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mattslolita · 7 months ago

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okay so idk if you’re taking request cs if ur not im soo sorry but i CRAVEEEE toxic babydaddy chris or matt like imagine yall imagine😔🙌🏾

dilemma - c. sturniolo

in which ... you can't stand chris's new girl in the picture, and you both realize how much you miss each other especially for your daughter. ( baby daddy!chris x black!fem reader )

warnings : angst, toxic!baby daddy!chris, crying, smut, riding, nipple play, unprotected piv ( wrap it freaks ), fluff in the end :3

"𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒅𝒐, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ

"alaijah baby, i need you to stay still, please!" you pleaded with your daughter, attempting to grip her unruly curls as she brushed her hair softly.

"mama, when daddy coming?" alaijah babbles, a soft smile on her face as she toys with the bottle of hairspray on the bed which keeps causing her to move around.

a lump forms in your throat at the question, but you attempt to give her a tight-lipped smile anyway. "I'm dropping you off my love, remember? we're getting ice cream on the way."

"ice cweam!" alaijah giggles excitedly, causing her to topple over the oil sheen which tumbles off the bed.

you groan and shake your head, losing the grip you had on her ponytail as you bent down to pick up the oil sheen — the thing that annoyed you was the fact that if it was her dad combing her hair, she was obedient with him. she never gave him problems when he was the one doing her hair, and it made you frustrated.

after picking the bottle up and setting it back down on the bed, you opened candy crush saga on your phone and handed it to your one year old girl, who happily took your phone and sat snug in between your legs.

with a satisfied smile, you begin to brush her hair again, thankfully having no more problems — that is, until your phone rings and you look down to see alaijah's dad trying to facetime you.

"daddy!" alaijah shrieks, a huge smile breaking out over her face.

you didn't want to talk to him, but you weren't going to deprive your daughter — so against your better judgement, you swipe up and accept the call.

"lay, hi sweetheart!" chris smiles at his daughter through the screen, and internally making your heart melt.

"daddy! hi!" alaijah giggles, scrunching her nose cutely as she waves at him through the screen, "miss you!"

"i miss you too, angel," chris says, his beam even brighter at the sight of her, "you ready for this weekend?"

"yah!" alaijah nods happily, poking at the phone, "daddy, say hi to mommy!"

rolling your eyes, you try to move yourself out of the camera's lens especially when you see chris's smug smile on the screen. "hi, momma."

you make a stank face at him and continue doing alaijah's hair, but the one year old makes a pouty face at you when she realizes you didn't answer him.

"mommy, daddy said hi!" alaijah presses, causing you to let out a sigh.

"yeah, daddy says hi," chris smirks, and you can feel your cheeks warm up despite the unwillingness of it all.

"yeah, hey," you said sharply, shooting him a glare through the screen as you're now getting started on alaijah's baby hairs.

"c'mon y/n/n, be a little nicer to daddy," chris continues, causing alaijah to giggle and you to groan.

you put your hands over alaijah's ears gauging a confused expression from her. "shut the fuck up, christopher."

chris just laughs and shakes his head as you uncover alaijah's ears, and she continues to look down at the screen excitedly — you continue watching as your daughter and chris talk for a little bit more, and you can't help but smile a few times at the way chris looked at her with so much love and admiration. it makes you wish you two had never broken up, otherwise you would've been a real family.

you pulled up to chris's house and sighed, looking at alaijah in the rearview mirror — she grinned at you excitedly as she seen that you both had arrived at her dad's house.

you quickly get out of the driver's seat of your car and open the back door on that side, unbuckling alaijah from her car seat and picking her up.

"daddy house!" alaijah beams excitedly, as you close the car door and move to the trunk where her overnight bag was.

"yes, are you excited baby?" you ask her with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and she nodded with a giggle.

her overnight bag was on your shoulder and you internally groaned as you made your way towards the front door of his house — alaijah immediately reached out to press the doorbell, and you could feel her excited nerves radiating from her which made you smile at her again.

you almost dropped your daughter from your hands when you saw what opened the door — a blonde woman who looked to be your age, dressed in skimpy ass clothing which had you heated. you could tell she had extensions in her hair, and you scoffed at how cheap they looked.

"can i help you?" she snarks with an attitude, a hand on her hip as she gives you a once over.

"i know damn well this bitch is not..." you scoff, shaking your head, then looking back up at her, "girl, i'm here to drop off his daughter. who the fuck is you?"

"i'm his girlfriend," she says, boastful smirk on her face, and your heart drops and your face visibly hardens at this.

"did i ask, hoe?" you say to her, taking a step closer causing her to step back slightly, "get the fuck out my way before-"

"what's going on?" chris's voice suddenly comes, causing your blood to boil. damn, he looked so fine.

"you better check your bitch before i do," you say to him, causing the blonde girl to narrow her eyes at you as chris pushes her to the side.

"daddy!" alaijah says excitedly, reaching her arms out for him.

"hi baby!" chris coos to his daughter, taking her from your arms as he brings her close to him, "i missed you!"

you watch the sweet interaction with a yearning heart, but you seeth when you see the way the blonde girl looks at him with just as much adoration as you do — chris looks between both of you with an amused expression, and you could just give him a right hook right now.

"look, my daughter's here, can you both not come for each other?" chris says with raised eyebrows.

you fully turn to face him now, crossing your arms over your chest. he takes your figure up and down unashamedly, and you try to keep yourself from smirking as you realize you still had that effect on him. "that broad better not go nowhere near my baby, christopher."

"still using that full name on me?" chris scoffs with an amused smile, shaking his head. "i'll see you sunday night, alright?"

you quickly leaned up towards alaijah to press a kiss to her cheek, caressing it as she smiled at you. "i'll see you soon baby, okay? have fun."

"bye mommy, i love you!" alaijah tells you.

"i love you more."

without waiting for anyone to say anything else, you make your way towards your car, giving your hips a little extra sway as you knew chris would be drooling as he watched you walk away. you were proven right when you went to get in your car and chris had definitely been watching after you. you smirked as the blonde girl gave him a look of disbelief at the action, and you drove away, still feeling angry upon seeing her in the first place.

sunday night couldn't have come fast enough — you were bored and somewhat lonely without the comfort of your daughter with you, but you were able to run a few errands.

chris texted you and told you he would drop alaijah back off at your house, and you scoffed and only replied with an "ok." you knew it would piss him off, but how could he be the one upset?

soon, a familiar engine lowly rumbled outside of your house and you felt somewhat nervous because you knew it was chris. you heard the car door open then close, and footsteps slowly approach your porch until a knock on the door sounded.

almost too quickly you answered, and your heart warmed at the sight of chris holding your daughter in his arms tightly, her head laid on his neck with her eyes closed.

"she's asleep," chris said, swiping at his nose then nodding towards her, "can i go lay her down?"

you nodded wordlessly, stepping aside so that chris could walk in with her. he knows your house like that back of his hand ( nevermind the fact he used to live there with you! ) — he makes his way to your room, but you don't follow him.

instead, you cross your arms and sit at a barstool at your kitchen table, tapping her fingers along your arm as you wait the treacherous minutes it takes for your ex boyfriend to say his goodbyes to his daughter.

he emerges from your used to be shared room and grins at you, causing you to narrow your eyes at him. "what the fuck are you looking at?"

"i know you're still mad, y/n," chris shrugs nonchalantly, taking slow deliberate steps towards you.

"boy what are you talking about?" you say with a roll of your eyes, crossing her arms tighter on your chest.

"you're mad about lexi," chris says, egging it on, as he knows you're seething right now.

"oh, so the bitch got a name now, too?" you say, scoffing and shaking your head.

"you mad cause i'm fucking another bitch?" chris smirks, and you whip your head up at him at this remark.

without any warning, you stand up and quickly walk over to chris, yanking him by the arm and pulling him towards the couch in the living room — she shoves the man back on it, immediately going to straddle him as he looks up at her with a smirk and an amusement in his eyes.

"y'know lay's asleep, right?" chris tsks, rubbing the sides of her bare thighs which caused goosebumps to raise on her skin.

"then you better shut the fuck up," you say.

you smashed your lips onto chris's, having been craving this feeling again for so long — his hands immediately went to grope your ass which prompted a gasp to leave your lips and chris to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

you grinded down against his hard on, which you felt poking through his jeans as it so desperately wanted to be free. never breaking eye contact with him, you lifted your his shirt above your head and threw it behind you, and chris went to unclip your bra causing your perfectly round breasts to spill out.

"fuck, i missed seeing your pretty tits, ma," chris groans, immediately attaching his lips to your left tit whilst he massages the other.

"mhm chris," you breathe out, throwing your head back as he switches, giving attention to the other tit.

you grind down on him again, making the both of you moan at the contact. "pull your pants down."

you get up and take your shorts off, also giving chris enough time to slip out of his jeans and boxers, revealing his large, veiny cock which already leaked with precum — your mouth salivates at the sight.

you pull down your panties revealing your wet cunt, to which chris lets out a groan and strokes himself, but you narrow your eyes at him and smack his hand away, going to hover over his cock.

your hands find their way to chris's shoulders, latching onto them as you slowly sink yourself onto him, pulling a moan from the both of you.

"fuck, you're so big!" you whine, the stretch burning being that you haven't felt him inside you in a long time.

"so tight baby," chris groans in your ear, guiding you with his hands.

once he's fully inside you, you begin to move back and forth on his cock, the veins in his hands now prominent with the grip he held on your sides. "fuck baby, just like that!"

"you feel so good, oh my gosh," you moan out, throwing your head as you pick up your rhythm, bouncing up and down on his cock.

chris meets you halfway, thrusting up into you pulling multiple whines from you as he hits your sweet spot over and over again.

"fucking me so good ma, i missed your pussy," chris moans, leaving sloppy kisses to your neck.

"m'close, christopher," you moan out, keeping your steady pace.

"yeah?" chris groans in your ear, "come on baby, let go fa me."

it doesn't take you long before your orgasm comes crashing through you, your juices spilling over chris's cock and a loud moan of his name falls past your lips.

this sends him over the edge too, and hot spurts of his seed spill inside of you, mixing your juices together. he helps both of you ride out your orgasm, then you quickly get off of him to catch your breath.

he pulls you back towards him and shoves a finger inside your pussy to keep his cum in there, eliciting a gasp from you as you look at him with disbelief whilst he grins at you.

"what the fuck?" you gasp out.

"need my seed inside you, so you know who's yours," chris grins at you.

he takes his finger out then stands up, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the bathroom — he wordlessly grabs a towel and wets it, and you can feel tears from in your eyes as he does so.

none of this meant it was going to last long — he was going right back to the same boyfriend he was before, which was the ultimate reason you broke up in the first place. but you couldn't help the way you still loved him.

"please don't cry," chris says, breaking you out of the trance you didn't realize you were in.

"why shouldn't i, chris?" you sniffle, as he wipes your legs delicately, "it's not like we're getting back together."

chris could feel his heart break at the words you said, causing him to hang his head — it was his fault, and he couldn't believe he'd ever let someone like you go. he was so scared of fucking up, that he fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.

"i miss you," you admit.

"i missed you even more, y/n," chris says, lifting your chin so that you could see in his eyes. and for once, there was a trace of sincerity in those blue depths. "i can't believe i broke our family up like this. i fucked up really bad, baby. but i want us to be a family."

"you mean that, baby?" you look up at him with a smile, and he wipes the tears away from your eyes, nodding.

"of course, ma. i love you so much."

he leans down and places a kiss to your lips — but this time it was sweet, but yearning. he missed both of his girls, and he was glad he had them back.

after cleaning you up chris grabs your hand again and leads you towards the bedroom, where alaijah is sound asleep in the middle of where you both used to lay.

you climb on side and chris on the other, and as if sensing the presence of her dad, alaijah moves towards chris like a magnetic touch, and he puts his arm around his daughter looking down at her with nothing but love and admiration.

you smile at him with your head propped up on the pillow, and he looks at you — he affectionately taps your nose, causing you to giggle as you take his hand, placing a soft kiss to it.

"goodnight, baby," you tell him, and he leans in to place another kiss to your lips.

"goodnight, my love," chris says back.

you get under the covers with them, moving close towards alaijah in the process to wrap your own arm around the girl, too — chris places another sweet kiss to both of your foreheads, finally at peace knowing he was with his number one girls again.

( lilly's section 💌 )

two fics in one night, who is she😳🙏? i hope y'all enjoy this, i love u so much muah💌.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333

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jnkgrnde · 11 months ago

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— dating hc’s, clarisse la rue, pjo

summary — dating hc’s w pookie

pairings — clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader (daughter of apollo)

authors note — some of this is inspired by a clarisse fanfic i read the other day w a child of apollo reader ☝🏾

⭑ alr first things first y’all r the definition of black cat gf + golden retriever gf WALK W ME!

⭑ like when u first got to camp clarisse was v.. she thought u were different but in a good way.

⭑ she expected u to act like how an apollo kid would except u were like 5x sunshinier and smilier.

⭑ when u decided to hang out w her more often after u arrived people were starting to question things

⭑ like how clarisse wasn’t throwing you in the lake

⭑ the only reason she hadn’t done that yet was because she was starting to like having you around, even if she didn’t act like it

⭑ you’d talk to her about your day, spar w her, etc etc

⭑ that was up until the night you realized you liked her more than friends

⭑ you were pacing around your cabin, biting your nails anxiously; when you got to camp, you decided to read about your father, and that included all of his tragedies family wise and love wise.

⭑ you didn’t want to continue that tradition, so you came down to the decision of avoiding clarisse entirely.

⭑ it started becoming noticeable after about two or three days.

⭑ clarisse was more irritable, and people noticed you weren’t around her as much. a lot of the time you’d write in your journal about it.

⭑ whenever you were at the archery range, you’d up and leave as soon as you saw clarisse.

⭑ she wasn’t happy about this

⭑ this had been going on for what felt like forever; clarisse trying to subtly look for you, and whenever she found you you always managed to leave as soon as she was approaching.

⭑ she would’ve never admitted this to anybody, but she missed you. how you would talk non stop about your day and always ask how hers was going. she missed the way you would get shy whenever she called you sunshine because of your descent.

⭑ she ended up having enough when she called out for you at the archery range and you blatantly ignored her, which is how you two got where you are right now

“y/n!”

you cursed to yourself as you started walking the opposite direction, not even bothering to put your bow down.

she didn’t let you go this time, running up to you to turn you around. you had a slight look of anger and fear on your face, and it hurt clarisse to see you look at her like everyone else does.

“why are you avoiding me?” you avoided her eyes. you weren’t really prepared for what would’ve happened when or if she decided to approach you. “is there something you wanted to tell me? any explanation? at all?” she persisted. “i just- it’s hard to talk about, clarisse.” clarisse frowned. you almost never used her full name. “it’s just me, sunshine. just you and me.”

you breathed deep to calm your aching heart. “i like you.”

clarisse stood dumbfounded. “what?” “i have a crush on you, and i was scared to tell you because of my dad and his history with love. i didn’t want to possibly get you killed all because i loved you.” clarisse looked at you for a moment then put her lips with yours.

her hand found your waist as you gripped her forearm. why and since when was she a good kisser? it was getting heated so you pulled away. “why did you do that?” you asked her breathlessly. “we have more of a chance of dying solely because we’re demigods. if i have to die early, i’d rather die knowing me and you were together through everything.” you nodded. “okay.” you whispered out.

“okay?” she repeated. she looked at you with so much love held in her eyes. “okay.” you started grinning.

⭑ let me wrap this up before it gets too long lmao

⭑ to reiterate what i said earlier, yall are the definition of black cat gf + golden retriever gf

⭑ whether its in capture the flag or just strolling around the campgrounds, clarisse is very protective of you

⭑ i’d like to believe she would steal some of ur lotion n stuff cs u got GOOD stuff don’t ask me how i know

⭑ you’d also help eachother out w ur hair like braiding them for games etc etc

⭑ she loved ur voice btw. like u had a naturally pretty voice bc of ur dad, so she’d love to hear u talk. bonus points if ur one of those ppl who sing peoples names instead of js saying them normally

⭑ it took her a minute to get used to it, but atp she does not care about pda; she’s showing u off whether u like it or not

⭑ okay thats it clarisse is my girlfriend #confirmed

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson

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lightsoutletsgo · 8 months ago

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names the f1 drivers would call their partner ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

word count: 2k

warnings: cheesy cringy fluff I just thought this was a cute little idea so I decided to turn it into a whole post of it's own! I noticed that I've kind of started assigning names to specific drivers just because that's the vibe I get from them! as always this is entirely personal opinion. happy reading! mimi ₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･ it isn't all the drivers bc I don't write for the entire grid but if you wanted to see one driver in particular then pls send in a request and I'll see what I can do!

cl.16 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Ma belle (my beautiful or my lovely) Simple and sounds divine when it rolls off the tongue with the French accent! Charles can't remember when he first called you the name because it's all he ever calls you! He adores the way you smile when you hear it and knowing you like it just as much as he does makes him say it again and again and again.

"Ma belle" is the first thing you hear as your eyes slowly blink open in the morning light. You smile happily with a hum as Charles' lips press against your cheek slowly, "Good morning ma belle, how did you sleep hmm?" With a giggle you roll over to look at him properly, "You know I always sleep better when you're home, handsome." You poke his nose gently and it scrunches up before he's pulling you into his arms, hating that you're not as close as possible to him, "Well then ma belle, let's sleep a little longer..."

cs.55 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Princesa (princess) It's classic and sweet without being too cringy! Carlos originally started calling you princesa as a joke but found that he actually quite liked it. You're his princess and so giving you that title only made sense! Carlos swears his heart melts when you pout up at him and he realises all over again he's more than happy to keep calling you his princess.

"Carlooooos!" You whined, "My feet hurt..." You pouted as you squatted down on the pavement, unable to take another step. "Princesa..." Carlos sighed, "I told you those shoes would hurt your feet." You stared up at him, bottom lip jutting out, "I can't walk anymore..." Carlos chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip gently, "Here, princesa," He guided you up and over to a nearby bench before kneeling in front of you. You sighed as his warm hands eased your shoes off of your feet, "Better?" You nodded, "I'm going to get the car, it's just around the corner okay?" You smiled at him, "Thank you." "Of course princesa... And when we get home I'll run you a bath and give you a foot rub, okay?"

ln.4 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Sunshine Cute and different. Lando has many names for you that all depend on both of your moods and the situation; jellybean, pretty girl, babe, mamas, peach, but sunshine is his favourite. He tells you it's because you're his little piece of Monaco sunshine when he's far away from home and missing you. He draws his inspiration from lazy mornings spent with you in the bed of your shared Monaco apartment, the sun dappling soft patterns on your skin as his lips chase the sunlight.

"Hi sunshine..." You giggle as Lando's scruff tickles your bare shoulder, relishing in the way his lips trace a line of soft kisses across your back as the sunlight pours in through the floaty net curtains. You roll over and loop your arms around his neck, "Good morning gorgeous..." You nuzzle your nose into his and he presses a kiss to your cheek, humming happily as the sun warms the room. "What are your plans for the day?" He asks, desperately hoping that they revolve around him, you contemplate for a moment before rolling over on top of him, "Nothing at all!" Lando finds himself breathless as he gazes at you, the morning light highlighting the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin and making your lips look so damn kissable. He knows that when he's far away from home, this is what he'll remember. His own slice of heaven and his very own sunshine.

op.81 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Angel sweet and gives you butterflies! Is very nice to hear in all sorts of settings and moods... The first time he saw you, Oscar thought you looked like an angel and though it took him a while to pluck up the courage to call you angel for the first time, it's now the name he always uses for you! Even when you're not around he still refers to you as his angel (much to Lando's annoyance because he thinks you two are icky sometimes).

"Hey angel!" You gave a watery smile at your boyfriend through the call, hating that he was so far away, "have you been crying?" You nodded slowly, knowing how guilty Oscar felt leaving you behind. "I'm sorry angel... Hey," he said lowly, "I left one of my hoodies in your wardrobe, why don't you go grab it?" Following his instructions you grabbed the hoodie and cuddled into bed, holding it up to your nose and desperately trying to imagine he was there with you, "You look so cute angel..." You giggled, "Even when I'm all teary and snotty and sad?" "Especially then!" He beamed back at you, "Who you talking to Oscah?" You heard his teammate's voice drift through the phone, "Just talking to my angel." Oscar cooed, earning a groan from Lando that had you and Oscar bursting into giggles, "You're not even here in the same room and you're still being mushy!"

ls.2 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Baby Simple and understated Logan likes to keep things simple but sweet and so baby is his go-to name for you. He's worked out that it suits a variety of situations and moods whether you're feeling happy, down, excited, angry or... needy. 'Baby' is usually followed up with a quick smooch to the cheek or forehead.

"Babyyyy?" Logan dragged out the last syllable, sitting next to you on the couch, "Babe? You can't stay mad at me forever!" He whined, flopping down onto the pillows. "My last brownie Logan. The last one." You hmmphed, crossing your arms for emphasis, "Baby I'm sorry! I didn't realise it was the last one..." You looked at Logan who now sat up next to you looking very dejected. You sighed, "It's okay," "Thank you so much baby," he kissed your cheek, "I will never eat your brownies again no matter how many are there." You giggled as he gave a mock salute, "Now, go put your shoes on baby, we're going to go and get more brownies!"

gr.63 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ My love Classic and to the point! It’s sweet without feeling like too much. With or without the ‘my’ it still feels intimate.George knew not long after you’d started dating there would never be any other name for you. He loves saying it even when you’re out and around other people, it’s not too much that it’s cringy or awkward but it lets people know just how important you are to him. Sometimes he’ll drop the ‘my’ and just call you love, but even that is enough to have your cheeks heating up and to make you bite your bottom lip through a smile.

“My love?” You heard George call out as the door to your shared apartment opened, “In the kitchen!” You called back, hurrying around to make sure everything was ready for dinner. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You whirled around to see George standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. You smiled fondly at him as he approached you, pulling you into his arms and settling his hands on your waist, “You look beautiful my love, is this the dress you bought with Lily the other day?” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck and leaning up to peck his lips, “It is, speaking of, is she here?” George nodded, “Yeah, they’re in the dining room.” You squealed with excitement and untangled yourself from George to run to Lily, after the squealing and hugging had died down, George poked his head out of the kitchen, “Do you want me to bring the plates in here love?” Alex laughed shaking is head at George, “You’re so whipped for her.” George nodded, not even phased at Alex’s teasing, “She’s my love, of course I am.”

lh.44 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Darling Iconic and timeless, this name has stood the test of time. Darling sounds so good falling off of his lips. Whether it’s tinged with that slight American accent from time to time or sounds completely British, Lewis loves the way your hand always searches for his or your head drops to his shoulder once he’s said it. Lewis isn’t one for big PDA but he will always use this name, especially if he wants to check in with you mid-event or at a large gathering. Using this name is just one of the many ways he takes care of you.

“Darling,” You stopped mid-conversation with Toto and Susie as Lewis suddenly appeared behind you, his hand sliding down your arm before linking his fingers with yours and subtly pulling you to stand a little closer to him “are you feeling okay?” He knew you hated these big events, especially when he couldn’t stay by your side the whole time. You turned to look at him a sweet smile breaking across your face as you squeezed his hand, “I’m okay, I promise” He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head before noticing your glass was empty, “I’ll be right back darling,” He plucked your glass out of your hand and made his way to the bar, you staring after him lovingly, “The two of you are so sweet.” Your head snapped back to Susie who stood there watching you with a fond expression, you giggled, “He takes good care of me,” “You’re good for him too.” Toto acknowledged with a nod, “Here you are darling,” A hand appeared in front of you with a fresh drink, followed by Lewis. Taking the glass from him you pecked his cheek and linked your hand with his, “Thank you love.”

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wholoveseggs · 11 days ago

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Dark Star {Part Three}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Three

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} Klaus and Marcel hit a dead end searching for your killer. Until Cami offers a fresh perspective that could change everything. Kol uncovers a spell that might resurrect you, but the cost is steep. And centuries ago, under starlit skies, you surrender to a forbidden night with Elijah, binding your fate to his in ways that transcend time.

♡♡ It's finally time for some smuttt, ~ xoxo {Here is my playlist for the vibes} ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, first time, a bit of drinking, lots of religious talk, stargazing, so much sinning, Kol being Kol, Cami trying to help, a bonfire, dried fruit & magic mushrooms...

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Four}{Part Five}{Part Six}

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@origshipfan @cocoabliss

It was almost the end of Cami's shift when Klaus and Marcel walked into Rousseau's, the former looking unusually grim. Cami was used to seeing them bickering and bantering, but the atmosphere between the two was tense and charged. They sat down at the far end of the bar, and Marcel leaned over, grabbing a bottle and two glasses, pouring the drinks with an air of forced casualness. Klaus sat with his shoulders slumped, a frown creasing his brow, his fingers tapping anxiously against the countertop.

"You have to pay for that," Cami pointed out, a teasing smile playing on her lips, her hands busy cleaning glasses.

Neither of them smiled back, their expressions serious, and the smile faded from her face. "Okay, what's going on?" she asked, setting the glass down and walking over, her gaze shifting between them.

Marcel hesitated, exchanging a glance with Klaus, before sighing. "It's about Elijah," he said finally, his voice low.

"How is he?" she asked, concern coloring her tone. He had been seeped in grief since your death, and it was hard to see him like that.

"Not well," Marcel replied, rubbing his temples.

Klaus’s hand wrapped around his drink, his knuckles turning white. "He won’t speak, eat, drink," he said, his voice rough, his anger barely contained. "All he does is sit by the window, staring into space."

"Can you blame him?" Cami asked softly, her expression mirroring the grief in her voice. You had been a light in the family, always finding ways to bring them together, and she missed you, too.

"No," Klaus growled, taking a large gulp of his drink. He set it down so hard that tiny cracks formed on the surface of the bar. "That’s why I have to find who did this."

Cami nodded, looking at Marcel. "Any leads?"

Marcel shook his head, an edge of frustration in his voice. "Nothing. All of my connections… they’re either too afraid to talk, or Elijah already found them first." He hesitated, then added, "Including every last member of the Strix."

Cami’s eyes widened, the full weight of the statement sinking in. "He killed… all of them?"

Marcel nodded. "Anyone he thought might be involved, he left dead. Half of them didn’t even know her name."

Klaus slammed his hand down on the counter, anger sparking again. "This is unacceptable," he hissed. "We have nothing but Elijah’s trail of bodies. It’s like the killer is a ghost… we don’t even have a description, not even a name."

"So… no witnesses, no surveillance," Cami muttered, trying to think.

"No magical trace, no scent," Klaus added, his voice filled with frustration.

Cami tapped her fingers against the bar, her brow furrowing as an idea formed in her mind. She braced herself, knowing Klaus wouldn't like it but deciding to speak up anyway. "What if… what if it wasn’t a member of the supernatural community?"

Klaus turned, his gaze darkening. "Cami… she died with a stake in her chest."

"So? I didn’t say they didn’t know about the supernatural, just that they might not be part of it," she countered, crossing her arms and meeting his gaze.

Klaus sighed, leaning back in his seat. "They broke her bones, Camille. All of them," he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. "A human couldn’t do that."

"A group of humans could," Cami replied, her gaze flickering between the two vampires. Neither looked convinced.

"Why would humans target her?" Marcel asked, skepticism lacing his voice.

"Why not?" She shot back, her eyes narrowing. "You feed and kill a lot of humans, Marcel. Maybe someone got revenge."

Marcel flinched, a flash of guilt in his eyes.

Klaus’s jaw tensed, his fingers tightening around his glass. "But why her?" he said quietly, his voice low and strained. "Why not go after me, or one of the others?"

"Maybe because she was the weakest link," Cami said gently, hating how it sounded even as she spoke.

Marcel sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It’s… not a terrible theory, Cami. Especially if we’re dealing with someone who had something personal against her."

Klaus's gaze shifted, staring into the distance, his expression troubled. "We’re missing a piece of the puzzle. I just know it," he muttered, his voice distant.

"Well, there is another option," Cami said quietly, an idea flashing into her mind.

Klaus turned, his eyes meeting hers with a slight challenge in them. "And what would that be, love?"

"Go to the police?" she suggested, her voice firm despite the tension in the air.

"What?" Marcel and Klaus blurted out, identical expressions of confusion and shock on their faces. Klaus began to laugh, his entire body shaking with mirth. "You’re hilarious, Camille," he gasped, tears of laughter streaming down his face.

"No, no, I’m not joking," she retorted, her expression unflinching. "You could talk to the police, tell them that your sister-in-law was killed. You could offer a reward, get them to really investigate."

Klaus and Marcel exchanged glances, neither looking keen.

"And what can they find that we can’t?" Klaus asked, his expression souring.

"Forensic evidence," Cami said immediately. "Traces that can lead them to the killer."

"And then what? They go to prison?" Klaus chuckled, shaking his head.

"If they’re human, yes," Cami replied firmly, crossing her arms.

"And if it’s not a human? How will the police catch a vampire or a witch?" Klaus challenged, his brow arching in skepticism.

"They won’t," Cami admitted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "But it's worth a shot?”

Klaus shook his head, his tone brooking no argument. "Absolutely not."

"Niklaus…" Marcel began, his voice trailing off when he caught sight of the fury in Klaus’s gaze.

"The only thing the police will do is get in the way," Klaus said, his voice cold and final.

"In the way of what? You aren’t doing anything," Cami shot back, her own temper rising. "Sitting here drinking and wallowing isn’t going to find who killed her."

Klaus rose to his full height, his anger flaring, casting an intense shadow over the dim bar lighting.

"Woah, woah, relax," Marcel interjected, sensing a fight brewing. "We are not getting anywhere arguing."

Klaus sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You can try it your way, Camille. Go tell the cops," he muttered, waving his hand dismissively.

"And you can go do whatever it is you do," Cami shot back, grabbing her phone from her pocket and speed-dialing the number.

Klaus watched her walk away, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, before turning to Marcel. "Have someone tail her. If she gets in over her head, intervene."

"What are you going to do?" Marcel asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

"Finish this bottle, then that one over there… and possibly that one," he said, gesturing toward the collection of bottles behind the bar.

Marcel sighed, lifting his glass and clinking it against Klaus’s. "You can count me in."

13th Century Europe

As soon as the sun began to set, you climbed out of your window, heart pounding as you crossed the convent grounds and took the path leading to the forest. Shadows stretched over the path, but you kept moving, quickening your pace to ease your nerves. You were going to meet Elijah, the thought filling you with both a heady thrill and a quiver of fear.

Ever since the day in the field, when he had kissed you, and you had kissed him back, everything had changed. He had begun attending church, sitting near the back during Mass, his dark eyes meeting yours, his gaze a gentle, knowing promise. After the service, he would linger, waiting until the others had left, stealing quiet moments with you, his hand brushing yours, his soft words dissolving your willpower. The guilt weighed on you, but the pleasure, the anticipation… it was overpowering.

Tonight was different. Tonight, you would meet away from prying eyes and listening ears, beyond the convent walls. The trees loomed before you, their branches dark and skeletal against the fading twilight. You took a shaky breath, then heard soft footsteps from behind. You turned to see Elijah stepping out from the shadows, his gaze warm and intense.

"I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind,” he murmured, his words wrapped in mischief.

“Maybe I should have,” you replied, a blush warming your cheeks.

He chuckled softly, the sound curling through you like smoke. “Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand. Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his, letting him lead you deeper into the forest. The last of the sun’s light filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows over the earth.

The excitement fluttered in your chest, but as you glanced back toward the convent, doubt slipped in, and you resisted the urge to cross yourself. As the night deepened, you reached a small clearing where moonlight streamed through the branches, illuminating the grass in silvery light.

“This is beautiful,” you breathed, looking up at the stars. They seemed brighter than ever, as if they had appeared just for you.

He nodded, pulling a blanket from his bag and laying it on the ground. He sat down, patting the space beside him, his hand beckoning you.

You sank down next to him, the warmth of his body soothing, calming the flutter of anxiety within you.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his lips brushing your temple. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," you replied, letting out a long breath, the tension leaving your body.

"Good," he murmured, his fingers trailing along your arm.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the feel of his skin against yours. "I can't believe we're doing this," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through you. "Doing what?"

"Sneaking out," you said, smiling shyly.

"There's no sin in two people spending time together," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

“But there is a reason we’re hiding,” you replied softly, thoughts of the convent creeping in. “If the villagers knew…if Mother Mathilde knew…”

“Then let them know,” he murmured, though his tone turned more serious. “Life’s blessings should not be squandered in fear. Sometimes, it’s worth the risk.”

You thought of the sermons, the warnings, the fear of losing God’s favor. Yet, as you looked into Elijah’s eyes, something inside you rebelled, a longing to believe that this closeness, this love, was a blessing.

You distracted your trembling hands by digging inside your bag, pulling out some dried fruit, cheese, some wine you borrowed from the church, and a special treat you'd been saving. Elijah chuckled as he watched you lay the food out, a grin on his face.

"What?" You asked, blushing.

"You brought all of this?" He replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," you said, the flush in your cheeks deepening.

Elijah took a piece of dried apple, chewing it thoughtfully. "What is that?" he teased, pointing at some dried mushroom caps.

"Special mushrooms," you replied, your heart pounding. "They make everything feel more...real,"

"Oh, really?" Elijah asked, a playful smile spreading across his face, "Show me,"

Your hand shook slightly as you took a piece, placing it on his tongue. He closed his mouth, the muscles in his jaw flexing, a hint of a smirk on his face.

You took another piece, placing it in your own mouth, the earthy taste filling your senses. You chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, a warm, tingling sensation spreading through your body.

"And the church allows this?" he asked.

You shook your head. "They would be furious if they knew,"

"So it's a sin to eat these?" He teased, popping another one in his mouth.

"I think it brings me closer to God," you said, smiling.

"Mmm," he chewed, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Perhaps."

"Well?" You asked, the suspense too much to bear.

He swallowed, his gaze meeting yours. "Interesting," he murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching.

You smiled, relieved that he seemed to like them. "Try the wine,"

He took the bottle, uncorking it and taking a long swig. "Not bad," he said, handing it back to you.

You took a drink, the sweetness coating your tongue, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your veins. The cold night air seemed to fade, replaced by a feeling of contentment.

You ate the rest of the food, the conversation flowing easily. You told him stories of the convent, the sisters, and your childhood. The world around you becoming a bit hazy, the trees moving with the wind, the moonlight casting a soft glow on the forest floor.

Elijah was a good listener, his eyes never leaving yours. He was charming and witty, his humor making you laugh, his presence making you feel safe.

As the night wore on, the wine and the mushrooms made you feel bolder, loosening your inhibitions. You were lying on the blanket, looking up at the stars, the night air cool against your skin. You curled up against him, feeling his warmth as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"Being with you, it feels right," you confessed, tracing patterns on his chest.

He hummed in agreement, his arm tightening around you.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of closeness, the sense of connection. It was a feeling unlike any other, one that filled you with a deep contentment, a peace you had never known before. You had searched for this feeling in God for so long, but it was Elijah who had given it to you.

"Do you see that?" he asked, pointing at a cluster of stars. "It's the great bear, it holds the brightest star in the sky,"

You smiled, watching the constellation, the stars seeming to dance across the sky. "Tell me more," you said, nestling closer.

"It’s a protector, a guardian watching over us.” His gaze lingered on the constellation, his expression distant.

You watched him, captivated by his words, by the passion in his voice.

"I used to look at the stars when I was a boy," he said, his voice soft. "My mother taught me their names, and their stories. I would sit with her for hours, listening as she told me tales of gods and heroes, of quests and battles."

"How very pagan of you," you teased.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I suppose so," he mused.

You glanced up at him, seeing a hint of sorrow in his eyes. "Where is she now?"

"Dead," he said simply, his gaze fixed on the sky.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, a wave of sadness washing over you.

"It was a long time ago," he replied, his tone detached.

You sat in silence for a moment, the air heavy with sadness and regret. You had no family, none that you remembered, that pain had been dulled by the passing years. But his felt raw, still fresh.

He looked at you, a sad smile on his face. "I didn't come here to burden you with my sorrows,"

"It's not a burden," you protested, shifting to meet his gaze.

He smiled, the sadness fading. "Perhaps not," he murmured.

You began to shiver as the night grew colder, the thin fabric of your habit doing little to protect you from the elements. Elijah noticed, pulling off his cloak and draping it over your shoulders. The warmth of his body lingered on the fabric, his scent enveloping you.

"I'll build a fire," he said, rising to his feet.

You watched as he gathered the materials, his movements quick and efficient. You marveled at his skill, the ease with which he created the flame, the flames dancing across the dry leaves.

"Aren't you afraid someone will see?" You asked, worried about the smoke and the light.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No," he replied, settling down beside you.

You felt the warmth of the flames, the cold night air forgotten. You looked up, seeing the stars again, the constellations shimmering above.

"I wonder what the stars are made of," you mused, staring up at the vast expanse of the night sky.

"Hmm, perhaps the same things as we are," he said softly.

"Flesh and blood and bone?"

"Yes, and water and air,"

You nodded, a thoughtful expression on your face. "Do you think God is a star?"

He laughed, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "Perhaps, it's a pleasant thought, isn't it?"

"Mmm, to think of him looking down on us, guiding us," you sighed, a contented smile on your face.

Elijah smiled, a melancholy look in his eyes. "That would be a nice thought indeed."

The two of you lapsed into silence, the fire crackling, the air thick with the scent of wood smoke. You sat curled up together, watching the stars and enjoying the night.

"Will you tell me a story?" You asked, glancing up at him.

He smiled, a look of surprise on his face. "A story?"

"Yes, like the ones you used to hear, about the star gods," you pressed, eager to learn more about him.

He chuckled and got to his feet, walking over to the fire and stoking it, sending sparks dancing into the night.

"There once was a great goddess, with many mortal children, who she loved with all her heart. But one day, one of her mortal children died at the hands of a beast, and the goddess was filled with grief. She set out to avenge her child, and in her grief she created a weapon, a blade that could cut through the very fabric of the universe."

You watched him, enthralled by his voice, by the story he was telling.

"With this blade she wanted to protect her children, but instead, she ended up dooming them. The goddess stole her children from death and sold them to time, who is far less merciful,"

He paused, his eyes glimmering with emotion.

"Now those children walk the earth, forever tormented by the knowledge that they will never die, and by the guilt of having brought so much suffering into the world."

You sat in silence for a while, the fire casting shadows on the trees, the only sound the crackling of the flames. You thought about his story, the weight of immortality, the price of defying death.

"Does it frighten you, the thought of an endless existence?" He asked, his gaze locking with yours.

"Yes," you admitted, feeling a shiver run down your spine.

"It frightens me too," he said, a grim smile on his face.

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in.

"I've never heard a story like that before," you said finally, your voice barely a whisper.

He gave you a faint smile. "It's an old legend, from my homeland,"

"What happened to the goddess? Is she still out there, somewhere?" You asked, curious.

He sighed, a faraway look in his eyes. "She was banished, forced to watch the earth from an empty place, an eternity of loneliness. Despair her punishment."

"That's awful," you murmured, feeling a sense of sadness wash over you.

"That's the fate of anyone who defies death," he said, his voice low and solemn.

You reached out your hand, beckoning him closer, the distance between you unbearable. He sat back down on the blanket and wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body soothing, the feel of his breath on your cheek comforting. You looked into his eyes, the dark, mysterious depths drawing you in, the flames flickering.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured, his fingers caressing your cheek. "Death will never touch you,"

"That isn't what I'm afraid of," you confessed, a blush creeping into your cheeks. "It's the idea of a life without you that scares me."

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Then we'll just have to make sure that never happens."

You laughed, the sound a mixture of joy and relief. Then you pulled him closer, your lips meeting in a tender kiss, the firelight casting shadows on the trees, the wind rustling the leaves.

You lost track of time, lost in the moment, in the taste of his lips, the warmth of his embrace. It felt like a dream, the flickering flames, the gentle breeze, the stars twinkling above. But it was real, and in that moment, you knew that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And what you wanted was pleasure.

"Touch me," you whispered, pressing your body against his.

"What would God say?" he murmured, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Let's find out," you breathed, kissing him again, the fire burning hotter, the night growing darker.

He pushed you gently onto your back, the blanket soft beneath you, the bright night sky above. His lips trailed down your neck, his fingers slipping beneath your habit, teasing the skin of your thighs. You arched against him, a soft moan escaping your lips, desire pooling in your core.

He pulled away, his gaze burning into yours. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you gasped, desperate for him, for his touch, for the release only he could give you.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, his voice strained, the desire clear in his eyes.

"You won't," you promised, tugging at the laces of his tunic, aching to feel his skin against yours.

"But you are an innocent," he murmured, a gentle smile on his lips. "I do not wish for you to regret this, not with me."

You cupped his cheek,"I will never regret being with you," you whispered, your thumb caressing his lower lip. "Never,"

He gazed at you for a moment, then bent down, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. Then he pulled back, removing his tunic, his body bathed in moonlight. Your breath caught in your throat and you reached out, running your hands over his chest, his skin smooth and warm.

He tugged at the hem of your habit, his gaze locking with yours. "May I?"

"Yes," you whispered, lifting your arms, allowing him to pull it over your head, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air.

He tossed the garment aside, his eyes roaming over your body, a hungry expression on his face. "You are so beautiful,"

"So are you," you replied, drinking in the sight of him, the lean muscle of his torso, the planes of his chest, the strength in his arms.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hand trailing down your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He slipped his fingers inside your undergarments, finding your most sensitive place, his touch setting every nerve alight.

Why must sin feel so good? Did God give us this chance to feel pleasure just so we could resist temptation, or did He create our bodies so we could enjoy it? This felt like the latter, the way your body was reacting, the pleasure building with each stroke of his finger.

You moaned, clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. He pulled away, his breathing ragged, his eyes filled with desire. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," you whispered, pressing against him, craving his touch, his closeness.

"Very well," he murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the look on his face making your heart race.

He shifted, sliding his hand down your body, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your undergarments, pulling them slowly down your legs. You blushed, the realization that you were naked in front of him, the vulnerability causing your heart to hammer in your chest.

He placed his hand on your inner thigh, his fingers parting the damp curls, his thumb circling your swollen nub, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through you, the feeling unlike anything you'd experienced before.

You gasped, clutching at the blanket, the feelings he was creating within you overwhelming, your body responding in ways you didn't know possible.

He teased you, his touch light and deliberate, his fingers stroking and exploring, learning what gave you pleasure, what made you moan, what made your hips buck. He kissed his way down your body, his tongue flicking against the hard peak of your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, his mouth hot and wet.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, your need for him desperate. He kissed his way lower, his tongue tracing the curve of your belly, the sharp jut of your hip bone, his hands gripping your thighs, parting them, exposing you completely. You gasped, the realization of what he was going to do was shocking, thrilling, shameful, and yet so, so right.

He dipped his head, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his stubble tickling, the sensation making you gasp. He glanced up, his eyes locking with yours, a smirk on his lips. Then he lowered his head, his tongue finding the hidden place that ached for his touch, his fingers stroking, teasing, building the pleasure within you until it was almost unbearable.

Your hips bucked, your breath coming in gasps, his name tumbling from your lips, the word a plea, a prayer. His tongue licking and stroking, tasting and exploring, the sensation pushing you higher, the pressure building until it was too much, until you could no longer hold back, and you cried out, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, your body shuddering.

No, this wasn't sinning, this was heaven, and when you fell, it was his name you cried out.

He moved, his lips meeting yours, his body settling over yours, the hard length of his manhood pressing against your thigh, the feeling strange, yet exciting. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily, the taste of him sweet and intoxicating. He broke the kiss, cradling your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours.

"Ready?"

"Yes," you whispered, desire coiling within you.

He kissed you again, his tongue tangling with yours, the heat of his body enveloping you. He positioned himself, the tip of his manhood teasing your entrance, the feeling foreign and thrilling. He groaned, the sound muffled against your mouth, his fingers digging into your hips as he pushed forward, the sensation a mixture of pain and pleasure.

You clung to him, burying your face against his shoulder, the fullness, the feeling of him stretching you, the pain slowly ebbing away, replaced by a different kind of ache, a desire to have him deeper, harder. He smiled down at you, his eyes filled with love, the look making your heart swell. He began to move his hips slowly, as he held you close, his arms wrapped around you.

You gasped, the sensation exquisite, every sermon about pleasures of the flesh were erased by the reality of it. The church had gotten it wrong, It wasn't about fleeting pleasures, like indulging in too much honey cake. It was about connection, the joining of two souls, the sharing of love and passion.

He held you like a precious thing, his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. You arched into him, matching his movements as he whispered your name, his voice hoarse and strained, his hands gripping your hips, his movements growing more frantic, his thrusts deeper, harder.

The stars above seemed to burn brighter, the fire flickered, and the forest became alive with the sound of night creatures and the rustle of leaves. The pressure within you built, the sensations becoming overwhelming, the tension almost unbearable.

You cried out, your body trembling as you reached your peak, the waves of pleasure coursing through you. He groaned, his body tensing, his fingers digging into your skin as he followed you, the world seeming to stand still, the night air thick with the scent of smoke, of earth, and the sweetness of pleasure.

The world came rushing back, and he rolled onto his side, pulling you close, his lips brushing against yours. You lay together, your bodies entwined, the sound of your heartbeat the only thing you could hear.

"I have never felt such happiness," you whispered, a smile on your face.

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through his chest, the sensation pleasant. "I'm glad I did not disappoint,"

You giggled, shaking your head. "You could never,"

"You are too kind," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You sighed, contentment washing over you. You gazed up at the stars, the vast expanse of the night sky making you feel small, but protected, sheltered in his arms. It was as if the entire universe had been created just for the two of you, as if nothing else mattered but this moment, the feeling of peace and contentment.

"You know," he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. "I think we can stay here for a while,"

"That sounds nice," you replied, nuzzling against his chest, the smell of his skin, the warmth of his body comforting.

He hummed in agreement, his hand stroking your back, the sensation soothing, the night air cool on your bare skin. The fire began to die down, and he rose to tend to it, the flames casting shadows across his body, the sight mesmerizing.

"It is strange," you said, propping yourself up on your elbow, watching him. "I never knew I could feel this way, so happy and peaceful,"

"Life is like that," he said, a thoughtful look on his face. "We often do not know what is waiting for us, but the path we follow leads to places we could never have imagined,"

You stood, grabbing the bottle of wine and walking over to him, your legs were trembling slightly and you tripped, falling into his arms, the red wine spilling over the both of you.

"Oh," you exclaimed, a blush creeping into your cheeks, his bare chest sticky with the sweet wine.

He chuckled, steadying you, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"I see that the mushrooms are having an effect,"

"Is it that obvious?" you asked, blushing, the blush deepening when he laughed.

"I believe the drink is helping as well,"

You looked up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his hair messy, his skin flushed.

"I suppose so,"

You handed him the bottle, his gaze holding yours as he drank, the wine dribbling down his chin. You stared, mesmerized, the sight igniting a fire within you. You took his hand, pulling him closer, tasting the sweet liquid from his lips, the wine mingling with the taste of him. Then you pulled away as a strange thrill sparked within you, and you began to skip around the fire, laughing, your hair flying wildly, the stars seeming to twinkle brighter.

He laughed, his voice echoing through the night air, the sound making your heart race. He caught you in his arms, lifting you off the ground, twirling you around, the flames dancing around you, the night sky a canopy above, the fireflies sparkling in the darkness. You felt so wild and free, and you wanted to dance with him forever, to stay lost in the moment, the night a dream, the stars a song.

"You make me so happy,"

He gazed at you, his eyes filled with emotion, his expression tender. "As you make me, my love,"

You paused at his words, the weight of them sinking in, the realization that he truly loved you, that he felt the same way about you as you did about him.

"Elijah, I- I," you stammered, the words failing you.

"It's alright," he murmured, his lips grazing yours, his touch soft and gentle.

"I've never felt this way about anyone, I-" you gasped, the feelings too big for your words.

He smiled, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of closeness, of being wrapped in Elijah’s arms. But the reality of what you had just done, what you had been doing for weeks, began to sink in, bringing a wave of dread beneath the warmth.

“I’ve never known a life outside the convent,” you murmured, tracing delicate patterns on his skin, feeling the quiet pull of guilt. The convent’s walls, the endless rules, and the silent prayers suddenly felt a world away, and yet their shadow lingered.

“But now you have,” he whispered, his hand moving softly through your hair.

“What will become of me?” you asked, a tremor of fear slipping into your voice as you looked up at him. You thought of Mother Mathilde, of the church and their harsh lessons on purity and sin. The thought of facing them now, of explaining what you had done, made your heart pound with a quiet panic.

Elijah’s eyes softened, and a slight smile touched his lips. “We’ll go wherever the stars take us,” he promised. “The world is waiting for us.”

You bit your lip, a mixture of fear and excitement blooming inside you. The idea of leaving, of stepping beyond the safety of the convent walls, thrilled you in ways you could barely understand.

“Do you swear it?” you whispered, the question catching in your throat.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his gaze never wavering. “I swear it,” he said, his voice full of conviction.

"I love you," you breathed, the words tumbling from your lips.

He smiled, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "And I love you, more than the stars and the sky,"

You closed your eyes, resting against him, feeling a warmth unlike any other. Yet, as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, a quiet fear lingered. The convent, the rules, the life you had always known... They weren’t gone. They waited for you.

You had defied God, broken every rule. And you would face the consequences.

The question was, when.

Freya entered the courtyard, carrying a cup of blood, and found Rebekah already seated beside Elijah, her hand resting gently on his arm as he sat in silence. Rebekah’s gaze was fixed on her brother, her eyes full of worry, unwilling to leave him alone in his grief. Elijah didn’t seem to notice her presence, his eyes distant and hollow, fixed somewhere beyond the walls around them.

Freya approached, giving her sister a small nod before placing the cup beside Elijah. He didn’t move to take it, but his eyes flickered, betraying a glimmer of longing. His skin was ashen, his hair unkempt, and his clothes were crumpled and torn. It was a painful sight for Freya and Rebekah, both of whom knew him as the ever-composed, dignified brother.

“You should feed,” Freya urged softly. “I’ve added some herbs that might help.”

“I am not hungry,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

Rebekah squeezed his arm gently, glancing up at Freya with a look that conveyed her own helplessness. “She wouldn’t want this for you, Elijah,” she said quietly, her voice full of tenderness and sorrow.

Elijah’s gaze shifted slightly, the grief in his eyes so profound that Rebekah felt it cut through her as sharply as a blade. “Don’t,” he said, his tone hard, as if even hearing your name spoken aloud was more than he could bear.

Freya and Rebekah exchanged a silent understanding, both realizing that Elijah’s pain was too raw, too deep to be soothed. The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of loss hanging thickly in the air.

“What did Klaus and Marcel find?” Elijah asked at last, his voice cracking, though he tried to keep it steady.

“Nothing so far,” Freya answered. “Not a lot of people left to question after-”

“After you dismembered most of the suspect pool,” Kol chimed in from the balcony above, his tone light, a mischievous grin on his face.

Elijah’s gaze sharpened, fixing on Kol with a coldness that might have made anyone else falter. Kol only smirked, strolling down the stairs to join them.

“You’re no help,” Freya hissed, irritated.

Kol grabbed the cup of blood and swirled it lazily, shrugging. “Not in your little murder investigation, no… But I do have something rather interesting to share.”

Elijah’s gaze flickered, the faintest trace of curiosity surfacing. “And what would that be?”

Rebekah looked up at Kol, her wariness evident. “What is this about?” she asked, her tone guarded.

“A spell,” Kol replied, setting the cup down and glancing between them, an almost devilish glint in his eyes. “A very old spell.”

Freya’s eyes narrowed. “Kol…” she warned, sensing where this was leading.

“A way to bring her back,” Kol said, his gaze drifting to Elijah.

Elijah sat up straighter, his expression a mix of disbelief and restrained hope. “Explain,” he demanded, his voice hard.

Kol’s smirk softened, his tone turning serious. “It's a spell that can bind two souls together, to form a connection that transcends death itself. A bond that can be used to pull a soul back into its original body, no matter how long they've been apart, no matter how many miles have stretched between them, or how deeply the grave has claimed them."

Elijah was on his feet, his eyes wild with a mixture of desperate hope and anger. "Why did you not come forward sooner?" he snarled, advancing toward Kol.

"Because I only just found the damn thing," Kol replied, not backing down. "It took months to translate the Latin, longer to decipher the incantation, and then I had to identify the ingredients."

Freya’s eyes narrowed. "Ingredients?" she asked, suspicion clear in her tone.

"Some of them are... difficult to come by," Kol said carefully. "And they require a rather unique skill set."

"Get to the point," Rebekah interjected, her gaze as cold and unyielding as Elijah’s.

Kol’s eyes flickered with a hint of challenge as he explained, "The spell requires a witch descended from a long and powerful bloodline. As well as a blood sacrifice, lots of blood."

"Human?" Freya asked, her expression hard.

Kol’s smile returned, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Oh, witch would suffice, or vampire."

"And this witch from a powerful bloodline? I’m guessing Freya can’t perform the spell," Rebekah said, her gaze sharp.

"You guess correctly, sister dear," Kol replied, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You’ve got a solution, and I’m not part of it?" Freya cut in, her tone incredulous.

"I wouldn’t dream of it, sister; we’ll need you. But this spell calls for more power than any single witch can provide," Kol explained, his gaze shifting between his siblings.

"Who do you have in mind?" Rebekah asked, her tone laced with suspicion. "Davina?"

“Absolutely not. My girl’s not getting involved in this,” Kol said firmly, his gaze hardening.

"Who then?" Rebekah pressed.

Kol’s grin returned. "Miss Bonnie Bennett, remember her? Lovely witch, very powerful, and quite capable of casting the spell."

"The Bennett witch?" Elijah echoed, skepticism in his voice.

"The very same," Kol said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "The problem is, we aren’t exactly on friendly terms. She won’t be eager to help us."

"What other ingredients do you need?" Elijah asked, his eyes boring into Kol.

"That's the tricky part," Kol sighed. "To pull her soul back, we need someone connected to her, someone who cares deeply for her."

"And?" Rebekah urged, sensing there was more.

“We need their heart,” Kol finished, his gaze flicking to Elijah. “The spell requires the heart of the person who loves her most.”

Silence fell as Elijah absorbed Kol’s words, his expression unreadable. His jaw clenched, the weight of the sacrifice sinking in, but he held Kol’s gaze steady. When he spoke, his voice was low and unwavering. "How soon can you get the Bennett witch here?"

"I'll go to Mystic Falls myself and fetch her," Kol replied, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"I'm coming with you," Rebekah said firmly.

"No," Kol shot back, his tone suddenly sharp.

Rebekah’s eyes flashed as she fixed him with an unwavering glare. "Why not?"

"You need to stay here, to take care of him,” Kol replied, gesturing toward Elijah. “We can't afford him going rogue again."

"I'm fine," Elijah snapped, his gaze hard.

"Sure you are," Kol quipped, a wry smile playing on his lips.

“Kol,” Freya cut in, her voice laced with warning.

"I won't be gone long, a few days at most," Kol said, looking between them.

Elijah’s jaw tightened, a flicker of conflict in his eyes. "Very well," he conceded, his tone resigned.

"Splendid," Kol said, his smile returning. "I'll leave immediately. I can make the flight tonight."

"I'm still coming with you," Rebekah insisted, her gaze locked on Kol.

Kol rolled his eyes, then relented. "Fine. Let's go,"

Rebekah nodded, rising to her feet. She placed a hand on Elijah’s shoulder, her gaze softening as she held his eyes a moment longer than necessary. “We’ll get her back, okay? No matter what.”

Elijah’s expression remained impassive, but when his gaze met hers, Rebekah saw a glimmer of hope… a faint belief that maybe, just maybe, you would return to him.

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Four}{Part Five}{Part Six}

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callsign-mayhem · 3 months ago

Text

i'm with the band (part 1)

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female!Reader & Bradley Bradshaw x Female!Reader (final pairing to be revealed at the end...) Word count: 7.6k CW: Use of Y/N; reader wears Dr Martens, but that's the only specific detail.

You discover that your best friend Bob can play the drums, and since you have some musical gifts of your own, you decide to start a navy band. It's supposed to be a bit of harmless fun, but what happens when lines get blurred between you and Bob, feelings come to the surface, and a certain Rooster gets jealous?

This is a multi-part fic. Part two

‘If I’d known you could play the drums like that,’ you said, looping your arm through Bob’s. ‘I’d have suggested starting a band months ago!’

As the two of you walked across the near-empty runway, you mourned all the time you’d wasted already and wondered how soon you could get a move on with your idea. Bob was smiling shyly, eyes fixed firmly on the tarmac. You knew he didn’t think he drummed well enough to be in a band. You also knew he had a habit of being too hard on himself.

It was pure chance that had led you to discover Bob’s affinity for music. You’d been standing outside the front door of his house with a box of doughnuts in your hand, ready to surprise your friend, when you’d frozen.

Somebody was drumming—drumming well.

It sounded perfect, not just messy noise and missed beats, and it was coming from Bob’s small garage. Resolutely, you’d hurried back down the stairs that led up to the red front door and crept across the well-kept lawn. Once you’d safely hidden behind a fern closer to the garage, you’d realised that a backing track was playing over a speaker, which Bob was drumming to. It was a Catfish and the Bottlemen song—one of his favourite bands. Even now—days later—you still weren’t over it; how your heartbeat had fallen in time with Bob’s drumming and how alive it had made you feel.

And then there was the small matter of how good he’d looked doing it.

Bob Floyd had been your closest friend in San Diego since you were first called back to TOPGUN many moons ago. Both of you were Weapons Systems Officers; this similarity was the gravitational force that had pulled you together, but how much you had in common kept you that way. With this being said, you were having a hard time justifying your body’s reaction when you peeked around the fern and into the garage that day. He was wearing a white t-shirt, the front of which was soaked with sweat, his hair was uncharacteristically mussed, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Eventually, you’d decided to announce yourself, but not before heavily debating whether or not you should just take yourself home and have a cold shower. In the days since, your brain had habitually dredged your unholy thoughts up from the dark corner you’d haphazardly shoved them into. The veins in his hands and forearms, the way his biceps moved when he hit the drums, the furrow of his sweat-slicked brow, his messy hair… It was too much.

The two of you were nearing the changing rooms, where you’d go separate ways to shower and change. You knew if you let the idea of starting a band drop again, that would be it. Bob would have to give in eventually, so long as you were persistent.

‘You’re so talented, Bobby.’ You said. ‘I can play guitar, and I’m an alright singer. We’d only need to find a bass player and a lead guitarist.’

Bob scoffed. ‘You’re more than alright, Y/CS. Now who’s the one putting themselves down?’

Your face heated up, and for once, you were glad that Bob struggled to maintain eye contact.

‘Well, thank you.’ You murmured.

Momentarily disarmed, you walked a few paces in companionable silence. Surprisingly, Bob was the one to break it.

‘I’m not saying no,’ he told you. ‘I’m just not thrilled at the idea of people hearing me play. I didn’t even tell you that I could.’

‘And that’s saying something,’ you grumbled. ‘Okay, let’s shelve it for now. What do you say we go out for drinks tonight, and we can brainstorm.’

Luckily, Bob wasn’t in the habit of saying no to his best friend.

He probably couldn’t even if he wanted to.

Summer was winding down, and although it was never freezing in San Diego, the evenings were beginning to get chillier. As you approached The Hard Deck and saw Bob sitting outside waiting, you were glad you’d decided to wear a jacket.

He sat with his back to the bar, looking out over the sand and the ocean beyond it. The fiery sunset made it seem like the beach was doused with honey, and you were momentarily reminded why you loved your station so much. You didn’t want to startle Bob, who was—let’s face it—easily startled, so you walked around the car park and up the decking instead of going up behind him. He watched you close the short distance from the edge of the seating area to the table with an easy smile on his face.

That’s how it always was with you and Bob. Easy.

‘I was beginning to think I’d been stood up.’ He said as you took the seat opposite him.

‘Sorry. I was gonna drive, but then I decided it was too nice, and I didn’t know if we’d drink much.’

‘I never drink much.’

You reached over and ruffled his perfect hair. ‘I know, Bobby, but there’s a first time for everything.’

A Peroni was already waiting for you, and Bob was nursing an ice-cold Corona Light. He probably wouldn’t drink more than two tonight since it was a work night. Then again, he remained his sensible self on the weekends too. Jake and Bradley had tried countless times to get him to ‘let loose,’ and you’d backed Bob up every single time, telling them firmly that not everybody needed to get shit-faced to have a good time. Jake usually responded with some variation of ‘you don’t need a car to get places either, darlin’, but it sure helps.’

You took a sip of your pint, glad to find it had a dash of lime. Bob never forgot anything, least of all your drink order.

‘So,’ you grinned devilishly. ‘The band.’

The corner of his lips twitched as he fought a smile. ‘There is no band.’

‘There is no band yet. I plan on changing that. I think we should make a poster to put up around base. There’s a notice board in the female changing rooms, so I’m assuming there’s one in yours, too. We could also put a few up in the barracks.’

Even though Bob seemingly didn’t want to start this band, he suggested asking Penny’s permission to put some in both bathrooms in The Hard Deck as well.

‘While we’re at it, we could put a few up around town,’ you added. ‘Unless we want this to be a navy-only band.’

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose and sipped his beer. You knew him well, including all his mannerisms and facial expressions. He was antsy and had the look he always had when Jake or Javy tried to extort personal information from him, like if he’d slept with anyone lately.

‘There’s something you don’t wanna tell me.’ You stated.

‘No, there isn’t.’ He tried to insist, but his heart wasn’t in it.

‘Look, Bobby. We don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable. I’ll drop it now and never speak of it again.’ For whatever reason, you found yourself reaching out and taking his hand. It was cold from gripping his beer bottle. ‘But before you say yes to that with what I’m sure will be a massive amount of relief, I want you to know that you’re mega-talented. It’s not just a case of me thinking it—it’s an undeniable fact. If we find some decent bandmates and give this our all, we could have a lot of fun.’

Bob’s eyes were boring holes into the wooden picnic table. ‘I know we’d have fun, but would we have to play in front of people?’

‘If you really didn’t want to, we wouldn’t. But we’ve gotta find two more members and see if we can all work together before we even start thinking about that kind of thing.’ You squeezed his hand reassuringly. ‘It’s just a bit of harmless fun. What do you say?’

He met your eyes and smiled sheepishly. ‘Okay, fine.’

‘Yay!’ You shouted, practically jumping out of your seat to run around and hug him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and leaned down so your face was next to his. After the initial shock had worn off, he reached up and put his hands over your forearms. It was the most awkward hug ever, but it was the best the two of you could do at such short notice.

‘I’ll start working on the posters tomorrow when I get home.’

Bradley knew that you and Bob were close, and he understood why. You were both WSOs, both loved music, and you were both quiet. When the group was overly drunk or rowdy, or the conversation ended up in territories neither of you was comfortable with, you retreated into your own private world. Bradley had seen it happen more than enough times: the way you eased each other’s anxiety just by sitting close together, the knowing looks you shared when one of the daggers did something predictable, the inside jokes and references you made that left everyone else feeling like they were on the outside of something.

It was hard to ignore.

Bradley wasn’t as unruly as Mickey or as daring as Jake and Javy. He wasn’t as stern and fierce as Natasha and didn’t ramble about sports when drunk like Reuben. But he wasn’t a wallflower like you or Bob, either. He was something else entirely.

Bradley prided himself on his ability to fit in anywhere. He could talk to almost anyone about anything, but still, he felt something was missing. He didn’t have one specific person he thought he was in tandem with. At first, he liked it. When he was young, he thought it meant he was just a social butterfly, able to jump from group to group and fit into them all. As he got older, he felt out of step, like one of his legs was longer than the other.

He wanted to find his person. The one he could sit with at the bar and judge everyone else with. The one he could communicate with through a single facial expression or private joke—whose mere presence would comfort him.

Bradley was sitting inside with the rest of the daggers. They were only having a quiet few, then heading home. Natasha was thrashing Mickey at pool, and Jake was attempting to show Javy how he managed to get a bullseye almost every time in darts. Bradley and Reuben sat at a high table nearby, chatting about this and that. They were next to the window that looked out across the outdoor seating area, and Bradley had been glancing at you and Bob all evening. At first, he’d been waiting for you to wrap things up and come and join in. Then, when you came in to get another drink before heading back outside, he wondered if something had happened. Maybe it was something you didn’t want to talk to the rest of the daggers about. He watched as closely as he could without making it evident to the rest of his friends. Natasha was already convinced he had a thing for you—he didn’t feel like adding fuel to that particular fire today, thank you very much.

Judging by the way you were talking exciting with your hands, he knew the two of you weren’t talking about something bad. Then, he saw you run around the table and hug Bob, and he wondered if he’d gotten this totally wrong. The whole group, aside from him and Natasha, were convinced that you and Bob were more than best friends. Jake and Javy teased you incessantly, and he was pretty sure that Mickey had started the bet on base as to how long it would take for the two of you to admit your feelings for one another. Bradley had ten bucks on this never happening because he was very close with Nat who was very close with you, and you always reassured her that you and Bob weren’t a thing. Bradley wasn’t a girl, but he understood that if you were lying, Natasha would know. Girlfriends always know when their girlfriends are lying, especially regarding guys.

So Bradley was confused. He’d never seen you and Bob hug before, and you’d never spent a whole evening separate from the group, knowing said group was ten feet away. Something was going on, and Bradley was desperate to know what. Part of him wanted to take this to Natasha for a second opinion, but she would only accuse him of jealousy.

Maybe he was jealous, but he didn’t need his best friend telling him that. How could he not be jealous when you looked, walked, and talked like that? When were you so intelligent, caring, and mindful of other people’s feelings? When you sang with him at the piano some nights, music coursing through your veins the same way it coursed through his?

Bradley had always known that you and Bob were close. He understood why. But just because he understood why didn’t mean he had to be okay with it.

Bob was working out in the gym on base when you cornered him the next day. It had been a slow morning and an even slower afternoon, which was welcomed after almost a fortnight of incessant training courses. He was lifting weights with his headphones on when he felt a presence at the bottom of the bench. He finished his reps, lifted the barbell back onto its stand and sat up. You were standing with a stack of papers in your hands and a face that meant business, and you were saying something Bob couldn’t hear. He removed his headphones, just about catching the back end of your sentence.

‘—so all you need to do is put one in the guy’s changing rooms and stalls. Mav is taking some to Penny’s tonight.’

This was all happening very fast.

‘I thought you were making posters tonight after work.’ He said, scratching the back of his head.

‘I was, but I couldn’t sleep when I got home ‘cause I was too excited.’

It pleased Bob to see you so joyful and filled with passion. There was nothing he loved more. But he couldn’t help but feel strange about the whole band thing. You were never supposed to find out that he could drum, mainly because he didn’t think he was that great at it. He was embarrassed that you’d seen him so unfiltered, and in a way, it made him feel vulnerable. The prospect of other people seeing him in the same way made him more than a little nervous. On a daily basis, he blended into the background. The only person he stood out to most of the time was you; he liked it that way. He didn’t want to stand out to anyone else; he didn’t want anyone’s eyes on him.

But he had to admit that making music with you did seem appealing. The two things he loved most in the world come together as one. If the band ended up being as good as you wanted it to be and you managed to score some gigs, he would find a way to be okay with it.

Anything to keep that smile on your face.

‘You wanna come over later?’ Bob asked. ‘We could order dinner, maybe try out a few songs. I haven’t heard you sing in a while, and you’ve never played your guitar for me.’

You flushed scarlet, and Bob wondered if you were just as shy when playing for people as he was. You hid it better than he did, like everything else.

‘That’d be nice. We can start thinking about a setlist.’

‘I think we need to find some bandmates before we make a setlist.’

‘It doesn’t hurt to have some ideas for when we finally meet aforementioned bandmates,’ you said optimistically. ‘I think they’ll find our eagerness enticing.’

Bob couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You’re perfect, you know that?’

He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so it was somehow easier to keep eye contact. Like being half-blind made him more confident. He supposed if he couldn’t see your reactions clearly, he wouldn’t have to worry about what he said as much.

‘Well, so are you.’ You replied timidly.

‘My place at seven?’

‘It’s a date.’

Bob was only half blind, not totally. He saw your whole demeanour change when you realised what you’d said.

‘N-not a date,’ you stammered. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

He smiled. ‘It’s okay, I know what you meant.’

‘Okay,’ you breathed. ‘Your place at seven.’

Your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and you looked everywhere but at him, but he thought you were adorable.

By seven-thirty, you were scarfing egg rolls at your best friend’s place. It was his turn to pick the takeout, and he’d chosen Chinese. Your laptop was on your knee, and you were going through your ‘Songs That Would Wake Me From a Coma’ playlist, explaining to Bob what you loved about each one. He had a similar playlist, and whenever you played something that was also on his, the smile on his face got larger. He’d been smiling at you all day, and you could scarcely believe he’d been on the fence about starting a band together. He didn’t seem nervous now, and the two of you had fallen into your usual, easy rhythm.

After dinner, Bob helped you get your guitar and amp from your car. You had a black Fender Dreadnought for playing acoustic, but since you’d be playing electric in the band, you brought your Gretsch. It was the same guitar Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy played, and it was your pride and joy.

Bob’s garage was perfect for band rehearsals. He left his car on the drive and used the garage as his music room since his house was relatively small. This was how he’d managed to hide his talent from you for so long. What reason would you have to go in his garage?

It was soundproofed since drumming was hands down the nosiest hobby a person could have, and he’d outfitted the place with creature comforts: a mini fridge for sodas and snacks, a small leather couch with blankets and pillows, framed band posters on the walls, a tasteful rug, and, of course, his drum kit. You’d never played, but it didn’t take a genius to know that it must have cost a pretty penny. You could tell that Bob took good care of it, too.

‘Bobby, this is going to be perfect. We’ll be able to practise here.’

‘We’ll probably have to get some more kit. Mics, some more amps. Pedals.’

‘Any guitarist worth their salt will already have that kinda stuff. I have tonnes of shit in my lockup. Haven’t got a mic or a stand, though.’

‘We can cross that bridge when we come to it.’

‘We’ve been saying that a lot lately,’ you grinned. ‘There’s a lot of bridges in our future.’

You got comfy on the couch, and Bob perched himself on the stool behind his drum kit. He watched as you expertly tuned your guitar, fingers moving over the pegs with the kind of surety that only came with doing something a million times.

‘What shall I play?’ You asked.

‘Play me your go-to when you’re just playing for yourself.’

Since you always played for yourself, you had no shortage of options. But you settled on your favourite: the solo from Wrong Side of Heaven by Five Finger Death Punch. It was short but tricky and had taken you months to perfect. Maybe you were showing off, but you were proud that you could play it, and you’d be damned if Bob’s shocked expression wasn’t worth it.

When you were finished, he stood up and gave you a round of applause. You had no idea what to feel. Embarrassment or pride? A mixture of both?

‘Damn,’ Bob breathed. ‘That was insane. You’re a total rockstar, Y/CS.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ you chuckled. ‘But thank you. It took me so long to learn how to play that.’ ‘That’s like me and Psychosocial.’

You raised a brow. ‘Slipknot?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I didn’t take you for a Slipknot kinda guy, Bobby.’

‘I listen to a few of their songs,’ he explained. ‘But it’s more that they’re really fun to play.’

You gestured to his drum kit. ‘Well, go on then.’

‘No way,’ Bob shook his head. ‘I’ll screw it up in front of you.’

‘Please?’ You pouted.

So you spent the next few hours taking turns playing parts of songs you knew, bonding over your shared favourites and introducing one another to new music. You were going to stop for the night, but then you discovered that Bob knew how to play some of the same songs as you, and you started playing together.

You were the one who suggested starting a navy band—you knew it would be entertaining—but playing with Bob like this… There were no words to describe how incredible it felt.

It was Reuben’s idea to go out for dinner that Saturday night, but now that day had finally arrived, Bradley regretted saying yes. It had been pouring rain all day, putting a pin in his plans to swim at the beach. Then, his dryer—which was second-hand and had always been temperamental at best—had finally packed up, with his soaking wet uniform for Monday still inside. The last thing he wanted to do was get himself ready and drive halfway across town to Little Italy, but every excuse he typed out to the group chat sounded meagre and childish. He ended up deleting them and getting himself in the shower, hoping that going out with his closest friends would lift his mood, even though he couldn’t be bothered to leave his house.

Autumn was quickly closing in, and Bradley was glad he had a reason to wear his favourite jacket again— a vintage, fleece-lined Levi number covered in patches that had belonged to his dad. He took it from his wardrobe and laid it on his bed, along with a pair of black jeans, a Smiths t-shirt and his Chelsea boots. The day he’d bought—or rather, been forced to buy—those boots was still fresh in his memory. It wasn’t long after you’d all been called back to TOPGUN for the special detachment. In fact, it was only a few days after the daggers had received the news that they’d be staying in San Diego permanently. It was a day not unlike this one, and he’d been at the mall looking for a suit to wear to a wedding he was flying home for. He rounded a corner on his way to Starbucks into a head-on collision with you. He hadn’t known you long, only since that first night in The Hard Deck when everyone either reunited with old friends or made new ones.

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ you gasped. ‘What an idiot, I’m so clumsy.’

Your shopping bags had fallen to the floor, and you were scrambling to pick them up, not having realised who you’d just bumped into. Bradley was so caught up admiring you in your long-sleeve dress and boots that he forgot his manners. He’d never seen you out of uniform and suddenly felt very cheated.

You were gorgeous.

‘No, it’s my fault,’ he insisted, crouching down to help you gather your things. ‘Sorry, Y/CS.’

Your head snapped up, and you met his gaze, a shy smile taking hold of your delicate features. ‘Rooster,’ you breathed. ‘How didn’t I know that was you?’

The two of you stood up at the same time, almost bumping heads. ‘Beats me,’ he chuckled. I’m big enough to see.’

Your laugh was a little more on the awkward side, and he briefly wondered if you’d missed his sarcasm.

‘Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw,’ you’d said toyingly. ‘Callsign: Beanpole.’

Until now, Bradley hadn’t thought you capable of a jibe like that. You were quiet at work, only speaking when necessary, as though you believed that if you didn’t have anything to add to the conversation, it wasn’t worth speaking at all. The most he’d seen you speak was with Bob about work, and with Coyote, since you were his backseater.

He was sure his laughter echoed through the entire shopping centre.

‘You shopping for anything in particular?’ He asked, desperate to keep the conversation going and that smile on your pretty face.

‘New boots,’ you replied. ‘Dr Martens have brought out their new Fall collection.’

Bradley glanced at the boots you were wearing and realised he’d just learned a little something about Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N. ‘I just bought a new suit,’ he told you. ‘I could use a nice new pair of shoes to go with it if you’d like some company.’

‘Well, sure. I don’t see why not.’ You blinked, taken aback.

Bradley couldn’t understand why you were surprised that he wanted to spend time with you. Before heading to the Dr Martens store, the two of you stopped at Starbucks. He explained that he was initially heading there before he so rudely knocked into you and asked if he could buy you a coffee by way of apology. You’d told him he didn’t need to apologise but accepted the coffee anyway.

‘I’ll have an iced white mocha, please. If you’re sure.’ you told him politely.

‘An iced white mocha,’ he echoed. ‘Sounds fancy.’

‘What do you normally order?’

‘Usually just a flat white.’ The disgust on your face as you glared up at him had him laughing all over again. ‘What’s that face for?’

‘You don’t go to Starbucks and order a flat white!’ You exclaimed. ‘That’s like going to a strip club and chatting up the security guard.’

Bradley guffawed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much. And he couldn’t believe that your quiet and composed self was the cause of it.

‘What should I get instead, then?’ He asked. ‘Since you’re such an expert.’

‘Do you like iced drinks?’

‘Of course.’

You thought for a moment. ‘What about caramel?’

‘Yup.’

‘Then you should try an iced caramel macchiato.’

Nobody had been waiting behind you when you came into the store. Now, four people were waiting behind you and Bradley. The server had been trying to get your attention for a while, and someone tsked impatiently.

‘An iced white mocha for Y/CS here, and I’ll take an iced caramel mach- machi… whatever she just said.’

‘Macchiato,’ you corrected. ‘It’s macchiato.’

Bradley gently nudged you with his elbow. ‘It’s leviOsa, not leviosA.’

It was your turn to nearly pee your pants from laughing.

‘Can I get a name, please?’ The server asked frustratedly.

‘Beanpole.’ Bradley smirked.

You were still giggling like a couple of school kids when you got to the Dr Martens store. You already knew which boots you wanted, so you only had to ask the shop assistant to fetch your size. While you waited, you browsed the men’s section with Bradley, pointing out styles you thought might suit him.

‘Wait!’ You exclaimed. ‘I know exactly which pair would look the best on you.’

Your excitement enamoured him; he probably would have bought anything you handed him to make you happy. It was a stroke of luck that the shoe you gave him was decent, something he probably would have picked for himself: a pair of black Chelsea boots, subtle but sexy with their thick soles and shiny leather. He’d never imagined himself in a pair of docs before, but he could undoubtedly imagine himself in these. When the clerk returned with your shoes, he asked if she wouldn’t mind fetching a size 12 of the ‘edgy-looking Chelsea boots.’ She’d smiled at his description, and so had you.

‘Let’s just hope I can pull them off as well as you.’

You flushed, batting your eyelashes at him. If it were anyone else, he’d have thought you were being demure on purpose, just to be cute. But it wasn’t anyone else; it was you, and you were cute.

He wondered if you’d notice that he was wearing them today. Usually, you pointed them out when he did, and he liked it when you singled him out from everyone else and called him Beanpole, leaving everyone else slightly confused. Even Bob wasn’t in on that joke.

Once he was dressed and ready, he headed out to the Bronco. He had to run to avoid getting drenched, and he once again questioned his decision as he pulled off his driveway. Then he thought about you and realised he didn’t have music playing. For the duration of his journey, he sang along to old Bon Jovi songs, grinning like a fool at the thought of seeing you.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

It was only natural that you and Bob had travelled to the restaurant together since your house was on the way. Bob had an umbrella in the back of his pickup, so he went to your front door instead of texting to let you know he’d arrived. You received him in the most exquisite dress he’d ever seen, made even more jaw-dropping by the fact it was you wearing it. It was a deep navy, with a cowl neck and a ruffled hem. The top material layer was peppered with tiny crystals that gave the illusion of a beautiful starry night. Your hair fell in loose curls down your back, the top half pinned up with little star-shaped clips. As for your makeup… well, that was another story entirely. You’d worn more than usual, but you’d been careful not to make it seem overdone.

Bob was speechless. Objectively, he’d always known you were a gorgeous woman but seeing you all dolled up like that had him pulling at the collar of his shirt, hoping to loosen it a little.

‘Bobby. You look handsome.’

Since the restaurant Reuben had picked was fancy, Bob had opted for black suit pants, a white button-down, and a collared leather jacket. Standing next to you, he felt he must look overwhelmingly disappointing.

‘And you look like a movie star. I should’ve laid a red carpet.’ Bob replied, sounding more confident than he felt.

You shifted from one foot to the other, beaming like you’d won the lottery.

‘I thought I’d meet you at the door with this,’ he explained, waving the umbrella. ‘I’m glad I did. Wouldn’t want your pretty hair gettin’ ruined,’ he stammered. ‘Or your dress.’

‘That’s kind of you, thanks. I don’t even know if I own an umbrella.’

‘Do you have a jacket?’

‘Yeah, let me just turn the lights off and grab it. I’ll be back in two seconds.’

As you turned around, Bob diverted his gaze from your figure, focusing instead on the colourful flowers you had growing in hanging baskets on your porch.

You came back wearing a leather jacket similar to his. He held the umbrella over the two of you the whole way down your driveway and opened the passenger side door so you could climb in. He was momentarily worried that you’d struggle to step into his truck with heels on, but then he realised you weren’t wearing heels. You were wearing a pair of white Dr Martens with silky white ribbons as laces—in retrospect, he should have expected that of you by now.

When you arrived at Juniper and Ivy, the host took you to a large table in the back corner near three floor-to-ceiling windows. It wasn’t dark yet, but the stormy weather made it feel like the middle of the night. The table was set for eight, with impressive settings and flickering candles. Mickey and Natasha had already been seated. You sat opposite her, next to the window, and Bob tucked you in.

‘Thanks, Bobby,’ you said as he sat beside you. ‘You’ve been a true gentleman tonight.’

‘Anytime.’ He mumbled.

It took a tremendous effort to ignore the sensation of Mickey and Nat’s eyes boring holes into the top of his head as he scanned the menu before him. However, it was harder to ignore the feeling of Mickey kicking him in the shin beneath the table. Bob glared at him over the rim of his glasses, silently asking what the fuck, man? Mickey raised his eyebrows in silent response, nodding his head at you. Thankfully, you were so absorbed in the cocktail menu that you hadn’t noticed. Then, the unthinkable. Mickey nodded at you, then back at Bob, then subtly did the thrusting action. He bit his lip and rolled his eyes to paint a detailed picture of what he was trying to insinuate. Natasha snorted into her glass of water, causing you to look up.

‘Did I miss something?’ You questioned.

Mickey’s eyes dropped to his lap as though he’d been chastened.

He was prevented from having to answer, thanks to Bradley and Javy arriving at the table, instantly distracting you.

‘Beanpole,’ you smirked. ‘If you keep wearing those boots, you’ll wear ‘em out.’

Bradley made straight for you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. You seemed just as surprised as everyone else.

‘Show me which pair you’re wearing tonight.’

You swivelled in your seat and hiked your dress up so he could see your boots. The sight of the smooth skin above them was enough to turn Bob’s stomach to mush. He needed to pull himself together.

Bradley tapped the tip of your boot with the tip of his to show his appreciation while Javy took the spot next to Bob. Bradley walked around the table next to Mickey, presumably so he could see you better.

Bob wasn’t an idiot. If he’d showed up and the seat next to you was already taken, he’d have done the same thing.

‘So,’ Bradley started, an insatiable smirk plastered to his face. ‘We’re waitin’ on Payback and Bagman?’

‘Reuben just texted me,’ Mickey responded. ‘They’re five minutes out.’

You leaned over slightly—your head almost resting on Bob’s shoulder—and showed him the

cocktail menu. ‘I wonder if they make good sex on the beaches here.’

‘How did I know you were gonna order that?’

‘I can’t help it,’ you groaned. ‘They’re my weakness.’

‘I’ll order you one when the waitress comes over.’

‘We should’ve got a cab,’ you countered. ‘Then you could’ve had one too. I promise you’ll like them. It’s glorified fruit juice.’

‘We could go for drinks at that bar by your house sometime,’ Bob offered. ‘It’s walkable. That way, I can try one, and we don’t have to worry about driving.’

Bob genuinely wasn’t expecting you to get as excited as you did. ‘Yes! Why haven’t we thought of this sooner?’

Your conversation was (rudely) interrupted by Bradley, setting an ornately decorated cocktail in front of you. Bob had been so wrapped up in your proximity and the sweet scent of your perfume that he hadn’t noticed Bradley leave the table.

‘Sex on the beach.’ Bradley stated, seemingly quite proud of himself.

The spell was broken, and suddenly, it was no longer you and Bob. His eyes flicked from you to Bradley, noticing how you mirrored his pleased expression.

‘Damn, Bradshaw, at least take me out to dinner before you start suggesting that.’

Everyone who had been paying attention laughed, even Bob. His was nervous, and when Natasha shot him a pointed look, this nasty sensation only increased. It was a look that said get her before it’s too late.

You were only kidding, right? You’d have said the same thing if Mickey had bought you the drink instead of Bradley. Right?

When Reuben and Jake arrived dressed to the nines, the waitress came over and took a drink order and your starters. Bob made a point of ordering you another cocktail. When you winked and asked him if he was trying to get you drunk, he felt as though all the balance had been restored in the world once again.

‘Y/N,’ Natasha said. ‘You wanna come to the bathroom with me before the first course arrives?’

You shrugged. ‘Sure, why not?’

You waited for Nat at the top of the table since she had to walk around. She linked arms with you when she got to you, and the two of you headed off toward the bathroom, completely unaware of all the eyes on you.

Bob was aware. It was all he could do not to get up and walk out when Jake opened his mouth.

‘Who knew Y/CS had a body like that underneath her uniform?’ Jake drawled.

Javy seemed to share Jake’s thought process. ‘I know, right? She looks like a damn supermodel in that dress.’

Bob accidentally locked eyes with Bradley, who was doing a worse job of hiding his anger than he was. He wished you’d both said no to this dinner and gone to the bar near your house instead. He wished he was listening to you sing or playing the drums to your guitar at his house.

He wished he wasn’t jealous that the other guys had started paying attention to his best friend.

He wished this meant anything other than what it did because he knew things were about to get a lot more complicated.

Natasha looked drop-dead gorgeous in her pale blue trousers and matching oversized blazer. Her hair was loose and wavy, and you were obsessed with the smoky eyeshadow she’d done.

‘That outfit is to die for,’ you told her. ‘I love the colour on you.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiled. ‘But let’s talk about that dress. You look stunning.’

You scoffed. ‘This old thing.’

She opened the bathroom door for you, and you stepped inside. Nobody was in there, and before you knew what was happening, Nat dragged you over to the bench on the other side.

‘Why does a bathroom need a loveseat?’ You wondered aloud.

She sat you down and took both your hands, leaning forward excitedly. For what, you had no idea.

‘We need to talk about the dress. And Bob. And Rooster.’

‘What do you mean?’

Nat rolled her eyes, squeezing your hands urgently. ‘Don’t be cute. Tell me you didn’t see all those guys turn around to watch you walk away just then!’

‘They did?’

‘Yes! Not to mention Bradley acting like a lovesick fool the second he saw you. Or Bob staring at you like you hung the fucking moon in the sky!’

This was too much. ‘Okay, system overload.’

‘You need to open your eyes.’

‘I need you to back up a few steps. How was Bradley acting like a lovesick fool?’

‘He didn’t even say hi to anyone else. The man didn’t even look at us. He went straight for you, and started on that little inside joke you have about your boots. And then he bought you that drink, which, by the way, he’d already gone up to buy before you even said anything out loud. He remembers from that time we all went to that seafood place, and you had the bartender make you a jug for the table.’

This was all well and good, but it didn’t necessarily mean he was lovesick, and you told Nat so.

‘And as for Bob, that’s another story. That man worships the ground you walk on, and if you can’t see it, you should ask to borrow his glasses.’

It was almost comical that Nat was so riled up and self-assured. You could believe that Bob had a little crush. Hell, you had a little crush on him, too. But there was no way someone as confident and vibrant as Bradley could have a thing for you. That was one step too far into crazy town.

‘They’re gonna wonder where we’ve gotten to.’ You said, hoping she’d just drop this.

‘We need to talk about it at some point. I’m dying here, Y/N.’ Natasha insisted.

‘Breakfast date tomorrow?’

‘Yes. I swear to God, if I’m wrong about Bradley, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.’

‘Oh, you’re on.’

‘But if I’m right,’ she grinned. ‘You have to do the same.’

Another cocktail was waiting for you when you returned to the table. Bob’s brow was furrowed, and you had to stop yourself from reaching out and smoothing the worry line above his glasses. For the second time that evening, it dawned on you just how handsome he was.

The rest of the meal passed without great event. The food was to die for, and everyone commended Reuben for his spectacular choice of restaurant. The atmosphere was great; friends surrounded you, and Bradley and Bob seemed to be taking turns buying you cocktails. Nat was drinking an old-fashioned, and the boys had taken to buying her one every time they went up for you. You watched as she reached for her phone and typed out a text, not in the least bit surprised when your phone vibrated on the table.

You were glad Bob was chatting with Javy and Reuben about work because it would have been awkward if he had seen your phone now.

Both of you were giggling like idiots, utterly unaware of everyone else around you. Mickey was reading Nat’s phone over her shoulder, and Bradley watched you like a hawk. If you’d looked up at that moment, you’d have seen him gazing hungrily, eyes flitting from your face to the bare skin your dress didn’t cover.

The cocktails had gone to your head quicker than usual. You’d lost count of how many you’d had, what with Bradley and Bob’s efforts to keep a drink in front of you at all times. The more you thought about it, the more it did kind of seem like a dick-swinging contest.

After dessert had been eaten and the cheque split seven ways (Bob insisted on covering your portion), the dagger squad devised a new plan. Those who had been drinking wanted to keep on drinking, and the designated drivers wanted to start. Bob, Bradley, Mickey, Jake and Reuben had all driven, and they wanted to lose their cars and meet up with everyone at The Hard Deck to continue the night. Well, Bob wasn’t given a choice because if he was paying for your meal, you were taking him drinking and paying for everything he wanted. Plus, you didn’t want to go if he wasn’t going to be there.

So, you and Nat were going with Bob to The Hard Deck—he would leave his car there for the night, get a cab back to your place and spend the night in your guest room. This way, you could drop him back to his car tomorrow morning. Nat insisted she also wanted to stay at your place, like a slumber party. Clearly, the drinks were hitting her, too. You were sure Mickey would have invited himself as well had he been in the car with you. He loved being an honourary girl. Bradley, Mickey, Javy and Jake were taking their cars home and meeting everyone else there.

Bob gave you and Nat the umbrella and ran to start the truck.

‘So,’ Nat giggled, wiggling her eyebrows. ‘Floyd is spending the night at your place.’

‘In the guest room.’

‘Still. He’s gonna be ten feet from you all night. How ever will you control yourself?’ She teased.

Bob’s truck was a monster, and you’d always thought it didn’t match his personality—a black Dodge Ram 1500, basically big enough to live in. Like his house, he kept it incredibly clean, and you were always scared of breathing inside it.

You opened the back door for Nat, and she clambered in. Just as you were about to close the umbrella and climb in after her, Bob said: ‘Get in the front, Y/CS. I’m not a goddamn Uber driver.’

Well, that was it. Nat was literally doubled over in the back seat, and you ended up crouched on the pavement next to the truck in stitches. Maybe it was the alcohol and the good vibes you were tipsy from, or perhaps it was because Bob wasn’t even trying to be funny with that line—he was deadly serious. Either way, you couldn’t stop laughing.

Bob had to get back out of the truck and help you into the front seat, so he was soaked when he got back behind the wheel.

‘Oh, Bobby,’ you giggled. ‘Look at you. I’m so sorry.’

Your inhibitions were long gone, so it made perfect sense in your mind to reach out and take Bob’s glasses off and wipe them clean on your dress. Then, you took his face in both hands and gently swiped the water off his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. He’d closed his eyes, completely lost in the feeling. You’d momentarily forgotten that Natasha was in the backseat until she cleared her throat. Gently, you put Bob’s glasses back on for him and then busied yourself by connecting your phone to Bluetooth.

‘Okay,’ Nat said. ‘If you two are finished, I need another drink.’

You struggled to connect to the audio system, so Bob quickly typed his password in and handed you his phone. Opening up Spotify, you hit shuffle on his liked songs. Rollin’ by Limp Bizkit came on, and you gasped loudly.

‘This is a fucking great song. One of the best ever.’

Bob laughed as you reached out and turned up the volume, bopping your head along as he reversed out of the parking lot. You didn’t expect Nat to know it or like it, but she did, and you sang along obnoxiously the whole drive, first to Rollin’, then to Break Stuff.

‘You know what they say, Bobby?’

He indulged you: ‘What’s that?’

‘Live, laugh, Limp Bizkit.’

A/N: I can't express how excited I am about this series. If only you knew what I've got hidden up my sleeve! I've been thinking about it for a long time. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!

#top gun maverick #top gun #robert floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #robert bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #natasha trace #mickey garcia #jake seresin #reuben fitch #pete mitchell #javy machado

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ochrearia · 2 months ago

Text

And What Can We Do?

RAAAAHH I said I was gonna finish this stupid one-shot even if it killed me. Ough man my stomach huts so bad but the grind never stops. OCHRE WRITING A PROMPT WHERE YS ISN'T ACTIVELY INVOLVED IN IT? CRAZY

BFs in this one-shot: cs!BF (Beefer, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), Candy!BF (Blue, Slushgut's)

“You know, don’t you?”

Honestly, the Dinaurian coming to him to ask such a random question was the last thing Beef was expecting. He hadn’t exactly talked much to Beefer either, only small passing conversations compared to the ones he’d had with YS, Biff, or Bee. Kind of weird to think about, talking to one version of himself more than another. Nothing about this was normal anyway.

“Know… what?” Beef asked back, genuinely confused.

Beef had been more than happy to keep to himself in what had essentially become a big brother waiting room. YS wasn’t home, but that hadn’t stopped any of them from camping out at his place waiting for him to come back. It certainly didn’t stop them now. Peacock, Blue, Beefer, and him. A whole handful of BFs he’d talked to the least, probably.

Beefer pulled a face, his red eyes flicking between Peacock and Blue carefully before deciding to continue. “You know about YS. I keep seeing you stare a little too long at his back when he’s around. The others not here, they wouldn’t think anything of it. But the rest of us know better.”

Beef blanched, looking between the three. Blue and Peacock were looking almost confused back at the Dinaurian. Slightly unnerved curiosity on how he knew what he did.

“Dinaurian instinct, guys.” Beefer sighed. “The species I am now. From my world they have gone generations now disguising themselves as humans when they aren’t. Using technology to fool the eyes. I guess something about that made it into my DNA, making it so I can tell between humans and fake humans. I know the only human in this room is Beef.”

Well, that sure was a revelation. Beef hadn’t known there was more really outside of Beefer and YS. It was literally impossible to miss with the Dinaurian, and finding out YS was an angel was sheer luck of time and place. Well, Biff had been there too, but it seemed like he was way better at hiding his knowledge.

“Could’ve given a warning before outing us like that man.” Peacock complained with a raised eyebrow.

“We’re all friends here, are we not?” Beefer replied with a shrug. “I need to keep tabs on who knows and who doesn’t. It matters to me that we avoid comments about his lost wings, even by accident.”

“Beef is the only human in this room?” Blue spoke up, confused. “Wait… hold on, ignoring that for a minute, lost wings? He had wings and now he doesn’t?”

“I didn’t know that.” Peacock frowned. “I could tell he was an angel, angels can sense other angels. I had no idea he was Fallen.”

Beefer dragged his hands along his face in exasperation. “Well fuck. Okay. Guess you know now. It was a talking point when I came to him having an episode of body dysphoria. I think that’s what it’s called anyway. Beef, you had to have known that though right? I didn’t just run my stupid mouth?”

“No, I knew. But I didn’t want to say anything, the way I found out wasn’t really good.” Beef confirmed with a grimace. That day had been so stressful, from one breakdown to the next. “I don’t know if I should say my thoughts though. I have a really bad theory.”

“Dude you can’t headcanon real people.”

“That’s- Why is that what you thought I was doing?” Beef huffed. “See you knew he lost his wings. You clearly don’t know the manner of how he lost them.”

“What, and you do?” Beefer countered.

“If he’s Fallen, then it’s a pretty simple conclusion.” Shrugged Peacock. “The wings rot away, harmlessly. Physically harmlessly anyway. The angel has to deal with the loss for the rest of their life. I just don’t understand what the big guy did to get there.”

“Well…” Beef hesitated. Was this his place to talk about? It was only a theory, he wasn’t even sure if he was right. But the way those bumps felt, those were scars of a way more violent injury than just ‘rotting’. “I don’t think his wings rotted. I don’t think he did anything to get there.”

“How could someone as kind as YS end up Falling?” Blue wondered aloud. “Beef is probably right, he didn’t do anything. Everyone keeps talking about the things he’s done to help. He introduced me to all you guys! I don’t think there’s even a little bit of evil in his body.”

“Then how did he lose his wings then?” Peacock challenged. “And how are you so sure he didn’t Fall?”

“You’ve all gotten at least one hug from YS by now right? Have any of you actually thought to put your hands on his upper back? Well, don’t, he hates that and that’s how I found out. But like, before this conversation did any of you do that?” Beef asked.

The three shook their heads, wondering where he was going with this.

“He has bumps on his back.” Beef continued. “Scars of where his wings used to be. His over shirt is loose and wouldn’t highlight them but I felt them. Even for a moment I could tell those weren’t gentle scars. I guess I don’t know what kind of calling card would be left over after an angel’s wings rot but those bumps are violent. That was a traumatic injury. Not something painless, by how he reacted when I asked. I think… I think something ripped his wings off.”

Silence swept the room.

“...No.” Peacock decided almost desperately. “No, no that can’t be right. Angel wings are too strong for just anything to rip them out. That’s something I was told in my own world. That should be a universal thing, very few things are powerful enough to even do that.”

“Well… that’s still a chance.” Beef mumbled.

“There’s always going to be a stronger thing out there even if you think you’re at the top of the food chain.” Beefer hissed sourly. “Humans in my world, thinking they were top shit because they found a way to revive dinosaurs and make them their friends. Then the Dinaurians showed up. And then the Dinaurians were revealed to be fleeing an even bigger threat, a whole planet eater. Turned out that planet eater could be, and was, killed by a human. There’s always something, a way to defeat the ‘invulnerable’.”

“Why would anyone want to do that to him though?” Bue seemed visibly upset by this revelation. “Didn’t he already go through enough? He still hasn’t told any of us how his version of GF died, I’m guessing? Wouldn’t that have been traumatic enough? Why would someone make it exponentially worse?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Beef growled, feeling his anger flare. YS would tell him it wasn’t worth it, but he wasn’t here, and he was going to feel angry. “You didn’t see it. How badly he reacted when I asked one question. I asked what happened to him and it was like the world was fucking ending.”

“Fuck, how much has he gone through?” A loaded question, but now even Peacock was getting a bit miffed. He didn’t care about a lot, but the things he did care about he was fierce to protect. “Losing his girlfriend, not having a Pico, and now this? It’s a miracle he’s even still alive.”

Yeah, yeah it sure is. Beef thought bitterly. Too much had been accidentally revealed in the aftermath of him prodding about YS’s wing scars. Him deliriously breaking down even further to the point he’d called Biff over as backup. They’d cheered him up the best they could, all things considered. And then when he’d calmed down enough, the pure exhaustion made him blurt things neither should have heard him say. Talking about how angels were always cold when Beef had asked why he liked being warm so much.

Talking about I wanted to join her when Biff asked the last time he’d properly slept. I had a plan. Connect all these mes and then I’d be… I can’t now.

Maybe that wasn’t his story to tell. Beef had seen how devastated Biff had gotten hearing about him having a plan, never in his life had he seen the smaller one get so crushed and upset. If that had been his reaction, and how these guys were already acting with these theories… yeah, he couldn’t tell them.

“So then now what?” Blue asked, snapping Beef out of his thoughts. “He never talked about any of this. I don’t think he’d be happy about any of us knowing, but I don’t want to just pretend I’m clueless. Isn’t there something we can do to show support?”

“It sounds like the only time he actually admitted to anything was with me.” Beefer recounted. “Though even then it was indirect. He only actually said he’d lost his wings after I said it first as a theory. And I could tell it made him uncomfortable. That’s why I think making sure attention to it is avoided is probably the best bet.”

“So we’re not gonna tell him we know more than he thinks?” Peacock asked. “That seems really dishonest. If we tell him we can offer support better.”

“He doesn’t want any of us knowing to begin with!” Beef argued. “Only reason any of us know is because apparently this room is full of non-humans and I just happened to open my big fat mouth!”

“I’m still confused about the room full of non-humans thing…” Blue sheepishly said.

“How are you-? You know what, nevermind, that’s not urgent.” Beefer sighed, tail lashing. “Please, by all means tell him you know, I’m sure the distress of that conversation will be worth it. ‘Hey, you’ve been nothing but kind and caring and you do your absolute best to never hurt us, let me just hurt you real quick by telling you I know what you are and let you sit with that discomfort’.”

“Cheap shot.” Peacock countered.

“The options are pain and pain. Just pick one.” Beef grumbled with folded arms. “Either we tell him and he gets upset with us, or we don’t tell him and let him continue to deal with it alone with no direct support network.”

“Well that’s not true.” Blue insisted. “It’s not true! He has a support network, it’s us. We’re still going to be his support network even if we don’t know everything about him. He doesn’t know everything about us and still does loads to help. We can do that too!”

Blue had a point. YS wasn’t all-knowing, he’d said that several times at this point. He knows as much as he can observe, and by how much they all decided to tell him. He’s just another one of them, nothing completely different and overly special and that was okay. YS still managed to be a pillar of comfort and safety for all of them in different ways, why did they think that they couldn’t do the same? He was always so closely guarded of his problems but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be there for him.

“...Okay.” Beefer breathed finally. “Can we all agree on that at least? Just be there for him if anything happens, but we agree not to mention what we know if it’s clear that saying something would make it worse?”

“Fine.” Peacock conceded. “I don’t like the idea of hurting him by accident but I know lying can also cause that. I guess it’s just a lose-lose situation.”

“He’s obviously not ready to talk about what happened to him. We can’t force that, but we can be there for him. If anything else happens…” Beef was trying. He was always so worked up over being soft or vulnerable but YS had been slowly helping him change that. Hell, he was completely open and willing to be those things if the tall one needed it and that had been proven behind closed doors. It was still nagging at the back of his head that he was being embarrassingly protective of him around the others.

“Glad we agree then. That’s what I was aiming for by bringing this up.” Beefer admitted. “Constantly worried about him to be honest. As if I needed more things to worry about considering what the hell’s going on with me, but it’s impossible not to care about the guy.”

At least they could all agree to that statement too.

#RGBFverse #Im too tired. To check for spelling errors man #Beef finding himself in a room full of inhumans LOL #Blue not knowing he's an angel is so fucking funny to me in this situation

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rayless-reblogs · 7 months ago

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Goldstone Wood and the Oddness of Christian Fantasy

Princess Varvare in a kingdom of roses

I want to share some illustrations inspired by the Tales of Goldstone Wood series by Anne Elisabeth Stengl. It's a Christian fantasy series that I really like. Give me a moment to talk about that – unless you absolutely love Christian fantasy, all Christian fantasies, in which case, maybe skip this.

I spent a chunk of the early 2000s defending fantasy as a genre to a variety of Christians I ran across – not the majority, but still a variety of them – both in my head and to their faces. The preacher who said, from the pulpit, that Harry Potter was Satanic. Writers explaining why JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis were (of course) okay, but all other fantasy novels were suspect. Websites that dissected the occult symbolism you never realized was buried in fantasy media. My friend who frowned at me in concern and said she wouldn't want to have to explain to God why she read “that kind of thing” when she met him after death.

This is Rosie (and her goat Beana, who talks.) I love Rosie utterly, she tries so hard and she feels things so much. The next image is a spoiler, showing her unveiled.

I think that's partially why I'm interested in the genre of Christian fantasy, this attempt to make these two things fit. For me, the fusion often doesn't work. Either writers mix theology and fantasy in a weird confusing way. (Wait, you just had your heroine marry an angel. Do you actually think that happens? Which parts of this actually reflect your belief system?) Or they play things extremely safe and traditional. (Oh boy, another story about a young farm boy who's going to go on a quest and fight the Satan figure and become a hero while his girlfriend does... something peaceful off-screen.) Or they try to be another Lewis in the belief that since Lewis and John Bunyan did it, allegory is an acceptable vehicle for fantasy, and let's be really obvious about the symbolism. (I bet this demon symbolizes evil.) I read Christian fantasy, but it's partially optimistic curiosity, it's partially pessimistic irony, and I haven't found many that I'd recommend.

Rosie unveiled.

But I do like Tales of Goldstone Wood, at least what I've read so far (still missing a few of the installments). I like it enough that I would recommend it to a Christian who wants to read fantasy, or a fantasy reader who doesn't mind Christian themes. Anne Elisabeth Stengl often approaches the Christian elements indirectly, from less obvious angles, so you don't have all the heavy-handed symbols you see in the Lewis and Tolkien knockoffs. She has many, many interesting female characters and a lot of humor. Her series also builds, adding complexity to the world and characters with each installment, many of the characters showing up in multiple books.

Varvare and the unicorn. This unnamed unicorn is one of my favorite elements of the third book – beautiful but dangerous and eldritch. Corrupted – but not exactly evil.

Stengl's also not afraid to get weird and fey with her fantasy elements, at times reminding me strongly of things like Labyrinth, The Neverending Story, and no end of Celtic and European folklore. Her magical characters are unpredictable, merry, fearsome, and unabashedly over the top. Her heroes have depth, flaws to go with their heroism, and never become morally perfect even after their conversions – unlike in so much Christian fiction. Much of Christian fantasy bears the thumbprint of CS Lewis; in Stengl's case, though her writing shows clear nods to Lewis (and not just his Narnia books), she isn't trying to replicate him. These aren't books that Lewis would have written.

Daylily and Lionheart. If the series has a protagonist, it's probably Lionheart there on the right. He seems to be doomed to keep showing up in different story arcs, and he's always interesting.

I recommend you begin with the first one, Heartless. Though Heartless is the least ambitious/unique entry – it's straightforward and, of all of the books, the most directly allegorical. (I bet this guy's the Jesus figure. Yep, yep he is.) But it lays the foundation for the world and establishes many of the central characters, including my favorite Eanrin, the blind cat-shapeshifting bard-knight with the heroism of a knight, the selfishness of a cat, and endless flair. Stengl does explore Christian themes, but at the same time she clearly wants to create beautiful language, memorable characters, and engrossing stories. The stories and characters don't feel secondary to the message.

Eanrin, I like him a lot. He also shows up in almost every book, at least the main books, sometimes pre-injury, sometimes post-.

My favorite book is Starflower, the fourth, because of its courageous heroine (who grows into the librarian-knight Imraldera we see in other books), its twisted echoes of “Beauty and the Beast” and Till We Have Faces, and its focus on, who else, Eanrin in his younger years, before he's really gotten that whole hero thing worked out.

Imraldera. (She's looking at Eanrin.) The series is allegedly over, but I feel like there are still some narrative threads hanging, including with Imraldera here. My hope is that the author returns to the series someday.

As with any recommendation, this isn't a blanket recommendation; you may find things in here you don't like. I don't sign off on every element as perfect. But Christian fantasy is a small genre, it's a weird genre, in my opinion it's often a clumsy genre. Goldstone Wood is proof that it can produce interesting, original material – stuff not merely “good for a Christian fantasy”, but just a good series, period.

#tales of goldstone wood #anne elisabeth stengl #christian fantasy #imraldera #rosie (togw)#beana #eanrin #daylily (togw)#lionheart (togw)#christianity #meta #i honestly don't know what the goldstone wood or even christian fantasy fandom is like on tumblr (if it exists at all)#hopefully i'm not stepping into discourse #i want to recommend a series that i think is really inventive and has some great characters #mine #tales of goldstone wood spoilers

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amourjins · 6 months ago

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i'm having pov!aeri thoughts rn so i'm sharing them

pov!aeri who likes to give little gifts to y/n. flowers, stuffed animals, lego structure of something y/n likes, etc. likes sending them hoping she can make y/n's day better and make her smile!!!

loser!pov!aeri who can't sleep one night so she's ends up being bored, all pouty bc she'a missing her gf, and then comes up with the most WONDERFUL idea to facetime y/n at like 2 in the morning. y/n answering the call, asking aeri if something was wrong and then the loser says "i just miss you" and then all of a sudden y/n is wide awake and all her attention is on her gf now. then she takes a good look at aeri's appearance.

aeri's wearing pajamas with cute cartoons on them, a headband like in that one recent live ykyk, a stuffed animal in her arms (you cannot tell me this loser doesn't sleep with a stuffed animal), or maybe she's building a new lego set she had recently bought.

loser!pov!aeri who -during her's and y/n's secret dating era- gets jealous whenever she sees someone getting a little too close tp y/n for her liking, and going all quiet and sad because she can't go do anything since they're not out to anyone yet. but!!!! she ends up becoming really clingy towards y/n when their alone, refusing to tell her why she's being so clingy but ends up giving in and rambling about hwo she got jealous and that's why she's being clingy.

y/n teasing her for it, making aeri look at her with big puppy eyes with a pout :(((

but y/n ends up just pulling aeri into her arms, RUNS HER FINGERS TO HER HAIR BC AERI LOVES WHEN Y/N DOES IT, and reassuring her that there's no one she'll ever love the way she love's her :((( my turn when

that's all for tonight!!! i'll comeback with more soon ;)

OKAY YES. pov!aeri nd her love language being gift giving + acts of service. like its just “i got you this,” “i built you this,,” left and right to yn!!! yn’s room is filled with aeri’s gifts n her lego sets that she built for her Hjsjsjsslaosjxnxsosis

wait WAIT WAIT HEAR ME OUT bc yn tetxing aeri that shes getting her nails done n aeri texting back like

(a) — how much?

(yn) - $75! why?

(a) — [apple pay of $150] ,, show me what it looks like after, pretty girl 💕

THIS SONF. (sorry i love piwon) + late night calls w/ loser!pov!aeri n pov!yn,, nd YES the stuffed animals.. literally has a whole setup of them on her bed + her gaming desk.. maybe yn at aeri’s house n she looks over at aeri’s bed, seeing sm plushies n stuffed animals. yn sees one that catches her eye.. (its a black cat that yn thinks resembles aeri methinks!)

“can i take one?” yn would say out of nowhere!!!

“..huh?”

“i want one,”

“okay,”

aeri’s staring at yn confused, yn walking over n taking the black cat that caught her eye!!! (she sleeps w it every night.. maybe cs it has aeri’s signature perfume on it..)

BACK TO THE LATE NIGHT CALL!!!! the pajamas lmfao 😭 on call, aeri’s searching for something and then she magically pulls out a fucking lego set?? like girl its 2am i dont think you need to be building legos rn..

ororor maybe she decides to play games n shares her monitor screen so yn can watch!!! :3 (even though shes eepy n doesnt understand half the things shes doing)

YES aeri getting possessive n jealous whenever someone gets too close up to yn.. or maybe yn interacting with one of her friends!

aeri glaring DAGGERS at whoever the someone (..possibly jake) is, wanting to kill tjem!!!

when theyre in private, aeri having her hands all over yn after the whole tjikf?? saying shit like “tell them to get off of you,” while still being pouty !!!

aeri digging her head into yn’s shoulder nd having her arms around yn’s waist.. oops going insane!

#📸—point of view ft. uchinaga aeri #🕸️—jins.interacts #🕸️—moots #amourjins #i like to think that aeri is taller than reader methjnsk!#not much of a difference but shes still taller yk??#..!!!#sorry i <3 taller girldlslsls

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chickenkurage · 1 month ago

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Honestly why do I feel like CSCorruptedAlan would feel much more attached to null than ever after managing to actually escape together (I MISS HER SMM NULL WAKE UP YOU NEED TO BE THERE FOR YOUR SON- *AHEM* FOR ALAN-)

Like think about it! She stayed with him and tried all of her best to help and keep him safe from things for three whole weeks, didn't leave his side at all and would offer him comfort too during all of those days. Despite sometimes having some delusional thoughts about null leaving him like how he thought everyone else did by not "searching" for him at all for three weeks, he manage to still have a lot of trust for her! (At this point typing all of this down seems like this alan will be having trust issues and definitely some bad people pleasing behaviors too.....) but I can also see null being somewhat patient and understanding towards alan about them and still stayed by his side anyways which that would make him attached to her more, like a child who is attached to one parent only because they're used to a routine with that parent the most

But of course the hollow heads and color gang aka his children are still there in his heart and loves them all deeply too! Because he knows that nothing could ever replace them, despite all of his rage that he has inside of him now... The soul is still being healed by being with children (unless a big misunderstanding happens between them all which makes his rage screw him up a lot probably...... *looks at victim* yeah....)

Also a thought about the original CS!Alan but just actually imagine how his own wife and his own daughter are waiting for him to come back to them... Back to his real family :(....

Oh yeah i agree with this one, CS Alan himself is already kind of attached to Null himself. So CS Corruption Alan would definitely "be more" attached to Null.

Cause yeah! I agree that Null literally stayed with Alan through thick and thin, when all this time she could just run away for herself and save her own hide!! And Alan being Alan, thinking the others had forgotten about him. Alan and Null certainly did build trust throughout that 3 weeks they have been stuck together in that damn hellhole. It's no wonder that Alan would be attached to her, since Null is the only person that has been taking care of him.

In the end, Alan is just like a child. He certainly craves for the love that he always wanted from the others....

Alan's love for his kids would never disappear, even with what happened before he was taken away. I mean I'm sure he had this line.

If it's a bit blurry, here it is;

Your own love will be your weakness, Alan

Soon your ruin will come, from those who you love

Then ruined i will be

I've always foreshadowed that Alan's fall will be in the hands of his children or slash the people he loves, and somehow AB telling Alan this and him accepting it is just...Alan Core!

But again, Alan's love is unimaginable. He truly loves his kids. Even if they are the reason why he's turned out like this in the end. AB has always said that Alan's love was his own weakness.

Even with those "rage" he has, nothing could take over the love he has for all of them. I mean, look at how he accepted the fact that he could "die" because of them???!!! And they still think Alan would put them in danger, and it just hurts ya know?

If it's a bit blurry, here it is;

Do you feel it?

No one cares about you Alan

It's okay

Alan has always accepted that his love will never be requited, or their love will never be as deep and as meaningful as his....

Maybe, just maybe a new "blank slate" would be better for Alan, because all the pain he has been through can make anyone's mind break. It's like keeping a dying dog, just euthanize the dog and let it rest at this point.

And i rest my cause, so make CS Corruption Alan much angstier than mine, i give you the crown!!! - S

#AskSpongey&JMLilac #CSCorruptionAlanBecker #CSAlanBecker

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hollyethecurious · 6 months ago

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CS AU: Pan Says... (9/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: Check it out, y'all! Another update from me! Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!

Rated E / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism / voyeurism. role play.

Part Nine

“I don’t know who you are, or what sort of game you’re playing at, but this isn’t funny!”

Emma glanced at the monitor overhead, the timer quickly counting down the minutes she had left to try and convince David that she was really Emma, that she was alive, and in need of his help.

“David Robert Nolan, shut the fuck up and listen to me!” she yelled over the receiver.

“What did you just call me?”

“I called you by your full government name,” she said. “David Robert, after your father, Nolan. Or would you prefer I call you Charming like Mary Margaret does?”

“How do you know--”

“Because it’s me, David! It’s Emma! I’m alive and I need your help!”

“Emma?” he questioned over the line, the hope she knew he wasn’t sure he should dare to feel leaking into his tone. “Is it really you? How? Where are you? Where have you been? Who did they pull out of the--”

“Just listen, okay?” she interrupted as the time rapidly dwindled. “I don’t know who that woman was or how he faked my death, but I was abducted three weeks ago by someone who calls himself Pan. I was taken from outside the police station after dropping off a skip. I was tasered. I’m here with a man named Captain Killian Jones. He has a brother named Liam, who also was led to believe that Killian was missing for reasons other than kidnapping. I need you to find him. He’ll be trying to get a hold of you, because Killian just called him, too, and let him know what’s been going on.”

She flicked her gaze to Killian, still looking shell-shocked from the emotionally charged conversation he’d had with his brother. He’d wanted to stay by her side whilst she made her call, but she’d told him to go sit and take a moment. They’d be there for one another later. It was why they’d chosen to wait and make these calls before turning in for the night. So they could just lay in bed and hold each other in the aftermath.

“What has been going on?” David demanded, bringing Emma’s focus back to her brother. “Why would this Pan person take you? What has he… are you alright? Has he hurt you? Did you escape, is that why you’re calling now? Do I need to come get--”

“No, we haven’t escaped. We… we sort of… earned a reward. Look. It’s too much to explain right now. I’m going to give you some specs of the place we’re being held in. Write them down so you can give them to the police.”

Emma waited as David searched for a pen and paper, her heart thudding wildly in her chest as the timer continued to draw closer to zero.

“Okay. Go.”

Emma rattled off the information Killian had put together for them; the estimated size of the facility, features he’d been able to make out that might make the building distinguishable, and details about the different rooms (though she hadn’t told Killian about the medical suite she’d been in, and hated that she couldn’t tell him or David about the doctor, for fear of Pan’s threat against Killian’s pound of flesh) that might aid in their search. She also mentioned that there were others here, so perhaps they could find a link between their missing person cases and others with similar details.

“Got it,” David said. “What… what else can I do?”

“Nothing,” she said, her throat tightening and tears welling in her eyes. The carefully constructed fortifications she’d put in place in order to get through the call were crumbling fast, but she couldn’t fall to pieces just yet. “Just… Just know that I’m alive and that Killian and I need you to get the police looking for us again. And…”

“And?”

10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5…

“And that I love you! I love you both!”

0… dial tone.

The receiver slipped from her hand and clattered against the concrete floor. She was pretty sure Killian returned it to the base before sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. Laying her down gently, he crawled onto the bed beside her and gathered her in his arms. With the last of her strength, Emma pressed closer to him, molding their chests together and tucking her head beneath his chin. Long, quiet minutes stretched out with only their unified heartbeats filling the void, neither of them capable of saying much of anything until Killian broke the silence.

“He sounded destroyed,” he murmured, his tone flat and watery from the tears he’d shed after hanging up with his brother, and again as he’d held Emma while she spent hers into the front of his shirt. “Your brother sounded as though he’d been given a noble quest, while mine…”

“You told him not to beat himself up over it,” she reminded him. “To not dwell on the fact that he’d believed the lie Pan sent him from your email address.”

“Aye,” he sighed.

She knew he was running the conversation over in his mind. The way Liam had sounded ecstatic to hear from him, asking about his travels and when he thought he might return home. The way the line had gone silent after Killian had revealed the truth. The way his brother had sounded broken and utterly ashamed that he’d fallen for the trick, too eager to believe things had turned a corner for his brother, blinding him from seeing the cracks in the story that might have caused him to be suspicious enough to follow up.

Killian had spent most of the call comforting his brother and apologizing for the things he’d said when last they spoke, breaking open old wounds they had not the time to properly dress so they might begin to heal. Their time had gone so fast. He’d barely been able to convey the necessary details to him so that further action could be taken beyond the call before time ran out. She wasn’t even sure Liam had heard Killian tell him he loved him before the line had gone dead.

While her call to David had played out almost exactly as she thought it would, she knew Killian’s had not gone the way he’d wanted it to.

“At least they know now,” she said. “The truth is out there, and they’ll be looking for us again. That’s something at least.”

“Aye,” he agreed, though a bit hollowly. “That’s better than the alternative.”

“Hey,” she said, pulling back and lifting her gaze. When he didn’t meet hers right away she reached up and scratched her fingers through the stubble at his jawline. A huff left his chest and his eyes fell to hers.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to really clear the air with him. I know there were things you had to leave unsaid in order to get our message out, but…” She swallowed hard, willing back the fresh sob working its way up her throat. “Please don’t give up hope.” His eyes softened at the sound of her words catching and he buried his hand in the back of her hair. “I need you to help me stay optimistic here. I need you to tell me that we’ll still be able to tell them everything we didn’t get a chance to say to them today, because they’ll find us and we can say those words to their faces. Okay?”

“Emma, I…”

She could see his heart breaking in his expression and she chastised herself for guilt-tripping him, but… she meant what she said. She needed him to be strong with her right now.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, holding her close to his chest once more. “Of course we’ll get that chance. We’ll have an entire lifetime to say all the things that need to be said. They’ll find us. Of that I’m certain. They’ll never stop fighting for us. And neither will I.”

“Good.”

~/~

Emma twisted and turned her torso in an attempt to find comfort, something that seemed to be an impossibility in the damned corset Pan had provided.

A corset that accompanied the wench costume she was expected to wear for tonight’s festivities. Festivities that made her stomach roll, or would have if the blasted corset hadn’t been cinched so tightly.

After a fitful night’s sleep and late morning meal, she and Killian had been escorted to different areas so they could prepare themselves as the evening’s entertainment. Per usual, her anxiety spiked when it became clear they were to be separated, and the spa-like environment where she would spend the day being pampered and prepped did little to calm her nerves.

The host of ladies who assisted in the waxing, facial, manicure, pedicure, massage, hair, and make-up services wore masks to obscure their identities and spoke in a language Emma could not identify. Although she attempted to question them individually, they either did not understand her, or had been instructed to pretend as such. The latter seemed more plausible given the furtive glances the ladies occasionally made towards the Lost One standing guard.

After a light meal, Emma was dressed in the wench costume; a more upscale version of the cheap, slutty knock-off one might find at a Halloween store. The women were dismissed and she’d been instructed to follow the Lost One, her trepidations spiking again as she padded down the corridor behind him. There were many twists and turns before they finally rounded a corner, revealing Killian standing in front of a set of double doors. Emma’s heart leapt at the sight of him and relief flooded her body.

Well, first relief, then… something else.

He was decked out in head to toe leather, his jawline manicured with an alluring amount of scruff and his eyes lined in a deep, rich kohl. His hair had been artfully tousled and his skin bronzed. Beneath the layers of black leather, he wore a smoke-like linen shirt, unbuttoned down to the v of his waistcoat, exposing a tantalizing amount of chest hair. The leather trousers were tight, but not so much as to appear painted on, leaving just a hint to the imagination of what lay beneath their laces.

“Swan?” he said, in an amused and sinfully deep tone. “See something you like, love?”

Now aware that her mouth had been hanging open, Emma closed it and swallowed hard before answering, “You look…”

“I know,” he quipped with a cheeky smirk and smugly lifted brow, earning him an eye roll before his gaze raked over her once more. “You cut quite the figure in that get up, I must say.”

“Cutting is right,” Emma groused, struggling against the tight confines of her outfit. “I can only imagine the impression this corset is leaving on my spleen.”

“Your discomfort is a cross I am more than willing to bear… especially after my earlier one.”

Emma raised her brows in response to his cryptic words and put-out tone.

Scratching behind his ear, the tip of which was becoming quite red, he confessed under his breath in a low mumble, “I’ve been manscaped.”

Her eyes widened, and although she knew better from her earlier perusal, they fell to his chest, ensuring herself that the thick blanket of hair remained untouched.

“Not there,” he said, exasperatedly. “Lower.”

Emma tucked her lips between her teeth to try and stifle her laugh. His disgruntled tone and expression were absolutely priceless, despite the circumstances.

“Well,” she said, placing her hand on his arm in commiseration. “That makes two of us.”

They shared a moment of joint amusement, until the sound of the doors opening pulled them back into reality, sobering their demeanors.

A Lost One waved them forward. This one, like the one who had stood guard over her throughout the day, was not either of the men who had been assigned to them previously. The ones who seemed to be connected to her and Killian, respectively, in some way.

With shoulders back and heads held high, they entered the theatre, hand-in-hand. The Lost One directed them to the platform and they were both caught off guard at the emptiness of the room.

“My guests will arrive in due course,” Pan’s voice echoed. “First, a few pre-performance instructions. Pan says…”

He started by pointing out the furnishings upon the platform: a leather chair, an antique writing desk, a chaise with several cushions, and a small side table with various toys, lubricants, restraints, and other items atop it, including a pair of domino masks and earbuds.

“Go ahead,” he insisted, “Pan says, each of you take a mask and an earbud. The mask will help obscure your identities and the earbud is how you’ll hear conversations and suggestions made by my guests.” After affixing their masks, they placed a bud in their ear. Pan’s voice was now, eerily, inside their heads. “You will only act on the suggestions that are accompanied by a green light that will illuminate along the back of the upper tier.”

Green light splashed against the back walls as an example before Pan continued. “Pan says you shall not speak unless instructed otherwise, and should only do so in character. I expect you to comply with the approved requests and show my guests a good time. Understood?”

“Aye,” Killian managed to utter. All Emma could do was nod, too choked with impending dread to speak.

“Good,” Pan crowed in their ear. “Pan says, get into character and have a good show.”

Before the doors could open, Killian swung Emma around to face him and pressed their foreheads together. “You and me,” he whispered, so low she barely heard him. “Just you and me, love.”

Emma closed her eyes and nodded, her forehead rubbing against his as she inhaled deeply. Opening her eyes, she connected her gaze with his, both of them silently giving the other permission to get into character and play out the charade: him, a fearsome pirate captain and her, his defiant wench captive.

Their audience finally filed in, initially paying them little attention, while greeting one another as they took their seats behind their screens. Emma took a seat of her own in the leather chair at the center of the platform as Killian casually leaned against the front of the desk with his arms and ankles crossed. It wasn’t until the stage began to spin, allowing all of the guests an opportunity to see the show from every vantage point, that the audience really took notice of them.

It was unnerving to hear their actual voices, and the comments being made as they assessed tonight’s entertainment. Emma kept her eyes squarely focused on Killian’s, attempting to block it all out, and had therefore almost missed the way his bejeweled finger was drumming against his arm, tapping out a rhythm against the leather.

You and me. You and me. You and me.

A greeting of welcome sounded out from the speakers and Pan took a moment to remind his guests to don their own earbuds and microphones, as well as set the stage for that evening’s entertainment.

As soon as the greenlight - literally - was given, a cacophony of voices flooded Emma’s ear as each of the guests threw out suggestions. Her stomach turned and tremors of dread rippled down her spine at the thought of what they would make her and Killian do, of the intimacies they’d witness, of the images they’d take away with them.

Reaching up, Emma adjusted her mask, assuring it was firmly in place. Closing her eyes, she tried to drown out the voices so she could collect herself. She wasn’t Emma Swan right now. She was a wench. A wench being held by a fearsome pirate captain. They weren’t seeing Emma. They wouldn’t be able to take anything from Emma Swan. All they would get from her tonight was a wench. A character. A fantasy. Nothing more.

The sharp tip of cold metal digging into the underside of her chin jolted her back to the here and now. Her eyes snapped open and Killian - no. Not Killian. The pirate captain - was standing before her with a dagger held to her throat. The room was flooded with green light, and Emma realized the first command had been issued. Swallowing against the pressure of the blade, Emma wet her lips, set her features, then lifted her chin in defiance.

“Seems she needs some convincing,” a guest said in her earbud. “I say we give the Captain free rein to order his wench about. Agreed?”

Others murmured their agreement and the green light illuminated once more. A wide, sinister smile lifted the corners of her Captain's lips and he twisted the dagger so the flat part of the blade rested beneath her chin.

“On your feet, wench,” he commanded, the blade prompting her to stand as he applied subtle pressure upward.

With a predatory gaze he followed the tip of the blade as it dragged across her skin, over the swell of each breast before dipping into the valley between. A shiver of desire coursed through her causing his lust-filled, darkened depths to flick up and meet her own.

He slipped the dagger beneath the laces of her corset and with several firm tugs cut her free from the restrictive garment. A relieved and rapturous exhale left her lungs, her breasts heaving from the joyous release.

“My, my,” Killian purred in his Captain’s voice. “Aren’t you a sightly bit of plunder.”

The tip of the dagger continued to tease and taunt her breasts, the tip swirling around and over each nipple until they were painfully erect and clearly visible through the thin fabric of her blouse. A few more tugs, slashes, and artfully placed cuts left her top in tatters, her breasts fully exposed to their audience and her pirate captor’s eyes. Eyes she chose to remain focused on as more suggestions were bandied about among the crowd.

A new suggestion was green lit, and the Captain stepped forward, closing what little space there had been between them. Trading their positions on the platform, he then pressed down on her shoulders and ordered, “On your knees for the Captain, wench.”

Emma lowered herself in front of him, a defiant, in-character, glare staring up at the smirk he gave her.

Sinking into the chair she had occupied a moment ago, he leaned back and crooked his finger at her. As she shuffled forward on her knees, his gaze hungrily taking her in, he commanded in a low and sultry tone, “Make good use of those hands and undo me laces.”

Her core clenched and she tried to remain in character as she reached up and loosened the laces of his leather trousers as though it were the last thing she wished to do.

“Good girl,” he praised. Slipping his hand into his trousers he pulled out his cock, not quite fully engorged yet, and began stroking it in her face.

“Now then.” She flinched when he tapped her lips with the head of his cock, hard. Taken aback momentarily by the action because she’d been distracted by her earbud, trying to decipher what the crowd was telling them to do next… not that it was a big leap. Reaching down he placed his thumb against her chin and applied a bit of downward force as he told her, “Open that whore’s mouth of yours and take my cock, wench. Let’s see how deft you are at shivering me timber.”

Her eyes watered and she choked against the assault of his member being forcibly shoved down her throat. Flicking her gaze upward, she saw the concern and apology in his eyes before he shut them tight and let his head fall back, an expression of arrogant dominance and self-satisfaction gloating from his features.

The laughter and jeers of the crowd filled her ears, as did the vulgar chant of suck his dick, applied in a rhythm that her Captain made her keep pace with from where he had her hair gripped in his hand at the back of her head.

“That’s it, love,” he praised, tapping out another rhythm behind her ear with his finger as she bobbed against his length. You and me, you and me, you and me.

She’d almost managed to tune out the mob when a woman’s voice grated in her ear.

“Well, hello there, sailor.”

Looking up, Emma saw a woman, decked out ostentatiously in hues of green, arriving late and making her way down the steps. In her hand was the microphone attached to the ear piece she wore. She paused, giving Killian a once over before slinking behind her screen and taking her seat.

Before she disappeared behind the thin veil of fabric, Emma recognized her by the mask she wore. It was the woman who had paused by the two-way mirror the night before to check her flaming red tresses.

“Do us a favor and flick those kohl-lined eyes this way,” she cat-called into her microphone.

The green light signaled from above and another light shone down over her screen. Emma stared up Killian’s body to look at his face and saw the muscle in his jaw clench and spasm before he flicked his eyes away from her and towards the screen, then held his gaze there as the platform continued to turn.

“Mmmm,” the woman hummed provocatively. “Yes, I think I’m going to enjoy tonight’s entertainment very much indeed.”

When the platform circled round again, Emma glanced over at the woman’s screen and could see the silhouette of her reclined back with her legs splayed wide, clearly pleasuring herself under the Captain’s gaze. A jolt of jealous anger ignited down Emma’s spine. Relaxing her jaw, she let Killian slip further down her throat until she could brush the tip of her nose against his torso. A cursing moan slipped over his lips and his hips bucked from the unexpected action.

“Nice!” a guest praised. “Make her take all of it, Captain!”

“No, you fool,” another guest chastised. “We don’t want him blowing his load too soon. Not when the wench has other holes for him to use.”

“I wanna see the wench take control. Let her have the reins for a bit.”

“Maybe next time,” someone countered. “I’m enjoying this too much.”

Next time!? Emma responded internally in a near panic. What the hell do they mean, next time?

“I think her breasts need some attention, too,” another chimed in. “Look how those nipples are just begging for attention.”

“I wanna see her cunny. I bet it is just dripping. Would love to see our Captain’s face glistening from her juices, wouldn’t you?”

All during their debate Emma continued to work her Captain over. She delighted in the way his chest hitched and heaved, the way the chords of his neck tightened, the rosy blush that developed high on his cheeks, the micro spasms twitching through his torso and down his legs, and the sounds… dear god, the sounds this man made.

Green flashed again and Emma was astounded at the way Killian managed to keep track of what was expected of them, given the distraction she’d been providing. Pulling himself from her mouth with a pained sounding grunt, he hauled her onto her feet then shoved her back onto the nearby chaise. She’d barely registered what was happening when he lifted her skirts up over her legs and grabbed her hips, pulling her body towards the edge of the cushion and lining her sex up with his eager mouth.

The exquisite torment lasted for what felt like hours. Time and again he brought her to the brink with his tongue, teeth, and hands, deftly assaulting her clit as he probed, scissored, and thrust his fingers into her holes. When his mouth tired he switched to one of the many toys, holding her on edge until tears streamed down her face and pathetic whimpers escaped her lips. Her back ached from the repeated arch his actions provoked and her legs quivered uncontrollably. A few times, he gave her cunt a rest, turning his attention to her breasts and laving them with his tongue while his slick-coated fingers rolled her nipples into taut peaks that he then sucked clean with his mouth.

The sound of their joint moans were echoed by those from the crowd. A symphony of zippers being undone, fabric being moved, skin being slapped, and groans being uttered filled her ears, making the torture all the more erotic. When she was finally given leave to speak, it was only so she could beg. Beg for mercy. Beg for release. Beg for him to fuck her.

And beg she did.

“Please, Captain,” she whimpered, choking on a sob that had caught in her throat from the fresh assault he was applying to her clit.

“Please what, wench?” he commanded in a strained gruff. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Please let me come,” she pleaded. “Please, please, plea--!”

She didn’t get the third please out before a scream tore past her lips, her body convulsing from the pleasure the vibrating toy at her clit was finally granting her. Wave after wave of release crashed over her until she was so spent she wasn’t certain she hadn’t blacked out. The next thing she knew, she was being hoisted off the chaise and bent over the desk, facing out towards the crowd.

The Captain’s body molded against her back, his breath hot against her ear as he growled, “I’d find something to hold on to if I were you, wench. Because I’m gonna fuck you hard. I’m gonna fuck you deep.”

Emma barely had time to latch on to the corners of the desk when the entire thing tipped forward from the force of his entering thrust. Relentlessly, he pounded into her, egged on by the jeers, cheers, and taunts of the crowd.

“Keep your eyes open, wench,” a voice demanded from the masses. “We wanna see you watching us take pleasure in your degradation.”

The green light commanded that she do just that, the silhouettes from behind the thinly veiled screens leaving little to the imagination of how much the audience was enjoying the show.

“She can keep her eyes on the lot of you,” the irritating woman’s voice said. “I want the Captain’s eyes back on me.” When the green light agreed, Emma could practically hear the woman’s gloating expression in her words. “Cast those come fuck me eyes this way, Captain.”

He must have complied, prompting her to purr, “Oooo, you are a wicked one, aren’t you. Would you like to have your wicked way with me? Tell me all the wicked things you’d like to do to me.”

With effort, given the pounding he was giving her, Emma managed to look back over her shoulder in time to see him flash the woman a wide, yet sinister smile before grunting, “I’d like to shove a gag in your mouth to shut you the fuck up.”

Applause rang out, as did a round of laughter, and Killian turned his attention back to Emma and the brutal pace he was setting.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he panted on a half groan. “So wet and so tight.”

“That’s it, Captain,” the crowd encouraged over the barrage of their own moans and sounds of satisfaction. “Take her. Use her. Breed her.”

“Yes!” someone cried out. “Breed her! Fill her for us, Captain. I wanna see your cum leak out of her afterward.”

The Captain roared from his release moments later, his fingers digging into her sides to the point of bruising as his hips moved erratically against her ass. Once every last drop had been coaxed from him, he collapsed and fell forward, sprawling across her back as his chest fought for each breath. Around them the sounds and smells of others reaching their own climax filled the air, then for a brief yet glorious moment, things went quiet.

One final swath of green filled her vision, and Killian murmured into her ear, “Stay there, love. One last task, I’m afraid.”

He removed himself from her and she immediately felt the warmth of his release slip from her depths and trickle down her thighs. He gave her ass a quick, firm slap, then spread her cheeks, allowing everyone to see the proof of his conquest as the platform turned one last time.

When the platform came to a stop, a curtain dropped, surrounding the stage and separating them from the audience's view. Killian assisted Emma off the desk and swept her up into his arms before taking them over to the chaise where he could sit and cradle her in his lap. They held each other as their skin cooled, their heartbeats regulated, and their breathing calmed.

“You were wonderful, Swan,” he praised, his fingers gliding across her back and down her side. “I’m so proud of you, love.”

“You, too,” she murmured against his chest, barely able to keep her eyes open, the exhaustion created from both their exertions and the stress of the situation starting to take hold.

“Here. Have her put this on.” A voice caused them both to jump and Emma’s head snapped to where a Lost One stood a few feet away with a robe offered in his outstretched hand.

Killian took it from him and draped it around her shoulders, then helped her to stand so she could secure it around herself.

“Follow me,” the Lost One commanded, setting off towards the door they had entered hours before.

“Are you okay to walk?” Killian asked, his tone full of concern and laced with guilt.

“I’m good,” she assured him. Tucking herself into his side, she added, “But I might need to lean on you a bit.”

“Lean on me all you need,” he told her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “But I don’t mind carrying you.” She flicked her eyes up at him and smiled when his Captain’s persona took hold once more. A surprised yelp squeaked past her lips when he bent down and swept her feet out from under her. Straightening, he adjusted her weight in his arms and cheeked, “I’ve carried rum barrels heavier than the likes of you, wench. So, I’ll have no argument.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

~/~

Killian gazed up at the ceiling, his arm wrapped around Emma as she lay curled into his side, the smell of her floral shampoo and conditioner tickling his sinuses. After they’d finished entertaining Pan’s guests, the Lost One had led them to the showers so they could clean up. They’d both been almost too spent and exhausted to wash, much less talk, and little had been said on the way back to their room, while dressing, or even after they’d crawled into bed.

While Emma had drifted off within moments of her head hitting the pillow, Killian had been unable to do so. Too many thoughts were competing in his mind. Thoughts of Emma playing her part as the defiant wench, the memory of her on her knees, splayed out on the chaise, and bent over the desk threatening to make him hard again. Thoughts of the crowd and how he hadn’t expected the proprietary feelings of satisfaction that had coursed through him as he took his wench in their full view, claiming her for his own. Thoughts of what those actions would mean for them now, knowing he had finished inside her without protection. Thoughts of everything the two of them had been through since they had awoken, naked, in bed together all those weeks ago, and… thoughts of what Pan might have in store for them next.

It was these thoughts that were keeping him awake the most.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Emma said groggily, her fingers twirling through the hair on his chest as she sleepily looked up at him.

Furtively, he glanced down at her then back up, unwilling to voice his thoughts to her just yet. Despite everything they’d been through, she seemed so content. In this moment she was safe and happy and hopeful.

He did not wish to deprive her of that.

“Hey,” she said, concern coloring her tone. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and pulled his face back down, forcing him to look at her. “Tell me. What’s eating you up?” Propping herself up on her elbow, her brows pulled together and a slightly panicked expression crossed her face. “Please tell me you’re not beating yourself up about tonight. You know I would never hold any of that against you, right?”

“Aye, I know,” he responded quickly, not wishing for her to believe for a moment that his trepidations had anything to do with her. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I just… I wonder whether we,” he paused, taking a moment to swallow and fortify his resolve before confessing, “Whether we made the right decision.”

Confusion rooted deeper in her expression. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you… don’t you wonder why he let us call them?” he said, his fingers gently stroking her arm as a way to ground himself and hopefully keep her feeling connected to him as he attempted to voice his concerns. “Why he made it seem like agreeing to do what we did was the only choice we could make?”

“It was the only choice,” Emma countered emphatically. “Being separated from one another isn’t an option I--”

“But that’s just it,” he argued. “Maybe that’s the choice we should have made.”

Emma pulled back as though he’d just slapped her, and his heart broke at the vulnerability and hurt he saw displayed upon her face and in the tremor of her next words. “Are you… Have I done something to make you not want to…”

Sitting up, he took her face in his hands, leveled his gaze with hers, and assured her, “No. No, please don’t misunderstand me. Being separated from you is the last thing I would ever wish for. I just think that…”

Emma reached up and took his hands into her own, cradling them in her lap as she spoke. “Alright. Talk me through what you’re thinking, then. Why do you think it was a mistake to agree with his demands and stay together?”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he drew in a deep breath, not wishing to voice his concerns for fear of making them real. He’d rather them both be prepared for the possibility, though. Everything they’d faced, they’d faced together. Choosing together. He didn’t want this to be any different.

“Each round of Pan’s demented game has escalated things between us,” he began. “First, it was stripping away our vulnerability. Forcing us to reveal things about ourselves that we would never normally reveal.”

Emma nodded and squeezed his hands. “Go on.”

Wetting his lips, he continued. “The second round was all about taking advantage of our attraction towards each other and getting us comfortable with sharing physical intimacy. This third round challenged and exploited the lines of physical intimacy we were willing to explore with one another.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Each round has ratched up the stakes of our experience here, making us more and more compliant.”

“And each round’s rewards and penalties have reflected that.” He held her gaze with an intensity he hoped would lead her into understanding where he was going without him having to say it explicitly.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite getting it.

“I still don’t understand why you think it might have been best if we’d chosen to be separated.”

“What if the next escalation, or the one after that, is…” He swallowed past the bile working its way up his throat, “...actual harm to each other. Violence.”

Emma balked and her mouth dropped open with a gasp. Clearly, such a thought had not occurred to her until now.

“What if Pan makes us hurt each other? What then?” he continued on, pulling her into his arms and whispering the rest into her hair in a tone of apology. “Maybe he tricked us into staying together? Maybe we would be better off separated, because… Now we have to face what it would mean to have hurt someone we… how are we supposed to respond when faced with the command to injure the other? What would you have me do if Pan orders me to…”

Thoughts of the unthinkable made it impossible for him to continue, but after a few moments Emma pulled back and ran her fingers down the side of his face.

“We’ve already made our choice to stay together. There’s no point in wondering whether or not it was the right one.”

Killian nuzzled his face into her hand then turned his head to place a kiss on her palm.

“Besides,” she said, his tough lass straightening her shoulders and setting her resolve. “If Pan commands that one of us is to be harmed, then the harm will happen regardless.”

Killian cocked his head to one side, not completely sure what she meant by that statement.

Fortunately, she clarified, saying, “Either one of us will administer the injury, or he’ll have one of his Lost Ones do it. Either way… the injury will occur. There’s nothing either of us can do to stop it from happening.”

“Aye. You’re right,” Killian replied. “I suppose the thing we must ask ourselves is whether we can endure the guilt, and every other emotion that might come with it, should we be the one to inflict such pain on the other.”

Several silent beats of his heart went by before she softly, yet hesitantly asked, “Could you?”

Killian took another beat to truly consider the question. The question he’d been considering for most of the night. If Pan commanded it, could he hurt the woman he loved?

“No,” he stated definitively. “It’s one thing to administer a spanking to you, and quite another to…” He balled his hand into a fist and stared down at it, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully. “The thought of putting my fist to you… I can’t. I won’t.” Gazing back up at her, he added, “And I won’t fault you for having a Lost One mete out Pan’s orders on me either. Especially if it will save you from having to carry that guilt, love.”

Emma nodded her understanding and acceptance, then prompted him to lie back down beside her. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she whispered softly, though there was very little hope in her tone.

“Aye, love. Let’s hope so.”

Part Ten

#csff #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs au #captain swan #csfic #cs fic #cs smut #pan says...#words by hollye

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csashton · 2 years ago

Text

The Hotel Bed - CS Jr X Reader

Summary: oh no, the reader has to share a hotel room with best friend Carlos.. and there's only one bed??

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr / Reader

Warnings: its just some best friend fluff that was in my head

Word count: 857

my master list 🖤

“Okay fine, you can stay with me. But I’m not sharing my bed, you kick in your sleep.” He mutters as he steps aside, letting you into his hotel room. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late. But the pipe burst in my room and they didn’t have another spare room.” you respond as you make your way over to the couch, tossing yourself on it. “Something about a bunch of Formula 1 drivers and crew renting out the place.” you joke looking over at him still standing by the door, half asleep. “You’re so funny,” the light flicks off in the room leaving you both in darkness. You hear him climb back into his bed with a sigh. “I’m so glad you’re my best friend cariño, I don’t know what I’d do without your comic relief.” he deadpans and then the room falls into silence. You listen to his breathing for a while, staring at the clock ticking away as you fail to fall back asleep. After a few more hours of tossing and turning you give up and lay on your back, staring at the ceiling in frustration.

“Are you done being a fish?” you hear quietly from the bed, startling you out of your thoughts. “Why are you awake?” you ask, sitting up to stare at him. He looks so warm and cozy wrapped up in the blankets, his hair strewn in every direction. “I could ask you the same.” he retorts, stretching and then rolling onto his stomach. “I can’t sleep, I don’t know why. Sorry for waking you, go back to sleep.” you whisper back to him, realizing he hadn’t even opened his eyes. You roll onto your side so you can feign sleep. You would feel horrible if he was tired before all of his events this weekend, he’d invited you because you needed to get away from home for a bit. His sign echoes throughout the quiet room as you hear him shift again, “Get over here.” You scrunch your face in confusion. “I’ll keep you up. You have a big weekend, Carlos. I can’t do that.” Your voice slightly louder this time as you sit up and look at him again.

“I’m not asking, I’m telling.” His sleepy response comes a minute later as his arm pulls back the covers and he pats the bed. “Get over here and sleep please.” he adds after a moment. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s just past three in the morning, so you decide not to keep him awake much longer as you tiptoe over to the bed. You climb in and pull the covers over you, keeping to your side of the bed carefully so as not to disturb him. “Goodnight, Carlos.” you voice quiet as you close your eyes hoping sleep takes you quickly. You listen to his breathing level out again, but alas sleep still doesn’t come for you. You watch the clock again, this time from the cloud of a hotel bed. After another thirty minutes passes you try to turn on your side without waking him, but not shocking to anyone, you fail.

“Princesa, por favor.” he mutters, arm wrapping around your middle to pull you back against him. Once he had you positioned how he wanted you, he was back asleep before you could even protest. Complaints you had died out quickly though once the sleepy warmth of his body wrapped around yours and lulled you to sleep quickly. The morning came too quickly but as you blinked awake to the sun across your skin. Your face was pressed into his neck with your leg thrown over his, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. “Oh, my blanket is awake now?” his voice rumbles against your cheek as you shake your head, cuddling into his side a bit more. “No, not awake.” you argue, closing your eyes again. “Warm and cozy right now, can’t leave the bed. Sorry you can’t race this weekend, such a tragedy.” your voice joking lightly, though still covered in sleep. “Imagine that headline?” he laughs, “Carlos Sainz misses F1 Race due to cuddly best friend, please give them their privacy in this difficult time.”

Your laugh comes out as a bit of a snort as you pull away from him, rolling onto your back with a stretch. “You’re such a shit.” You close your eyes again, basking in the sun coming through the curtains. “Sorry I kept you awake though. Next time I’ll go bunk with someone else.” You hum, turning your head to look at him. “Don’t.” he bites out quickly before correcting himself, “I mean it’s fine, don’t worry. That’s the best I’ve slept in a long time honestly. You didn’t wiggle around like you used to - and you being my blanket was actually kind of nice.” he explains with a shrug, standing up to stretch. “Maybe I’ll have them cancel finding you a new room for the week.” You raise your eyebrows at him watching him walk through the room. “Yeah, maybe.” you quietly repeat, “don’t know if you can put up with me that long.”

#carlos sainz #formula 1 #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fics #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #csashtonwrites #csashton #carlos sainz jr

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wholoveseggs · 4 months ago

Note

I am so excited every time I see new Elijah content of yours. Please don't stop anytime soon!! Helps me through the day.

I also have a request: Elijah is the sole guardian of his niece while Klaus and the rest of his siblings are out of town. He meets y/n, who's a single parent as well. She falls in love with him because he is so caring when it comes to Hope, but he has to come clean with y/n about being a vampire. Eventually, there's smut, of course :)

Ice Cream and Love Bites

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You are at a playground with your son when you meet Elijah. He is everything you are looking for in a partner, but his life is shrouded in mystery. Can you trust him with your heart?

♡♡ Thank you for the request lovely @originals23! Fluffy domestic Elijah is my favorite ~xoxox ♡♡

8.2k words - Warnings: smut at the end, so much fluff, lots of cute kids stuff, ice cream, romantic dates, blood drinking, vampire reveal, Elijah being fatherly & beignets...

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer

Your son was everything to you. He had turned five not too long ago, and was a kind and loving little boy. It made you incredibly proud, seeing him grow and develop every day. However, it also meant that he had become even more of a handful.

You didn't mind, of course. You loved him with your whole heart. But it was hard being a single mom, with his energy completely boundless. He ran around your apartment constantly, climbing on everything, jumping off, and running to do it all over again. And he never got tired. Ever.

So you were happy to bring him to the local playground every chance you got. It was one of the few times you felt you could actually sit down and enjoy the world around you.

You sat at a bench, sipping your coffee and reading a book while keeping an eye on your son. He was playing with an adorable little girl, with auburn hair and bright blue eyes. You thought she might be about his age.

The two of them were running around and playing together, their laughs making you smile. Your son was such a social kid, always happy to make new friends and it looked like they were having a lot of fun.

You looked back down at your book, flipping a page, but the sound of the little girl crying caught your attention. Looking up, you saw her on the ground, clutching her leg.

"Are you okay?" You asked, quickly standing up and rushing over to the pair.

She sniffled and shook her head, tears falling down her face, she had a cut on her knee. Your son was kneeling next to her, holding her hand, which you thought was adorable.

"It's okay, sweetheart," you said gently, crouching down and examining her knee.

It was just a small scratch, but still, the blood was trickling down her leg. You pulled a tissue out of your bag, pressing it against the cut.

"Let's go find your mommy, okay?" You told her.

"My mommy isn't here," she sniffed, "uncle lijah is here."

"Where is your uncle?" You asked, looking around.

A shadow was cast across the three of you, and you looked up to see a handsome man, wearing a full suit and tie, even though it was a Saturday. He was ridiculously handsome, with dark eyes and a sharp jaw, looking like he stepped out of a noir film.

"Hope, darling, what happened?" He asked, kneeling down and looking at her with a frown.

"Uncle lijah, I fell," she cried, "but Miss pretty lady helped me."

"Oh, did she?" He looked up at you, a smile tugging at his lips, "thank you for helping my niece."

"Of course," you nodded, "it's no trouble at all."

Your son, who had been watching the whole interaction, suddenly spoke up, "mommy, who is that?"

"That's the uncle of your new friend, silly," you said, standing up and offering him your hand.

"Elijah," he said, taking your hand and shaking it, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Y/N," you said, smiling, "and this is my son James,"

"Hello, young sir," he said, looking down at your son, who was clinging to your leg.

James giggled, hiding his face in your leg. You smiled, gently ruffling his hair.

Elijah scooped Hope up in his arms, inspecting the cut on her knee. You couldn't even see it anymore, just a bit of dried blood.

"I have some bandaids in my bag if you need one," you offered.

He nodded, following you over to the bench where your bag sat. You handed him a bandaid, watching as he carefully peeled off the paper and placed it over the scratch.

Hope's eyes were still a bit watery, and she kept sniffling. Elijah kissed her head, smoothing her hair back.

"Uncle lijah can you go down the slide with me?" She asked.

"Of course, darling," he smiled, setting her down.

You watched as she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the slide. Your son's hand slid into yours, and he looked up at you.

"Can I go down the slide too, mommy?"

"Sure, baby," you nodded, giving him a gentle push towards the playground.

You sat back down on the bench, sipping your coffee, but kept a close eye on both your son and the handsome stranger.

You watched him pull off his suit jacket, then his tie. You almost choked on your drink, seeing the way his shirt clung to his muscular body. He was tall and broad, and the sight of him without his jacket was enough to make you flush.

He helped his niece down the slide a couple of times, she was giggling, clearly feeling better now. After a few minutes, James joined the two of them, and Elijah smiled at him, helping him up the ladder.

Watching the three of them play was so heartwarming. Elijah was clearly a great uncle, and you found yourself admiring him from afar.

Eventually the kids went running off to play in the sand and Elijah came over to the bench, taking a seat next to you.

"Thank you again," he said, "I really appreciate you helping Hope."

"Oh, it was no trouble," you said, "she's adorable, and it was nice to have another parent around.”

Your eyes wandered to the man sitting next to you, he seemed so very out of place at a children's playground. He was clearly very rich, his clothes and watch were expensive, and he carried himself with such elegance.

"So, how old is Hope?" You asked.

"She's five," he said, "James?"

"He's five too," you said, "how long have you been raising her?"

"About half a year now," he said, a slight sigh in his voice.

"That's a big commitment," you said, "single parenting can be tough."

"I find it more rewarding than anything else," he said, "she's a wonderful girl."

You nodded and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you watched the kids. Hope and James were playing hide and seek, their giggles filling the air.

You couldn't help but notice the way Elijah looked at his niece, there was so much love and affection in his eyes. It was clear that he cared deeply for her.

It was so rare to find a man like him, who took his role as a parent so seriously. James' father didn't even care about the fact that he had a child, he had only used you for a good time, not caring about the consequences.

But here was this man, who was so caring and loving to his niece. After all that you had been through, the struggles of being a single parent, the loneliness, the pain, it was refreshing to see someone like Elijah.

You glanced at him, your eyes trailing over his face. He looked so prim and proper, you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to mess up his perfectly styled hair, to tug on his tie and pull him in for a kiss.

Your cheeks heated up at the thought and you quickly looked away. The last thing you needed was to be thinking about a stranger like that.

After a few minutes, James and Hope ran over to the bench, excitedly telling the two of you about the game they had just played. You smiled, listening to their story, but your eyes kept drifting back to Elijah.

You wanted to know more about him, and not just because he was attractive. He seemed like a genuinely nice person, and it was so rare to find a kindred spirit in this city.

"Mommy, can I have an ice cream?" James asked.

"Me too!" Hope chimed in.

"Oh, uh," you looked at Elijah, who shrugged, "sure, let's go get some ice cream."

The kids cheered and ran off towards the ice cream cart. You and Elijah stood up, following behind them.

As the four of you approached the cart, James and Hope were bouncing excitedly.

"I want strawberry," Hope said, "no, wait, chocolate!"

"What kind do you want, honey?" You asked James.

"I dunno," he said, his brows furrowing as he looked at the variety of flavors, "there's a lot."

"How about vanilla?" You suggested, "it's a classic."

"Okay," he nodded.

"I'll have two scoops of chocolate," Hope declared.

"Just one for you, little miss," Elijah said, a smile on his face.

She pouted but didn't put up a fight, and you couldn't help but admire his ability to handle a toddler so well.

Elijah looked at you, an eyebrow raised, "and what would you like?"

"Oh, I'm fine," you said, "I don't want to impose."

"Nonsense," he said, "my treat,"

"Alright," you said, "I'll take chocolate."

He nodded and ordered four ice creams, handing one to each of you.

"Thank you," you said.

"You're welcome," he replied.

The two of you walked back over to the bench, sitting down and watching as the kids ran around eating their ice creams.

"So, how long have you been in New Orleans?" He asked, taking a bite of his own ice cream.

"Not long," you said, "only a couple of weeks."

"And you're liking it so far?"

"I am," you nodded, "the people are nice, and the weather is great."

"Do you have any family or friends here?"

"No, it's just me and James," you said, "we needed a change of pace, and I always wanted to live in New Orleans."

"Well, I hope you and James both settle in nicely," he said.

"Thank you," you replied.

The conversation was easy between the two of you, he was polite and charming, with a warm smile that made your heart flutter.

Your ice cream had started to melt, dripping onto your hand. He swiftly handed you his handkerchief, and you smiled, thanking him.

You watched as James chased Hope around the playground, their giggles and squeals of joy making you smile. It was so nice to see him playing with another kid, making a friend.

Elijah was equally enthralled, watching his niece run around with a grin on his face.

"You're really good with her," you said, "I can tell how much you love her."

"She's the best part of my life," he replied, "I would do anything for her."

His words tugged at your heartstrings, he was so open and honest. There was no trace of arrogance or self-importance, only pure love for his family.

"Pardon me if I'm being too forward," he said, "but would you be interested in getting coffee sometime?"

You could feel your cheeks heating up, his gaze was so intense, and you found yourself nodding.

"I would like that," you said. "But it's so hard for me to find a sitter,"

"Well," he said, a smile forming on his lips, "Hope loves your son, I'm sure she would enjoy playing with him again. Perhaps, we can schedule a playdate for the two of them, and we can have some coffee."

"I think I would like that very much," you said, your heart beating faster as he grinned.

The two of you exchanged numbers and then made arrangements for a play date the following week. As the afternoon came to an end, Elijah and Hope said their goodbyes.

You couldn't stop smiling as you drove home, your thoughts filled with Elijah and the coffee date you had planned. Maybe New Orleans would be good for more than just a fresh start.

It was a beautiful day outside, the sun was shining and there was a gentle breeze blowing. The perfect weather for a play date.

You had James in the back seat of your car, strapped safely into his car seat, driving to the address Elijah had given you. He was excited, eager to play with his new friend.

As you pulled up to the building, you had to admit that it was impressive. The exterior was in the style of classic French Quarter architecture with a large courtyard, wrought iron balconies, and lush greenery. It was beyond anything you could afford, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"Wowwwww," James said, looking out the window.

"It's pretty, huh?" You said, unbuckling him and helping him out of the car.

He held your hand tightly as the two of you walked towards the front door. You felt a little nervous, unsure what to expect, but as soon as you rang the bell, the door swung open, revealing a very excited Hope.

"James!" She cried, throwing her arms around him.

He giggled, hugging her back.

"Hi," Elijah appeared behind Hope, a smile on his face, "thank you for coming."

"Of course," you said, "thank you for having us."

"Come in, come in," he said, stepping aside, "make yourself at home."

You stepped inside, taking in the beautiful interior. Everything was immaculate, the furniture and decor were elegant and sophisticated.

"Your house is so big!" James exclaimed.

"I suppose it is," Elijah chuckled.

"Hope, why don't you show James the playroom?" He suggested, "I'm sure he would love to see your toys."

She nodded and grabbed James' hand, leading him down the hall. You couldn't help but smile as you watched them run off, they were clearly going to be good friends.

"So," Elijah said, his voice low, "I thought maybe I could make you some coffee, or perhaps tea?"

"Coffee sounds great," you said, trying not to sound too eager.

"Wonderful," he said, "follow me."

You followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat at the island. He was moving around the kitchen, brewing coffee and setting out pastries. The place was just as beautiful as the rest of the house, with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

"You have a lovely home," you said.

"Thank you," he said, "it's been in my family for many centuries."

"That's a lot of memories," you mused.

"Yes," he said, a distant look in his eye, "there are a lot of memories here."

He poured the coffee into two mugs, setting them on the counter. You added a bit of milk and sugar, stirring it slowly.

"Tell me," he said, leaning against the counter, "why did you decide to move to New Orleans?"

"Well," you took a sip of your coffee, "I wanted a change, a fresh start... James' father left when I told him I was pregnant and I needed a place where we could start over."

"That must have been difficult," he said, his eyes full of understanding.

"It was," you admitted, "but I'm doing better now."

"I'm glad to hear that," he said.

You couldn't help but appreciate how easy the conversation was with him. He was charming and charismatic, and there was an air of mystery about him.

"What about you?" You asked, "what's your story?"

"My story is quite long," he said, a smile on his face, "perhaps another time."

You couldn't deny that you were intrigued, wanting to know more about this man and his family. But you also didn't want to pry.

The conversation drifted from one topic to another. You talked about everything from the books you were reading, to art and music. He made you laugh with his dry sense of humor, and you found yourself growing more and more attracted to him.

"Uncle lijah!" Hope's voice rang through the kitchen, she came running over and jumped into his arms.

"Yes, little one?" He asked, his expression softening as he looked at her.

"Can James and I have a snack?"

"Of course," he said, "would you like a pastry?"

She nodded eagerly, and he set her down on the counter, placing a plate with a pastry in front of her.

"Beignets!!" She exclaimed.

"Have you ever had a beignet?" Elijah asked, looking at James.

"No," he shook his head.

"Would you like to try one?"

James nodded and Elijah handed him a beignet, which he happily ate, quickly covering himself in powdered sugar.

"Oh," Elijah chuckled, grabbing a napkin and wiping James' face, "it seems you're quite the messy eater."

You watched the way he treated your son, it was obvious how much he loved children, and it warmed your heart.

"Sorry," James mumbled, his cheeks flushing.

"It's alright," Elijah said, "we all get messy sometimes."

You sipped your coffee, admiring the man in front of you. He was unlike anyone you had ever met, and you were beginning to fall for him.

The date ended far too soon, with Elijah walking you and James to the car.

"I had a wonderful time," he said, helping strap James into his car seat.

"Me too," you replied.

He straightened up, his face mere inches from yours. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked into his eyes.

"Perhaps we can do this again?" He asked, his voice low.

"I would like that," you murmured, your heart racing.

He leaned closer and kissed you on the cheek, his hands resting gently on your hips. You felt your cheeks heat up, a blush spreading across your face.

"Until next time," he said, smiling.

"Until next time," you echoed.

He stepped back and you got into the car, still reeling from the kiss. James was happily babbling away in the back seat, telling you about the toys he had played with.

As you pulled away from the curb, you couldn't help but glance in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Elijah and Hope waving goodbye.

"Hope said her daddy and mommy are vampires and werewolves!" James said, "and she said that she's a witch and a werewolf!"

"Did she now?" You said, chuckling, kids had the wildest imaginations.

"A-and uncle lijah is the oldest vampire in the world!" He said, his eyes wide.

You laughed, shaking your head. Kids were adorable, and James was no exception. He was a little ball of sunshine, and you were grateful for the happiness he brought into your life.

You put the finishing touches on your outfit, glancing in the mirror. You were nervous, it had been nearly six years since you went on a date, and... well... All that comes with that. You spent far too long getting ready, even re-applying your makeup and changing clothes a couple of times.

You wanted to look perfect, and you felt like it was important that you do so. After all, you were about to go on a date with one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, and if you had a chance with him, you were going to make sure you gave it your best.

"What are you doing mommy?" James had wandered into your room, and you smiled at him, kneeling down to his level.

"I'm getting ready for my date, remember?"

He tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful. "Is Uncle Lijah taking you on a date?"

"Yeah, he is."

"Why?"

"Because I like him, and I think he likes me." You blushed a little, feeling a little embarrassed. "He makes me happy."

James giggled, "He's really nice, mommy. You should marry him."

"Oh, I don't know about that. We just met, honey." You chuckled, smoothing his hair down.

"But he makes you happy, you get all red and smiley when he's around," James said, grinning.

You couldn't contain the smile on your face, because he was right. You did get happy and smiley when Elijah was around, and it wasn't just because of how handsome he was. The way he was with Hope and James, it was clear that he was a good man.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said, kissing his forehead. "Now, why don't you go grab your bag? Cami will soon be here with Hope, and the three of you are going to have a sleepover,"

"Okay!" James said, running off to his room.

You stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror, giving yourself a once over. You had chosen a simple yet elegant outfit, a silk dress with a pair of heels. It was the kind of dress that was comfortable, but also made you feel sexy.

There was a knock on the door, and you hurried to answer it. Cami was waiting at the door with Hope, the two of them grinning at you.

"Thank you so much for doing this," you said, Elijah had connected you with Cami and insisted on paying her for her babysitting services.

"It's no problem," Cami said, "I'm always happy to help."

"You look pretty," Hope said, her eyes wide.

"Thank you, honey," you smiled, ruffling her hair.

James came running back with his backpack, and you helped him put it on.

"You have fun, okay? And behave for Cami," you said, kissing his forehead.

"Are you having a sleepover too? With my uncle lijah?" Hope asked.

You chuckled, making eye contact with Cami and blushing, "Something like that."

"Yay!" She clapped her hands together, and Cami laughed, shaking her head.

"Come on," Cami said, taking both of the kids' hands, "we'll see you later."

"Bye mommy," James waved as they walked out the door.

"Bye, honey," you said, closing the door behind them.

Your stomach was filled with butterflies, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. You couldn't wait for your date. You glanced at the clock, he was due to arrive any moment.

There was a knock on the door, and you took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress. You opened the door, your eyes widening when you saw him. He looked handsome, wearing a dark suit and a tie, a bouquet of dark red roses in his hand.

"Hi," you breathed, your heart racing.

"Hello," he smiled, handing you the roses, "for you."

"Thank you," you said, taking them, "let me put them in some water."

You turned around and walked towards the kitchen, finding a vase and filling it with water, carefully arranging the flowers in it.

"They're beautiful," you said, turning to him.

He was still standing outside on your step, which you thought was a bit odd. But he was incredibly old fashioned, so you figured he was just trying to be polite.

"I'm glad you like them," he said, "shall we?"

You walked out the door, locking it behind you. Elijah offered you his arm, and you gladly took it, smiling up at him.

"I hope you like Italian," he said, opening the door to his car and helping you inside.

The restaurant he took you to was one of the best in the city, it had a Michelin star and was known for its romantic atmosphere. There were roses everywhere, climbing up the walls and filling the room with their sweet scent. The candlelight flickered, casting a warm glow.

"This is so nice," you said, as Elijah pulled out your chair for you.

You sat across from him at the table, a bottle of red wine between you. He poured you a glass, and you took a sip, sighing happily.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

The food was delicious, and the company was even better. Afterwards, you walked hand-in-hand down the street, the night sky twinkling above you. It was a perfect evening, and you didn't want it to end. You were definitely going to be having a sleepover tonight.

"Would you like to have another drink back at my place?" Elijah asked, a smirk on his lips.

"I'd love to," you said, knowing what that meant.

The drive back to his house was full of sexual tension, his hand resting on your thigh. Your heart was racing, anticipation building within you.

He pulled up to his house, helping you out of the car. You walked up to the door, feeling a bit nervous, and when you got nervous you tended to start blabbing.

"My son said the funniest thing after our coffee date," you said, laughing, "he was talking about vampires and witches and werewolves and... it was so adorable."

You expected him to laugh, or perhaps chuckle. But instead he grew quiet, and his expression became unreadable.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your brows furrowing.

"Yes, of course," he said, leading you inside.

"Are you sure?" You asked, sensing something was off, you had a sudden, terrible gut feeling that you said something wrong.

He turned to face you, his expression serious, "I really like you," he began, "and I know we've only known each other for a short time, but... I think there's something here. Something worth pursuing."

"I agree," you said, your heart skipping a beat. You took a nervous step towards him, wanting to be close to him.

He took your hand in his, looking into your eyes. "But I need you to understand something," he said, his voice low.

"What is it?" You asked, your pulse racing.

"There are things about my family that are... different," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "things that may frighten you."

You were taken aback by his words, and your mind was spinning. What was he talking about? He pulled you in close, his face mere inches from yours.

"Please know, that I would never hurt you," he said, his voice soft, "but I need to be honest with you."

You swallowed hard, not quite sure what to say. His eyes darted to your lips, and you leaned in, kissing him softly. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he kissed you back, the passion and desire evident in his touch.

"Tell me," you breathed, looking up at him.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours. He looked hesitant, as if he was afraid of scaring you off.

"I'm a vampire," he whispered.

You burst out laughing, he wasn't even smiling, which made it all the more funny. You didn't realize how funny he was, it just made you like him all the more.

"You're a vampire," you giggled, shaking your head.

"I am," he said, his voice firm, and the smile faded from your lips.

"I-I..." You trailed off, unsure what to say. You took a step back, needing some space. Did he actually believe that? Was he having some sort of mental break? Or was he just taking the joke too far?

"This is a joke, right?" You asked, trying to keep the panic out of your voice.

"I'm afraid not," he said, "it's the truth."

"You can't be serious," you said, taking another step back. "Vampires aren't real,"

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this way," he said, his voice sincere, "but I couldn't keep it from you any longer. I had to be honest with you."

"I think you might need to get some help Elijah, raising a kid alone can be stressful, sometimes it does things to your mind..." you said it gently and as softly as you could.

He chuckled, "I'm not crazy, and I'm not making this up. Would it be easier to show you?"

You blinked, wondering if this was some kind of trick, maybe you'd gone out with a crazy person. Rich people can be so strange.

"Show me?" You asked, your voice a little shaky. "What are you going to do? Turn into a bat?"

You felt such sadness, you believed you had finally found someone that you had a real connection with. Who could be a father figure to your son, and someone that you could love, but it was all a delusion.

"Please don't be frightened," he said, his voice soft.

You watched with equal horror and fascination as his face began to change. His eyes turning completely black like a demon, dark veins appearing under his eyes, his teeth sharpened into fangs.

You screamed, falling to the floor. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. It couldn't be real. But it was.

"This can't be happening," you whispered, your body trembling.

Elijah knelt down in front of you, his expression sympathetic. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"W-what are you going to do to me?" You asked, tears rolling down your cheeks.

He let out a sigh, reaching out and wiping away your tears. "I would never hurt you," he said, his voice gentle, "never."

You could tell that he was sincere, and you felt some of your fear dissipate. You trusted him, despite his revelation, despite the fact that he was a vampire, a supernatural being that should only exist in horror movies and books.

"Fuck, you're really a vampire," you murmured, tears streaming down your face.

"Yes," he said, his voice gentle, his hand reaching out for you.

You took his hand, and he helped you up, leading you over to the couch.

"How old are you?" You asked, wiping away your tears.

"About one thousand," he said, shrugging, "give or take."

"Oh god," you whispered, you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. Somehow the knowledge of his true age was more shocking than him being a supernatural creature.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I'm just..." You trailed off, shaking your head. "How are you so normal?"

He chuckled, "what's normal?"

"I don't know, I just... I didn't expect this," you said, looking down at the ground.

"It's not something anyone is meant to expect," he chuckled, taking your hands in his.

He still felt the same, just warm and soft, not cold or clammy like the vampires in movies. He just felt like a regular person, not a monster.

"Does Hope know?" You asked, wondering how a child could learn about something like this.

"Yes," he said, a smile tugging at his lips, "she's a... Special combination of creatures."

"What?" You asked, your brows furrowing.

"It is a rather long and complicated story," he said, smiling.

"Well, I have all the time in the world," you said, a small smile on your face.

"So do I," he grinned.

He spent the next hour calmly explaining the nature of his existence, his family, and the supernatural world. He wasn't just any old vampire, but the first of his kind, an original.

You sat back against the couch, trying to comprehend everything he had just told you.

He stood and walked over to the fireplace, placing a few fresh logs on the fire. You thought about how many fires he must have made, that electricity wasn't around for most of his life. He had seen history happen, had been there through so much.

"What does it feel like?" You asked, curiously.

He smiled slightly, looking into the flames, "I don't remember any other way," he said softly, "but... There is an energy, a power that surges through my veins. It can be intoxicating, the thrill of the hunt, the feeling of immortality."

"It sounds..." You trailed off, not quite sure what to say.

"Frightening?" He supplied, looking at you.

"Yes," you admitted, biting your lip.

"That's understandable," he said, walking over to sit next to you on the couch.

You looked into his eyes, and all you saw was warmth and sincerity. "I'm not afraid of you though," you said softly.

"I am glad," he said, "but I understand if this changes things between us."

"You're still the same man," you said, smiling. "Just... More magical."

He laughed, a deep sound that reverberated through the room. It made you feel warm inside, and you couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"Magical," he chuckled, shaking his head, "if you say so."

"I do," you said, a grin on your face. "You're still the same gentleman I had coffee with. The one who makes me smile, and makes my heart race."

"Oh, I know all about your fluttering heart," he smirked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"You do, huh?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I can hear it," he said, leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear, "your pulse quickens whenever I'm near. Like right now,"

His lips met yours in a tender kiss, his hand cupping your cheek. You sighed, your eyes closing as his lips moved against yours. He was being so gentle and hesitant, not wanting to scare you away.

But you wanted him, and you knew there was no point in fighting it. He made you feel safe and protected, he treated your son like he was his own. It didn't matter what he was, not when it came to how he made you feel.

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You slid your hands up his chest, feeling his muscles underneath his shirt, knowing how much power he held. But he was gentle, his touch was feather-light as he caressed your skin.

He pulled away, his breath hot against your lips, his eyes searching yours. You smiled, giving him the silent permission he needed. He leaned down and captured your lips once again, his kiss growing more passionate. You tangled your fingers in his hair, his hands sliding down your back to grip your hips.

You pulled away slightly, feeling a bit nervous, it had been so long since you were intimate with anyone, and learning that he was a vampire just added an extra layer of intensity.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his thumb stroking your cheek.

"Nothing," you smiled, "it's just... It's been a long time since..." You trailed off, hoping he would get the gist.

"Since you've had sex?" He asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Yeah," you blushed, looking away. "With James, and working, and everything... It just hasn't happened."

"We don't have to do anything, we can just talk," he said, his voice sincere.

"No," you shook your head, "I want this, I just..."

"You're nervous," he finished, his lips curling into a smile.

"Yeah," you said, feeling embarrassed.

"That's alright, we'll go slow," he said, kissing you softly, his hands sliding up your sides, slipping underneath your dress.

His fingers grazed your thighs, slowly inching higher until they reached the edge of your panties. You could tell he was skilled, just by the way he was touching you, kissing you. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, where to touch, how hard or soft.

He smiled, loving how responsive you were, your breath catching in your throat, a moan escaping your lips. He kissed your cheek and stood up, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his muscular chest.

You leaned back against the sofa and watched him, your eyes roaming over his body. He was absolutely gorgeous, and he was all yours.

"So... You've looked this good for one thousand years?" You giggled, blabbering once again.

He laughed, his shirt hanging open, his chest bare. You swallowed hard, seeing the defined lines of his abs, the broadness of his shoulders. He was perfect, not a blemish on his skin.

"Something like that," he smirked, sliding his shirt off and letting it fall to the floor.

"Wow," you murmured, drinking him in.

"Wow yourself," he grinned, kneeling down in front of you, his hands on your hips, tugging you to the edge of the sofa.

You squeaked, blushing, and he chuckled, leaning over you, his eyes sparkling. He kissed you softly, his hands moving slowly up your thighs, pushing your dress up higher and higher. You were already soaked, and he had barely touched you.

He kissed his way down your neck, his lips soft against your skin. You shivered, closing your eyes as his hands moved up your body, you raised your arms and let him pull your dress over your head. He tossed it aside, his eyes raking over your body, his pupils blown with desire.

You looked away shyly, his intense gaze making you feel exposed. Your body wasn't the same since you had a child, stretch marks, and a little extra weight. You were nervous, and a little bit scared that he wouldn't find you attractive.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, cupping your chin and making you look at him.

"Thank you," you smiled, his words soothing your anxiety.

He kissed you, his lips firm against yours. You kissed him back, your hands moving up his chest, his skin hot to the touch. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, earning a growl from him.

He kissed down your neck, his hands sliding over your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipples. You gasped, arching your back, pleasure shooting through you. He smirked, continuing his exploration, kissing down your stomach.

He tugged your panties down with one hand, the other splayed on your chest, pushing your back down against the sofa. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath, anticipation building inside of you.

He pushed your legs apart, his tongue darting out and licking a slow, teasing line up your slit. You gasped, your body jerking, your hips rocking against him. He chuckled, the vibrations making you shiver.

"So sensitive," he purred, his lips pressing a kiss against your inner thigh.

You groaned, gripping the cushions, his breath hot against your pussy. He licked another slow, torturous line, and then his tongue flicked over your clit. You moaned, your eyes rolling back, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Here was a creature, an old monument that time had not eroded, kneeling before you, his tongue buried deep inside of you. You could not believe that such a beautiful man could want you, that he could be so enamored by you.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that his name escaped your lips, the sound a breathless whisper.

"Elijah," you moaned, your legs trembling.

He hummed, his warm hands holding your thighs, keeping you in place. Your mind was a whirlwind of sensations, pleasure coursing through you as his tongue circled your clit.

You writhed, moaning, gasping, and whimpering. He seemed to enjoy every sound, his eyes looking up at you, his dark irises full of lust and adoration.

Your orgasm washed over you, making you cry out, your body shaking. He licked and sucked, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. You felt every bit of tension leave your body, the world fading away as you came down from your high.

You began to giggle, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. You were a little bit delirious, but in the best kind of way.

"That was amazing," you sighed, looking down at him, your smile wide.

"I aim to please," he grinned, his cheeks flushed.

You sat up, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it turned you on even more. He chuckled, his hands cupping your ass, pulling you closer to him, bringing your legs around his waist.

"You taste divine," he said, his eyes burning with lust, "and those sounds you make... They're exquisite."

You blushed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He was too much, the way he made you feel was so overwhelming.

"You trust me?" He whispered, his fingers trailing down your back.

You looked at him and slowly nodded, curious as to what he meant. He smiled, his eyes warm and soft, a slight glimmer in them, you felt his arms tighten around you and suddenly you were moving faster than you could comprehend.

A second later, you were lying on his bed, his body hovering above yours. You blinked, confused, then smiled.

"Fancy trick," you giggled.

"Just one of many," he winked, kissing you softly.

You reached between the two of you and unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of the loops. His eyes followed your movements, his breathing becoming more ragged as you unbuttoned his pants and slid them down his hips.

His erection strained against his boxers, the fabric tight around his length. You gently ran your hand along the outline of his cock, your mouth watering at the size of it.

"What other tricks can you show me?" You teased, biting your lip.

"Oh darling," he growled, his eyes flashing, "you have no idea."

You felt a rush of wetness between your thighs, the tone of his voice turning you on even more. A small part of you was intimidated by him, he was a creature that could rip you apart with his bare hands. But there was a gentleness to him, a kindness that put you at ease.

"Seeing you in my bed is a dream come true," he said, his voice low.

"A dream, huh?" You giggled, teasing him.

"A fantasy," he said, his hands moving over your skin, his lips ghosting over your jaw.

"Oh really?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, giving him better access. "What else does a vampire like yourself fantasize about?"

He smirked, his teeth nipping at your neck. "I'll show you," he purred.

You closed your eyes, a moan slipping from your lips as he gently bit your skin, not enough to break the skin, but just enough pressure to make your blood sing.

He pressed a kiss against the spot and then lifted himself up, hovering above you. You took the opportunity to slide his boxers down, his cock springing free.

You spread your legs wider, inviting him in, and he settled between them, his body pressed against yours. He kissed you, his tongue sliding over yours, his cock rubbing against your pussy. You whimpered, wanting him inside of you, needing to feel him.

He chuckled, his hands moving down to your thighs, lifting them up around his waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close, kissing him desperately. He smiled against your lips and eased himself inside of you.

You gasped, the feeling of being filled by him, stretching around his cock, was exquisite. He continued to kiss you, his hips moving slowly, pushing deeper and deeper into you.

It was hot, slow and sticky, his body pressed against yours, his lips on your skin. It was the most intimate moment you'd ever shared with someone, and it was perfect.

He began to move faster, his lips moving down your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin. You tilted your head back, offering him better access, his tongue licking a hot stripe up your throat.

A sudden, anxious thought entered your mind, and you froze. What if he bit you? Do vampires expect that during sex? Was that a thing?

He noticed your hesitation, and slowed his movements, looking at you, a worried expression on his face.

"What is it, darling?" He asked, stroking your cheek.

"Nothing," you said, trying to hide your concern.

He stopped moving, his brow furrowed. "If I'm hurting you, or you want to stop, just say the word," he said, his eyes searching yours.

"It's not that," you said, looking away.

"Then what is it?" He asked, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your hip.

"Do you... Bite, during sex?" You asked, blushing.

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Only if you want me to," he said, leaning down and kissing you softly, his hips starting to move again.

"Does it hurt?" You asked, breaking the kiss.

"It can," he admitted, "but not the way I would do it."

You looked at him, a part of you intrigued by the idea. You couldn't deny that the thought of him sinking his fangs into your skin was a little bit arousing.

"You're curious," he smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"A little," you confessed, "it's a new experience, and it's kind of..." You hesitated, wondering if you were ready for that.

"Kinky?" He offered, raising an eyebrow.

You giggled, "Yeah, kind of."

He laughed, his hips thrusting into you, making you gasp. "I could bite you, here," he said, his thumb brushing against the pulse point in your neck, "just a little bite, not enough to cause any real damage."

"You won't... You won't kill me, or turn me, or anything, right?" You asked, feeling a little foolish.

"No, darling, I promise," he said, smiling reassuringly, leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

You kissed him back, feeling a rush of heat pool in your core. You had never done anything like this before, but it was Elijah, and you trusted him.

"Do it," you whispered, your body aching for him.

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, making sure you were serious. Then he smiled, a smile full of mischief, his eyes glowing with desire.

You held his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You watched his eyes change, the soft brown eyes turning completely black, veins appearing underneath them. You should have been scared, but you weren't.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly, his voice taking on a deep, husky tone.

You nodded, touching his cheek, feeling the veins beneath his skin. He kissed your palm, his eyes on you the entire time. You felt a rush of warmth course through you, a sudden burst of confidence.

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against the hollow of your throat, his breath hot against your skin.

You could feel his fangs, his teeth sharp against your flesh. You swallowed hard, waiting for the pain, but it never came.

Instead, he kissed you, his fangs scraping against your skin, sending a thrill through you. He was gentle, and his kisses were slow, soft. His hips still moving against you, the rhythm slow and steady.

You sighed, your eyes fluttering closed and you felt his fangs break the skin, his lips sucking gently at the wound.

It was like nothing you had ever experienced, the feeling was intoxicating, the pleasure was so intense it was almost painful.

Your heart was racing, your skin was flushed, your body trembling with ecstasy. He groaned against your skin, his grip on you tightening, his hips moving faster.

"Elijah," you breathed, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

He growled, his hands sliding up your body, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. He pulled his mouth away from your neck, and you whimpered at the loss, the wound still bleeding slightly.

You opened your eyes, blinking up at him. His eyes were back to their usual brown, the veins underneath them gone, a smear of blood on his lips. He was looking down at you with a mixture of lust and awe, his expression full of reverence.

You moaned, clinging to him, his movements pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You couldn't stop yourself, and neither could he.

Your orgasm ripped through you, pleasure like a tidal wave crashing over you, and Elijah groaned, his own release following quickly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips still thrusting, riding out the last waves of his pleasure.

You opened your eyes, and reached up to touch his fangs, your chest heaving, still trying to catch your breath.

"They're sharp," you observed.

"Yes," he chuckled, "they are."

"It didn't hurt," you said, still a bit shocked.

"I made sure of that," he smiled.

"Thank you," you said, leaning up and kissing him.

He kissed you back, his arms tightening around you. You snuggled into his embrace, his body warm and solid.

"Are all vampires that good in bed?" You teased, grinning.

"Maybe, I haven't exactly polled the rest of the community," he smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Hmm, maybe I should go out and ask around," you joked, laughing.

He chuckled, pulling you closer. "I'm not a fan of sharing," he said, kissing the top of your head.

"I'm not either," you smiled, your hands moving over his body.

"Good," he said, smiling, his eyes sparkling.

"I love you, Elijah," you said, looking up at him, your heart full of affection.

He smiled, a real, genuine smile, the kind that lit up his eyes and made his dimples pop.

"I love you, too, darling," he said, kissing you, his lips soft and sweet.

The two of you laid there for a while, holding each other, enjoying the afterglow. You were content, your body sore and satisfied, your mind buzzing with bliss. Elijah's arms were strong around you, his body warm and solid.

"Tomorrow we should take the kids to this museum downtown," he said, his finger lazily tracing patterns on your skin.

"Mhmm," you hummed, enjoying the feeling of his touch.

"It's supposed to be a fun exhibit on history and mythology," he continued, his voice a soft rumble in his chest. "Since James is so interested in vampires and the like, it would be a perfect opportunity."

You sighed, snuggling closer to him. "Sounds great," you mumbled, your eyes starting to close.

You heard him chuckle, and then the room fell silent, the only sound the beating of his heart, a soft, steady thumping. You could feel the rhythm, and it was soothing, lulling you into a peaceful slumber. It was the first time in a long time you'd slept so soundly.

This fresh start in New Orleans was going to be the best thing that had happened to you in a long time, and with Elijah by your side, you knew everything was going to work out.

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