. 

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again. 

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never… 

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five. 

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five. 

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you. 

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you. 

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent. 

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be. 

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face. 

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave. 

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder. 

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again. 

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean. 

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment. 

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here. 

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you. 

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium. 

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close. 

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!” 

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know. 

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood. 

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight. 

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand. 

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you. 

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver. 

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words. 

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage. 

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.” 

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand. 

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face. 

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade. 

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself. 

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile. 

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

[bvtbxtch]

Don't it Make You Feel | E.M x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: The state championships for the battle of the bands brings in new opportunities for your Fort Wayne band Head Case. Things flip on their head when you meet who you'll be competing against...

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Series Warnings: NSFW! Minors DNI!, Smut, Fluff, Angst (would it be a bvtbxtch fanfic without all three?), mentions of abusive relationships, p in v sex, oral sex, kissing, cuddling, violence, mention of drugs and alcohol, being drunk, romance under the influence. By clicking the read more, you are confirming you are over the age of 18!

Word Count: ~ 7250

Author's Note: Hello everyone! It has been a while since I have posted and I have taken a much needed little hiatus. I am so happy to be back and I have been cooking this fanfic for a while! I heard the song Don't It Make You Feel by Chilliwack and my brain kind of short circuited around how much I love this song, and the rest kind of fell into place!

The large van that you piled into was practically sparking with all of the energy radiating through it. You had taken this sleepy route several times before, the flatlands and farms seeming so miniscule now. You could all feel it. This was your break to get out of Northern Indiana and make a new life for yourselves, there was only one band that stood in the way. You clutched the flyer with your band and their band name in big font. The word final in the center of the page, in big block letters felt so - well, final. There was an urgency about them. You and the boys bounced down the highway in your guitarist’s beaten up, overfilled van. You had all made a mixtape for the adventure, and it sent you flying down the I-69. But none of you felt that you could get to the Whiskey Barrel Bar fast enough. You looked out the window and dreamed of singing in the luxe studio of Round Table Records, the radio signals buzzing in your brain. 

The sun was quickly setting, unlike your determination. The bar was dimly lit with whatever spotlights the dive bar could find. You unpacked your equipment and started your sound check, your heart dropping at every open door, anticipating the meeting between the band you were dueling. You knew that it would be a fierce fight, that if they wanted this even half of what you and the band did, you were going to have to bring your A game.

Your sound check went great, guitars wailing, kicks of the drums setting the pace of your own heartbeat. Your voice had the bar techs raising their eyebrows and bobbing their heads. If there weren’t any more unknowns, you would feel unstoppable; but the question marks over who this ‘Corroded Coffin’ was made you uneasy. 

The posse of bandmates found their way back to the greenroom - if you could call it that. You grabbed your fanny pack and pulled out a bright pink bullet of lipstick, your eyeliner pencil, and a lighter. You leaned into the dingy mirror as you warmed your eyeliner up over the lighter. You pressed the softening kohl to your waterline, smoking out your bright eyes.

“Hey doll, can I borrow that light?” Joey, your bassist, smiled with a cigarette pressed between his teeth. His large frame teetered over you as you leaned up to light his smoke. Suddenly, the door flew open and four mops of hair strutted into the room. 

“Well, well, well. Guess this is our fresh meat…” One man with luscious brown curls sneered. He was tall, pale, and covered with tattoos. His tone was ruthless, but there was a sparkle in his eyes. The rest of his gaggle followed behind him, snickering back at your band in the room. You grimaced at the attempt to intimidate and you rolled your eyes at Joey. He gave you a pat on the shoulder and turned to the man who invaded your space.

“You guys must be Corroded Coffin. I’m Joey, I’m bass.” He held out his hand for the man to shake  “That’s Owen. He’s on drums, and Dave and Jake over there are our guitars. This is-” Joey was cut off before you could step forward with a curt wave. 

“I don’t need to know who your roadie is, tool.” The man puffed his chest out and pressed into Joey’s outstretched hand. “Listen. We don’t need to know who you are, and you don’t need to know us. All you need to know is Corroded Coffin will be the band that kicks your sorry ass back to wherever you came from, got it?” His words shot through the room like knives, instantly raising the tension of everyone there. Joey backed off but you couldn’t help but snort at the mystery in front of you; suddenly all pairs of eyes in the room were on you. The dusty blond haired guy looked to his leader with worry, the larger man, with short curled hair shifted his eyes between their friendly looking fourth and the man squared up in front of your bassist. The last member of the band had a beautiful dark complexion and a friendly face - He looked like the least likely person in the room to want to start a fight. Joey retreated to the ripped leather couch the remaining three members of your band settled around. The man’s combat boots stomped closer to you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I asked for your opinion, babe.” He smelled intoxicatingly of whiskey, weed and smokey cologne. You bit your lip to prevent you from straight punching him in the face. “This is a band issue… why are you even back here? Don’t you have some beers to grab?” That was it. You pushed yourself away from the mirror and into the snarling man’s space. “This is our house, our rules. You’re lucky you’ve stayed back here so long.”

“Oh. I get it. You’re gonna go after the people you don’t even know to try and intimidate. Jeez guys” you turned to your boys staring helplessly at you, a silent plea to let it go. “Sounds like someone is trying to overcompensate for something.” You looked the man up and down, taking an extra moment at his hips. When you met back with his face, you could see bright red cheeks and a furious furrow in his fluffy brows. His breath was heavy, almost blowing the hair off your collar bone with how close the two of you were. Joey rose from his seat and took a few steps toward you, you waved him off and he froze in place.

“Now let’s get something straight. We have every right to be here. I have every right to be here. So are we gonna get along nicely, or keep huffing and puffing like oafs?” You looked past the blubbering man in front of you to the rest of his stunned bandmates. 

“Whatever.” The mess of hair turned to Joey. “Get your bitch under control.” His eyes bore into you. As angry as they were, there was a curiosity, and eagerness to know more about you. Before you could wind back to slap his smug face silly, Joey’s strong arms had grabbed your waist and pulled you back. Another shit eating grin came from the man donned in a battle jacket and tight ripped denim. He retreated back to his band on the side of the green room he had claimed as his. He couldn’t help, however, to glue his eyes to where Joey touched you. He soothingly rubbed up and down your arms and led you to the couch with a hand on your lower back. When you sat, he rubbed a hand on your knee. You caught his eye with an icy, daring stare. Before he had time to react, a large man in dark clothing burst into the room.

“Eddie, you guys are on.”

“Well, kids. I would say it’s been fun, but my Uncle told me it's a sin to lie so…” With a showboaty bow, this so-called Eddie bounced out of the room, followed by the rest of his bandmates.

“Come on,” you hopped up and checked your reflection one more time. “We should watch this”. With a groan and head shakes, the rest of your band followed suit. 

-

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Finale of this year’s Indiana Battle of the Bands!” the host boomed. “We are stoked to have the top two contenders in the state - our Southern finalists, Corroded Coffin,” the bar roared with applause. “And our Northern finalists, all the way from Fort Wayne, Head Case!” There was a polite enough applause for your band, but you knew you were the underdogs, away from home, and eager to win the house over. 

“These two bands will be competing for the grand prize of a recording session with Indianapolis’ very own Round Table Records to produce their very own song! They will also get to feature their song to a panel of Label Executives from around the country and get a segment on Q 95 FM!” Your heart pushed its beat into your throat. 

“Up first, we have Hawkins’ very own Corroded Coffin!” The host ran off the stage and the lights dimmed. You saw the shadowy figures of the boys you met in the dressing room slither onto the stage. The thrum of the bass and kick of the drums made vibrations run up your feet. The lights flickered on to reveal the arrogant sack of shit strumming his guitar like he was making love to it. The familiar riff of For Whom the Bell Tolls.

 You can’t deny, the man has charisma. He excites the crowd, feeds them what they want and then takes it away. He gets down on his knees and throws his shirt at the desperate girls waiting to get at him after the set. His glistening chest is as pale as his face, with galaxies of unreadable tattoos dance across his skin as he moves. His guitar is an extension of him, when he strikes chords, his whole body reacts. His eyes searched the small sea of people who have joined in the mosh and locked eyes with yours. He strutted his way to the other side of the stage where you and your bandmates stood, arms crossed over your chest. A few thrusts of his hips in your direction, as well as a tongue wag and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He laughed as he returned to his microphone to complete the chorus.

“Let’s go,” you whispered to Dave. “We gotta get ready to go up.”

You felt slightly humiliated going up after the tsunami of applause Corroded Coffin received. Luckily, Eddie and his gang jumped right off the stage to the bar, into the arms of waiting women and men wanting to buy them drinks. You didn’t have to deal with any last minute intimidation efforts. You locked in and hugged your boys as the host boomed over the mic. 

“And lastly, our finalists up north, give it up for Head Case!”

-

Eddie sat smug at the bar. Confident the four losers that he had seen in the green room were no match for the absolute sex Corroded Coffin just had with the audience. He turned his back to the stage and faced Gareth, Jeff and Doug with a smug grin, and signaled to the gruff looking barback to get them a round of beers; A celebration, albeit premature, they thought they all deserved. Their faces grew pale with shock, and Eddie choked on his mouthful of beer when your band played their first note. 

You stumbled over snakes of wires and to the dimmed front of the stage. The tech’s stood at the ready to light your bodies. Your sweaty hands gripped the microphone on its stand, emitting a small whine. You looked back and gave a jittery nod and with that, a flourish of drums started, you let out an excited yell into the microphone, the rest felt like a sweaty, loud, heart pumping blur.

Eddie spun wildly around in his seat when he heard you. His gaze transfixed in bewilderment on your figure positioned where he just was. You looked nervous, but still confident. How the fuck did you do that? He felt his face grow hot and the stares of Gareth, Jeff and Doug shifted between him and the stage. It took you to the chorus to really get comfortable, but the audience were still eating you up. You bent down and grabbed hands and sent winks and serenades throughout the crowd. He never won anyone over that easily. 

“If I didn’t know you better, Munson. I would say you’re getting jealous.” Jeff teased, with a pat on the shoulder. Eddie shluffed him off with a grunt and continued to loathingly watch you. 

“Fuck, she’s a natural…” Every ounce of post-gig confidence he had dissolved with Gareth’s comment. They were in trouble.

“Please,” Eddie turned back to the bar and stared into the bottom of his beer bottle. He gestured for one more. He turned back around, nursing his new beverage, to see you crawling on the floor, soaking up all the shouts and hollers everyone was giving you. Your hair had grown stringy, and your skin glowy with sweat. You hopped up off the floor and sauntered over to your bassist. Eddie snorted as you rolled your hips against his wide stance. You plucked at the chords he was to be playing. Eddie would never let someone - especially someone like you - touch his guitar. You were doing this all for show, to distract from…. Fuck, he couldn’t even say subpar music… He hated to admit it, but you were really good. He flipped his curly head back to the bartender.

“Two whiskeys, Del.” He winked. He gritted his teeth and muttered under his breath, “We’re gonna fucking need them.”

You were vibrating with adrenaline. The past 3 and a half minutes seemed to last for hours, and mere seconds at the same time. Your chest was heaving as your band shuttled each other off the stage. Electric current danced across your skin as you congratulated your bandmates and waited, in frazzled anticipation, for the MC to retake the stage. A manicured nail tapped you on the shoulder. You turned to see one of the barbacks with a tray of shots in her hand. 

“Courtesy of the boys at the bar” she purred. You peeked past the tattered excuse for a curtain that separated offstage from on, to see Eddie sprawled out on his barstool. He lifted his glass to you, shit eating grin never leaving his face. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your boys, who had happily accepted the shots, and picked your tiny glass off the woman’s tray. The amber liquid burned down your throat. You grimaced away the urge to spit the liquid back out and shot a wincing smile at Joey. He wrapped his arms around you with a giggle. Nothing could break your excitement - or so you thought. 

“Wow… quite the… show you put on out there.” Eddie’s sneering voice made yours and Joey's giggles mute. You broke away from his embrace. 

“Told you I wasn’t a groupie.” You challenged. Eddie couldn’t help but let his eyes rake over your glistening body. Your chest still heaved with excitement. The valley between your breasts shone with extra sweat, your tank top just hiding your bra from view. Your legs were elongated by the tattered shorts and combat boots you wore, tattoos littering your arms and thighs. He couldn’t help but wonder what other ink you had that he couldn’t see. He knew he wasn’t being discreet, but would only blame the beers and whiskeys he had already consumed. You flashed him a disgusted look, which brought him back down to reality. 

“Thought I would bring you one more consolation shot before we send your sorry asses back North.” Eddie’s chortle rattled in your chest. He shoved another small glass into your hands.

“Here’s to being the best frontmen of Indiana.” His eyes swallowed you whole as you rolled yours at him. 

“Whatever Eddie, you’re just being nice so it doesn’t hurt so bad when you lose.” You slammed the shot down and handed him back the empty glass. You whipped yourself back around to your waiting bandmates. Eddie stood dumbfounded, left to retreat to the other men standing behind him, donning matching faces. 

The speakers squealed and the crowds hushed as the MC took his place on stage. The only thing you could hear was your pounding heartbeat in your ears. The mic boomed the winners of the competition, then Head Case’s name was called and everything in your body went numb. The following moments will always be a blur - Ironically, they will be moments Eddie Munson will never forget. Your smile nearly split your face in half. The boys jumped around you and you all rushed the stage. Corroded Coffin clapped politely, but you could feel a shiver of cold run down your spine while Eddie directed his jealous energy solely on you. Joey grabbed your waist and brought you in for a chaste kiss on the cheek. You swore, even over all of the cheering, you could hear Eddie Munson scoff. You turned to him and your grin faltered slightly. You pushed yourself away from your boys and to the microphone perched on the stand. You grabbed the mic and cleared your raspy throat. 

“Thank you all, so much! But let’s give a hand to Corroded Coffin!” You looked over to the wings where the rival band stood in surprise. You waved them on with an encouraging flail of your hand. All of the boys shrugged and with a laugh took the stage - All but one…

Eddie took the stage like a man on a mission. His eyes were burning with rage. You and your band shook hands with the three members of Corroded Coffin. Eddie pushed his way up to you, and you stood almost chest to chest, his aura was intoxicating to you. You gulped, your throat suddenly dry. You flashed him a sorry smile and stuck your hand out. 

“Good job, Eddie. You guys sounded awesome.” Eddie’s face didn’t move. He stayed cold and his chest heaved. 

“You won this round, sweetheart. But let’s be honest here. You won’t last a second in the industry. You’ll have to do a lot of favors to get your music out there. Just like you did to score your musicians.” Your face bloomed bright red and your eyes glazed over. You wanted to run away, to leave the stage and sit in the back of the van and cry until you got home. But this was your win. This was your moment. You willed the tears back into your eyes, jutted your hand out towards his and stared straight into Eddie’s dark brown doe eyes.

“Anything else you wanna say, Eddie? Or can I go back to celebrating with my band now?” You stood, unmoving. It was his turn to turn red. His cheeks flushed pink and his eyes smoldered with loathing. He turned away from you, leaving your hand outstretched waiting to greet him. 

-

Eddie could barely look at you. Fuck, he didn’t even want to be in the goddamn building anymore - he heard the burly MC call your band’s name and not his and he just saw red. What, did you win because you were one of the only female-led acts in the whole competition? God, it had to have been. Fuck you and your charm and talent. It didn’t help that you were trying to be nice too. It would have been so much easier to hate you if you were just an asshole. But of course you weren’t. You were too nice for your own good, but you put him in his place. Your smile on the stage was as intoxicating as the shot he had just taken. Your smooth voice oozed charisma - it was sickly sweet and Eddie hated that he wanted to hear it in the confines of his own bedroom. He heard you get loud, but what your voice would sound like whispering in his ear, what your small moans would sound like as he - 

He needed to get out of here. This was all too much. Your stubbornness, your determination threw him. He was angry and he said things he immediately regretted because he was insecure.  He couldn’t be on stage with you, let alone act nicely to you. He made a beeline for the back door exit. The boys could celebrate without him. Eddie kept his head down, his mouth fumbling with the cigarette from behind his ear pressed between his lips. His head ran into a strong chest with an ‘oof’.

“Hey, what the fuck man. Watch where you’re going.”

“Rough night, Munson?” The smooth bass voice made Eddie swivel his head up in wonder. An older man, in his mid to late 50’s stood. His salt-and-pepper hair had been slicked back neatly. He had on an oversized leather blazer, matched with a dark t-shirt and dark cowboy boots. The man smelled of expensive Whiskey and money. Eddie straightened up and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and tucked it back behind his ear.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, don’t get your dick in a twist about it” The man chuckled. The force that stood before measly Eddie Munson was Richard Beaucanon - owner and operator of Round Table Records, the man who was supposed to make Corroded Coffin’s dreams come true. He had about half of the record execs and radio hosts on the East Coast in his pocket. He laid a large hand on Eddie’s shoulder and the boy flinched. 

“You can’t be leaving yet, your bandmates are gonna miss you.”

“No they won’t-”

“Are you seriously throwing a fucking temper tantrum because you didn’t win? Because a little girl went to shake your hand and didn’t take your shit?” Eddie was pinned under Richard’s gaze. He was stuck for words. Barely a squeak left his mouth before Richard continued on. “It would be too bad too. Because I was so impressed with the talent I saw today, I wanted to reward both bands with a little something. But I’m not going to do that with a partial band standing up on the stage. So quit your fucking moping because you got beat by some bitch and her pets from up north.” His words gave Eddie a nervous cramp in his stomach. He was quick to call you any name under the sun, but he felt an urge to protect you from the man’s words. Richard sent a hard slap to Eddie’s back and glided towards the backstage area. Eddie punched the concrete wall in front of him and headed to the dingy bar floor to meet back up with the rest of the band - who, unbeknownst to them, were in for a far bigger treat than getting a shoutout from some stupid band up north - led by some stupidly beautiful, kind, sharp girl. Fuck Head Case. 

You jumped off the stage with the rest of your band and Corroded Coffin, absolutely horrified from the encounter you and Eddie had on stage. You didn’t let anyone else in the band know the devastation that happened on stage between you and the other lead singer. Joey kissed the top of your head before heading towards the bar. You stopped to thank your ex-rivals-turned-friends. 

“We didn’t get to properly introduce ourselves on stage.” You shouted over the calamity of the bar. You introduced yourself with a handshake to the three boys standing in front of you with a chuckle. The blonde mop headed drummer came forward first. 

“I’m Gareth” he smiled at you. “This is Jeff, and Doug” you happily took their hands again, but pulled each of them into a hug. As you pulled away from Doug, you were met with the towering, lanky brunette, whose eyes were boring into you. 

“And, of course, you met Eddie.” Gareth offered coldly. 

“Sure did,” Eddie mumbled. “But I need to talk to my band though, so if you don’t mind-” Before Eddie could turn away you found the courage to confront him for his stunt on stage. It was now or never.

“What is your deal, Eddie? Are you that much of a fucking pussy that when you get beat you go all ‘I hate women’? That’s very elementary of you. It’s so interesting. I’ve read a lot about Corroded Coffin and you specifically. The whole ride down here, I was so nervous to meet you, to compete against you, but you’re not scary or intimidating. Hell, to have this much of an attitude, you have to be pretty fucking talented… and I don’t think you’re good enough for this ego you have.” Without letting Eddie speak, you turned on your heel back to the boys standing, slack jawed and left them with a sincere smile and an invitation to come grab shots with you any time. Eddie couldn’t help but watch your hips sway while you walked into the arms of your other bandmates. Fuck, he wanted to punch that Joey guy out. He handed you a shot, and Eddie could see the hunger in his eyes as he watched you tip your head back to shoot back the clear liquor that you were given. 

“Way to fucking go, Eddie.” Jeff hit his chest. It shook Eddie out of his trance and looked at his bandmates with fiery eyes. He changed the subject before he could think too much about how much of a dick he was.

“Yeah, way to go Eddie. Because guess who the fuck I ran into?” He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. The men looked at him quizzically. Before he could answer, the stage lights returned to highlight Richard Beaucanon on stage. Eddie shook his bandmates and pulled them towards the stage. Richard looked like a marble statue, strong, authoritative, exactly where he needed to be. Eddie quickly turned to sneak a peek at your surprised face. Your perfect lips were formed into an ‘oh’ and your eyes were bright. You knew who he was. 

“Sorry to interrupt the party, folks,” Richard’s voice soared through the venue. “But I have some things to announce. I’m Richard Beaucanon, the owner and founder of Round Table Records here in Indianapolis. I came down tonight because I happened to catch wind of these two talented bands through respective DJs in Hawkins and Fort Wayne. I think I can say for the whole room, we certainly got a great show tonight!” the crowd hollered. You clapped excitedly. Joey and Owen on either side of you, bumping shoulders and holding your hands. You never thought that the Richard Beaucanon would be here - hell even if you won, you doubted he would ever hear your band play. But there he was. “My sincerest congratulations to Head Case for their amazing performance tonight. But I want to congratulate Corroded Coffin as well.” You felt your heart sink to your feet. You were happy for all of the new friends you had made, but Eddie. How can someone so vile get rewarded for such shitty behavior? “I am signing Corroded Coffin to a 2 album deal, as well as the chance to work in the studio for a jam session with the industry’s hottest producers. We got some talent on our hands, y’all!”

You felt your body go numb for the second time tonight. You watched in frustration as the band took the stage to shake hands with the owner of your record label. You pulled yourself away from your bandmates and over to a lonely corner of the bar. You raised your hand for a shot of whatever the hell the bartender could get in your hand fast enough. You needed to think. You needed to think - or maybe not think. The only thing you could think of is numbing this confusion. You sat and ordered two more before Joey came to your side. 

“What you doing, honey? We should be celebrating together!” He squeezed your thigh and his touch felt like poison. You crossed your leg over the other to pull his hand off of yours. 

“I just feel like we were bulldozed. Like what’s the point if we both won? Where’s our special treatment? This feels a lot like home field advantage.” You scowled into your empty shot glass. You raised your hand for another, but Joey signaled to the bartender to cut you off. You whined at him. He got off the stool and spun you towards his body. He also reeked of alcohol - as he should - you thought - they have a right to celebrate; they weren’t the ones that were bullied by a man that’s now getting everything he wanted. Joey’s hands rested on your shoulders. 

“Come on, babe, this is supposed to be our night!” You shrugged Joey off.

“I know, Joe. I just need some time alone to process.” He sighed, disappointed that you weren’t entertaining his advances.

“And that Eddie-”

“Nevermind about him,” you snapped at the man in front of you, mouth shut in rejection. “I can handle him - We can handle him. I just, I just need some time to think, please, Joe.”

“We just wanna celebrate with you, Y/N. Come find us when you’re ready, and maybe drink some water.” God, Joey could be touchy. 

Eddie watched you retreat into yourself in the corner of the bar. He had consumed shots after shots after beer, after whiskey cokes, and between each new beverage, his eyes trained back to you; secretly hoping that someone would come up and save you - but also wishing no one would so he could be the one to come whisk you away. He was conflicted, and angry, but entranced by you. The alcohol was making him lose his composure.

“Why the fuck is she there all by herself?” Eddie slurred into Gareth’s ear. “Like where the fuck is her band?” he chided. 

“I don’t know dude. Why the hell do you care? You were a complete ass to her.” Gareth scolded. Eddie waved his friend’s words away from him like smoke blown in his face.

“She’s like the only talented one in their band. Too bad she’s a pain in my ass and she fucking hates me” he chuckled. “She could do better.”

“Yeah, better than you even!” Jeff added. “Go talk to her then, if you’re so worried. Or are you scared you’re gonna come back with third degree burns like last time?” Eddie shrugged them off, downed his drink and shuffled his way over to where you were sitting. 

-

The bar was starting to spin in circles. You did not heed the advice given to you and downed more drinks and shots, some to your own volition, others thrust upon you from new fans or admirers, but you took the drink and shooed them away. You sat there, drowning in your own sorrows, when you felt a presence sit in the barstool beside you. You looked to your side to see the last (and admittedly first) person you wanted to see at the bar - hell ever again. You rolled your eyes and snorted. He looked almost as drunk as you: dark eyes highlighted by red veins around his irises. His pale skin was highlighted in a sweaty glow, and his cheeks were a pale pink. He smelled just as intoxicating as when you first met him, but it was now underscored with tequila and beer. His brows furrowed in what you thought was concern. It made you laugh at him again. 

“Can I help you, sir?” you sneered at him. “Come to give me more advice?” You wanted to turn away from him, to slide off your stool and into the night and hope to never see him again, because the knot in your stomach was getting too much to bare. You hated that Eddie Munson didn’t like you. You couldn’t stand the fact that he thought of you as just another slut that didn’t have talent. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from spiraling.

“I.. I guess I just wanted to check on you.” He scratched the back of his head. “You’ve been sitting here alone all night, I just-” he sighed. Why the fuck did he come over here? He just wanted to be close to you, to get another shot. He liked seeing you smiling and bubbly, like the beginning of the night. He loathed to admit it, because you still pissed him the hell off, but he would do just about whatever it took to see you smile.

“I’m fine. Not that you care..”

“I.. I do though. I shouldn’t have said that shit on stage. I was angry and upset and I really didn’t mean it.” You dared to look at the man and you were entrapped, his slight pout reeled you in. You let your vulnerability show as your eyes twinkled with uncried tears. 

“You mean it?” you whimpered. It took everything for Eddie to not pull you into his chest and take you away from this shitty bar. A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be sitting in a dark bar, tears staining your face. He fucked up so badly. He smiled tightly at you and nodded.

“How about we start again?” He stuck his hand out towards you. “I’m Eddie Munson, and I’m a big fan. Can I buy you a drink?” You tried to hide your smile, to no avail. You both giggled and you grabbed his hand. 

“I'm Y/N L/N, and I’ll let you buy me a drink only if I can buy you one after.” You offered. The two of you giggled as Eddie waved the bartender over. 

“One of whatever the lovely lady wants and a whiskey for me.” You beamed at Eddie and gave the tender your order. If the alcohol you already had didn’t knock you on your ass, being around Eddie sure would. 

Time flew, and you felt like if you weren’t holding onto the bar, you would drift away. Eddie told you about Hawkins, and being the resident freak, about how he thought he would die in Hawkins High and that Corroded Coffin wouldn’t ever go anywhere. You told him about living in Fort Wayne and wanting to play at the Embassy Theatre with all of your being. You wanted to go to Jacob’s School of Music, but couldn’t pay the tuition. How you longed to get out of Indiana, and to some place far away from your shitty dad, and without your band - a point of conflict for you because you loved them all, but they were a band long before you came around, and Eddie’s point about being a girl in a band that doesn’t respect women is hard. Head Case was the first time you had ever been taken seriously. Eddie listened intently, your filter was broken with the alcohol and Eddie’s intoxicating presence. Two hours ago, you were sitting alone, hating the man that was sitting with you now, and you had no idea how you were just going to turn around and go back home. 

On the other side of the venue sat Joey and Owen, entertaining the groupies that came to chat. But Joey’s eyes laid fixedly on you, sitting with the fucking loser that talked so much shit about their band earlier that night. 

“I don’t fucking like that Eddie guy,” he seethed. He ran his fingers through his dusty brown curls and gritted his teeth. 

“Don’t like him or don’t like that he’s flirting with your girl?” Owen teased. Joey sent him a smack to the chest. 

“I don’t like the fact that he said some really out of pocket shit, and she’s still sitting there talking to him like a dummy. I should go get her,” Joey slid out of his chair and past waiting fans towards you. 

“I’ll fucking solve this Munson problem” he whispered under his breath, and cracked his knuckles.

You and Eddie laughed loudly. You let out another small snort that made both of you laugh harder. Eddie couldn’t believe that something so perfect could be packaged into a person like you. You went to push the metalhead on the shoulder and slid off your stool with a ‘woop’. Instinctually, Eddie grabbed your arm and waist to prevent you from falling to the floor. His face dropped dangerously close to yours; all it would take is for you to lean up and your lips would connect. It didn’t seem like a bad idea. As you closed your eyes and willed your body to do what it thought it should, a firm hand pulled you backwards and out of Eddie’s arms. Your back flew flat to a toned chest. A familiar stubble glided across your ear.

“You’re drunk and it’s time to go.” Joey’s smooth voice sounded rough and stern. It sent a shiver down your back. Eddie jumped out of his seat and towards Joey. 

“I think she can make decisions for herself, big man,” Eddie threatened. 

“She can barely fucking stand. Think I’m gonna leave my girl with a fuckhead like you?” Joey scoffed. Your eyes finally surrendered the tears that wanted to fall all night as Joey pulled you to the door. 

His girl. His girl?! You hadn’t mentioned anything about him. Why weren’t you two together earlier in the night? He was confused, angry, and (although he would never admit it) slightly heartbroken. He grabbed his leather jacket that he had perched on the back of the stool and pushed through the crowd and out the door after you. He had time to see your small body being crumpled into the back of a taxi. Joey was about to duck in after you, but saw Eddie standing stunned in the cool Indiana night. He stalked towards the man now clenching his fists in anticipation.

“Hey, Munson. I’m gonna tell you a little something. You’re a fucking loser, bro. She’s not into one night stands and she would never date a fucking freak like you. So back the fuck off before I have to put you in place myself.” He pushed Eddie back, but all Eddie could focus on was you hanging out the window, silently pleading with the fuckass in front of him. 

“Hey, Joey is it? Fuck yourself. Make sure she gets home safe. Take her to her hotel room, or wherever the hell you’re staying and tuck her in and stay the fuck away from her.” Eddie pushed his index finger into Joey’s chest. “Or I will drive up to Fort Wayne and kill you myself.” Eddie leaned around the man in front of him and waved to you. You sent him a nervous smile and a wave. Eddie stepped back and leaned against the wall and watched your cab disappear into the night. You sat backwards in your seat to watch Eddie’s figure shrink into nothing before turning back around with a sigh. Joey rested a hand on your bare knee and rubbed circles into your skin that felt like sandpaper. 

“Let’s get you back to the hotel and nice and comfy, doll. Okay?” you silently shook your head at the boy beside you, wishing it was the mopheaded, dimple-cheeked boy you sat with at the bar all night. 

Eddie let out a long sigh and crinkled his nose with a heartbroken sigh. He pulled the cigarette hiding behind his ear and popped it in his mouth. At least he could finally have his smoke. 

You woke up with the same pounding in your head that you felt in your heart. The slow streets of Indianapolis were bustling already. You glanced over to the alarm clock on the side table in your small hotel room, reading 11:42am. You groaned, grabbed the glass of water by your bed and sat yourself up. You loathed getting back into a van with your bandmates and going home. In protest to all the fibers in your body, you packed your small bag, got yourself ready for the trip back home and shut the door to your hotel room behind you. 

The rest of your band sprawled across the lobby, waiting for you and Joey. They looked as bad as you did; Owen and Dave looked as green as the tacky carpet and Jake had barely lifted his head to wish you a good morning. You sulked to the reception and dropped your key on the desk with a tight smile. The young woman who took your key gasped in remembrance.

“Oh! Someone left a note for you.” She slid a small, tattered piece of paper folded into a messy square. You picked up the note cautiously. You unfolded it. It took a moment to realize what you were reading, but when you did you continued with a shy, excited  smile.

Your pulse quickened when you finished reading the note. You held it to your heart and said a thank you to the woman smiling knowingly at you. You pulled it away from your chest to make sure the ink was still preserved when the note was hastily snatched from your hands. 

“What’s this?” Joey’s voice taunted. You could hear the sneer in his voice, but it was panged with insecurity. His eyes glazed over the note and looked at you in surprise. His voice was playful to everyone else’s ears, but you could feel the venom in his words.

“Look, guys,” Joey got the attention of the waiting boys in the lobby. They glanced over to the two of you. “Y/N Has a little admirer.” Your eyes were burning with angry tears. You lunged for the note, but Joey was faster. He wagged his finger at you as he read the chicken scratch. You wished you could snap it off. 

“Wow, Eddie Munson underestimated you… Do you care to elaborate?” His eyes bored into you. The room was constricting and you needed air. 

“Nothing, Joey. We were just talking.”

“Oh, this was about when he called you all those lovely names in the green room? Or backstage?” His eyes narrowed and yours fixated on the floor. You squirmed under Joey’s gaze, your bandmates feeling just as awkward as you now. 

“He said he was-”

“Oh I know, I can read.” Joey stepped towards you, but didn’t lower his tone. “What did you do to convince him otherwise? God who would have known what would have happened if I didn’t take your sorry ass back last night? God, Y/N that was embarrassing.”

“Joey, knock it off man, it’s no biggie. We were all drunk last night.” Jake defended. He was silenced by the sharp look he received. 

“Yeah, but we don’t get taken advantage of like she does. Hope it was worth it, doll, because you don’t need men like Eddie Munson in your life, and you won’t be seeing him anymore.” Joey sauntered over to a garbage can in the lobby and shredded the flimsy paper in his hands, along with your heart. His eyes never left yours. Your breath was caught in your throat and the molten tears finally spilled down your eyes. You grabbed your bag that had been dropped on the floor and stormed out of the hotel. The gaggle of shocked men followed behind you, each one giving Joey a disappointed glare on the way out. Dave was the last out, Joey following behind him. 

“It was for her own good.” Joey tried to reason. Dave shook his head and scoffed him off. He swung the keys on his finger before hopping in the shabby van. You found your seat in the back by the instruments and pulled your Walkman out of your bag. You hastily shoved your headphones over your ears and desperately hoped the booming bass of the Beastie Boys would drown out any of the men’s voices. It was going to be a long ride back home.

Part two soooooon...

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[heycrymeariver]

five and many more: a timeline summary

(For legal reasons, all of this is alleged.)

Ref. links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

1984, is the first time Neil Gaiman released a book. 

In 1985, he got married and started his career as a comic book writer and in 1986, he assaulted Julia Hobsbawm.

This took place in Chalk Farm, London, where he forcibly kissed her and shoved her down on the sofa at her own studio flat before she escaped. According to The Crown Prosecution Service, “sexual assault is where one person intentionally touches another person sexually without their consent. The touching can be done with any part of the body or with an object.” In her own words, she described it as “an aggressive, unwanted pass” and that she still remembers it even now. 

Through 1987 and 2002 he progressed his career and published the famous book Coraline. A new year happens and he is in his early-forties and is thriving off of the success of his several money-making works, at a book signing event in Sarasota, Florida. There he hits it off with a young 18 year old (K) and they start dating. Two years later, in 2005, with two more awards under his belt, he forcibly penetrated that young twenty year old who told him not to because of a painful infection.

After another two years, he and his first wife divorced.

It's 2012, five years later and one year into a new marriage and at another book signing, Neil, age 52, immediately assaulted Claire (pseudonym) with a non-consensual kiss. Throughout keeping contact Neil had escalated this with video and phone calls that had a heavy sexual connotation where he appeared to either be naked or tried to instigate something. All of this accumulated into sexually assaulting her on a tour bus. Neil’s contact with her lasted until 2014 where he had promptly accused her in a text message that she had used him for sex.

Within the same year, Neil had enough money to buy a property, and met Caroline Wallner, 55, and her at-the time current husband. With a deal to do odd jobs for Neil and his wife to live there until she could own a five-acre plot, it wasn’t long before things turned sour. A divorce in 2017 sent everything spiraling, with her former husband fired, she in a once financially stable position, was now completely dependent on Neil Gaiman who used that to his advantage. Using her lack of financial stability to get himself sexual favors, he coerced her into a sexual-only, notably uninformed BDSM-entering territory while she was emotionally vulnerable, not accepting denials. This lasted until the summer of 2021, and in December of that year she and him went to court, what awaited her was $275k of compensation and a non-disclosure agreement (nda).

It wouldn’t take long for another woman to experience Neil Gaiman’s repeated offenses as well because in February of 2022, Scarlett (a pseudonym), age 23, a newly hired nanny, was sexually assaulted in the bathtub at his house. Neil, age 61, climbed into the bathtub with her and coerced her into having sexual relations. He too, in his coercion of her, made her financially dependent on him and brought BDSM elements to an inexperienced young woman who could not say no.

Since July 3rd of this year, 2024, five women have come out with sexual assault allegations aimed at Neil Gaiman. They all have several things in common with each other: either being young and naive, a fan of his, or put in a vulnerable spot financially or emotionally. Throughout the years and according to the stories, Neil progressively gets more bold and aggressive in his attempts for sexual gain. There are many more stories out there and whispers on the internet of how predatory Neil Gaiman has been in the industry. However, focusing on the five women who came out to speak and pushing their voice is an important part of the discussion.

Staying silent will only protect his peace.

(If you want to help keep this topic alive, please check out this post by @taraljc to see what steps you can take.)

[theglamorousferal]

The Cryptid of Smallville

I am posting the first couple chapters of the fic that I am currently working on juuuust in case AO3 goes down again. In the next couple days I’ll start posting some of my wips that I don’t think I’ll finish. If any of them inspire people to write more then I’ll be happy. 

I had the thought a while ago about what if Danny was raised alongside Clark Kent and the hijinks that would result in Danny being near the liminal space that is cornfields. These are basically a series of connected one-shots because I am not that great at trying to do a real plot lol

Without further ado, here’s the first chapter of the Cryptid of Smallville! (Small edit: here’s the link to AO3 the first two chapters are there)

______________________________________________________________ The night sky was clear and open above the cornfields as a gentle breeze caused the plants to stir. It was a calm night on the Kent family farm. A streak of neon green broke across the sky and landed in the middle of the fields, purple tinged smoke wafting from the crash site. A boy of about six rolled over in his sleep, glowing green eyes glancing at the stars above framed by smoke. The gentle breeze is still blowing, returning the night to calm.

*****

Danny was gonna put Clockwork in soup time whenever he got back into the Zone. 

He was laying there, staring at the clouds in the sky, surrounded by corn, and only about three and a half feet tall, wondering where in the Realms he was. Clockwork had said something about sending him off somewhere with people who could handle a child with powers growing up before tossing him through a portal by the ankle. He had ended up in low orbit and was lulled to sleep by staring at the stars he is so fond of.

Crawling out of the hole he was in, he examined the surrounding area and just found a bunch of burnt and slightly smoldering corn and kicked up dirt. The gentle breeze brought the smell of bacon to his nose and he floated to look just above the tall plants around him. He spots a house in the distance and starts heading there, making sure to walk the last few yards just in case this isn’t where CW intended him to go. He finds himself stumbling from the field just to make eye contact with a man pulling on his work boots for the day on the porch steps, the man freezes. 

“Hey Martha?” The man yells into the house.

“Yes Jon?” a voice muffled from the door yells back.

“Do we have a spare room done up?” the man, Jon, asks, not taking his eyes off Danny.

“Why? Are you expecting someone and forgot to tell me?” the voice sounds like it’s getting closer to the door.

“No honey, I think we may have a repeat situation of Clark though.” He briefly glances from Danny up to the last bits of smoke wafting from the field. A quiet “What?” comes from the house. He gentles his voice, full attention on Danny. “Hey son, did you have a bit of an accidental landing in the corn? Is your head okay? Are your parents around?”

Danny stays still for a moment thinking about what’s going on. The man seems to at least suspect that he crash landed on his property and mentioned something about something like this happening before. Have these people dealt with a random child appearing at their house before? Specifically one that crashed from the sky? He has many questions, but he should probably answer Jon first. 

“Yeah, I got sent away until I was better, my head doesn’t hurt at all and my parents are not exactly from around here, and don’t know where I am.” He pauses thinking about it. “Does the children-crashing-onto-your-farm-thing happen a lot to you?”

Jon chuckled as he finished tying his boots up and walked down the stairs just as the door opens and a woman in an apron is standing there looking surprised to see an unknown child standing in her yard. The man crouches down in front of Danny, giving him a once-over. 

“You’d be surprised, now what’s your name son?.”

“It’s Danny Fenton, what’s yours?”

“Jon Kent, my wife over there is Martha. Now you look like you could use a good meal and a washup, how’s that sound?” Jon grins at Danny and musses up his hair before standing and offering a hand to walk into the house. He smiles over at Martha who blinks and then gives Danny a warm smile, standing aside to let them enter the house.

“Good thing I made some extra breakfast then, let’s get some food in you young man, you’re as skinny as a post!” She smiles and heads towards the kitchen. “Be sure to wash up your hands first hun, can’t eat with dirty hands! And Jon! What have I told you about your muck boots being in the house! I’m sure Danny can find his way and wash his own hands; second door on the right hun; and git outta my house with those things on, I’ll have more coffee ready for you once you feed the animals!” Jon pouted and trudged his way out of the house.

Danny smiled a little to himself as he looked for the door Martha was talking about, noting the wallpaper and decor that looked like every midwest farmer’s house he’d seen in any piece of media ever. After washing his hands he made his way to where he could hear soft humming and dishes being washed. He saw a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table next to a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and a container of syrup and headed to the spot.

“Thank you Mrs. Kent.” he said from his seat and she smiled back at him, going back to the dishes. Danny realized he’d probably have to start explaining what he could to them soon, but decided to focus on the breakfast in front of him. The breakfast that wasn’t alive and currently trying to kill him. He nearly cried.

“So Danny,” Martha began as she wiped her hands off with a dish rag. “Do you remember how it is you got here?” She joined him at the table with a cup of coffee after setting a mug, a spoon and the sugar bowl next to the machine for her husband when he came in.

“I do, it’s a really weird story though, I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” He was hesitant, he still wasn’t sure these were the people that Clockwork meant to send him to. Though they’ve taken the whole crash-landed-child-thing pretty well… Screw it, he’ll see if he can wait until Jon comes back and explain to both of them. “Can we wait for Mr. Kent too? I don’t really want to say it twice.” 

She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee and then nodded. “That’s fine hun, he shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes unless the rooster decided to pick a fight again.” she chuckled to herself, looking out of the window while drinking her coffee. She sees the faint trail of smoke rising in the sky outside and her eyebrows pinch in worry. “You didn’t happen to see anythin’ burning when you got up, did you?” 

Danny glances out the window and sees the smoke. “Oh no, there was just a little bit still smoldering in the hole, but there wasn’t anything actively burning. I can show you both when I finish explaining what I can.” The slapping of a screen door startles him and Jon walks in, heading straight for the coffee maker and making himself a cup, then joining them at the table.

“So Danny-boy, what can you tell us?” Jon gives his full attention to Danny. 

Danny shifts in his seat, looking every part the six year old he appeared to be, uncertain at the attention of two adults. “Well, it’s a long story and kinda out there? I’m not sure how much you’ll believe?” He looks uncertain at the pair across from him who share a look. Martha reaches across the table to take Danny’s hand.

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’re used to, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Danny only hesitated a moment longer and then sighed looking far older than his apparent six years. “So to start off with, wherever this is, I’m not from around here. I’m assuming since you both speak English that this is still Earth, but maybe not MY Earth, I’m still a bit confused on the whole ‘multiverse’ thing, but either way, I got sent here until some stuff got sorted out and so I’ll be here until it does.” He was rambling, he knew, but he’s kind of anxious about stuff. “I kinda got put in my childhood body and now I have to get back to my actual age and my Guardian said something about time here running differently than in my dimension before he just chucked me through a portal. He did say he was sending me to people who could handle my weirdness as I age, so I’m assuming you are them and maybe have some experience with kids with freaky weird stuff happening to them?”

The Kents once more shared a look, this one a little longer than the last, then turned back to Danny. “Oh son, I think you’ll fit in just fine. So, how long can we expect you for? I can tell you’re probably a lot older than six judging by how you talk?”

Danny blinked at him, trying to process the fact that they didn’t seem phased and rather seemed like they believed him. “Uh, I was sixteen, so I guess a decade? I’m sorry to impose on you for a while, really I can figure out stuff on my own, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon chuckled “Oh trust me son, it wouldn’t be an issue, I’m sure Clark would love a younger brother, or at the very least a friend who understands him. We have plenty of room here, and though we’d probably ask you for help with chores, we’d be glad to have you for however long you need.”

Danny blinks again at them. They weren’t serious, right? They just seem fine taking in a random child and having him live with them for however long. And who was this Clark? What did he mean by younger brother?

“Clark?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh right, our son, you’ll meet him when he gets home from school, I’m sure you’ll get along just fine! Now Danny, let me show you to a room and we can get you settled, we’ll probably have to head on over to the thrift shop to get you something to wear besides these charred and muddy pj’s, but we should have something from Clark that’s too small that’ll fit you for now.” Martha took his hand and led him upstairs to where he’d be in apparently his new home.

*****

Clark had had a pretty boring day at school. The classes were boring. He had to hold back in gym class again and when studying the skeletal system in biology, he started studying the teacher’s bones instead of the display skeleton or the worksheet. He was really looking forward to getting home and maybe going for a fly around the fields where no one could see him or maybe catching the latest episode of Rescue Rangers. 

He could spot his house in the distance and after looking around to make sure no one would see him, he sped down the driveway as fast as he could, knocking up a lot of dirt in the process. He really liked going fast, whether running or flying. He just loved the wind in his hair. 

“Ma, Pa, I’m home.” he kicked his sneakers off and rushed upstairs into his room to drop off his bag. He listened around for heartbeats and realized that Pa was out on the tractor and Ma was out with the chickens. He froze as he heard a much closer sound though. It was very slow and faint, but he could hear another heartbeat in the house. Even more, he could hear someone muttering to themselves in the guest room and the flipping of pages.

Clark slowly made his way down the hall towards the sound and peaked in the room with his x-ray vision. There, sitting on the ceiling, was a child about half his age reading a ratty old book about space. Clark stood in the doorway, now able to see him in regular vision and just stared at him. He took a moment until he decided to just join him up there and sat across from him.

“So who are you?” Clark asked while the kid was still focused on his book. He didn’t even look up from the book.

“Name’s Danny.” The kid paused for a second before he looked up and stared at Clark. Danny looked from Clark to the ceiling, to the floor, and then back to Clark. “Oh, so that’s why they said I’d fit right in here. I guess we are pretty similar! I’m guessing you’re Clark then?” The child beamed at him, putting out his hand to shake. Clark took it gently, not wanting to hurt the kid. Then the kid gripped his hand tight and Clark realized that they have more in common than he thought and gripped his hand tighter in response.

“So where are you from?” Clark asked, very curious as to how this kid who could fly and had his strength, but also had almost no heartbeat ended up at his house. Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m not from this Earth and I kinda got put here to recover for a long while and my Guardian decided your parents are the best equipped to handle a kid growing up with powers, so he sent me here. I’m guessing because of you?” 

“Yeah, mine started manifesting around your age. What powers do you have? How long do you plan to be here? Where are you from? You said this wasn’t your Earth, I’m guessing you’re from a different dimension then? That’s so cool!” Clark, ever curious, shot off many questions rapid fire and Danny laughed while answering them all as best he could.

Part 2

[kaciebello]

Few bucks and some ducks.

Masterlist Money mail ☼ Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Posh kids on a farm  Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: Haiya! Can't say I like this one. Oh well. word count: 1k Song: Greek God - Conan Gray

Farms are unknown territory for teens. Well, at least for our group. When you grow up in rich wizarding families, nobody expects you to know how to feed the bigs or that cows have best friends. None of them have ever been on a farm, much less work on it. However, when a post-it was hung in the corner store where Lorenzo works at, saying help on a farm needed willing to pay 10 pounds a day, the teens jumped on to the opportunity like no other. Their goal is always more reachable when actually working. They all showed up at the farmer's door. 7 in the morning sharp. Now, the farmer didn't really know what to do with them first. While he was grateful for the help, how much work can six posh kids really work? He swears one of the kids is wearing an Armani suit.

He made sure to give them easy work. The kind he could do, but was too lazy too. The girl and Lorenzo were sent to paint the fence, from brown colour to, well, different shades of brown. Draco and Blaise were sent to get chicken eggs and the two Theo's were to wash the cows. Have any of the kids done any of these jobs? Absolutely not, but they are wizards, how hard can it be?

It turns out to be very hard when the only job you've ever done was run errands for your papá. Each of them looked like a tornado had passed twice over. The kids sat exhausted around a picnic table. Mrs. Farmer prepared sandwiches and homemade lemonade for them. They were eating in silence, not a peep from them.  Draco looked around all of them. He knew someone needed to bring the mood up. Sacrificing his friend was the best way.

“so, Blaise was courted by a chicken,” Draco says not even looking up from his food, almost perfecting the thousand-mile stare. Blaise slams his hand onto the table and turns to his friend.

“I was not!” he argues back, but with the very visible chicken feather in his hair, it was very hard to believe him. Draco just continuously nods.

“Chickens don't even do that!” Blaise tries again but his friends just laugh at him. The girl reaches over to plug the feather. Upon seeing it Blaise franticly brushes over his head.  Glaring at Mattheo he decided on his target.

“Why are you laughing, huh? care to tell us why is your shirt all chewed up.” Matteo just glares back, making it into a little staring consent between the two boys. You can hear Theodore's laugh bubble up from his chest and ring all over the patio. 

“ A cow chewed on it!” He laughed even more launder living the memory in his own little head. 

“Like you aren't all wet because one of the cows grabbed the hose from you!” Mattheo fought back, embarrassing his friend in return. Theo stopped laughing a second later.  Looking at all of them, they did not look like they had a great time. The girl and Lorenzo were probably doing the best out of all of them. Although the boys have yet to see Lorenos back and the huge brow print on his white shirt.

The girl giggles as silently as she can, very much amused at her friends' failure. They all turn to look at her studying her without her knowing. Draco glares at her before speaking,

“Is that a brown handprint on your ass?” He asks, efficiently shutting her up. and glare back at him.

“Like that's my fault.” He says in a quiet voice, slightly pointing at Lorenzo whore raises his hands in defence. One of his palms was indeed covered in dried brown paint. being author redheaded, or rather brow-headed, the two stayed quiet. 

Silence falls upon the group again. A sigh left the girl. Seems like working on a farm was not something for the 6 of them. The farmer had walked up to the kids, ready to give them new tasks. However seeing them all very much in a ruined state, he decides against it. Instead, he tells them there is a pond at the back of his property and if the kids wish to do so, they can go and take a dip.

Without any word, the teens leaned up their plates and went on their way to the pond. The farmer's wife gave them some stale bread to feed the ducks. The way to the pond is not long, and when they get there they all visibly relax. The boys undress to their underwear and leap for the water. The girl, the only one not totally ruined by the world sits down by the shore and feeds the ducks.

The sun slowly sets, painting the sky nice shades of pink and yellow. The girl kept feeding the little ducks, wishing to bring them home. A thud next to her brings her gaze to her boyfriend. He relaxed his head on her shoulder. water from the hair dripping on her t-shirt. Reaching for her hand and the feed in it, he takes some and offers it to the ducks that have nested around her and throws some to the geese that rested a few meters away from them.

 Resting for a while, the kids dried off, dressed themself and packed their stuff. Walking back to the farmhouse, they were given 10 pounds each and sent off with a handful of eggs to go home. Lorenzo and Matteo were asked to come back in two days. The farmer claimed that he did an amazing job with the cows and would like them to help him again. Even offering trippel the reward. They didn't hesitate and agreed.

On their way home, they all agreed to have omelettes for dinner tonight. And maybe the next three nights too.

Previous Chapter ☼ Next Chapter

Taglist @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @deluluassapocalypse , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo , @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @mrvlfanman , @pink-heartz , @feistyfox47 , @nickspotatoesalad , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys . @mxryxmfooty , @hoeforvinniehackerrr

[least-carpet]

Making Shit Up About Sect Demographics in the Yunmeng Jiang

I had all of these notes about this for the ningcheng fic (and other potential projects), and then I saw @whumpbby's post go around, but I didn't want to sidetrack the discussion, so: Yunmeng Jiang sect demographics. What might the composition of the YMJ be like under Jiang Cheng?

Survivors from other sects

For my purposes, I decided that the Jiang probably absorbed some of the survivors of the smaller sects that the Wen wiped out. It's pretty hard to guarantee no survivors every time (and Wen Chao never seemed particularly, uh, detail-oriented) but one or two people on their own, scattered, possibly recovering from injuries, aren't threats. A whole bunch of these people, with golden cores, nothing left to lose and a new sect to serve, is another story. They at least have some idea of how a sect works and if they can learn the Jiang style fast enough to teach disciples themselves, they are worth their weight in gold. The representative of this group in my universe is Feng Jia, who brings with her a variety of organizational skills (being the third daughter of a sect leader), as well as the remnants of her sect and a bunch of horses. Let's say the Wen have wiped out 3-4 sects, with an average of three survivors capable of combat each: 9-12 people, out of whom optimistically maybe a third or a half (?) can learn enough of the Jiang style to teach the basics during Sunshot.

Rogue cultivators and their disciples

They also probably picked up some rogue cultivators, either looking to join a great sect or because of a grudge against the Wen. Some of them could bring a disciple or two, who at least might be closer to achieving a golden core than a random guy off the street. These cultivators are going to probably vary wildly in terms of skill, but you might be able to get a bunch of them. Hu Lei, whose adopted son briefly appears, was originally the disciple of a rogue cultivator who ate it relatively early into the Sunshot Campaign. (Farm boy who accidentally became a rogue cultivator > rogue cultivator who followed his master into the Jiang > panicked stray disciple who was taken as Feng Jia's first disciple > a senior disciple of the Jiang who impressed her sister, a Real Lady, and married into a cultivating family. He doesn't know how he got here either, but he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Only guy in this entire universe whose life inexplicably Just Kind Of Worked Out Okay.)

Non-cultivators during and post-war

It's possible non-cultivators also joined up, but how could these people be put in the front lines against cultivators without training? If they had potential, knowledge of specific environments, and/or adjacent skills, maybe they could be scouts, spies, or archers until they formed a golden core. Cheng Zhihao, a merchant's son (who I ended up not needing) started out spying for the Jiang before successfully cultivating a golden core. Because he's educated, adaptable, and (apparently) nonthreatening, he eventually serves as one of the sect's liaisons with the Jin.

The largest group of disciples with absolutely no prior training probably entered the sect post-war. A victorious sect at peace, no matter how reduced, is much more appealing than one actively at war against a stronger enemy. If the Jiang sect opened their doors for recruitment, they might have been appealing to groups who would have needed to find work anyway. If you're a young person coming from an enormous peasant family, and you're being sent out for work anyway, why not try out? They'll train you, they'll feed you, and there's a lot more prestige. On the other hand, you're going to have to fight ghosts. Depends how scary you think ghosts are, I guess. And they probably didn't account for the intersect politics. This group included orphans like Ye Wan, who was brought in as an assistant to the elderly doctor they found for the sect, and who begrudgingly cultivated a golden core to be eligible to succeed the older doctor when he or she died.

The Yu

I had to cut Yu Anqi, a Yu sect cultivator sent by Jiang Cheng's grandparents to reinforce the Jiang. Probably if a bunch of them turned up, they eventually went back to the Yu sect, but it's possible that a couple of them stuck around? Yu Anqi, fierce but loyal and talented, fucked off to the Jiang to get out of a Suitable Marriage. She heard about what happened to Madame Jin AND Yu Ziyuan, and she wasn't interested! The Yu have simply given up on getting her back. She's the Jiang's problem now.

OG Jiang sect survivors (all 10 of them)

The Jiang sect was definitely massacred, but maybe Jiang Yanli had a couple of disciples with her in Meishan, and, again, Wen Chao sucks—despite the overwhelming number of Wen cultivators, I think you can get away with up to maybe 10 survivors. This is my explanation for Chang An, former Jiang sect kitchen servant, current medical scholar, and also for giving Jiang Cheng a surviving (though disabled from an injury sustained during the massacre) younger cousin in Jiang Ping. I think it's plausible for one of the survivors to be a servant who literally can't defend the sect, because then she's not going to fight the Wen! She simply doesn't know how to do that! She's going to jump into the water and hide under a pier! If she accidentally rescues a Jiang clan member who gets stabbed and chucked into the river with her, that's a bonus. This is also my explanation for why Jiang Cheng doesn't appear to be worried about an heir: Jiang Ping can't fight anymore, but he can have kids. And he has! Problem solved.

The next generation

Some children would have been born into the conflict. On top of everything else, Wen Chao was a creep who happily tormented others; him holding his men to a higher standard doesn't seem likely. Feng Xinyi, Feng Jia's daughter, is a child of wartime rape, which is why she has her mother's family name, and is one of many reasons Feng Jia never married*. Her friend, Ji Siyu (who may or may not make an appearance), was abandoned as a baby at an orphanage** and eventually taken in as a disciple because of her strong cultivation potential, which could have occurred randomly, or... not. This age range is likely relatively small and under-represented within the Jiang. There's a more normal class size of disciples, slightly younger than Jin Ling, born after the new Jiang sect stabilized and people started having kids on purpose.

Notes

* The likelihood of the horrible cultivation world being super chill about an unmarried woman of the lesser sects unwillingly having an enemy's child is... not high? She also has a visible facial scar from the attack. Plus, she's the head of her remaining family, raising a whole kid, teaching disciples, etc. Girl is busy, and no one could make her get married anymore except Jiang Cheng, and he's not going to, so... I think she's surprised by a pleasant middle-aged romance eventually, with someone who would never dream of asking her to leave the Jiang or have any more children. This person could be Yu Anqi, Cheng Zhihao, one of the merchants in the nearby town***, or even Wen Qing—as you like.

** I tend to think Jiang Fengmian was the patron of at least one nearby orphanage, and at some point after the war, whoever was in charge of it came over like "hey :) we have all these new orphans :) money please?" and Jiang Cheng was like "AAAH I DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY RIGHT NOW BUT THE ORPHANS (complex Wei Wuxian feelings) (complex feelings about doing what his father would have wanted) (furious night-hunting trying to make some cash) (STRESS)" and ended up maintaining the relationship and occasionally acquiring a disciple out of it. Maybe they were like day students until they were old enough to stay in a dorm? This would allow the Jiang sect to source a larger class without a bunch of overworked cultivators trying to take care of an overwhelming number of little kids.

*** I am now laughing at the idea of, like, a younger dumpling-seller nervously working himself up to ask Feng Xinyi if her big sister is single, and Feng Xinyi being like, "I don't have a big sister?... do you mean my mom??" And the guy just being like, "I guess? Is... is your mom single?" And Feng Xinyi being like, "Actually yes. If you can get her to give you the time of day, I'll be very impressed." And then Feng Jia spends three months just like, "Why am I receiving increasingly beautiful and elaborate dumplings? Why is that nice young man red all the time? What is happening??" while Feng Xinyi giggles in the background.

**** Obviously, these characters reflect the questions that I personally was interested in, such as "Where are all the women?" and "What happened to the people disabled or permanently disfigured in wartime? Like, maybe the golden cores mean that there would be fewer of them, because they could recover more function, but surely there wouldn't be none?" and "Who would be willing to slaughter the Wen Remnants in order to secure the Jiang? Can I make that person coherent and interesting and sympathetic (to me)? Can I make that person Wen Qing's dark mirror and the stone in Wei Wuxian's boot?" and "What is the new spirit of the Jiang sect? How are people interpreting the motto in the aftermath of violence, chaos, and political compromise?" and, finally, "Who are the people willing to be utterly loyal to Jiang Cheng and the idea of the new sect?" And Feng Jia is the answer to most of those questions. Sorry for the tall order, Feng Jia. That's a lot of backstory for her to show up for 15 seconds in a silly ningcheng fanfic.

[starrydixon]

Happily Ever After

*Requested from this ask :)*

Era: Alexandria (Post-Negan) Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: none! just pure fluff!!

Summary: Dedicating a day out behind the walls of Alexandria, Daryl takes you for a ride on his bike as he leads you towards a special place in the woods. There, he intends to ask you a very important question.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this; happy, giddy, and relaxed. You supposed it was during the time spent in the prison back in Georgia, but those feelings of content were fleeting due to the fear that the Governor could seek vengeance at any moment. Now, after months on the road, countless losses of people you saw as family, fighting in brutal wars, and not knowing if you’d make it to see another day, you finally felt peace.

Sure, you owed it to Alexandria’s protective walls and supportive community, but Daryl also had a huge contribution as well. The two of you have been dating for a little over a year now, but have known each other since the beginning of the apocalypse back at the Georgia quarry. Unknown to you, at the time, your romantic connection with the archer began to kindle during the weeks spent on the Greene’s family farm. After the farm fell and the harsh winter began, you then began to recognize that the feelings you felt for the archer exceeded past platonic. It was scary at first, having romantic feelings for someone as stoic and unreadable as Daryl, but you grew comfortable with your revelations the closer you two became. A week before the prison was found, you two had finally stopped dancing around those harboring feelings and kissed for the first time. Ever since then, you and Daryl have been in a loving relationship that you cherished so deeply. 

Now, you were sat on the back of Daryl’s bike with your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Wispy strands of baby hair blew around your face as gusts of winds whipped past you. With your chin resting on Daryl’s shoulder, the ends of Daryl’s hair occasionally got in your face, tickling your skin so much, you often found yourself  you found yourself nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck in an effort to conceal the school-girl-like giggles from escaping past your lips.

You hadn’t been able to stop beaming since the moment Daryl informed you the previous night that he would be taking you outside of the walls for the day. It had been a while since you and Daryl went on an excursion together, since your individual duties around the growing community had been keeping you both busy. Just the idea of being able to spend some quality time with Daryl had sent you over the moon. The moment you awoke that morning, you’ve been bustling around your shared home; searching for supplies to pack for the journey and for the picnic that the two of you would enjoy later that day. Picnics were always a staple activity whenever you and Daryl went on a date. Although the archer never explicitly called the excursions you’d share together dates, you always got the unspoken message.

Unbeknownst to you, Daryl’s plans for today exceeded far beyond the typical date. If his courage didn’t defy him, he planned on finally giving you the diamond ring that has been burning a hole in the pocket of his vest for the past few months. 

“Are we almost there yet!?” You shouted over the rumbling engine of the motorcycle while peering over Daryl’s shoulder in order to get a proper glimpse of his face. You had no idea where the archer was taking you, so the excitement coursing through your veins was making it hard to remain patient.

“Thought I told ya to quit askin’ every five minutes?” Daryl stated from over his shoulder. Although he tried to suppress it, you could see a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“I waited six minutes this time!” You grinned proudly as you tightened your arms around the archer’s frame. With a slight shake of his head, a lighthearted scoff escaped past his lips. Daryl had a hard time not finding your eagerness endearing. 

Tightening his hands around the handlebars of the bike, Daryl picked up speed. An uncontrollable squeal fell from your lips as your body jolted forwards, colliding into Daryl’s strong back. Although your hearing was deafened due to the loud engine that powered the bike, you could feel Daryl’s back vibrate with goading laughter. The scenery around you became even more blurry and dizzying as you sped down the deserted road; you had to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid getting a headache. Instinctively, your hold around Daryl’s strong frame tightened.

Less than ten minutes later, Daryl had pulled up to a small opening that led into the forest. With your help, the two of you covered the bike with leaves and loose shrubbery in order to hide it from any potential onlookers. After a little bit of bickering, you allowed Daryl to take the wicker basket that was packed full of all the essential picnic necessities you would need in order to have a successful picnic. Lacing your fingers with Daryl’s you two began to follow along a dirt trail. 

“Did you make this trail yourself?” You asked once you noticed how new the upturned dirt seemed. Daryl hummed in confirmation and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“It’s the clearest section of woods around…figured I’d put a trail here for huntin’ and stuff.” The archer shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

“Oh, so it’s not for taking your girlfriend on romantic strolls?” You teased lightheartedly as you wrapped your arm around Daryl so you were hugging his arm. Daryl just scoffed and gently shook you with the arm you were holding.

“Keep that up, and I’ll take ya to the swamps instead.” 

Your face scrunched up at the thought of eating your sandwich with mosquitoes swarming around your face and biting into your skin every ten seconds. It wouldn’t be the first time the archer purposely led you to a swamp as a means of being mischievous with you during one of your outings. You supposed that was his unique way of being playful with you. Preferring to be safe than sorry, you didn’t tease the archer any further. You knew Daryl was extremely capable and willing to act out on his taunt. 

With your head resting comfortably on the side of his shoulder, you and Daryl continued to follow the trail that led to whatever destination Daryl had in mind. As a child, you enjoyed exploring through the woods that sat in your backyard; pretending to be in mystical worlds or an explorer who was on the verge of finding her next discovery. Once you hit your teenage years, those days spent in the woods and finding solace in the natural beauty the forest provided was gone. Once you met Daryl and began accompanying him on his hunting trips, it reignited the love you once had with nature.

As you enjoyed listening and watching the way nature moved around you, vibrant colors caught the corner of your eye. Intrigued, you stopped in your tracks and turned to get a better look at what had grabbed your attention.

“Oh!” You couldn’t help but gasp in delight as you viewed a patch of assorted wildflowers that was diverted from the dirt path only a few feet away. 

At first, Daryl thought you had spotted a walker, or maybe some people due to the unidentifiable surprise in your voice. Instinctively, he grabbed the strap of his crossbow, ready to protect you from the potential threat. With a deep sigh and a curse spouting from under his breath, the archer relaxed as he watched you practically leap towards the patch of flowers. Your clasped hands were held against your chest and your smile only seemed to widen as you observed the flowers. Carefully, you knelt down and picked a few different wildflowers from the patch. Satisfied with your small collection, you hid the bouquet behind your back and skipped back over to Daryl, who had his free hand resting on his hip as he waited for you.

“We’re burnin’ daylight y’know.”

With a smile so bright and charming that never failed to make Daryl’s knees go weak and heart skip a few beats, you removed your hands from behind your back and presented the flowers to him. One of the archer’s eyebrows quirked upwards towards his hairline as he stared down at the floral arrangement. Bringing his gaze back up towards you, his head tilted to the side slightly.

“Are these for…me?”

All you could do was nod your head excitedly while bouncing on the balls of your feet. You always enjoyed doing sweet and, as Daryl called it, rather corny romantic gestures for the archer. Daryl gave you happiness every single day; just being able to wake up beside him was enough to give you joy. Daryl deserved so much love and appreciation, and you thought he could never get enough of it. It was little things, like picking his favorite fruit from the garden, finding cheesy cards about love from souvenir shops whenever you went on runs, or setting up romantic dinner dates with candles and low music playing in the background. It always surprised him, without fail, whenever you did something sweet for him. This time was no different.

Dropping the picnic basket from his hand in shock, you watched as the tips of Daryl’s ears and the apples of his cheeks began to tint pink. In an attempt to conceal his flustering, Daryl covered his face with his hands. Your laugh was light and filled with joy as you reacted to Daryl’s heartwarming reaction that never got tiresome to witness. 

“Ya didn’t…ya didn’t have to do this.” Daryl spoke bashfully as he removed his hands from his face and shook his head a little in disbelief, which caused his bangs to curtain over his eyes. 

“I know, but I wanted to.”

Gently, Daryl took the flowers from your grasp and held them a bit awkwardly in his hands; unsure what to do with them now that they were in his possession. “Uh-I ain’t too sure what to do with ‘em…never been given flower ‘fore.”

You laughed again and shrugged your shoulders loosely. “You can do whatever you want. They’re yours now.”

For a moment, the archer couldn’t help but admire you. The placement of the sun caused an angelic glow to frame your figure, and your eyes were shining like stars. He always saw you as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but this moment just proved him right. Picking a pale pink flower from the bouquet that was gripped tightly in his hand, Daryl cleared his throat and shuffled closer to you before tentatively placing the flower behind your ear. 

Heat rushed to your face, and it was your turn to become a flustering mess.

Wordlessly, you expressed your gratitude for the sweet gesture by placing a kiss on Daryl’s cheek. A boyish smile spread across his lips as you placed your arms around Daryl’s again. Content with the feeling of warmth spreading across your chest and up your neck to your face, you and Daryl continued down the dirt trail. 

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at your destination. Shooting a shy glance your way, Daryl nudged his chin towards the shrubbery that concealed whatever place Daryl wanted to show you. Although you trusted Daryl with your life, you were still a bit nervous about what was about to greet you on the other side. Tentatively, you pushed back the lush and overgrown foliage and stepped through the branches.

You felt like you had stepped into a fairytale, much like the ones you often imagined as a child whenever you played in the bleak woods of your backyard. The clearing you were met with seemed enchanted, like the specific spot had been put under a spell to preserve its natural beauty. Visible sun rays shone through the trees making the entire space radiate. Fallen tree trunks that looked strong and non-decomposed laid in the dense and rich greenery that covered the forest terrain. Birds could be heard singing and communicating with one another from the tops of the trees. Even the buzzing sounds of the insects that lived on the plants and flew in the air sounded hypnotizing. As you spun around to take in your surroundings, you even noticed a few mossy vines hanging off of a few tree branches. 

“Daryl…” You trailed off in awe, unable to hide the gawk that took over your face. Daryl couldn’t decipher your reaction, so the growing unease began to make his palms sweaty and his blood pressure rise. If he misjudged his choice of scenery, then the rest of his plans for the day would be up in flames.

“Listen…if ya don’t like this spot, I can find another one. It-uh-ain’t a problem.”

Hearing the nerves and uncertainty in his voice made you instantly shake your head as you struggled to find the right words to express how truly awestruck you were. With the type of relationship and connection that you had with Daryl, there was never a sense of having to explicitly state how you felt about things. Most of the time, you could share a look or read between the lines in order to understand what the other was trying to convey. As words failed you, you decided to tell Daryl how much you enjoyed this spot by throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

The archer had nearly toppled over by the unexpected reaction. It was welcomed though, and he found himself snaking his arms around your waist and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. When you pulled away just enough to get a proper glimpse of his handsome face, tears had welled up in your eyes, and your nose was on the verge of dripping. Instinctively, Daryl cupped each side of your face and let both his thumbs rest on your cheeks. His eyes flitted between yours, searching for any sign of disdain. When all he found was genuinely lighting up your eyes, he allowed himself to relax.

Your eyes fluttered shut as Daryl placed a gentle, but meaningful kiss on your lips. For a moment, it brought you back to that spring morning when you and Daryl shared your first ever kiss. When your eyes opened again, they were met with the sight of Daryl’s lopsided smile and unique shade of blue eyes that were so bright, they lightened up his entire face. 

“C’mon…I’m gettin’ hungry.”

After gathering a few stones from off the green terrain, you placed the rocks on each corner of the laid out, homemade quilt an older resident of Alexandria had given you as a way of thanking you for helping them with some mundane chores around their home. You decided to place your soon to be picnic under a large oak tree that provided shade from the bright sun that shone in the sky. With a grunt, the archer plopped down on the quilt and stretched his legs out in front of him as he watched you diligently take out the variety of foods you had packed that morning and lay them out between the two of you. 

Conversations flew comfortably between you two; catching up on the things you each had done over the last few days, reminiscing on almost forgotten memories, and flirting with one another by using witty retorts and teasing jests. When you weren’t conversing and instead eating from the array of food that was laid out in front of you, comfortable silence filled the space.

“How exactly did you come across this place?” You asked the archer once your stomach was aching and full. Your back was pressed against Daryl’s chest as you sat between his legs. One of his arms had draped loosely around your waist, and the pad of his thumb slipped under the hem of your shirt to caress your hip bone.

“When I was findin’ places to make trails, guess I got lucky when I stumbled upon here.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders dismissively. Glancing down at you, heat flushed his chest when he realized you were already looking at him, staring up at him with a sense of deep attention and light in your eyes. Your eyes were magnetic, and he had a hard time looking away from you.

“I’m glad you found this place. It’s so beautiful and peaceful here…it’s like this is the one place on earth that hasn’t been touched by walkers.” A smile graced your lips as you settled comfortably against Daryl’s broad frame. The archer hummed in response and tightened his arm around your waist before letting his chin rest on the top of your head.

As another comfortable silence fell over you both, the archer was trying not to get in his head. So far, everything was going well. You seemed to be enjoying the date so far, as a wide smile hadn’t left your face since the second you drove out of Alexandria. However, there was still one remaining thing Daryl had to do; and he was growing increasingly worried that it would mess up the entire day. The archer figured he’d just have to bite the bullet already. If he allowed himself to think any harder about the potential proposal, he was sure he would back out. 

Not wanting to disturb you, Daryl carefully plunged his hand into the pocket that was inside his vest. His fingers felt for the pouch that held the precious piece of jewelry and concealed it in his palm as he fished it out. The nerves in his stomach began to flare, which caused the feeling of constricting knots to form and bring him discomfort. His hands began to clam up, and sweat began to form at his hairline and down his back. If you hadn’t been so lost in the feeling of solace the forest gave you, you would have thought the archer had suddenly gotten sick. 

Glancing down at you again, Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat as he took in the image of your peaceful face. You seemed to be soaking in the warm sun rays that shone down on your face, eyes gently shut while your eyelashes sat delicately on top of your skin. There wasn’t a single worry line creasing your face; which was further proof of just how relaxed you felt. It had been a while since Daryl saw you this tranquil, and he was worried he was about to ruin it. His fingers anxiously twiddled with the string of twine that kept the opening of the small black pouch sealed. 

Not knowing how to approach the situation, Daryl simply tossed the pouch into your lap and hoped for the best. Although he preferred actions over words in order to express his love for you, performing romantic gestures were still rather awkward and foreign to him.

When you felt something fall onto your lap, your first instinct was to look up at the oak tree, thinking that a small cluster of acorns had fallen from one of the branches. When you turned your gaze down to your lap, you were surprised to see the pouch in your possession. Shooting a questioning look towards Daryl, you noticed the light tint of red flushing the tips of his ears, the apples of his cheeks, down his neck, and across the expanse of his chest. Whatever he had just given you, it was making him uncharacteristically nervous.

When Daryl made no effort to stop you from inspecting the item he had given you, you tentatively began to untie the piece of twine. When a few of your fingers slipped into the bag and brushed over something small and smooth, your heart began to race. You had no idea what you were expecting as you carefully shook the item out of the bag, but a diamond ring falling into the palm of your hand definitely wasn’t it. A light gasp escaped past your lips as you eyed the glistening jewel.

“Daryl…?” 

After the years of knowing Daryl, you had become fluent in, as you called it, “Darylism”. You understood what each different grunt meant, what look or glare said that words didn’t, and what underlying meanings meant without having to explicitly say it. However, you had no clue what was going on now, or what this gesture meant. The lines were blurred and written in an ancient text that not even the best decipherment experts could decode. This puzzlement caused you to become stunned into silence.

Daryl interpreted your silence as rejection, and quickly tried to backpedal his initial intentions. “You don’t gotta wear it or nothin’ if you don’t wanna…” The archer trailed off, his eyes darting everywhere but your face and his fingers pulling a frayed piece of thread hanging from the hem of his black button up shirt. 

“Is this…is this a proposal?” You never deemed Daryl as the marriage type, so you couldn’t help but sound a bit tentative when you asked. Tearing your gaze away from the ring that sat in the center of your palm, you looked over at Daryl. 

“It can mean whatever ya want it to.” Daryl shrugged his shoulders loosely while rubbing at the back of his neck. He was still unable to look you in the eyes, but his body had angled back towards you instead of away.

Fluttering butterflies erupted in your stomach, and the sensation rose up your body until the apples of your cheeks had heat to them. The more you thought about it, the giddier you felt. The bright smile that practically hadn’t left your face all day returned, accompanied with tingling sinuses and stinging eyes full of tears that had yet to be seen. Ever since the apocalypse began, you quickly dismissed the idea of ever getting married; it just didn’t seem plausible anymore. Even after you met Daryl and fell in love with him, that ideology didn’t change much due to the fact that the archer had made zero indication, up until this point, that he wanted that with you as well. It never bothered you much, or at least you convinced yourself that it didn’t. 

Now, as you had a presumed engagement ring sitting in the palm of your hand, you realized just how badly you’ve wanted that extended bond with Daryl. 

“I-uh-never believed in that sorta love crap ‘fore you, and ya mean a lot to me. I guess I just want us to be closer, ya know? So that ring can mean somethin’ or nothin’ at all. Just whatever you want.” Daryl clarified in his resumed anxious ramble as your silence was beginning to become too unbearable for him to stand any longer.

His choppy efforts of trying to explicitly bare his heart out to you was endearing, and you felt your heart swell two sizes too big for your chest to hold. 

“You have to say it.” You stated with a slight quiver of emotion in your voice. Tears had finally begun to well up in your eyes, and you found yourself having a hard time sitting still as you waited with anticipation. 

“Huh?” The archer quickly shot his gaze towards yours, and was taken aback by the genuinely in your brightened face. 

“You have to ask…the question.” You reiterated as the corners of your eyes crinkled with delight. 

“I ain’t gettin’ down on one knee…I won’t be able to get back up.” Daryl grumbled as he anxiously wiped his sweaty palms over his pants. 

You couldn’t help but laugh joyously at your soon to be husband’s concerns. With a slight shake of your head, you grabbed one of Daryl’s hands and placed the diamond ring in his possession with a slip of your hand. “You don’t have to…you just have to say it.”

Glancing down at the ring that now sat in his hand, Daryl’s worries were slightly relieved by your reassurances. Clearing his throat, Daryl held the ring up to you and stared deeply into your awaiting eyes. 

“Will you-uh-marry me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh out of glee and throw your arms around Daryl’s neck, falling into him as your face became buried in his shoulder. The archer practically fell over as he caught your embrace. A smile danced around the corner of his lips while he allowed himself to relish in warmth he felt rushing his body. Instinctively, his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you against him.

“Yes! Yes! A million times, yes!” You were glowing with glee as you spoke the cheesy romance line.

Did you really need Daryl to ask you to marry him? No. Did you only request it just so you could see his reaction to the corny response you gave? Yes.

“Alright, ‘m takin’ that ring back now.” Daryl snickered as you pulled away from him slightly, a look of freight contorting your face that previously held a rather smug grin. A rare, teeth baring smile graced Daryl’s face as he felt your arms tighten around his shoulders. 

“Absolutely not.” That seemed like enough of a statement to retract Daryl from his playful taunt. Holding your left hand out, you wiggled in excitement as he slipped the glistening diamond ring on your ring finger. 

With hushed voices and tear filled eyes, you both exchanged your individual vows to each other. You didn’t need a white dress, an officiant, or guests observing the most vulnerable proclamations of love to ever be spoken in order to solidify your marriage to Daryl. Being alone with the love of your life, and surrounded by forestry that seemed unearthly and enchanted, was more beautiful and held more sincerity than any wedding party could ever hold. 

As far as you and Daryl are concerned, he was your husband, and you his wife. Together, you would live happily ever after.

-

-

A/N: This was so cute to write! I’m sorry this took awhile for me to finish, I’ve just been so busy with irl stuff and it’s just exhausted me. Thank you to the anon who requested this, I hope it’s what you were looking for! Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!! <3

[jadedxhearts]

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

After not being able to have alone time with Law for a while due to all the events taking place, you’re finally able to get what you want one evening. Note: I know everything in the beginning of Wano kinda happens in one day but for the sake of this fic it does not lol.

originally posted on Sept 14, 2022

Please note that this is an old work and isn't representative of my current writing skills!

Having nearly no privacy was incredibly frustrating, especially having to live in a ruined palace. No closed off rooms, just massive holes in walls to make separate “rooms”.

Hell, you couldn’t even go have a bath alone. All the water had to carefully be stolen from the farm, so you had a very limited amount to wash yourself with; meaning you were basically just splashing water on yourself fully clothed and hoping it would be enough.

And go for a walk in the woods? You’d either be followed or worse, run into trouble, get caught.

So therefore, you had absolutely no way to be alone with Law. Somebody was always in the abandoned castle, always following you into the woods, it was always something.

Until today.

In a rare moment, everyone had left the hideout to search for those with moon tattoos on their ankles. And as for the three idiots on your crew, Law had kicked them out saying they were on “spy duty”, because surely Luffy and the other Strawhats would be showing up one of these days. And boy did they eat it up, grabbing their binoculars and running off, talking about how important this was.

So here you were now, in the present situation;

After making sure the boys were far off, Law laid back, pulling a finger in an inward motion to tell you to come forward. You gladly hopped onto his lap, running your fingers along his chest. “Finally.”

“Don’t get too excited. They could come back at any moment,” Law advised. “Though, I doubt that idiot will show up anytime soon.”

Sighing, you slipped a hand under the top of his robes, placing your hand on his firm chest, the other one around his jaw. You leaned forward and down to press a kiss to your lover’s lips.

“Surely we can sneak something in, Law? Please, I’m so tired of not being able to touch you…”

“Is that not what you’re doing right now?”

“You know what I mean!” You snapped, pulling your face away from his. “Maybe you should just be blunt with them and tell them you and I need alone time.”

“Why don’t you do it then?” He asked, smirking.

“Wh-well I, no. That’s embarrassing.”

Law rolled his eyes, and put a hand on your back, pushing you to lay right up against him. “Then I guess you won’t get what you want.”

You bit playfully at his lip, a fake glare sent his way. “Fine.”

Law chuckled very briefly, before reconnecting his lips with yours. His right hand moved to your bottom, cupping it through your kimono.

You shuddered at the aroused feeling going straight to your core, welcoming Law’s touches. You slipped your hand underneath his head, grabbing at his hair and deepening the kiss.

“So impatient…” he mumbled against your lips, both of which were now wet with spit.

“It’s been too long, Law. I need you, now.” You whined.

Law unoccupied hand slipped up to your chest and under the folds of the kimono, finding its resting place on your right breast, gently massaging it and flicking at your nipple.

You let out a soft moan, wanting him to go further, go lower.

He bit at your lip before kissing you, and pulled back to speak; “you need to be quiet, y/n. The others aren’t too far away.”

“I don’t care,” you told him. “Let them hear the way you fuck me so good, baby.”

Law’s hips involuntarily jerked up, rubbing up against your covered heat, which in turn made you grind down on him.

“Fuck, quit saying shit like that. Makes me wanna take you right here, where we can get caught so easily.”

You moaned again, pushing your lips back into his own to try and muffle the sound. You adjusted your hips so that your legs could be around his thigh, pushing part of his clothing aside so you could plant yourself onto his bare skin. With small movements that weren’t incredibly noticeable, you began rubbing your cunt on his thigh, the only barrier being your panties, which were growing wet quickly.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on my thigh like a stupid slut.” Law praised you. “Such a good girl…”

His lips returned to kiss you, and you continued to moan into his mouth, gripping his sleeve and pulling on his hair.

“Law, please, need you…” you whined.

“You can wait, love. I know you can.” He teased, “besides, I don’t need those idiots catching us, I never want anyone to see you like this.

“You know why?” He asked.

“Cause I’m, ah-” You let out a cry as you felt yourself getting close to releasing. “I’m all yours, Law. Only yours.”

“That’s right” he said, connecting your lips once again.

The kisses turned hot and passionate, but with lots of panting and whining in between. Law was starting to actually worry somebody would walk in on the two of you, but you were relentless, grinding yourself onto his thigh. He could feel your slick against his skin. Truly, it turned him on so much he couldn’t stop you.

“Law, baby, I’m-“

“CAPTAIN!!!”

“Fuck!” You cried, stopping your movements and smacking your fist against his chest. “No…”

“CAPTAIN!”

Just before Bepo, Penguin and Shachi could fully walk into the abandoned castle, Law quickly removed his hands from your chest and instead placed a hand on your back, while you hid your flushed face in his neck.

“What.”

Law seemed annoyed.

The boys stumbled back, surprised at the position the two of you were laying in. But instead of commenting on it, they blurted out the last thing you expected to hear.

“MUGIWARA’S HERE!”

—

Unfortunately for you, Law had to abandon you at the castle, leaving you all worked up and alone. When he finally returned, you feared that there was absolutely no way you’d be getting to finish, as now Luffy and all the Strawhats who weren’t in the Flower Capital were now here.

You had sulked all day, and now you sulked in Law’s arms. Or, arm, really.

You leaned against him, only one of his arms around you, as you both stood outside with your crew, while the others inside were learning of the events that took place twenty years ago.

“Law,” you whispered, turning your head to look up at him. “Can we please… just go off in the woods?”

Law sighed, shaking his head. “In the dirt? I don’t think so, y/n.”

You lowered your head, frowning. “Please, Law… it’s too painful.”

“Are you that desperate?” He asked.

“Yes! Just… tell the others I have a stomachache, and I don’t wanna puke in front of them or something.”

“You drive me insane,” he muttered.

But to your surprise, he pushed both of you up off the wall you were leaning against, and began walking you towards the woods.

“Y/n doesn’t feel good,” Law announced. “I’m going with her. She’s too embarrassed to throw up in front of you guys, apparently.”

The boys began laughing, making some comment about how nothing would be as embarrassing as what happened to Bepo earlier that day.

But they let both of you go without any issues.

It wasn’t too difficult to find a secluded spot, since the forest was fairly thick and it was dark out, the only light being from the moon.

You only hoped the distance was far enough that nobody could hear you.

You looked behind you, searching to see exactly how far you’d walked out. Unable to see the ruins, you figured it was good enough.

You felt Law’s hand on your jaw, gently forcing you to look up at him.

“They won’t hear,” he reassured you. “And if they do, they can just deal with it.”

Breath shuddering, you leaned forward to close the space between your lips and the smirk that his lips formed. Placing another hand on your back, Law pushed you closer and connected the both of you.

Your hands found their way up to his hair once again, running your fingers through his soft locks of messy hair. With one hand, you took his hat and placed it on your own head before returning your hand to play with his hair.

“Step back,” he told you.

Listening, you removed your hands and took a couple small steps back, allowing Law to move.

He took the cloak that hung over his shoulders and laid it out on the grass, dropping his katana next to it.

“Lay down.”

You smiled. “Aw, you don’t want me to get all dirty,” you said. “How sweet of you, Law.”

“I don’t want to get dirty.” He corrected you. “But yeah, it would be bad if you got dirt on you. Cause then I’d have to get it off.”

Giggling, you sat down on the cloak and leaned back, holding yourself up with your elbows behind you.

Law kneeled in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs, rubbing them. “Tell me what you want, y/n.”

He leaned forward to bite at your collarbone, sucking on the skin between his teeth. You miserably failed to hold back the tiny whimper you’d been holding in. “I… want your fingers,” you told him.

Law kissed the now hickey on your neck before removing himself to pull back just a little, pushing your kimono away from your legs and grabbing the panties you wore underneath, pulling them off of you. He examined them for a moment, before tossing them behind him.

“Law!” You protested.

“What?”

“Now they’re gonna be dirty! What am I supposed to wear?!”

“They were already dirty with you nearly cumming inside them earlier. You can wear nothing until we get back to our stuff.”

You were going to whine, but then Law pushed a finger against your clit without warning, sliding it down to your wet folds.

“Look at how soaked you are, y/n. You’re such a slut.”

“I can’t help it,” you whined.

You cried out as he began to rub your clit with his thumb, his index and middle finger running along you to wet them, before he slowly slid them inside your cunt. The movement on your sensitive bud slowed down as he gently felt along your walls, scissoring his fingers to stretch you just a little, before he curled the two digits, rubbing up against your sweet spot.

“Law, baby,” you moaned.

“You're such a good whore, y/n, coming all undone just from my fingers. And to think you almost came on my thigh, without me even touching you. Pathetic.”

You squirmed and moaned, knowing you were close to cumming, desperately hoping you’d be able to release this time.

You threw your head back with a groan as Law added a third finger, speeding up his motions and thoroughly fingering you. Your fingers tried grabbing at the cloak underneath you, but due to your position and the weight on it, you were unsuccessful. With nothing to ground yourself, you clenched your fists and cried out, moaning Law’s name.

“Law, I’m close, fuck-“

“Gonna cum on my fingers, hm?” He asked.

“Yes! Please, Law, please let me cum, I-“

But Law pulled his fingers away just as you were mere milliseconds away from climaxing, and you let out a frustrated cry. “No! Law, please!”

“You begged me to come out here and fuck you. You’ll play by my rules,” he told you. “Being that you won’t cum until I say so. Okay, wife-ya?”

You let out a whine at the pet name, moving your arms away from under you so you could lay back fully on the ground. Your hands found their way to your face, which you held in embarrassment.

“Okay, Law…”

Peeking through your fingers, you saw him smirking. You closed your eyes as he lowered his head, feeling his breath against your soaked cunt.

“Maybe I should eat you out, hm?”

You trembled and clenched around nothing, trying to buck your hips forward so they’d reach his mouth. But then Law pulled back.

“Or maybe I should punish you for what you did earlier. Get on your knees.”

You obliged, pushing yourself off your back and onto your knees, placing your hands on your thighs and waited.

Law stood up, his hands reaching underneath his hat which still sat on your head, hands making their way underneath your hair so he could get a good grip on your head.

“Go ahead,” he instructed.

You pushed the robes away so that you could get your face between his muscular thighs, gently freeing his cock with shaking hands.

It’d been a while since you’d had him shoved down your throat. You wondered if you’d be able to handle it.

Positioning your hands, you brought the tip to your mouth and kissed it, gently suckling on it.

Above you, Law let out a small groan that caused a chill to run throughout your hot body, making you squeeze your thighs together in some pathetic attempt to pleasure yourself.

You ran your tongue up his shaft a few times before finally widening your mouth, praying you wouldn’t gag and mess it all up.

As you brought the tip into your mouth fully, Law moved his hips forward, practically shoving his entire length into your mouth. You tried protesting, but it was all just muffled noises as you choked on him.

In an attempt to gain access to air, you grabbed at his hand, squeezing it.

Reluctantly, Law pulled his cock out of your mouth, and you began coughing and spitting.

“Too much?” He asked.

You nodded, wiping the spit from your face. “I can’t… handle it,” you answered.

“That’s okay. We’ll try again and again until you can take it all.”

Your head returned to him, and you took just the tip of him into your mouth, running your tongue around his cock.

“Good girl,” Law praised. “Can you take a little more?”

You nodded, and he pushed just a little more inside. And then a little more, and more until he was fully inside your mouth once again.

“Breathe through your nose,” he reminded you.

Finally, you were able to take him once more. You squeezed his hand again, letting him know it was okay to move. He let go of your hand to place it in your hair and began thrusting, but very gently.

Eventually, the more comfortable you got, the faster he moved. He was fully deepthroating you now, his grip on your hair nearly painful now. You didn’t mind though, because hearing his little moans was the greatest sound you’d ever heard, and it turned you on to no end knowing that you were the one giving him such pleasure.

“I’m gonna- fuck!” He cursed, unloading himself into your throat with no warning.

He quickly pulled out after, knowing you probably wouldn’t be able to breathe right without any warning. You swallowed what you could, but started coughing again, head resting on his hip.

“You did so good, y/n.” Law told you, rubbing your tender head. “I’m proud of you.”

You smiled and let the praise go straight to your head. You hadn’t even noticed that Law was moving, until he moved you to sit on his lap.

“Now I’ll fuck you, just as you wanted. Okay?”

You nodded and raised your hips so he could position his once again hard cock underneath you. Holding himself with one hand, he brought the other one to your hip, gripping at the soft flesh. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you sank down onto him, moaning at the way he stretched you.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, “you’re so… tight.”

“Law, I- I can’t, too big-“

“Yes you can,” he reassured you. “I know it’s been a while but you’ll be okay. I won’t hurt you, love.”

You teared up, one singular tear rubbing down your flushed cheeks. You didn’t know if it was from his sweet words, or the way he was practically splitting you in half.

“Move when you’re ready,” he said, running a hand through your hair and kissing you.

After a moment of simply sitting halfway on his cock, you finally lowered yourself, swallowing up his entire length.

“Good girl.”

You whined as you slowly lifted your hips again before sliding them back down. You did this a few more times before you felt ready enough to fully ride him.

Testing the waters, you rocked your hips forward once, shuddering and clenching on his thick length.

“Fuck,” you cried, moving your hips back, and then forth again.

“You’re doing so good, y/n. Taking my cock so well, like a good little slut.”

“Law,” you moaned his name, “feels..so… good.”

He smirked as he watched you begin to bounce on him, your eyes shut tightly and mouth hung open as moans fell from you.

Feeling more confident, you sped up your movements until you were completely riding him, bouncing up and down so quickly your moans weren’t catching up with it anymore.

“Oh, Law, baby… I’m gonna- mmm.”

His right hand was now underneath you, rubbing circles into your clit. “I know. I can always tell by the way you start clenching on me.”

“F-fuck!”

You threw your head back, slowly opening your eyes and looking down again, seeing the sight before you. Law had that stupid smirk on his face again, but you could see in his eyes that he was truly loving this.

But then his mouth fell open, and he began panting and groaning, his hips shaking as he was now incredibly close, too.

His left hand gripped your hip even tighter, and his other started rubbing your soft bud faster.

“Cum with me, baby,” he told you.

You whined, loving when he called you baby. Out of all the stupid shit he’d call you, nothing else made your heart flutter like this.

You let out a loud moan, your orgasm overtaking you, releasing all your sweet juices down onto his cock as he came again, his hot cum filling you up.

You both stopped moving, and Law laid back so you could collapse on top of him.

“Better now?” He asked.

You nodded, kissing him.

After another moment of laying together, he slowly pulled out of you, causing your mixed cum to flow out of your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Think you can walk back to base?” He asked, helping you up.

On wobbly legs, you nodded. But it was obvious you couldn’t.

Sighing, Law lifted you up, over his shoulder. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. He picked up his things and your panties before heading back towards the ruins.

Before you could reach the clearing, you felt ready to walk again so he let you down, throwing the cloak over your shoulders to keep you warm.

It seemed everyone was passed out, so it was easy for you to get a clean pair of panties on before you laid down with Law, arms wrapped around him as you drifted off to sleep, fully satisfied.